#once i learn how to draw hair without struggling for literally forever i will be unstoppable

[written-in-my-blood]

Siblings ☹️

[lover-of-skellies]

Marked

So uhh, this isn’t off the prompt list thing and literally no one asked for it, but I decided to go back and edit a super old thing I wrote. It’s supposed to be part of something a lot bigger, but for now, the whole thing’s been discontinued

Essentially, this is an OC insert kinda thing with my girl Adrienne. She’s been trapped in Horrortale for a little while, and since Sans decided to be merciful, she’s been allowed to live in a spare room in his and Pap’s house. She has free roam of the house and can do pretty much whatever the hell she wants (as long as it doesn’t involve getting into the pantry and digging into their reserves), and in exchange for all of that and being allowed to live, he and Papyrus have some super basic rules they expect her to follow

Rule number 1 is that she is to be helpful, and try to maintain the house while they’re away. Rule number two is that she’s not to leave the house without covering her face and hands. Rule number three is that she’s never to leave the house alone, without one or both of them nearby

Out of boredom and hunger, she leaves the house one day, following the smell of food. This doesn’t seem like it’d be anything huge, but it’s a major no-no, and it doesn’t go unpunished

Papyrus is also surprisingly good at giving advice, too. He might not have much experience with dating, but he knows exactly what he's talking about

If you make it to the end, I have to give you kudos because this is a complete cringe-fest ^^"

((Gonna add some potential trigger warnings for: angst, slight violence, and public humiliation))

Pain.

Searing pain.

The once blue-nette had been exploring the town, much to her guardians’ displeasure. She’d known it wasn’t a good idea, and for what reasons, she was well aware, but she had to do something. Staying holed away in the house every moment of every day was a completely new level of boring, one that she hadn’t even known existed. Her guardian had made it very clear that she was to never leave the house unless he or his brother were to accompany her, but today… well. His brother was away, probably at the capital getting physically and verbally abused by their queen, and he himself? She wasn’t sure what he did while he was away, but she’d learned not to ask too many questions. The first few times she tried asking, he’d been quick to change the subject or dodge her questions entirely, or he’d simply laugh and make a joke which he deemed hilarious when in reality, it wasn’t. Once he got tired of her asking, his humor quickly dissipated and was replaced by anger. He didn’t even have to look at her for her to know he was upset; all it took was a few short, clipped responses, and how she could practically hear him frown when he spoke. That’s beside the point though.

At the moment, she was suspended in mid air by her throat, her legs flailing as she began clawing at her assailant’s arm, her teeth bared as she struggled to free herself. The slightly withered fire monster shrugged off her attempts to attack him as if they were nothing at all; even though his strength had been diminished and was now only half of what it used to be, he was still far tougher than she could ever hope to be. Having smelled food, she made the mistake of slipping into the bar he owned, her hood tugged as far over her face as possible. She had glanced around the establishment, taken note of the other monsters nearby, and made another mental note of where all the exits were, should she need to run. After very cautiously crossing the bar and taking a seat at the old, worn counter, the flamesman had wordlessly poured a glass of water. He nudged it in her direction, and she’d eagerly accepted it, being mindful of how much of her face was concealed as she sipped the cold beverage.

For a moment, she was relaxed, and she nearly forgot the very real danger she was in. She was snapped out of her brief feeling of serenity as the Grillby fully shifted his attention to her. He made a soft, questioning sound, and she kept her head low, speaking just barely loud enough for him to hear, “What’re ya serving, Grillby?” He grunted, well prepared to offer her a short, yet simple answer, but was cut off by another monster who seated himself beside the girl, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts before, friend… where are you from?” The teen lowered her gaze to the countertop, catching a glimpse of what looked to be faded blue fur. She didn’t know what monster could possibly want to talk to her, but she remained as calm and casual as possible in hope of not drawing any more attention to herself, “The ruins.”

With their interest now fully piqued, the monster beside her hummed incredulously, “The ruins, huh?... I take it you’ve met our former queen then. Toriel.” Upon hearing the familiar goat monster’s name, the teen saw images flicker in her mind; memories of her time in the ruins before she managed to escape. How Toriel had guided her through all the traps and puzzles that laid in waiting. How she held her close and allowed her to sob into her shoulder. How she’d convinced Adrienne to go back to her house, where there’d be a warm bed, food, and all the love and care she could ever want. Toriel had baked a cinnamon and butterscotch pie, very excited to share it with her, but not long after the teen had eaten a small slice, she’d felt her stomach turn. Her world went black, and when she awoke, she was tucked into a bed in a dimly lit room, which looked as though it had once belonged to a child. She felt incredibly ill and had almost no strength, and she could barely stand without feeling light headed. To her surprise, however, her willing ally, Flowey, had made a surprise return. Adrienne had seen Toriel had burn him alive, so she didn’t understand how he was even still alive.

Flowey had been through this exact same situation too many times to count, as it turned out, and he’d revealed Toriel’s true intentions: make the teen weak enough to require constant care and attention, and make her stay in the ruins forever. Or at the very least, until she died. Taking advantage of a distraction provided by Flowey, she’d waited for the goat monster to disappear to another part of the house. She’d then made her way to the kitchen and began to search around the floorboards. According to Flowey, there was a panel that could be removed, and underneath it, she’d find the remedy she needed to regain her health. She’d found the vial and downed it without question, only to look up and see the crazed goat monster staring at her from the doorway. The look on her face was one that still occasionally haunted Adrienne's dreams, and she’d been trying to go as long as possible without thinking about it. It appeared as though she’d be getting no such luck today, though.

Clearing her throat and trying to force down her growing anxiety, she nodded, keeping her head down, “Yeah, I have. I’ve met her.” The blue furred stranger watched her with an unnerving amount of intensity and she fought the urge to squirm and lean away from them. As they spoke again, their voice held a curious edge, “Huh. I can only imagine how that went.” Nodding silently, the teen returned to her glass of water, more than ready for the stranger to go away. She knew what would happen if she was discovered, and she wanted no part of that whatsoever.

The monster leaned closer to her and sniffed the air, letting out a pleased sigh before mumbling, “Friend… you don’t exactly smell like one of us. Monsters have their own natural and unique scents... But you, however,” A fuzzy paw-like hand seized her arm with a vice-like grip, and the stranger's voice shifted from a mumble to what was more like a hiss, “you smell like you belong on the grill.” Adrienne began attempting to yank her arm back out of the monster’s grasp and they laughed, simply using their free hand to tug her hood down, revealing her identity to Grillby and the other bar patrons that surrounded them. Her faded grey eyes widened in fear as the monsters began to shout at the flamesman, excitedly demanding that he cook her for them. Despite how the teen shook her head in protest, the mass of living fire moved closer to her, rapidly snatching her up by the throat. She was lifted off of the ground, and he ignored her pained screams as the heat from his hand began to scorch the skin of her neck.

With adrenaline now coursing through her veins, she let out a string of expletives and pulled both of her legs up until her knees touched her chest. The flamesman took a single step toward his kitchen, and then froze as both of her deceptively weak legs shot toward him, delivering a sharp kick to the space just below his chest. She didn’t expect her little stunt to actually work, but to her pleasant surprise, he’d released his grip on her out of shock, gingerly touching the now injured part of himself. Adrienne dropped to the floor and quickly regained her balance, paying no attention to the few monsters who rushed to Grillby’s side. She proceeded to climb over the counter and sprint toward the door, the footsteps behind her a clear indicator that she was being pursued now. Not that she could blame them for any though; food was insanely hard to come by, so if you had a chance to eat but the food got up and ran, wouldn’t you go after it too?

Reaching out with a clawed hand, some unseen monster snagged a fistful of her hair and harshly pulled, causing her to yelp and almost tumble to the floor. She glanced around, surveying her surroundings and checking the exits again. Part of what looked to be a dog’s muzzle could be seen in her peripheral vision and she winced, struggling to free herself from the creature's grip. She only received an amused cackle from the monster in question, followed by him instructing some of the others to grab her and haul her back to the kitchen for Grillby. Looking around again and seeing them approaching her, she stuffed her hand into one of her pockets and fished around, searching through the various items inside for a moment before revealing a pocket knife. Unsure of what she might do, some of the monsters around her stepped back, but the one still pulling her hair only growled. Though she felt the hair on the back of her neck raise at the sound, she lifted an arm and made one single, fluid slicing motion with her hand, the blade of the pocket knife slicing through her hair. While she hated having to cut her hair and knew it’d take forever to grow back, she bared her teeth at the large dog monster, her lips curling into a smug grin as she noticed the look of surprise on his face.

Taking advantage of the moment, she darted to the nearest door, fully prepared to run out into the freezing streets and make a mad dash back to her protector’s house. Freedom and safety were so close and within her reach now, but as she whipped the door open and scrambled to get outside, she slammed face first into yet another monster. Letting out a frustrated and startled screech, she began trying to squeeze past them. They simply chuckled, wrapping an arm around her nearly size-zero waist and pulling her flush against themselves. Hearing the chuckle, realization dawned on her; this was her protector. She would be safe now.

She stole a glance up at his face and his scarlet iris flickered briefly down to her, his amused grin shifting into a taut line. Oh, she knew that expression all too well by now.

From that look alone, she knew someone would be hurt today.

Though his arm was almost uncomfortably tight around her, she said nothing, only turning her body slightly and burying her face in the front of his heavily blood stained shirt. The teen whimpered, wordlessly admitting just how scared she really was at the moment. He shifted his focus entirely to the other monsters that were now staring at both of them, and sensing their gaze, the teen whined faintly, her guardian lightly squeezing her in an effort to reassure her.

Thoroughly confused as to why she wasn’t dead yet, someone called out to her protector, “Perfect timing, Sans. Now how about you kill her so we can all eat already?” The skeleton’s normally rough voice held a bitter edge and he practically growled, “She ain’t free game, pal. I’m sorry ta say it, but I won’t be hackin’ this one ta bits for ya.” A crowd was beginning to form now and Adrienne tried to press as close to her friend as she could, wishing everyone would hurry up and leave. She already hated crowds on their own, and knowing that this particular crowd all wanted to see her get roasted alive didn’t exactly make her feel any better. Clearly taken aback, the same monster that’d addressed Sans spoke up again, “Oh really? And why’s that? You never helped the humans that fell before her, so what makes her so special?”

Curiosity piqued, she glanced up at the skeleton again, though he didn’t return the gaze. He just continued staring the other monster down, his iris nearly glowing now from the extent of his agitation, “Because she’s mine. Ya hear me? This little slab a’ meat belongs ta me.” A tiny burst of heat rushed to her face upon hearing his response; was he really claiming her right now? Claiming that she was his, and using his power over the others to coerce them into sparing her? Unbelievable.

Another monster decided to interject, countering Sans’ statement with, “Then how come you haven’t marked her yet?”

Oh boy. Of course someone would ask. Why wouldn’t they? She had no idea what she was expecting, but it clearly wasn’t that. With an annoyed huff, the skeleton spun her around, making sure everyone could see her face as he fired back with another sharp retort, “Heh, funny you should ask. I was on my way home with the intention of doin’ just that, but I guess we won’t have the privacy now. Oh well. All you fuckwits better be watchin’, because I’m only gonna do this once.”

Wait, he was going to mark her? Here? In front of everyone?

Face burning with embarrassment, she dropped her gaze to the floor, letting out a soft squeak as he grabbed the collar of her shirt and jacket and pulled them aside to reveal her shoulder. Not bothering to give any indication of what he was about to do, a faintly glowing blue tongue snaked out of his maw and traced over a very specific patch of her skin. The feeling of his tongue - which consisted solely of highly concentrated magic - on her skin was like nothing she’d experienced before. There was some warmth to it that was followed by a tingle, which was likely caused by the magic itself, and another involuntary whimper slipped past her lips. Her face grew hotter at hearing herself make that sound again, which to her horror, Sans had also heard. It earned a soft chuckle from him and his mandible shifted into a pleased grin.

And then he sunk his teeth into her shoulder.

It happened so fast that she didn’t even have time to register what happened, but at the lack of the expected pain, she unconsciously fidgeted. Wasn’t this supposed to hurt?... What was preventing her from being in pain right now? She felt his tongue trace over her skin again, accompanied by more tingling and… numbness? Had he intentionally numbed her shoulder before biting her?

Seeing that he had been true to his word and had in fact marked her, the other monsters quickly grew bored, the vast majority of them also visibly disappointed as they returned to their prior activities. A sense of relief washed over her and she sighed, stealing a quick glance at her friend as he slowly released her. His tongue lingered behind momentarily and lapped up the blood that seeped from the injury, and his voice took a husky tone as he purred, “Ya taste good, kiddo. I think I could get used ta this.” Her already flushed face became a much brighter shade of red than before and she scoffed, refusing to look at him, “Don’t count on it, mister.” “Awe, c’mon Addy. Help me out here… it’s not my fault that ya taste as good as ya look.” Growling softly, Adrienne scrunched her face up into a look of annoyance in hopes of masking her embarrassment as she rolled her eyes, “Pervert.” “No idea what you’re talkin’ about.” “Uh huh, right. I definitely believe that.” He lightly jabbed her side with the tip of a phalange and she squirmed, yelping in surprise. She tried to twist her small frame away from him and he laughed softly, “Whatever. How about we ditch this place and head home now? This bar is no place for a little lady like ya.” Looking back at him over her shoulder, she flicked her tongue at him.

They’d left the bar and began to walk home in uncomfortable silence. The moment they made it back to his house and he’d set her down, she found herself being roughly shoved against the closed front door with one of his large hands catching her wrists and pinning them above her head. Her eyes widened in shock and she squirmed, “H-Hey, what the hell are you-” Meeting her gaze, the look he wore was enough to silence her, his completely dilated red iris both captivating and terrifying her all at once.

Then he spoke, his gruff voice low, “You disobeyed me, Adrienne.”

Forcing her voice out and reaching nothing louder than a whisper, she frowned, “I… I know I did. I’m really sorry, Sans. I won’t do it again, I swear.” “Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if I didn’t get ta you in time?” “Yes, I do! Really!” “If you knew the risks, then why’d you do it?” Feeling much smaller than before as he continued staring her down, Adrienne sheepishly looked away from him, “There’s just.... Not a lot to do here when you and Paps are gone, and I was bored. I did a bunch of cleaning and reorganizing, and I even tried to fix the TV. I dug through the hallway closet and looked through the games, but do you have any idea how hard it is to actually play a game by yourself and have fun at the same time?”

With his free hand, the skeleton cupped his face, letting a deep sigh, “You risked your life… you risked dying, because you were bored? Am I hearin’ that right?” Feeling guilty, she slowly nodded, choosing to keep her mouth shut this time. Catching her completely by surprise, what sounded like a giggle could be heard, and though it took a moment to fully register, she had a realization that made her blood run cold; the giggle came from Sans.

Nervously lifting her gaze again to look up at him, the only thing that began to pulse within her was regret. Regret that she’d disobeyed him, regret that she went against his wishes, regret that she’d upset him so badly, regret that she even opened her mouth at all to speak to him, and most of all, regret that she’d decided to look at him.

He leaned back the smallest bit, one hand still firmly pinning her wrists above her head. Her eyes widened in complete terror as his giggling began to escalate, growing louder and louder until he was roaring with laughter as blue tinted tears pricked at the rims of his sockets. Not bothering to wipe away the tears, he placed his free hand on his face. His open palm rested on his cheek as he curled his fingers, the first two settling inside his empty socket; judging by the slight movement his arm made, he’d begun lightly tugging on the rim of it. That was never a good sign. Yes, she loved it when he relaxed enough to laugh with her from time to time, but this display right now? This was the stuff of nightmares.

Then almost as quickly as it’d started, his laughter came to an abrupt halt and his wide grin vanished, leaving only a resentful scowl behind in its place. As his focus shifted back to the teen, her heart began to race. She honestly had no idea what he planned to do now. He then began to slowly tighten his grip on her wrists, a soft growl rumbling from within his chest. Paying no attention to the grimace of pain she wore as his phalanges began digging into her skin, he leaned down, the space between them reduced to almost nothing as he hissed, “You’re an idiot. Get out of my goddamn sight, human.” Adrienne opened her mouth to force an apology out but was quickly cut off, crying out in surprise and pain as the skeleton dug his phalanges even further into her wrists and began to break skin. Rolling his single eye light, he scoffed, stepping back and suddenly yanking her to the side, releasing his grip on her wrists in time to make her small body become airborne. With the sound of something cracking and collapsing beneath her, she knew she’d landed at least partially on the coffee table.

Despite the pain that shot through her with even the smallest movement, the cold stare she was receiving from the skeleton was enough to make get back up, her head hung low as her eyes began to water up. Not wanting to show him this weaker, more vulnerable side of herself, she darted up the stairs, her feet padding across the slightly creaky wooden floor for only a brief moment. She then took refuge in the upstairs bathroom, slamming the door shut behind herself and flipping the latch, locking out the world. Trying to force down the very minute amount of guilt that began to bubble up within him, Sans let out an annoyed huff and glanced at the now completely busted coffee table. He was going to have a hell of a time explaining that to Papyrus later.

~~~

What seemed like a century had passed before the youngest of the two skeletons finally returned home, the sight of the smashed coffee table still lying on the floor enough to induce a sense of dread within him. Normally when he came home, his elder brother would greet him, or at the very least, be lazing about on the couch and offer him a half hearted wave that was usually followed by some sort of pun or terrible joke.

But no. Nothing. Sans was nowhere in sight, and neither was Adrienne. This only made Papyrus’ concern grow; he hoped beyond all hope that his brother hadn’t done anything to her.

The tall skeleton let out a soft sigh and crossed the living room. The exhaustion from the long day began to set in as he ascended the stairs, eager to take a shower and change into something more comfortable. He loved his battle body immensely, but sometimes his sore, tired bones made the item feel as though it weighed a thousand pounds. He wished he could simply change his clothes and climb into bed so he could go to sleep, but life wasn’t that simple for him; before he was allowed to relax, he needed to shower and make dinner for his brother and Adrienne, then the teen was to help him clean up the dishes once the three of them had finished eating. After all that, he was to take Adrienne to the backyard to test prototypes for new puzzles and traps. She was kind enough to help him make sure they worked correctly, so he was always vigilant, always watching to make sure she was never injured on any of them. Aside from being a puzzle and trap tester, his rather small human friend also delighted in helping him think of new puzzles, and she even designed some of her own. She seemed to enjoy partaking in games of pretend when they messed around with the action figures he’d collected over the years, and when Sans wasn’t around or flat out refused to do it, she didn’t mind reading to him before he fell asleep each night, either. They’d grown very close, and he cared for her almost as much as he cared for Sans. It was for all those reasons why he promised to protect her; he had to protect her. He’d become used to her presence and had grown to appreciate their friendship very much, and having her as his friend helped fill the void in his soul that was once occupied by the queen herself. He still considered Undyne a close friend, but the way she spoke and treated him now was… Execrable.

As he twisted the knob and nudged his bedroom door open, the scent of blood hit his nasal cavity and he felt his body tense. Gently pushing the door shut behind his massive frame once he’d crossed the threshold, he made his way to his desk and flicked on the small lamp that resided on its far left corner, the light illuminating his multitude of action figures and an old map.

The faint sound of movement caught Papyrus’ attention and he looked down toward the source, almost unable to believe what he was seeing; the human was in his bed, lying on her side and wrapped in his old blankets. An open first aid kit sat on the floor next to the bed, and cloth bandages were wrapped loosely around her slender neck. Her hair, which was once nearly long enough to reach her lower back, was now much shorter; it looked as though it was cut hastily by some sort of blade. While her arms were mostly concealed by the blankets, he could see that her wrists had also been wrapped in bandages, a familiar crimson threatening to seep through the material. As she shifted again in her slumber, her shirt began to slip down her shoulder and revealed another large bandage, more crimson staining the fabric. His brow bones furrowed as he took note of how the crimson staining it formed a half circle… as if the injury was because of a bite.

In his consternation, Papyrus reached out, a single gloved hand settling on her uninjured shoulder. He leaned down, his spine already aching from the awkward angle as he lowered his voice and did his best not to startle her, “Human?... Adrienne? Please, I Need You To Wake Up. Come On Human, Please.” As she slowly began to stir, he fought the urge to scoop her up into his arms and shelter her from whatever had left her in her current condition.

As her eyes fluttered open and she took notice of the skeleton towering over her, all traces of exhaustion vanished and her eyes widened, a sound of surprise slipping past her lips. In her momentary panic, she’d sat up and tried to move away from him, her chest heaving as she drew in one deep breath after another. Papyrus gently shushed her, offering her a weak, apologetic smile, “Hey, Hey, It’s Alright. It’s Just Me, Adrienne. I Didn’t Mean To Startle You, I Swear. I’m So Sorry For Scaring You.”

Registering who was with her, the teen released a deep sigh of relief. She gave Papyrus no time to prepare himself before she practically threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around whatever she could reach before clinging to his battle body. Though he was visibly caught off guard, he delicately encircled her with his arms, one hand finding her uninjured shoulder again before he lightly squeezed, his voice laced with concern, “Adrienne?... What’s Wrong? What Happened To You?”

The only response he received from the girl in his arms was a muffled sob and he frowned, moving his hand from her shoulder to her face. He used his index finger to tilt her head back, allowing him to see her tear stained face, and as her bottom lip twitched and another tear rolled down her cheek, he frowned; normally she was such a strong, upbeat person. To see her this way was heartbreaking.

The skeleton lowered his voice even further, reducing it to a whisper, “Adrienne, Please… Tell Me What Happened. I Want To Help You.” Her lip twitched again and she sniffled, reaching up to wipe her tears away with her sleeve, “I just… Papy… I just wanted to go outside... I just wanted some fresh air… I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Still frowning, Papyrus gently ran his fingers through her hair and tilted his head, his voice remaining low, “What Do You Mean?... Did Sans Do This To You?” Upon hearing the name of the older skeleton brother, Adrienne tightened her grip on Papyrus, her voice beginning to waver as more tears rolled down her face, gathering at her jaw and dripping down onto her shirt, “Papy… I was so stupid. I made him mad at me. I upset Sans.”

Papyrus’ frown deepened; he knew how his brother could be whenever he had one of his episodes, and never in a million years would he wish for anyone to become the recipient of Sans' delirium. The skeleton sighed as he gently stroked the teen’s hair, “It’ll Be Ok, I Promise. You May Stay Here Tonight If You’d Like, And I’ll Be Sure To Speak With Him About This. Do You Think You Could Tell Me Everything, Though? I Can’t Be Of Any Help To You If I Don’t Know All The Details.” With a heavy heart, she slowly nodded and looked up, meeting his gaze, “I… I went outside today... by myself. I went into town, and I went to Grillby’s. It smelled like food in there, and I was so hungry… I thought I’d find something to eat. I kept myself as covered as possible, but I was caught and got grabbed by Grillby,” she paused, visibly ashamed as she gestured to her neck, “…I got burned.”

The skeleton made a soft sound in understanding and nodded, silently asking her to continue, which she did, “Someone else grabbed my hair and I had to cut it to get away from them. Then when I opened the door and went to run outside, I ran face first into Sans. He told everyone there not to mess with me, that I wasn’t free game because I belonged to him. Then he marked me. Right there, with everyone watching. He was a little flirty afterward and he seemed happy enough, so I thought everything was ok, but when we got here, he… he had an episode.”

Papyrus didn’t know what to make of everything he’d just been told; on one hand, she suffered numerous injuries and nearly died, and on the other hand, she was marked by Sans.

Normally whenever a monster marked someone, it meant that they saw that person as their mate and that they wanted to claim them as their own. That they loved that person with every fiber of their body and soul. Being marked also served as a way to protect someone from other monsters, but there had been cases of a mark not being enough to guarantee the safety of a monster's mate.

Being marked was not only a big deal, but it was also something that every self respecting monster knew should be done in private. The fact that Sans marked her in the first place was absolutely astounding, but the fact that he had the absolute nerve to take something that was meant to be special, shared between mates and no one else, and turned it into some obscene gesture that he performed in front of a crowd, undoubtedly humiliating Adrienne in the process… It was unacceptable.

He needed to speak to Sans, and he needed to do it now.

Releasing a deep sigh, Papyrus lifted a hand to idly rub the back of his neck, “I See… I Cannot Apologize Enough On My Brother’s Behalf. I’ll See If I Can Get Anything Out Of Him That Would Explain Why He’d Behave This Way. Hopefully… Hopefully He Doesn’t Clam Up, Like He Seems To Always End Up Doing. Will You Be Alright Here While I’m Away? I Don’t Want To Leave You Alone If You’re Still Feeling A Little Too Overwhelmed And Freaked Out By Everything.” The teen sniffled, absentmindedly wiping her face with her sleeve again as she nodded, “Uh huh… I think so.” Catching the slight uncertainty in her voice, he offered her a reassuring smile, “I’ll Try To Be Back As Soon As Possible, Alright? How About You Pick Out Some Puzzles For Us To Work On When I Return? A Few Good Puzzles Always Help Me Feel Better Whenever I’m A Bit Rattled, So I’m Confident They’ll Do The Same For You, Too!” Adrienne couldn’t help the small smile that curled her lips upward at how eager he was to help her, and she nodded again, “Ok, Pap… that sounds good to me. When you get back, do you think maybe you could help me fix my bandages a little? Some of them are still too loose and I dunno if I missed any little spots anywhere.” Perking up at the request, Papyrus beamed, gently unwrapping his arms from around her and ruffling her hair, “Yes, Of Course! The Great Papyrus Would Be Happy To Assist You, Adrienne!” Letting go of the skeleton, Adrienne smiled up at him; he was such a sweet guy, and despite their circumstances, he was always so optimistic. He still maintained a sense of morality as well, unlike the other monsters. She honestly wasn’t sure what she’d do without him at times.

Reluctantly parting from his small human friend, Papyrus slipped out of the room, carefully closing the door behind himself. Once he was gone, Adrienne sighed, climbing out of his bed and making her way over to a shelf. As she looked over the various boxes and puzzle books, she came to the conclusion that it probably didn’t matter which one she chose; as long as it’d keep her and that goofball busy for a while, it was good enough for her. As she reached out to grab a thick puzzle book, she winced. Her free hand moved to gingerly touch the bandage on her shoulder; at the twinge of pain, her mind drifted to Sans. After earlier, she should’ve learned her lesson and given up on disobeying the very specific rules that her friends had established. She was a curious being by nature though, and she’d be damned if she had to go on without receiving any answers.

Her curiosity and desire to know why Sans would mark her grew even stronger. She grabbed the puzzle book and dropped it on Papyrus’ bed, before peeking out of the room and glancing around the hall. Against her better judgement, she began to search for the pair of brothers. The most logical place Sans would be at this time of night would be in his room, or downstairs on the living room sofa. If those two places weren’t it, then she’d have to check the basement. No biggie. As she tiptoed down the empty hallway, she briefly paused to look over the railing and down into the living room, and found that Sans was nowhere in sight. On her way toward the stairs, she caught the sound of a mumbled conversation through Sans’ closed bedroom door and froze; she knew better than to go into his room without knocking, so she opted to stay in the hall and eavesdrop, rather than barge in on whatever he and Papyrus were talking about at the moment.

Inside the closed off room, Sans rolled his eye light, trying his best to brush off the lecture he was receiving from his younger brother. It’s not like he did anything to Papyrus personally, so he didn’t understand why Pap thought he needed to get involved. Not in the slightest. Completely exasperated with Sans’ stubbornness, Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep sigh, “Sans, Honestly. You Didn’t Have To Take It That Far. The Poor Girl’s Probably Traumatized And Too Ashamed To Ever Want To Leave The House Again.” Sans grunted, flopping down onto his back on his old, worn mattress, “Remind me how that’s a bad thing again, Pap. So far, I’m not seein’ any problems with it.” The taller of the two inhaled deeply, briefly closing his sockets as he tried to gather his thoughts, “Sans… Brother. I Love You, But What You Did Today Wasn’t Ok. I Don’t Understand Why You’re So Calm And Casual About It.” Gaining a very clearly agitated edge, Sans practically growled, “It’s really fuckin’ simple. If she’s too ashamed ta leave the house, then good! At least she’ll stay put then and save me a lot a’ trouble in the future.”

Not even remotely threatened by his older brother’s tone of voice, Papyrus snapped, suddenly shouting, “LANGUAGE, SANS. MAYBE SHE DIDN’T LISTEN TO YOU, BUT THAT’S NO REASON TO TREAT HER THIS WAY. IT IS MOST CERTAINLY NOT A VALID REASON TO GO AND PUBLICLY HUMILIATE HER, THEN COME HOME AND SCARE HER HALF TO DEATH, EITHER. YOU ALSO BROKE THE COFFEE TABLE, SANS. SOME OF US HAVE TO PAY FOR THINGS LIKE THAT, YOU KNOW!”

From her spot in the hallway, Adrienne flinched, her eyes widening. Not once had she ever seen Papyrus so upset that he shouted like this. This was a whole new experience, and she could already say that it was both surprising and terrifying all at once.

The shorter of the two let out an exaggerated groan, beginning to absentmindedly tap the tips of his phalanges on the bed as he stared up at the ceiling, “As far as the table goes, I’ll replace the damn thing if it really means that much ta you. What am I supposed ta do about the kid though? If I really scared her as much as you’re sayin’ I did, then she won’t want anythin’ ta do with me. It’s not like I can just walk up to her and go, ‘hey, you know that day when I got mad at you? I’m sorry and I won’t do it again.’” Papyrus hummed, crossing his arms over his chest, “Well… A Sincere Apology Is Only Half Of What I Think You Owe Her.” “Yeah? And what’s the other half?” “To Be Completely Blunt About It, She Knows What It Means To Be Marked.”

The older skeleton brother nearly choked on air, his cheekbones dusting a soft shade of blue, “What the hell?… Ok, then… What about it? Everyone probably knows what it means.” “What I’m Saying Is That She Knows Monsters Wouldn’t Mark Anyone Unless That Person Was Tremendously Important To Them, And Unless They Saw Them As Their Mate. Not Only Is There That, But She Told Me That You Were Somewhat Flirtatious Toward Her After The Incident Today At Grillby’s. You’re Sending Some Incredibly Mixed Signals, Sans. She More Than Likely Was Under The Impression That You Have Some Very Strong Feelings For Her, But Then You Came Home And Basically Told Her To Get Lost Before Throwing Her At The Coffee Table. She Has No Idea Where She Stands Right Now. The Other Half Of What You Need To Do Is Be Honest With Her. Tell Her If You Feel Something For Her, Or Tell Her If You Don’t. Just Make It Clear To Her So She Knows What She Is To You.”

Bolting upright into a sitting position, Sans stared up at his younger brother in disbelief, “So you’re suggestin’ that I go confess my love ta her or somethin’? Is that what you’re tryna tell me right now, Papyrus?” “If You Love Her, Then Yes, That Is Exactly What I’m Trying To Tell You.” Pressing his index and middle finger to one of his temples, the older of the two narrowed his sockets, grumbling under his breath, “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me… this is so stupid…” Taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside Sans, Papyrus arched a brow bone and tilted his head, “Language, Brother… All Of This Might Seem Stupid To You, Maybe, But It’s A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Addressed. If You Really See Her As Your Mate, She Needs To Know. And Hey, It’s Alright To Feel Embarrassed About This Sort Of Thing. It’s Completely Natural. For Starters, Maybe You Could Try To Help Me Better Understand Your Reasons For Marking Her? I’m All Ears! In A... Manner Of Speaking.”

Sans snuck an uncertain glance up at him and let out a deep sigh, leaning forward to cover both eyes with his hands, “...Don’t make me talk about this right now, Pap. Please. I can’t do it. I just can’t, what if I-” Papyrus was quick to wrap his arms around his older brother, lightly squeezing his shoulder, “Sans, No. Stop. You’re Overthinking Again. Take A Deep Breath And Try To Relax. It’s Just Me Here, And If You Preferred That I Don’t Tell Her What You Say, Then I Won’t. You Have My Word. Just Trust Me… That’s All I’m Asking Of You Right Now. Please, Just Trust Me.”

[supercasey]

So I've been playing The Hades Game like fucking mad for the last few weeks, and although I'm not very far in it (at least, I don’t think I am; I’ve only beat Hades once!), I'm absolutely in love with it! Anyways, a certain idea has been kicking around in my head for awhile now, so I thought I'd share it with y'all; feel free to tell me what you think of it! (Warning: spoilers for when you beat Hades the first time!)

Anyways, I've already seen a really cool AU post for if Demeter raised Zagreus on the surface by herself (which you can find HERE; please check it out, the outfit for Zag alone is an amazing concept, and I love the artwork!!!) but I keep thinking about an AU where, after Zagreus dies at birth, Persephone runs away and takes his wrapped up body with her.

On the surface, she reconnects/reunites with her mother Demeter, and with her aid, the two of them manage to resurrect the newborn baby, though now he has more white in his hair than anything else. After that, Persephone sends Hades a letter to tell him that Zagreus is alive and well (because she actually has some fucking class), before proceeding to raise Zagreus on the surface with her mother, far away from the entrance to hell. The Olympians also help her out a bit, but mostly they just help by hiding Zagreus when it’s necessary.

(The rest is under a cut ‘cus this got a bit long, sorry!)

Years pass in relative peace, until Zagreus is about as old as he is in-game (I think he’s around 20-25ish???) and is living well, working with his mom and grandma to take care of their gardens and live peacefully away from mankind; he especially loves tending to the animals and guiding lost mortals to safety. However, one day while foraging for fruit in the deepest corners of his mother’s signature garden, Zagreus happens across a strange man in long robes, who introduces himself as Thanatos.

The two men get along swimmingly from minute one, and after agreeing to meet with each other again soon, they leave and tell their families/friends all about the experience, having no clue who they are to each other. After all, Thanatos was told growing up that his lord’s first wife died giving birth to their first and only child, who was a stillborn, and Zagreus thinks his father died of disease (his mom didn’t have to heart to tell him anything bad about his dad). Needless to say, they’re gonna be in for quite the shock soon.

Cue Hades losing his shit and calling on Thanatos, Megaera, and Achilles to go find his progeny and bring him home; he gives them special permission to leave the Underworld without any resistance, trusting Than to lead the way back to Zagreus. Achilles is less than thrilled to be performing such a morally grey task for his master, but Meg and Than are eager to prove themselves, so he begrudgingly agrees to help, even if it hurts his conscience to do so.

Persephone and Demeter also freak the hell out on their end, scared shitless by the fact that Death incarnate has just met their son/grandson, and they’re worried that he plans on coming back again soon. Demeter suggests sending Zagreus to live with the Olympians until this all blows over, but Persephone disagrees, wanting her son to stay nearby in case he grows ill (it’s implied that she’s a bit overprotective of him, mostly because she’s afraid of him dying again; this also means she refuses to let him know that he’s in any danger, believing it would only make things worse for him in the long-run). Frustrated but understanding her daughter’s pain all too well, Demeter at least convinces her to call on the Olympians for aid, which Persephone agrees to do.

The gods promise to help of course, but... well, they're low-key lying; they wanna see how this plays out first.

After several days of traveling through hell (literally), the “let’s kidnap Zagreus” gang makes it to the surface, and they immediately head to Persephone’s garden. All this time, Zagreus has no idea that he’s being targeted, so he goes about his chores as usual, only to run into Than again, and hey, he brought some more friends for him to meet! Zagreus is friendly with all of them, being raised to be very polite by his guardians, and while he’s busy chatting with Than and Achilles, he doesn’t notice Meg sneaking behind him. Just as Zagreus is rattling on about how the animals have been faring this summer, Meg stabs Zagreus in the back with a blade coated in Hades’s blood, cursing him to belong to the Underworld again.

With Zagreus now unconscious from a sedative that was mixed with the blood, the trio hurry off with him back to the Underworld, but not without Persephone seeing what they’ve done to her son. Horrified, she begins to sob, and winter arrives in the mortal world without so much as a fall season in-between this and the summertime.

When Zagreus comes to, he finds himself in a bedroom similar to the one he has in the game, but it’s much cleaner and has less objects of personal value to him. Hades is standing at the foot of his bed when he wakes up, and very calmly, Hades tells Zagreus that he’s his father, and that from now on, Zagreus will be living in the Underworld with him and his people, where he so obviously belongs. It’s a shame his mother can’t be here, of course, but they just need to wait awhile, that’s all; surely she’ll come to her senses and return home soon, now that her husband and son are here.

Zagreus jumps out of bed and faces his father as soon as he’s done monologuing, ready to tell him off for what he’s done, but to his shock, Hades hugs him as soon as he’s on his feet, and admits that he’s waited for this day for a long, long time. He asks his son to please just accept that this is his home now, and despite still being a bit surprised (and subtly hugging Hades back because Longing), Zagreus tells him straight up that he can’t, that he has to get home, especially with winter coming in a few months!

Dejected but not overly surprised, Hades simply nods in acceptance, but he still warns Zagreus that it’s no use trying to fight it; he’s stuck here, now and forever, so he may as well get comfortable and try getting along with him, because no one’s going anywhere anytime soon. Zagreus is horrified, but he nods nonetheless, unsure of what to say or do just yet.

Later that night, as Zagreus is struggling to sleep in this new, unfamiliar place, Achilles comes to him and apologizes about what’s happened, and although he can’t magically fix everything for him, he tells Zagreus that it actually is supposedly possible to escape; it’s just that no one’s ever done it before. Driven by his desire for freedom and the thought of reuniting with his mother, Zagreus tells Achilles that he’s going to find a way out, no matter the cost. Achilles congratulates him on his tenacity, but warns him that it won’t be easy. Still, he’s willing to help Zagreus as much as he can.

From then on, I imagine the game playing out very differently from the original, with a rather frazzled and scared Zagreus trying to get home to his mom and grandma, but with none of his training from Achilles in this AU, he has to rely on something his mother taught him; his connection with earth and all it’s inhabitants. Or, in his case, his connection with the spirits of animals (a cross of his dad and mom’s powers). That’s right, I’m making The Hades Game into a fucking Pokemon-ripoff, but still with some rouge-like elements mixed in (mostly with Zagreus not keeping his animals after runs).

Having royally fucked up in not stepping in sooner to protect Zagreus, the gods end up helping him out by sending down animals associated with them for the young god to tame for a run (I’ll come up with them later). They usually offer a selection to choose from, and from there Zagreus can build up a team and use it to try and escape the Underworld.

To replace weapons, I like to think he’d have “signature” animals that can help him out for any of his runs, specifically ones from Achilles, Poseidon, Zeus, Demeter (once he reaches the surface at least once), and eventually even Hades gives him one if they bond together enough ((yes, it’s Cerberus... kinda; it’s a puppy version of him, otherwise he’d be OP as fuck)). Zagreus’s signature animals can all be given names, and they keep certain skills that they pick up through enough experience battling in the Underworld for Zagreus.

As for story-line stuff, Zagreus ends up in a very fish out of water situation as he tries to get to know everyone in Hades’s house (he’s still our kindhearted Zag, after all, and he knows most of them aren’t to blame, not even really Than!) while also focusing on his goal to get home to his mom. Hades ends up being a lot nicer to him in this AU, perhaps overly so, as he’s trying to make his son like him more in order to make up for lost time (and fill the hole in his heart that Zag’s initial death as an infant and Persephone leaving with him created). It’s part of the reason he’s even letting Zagreus try to escape; he wants him to learn that it won’t work on his own terms (and maybe also scare the kid so bad that he comes running to him for comfort afterwards).

Also, I should really note that Zagreus is 100% a sweet country farm boy in this AU, and he has no idea what the fuck is going on with pretty much anything in the Underworld, much to everyone’s astonishment. For example:

Meg: Gods, it must be weird getting used to everything down here, huh? Sick of stepping in bat shit yet? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it, and Dusa’s pretty good about cleaning it up to begin with. Zagreus: I mean, I guess? It’s not that different from chicken shit tbh. Meg: What the fuck is a chicken???

After that... yeah, I dunno. I’ll try playing Hades some more, see if I think up anything else that could be interesting, but for now, I hope at least someone ends up liking this dumb AU (if not, I’ll still like it... might even try my hand at drawing for it a bit tbh). Again, please check out the person who’s post/art I linked earlier in the post, ‘cus their art is really awesome and inspired me to include Demeter more in this AU!

[onelastbreath-writes]

I Spy (2)

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales/Fem!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary (lite): You literally fall for a guy you meet in a bar, and everything is going great until you learn both of you have been lying about who you are and what you do. Oof. (SpecOps&Spies AU with Young!Frankie)

A/N: Wow part one got a lot of love, thank you so much! And now I also have a taglist going for this fic, so let me know if you want to be tagged the next time I post. This chapter is basically just fluff with a bit of background plot,,, i’ve created both a slow burn, and a 100 metre sprint of a relationship for y’all, so be prepared for that. Depending on what I manage to get into the next chapter, aka if i can finish the story or if i wimp out, there will either be 3 or 4 chapters total, and if i like the universe enough I might have some bonus content in the future. Nothing is set in stone so don’t start counting your chickens yet, but like... maybe. Anyways, I hope you enjoy part 2 of Let Me Have Nice Things I Spy <3

PS it is 3:45am when I’m posting this, please forgive me if its actually just weird thnxxxx

[AO3A][Masterlist]

[Previous Part]

---

“Water with a wedge of lemon, please,” you ordered as you and Frankie claimed a bar stool each at the counter.

“And a coke for me, thank you.”

The drink offer was always a toss up for you; a good way to measure the type of guy interested in your company. Even if you hadn’t decided that you were done with the alcohol tonight, you would still have ordered a water on your date’s dime. It was a simple test of character that more than a few guys had failed in the past. Were they looking to get you drunk, or were they willing to respect your choices? Frankie, so far, had done nothing but respect you.

Your drinks arrive quickly, and the cool glass feels refreshing in your hands. You still feel warm from your brief contact with the handsome man beside you, but after peaking at him from the side of your eyes, you can see that his ears and cheeks also have some red to them as well.

Frankie accepts his glass and angles himself towards you, bumping his knee lightly to yours and offering you another sweet smile. “Would it be presumptuous of me to offer a cheers? To meeting new people? Or I’ve got some great, really catchy and not at all cheesy pick-up lines, if that’s more your style?”

You snorted a laugh at his teasing but held out your drink for him to clink his against, “To meeting new people, then. And please, I have extremely high standards so only your best lines will appease me.”

“Ah, a connoisseur! Well then, please prepare to be amazed,” Frankie swivelled around to fully face you, ran a hand through his hair, fluffing his curls and pushing them away from his face, and cleared his throat for dramatic effect. “You blinded me with your beauty, so I’m going to need your name and number for insurance purposes.”

Your plan was to hold out, not to crack against whatever corny, horribly cliché thing he was going to say to you. You’d been given them all, and had never had much trouble before, even with guys as attractive and cute as Frankie. You had a great poker face, and could keep yourself together like a pro. There was nothing he could say to you that would break your façade. And then he opened his mouth, and you were gone.

“Oh my god! That’s so bad!” You were shaking, gasping while trying to contain and smother your laughter. You hadn’t thought to put your drink down before he started, and you could feel the liquid sloshing around the glass in your hand. Frankie, thankfully, noticed your problem, and gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist to steady your grasp. He helped you set the drink down safely, before pulling your still jittering limb away from further potential accidents. And then, he just didn’t release you.

He had slipped his hand into yours and was running his thumb over your knuckles.

As if your cheeks weren’t warm enough already.

What is it with this guy? You just couldn’t catch a break.

“Okay?” Can I keep holding your hand?

“Yes,” Please don’t let me go.

---

“And so, we’re just, like, full-tilt sprinting to catch this last train. And of course, its raining cats and dogs, so the sidewalk is slippery as hell, and Santi’s down a shoe so he’s splashing around in his sock, and then we hit the stairs up to the platform, and the train is pulling out…” You couldn’t remember the last time you smiled so much but listening to Frankie’s stories about his friends and their misadventures was making your cheeks ache.

You had been trading stories for ages, back and forth and jumping all over your lives to tell each other your greatest hits. Something between you two had just clicked, and it felt like you’d known him forever.

Early in the conversation you’d discovered he was his buddies’ designated driver, and would be on non-alcoholic beverages all night, but offered you anything you would like if you wanted more than water. You’d of course thanked him, but refused, stating your own reasons for sobriety. And that’s the point you got into talking about your careers.

“The guys wanted to get wasted during shore leave, and I’m not big on drinking so I offered to be their ride this time.” He was rather adorably touchy-feely with you, currently playing with your fingers and drawing on your palm absentmindedly.

“Shore leave? So, you’re military then?” That would explain the callouses and healed scars on his hands that you’d also been acquainting yourself with.

“Army, yeah,” Frankie had pointed out his group of hooligans across the room, playing what he’d told you was ‘Extreme Darts’. “Me and Santi were best friends in high school and enlisted together, and then we met Will and Benny in basic training. We worked together well enough to get us assigned to Tom’s squad and the rest’s history.”

“Then you’re still on active duty, right?” You couldn’t say you knew much about how a military contract worked, beyond what you’d seen in movies and on TV, but you knew soldiers were required to do a certain amount of service before they could retire; baring career-ending events that would get them discharged, of course. “When does shore leave end?”

“Ah, that’s a little complicated to explain, actually. We’re technically active soldiers still, but after our last deployment ended, we signed back on as like, uh, contractors. Sort of like on-base reservists? We help out where we can but don’t really see much in-field work, you know?” He was definitely struggling to describe his job to you, and you could imagine there was a lot of red tape and confidentiality around anything military he was doing, so you just nodded along and let him drop it. “But we still have a couple weeks stateside before we ship back out.”

You hummed at that, thinking over your own known schedule. “I can’t say I’ll have much time off before you need to leave, but I would like to see more of you, if you’re agreeable?” There was something special about this guy, and whether you were just friends or something more eventually, you didn’t want to waste your opportunity to have him in your life. Long distance anything was a lot of work, but you wanted him to know you were willing to try if he was.

“Do you like raisins? How would you feel about a date?”

---

That was how your unconventional romance with Frankie Morales started. You’d talked all night, and when the bartender kicked you and your groups out at closing time, he and his friends helped get your girls into their cabs. And once they were all taken care of, he had offered you his arm and walked you to your car like a proper, posh gentleman.

“Goodnight, paloma, thank you for such a wonderful evening.”

You had given him your business card, personal phone number and a flirty call me xx written on the back, and he in turn lifted your hand to brush a delicate kiss to your knuckles with a teasing wink. You went home that night mildly concerned you’d spontaneously combust from the heat blazing through your body. That man was a menace, and he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

He had called the next evening, and from there you spent as much time as you could together. Coffee dates, dinner and movie nights, even a walk in the park like some fairy-tale couple; he always greeted you with a bad pick-up line to make you smile, and a left you with a kiss on the hand at the end of your outings.

It was three wonderful but short weeks later that he got his ship-out date.

You were back at the dive bar where it all started, your friend (and some of her friends) and his all together again, to celebrate their last night of leave. The bar had unofficially become your ‘spot’, and you’d visited a few more times over the weeks, both as private dates and as group activities to get to know the rest of his squad.

It was bittersweet, saying goodbye to your new friends and your, well, Frankie. You had both agreed not to put labels or promises into your relationship until you were sure, and you were fine with that in the beginning when you were still strangers just interested in spending time together. But now you knew him, now you had feelings to back up your attraction to him, and now, he was leaving for who knows how long and you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you.

He must have noticed something was upsetting you, because he excused himself from his buddies’ conversation and held out a hand to help you up out of your chair.

“Join me for some fresh air, hermosa?” He was as courteous as ever as he led you outside into the chilled night, offering you his jacket and his side to cuddle into when you shivered. He was good at reading you by now and could tell when you wanted to work up to saying something without prompting, so he stayed silent and let you organize your thoughts.

You were struggling with your plan, with what you wanted to say to him, ask of him. He was rubbing your shoulder and you reached up to lace your fingers together, remembering the first time you held hands here at the bar…

Please don’t let me go.

That was your answer then, and it was still your answer now. You wanted him to keep holding your hand, now and for however much longer he could. You just needed to tell him that. Easy peasy. And because he’d made a sentimental dork out of you with his unending lines, you couldn’t think of a better way to confess to him. You looked up and met his eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in them.

“I must be a snowflake, because I’ve fallen for you.”

He untangled your fingers from his, pulling his arm away from where it was draped warmly over your shoulders, and took a step back to face you head on.

Oh gods, you wanted to rewind time and stop yourself from opening your big mouth, I’ve ruined it all.

Frankie snagged both of your wrists in his hands, startling you out of your downwards spiral as he tugged you close to his chest. He was staring down at you, brows furrowed and lips pursed seriously. Your hands were pressed between you, resting against his sternum over his steadily beating heart.

“Feel my shirt. It’s made of boyfriend material.”

And then you were both gone, laughing so hard you had tears in your eyes and grins splitting your faces as you held each other close.

You hadn’t ruined anything after all; you could cry you were so relieved.

Once you’d both managed to settle down, he leaned in and rested his forehead against yours, his own shiny eyes meeting yours earnestly. “I’m a terribly selfish man to ask this of you, but would you wait for me? Will you give us a chance? Exclusively?”

“Yes.”

Your first kiss together was there, on that cold night outside the bar where everything changed. It was soft and sweet, and you couldn’t wait for more.

---

Taglist:

@playbucky​

[the-hunting-hawk]

Nightmares

//ooc: anyone wondering how Victor’s doing? :)

note: this is unedited and pretty much a spontaneous piece so it isn’t that good??? but I do not have the energy to edit this so I’m posting it nearly exactly as I wrote it :)

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Daysleep, he found, could happen in one or two ways. If he was settling down in a comfortable bed - it felt as natural as falling asleep without the long stressful hours of insomnia that used to chase him when he was alive.

But then there was the times, like now.

The laptop screen was giving him a headache, he’d been staring at it so long. He’d tried anything and everything he could think of to no avail. He wasn’t a hacker, but he was trying - learning. He unlocked his phone at the table, ignoring the time and the feeling he felt of daysleep approaching. He typed up all his current password attempts.

He yawned and rolled his shoulders a bit, he’d been sat here since he’d woken up. Ellie was next to him on a perch that Ash had brought over as he still flitted about between the addresses they’d acquired.

‘Victor,’ Ash said with a wide yawn, placing a hand on his shoulder.

‘You’ve been at this all night, time to sleep,’ His dad said, leaning down to hug him and resting his head on his shoulder.

‘I have a little bit more time,’ He replied back, swallowing the yawn his throat tried to release.

Ash sighed and gave him a gentle squeeze as he stood and let him go.

‘Just don’t pass out on the laptop, hm?’ He said as he stood.

‘I won’t,’ He said with faux confidence.

His dad looked back at him for a moment, and he glanced up at him for a moment. He watched Ash shake his head from the corner of his vision but did leave him to it.

He was alone in the library, Bartholomew pretty much had left him be since he handed Victor the laptop - Ash had mostly been out in pursuit of addresses and his own contacts to try find any thread they could pull on.

All alone again, working on a laptop with little to hope of opening it. But he was going to try, even if Shadow McFuckface decided to teleport in at any port and shank him for it.

He gently lifted the laptop with shaky-with-fatigue-hands and placed it back a little, so his hands barely touched the keys on the keyboard.

The library was concealed from the sun, but he felt it rise and he stubbornly tried to resist his daysleep. He managed to hit the enter key on a certain password before he completely blacked out as daysleep slammed him down into unconsciousness despite his valiant protests.

-

He was in a lake of blood, chest deep in it. When he moved it felt himself sink further so he stilled - the tactic one would do in quicksand. He look around to try find a way to get out.

The lake of blood he was stuck in was surrounded by trees, one with a particular root that was stretched out towards him and within arm reach. It looked thick and sturdy. He did look around, making sure no one else who could him was around before he slowly moved his arms - moving them about to get them out of the blood and grab onto the tree branch and slowly draw himself towards the tree. And towards the shore.

Within the blink of an eye, a figure was crouched on the source of the root - himself. But not him - an exact replica except this one had blood red eyes and was covered in it head to foot - even in clothes.

‘You never give up, do you?’ It asked with his voice as it tilted it’s head at him.

He stopped moving for a moment and clung to the branch, staring at this figure before he kept moving - feeling the blood of the pool clinging harder to him - trying to make him sink.

‘Oh but you have hope, silly thing you are. That maybe you can keep living and being human. Have friends and a family - pretend to be normal,’ It singsonged to him pleasantly as it sat down and kicked it’s legs out freely through the blood with ease.

‘I took control once. Twice. You really don’t like that, do you?’

The lake had somehow risen up to his shoulders - and he was breathing heavily with the exertion of trying to pull himself up and along. Half way up the branch towards this thing - towards the shore.

‘You can’t ignore me forever. One day you’ll have to stop running,’ It said with a wide smirk - an expression that looked contorted and exaggerated.

It was certainly a foriegn expression that had never graced his own face and it did not belong on his face.

‘You’re not me. I’m me,’ He retorted as he struggled to pull himself upright to a thicker part of the branch that would likely support him.

He was still away from shore - but the branch here was thick enough to support his weight. He knew it. But he struggled to pull himself upright.

A throaty heart laugh was his reply as the fake him easily got to its feet and strode over to him with easy. Crouching and extending it’s hand toward him. That same contorted expression on its face.

‘We’re one and the same now. You’ve lost your one and only friend. You’re not going to find her, you’re not some excellent hacker or even a excellent tracker. Though you could be that second one if you stopped suppressing me - you know that,’ It still held it’s hand extended.

Victor growled, grabbed the fake by the hand and with a surge of strength took it by the hand and threw it over his shoulder and used the strength to pull himself upright.

‘I don’t need you. I’ll find her,’ He said as he pulled himself to the branch and into a crouch.

He got up, looking down he saw none of the blood had soaked him and his fake self had seemingly disappeared. He turned to run up the tree branch like a tightrope walked in a performance - agile and quick of foot until the scene melted away in an instant.

He was in Chicago - bathed in the light of a street lamp and facing an alleyway where he could see Rosary. She was being held, neck bent backwards at such an angle that couldn’t have been comfortable with a knife held to her neck lightly - enough to let her scream for his aid but not enough for her to have any room to escape.

The figure holding her in this dark alleyway as a shadow - not so much literal as a blank faced figured with no discernable facial features but a tall strong pale man with dark hair in a dark suit.

‘Help me!’ Rosary screamed.

‘Come any closer and she dies,’ The figure said - a deep rattling voice that echoed off the walls of the alley - especially ominous given it had no mouth.

‘Rosary…’ He was torn.

Run to help… But she’d die. She was a hardy vampire… Could he move quick enough to get her help? To prevent her death?

He moved forward in an instant, going to knock the knife from the hands of her captor. But he didn’t know who or what they were beside Lasombra. He didn’t expect the man to have the strength to use the knife to decapitate her within barely a second. He watched the man dissolve into the shadows as he dropped to his nears next to where Rosary’s ashes were.

‘Why didn’t you save me?’ The voice of Rosary whispered in his ear.

‘You should have helped me,’

‘I don’t know why I befriended some useless man like you. At least Micheal has his uses,’

‘If you can’t save me, someone more superior - how are you supposed to protect yourself? Keep pretending you and your little family are going to be perfect together forever?’

The whispers of Rosary kept whispering as the scene of the Chicago alleyway went dark.

-

He woke crying, sobbing. Every doubt from his dreams being whispered by the inner voice of his mind as he woke up thinking about the dream. It took him about a minute to register the soft feel of Ellie up against his arm - mostly concealed by his hoodie and then he released - the laptop.

He sat up and saw someone had covered him in a blanket - a covered in crows that he had definitely left at home but he ignored it as he swivelled the chair away from the desk as he cried so the liquid would invade the laptop and break it.

He was alone except for Ellie who hopped up to coo softly on the back of the chair for him as he untangled himself from the blanket. After he did he saw his hands were covered in blood from his tears and tried to wipe it off onto his jeans and saw the blood ooze out of his hands - given he was crying and upset… It was likely he hadn’t noticed the bane of his own blood manifest.

He didn’t want to get up, he didn’t want to deal with it. He felt more than heard Ellie get off the chair and go fly somewhere he swiveled the chair back around. The laptop was safe. Where he’d been sleeping was covered in blood but he’d pushed the laptop away thankfully…

Despite the blood pouring out of his hands - he picked up his phone, his bane now obscuring his vision of his tears but typed in what he remembered trying last night. His phone was probably blood proof… right?

He didn’t care. He made a new list of passwords to try but he felt no inclination of getting up. He heard a door open somewhere, he wasn’t sure and after a minute Ash appeared with a mug for him.

‘A little birdy told me you needed something to eat, baba,’ Ash said and put the mug down on the table for him.

He sort of looked at the mug, looking at his hands and just felt how soaked he was - could smell the almost intoxicating smell of his own blood and drank the blood from the mug like one would do a coffee.

‘We’ll find her,’ Ash said as he rested the side of his hip against the table as he watched Victor drink.

‘But -’ He softly clanked his upper fangs against the ceramic mug to not finish that thought - voice what he’d seen in his dream.

It felt real but it wasn’t real… It felt real but wasn’t real…

‘Ibn, did you have a nightmare?’ Ash asked.

He nodded.

Ash leaned forward to gently tousle the dry parts of his hair that weren’t covered in his blood.

‘I know your nightmares feed you lies. Don’t listen, we’ll find her and bring her back, yeah?’ Ash said.

Victor didn’t reply and finished drinking the blood and felt all the wounds close up so he finally wiped his hands on his jeans. He looked up when Ash gently pulled out a piece of cloth to gently wipe up the blood on his face, including where it had crusted and dried around his eyes from his crying…

‘We’ll bring her back… I want her to be okay,’ He said softly to Ash.

‘Then you can go back to playing bodyguard instead of me, hm?’ Ash said with a grin.

Victor snorted but nodded. Then Ash came closer to clap him on the shoulder.

‘Go shower and get changed, we have a day of hacking to attempt,’ Ash said, practically pulling Victor out of the seat as Victor nodded and went to go shower and get dressed….

Though he would probably have to do some minor cleaning because of his stupid spontaneous hunger bleeding… but first a shower…

[land-of-classpects-and-analysis]

Hey there, your analyses are amazing!!!! I'm still trying to figure out my classpect, so if you're taking requests, I was wondering if you could do Rogue of Breath?

Hello there!

I do take requests, though only with a small twist; mostly in that I tend to give a semi-brief (because, let's be honest, I have never been nor ever will be brief with these summaries dnjnsj) summary of the requested Classpect. Hopefully this will be sufficient enough until the much fuller Rogue of Breath analysis falls onto my work desk! /gen

Now, the Rogue of Breath is one that, at first, never really seemed all that interesting - on a personal note. But that was far before I had truly started to look more into the behavior of Rogues, as well as Breath-bound individuals. In a way, this presumption of the Rogue of Breath "not being interesting" is something that comes quite close in how they invite theft of their Aspect.

Breath-bound are those who simultaneously draw everyone towards them - often becoming the center of the story and whatever group they find themself in - while also seeming like some rather plain people. The Rogue of Breath is most certainly no exception to this - well, at least not fully. For, you see, the Rogue of Breath is no different from any other Rogue in that, although they brag about how much of their Aspect they have, the reality is that this is one large lie - or rather a facade, a show, an act.

The Rogue of Breath is one who would most likely talk highly about themself and all of the leadership roles they've been given, perhaps even how capable of a leader they are. Or maybe they would talk about how much influence they have, how many followers they hold, and just all of the freedom that is within their possession. They would show themself to be the most independent, free-spirited individual ever; not allowing any problem to bother or faze them for even a moment. A person so cool, they could walk through Hell itself without even breaking a sweat.

In reality, the Rogue of Breath lives a life that is almost a complete 180 of all that they speak of. They aren't someone who has a lot of leadership skills - or even knowledge. They aren't an influence on others, they don't particularly have a lot of followers to their name, and their freedom is often fleeting and almost always an uphill fight for them to achieve. The Rogue of Breath puts on this facade, though, because they've learned that their facade is who people like. It's what draws people in; it's what gets them the numbers they so deeply desire, and it gets them friends they otherwise doubt they would ever have.

Many Breath-bound tend to not stand out in a crowd, but the Rogue of Breath is quite different. It may even be argued that in the way they present themself, they are someone who invites others to notice them. Flashy clothes, wacky accessories, perhaps even wildly colored and dyed hair - these are often trademark traits of a Rogue of Breath. Whether they do this on purpose or not - or rather with the intent of drawing attention to themselves or not - is often on a case-by-case basis.

Now, one of the biggest struggles any Rogue faces in the beginning of their journey is that they allow/invite theft of their Aspect. Already they greatly lack their Aspect, but the Rogue is one who often fumbles to ever work up the courage it takes in order to truly steal their Aspect. For the Rogue of Breath, this comes in the form of them allowing/inviting theft of their leadership role, their ability to be influential, their very own freedom, or, in some cases, their own literal breath.

The reason why the Rogue allows for this to happen is because of two reasons.

The first one, as mentioned before, is because they lack the confidence and courage it takes to steal their Aspect for any reason. It is something they do not fully understand, and so it is something that intimidates them - perhaps even frightens them. The unknown responsibilities attached to it is sometimes enough to keep them away from it.

The second reason is that the Rogue - no matter their Aspect - often has far too big of a bleeding heart. Tying in with their lack of confidence and courage, they are someone who often has a hard time of maintaining their own boundaries with others. Rogues value the relationships around them just as much as they value the feelings of the people in these relationships. A Rogue is someone who helps others, not break hearts, destroy promises, or harm those they care for. Because of this, the Rogue not only allows/invites for their Aspect to be stolen, but it is often done from the very people in their group.

Perhaps the Rogue of Breath is one who has or had been depended on in the past by those around them, but someone came in and became the leader because the Rogue got cold feet. Maybe their freedom has or had been stolen away from them because of a clingy partner, and the Rogue simply never had the courage or heart to break things off with them. Maybe they got stuck with a really crappy job and have never exactly thought of an after-plan if they were to ever quit said job. For the fun of it, the Rogue of Breath could be someone who tends to fall in love for many people quite easily - having their emotional Breath taken away by someone they adore so very deeply. There are many ways in which a Rogue of Breath can have their Aspect stolen from, even for just one individual. Breath is a flexible Aspect that can take many forms - much like the people it is attached to.

Now, before I get even more carried away here, I'll say this about the journey of the Rogue and them achieving their powers: new experiences terrify many people - but it is the uncertainty that often scares the Rogue of Breath the most. Change is scary, but if the Rogue ever wishes to truly be helpful to their friends and allies, they are someone who must not be afraid of taking that leap of faith. They must feel the Breath moving around them, but also inside of them, if they are to ever truly take flight and take hold of their Aspect. Every bird is scared during their first flight, but they cannot stay in their nest forever.

Ultimately, the Rogue of Breath is one who is meant to steal their Aspect, yes. However, because of their kind-hearted way, they are someone who would steal Breath and apply it to where it is seemingly lacking. If the Rogue believes that someone holds too much authority over the group, then they will do whatever they can to help relocate some of that Breath to those who may be lacking in it. The same can go for influence, freedom, flexibility, carefree, and the literal oxygen in which Breath manifests itself! If the Rogue thinks or believes their Aspect is imbalanced in the group, then they will try to restore that balance.

Of course, if the Rogue is inclined to maintain their boundaries and keep some of their Aspect for themself, then they eventually accumulate enough of it to the point of being able to steal through it. A Rogue of Breath is one who could be quite the sneaky thief - though anything they steal would most certainly be for the sake of someone in need. They steal through the breeze around them, or the smart mouth and trust they've acquired through leadership.

No matter what, though, is that the Rogue of Breath is a person who has a lot going on. What really matters to them is gaining and maintaining bonds with others, but also learning when one is just far too draining for them to maintain. They have to realize their own self worth if they ever want to really shine, and that can often be daunting for Rogues. What if the real them isn't one people like? What if they real them is someone who only causes misery and suffering, rather than fun and joyful times?

The Rogue of Breath is a tentative leader, but it is because of this tentative attitude that allows for them to be so respected in their group. As a leader, they know when enough is enough, and when a problem is better suited for another person - they don't beat around the bush, and it's an attribute many people appreciate about them. Everyone has a chance to play the group captain when the Rogue of Breath is around, but don't exactly think the Rogue will always allow for their Breath to be stolen. They may not be the strongest player, but they are one of the far more kinder leaders out of the group. And, for what it is worth, the real them is someone people much prefer to be around.

WHEW, that definitely went on longer than I expected jnsjns once again, I do hope this will be enough to help you get a clearer idea of your own Classpect - at least until the full Rogue of Breath analysis is selected to be written! And thank you for the kind words, as well! It always means a lot uvu /gen

[fairy-writes]

Hi there! You had so many good anime’s to pick a match up with it was really hard for me to choose😅 If it’s alright can I get BNHA, Bungo Stray Dogs and Jujutsu Kaisen matchup’s please🥺 I’m okay with one of them if you don’t want to do all three, sorry if the information is a bit NSFW, hopefully it’s nothing to bad for your liking👉🏻👈🏻

My pronouns are she/her, I’m 5”4 with a pale, (very, almost boney) slim frame. My hair comes just below my shoulders and is died red and purple (red roots, purple ends) with dark blue eyes. I’m a Slytherin through and through, INTP-T Personality type (apparently it’s rare, especially in women), and my zodiac is Pisces. I’m bi-sexual but always seems to be more attracted to guys more, don’t get me wrong, I love women, something about me just draws me to men more.

So, turns out, I’m a stoner, ahaha, don’t judge😌 though I don’t let it control my life, I still go to school, I’m quite the speedy little thing and I maintain my friendships while dealing with family drama on top. I’ve been playing netball for the past 13 years, even coaching my own team of under 7’s. My main hobbies include basically anything with my friends, I class them as my first family. We go out shopping, just on walks, down to the beach, drives around town. I would be entirely lost without my friends.

I like dogs, food, video games, books (mainly manga) playing music and watching tv. This excluding going out with friends and doing all that stuff. I’m not even going to list off the things I don’t like, I will just go on forever if I do.

In a relationship, I would need someone who can keep me on a tight leash. I have very bad anger issues, snapping at the littlest things. I’ll need someone who is not afraid to just pick me up and walk away if I’m being a little brat. Which I’m known for being. Having said that, I still like the domestic things in a relationship, grocery shopping, cleaning the house, cooking, but I still need spice, if you get what I mean. I would like someone who is a absolute goof and but on a sane level, someone who can make me laugh and cry with joy, someone who can understand my sarcasm, even join in on it. Also bickering, I will be the type of girl to get into an argument with you because you put the toilet paper on the holder wrong, or you disagree with me about a guys choice on a dating show.

Thank youuu and I wish you the best for the future❤️❤️

((Sorry if this is to much information))

Hello, my fellow Slytherin! This info was great! I’ll do my best, and I hope you like your matchups! I’m putting it under the “read more” just cause there’s a lot of info :)

My Hero Academia Matchup: I pair you with… Takami Keigo!

You are both rather busy bees but still, manage to make time for each other at the end of the day. I also feel like Keigo would be a Slytherin, so you guys could match (headcanon, you guys could wear Slytherin robes to Halloween parties). I don’t think the drugs would bug Keigo too much, but he ultimately wants you to be happy and healthy.

He would definitely be super interested in your netball team! You can bet he’ll try and show up to practices and such if his schedule allows it, and he would be your guys’ number one fans :) He really admires your ability to balance family drama, friends, relationships, and everything else in your life. His favorite ‘date’ to go on is dinner and then a sunset flight around the city or just a walk if you don’t feel like flying that particular day.

You guys would be around the same height! I’ve seen the general consensus that he would be around 5’4”, and he would absolutely try and use his wings to make himself look taller.

A way you guys could bond would be lazy days on days off, and it could be spent reading, playing video games, maybe even cooking if you trust him in the kitchen! I see a lot of people saying he would be really fidgety and wouldn’t be able to sit still, but I think different. His job needs him to sit still for long periods, and that would transfer to his day-to-day life as well.

He would definitely be able to “keep you on a tight leash,” as you stated above. He’s used to handling all types of situations, and he would be really good at diffusing situations while also cracking jokes and making you smile. One of the things he loves about you most is your smile, and he’ll do pretty much anything to see that smile light up your face!

Bungou Stray Dogs Matchup: I pair you with… Kunikida Doppo!

Ultimately he could help keep you in check, and you can help him loosen up! It would start small, you’d have a planned date, and then it might “accidentally” go out of whack into something more spontaneous and fun. It stresses him out at first, but as time goes on, you two get more and more used to the spontaneity, and he even starts to enjoy it a little :)

He greatly admires your ability to juggle multiple things at once, and honestly, his favorite time with you is to just go on a long walk in the park at sunset before the craziness of the day starts. Another thing he loves to do is just sit with you, and he reads, and you either read a manga or play a video game or just listen to music. (he’s partial to classical music, but I’m sure you’d help open his horizons).

He doesn’t have a great sense of humor; he struggles a little with telling jokes and making people laugh (intentionally at least), but being with you would also help him crack out of his shell and find his sense of humor.

On the other hand, I feel like he would be alright with just lifting you over his shoulder(s) almost in a fireman’s carry. If you started an argument with someone (maybe Dazai) for whatever reason, he would be perfectly fine with quite literally sweeping you off your feet and carrying you someplace to calm down.

He likes the domestic parts of your relationship; cooking dinner is a staple part of your relationship and a way you two bond after a long day. He’ll usually have the two of you switch off washing and drying dishes.

Overall it’s a learning experience and bonding experience for the two of you. But he would love you very much and couldn’t imagine life without you :)

Jujutsu Kaisen Matchup: I pair you with… Nanami Kento!

Ok, first off, he would try his damndest to keep you out of the world of Jujutsu Tech, and curses, and sorcerers. If you were a sorcerer already, he would strongly encourage you to retire or at least take less dangerous missions. If you were a civilian, he would not let you anywhere near his job (especially Gojo). He would tell you for sure and teach you the basics of handling a weapon if something happens or he can’t get there in time. But under no circumstances is he allowing you to throw yourself in harm’s way. He simply loves you too much to see you get hurt.

So you help him in other ways. If he comes home stressed, you are the one to give him a massage or have a hot meal waiting. If he’s injured, you learn very quickly how to bandage and stitch him up. You end up learning to do pretty much anything other than major surgeries or cleaning extensive wounds.

He’s not much of a goof (he leaves that to Gojo), but he has his own unique brand of humor and inside jokes shared between the two of you. He loves the domestics. It helps him relax and forget about the world of sorcerers for a little while. His favorite thing is to take a bath, and either you’re sitting by his side or sharing the tub with him and just relaxing and talking bout your day. He always asks you about your day and will listen to the little details no matter how meaningless.

I hope you liked your matchup lovely! Sorry, it took so long!

[sadsentinel]

more semi-okay vergil fluff, inspired by a prompt from @theworldofprompts!

“I’ve been searching for years… searching for a place to call home.” His hands wrapped around mine and his grey eyes glittered. “I know where it is now.” Before I could respond, his alluring voice whispered against my ear. “It’s here, wherever you are.”

My heart nearly leapt out of my chest, it was beating so fast. This was as close to a declaration of love that I’d ever gotten from him. And as shy as he was about admitting these types of things… I would take anything I could get.

He interlaced his cold fingers with mine, sending a shiver down my spine. I could never quite get used to his otherworldly touch; it gave me chills, but in the best way. My skin practically tingled where his fingers danced along my skin. I squeezed his hand tightly. His touch was like… magic.

“That means more to me than you could ever know.” He glanced my way, the hint of a devilish smile playing on his lips, before sheepishly averting his gaze. As powerful as he was, as seemingly distant and cold… he was perhaps the most shy person I knew, aside from myself.

I’d learned a great deal from Vergil. Without him, I would be cold and empty and devoid of love. I realized now that life was simply too short to push people away how I had been. Once my sister had died… I had changed. For the worse. The worst.

I was just like Vergil; withdrawn, afraid to get close to anyone. After all, life was fragile; it fell apart so easily. In the blink of an eye, you could lose your best friend, your sibling. Anyone. Death did not care who it snatched away.

He brushed his platinum hair out of his face and squeezed my hand back. A silent show of affection, one I’d gotten used to over the past several months.

If he hadn’t saved me from a demon the night we’d met… I wouldn’t just be dead, but alone. He’d saved me from literal demons and from myself. I’d wanted to die that night. He’d been by my side ever since, helping me get better.

His words were everything to me. Before now, I’d been afraid to get too close to him. He’d supported me as I healed, and motivated me to keep going, even if every day was a struggle. I’d held him at a distance, as far as I could, but… those words broke me.

Why bother living if you were afraid to love? Love was what made being alive worth it.

I walked with him, hand in hand, until we reached the edge of the trees. There was a small clearing before the land turned into rolling hills. In the secluded space was a thick, comfortable-looking flannel blanket. A full moon hung high overhead, surrounded on all sides by stars. This far out from the city, it was like being at a planetarium. Stars completely littered the air, twinkling and sparkling like gemstones in the sky.

He timidly looked my way, only making eye contact for a few short seconds at a time.

“I thought you would appreciate somewhere nice to relax after… everything.” He shyly scratched at the back of his neck, a tuft of hair falling in his face, partially obscuring one of his icy grey eyes.

A breath hitched in my throat as I stared at him, wordless. He sometimes seemed to forget how handsome he was.

I timidly reached out and swept the strand of hair out of his face. He stared at me, unmoving. Like he’d forgotten to breathe.

“Sorry, that was awkward—”

“No,” he interrupted. He gingerly lifted his fingers until they brushed my cheek. His touch was electrifying. It made me feel more alive than I ever had before. He cupped my face in his hands and drew closer. I felt frozen, like I could do nothing but watch and admire his sharp, attractive features. Finally, I managed the courage to lean closer to him, until his lips brushed mine.

Kissing him was intoxicating. Exhilarating. Our kiss deepened and I threw my arms around his neck, keeping him as close as was physically possible. A soft groan escaped his slightly parted lips.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for a long time,” he said, his gritty voice breathless. His silvery eyes were wide, like he was in a daze or trance.

“Me too,” I whispered against his lips. They were soft, and all I wanted was to kiss him. To feel loved by him.

His usually glacial eyes were soft and compassionate, open and inviting. That commanding, domineering expression that usually resided on his face was gone, not a trace of it left. Every feature on his face beckoned me, silently begging for me to come closer, to stay.

“Thank you.” I leaned my head against his chest, savoring the warmth he offered. He draped his arms around me, holding me protectively against him. I felt his chin brush the top of my head and smiled. This closeness was what I needed. It was the kind of safety I’d been searching for, but simultaneously afraid to find.

I knew that with him by my side, holding me and keeping me safe, I would be okay. Vergil was powerful; he’d already saved my life once, then again when he helped me heal from my sister’s death. If a third time ever came… I knew he was capable of handling it. He was clever and unyielding, a force to be reckoned with. He would never stop if he had set his mind to it.

“You’re welcome.”

“Vergil?”

“Yes?” He leaned back just enough to offer an inquisitive look and a slight head tilt. A strand of that almost colorless hair fell in his face again, but he ignored it. My gaze lingered on it for a moment longer than necessary. I wanted nothing more than to run my fingers through his hair and tell him...

“I… I love you.” My voice was unsteady from nerves, but I was certain this was right, that these were the words he needed to hear from me. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but said nothing. Was he angry? Did he not feel love for me? After everything, I’d thought—

“I love you too.” His expression softened at my admission and he held me tighter. I’d never felt better than I did now. He pulled away and sat down, offering his hand to me. I took his hand, joined him, and sprawled out across the blanket, smiling at the comfort.

Together, we gazed up at the stars. They shone like diamonds, each brighter than the last. The man beside me stretched out, in an almost inviting way. Whether or not he meant it that way, that was how I took it. I inched closer and rested my head against his muscular, lean chest.

He was my home too. Our meeting had been entirely by chance, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

I threw an arm over his side and snuggled closer. He wrapped his arm around me, his hand gently resting on my waist. His hand slid beneath my shirt, his fingers sending jolts of excitement through me. All of his touches—even something as simple as holding his hand—was invigorating.

He gently ran his fingers up and down along my side in a way that nearly lulled me to sleep. His touch relaxed me, made me feel comfortable. I hadn’t felt that way in years; but he had a way of changing my mood. Of changing everything. His cold, aloof demeanor was enough to draw anyone’s attention, but he’d kept a firm grip on mine ever since we’d met, without even needing to try.

I remembered that night; I was walking home from work, by myself. I’d assured my co-worker I’d be alright on my own, that I’d walked home at night a thousand times before and been fine. Maybe this time I didn’t care if I was alright or not.

Halfway back, I’d heard a strange cry pierce the air. It wasn’t human, not by a longshot—but what was it? As I passed a dark alleyway, I steeled myself and gazed into the darkness, against all my better judgement. At the end of the alley glowed a pair of crimson red eyes. Whatever it was opened its mouth and long fangs glimmering with saliva shone faintly in the darkness.

Whatever it was… was going to kill me. I just hoped it wouldn’t be painful.

The creature shot forward, fast as a bullet. I shut my eyes and swallowed. Prepared for the worst.

But the worst never came.

I heard a grunt, and the sound of metal slicing through something. When I finally got the courage to look up, a man in a heavy blue coat was standing in front of me, wielding a sword. I blinked a few times to be sure I was seeing it right. He sheathed his sword with a resonant click and the demon fell apart into two separate halves before it disintegrated into nothing.

The man turned, running a gloved hand through his platinum hair. His stone grey eyes fixed on me.

“Are you alright?” he asked. I wasn’t prepared for that question. Was I? What the hell had just happened?

The man’s cold eyes were so stormy and commanding I thought they might bore a hole straight through me. His sharp features drew my attention next. High cheekbones, a firmly set jawline. An expression hard as steel. As sharp as the blade in his hand.

“I’m… what was that?” The corners of his lips twitched upwards in faint amusement.

“Come with me.”

That had been the start of our time together. It felt like so long ago, but so recent at the same time. I glanced up at Vergil. His attention was moored on the stars, gazing back and forth as if searching for something. There was a quiet calmness to him, a soothing sense of peace.

His pale skin seemed to glow in the half-light, and for a moment, I remembered he was not fully human. But he wasn’t like those creatures, not in the slightest. He was fierce, yes, but also protective. The way his hand rested on my waist said that much on its own.

“Vergil?”

“Yes?” I watched his jaw move as he spoke. The word fell effortlessly from his lips. Just like everything else I’d seen him do, this calm-natured manner was easy for him.

“Promise you’ll stay,” I said. Silence filled the air for a moment, and once again, I wondered if I’d made a misstep. Even if he avoided showing that haughty, arrogant nature to me, I sometimes worried it would poke through and turn its terrifying gaze onto me.

“Always,” came his simple response. He said it as though it was an easy decision, one he didn’t have to think about. It had just caught him off guard. I smiled and buried my face into his chest.

This was how I wanted to stay forever. Safe, and in his arms.

[moonstomars]

Since you love Kiane, I'll ask you some Kiane for that Ship Ask Game ;)

OH MY THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK! Yes I love them and I love writing headcanons about them! Okay let’s do this rubs hands 

Who is a night owl: they both can be night howl, especially when they are drinking with their friends. When they get drunk they will probably fall asleep around the same time (King a bit earlier because he doesn’t handle alcohol well) but if they are not, I think that Diane would probably fall asleep first. King doesn’t mind staying awake a bit longer and look at her when she sleeps, caressing her hair or just observing her with a silly smile on his lips.

Who is a morning person: Diane, definitively, King always struggle to get up in the morning, he would sleep forever. Diane usually has to wake him up

Are they cuddlers: YES THEY ARE! If they could they would spend hours just cuddling on Chastiefolbut sadly they have duties  

Who is the big spoon: they switch because they both love to hold the other. King is the big spoon more often when Diane is small, also because his wings don’t make it easy for him to be the little spoon (Nakaba is drawing them smaller recently but I will not forget their original size. I. Will. Not). He also really loves just hold her in his arms and keep her close. Diane is the big spoon more often when he is weakened and in his smaller form though, she finds him adorable when he is like this and just feels like she has to take care of him. 

Who is the little spoon: as I said they switch but Diane really likes to be the little spoon usually, especially since King’s wings grew. But I guess that when she is Giant size King gets to be the “little spoon” (very little spoon) and he loves it, especially when she holds him close to her chest and he can hear her heart beating.

What is their favourite sleeping position: when Diane is a Giant, King likes to sleep on her chest or closer to her face, like in the crook of her neck, but when they are the same size they usually face each other and hug. Sometimes King sleeps on his belly with his head resting on Diane’s chest and his wings covering the two of them. 

Who steals all the blankets: I’ve never seen any of them use blankets, they are probably not used to them! If they did, I think Diane. King could also steal them by mistake, realise what he did and then apologize and share them with Diane again. 

What they wear to bed: Diane doesn’t seem to wear anything different than her usual clothes but I think that Elizabeth could teach her using nightgowns ... and King just wears something more comfortable than a suit, like a shirt and pants (that he made himself). 

Who likes seeing the other wearing their t-shirt: King (also because Diane doesn’t wear t-shirt often). When he sees Diane wearing some of his clothes he always blushes, but he finds her so beautiful and he can’t look away. Diane knows perfectly what she is doing anyway

Who falls asleep mid-conversation: both of them! They would probably lie together and talk and slowly their sentences become shorter and interrupted by yawns until they simply fall asleep in each other’s arms  

Who wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares: both of them again. King is still hunted by his mistakes, all of them, and Diane sometimes still sees Matrona dying in her arms or King falling from the Heaven’s Theatre. King usually tries not to wake Diane up when he has a nightmare but she usually wakes up as well and calms him down, reassuring him. When Diane has a nightmare, she always reaches for him when she wakes up, and King usually wakes up as well so he also reassures her that everything is alright. 

Who accidentally punched the other in their sleep: Diane. King shrieked, fell out of bed and hit his head. He also got a bruise! Diane apologized a lot while Ban found it extremely fun 

Who can’t keep their hands to themself: they both love touching each other! Holding hands, King holding her finger when she is Giant size ... they are constantly touching somehow. King likes to play with her hair too! Diane is the one who usually reaches for him when she is human size though.  

Who said “I love you” first: Well we know that in the canon universe Diane said it first and I think that she would still say it first in an AU. King knows very well what he feels for her but he simply can’t tell her. He wouldn’t want to put her in an awkward position if she didn’t feel the same

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background: King! He totally has a picture of Diane. Diane probably has a picture of them both, kissing or hugging 

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror: Diane, she leaves cute notes surrounded by tiny hearts. When King sees them he always blushes a little and he loves them. Sometimes he leaves notes too, they are usually compliments or cheesy sentences 

Who buys the other cheesy gifts: King, definitively. He loves to see her face light up when she gets a gift and he is also incredibly cheesy when he wants to. 

Who initiated the first kiss: Diane did it in the canon and she would totally do it in other circumstances. King is just too shy at first! And he has to be sure about her feelings for him before trying to kiss her. 

Who kisses the other awake in the morning: Diane, she usually wakes up first. She lets him sleep a bit longer but in the end, she has to wake him up and this is the sweetest way to do it. King hates getting up but when Diane is kissing him it gets hard to complain 

Who starts tickle fights: Diane, she just jumps on King and starts tickling him. After a while, she knows all his weak points - but King learns her too and fights back

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower: King, he loves the idea of taking a shower with her but he wants to get her permission first. Diane asks too but sometimes she likes to surprise him joining without a warning. 

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch: They both did at least once! Even though they often eat different things, they love eating together! I can imagine them working hard on merging their Clans at this point but they would always find a moment to take a break and have lunch, relaxing a bit and chatting 

Who was nervous and shy on the first date: King, he was terrified. What if he did something wrong and she hated him for that? He wasn't even that sure she wanted to be there with him at first! Diane was a bit nervous too but relaxed first and then her enthusiasm and cheerfulness calmed King down

Who kills/takes out the spiders: King can talk with spiders, so he usually tells them to go away, or he moves them away but without killing them. Diane doesn’t notice spiders when she is Giant size usually, but when she is human size she doesn’t like them and tries to stay away ... they are not insects but they look similar enough 

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk: KING! He is so bad at handling alcohol, and when he is drunk he gets extremely flirty and can’t stop telling Diane how much he loves her, that she is the most beautiful woman in Britannia, that she is literally perfect ... he also tries to sing sometimes (he is not bad but being drunk doesn’t make things easy). And he just can’t stop hugging her. Diane finds him absolutely adorable but she always has to drag him away before he makes a fool of himself (she fails, he already made a fool of himself, but she usually can take him away before things get even worse). When Diane gets drunk she just holds King very tight and kisses him a lot. 

(This got longer than what I expected but what can I say. I love these two too much)

[kingsboroaurora]

Discord Thread | Berora

FT. Aurora & Beth ( @bethanyrob94 )

DATE: August 23rd, 2020

SUMMARY: Aurora comes over to Beth’s place to have a serious talk with her. She confesses that she has feelings for her and asks if they want to make things official. Rora receives an answer she isn’t expecting and feels like her heart got ripped out of her chest.

TRIGGERS: mentions of bipolar disorder, mental illness, and PAIN

It was pretty obvious at the point that Beth really, really liked Aurora. She wanted to date her. God, she wanted to date her so bad. But she was so terrified of relationships at this point. She just had so many thoughts going through her bad and such a negative experience with her last relationship she never really thought she’d be ready for one...ever. At least not right now. Beth was freshly showered after work and had her favorite pair of comfy Lulu Lemons on. Her and Aurora were sat across from each other on Beth’s couch. She liked having Aurora’s company, especially since Ellie moved out. Her tiny apartment had been more lonely than ever lately. Aurora always brightened her day. “I completely agree....I mean I could pick apart the symbolism in that book all day.” She mused, dipping a California roll in soy sauce and tossing it in her mouth with the chop sticks. “Have you practiced using chopsticks since I taught you?” She chuckled.

Each and every time that Aurora and Beth would hang out, they only seemed to get closer and overall more comfortable with one another. The other had asked if she wanted to spend her evening with her and she said yes without any hesitation. Sitting on her couch, she ate the takeout they had ordered and she was enjoying this time with her. “You know, I actually have! Here let me show you and you can tell me if I’ve improved at all,” she let out a chuckle as she grabbed for her chopsticks and went to grab another piece of sushi.

“hey there you go!” She exclaimed with a laugh. That was so endearing and overall just really fucking cute. Beth actually taught her something, and aurora cared enough to practice it. Beth was probably overthinking the fact aurora bothered to learn that because Beth was the one that taught her. “Impressive.” She joked, looking over at the blonde and smiling when their eyes met.

"See, I'm getting there," she pointed out, finishing the roll and swallowing it. God, sushi had became one of her favorite things to order for take out. It was light and she was about to mix and match the different kinds of rolls she might want to try out. It was nice that Beth also had such a strong liking to sushi, the two had so much in common. "Thank you, thank you. How has your week been by the way?" she asked her.

Beth looked down at her food when her crush asked her how her week was. "Fine." She began. "Honestly, good. Like...New York has been so good to me. I haven't been this happy in a while. I'm close with my sister, I'm going to be an aunt soon, I have a really good job, and..." She paused and looked up at the blonde. "I obviously really like spending time with you." She said shyly. She gave her a quick smile then looked back down at her food because now she was blushing. Dammit.

”I’m so happy that things are going well for you, Beth. You deserve it and deserve to be happy,” she replied with a nod of her head. Beth was something she had gotten close to in a rather short amount of time but somebody she already cared so deeply for. “That feeling is mutual, but I think you already know that,” she gushed out. Aurora, just ask her already she thought to herself. Just do it. Of course she knew she enjoyed being around her, no shit.

Beth flushed. Hearing Rora saw all of those amazing things about her - like how she deserved to be happy and the blonde liked spending time with her. It just made her heart flutter. Beth reached out to grab her hand and squeezed it lightly. Bethany leaned in to give Aurora a soft, yet passionate kiss. She brought her free hand up to cup the back of her neck and pull her in closer. She pulled away after a moment. "Sorry." She mumbled. "You just looked so damn cute I couldn't help it." She mused.

Aurora hadn't been expecting Beth to kiss her with that much passion, but it was a sweet surprise. The blonde accepted the embrace, closing her eyes just for a moment to enjoy it. "Oh god, don't say sorry to me," she let out a giggle. "You're a good kisser and I think I'll always appreciate that."

Her look of embarrassment turned to one of joy when she told her that she was a good kisser. Bethany giggled along with her for a brief moment until a flip switched. "Yeah?" She said, a tiny smirk growing on her face. "I could kiss you again, if you wanted." She said with big, pleading, brown eyes.

"You know what?" Aurora raised a brow, a playful smirk forming on her lips. She was liking where this was headed. "I wouldn't be opposed to that, at all," she added on, drawing closer to her once more. The blonde tucked a piece of the other hair behind her ear, looking into Beth's eyes.

Beth blinked several times when her brown eyes met the younger’s blues. She smiled, trying to keep herself from blushing a rosy shade of pink. She bit down on her bottom lip before placing another kiss on the other woman’s lips, this tone with more passion. Her hand found the woman’s waist to bring her in a little closer.

Aurora let Beth deepen the kiss, feeling her arms wrap around her waist as she pulled her in closer. She was about to get lost in the moment when she realized she hadn’t gone over to her place to make out. As much as she just wanted to do that, her actual goal was to have an honest chat with her. Do the thing she’s been putting off for so long. Pulling away, she smiled at Beth. “I’ve, uh, been meaning to ask you something...,” she muttered out.

God, this was really what Beth was dreading. She knew this was coming soon, and she knew exactly what this question was going to be. And yes, she wanted to be auroras girlfriend so fucking bad. She was just perfect for Bethany. Literally everything the brunette could ever want in a partner. The Canadian pulled away and cleared her throat as she sat back. “Yeah?” She asked, hesitantly.

Aurora took a deep breath. She had been waiting for what seemed like a million years to ask this, even though the two of them had only known one another for a few months. The blonde knew that she just needed to rip the bandage off and fucking ask her, so that is what she was going to do. “Look, I really like you. Like, so much. I was wondering if you maybe....wanted things to become official between us?” She asked. God, it was now out there in the open.

Beth actually blushed when the blonde asked her that question, even though she knew it was coming. She was still taken so off guard. She just didn’t expect herself to feel this way; so excited, so full. Things felt so right with Aurora. More right than any relationship she’d ever been in. Say yes, Beth. Smiling, the physical therapist opened her mouth to speak. “Y — um...” Her smiled suddenly faded. “I mean...” She hesitated as he’d heart fell into her stomach and she felt like she was going to vomit. “I don’t think I’d be a good girlfriend. Like...I’m still having a hard time...my ex...he...” she couldn’t form a complete sentence and her anxiety was getting the best of her.

Aurora was only expecting Beth to be hesitant when asked such a huge question. She had opened up to her about some of her past relationships and how she was still trying to heal from them. The last thing she wanted to do was pressure the other to do something she wasn’t ready for. Yet, she felt her heart dropping to her as Beth started to talk. “Um,” she stuttered a bit. “Are you not ready?” She asked.

Beth’s heart literally fell into her stomach. She really fucking liked Aurora, and genuinely didn’t want anyone else. They were cut from the same stone and Beth felt like she could understand Aurora without her even having to speak. There was never a time where she was around the younger when she wasn’t smiling. Until now at least.”Rora...” She began, putting her feet on the floor and facing forward. She hunger her head. “I really like you. But my ex fucked me up so bad.” She admitted, blinking several times. She took a deep breathe. “And I haven’t told you this, but I have bipolar disorder. And i really struggle with it. And i have anxiety and depression which I’m sure you could’ve guessed by now.” She rarely told anyone this information. There was really only one other person in Kingsboro that new that about her, and it was Ellie. “I’d be a really awful girlfriend. And I know I’ve opened up to you a lot. And I trust you. But I don’t know when I’ll be ready for a relationship. I’m just...he honestly traumatized the fuck out of me and I don’t think I’ll be able to be a good girlfriend.” She admitted, finally looking over at the teacher.

This conversation sure wasn't getting easier. While Aurora was appreciating Bethany's honesty, it still hurt getting a response like this. Ava, Alison, and anybody else in her life that she had spoken to about her potential relationship with the other girl had reassured her that everything would be fine. That only an idiot would say no to someone like her. Yet there she was, in the midst of being rejected. Feeling her throat close up, it was almost like she couldn't speak. "I," she muttered out. "I....should probably go," she shook her head, trying her hardest not to cry. God, this was so hard.

Beth just wanted to curl up in a hole and stay there forever. Dark, alone and where no one could ever find her. She was on the verge of fucking tears as Aurora got up to leave her apartment. She brought her legs into her chest and held the tightly, laying her forehead between her knees. She took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m sorry.” She her voice was muffled because she couldn’t look up. She’d cry if she did. She was so mad. SO mad. Her ex had really fucked yo her chances of ever being happy again. She wasn’t going to stop Aurora from leaving. She knew if she stayed things would only get worse. “I’m really sorry.” She repeated. She felt like she had completely lead the younger on; told her how much she liked her, liked being around and loved kissing her. What a tease, Beth. She probably hates you now.

[juniperwindsong]

Necessary Monsters (4/16)

Summary:  "I have done my best since I've been back to make sure no one got to her, but it's a bit of full time gig, that. I warned her to stay out and let me handle it.” "You thought she would stay away if you just told her to? Have you ever met Juniper?"

   Post to the dragon infested wilds of northeastern Peru is not always possible, and what birds do manage it are never timely. Which is why Felix does not read Rita Skeeter's article on Juniper Windsong* until several months after his graduation. "From Cursebreaker to Quidditch Darling: A Witch of Many Hats" declares the headline, set above a photograph of an awkwardly smiling Juniper. She’s giving the camera a surprised sort of half-wave, as though only aware of its presence a second before the flash. 

   So far, Felix has done a successful job putting his crush on his school friend from his mind, aided by the million and one things he has to learn about his new and dangerous job. But something about the picture-Juniper's expression touches that part of him still nursing a soft spot for her. He severs the photograph from the article with his wand, tucking it carefully into a trouser pocket. And for the next three years, that's where it stays; his only aid in recalling her face with the precise detail he craves more and more frequently.

   The body on the hospital bed has the same features, slightly aged. But Felix cannot reconcile it with the Juniper he knows. There's no sign of life in her, beyond the incessant twitching of her fingers. Closer inspection reveals her myriad tiny cuts to be deeper than Felix initially realised. The wounds, while magically sealed, are puckered and raised. He knows each one will leave a small scar.

   And her face. Her face is entirely expressionless. It reminds Felix of the mannequins at the hospital's entrance. No one could confuse her condition with merely sleeping.

   How long he stands by the bed minutely inspecting each injured part of Juniper, Felix isn't sure. His brain is strangely detached, as if it's reached the limit of what it can process in one day and has recused itself from any further analysis. Felix can't really blame it. In the span of one morning, he’s fallen from exuberant high-spirits through various layers of unexpected terror before bottoming out in wretched guilt. Now, with no action left to keep up momentum, the rapid rush of conflicting emotion burns out, leaving numb exhaustion in its wake.

   Only when his knees start to feel shaky once more does Felix remember the thing he's leaning against is a chair, and he drops into it. It's a comfortable, winged armchair, most unlike the hard, wooden chairs Madam Pomfrey conjures for guest use in the Hogwart's Hospital Wing. He wonders briefly if all the rooms in St Mungo’s are equally accommodating or if it indicates this patient's need for more regular supervision.

Felix sinks deeper into the cushions gratefully. Perhaps it's the lack of sleep, or the fact that he's been denied furniture this comfortable for years, but drowsiness begins to trickle through his limbs enticingly. Keeping his eyes open is suddenly a herculean task...

-

   Felix only knows he's fallen asleep when the soft click of the hidden door unlocking wakes him. Disoriented, he struggles from the chair, fumbling for his wand. But the witch who enters, a short, curly-haired woman in lime-green robes, says "Dragon-Heart String," promptly before he's able to pull it from his pocket.

   "You're awake this time," the healer observes crisply, striding to the bedside table. "Good. I was beginning to worry you'd been cursed as well."

   Felix makes a production of stowing his wand back into his rumpled robes, surreptitiously wiping sleep from his eyes and giving the heat in his face time to cool. When he turns back to the bed, the healer is running her wand over Juniper's chest slowly, the wood just brushing the white sheet. The wand tip glows a deep, pulsing red and the healer nods once as if in confirmation.

   "What are you doing?" asks Felix.

   "Checking her vital signs," replies the healer. "Her heart rate is slowing."

   She says this so matter-of-factly it takes a minute for Felix to process it isn't a good thing. His own heart begins to beat double-time.

   "Surely you can fix that?"

   The healer shakes her head once, iron-gray curls bouncing. She reaches for a small bottle on the bedside table and uncorks it, upending the contents onto a bit of cloth.

   "Not unless we can discover what spell was used on her." The healer begins dabbing the cloth gently over the angry red cuts on Juniper's face. "Nothing we've tried has worked so far.  I have my trainee researching rare curses and sleep enchantments, but-" She clicks her tongue doubtfully.

   In spite of her brusque tone, Felix's notices the healer's motions are exceedingly gentle. She takes her time, massaging the cloth over each small wound on Juniper's face down to her exposed neck. Something in her tender ministrations betrays concern, and an echo of the morning's fear slithers back through Felix's veins.

   "But... she's going to be alright...isn't she?"

   The healer looks up at him abruptly, cloth stilling on Juniper's shoulder.

   "Has no one explained to you what's happened to this girl?

   "They - he said - she was attacked."

   The healer regards him steadily. "She has been tortured. See her hands? That's a sign of prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. Pain like that has permanent effects on the body and the mind. It can quite literally drive a person mad.  Even if we manage to wake her, I doubt very much whether she will be 'alright'."

   Felix's heart beat climbs into his throat. He swallows hard, trying to wrap his mind around this new and terrifying possibility.

   "There has to be something you can do," he protests weakly. The healer shakes her head again, curls bouncing.

   "Not against that sort of magic." She sets her cloth back on the beside table and contemplates Juniper's lifeless form, hands on hips. "There’s research being done into alleviating the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, but nothing practical has come of it so far." Her jaw tenses in the first real emotion Felix has seen from her. "There’s a reason that Curse is unforgivable."

   The healer bends over the bed to smooth down the sheet, tucking excess fabric in around the inert body. Satisfied with the result, she straightens and considers Felix carefully.

   "So. Do you think you can manage to stay awake through the evening now you've had your kip, or should I call in a trainee to relieve you?"

   There's no hiding the burning in his face this time, but Felix draws himself up in spite of it and tries to look as competent as possible.

   "It won't happen again, I assure you."

   She gives another curt nod and bustles around the bed.

    "There's a bell on the table. Give a ring if anything changes. My trainee will hear it."

-

    Foregoing the treacherously cosy armchair, Felix perches on the edge of the bed beside Juniper's trembling hand. Even without the healer's admonition, he would not have been able to return to sleep.

   Fears for Juniper's safety have always plagued Felix. He's endured more than one restless night worrying what might be happening to her thousands of miles away. But everything he's imagined feeling should the worst occur - grief and pain and regret - such easy emotions have no place here. What Felix feels he has no words for. There's only a wrenching in his gut and a scream building in his chest, threatening to erupt uncontrollably, like vomit. Dead or mad, somehow both carry the same crushing weight. The thought that who Juniper is will be gone forever is inconceivable. It pulls at the very threads of Felix's mind, stretching it in the most horrid way.

    Felix reaches for Juniper's hand, cradling it delicately in both of his own like an eggshell. He can feel the restless twitching of her fingers, every other part of her so unnaturally still. She's never been this still in life, he thinks. And the unconscious word choice brings horrified tears to his eyes he cannot blink away.

   Felix hasn't cried since he was a small child. It was never an acceptable expression in his family. Even now, a part of him twinges with fear as tears run sloppily down his cheeks and nose. Some instinct imprinted in him aches with the memory of the physical pain crying awards. But jinxes and hexes seem like nothing to Felix now. He would take them in a heartbeat over this.

   Tears seem to loosen Felix's tongue, and all the confessions and apologies churning inside him burst forth unbidden.

  “Juniper. Oh, gods, Juniper. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

   He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing them against her knuckles, and then her fingertips, uncurling her shaking fingers to place a kiss against her palm. It's riddled with tiny cuts, and older, shiny pink scars.

   Felix knows the story behind those now: souvenirs of her fight with the guardian of the Vault of Ice in her second year. Thirteen years old, and battling for her life against an enchanted knight, unmoved by her age or her lack of experience. By all accounts, it's a fight Juniper should never have survived. But she did. Somehow, she always does.

   Felix sniffs and wipes the heel of his free hand across his cheeks.

  “Juniper, please. Please, be okay," he murmurs against her fingers like a prayer. "You can fight this. Whatever it is. You're strong. The strongest person I know, and I-” He chokes as a sob tries to escape around his words. "I need you to be okay. I need-"

   Felix's words are interrupted by the door opening for a second time. And something in the way the lock clunks, a louder, more forceful sound than it's usual click, sets his nerves on edge. Dropping Juniper's hand, he whips around and draws his wand in one smooth motion, pointing it directly at the man whose back is now pressed against the closed door.

   The intruder is dressed in lime green robes, but they fit him uncomfortably, a size too small for his well-built frame, and Felix doesn’t have to recognise him to know he isn’t really a healer. Except for the fact that his face isn't cracked into a lop-sided grin, the man looks exactly as Felix remembers, even if it's been over a decade since they last met. The man's hand tightens over his own wand as he catches sight of Felix's, but he adjusts his face to something politely professional.

   "Sorry, must have the wrong room."  

   His hand is on the doorknob when Felix says, "Jacob Windsong."

   If Juniper's brother is startled at being recognised, he doesn’t show it.  He merely furrows his brow at Felix curiously.

   "Do I know you?"

   "Felix Rosier.”

   Jacob cocks his head in mild surprise. "Blimey. Didn’t recognise you."

  "It's been a long time." Felix's voice is calm, but he can feel anger bubbling up inside him. If there’s any one person who is really to blame for Juniper's condition, it’s the man in front of him.

   "For you, maybe," replies Jacob cryptically. He glances from Felix to the bed. "I see you've met my sister. How is she?"

   Jacob's conversational tone, as though they've met at the grocer's and are forced by social convention to make polite inquiries after one another, strains Felix's self-control.

   "How does she look?" he asks wildly, a flailing hand indicating the bed beside him. "She's been tortured and cursed! No one at the school could wake her, and the healers don't even know if she'll survive! Thanks to you!"

   Jacob flinches as if Felix has thrown something at him. "It's not my fault."

   "Are you mad?" Felix's temper rises with each word. "You're the reason she's here! She got herself mixed up in cursed vaults and bloody cults looking for you!"

   "I know. And I am sorry about all that. And I have done my best since I've been back to make sure no one got to her, but it's a bit of full time gig, that. I warned her to stay out and let me handle it.”

   Felix's mirthless laugh is dangerously close to a shriek. "You thought she would stay away if you just told her to? Have you ever met Juniper?"

   Jacob ignores this, considering Felix curiously instead.  

   "How do you know Juniper? What are you doing here?"

   Heat creeps up Felix's cheeks and his indignation flags. "I...was her prefect in school. Now, we're...friends."

   Jacob takes in Felix's words and the obvious embarrassment rising in his face, and gives a hearty guffaw.

   "Friends?" he repeats, his shoulders jerking with short harsh laughs.

   "Yes," Felix declares, chin raised defiantly. "She needed someone to look after her for the last six years while you've been missing." He gives the last word a sarcastic emphasis, and Jacob's smile becomes a grimace.

   "Oh, well, you've certainly done a bang-up job, haven't you?" he mocks, and Felix snaps.

   "Impedimenta!" he cries without stopping to think. The spell is unexpected, and Jacob has no time to block it. He throws himself sideways, hitting the floor in a roll and straightening up on the other side of the bed, wand raised defensively.

   "Bloody hell, you want to bring whole hospital in here?!"

   "Get out, then," demands Felix, breathing rapidly.

   Jacob eyes Felix’s outstretched wand, then the bed where Juniper remains motionless. With a sigh, he lowers his wand.    

   "Believe it or not,” he says testily, adjusting his too-right robes, “I didn't risk my life and freedom just to come here and have a chinwag with you." He takes a cautious step closer to the head of the bed. "I'm here to help."

   "How can you possibly help?"

   “I think I know what curse was used on her. I might be able to wake her up.”

   Hope flickers to life inside Felix, nudging his anger aside. "How could you know that? The professors don't even know."

   Jacob gives a derisive snort. "Let's just say, I know the way this organization works." He holds up a hand to stifle Felix's further questions. "But it’s too complicated to explain now. Just let me try something."

   Taking another step, Jacob lifts his wand again, pointing it toward Juniper.

   "Expelliarmus!"

   Jacob's wand leaps from his outstretched hand to the floor, where Felix summons it quickly and sticks it into his back pocket. He aims his own wand directly at Jacob's face, now screwed up in irritation.

   "Merlin's pants, I said I'm trying to help her!”

   "How do I know you’re really who you say you are? You could be someone from R disguised as Jacob Windsong come to finish his sister off. Or you could have been working with them all along."

   Jacob crosses his arms. "That'd be a pretty stupid disguise, don’t you think? I’m wanted by the Ministry and Dumbledore and several other parties, none of which are looking to buy me a drink. Hardly the best way to get around, got up as a wanted criminal."

   True, but Felix doesn't lower his wand. Jacob sighs and spreads his arms wide in supplication.

   "How can I prove I’m me, then? You don’t know the first thing about me, so it’s not like I can answer any questions." He gestures vaguely toward Felix. "I remember meeting you once last year. Or..." He pauses, and obvious unease crosses his features. "No. I suppose... it was quite a few years ago, wasn't it? Time is still a bit...” He waggles his fingers vaguely. "Anyway, I saved your arse from some Gryffindor you were picking on. That do?"**

   The only other person Felix has ever related this story to is Juniper. He supposes Jacob himself could have told an associate, but it seems unlikely.

   "So, you’re you," acknowledges Felix grudgingly, his wand arm beginning to ache. "That doesn’t mean you’re on her side."

   "I have always been on her side," argues Jacob. Felix lets out a  "Ha!" of disbelieving laughter, and Jacob's eyes flash. "Look, believe what you like about me, it’s probably not half true. But I have always loved Juniper and done everything I could to keep her safe."

   Felix laughs again, a harsh sound devoid of any humour. He feels as incensed as Jacob looks.

   "You don’t think it’s killed me to find out everything that’s happened to her while I’ve been trapped?" Jacob protests. "That she's been all on her own? Facing my enemies?"

   "Then why didn’t you stay with her when she found you?" counters Felix. “She’s devoted nearly half her life to finding you, at the expense of everything and everyone. And you wouldn't even give her the time of day!"

   "You don't know what you're talking about!" Jacob's voice has risen now, too. "You don't have the first idea what's really going on or what these people are capable of. This isn't over, and Pip won’t be safe until it is! I started this mess and I have to finish it. I owe it. To her!"

   A brief silence follows this declaration. Felix's wand arm drops a few degrees.

   "Pip?" he asks, his voice strained, unsure if it wants to laugh or cry or yell some more.

   Jacob blinks. "Juniper," he explains. "That's what I called her. When she was a kid." A very small smile breaks up the storm clouds in his face. "She always hated it."

    Jacob's smile is so similar to the genuine one Felix has seen in rare moments on Juniper's own face it causes his stomach to somersault. And the dreadful possibility of never seeing that smile aimed at him again smothers Felix's anger. For a minute, both men can only stare at the girl lying lifeless on the bed, entirely unmoved by their screams or spells. The reality of the danger she's in hovers ominously over them both.

   When Jacob speaks again, his voice is soft and urgent. "If you're really her friend, then you'll let me try the counter curse. If I'm wrong, it won't hurt her. I promise."

   Felix's wand wavers, then falls. He reaches into his back pocket for Jacob's wand and holds it out to him. Jacob receives it with a short nod of thanks. Gazing down at his sister, he runs a hand over her hair just once, pushing it back from her forehead.  Felix feels a quick pang of irrational jealousy. Without further sentiment, the elder Windsong aims his wand at Juniper's temple and mutters something under his breath.

   Nothing happens.

   Felix waits expectantly for Jacob to try again, but the man simply tucks his wand away and addresses Felix.

   "Listen, when she wakes up - "

   "What do you mean, 'when she wakes up'?" Felix interrupts. "It didn't work."

   Jacob shakes his head. "It will. Or it should. It isn't instant. But, I think the curse is lifted, she's just asleep now. Look." He tilts his head in the direction of Juniper's chest, which Felix realises with a jolt is now rising and falling gently. ”She'll wake up soon, and when she does she's going to have a bit of a time adjusting. That curse can give you some pretty rough nightmares."

   "I think nightmares will be the least of her problems. They -" Felix's voice catches. "They don’t even know if she’ll be sane."

   Jacob glances down again and for the first time his face isn’t the confident mask Felix has only ever seen on him.

   "I - I can't do anything about that," says Jacobs haltingly, watching his sister's slight breathing. His face tightens once more. "All I can do is make sure no one gets to her again."

   With that, Jacob moves briskly toward the door. A quick side step allows Felix to grab the older man's arm before he reaches it.

   "No," Felix objects firmly. "You need to be here when she wakes up. She'll want to see you."

   "No, I need to go find who did this to her," Jacob argues, trying to wrench his arm away and surprised when he’s unable to break Felix’s grip. Felix smirks. What three years of working with dragons has done for his muscle definition is not his least favourite post-Hogwarts accomplishment.

   "So, revenge is more important to you than your sister?"

   "Taking care of her is most important." Jacob makes another effort to jerk his arm away from Felix, but the dragonologist holds on fast.

   "She doesn't need you to take care of her. She needs you to be here with her. You're her family."

    Jacob throws his head back, growling in frustration.

   "Listen," he pleads. "Once she wakes, this place will be swarming with healers and aurors and people who are looking for me. We can hardly be a proper family if I'm locked in a cell, can we?"

   "So, you're just going to leave her. Again."

   "I have to."

   Felix shakes his head at the man in front of him, then releases his arm in disgust.

   Felix had always assumed Jacob Windsong was dead. Not that he would ever tell Juniper. His memory of Jacob, and the way Juniper described him, Felix couldn't imagine any other possible scenario. Why else would he leave the sister he so clearly cared for? A sister he doted on, wrote to constantly, treated like a best friend. At least, that was how Juniper had always described their relationship. But as he stares at the door now closed behind Jacob, Felix has to wonder just how reliable Juniper's memories of her brother really were.

-

   His thoughts are interrupted by a scream.

   Anyone who works in close proximity to dragons becomes quickly accustomed to screams. In three years, Felix has heard men, women, and children shriek in terror at the sight of a soaring Vipertooth. He can distinguish howls of agony caused by dragonfire meeting skin from the anguished wails at its destruction of homes and villages. He himself has screamed in pain as a dragon's talon rips cleanly through the skin of his throat.

   But this scream is different. It’s the sort that chills the blood. A bottomless sound of torment and hopelessness, like Felix has never heard. And instead of inspiring him to action, as screams have come to do, this excruciating noise makes him want to hide. He knows the sound is coming from the bed behind him, which means there's only one logical source.

   Two people in lime-green robes burst through the door, nearly knocking Felix over in their rush to reach the bed. Felix can only hope they’re trustworthy trainees because he's neglected to ask for the password. He cannot think at all as the healers draw their wands, speaking rapidly to each other, trying various spells and incantations. But nothing they cast alters the scream by a decibel.

   Felix closes his eyes, unable to face the bed. He cannot watch Juniper make that terrible noise; doesn't want to connect that sound with her. He stands entirely frozen as the scream drags on, fighting the urge to cover his ears or run from the room entirely, until a forceful hand grips his shoulder and shakes him.

   “What’s happened?”

   Felix recognises the voice distantly.

   "She... she started screaming," he answers, his own voice coming to him from far away.

   There's a snort of exasperation. "Yes, that’s obvious, but what did they do? How did they wake her?"

   When Felix doesn't answer, the hand shakes his shoulder again, the force rattling his teeth. It clears Felix's head just enough for him to focus on the disfigured man from before. He's staring intently at Felix with his normal eye, the strange blue one rolled back in his head. Beyond him, Felix catches sight of Professor Snape hunched over the bed next to the frantic healers.

   "Answer me! What-"

   The man breaks off abruptly, and a different sort of ringing fills Felix’s ears. It's a few seconds before he recognises the sound as silence. The screaming has stopped. Ignoring the man in front of him, Felix cranes his neck so he can see to the bed where Juniper has fallen back against the pillow. Panic reasserting itself, he tries to push forward, but the man has Felix’s shoulder in a vice.

   "You! Boy! You were supposed to be guarding her. What happened? She didn’t just wake up like this on her own."

   "Yes, she did," Felix snaps. "I mean, she just started screaming, I don't know if she was awake. Her brother said-"

   "Jacob Windsong was here?" Both the man's eyes are on Felix now, and even Snape has whipped around in alarm.

   "Yes. He came to see Juniper. He-" Felix draws a shaky breath, trying to collect his thoughts, still scattered by the unearthly scream. “He said he could help her. That he knew what curse was cast on her."

   The man shakes Felix again, this time in eagerness. "What did he say the curse was? How did he counter it?"

   Felix steps back, wrenching his shoulder away from the heavily scarred man.

   "He didn't say."

   "He didn’t say what the curse was or he didn't say how to counter it?"

    A dull throb has sprung to life in Felix's temple, and he rubs at his forehead in weary frustration.

   "Neither. He didn't....didn't say anything specific."

    The man's blue eye rolls madly in its socket. "You didn’t ask him? You let him cast a spell on Windsong and didn't bother to ask what it was?"    

   Felix can feel the embarrassment crawl across his face, but doesn't answer, just digs his heels against his eyes until he sees stars.

   The man utters a low sound of disgust and limps heavily to the bed, edging between the trainee healers to get a better look at Juniper. Snape takes the man's place in front of Felix, his expression hard and calculating.

   "Did Jacob Windsong say anything else?"

   Felix has no desire to recount his conversation with Juniper's brother, so he shakes his head.

   "Nothing important." Snape's eyes flash dangerously, and Felix hastens to add. "He said...he just said he was trying to keep Juniper safe. From R."

   "For all we know it wasn’t even the Windsong boy," calls the other man from the bedside. "Could have been any one of the outfit in disguise, and this idiot wouldn’t know the difference."

   Irritation pulses against Felix's skull.

   "As a matter of fact, I thought of that as well. But he knew things that only the real Jacob Windsong would know."

   "Did he now?" asks the man condescendingly.

   "Yes," Felix insists. "It was him. I’m sure of it."

   The man merely makes a rough sound in the back of his throat, a laugh or a hacking cough. He throws himself into the armchair now pressed against the wall to make more room around the bed. One of the trainee healers moves as well, busying himself over the bedside table, and Felix catches sight of Juniper. She's still, but breathing regularly.

   "What did you do her? Why was she screaming? Will she be alright?"

   Felix directs his question at the healers, but it’s Snape who answers him.

   "They have given her a Draught of Peace, but we do not know any more than you, Mr Rosier. It is still unclear what curse she was under or why she was unresponsive. Are you sure Jacob Windsong didn't-"

   "Rosier? Did you say Rosier?"

    The scarred man stands slowly, both eyes fixed unblinkingly on Felix.

   "You wouldn't be related to the late Evan Rosier, now, would you?" he asks, gnarled hand clenching around his wand.

   "He was my cousin," answers Felix, confused by this strange change of subject. 

    What's left of the man's nose seems to quiver in unspeakable rage, as he draws himself up to full height.

   "Well now. That's one mystery solved. No wonder he couldn’t ask any pertinent questions.” He advances on Felix with a menacing limp. "He's probably in league with R, himself. Sent here by the lot of them to keep tabs on her, were you?"

   Felix retreats against the wall to keep the man's wand from poking him in the chest. He's so taken aback, it's several seconds before he feels fear, and another before he feels anger. There’s no time to formulate a scathing retort, however, before Snape steps between them. He holds his wand at his side casually, but Felix notices the Professor's knuckles are white.

   "Moody, I can assure you Mr Rosier is not in league with R."

   Felix can see the man's lips move in response, but his ears have stopped working.

   "Moody?" he repeats, his exhausted brain trying to call up the meaning associated with the name. "Mad-Eye Moody?"

   And Felix remembers. His father white as a sheet, his mother sobbing, ministry officials delivering the news impassively. Felix isn't sure how he feels. All he can think of is what his father would say if he knew he was the same room as the man who killed Evan.

   "Yeah, that’s right, boy." Moody's mouth twists into a grotesque sneer. "Know who I am, do you? Surprised you and your Death Eater family don’t have my picture up for target practice.“

   It isn't the first time Felix has heard an accusation like this, not by a long shot. But it's been so many years, it takes a moment for the old indignation and shame to uncoil within him, like an aged dragon.

   "I am not a Death Eater," he seethes, voice shaking.

   "We'll soon find out." Moody retorts, and makes a grab for Felix's left arm. Snape steps in front of the scarred hand, and for a moment the two men glare at each other, wands half-raised.

   "Please, not in here," says a timid voice from near the bed. One of the trainee healers wrings his hands nervously as he watches the scuffling men by the door. "I'm... I'm afraid I...I must insist you take this outside. This patient is still seriously injured. She needs...to rest.” The trainee grips the bedstead to support his weight, as if this short speech has drained him of all energy.

   Moody takes a step a back, glowering at Felix and Snape. He’s breathing hard, whereas Felix isn't sure he can breathe at all.

   “Get out,” demands the auror.

    "What? No!” protests Felix. “I haven't done anything wrong, you can't-" 

    His argument is cut short by Snape, who grabs Felix’s upper arm and pulls him from the room, releasing him only when the door is shut firmly behind them. Felix stumbles, rubbing at his bruised arm. 

   "Professor, I swear, I made sure it was Jacob Windsong. I didn't just let anyone waltz in here. And he woke her up, didn't he? He helped her! I-"

   "Mr Rosier," Snape interjects. “No one is doubting your devotion to Miss Windsong. But there is nothing more you can do for her now. You've been here nearly an entire day, and if I'm not mistaken, you have an important interview in the morning. I suggest you take some time to... " He eyes Felix’s wrinkled robes and uncharacteristically disheveled hair: “Prepare yourself.”

   Felix blinks. He turns automatically to the window for some indication of the time. The streaky glass reveals darkness, though Felix isn't sure it can be trusted to show the sky’s actual appearance since it's secretly a door. He hasn't thought to check the time once since he's been here, has entirely forgotten the world outside the hospital room. None of it seems of any importance in light of Juniper's peril. But this job at the Romanian Reserve is a rare opportunity. And if he misses his interview, there’s no knowing when the position will come available again.

  As if he can read Felix’s thoughts, Snape adds, "I doubt very much whether Miss Windsong would appreciate if you missed your interview on her account." And Felix cannot argue against that. 

  "I'll come back. After the interview." It's a statement, not a request. 

  Snape arches an eyebrow but makes no other response. Felix takes a reluctant step back.

  "And if something were to happen to her before then...would you...let me know?"

   The Potions Master's slow blink is his only indication of assent.

   Felix takes another step, then pauses, shuffling his feet. His fingers come up to trace the scar on his neck unconsciously.

    "Professor." Felix meets Snape's eyes imploringly. "I'm not any of the things he said. Moody. I'm not - I'm not a Death Eater."

    Snape's face is still entirely inscrutable, but he gives the smallest of nods as he answers, "I know, Felix."

-

*A/N: This is a reference to one of the last bits of the Quidditch Season 1 storyline (which I'm aware is technically supposed to take place in MC's second year, but which in my story is moved to her third.) The title of the article is my own invention. **A/N: Reference to my Felix Rosier backstory Four Things Felix Rosier Remembered.

Read Chapter 5 | View all stories on the Masterpost

[myownpersonaldemons]

Self-Tober Prompt 4

Rainy

Grillby/Self

You woke suddenly in the middle of the night to the soft glow of your husband and the soft pitter-patter of rain on the roof. It was so soft at first that you didn’t notice it over the ambient noise that Grillby made, but it was there. The sound grew and then faded with the wind shifts, and you felt the chill seeping into the room from the window. Grillby shifted, his flames dimming a bit more like a particularly cold gust of air entered the room.

Maybe you should close the window?

Nah. Your sleep-addled mind didn’t want to move, simply enjoy the warmth emanating beside you, and the soft seep of chill on your foot that had found its way out of the bed covers in the middle of the night. What your mind did allow, however, was for you to shift your head towards Grillby. Your husband.

A sleepy grin stretched over your face.

Your bondmate.

You couldn’t believe that he was yours...and you were his.

Even almost at your one-year anniversary.

It had rained on your wedding day as well much to both of your dismay. The two of you shared very opposite opinions on weather and water. He loved hot, dry days while you preferred cool, rainy nights like this one. However, as small as your wedding with Grillby had been, the two of you had planned for an outside wedding...and every time you checked the weather report it had said that the day would be clear skies but a cool wind, perfect. Then...you woke up to a thunderstorm that lasted halfway through the day and then pittered off into a simple rainstorm for the next two days.

When he had apologized to you, upset that the two of you couldn’t have the perfect day that the two of you had been envisioning for months, you had told him that you would’ve been okay with getting married at town hall with only one witness in your pyjamas if it meant marrying him. You honestly didn’t mind that everything had to be packed up and the two of you ended up getting married to each other in his bar.

You rolled onto your side, slowly waking up the longer you watched his flames dance about his head and thought about your life since you met him. God. It had been purely by chance that you had met him...and funnily enough, it had been raining that day as well. Your friend had roped you into a cooking class because she hadn’t wanted to go alone.

Grillby had been there with Sans, both dragged into it by Papyrus who insisted that Grillby learn how to make something other than greasy bar food. (Which, you knew he knew how to make more than what was on the menu because you had dated him for five years before you got married.)

He’d walked in, grumpy about the rain with Sans making rain puns, and you’d been stunned to see him and two walking skeletons. You had been well aware of monsters before then, but the three of them together were a sight to behold. Of course, you actively made sure you didn’t stare at people and they were no exception, so besides a little glance at them when they entered, you didn’t really spare them another look. Even if you couldn’t help but notice the firey monster every time he came into your peripherals.

If it hadn’t been for you and Papyrus literally bumping into each other at the end of the class, you wouldn’t have ever spoken to Grillby. You wouldn’t have stuttered your way through a confession. You wouldn’t have fallen so quickly in love with him that it had hurt to breathe. You wouldn’t have moved into his apartment above the bar. You wouldn’t have slowed danced with him in the living room after watching a romantic movie and you pointing out that you knew no couples who just randomly slow danced together to no music.

You wouldn’t have learned that he was a cheesy romantic who could make you feel so comfortable and yet so breathless at the same time.

Ah yes. It was four am, it was raining, and you were getting mushy and affectionate.

It was okay, however, because he was asleep and you didn’t have to explain anything to anyone. There was no one to judge you and nothing needed to be hidden away.

You could think all night about your husband and no one could stop you!

“...why’re you awake?”

His voice actually startled you into jumping slightly, and he sat up slightly but then sent the window a weak glare. He didn’t like the cold, but you honestly needed to have a window cracked or the a/c going when lying next to him or you’d overheat and you hated being too hot.

You shrugged lightly, “woke up.”

A hum left his mouth and he glared again at the window before lying back down, this time on his side facing you. You smiled softly at him as he picked up your hand and gently kissed the knuckles. You could still see the sleep in his eyes. He was barely holding onto his consciousness as the two of you laid together, listening to the rain. Another gentle kiss to your knuckles before he laid your hand back down. You immediately missed the warmth. The cold was becoming a bit too much. Damn autumn rainstorms.

You didn’t have to miss the warmth for long, as he rested his hand on your hip and gently messaged the exposed skin above your sleep shorts. You sighed happily and curled closer to him. If you weren’t being lulled into the limbo between sleep and wake you would’ve wriggled closer to him for an early morning cuddle. Grillby’s hand stroked from your hip up your side and then slipped around to rest on the middle of your back before drawing you closer to him.

Another content hum left you, and he pressed a kiss into your hair as his fingers began to knead the forever tense muscles that made up your back. You lazily slid your leg in between his, and sneakily slipped your hands under his shirt to rest against his warm chest. He jumped slightly, making you tilt your head back to look up at him.

“...your hands are freezing,” he complained quietly, blowing some harmless sparks against your face causing you to giggle. You almost missed the affectionate smile he gave you, but you didn’t miss the half-hearted glare as you pulled your hands away and stuck them out of the blankets. “...don’t you dare.”

“Don’t what?” you giggled, “You’re just too hot that I overheat.”

He rolled his eyes, “That’s why the window’s open.”

“Exactly,” you said before withdrawing your hands beneath the blanket once again.

“Don’t stick them up my shirt,” he warned, so you did the mature thing.

You stuck one of them down the back of his pants causing him to jerk towards you. You gave his butt a squeeze for good measure too. He sighed, but you saw him struggling to keep a ‘scolding’ look. His flames gave away his amusement and affection. “That’s not what I meant.”

He pulled your hand out from his boxers and pinned it to the bed. You saw the half-hearted glare turn mischievous and you smiled up at him, warily. So, you did what any sensible person would do, remind them that you were their loving partner. 

“I love you?”

“I love you too,” he huffed, kissing your temple. “But I do need to get my revenge.”

Without warning, he yanked the bedsheets off of you and the rush of cold air against you had you immediately diving towards him. He laughed and quickly replaced the sheets over you.

God. You loved this flaming man.

But it was on!

You twisted around so you could be the little spoon, snuggling back against his chest. However, as he went to wrap his arm around you, you tucked the blanket closer to yourself and then rolled away from him. Successfully burritoing yourself and facing him again. You stuck your tongue out and buried yourself a bit deeper into the very toasty blankets. It was always like snuggling into sheets fresh out of the oven, and each morning you thoroughly took advantage of slipping onto his side of the bed when he got out.

“That’s not fair,” he huffed, but amusement danced in his eyes as he sat up. “You’re too cute.”

“M’burrito,” you mumbled into the fabric, and gave him a pleased look.

A roll of his eyes but then he grabbed the end and yanked.

Neither of you expected that you’d be unwound straight off the bed and onto the cold hardwood floor.

For a moment you sat there, completely still, staring up at the ceiling until Grillby’s head popped into view and you saw the extremely concerned look on his face, mouth opened in an apology.

You burst out laughing.

You were so glad you married this man.

He got off the bed and crouched beside you. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”

You shook your head, wheezing slightly. “I just...that was- and your face!”

Grillby’s head tilted to the side slightly before he sighed, sparks flying again but you just burst into more laughter. You made an attempt to give him a smooch but you ended up just pressing your forehead against his cheek and giggling, unable to sober up for even a moment to kiss your husband.

“You’re a dork,” he said, tucking his arm beneath your legs and another behind your back before hoisting you back onto the bed. “You are okay though, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” you giggled out, “Takes more than falling out of bed to hurt me.”

“Thank goodness,” he hummed, tucking the blanket back around both of you and pulling you against his chest. “As much as I love playing around in bed, I think you need to actually sleep. You’re becoming giggle happy.”

That made you giggle even more and you shook your head, “I’m a giggly bitch what can I say.”

He kissed your forehead, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You fell asleep listening to the rain...in the arms of your best friend and husband.

[delennsatai]

DMC Gen Week: part 6

Sonata for Two

Summary: Young Vergil struggles to feel special on his seventh birthday, having to share it--and everything else--with Dante, and their mother tries to keep the peace.

Part of @dmcgenweek Day 6 Prompt: Birthday/Music

Classic DMC this time! AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155810

“Hurry up, Dante.” Vergil pounded on their shared bathroom door with his small fist. Dante always took too long getting ready when they had to dress up. Not that Mother had said so in so many words, but even Dante knew better than to show up to their birthday dinner in shorts and a t-shirt. “I still have to fix my hair.”

“No you don’t, it looks great!” Dante shouted from inside.

“It looks like yours.”

“That’s what I said!”

Vergil rolled his eyes and folded his arms. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Dante opened the door and spread out his arms, doing a stylish twirl. “Ta-da!” he beamed. “How do I look?”

“Like you’re making us late,” Vergil huffed, stepping into the bathroom to carefully slick his hair back in front of the mirror. Dante came in on his heels and made faces at him from behind, but Vergil ignored him. He wasn’t sure why his heart was pounding in anticipation of their seventh annual dinner celebration. He should have been excited. Gifts, fancy food, an expectation that Dante would behave himself…who could ask for more?

“Am not. You’re just jealous cuz I look better.” Dante grinned at him in challenge, but Vergil swept past him imperiously to head downstairs. “Hey, wait up!”

At the bottom of the stairs they stood together for inspection. Mother smiled and told Vergil he looked very handsome, like a perfect gentleman. He gave Dante a smug smile.

“What about me, Mother?” Dante asked eagerly.

“Oh, Dante…stand still, there we are…” She licked her thumb and used it to rub away some dirt that still smudged Dante’s face from his tree-climbing antics earlier (while Vergil had been trying to read quietly but Dante wouldn’t stop shouting “VERGIL LOOK AT ME!” while he performed increasingly stupid stunts). Mother gave Dante a fond smile and cupped his cheek in her hand for a moment, then adjusted a few stray strands of his hair and stepped back. “You look wonderful, Dante. Your father would be proud.”

Vergil’s smile curdled on his face, as his gut seemed to drop out of his body with a lurch. Father would be proud of him? Why, because he’d bothered to run a comb through his hair for once? He’d learned a new word from a poem the other day: “slovenly.” He resolved to use it to describe Dante at every opportunity from now on.

“All right, boys, time to go!” Mother handed them their coats—Dante’s red one had a hood attached, while Vergil had detached his hood and replaced the plain plastic buttons with ornate gold-painted ones, but otherwise they were identical—and put on her own before ushering them outside to the car. Vergil pointedly sat in the front seat, ignoring Dante’s whines of “but you didn’t call shotgun!” and glaring out the window for the entire ride.

When they got to the old-fashioned restaurant, the owner greeted Mother warmly and led them to their usual table in the back, as tasteful candlelight flickered everywhere they looked and carved mahogany pillars reflected in the mirrored ceiling above their heads. Soft classical music played as a backdrop to the low murmur of conversation. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?” Dante muttered to him as they followed behind her. “It’s our birthday, bro, have a little fun!”

Why does it always have to be OUR birthday? Vergil thought, wondering what life would be like if he didn’t constantly have to take a back seat to Dante’s craving for attention. Would Mother fix his hair and tell him Father would be proud of him? Would he get to spend a whole afternoon in peace and quiet, and then have a conversation with Mother over dinner without getting interrupted every two minutes?

They sat down in a comfortable booth that curved around its little corner table, so the three of them could easily talk without raising their voices. Mother asked about their day and chatted about her gardening, promising they could have first pick of the flowers when they were ready to be picked. Vergil assured her he would have the actual first pick, since he was older. Dante said he didn’t want Vergil’s boring blue flowers anyway. Mother gently chided them. It was all business as usual, but Vergil was sick of business as usual. He deliberately ordered something totally different from what Dante was having and refused his brother’s offer to trade a bit of his dish for a taste of it. (Even though he had to admit that what Dante was having looked delicious.)

When Mother had a cake with seven candles brought to the table and sang happy birthday to them, Vergil couldn’t help feeling only three and a half of those candles were for him. She cut Dante a generous slice from the side with the red icing roses, then cut Vergil one from the side with the icing bluebirds, and he thought, will I ever get to have a whole cake that’s just for me?

By the time the hour of gift-giving rolled around, he just wanted the whole thing to be over. He’d never felt this way about their birthday before, but after months of their second-grade teacher’s complete inability to tell them apart despite obvious cues, and two years of pestering Mother about when Father was coming back with no solid answer, he was starting to wish he didn’t have a twin at all.

“The first gift is for both of you,” Mother said, setting a small box down on the table between them. The little card attached to it read: “To Dante and Vergil, my beloved sons. Never forget how much your parents love you. With all my heart, Mother.”

To Dante and Vergil. Dante’s name always came first. “I don’t want to share it with Dante,” he blurted out abruptly. Even as he heard himself say it he knew it sounded childish, but he didn’t care.

“What?” Dante’s eyes widened, his shoulders slumped. “Why not?”

“Because I have to share everything with you!” he snapped. “It’s not fair.”

“But…we’re twins.” Like that was all the explanation Dante needed or wanted.

“I didn’t ask for a twin!” Vergil shoved Dante, as though with a simple push he could eject his brother from the restaurant. Or from his life.

“Hey!” Dante scowled and shoved him back. “Well, neither did I! Especially a mean one like you!”

“Boys!” Eva reached across the table to separate them with a firm grip. They were, if she was to be honest, already a match for her in strength; but what she lacked in half-demonic power she made up for with a stern motherly tone. “That’s enough. Vergil, apologize to your brother, that was uncalled for.”

She watched his face darken like a thunderstorm had passed over it. This kid’s stubborn pride…she knew it was going to get him in trouble someday. “But it’s true and I’m not sorry,” he insisted.

Dante looked like Vergil had punched him, hurt and confused but ready to brawl right here in this booth, other diners be damned. “I’m not sorry either!” he shouted. She resisted the urge to hide under the table, as their squabble was beginning to draw attention. “Why can’t you ever just have fun?”

Vergil opened his mouth with a look on his face that said he was about to slice Dante’s feelings to shreds. She pressed her lips together and pounded a fist once on the table, making the silverware and the boys both jump. “I said, that’s enough!” The children fell silent, having the grace to look a bit guilty but still glaring at each other over the wrapped box. She softened her tone. “Vergil, honey, I understand how you feel. But I’d like you to consider how Dante feels, too. Can you do that?”

“I don’t care how Dante feels,” he muttered, but she could tell it wasn’t true, because the guilt in his face intensified and he mumbled his words like he thought he could get away with them if she didn’t hear them properly. Dante tensed and she was pretty sure she’d have a literal fight on her hands if she didn’t nip this in the bud now.

“Yes you do,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument, “and Dante cares about how you feel, too. Don’t you, Dante?”

“No!...yeah, I guess.”

“That’s right. Vergil?”

The elder twin withered before her eyes, his face crumpling into a defeated sulk. She was sure this argument would continue with relish after they were out of her earshot, but maybe presents would help diffuse it. “Fine,” he said eventually. “Sorry, Dante.”

“…do you wanna open the box?” Dante offered. An olive branch if she’d ever seen one, the poor sweet kid. She wished they could get along for more than five minutes at a time. It wasn’t always Vergil’s doing, either—Dante certainly did his share of antagonizing his brother for no good reason—but Vergil was rarely the one extending his hand first afterward.

“Okay.” Vergil slid the box closer to him so he could carefully undo the ribbon and unwrap it with meticulous focus. Dante was literally bouncing in his seat with impatience, but he must not have wanted to start another argument because he didn’t complain about how long Vergil was taking. Finally, he pulled off the lid to reveal two near-identical amulets, pale red jewels the size of the twins’ fists, gleaming in the candlelight. One was set in silver, the other in brass.

Both boys were still and silent for a moment. Vergil broke it first, lifting the brass one out of the box with care. The pendant felt like more than jewelry, heavier in his hand than its physical weight alone accounted for. He was sure it would speak to him, if he had a way to listen. He looked up at Mother with a question on his face while Dante picked up the other amulet with a curious and almost reverent gaze.

“They once belonged to your father,” she said. “Take good care of them. They’re very important.”

“Why?” Vergil asked.

“You’ll understand someday.” Her smile had something faraway in it.

“…thank you, Mother,” he said solemnly.

“Yeah! Thank you!” Dante’s face lit up as he hung the amulet around his neck. It looked hilariously huge on the seven-year-old, but he’d grow into it. Vergil followed suit.

“You said that was the first present, right?” Dante said brightly.

She grinned. “I did say that. But the others are waiting for you at home.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

***

Dante was predictably ecstatic about the new set of Nerf pistols and cowboy hat he received, although Vergil groaned upon seeing them, knowing countless foam projectiles lay in his immediate future. When it was his turn, he entered Mother’s warm, cozy study with his hands stuck in his pockets, remembering and hating the way his face had flushed red when he’d been forced to apologize to Dante.

She smiled at him. “I hope you’ve had a lovely birthday, Vergil.”

“I guess.” He didn’t smile back.

“I’d like to talk about what happened at dinner.” She patted the loveseat next to her. He felt his heart pounding again, but he sat down, waiting for the scolding. Instead, she ran a hand gently through his hair. “Dante’s a handful, isn’t he?”

“He’s loud and annoying. And slovenly.”

She desperately schooled her face; he would not appreciate her laughing right now. But oh, Vergil, that quick mind of yours, and that haughty tone! You’re so much like your father. Will you ever get to see that for yourself, I wonder? “Yes, he can be those things,” she agreed. “But he let you open the box, didn’t he?” He shrugged. “Why do you think he did that?”

“I don’t know why he does anything.”

“I think you do, and you just don’t want to admit it.” She sighed, curling into a more comfortable position on the loveseat, tucking her legs underneath her. “Vergil, your brother adores you. He interrupts your reading because he wants to spend time with you. And he likes sharing everything with you because it reminds him that you’re always there for him.” She waited a moment to see if he would have anything to say, but he steadfastly held his tongue, so she went on. “I had a talk with him, too, you know. I asked him to try to give you a little more space.”

He lifted his eyebrows at that. “You did?”

“Yes, I did.” She looked into the distance for a moment, the corners of her lips turning up in a sad smile. “When I was young, my sister and I were inseparable.” He blinked in surprise. “I doubt you’ll ever meet her. We…don’t speak anymore.” She found out about Sparda and the whole family disowned me. It’s their loss, missing out on these two beautiful children in their lives. “At the time, though, we were always together. And most of the time, that was perfect. But sometimes I wanted some time to myself, and she had a hard time understanding that.”

He watched her intently. “What did you do?”

She chuckled. “Nothing. What could I do? She was my sister, and even when she frustrated me, it was a comfort to know I would never be alone. She was always there for me when I needed her, and I for her. Vergil…” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay to need space. But it’s also okay to rely on Dante and enjoy his company. It’s a blessing to have someone who will always be with you.” Sparda…where are you?

Vergil frowned in concentration, thinking it through. She gave him credit for not just placating her with empty reassurances; the one thing she’d never known Vergil to be was dishonest. Dante would fib at times, but he was so terrible at it she couldn’t really be upset. But what Vergil eventually said was, “Can we stop talking about Dante now?”

“Sure.” She reached behind the loveseat and pulled up an oblong box, handling it with care and laying it across her son’s lap. It was pretty heavy, he noticed, and longer than his arm. “Happy birthday, Vergil.”

He opened this box with the same exactitude as the last one, finding that inside it was a long case made of leather and wood. Could she have…? His eyes widened with anticipation as he undid its clasps and pushed open the lid to reveal—yes. He gasped softly. “Mother…”

“This was my aunt’s,” she said, “and now it’s yours. Your teacher tells me you’ve really excelled, so it seemed like the right time for you to have one of your own.” She smiled widely and handed him a thin book she’d had hidden under her shawl. “What do you think, time for a duet?”

“Can we?” Now he was smiling, too, and she tried not to tear up at his unadulterated joy.

“Of course.” She stood and made her way to the piano, with her piece of choice already spread neatly across the stand. “Page 24, if you would.”

Vergil lifted the violin gingerly out of its case and stood to join her, pulling over his own stand and flipping through the book of Baroque classics until he found the page. It took longer than usual for him to get ready—rosining the bow, setting up his chin rest, tuning with his characteristic look of perfect concentration and insisting on doing it by ear rather than with the piano’s aid as usual. Once or twice she caught him pausing when he thought she wasn’t looking, just to admire the instrument’s lacquered amber maple and the mellow sound his gentle plucking made. Finally, he nodded his readiness to her, and her hands came down onto the keys to begin the accompaniment in a measured moderato.

The pensive, lyrical music filled the cozy little room, as Vergil tried hard not to make any mistakes. She’d chosen a piece of intermediate difficulty that she knew he’d played before, giving him the chance to show off while still offering a challenge he’d appreciate. Once he settled into the rhythm of it, his jaw and shoulders relaxed. The timbre of the old violin was mellifluous and rich, and she could tell how much he loved it just by watching him play. Someday, she thought, he would be a true virtuoso.

As the final notes faded away, Vergil lowered his bow with a flourish and turned toward her to bow deeply with an air of formality, so she applauded with a soft giggle at his showmanship. “That was beautiful, Vergil.”

“Thank you, Mother.” His gaze as he came up from his bow told her he was grateful for more than the praise.

“You’re very welcome.” She closed the fallboard and came over to give his forehead a kiss. “Now, it’s almost time for you and your brother to get ready for bed. If you want a hot chocolate first, you’d better put away your violin and come join us in the kitchen quick, before we drink it all.” She gave him a wink and left him standing there in his contented daze for a moment. Your violin, her voice repeated in his mind. Then he registered her words and hurried to put the instrument back in its case—carefully, carefully—and store it safely in the bedroom he shared with his twin before running downstairs to the kitchen.

Despite his delay, he still made it there before Dante did. When his brother dashed into the room like a firecracker and saw that Vergil had claimed the last of the marshmallows, his face fell into a resigned pout. Vergil looked into his cup thoughtfully. It’s not like Dante will even want me to share my violin, he thought. That’s all mine. “Here,” he said, spooning out half the marshmallows and dropping them into his brother’s mug. “Happy birthday.”

Dante’s face lit up as he grinned. “Whoa, somebody’s in a good mood.”

“Don’t push your luck, Dante,” Vergil said. He sat back in his chair and sipped his cocoa, the melody of the duet still running through his mind. Maybe sharing a birthday with Dante wasn’t that bad.

[emeto-things]

My Emet Story

I’m going to try to make this the least triggering as possible. The reason I’m sharing this is to tell you guys you aren’t alone, and to maybe give you comfort in the fact I think/act just as “weird” as you do (:

I’m currently 15 years old, and to be totally honest, I can’t remember a day without emetophobia. My earliest memory with emetophobia is when I was probably about 6-7.

I was at the mall with my mom, sister and grandma and we all got coffee and a cookie and the cookies are pretty big, especially for a little 6 year old. But I ate it, and then my stomach hurt a little afterwards. I don’t remember being scared I just remember not feeling good. Then, we got in the car to pick up my brother and cousin from school and I think I was maybe drawing in the car? This was before I realized I had an issue with motion s*ness. So then I started to feel even worse - still not scared though. But randomly, I was listening to my mom and cousin’s conversation and my cousin said the word “g*” and I just remember I started breathing heavily and my heart started pounding and I clenched on to my sister saying “oh my gosh!!! I’m scared i’ll get s*!!!” Thankfully I didn’t, but when I got home I remember laying on the couch crying. That was the first memory I had of being scared of s*ness.

Then it kinda disappeared, I didn’t ever think about being s* other than when I didn’t feel good which is probably like most people.

Then I was about 7 years old, and it had snowed for the first time of the year. I was outside with my siblings and I ate a TON of it which wasn’t smart and apparently you aren’t supposed to eat the first snow? I don’t know if that’s a myth or not but either way I didn’t know it back then and my parents weren’t watching me. I may have even possibly eaten around where my dog had peed (Gross, I know). I literally made a meal off of snow that day. That night, I v*ed and it was my earliest memory of v*ing other than when I was much smaller and had another s*ness which I barely remember. But I wasn’t really scared then either, I just felt horrible.

As you can probably already tell, I’ve had emetophobic tendencies in me forever (the crying, rapid breathing, racing heart, and being scared) isn’t typical reactions people that v* have. But my real phobia didn’t start until 2011 when I was 8.

A normal flu (not v* but respiratory flu) was going around and my brother had caught it. I was sleeping peacefully one night in my bedroom that was dreadfully right next to the bathroom - so basically I heard everything that went on in the bathroom, pretty gross, I know. But the sound of my brother v*ing woke me up that night. I didn’t know what was going on but a strange fear took over me again, same as when my cousin said the triggering g* word. Obviously back then I didn’t know such a phobia existed, and I didn’t know my feelings over v* were abnormal.

I ran into my parents room and woke my mom up to ask her what was going on. She told me that my brother was purposely making himself v* because it made him feel better? I still don’t understand but that’s why. I just remember peering over my moms bed to see the light in the bathroom shining out the door as I was uncontrollably shaking. My parents thought I was overreacting a little bit but again, I thought it was normal.

I stayed up the rest of the night in total fear that it was going to happen to me. And the fact that he was making himself do it didn’t register with my 7 year old brain - I still thought it was a contagious thing even though it wasn’t. Then a few hours went by and my throat began to get sore. I had came down with the flu too.

My mom told me it was nothing to worry about because v*ing wasn’t a part of it and again tried to convince me my brother purposely did it and it wasn’t part of his illness. The whole time of having that flu, I was scared. Thinking any minute that I would v* too. Thankfully, my mom was right and it didn’t happen. After the flu went away I was back to my normal self, not thinking about v* ever.

Then in 2013 when I was 10, it started back. I was in the pool that summer and my mom came outside to tell my dad who was supervising me in the pool, that my brother had just v*ed and I remember jumping out of the pool and screaming and crying. I ended up calming down and then I was mostly okay again for a long period of time.

The fall of 2013 got really tough, I remember every time I’d get in the car I would become worried i’d get car s* which is something I never thought about before. I remember sitting in the middle row of the car just crying and whining that I was nervous of getting s*. My mom convinced me over & over that car s*ness doesn’t happen from just sitting there and watching out the windows but I didn’t believe her.

Towards the end of 2013 around Christmas time, I remember isolating myself in my bedroom telling myself over and over “I won’t be s*, I won’t be s*, I won’t be s*” and I was scared to take a shower because just being in a bathroom caused me to freak out.

I would take a shower every 5 days and being 10 almost 11, my hair would get so oily and I wouldn’t smell very good but I couldn’t bring myself to go in the bathroom longer than to pee.

I would take a shower with the door cracked open and my mom outside and I’d rush so fast to get out of the bathroom because I associated bathrooms with v*. Then my phobia kinda disappeared again.

Being 11 was probably my best age, I don’t remember the thought of v* ever even coming to my mind, I was a very happy 11 year old.

I was in an art class, I had some great friends who I hung out with a lot, I made a fan twitter account for my favorite band and I had a lot of online friends I’d chat with, i started editing videos of my favorite band and posting them to YouTube and overall had an amazing year. That all took a turn for the worst in 2015.

The end of 2014 I got my first period. My mom had never taught me about it, I had only heard a little bit from my sister and mom talking occasionally and from googling things when I’d be upset my friends knew about it and I didn’t.

My period made my anxiety way worse which as I said, I didn’t know ANYTHING about the affects periods have on the body.

And I finally got the hang of them around maybe my 3rd period or so, and I had learned a lot about them by then but my anxiety still worsened a lot around that time of the month.

In April of 2015, I went to my art class like I did every week. I was never in love with the class because my teacher was really mean to me but I stuck with it because I wanted something to do. Until one night I woke up feeling horrible. I remember immediately panicking but I somehow fell asleep during my panic attack only to wake up again only a few hours later and feeling even worse. I’m going to spare the details to avoid triggers, but eventually I ended up v*ing. And you’d think, afterwards I’d be like “wow I’m glad that’s over and now I can move on” but no. I knew that very SECOND that this was going to affect me the rest of my life.

I was so dazed. I couldn’t believe it had happened to me. I could literally feel the phobia taking over my body and that everything I would do would be affected.

The next day, I had a small stomach ache which I would usually ignore, but this time I had a strike of anxiety rush through me which was unusual. I ran to my room and hid away from everyone just crying and freaking out until the pain went away.

I then noticed I was overly focussed on bodily sensations. If my stomach had any feeling at all that wasn’t “normal” I’d freak out. If I had a headache, or my throat was tight I’d get scared. If I felt anything even remotely close to how I did when I v*ed I’d be so anxious I would cry and scream.

The summer of 2015 was really good despite my anxiety, it was very minuscule. My emet was with me everywhere I went but not to the point I couldn’t do anything.

In October of 2015, I had my first panic attack. I didn’t know what it was, but I thought I was going to have to go to the hospital. I also didn’t know anything about panic Attacks so I thought it was a once in a lifetime thing, I didn’t know they were a reoccurring thing. I remember sitting on the couch physically too weak to stand up because of how worn out I was from consistent panic attacks.

In 2016 I developed OCD, meaning I would touch doorknobs a certain number of times or else “I’d be s* that night” and I’d refold clothes until they looked “right” or else I would for some reason v* and it was miserable. I couldn’t even clean my room without getting worn out from repeatedly folding things or straightening my sheets and I would plug and unplug my phone which is really bad for it but my OCD told me to or else I’d be s*.

I also became very paranoid of germs and started limiting the places I went to and anytime I’d go anywhere, I’d be on edge for 3 days because that was how long it took to get s* with the sv* I had so I figured if I made it past 3 days id be fine, but those 3 day I wouldn’t do that much of anything because I was so scared. Certain foods also became an issue, eating eggs would scare me and as soon as I got done eating I’d rush to my computer and google symptoms of fp* and freak out and cry until the magical “6 hours” passed and then I knew I was okay. That was my life every day for a YEAR.

2017, my OCD got miraculously better which has to be a God thing because there’s no human way I did that myself, it’s like God took it away for me and I’m so grateful I don’t struggle without OCD debilitating anhmore!!!

But in 2017 my food issue because horrible. I restricted my diet to basically water, chocolate, granola bars, cereal and ice cream. Junk and more junk which in turn made me feel s*, but then if I ate a real meal with meat I’d be scared. I also started having horrrible sleeping hours due to panicking every night.

Currently in 2018, food is still my biggest struggle and I’m just now gaining back the weight I lost last year and it’s definitely still a struggle but I believe we will all get through this together❤️❤️❤️

** I can definitely relate to the fear of bathrooms. If I felt s* at all, I would avoid them as much as possible because it made it more “real”. I had some OCD tendencies as well. You’re so young and you’ll get over it just like I did!! Good luck <3 **

[thephantomcasebook]

What Was Dead Should Remain Dead ... (May 1941)

It was a testament to how much she loved him that she cared. Even when everything else in life looked the same, there was always something missing. People, they couldn’t understand it unless they died. But when you give your life to something, it has a meaning, it has a purpose. There is certain finality to it, a stony quality in which you leave your mark on the world, forever. But the question that is never asked and an answer that had never been given, is what to do when you’re brought back to that world? What do you do when you return, twenty years later, and you’re no longer a martyr, no longer someone thought of reverently?

Lady Sybil sat alone in the Downton drawing room, watching the dinner party. She had a cigarette in her hand, its end burning through the nicotine and paper as she watched from afar. 

They stand so close together now, she could hardly understand it. He’s her best friend, and she is his. Wherever she goes in the village it’s “Tom and Mary” or “Lady Mary and Mr. Branson” … she didn’t mind it, truly, but quietly she began to realize when she heard such things that it truly had been twenty years. He was older now. He was as old as Papa when she died. He looked so dapper, so stately, a Motor Tycoon. She didn’t know if that was what he was meant for, had she lived. She wondered if she would have allowed him to pursue it, would’ve been at his side at the shop, been there when they opened the factory. But then she didn’t know him did she? Sybil didn’t know this important man of business, this Mr. Branson … she only knew the chauffer, the revolutionary, her husband Tom. But they hadn’t been married in a long time. Though, to Sybil, it had only been like yesterday …

And she still looked as if it had been yesterday.

Sybil tried to ignore the starry eyes looks from their American Air Force guests, the stiffer RAF Officers. They all had that love-loran look that they had always had all her life when young men saw Sybil. It felt strange, alien in a way that she couldn’t quite place. She was a wife, a mother, a career woman. But she was still only twenty-four. She was a young, vibrant, woman with a husband in his fifties and a grown daughter who had never knew her till a few months ago. She wished with all her heart that she could’ve been there for Sybbie through so much, to see her through the things that had happened to her, dreadful things that Sybil would never forgive herself for not being able to protect her from. But what hurt the most was the way that beautiful raven haired girl would call Mary “Mama” with all the love in the world and Sybil was still “Oh … um, hi …” with an awkward brush back of glossy curls and a clasp of the hands behind her back.

The truth was that she didn’t know who she was anymore or even if she had a right to exist.

Tears formed in her eyes when she got to the door and looked back. There was Tom, watching her. She saw it in his eyes the spark that drew them together so long ago. And in that moment she saw the love, the longing, God knew he needed her, that he wanted her so much. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t move a muscle as he stood next to the Colonel with Mary and Matthew. The two of them were tormented by their sister and brother-in-law. She felt terrible in thinking it, but it was true.

Mary and Matthew looked very much the same as they did before he died, they came together as quickly as they parted, and they picked up where they left off at the drop of the hat. They were so good together, in lock-step, undeterred by twenty years of being parted. But then Mary had always been good about shutting off things in her life, moving on rather quickly or doubling back. Yet, Tom and Sybil couldn’t find each other, because, they were so different now, not just in character, but in age. Tom saw himself as an old man now, broken in and set in his ways, a lifetime spent without her by his side. He wanted Sybil back, but he felt that it would be dishonorable to tie down a young woman, with a second chance at life, to a man who was old enough to be her father now.

The embers of the cigarette reflected like stained glass on her tear brim blue eyes as she stood in the night dimmed foyer of Downton Abbey. She felt lost, felt a deep welling of sorrow in the very halls that should’ve been like home to her. She stared blankly at the soft glow of the communication consuls, the random RAF women on the nightshift, taking batons and moving them on panes of glass navigational displays with headphones over their hair buns. They didn’t seem to notice her, no one did … but one.

A young man, her twin in masculine, saw her from the command table that had a large detailed map of the North Sea. He had grown out raven curls and the same blue eyes, hardened by a thousand sorrows and years of adventures on four continents. He wore a peacoat of beaten mahogany leather and was not even in uniform, much less dining clothing. When he spoke he had the accent of a hard-bitten Yankee, youthful, but tough and heroic. He was a maiden’s dream …

And the person responsible for the return of his father and herself to the arms of those they loved.

“You smoking now?”

“Sometimes …”

“Fallen in with a bad crowd have we, beautiful?”

“Sybbie, really …”

“Then, it’s worse than anyone can imagine.”

“I only do it under stress …”  

“Yeah, well, can’t say I blame you … I never had the stomach for their bullshit either, especially Mom’s.” George Crawley commiserated motioning to the crowded drawing room, always having been a very rare attendant to a Downton Dinner, if ever at all.

The voice of the young ace pilot always brought her a comfort that was left residual. There was a time, since the very day he was born, in which Sybil was his unseen protector. It still came in flashes, the most dangerous, the most heartbreaking, and the most desperate moments of a young boy and young man’s life mostly spent far from home. In these strange days the only time Sybil ever felt truly herself was when she was with her nephew, the once purpose of her very duty unseen on earth. Captain Crawley didn’t flinch, move, or say a word when Sybil strode to his side to share his view of the map. The adventurer felt very much the same residual attachment to the woman, now his peer, as she did him.

It was likely to never go away for the rest of their lives.  

This heroic figure seeming to come right off an American Pulp cover or cast from the lead of an Action- Adventure Serial at the Cinema was a  serious and hard-boiled young man, and only Sybil truly knew why. He fit into their family as well as she did. He spent eight years exiled in Depression America, then four years in North Africa and Palestine. His struggles and adventures had made him as different as it got from the House of Grantham. He and Mary weren’t on good terms still, no matter how Matthew tried, and he had little to no respect for Papa’s authority. He didn’t live at Downton, but still at Crawley House, sent there to Isobel at six years old and even after Isobel’s death he remained there alone.

They spent days looking for the German’s ultimate Battleship. Though, only Papa was allowed into the control room with George and Sybbie. Yet, the rest of the family felt a deep investment and a part of the hunt for the Bismarck, even if it was just from afar. George, the commander of the “Air Expedition”, was called upon from his sector one station at the heart of the fighting during the Bitlz, along with a group of other top pilots in the RAF to hunt down and destroy The Bismarck after the sinking of the HMS Hood.

“Any word?” She asked gently looking over the map.

“She’s out there alright … but if she gets to the French Coast, to air cover …” George said quietly.

“They’ll send you after her anyway?”

“Yeah, and we’ll be quoting “The Charge of the Light Brigade” the entire way.” He smirked grimly with a shake of his head.

He turned when he felt her take his hand. Sybil had tears in her eyes, her chest shaking. The young man, who literally never had anyone care that much if he was in danger, was dismayed. When he looked up he saw that several women in uniform were watching the scene. The hard bitten war hero quietly escorted his seeming twin away to a secluded area where once, long ago, Atticus Aldridge asked his once wife Rose to marry him. Since his death saving George’s life on the last day of the “Battle of Brittan” Lady Sinderby avoided it at all costs until she spent nights there in seclusion, crying.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly holding Sybil’s hands.

“I … it’s nothing.” She held back sobs, her body shaking.

“Come on …” He smoother her styled curls with a deeply earned familiarity.

“I …” She placed her hands over her face in stress. “Tom, he won’t touch me, because, he thinks he’ll ruin my life! Sybbie doesn’t know me! The Medical Corp. won’t let me join, because, they think I aged out! And now, now you’re flying alone out there … when I was … when I was dead, you and I, we were team. I was up there with you, protecting you! You weren’t alone as long as I was there! Now I’m here, and … I, I don’t know what to do anymore! And I hate it … I hate it so much!”

Sybil raged, grabbing her nephew’s old leather jacket’s lapels and gave the tall young man a shake, before burying her face in his navy blue Henley giving a helpless shriek into his chest, her shoulders shaking. She cried uncontrollably as the young man wrapped her in his arms. He held to her tightly snuggling her closely as he squinted his eyes shut in deep pain that went right down to the soul.

He felt guilty, he felt stupid, knowing that he had made a mistake. He learned a long time ago in New Orleans that what was dead should stay dead. He learned at Ra-Al-Rhun in North Africa where he found the “Grail of Prague” the relic that brought life to the Golem of Prague, that what was dead should remain dead. But he had spent his life thinking that his family, himself, had been dealt shit hands. He was obsessed with making it right, of redeeming himself to his family, especially to Lady Mary who had lost a baby daughter and a second husband, because, he wasn’t fast enough to save them when he was young.

Someday, George thought, he’d stop trying to be a hero.  

.

[awfullyhorriblybadfantrolls]

i know hell

i heard you liked cihuco ;) oh god

(this is super long because i get p i s s e d about a tenth of the way through about the misrepresentation and romanticization of mental illness so it’s under a cut. be wary of the discourse i’ve inevitably started)

-

When she wants she can become 2, both of her personalities taking a body. I realize she looks like a dude…she’s made to look like me…and since I look like a dude…yeah…you sound very uncertain about that The shirt symbols were tribal designs I found forever ago and tweaked slightly…i feel like that might be offensive and here’s what it says behind them.

Potens sidera pateris me Dilamino Mortem et Vulture Duae solae Duae aequalia Eodem sensu Duae corpora Iterum Which translates from Latin into Powerful stars allow me to Split in two Death and Vulture Two separate Two equal Same mind Two bodies Once again

i had my friend who’s learning latin translate this for me and he got

“My strong star father. I split death and the vulture in two [or “i’m split in two. death and the vulture] two alone two of the same a sense of purpose two bodies again”

he also added that it’s very badly translated and has no proper declension or cases and vulture isn’t a word in latin apparently

“they definitely used pateris when they shoulda used poddiderit”

-

you’re welcome hey also? there’s more. 

cihuco: i know i’m weird cihuco: i know my blood makes you sick cihuco: i know i’m not normal also cihuco: can you accept me for me now because i just told you all of my problems

Pesterchum name: bonesbloodSkullprotect excuse me

Typing Issue: uses txt tlk & symbols b/c she tends 2 tlk kinda fast, however if she’s perfectly calm she will spell things out completely unlike Morgan. she only capitalizes names & sometimes I’s…sometimes not. i don’t know why i hate this so much

Font Color: After finding a way to alternate between Fire Red and Water Blue water isn’t blue asshole she keeps it on so 1 sentence will be red, the next blue. However, if she’s really pissed it goes completely red and if somehow she’s completely and utterly calm it will go completely blue. i have more of an idea why i hate this so much but i do

Cimi (Death, Transformer, Worldbridger. 6th Mayan day sign) what

what is this in reference to

Symbol: skulls of any kind, so the design on her shirt changes constantly. usually the skull is White (which is the color of Death in Mayan astrology) and Red (which has come to symbolize Death now not really) Sometimes the skull will have a vulture on/near it. As the Vulture is the foe of Death, this presumably means she is her own greatest enemy. …that’s actually kind of cool

Mythological entity named for that’s a really specific category: Aztec goddess Cihuacoatl (Partly a fire goddess …��.cihuacoatl was a motherhood and fertility goddess?)

and was associated with midwives and, uh, sweatbaths

and the Celtic goddess Acionna (Partly a water goddess) are you saying both goddesses are only partially affiliated with fire and water, respectively because cihuacoatl is not at all associated with fire as far as i know and acionna is only associated with water

Blood Color: Metallic Cyan…? Or…possibly between Cyan and Topaz…hard to tell when it turns to crystal not long after being (over) exposed to oxygen or any other chemicals in the air. what the fuck kind of blood Naturally the air born air born. born from the air chemicals effect how big and dark the crystals are. 

God Tier: Witch of Rage

Duel horns match her dueling personalities. duel horns. her horns fucking fight all the time. her personalities also duel. they engage in fisticuffs every other tuesday She’s Bipolar or Schizo…or both…i was gonna draw a reaction image but my tablet stopped working again so i’m just gonna have to settle for a firm “STOP. FUCK YOU”. also, i’m not really sure you understand what bipolar disorder or schizophrenia actually are. also also schizo is considered a slur because of the derogatory nature it’s used in. bye sweaty as such her personality changes instantly and usually without warning. i was right

listen up kids lemme give you a lil fuckin lesson on these two mental illnesses that are portrayed very very badly and overromanticized by this person:

“Bipolar disorder, also known as manic-depressive illness, is a brain disorder that causes unusual shifts in mood, energy, activity levels, and the ability to carry out day-to-day tasks.” (nimh.nih.gov)

this does not mean someone with bipolar will “change personalities instantly”, it only dictates mood changes, so fuck you on that

symptoms of bipolar include: periods of unusually intense emotion, changes in sleep patterns, activity levels, as well as unusual behavior. these are called “mood episodes” and vary wildly from person to person.(manic episode) being very “jumpy” with increased activity levels, prone to agitation, risky behaviors, talking really fast about a bunch of different things and feeling as though they can do many things at once, (depressive episode) feeling dead inside, as if you’re heavy and have no energy to even move, perhaps at the same time empty and unfulfilled with no desire to do things you usually love, sleeping too much or too little, frequent thoughts about death/suicide and probably making plans about it

to quote myself, “bipolar […] only dictates mood changes, so fuck you on that”

let’s get to probably the most self-dx’ed and romanticized mental illness now

“Schizophrenia is a chronic and severe mental disorder that affects how a person thinks, feels, and behaves. People with schizophrenia may seem like they have lost touch with reality.”

where are you seeing personality change. i’m not seeing personality change. schizophrenia is, very over-simply, an inability to tell what’s real or not anymore.

symptoms of this disorder include: hallucinations, delusions, “flat effect” (reduced expression of emotions through facial expressions or tone of voice), reduced speaking and enjoyment in life, troubles focusing or paying attention or executive functioning (the ability to understand and use information to make decisions) or working memory (the ability to use that information immediately after learning it)

so ? honie ? where. literally where. i am abridging this but i guarantee i’m not purposefully leaving out “personality changes instantly and usually without warning”. you know why? 

because it’s not fucking there

what a surprise someone is romanticizing and at the same time not understanding and yet still undermining the struggles of mental illness

a little personal here but i’m friends with a girl who’s bipolar and buddy it’s not fun for her. her three moods are hypomanic, prepared for death, and panic attack. there is no personality change. only genuine struggle because mental illness isn’t pretty or a decoration for your self insert oc

bye sweaty,,,,,

Generally she can control the voices in her head inaccurate…………………, unless someone pisses her off. When she’s pissed off her eyes change from the normal (for her) golden with red spots to red swirls with icy blue as well. her pupils are actually dark blue. Because of this mutation, she usually wears super sweet red glasses with 3 points on each lens (most likely to represent 6, as in the sixth Day Sign). what does any of this mean in any capacity When she’s alone she argues with herself a lot, rather then keeping the voices bottled up…sometimes they’re her only company, after all… how fucking lonely do you have to be to argue with your voices jesus i almost feel bad now The only good thing about the dueling personalities is it allows her to control both water and fire. dueling personalities……………….

I suppose duel personalities may not be the right word no, it’s not. you mean dual personalities…as she it literally 2 different trolls stuck in one body…both Death and the Vulture live within her, Death being dominate. y tho She has the ability to seperate into both of these trolls for short times. HOW THO When she does Death becomes red, takes on the fire part of her powers, and uses only red psyonics psyonics in addition to taking the top horns and the red stripe in her hair. Vulture becomes blue, takes on the water, bottom horns, blue hair tips, and uses blue psyonics. It’s also worth saying her psyonic abilities are almost completely unusable to her just…in general. They generally show up without her knowing or control. “The only good thing about the dueling personalities is it allows her to control both water and fire.” …..???

She is incredibly good at video games, always coming just short of Sol when they play she gets points for not being BETTER THAN SOL XD SHE’S SOOOOO GOOD AT VIDEO GAMES but five points don’t help your current score of like -928374929871…there is one genera

“there’s one principle taxonomic category that ranks above species and below family, denoted by a capitalized latin name she’s better at though”

she’s better at though. She’s better at Horror games then he is because she is “very attune to death, whether it be real or virtual”. not all horror games have death also what does this even mean. i’m so confused She and Sol do a lot of gaming together and the main problem with her duality is that Vulture likes Eridan and Death like Sollux…however, seeing as Death is the main personality she get’s 1st pick…this has caused Vulture much annoyance and caused her to try taking over more often. uh

-extra info not needed-

Relations:

Aradia: BFFs do NOT bring my spooky wife into this. stay the FUCK away from my ghost girlfriend

Aaron and Morgan: Auspices between them. She describes them as constantly fighting as a serpent would with an eagle…they have no idea what she’s talking about. they’re dumb af have u ever seen an eagle pick up and consume a snake

Morgan: Good friend, as Death is the friend of the Serpent. i have no idea where you heard this but okay

Aaron: Good friend, as the Vulture is friends with the Eagle which she believes he would have been born under if he was born a troll. …there’s an eagle constellation? also vultures are friends with eagles? oh shit there actually is an eagle constellation it’s called aquila Her being good friends with both is why she’s also a good auspice. auspice would be a verb. the noun is auspistice

Jenny: Moirail

Vriska: probable Kismasis KISMASIS, the only thing they can agree on is they dislike the spider. since when did vriska dislike spiders

Other Humans: Takes to usually helping them randomly and with no warning ……….??????????

Other Trolls: Iffy, as they used to avoid her at all cost because of her mutation. However, because some of the others now are known to have mutations they don’t care as much. dude i’d fuckin care. her metallic blood makes me sick

Jaslusolo: a combination of jaculus (Snake)

and pervolo (to fly).

Her lusus, managed to escape just before the reckoning but couldn’t get to Cihuco in time to bring her as well. cihuco would’ve fuckin died?? if the reckoning wasn’t stopped the session would become null She is a feathered, winged serpent which resembles Cihuacoatl.

…..winged serpent who ?

With her help she is able to actually fly back in time what the fuck and to what she calls her “true home” on earth back with the Mayans. earth doesn’t exist yet bicht She speaks their language fluently as well, 

which one

and she is the one who told them of the end of the world. no, the mayan end of the world was predicted by the mayan calendar and the popol vuh, a compilation of the accounts of creation of the k’iche’ maya. the popul vuh states that the gods first created and failed at creating three worlds, then placed humanity in the first successful word. in the maya long count, the previous world had ended after 13 b’ak’tuns (around 5,125 years) and december 21st, 2012, was when the mayan date struck 13.0.0.0.0 which they believed to bring about the destruction of this world and the formation of a new one, this starting the cycle again. try again hunty 

Jansin Aciona: Dancestor, can’t stand her. yeah i can’t stand you either she’s named after Jowangsin, the Korean goddess of fire.

who

oh sorry do you mean jowangsHin, goddess of the kitchen?

She was relatively good friennds with Nivnaj…not as good as you’d expect though. She was Cronus’ matesprite. ok bye

The Poet: that is definitely not eight letters Ancestor, most likely deceased. Was matesprits with The Wisest. still not eight letters Aporev: Close friends

Strife Portfolio: X2Whipkind, X2Bladekind sure whatever

Fetch Modus Setting: Pictionary Advanced -The advanced just means she can draw what happens with what’s on the card and it happens. ughhhhhhhhhhhhh like if she wants it to shoot out and hit someone- then what. please do tell. the suspense is killing me

Age: 7.4 Alternian Solar Sweeps (16 earth years)

Planet: Land of Pulse and Haze (Original planet destroyed. Presumably she started in The Land of Tents and Mirth, which is associated with the Rage part, but liked LOPAH better so claims it as “Home”) THAT AIN’T YOURS BITCH PUT IT BACK

Name Breakdown (Troll) : “Acionna was a Gallo-Roman water goddess, attested in the Orléanais region.” -Wiki. which one Not much is known about the goddess other then she was most likely representative of water. This is where her last name came from. “In Aztec mythology, Cihuacoatl was one of a number of motherhood and fertility goddesses.” -Wiki …..if you knew this then…….y tho

Name Breakdown (Pesterchum) : Acionna was thought to be protection, Cihuacoatl supposedly helped make the current race from ancient bones and blood of Quetzalcoatl (Who mainly gets the credit). Skull is the symbol for death. The other reason the trolls avoided her was because she showed literally as [BS] which is what they thought she was full of are you saying she’s not? until Sollux started saying the same thing a long time after. Perhaps because the goddess she was named after, Cihuacoatl, she was not named for any goddess her name was incoherently gurgled out of her winged snake goddess-that’s-she’s-supposedly-named-after of a lusus supposedly created the current race…she had a stronger connection psychically to happenings…the problem is sorting what’s true and what’s not from the voices in her head.

Info on her Mutation: This is what happens when a troll falls in love with a local. love is love but this thing is disgusting don’t do it again It is unknown who exactly they were, as the blood is to diluted to guess who they could have possibly been. ????????? look i’m no med student but i’m at least 98% sure that’s not how blood works  This…sorda leads to say that it was mostly the local’s (whatever or whoever it was) blood taking over. wait i thought it was too diluted by……other blood, i guess?? what the fuck even is this It is probable, it seems, that one of them was able to wield fire and the other water, thus resulting in the duel personalities. why do i hate this sentence so much

Personality(s?) Qualities: Issues with anyone who tries to tell her what to do, she tends to sometimes contradict herself and speaks in riddles which are always hard to figure out except when they’re not and they’re easy. wow thanks had no idea She hosts qualities from both Death and Vulture, and they are as follows. Death is “open to ideas and willing to make sacrifices for the greater good…sensitive to endings of any kind, and it can be hard for (her) to accept losses. Practical, Oversensitive, Fragile.” While the Vulture is “very self-aware and concerned about (her) status in the world. (She) places a high value on life experiences, wanting to learn as much as possible from the triumphs and challenges they offer. (She) can appear a bit jaded and ruthless to others, but that is because (she) sees things as they are and thus tend to be cynical. (She) dislikes being judged, and if (she) feels under scrutiny (her) self-esteem takes a blow. Knowledgeable, Wise, Challenging, Jaded, Cynical.” -Horoscope.com oh my god

Rules Broken: all of them. all of them? every single one. not the naming rule though. but only for the troll herself. everyone else can go suck a dick

Fantroll Rating: look i started working on this blazing heap of trash at around 1915 now it’s 2058. what the fuck man