#once bitten: olivia

[camerashyward]

WHERE: Center of Dallas WHO: Olivia ( @magicalmanifesto)

Ward was crouched taking a photo of a pigeon, he'd gotten around to getting a new camera and was testing out different settings. Feeling someone come up behind him, he snapped the shot before glancing up. "Charm works, still kind of freaks me out that if it breaks I just go poof, but eh," he said standing up. "Still woulda been nice to know about em early on," he said giving her a mock glare, "Think I finally found a new apartment at least."

[mysticallystilinski]

vampire | v. stiles x fem!reader | angst/hurt

summary: void stiles may be bad, but not in your eyes. you soon realize that everyone else’s view of him was true.

warnings: angst, swearing, manipulation, abuse and mention of murder

♫ ( vampire - olivia rodrigo )

a/n: { this is based of olivia rodrigos new song vampire! it’s so good and void just fits the part of it. i am also in no way romanticizing abuse or murder in this imagine. }

cause i’ve made some real big mistakes

“void.. hear me out, i promise i didn’t mean it.” you say in a seemingly calm tone. your mind was the exact opposite of your words. you did mean it. you meant every part of it. it was never supposed to come out, void should have never known you’ve loved him.

“just shut up y/n, i know you weren’t lying.” he spits out. “you need to really use better choice of words, cause jesus you’re not in love with me.” void sat while you were up looking down at him with tears in your eyes.

but you make the worst one look fine

“it’s not my fault she got in the way.” he laughs. “VOID YOU KILLED ALLISON.” you yell. under your breath “you killed my bestfriend.” void gives you a demeaning look. you have to think, why does everything he do have to be perfect in his eyes.

“it’s seriously not that big of a deal y/n.” he gets off his seat and heads to the door. you grab voids arm and say “seriously?”. “you act like what you did was nothing.” you spit out. your body fills with rage as your mind keeps repeating the moment you found out what he did.

out of the corner of your eye, you see him produce a slight smirk.

i should’ve known it was strange, you only come out at night

“void, why do you only come out at night.” you snickered. there was a long pause on the phone call suddenly left with a groan. “why do you always ask so many questions.” he says back.

“it’s not my fault i want to actually see my boyfriend.” you said with a chuckle. the line goes dead silent once again. something was off with void today but you couldn’t pinpoint the exact problem.

“maybe you can come over in a few.” you suggest. “i think it’s better if i come over later.” he retorts. does he really think i’m that stupid.

i used to think i was smart, but you make me look so naive

“y/n, when will we ever get to meet this boyfriend of yours”, lydia asks questioningly . the whole pack turns their head to look at you, except for of course stiles.

“he’s always really busy, you know.” kira gives you a questioning look. “he always seems to be busy, doesn’t he?” scott remarks. scott and lydia seemed to be the ones most interested in what is up with your boyfriend.

“guys i know you think he’s up to no good, but believe me; he is just really busy.” you cough out. you try to convince yourself of the words you’re saying, but each day it’s harder to lie to yourself. maybe he just is really busy

the way you sold me for parts, as you sunk your teeth into me

you cry out in pain as void sinks his teeth into you. it wasn’t as bad as last time, but you have to suck it up for him. this is the only way he could get his power to be with you. his teeth seeping into your flesh made him feel better.

soon after void is finished with you he lets go, “you did so good y/n.” you wince out in pain as he runs his finger over the newly bitten mark in your flesh. you flinch when he puts his mouth down to kiss it. he slowly backs away from your skin and gives you a less than compassionate smile.

“it will be over soon little dove, just a little more.” he grasps at your hand to hold it. “you’re doing so good already, why stop now”, he chuckled. you gasp in pain as he sinks his teeth into you.

only a few more minutes

bloodsucker, famefucker

the marks were soon gone as void gave you some of his power to regenerate your skin. it still hurt but he seemed to be more compassionate this time around. it was hard to be around void in this time of night, he liked to get dark and you didn’t understand how concerning it was.

he liked to be rough with you, in many aspects. but if it was enough to stay with void, you would do anything to make it happen. he was like a bloodsucker, but you never realized it. he would suck out all of energy from you, and never replenish it. he is a vampire in that aspect.

bleeding me dry like a god damn vampire

“y/n, Y/N, are you okay??” scott yells. you aren’t able to hear him well as your hearing is fading in and out. you feel yourself being rolled somewhere. “scott, where am i?” you muster up the strength to say.

it was hazy all around you. you couldn’t seem to pinpoint where you were. you heard ringing in both ears and you felt hard lights upon you. “where, where is he?”, you manage to say. “don’t worry, stiles is on his way.” you feel yourself go down the long hallway faster and faster. “no- no, not stiles.” you begin to feel your surroundings.

it seems to be that you’re at a hospital. your only thought is to where void is. is he okay? “where is void.” the spinning stops, and you are faced with scott to the side of you.

“what are you talking about?”

[holewithinahole]

Brown and Green | Olivia Octavius x Reader

Summary: After the accident with the collider, you end up on Earth 1610 in the Alchemax building. Dr Olivia Octavius is here to greet you. You can't help but notice all the resemblances with your own Octavius.

Ao3 Link

Warnings: shameless smut, no genitalia specified, no pronouns specified (reader), tentacle sex, restraints, orgasm denial, overstimulation, fantasising, non-native writer

I hesitated posting it here, but we don't post non-beta'd shit to be a coward. I wrote this in a few hours and took three days to resign myself and just post it. But after seeing Across the Spider-Verse, I had to re-watch the first one and I was, once again, hit in the face by my bisexuality and my obsession towards Dr Octavius. Tell me I'm not the only one...

Oh, reader is part of the Spider-Verse, I wrote with no gender nor genitalia in mind, I hope everyone can enjoy it!

Ok. Let’s do this one more time, shall we?

My name? Not really important because for the last few years, I’ve been the one and only Spiderman. You all know the story by now: being bitten by a radioactive spider which suddenly allows you to skip workout, the loss of a loved one... The usual Spidey-stuff.

I shoot my webs; I swing from Brooklyn to Queens to the Bronx to stop supervillains, rescue cats stuck in trees and help your grandma cross the road.

One day as I was doing my super-work, something weird happened: a flash of light and boom, I was in New York. But not my New York, a new New York. As for where I crashed, well–

“You seem tensed, Spiderman.”

You can feel your bones crack as those weirdly smooth, plastic-y tentacles wrap tighter and tighter around you.

“You, ow–” you hiss, out of breath. “You could say that.”

A shimmering laugh answers you and it’s just so weird. But after all, what could you expect from a parallel universe? You still have a hard time wrapping your head around the whole concept of dimension warping… and alternate versions of your enemies.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Dr Olivia Octavius.” She draws closer, that ridiculously hot smirk at the corner of her lips.

Fuck, can you concentrate for once?

“It sounds like you already knew the answer,” she says. With her free hands, she pulls her curly hair up, rebellious strands framing her face. Is amazing hair a multi-universal law for all Doc Ocks?

“‘Can’t say that I did–” you pause as long gloved fingers slide under the edge of your mask. “Hey! That’s a no-no, lady!”

She snaps the mask right off your face, an interested glimmer in her eyes. You feel like a mouse spread apart for dissection and she sure looks ready to whip out a scalpel. Was she really hiding a complete latex suit underneath her clothes? Not to be the one to pat supervillains on their shoulders to congratulate them on a job well done, but she really mastered the inconspicuous chemistry teacher cosplay.

Focus.

“It is quite fortunate that your portal opened here,” Octavius says conversationally as she readjusts her gloves. “I would have hated to run after you everywhere in the city.”

“Oh, you know me.” Your shrug looks like an uncontrolled twitch of your shoulder. “Always glad to help.”

“Indeed,” she chuckles. She grabs your face, inspecting it from every angle, ignoring your string of offended words. At the corner of your eye, an actuator reaches for a– ah, there is the scalpel. “Now…”

Oh hell no…

“Hey! Hey lady–“ Struggling is pointless and the more you try, the more she grins. “Olivia– can I call you Liv’?”

Octavius laughs. “Only my friends call me Liv.”

“We can be friends I’m sure.” You make sure to put on your best smolder. It looks painfully ineffective. “Or, you know, we can come to an arrangement.”

She raises an eyebrow at that but doesn’t answer. She’s not considering it, is she? That’d be a lucky day for the smolder – not that it doesn’t usually work of course (It doesn’t.) You keep smiling but her slow approach makes all your senses – spider and regular, tingle. It takes all of your brain power to tame your fight-or-flight response and not recoil as much as you can.

Are you seriously sweating right now?

“Oh, that’s rich.” Her smile is predatory. “Is it a usual Spiderman tactic to try to seduce their enemies?”

The actuators tighten even more around your torso. The discreet cough you let out widens her smile.

Toothy.

“Perhaps not in your universe.”

You’re relieved when the scalpel is dropped carelessly on the table behind her. Even more relieved when the tentacles lessen their grip around you. Your relief is soon replaced by surprise as one of them curls slowly around your left leg. It’s definitely better than being cut open, right?

“Alright, little spider.” Octavius stares down at you. “I’ll entertain the idea.”

Right?

In a blur, she steps in between your legs, helped by the arm holding your limb hostage. “And to answer your question…” Her hand comes to rest in the dip of your hip, feeling up muscles under her fingertips. Somehow it’s this simple gesture that sends a strong shiver through your nervous system.

“You can call me ‘Doctor’ from now on.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Liv.” The actuator tightens around your throat. “Doctor!”

A low laugh answers you. And that’s just not fair. Octavius has you in the most vulnerable state you’ve ever been in. Except perhaps that time when you had to face Captain Stacy, near the corpse of your bestfrie— oops, no, wrong mind folder. The most physically vulnerable you’ve ever been then.

“You never stop talking, do you?”

Earlier, Octavius had taken all the time in the world to push your arms out of your suit, her actuators handling you like a puppet, until your torso was bare for her to enjoy. You did try to yank at the tentacles keeping both your arms secured behind your back but thanks to whatever kind of sick machinery she put in them, they just wouldn’t budge. You were genuinely impressed at the technology allowing those arms to both be flexible and unbreakable. Even your Octavius had to favor titanium steel when he built his own.

The actuator that isn’t wrapped around your throat – a menacing yet tantalizing statement, or holding your limbs down, creeps from the top of your thigh to your chest, not unlike a viper chasing for its food.

Ah yes, the situation at hand.

“To be fair,” you huff. “You love to hear yourself talk as well.”

“You seem to know a lot about me, little spider.” Her hand travels from your hip to the underside of your right thigh. “Altercations with my alter-self then?”

You chuckle, a breathy fucking embarrassing thing. “Oh, plenty.”

Your suit pools uncomfortably at the bottom of your stomach, the sleeves flapping underneath you. It must be so practical to have strong mechanical arms capable of holding your enemy one meter above the ground without even breaking a sweat. But you feel way too warm. Isn’t it hot right now? Isn’t she hot?

Oh, she definitely is, submit your traitorous mind.

“I’m sure we must have been tormenting you intensely.” She giggles, examining a large scar running from your pectoral to your lower belly. With a finger, she traces it like words on paper.

“That’s from you, actually.”

Your Octavius had looked so smug when it happened.

She looks up, smirking. “His actuators are way more pointy than yours,” you explain.

The double-entendre doesn’t go unnoticed, but she doesn’t comment. “Actuators, uh? I haven’t heard this denomination in a while, since my research paper on radioactivity in fact.”

“Yeah, I did my homework.”

You exhale shortly when the teasing actuator wrapped itself around your middle section allowing the others to tug at your suit. Octavius stopped her reverential petting to observe the spandex clinging to your skin, slowly displaying your legs and your underwear-clad pelvis like an exhibit. A free one at that, with free food and everything.

“So,” Octavius asks after discarding the suit to a corner of the room. “What’s the name of my counterpart?”

Both her hands come resting on your legs again. “Otto,” you mutter through clenched teeth.

“Funny,” she says, taking her sweet time feeling your backside muscles. She likes to grope, doesn’t she? “That’s the name of my father.”

Your nose wrinkles. “Ew, what a way to kill the mood, lady.”

Strangely, she doesn’t mention your slip, simply laughing while resting her palm on your– nether regions. The mood is far from being killed however judging by the humiliating wetness spreading through your underwear. She presses her palm down a little forcefully, and you moan loudly. Raising an eyebrow, it’s with a certain – perhaps misplaced – curiosity that she alternates between stroking up and down and toying with the tips of her fingers any potentially sensitive region. And you can’t contain the noise.

To be fair, you’ve never really been ashamed of anything.

There’s a daze settling in your mind, a fog behind your eyes as you only focus on the diffuse pleasure settling down there. You’re pulsating, every blood vessel tight, engorged as a blush spreads on your skin. You’re drifting, fuck– you’re so–

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You don’t have time to reflect on the fact that you obeyed so eagerly because her touch's gone and it's the only thing you can focus on at the moment. She knows that too because her smugness is plastered all over her face – some things never change, and you want to cum all over her arrogant little smile.

“That’s–” you struggle to catch your breath. “So uncool.”

“The arrangement is you get out of here alive and I,” Octavius smirks. “get to do what I want with you.”

The shiver that travels through you speaks volumes. So the key to the ultimate fuck was ‘travel to a parallel universe’ all along? Talk about a joke.

“Now.” She straightens up, towering over you. “Tell me a little more about your Otto.”

The tentacles raise you higher in the air, pushing your hips at almost eye-level to Octavius.

“Self-centered much?” You joke, trying to ignore the actuator crawling along your leg.

“Curious,” she replies, enjoying the show. “You didn’t go around flexing those beautiful muscles in front of his face, did you?”

“What–” You try not to blush but fuck– it’s hard to concentrate when there’s the equivalent of an alien tentacle nuzzling you through your underwear. “Hey! I’m a very respectable – ah!, person ok?”

She laughs loudly at that. “It’s not a no, is it?”

“It’s part of the job!” You huff, avoiding eye contact. “Nothing ever happened with Otto. I care about my life, you know.”

“But not enough to avoid trying your ridiculous seduction tactics on me?”

You wonder if there’s a sliver of internalized misogyny reprimanded somewhere but, in your defense, the smooth head of the actuator now slowly creeping towards your opening is hard not to focus on.

“Worth a shot?” you pant.

You let out a surprised groan as the rough feeling of your underwear breaches your entrance, pushed inside by the blunt head of the mechanical arm. Not nearly enough to truly be inside but the movement is a warning at worst, a promise at best.

For fuck’s sake, listen to yourself.

As the actuator keeps pushing against your hole, you’re assaulted by the wet sound your garment does as it moves. It’s reminiscent of your evenings alone in your shitty apartment when you have enough time to tease the shit out of you. And as Octavius’ hand is back on your crotch, sensations and recollections drive you mad, spilling moans and gasps from your open mouth. Are you going to cum just like this? Groped through your pants and your hole teased like a fucking teenager? You’re too old for that.

Octavius hums to herself, observing you and cataloguing all your reactions as she would do for her research. Her undivided attention on you is exhilarating, and you watch her through half-lidded eyes wishing you could see the curious glint in those wide brown pupils.

What the fuck?

“You seem out of it, Spiderman.” She chuckles. “Drifting away?”

You gulp. “You could say that.”

It’s like she can see right through you. “Fuck– I’m–”

She suddenly disengages, leaving you once again panting, muscles tensed under smooth plastic. “Oops,” she giggles. “Butterfingers.”

You can only stare, heart skipping a beat. She couldn’t possibly have–

“Let me help you with that.”

In seconds, she discards you of any remaining pieces of clothing, holding you upright in all your naked glory. Still dizzy from everything, the touches, the words, you don’t say anything.

“Well then.” She tilts her head to the side. “Spider got your tongue?”

As latex-clad fingers dip inside your mouth before you can even muster a clever answer, you let out a moan, obsessed with the slick feeling of spit on her gloves. Lost in thought, a smooth arm soon takes its rightful place on your groin, pocking, rubbing and your sex glistens, sticky and sensitive to the air. Octavius keeps pressing her fingers down your tongue, sampling every single strand of your DNA when she pulls them away. Now that she’s so close, you can see her green eyes through her goggles. Wait, green?

“Have I finally broken you, little spider?”

Her laugh is supposed to be taunting but it just releases another spike of arousal through your whole body as if she somehow managed to alter your genes, confuse every nerve. Your entire self had changed with a single bite from a radioactive spider, who said you couldn’t go through the same process all over again?

“Not by a long shot,” you chuckle breathlessly.

“If I’d known it’d be this easy…” Her wet fingers graze against a hard nipple and you bite your tongue to not release another embarrassing noise. “Perhaps your Otto should take lessons.”

You let out a breathy moan, weak against the surge of all those sensory attacks and perhaps from the superposition of brown and green, tiptoeing the leyline linking her universe to yours. Unlike him, she seems to see right through you, deciphering the codex of your fantasies with a single look.

“You should describe him to me.”

“What?” you sutter. “What for–”

The twist sears through you, making your knees shake, pleasure distorting pain. The actuator against your throat tightens imperceptibly, just enough to make you remember its presence.

“Come on,” she whispers. “Are we alike?”

You scoff. “Not at all. He’s…”

A pain in the ass. Always in the way, always stealing money, always speaking about grand schemes and higher purposes. Completely mad, a total whacko, undeniably intelligent, brilliant–

“Tall.”

It makes her laugh. The touch of the actuators against your feverish skin is almost enough to cool it down. “And?”

“Uh, large?” you mutter. “He’s like a mountain or– something…”

One hand keeps playing with your nipples as the other traces random figures along your stomach which, you realize, aren’t random at all but just the complex network of your battle marks. When she runs a finger along the scar adorning your torso, you gasp softly and her gaze is all-knowing. Octavius drives you insane, and you’ll soon be complete putty in her hands, using your body as she pleases while you’re assaulted with visions of large hands and uncovered skin.

“He has uh…”

Get a fucking grip.

“Uh, he has short brown hair.”

You realize that her spit-covered fingers have travelled all the way down when she uncaringly presses a digit inside. Breath knocked out of your chest, you still hiss at the dry and unpleasant sensation but the lone actuator is quick to distract you again. When you think you had enough time to gather all your unholy thoughts and the remnants of your oxygen, her finger is joined by another, spreading you open.

“What else?” she asks, focused on her task.

You sigh, annoyed. “He has brown eyes–”

The actuator’s head suddenly splits open, revealing four small appendages and the opening of the tube that controls it. It stares at you, almost mocking, and you can’t take your eyes off it before it starts to dip down.

“Wait, wait, what do you think you’re doing–”

The echo of Octavius’ laugh is registered far at the back of your mind as the arm traps the entirety of your sex like the mouth of a carnivorous plant on a powerless bug. You feel it suck, making you throb, sputtering everywhere. The rippling of the plastic membrane makes it look alive as if it was waiting to swallow everything your body has to offer.

“Whe– where they even– fuck!, designed for th–ah!”

Octavius retreats her fingers, laughing again before getting rid of her right glove with her teeth. You try not to dwell on how filthy it is.

Fuck, it’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever seen.

The suction on your crotch increases and now you can only pant, gasp and droll everywhere. It's a sensation like no other, making you ignore everything else. Nails dip in your cheeks as Octavius grabs your chin to look at you, pride of your current state written all over her face.

“His eyes, you said?”

You want to kill her. “His– eyes?”

“Yes.” She giggles. “I don’t think you finished your sentence.”

You want to kiss her.

The actuator around your throat releases you, leaving you gasping for air. But your relief is brief as it soon slides against your loosened hole, slowly but surely pressing in.

‘They’re– they’re,” you stutter, arching towards her, brain devoid of any coherence. “Brown?”

She grips your face more forcefully and every sensation suddenly comes to a stop. “Have your brain already melted through your ears?”

You whine. “Ok, ok– they’re big, too gentle even–”

She smiles, a predatory thing. Aren’t spiders supposed to be predators? One good, strong suction on your crotch has you moaning so loudly you’re afraid all Achemax will come running in. “Beautiful– he’s–”

The actuator pushes inside smoothly, leaving you a shaking mess, split apart by the chaos of sensations running underneath your skin. No casual sexual encounter could have ever brought you to such a delightful, painfully aroused state. Your senses are attacked, assaulted from every direction as you’re watched, dissected under the gaze of an enemy. Octavius takes immense pleasure watching you completely surrender to her, and you can’t not picture the smug crooked smile of her counterpart in the wrinkles at the corner of her lips. There’s a lot that you could question about yourself if you hadn’t left your higher brain functions under the hands – and the tentacles, of a magnificent opponent.

“I think you have some self-reflection to do, little spider.”

You register the press of her lips late. Still holding your chin in a death grip, she kisses you like a snake strikes its prey. Eyes rolling back as she sinks her teeth into your lower lip, you arch strongly towards her, arms hurting for being held down for so long, legs spasming and chest heaving. Her tongue plunges into your mouth and she sucks at your lips not unlike how her actuators pump in and out of you, suck you dry, drive you insane…

Suddenly, she draws back, exhaling harshly against your reddened lips and you can feel her body moving forward. You only have the time to register that her hips are trusting against the actuator stuck to your crotch before she grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls harshly.

“Come on,” she pants in the crook of your neck. “Break down, sweetheart.”

You come like this, lightning travelling up your spine as you release on the mouth of the actuator, overstimulated by the trusts inside of you and the feeling of Octavius’ teeth on your skin. You spasm like an insect trapped in a web, a mouse constricted by the body of a python, arching, trusting your hips up over and over as the arm milks your orgasm out of you. Your throat is raw, your tongue is heavy and all your muscles scream from overuse but you just can’t stop coming, wetness spreading against your groin. When the actuators finally move away, you drip all over the floor, as your sex pulses, crimson red and spent.

Breathing air like it’s the first time, you try your best to calm your beating heart as you’re finally free from the arms’ grip, lowered on a nearby chair. Octavius lets out a sigh, tugging a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear.

“Oh well.” She smiles. “Good, very good.”

She throws your suit at your face. “You better run, little spider.”

“Uh?” You put it back, ignoring the uncomfortable stickiness between your thighs.

“This is my gift to you,” she says, putting on a clean glove. “You have five minutes before I hunt you down and use your body for my experiments.”

You laugh awkwardly, voice rough as you limp through the room. “I’ll be gone then. See ya, Doc!”

The giggle she lets out is hunting. As you swing away to central New York, the traces of her abuse all over your body, you think about your Octavius.

Perhaps you’ll try a new technique next time you meet.

[andrew-nobody]

One Week Before I Turned

[ Zombie Apocalypse AU - Chapter 1 ]

"It's not a big deal, okay?" Ashley turned away from Julia, her face a cool mask of indifference. I knew her well enough to know that it was a deliberate choice to get under Julia's skin. "Just get over it."

"Not a big deal?!" Julia's voice swelled up like a wave about to crash. "You know I've been saving them! Olivia bought me that bag for my b-birthday, and I've been rationing--"

"Are you really going to cry over some gummy bears?" Ashley smirked. "That's just fucking stupid."

"It's not stupid!" Julia shrieked. "I can't believe you. I don't call your stuffed bunnies stupid. Even though they take up space we could be using for actually useful shit!"

Ashley's expression pinched. "Sounds like you are to me."

“Guys,” I hissed for their attention.

"You're an asshole." Julia's shoulders shook. "Fuck off, Ashley. If Andrew shot himself, I wouldn’t eat the food he gave you while your back was turned!”

“Sure you would, you just wouldn’t own up to it. But I don’t give a flying fuck what you think abo—!”

“Shut up!” I raised my voice. The girls barely allowed the interruption. Their glares were still so loud they were giving me a headache. “Every zombie on the block can hear you!”

“I think you mean ‘us.’” Ashley tilted her head to the side and smiled at me.

I hated whenever they fought like this, and it seemed like they took every opportunity. If it wasn’t Ashley sneaking Julia’s candy, it was Julia kissing me in front of her, just to make her uncomfortable.

“It’s not fair,” Julia had once whimpered into my ear. “We never get any alone time together. I don’t do it to make her mad. I just want… to be close to you.”

The problem with ‘alone time’ was that Ashley seemed to have no sense of self-preservation at all. If she was out of sight, she was getting into trouble. And right now, trouble was trying to claw its way inside the burger joint we were supposed to be looting.

“Time for a quick getaway,” I prompted.

“But I wanted to see if there were any chips in the back.”

“Too fucking late for that now,” I snapped.

Ashley sighed. We both knew we wouldn't find much here. The place had already been picked clean, probably weeks ago. I should have known better. After the outbreak, anywhere that had even the remotest chance of having ToxiSoda in stock was ransacked quickly. I wasn't sure I trusted their snake oil soda ads, but a lot of people were willing to try any 'preventative cure' for the plague.

The sound of broken glass drew my attention back to the window. A zombie had gotten its shoulder stuck on the jagged edges. It was trying to squirm its way inside, tearing itself open all the while.

I couldn’t help but stare as it ripped its skin open like a chocolate wrapper. It really didn’t care.

Julia grabbed me by the hand.

“Come on!” she urged, and tugged me towards the exit. “We can go through the back.” I pulled my attention away, back to us, the people who mattered. Julia was careful. She always checked for escape routes before getting comfortable anywhere. I loved that about her.

Ashley, though...

I watched her pull her fire poker from the straps across her back. She stepped up, and then slammed it against the zombie's skull. The poker cracked against the zombie's head with a loud thunk. But it wasn’t quite enough to brain the thing.

“Ashley, let’s go!” I barked. “Don’t waste your time and risk getting bitten!”

“You were the one staring,” she retorted in a low voice.

Julia moved to the back exit. She opened the door, but wasn't going outside without the rest of us. I could see her peering anxiously around the doorway, trying to see if any zombies were coming from that direction.

Ashley’s attempt on the window zombie had drawn the attention of more. We needed to be swift, and silent. I made sure she was following me, and we joined Julia.

"There's a few out here, but they're wandering the street," she whispered, glancing through the opening of the door. "If we're quiet, maybe they won't notice."

I nodded. I didn't feel like wasting time with words, especially now that the zombies that had heard the commotion were climbing inside through the glass. Julia opened the door further, and we rushed outside, keeping our eyes peeled and weapons ready.

A small herd of zombies had congregated around the front of the burger joint, groaning and pressing at the door. Julia's hand gripped the sleeve of my shirt tightly, and I could tell she was terrified.

We moved quietly along the outside of the building, keeping to the shadows. Safe, this time.

[ Read Chapter 2 ]

[maybe-im-spider-fox]

Spider-Fox. Yeah thats me

* ˚ ✦Hello There marvel oc rp blog oc owned by @thescarleteevee ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Names Kloe Raminez '*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*' she/her lesbian 23 years old (blipped) Birthday: July 1st 1997 Single Friends: @luna-draven (hurt her ill come for you) ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* I am the one and only Spider-Fox ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ lets do this only once yeah? .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. Yo! My name's Kloe Raminez and when I was 14 years old I was bitten by a fox, that had happened to have been bitten by a radioactive spider. Then I became the one and only Spider-Fox. Its Been tough saving people- especially when you can't save your parents. Or your girlfriend. But I do all of the stuff I do in their memory. And now I am the one and only Spider Fox! .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ I enjoy lots of things: Art, Martial arts, Archery, watching movies, carpentry. I am supposed to be in college right now, but i got stuck on earth 616 during Into the Spider-Verse, and got blipped during the events of Infinity War. ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ Field agent for @official-buckybarnes ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ I woulnt Mind making more friends here Now Playing: Run for the Hills by Tate McRae 0:57 ————|——— -2:10

Feel free to ask me anything, i love interacting with new people here. ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ extroverted i love affection and interaction.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ mod: @thescarleteevee i am a system alter of Eevee's and i make my own posts.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ NSFW ONLY ACCOUNTS DNI

[henrysglock]

Okay jumping off of @givehimthemedicine's post, I'm even more convinced that the blood in the massacre may be from two overlaid events.

What do I mean by this? That the blood we see all over the set and the bodies/impact craters may be from distinctly separate events.

This means it's either fabricated to achieve the ultimate trauma response from El, to activate her powers...or its a result of memories from another even bleeding (hahaha) through.

As I said in my creature attack post, the blood and the impact craters/bodies are divorced from each other already:

Blood exists without craters, and vice-versa, and as Nat mentioned, no one here has enough open wounds to produce pooling like these.

For example, the man below the blood here has no blood on his back, where the impact would have been.

Same with Three. "His" impact blood is missing from his neck, where it ought to be.

So, while I have no doubt that there's a version of events where One committed the Vecna-style version of the massacre, there's more going on here than meets the eye.

Natalie also mentioned handedness, something I've discussed in relation to Henry and Edward, but never in relation to Brenner.

This is where I want to tie in another possibility: a setup massacre.

And we might be going "What? James, where the hell is that coming from?"

It's coming from Fringe. In Subject 13, Dr. Bishop simulates a massacre of Olivia's fellow students by putting fake blood on them in hopes of triggering Olivia's teleportation and universe-jumping abilities:

source

Now, this is purely speculation, but Brenner may have either committed a massacre by blunt force (thus the right-handed splatter), sacrificing the other children like chess pieces as One had mentioned, or he may have faked it entirely with the adult bodies we see in order to achieve his goal: recreate a better, stronger One. After all, Truman Show is on the movie board, and Brenner tells El she will soon see the truth, and he says this after she's completed NINA.

The Brenner in question may have bitten off more than he could chew, though, given that El can be unpredictable and violent when threatened. Should this be the case, it might explain our separate Vecnas, one of whom looks distinclty like Brenner, while the other definitely looks like One:

They have distinctly different blood spray patterns, too:

Were it to be the case that Brenner either committed by force or simulated a massacre, a version of El may have sent him to Dimension X. In another case, during One's blood-free massacre, he may have been sent to the other side of Dimension X:

That, or One and Brenner were merged into a single person when the event happened.

Either way, this may explain our strange Brenner-isms from Vecna, as well as provide a reason for Vecna not ever using his abilities in the Upside Down: He may not even have powers.

This may also account for the script fuckery with night vs day labeling, if the events were entirely separate.

Overlaying of Brenner and One may also account for the stark hair change from One's floppy curls to Brenner's slicked-back style with no explanation of how that style change occurred, as well as the constant pose paralleling between One and Brenner:

And entirely separate scenarios being overlayed might also account for the injuries that appear out of nowhere on One's face:

Which also fits in with the case of the changing cracks:

And, if we consider the possibility of El having committed a violent act of some kind, it also fits in the third version of events, in which there was no dimension event:

This would further explain the blood change fuckery:

This means there may indeed be a version of One leftover with a Brenner, which could possibly account for One's sentience, responsiveness to unorthodox questions, and 4th-wall breaking in the NINA leadup:

No matter what the case is, I'm nearly certain we're seeing multiple events overlaid at once in NINA.

[rottingmanifesto]

‘more than anything’ for donovan !! :] (from the prompts!)

Snippet with John and my OC Canary— inspired by @berniecranes little fic he did a while back!

“Didn’t know you had one of Lincoln’s dog tags.”

“You weren’t supposed to know.”

“Hey, your fault for leaving them on the dresser.”

Donovan glances up from his work long enough to see Canary fiddling with the dog tags and shakes his head. The work was a goddamn paper trail with god-knows-what at the end of it. He’d picked up Canary’s habit of chewing on hangnails between paragraphs and swearing when it started bleeding. Two nails bitten down to the quick and working on a third. Beat his smoking habit, at least.

“Just put them back.”

“There’s a story here, isn’t there?”

“Oh Jesus Christ— can you just do what I ask you to for once?” He tosses down a messy dossier and stares at Canary, who shrugs in response without looking up.

“I’ll trade you.”

“Trade me what?”

“What do you want?”

“An answer to all this bullshit,” he motions to the desk, filled to the brim with files and photos. “Which I don’t think you can do.”

Canary runs a bandaged finger over the dog tags. “Have you checked Remy Duvall yet?”

“What, the shitty radio host?”

“I’m just saying, he’s been spotted with Olivia around the city. Could be worth looking into.” They throw their hands up. “Might be wrong.”

Donovan leans back. He’d need a bandage for his left ring finger after picking at the scab. “And you didn’t tell me that sooner.” It’s meant to be a question but comes out more like a command.

Canary looks away. “Didn’t think you’d listen.”

“Right. Well, I’ll look into him, if you put away the dog tags.”

They relent. “Fine. You still owe me the story though.”

“I’ll tell you if anything turns up. Deal?”

This whole summer had been marked with negotiations between residents and this one damn college kid who kept poking into things they didn’t need to. Hell, he’d faced less stress while in-country than he did in the month of July. The humidity didn’t help much.

“Fine by me.”

—

“You sure about this?”

“Wouldn’t do it if I weren’t sure.”

John lets a puff escape his lips before handing the cigarette to Lincoln, who had finished clipping his dog tag onto the chain. Lincoln was being too tender for John’s liking. There was something off.

“You really want me to have this.”

“Might be the only way we make it out.”

“Hey—we’ll get out of this.”

Lincoln shrugs. “Maybe.”

They sat on the motel bed while Lincoln took a drag then ashes what was left of the cigarette. John had some song playing but it was muted by the ticking clock that spelled the same doom he’d felt since arriving in New Bordeaux. Lincoln held out his hand, which John took. They sat in silence.

He checked his watch. “Gotta run. You keep my tag safe, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll shine it for you.”

Lincoln smirks with his little sideways grin. “Be safe.”

He left before John could say “you too”.

—

It had been another sleepless night when he propped himself up with his good hand and got a good look at the tags. They don’t bleed the same. He has type AB blood, and Lincoln has type O-negative. That bothered him. Some damn stupid little bother, but a bother nonetheless.

He eyes the phone. Maybe he would call.

More than anything, he wanted Lincoln to be safe.

[readingforsanity]

The Last House on Needless Street | Catriona Ward | Published 2021 | *SPOILERS*

In a boarded up house on a dead end street at the edge of the wild Washington woods lives a family of three.

A teenage girl who isn't allowed outside, not after last time. A man who drinks alone in front of his TV, trying to ignore the gaps in his memory. And a house cat who loves napping and reading the Bible.

An unspeakable secret binds them together, but when a new neighbor moves in next door, what is buried out among the birch treets may come back to haunt them all.

In the Last House on Needless Street, we are met with an incredibly confusing narrative that thankfully comes all together at the end.

The story follows a man named Ted Bannerman, a cat named Olivia and a young girl named Dee. 11 years ago, Dee's younger sister went missing while visiting a lake with her family. Shortly after, her mother left and her father passed away, leaving her to deal with the trauma of Lulu's disappearance on her own. For 11 years, there have been no answers to the questions on where Lulu went, despite a suspect being questioned in her disappearance...the suspect being none other than Ted Bannerman.

Ted is a strange man, who does strange things. He goes on dates with woman to a bar that seemingly don't go well, while being a single dad to his daughter, Lauren, who visits once a week from school. Additionally, he has a cat named Olivia, that spends a lot of her time making Ted feel better during his bouts of falling to the drink.

The narrative is too confusing to keep going in an in-depth synopsis, so I will paraphrase the ending.

Dee is certain that Ted is keeping Lulu alive in his home. Ted has kept his home boarded up, for reasons unknown. Olivia the cat has learned that Ted has been keeping Lauren locked up in a freezer, and that she can only come out when the music he plays stops. Together, the two of them are able to escape the freezer, but Ted realizes that something or someone is going to come for him after noticing that an intruder has entered his home, and after attacking his therapist whom he spoke to every two weeks, he figures that it's only a matter of time before he is caught.

Ted takes off into the woods, with Lauren and Olivia in tow. But, it is here we learn that Ted suffers from DID, or disassociative identity disorder, which had once been known as multiple personality disorder, and Lauren and Olivia, and various other characters we meet with the exception of the man with red hair and his dog, and the Chihuahua lady, are parts of him. Lauren, in hopes of ending their life, ultimately makes Ted stab himself.

Dee, thinking that Ted is moving Lulu's body into the woods, attempts to follow him, but she ends up hallucinating an encounter with him where she ends his life after being bitten by a rattlesnake, something that had once terrified her but ended up becoming a reality. Ted is saved by the man with red hair after his dog is able to sniff them out.

Ted tells the truth, and comes to the realization that his DID was brought on by the horrific abuse that he was dealt by the hands of his mother. She would stitch up injuries that he had...but there were never any injuries. Even so, she was fired from jobs at the hospital and daycares for doing the same to other children, all boys. When Ted goes to the lake to remember what might have happened to Lulu, he realizes that it was his mother, and not him, and that he knows where her body is.

He surmises that Lulu was mistaken for a boy by his mother, due to her short hair that she refuses to grow out, and that Lulu's body had been hidden inside of the Chihuahua lady's basement after his mother put her there while the woman had been away on vacation to Mexico so many years ago.

In the end, Lulu is found, but Dee is not able to take refuge in that, as the entire encounter had been fake and she had actually died as a result of the snake bite, and her body is later found. Ted admits to the detective who had searched his hoem so many years ago that his mother is now dead, as she had hung herself shortly after getting rid of Lulu's body, and Ted had buried her in the woods behind the home.

I will be ridiculously honest...this story did not have me hooked at all in the beginning. I was confused from the start. I was thoroughly convinced that Ted was guilty of doing something to Lulu, and that Lauren was actually Lulu and he was trying to pass her off as his child. But, after a while, I could not put the book down and I needed to know what happened.

Kudos to Christina Estes for this ROLLERCOASTER ride of a book. It was well thought out, and I think it did well for those who suffer from DID. I would seriously consider reading more of her books, especially if it is similar to where you think you are reading a horror book, but it really is a book of survival, just like she says in the Afterword of the story.

Well done!

[angel-milano]

November 19 – Five Times X, One Time Y TW: Deadnaming, abuse, self-induced vomiting, self harm, suicide, death

The Five Families Angel Had, and the One She Didn't

I.

"Mr. Wilson, please try to understand--"

"No! You need to understand just how bad things could've been!" The short, stocky man screamed in the face of the finer dressed woman holding a blonde toddler. "That thing could've bitten me or any of my family! Then what would we have done!? We would've been cursed forever! You people are sick for not warning us about this ahead of time!"

Olivia Parker took a deep breath, readjusting the young child in her arms. They were awake but unusually still, no doubt exhausted after what had likely been a harrowing evening.

"That thing has a name. He's Daniel Milano and he's just a child. He didn't ask for this and there's no way we could've known or tested ahead of time. Born wolves are extremely rare in this system--"

"Yeah, well maybe there's a reason for that! They need to stick with their own kind and not put the rest of us in danger," Mr. Wilson interjected again, before turning to his silent wife, who was on the verge of tears. "You need to leave. And take him with you. We won't be housing him anymore. We're going to take legal action and we want every cent compensated and then some."

The social worker bit back another, exhausted sigh as she nodded, just accepting it without fighting back. "I understand. And I'd once again like to apologize for this. It won't happen again." With that, Olivia turned and began to walk out the door.

The child roused in her arms, and looked over her shoulder back at the couple. "Mama?" They murmured, reaching a tiny hand back out towards Mrs. Wilson.

She turned away and closed the door.

II.

"Hey Marny?"

The room was dark and still, with two pairs of bunk beds on each opposite walls. Three of the bunks had the bundle of a child, while one was empty. The bottom bunk's occupant stirred before peeking out a half cracked eye.

"Yeah Dan?"

On the other end of the room, a small blonde child, no older than seven, was clinging to the railing of the top bunk, looking down at the older girl below.

"I miss Louis," the young boy admitted.

There was a pause before she yawned, readjusting the blankets to pop her head out more. "Yeah, I do too. But it's a good thing he got adopted. We should be happy for him."

"Well, I'm not. He was our family and now he's gone."

She huffed. "We're not a real family, Dan. Our real families are gonna come and adopt us. We just gotta wait."

The boy paused as he considered this. Marny almost fell back asleep when his voice rang out again. "D'yah think the reason they adopted Louis and not me was cuz we got in that fight earlier? I said I was sorry."

"I think Louis got adopted cuz of all the water tricks he can do. They are pretty cool."

"Yeah. You guys are cool. No one thinks being a werewolf is cool," Daniel murmured into his pillow.

"I think it's cool," Marny responded, though the room fell silent after that. After a moment, she spoke up. "Do you want me to make the stars dance?" The young boy gave an affirmative noise and she lifted her hand, projecting pinpricks of light onto the ceiling. As her wrist twisted, so too did the "stars" as they danced the night away. She did this until she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, and fell back asleep.

But Daniel didn't sleep. It was always so hard in this house. He could smell things the others couldn't smell, hear things the others couldn't hear. In the early morning, he heard his foster mom across the house, calling Ms. Olivia Parker.

She explained that while their home was open to foster magical children, they were best equipped for those with Gifts, while a werewolf was a different situation. She explained the fight that Daniel had gotten in with Louis and how their roughhousing resulted in the latter getting scratched. How everyone worried for hours that he might turn. How it almost ruined the boy's chances of getting adopted.

His foster mom didn't yell, or scream, or say that he needed to leave. But she pleaded with the social worker, asking if there was a werewolf pack out there that would take care of the child? Ms. Parker didn't have an answer. In her calmest, most polite voice, his foster mom recommended that they try to find a different foster family.

Daniel didn't get out of bed that day, pretending to sleep through the morning. He heard Marny explain to their foster parents that he had a long night. He laid there until he finally did fall asleep.

He dreamed of his real family, his werewolf pack, coming and taking him away.

III.

"Daniel?"

The preteen jolted from their cross-legged position and quickly slammed their journal shut, shoving it under their pillow. They looked up just in time to see their bedroom door open, revealing their foster father, Mr. Wainwright. As he stepped in, a golden tray of food and drink followed behind, magically suspended in the air.

"How are we feeling today?" The sorcerer asked, flicking his wrist to deposit the tray on the nightstand. Daniel eyed the "feast" before them, a plate of raw meats and a familiar purple liquid in a small vile.

"Fine," they replied, just shrugging their shoulders.

"That's all?" He waited for a response, but none came. "Well, you know the rules. First eat, then take your wolfsbane potion. We want you as stuffed and docile as possible for the full moon tonight."

Daniel nodded and drew the tray in front of them. Hunching over, they dug their hands into the dripping red meat and shoved it into their mouth. Their foster father never provided silverware and always stayed to watch, without looking away.

They chewed voraciously, the sickening squelching noises ringing in their ears as the all too familiar nausea washed over them. For the first time, however, they paused in between swallows and spoke up.

"Mr. Wainwright?"

The man tilted his head slightly, surprised at the pause in routine. "Yes, my boy?"

They ignored the second wave of nausea that came.

"You're an expert on werewolves, right?"

He chuckled. "Well, I would hope so, considering the number of books and studies I've published on the subject. They are my life's work."

"Do you think my pack is still out there somewhere?"

Now he tilted his head in the opposite direction, intrigued by the question. "You mean the pack you were born to? I would think not. Werewolf packs are notoriously protective of their children and there have been very few documented cases of a born-wolf being given up for adoption. Yours is a specific situation, likely born of a "lone wolf"," he explained.

They didn't look up, squishing the slick, raw meat between their fingers. "Do you think they'll ever come for me?"

This drew a laugh from the man. "Oh, my dear sweet boy, no. The only thing a werewolf is more protective of than their own are their own identities. To come forward and take you in would be outing themselves to the world, which can have very nasty consequences. No, it will likely be just you and me until you're able to be on your own. But worry not, I will continue to teach you the ways of keeping your wolf neutralized and tame as well as a steady supply of these," he said, tapping his finger on the potion. "Then you will move out, get a job, and become one of my many satisfied customers. You will integrate back into society and no one will be the wiser of your affliction. Truly, it's the best outcome for your situation."

They didn't say anything else. They merely stomached the rest of the meat until their plate was empty, and drank the vial dry.

"Thank you, Mr. Wainwright," they murmured. Already, the haze of the potion was beginning to take over, and they could feel their senses dulling. They tried desperately to hold onto the thoughts that were slipping away.

"Of course, my boy. Now, I will be putting up the arcane locks for the night, and will be back to check on you tomorrow morning. Enjoy a restful full moon, alright?" With that, he flicked his wrist to collect the empty tray and began out. As the door closed behind him, several runes began to glow in the wood, trapping them here for the rest of the night.

Only once they could hear the footsteps no more, they leaped from the bed and ran into the connecting bathroom. Dropping to their knees, they shoved a finger to the back of their throat. Nasty, red sludge filled the toilet bowl, but more importantly, it was tinged with a distinct purple. It wasn't long before they could feel their mind returning to them, the haze clearing up.

Maybe they still had a pack. Maybe someday, someone would come for them.

But tonight, they would take matters into their own hands. They wouldn't be Daniel, Mr. Wainwright's sweet boy and a docile pup.

Tonight, she would be Angel and she would be free.

IV.

Angel had met a lot of people since she started living on the streets.

Some were kind, some were cruel, but none were ever family.

Until she stopped in Forscythe, New Jersey.

She'd been scouting out the quarry as a spot to transform for the next full moon when she met them. A group of kids her age who were going to the local high school. Theywere sneaking out to get drunk in the middle of the night. They welcomed her in and invited her to join their party.

Angel was never far from them after that. She used her fake ID to buy them more booze. She slept over at their houses. She'd come to their football games and cheer on the local team. The Forscythe High Wolves. The kids called themselves the Wolf Pack.

She had a pack.

She snuck on their school bus to attend their senior trip. She stole a dress and crashed their prom, where she pretended to be a foreign exchange student. She kissed the prom king.

That summer was the best she'd ever had. Beach days, party nights, and the promise that they'd always be a pack, even if they were going away to different schools. No matter what, they'd always come back here and have a reunion just like this one. With Angel included.

They didn't care that she was trans. They didn't care that she was homeless. She thought they wouldn't care that she was a werewolf.

But things changed after the night she told them.

No one rejected her, or called her a monster. No one told her she should go find her own kind. No one even asked about wolfsbane potions.

But they also didn't ask her anything at all. In fact, all forms of communication stopped. Everyone went to college, and Angel was left behind in Forscythe.

She tried to hold it together. She visited them at their schools, but they were always too busy with work or had other plans that they couldn't cancel. She set up group calls that people conveniently forgot. When winter break rolled around, she was sure that they would all reunite, just as they had promised back on that starry summer night.

If that reunion ever happened, Angel hadn't been made aware of it. She checked the group chat every day, stalked people's socials, and sent out a few too many "casual" messages, but all were in vain.

As she sat on the empty, frozen bleachers of Forscythe High, leg bouncing, she opened the Wolf Pack group chat one more time.

The last three messages had been from her.

Her fingerless gloved hands trembled across the screen as she typed.

'i miss you guys'

Her lips tightened before backspacing the entire thing.

'hey bitches who wants to get drunk on eggnog and have an all nighter??'

Backspace again. Her grip on her phone tightened before furiously typing.

'do you assholes know how lucky you have it? to have mommy and daddy pay for you to sleep in a dorm and skip classes and get drunk at some loser frat party? then you get to go home to them where they tell you how great and special you are and how you can be anything you want to be. i wanted us to be a pack but you fuckers decided youre better than me. YOURE NOT BETTER THAN ME!! choke and die'

Her shaking hands stilled, and then backspaced it all again.

'fuck you.'

Angel hit send and left the group chat.

V.

Angel and Lucky had been dating for almost a year now and he wanted her to meet his family.

She'd joked that she already had enough of his family, considering she had to contend with Pepper and Roland every day.

But this was different, he explained. She wouldn't just be meeting his parents, but his aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents. She would get to experience a real pack.

Her heart leaped in her chest and she agreed.

Following the directions given to her, she wandered down the path towards the Doyle family house. The colors of the forest were changing and her feet crunched against some early leaves on the dirt road. Even in a small town, the estate was pretty deep in the wilderness, but she supposed that was the point. As she looked around, she could imagine wolves upon wolves running through the trees, free and unburdened by the outside world.

Her senses kicked in before she could see the house. The area was pungent with the smell of others like her, to the point where it was overwhelming, like she was entering territory she didn't belong in. The playful shrieks of children reached her ears, along with the sounds of kitchenware clacking and a fireplace roiling. Then, as she crested the hill, she could see it. It was huge, enough to fit several branches of a large family, and yet it still had the quaint charm of the South. Angel approached the huge porch, her heart hammering in her chest. She attempted to shake the jitters away, reminding herself of what Lucky said--his family was welcoming and it would be like she was part of the pack.

As the thought sank in, she stopped, one foot on the porch step.

All her life, all she'd ever wanted was a pack. Now, she was finally getting it.

So why did it hurt?

Because it wasn't her pack. Not really. All of these people, they grew up together, knew each other, loved each other.

She was just some wolf entering into territory that wasn't her own.

Any pack would be able to let her in. But there was only one out there that she truly belonged to. The one that had brought her into this world. The one that she'd spent her whole life dreaming would save her from her terrible life.

If she walked through that door, it would be an admission that the dream was dead. The sorcerer would be right--she was a no one from nowhere and nobody was ever coming for her.

Inside the house, one of the Doyles sniffed a strange new wolf on the wind. They announced that Angel must be here and went to open the door to greet her.

They were met with an empty porch.

----------

I.

"What is this for again?"

Angel was sitting in the home of Georgia Mayweather in the small town of Oakland, Connecticut. A light snow was falling outside and the older woman sat in a comfortable chair, nursing a mug of hot cocoa in her hands. When offered some of her own, Angel declined.

"It's Suicide Prevention Month. The high school is doing a project to honor those in town who passed," Angel explained, a lie that she'd spent the last week practicing.

Georgia nodded, sad eyes gliding towards the frosty window.

"So you want me to talk about Ellie."

"Eleanor Milano, yes," she confirmed. The name was written all over her notebook. Folded a few pages behind was an article about her death and a picture she'd cut out of an old yearbook from the local library of Eleanor and Georgia together. She had one of the last few fresh pages open to take notes.

Georgia sighed. "Ellie was my best friend growing up. We met in the third grade and were inseparable after that. She was a good person--quiet, mostly kept to herself. But when you could get her to open up, she'd never stop talking," she said, a ghostly smile crossing her features as she reminisced. "We were on the high school softball team together, but we were never any good," she chuckled. "And she liked to write in her free time. She won the Harvest Moon festival prize for her poetry, but wrote a little bit of everything."

Angel's hand paused, gripping the pencil in her hand. The very journal she was currently notetaking in was filled from margin to margin with her writing--scribbles, thoughts, ideas, and poetry. She always thought the skill was just hers.

But it came from Ellie.

There was still another detail, though, that caught her attention. One she couldn't let slip away.

"You said Harvest Moon festival?"

"Yes?"

"Is that held on the Harvest Moon?"

"Yes, every year..." Her tone shifted to confusion. "You live here, don't you? Have you not been before?"

"Oh, I just moved recently," Angel lied.

So Ellie couldn't have been the wolf.

She quickly changed the subject before anymore questions could come. "Did she have any family?"

"She was an only child, just her and her parents." That didn't sound like a pack.

"Are they still in town?"

"No, they moved out of Oakland ages ago. But even before that they, ah..." Georgia's face contorted as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Disowned her."

"Why?"

At first, she wasn't sure she was going to answer at all, but finally Georgia admitted, "She had an unexpected pregnancy."

Angel pretended to look surprised. "Could you tell me more about that?"

Georgia hesitated. "There's not much to tell. We'd both recently graduated high school, and she was working as a waitress at the local diner. Some guy blew in from out of town, and they had a short affair. It didn't last."

"Can you tell me more about him?" Angel asked, a little too quickly. This drew Georgia's attention, who finally looked back at her with a furrowed brow.

"What does this have to do with your project?"

Angel forced herself to swallow, putting on her most even tone. "I'm just trying to gather as much information as possible."

The expression on Georgia's face had definitely shifted to something a little more wary, but she continued anyway. "Honestly, I don't remember much, it was all so long ago. He had a British accent, I remember everyone was fawning over that. I think he said that's where he was going, when he left."

"Do you know where?"

The way her brow furrowed let Angel know she might have gone a step too far. So instead, she pivoted.

"So Ellie had a baby? Before she died?"

Georgia sighed, taking a deep swig of her hot cocoa before answering. "Yes. She was distant throughout the whole thing. I mean, she was alone, you know? The dad left and her parents wanted nothing to do with her. I was basically her only support system and even then, she pulled away from me. I think she was becoming really depressed. I-- I should have seen the signs coming." Her voice broke slightly and Angel could see tears starting to well in her eyes.

"Sorry. This all happened so long ago, but..."

"It's okay. I understand," Angel replied stiffly, unable to meet her gaze.

"It all happened so fast," Georgia continued. "She didn't even tell me she had the baby. I don't know that she told anyone. After...after she killed herself, the police went to her apartment and found him there. A little baby boy. Barely a few weeks old. Her bathroom was a disaster. They think she delivered him herself. It's amazing she didn't die of blood loss. Maybe she was hoping she would. She tried to cut her wrists first but--"

"But it didn't work. So she drove her car into the lake," Angel said. Of course it didn't work. If she were a recently turned werewolf, all of her wounds would heal before she could make a dent.

There was a brief moment of pause as Georgia looked to her in surprise. "Sorry, I read as much in the original article," Angel explained, the truth this time. She followed with, "Did she have a suicide note?"

Georgia shook her head. "Not really. Just a brief message about taking care of her baby. She named him Daniel."

The sound of her deadname was suffocating--not just for the usual reasons of dysphoria and horrible memories, but because it was the final nail in the coffin of her dream. Confirmation of who she was and what she wasn't.

She wasn't the member of a long lost pack waiting to save her. She was the byproduct of a lone wolf making a mistake, and leaving everyone behind to clean up his mess.

The sound of Georgia's chair creaking as she stood caused Angel to snap back to reality. "She's buried at Oakland Cemetery, if you want to visit her. I do, sometimes." Then, she began towards the door. "I hope this was helpful, but unfortunately, I need to cut this a bit short. The snow's starting to come down harder and I'd like to pick my kids up from school before the roads get blocked up."

Angel numbly closed the notebook, holding it tight against her chest. All she could do was nod and stand. She didn't have it in her to keep up the lie. It was all too much. With her mind racing a mile a minute, she forced herself forward towards the exit.

"Swynlake."

Angel stopped and blinked. "What...?"

"Sorry, I just remembered. That's where Ellie's man said he was going. I don't know why that just came to me, I think a celebrity I like is staying there..." She shook her head sheepishly. "I'm sorry, that doesn't matter. I think my head is just all over the place, recalling all these memories."

Swynlake. In England. That's where her father was.

"No," she answered. "This has been very helpful. Thank you so much, for everything. And sorry for your loss."

[wily-one24]

####### Elliot hates being interrogated. 

He’s the detective. He is the one who should be asking the questions. And yet he always seems to find himself in the hot seat, whether it’s IAB or now. Sitting across from Rebecca Hendrix, trying to describe the indescribable to save his career. 

To save Olivia’s. 

“She’s experienced, professional, good with the victims. People trust her and they let her get close.”

“And you?” She looks at him and Elliot feels as if he’s walked straight into a trap. “Do you let her get close?”

Close enough to touch, to taste her, to feel her blood rushing under her skin, to smell her in his sleep even when she’s not there, to know her thoughts before she’s even thought them. 

“We’re partners, we have to trust each other. Our lives depend on it. A certain amount of closeness is required.”

She hums, an indifferent sound of acknowledgement and it irritates him beyond belief as he watches her flick through the file on her desk. 

“You recently separated from your wife. Do you want to talk about that?”

Elliot’s jaw sets. 

“We had problems and they grew past the point of fixing. We grew apart.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure out her train of thought. “But not for the reason you’re thinking.”

When she looks back up at him, her eyes are wide and innocent. 

“I’m not thinking anything.” But she makes a note in her file anyway. “It says here you’ve been written up several times for excessive violence. Was that a problem in your marriage?”

Elliot nearly stands up, the rage that hits him is indescribable, but his fingers clench into fists by his side and he lets his toes curl as well, tight and tense and ready to snap, all to stop him doing something monumentally stupid. 

“No.” It’s bitten out. “That was never one of our problems.”

She flicks through her file again and Elliot can only imagine what it says. 

“Has it ever been a problem? Outside of work, I mean?”

All he can think about is bruises on Olivia, his hands wrapped around her arms, the way she winces. And Cragen walking in on them. It has to be there, Cragen had to have told her, and if he lies about it, that’s going to make it worse. 

“I would never hurt Olivia.” 

He believes it, he does, and it makes Rebecca pick up her pen once again. 

“I didn’t say her name.” But it’s interesting you went there. She doesn’t say the words, but her voice does. 

####

Writers, this is an invitation to reblog this with an out of context quote from your WIP.

Why? Because I just like hearing things with no context.

[seastarlily]

Interesting Minor Facts About the Main Cast of “SpongeBob SquarePants”

SpongeBob SquarePants

- Birthday is July 14th, 1986 (“Sleepy Time”).

- Favorite color is beige (“You Don’t Know Sponge”).

- Favorite food is Krabby Patties (“You Don’t Know Sponge”).

- Favorite ice cream flavor is plain vanilla (“You Don’t Know Sponge”).

- Can knit (“Goo Goo Gas”, “Gramma’s Secret Recipe”, “New Digs”, and “Bulletin Board”).

- Is ambidextrous (demonstrated across many episodes but is outright stated in “You Don’t Know Sponge”).

- Main instrument of choice is ukulele (“F.U.N.”, “SpongeGuard on Duty”, “The Camping Episode”, “Single Cell Anniversary”, “Smoothe Jazz at Bikini Bottom”, “Hello Bikini Bottom!”, and “Say Awww!”) but can also play electric guitar (“The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie”, “Krabby Road”, and “Lights, Camera, Pants!”), drums (“New Digs”), and organ/keyboard/piano (“Something Smells”, “Tentacle-Vision”, and “A Place for Pets”).

- The glasses he wears while jellyfishing are modeled after his voice actor Tom Kenny’s.

Patrick Star

- Birthday is August 17th (“SpongeBob SquarePants Annual 2014”).

- Favorite color is aquamarine (“You Don’t Know Sponge”).

- Favorite ice cream flavor is dill pickle swirl with mustard and extra bacon bits (“You Don’t Know Sponge”).

- Is right-handed (“You Don’t Know Sponge”).

- Can knit (“Bulletin Board” and “Old Man Patrick”).

- Went to community college (“The Bully”).

- Has a thing for mermaids (“The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie” and “Welcome to the Bikini Bottom Triangle”).

- Is 1/16 Amoeba and a distant cousin to Gary the Snail (“Rule of Dumb”).

- Main instrument of choice is drums (“The Camping Episode”, “Band Geeks”, “Krabby Road”, “The Inmates of Summer”, “Tentacle-Vision”, and “Lights, Camera, Pants!”) but can also play electric guitar and synthesizer (“The Inmates of Summer”).

Squidward Tentacles

- Birthday is October 9th (“SpongeBob SquarePants Annual 2014″).

- His middle initial, “Q.”, stands for “Quincy”.

- Is right-handed (“Artist Unknown”).

- Has appeared in more episodes than Patrick, despite being the tritagonist of the series.

- Besides canned bread (“Squidville”), his favorite food is ice cream (“The Fish Bowl”).

- Knows basic karate (“Squid Defense”, “SpongeBob You’re Fired!”, and “Pineapple RV”).

- Main instrument of choice is clarinet but can also play piano (“Dying for Pie”, “Pest of the West”, and “Atlantis SquarePantis”) and electric guitar (“Krabby Road”).

- Never went to college (“Drive Thru”).

- Is claustrophobic (“Wishing You Well”) and acrophobic (“Are You Happy Now?”), although the latter phobia apparently can vary (“No Hat for Pat”).

- Is allergic to nuts (“Feral Friends”), seaberries (“Restraining SpongeBob”), snail slime (“Once Bitten”), and too many snails/pets in one place (“Sanctuary!” and “A Place for Pets”).

- Has cooked Krabby Patties in SpongeBob’s absence successfully ("Employee of the Month," "Bubble Buddy," "Breath of Fresh Squidward," "The Good Krabby Name," and "Super Evil Aquatic Villain Team Up is Go!”) more times than unsuccessfully ("Pickles," "Hooky," and "The Algae's Always Greener").

- The recumbent cycle he rides is based on his voice actor Rodger Bumpass’s.

Sandy Cheeks

- Birthday is November 17th (“SpongeBob SquarePants Annual 2014″).

- Has a twin brother Randy (“Rodeo Daze”) and an older sister Rosie (“Sandy’s Nutty Nieces”).

- Her middle name is either “Olivia” (“SpongeBob SquarePants Ocean 3D: Facts & 3D Pics”) or “Jennifer” (“SpongeBob SquarePants: The Broadway Musical”).

- Can play electric guitar as well as acoustic (“Band Geeks” and “Lights, Camera, Pants!”).

Eugene Krabs

- Birthday is November 30th, 1942 (“Sleepy Time”).

- His middle initial, “H.”, stands for “Harold”.

- Can play piano (“The Fry Cook Games” and “Goodbye, Krabby Patty?”), keytar (“Band Geeks”), and xylophone (“Lights, Camera, Pants!”)

- Can paint (“Selling Out”).

- Can knit (“Goo Goo Gas”, “Bulletin Board”, and “Plankton’s Intern”).

- Used to skateboard as a kid and can still do it pretty well (“The Grill is Gone”).

- While he prefers sea shanties, he’s also developed a taste for electronic/techno music (“Jellyfish Hunter”, “Krab Borg!”, “The New Leaf”, “Burst Your Bubble”, “Stuck on the Roof”, and “My Two Krabses”).

Sheldon Plankton

- Was born on the same day as Mr. Krabs (November 30th, 1942) making them exactly the same age (“Friend or Foe”).

- Is the only character with a middle initial whose middle name is not known, although some fans believe it could be “James”.

- Can paint (“Bucket Sweet Bucket”, “Sweet and Sour Squid”, and “Plankton’s Old Chum”).

- Knows basic karate (“C.H.U.M.S.” and “Chum Defense”).

- His instruments of choice are piano and keyboard (“Band Geeks”, “Krabby Road”, “Lights, Camera, Pants!”, and “There Will Be Grease”).

- Hates the taste of pineapple (“Pineapple Invasion”).

[lunnaris-sims]

Introducing my Veronaville playthrough!

Let me introduce you my Veronaville playthrough. Last week I came across veronavillequiltingbee's alternative version of Veronaville and I was completely hooked up by it (if you're interested and you want to download it you can find it HERE)! I always thought VV was a very boring and bland neighborhood and the fact that it only had 3 families already moved in didn't help. However, the changes they made made me want to play it and I thought to share it with you guys!

That being said, this is the play order I'll follow in my playthrough (at least during the first rounds 'til I add more families to the rotation):

Cordelia Capp's household

Juliette Capp has fallen for Romeo, golden child of the rival Monty clan. With Cordelia now at the helm, can the Capps set aside their grudges and put Juliette's happiness first? Or will the family secrets and infighting bring the once powerful empire to its knees?

2. Claudio Monty's household

Claudio Monty's determined to make his now-departed parents proud with his lovely wife Olivia and wonderful children. But will he be able to reconcile his son's romance with his family's sworn enemy?

3. Summerdream household

The Summerdreams' kindly nature and zest for life have cast a romantic spell over Veronaville's youth. But will there be any magic left for Puck? Will Oberon and Titania's plan to end the feud succeed once and for all? Or have the bitten more than they could?

4. Goneril Capp's household

Goneril's wife Rosalind wanted a big family, and she got it. Will their offspring carry on the Capp traditions, or smash the establishment to smithereens? And can Goneril finally take control of the family business they kept afloat this whole time? Or will "mysterious circumstances" force them to forge their own path?

5. Antonio Monty's household

Recently widowed, Antonio must either give up his job at the family restaurant and use his savings to raise his twins Viola and Sebastian, or hire help and keep the job he loves. What will be his role in the family feud that may have cost him his wife?

6. Regan Capp's household

Regan and her husband Cornwall are preoccupied with their careers, but Bianca Monty's affections for Regan's brother Kent have the household on alert. How can Kent get in their heads that nothing's happening between him and Bianca and they just happen to really be gay best friends? And will Regan and Cornwall ever talk about the elephant in the room?

7. Bianca Monty

Bianca Monty is happy to be out on her own living the gay cottagecore dream, but can she find someone to start a family with?

I have no idea how to end this so I wish you a very happy week! xx send help pls

[humanveil]

from a parallel universe wip draft thing:

4. When Joy Comes, Will I Be Ready, I Wonder.

Her life is never quiet, now, except on the rare occasion. Except for when she’s allowed moments like this: early morning, Sunday, the apartment warm and cosy and smelling of pine, cinnamon, eggnog, evergreen. Elliot carried the tree—a real one, barely big enough to make it past her thigh, its spotty foliage equal parts pathetic and endearing—up all nine flights of stairs two days ago, then stood, doubled over, out of breath and unamused while she sat there and tried her hardest not to laugh at him.

It’s covered in glitter now; tinsel, too. Loose sparkles and fallen needles litter the floor beneath it, homemade ornaments hanging on by a thread. Olivia sits cross legged beside it, idly poking at a bauble and smiling when it swings, the gentle back and forth strangely soothing.

It’s been a long few weeks. Moving is never easy, but moving in December with a two-year-old in tow and a killer on the loose had proved downright disastrous. They still have so much to do—still have boxes left open, untouched, half-hidden in the corners. She’s started picking at them when she can’t sleep, but it never achieves much of anything. Mostly, she fixates on the three boxes labelled BOOKS, drawn to the ritual of sorting, re-sorting, the quiet routine a remedy for her late-night nerves. Those nagging thoughts: How is this my life now?

How do I make it last?

They’re mostly hers, the books. Annotated, inherited. Elliot isn’t much of a reader, except for when their daughter asks, her book of choice shoved toward his chest as she demands, Do the voices, Daddy! He always does; a new set for each one. Olivia listens whenever she can, the insides of her cheeks bitten raw and bloody with her attempts to hide her grin. More than once, she’s caught him at the kitchen sink reciting Maurice Sendak, his voice low, deep, a rhythmic whisper.

Oh, please don’t go—we’ll eat you up—we love you so!

She’d finally started organising the shelves last night. Had settled on aiming for a semblance of order: fiction and poetry first, then nonfiction, work related, self-help. Alcott sits next to Atwood, Austen, Blake. A shelf down: Dickens, Dickinson, Dostoevsky. She got all the way to Shakespeare before it got the best of her, her throat tight with a tell-tale burn as she thumbed through the Complete Works, its spine cracked and edges frayed, the cover page coffee stained. A dead woman’s penmanship: With sighs of fire, Olivia. She’d had to stop, after that. Moved on to something easier.

Now, she sits amidst the flow on from Bea’s room, books her daughter had outgrown or didn’t like or lost interest in stacked haphazardly at her side. She’d made steady progress til a picture book of JFK had caught her eye (John’s idea of a recovery room gift. You can never start too early, he’d said, which was Munch for, Congratulations. It’s a girl!). The apartment had started to stir around the same time a car arrived at Dealey Plaza, so Olivia had cleared her mess and sat back, poking baubles while she waited for the chaos to trickle in.

It hadn’t taken long.

It never does.

She hears the commotion come to life. Tip toes, first. Running water. Then: Voices. Mattress springs. A soft thud, a peel of laughter. Little feet running across the laminate as larger, heavier footfalls follow.

A flash of colour. Two people barrelling into the room, one right after the other.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Beatrice cries. “Save me!”

She’s a blur of white, pink, pastel blue, purple. Unicorns are the latest craze; her onesie has a glittery, golden horn hanging from its hood, and it bounces as she dashes past Olivia to weave through the furniture, her father a half-step behind.

“Don’t run in the house,” Olivia tries, but it’s half-hearted at best. She knows full well that it falls on deaf ears.

Bea pulls the rookie move and stops to glance behind her, a mess of dark brown bed hair covering her eyes. Elliot seizes the opening and swoops down, scoops her up, his triumphant little hurrah almost drowned out as Bea’s laugh morphs into a squeal, her little legs kicking as she tries to wiggle free from her father’s hands.

“Mommy!” she cries again, the word broken up by giggles. “Make him sto–OP.”

Elliot’s got her bridal style, his head bent to blow raspberries against her chubby, round cheeks. “Nuh-uh,” he says, sing-song. “Mommy can’t save you now!”

There’s more giggling; another squeal for help as Olivia gets to her feet. “Alright,” she says, no-nonsense. It’s easy to slip into an imitation of Detective Benson, assertive and formidable if not for the fact that she’s standing in a pair of old sweats, her arms outstretched, hands clasped to form a finger gun. She aims it at Elliot’s chest. “Hands where I can see ‘em.”

Sunlight falls across the living room, striped and golden and flickering gently, the bright light forcing Elliot to squint. “You’ll never take me alive,” he says, an emulation of the movies. His cheeks are red, blotchy, the creases of their sheets embedded in his skin. He looks sleep-warm, inviting; Olivia sees Bea curl toward him even as she thumps a little fist against his chest.

“Daddy,” she scolds, the way only a two-year-old can. “You have to do what she says!”

Olivia laughs, then sticks her tongue out when Elliot rolls his eyes. She can tell that he’s biting back a grin, too, a laugh of his own stuck at the back of his throat.

“Don’t I know it,” he says, a kiss placed to the top of Bea’s head. He deposits her on the couch, careful, and holds his hands up for them to see. “Alright, alright,” he tells Liv. “Don’t shoot.”

Olivia steps forward, hand catching Elliot’s wrist so she can make her mock arrest. She moves closer than she needs to, her chin propped atop his shoulder, her body stealing what’s left of his warmth. “Anything you say can and will be held against you,” she says, her voice low, the innuendo clear.

Elliot tilts his head to get a glance of her. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Her free arm winds around his middle, her hand flat against his chest. “Naptime ‘round here gets very eventful.”

His laugh is tangible. She feels it ripple along his sternum, up his spine, and hides her smile against his shoulder blade, her grip on his wrist shifting so they’re just holding hands.

“Looking forward to it, Detective.”

not 100% happy w this yet but from the draft fic notes to explain my choice of name for an eo kid: bea, as in beatrice, as in inspired by both the shakespeare character from much ado about nothing and the beatrice of dante alighieri’s the divine comedy, because a sharp-witted little terror that is also a heavenly guide representative of grace and faith sounds a lot like an eo kid, dunnit? i also just like the idea that olivia’s name is inspired by the olivia of twelfth night, and so (TO ME!) it is a small way to carry on serena’s tradition. also also: on the list of names i looked at, it sounded the best with benson-stabler. lmao.

thinking about her (girlmom liv)

[themissakat]

Ok I love your Zombie Apocalypse au despite my major fear of zombie apocalypses-

I'm here for the angst so I need for insight on Anne's arm. Once they had to cut it off because it got bitten, who had to do that, Sasha, Marcy, or did Anne have to cut her own arm off? And how did they get it cauterized?

Also what role does Yunan and Olivia play in this au?

Marcy took charge during the procedure, she's taken lots of first aid courses at her parent's behest. Olivia is a scientist and Yunan is a soldier assigned as her bodyguard. When their quarantine zone is overrun the two of them escape together!

[starcrossedjedis]

So yeah, it's NaNoWriMo in five days so I am once again asking you to take this poll and tell me what to work on ♥

1. Chenford - Urban Fantasy WerewolfxMate AU [The Rookie]

"You know what they say about werewolves and the full moon, Officer Chen? How it gets easier once they learn to embrace the transformation? It's been five years since Tim's been bitten and there hasn't been a full moon where he didn't fight the wolf with every fibre of his being. And now he is going to do the same with the bond. He will continue to fight it for your sake. And it's going to kill him..."

2. Mischief & Mayhem - Fred WeasleyxOC [Harry Potter]

Olivia Nott and Fred Weasley first meet at the Quidditch World Cup. Yes, they have been in the same year at Hogwarts for four years and the obnoxious prankster and his twin have been sitting behind her in Potions class for two of them, but with their world being what it is, the pureblood princess from Slytherin and the resident Gryffindor jester might as well have grown up on different planets. But they do meet. And even if this first meeting is cut short by another first - dark and dangerous and far too personal for Liv - they both find it hard to go back to living those separate lives once they are back at Hogwarts. With the rise of the Death Eaters and a civil war looming on the horizon Liv’s loyalties are soon tested in ways that go beyond house rivalries.

3. Gravity - Sirius BlackxOC [Harry Potter]

Moira caught up with Sirius on the front stairs.

“What is the matter with you?”

“What is the matter with me?” Sirius stopped and turned around to her so abruptly that she almost bumped into him. “Are you seriously asking me this?”

Moira just stared at him in reply; eyebrows raised expectantly and arms folded in front of her chest. Everything about her posture was a challenge.

“Just let it go, Finnigan,” he growled through gritted teeth. He wanted to leave, but her hand on his arm stopped him.

“What happened?” Her voice was suddenly so small and Merlin! why was that even worse than her anger? He was hungover and tired and irritated, why did she have to do this now? Did she really not understand how easy it was for her to undo him?

4. Starcrossed - OCxOC [Star Wars]

“Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.”

Nyka’a Sundar and Jaren Korr have recited these lines every day of their life growing up in the Jedi Temple of Coruscant, but when the young Jedi’s deep bond of friendship blossoms into something more - something beautiful and dangerous and forbidden - they have to decide if living their lives by this ancient code can ever be enough for them again…

5. Children of Salem - Witchy YA original story

“No one was supposed to find our ritual site. Hell, we even cloaked the path leading there. We have taken every precaution in the book to keep mortals from disturbing our dance and exposing our existence to the world. But you still found us. I do believe something about Salem has been calling you, Miss Cooper, but I don’t think it’s a degree in Women’s Studies…”