#she knows Delilah is going to leave her and is better off without her

[rottengurlz]

I finished my book

[daisyblog]

Audition

Young Love Masterlist Summary: Louis auditions for The X Factor, One Direction is formed and the boys meet YN and Mia.

With an eight month old Mia sat on YN’s lap, biting at her little bunny’s ear as she held it tight in her hand, they both kept Louis company whilst he got ready, readjusting his tie as he looked in the mirror.

“Dada!”.

“Does Daddy look smart? Would you give me a yes?”. Louis turned to the sound of Mia’s voice, reminding him why he was doing what he was doing.

YN smiled at their interaction, quickly lifting Mia up so she could have a cuddle with Louis. “Say it’s definitely a yes from us”.

Louis looked between his daughter and YN, a large smile appeared replacing the nerves. “My biggest supports ey”.

“Always!”. They shared a sweet peck before Jay called upstairs to tell them it was time to leave.

---

Jay and YN stood at the side of the stage as Louis walked to his spot in front of the judges. Mia was in her mother’s arms, looking around and fascinated by the lights and the busy backstage area.

“Hello!”. Louis Walsh greeted Louis who wore a large grin, showing of his young white smile.

”Hiya, you alright?”. Louis brought the microphone up to his mouth, the nerves began to kick in.

“What’s your name?”.

Still wearing his toothy grin, he spoke into the microphone. “I’m Louis Tomlinson!”.

“Louis Tomlinson…and Louis how old are you?”.

“I’m eighteen!”.

“Eighteen…and where are you from?”. Louis continued to ask questions trying to get to know the young boy more.

“I’m from Doncaster!”. The audience sat behind the judges burst into cheers and clapping at the name of the town.

“Doncaster…and why do you think you’ve got The X Factor?”. The older judge asked the big question.

“I-I…I dunno I just love singing and this means so much to me…and I wanna do me daughter proud”. Louis let the words flow out, trying not to let his nerves get the better of him.

At the mention of having a daughter, Nicole couldn’t help but join in with the questions. “Awe you have a daughter?”.

“Uh yeah…she backstage”. Louis explained, taking a glance back at his mum, YN and Mia.

“How old is she?”.

“Eight months!”. Louis’ shoulders naturally rises with pride when he talks about Mia.

Nicole gave Louis a sweet smile. “I’m sure she’s very proud of you”.

After checking what song he was going to audition with, the judges gave Louis the go ahead to begin.

Backstage, Jay wrapped her arm around YN as they both stood praying that he would get the answers he was desperate to hear.

“When I was young…I never knew…What this thing called love…Could do to you…But since you been gone…And I've been on my own…I've been feeling quite peculiar…But I'll get by without your smile…I'll get through without you…But I wish it was me you chose…I wish it was me you chose…I wish it was me you chose…I wish it was me you chose-”.

Simon raised his hand to stop him. Louis looked up, annoyed with himself that Simon had asked him what other songs he had prepared for his audition.

“Hey There Delilah!”.

“Yeah yeah!”. Simon encouraged Louis to sing the alternative song instead. Jay and YN began to worry that the judges may not give Louis the chance he deserved.

“Oh, it's what you do to me…Oh, it's what you do to me…Oh, it's what you do to me…Oh, it's what you do to me, what you do to me”.

Louis couldn’t help but explain how nervous he was and Nicole reminded him that she thinks he has an amazing connection with music and she really likes him.

Simon complimented Louis on his style, the uniqueness in his voice and how much he liked him too. Louis Walsh explained how likeable he was and he could see how people were going to root for him.

“I’m saying yes!”. Louis gave the first yes.

“I’m saying yes!”.

“Louis, you’ve got three yeses!”.

Louis’ smile got bigger and bigger with each yes. “Thank you so much!”.

Walking off the stage, he was greeted by two excited women and a little baby who oblivious to what was happening.

YN jumped into Louis’ arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m so proud of you!”.

Mia was now in Jay’s arms, but that didn’t stop her from pulling her first born in for a cuddle. “I’m so proud of you my boy!”.

---

Louis had gone through to the bootcamp stage of the competition, which required the contestants to perform a choreographed dance routine and sing another song to the judges.

It has been a couple of days and YN and Mia had been by Louis’ side the entire time, staying at a hotel near by so Louis could still see his young daughter.

When Louis’ name wasn’t called to go through to judges houses, YN and Jay prepared themselves to comfort a disappointed and upset Louis.

As they both waited outside of the building ready to wrap Louis up in their arms full of warmth and love, YN couldn’t stop her thought from spiralling out. “It’s their loss anyway…they can’t see good talent when it’s right in front of them…Louis went in there and gave it his all…I’m not watching X Factor again”.

But little to YN’s knowledge that inside the building that a plan is being put together. A member of the grew had explained that some people had been called back to the stage.

“Zayn Malik…Liam Payne…Harry Styles…Niall Horan…and Louis Tomlinson”.

The five young lads stood together in a line in front of the judges, waiting in anticipation of what was going to be said. They had experienced a lot of upset and disappointment in the last hour and they couldn’t handle anymore rejection.

“You’re too talent to let go of…we think it would be a good idea to have two separate groups”. Nicole explained to the two groups stood on stage.

“We’ve decided to put you both through!”.

Each of the five boys exploded with happiness, moving around the stage, jumping onto eachother and crying into the others arms.

As soon as Louis saw his mum, YN and Mia, he ran towards them shouting with happiness and excitement. “I’m though…I’m in a band!”.

“Wait…what? But I just said I’m not going to watch X Factor anymore because they didn’t put you through”. YN wore a a confused look on her face, wondering what had changed since she had last spoken to Louis.

“Well you’re gonna have to bloody watch it now ‘cause we’re through to judges houses!”. Louis pulled his mum, YN and Mia into his arms for a much needed family cuddle.

---

For the boys to get to know each other and practice for their trip to judges houses, they all went to stay at Harry’s step-father’s house in Holmes Chapel for a week.

Despite it being a two hour journey from Holmes Chapel to Doncaster, the four boys had agreed to travel with Louis back to his hometown to see YN and Mia, knowing how much he was missing them.

“So what’s YN like then Lou?”. Liam asked as they got closer to Louis’ mum’s house.

“She’s special…she’s uh…she’s kind, she’s beautiful inside and out…and she’s an amazing mum to our Mia”. Louis had missed YN and Mia the last few days, but talking about them made him realise how hard this journey with the band was going to be.

“I still cant believe you have a daughter man…that’s just crazy”. Niall was still in disbelief that Louis had a young child.

“Well you’re about to see Dad Louis”. He announced as he took a turn into his mum’s driveway.

Knowing Louis and the boys were on their way, YN couldn’t help but keep checking by the window to see if they had arrived. She paced back and forth, trying to patiently wait for their arrival.

Once YN spots Louis’ car pull up into the driveway, she quickly picks Mia up from her place on the playmat where she had been playing with some toys. Opening the front door, she was greeted with five smiling faces.

“There’s my girls!”. Louis wasn’t embarrassed to show the boys this side of his life, in fact he was proud of his young little family.

The boys gave Louis a little space to share a much needed kiss and cuddle with YN, before he introduced them.

“Boys…this is YN…YN this is Liam, Zayn, Niall and Harry!”.

“Hi!”. YN gave each of them a sweet smile, knowing this was a big moment for them too.

“Dada!”. His favourite little voice spoke. Mia giving him a gummy smile.

Louis reached forward for Mia, holding her close to him. “And this is my little Mia!”. He turned to face the four boys. “Can you say hello?”. Louis tried to encourage Mia to wave.

“Hello…we’ve heard a lot about you”. Liam spoke to the young baby in Louis’ arms.

“Your dad talks about you all the time”. Harry was next to make a fuss.

“She’s the image of you isn’t she Lou”. Zayn observed from his spot next to Harry.

“I don’t really know how to talk to babies”. Niall said when he realised he hasn’t said anything.

The group shared an ice breaking giggle together but what set them off into more laughter was Mia giving Niall a toothless grin.

“Do you all want to come in? I can make you all a drink”. YN stood aside to allow the four boys into their home.

YN stood back and watched in awe at how the four boys had settled quickly and sat on the floor helping Mia to build with her blocks. Her little laugh appearing whenever one do them jokingly knocked it down.

“I guess Mia has four uncles now”. YN whispered to Louis as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“Our family has just got bigger!”.

Taglist:

@ell0ra-br3kk3r @slaymybreathaway @wh0s-nadii @peterholland04

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

Burn Marks

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Reader

Warnings: Toxic!Larissa, mentions of pregnancy, angst, hopeful ending, hints of starving

Pt1

It destroyed you when she left you pregnant and with a hyper three year old who was full of questions of where her favoured mama is. It burnt your lungs with each lie you told her unable to state the truth afraid to scar the young girl the way you had been.

Soon enough your little boy Theodore had been born, named right after Larissa’s father who had the same blue eyes as her but your blonde hair. The more Delilah grew the more she shaped into Larissa the woman who had shattered your being.

Once Theo was old enough to attend Kindergarten you were off to rebuild the woman you once were, daily after the school drop off you hit the gym. You went back to school to study fashion something you had enjoyed, it was tiring but you wished nothing else.

At night the children would curl around you on the sofa as you read to them, a peace you had never felt before, a sense of security. Larissa had never tried to reach out not when Delilah had turned five or even ten, your children now sixteen and thirteen.

It took some time but finally you owned your own boutique while raising two children it was hard and sometimes you had to go without. Always making sure their little bellies were full, along the line you often wondered where Larissa was in life.

If she thought it was worth it

Now you sat across from her

“We’re here for our daughters enrolment”

Larissa shifted in her seat as she cleared her throat almost taken aback “right, I apologise” she nodded the air now thick. “So- uh how is she?” You shook your head “not quite the question Larissa” the woman couldn’t focus. Not when she had a straight view of your cleavage, not when you looked so great now she really began to regret.

“Look Larissa, I can help with Fundraisers whatever you need. Our daughters happiness means most so if you do anything to tarnish that” I threatened. “Everything will be paid in full by me and me only, I don’t want your charity nor your pity. You can fester in your guilt if you even feel guilty”.

“I said I was sorry Y/n” Larissa barked “I don’t care” you shrugged “you threw everything away! I gave every ounce of me up for you and you leave like our family was last weeks news”. You shot up from your seat “my body changing was only natural since I had your child! Me being tired was normal because I was working TWO jobs and RAISING OUR DAUGHTER, I WAS PREGNANT LARISSA!”

“I was pregnant and planning this wonderful life with you” your voice broke unable to face her “your actions burned me, they scar our children”. A sinking fell into Larissa’s chest “so tell me again how sad your life is, how hard it is now that you have to face your choices”

Call it Karma

“I loved you so fiercely that even two years after you left I would’ve welcomed you with open arms but no, we made our beds Larissa time to lay in them”

“I refuse to” the woman’s voice determined “well I have, I’m tired Larissa” you matched her energy “maybe I still love you”. You laughed at her words “love me? I thought you no longer love me isn’t that why you left? To find something bigger? Someone better? Or did you find only I would put up with your attitude?”

“You’re not being fair” Larissa stated only causing you to laugh “fair?” You faced her “I’m not being fair? Give me a break Larissa, fairness didn’t matter thirteen years ago when you up and split”.

Larissa knew you were right, of course you were you always had been and she knew she used you she didn’t feel bad about it.

“No you’re right but the past is the past Y/n or have you not changed?”

“Don’t humour me Larissa, I was forced to change. Our children needed at least one role model but you wouldn’t know what that’s like”

I was jealous she could pretend to be this great maternal principal when she was a horrible mother, she had abandoned her family. With a sigh I sat back down “it’s a crappy thing you did and I hope you can make amends with our children but for now any questions you have go straight to my assistant”.

Larissa cringed slightly “Your assistant?” You raised a brow “I’m not letting you back in so easily honey” resting against the back of your chair with a small smirk.

The blonde took it as a deal

[utilitycaster]

#reblogging for the “see: girlfailure” tag#caus I have opinions on the insular fandom memeification of characters but I don't - as this post highlights - have the words for it#but I keep those to dms caus anytime I or a friend has challenged it in a public space it gets shot down#it reeks of my troubles with the general fear of using the word woman these days and how it's girldinner this girlmath that#also what do you call as intentional character traits vs a flopped dice roll

(via @distant--shadow)

so I agree and this is interesting to me because what always frustrated me about "girlfailure" outside the more general issue of "um, coquette/bimbo/girl dinner/uwu soft divine feminine cottagecore domesticity don't you mean u want to braid her hair is actually TRUER feminism than being the surly woman who loves math and sword fights and hates sewing" and the fact that, as you said, it mostly came from bungled dice rolls and no real intent, is that the same people who call her a girlfailure insist that Imogen is the main character. And like, she kind of is! And yet - and I've said this about Imogen and Laudna in the context of their relationship but I'm going to not include that because I actually don't think that's even relevant, it's about them as individual characters as well - people want them to simultaneously be The Main Character or at least heavily in focus and also never, ever have any agency. Like, they want "capable" to mean that everyone likes you, and not that you are a person who makes hard choices for the better.

Maybe it's because I'm playing Baby's First RPG right now, but the deal with RPGs and I think(?) especially this one, is you must make every choice and it is laden with consequences (not that I as a D&D player, or, you know, a human woman, am unfamiliar with that already) but what drives me nuts about the just a silly guy! girlfailure! she chooses to be good and therefore is good narrative for Imogen, and the "stripped of choice" (another highly repeated turn of phrase) for both her and Laudna is that it's untrue and it means nothing. For all my criticism of What Doesn't Break, Laudna makes choices. I frequently dislike them and wish they had more gravity, but she does make them. She doesn't make every choice - notably, her death and Delilah's presence are huge things that happen to her without her input - but even while barely herself she frequently brushes off Delilah. You can imagine the dialogue trees and the paths she takes, to intervene or not. She decides to renew her pact; she decides to run into the desert. Imogen decides to attack the villagers with lightning to defend Laudna. She decides to leave, she decides to keep burning their rivals in the Twilight Mirror Museum, she decides to tell her mother that she won't join her, she decides not to help assassinate her mother.

Fearne has a wonderful line when she's talking with Chetney after shardgate, in which she explains that she's terrified of making bad choices. Not of being a bad person, but of making the bad choices. And that's the thing. You cannot choose to be good. You cannot choose to be bad. At least not in any general sense. You can, however, make choices that harm people or help them. You constantly must do this. You can stray, or change the type of choices you've made, but they do accumulate to a point, eventually, where it becomes harder and harder to stray. However, the premise of D&D is very much that your character hasn't become locked in, yet. Is Imogen making choices that will be better for other people? If the world rests on her shoulders, is she making better choices for the world?

This is perhaps the core theme of this campaign, dating as far back as Downfall. Aeor made their choice - many, many choices. The gods made theirs. Ludinus kept making his, over, and over. It's particularly resonant among the women of the campaign. Obviously there's Fearne, and I've covered Imogen and Laudna, but going over to the Crown Keepers, Morrigan becomes a paladin in a few short weeks - an immense choice. Fy'ra advises others on what they are going to do. And Opal is where she is now because in one moment she put the crown on her head - and in doing so, ceded further choice in the long run. The deities of both fate and free will in this world are given considerable presence in this story, and both use female pronouns.

Maybe I'm making a mountain of a molehill, but I don't think I am. I really do think people cling to "girlfailure" and act like we're just being meanie haters who don't believe Imogen is good because she can be the central character who has power to change the world and the narrative; or she can be pure and innocent of all wrongdoing. she cannot be both. No one can. And deep down I think the "girlfailure" proponents prefer a useless innocent girl to a powerful woman who sometimes makes choices or does things that hurt other people. So I don't think that one's just harmless meme-ing, and if you want to see Imogen as an exceptionally important part of this narrative I think you have to reject the girlfailure, and anyone saying "oh it's just a joke" is either unthinkingly repeating or is pushing a story where Imogen is just a MacGuffin without agency, and neither is worth, in my opinion, listening to. Someone "stripped of choice" in real life is worth our pity and deserves our assistance but they make for a pretty terrible fantasy protagonist, and it's maddening to see a woman in the center of the story and then to be attacked if you want her to be treated like a person who, as a result of being a key protagonist, holds particular power and isn't just a girlfailure.

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

omg for a guilty gear request, how about baiken x gender neutral reader? maybe u could write about her teaching her partner how to fight ...

Ha Ha! Finally! my first Best Samurai ask!

NOW YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!

Baiken Teaching You How To Fight!

Right off the bat, Baiken, really, really, REALLY! Didn’t want to be doing this.

She doesn’t even want to imagine you being in a fight.

Too many things could go wrong.

Way too many things.

But Baiken also knew that if you got into a fight without her around the possibility of going bad was higher than if she had taught you what little she could.

So, after a massive amount of deliberation, arguing with herself, and a lot of panicking over the decision…

She decided to teach you, and Delilah, how to fight.

Nothing like her or the few other swordsmen she knew of like Nagoriyuki or Kliff Underson god rest his soul.

But enough for the both of you to get by in a scrap if needs be.

She really hoped it never came to that though.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Your mock blade collided with Baiken’s who parried the blade away and swung her sword which you barely slipped under.

Delilah came from behind, trying to sneak attack Baiken who easily weaved out of the way and countered by throwing her a ways away.

This however gave you a chance to strike.

As you could probably tell though, it didn’t go as well as you would think and you ended up sprawled out next to Delilah.

“Owwwwwwww…” you groaned.

“Why are you so mean to us mother?” Delilah asked in pain.

“It’s tough love Delilah, ya can’t rely on Bed forever.” Baiken retorted.

“And me? What did I do?” You asked.

“Ya were stubborn about getting to know me, so now you get to enjoy the fruits of yer labor.”

You let out another groan.

Soon the familiar sound of Bed rolling to carry you and Delilah inside entered your ears.

You still weren’t totally sold on the still extremely glitchy robot, but Delilah promised that he wouldn’t try to burn the shops down after one of the tables broke and in turn broke her foot so it would have to do.

You and Delilah both happily groaned as the cool metal frame wrapped one arm around each of you to cart you back home.

Baiken shook her head as she walked behind Bed.

“I’m glad the two of them get along well, Delilah ain’t the easiest gal to get along with. Not to mention Bed.” Baiken thought to herself before speaking.

“The two of ya did well today. Tonight, we’ll eat out, my treat.” Baiken told the two of you who immediately perked up.

“You hear that Delilah?” you asked, flabbergasted and wanting to make sure you heard right.

“I did, mother is going to let us eat out!” Delilah responded in the closest thing to excitement she could muster.

“Oi! Don’t be so surprised!” Baiken hissed, a vein in her head throbbing in anger.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

That night, true to Baiken’s word, she took all of you out to eat.

True, you and Delilah felt like you got hit by Sol in dragon install, but it wasn’t too bad.

That was a lie, it was agonizing pain.

Still, the food was good.

So good in fact that Delilah actually ate so much she got tired from it.

And that leads to the current situation you are in now.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Delilah quietly snored as you carried her on your back while walking next to Baiken.

“*Yawn* That was some good food!” you tiredly exclaimed.

“You better not fall asleep on me, I'll leave ya in the streets if ya do.” Baiken told you gruffly.

“Aw! I enjoy your company too!” You happily responded to Baiken’s gruff statement.

In response to this, Baiken quietly muttered under her breath “Only “enjoy?” I’m gonna have to fix that.”

“You say something Baiken?” you asked.

“Nothin for you to be hearing, and shouldn’t you be focusing on keeping yer eyes open?” Baiken told you, dismissing your question.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Baiken is a gruff person.

She might not show it often, but she loves you dearly.

And everything she does with you, is representative of that.

She might not have Anji’s charisma.

Or Jam’s energy.

Or Haeyun’s cuteness.

But she does have a stubborn streak a thousand miles wide and wears her heart on her sleeve when around those she loves.

Baiken might not tell you, but her training is the best way she can show you how much she cares.

Because Baiken is a gruff person

A hard person.

A kind person.

A caring person.

And even though it's hard for her to show that, she has her ways of doing so.

[jackhues]

are you kidding me - lilah's version

note: i was actually supposed to write a little more, but i got lazy. mom's name is 'olive' in this!

delilah's world! au - navigation

"are you kidding me right now?" matthew's voice rose.

olive, matthew's ex-girlfriend stared at him unflinchingly. she'd been around men long enough to know how to respond when they started yelling.

"do you think i'm going to joke about something like this matthew?" she asked him. "i'm pregnant, the kid's yours. i'm not asking for your opinion or advice, i'm just letting you know. if you don't want to be involved, you don't have to fucking be involved. i'll raise her on my own!"

"her?" matthew repeated, flinching. "you know the gender? how long have you known for?"

"i found out three weeks ago," she responded, finding it harder and harder to keep her cool. "i was having stomach pain, and they sent me for a pelvic ultrasound. turns out i'm twenty weeks pregnant now."

matthew's eyes dropped to her midsection, which caused olive to roll her eyes.

"i don't look very pregnant, i know," she told him. "don't you think i would've noticed without having to go to the fucking hospital? if you want me to pee on a stick to prove it to you, i'll do it. better yet, you want to see the ultrasound pictures, i have some on my phone-"

"i don't want to see anything!" matthew stuttered out. he took a deep breath. "i don't need to see anything. you're pregnant, i believe you. but i can't have anything to do with this baby. i'm only 21, i have a career ahead of me. so you go ahead, you can have the baby, but i'm not going to be a part of it. i'll - i'll give you the money you want, the money to take care of her and invest in her future, but i'm not a part of it. i can't be a part of it."

"i don't need your money, you asshole!" olive shook her head in disgust. "i'm not here to beg and grovel for it! i'm here because as a human being, you deserve to know that you're going to have a kid - whether or not you want to be a part of her life. you know what, this was a fucking mistake. i told brady that you were going-"

"brady!?" matthew cut her off. "brady, as in my brother? he knows?"

"and taryn," olive crossed her arms. "i was scared and i didn't know what to do so i called her, and brady was there. so they know, and they told me to tell you, and i told them you were going to be a dick about it." she scoffed, "at least i was right."

she adjusted her purse, turning around to leave.

"wait," matthew stopped her. "that's not what i was trying to say. i know you're not here for the money, but i'm giving it anyways. like you said, i'm going to have a kid, and i'm not going to be involved - but i can help out with the money."

olive glared at him, but she knew matthew well enough to know he wasn't going to back down now.

the only thing she could do was agree with the deal.

[misfit0789]

Rule 12 | Abby Scuito

Y/n's POV

"Tony, how's my little niece?" I ask my brother over the phone. He and Tali had just left Washington to travel after Ziva died. He changed for the better once he found out about Tali.

"She's fine Y/n/n, she misses you," he says, I sigh.

"I miss her too, I'll try and visit you guys soon," I say walking back to my living room in my apartment. Tony asked if I wanted to stay in his old one but after finding out about the people dying there I wasn't for it.

"Sounds good, I got to go. I'll call you later sis," He says hanging up before I got the chance to reply. I pull the phone away from my ear and roll my eyes.

"Idiot," I shake my head and sit on the couch turning Netflix on. One thing is my brother and I are both big movie people, we would always watch them when we were younger and just enjoy ourselves. We were basically all each other had.

Just as I'm about to put on Spider-Man 3 someone starts banging on my door. "Y/n open up!" I groan and get up walking to the door. I open it and glare at whose standing there.

"Can I help you Ellie? It's 11 o'Clock at night," I groan leaning on the door frame. She gives me a sheepish smile before holding up a fast food bag. I sigh and step aside letting her in. She laughs and walks past me handing me the bag as she goes to sit on the couch.

"Is it so wrong for me to want to see my best friend?" She asks, I roll my eyes eating a fry out of the bag, "No, but when it's 11 o'clock at night and you know I spend my Friday nights watching movies and hate being interrupted," I pause and pretend to think," yes," I say sitting next to her and pressing play on the movie and grabbing my burger out of the bag, taking a bite.

"Oh stop it, you can survive one night not watching a movie, besides I need your help," she says going quiet. I swallow the piece of my burger and look at her confused. "El, what's going on? Is Jake still bugging you? Because I will happily beat his ass for you...again," I say mumbling the last part but she still heard me as she shoves me to the side. "What? I had to do something. The asshole thought it was okay to cheat and expected you to take him back. Bitch no! You cheated you pay the consequences." I say getting pissed as I think about that bastard.

"No, it's not Jake, but thank you for being so protective. It's actually case related..." She trails off. I haven't been to the office since Tony left. It just didn't feel right to me to be there with my brother not there. Ellie is the only one I've kept in contact with since he left 3 months ago. She's kept me updated on everyone. McGee is gonna propose to Delilah, there's this new guy named Torres, and Gibbs is well Gibbs.

"Bishop you know I don't feel comfortable being there since Tony left. I fell like everyone judges me," I say setting my burger down on the bag on my coffee table in front of us. "You'll be fine, besides, Abby needs you," She says the last part in a slow teasing manner causing me to snap my head up and glare at her. "El stop, I told you, that was a one time thing," I get off the couch and grab what's left of my food bringing it to the kitchen. She gets up and follows after me.

"Please Y/n/n? It's the firewall on the victims computer, none of us can crack it and you're our only other option, please?" she pouts, I groan walking away knowing I'll crack.

"No"

"Please"

"No"

"Please"

"No"

"Please"

"No"

"Please"

"Ughh okay fine I'll help, now leave me alone so I can watch Toby McGuire in peace." I say falling back on my couch and lay across it giving Ellie no where to sit. "Thank you, I'm sure Abby will be pleased to see you," she smirks pushing my head up and sitting down causing my head to fall on her lap. I groan but don't respond continuing to watch the movie.

Time Skip

"Dude chill," Ellie says. We're in the elevator on the way to the squad room but I can't stop shaking my leg. "I'm sorry El, I don't even know why I'm so nervous. I guess it'll just be weird being here without Tony." I say, she rubs my arm in a comforting manner, "It'll be okay, I'll be with you the whole way," She says, I smile and give her a nod thanking her, she smiles and gives me a nod in return. The elevators ding and we walk off the elevator towards her desk.

Ellie sits at her desk while I stand behind her wall divider and lean on it, watching as Tim and some other guy talk to each other facing the monitor. "So where is this firewall THE Timothy McGee can't crack?" I ask making my presence known to them. They both turn around confused before Tim's face lights up, as he begins to walk towards me.

"Is that Y/n DiNozzo I see?" I laugh, pushing myself off the wall and meet him in the middle pulling him into a hug, "Hey Tim," I say, "How are you? How's Delilah?" I ask. He smiles, "We're both doing great, Thank you, She's actually in Dubai right now but she should be back soon. You'll have to come over for dinner soon." He says, I nod agreeing. We pull back when someone clears their throat. I look and see the guy Tim was talking too standing there with a big smile on his face.

"Hola, beautiful. I'm Special Agent Nick Torres," he says reaching for my hand, taking it in his and kissing the back of it. I look at him in disgust causing Bishop and McGee to laugh leaving Torres confused. "What?" he asks offended, letting my hand go.

"She's gay Torres," Bishop says in between laughter. He blushes in embarrassment and walks back to his desk. I join the other two in laughter. I immediately stop when I see Gibbs come in with a cup of coffee in his hand, while the others continue, I try to stop them but it doesn't work.

"Something funny McGee?" He asks, Tim immediately stops along with Bishop. "No Boss, just talking to Y/n," he says. Gibbs turns and looks at me, I smile and wave shyly. "Y/n," He smiles pulling me in for a hug, I slowly hug him back surprised at his actions. Gibbs and I never really talked when I'd visit Tony at the office so this is a big surprise.

"Uhh hey Gibbs, I just came by because Ellie mentioned some trouble with a firewall..." I trail off, he pulls back and nods. "Yea, Abby has been in the lab all night trying to crack it. Some new fresh eyes may be helpful. Do you still remember where the lab is?" He asks, I nod and give him a smile. "Yea, I should be able to make it there. I'll see you guys later." I wave to them, Bishop gives me an encouraging look. I nod and smile in thanks before turning and walking towards the elevator. I press the down button and wait for the doors to open. Looking down and noticing my shoes untied I kneel down and tie it.

As I'm tying them I hear the doors open followed by a gasp. I look up a bit and see shoes I know all to well. I slowly stand up and come face to face Abby Sciuto. "Oh uh hey," she says avoiding eye contact. "Hey," I say, "I was just on my way down, Bishop had mentioned something about a firewall." I say slowly standing up, almost eye level with her, as I'm a few inches taller even when she's wearing her boots.

"Oh, yeah, um I was just coming up to get Bishop but I guess you'll do," She says, turning back around and walking into the elevator. I stand there in a daze, "You coming or what?" She asks, I shake my head snapping out of it and follow her into the elevator. She presses the button for the floor of her lab and we are left in awkward silence.

The doors open and I let her go out first before following behind her into her lab. I stop at the door and look around smiling at the memories we shared in here when I would visit Tony.

"Y/n?" I snap out of it and look to see Abby looking at me confused, "You okay? You keep zoning out," She asks worried, I nod and give her a fake smile, which if she notices she doesn't mention. "Sorry, just got caught up in my head," I apologize, she nods and turns back to her computers.

"So, the petty officer was big into security software and ended up creating his own firewall for his computer and none of us can seem to figure out how to crack it. Bishop suggested you might be able to help." Abby explains, I nod and look at the code on the screen and smirk.

"None of you could crack this? I did this my freshman year in college. This is easy, may I?" I ask motioning to the keyboard, she nods and steps to the side letting me go ahead. I nod in thanks and step closer to her and start decoding the firewall. I get into decoding it I don't notice how close Abby and I are, nor that she is staring at me.

"Done," I say with a smile as the petty officers home screen appears. I turn to Abby and gasp at our closeness, I look down slightly and glance from her eyes to her lips as she does the same to me. Just as I'm about to lean in Gibbs comes in the room with two Caf-Pows and Bishop and McGee behind him, I jump away from Abby and clear my throat. Gibbs pays no mind while McGee and Bishop share a look and smirk at us causing me to glare slightly at them.

"Whatcha got Y/n/n and Abs?" Gibbs asks handing us both our Caf-Pows. "I was able to crack the firewall and get into his laptop but we haven't had a chance to-" Abby cuts me off before I can finish.

"Got something" I look at her surprised. "Turns out our dead petty officer had a thing for military blueprints," She pulls up the different blueprints that were on his computer.

"Never mind then," I mumble under my breath as Abby continues on talking to Gibbs. "You alright?" Bishop comes up to me and puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. I nod and take a sip of my Caf-Pow. "I will be," I sigh, she gives me another comforting squeeze.

"Bishop, McGee lets go, Abby got a lead on where the petty officer was getting the blueprints from." Gibbs says, giving Abby a kiss on the cheek and walking out with Bishop and McGee not far behind leaving Abby and I in her lab...alone.

"So... about earlier before Gibbs interrupted us..." She trails off. "Oh yeah, um we can just forget that ever happened." I say rubbing the back of my neck nervously. "But what if I don't want to," she says stepping closer to me leaving little space between us. I gasp causing her to smirk. She steps even closer and wraps her arms around my neck.

"Nervous?" She asks leaning up, with a sudden burst of confidence I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her even closer to me so our bodies are pressed up against each other. This time she gasps. "No, are you?" I ask leaning down slightly, she slowly shakes her head. Tired of all this teasing I lean down fully and pull her into a kiss, she gasps but kisses back, tightening her grip on my neck.

We both get lost in the kiss, having missed the feeling of being close to each other. We pull back since breathing is still a thing. "Whoa," I whisper, after we pull away. "Yeah," she whispers back looking up into my eyes. I see something I've never seen in them before but before anything else can be said my phone goes off. I look at Abby apologetically but she waves me off and lets go making me, I sigh at the loss of contact but answer my phone anyways.

"DiNozzo" I sigh, watching Abby move around so effortlessly. "Hey sis, did I interrupt something?" Tony asks, "No, just working in the lab with Abby, the team needed my help on a case," I explain to my older brother. "Ohhh, just working?" He asks, I can hear the smirk. "Stop it, what do you want?" I ask annoyed now.

"Just checking up on you, you know how I can get when I don't hear from you." He explains, a smile appearing on my face. "I know Tony, thank you and sorry, I've been with the team all day."

"Don't sweat it, just making sure you're good. Besides Tali wanted to say hi," He says, I hear shuffling and soon I hear the little voice of my niece speaking through the phone. "Aunt Y/n/n!!" she yells. "My little Tali! How are you?" I say back just as enthusiastically a her.

"Good, when will I see you again? I miss playing tea party with you," She asks, most likely pouting. "Awww I'm sorry sweetie, hopefully soon. I miss my little princess Tali," I say, she cheers. I'm assuming she gave Tony back the phone since he's who I hear next.

"She really does miss you Y/n/n," He sighs, I sigh too, "I know and I'm sorry Tony but it's hard for me to just drop everything and leave. My supervisor has been an ass lately and takes credit for all my work resulting in our boss pushing me harder. I got lucky to even have today off." I say walking and sitting on the chair at Abby's desk.

"I'm sorry sis, look I got to go, I'll call you later. Love you," He says. "Love you too Tony," I hang up, placing my phone on the desk and putting my head down.

"Everything okay?" Abby asks, walking over to me. I sigh and shake my head, "Not really my supervisor is an ass and keeps taking credit for everything I'm doing which makes our boss push on me even harder while my supervisor just sits there and does nothing leaving me with twice the work. It's not fun," I say leaning back in the chair throwing my arms over my eyes.

"Hey, I'm sure it'll all turn out alright. You're one of the smartest people I know. I mean aside from Bishop, McGee, Ducky, Gibbs and-"

"I get it Abs, thank you," I say laughing a bit. We sit in silence for a few before I decide to break it. "So I think we should talk about before," She sighs and nods.

"Yeah... look I like you Y/n and I have ever since we...you know. It's just I don't know. I'm scared." She says looking down.

Hey, it's okay," I reach out for her hands and pull her closer to me so she's standing in between my legs, while I'm still sitting. "I'm scared too, but I like you and I can feel something between us. Besides we don't work together all the time so there's no going against Gibbs rules." I try and joke causing her to let out a small laugh, "But if you don't want to be anything I understand," I say slowly letting her hands go.

"Y/n... I like you too, and I do want us to be something" She says taking hold of my hands again. I look up at her with a smile on my face which she returns. "Really?"

"Of course you dork," She laughs moving to sit on my lap and wrap her arms around my neck pulling me into a kiss. I pause before wrapping my arms around her waist holding her close.

"So does this mean you're my girlfriend?" I whisper as we pull away, she nods and gives me a quick kiss. I smile and give her a quick kiss.

Time Skip

Abby and I have been sitting in her lab talking for the past few hours, when Gibbs comes in the lab. "Y/n I need to speak to you," he says, I gulp but nod and stand up, walking over to him.

"Yes?" I ask. "I know how things at your job now are and after your help today I think we could use you." He says with a smile.

"What are you trying to say?" I ask him confused. "Welcome to the team Y/n," he says with a smile before walking out. I turn and look at Abby shocked.

"So much for not breaking his rules," I sigh.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Angel Maker: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: You still feel guilty for what happened to you and Hotch even though you shouldn't. If you had seen that bomb before getting blasted back, then maybe you wouldn't have so many problems with your "abilities".

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will." - Chuck Palahniuk

The back of your head still throbs, but it's time to get the stitches removed. Spencer has done an excellent job in taking care of you, but now it's time to get back to work. The doctor has to clear you before you can, but you're hoping she does it when you go in.

"Are you sure you don't want to take an extra week? It could help," Spencer says.

"I've rested enough. I need to get back to work. It's lonely without you."

You two head into the doctor's office once she calls you back, and you hop onto the uncomfortable doctor's chair so she can examine you. She puts on her gloves and grabs her scissors so she can remove the stitches.

"Looks like this is healing nicely," she says as she works.

"How long am I going to have this mild headache?" you wince.

"My guess is a couple more days. I can prescribe you some medicine to help with it."

She quickly finishes and throws the stitches away and her gloves.

"Can I go back to work?"

"Given your job, my main concern would be loud noises, you moving too quickly or running, and bright lights that can strain your eyes. Any of those can either reopen the wound or cause more pain internally."

You need to go back to work, and the only way you might be able to do so is if you reassure her concerns.

"What if I wear sunglasses inside and out? I won't go into places with loud noises, and I'll limit my time in the field. Please, Doc, I need to go back to work, and I have Spencer here to help take care of me."

"You must stay away from loud noises, and no sudden movements. I'm serious, Y/N," the doctor says and takes out a folder with your discharge papers.

"I'm serious too. I want to get better, but I do need to work. I appreciate this. Thank you."

She signs your release back to work papers, and you and Spencer are leaving before you know it. There are sunglasses in your car, so you immediately put them on and smile at Spencer.

"I'm going to feel like the biggest douchebag, but it's worth it."

When you get to work, everyone is in the briefing room, including Hotch. He must have gotten signed off as well if he's here. You and Spencer walk into the room, and all eyes are on you.

"Are you feeling okay?" Rossi asks.

"Did the doctor approve for you to come back?" Hotch asks, business as usual.

"I am feeling much better, and yes, she did. I have everything here. I just have to make sure to wear sunglasses, no running, no loud noises, and limit my time in the field. At least until my head heals completely, and my headache goes away, but I have medicine to help with that."

"Good. Glad to know you're doing better. Nice hair, by the way," Derek smirks at your boyfriend.

Spencer got a haircut a few days ago, and you think it's sexy.

"Hey, don't hate. I think he's very handsome," you grin and kiss his cheek.

You take your seat, turning to face JJ who patiently waits for you to be done so she can start the briefing. She puts some pictures on the board of a woman who looks like she was beaten to death. Nothing about these photos will ever be normal, but at least you have the stomach for it.

"This is Delilah Grennan. She was bludgeoned and raped during the night at her home in lower Canaan, Ohio. It's a small town forty miles outside of Cincinnati."

"It's almost ritual with the way the body is faced up with the arms across the chest," Spencer says.

"There's more. There are small puncture wounds on her stomach. Also, note the lack of blood."

"They were inflicted post-mortem. Were there any other victims?" Emily asks.

"Kind of. Victimology and signature match a serial killer from the same town ten years ago. There were six victims spanning over ten months. He called himself the Angel Maker."

"Yeah, I remember that case," Hotch nods. "They caught the guy and executed him."

"That's right. He was put to death by lethal injection a year ago yesterday."

"That must mean we're looking for a copycat, someone who is honoring the anniversary of this guy's death."

"It says here they found semen at the crime scene," Spencer reads from the file. "Perhaps locals will get a DNA match when they run it through ViCAP?"

"That's where it gets weird. They ran it already and they got a match, too."

"If they have a name, why did they call us?" you ask, confused.

"The match they got back on the DNA is to Cortland Bryce Ryan, otherwise known as the Angel Maker."

If Cortland is dead, then how was his semen found on the victim? Now you know why they called you in. It doesn't make sense. The lights in the plane are making your eyes hurt which makes your head hurt, so the best thing for you to do is lay down on the small couch. You have to lay on your side so you don't injure your wound further. Sleeping has been hard on you since you had stitches in the back of your head, but now that they're gone, all that's left is a sore spot. The rest of the team doesn't seem to mind you doing this since you're paying attention to what is going on.

Spencer wants to comfort you still, so he is sitting on the ground next to the couch. He reaches up and moves your hair away from your face, and you give him a small smile.

"The Angel Maker's victims were beaten with the assailant's bare hands," Spencer says when the plane reaches cruising altitude. "Delilah Grennan was bludgeoned with a heavy instrument, maybe a hammer."

"Okay, so this unsub is either a weaker guy or someone who perceives him like that. Maybe he brought along the hammer to make certain his victim wouldn't fight back?" Emily speculates.

"Well, obviously somebody planted the semen on the victim," you state.

"In the victim," Derek corrects.

"That's one theory. Think about who shares the exact DNA makeup of another person," Spencer points out.

"Reid, you're not seriously floating around the idea of an evil twin, are you?" Derek scoffs.

"No, I'm not. I'm floating the idea of an eviler twin. Traditionally, the concept is a good twin and an evil twin. In this case, it's evil twin, eviler twin."

You giggle at how silly he sounds, but you're the only one laughing. You open your eyes and stare at Spencer with so much love. JJ looks between you and Spencer, and she unconsciously smiles. She's happy for you two since she can tell how happy you and Spencer are. You reach over and grab Spencer's hand before bringing it to your mouth. You kiss the back of it, and Spencer blushes at the attention he's getting.

When you land, you leave with Spencer and Hotch to the newest crime scene while the rest of the team fans out to the other locations. Sheriff Merrill Dobson walks out of the house when you arrive, and you greet him with a smile.

"What can you tell us?" you ask after introductions are made.

"Before Cortland Ryan, this town hadn't seen a homicide in over thirty years. He didn't just kill those six women. He killed a way of life. Now this thing's got people thinking he's come back."

"They don't really think that, do they?" Spencer asks.

"I guess when you've been scared by something--I mean really scared--that fear's in you forever."

You look around the house from the outside to see if you can connect with the unsub's energy, but focusing too hard on your abilities is making your head hurt. Whatever you tap into must be where your wound is because it tingles the longer you try and see what happened to the victim.

You rub your temples with a sigh and turn away from the crime scene. You'll have to work this case without your abilities this time.

"Let's stick to the facts. Were there signs of forced entry?" Hotch asks.

"None that we could find, but whoever killed Delilah Grennan opened up every window in this house before he left."

"That's a signature from the previous murders."

"It's also a detail we never released to the public."

"Did it come out in the trial?" you ask.

"No, ma'am. The prosecution had Ryan nailed nine ways to Sunday. They didn't need it. I'm hard-pressed to know how this copycat knew about those windows."

"The man we're looking for is most likely a fan who exhaustively studied the first killings and used them to form his own murder fantasies. He knows this case as well as us; better if he had actual contact with Ryan while he was incarcerated."

"We sent two of our agents to Hawkesville Prison to look into it," Hotch informs.

"What about the semen?"

"Maybe it was smuggled out of the prison, kept on ice, and brought out on the anniversary of his death," you theorize. "There's an entire cottage industry based on serial killer effects and memorabilia. You can find absolutely anything if you know the right people."

"The question is, is this a one-time commemoration or is it just the beginning?"

"Do you have pictures of the victim before she was taken away?" you ask.

"Yeah. Here."

The sheriff hands over the pictures his CSI agents took of the body and the crime scene near her. Derek and Emily went to the morgue to examine the body more closely, so the pictures will have to do for right now.

The pictures include what Delilah's face looks like, all wide-eyed and fearful. However, her body is what interests you. On her stomach are holes that the unsub had dug into her, but it's the way they are placed that has your interest peaked.

"What is it?" Hotch asks when he sees you frown.

"Look at her stomach. There are puncture wounds, if I had to guess, were done with a Phillips head screwdriver. That's consistent with the previous murders, but something is different here."

"The groupings in the prior victims were always different in number and arrangement," the sheriff says. "The only thing different with this victim is I found traces of paper in the wounds."

"Paper? Like tissue?"

"Like notebook paper."

"This is weird," you mutter after studying the pictures further.

"What is it?" Spencer asks.

"I took a couple of courses in Astronomy in college. We studied the night sky as part of our final. We learned about the stars and constellations, and as someone with a photographic memory, I recognize the structure of these puncture wounds. This looks like the Piscis Austrinus constellation. It might not mean anything, but that's what it looks like to me."

Since you can't use your abilities here, there is nothing left for you to gather. Your time will be better spent at the station as you comb over all the evidence. As soon as you get back to the station, a letter has turned up to the police. 

It's not just any letter, it's a letter from the unsub.

"I give you a legacy, a breath of life from the Angel Maker himself. Those who prayed to forget me will one day see my face and shrink in fear," Spencer reads.

"That's the last thing people need right now," Sheriff Dobson sighs.

"Reid, how's it compared with the original correspondence?" Derek asks.

Spencer picks up letters written by the Angel Maker himself and compares them to the one that was just sent in.

"They share some compelling characteristics. I'd obviously like to look at it under magnification with better light."

"What's your best guess?"

"I'd say it's authentic."

"How can this letter be authentic if the guy's been dead for a year?"

"It could be an elaborate forgery or it could be a genuine article that was written before his death."

"Mail here isn't that slow," the sheriff scoffs.

"We're going over the prison visitor logs to check who had multiple visits with Ryan to try and narrow our suspect pool," Derek says.

Just then, a woman walks into the station in determination. No one seems to know who she is besides the sheriff.

"Sela? What are you doing here?"

"Is it true? There's a letter?"

"How could you possibly have known that?"

"You didn't really think you could keep that quiet around here, did you?"

"The letter's not from him, not in the way people might be saying. He might have had a friend on the outside."

"What if you're wrong? What it--"

"There's no such thing as ghosts, Sela," the sheriff shuts her down.

If only he knew.

"I'm not talking about a ghost. I am talking about those rumors about the execution. About how there were problems, and how it didn't work right."

"What are you suggesting?" Hotch asks her.

"What if he's still out there?" The sheriff rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but Sela isn't having it. "Don't do that. Do you think I'm the only one? Look outside." You walk to the window and see a crowd forming outside the police station. "They want proof that he's dead."

"There's only one way to do that. We gotta exhume the body," you shrug.

The sheriff wanted to ease the public's fears about this, so he ordered the body to be dug up. If people see that he is truly dead, then they will calm down. They will treat this as a copycat since that's what this is.

x

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[yanara126-writing]

The Many Meetings of Death and Death (3/5) - Mercy Is the Mark

Daud is a wreck. Corvo is a player avatar. Neither of them is happy about it.

Well maybe the Outsider is.

- Read here or on Ao3 (2979 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

--

Daud is a wreck. He knows it, even without seeing the looks his Whalers give him. He knows he scares them and in the privacy of his own mind where none of them can see he scares himself too. He's been cracked down the middle for a long time, and the sword he's rammed into the empress had equally rammed a wedge into that crack, ruining his careful paint job. He's been strange and out of character for months, but at least those actions he could justify as a crisis of morality. Choices to be able to live with himself, however unproductive they were, however much they disturbed Billie. Sitting here at his same old desk, waiting for Attano to get out of the pitiful hole they've thrown him into, he feels more conflicted than ever.

He tries not to let Thomas see it who stands in front him, staring him down with the most accusatory glare he's ever seen on the young man. Attano is gone. They haven't found any bodies yet, but Attano is not a merciful man. He has carved his way through Dunwall in a righteous crusade, felling the conspirators one after the other, as well as guards unlucky enough to try and stop him. Some of his victims are never found, but they don't have time right now for a headcount. And frankly he cannot be sure he would notice a bond breaking, not right now. And doesn't that add another stab to his long list of guilt. Daud knows Thomas resents him for the choice to not simply kill Attano and be done with it, and he cannot blame him for it. It was a stupid decision born of months long desperation, and one that his Whalers will pay for.

Daud doesn't want to die. He doesn't want his people to die either. And yet he may very well have ensured both. Ironic almost that Billie now keeps the best chances of survival. He doesn't regret sparing her life, sending her off, both as mercy and punishment, but sitting here in his office knowing he has made yet another irreparable error he can't help but think maybe it would have been better had Billie succeeded. He has repeated her mistake and let another killer into their midst. He doesn't expect to receive the same mercy she did. All he can hope for now is that the body count will be lower, that Attano will be satisfied with Daud's life, rather than going after his Whalers as well as the Overseers had done. That is a price he is maybe not happy, but certainly willing to pay, a bed he has made himself and he will lie in. Delilah was for the girl, his own life will be for Attano. (Something rings in the back of his mind at that, something familiar, something claiming that Attano will not kill him. It's a ludicrous thought, considering both of their histories, a pathetic hope Daud is above, so he ignores it.)

"Understood. Deal with the sentries as you will." Thomas stares him down and they both know that nothing will be done about the sentries. Either they are dead already or there will be other funerals to hold tonight. Daud's being one of them.

"Sir." Thomas says, and it's not agreement. Daud doesn't argue. Instead he turns back to his desk, old and creaking from the humidity and starts sorting papers. A pointless task at what is sure to be his and the Whalers' last day one way or another, but human nature makes it difficult to simply wait for death.

Daud expects Thomas to turn, put his mask on and leave. They both know how this will end after all and the surviving Whalers (and by the Outsider's bastardly ways he hopes some of them will survive his bullheadedness) will need a steady hand with both Billie and him gone. While Thomas does put on his mask after a last dirty look, he walks over next to the room's window and stands with his back against the wall. A good view of the doors and a defensible position.

Daud considers him from the corner of his eye, standing watch as still as a statue. Loyal as ever, despite his master's terrible decisions. Daud has no illusions that he will be able to make Thomas leave. His loyalty seems to be endless in a way Daud most definitely doesn't deserve, but he can feel that he's found the limit of Thomas' obedience. Perhaps it should be frustrating, or even reassuring, that in a fight between obedience and loyalty, loyalty has obviously won out, but all Daud has the emotional capacity for now is resignation. What will come will come, and Thomas has made his decision along with Daud.

Time passes, Daud shuffling paper on his desk, standing, not sitting, that would feel too much like an invitation, and Thomas standing watch, while nothing happens. Daud fidgets with the sword at his waist. Not the one bloodied by his last kill, that one he'd left lying around in a corner of the room, uncleaned and reeking, until a few weeks later it disappeared. Daud never asked who took it or what happened to it. Water gently splashes and rushes outside, the ever present noise of Rudshore, the death gurgling of an entire district. The occasional Weeper moans are a thematic touch, all the more as they never used to reach up to their base. They used to clean out the streets as well as possible, for security and to try and keep the plague away. Now they formed a dirge to Rudshore. And to Daud.

The dirge is the only thing audible for a while.

When Attano finally comes it's sudden and all at once. Thomas drops from one second to the next, and before Daud even has time to flinch, much less try and reach him, that horrible skull mask is right in his face and Attano nearly skewers him. Daud manages to block the strike only thanks to decades of practiced paranoia.

Sparks fly as their blades meet, the crash shattering the soft requiem with savage violence, the desk shaking from the force. Despite himself Daud's eyes widen as he stares at the mask mere centimetres away from his face, static and unmoving, even as Daud's arms start trembling under the pressure. No sound comes from Attano, not a grunt, not a growl, not even a breath. Were Daud a man of superstition and if he hadn't seen the man just hours before half dead and choking on his own saliva, he'd be tempted to think Attano died in Coldrige and only his vengeful ghost escaped to kill him now.

Following a vague instinct somewhere in the back of his mind that insists Attano will not follow him, Daud gives way, letting a knee buckle as Attano presses down on him, then transversed away across the room, leaving the man to stumble with the sudden momentum. He lands next to the stairs, away from Thomas. He doesn't dare avert his eyes from Attano or reach for the bond to check on the Whaler. Either Thomas is already dead or he is unconscious and better served by being ignored. Either way Daud can't help him anymore.

Attano catches himself and whirls around, staring straight at him. Daud's resolve hardens. All other thoughts fade away, all thoughts of Whalers, doubts, regrets, until all that remains is the moment. This is it. Make or break. He will give Attano what he came for. He will not go down like Campbell, like the Pendletons, Lady Boyle or void-damned Burrows. He will make Attano bleed for it, will not make his death cheap, for either of their sakes. For Attano the satisfaction of a revenge well earned, of a monster slain, and for himself the hope that that will be enough of violence in Rudshore. His life was always destined to end in violence anyway.

Attano stalks forward, not following with a transversal of his own. Does he not have one? No that seems ludicrous. Again that strange familiarity rears its head and Daud shakes it off with a growl.

Of course that's when Attano pulls out a fucking revolver. Daud curses and ducks away just before the bullet would have ripped through his shoulder. One more reason not to try and put himself between Attano and Thomas. At least he knows Attano's ammunition isn't endless. He counted before throwing the box down the refinery shaft. Four more left.

He makes the calculated decision of not letting the man use them and pulls on the void, grasping for the familiar power coursing from his left hand throughout the rest of his body. With one step he's in front of Attano again, his sword lifted and ready to run the man through. He doesn't have any illusions that it will work. It doesn't as Attano rips his own blade high to block the strike but he does drop the revolver with a clatter. Daud grits his teeth and drives the sword forward again, pushing Attano back from the gun. He doesn't dare try and kick it away. In his experience those things are at best unreliable, but when they do go off they pack a punch.

The fight continues as they drive each other through the room, one slash, parry and doge after another. It's surprisingly easy to keep Attano away from Thomas' lifeless form. He tries not to think too hard about that. An easy endeavour with the way Attano keeps the pressure on, never relenting. The Royal Protector is a monster with the blade, and Daud is suddenly very aware that had the man been able to shake off the tether back at the Tower, they would have all been dead.

No one comes to interrupt their duel. He tries not to think too hard about that either. He's not sure what he would have done had any Whalers tried to intervene. He doesn't want them in the line of fire, this is his problem, but... He doesn't want to die either. And regardless of the traitorous whisper in the back of his mind spewing ludicrous delusions, Attano will kill him.

Daud grits his teeth and presses forward, banishing all thoughts of life and death and Whalers from his mind. No one is coming. One way or another he will finish this today. He may never know whether his people are not coming because they respect his wishes, because they resent him, because Attano knocked them out, or because they're all dead. Perhaps it's for the best.

The sounds of steel clashing against steel resonates through the large room. For a while Daud is keeping up, relying on his experience with the dark magic of the void coursing through his veins, but Attano is the better swordsman and the void's blessings aren't infinite. Especially with the black-eyed bastard playing favourites with his shiny new toy. Attano resembles one of Sokolov's damned machines more than a human in the relentlessnes of his approach. It's inevitable that eventually Daud slips.

That damned foldable contraption masquerading as a knife slips past his guard and only well used instincts turn the wound from complete bisection into a wide bleeding gash. Unfortunately the same instinct has him transverse through the window out onto the walkway, right past Thomas. The moment his feet touch wood he curses through his teeth and snaps around to face the window, even as his left hand uselessly presses against the gushing wound and his knees start to buckle.

Attano follows on foot, stepping over the sill and stalking right at Daud. He doesn't spare Thomas even a glimpse.

Daud does not relax, he is an amalgamation of bad decisions but he is not stupid. Still something in the very back of his mind relents at the sight. If Thomas isn't dead yet he likely won't be later.

He tries to shamble backwards and lifts his sword to block the next strike, but he knows well the by now agonizing slash in his chest at the latest has sealed his fate. The certainty is... Not as comforting as he hoped it would be. He grits his teeth and resolves to at least make it count. For what he isn't sure.

Blood seeps through his fingers and his chest burns. His focus has run out and his left hand is occupied anyway, Attano has an easy time ripping the sword out of his right. It goes flying and knocks against a crumbling wall before tumbling off the walkway. Before he has time to even try and duck Attano's next strike comes down, the sword's grip slamming right into the side of Daud's head.

He does drop at that. His vision goes white and his knees give out and for one blissful moment his mind is blank, right up until he slams into the pitiful remnants of an office wall, teeth rattling from the force of the blow.

A groan rips through his throat and the world tilts on its axis. His limbs go numb and limp. Everything is fuzzy, indistinct. Everything except that fucking mask.

It comes closer, almost floating, disembodied from everything else.

Daud tries to open his mouth, to speak, to say his piece, those words that never quite stopped floating through his head. His breath comes heavy, gasping, and the words are stuck deep in his slowly more blood-filled throat. Watching the mask approach, the way Attano's tightly wound body comes into deadly focus, begging for his life seems worse than pointless. So he doesn't.

Daud considers at least lifting his head for the final strike. Out of pride, respect, or some desperate plea for the quick death of a slit throat he doesn't know. In the end it doesn't matter. Blood loss, pain, and resignation fill his body with immovable lead, more thoroughly than the Outsider's damned dreams ever could. His eyes slide off the mask like repelled by a bonecharm as he collapses into himself even further until only the water-dark and bloody leather boots remain in his vision.

The boots come to a stop, in easy reach of his throat. Or heart. Or however else Attano wants to do this. Daud waits for death. For pain. For something. He shivers, suddenly very cold, and the blood soaking through his shirt is almost a balm with how it warms his chest. Vaguely he's aware that the blood loss is why he's cold, his life leaking out of him with every beat of his shriveled up heart, but it's so very hard to care.

For ten, twenty agonizing heartbeats nothing happens, except that his throat feels ever more slick with blood. There is a dim awareness of that being wrong, that a simple fleshwound across his chest shouldn't start filling his lungs with blood, but it's fleeting, gone with the next flood through his chest.

"Fuck." The word barely penetrates the pounding of his own heart in Daud's ears, much less the tone of exasperated resignation they are spoken with. The boots turn with what seems like unnecessary flourish and walk away, leaving drops of blood on the ruined flooring.

Daud watches without comprehension. Attano is gone. Daud still breathes. Why?

More blood wells up in his throat and a violent cough rips through him, forcing him to bend over and sending new waves of agony through his chest, neck, and head so excruciating if he had any air left he would be screaming. The blood continues staining the ground, parts of it running like the Wrenhaven down his ruined coat, parts of it spit, coughed, and vomited out.

Ah. Of course. That makes sense. Attano has simply already seen it. No mercy for the Empress' killer, not even that of a clean and brief death. What point is there in cutting in his throat when he will die anyway, horribly and in agony. It's only surprising Attano didn't stay to watch.

Daud would have. Once.

(He doesn't dwell on why this feels like betrayal, like Billie all over again, as if the man doesn't have more than enough reason to kill him. He lets the feeling drown somewhere in his blood filled lungs.)

He doesn't try to get up, doesn't even consider trying to find an elixir, something to delay the inevitable. He can feel his strength waning with every beat and doesn't fancy dying with his face in a pool of his own blood if he can at least avoid that. The blood shimmers with the few rays of light the sun manages to get through the clouds in this damned city. It almost looks like an ocean sunset in Serkonos, those summers when the sun turns the waves into wine. For thirty years he's only seen the beaches in the bastard's twisted visions, where the void leeches all colour and warmth from them.

Daud sits there, staring at his own pooling blood, until he can't feel the stonework against his back anymore and his consciousness fades, slowly yet unavoidably, like a Whale sinking to the bottom of the ocean. It's not Daud who makes the comparison.

(Thomas finds him there, still dazed from the sedative as he clambers through the window. Daud still breathes then, shallow and bubbling, slumped against the crumbling ruins of their home. Thomas screams and the other Whalers slowly picking themselves up from where they dropped come running. Someone turns to get to Montgomery.

Daud dies in Thomas' arms, surrounded by yet more Whalers, lung sliced open by a strike too deep and breath stopped long before Montgomery can get across the Chambers of Commerce. He never learns that the worst injury sustained by the Whalers is a broken ankle from falling out of a transversal when the bond breaks.)

[multiphandommess]

Hospital Visits

Nicky Nichols X Reader

TW - OD'ing

Reader has to leave a case debriefing because Nicky is in the Hospital for OD'ing

Delilah POV

I woke up to the sunlight shining through the curtains. I turned over to see my beautiful girlfriend Nicky. She was gorgeous with the sun shining across her face, her curly hair spread around her head, and she looked serene and the most calm I had ever seen her. Unfortunately, my alarm went off, breaking the peace, though luckily, Nick stayed asleep. I got up, changed into my work clothes, and went into the kitchen to make my morning coffee. As I finished my cup and got my gun and badge, arms snaked around my waist.

“You weren’t planning on leaving without saying goodbye, were you, Lilah?” Nicky said, her distinctive rasp even more apparent with her morning voice.

“Of course not, darling. I need my morning kisses too, you know,” I replied. I turned around in her arms and put my arms around her neck. She smiled at me and leaned in for a kiss. As we pulled away and I went to put my cup in the sink, she straightened out my blazer, gave me one more kiss, and walked back into our bedroom. She was wearing my shirt and her underwear, “Nice ass, Nichols,” I called after her. She turned around, blew me a kiss, and continued into our room. I finished getting my things and walked out of my apartment.

Our day had been slow with only paperwork and no cases, that is until after lunch. We got called into the meeting room and Penelope started the debriefing. “Is that a-” I got cut off by my phone ringing. The caller ID said “George Washington University Hospital” and I knew that that was a hospital near my home. I picked up.

“Is this SSA Delilah Brown?” A nurse asked.

“Yes this is, is there something wrong?” I replied.

“Your girlfriend, Nicky Nichols, overdosed this morning at around 10 a.m.”

“WHAT?!” I said shocked

“She is alright and was moved out of the ICU 30 minutes ago. She is awake and is asking for you,” The nurse told me.

“Um, alright. Let her know I’ll be there in 45 minutes,” I said.

“Alright, I will,” She replied.

“Thank you,” I said, “Goodbye.” I sat there for a moment still trying to process things before I gathered my things to leave. “Hotch, Nicky OD’d and I have to go,” I said. Hotch was the only one who knew of my relationship because I didn’t want judgment for dating a former felon.

“Ok. I thought she stopped using,” He replied. “Me too,” I sighed, running my hands through my hair, “I’ll probably be spending a few days in the hospital so if you need anything on this case, call me, I’ll do my best to help.”

I walked into the hospital and went up to the front desk. “Can you tell me what room Nicky Nichols is in, please? I’m her girlfriend,” I asked.

“Floor 5, Room 606,” She replied.

“Thank you,” I said. I got up to her floor and walked to her room. I knocked on the door and heard a raspy “Come in”.

“Aww, baby. How are you feeling?” I asked her.

“A little better,” She said, her voice a little slurred, “Can you lay with me, please?”

I walked over to her side, put my bag down on a chair, and lay down next to her on the bed. She leaned into my chest.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t want to use again but I just…had to…” Nicky said, ashamed.

“I know, darling. I’m not mad at you, I promise. All this means is that we need to try rehab or therapy again. Relapsing is a part of it and that's okay. I know that it is off-putting and makes you feel bad but you are strong. I know that I sound annoyingly sappy but sometimes sap is necessary,” I told her.

“Normally I don't like it, but it’s comforting right now,” She replied.

“That’s good, but you should get some rest. I’ll be here, love,” I said.

After a couple of days, the team was back from the case. I helped the team as much as I could from Nicky’s room. A nurse came in and said that a group of FBI agents wanted to come in and see us. “Do you want to meet my team, baby?” I asked. I was still lying next to her.

“Um, sure,” She replied.

The team walked in and said hi. I was honestly really excited for the two most important parts of my life, my work family and the love of my life coming together finally felt almost unreal.

“Hi! You’re so pretty. I knew that Lilah would date someone pretty but you’re so beautiful! I love your hair,” Penny squealed.

The team stayed for about an hour and then the visiting hours ended, and they left.

“So, what did you think of my team?” I asked.

“I think I’ll get along with Morgan and Emily really well but I had a good time meeting them,” Nicky said, “I know that you had a lot of fun too because you had the biggest smile I’ve seen on your face.” She had a teasing smile on her face.

“I did enjoy it,” I admitted, “So, how does pasta at Rossi’s next week sound?"

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Fate wouldn’t be that much of a bitch, would it?

Gift for @tiredflowercrown

Flower, I hope you enjoy and that you don’t mind you got the gift now – Anyway, soulmates AU for our favourite mutually destructive threesome for you 💞💞💞

The Tremaine hair salon is full today. A customer in almost every chair, the Hearts by the waiting area as usual, and Anthony is quite glad to leave Dulcia to deal with that. The Hearts kids give him a headache. Besides, she seems to be having fun.

And dear grandmother is upstairs, too. Small mercies.

He leans at the wall and looks at his sisters and cousins currently working at the salon; he shots out his hand to stop little Delilah running by. She shouldn’t be there in the first place.

„Delilah!��� he scolds the little one, „What did we say about running with the scissors in the salon?“

„Not to unless I know exactly who I wanna stab and how to get away with it,“ she recites dutifully.

„That’s right. Now, do you know that?“

She looks around and shakes her head; then she puts the scissors into Anthony’s waiting hand with clear disappointment.

She looks at him and very clearly mouths off „Fuck off“ over Delilah’s head.

„Good. Now go play with Dulcia, yeah?“ She was supposed to be babysitting anyway, and Kazimíra loves getting her makeup done by the little ones. The wackier, the better, and Anthony doesn’t need to deal with any of them in the meantime.

„Dulcia!“ he calls out, „Delllie’s coming over! Don’t lose her!“

„Language,“ he says anyway, which earns him a middle finger immediately repeated by the triplets. The Hearts’ gloves look like they’ve been dipped in blood, as usual. Dulcia’s is lace, which is not good for anything, really.

Whatever.

„Hiii,“ Ginny Gothel greets the salon, „I need my hair done!“

He absentmindedly drags the sharp tips and blades of the scissors over his bare fingers, pretending to look over the salon.

He looks up when the wind chimes play.

„You don’t say,“ he drawls, looking her up and down and lingering on her hair, which forms a frizzy halo around her head, „And here I was, thinking that you go around looking like you just lost a literal cat fight on purpose.“

She walks over the salon, carelessly pushing away Mečislav Hearts and sidestepping his dagger without breaking her stride. Anthony slides the blade of the scissors over his thumb just a bit too hard.

„Fix it, then.“

„Oh, nothing would please me more.“ He pushes her into the chair. The one by the corner, his workstation when he’s actually forced to work. He looks into the mirror – Ginny’s dark eyes and unruly hair.

His own face, tainted by the mark scar on his nose. He refuses to look at that for too long.

He sets down the scissors, out of Ginny’s reach for now, when he notices another thing in the mirror:

„Angie!“ he calls out, „Where are your gloves?“

„I don’t want them!“ whines his younger sister, „I want a soulmark!“

„But–“

He glares at her through the mirror.

„No you don’t,“ he tells her, „Go get your gloves right now.“

„Right. Now.“

She sighs melodramatically but goes, abandoning her client in the process. Said client doesn’t dare to protest. Good for them.

„How about your gloves, Lord Tremaine,“ asks Ginny, turning the scissors in her hands. Of course she does.

„Put that back.“

She reluctantly puts them on the armrest, which should not be counted as “putting down”

„Well?“

He takes away the scissors and fixes his eyes at the reflection in the mirror – at the scar on his nose.

„I don’t need them, Gothel,“ he drawls, „As I’m sure you know.“

She smiles at him innocently and grabs the scissors again, nearly piercing her palm. Not that she cares.

„No–“

He barely takes away the scissors again when Angelica comes back, wearing the same laced gloves as Dulcia, which would do her no good whatsoever. He tells her so.

Ginny is leaning towards the mirror now and grabbing at the shiny accessories Dizzy left there – or possibly the comb, the one with the sharp end for parting hair, and, no. Anthony has had enough.

He sighs, quickly turns around to get the water bottle they keep in the salon for such occasions, and sprays dear Ginny into the face.

„What the fuck, Tremaine?!“ she sputters.

„Don’t touch that,“ he tells her with some satisfaction, „And sit back down.“

She slowly reaches out her hand while holding a strong eye contact.

Anthony sprays her in the face again.

Behave like a cat, get treated like a cat.

In the background, Dulcia and Rosa burst out into giggles, which Anthony ignores. Ginny slowly sits back down, glaring to daggers at him. He smiles at her sweetly.

„There’s something very wrong with you, Anthony,“ she complains.

„Look at yourself first, sweetheart.“

Anthony, notably, doesn‘t spray her in the face again, nor does he argue – she does look good, after all. Instead, he sprays her hair with the water. Multipurpose, you see, and very convenient. 

She looks into the mirror, studying her reflection in great detail.

„I look fantastic, Tremaine, and I’ll look better yet once you do my hair. So get on with it.“

„Oh, could you infuse that with rosemary next time? Mother says it’s great for hair growth.“

Anthony scoffs. By the state of Ginny’s hair, he wouldn’t think she cares at all. Ergo, no answer for her. Just not worth it, nevermind her pout.

Finally, her hair is wet enough to be combed; he sets down the water bottle and gets the comb.

It falls down barely a heartbeat later.

Anthony stares at her hair and his hand in pure shock – no, this cannot be happening. It just can’t.

Fate can’t be that cruel to him, can it?

Oh, who is he kidding.

Of course it can.

„What–“

He swallows heavily as he looks at the newly-coloured strand of hair and the matching stain on his fingers.

„Well, fuck,“ he breathes out softly, looking up to meet her eyes in the mirror.

„Fuck.“

He wordlessly lifts up the strand of hair.

„Oh. Oh.“

Yeah, that about sums it up.

„You’re– you’re kidding me, right?“

„I think we need to go see Harriet,“ he says.

„I haven’t said a word,“ he tells her, „And I aren’t that suicidal.“

He touches his nose – no matter what he tells himself, no matter how much he tries to deny it, he knows it’s not a scar.

Ginny stays seated, looking at herself. She has taken the hair and is now winding it up between her fingers, her eyes wide open in a mixture of fascination and horror.

Anthony touches his nose again, ignoring that the colour is now on his fingers too. 

(It could pass for dye stains, couldn’t it? It could pass for dye stains.)

He grabs Ginny’s shoulder and pulls her up: „We need to go see Harriet,“ he repeats.

And so they go.

Before they exit the salon, he vaguely registers Dulcia blackmailing the customers into silence with the threat of life-long ban from the salon; he tightens his grip on Ginny, just to be sure. But she doesn’t even try to run.

Soon enough, they’re in the port and by the Hope; he asks for permission to board but doesn’t wait for it to come, already walking over and pushing Ginny in front of himself.

„Harriet!“ he calls out, „We need to talk.“

„What,“ she says, coming from the back of the ship, „Can’t you see I’m busy?“

„We were inspecting the rigging, if you must know,“ she informs him, turning her nose up, „Now, why are you here?“

Busy, certainly.

„If that’s what you call daydrinking with Murph, then sure, you were busy, dear.“

He just gestures to Ginny – to the colourful strand in her hair.

„What,“ says Harriet, uninterested, „Did you fuck up another dye job again?“

„Excuse yourself!? I’ve never fucked up a dye job in my life, thank you for asking.“

„Then why’s my brother going around like this?“

„Hey!“ Ginny stomps her feet, clearly annoyed at the argument that doesn’t even involve her anymore, „We are forgetting what’s important here! Me!“

Anthony cringes as he remembers the hairdo Harry Hook requested.

„You might find this hard to believe, dear,“ he says, „But that abomination was his idea. Trust me, I’m suffering too.“

Harriet snaps her teeth at her and Anthony rolls his eyes back. He’s so fucked.

„Fine, whatever,“ she allows before shouting some commands at Murphy and getting a rowdy „Have fun, Captain,“ in return.

„Yes. Her,“ he says, „It’s… her.“

It’s also a conversation better suited for a private cabin than an open deck full of nosey port rats.

„Take us to your cabin, Harriet?“ he requests.

Have fun, yes. Definitely.

Fun.

Harriet marches towards her cabin and Anthony pushes Ginny to follow; the door click behind them soon enough.

„Well?“ Harriet asks again, her back to them. He’s reasonably sure she’s currently getting them drinks and he’s not going to protest.

„It’s–“ he starts, „It’s a–“

„It’s a fucking soulmark!“ snaps Ginny, having finished gawking at the Captain’s private room, „A soulmark!“ She tugs at her coloured hair violently and before Anthony can think, his hand shoots out to stop her.

In turn, Harriet raises her eyebrow and shots back half of her glass, which seems like a reasonable reaction, for once.

Anthony slowly pulls away his hand, ignoring unhappily pouting Ginny.

She tightens her hold to the point of pain and Anthony hisses through his teeth, yanking his hand back and shooting a dirty glare at Ginny who is watching with unconcealed interest, weaving the coloured strand of hair around her finger again. What a bitch.

„Show me,“ demands Harriet, though she has already grabbed his hand and turned it over, holding his wrist in near-bruising grip. He doesn’t even try to pull away.

„Fuck,“ she breaths out, „It’s dye. It’s dye, right? It has to be.“

What a fucking bitch.

„Are you two going to kiss now?“ she asks with feigned innocence and they quickly let go of eachother.

„Shame.“

She smiles under Harriet’s glare that has sent multiple people running and Anthony defends himself before Harriet can start glaring at him too:

„It’s not dye,“ he says, „No matter how much I wish it is. Why does everyone think I’d lie to you? I’m not that suicidal,“ he complains.

„As you wish.“

Harriet’s lips on his shut him up.

„I still don’t trust you,“ she says into his lips, „Go wash your hands, so I can be sure.“

Over the sounds of splashing water, he can hear the girls hissing and snapping at each other: Harriet must be taking care to make sure the whole port doesn’t hear her for once.

He leaves the room to wash his hands even though he knows it will do exactly nothing

Some staggering steps – a thud that Anthony distinctly recognises as a body being violently pushed against the wall. More hissing and something that better not have been sighs.

He looks around for soap and scrubs his hands.

A yelp of pain. Fuck. Does he even want to know what happened?

He quickly shakes away the water and enters the room: There’s a bite mark at Harriet’s throat and Ginny’s lips are stained. She seems undisturbed otherwise, grinning at Harriet as she holds her by the throat and presses her against the wall.

„Anthony!“ Harriet yells and great, the whole port knows what is happening again.

„This bitch bit me!“

Come to think of it, by her standards, Harriet could be more upset, too.

„Oh, for evil’s sake,“ Anthony sighs, „I leave for thirty seconds and this is what happens?“

No reaction.

„Oh, come on. Look at yourself. We are fucked.“

They let go of eachother and go turn to Harriet’s mirror, which has been shattered in a fit of rage a long time ago. Which just means nothing much can hurt it anymore.

„Oh yes, we are fucked!“ exclaims Ginny, „This is not my shade at all!

„That’s what you’re worried about?! Look at me!“ Harriet furiously gestures around and just barely doesn’t hit Ginny in the face.

„Try to yell just a little bit louder, will you?“ he advises her with as much bite ashe can muster at the moment, „I don’t think they quite heard you by the Bargain Castle yet. Or in the Jungle, for that matter.“

„Oh, fuck off, Tremaine.“ If there is any hint of panic in her voice, it will be ignored by both of them.

Ginny is still busy inspecting the damage to her lips in the mirror, thus, she can be ignored too. She isn’t paying attention anyway.

„Calm down, sweetheart,“ he tells Harriet, well aware that he is risking his life with that sentence, „I’ll get you some concealer for that.“

It’s not like anything else can be done now, is it? 

Just conceal the marks and lie and hope it won’t happen again – pretend that fate isn’t that much of a bitch.

[roqueds]

⸻        meet    ADDISON   ROQUE.   the   english   teacher   at   glen   ellen   high   school   is   glen   ellen's   very   own     COMIC     who   has   been   in   town   for   thirty   years,        and   while   they   are   only   forty   seven,      they   can   be   very    IMPULSIVE      but   if   their   friends   mentioned   them,      you'd   think   they   were   more   DYNAMIC.     in   a   town   where   everyone   knows   everyone,      it's   hard   to   keep   a   secret,        but   i   think   the   killer   knows   that   [  REDACTED  ],        and   it's   bound   to   get   out   sometime   soon.

                            pinterest. musings. wanted connections.

full name    -—    addison josiah roque.  nicknames    -—     none, give him one! occupation    -—     high school english teacher.  age    -—     forty - seven.  date of birth    -—     august 23rd.  place of birth    -—     new york city, new york. gender    -—     cis man.

height    -—     6’2.   eye color    -—      blue.   hair color    -—      dirty blonde.  distinguishing features    -—      scarring on face from a car accident, fading since teenhood, but still visible. 

parents    -—    josepine roque ( n. brookes ) , 74. josiah roque, 75.  siblings    -—    arthur diaz, brother. sister, brother, brother, sister, sister, all 30+. wanted connections.   children  -—    2 children: 16 , 14. pets   -—    three golden retrievers: delilah, daisy & duke.

born  into  a  family  that  was  crammed  into  a  too-small  two-bedroom  new  york  city  apartment,  the  family  was  definitely  not  without  one  thing—love.  with  a  social  worker  mom  and  a  dad  who’s  a  big - shot judge,  it’s  easy  for  things  to  get  lost  in  the  fray—they  know  that  it’s  hard,  it’s  busy,  but  their  priorities  are  straight.  mom  around  every  day  and  packing  what  she  could  into  her  kids’  lunch  boxes,  dad  always  home  by  6  pm  on  the  dot.  a  family  in  routine  and  who  actively  liked  each  other.  yes.  the  constant  living  quarters  and  getting  on  each  other’s  nerves  didn’t  help  much,  but  it  was  fine.  siblings  got  along  as  siblings  do,  parents  loved  each  other,  and  that’s  all  it  took.  things  were  relatively  simple,  for  the  most  part—family  grows  and  so  does  addison.

for  what  it's  worth,  as  much  love  as  there  was  —  it  didn't  mean  it  wasn't  chaotic.  with  so  many  children  around,  addison  often  felt  …  out.  constantly  clawing  for  attention,  trying  to  do  anything  he  could  to  get  eyes  on  him.  while  his  siblings  were  more  laid  back,  easy  going,  addison  himself  was  all  about  having  fun.  while  that's  cute  for  a  kid  ----  as  he  got  older,  the  act  itself  aged  with  him.  doesn't  take  things  seriously,  or,  not  as  seriously  as  he  should.  a  jokester.  class  clown.  constant  trips  to  the  principals  office,  doing  anything  he  can  to  cause  chaos  or  even  just  a  laugh. 

life  was  disrupted  when  addison  was  17.  moving  from  the  big  bright  city  lights  to  glen  ellen  was  …  a  big  change.  it  was  hard,  for  a  little.  as  things  do,  they  got  better  —  but  not  without  fights  and  tears  and  all  that  teenage  angst.  being  uprooted  when  he’s  spent  his  entire  life  in  the  same  city  only  made  the  strain  he’d  been  feeling  worse,  and  caught  himself  in  the  wrong  crowd. spending  his  high  school  years  partying,  not  caring  about  grades,  doing  whatever  he  wanted.  it  was  fun.  it  was  easy.  until  it  wasn’t.  barely  sliding  by  and  graduating  by  the  skin  of  his  teeth  (   frankly,  his  parents  were  only  a  little  disappointed…   )   ,  it  leaves  the  big  question  as  soon  as  the  caps  fly  in  the  air:  what’s  next?  his  siblings  had  gone  off  to  large,  great  schools  —  it  was  assumed  that  thanks  to  the  new  school  they’d  been  brought  to  all  those  years  ago,  addison  doesn’t  know,  couldn’t  answer  that. 

his  first  year  as  an  actual  teacher  was  ..  a  disaster.  a  elementary  school  teacher  who  didn’t  know  what  he  was  doing,  really,  and  janine  teagues  would  have  a  run  for  her  money.  eventually,  however,  he  got  his  footing  —  but  decided  maybe  elementary  school  was  not  his  match.  soon  to  middle,  then  finally  landing  on  high  school.  the  teenagers  tend  to  like  when  their  energy  is  matched,  and  addison’s  snarky  attitude  and  laid  back  demeanor  makes  him  one  of  the  most  beloved  in  the  local  district.  it’s  easy  enough  to  keep  an  eye  on  his  students  (  and  his  own  kids,  in  the  halls  —  more  on  that  in  a  second  )  and  to  maintain  a  level  of  sanity  when  dealing  with  the  youngins.  it’s  fun,  honestly,  and  he  thinks  he  does  his  job  rather  well  –  he  even  has  time  to  bother  other  teachers,  much  to  their  dismay. 

has  never  been  serious  a  day  in  his  life.  and  that’s  ..  honestly,  kind  of  a  problem.  to  his  kids,  he’s  always  the  good  cop.  to his students  he’s  (  almost  )  always  willing  to  go  along  with  whatever  it  is  they  have  in  mind,  without  hurting  them  too  much.  to  other’s  his  age,  he  seems  immature  (  and  they're  right!  )  .  to  those  younger,  he  either  seems  really  cool  or  immature.  take  your  pick. 

almost  always  wearing  something  akin  to  a  letterman  jacket  or  a  graphic  t-shirt.  or  both,  for  a  dead  combination.  his  wardrobe  is  atrocious  and  truthfully  he  doesn't  see  it  as  much  of  an  issue  as  his  partner  does  —  has  fancy  shirts  and  dress  pants,  but  those  stay  hidden  in  the  back  of  the  closet  for  good  occasions.  aka,  when  he  has  to.  comfort  >  style. 

not  to  be  too  dad  coded,  but  his  family  is  his  life  &  he  means  that.  even  if  he  does  say  the  triplets  (  his  goldens,  delilah,  daisy  &  duke  )  are  his  favorites.  can   and   will   drop   everything   for   them,   even   to   his   own   detriment. has  a  soft  spot  for  a  certain  amount  of  people  —  he  constantly  is  in  dad  mode  and  isn't  entirely  sure  how  to  turn  it  off.  gives  advice  even  when  not  asked,  and  likes  to  tell  people  his  2  cents  anyway.  calls  people  kid  and  son  and  sport  unironically. he  can't  and  wont  stop�� so  don't  fight  it.

tries  to  keep  his  sarcasm  and  wit  to  himself  ..  most  of  the  time.  gentle  parenting  is  not  his  forte,  and  most  of  the  time,  will  tell  you  how  it  is,  straight  up  in  a  ..  less  harsh  way.  sometimes  it  works,  sometimes  it  doesn't. 

swears like a sailor, and doesn’t necessarily watch his mouth around kids. including his own. at the school it’s a different scenario, but at home? it’s a free for all and at this point he’s too tired to deal.

KEY PLAYERS : WANTED.

his partner. i imagine this as kind of a ying / yang type deal, where they’re very much not the kind of duo you expect to know each other, let alone have a life together. lots of funny banter except sometimes he says the wrong thing and fucks it up.

abbott elementary school crew. i think it’d be really funny. they can even have a group chat.

previous students who still like to fuck with him mostly because it’s funny but he feels like he needs to be a Good Adult in their life

people he’s taken under his wing. perhaps his dad senses were tingling. whichever, but now he checks up on them and sees how they’re doing and actually cares. older brother / hesitant parental figure.

neighboors  —  maybe  they  hate  his  dogs.  maybe  his  kid  started  blabbing  to  them  on the sidewalk.  idk.  world  is  our  oyster,  bruv.

people  who  don't  like  him  /  he  doesn't  like  them  -—  for  one  reason  or  another.  based  on  vibes,  perhaps.

people  he  knows  from  new  york  (  childhood  )  . 

siblings  —  as this is secret related, please shoot me a dm.

FRIENDS(?) sibling figures? haters and lovers? him rolling his eyes so far back in his head they get stuck? exasperated big brother , annoying little sibling vibe. despite it all, he considers them friends. or something like that. 

he has a big mouth and an even worse temper so he’s bound to craft some heavy enemies he said something he shouldn’t, maybe they did the same, perhaps a tussle over something stupid and trivial? maybe they caught a type of betrayal kind of vibe and now hate each other for eternity. 

[xfindingtrouble]

so in one of my recent posts, I mentioned that Percy has the mentality of ' how effective are my actions ' over ' how will my actions affect things ' & I wanted to dig a little deeper into that. so here we are.

we'll start with top 10 most brutal anime betrayals: Percy leaving Cassandra behind. he assumes she's dead without checking because this is the most effective course of action. in this moment of brutal survival, he chooses survival over emotion. there is of course the instinct to care for his sister, the desire to scoop her up & take her with him. but in reality, he knows that would have just gotten him caught or killed as well. he doesn't have time to weigh these decisions, he just makes one & it establishes this instinct if that makes sense? yes, the stakes are high but I feel like it speaks to such lengths that this is where he went when there was no time to think. he chooses the most effective path to change his present, to keep pushing on regardless of the implication of what that means. for not only him but also his sister if she WAS dead [ which she was, I just think Delilah brought her back but that is a conversation for another day ]

of course, we can't talk about Percy's decision-making process without bringing up his invention of ' The List ' as it is such a huge part of his character. it's stated over & over again that Percy knew what bringing guns into the world would do & he did it anyway because he knew he could use that kind of destruction to his advantage. In a time when he is powerless, he figures out a way to have power regardless of what it costs. for the bigger picture, for the people who would be affected by it, he didn't even read into what it would cost to create it. Of course, he didn't know his soul was in the mix but I don't think that would have deterred him. again its effect vs affect. if he's getting his revenge, why does he matter after that?

which we can sort of see through the Whitestone arc as he starts to understand that something is going on with his gun but chooses to use it anyways. we can see it super clearly in him giving Grog the cursed, talking sword because it can be used. in grog's hands, it's borderline unstoppable & vox machina can use that to their advantage. regardless of what it costs Grog or the people around him. which is soo ironic coming out of a place where he was fighting possession??? it's almost a moment of ' we no longer have THIS evil power so we need THIS one in its place'. bcs i have nooo doubt in my mind he would have kept using the list if scanlan shorthalt wasn't a genius. but the violence is a part of the appeal of it! because the violence adds to its effectiveness, the brutality means it will accomplish what he needs it to.

how could I make this post abt percy not thinking about the implications of things without mentioning the temple of the raven queen. exhibit (a) in how his impulsiveness hurts people. about how him having this tunnel vision surrounding what they can use to succeed, thus blinding him to how it can hurt the others involved. he see's this vestige, so close he can almost taste it & doesn't think about the implications of reaching out to take it. He gets vex killed! gets vax tangled up in the clutches of the raven queen! [ i think she would have got him regardless but percy was the spark that lit the fuse here ] & his inability to go ' wow how are people going to be affected by this ' hurts the person he wants to protect! the person he wants to impress! the person he wants to survive it all! it is the first real wake-up call when he looks at himself & reassesses how he does things but he simmers on things sooo long before approaching internal battles like that. the longer he can put it off, the better in his book. but this isn't sustainable, this doesn't work in the longevity of relationships!

then we're going to revisit his stance on weapons, again, because retort is a whollle big part of this too. he's looking at this weapon he can use to replace the one he's lost. to get that power back that he feels is no longer in his hand. he doesn't read between the lines because he doesn't want to see what they say. this attempt to avoid any emotions connected to wielding anna ripley's gun drive him to be impulsive, stupid & only look at how he can use this weapon. how effective it can be on the battlefield vs. any emotional backlash he can get from where it came from. this leaves a massive opening for ripley to continue listening to them through the weapon & actively work against vm. this being said, i do think this is The Big Moment where he realizes how this approach cannot be sustained. dying is just the kick in his ass that makes him think ' ok maybe i SHOULD do something about this

looking at the moment in bard's lament when he calls kaylie a miserable girl & threatens scanaln with being miserable like her. he doesn't think about the emotional implications of this. he doesn't think of kaylie who might hear him say this, he doesn't think of how it will affect scanlan. all he can think is 'How can i make him feel what i'm feeling' bcs he thinks, somehow, that will pave the path to scanlan wanting the same thing as him. but it doesn't work that way!! & logically he knows that, but that's not the instinct. the instinct is to lash out, to hit him back & hope it works. except it doesn't & for good fucking reason.

i also have the theory that he picked up this mentality from ripley & observed / mirrored it because he sees how effective it is & that is part of why he's like crippled emotionally. because if he reflects these bits of her, what is stopping him from reflecting other bits of her??? but again, that is another conversation for another day.

there are soo many more examples of this that i will probably dig into some other time but, to sum it up.. we know percy is willing to do some unconventional things. we know he operates in this moral grey area where he weighs his personal goals against the overarching good. he likes to choose good but it is not always the choice he can make. especially when looking at it from what he believes to be a logical place? which is not always the case.

but i think this place also comes from so long suppressing so much of himself. when he feels something, it often translates as fear which translates as frustration there is always this cycle when he gets emotionally invested in something that is sooo hard to beat. so instead he boils it down to what he can do with something, what he can accomplish if he throws those bits out of the window??? which is a habit he tries to break but is ingrained sooo deeply inside of him that all he can do is find a way to balance it. it is always going to be a tool in his arsenal he just learns how to wield it with more grace as he grows older, loses friends, understands his emotions so on & so forth. but anyways that's my two cents on the subject

[dogmovesout]

a confrontation featuring tristan tramp, delilah deare, and scamp tramp. location: lilah’s house, a few days after the talk scamp and tramp shared. @ladylilah // @scamperoo

Days had passed since Scamp had shown up at Tristan’s house and resparked the fight inside of the older man that he had forgotten after waking up the morning after the engagement party. Sure, he had hazy memories of arguing with Delilah and seeing his son for the first time in five years - but the exact details of what had happened during either of those encounters were lost. It wasn’t until Scamp was at his door that he remembered that his wife knew about his return and then he continued on and exposed every other thing that she had been telling the kids and hiding from him. Though the boy had given his own versions of explanations for what had happened, the conclusions that Tristan had jumped to on his own were seared into his mind. No actual amount of logic could be used that would convince him this was not somehow Lilah’s fault. Which was how he found himself, drunk as per usual once more on a day off, pulling into the driveway of his ex-wife’s new home. His youngest daughter’s keychain spun in his fingers as he approached and unlocked the front door with ease. It was around the time of day that Delilah was usually already home from work and Tristan knew for a fact Colette was out with friends tonight, so as he entered the home it wasn’t a surprise to find Lilah sitting on the couch with a pile of paperwork surrounding her on the coffee table.

Perhaps if she hadn’t been so engrossed in going over the latest documents sent by child protective services regarding Perdita and her children, Lilah would have heard the front door opening. Or maybe if she weren’t so used to the sound of her children coming and going throughout her home, she would have realized something was wrong. But as it was neither of those things happened and instead it wasn’t until Tristan was standing at the edge of her living room that Lilah finally noticed him. On instinct she was on her feet, taking a step away from the couch and trying to put herself into a more open space where she couldn’t be cornered. Because though he had yet to say a word and a fight had yet to start, she was familiar enough with this situation to know it was coming. Between the look on his face, the way in which he held himself, and the simple fact that he had purposefully snuck in here without giving her any warning - Lilah knew what it all meant. “What are you doing here?” There was no point in asking the question when she already knew the answer - but anything she could do to potentially stall was worth it. Sometimes yelling was all he needed, if she asked enough questions and got him to speak enough of whatever was on his mind… sometimes that could be enough.

“I talked with Scamp the other day,” is how he starts, taking slow steps further into the living room at first - ones that Lilah matches with her own to keep as much distance between them as she could. A better man would see the way in which she behaved like a caged in animal, being hunted down like a piece of prey. A better man would feel guilty for the fact that his mere presence alone had her already on edge. A better man wouldn’t feel so victorious and righteous in this situation. But Tristan Tramp was not that kind of man. “He told me about your little mommy-son dates… And all about his new job, you know, working for Hopper.”  And it was with that reveal that Tristan acted.

Feet moving with far more agility than they likely should have been able to considering the alcohol in his system, Tristan moved across the room in a flash. The last few steps that Lilah had taken to keep distance between themselves had failed her, leaving her too close to the wall, an advantage from him that Tristan was quick to take notice of. Before she could do anything other than tense up and prepare for whatever blow was coming her way, Lilah found her head slamming into the living room wall with a hand wrapped around her neck and the weight of Tristan’s body pressed into hers to keep her in place. She wasn’t even entirely sure what her offense was this time, but the ringing in her ears from the collision with the wall and the pressure on her neck kept her from being able to ask. Not as if Tristan was giving her a moment to get a word in edgewise anyway.

“How long have you been fucking Hopper again? Or did you just never stop?” His face was right in her own, the stench of alcohol reeking from his breath, as he threw out the accusations. The hold he had on her neck tightened and though Lilah’s own hands reached up to try to pull him away it was no use, her nails digging into his forearm did nothing to stop him. “I gave up everything for you - I took your fucking child and raised her as my own. I cleaned up all your fucking mistakes and this is what I get? For you to just throw me aside and run right back to him?”

Scamp should have expected to see his father’s car in the driveway sometime during the week he was staying there, knowing how insane Tristan Tramp could be, and it was then that the promise he’d made to himself was coming true. He told himself he would never hurt his father unless he first had hurt his mother or one of his sisters, and from the moment he could see through the window of Lilah’s front door, Scamp could tell what he’d swore just a few days ago was already being put to the test. His father was smart enough to lock the door behind him, and Scamp fumbled with his key, swinging the door open swiftly the second it unlocked.

There was so much more he wanted to say but before he could, the front door flew open with a bang and his head whipped around to see none other than his son entering the living area. The sight of Scamp has Tristan loosening his hold just enough without realizing it that Lilah finally can get the upper hand and shove him away, taking advantage of his confused state to push at him hard enough that the man actually falls to the ground. Fumbling away herself in the direction of Scamp, one hand comes to hold at her neck while the other attempts to grab at her son to keep him back. “Go,” she croaks out as best she can, though from the flare of rage she can practically feel radiating off of the boy, she doubts he’ll listen. But she has to try - because this right here, the kids seeing what Tristan was really like or getting involved in all of this, was the last thing Lilah had ever wanted.

The sight before Scamp was one he’d only imagined before, had nightmares about, even. Tristan’s grip was on his mother’s neck, and any forgiving thought he ever had about his father left with the first kick to his gut. Scamp had never been entirely above hitting someone when they were already down, especially not when the job was to finish them off. While he thought he heard an order from his mother to leave, all that rung in Scamp’s ears were the insults his father had thrown at him about Lilah the other day. Every ounce of patience he had then and at the party was gone and spent. With Tristan already on the hardwood, Scamp’s job had become relatively easy: he was used to delivering final blows, when men were already past the point of injury that Hopper considered it safe enough to step in. This was hardly the first time Tristan had ever been beaten up in his life and he knew it likely wouldn’t be the last, but having the blows come from his own son made this different. His drive to fight back was lessened, even just the smallest amount, and it was because of that hesitation that Tristan didn’t stand a chance. His opening to try to get up or to get the upper hand again had passed before he could take it, leaving him on the ground with no choice but to take hit after hit.

Tristan’s body had curled in pain after the first kick, but Scamp was far from finished. Instead of simply resorting to a weapon, he fought with his fists, wanting his father to feel every blow that came from his own hands. He pulled Tristan’s head inches off the ground as Scamp gripped his collar, a sight now familiar after the other day, when this had only been a threat. “I warned you,” he reminded him, his voice low enough that he hoped his mother couldn’t hear. “You stupid piece of shit.” He’d already seen enough fear from his father the first time Scamp had held him like this that he didn’t waste a second this time relishing in the sight now. With a hand still grasping his shirt, Scamp used the other to deliver a punch to the jaw, as he’d promised would come. He’d waited years for this, for an excuse to release his anger physically on the man who had caused him the most pain. Doing this for work had never been the same, as no fight had ever come with the level of anger he felt for his father now. At the first sight of blood from  Tristan’s nose, Scamp felt both a sting of guilt and pain from his fist, but he knew his father should consider himself lucky that the blows were coming from his own son, not his boss. Had Hopper found them like this, he would’ve been dead with a bullet through the head already.

With his eyes beginning to glaze over and swell from bruises blossoming, Scamp knew it was time to stop. From the years of getting people to this state, where they’d barely survive as they toed the line of death, Scamp knew his father would be past the point of no return soon. Had his mother not been standing behind him, likely watching in horror, he would’ve kept going until there was no light in Tristan’s eyes ever again, but he couldn’t leave Lilah with blood on her hands, nor did he want to have to tell his sisters that he’d killed their father. When Scamp had threatened him the other day, Tristan had thought nothing of it, and now he was paying the price for underestimating his son. No words came out of him, any argument he may have wanted to make to defend himself were lost between punches. And then the world went blurry until it finally faded as he passed out, his head dropping with a thud on the ground with absolutely no awareness.

As much as Lilah wanted to close her eyes and pretend like none of this was happening right now, she couldn’t. Not when there was a chance that Tristan could get up and turn the anger that had just been directed at her moments before onto their son. Because despite knowing she would easily be overpowered by either or both men, she refused to not at least be ready to jump in if needed. To help prevent anything from happening to Scamp, even if it meant taking the blows herself, as she always has done. But it seemed that wasn’t necessary. And when Tristan’s head hit the floor and it became clear that this fight was over, only then did Lilah step in. “Sammy,” she starts, her throat still feeling raw as she forced the words out. Bruises would likely be forming around her neck already, but the only concern she gave to that was a passing thought of how she would need to break out her turtlenecks again. She didn’t have time to stop and think or take in whatever damage was done to herself, not with her son standing in front of her with markings of his own across his hands. Stepping forward, she doesn’t hesitate in wrapping an arm around his shoulders and moving to guide him away from the unconscious man on the floor. “Come on, I have a first aid kit in my room.”

As he turned back to his mother, Scamp only then noticed the bright red ring around her neck, undoubtedly from his father’s own hands. He’d only stepped out for a few hours for work, knowing that the possibility of this happening was far too likely for him to ignore when he’d left Tristan’s apartment. How he’d gotten inside and what he’d said to Lilah weren’t questions he could ask now, only taking the arm around his shoulder as permission to embrace her entirely. “I’m so sorry,” he managed, careful as he held his mother tightly, as though she were fragile. He should’ve gotten there sooner, or not even left her in the first place, but what mattered now was that Tristan couldn’t hurt her any more, not while he remained unconscious on the floor. Scamp suddenly felt sheepish, the first sign of embarrassment as he peeked at his father over Lilah’s head, like a child who had made a mess for his mother to clean. “Are you okay? Did he do anything else?” he asked, only taking a step back to examine his mother for more injuries. From the ease with which she’d shoved him away, Scamp had the sinking feeling that this wasn’t the first time this had happened between his parents; he’d already had suspicions back from when he was a teenager, but only now had his fears been confirmed. “I’m fine, Mom, I--it’s nothing,” Scamp assured her, it wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before. “We should get you ice.” Before she could protest, Scamp was already in her kitchen, reaching for the freezer.

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation before Lilah’s arms fully wrapped around her son when he turned to her embrace. One hand reaching up to stroke gently at his hair, a motion so familiar even after all these years, while the other held onto him tightly as if she were afraid he would try to go back and continue this fight. “Oh honey, you have nothing to be sorry for,” she’s quick to correct him, frowning herself as her own guilt begins to grow. He shouldn’t be the one trying to comfort her, that wasn’t how this worked - she was his mother and she was supposed to protect him from moments like this. To keep him away from the ugly truth of who his father was deep down. None of this was supposed to happen in front of him and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be the one apologizing for anything. “I’m okay, really, dear. It was nothing.” Though she knows it was in fact not nothing and that Scamp wasn’t going to believe her for a second, not after having actually witnessed the violence this time around, Lilah wasn’t ready to just admit everything to him. No, the brave front had to stay on. It wouldn’t be fair or right for her to do anything else. Which is why she continued to protest, even when in a flash Scamp was out of her arms and moving towards her kitchen. “No, no - Sammy, I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about me.” Following behind him, Lilah grabs his arm gently as he starts to dig around in the freezer for something to help with her neck. It was a sweet gesture and if it had been anyone other than any of her kids trying to help her, she likely would have allowed it. But this wasn’t the way things worked. She was supposed to look after him, not the other way around. “That wasn’t nothing. This,” she pauses to reach down and take his hand in her own to get a better look at whatever damage there may be. “Isn’t nothing.”

As he pulled an ice pack out of his mother’s freezer, Scamp jerked his own hand away from hers, not a single thought of his on how his fist might be doing while Lilah had wounds around her neck. “Mom, it’s nothing,” he insisted, keeping himself in motion as he avoided her stopping his unwanted help. He’d gotten remarkably good at treating wounds from his time doing it for his coworkers, and knew that the cuts on his hands would be gone within a day or two. His mother’s scars, though, would take more time and care. “Here, you need to put this on,” he instructed, handing her the ice pack, “but keep this under it,” Scamp added, taking a towel off the kitchen counter. He knew his mother wasn’t the kind to accept help from many people, especially not her children, but she was in far worse shape than he was now. She was the one who had nearly been choked to death had he not shown up when he did. “We don’t need to talk about it now, but … we should, eventually.” Scamp knew it would take more than just this suggestion to get his mother to talk about how this had happened, why his father had thought it was acceptable to get so physical with her in the first place, but he couldn’t just pretend like he hadn’t seen this happen. “For now, we need to get him on the porch, and lock the door.” He was turning to the mode that his time working for Hopper had prepared for, seamlessly shifting his focus from his mother to taking care of business. “He’ll be fine. He’s just going to look like shit for a few days, but nothing’s broken, and he’ll recover.” Not that Scamp cared, but he was sure his mother would, as it seemed that she couldn’t stop caring about a man who deserved none of her sympathy.

“It’s not nothing, Sam. None of what just happened was nothing,” she argues, the closest she’s going to get any time soon to admitting that she herself was not okay either. And despite the way everything in her screamed that he shouldn’t have to be doing this, that Scamp shouldn’t feel the need to be helping take care of her right now, Lilah takes the wrapped ice pack and gently presses it against her neck. There’s an instinctive flinch and a small involuntary hiss that leaves her lips at the feeling of any pressure being placed upon the wound, but that’s the only giveaway she is going to show at just how badly Tristan had hurt her. It takes a moment for her to adjust to the feeling of the ice on her neck, slow breaths coming out of her before she ever so slightly shakes her head in disagreement with him. She wasn’t going to vocalize her argument that she wasn’t going to talk to him about this, not wanting to give him any room to potentially decide that the conversation needed to happen now. Instead she turned to look back at Tristan’s unconscious form on the floor and thought over every option they had for what to do with him. “No, the neighbors will question it. And your sister comes home in a few hours, he can’t still be here when she does. I can call one of his friends to come get him.”

As much as he wanted his father to lay outside in the cold, embarrassed when someone undoubtedly came by to find him on the porch, Scamp had to at least respect this one of his mother’s wishes. She had always been worried about what their neighbors had thought of their family when he was younger, and she was right about Colette, though Scamp also thought it might be good for her to see their father like this, after all. “Fine,” he agreed, and while Lilah settled with the ice he’d given her, Scamp went back to Tristan, who still had yet to wake up. He hooked his fists under his father’s arms to drag him across the floor, at least leaning him against the stairs for now. Blood still dripped down his face, and he was certain his eyes would be swollen shut for at least a day or two. Scmp looked back toward his mother and slid his phone out of his pocket, dialing a number he hadn’t needed to use before. “Is this Oogie? It’s Scamp--Samuel Tramp. My dad needs your help.”

[unicyclehippo]

Hey, if you still want imodna prompts, raise and/or arise? Love your work (especially he most recent ones)!

forgive me, brain broken, im just gonna do a couple real quick things as fast as i can

//

‘do you think we should talk to her about it?’

orym, of course. ever cautious, ever sensible. it’s not a word she used to think synonymous with kind but it is now. it’s sensible to make sure everyone is safe and warm. it’s sensible to protect your friends with your body, if you’re faster, tougher. it’s sensible to make sure they are alright. imogen doesn’t think these things have much to do with sense but orym does; his mind is built so thoroughly on duty and care that kindness is as sensible to him as making sure his sandals are nice and snug.

‘about what?’

‘what she went through. what we went through to get her. literally. imogen, we went through her mind. or her memories, maybe? and—‘ he sighs. ‘i knew most of it already and she told me some, but i don’t think she’d told the others much about it. about what happened to her. she’s private. as - as eye-catching as she is,’ he says with a curl of a grin, ‘she’s private about things that hurt.’

‘i know that.’ imogen doesn’t mean for it to come out sharp but it does. the words have a heat to them because of course she knows. orym has travelled with laudna for all of a month; she’s been with her for two years. of course she knows. tempering her tone, imogen says, ‘i know. but she hasn’t brought it up and i get the impression she wants to forget about it. and unless she tells me otherwise, i’m gonna follow her lead. about all of this.’

orym frowns but nods. ‘i won’t bring it up.’ he adds, with a stubborn set to his chin and thoughts, ‘i still think you should.’

‘orym-‘

‘when it comes to laudna, you’re different. she’ll talk to you,’ he insists.

‘it has to be her choice.’

‘then give her that choice.‘ he takes a breath. braces himself. ‘now isn’t the time to be a coward, imogen temult.’

for a second after he says that, all she can hear is the roll and crash of thunder in her ears; when it dies down, when she lets her breath out nice and slow, she realises it was her own angry pulse and lets it fade and fade, opens her hands out of the fists they’ve formed at her sides. she turns on her heel and storms away. it’s tempting to glare at him but from the way her eyes feel hot and dry, they might have been without a halfling if she had. better to walk away.

she goes to laudna. of course she does. orym’s question, suggestion, prodding aside, imogen is always wanting to go to laudna. it’s been three days and she’s mostly recovered—physically, at least—but laudna seems to be dealing with it far better than imogen.

each morning, grief loops around her neck, her throat, and only eases up its strangling hold when imogen lays her eyes and hands on laudna. each moment of the day, she’s looking for her. she wants to slip into whatever space delilah hollowed out in laudna’s mind and fill it, leave a portion of her mind tucked away inside of laudna’s, always. it’s sick and wrong and awful. and yet, imogen wants it so badly. feels the want physically, nearly drooling with it, tongue to teeth, hands clenching tight to her skirt to keep from reaching out and taking.

there had been a moment, the day after laudna was raised, when they had been alone and imogen had woken to a cold, still body. terror dropped her walls and she had plunged into laudna’s mind. like diving off the cliffs into a cold lake. she wants to be there always, in the cold and dark and strange stagnant waters. wants to take laudna’s mind into her, open her mouth and drink it, fill her lungs with it. wants to know laudna inside and out—wants to take her apart, set her memories out, chronological, beside scarred skin and bones to look for fractures and breaks, beside organs, blood, gristle and guts, beside whatever form her magic would take. wants to know it all like these physical things might contain every secret every moment of laudna.

she had left laudna’s mind in an instant. hadn’t seen anything, hadn’t looked for anything. she wants to return, always. to her side, to her mind.

so she does.

‘hello!’ laudna smiles brightly when she enters the room. she’s perched on the edge of the bed, packing everything away neatly as she always does. ‘is it time to go?’

the walk has eased most of her fury. a few lavender sparks crackle at the ends of her fingers, in her curling hair. she wills it to stop, and smiles back.

‘no. take your time. i just—‘ she touches her head.

laudna coos, sympathetic. ‘too much?’

‘mm.’

‘sit, sit, let me get you some water.’

not all her irritation has left; it comes out, makes laudna’s name harsh when she goes to stop her from standing.

‘just—you don’t have to do that,’ imogen hurries to say. ‘i should be taking care of you, not the other way ‘round.’

laudna blinks big, black eyes. quietly, she says, ‘i just want you to be alright.’

‘i know.’ imogen steps deeper into the room, and then makes up her mind—damn orym—and crosses it entirely, sitting beside laudna on the bed. ‘it’s important that you rest, though.’

‘y-es, of course,’ laudna demurs, lowers her head.

imogen tucks a finger under it. lifts it, with a smile. ‘hey,’ she whispers. ‘please? let me take care of you?’

‘imogen-‘

‘please.’

‘of course i do, i will,’ she says, and fritters with her skirts, fingers crooked tangling when imogen only looks at her, pleading, waiting for her to mean it entirely. for as long as it might take. ‘such a rotten task, caring for someone like me,’ laudna whispers. ‘dead twice over.’

imogen shakes her head, a tight sharp movement. hardly enough to convey how much she disagrees with that. she’d like to explode everything around them to show the force of her denial.

‘no. no. it’s not, not to me. it’s -‘ she swallows. ‘everything. please, let me.’

laudna nods slowly. holds her hands out for imogen, who takes them. rubs sore knuckles. presses a kiss to those aching joints.

‘i’d like to talk to you about it. at some point. whenever you like. i want - to do it right. and i don’t know what that is. but i want—‘ she shakes her head again. ‘however you feel about it, i want to hear it and know. and help. i should’ve told you that when you - when you woke up. sorry,’ she adds, a little awkwardly.

it’s hard to talk, she finds, when she’s holding laudna and her heart both in her hands.

[cherrycola27]

Styx and Stones

Part 1

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine" -Casablanca

Pairing: Rooster x OC Delilah Grace "Styx" Mitchell

Warnings: Language, drinking allusion to Smut with eventual smut. Mentions of cheatinf Mentions of a character wanting to unalive themselves. 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this!

"Remember Rooster, you miss this and the next round is on you." Hangman teased as Rooster circled the table preparing to take his shot in the pool game the two friends were playing. "Hangman if you could kindly shut the fuck up so I can concentrate that would be great." Rooster shot back.

"Hey, no one gets to tell my husband to shut the fuck up besides me Bradshaw!" Phoenix chasted him while handing Jake a beer. Hangman returned the favor with a passionate kiss.

"Get a room you two." Rooster scolded bending over to take his shot. "Bradshaw if you don't take a shot soon I'm going to start playing 'Slow Ride' and we both know how much you love that song." Hangman joked with him.

Rooster lined up his pool cue, just as he was about to hit the ball he looked over the pocket and saw someone her never thought he would see again saunter through the doors of the Hard Deck. The unexpected distraction caused Bradley to miss his shot completely.

Jake jumped up excitedly but his victory was short lived when he looked over and saw Roosters eyes fixed on the woman in the black dress and dark red lipstick standing by the bar. She perched her aviators atop her head and gave Penny a warm hug. Obviously the two women knew each other.

"Who is that?" Hangman asked looking a Rooster.

"You know her?" Phoenix asked

"I used too." Rooster stated with a touch of sorrow in his voice.

"That my friends is Lieutenant Comander Delilah Grace Mitchell. She's Maverick's niece who he helped raised after his brother and wife, her parents died in a car accident when we were 13. She is or was an old friend of mine." Rooster told them

"She's a Navy girl?" Phoenix asked taking note of the rank Rooster told them this mystery woman had.

"She's a pilot." He told her. "She's pretty good too... you might know her better by her callsign... Styx"

"Styx?!" Hangman said shocked. "As in seven confirmed kills, shows no mercy, the only think between you and death is her... Styx?"

"Yup. That's her." Rooster replied. "She was also the first girl to break my heart."

"Wait, is she the one that got away that you told us about?" Phoenix asked trying to figure out the history between her friend and this girl.

"Yeah, she is. I can't believe she's here though. Last time I talked to her she was on the east coast, she was supposed to get married to some Navy officer out there..." Rooster trailed off, the memory of the last time he had spoke to Delilah was too painful for him to mention.

She had broken up with him years ago, the day he was going to propose to her, even though she didn't know it, because she didn't want anyone around to mourn her when she died except for Mav. Then a year later she calls to tell him she's getting married, Rooster had lost it that night, he almost crashed his Bronco because of how upset he was.

"So you haven't talked to her in awhile I'm guessing?" Hangman asked. "It's been two years I think." Bradley replied. "I gotta get out of here yall. This is too much." Rooster stated grabbing his things.

But before he could make it to the door a familiar hand pressed to his shoulder and stopped him

"Bradley Alexander Bradshaw, I know you don't think you are about to leave this bar without speaking to me." Styx said looking up at him with the same green eyes that caused his heart to melt.

Rooster sighed knowing he had been caught in his attempt to leave before she saw him. "Hey there Delilah... I see you decided to leave New York City."

"Still got jokes I see Bradley, glad to see the Navy hasn't changed your sense of humor." Delilah laughed. "Well are you just going to stand there or are you going to give your best friend a hug?" She asked him.

Best friend.... so that's what we are calling it Rooster thought. He quickly bent down and gave her an awkward side hug. "Why don't you stay awhile and have a drink or two with me?" Styx asked him while making her way over to the bar. Rooster shot a pleading glance towards his friends who were watching by the pool table but no one was about to save him.

"So I bet you're wondering why I'm here in North Island aren't you?" Delilah asked as soon as they sat down, Penny placed two beers infront of them and gave Rooster a knowing glance.

"Yeah and I'm wondering if you have a new last name yet." Rooster said taking a long sip. "No, I don't. I left Dameon after I went to his apartment one day and walked in and saw him balls deep in some blonde. I didn't even let him explain himself. I grabbed my shit, pawned the ring, bought a plane ticket and ended up on Mav and Penny's door step at 2am about 6 months ago." Styx told him not mincing words.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry that happened to you." Rooster apologize to her. "It's not your fault he wanted to fuck around. Guess that's what I get for breaking my 'No one to mourn me rule'." Styx shrugged.

"Oh yeah because that's such a great rule to have. It must be so nice going through life with no friends, no one besides Penny and Mav to love you." Rooster rolled his eyes.

"What exactly are you trying to say Bradshaw?" Delilah raised her voice slightly.

"I'm just saying you must have a lonely existence, but if it helps you sleep at night, whatever floats your boat." Bradley retorted.

"Oh, because you live such a great life Rooster? I don't see you having anyone special in your life." Styx shot back.

"I may not have a girl right now, but that's not because I'm afraid to let someone love me. Like you are." He sneered at her.

"What the fuck did you just say to me? I am not afraid to let someone love me Bradshaw. Watch yourself." Styx challenged him.

"Oh my GOD Delilah, you are still just as fucking hard headed as ever!" Rooster growled slamming his beer down on the the bar top. "Excuse me?" She shot back staring him down.

"You do this ever time you get hurt, make up excuses as to why it happened. And God forbid you ever let anyone get close to you." He pushed back turning to face.

"Just what the fuck do you mean by that Bradley?" She challenged.

"I mean every time someone breaks down these 10 foot thick walls you have built around yourself you run or self-sabotage just like you did to us." Rooster stated leaning down to her.

"Oh here we go again, you are still mad that we broke up. So what, are you happy Dameon cheated on me? That I got my karma?" Delilah yelled moving to stand up.

"No, I'm not happy he did that to you, you didn't deserve that, but I will say I never would have cheated on you. I loved you Delilah don't you get that? The first time you broke my heart into a million fucking pieces, the day YOU ended things, I had a ring in my pocket, I was going to fucking propose to you! And you left me, you pushed me away because you were scared that you had let someone get too close. And then a year later you call me up and tell me you're on the East Coast and engaged?! That was the second time you broke my heart. God I was so mad at you that night I wanted to drive my Bronco off a cliff! Hell I almost did, because dying would have been easier than living in a world where Deliah Mitchell didn't love me back like I loved her!" Rooster was seething as he finished his rant.

Several people were watching the interaction between the two ex lovers but he didn't care. Styx opened her mouth to speak but Rooster quickly cut her off by turning on his heels and bolting out of the bar.

Delilah got up to follow him but as she walked out the door, she saw his familiar blue Bronco speed out of the parking lot.

Rooster slammed on the gas as he peeled out of the Hard Deck. He wiped a few stray tears out of his eyes because he refused to shed anymore tears over her, he had done plenty of that three years ago.

Rooster pulled into his small bungalow on the beach. He quickly went inside and slammed the door. He went straight to his bedroom and to his dresser.

He opened the fourth drawer and there behind his socks were two things he had hidden away for the past three years that he couldn't bear to get rid of.

He pulled out the small black velvet box and opened it. The engagement ring he had purchased for Delilah years ago still sparked as it looked back at him.

He pulled it out of the box and looked at the inscription inside the band "For Eternity My Love" a promise that he and Delilah had once exchanged when they expressed how long they would love each other.

Rooster then looked at the second item in his drawer: a picture of Delilah and him from early in their relationship. It was from a barbecue that Maverick and Penny had hosted. They were both laughing at something Maverick had said. Delilah's arms were wrapped tightly around Roosters neck and her head was thrown back laughing with the biggest smile on her face.

Rooster looked at the ring and the picture. He wished he could get rid of them. He longed to tear up that old photo and pawn the ring, but everytime he tried to do either, he could never bring himself to do it.

Rooster felt his eyes being to water. "No," he whispered to himself "No more tears over her.... she made her choice." Rooster quickly shoved the items back in his drawer and grabbed his night clothes. He took a long hot shower and then collapsed in his bed.

Delilah quietly made her way into her aunt and uncles house.

"So I heard you are already making friends with Rooster again." Maverick's voice came from behind her. Delilah sighed and turned around to face her uncle.

"So I take it Penny told you about our conversation." She said. "Well, your aunt called me as soon as you left and told me about the fight you and Rooster had in her bar." Maverick told her.

"Tell her I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause a scene, he just struck a nerve I guess." Styx admitted to him. "I'm sorry kid, but you two are going to have to put your differences aside if you are going to work together." Maverick said.

"I know. I'll get it together I promise." Delilah stated. "Uncle Pete, can I asked you something... and I need you to be totally honest with me, even if you think it will hurt my feelings?" She asked her uncle.

"Of course Del, what's going on?" Maverick looked at her concerned.

"When we were arguing, Rooster told me something... he said the day I broke up with him, he said that he was going to propose to me. Did you know? Did you know he was going to propose to me Mav?" Delilah looked at him waiting for him to answer.

"I, kid, I... yes, yes I did know Delilah. He asked me for his blessing a few weeks before, I even helped him pick out the ring." Maverick confessed.

"Mav! You knew!? And you still let me break up with him and them move across the country and get engaged to someone else a year later?!" Styx was shocked, angry, and confused all at the same time. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes.

"Would it have made a difference of I had told you? Would you have stayed? Delilah... do you still love him?" Maverick asked his niece.

"I, I, I do. Oh my God Maverick I do still love him. Jesus Christ I fucked up, I fucked up big time." The tears she had been fighting streamed down her face. Pete pulled her into a hug.

"Pete, what do I do? I really messed up and now he probably hates me." Delilah looked to her uncle for answers.

"Delilah, I don't know what to tell you except you have to be honest with him, and with yourself. That's how I got your aunt back." Maverick imposed his wisdom on her.

"And Del, if there is one thing I know about Rooster, I know he doesn't hate you. Honestly the day he found out you were engaged, he showed up on my doorstep a mess. He was drunk out of his mind holding a picture of the two of you and the ring he bought you. He went on and on about how it wasn't fair, that it should have been him, and how it might just be easier to end it all then to live in a world where you didn't love him. It really broke him sweetheart. So I know he doesn't hate you. And if I'm being honest I think he might still love you too." Maverick assured her.

Delilah took in everything that Maverick had told her. She gathered herself and made her way upstairs to her bedroom.

After a quick shower she went to her dresser and grabbed an old worn out Navy tee shirt. She slipped it over her head and inhaled deeply... it still smelled like Rooster even after God knows how many washes, the fabric still hung onto his familiar woody, spicy, sweet scent.

Delilah laid down on her bed and pulled the blanket over her body. As sleep found her she pondered everything that had happened today and wondered if it would be possible to fix the mistake she made all those years ago.

Hope yall enjoyed this! I'm excited to tell this story. As always let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Tag List: @bradleyrbradshaw @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87