#she did have to take an undetermined amount of time off from her hunting job tho

[luna-the-bard]

Te'rra Intermission - Half-year point

Act II p.1 <- x -> Act II p.2

About half a year after Skeet’s rescue, they’re finally fully done with physical therapy and Samus charts a course for Te’rra.

She’d never admit it to anyone, but she actually had Skeets stay a month longer than the prescribed physical therapy course. Skeets was the last one of the group to return to Te’rra; although she was in frequent communication with her friends & family, giving them updates on her recovery, so no one thought she’s disappeared. 

She was also not yet ready to admit, even to herself, that she’s gotten used to having the little bird alien around; to another’s warmth in bed, or to spending time in conversation with each other, or learning new cooking recipes from her (Samus has never been a great cook, she was much more adept at grilling, and trying new and unfamiliar terran cuisine was exciting).

Naturally, when Skeets suggests Samus stay on Te’rra for a week or so to explore, Samus agrees with quite the enthusiasm.

She would’ve said yes to the offer either way, just for a chance to step foot on a planet no one has really been on in a millennia, but having to spend just a little bit more time with Skeets before she has to leave has an undeniable weight in that decision.

Skeets has no trouble whatsoever admitting to herself that she doesn’t want Samus to go.

The first night they’re apart, and Skeets is back at her parents’ house in her old childhood bedroom, she can’t sleep.

It’s late when she knocks on Samus’s door.

Skeets got too used to the comfort of sleeping with another living being in the months she spent on the ship.

And Samus is so uncomfortably cold without the warmth of Skeets’s body.

Of course she lets her in.

They sleep closer to each other than usual that night. 

Next morning, when Skeets has to sheepishly explain her disappearance to her moms, the two exchange a look the meaning of which will dawn on Skeets only months later.

She gives Samus an amazing tour of the city and the surrounding jungle.

She takes her to all her favorite places, even goes out of her way to bring her to a little secret spot in the jungle that has an abundance of honey-nectar flowers growing - Samus is as interested in tasting them as she is in meticulously studying the bugs that the nectar flowers catch.

The day before Samus has to depart, Skeets takes her down to a mechanic shop. Turns out terranians have a multitude of accessibility devices built for those who lacked wings for one reason or another. One of those devices is a small-engine glider, which Skeets has made arrangements to rent out for Samus. 

Samus got around the jungle in and out of the suit just fine, but this time Skeets wasn’t taking her to another flower-filled grove. She was taking her beyond the jungle’s borders, over the grassy plain and out onto the white-sanded coast.

The beach is about an hour’s flight away. They spend the whole day chasing jewel lizards and playing in the sand. They steer clear of the predators, instead scavenging for interesting finds in the tidepools. Samus digs a big ‘ol hole-in-the-sand and they fill it with warm water and dip their feet - Samus isn’t one to go out swimming in an unfamiliar ocean, and Skeets can’t really swim because of the feathers, but that doesn’t stop them from enjoying the beach to the fullest.

Skeets waits for the right moment.

It’s a special day; a day on which Te’rra’s half-a-year-long cycle finally switches over, night replacing day and day replacing night. They came back right in time for the last week before the sun’s warmth was to be replaced with darkness illuminated by the planet’s bioluminescence.

The perfect moment that Skeets was waiting for comes at sunset. 

Samus is presented with perhaps the most beautiful pearl she’s ever seen.

It’s huge. She doesn’t know how Skeets managed not only to find one this big, but to also extract it without Samus noticing (it wasn’t hard. Samus was fully invested into some hermit crab drama precisely one tidepool over). The pearl glimmers with pinks and blues and purples, looking almost translucent with how the setting sun’s rays envelop it. Samus finds herself studying the way its color shifts under her gaze as she rolls the pearl around in her palm; she almost overlooks the warmth and slight coarseness of Skeets’s hands supporting her own. But the sensation is just too hard to miss…

By the time they come back from the beach it’s completely dark out. The city is glowing with crystal lights, hanging from branches and swinging gently in the wind above doorways and windows.

Skeets asks to stay in the ship again; just like she did every night before.

And as they’re laying in bed next to each other, almost asleep, a special kind of coziness than can only come from being tired, Skeets gathers her courage and quietly asks something she wanted to ask all week:

“Can I keep traveling with you?” 

Samus opens her eyes.

“I really liked seeing what life the universe holds beyond Te’rra…” Skeets pauses to breathe. Being so close to Samus’s face - as close as most nights, but why does it feel so different now? - does not help. 

She speaks her mind anyway. 

“I liked exploring it with you.”

If Samus’s eyes weren’t open and meticulously studying her, Skeets would’ve thought she fell asleep; this is how long the silence between them lasts. Until, finally,

“Yes.”

Skeets has the widest smile on her face when she tackle-hugs Samus and whispers her excited thank you’s. Samus weathers the attack formidably, despite not really being used to hugs - especially from other people and not just her bird dads or at least Kreatz and Mauk. 

It’s okay, she’s gonna have to get used to physical affection anyway.

They stay for an extra half-a-day so Skeets can pack some essentials (not like half of her new wardrobe was already aboard the ship anyway…) and say goodbye to her friends and moms; after that, they’re simply off to find new space adventures again, sightseeing and picking different corners of the universe to visit.

[duchesschameleon]

being alone vs. loneliness

summary: there's a difference between being alone and loneliness. seven months in Paris shows Emily how true that is.

AO3 link | word count: 1758

(a/n: this is pretty much a character study of Emily Prentiss after her "death" through when she first comes back to the BAU in season 7. it is my first Criminal Minds fanfic as well so I hope I did the character justice! unbeta'd but proofread by me)

It doesn’t bother her is the thing, being alone. Emily had grown up in a world, a family, where being on her own was not out of the ordinary. She can handle being alone.

But this is different. This is being completely alone and isolated from everyone in her life. This is Paris, with new identities and an assignment and an undeterminable amount of time before she sees a familiar face again. If she gets to see a familiar face again.

She clutches the mug in her hand, letting the warmth permeate her hands and hopefully her heart.

There’s being alone and then there’s this. Loneliness.

And loneliness is so much harder to handle. JJ had said that the team is looking for Doyle, that they’ll find him and bring him in somewhere he’ll never escape and Emily will get her life back. But Ian Doyle escaped a prison no one knew existed in North Korea. She knows there’s no prison on Earth he won’t find a way out of. This is her new reality, her new life. And that means no more BAU.

She inhales sharply, the ache in her chest growing and gnawing at her heart. No more being blown away by the sheer amount of knowledge Reid has, or throwing quips back and forth with Morgan. No more girls’ nights with JJ and Garcia, shopping and drinking coffee and reveling in the fact that they aren’t at work for once. No more joking with Rossi, begging him to cook for the team at least once. No more looking out for Hotch and making sure he gets home to Jack at a reasonable time. No more Aaron, no more working together and having each other’s backs and grabbing a late dinner because they both stayed at the office too long. No more invitations to his place for dinner because she doesn’t have human food in her apartment and he does need to get home to Jack. No more Sergio keeping her company and filling the empty spaces of her home.

She closes her eyes against the tears that have pooled up, letting a few fall before she wipes them away and steels herself against these emotions.

Wallowing will not help her establish a new life and new patterns here. She has an assignment, a file folder from JJ and a life to lead in Paris. She can mourn the loss of her team, her family, but she has a job to do as well. She can’t wallow in what she lost, not right now. Right now, she has to get ready to leave the apartment and get to work.

3 weeks later

Emily’s head snaps up, searches for her pinging phone. It’s a new one and she’s still adjusting to it, but sure enough, there’s a familiar notification on the screen. A smile tugs at her lips as she swipes open to the online scrabble app she’d found. It’s part of her routine, part of settling in. Playing a familiar game with someone who knows where. All she knows is “cheetobreath” just hit a double word score and Emily’s next move needs to be a good one.

It’s not everything and it doesn’t soothe the ache in her chest much but its something. It’s a start, a new thing to fill her time while she traipses around the city conducting surveillance and working on her new job.

It’s a chance to adjust to her new life. No, the newest part of her life. This is her life.

If Emily’s learned one thing, it’s that her life cannot be cut and defined in pieces. Nothing is that clear-cut. Her life with Interpol bled into her life with the BAU and now that life permeates her life here in Paris. Lauren Reynolds, Emily Prentiss, any of the identities handed over to her three weeks ago…they’re all the same person. Her feelings from each part of her life, each iteration of her, stay with her. She knows that. She can’t cut herself off from them completely so she’s learning to live with them.

To live with the grief of losing six friends. Seven, she reminds herself. Ashley was part of the team too, long enough to make an impression and for Emily to miss her. So she acknowledges those feelings, doesn’t simply shove them in a box to forget about and never speak of again. She might be a compartmentalization queen but that does her no favors if she lets the grief and loss fester instead of dealing with it.

So she builds new routines, finds her new normal. Online scrabble finds its way into that new normal.

And if she has a constant partner named “cheetobreath,” well, that won’t hurt anyone.

Seven months later

It’s the one phone call that could make Emily drop everything and run, no matter the consequences. It’s the one reason why she’d return to the states now, seven months after her “death,” when she knows Doyle isn’t dead. That even though he truly thinks her dead this time, she’d be willing to blow that cover. The best cover in the world and she would willing reveal the lie to him for this one thing.

Something happened to Declan.

The moment she received Tom’s call she was in motion, grabbing her go-bag and tote before heading out of the office, using the other phone she has to book her ticket, filling in information from one her aliases that has become second nature to her. Tom tells her he’s flying back as well, but that she’d probably beat him to DC.

Her mind races at that, thinking about how to best find Declan and putting together a plan for when she lands. He’ll be okay. Doyle won’t be able to find him. Even if she had blown Declan’s cover months ago when she was bleeding out in Boston, she knows that finding him, that getting to him will be impossible. Louise is the only person in the states who can get Doyle out of school right now.

And then she lands and there’s a message on her phone from a name she hasn’t seen in months.

From Hotch: Doyle’s in custody at the BAU. It’s time.

And so she shifts, getting into a cab and heading to Quantico. It’s time, after seven months, to reclaim the one thing Ian Doyle took from her.

Her life.

Seven months ago, Ian Doyle killed Emily Prentiss and the woman who landed in Paris with JJ has spent those seven months hiding from him, from the people she knew, and running. She knows that in reality, Doyle had taken her way of life and she was very much so just a changed woman but going back to the BAU feels like a step in reclaiming her life. Like its time to stop running and time to start living again.

As the cab races down the highway and heads to Quantico, Emily is hit with a multitude of emotions. She’s excited to see the team again, her family again, but she knows it will all be different. It has to be. She’d died. There was a funeral. JJ and Hotch told her about it when they visited her at Bethesda to let her know the plan.

She’d come back one day but for now it was safest for everyone to think that she was dead. It’s the best cover and the best way to keep her safe until they find Doyle.

The team thought they were looking for her killer, to avenge her death. And now in 20 minutes she would walk into the conference room alive and well and show them that the last seven months have been a lie and they’ve been hunting down a criminal who hurt her, not someone who’d killed her.

She takes a shaky breath, calming her nerves. There’s so much happening, and it seems like it’s filling the void in her chest, but she knows it’s only temporary. The team will react in different ways and most likely avoid her until they believe she’s really back and alive. It might feel like her loneliness is subsiding, that she can once again chose to be alone instead of forced into isolation, but she knows it’s an illusion.

The loneliness will continue.

A month later

The loneliness does continue. But it also is alleviated a bit by Hotch and JJ. The two who knew the truth and can more easily accept her back into the fold. She finds herself spending more time with Hotch as time passes and she settles back into her life in Quantico.

It’s not the same, it’s not her old life, but it is her life again. She is Emily Prentiss, member of the BAU. And that feels right. This is her life, not running around Paris with a folder full of identities.

And Aaron helps her make the transition. She starts coming over for dinner again, seeking out companionship after seven months of loneliness. It allows her to see Jack for herself and yes, he cries and needs it explained that just because Emily came back it doesn’t mean Haley will. That had been a rough night for all involved. Emily ended up staying the night, all three of them cuddled up on Aaron’s bed, needing the reminder that sometimes people do come home.

It breaks her heart and Emily tried to spread that reminder more around the team. She gives Rossi advice, listens to Spencer, and goes through a recertification for Morgan. She does what she can, to remind them that she came home and she is here.

Aaron calls her out on it and knows that the transition back to her life can’t be easy. So he’s there for her. He keeps inviting her over for dinner, makes it an open one. She can take him up on it anytime she wants, no pressure. She draws back a little, clearly exhausted from trying to be there for everyone on the team and overextending herself, but he’s still there to make sure she goes home at a reasonable hour and eats and takes care of Sergio.

It isn’t everything, she’s still lonely but its better. The ache that had seemed to permanently settle in her chest is starting to heal. Aaron’s a constant and JJ too, always having her over and making sure she’s okay.

Slowly but surely, Emily goes from being lonely to choosing when she wants to be alone. That distinction is back in her life.

[demons-jim-demons]

Personal Timeline Headcanon  PART A: 1910 - 1930s/1940s

Based off HCs I liked, Mark’s own “canon” (the stuff he likes to think how it works but is in no way saying it is canon because it was not in the video), my own HCs that I haven’t said, and the actual canon information from the WKM videos. 

Making up a fake family trees and events with a spattering of canon from this point onward.

THERE ARE TWO POSSIBLE PATHS

Timeline basis: 1920s - 1950s timelessness. 

Constants: 

William Ford, WKM!Mark Fischbach (who will be called Mark from this point on), and Damien & Celine Ark were born in 19XX. Celine is 9 months younger than Damien. 

Mark and William grew up together in The House. 

William is Mark’s cousin from the maternal side. 

They meet Damien (and Celine) at a young age. 

William joins the military as a young man.

Mark peruses a career in acting. 

Damien meets Y/N Yancy Nancy at University 

Mark and Celine date and eventually marry. 

William and Celine have an affaire and Mark’s marriage falls apart. Mark spirals down into a terrible depression that leads to the darkness of The House. 

Damien becomes mayor and Y/N is given the job of District Attorney. 

Poker Night

Celine not being an expected part of the group and Damien never being the one he wanted to possess. 

Dark and Wilford 

Path A: 1909 - 1930s-1940s

1910s: Birth - Pre-teen 

William Ford, Mark Fischbach, and Damien Ark are born in 1909. Celine born 1910 (nine months after Damien). 

In 1914, World War 1 begins. William’s father goes off to war and is killed two years later in battle; Will is only six when he experiences his first loss. The widowed Mrs. Ford beings her son to her sister’s place in hopes to having some help there in raising her son and dealing with the grief.

Mrs. Ford makes sure William knows of how great of a man and a solider his father was. She wants to make sure that her son knows that his father loved him and was brave. 

Mark and William are fast friends. They liked to explore the grounds together and pretend they are on safaris, or soldiers, or any game that really had to do with make-believe. 

They took these games to the primary school they attended. One such game led them to meeting Damien. They quickly became fast friends and were practically inseparable.

Through Damien they would meet Celine, who was a year under them, but she wasn’t interested in her brother’s friends so much as trying to meet her own friends. (While also constantly being around them when they came over...just to watch is all). 

Damien and Celine are the typical sister brother duo. They love to make fun of each other, constant teasing, but they do have a close bond that says that they care deeply for one another. 

Mark and William made it a mission to see how much they could get away with at school and at home. Damien was constantly trying to stop them or weasel them out of trouble. 

1920s: Preteen - Teenager 

The 1920s came around as they moved into teenagedom and high school (since they could afford such an education). This was a time of parties, girls, and all out craziness. 

William starts to realize he may have a crush on Celine but doesn’t want to admit it because it is weird to like your best friend’s sister. Mark is also realizing he likes he and also keeps it to himself. Damien is oblivious to this.

The Widowed Mrs. Ford meets a new man and marries him. Instead of leaving The House with his mother, Will stays with Mark’s family. He is very bitter about this new man replacing his father. 

Damien is a pretty popular guy at school, so is Mark, so the three of them are always hosting parties or going to parties. William isn’t as well liked but he goes where his friends go. 

Still they all kept of their grades rather well. They are smart boys but they do just like to have fun.

Graduation held a bunch of unexpected paths for the three of them:

Damien had been excepted into many Universities where he would begin to study political science and leadership.

Mark had also been excepted into University but he would drop out after the first semester to pursue acting. 

William was not sure what he wanted to do and decided to follow his father’s footsteps and joins the army. 

1930s/early 1940s(?): Young Adult - WKM

Damien meets a very interesting law student while at university and you become fast friends. One night he decides to invite you along as his plus one to one of Mark’s movie premiers. This is where you meet Markiplier for the first time. 

William goes into boot camp and is one of the star soldiers. He finds this stuff easy. What he is not expecting is to be sent overseas. While over there he climbs up ranks quickly but also experiences things that they had no way to train him for in boot camp. Will does get to visit home when he can but that becomes less and less often. 

Mark has some trouble at first with the acting but with a few string pulls, and help from his friends and family, he does make it to Hollywood. He soon adopts the name Mark Iplier as his stage name, like all the stars were doing. It was misspelled in the paper’s once as Markiplier and that misspelling stuck.

Mark’s parents move out to a smaller country home and give The House over to Mark and William. With William over in the army and rarely home the young military man decides that it would be fine to sign The House fully over to Mark. 

Mark invites Celine to a movie premier and soon after begin to date. 

The Great Depression has also hit during this time. It puts a small dent in many of their lives: 

Mark’s career falters some but he stays strong with the rich audiences.  

Damien graduates and has some trouble finding a job right away. 

William is given an UNDETERMINED amount of leave due to ‘military cuts’. This was an excuse because of training gone wrong. Hint: Zombies + Jungle. 

William moves back into The House with Mark’s promise that he can stay as long as he needs to until he gets back on his feet. William is greatful for his cousin’s kindness but can’t help but feel that there is something off. 

Mark and Celine get married. Damien is happy (?) for them but William is not too pleased but does not say anything about it because he does want her to be happy. 

William moves out of The House right after the wedding. He barely talks to Mark anymore. Damien tries to get them together but it is always tense (on Will’s side especially). The only one that can seem to cut the tension some is Celine. 

Y/N gets a job in the DA’s office. Just a simple job right now but it is a start. After so long of no work. 

Mark and Celine were married for about 2-3 years before things go downhill. Mark is becoming very egotistical with his job and Celine does not like this new side of Mark. She decides to confide in William with this. Their meetings over her worries soon turn into something more. 

The revealing of his feelings was an accident but William does not regret it

He finds he can tell Celine things that he had been scared to tell anyone about. 

William did not mean to use Mark to secretly be dating Celine but once he asked for money to take out the girl of his dreams he found he could not stop. He wanted to make her happy and she was not happy with Mark. 

These meetings do catch Mark’s suspicions after awhile and that is when the detective comes into play. Becoming Mark’s friend and secretly investigating people. 

Mark does find out through the detective (whom he doesnt believe at first) and then by sheer chance. He catches Celine kissing William good bye after a dinner where the three of them were together. There is a confrontation, Will almost shoots Mark but Celine gets between them. Mark tells Celine she has to make a choice. In the morning he finds her gone and her closet empty. 

Meanwhile Damien is busy and he regrets his terribly. He had gotten a job at the town hall and soon started a mayoral campaign when he saw that their current mayor was doing nothing in terms of trying to help the people that were suffering from the Depression. When he hears of the events that happened between Mark, Celine, and William he does try to go and talk to any of them but none of them wish to talk about it. Mark won’t even answer any of his letters. 

Mark locks himself away in the house and falls into a terrible depression. He does not accept movie deals, he does not talk to press, he just stays in his home and talks to no one. He attempts suicide and soon learns about The House’s ability to prevent him from dying. He ‘comes up’ with an idea about how to get revenge for the situation and begins to explore this dark nature. 

Celine cannot shake the feeling of darkness that had been around her while she lived at The House and starts to dig into it. Eventually finding about the occult and the mystical arts. William has no idea about this as he is working off his anger the only way he knows how: shooting. He goes on a safari hunt with what extra money he still had saved...sadly it goes terribly wrong and not all of him comes back. Celine does her best to help him recover but PTSD isn’t a a known thing yet really so there isn’t much she can do

Damien is also there to support Will. Mark makes no attempt to reach out besides to remind Will of the debt he owes...that is until he stops sending letts all together. 

Damein contacts you after finding you and appoints you to DA. It is a great honor. 

After much ‘plotting’ (The Dark entity in The House giving Mark ideas), the revenge plot is set to frame the colonel. He calls in the detective to investigate his new butler and the cook under the pretense that he wants to make sure that things were okay before he through a nice celebratory poker night, which he invites the detective to. He then sends out the other three invites on people he wants for this. Damien, whom he knew would mourn his death and get his affairs in order. You, the district attorney who will surely make sure justice is done. The Detective, whom will make sure that all the planted evidence will point to William. And, of course, William, the man he would frame for his death and then destroy his reputation. 

WKM happens

[winedwords]

Finn| Heathens 1/2| Bálor

Title; Heathens

Pairing; Finn Bálor/Reader, Demon!Finn/Reader

Summary; I should have run screaming in the other direction like I was told to.

Words; 5,965

Warnings; NSFW. Discussion of mental health, secret societies, implied physical assault, stalking, dubcon.

 A/N: repost from the old blog. the fic that started everything.

I had always been… sensitive.

My parents had thought I’d had a wild, if sometimes slightly disturbing imagination, when I was a toddler. It was when I was in grade school that they began to think something was wrong with me. It was after the third or fourth visit to a child psychologist, that I learned to keep what I knew I was seeing to myself. To not speak of it to any childhood friends or write it down anywhere because I was the first and only child of two helicopter parents. I didn’t want to take anymore pills that made me feel not like myself. What was happening wasn’t because of a psychiatric disorder or a chemical imbalance.

How do you explain to someone that you can see the others, even when the others were trying to not be seen? That you knew the elderly, kind looking gentleman next door had fangs and a taste for the neighborhood cats? That little Jimmy, then in the second grade with me, had a been struggling with monthly moon problems since kindergarten? That the pretty lady providing the weather report on the news was actually tinted blue, with wings that looked like they were made of gossamer?

It was Grandmére who understood though, who never made me feel like I was defective for seeing the things I did. It made those monthly weekend visits so much more precious to me. Grandmére cut an imposing figure, she was tall, statuesque, and forever done up to the nines and I hero worshipped her for most of my formative years. She’d told me that I wasn’t broken, that I was just the way the Powers That Be intended me to be.

It was Grandmére who had showed me the Grimoire, thinking I was a hedgewitch like her. It was quickly apparent that I had no magical ability, just the gift to see. She didn’t act disappointed or put out, just set to work on helping me control my ability, especially after the panic attack I had had upon seeing my first ghoul. It had taken me almost two years of regular meditation and exercises to be able to switch from seeing to regular vision, similar to how normal people are able to switch from seeing at a distance to seeing something up close.

Grandmére had given me the Bestiary on my fourteenth birthday, a couple months before her death. It was a thick, clearly old, leather bound book, the covers smeared with something that looked rusted and dark. I was too afraid to ask what it was on the covers, especially since it looked the same dark, rusty liquid had been dripped across more than a couple pages. The older woman didn’t say where she had gotten it, but it was heavily implied that I wasn’t the only one in the world who could see the others. The warning to never go find others like me, however, was explicit and direct.

The Bestiary was filled with descriptions, origins, and even moving pictures. Grandmére had smiled when I had turned to her, eyes filled with wonder, and explained that some magical folk were gifted enchanters and could spell the ink to move. The elderly man in the neighborhood with the fangs? A Strigoi, a blood drinker identified by the two pairs of large incisors along the top and bottom  jaws, black eyes, and a paralytic saliva. Jimmy, my classmate from the second grade with the furry little problem? A turned werewolf with no control yet over his shifts. The weather lady on channel five? A water sprite.

I studied that old tome for years, carried it with me almost everywhere, and I still haven’t gotten through all of it. It felt like for every page I got through, another five appeared. I’d even turned back to a page I thought I knew like the back of my hand and there was new information that hadn’t been there previously. On the rare occasions that I had tried to add something to the book, the writing had disappeared, only to sometimes reappear later, sometimes with “recently confirmed” in unfamiliar writing next to my own. There were darker things too, next to the descriptions, such as preferred prey, hunting patterns, anti-toxin recipes, methods to repel the dark… It was because of this that I salted my windows and door ways every night and slept with the old charm bag of acacia, monkshood, birch, and devil’s shoestring that Grandmére had given me underneath my pillow.

It was almost ten years to the day of coming into possession of the Beastiary that I had found myself in the predicament that I was currently in. When I had taken the job as a production assistant with World Wrestling Entertainment three weeks ago, I had thought it would be like every other job I’d had in television, with a normal, meaning small, amount of the others interspersed in the population of the company.  It was when I showed up to Full Sail for a taping of NXT that I had nearly swallowed my tongue and run the other way.

Almost everyone was inhuman, both the talent and the crew. Humans were the minority.

The current champions, Shinsuke Nakamura and Asuka were both kitsune. The Bestiary was unsure whether to call them spirits or demons, as their kind were pretty morally fluid. SAnitY were an odd mixture of werejackals and werewolves that I was still shocked were able to coexist together.  Billie Kay and Peyton Royce were both nymphs of undetermined origins. The parade of others just didn’t end and my anxiety that first day was at an all time high, my body in what felt like a permanent state of stress. Thankfully, the others, especially since the weres made up a majority of the roster, with sensitive noses merely attributed the stress, anxiety, and touch of fear that must have been rolling off of me in waves to having just started and being new in my position.

It took days for me to loosen up, but it eventually did happen.

I could see them, but they had no idea that I saw their true natures. There was a subtle comfort in  the knowledge that as long as I didn’t stare too hard or said the wrong thing, I was safe.

Certainly safer than I had been in New York City.

I had been at Full Sail University and with NXT for three months when it all began to unravel. I had begun to make friends, both with the crew and the talent. We’d practically lived in each other’s pockets, so it was only natural to socialize. Shinsuke had practically charmed his way into a friendship, proclaiming that we had been the best of friends in a past life, and Ember, yet another werewolf, had become my road buddy, sharing rooms with me when the NXT crew had traveled.

I’d noticed that Ember had been growing steadily more on edge, aggressive, and prone to snapping at those who so much as looked at her wrong. It wasn’t until I saw her eyes flash gold without even switching my sight that I knew something was wrong. I’m still upset that it took me as long as it did to put it together: she hadn’t shifted since I’d met her. She’d been forcing back the change and now her inner beast was pushing to the forefront of her consciousness.

Which brought me to my current predicament of essentially chasing Hunter Hearst Helmsley down a hallway, every one step of his long legs being almost three of my own, and pleading with him that Ember needed to be taken out of her match. He’d pretty much swatted down all of my excuses for why she shouldn’t compete and I grew desperate.

“You can’t let her go out there, Hunter.” I begged of the large blonde man as he walked away. “She’s-”

Hunter was almost to the main hallway when I whispered the next words, “She’s not safe right now.”

He stopped suddenly, and in the blink of an eye, I was pinned to the wall of the hallway, hidden by stacked crates and just out of sight, a large hand grasping my throat and my toes dragging on the floor. His grip wasn’t tight enough to bruise, but was just enough to make oxygen precious.

“You’ve got three seconds to explain yourself.” His eyes flashed dangerously as I gasped, the grip on my throat making my lungs burn and feet flail. The air in the hallway was thick with tension and I knew that now was not the time to try and keep my secret.

“I - I- can see that the moon is affecting her. She’s been putting off her shift for months.” With each word, the grip on my throat lessened, until I was dropped onto my knees on the floor. I coughed and rubbed at my throat for a couple of moments, when Hunter was back in my face again. This time, he needn’t put hands on me, because his face… changed.

His hazel eyes were shifting to gold, his brow was growing heavier, tufts of fur growing on the sides of his face, and the teeth were elongated just enough to peek out his lips. “How long have you been able to… see this change in Ember?” The unspoken threat in the air was made heavier by the growl in his soft words. I made a concerted effort to shift my eyes to the floor and I tilted my head so far to the right that my ear touched my shoulder and my neck, a little red from his grip, was left painfully exposed. Those like him needed  a show of submission, of vulnerability.

“I am no threat to your pride, Hunter. I just can’t bear to have someone get hurt because I didn’t say anything,” I murmured my words, knowing that no matter how softly I spoke, he would be able to hear. “I’ve been able to see those like you since I was a child.”  I was shaking like a leaf, my sweaty palms clasped tightly on my thighs.

Things changed after my words and show of submission. It felt like a vacuum sucked the tension out of the hall.

“Look at me damnit. I’m not gonna hurt you.” Hunter said, rubbing his hand over his face, looking a little disgusted with himself. I looked up, eyes wide. “And you don’t do that again. You don’t need to submit to anyone in this company, ever. That’s not how we do things.”

My nod was miniscule, my body was still shaking violently. When I had been… discovered by others, the handful of times it had happened, the reaction was never calm and more often than not, violent. I still bore a wicked scar of a lamia bite at the back of my neck from when I was 17 in my first weeks at college. It was better to be safe than sorry, barely relaxing my show of submission.

“I want you to go to my office immediately and stay there. I’m going to go evaluate Ember myself. When I get back to my office, we’re going to have a conversation.”

His tone was firm, not hard, but he meant business. I gulped down my anxiety and nodded. Hunter’s eyes softened at the edges, the previous shift of gold long gone. “You’re not in trouble, you’re safe here (Y/N).”

I nodded again, still silent, and quickly shuffled down the maze of hallways to the specified office. I walked with my head down, avoiding eye contact, and just generally trying to pass by unnoticed. I was successful, ducking into the office, and sitting on the couch, knees pulled close and held tight to my chest. If Hunter did intend to cause me harm, there was little to nothing I could do to stop him.

Time ticked by at a glacial pace, just long enough for me to start thinking of an escape plan. I’d planned far enough to my escape from the parking lot, when the office door opened and in stepped Hunter Helmsley, his wife Stephanie McMahon, and his brother in law, Shane McMahon.

I was now in a room where a literal lion and two of the most magically gifted peoples in the company stood between me and the door. I could practically see the magic in the siblings’ auras crackling around them and my anxiety and fear shot through the roof. Hunter’s face scrunched up as if he were in pain.

“Steph, Shane I’m gonna need you guys to reign it in, she can sense your magic and she’s terrified right now.”

Shane’s face softened immediately, the swirls of blue and gold magic practically retreating into himself. Stephanie stood stony faced, her purple and gold magic retreating infinitesimally, and arched a delicately shaped eyebrow. “What’s a stage hand have to do with you pulling Ember from the card?”

Hunter turned to me, his face encouraging.

“I can see those who aren’t human and Ember has been putting off her shift for at least three months.”

It was just barely a beat of silence and then both Shane and Stephanie were talking at once.

“How long have you been able to do this?”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about this?”

“Can you control it?”

“Is there anything else you can do?”

“You should have said something, you’d be so much more useful elsewhere besides being an assistant.”

The questions continued on, neither of the McMahon siblings stopping to allow me to answer. They continued to talk over each other and ask questions as my hands began to shake again, words stopping in my throat, and the walls felt like they were closing in.

Hunter, who’d stayed silent while his wife and brother in law had begun to pelt me with questions, cut them off, his voice quiet and rumbling.

“From what I’ve gathered, she’s like Shawn. And I’m sure she’d be happy to answer your questions to the best of her ability if you would allow her to speak.”

The two siblings hushed at his words, both pairs of eyes widening. Hunter’s lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners, meant to encourage me.

I was reticent to speak, but the three sets of eyes were unwavering.

“I’ve been able to see those I’ve been calling others since before I can remember. At first my parents thought I’d had an overactive imagination, but it never stopped. I was sent to child psychologist after child psychologist and force fed pills like there was something wrong with me. When its only your grandmother, who was a low level hedgewitch, believing you that you see the things you do, you stop talking about it very quickly.”

The words were flowing out of me faster than I could stop them. I hadn’t spoken to anyone about what I had seen since Grandmére had died ten years ago and the thought of telling people who would understand, was a catharsis too sweet to pass up.

The Bestiary, the nearly useless to me Grimoire, the handful of attacks by others I’d survived over the years, what happened in New York…

It was three hours before all three had had their questions satisfied and I was left feeling weightless, having unburdened myself of all the secrets I had kept pent up.

It was another hour while the werelion and two magic users, I wasn’t sure about their preferred nouns, deliberated on my fate. Shane, whom I had warmed up to quickly, was lobbying hard for me to come to Smackdown, to be an assistant to both himself and Daniel Bryan, the half-troll General Manager. Stephanie had shut that down quickly, with a quip about Shane’s Wyatt Family problem. Shane’s face soured and he had glared at his little sister.

It was decided. I was going to RAW within the week, to be an assistant under the watchful eye of Stephanie and Hunter, which left me not a lot of time for goodbyes.

Ember was unreachable, currently in an undisclosed location in Connecticut to run off her shift. When I had approached Shinsuke to apologize for my deception by omission, he’d just laughed and waved off my apology. “You don’t live as long as I have without being able to identify those who are gifted,” he shared sagely, his grin mischievous. It was through my second sight that I could see his six tails twitching in mirth at the shock that was surely on my face. “If anyone gives you trouble on the roster, just call me, I’ll sort it for you.”

The word of my ability spread through the company like wildfire and there was nary a negative word from those at Full Sail or in NXT. I had a sneaking suspicion that the charismatic Japanese world champion had had a lot to do with that.

The week ended entirely too soon and I was sent to RAW.

I’d fully expected a frosty welcoming, as by now my identity would have been made known to the entire roster. I was pleasantly surprised when, as soon as I had opened the door to the arena, I was swept up into a hug by an enthusiastic brownie named Bayley.

It was while wrapped up in this embrace and listening to Bayley babble an excited welcome, while trying to introduce myself, that I’d felt it.

The hair on the back of my neck was standing up, a slow crawl of dread working its way down my spine. I worked with people that would be considered predators in most cultures, but I had never felt this, never felt so on edge. This was the primordial feeling of being hunted by something with a lot more teeth than I did. What was even more disconcerting? I was in a busy hallway, there was no way to let me know what was stalking me.

Never had I been so thankful for the  small charm bag around my neck from Stephanie that masked my scent, because there were entirely too many weres in this building to not be affected by the fear and panic that must have been rolling off of me in waves. I’d had to choke down my response to run as far and as fast from the arena, my muscles already locking up in preparation for the flight from impending danger. I couldn’t, as I was here at the request of Stephanie and Hunter. So it was with a shaky smile at Bayley, that I had blamed on nerves, that we’d set off down the hallway in pursuit of catering and adventure, according to my companion. I would feel the eyes of a predator on me for the rest of the night that night.

Seth Rollins, a particularly affectionate and handsome incubus (which is saying a lot), was quick to attach himself to me upon my arrival at RAW. He’d approached Bayley and I in catering, much to Bayley’s displeasure as evidenced by the way her face scrunched in distaste, and introduced himself with a florish and a kiss to my knuckles.

He crowed his laughter at the flush of my face before taking my other arm and accompanying Bayley and I in Bayley’s quest to introduce me to every stage hand and member of the locker room. I met most everyone that night. It was a more than pleasant surprise at how warm and open most of the locker room was, despite the tiffs they may have had with one another.

“The Devil is real. And he’s not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful. Because he’s a fallen angel, and he used to be God’s favorite.” ~American Horror Story, S1.E6, Piggy Piggy

I’d been traveling with the RAW roster for weeks and I had literally met everyone, thanks to Bayley and Seth.

Everyone but the recently returned Irishman, Finn Bálor.

I had been told that Finn was… different.

It was odd, as Bayley was terribly close with him. She’d made no effort to introduce me to him, almost never bringing his name up.

Whenever I would press the person speaking for more details, no one would clarify their statements. They would clam up and nervously change the subject. Even  the normally effervescent Bayley hadn’t said much. “When Finn’s Finn, he’s great. It just… yknow, forget I said anything.” Nobody would give me an explanation for why he practically ran from any room I was in. I hadn’t asked Seth, due to the thundercloud that gathered over his handsome face whenever the Irishman was brought up in casual conversation.

I’d figured their reluctance to speak about Finn Bálor was due to the non-corporeal shadow figure that seemed to follow Finn around. The figure was a near perfect twin for him, if not for the ever shifting black mass across it’s “skin” and the neat row of fangs that peaked through it’s lips whenever it smirked at me. It was whenever the figure had made eye contact with me that the Irishman had literally run, without ever having laid eyes on me himself. It was a mystery and I was curious to solve it.

I hadn’t had to consult the Bestiary since my secret was made public. I was able to shyly ask Bayley or Seth my questions, still in awe of the new and open relationships I had with members of the others. It was due to the silence of the locker room in face of questions about Finn that I had turned back to the tome. It took several days of research for me to find it.

Demons and Demonic Possession.

This was a chapter I had skipped over a lot during my studies of the Bestiary. Too many pages were splattered on by or written in a dark, rusty liquid and just staring at the chapter when I was younger was enough to give me nightmares.

There were easily one hundred pages of notes on demonic possession, detailing warning signs, patterns of possession, and methods to remove demonic forces. What really threw me was page twenty one which was blank except for two sentences: A book of references separate of this has been compiled of all known demons. Please write the name of the demon to receive what is known.

I don’t know what had possessed me to write Finn’s name down, but there it was, in my chicken scratch writing.

Finn Bálor

The ink settled into the page, then disappeared. I figured it would be days before I learned anything new, based on prior experiences with writing in the Bestiary. How wrong I was.

Within minutes of writing in the Bestiary, the blank twenty first page began to fill, with a ferocity and speed that terrified me.

RUNRUNFROMTHEDEMONKING

DON’T TURN BACK TO MEET THE FACE OF A FALLEN ONE

RUN AND NEVER STOP

Within a minute, the entire page was completely black with ink and unintelligible. Then, at the blink of an eye, the page wiped clean, like the page was not just full of scribbles telling me to run. Slowly, elegant cursive handwriting began to curve across the page.

There is no demon by the name of Finn known to us at this time.

There is, however, a Bálor. Our information regarding this being is incomplete. Written records are hard to come by and word of mouth accounts of the demon are inconsistent at best.

The first mention of Bálor in any text was in a now lost Book of Revelation where the demon is described as an angel that had fallen with Lucifer and would do battle at His side as a lesser King of Hell during the Christian Apocalypse. We have our suspicions that it is indeed older than the Christian God, but there has been no meaningful record ever found to prove as much.

The accounts we have indicate that Bálor is rather partial to making deals, in exchange for humanoid souls. The demon is ruthless in its pursuit of payment, having sent hellhounds after an entire clan to collect the soul of the dealmaker.

It is said that there was a battle near a millenia ago, between the Kings of Hell, and Bálor was severely weakened in that battle, destroying its  body and leaving its life force adrift in the world. We have heard whispers of humans making deals with it in exchange for a soul, in order to become strong enough to create a corporeal form again. The last known whereabouts of the demon were in Japan, having taken a business man’s soul in exchange for the man’s business to flourish.

If you have indeed come across this demon or someone being possessed by this demon, it is best to use caution and avoid contact at all costs. It is unknown if Bálor will react to normal demonic deterrents, as its actual nature and origins are unknown. If the demon has taken an interest in you, run.

Stay safe.

For days after the writing on the page had faded away, I was walking in a haze. It was hard to believe that the sweet man that all of my friends had described had made a deal with essentially an exiled demon king.

My curiosity couldn’t be held off any longer. He’d seemed surprised when I had marched up to him, grabbed an arm, and pulled him into an empty dressing room.

“Why do you avoid me? Did I do something wrong?”

Finn flinched like he had been slapped and shook his head, beginning to look anxious, his hands fidgeting at his sides and his eyes darting to the door. The shadow figure behind him inched closer, a smirk beginning to grow wide on its face.

“It’s not ya, luv. It’s me, don’t trust m'self. ‘ow’d Bayley let ya out of 'er sight?”

My interest spiked even further and I took a step towards the man, ignoring his question and the implication it raised. “I’m afraid I’m going to need you to explain, this is probably the most interaction we have ever had with each other.”

“'e caught a taste o’ yer scent (Y/N) and 'e liked it. Please, ’m pleadin’ wit ya, stay away from me.” the handsome Irishman begged, taking a step back in reaction to my step forward.

“Who are you talking about Finn?”

He shook his head, looking more and more desperate to leave the room that we were in. “Ah know ya can see 'im (Y/N). 'E knows ya can see 'im.”

I gulped. This was not what I was expecting.

“Did you make a deal?” I tried to choose my words carefully. It was quickly becoming apparent that I had misjudged the situation and that I was very, very wrong. The slow crawl of dread began down my spine, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. The room itself felt like it began to darken and shrink in on the two of us.

The shadow figure was practically hovering over Finn’s shoulder, its eyes narrowed in interest, the tips of fangs peeking out over the tops if its lips. The former champion gave a self-depreciating laugh and shook his head, sweat beginning to bead at his brow, skin paling. “Oh but I did, just no’ in the way yer expectin’.”

I opened my mouth to ask another question when he cut me off, grunting in what sounded like pain and hunching over.

“Ya need t’ leave now (Y/N). Go find Bayley, she’d keep ya safe. I can’t hold 'im off for much longer, cause 'e really, really wants ta meet ya.”

I stepped forward in concern, in an instinctive, natural response to comfort a being in pain, when I saw it.

The shadowy figure was merging into Finn’s body. The majority of its lower body had combined into his, the shadow slipping into the Irishman’s torso, causing a grunt of pain. Finn looked up at me as the entity had  was nearly finished combining with him, desperation on his face, and breathed, “Run.”

I didn’t get a chance to reply as the gray iris of his eyes flicked to red and a feline smirk settled across his features. The skin of Finn’s face suddenly looked like it had been pulled too tight, his features much more pronounced and sharp. The Irishman was handsome normally, but whatever this shift was had made him devastating.

“I’ve been wantin’ to meet ya for a while, kitten.” The voice that came from Finn’s mouth was much too deep, the accent roughening.

“You’re not Finn. What did you do with him?” I demanded, eyes wide with worry.

It blinked at me languidly, staying silent as it stretched in a slow, feline manner. The way it arched Finn’s muscular body towards me was lewd and made my face burn. It didn’t react to the heat of my face, observing me in a cool and dispassionate manner before answering my question.

“Y'right, kitten. I ain’t 'im. Finn’s still up 'ere though.” It tapped at Finn’s temple with the thumb and finger shaped like a gun with roguish twist to his lips. “He really does tink yer pretty, wants me to leave yeh alone. Says ye don’t deserve us wreckin’ yer life, the fookin’ dogooder. But I think that you’re perfect for us.”

I gulped, taking a couple steps back. “Who are you?”

It stretched Finn’s mouth into a grin that felt more like a cat who’s cornered a mouse. The action caught me off guard and it was when I blinked that it was suddenly in front of and around me, having moved impossibly quick and banded thick arms my body. I froze at the close contact, my discomfort and fear ratcheting up at the touch of whatever had taken over Finn’s body. The fear left me cold, despite the almost overwhelming heat radiating off of Finn’s body. I had a sinking suspicion that I knew exactly what it was, but I needed the confirmation.

“Don’t play coy, it doesn’t suit ya. M'name’s Bálor and I’m gonna make you ours.”

Bálor didn’t let the declaration hang in the air for long, craning its neck down, and slamming its lips against mine. The crash of lips against mine was too violent and too sudden, my lower lip splitting and the taste of copper filling my mouth. Bálor’s lips were on mine for a fraction of a second before it flinched backwards, having screwed up Finn’s face in anger and lips touched red with my blood.

“Fookin’ McMahons and their meddlin’.” Too quick to react, Bálor had ripped the small necklace with the charm bag given to me by Stephanie from my neck and flung it across the room. The sting of pain in my lip and in my neck spurred me into action, striking at his shoulders with closed fists and kicking out at shins with my legs. No action I took made Bálor flinch, his face condescendingly indulgent.

“Ya done?” he smirked before pushing  us back and pinning me against lockers and his body. I was pinned against a wall with nowhere to go, both wrists held over my head by one large hand. 

“Wouldn’t recommend doin’ that luv. I like it when they fight back.” Bálor purred, before pressing his lips back against mine, groaning at the taste of the crimson liquid in his mouth. The way his body and lips were pressed against me was enough to make me gasp and he took advantage of my parted lips to plunder my mouth with his tongue and teeth. The press of his tongue against mine and the hard bulge pressing into my lower abdomen made me whimper, helpless to stop Bálor and helpless to stop the slick between my thighs. 

“Pl-please stop, I don’t want this,” I gasped against his lips, unable to push him away with my hands above my head. Bálor didn’t even acknowledge my plea, as his free hand was traveling up the front of my shirt to the collar. With a quick jerk of his arm, the fabric of my shirt tore effortlessly, leaving my torso and cotton bra exposed to the air of the room. The cool air on my overheated flesh was enough to cause my breasts to stiffen into peaks. His mouth and tongue were still moving feverishly against mine as his free hand slipped underneath the wire of my bra to cup the globe of flesh and to pinch at my pebbled nipple. The jolt of pleasure-pain was punctuated by the moan that snuck out of my mouth. 

He chuckled at the sound, gave another pinch to the tightened nub, and then his hand was gone. I whimpered involuntarily at the loss of his touch. 

“Oh ’m not done wit ya yet kitten. I plan on takin’ the time to take ya apart until yer only capable of beggin’ and our names." 

His hand began to travel towards the button of my work pants, his lips pressed against my neck. The scrape of his facial hair left my legs trembling and my body arching into the sensations.

"Not just me either, Finn wants ya as well, but he’s too timid ta take what 'e wants. ’ve had to sit back fer weeks watchin’ him pine after ya like a love sick schoolboy. This is as much 'is fault as yers.”

He had made quick work of the button and fly of my work pants and was pushing them down along with my panties when I noticed it. The telltale swirls of purple and gold magic around the door of the dressing room, followed by various colorful curses. Stephanie McMahon had somehow known of the danger I was in and was outside of the dressing room, attempting to get in. Bálor was seemingly unperturbed, the door was to his back, and I took a sharp inhale of breath at the first press of his fingers against the swollen flesh between my thighs.

The rush of blood in my ears sounded like static and drowned out the commotion in the hallway. Bálor was smirking into my neck and pressing open mouthed kisses into the flesh there with every deft twist, stroke, and plunge of his fingers. All fight left my body as I was overwhelmed by the sensations that the demon was able to evoke from me, now reduced to a whimpering and quivering mess.

“Ya feel like heaven kitten. Finn’s been dreamin’ about this fer weeks, ya comin’ apart for us. 'e was tryin’ to say ye didn’t want this, but yer cunt is grabbin’ at m'fingers so greedily…”

I could feel the telltale flutters of an orgasm beginning in my muscles as he spoke. Bálor seemed to sense it as well, doubling his efforts, and quickening the pace with which his thumb flicked over the little hardened bundle of nerves between my legs.

“Gonna make you scream kitten. Yer gonna let every damn person in this buildin’ know that ye belong to us, that its Bálor makin’ ya scream.”

I was so close, so so so close, my toes curling in anticipation, when the door to the dressing room literally blew off the hinges with a crack.

The force of the magic sent the door flying and splintering towards where Bálor had me pressed against the wall. He moved preternaturally fast to face the blast, dropping me and the fingers wrenched from my cunt to catch pieces of the door that were coming at us. He was too slow to catch a rather large, jagged piece of wood and all I could remember was a blinding pain in my temple.

Everything went black.