#someone please translate the Latin names so I didn’t do all this for nothing

[hahaweevil]

Well, technically no. Here’s a simple breakdown.

ok but frfr been meaning to ask, this you?

(source from the lemmings)

Yes.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Halloween Honey [Emily x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@ancientsstudies) Center (@zendobx) Right (@iambrochella)

Prompt: Emily introduces the reader to the team at Derek’s townhome on Halloween night. After they get back to Emily’s apartment, they take their relationship to the next level. 

Pairing: Emily x female presenting reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns 

Category: Fluff/smut 

Word Count: 6.5K 

A/N: Content Warnings below the cut. This is an 18+ story. Minor’s DNI. Please respect that boundary. Good evening and Happy Halloween!!! I hope you are all having a fun and safe Halloween. This is the third installation of my informal Emily Prentiss x reader series. Parts I and II can be found (here) and (here).  I thought that it was about time that the reader got to know Emily’s friends, aka the BAU team. You could also read this as a stand-alone. The only background I think you need is that the reader is an intern for a senator. The title is based on Derek’s infamous line in the show. I hope you all like this and have a good night. If you do enjoy it, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love - Levi. 

P.S. The Latin is just a mistranslation of the rite of exorcism. It's Google translated, so it might be wrong.

Content Warnings: Sex (Emily and reader receiving [oral - Emily and fingering - reader]), the reader has some anxiety, a horror movie is watched/discussed (The Conjuring), brief mention of dead bodies, light drinking. If I missed any, please let me know. 

List with all stories

_y/n_ = you name 

_l/n_ = your last name 

_y/f/s_ = your favorite senator 

_f/j/t_ = your favorite jewel tone 

_y/f/s/t_ = your favorite shoe types - aka, heels, sneakers, creepers, loafers, etc. 

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color 

Emily and _y/n_ were cruising down the road. A Florence + The Machine Spotify playlist was on shuffle playing from the stereo. It was quiet for a moment, and Emily briefly looked over and took her eyes off the road to look at her partner. _y/n_ was twisting one of the rings on her left hand, looking at her fingers with an apparent, deep interest. Prentiss focused on the road again and asked, “_y/n_, what’s on your mind? You seem a bit preoccupied.” _y/n_ flushed slightly. She looked at Emily, who was softly illuminated by the lights on the dashboard. When Emily told her more about the actual science behind profiling. She particularly stated, “It’s nothing like NCIS or CSI. Though the team's cases might look interesting and sound exciting, the real thing’s no fun at all. It’s just stress and dead bodies..” _y/n_ had nodded along. She understood where Emily was coming from. _y/n_ often got the same response when she told anyone that she worked in politics. Someone was always bound to say, “Oh, so like Parks and Rec?” with an uninformed laugh. She normally didn’t correct them. It wasn’t worth the work. Thinking back to the conversation with Emily, she had asked, “So, are microexpressions real? Can you tell if someone’s lying or not?” Prentiss had thought for a moment, and replied, “Well microexpressions are real, and there is a science behind it, but I think they're exaggerated in the media. Those expressions are just there on the face for a millisecond. Unless it’s on film, people can’t really see them. There’s only one person I know who might be able to use microexpressions as a defense.” This had piqued _y/n_’s interest, and she asked, “Who is it?” Em laughed and said, “Aaron, our Unit Chief.” _y/n_ nodded along. She was slowly getting to know more about the team. Their names, of course, and smaller things like the normal roles they took in cases, and their personalities. Emily had promised that _y/n_ would like JJ and Garcia, and she was looking forward to meeting them. Emily had promised _y/n_ early on in their relationship that she wouldn’t profile her. But it didn’t take a profiler for Em to tell that _y/n_ was anxious about something. Finally, _y.n_ replied, “What if they don’t like me? The team? They sound so smart and talented. And if they’re anything like you, well then that just confirms it. I’m just boring old me, ya know.” 

Emily briefly turned to look at _y/n_ and took her right hand off the steering wheel. Em placed it on _y/n_’s hands, stilling the nervous tick of twisting the rings on her fingers. When _y/n_’s hands were calm, Emily moved her hand to _y/n_’s shoulder. She quickly checked the road before returning her gaze to her partner. The slightly worried look painted _y/n_’s face in the way her brows were pressed together and the tension in her lips. Prentiss let out the smallest of breaths and replied, “_y/n_, you’re wonderful and beautiful, and kind, and you’ve been so good to me. You’ve been patient and loving, and you understand when I’m stressed and need space.” When Em was sure _y/n_ was listening, she focused on the road but continued speaking. She said, “The team is going to love you. Penelope and JJ have been dying to meet you, and I know that you and Spencer could probably write a dozen books together. Yes, the people on the team are smart, but you are wickedly intelligent about the law and handling people. Getting them to listen to you. This isn’t a contest; I want you to get to know the other people in my life.” At Emily’s encouraging words, _y/n_ relaxed. She felt better after being hyped up by Em. “Thanks, Em. I needed that.” Emily smiled and said, “Anytime, love.” Emily could feel _y/n_’s gaze on her. She could feel _y/n_ beaming at her, and she felt slow warmth pool in her stomach and drip downwards. _y/n_ was a very affectionate person. She loved physical touch. Emily was less so, but they had started a few routines that met both their needs for touch. They would hold hands under the table at dinner, and as they walked down the street from various cafes, art museums, and curio shops, Emily would snake her arm around _y/n_’s back, holding her waist securely. 

It was only a few minutes later that they arrived outside Derek’s townhouse. Emily recognized Garcia’s and Spencer’s cars parked right out front. Emily parallel parked, and once her keys were out of the ignition, she turned to look at _y/n_. _y/n_’s eyes were shining in the darkness, and Prentiss couldn’t stop the grin that she gave_y/n_ as she said, “Come here you.” They both leaned forward over the center console and kissed. As their lips met, their breath on the other’s face made them flush. Their lips were a bit tacky as Emily was wearing matte red lipstick and _y/n_ was wearing a glossy black lip. The kiss turned a bit more passionate, and Emily threaded her hands through _y/n_’s hair. _y/n_ similarly put her hands around Emily’s neck. When they pulled apart for breath, they both could feel the sexual tension in the cab of the car. Emily cleared her throat and asked, “You ready to go in there?” _y/n_ smiled and said, “I am, but maybe you should look at your mouth first?” Emily looked at _y/n_ quizically before _y/n_ turned on the lights in the car and pulled down the visor with the mirror. Emily flushed when she realized that some of _y/n_’s lipstick had transferred to her mouth. Emily spluttered slightly and fished around in her purse. She found some tissues and removed the transferred gloss. In doing so, she took off a good bit of her own makeup. Prentiss looked in her bag to reapply her lipstick. When she didn’t find the tube, she softly said, “Shit.” She had left it on her vanity. When Em looked up, _y/n_ was extending her black gloss. Emily looked apprehensive, and _y/n_ said, “I think it’s either this or you take off all the lipstick. You know you look great in black Em, I’m sure some black lipstick will look incredibly hot on you. Plus, we can kiss that way and none of your friends will know.” Prentiss flushed at the compliment and the idea of her kissing _y/n_. She took the offered makeup. Before she put it on, she said, “See I told you you were smart, _y/n_.” Em booped _y/n_’s nose with her finger before she turned to the mirror. 

The couple reached Derek’s door, and Emily knocked twice. After a moment Morgan’s strong build opened the glass door, and he gave one of his best smiles to Emily and _y/n_. Morgan extended a hand to _y/n_ and said, “Hey, _y/n_. I’m Derek, Morgan.” _y/n_ smiled back and said, “_y/n_, _l/n_. I’m so happy to meet you.” Derek extended a hand and _y/n_ took it. The shake was firm, steady. Em had described Derek as the protector of the team. Rash sometimes in his desire for his friends to be safe. As _y/n_ stood in front of the man now, she could see how that might be true. Morgan moved back a step and said, “Please come on in. The gang’s all here. As they stepped into the nice space, Morgan gave Emily a side hug and one of those smiles that said, “I like her already.” As they moved through the hallway toward the living area, Morgan pointed out the kitchen and the guest bathroom to _y/n_, stating, “Please make yourself at home. Drinks are in the kitchen and if you need anything, just let me know.” _y/n_ nodded and thanked him for his hospitality. Of course, Prentiss knew where all of these things were, but Morgan was particularly about meeting new people and showing off his space. When Derek had first invited her over for a friendly dinner, she felt a bit awkward, but once she had gone, Prentiss realized that her friend was a natural host. Gifted at making people comfortable in his home. Now, whenever Morgan was hosting, she attempted to make it. Emily was happy that this was where _y/n_ was going to meet the team. 

As the trio moved into the living room, everyone that was seated stood. Penelope was up first, bridging the gap between herself, Emily, and _y/n_. Garcia extended a hand and said, “Oh my gosh, hi. I’m so happy to meet you!” _y/n_ smiled and said, “It’s lovely to meet you too… Penelope?” Garcia did a little happy dance and said, “Yes! How did you know?” As soon as the woman, wearing bright neon colors, with blond hair in pigtails had approached _y/n_, she knew who she was. Instead of saying any of that, she said, “Oh, you know, just my telepathic abilities.” This response made Garcia so happy that instead of offering a handshake, she said, “I’m sorry, but can I hug you? I think you may be my favorite person to ever exist.” _y/n_ lending into Garcia’s open arms and relaxed at her touch. In Garcia’s arms, _y/n_ felt warm and safe, and she made the observation that Penelope smelled distinctly of bubble gum. When they parted, Garcia ushed _y/n_ toward the others. JJ and _y/n_ shook hands and had a brief introduction. JJ looked over _y/n_ quickly. The Media Liaison realized exactly what Emily was talking about with _y/n_ being not only beautiful but also fully present. When JJ looked at _y/n_ there was no distraction, no wavering energy; she was fully focused on what JJ was saying. As someone who interacted with loads of people on a daily basis, having someone so centered felt like a breath of fresh air. JJ said, “It’s nice to finally meet you _y/n_. I can’t believe it’s been almost three months since Em met you in that dressing room. _y/n_ flushed at being reminded of how Emily and her met. It was still one of her favorite memories. Sometimes she forgot that JJ had been on the other end of Emily’s phone call when she had complimented Emily. The last introduction with Spencer was calm. Reid extended his hand and introduced himself. _y/n_ thought that maybe he was a bit shy. _y/n_ hoped to see more of his personality, and his smarts eventually. With how much Prentiss lauded his brain, she was excited to see it in action for herself. Everyone found a spot in the living room. Derek and Garcia were on the couch with Emily and _y/n_. JJ found herself on the loveseat adjacent to the couch and glass coffee table. JJ patted the spot next to her, but Reid opted to sit on the rug by her feet instead. Derek said, “Reid, what are you doing?” Spencer looked over to Derek and said, “I don’t want to be on eye level with the screen. If I sit on the couch, I’ll be looking directly at the movie, and you know I don’t like the possession or doll stuff.” Derek chuckled and said, “Well, suit yourself pretty boy. Also, how can you do this job and be afraid of a ghost or some dolls?” Spencer reddened and made some small protestation while the team ribbed him gently. It was all in good fun. The team had voted on three possible films: The Exorcist, The Conjuring, and Brahm’s The Boy. As everyone debated which film to watch, Emily went and grabbed her and _y/n_ some drinks. 

The group had decided on The Conjuring, and once everyone was settled in with a drink, they started the film. The first time Annabell came on screen, everyone laughed. The film progressed, and the Perron family got more scared in their new home _y/n_ relaxed a little and settled closer to Emily. Just as Emily had assured her, the other members of her team were kind and normal people. They laughed at the family's silly responses to the strange phenomena happening on screen. Once they were playing the clapping game in the movie, Spencer said, “The mom shouldn’t be playing this upstairs. With the wrong footing, she could easily fall off the second floor to the first. Did you know that around 1,000 people die from falls on staircases each year, and over 3,456 of all ages and abilities are injured on them annually.” After Reid finished this commentary, Penelope said, “They should hire you as a consultant for whenever the studio makes another cheap sequel.” This got a chuckle from everyone. Once the spirit of Bathsheeba showed up for the first time on top of the girl’s wardrobe, everyone jumped and then Derek said, “Baby girl, I think you need some lotion and to up your skincare routine.” This got a big laugh out of everyone. During the third shot where the camera rotated 180 degrees, _y/n_ added to the conversation, asking, “I know about the Dutch angle and eye level shots and all that jazz, but is there a term for this? It’s starting to get boring as a visual device honestly.” There was a moment of silence as the question lingered, but Spencer quickly said, “Well, I’m not sure if it’s a technical film term, but maybe something like an inverse shot or a flipped angle or something? That might be apropos here.” As the scene got more tense, _y/n_ very quietly replied to Spencer, saying, “That sounds about right.” When everyone got ready for the climax, Emily gently squeezed _y/n_’s hand and gave her a soft kiss on the temple. She whispered, “See. I told you you and Reid would get along swimmingly.” _y/n_ hummed slightly, squeezing Emily’s hand back. The film wrapped up and everyone got up and stretched a bit. Penelope, _y/n_, and JJ took turns in the bathroom. When _y/n_ exited the facilities, she found Emily and Derek trying to comfort the tech whiz. Although Spencer had said he didn’t like films with possession as a theme, it seemed that Penelope was the most affected of all of them. Derek was trying to take the compassionate approach saying, “Sweetness, it’s all just made up. None of it’s really real. They exaggerated and added scary music so you’d feel scared.” _y/n_ stopped herself from commenting on the real Warren family and their troubled history as paranormal investigators. JJ chimed in, “At least the movie ended happily Pen. There was a real hope for that family. Love won. It can’t be that scary if love won.” This seemed to help Garcia a bit. _y/n_ moved into the kitchen and got another drink. As she walked to stand next to Emily, she gave Garcia a pat on the arm. Penelope looked at her and smiled, saying, “Thank you _y/n_.”

Thinking about the inaccuracies of the film, she said, “You know that exorcism scene always bothers me. I know secular shows aren’t concerned about the actual ritual of an exorcism, but still, you could at least get the Latin right.” This comment had the rest of the party looking at her. _y/n_ flushed, and said, “I might have considered a divinity degree before political science consumed my life.” Everyone chuckled and Reid said, “You’re right. Ed says “‘Verte malum de inimicis meis; in veritate tua disperde illos.Omnenus: Sponte sacrificabo tibi,’ where it should be...” Before Spence could answer, _y/n_ replied, “‘In veritate tua disperde illos. Omnes: Sponte sacrificabo tibi.’ It’s not like the church and other religions have been performing those types of rituals for centuries or anything.” As she said this, Reid gave her a genuine smile and nod of recognition. With the topic on the table, Reid started running with it and began to ramble about how the ritual of expelling alleged dark forces had changed over the years. _y/n_ leaned into Emily gently, as she listened with keen attention. Again Emily was right. Dr. Reid was brimming with knowledge. _y/n_ hadn’t expected her girlfriend to lie or exaggerate about her friends, but when she had heard all the descriptions of the members at first it felt a little too impossible to believe. Once Spencer had finished his ‘brief’ history of exorcisms, Derek turned to _y/n_ and Prentiss. He said, “Alright Emily, you still haven’t explained fully how you met _y/n_. And JJ and Garcia are still talking about that first date. Every time I bring it up you say that you’ll tell me soon -- and I think it’s time to pay up.” Emily chuckled and said alright. I’ll tell you.” Prentiss detailed her first meeting with _y/n_ and then described their first date. _y/n_ would chime in with certain funny or cute moments,  and Morgan was eating up the story. After another hour or so, everyone decided to start heading out. _y/n_ said goodbye to everyone, giving hugs or handshakes. As she approached Garcia, Penelope said, “I’d love to go shopping with you sometime. Your style is so cool!” _y/n_ flushed and said, “I pinky promise. I’ll text you, and we can set something up.” Penelope nodded enthusiastically. Derek walked the couple to the door, he gave _y/n_ a side hug and said, “If you ever need anything, you just let me know, alright.” _y/n_ nodded. His sincerity was touching. She thought back again to what Em had said about him being protective, and she fully saw it now. _y/n_ replied, “Thank you, Derek. Thank you for having me over. It was a really great night.” Morgan beamed and said, “Well then, I can’t wait to have you over again.” Derek and Emily said their goodbyes and “See you Monday’s.” 

In the car on the way back to Emily’s apartment _y/n_ said, “Em, they’re all so sweet. So kind. I’m so happy to have met them. And I’d like to meet Aaron and Rossi too if I can sometime.” Emily smiled and said, “I’m glad you like them, and you had a good time. And believe me, Dave asks about you constantly and Aaron has too. I’m sure you’ll meet them when there’s time.” The pair drive back toward Emily’s side of the city. As they moved down the road Emily considered how they had gotten closer over the few months they had known each other. Emily was protective of her past. She had to be with what she had gone through. Revealing too much could make _y/n_ an unintentional target. But _y/n_ had been so open, so gentle with her that she couldn’t help but open up to _y/n_’s warm care and affection. They had become more physical around each other too. They had slept in the same bed many times now. Their bodies pressed close. And on one of those evenings, Emily had moved her hand beneath _y/n_’s linen shirt and brushed her fingers over the buds of _y/n_’s breasts. While she had done this, _y/n_ had stroked over her clothed sex with two fingers. As much as Emily had wanted to take it farther that night, they had both been exhausted. Emily had just returned from a long case, and _y/n_ had had a long night in the office trying to proofread a 500-page long bill from _y/f/s_. The passion was there, but not the energy. Em had promised _y/n_ that she wanted this -- desperately, but that she wanted to give her her all for the first time. _y/n_ had agreed. They rode back toward her apartment, and Emily thought of that first brief intimacy. She began to pool with desire again. She wondered if this was going to be the night that they would reach that stage in their relationship. While Emily thought this, _y/n_ couldn’t tear her eyes off of her partner. _y/n_ tried not to sexualize Emily often. She was too dignified for her to be drooled over. But now and then, Emily would look at her a certain way, or say something so profound that _y/n_ wanted to kiss her all over. To kiss every part of her body. A specific region, flushed and pink came to mind, and _y/n_ had to stifle a needy sigh. _y/n_ had always found Emily attractive, and the night that they had been most close replayed in her mind often. The feeling of Em’s hands, tender yet firm, moving over and teasing her breasts left her breathless and wanting if she thought about it for too long. Now as _y/n_ looked at Em, was one of those times. _y/n_ begged anything out there in the cosmos that they could have that and more tonight. 

As Emily and _y/n_ got into Prentiss’s apartment. There was an anticipatory, hungry feel to the air. Emily turned on some lamps in the living room. She had asked _y/n_ if she wanted to spend the night, as they drove back and _y/n_ had readily agreed. As Prentiss turned to ask _y/n_ what she wanted to do; if she wanted a drink of water, or anything in particular, she was almost shocked at what she saw. The look of pure desire on _y/n_’s face. _y/n_ closed the gap between them and noticed how Em cocked her head to the side almost confused by her want of her. When _y/n_ was flush with Emily, she pressed herself close to her girlfriend. _y/n_ stroked her hands through Emily’s dark hair. After a few seconds of this, _y/n_’s right hand rested on the crown of Emily’s skull and gently guided Emily’s mouth to hers. Emily easily, amicably acquiesced; allowing herself to be guided to _y/n_’s full lips. As their mouths met, Emily felt that pool of desire begins to flow downward again. It took all of her concentration to not moan at the close contact with _y/n_. Prentiss didn’t want to sound needy yet, but she felt that way. She longed for _y/n_’s touch in places yet unexplored. When _y/n_ ran her tongue over Emily’s lower lip, asking for control, she didn’t want to stop _y/n_ from having that access. As Em let  _y/n_ into her mouth, there was a mutual understanding of comfort and dynamics. Neither one of them was acting as a dominant or male persona. They were both just seeking comfort and pleasure in the other. When both Emily and _y/n pulled back for air, there was a moment of silence, of stillness. After a beat, _y/n_ said, Em. I need you, all of you, tonight. If you’ll let me?” Prentiss nodded and breathily said, “Oh God, yes, _y/n_. I was afraid I was moving too fast, and to hear you say that makes me feel so desired. You wanna go the bedroom, Baby?” _y/n_ agreed in a high pitch. Em took _y/n_’s hand. They moved slowly to the mauve-colored room. As they walked, there was a longing that they both let linger. After tonight, they would be joined in a way that would change the dynamic of their relationship from here on out, and they wanted to give space to that fact. 

In the bedroom, with the white door closed, _y/n_ turned to Emily. She was wearing a charcoal grey blouse that buttoned up the front. There was a bow that was tied at the collar. _y/n_ started by gently tugging the bow undone. She settled the strips of fabric that formed the extra edition of the collar behind Emily’s neck. She then moved to the buttons of the shirt. Slowly, with care and precision, _y/n_ began undoing the buttons of the silk shirt. As each inch of skin was revealed, _y/n_ reveled in its exposure. There was a reverence in her gaze that Emily had rarely seen. When Emily had been intimate before, there was always a hunger in the look of her lovers, male and female. A desire for pleasure. This was all fine and good, but the awe on _y/n_’s face was new. There was also a hunger, but not like she was a thing to be had, sucked dry and then left in the cold morning air uncovered. Thinking of this had Emily let you a sigh of desire. Emily’s head was slightly tipped back, her mouth half open, taking needy breaths. Through her half-lidded gaze, she saw _y/n_ smile at her noises. Emily wondered what _y/n_ moaning sounded like, and her sex pulsated at the idea. Her arousal intensified. When the last button was undone, _y/n_ pushed the silk off Emily’s shoulders and to the floor. The fabric fell to the floor with little sound. _y/n_’s gazed over her form. The lovely planes of Emily’s skin shone in the light of the lamps illuminating the room. _y/n_’s warm hands slowly started moving over the exposed flesh. Circling Emily’s stomach. She felt up the side of her waist. _y/n_’s hands then moved higher, ghosting over Em’s covered breasts. _y/n_ noticed that the bra was slightly padded and the underwire looked uncomfortable pressed too tightly under the sensitive tissue. _y/n_ would be sure to address this soon. But for now, she moved her hands to Emily’s clavicle, running over her collarbones. _y/n_ noticed that Emily had some birthmarks adorning her skin. One was above her right breast, and the other two were on Emily’s torso. After spending a bit of time feeling over Em’s upper half, _y/n_ softly fell to her knees and began working at the button and zipper of Prentiss’s black slacks. Emily watched as _y/n_ pulled down the fabric of her pants and realized that _y/n_ was kneeling at her body like it was a temple, and Prentiss thought she couldn’t possibly be loved more than this. When her pants were pooled at her feet, Emily moved her right foot up, and _y/n_ pulled her foot free. The process was repeated with the left foot. 

At this point, Emily had to reciprocate. She helped _y/n_ her feet and said, “You are so good to me. You have no idea how good you make me feel.” _y/n_ smiled and said, “I think I share in your feelings, but putting it to voice, especially now, feels a little difficult.” Em laughed softly at the comment, as her hands moved to the zipper at the back of _y/n_’s _f/j/t_ colored dress. The invisible zipper needed a bit of effort, and Emily carefully held the fabric at the top of the dress as she applied more pressure to get the zipper to move. The zipper was fine moving down the teeth until it got to the waistline, where the fabric was doubled. Here, even with her careful pulling the zipper didn’t seem to want to budge further, and it wasn’t because the dress didn’t fit _y/n_. It fit like a glove custom-made for her body. After another minute of struggle, _y/n_ burst out laughing and said, “Sorry. It’s so funny. I didn’t want to say anything because it was so sexy. You were taking my breath away, but as soon as you started doing that, I knew you were going to have trouble. You have to jimmy it a certain way to get it past the waistline.” Emily gave a little huff, and jokingly said, “Well you could have told me that before.” _y/n_ smiled and said, “Well, I have a potential solution from here on out?” Emily smiled and replied, “Shoot.” _y/n_ leaned forward and said, “We can be nude every time we meet from here on out?” Emily flushed and teased back, “How do you think the senator would like that? How about my boss?” _y/n_ gave Emily a large grin, and she said, “They don’t have to know.” While _y/n_ said this, they moved their hands to their back and Emily gave her space to work the ornery zipper past the difficult spot on the track. Once it was past the waistline, _y/n_ let Emily take charge again, and she quieted to let the moment have its full impact. Prentiss appreciated this, as she moved the zipper down the final six inches of track. As _y/n_ had done with her shirt, Emily removed the fabric of the dress, and _y/n_ moved out of its constraint at her ankles. Emily had taken her heels off when she had gotten in the door, but _y/n_ still had hers on. Thus, Em paralleled _y/n_ and dropped to her knees, and helped remove _y/n_’s _y/f/s/t_ and socks. The last article of clothing that needed to be disposed of to make _y/n_ as bear as Em was _y/n_’s tights. Prentiss took care of removing this thin layer of nylon. Prentiss didn’t want her short nails to snag the cloth and tear it. Once the tights were disposed of, the profiler moved and kissed over _y/n_’s clothed vagina. At the intimate act, _y/n_’s breath hitched, and she said Emily’s name with a need not yet voiced. 

_y/n_ pulled Emily up and to the bed. Both moved to remove the other's bra and their hands were a tangled mess, as they tried to both do the same thing at the same time. Again there was a soft laughter between them. Emily said, “If this happened to anyone else _y/n_ I would be so mortified. I would have lost my chill the second the zipper snagged. But with you, with your patience and calm and understanding it doesn’t feel like a big thing. I can honestly laugh with you. It reminds me of our first meeting, and I’m so lucky to have you in my life.” _y/n_ beamed and said, “You’re someone I want to be real with Em. I want to laugh with you and cry with you, and God do I want to have sex with you.” Hearing this, Prentiss flushed and then both of them moved again as they clasped behind the other's back to undo the other’s bras. As both women disrobed and looked at the other, the feeling of deep longing washed over them. Emily whispered, “You’re so beautiful _y/n_. So beautiful.” She leaned forward and kissed over _y/n_’s breasts. The warm, wet feel of Emily’s mouth over her sensitive flesh caused her nipples to harden. Emily took one of the taught buds in her mouth. She sucked and swirled her tongue over the nipple. _y/n_ let out a sigh, and her own hands moved to Emily’s chest. _y/n_ began kneading Em’s breasts. Without her bra on, the tissue was just slightly less perky than when trapped in the confines of a bra. Em’s nipples hardened too, and _y/n_ used her fingers to pull and tug at the sensitive areas of her body. Emily had to move her mouth away from _y/n_’s breast, so she could let out a gasp of pleasure. Hearing this from Em, _y/n_ moved her hand lower and began rubbing two fingers over her clothed sex. Emily’s panties were wet, soaked through, but _y/n_ hadn’t had the chance to notice, as they were black; hiding the level of Emily’s arousal. _y/n_ said, “Let me get you out of those…” _y/n_ was going to say underwear, but noticed the small VS charm on a tiny silver charm sitting at the center of the delicate bow at the middle of the elastic holding the garment up. Emily chuckled and said, “Hey listen they're comfy and sexy. Two birds one stone?” _y/n_ grinned and said, “There’s no complaints from me love.” _y/n_ leaned down and kissed the second bow, realizing that Emily had had a bow at her neck and a bow down here. Knowing how detail-oriented Em was, it wasn’t by accident. 

Emily was about to ask if she could get _y/n_ off first, but _y/n_ stopped her by saying, “Em, please. You’re out there every day saving people who don’t even know it. Who will never understand the things you sacrificed for them? So please let me do this for you first. After that, you can fuck me into tomorrow, but I want to do this.” Emily swallowed and nodded. With her consent, _y/n_ removed Emily’s panties, sliding them off of her hips and down her legs. The underwear was discarded on the floor with their other clothes. _y/n_ looked at the flushed folds of Emily’s vagina and the small patch of dark pubic hair near her entrance. _y/n_ couldn’t wait to get her hands and face in that hair, that needy region. _y/n_ wanted to ensure Emily’s comfort and pleasure and asked, “Would you like oral, or my hand, or I can use a toy you like if you have one?” Emily took deep breaths and said, “I want your mouth. I want those pretty lips of yours on me; in me.” _y/n_ hummed. Both she and Emily had washed off their makeup, so _y/n_ was ready to dive in. _y/n_ got on her knees on the bed. She also pulled Em’s knees up to a ninety-degree angle and a good distance apart so there would be room for her face. Before she started, _y/n_ said, “Tell me if it’s not good. Tell me if you need to change techniques at any time. And, please put your hands in my hair if it is good. I’ve dreamed of that for that last month and to have it happen for real is making me so hot and bothered right now.” Emily nodded and said, “I promise to do those things if I need to. But most certainly the last will be happening.” With this said, _y/n_ moved down. The heat and moisture was alluring to _y/n_. She started by running her nose up the area and wetting it. After this, _y/n_ ran her tongue over Emily’s folds. The taste was slightly salty, but there was a slight aftertaste of talc or matcha — a drying earthy taste. _y/n_ kept moving her tongue this way, and the words and noises came unbridled from Emily. After a few moments of this, _y/n_ started to move her tongue in an infinity symbol moving from the entrance to the clit with each pass. While this was happening, Em moaned out _y/n_’s name. When _y/n_ started sucking on the clit, Emily knew she was racing toward a strong climax. At this point, she ran her hand through _y/n_ hair, pulling and tugging it gently from the follicle. Her grasp strengthened as the feelings got more intense. In the end, Prentiss was moving her hips to increase the friction, and in a moment of pure ecstasy, she felt her body clench and then let go. Emily cried out in pleasure and held _y/n_’s face where it was, pressed to her sex. _y/n_ slowed her tongue slightly, to let Em down gently. As the waves of heat and joy moved through her in long waves, Emily was sure this was the best orgasm she had ever felt. 

Once Em had calmed and found herself again, she moved with a passion, getting up and looking at _y/n_. Emily said, “My turn. Let me, ‘fuck you into tomorrow’ like you just did with me. So tell me, what gets my girl off? I’ve got toys like a vibe or a strapon. What do you want, Baby?” _y/n_ very quickly flushed and said, “I just want your hands in me. I’ve dreamed about that too.” Em replied, “Well, well, you shall have them. Now grab that pillow and lay down for me _y/n_. _y/n_ did as told, and Emily positioned the pillow at her partner's lower back and then pushed her back onto the mattress. Prentiss took off _y/n_’s _y/f/c_ bikini-style panties and discarded them at the foot of the bed. Emily kissed _y/n_ passionately, as she started to rub _y/n_’s exposed vagina. Emily could feel _y/n_ dripping against her fingers. Sliding her fingers up and down _y/n_’s labia and clit was so easy. After a few moments of this, and when her pointer and middle fingers were thoroughly coated, Em moved her fingers slowly into _y/n’s entrance. _y/n_ was tight against her hand. At this sensation, _y/n_ gave a needy whine and Prentiss asked, “Is that good for my love?” _y/n_ gasped and replied between breaths, saying, “So good. You feel so good in me.” Emily smiled and said, “Good. I’m glad.” Emily started pumping in and out of _y/n_ while her other hand moved to _y/n_’s left breast. As _y/n_ said her name and moaned against her touch. Emily moved the fingers that were inside _y/n_ to curve up so that she reached _y/n_’s g-spot and _y/n_ made a loud, desperate noise. Hearing this, Emily moved the hand that had been on _y/n_’s breast to _y/n_’s clit and rubbed fast circles over it. _y/n_ could feel herself about to snap as Em’s movements became more frantic. The dripping of pleasure from _y/n_ had moved from a drip to water to an ocean waiting to burst free of a dam. With one more thrust of the hand and movement over the clit, _y/n_ broke down entirely, as she lost control and shouted out in pleasure. _y/n_ had never been so vocal in her response. After a second, Emily removed her hands and moved to kiss _y/n_’s mouth, taking the breath from her partner again. Em rubbed her sticky hand over _y/n_’s thigh. As they both came to themselves a bit, _y/n_ said, “I’m so lucky to have you in my life Em. To have met you the way I did. I love you so very much.” Emily nodded and said, “Same here. You make me feel so happy, and so good and worthy.” There was a silence and Prentiss noticed that neither of their bodies were ramping down, and Em asked, “Would you be down for a second round, _y/n_?” _y/n_ smiled and said, “I was waiting for that profiler instinct in you to notice. How about we come together this time?” Em smiled and nodded. As both women got ready for another set of pleasure and release, they both knew that they were meant for the other both physically and in spirit -- and there would be many more nights like this, bleeding into tomorrows. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow…

[the7thcrow]

indulgence | part one

~

pairing: felix x (fem) vampire!reader series

summary: an indulgence grows to become dangerous, as the society of hampden college takes note of y/n’s new blood bag.

series masterlist.

word count: 4.9k

genre: forbidden love, angst (sorta), fluff, suggestive.

warnings: blood, suggestive content (kissing and a shirt comes off, nothing too crazy lmao), hook-ups (but nothing is explicitly described), strong language, and vampires ofc.

rating: 16+

a/n: hi everyone! this is my first fic, so i’m sorry if it’s a little messy. this is part one of what will be a series. i’d love to hear some feedback, so don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or message! i hope you enjoy!

...

..

.

You are late. The pattering of rain echos from atop your umbrella, the puddles of pooling water soaking your loafers as you hurry along the busy street. However, you pay no mind as the liquid seeps into your shoes, mud embedding itself along your pant leg. On a normal day, you’d scowl. You’d curse the shitty weather, and grumble as you marched home to change into a dry pair of shoes. Only today is different. Today it doesn’t matter, not when you have far greater troubles warranting your concern.

The Council isn’t pleased. They’d be even more upset, if that were even possible, if you arrived tardy. You can imagine their old, petulant faces, looking down on you with disgust. Perhaps even pity, seeing you as nothing more than a childish young girl, who’d been foolish enough to break her vow. You frown to yourself, that’s all they would ever see you as. It didn’t matter how the years passed by, to them you were, and would always be simply that. A child. Always younger, always naive. Most of all, always beneath them.

The headquarters becomes visible in the distance, clouded in the slight haze of fog. It appears to be like any other building on the Hampden Campus. Old and rustic, elegant in the way it was shaped and carved, a relic of history reflected in a modern day era. Only this building holds a far different tale than those surrounding it.

Far more bloody. Far more gruesome. A home to monsters.

Monsters like yourself.

You knock on the door. Twice, slowly. Then a pause, before three times quickly. A code, letting anyone inside know that you are, in fact, a member of The Society. 

The door opens with a creak, a young boy with electric blue hair peeking out through the crack. After recognizing your face, he smiles, ushering you in quickly as the door slams shut behind you.

“Y/N! It’s good to see you. It’s been a while, huh?” The boy says, casually leaning against the door. It has been a while, you never came to this god awful building unless it was absolutely necessary.

“I guess it has been. But it’s nice to see you too, Jeongin,” you speak warmly in return. You’ve known Jeongin for a couple years now, since he first arrived at The Society doorstep. Alone and confused. A freshling, having just been turned. While perhaps not physically, he’s certainly grown since then, in both confidence and courage.

Suddenly, the smile drops from his face, his expression becoming sullen. “I hear you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble,” he states. When you don’t respond, he continues. “It’s not true, is it? I know you wouldn’t-”

“Listen, Jeongin,” you cut him off quickly. You aren’t in the mood to be lectured, especially not by someone whose opinion you actually care about. “I’m already running late. I’ll catch up with you after, okay?”

“Wait, Y/N!” He calls after you, but you’ve already disappeared down the hall, heading towards the council room. You quickly cast a glance at your watch. Shit, five minutes late. They wouldn’t forget that.

With only a quick breath to gather yourself, you burst in through the large wooden doors. The silence in the council room is deafening, as all heads turn to face you. In all your life, you’ve never seen so many dissatisfied faces. 

“Ms. L/N,” the head councilman calls. He has an old face, embedded with wrinkles and a scalp of thinning white hair. Unlucky. He could have been beautiful, or at the very least, young. However, he must’ve been turned late. A pity, to stare at such a reflection for eternity. 

You stifle a laugh. The frown he always appeared to be wearing probably wasn’t helping. 

“Take a seat,” he states, motioning to the chair seated in the center of the room. How dramatic you think, to put you in the middle of so many staring eyes. While the council was only composed of three individuals, the room seems to be full of other lower ranked members of The Society. 

As you take your seat, your gaze wanders the room, landing on a familiar head of shaggy brown hair. His eyes bore into your own, his expression serious. Perhaps even angry, the longer he stares at you. 

You want to say something. Mostly, to ask him what the fuck he’s doing here. This isn’t any of Chan’s business, yet for whatever reason he has the audacity to stare at you as if it is. As if you will grant him answers. As if he deserves answers.

“Ms. L/N,” the chairman interrupts your thoughts. “Do you know why you’re seated here today?” 

Why are you seated here today? Well, that answer is complicated. How could you have possibly gotten yourself into such a mess? How could you have been so foolish? You knew the rules. You knew what was permitted and what was not. Yet, you chose to ignore these conditions.

Why? What could possibly have made you toss everything you’d promised to the side? 

Well, that story starts with a head of bright blonde hair, and a set of curious eyes.

~~~~

The library of Hampden College had become something of a second home to you. Late nights spent bent over a book, transcribing various philosophies and literature into latin. Sometimes greek, however you didn’t have quite the same knack for it. That’s where you found yourself tonight, your beaten down copy of The Iliad staring back at you from its place on the table. 

Your classics degree was coming along just fine. You didn’t mind the endless books to read and poems to analyze. Nor the papers you often found yourself crafting from this very spot in the corner of the library. It was always quiet, always solitary at this time. Even the night owl students having gathered their books, departing the library for a brief rest before their early classes the following morning.

Tonight however, was different. You heard the door creak open, glancing up as a boy appeared in the doorway. He had long blonde hair, fluffing at the nape of his neck. Sporting a sharp blazer and a pair of oxfords, you couldn’t deny he was well dressed. Perhaps that’s why he grabbed your attention immediately, you were attracted to effort. To someone who was put together, who cared. 

The boy took a seat just a few tables away from your own, gently setting his books down and disappearing into the maze of shelves to your left. You attempted to go back to your work, but couldn’t seem to find your focus. Who was this boy? You’d never seen him before in all your time at Hampden. Also, why would he possibly be at the library so late? You recognized the faces of those who while rare, might possibly be here at this time of night. He wasn’t one of them. 

You would remember if he was.

You strained your neck trying to find his figure, having lost him almost immediately.

“A fan of Homer?” A voice rang out from beside your ear. You jumped in shock, greeted by a sweet smile and wide eyes. The boy chuckled. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You smiled sweetly, trying to calm your beating heart. “No worries. And well, you translate the entirety of Book Eight overnight into Greek, and tell me if you could still consider yourself a ‘fan of Homer.’”

The boy laughed before beginning to pull a chair out beside you. “May I?” He asked.

Looking back, you should have said no. You had a lot more work to do, and near no time to do it. Not to mention of course, rejecting him initially could have saved you from this whole mess. Instead you nodded, a grin forming at the corners of your lips as he sat down. 

“What’s your name?” He asked. His voice was sweet, sultry. Alarming in just how deep it was, not quite fitting his bright and youthful exterior. 

“Y/N, classics department. Yourself?”

“Felix,” he answered. There it was, the first time you heard the name that would cause your undoing. “I’m majoring in history. Listen,” he began, leaning in slightly closer as if he were going to tell you a secret, his voice lowering further. “I must say, I’m in here all the time, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

You hummed, leaning in closer to him as well. His eyes glinted. “Well that’s simple, I’m assuming you don’t frequent the library at-” you glanced at your watch- “2:32 in the morning.”

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed with something like concern. “You’re here every night at this time? Why?”

“Hey,” you began, not wanting to lose the playful nature to the conversation. You’d heard enough concerned voices to last a lifetime already. “Aren’t you here this late yourself? You’re in no place to judge.”

He laughed, and you knew you could get used to that sound. “Fair enough, I’ll leave it be.”

“Why are you here this late, anyway?” You asked.

“Oh, so you get to know my secrets, but I can’t know yours?”

“Of course.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, resting his head on the desk, cradled by his crossed arms. “If you must know, I couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d read some of your classics, thought they might help me doze off.”

You shoved his arm, to which he feigned a groan of pain, clutching his shoulder. “Excuse you,” you laughed. “I have a lot of Homer to struggle through, and no time for your cheap shots. You can go ahead and leave now.”

You were surprised when he got to his feet, worried for a moment he’d taken you seriously and was actually about to make his exit. Instead, he disappeared into the philosophy section, emerging with a copy of The Odyssey. Felix flopped down back in his chair beside you, extending his feet on top of the table and leaning backwards. 

“Well, then I guess I’ll suffer along with you,” he said. Without another word, he flipped towards the first page.

Felix was a good person to study with. Well, technically you weren’t studying with him, but nonetheless it was nice to have him in the room. He didn’t bother you, didn’t speak, just let you do your work. Sometimes you’d look up and meet his gaze, his eyes imploring you. Curious. Mischievous. 

Dangerous.

“Alright,” you yawned after an hour or so had passed by, stretching your arms high in the air. “I’m done.”

He smiled, slowly closing his book and setting it down on the table. “Yeah? Finally going to go home and sleep?” 

“Sleep? What’s that?” You said, playfully scoffing. “Nah, it’s already past 3:30, it’ll be 4 by the time I get back to my apartment. Not worth it at this point.”

“Hmm,” Felix hummed, a flicker of mischief in his growing smile. “What ever will you do to pass the time?”

“I don’t know,” you returned, excitement building in your chest. “But I suppose I’ll leave you now. You still have about 3 quarters of The Odyssey to get through, and I don’t want to tear you away from-”

You shouldn’t have been surprised when his lips crashed into yours, but you were. You let out a small “mff” against the sudden impact. It took your brain a second to catch up to speed on what was happening. Here you were, with this incredibly beautiful boy of whom you literally just met, kissing in the middle of the library. 

Your second thought was about how you’d never done this before. Not kissing someone, hell you’d done a lot more than just that. But never a stranger, and certainly never a human, for that matter. You had to be careful with who you got close to, you never knew who could be dangerous, who could be a hunter. Besides, The Society had rules, and this alone was undoubtedly breaking a few of them.

So what the hell were you doing?

You should stop this, you thought. But the more you settled into a rhythm, the more your worries trailed from your mind. Felix was a good kisser. A really good kisser. His lips were soft, warm, his breath sharp with the taste of mint. When the dork had a chance to pop a tic tac you didn’t know, but it made you smile against him. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, leaning into him. He groaned in response, moving his hands down your figure, settling in on your waist. Carefully he began to fiddle with the buttons at the bottom of your blouse, and with that it all suddenly became real.

“We can’t do this,” you breathed, finally breaking away from him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I went too far, I-” he began to apologize, frantically removing his hands from your body and shifting backwards into his chair.

“No,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips at his sweetness. You grabbed the collar of his shirt, gently tugging him closer to you. “We can’t do this here.” 

The Society had rules, plenty. Human’s, in any sort of relationship, were out of the question. Public displays of affection with even your own kind, especially of the more vulgar sort, were off limits as well. The idea was to not bring attention to yourselves, to not cause a scene. And if you were going to break one of these rules so terribly, you figured you could at least pay the respect to do so privately.

“Okay,” he mumbled, placing his forehead against your own. “Where should we go?”

“My place? It’s a little far from here, but I don’t have any roommates. So..”

Felix smiled, planting a soft, lingering kiss at the nape of your neck. “Lead the way.”

~~~~

The walk over to your apartment wasn’t awkward per say, it was simply...charged. Felix had his arm looped around your own, making your way silently down the dark, lantern lit path through campus. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest, a desire thrumming down inside you, resurfacing. It had been a long time since you’d last been with someone. That last person being Chan, your ex as of eight months ago.

Things had been good with Chan. Great even, in the beginning at least. He was intense, thoughtful. He loved you deeply. Most of all, Chan understood. Like you, he was a member of The Society. He was under every restriction you were, and felt all the same frustrations. 

Of course, not all good things can last. Eventually your relationship began to sour. Your arguments became full on brawls. Your differences and quirks became unbearable. You couldn’t be in the same room without being at one another's throats. You were the one who finally decided to end things. 

Chan was the only man you’d ever loved, and since him you’d never entertained the thought of being with another. Until now, that is. You glanced towards Felix, who was staring ahead down the street, his eyes dark. You could feel his own desire radiating off of him, visible in the way he slowly swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. Besides, Felix could give you something more. Something Chan could never.

No. You stopped yourself. That wouldn’t be happening tonight. It would only make things more complicated, more dangerous. Still, you could feel it deep inside you, pounding for control. That familiar, incessant hunger. The more you tried to ignore it, the more it was there. Becoming stronger as your ears focused in on Felix’s heart beat, the sound of blood pumping through his veins.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the sight of your apartment complex appeared in front of you. Quietly you entered, making your way up the stairs and towards your own door. Releasing your arm from Felix’s, you fumbled for your keys in your purse. Giving him a small smile, you twisted your key in the lock, and allowed him inside.

The moment you closed your apartment door, all bets were off. Felix tossed his books onto your kitchen table, clashing into you with a speed that almost made you lose your own breath. You felt your back press against the wall behind you, Felix’s lips devouring your own. Desperate and wanting.

He quickly revisited the buttons of your blouse, this time starting at the top and beginning to make his way down. All the meanwhile his lips traced your neck, gently brushing against your skin. With every new kiss fueling your own desire, you slowly began to rock your hips into his own. This was escalating. Fast. As he finished with the last button, he allowed your blouse to drop from your shoulders, smiling to himself as he took you in. 

“Your turn,” you breathed, tugging at the collar of his shirt as a signal to take it off. He did so, absent-mindedly tossing it aside into your living room. He took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him, staring deeply into your eyes. Then he proceeded to say the very last thing you ever expected him to:

“Look at your eyes… You haven’t fed in weeks, have you?”

You slapped his hand away and shoved him off of you, rushing to the otherside of the room, putting the coffee table between yourselves. “How-How do you?” You stammered, physically unable to form a complete sentence. How could he possibly know what you were? How did he even know you existed?

Felix’s eyes widened, clearly shocked by your reaction. “No, no. Don’t worry!” He said frantically, outstretching his hand to you. “Listen, I’m not going to hurt you or anything. I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, disbelievingly. “Yeah? And how do I know that?” You let this man into your home, your safe space. How could you have been so stupid?

“Look, I grew up around Vampires okay? My neighbors, back in my childhood home, they were like you. I know the signs. I know how your eyes blow out when you’re hungry, the way they glaze over when you haven’t fed in a while. That’s it. I didn’t even realize until I got a good look at you, back when you were translating. It’s no big deal, really.”

You scoffed. No big deal? Felix didn’t seem to realize just how big of a deal it actually was. Humans weren’t supposed to know what you were, certainly not at Hampden. The Society had made well sure of that. God, if The Council saw you now...

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I should have told you back at the library. I honestly didn’t think it would freak you out this much. That’s on me,” he said, inching slightly closer to you. Despite yourself, you didn’t move away.  “I’m serious though, it’s been a while since you last fed. Hasn’t it?”

A while was an understatement. The Society had been going through a shortage of blood bags, after having severed their connections with one of the nearby hospitals. Meaning if you wanted to drink, it would have to be from one of their Certified Donors. Which was another, fancier and far more innocent way of saying prisoners. These were humans who had given their lives to The Society, some willingly and others not so much.

You didn’t like going to their quarters. Located in the basement of the main district, it was always quiet down there. Always solemn. You’d never been to a place lacking so much hope. You’d only gone once, and drinking from that man still haunts you to this day. The way he didn’t move or speak, or even wince when your fangs broke his skin. The way his eyes were hollow and empty. How when you were done he simply laid down in his bed and turned away from you, without another word. 

The Certified Donors were what made you begin to hate The Society in the first place. Since then, your resentment only seemed to grow. 

You sighed, walking past him and flopping onto your couch. “Yeah, it’s been a while,” you confessed.

Felix carefully approached you. Instead of seating himself next to you, he got down on his knees, resting a hand on your thigh. “It’s okay, you can use me. I don’t mind.”

You were ready to tell him no, the word lingering on the tip of your tongue. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. Perhaps it was your hunger, the fact that a few more weeks in this drought, you might actually become ill. 

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that you wanted to disobey the society. That this little act of rebellion, this utterly wrong indulgence, was what made your desire grow unbearable, unchained. You hated The Council, you hated the Certified Donor system, and you hated the way they had such a firm grip and control on your life.

A beautiful boy was seated in front of you, begging you to drink from him. How could you possibly say no? Better yet, why would you say no? To deprive yourself of something so great, for something you despised so deeply seemed ridiculous. That was the moment your judgment lapsed, that you crossed the point of no return. If you drank from Felix, there would be no going back. If the council found out, there would be consequences. Big ones.

But who doesn’t love a little risk?

You sunk down to meet him on the floor, staring at his bare chest. You could hear his heart pumping, its pace quickening the closer you got to him. 

“Are you sure about this?” You asked.

“Yes,” he whispered. You shifted your position. Not quite seating yourself in his lap, but hovering above, your knees on either side of him. 

“This might hurt a little bit,” you warned. You extended your fangs, approaching his neck, carefully. You didn’t realize until then how nervous you were. It had been a long time since you’d fed from a human. You’d drank from Chan of course, but he was also a vampire, and your blood didn’t have quite the same effect. There was pleasure in it, usually accompanied in moments of ecstasy, but it didn’t replenish you. It didn’t heighten your senses, nor fill you with energy. Most of all, it didn’t satisfy your hunger, your thirst. Not at all.

Felix’s blood would. 

You kept this in mind as you finally plunged your fangs into his neck. Felix let out a gasp, tensing beneath you, his hand clutching onto your arm for support. The taste of his blood grazed your tongue, metallic and warm. Delicious.

Fuck, did blood ever taste this good before? You didn’t think so.

The sweet taste consumed you. Intoxicating. Raw. Cascading over your mind in a blanket of pleasure, reveling in the way its effects seeped over your body. You could feel your mind growing sharper, your senses becoming more alert. It was a relief, after weeks of blurry weakness, of being too close to humanity in your thirst. You felt yourself again, the monster you are. The monster you are glad to be.

Here you were powerful. Invincible. And all you wanted was more. More. More.

More of this power, this sensation, this strength. This is what feeding should be. What feeding can give you. Not from a blood bag, nor a helpless prisoner, but from someone you want. Someone you desire. Someone who desires you in return.

It was as you felt Felix’s grip on your arm loosen that you finally broke away, breathing hard as you caught your breath. Felix’s eyes shifted to yours lazily, dazed. Perhaps even delirious. For a moment you feared that you’d taken too much. He blinked slowly, his eyes regaining focus.

Then he smiled. “Shit Y/N…” he began, his voice appearing more of a croak. “That felt really fucking good.” 

You grinned, leaning into him and pressing a series of kisses up along his jaw. Felix shivered, allowing his hands to slowly slide up your figure. Wanting.

“Yeah?” You whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “Then how about we continue where we left off?”

      ~~~~

The next morning you woke to the sound of your alarm buzzing, sunlight peeking through the opening of your drapes. You heard a low groan next to your ear, quickly becoming aware of the hand wrapped around your waist. 

So last night really happened. The reality of your situation dawned on you. You’d both drank from and fucked a human. There was no going back now, you’d completely disobeyed The Society.

Worst of all? You didn’t care. At least, not near as much as you should have. 

You shifted to face Felix, seeing his eyes still closed, eyebrows furrowed. “Hey,” you whispered, planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “We have to get up. I have class.”

He groaned again in protest, shaking his head and burying his face into the crook of your neck. Between last night's events and the ringing of your alarm, you both only got about two hours of sleep, and that was being generous. This was no problem for you, as while sleep was a luxury, it was not a necessity. The same didn’t go for Felix.

“Come on,” you laughed, worming out of his grasp. “You’ll be fine, I’ll go make us some coffee.”

You rolled out of bed, throwing on Felix’s discarded shirt and heading towards your kitchen. Flicking on the radio, you felt oddly blissful as you grounded the coffee beans into a filter. It had been a long time since there’d been another person in your apartment. It made the space seem less… haunted. No longer lingering with the essence of Chan’s ghost. It felt fresh. New. 

Felix emerged from your bedroom, rubbing his eyes sleepily, sporting only his khaki’s from the past day. His gaze met yours and he smiled. “So, I take it my shirt is yours now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, leaning forward over your kitchen counter. Felix bent down, causing you to become nose-level with one another. The close proximity made your heart race.

“Mean,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss you softly. There was no unchained desire, no promise of more. It was simple, warm. A morning of peace after a night of wildness.

You could get used to this, you thought.

The thought sunk in your chest like a stone. This wouldn’t be as simple as you wanted to be, as you needed it to be. There would be sacrifices to make, and cautions you’d have to adhere to. You had to get the truth out in the open. Better to rip the bandaid off now rather than later.

 “Felix, you can’t tell anyone about this.” You said. The smile faded from Felix’s face, and for a moment he looked so… hurt. He stepped back.

“About the feeding? Y/N, I wouldn’t tell anyone what you are, don’t worry about-”

“No, not just the feeding. About us. About any of it.”

Felix opened his mouth to say something, but then quickly closed it. His gaze hardened. “Ah. Got it,” he stated sharply, grabbing his blazer and motioning to the door. “I’ll just head out then.”

“Wait, Felix! No, it’s not like that,” you said, rushing around the kitchen island and reaching for his arm. He turned around to face you, his expression wounded. “Listen, I don’t know how it was with your old neighbors, but here at Hampden things are different. There’s certain rules we have to follow, and what you and I did? Well, that broke about a hundred of them.”

Felix was silent for a moment, then sighed. “Okay… But what do you mean rules? Who’s enforcing them? Hampden?”

“No, it’s bigger than that. There’s a group of us here, a society. There are rules we abide by, and they’re meant to keep us safe. Keep us united,” you explained.

“Like a cult?” Felix asked, and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Well, if that helps you, then whatever. Yeah, sure. A cult.”

“Where do you-”

“I’m sorry,” you cut him off. “But that’s all I can really tell you, at least for now. Honestly, the less you know, the better. Just for safety’s sake.”

“Oh. Alright,” Felix said, his lips pursed. He wasn’t pleased, that much was obvious.

“I know this sucks, I’m sorry. But if we want to keep doing this-”

“Wait,” Felix interrupted, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “You want to keep doing this? I thought you’d get in trouble?”

You smiled, and were pleased to see the corners of his mouth curve up in return. “I’ve already risked getting myself in trouble.” You trailed your finger along the bare of his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. He was so alive, so real. And it only made you want him more. Perhaps, that’s why he wanted you as well. You were unpredictable, wild. A challenge. 

A match made in hell.

“I dug myself a grave, Lix.” You looked up at him, entranced by the curiosity swimming in his eyes. “Might as well lie in it.”

~~

next chapter 

[fandomficsnstuff]

Healer - Part 7

Ivar x Modern!Reader

(Warnings: none I think, but let me know if I’m wrong:D)

The tattoos I imagined are here only with the names swapped

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sighed heavily as you finished your food, frowning at Ivar “so.. why did Ubbe leave? You weren’t quite… clear on that…” you asked, Ivar sighing and looking away, almost as if irritated by your questions and prodding, but he didn’t say so if that was the case, only shrugging lightly “after we realised they had taken you, and we couldn’t find you, Ubbe and Hvitserk went behind my back to negotiate a pace, and your release, even after I told them not to, that it would not work. They were beaten and humiliated, so Ubbe chose to go back to Kattegat, Hvitserk almost joined him but at the last second he choose to join me instead” Ivar explained, your head slowly nodding as you looked down “I wish I could have said goodbye… but we’ll see him soon, when we go back to Kattegat, right?” you asked, Ivar tensing up and hesitating, avoiding your gaze as he looked down, fiddling with the leather straps that held the braces on his legs in place “Ivar? We are going back to Kattegat, right?” you asked, Ivar sighing and looking up dramatically, looking back at you afterwards “not exactly, no. Do you remember King Harald?” Ivar asked, watching you intently as you frowned, trying to remember before hesitantly nodding “yeah, his brother went with Björn, right?” you asked, Ivar nodding and gesturing randomly at you “well… we will need his help to get Kattegat back” Ivar admitted and half expected you to tell him how it wasn’t worth it, how it didn’t matter. But you didn’t, you just nodded, making Ivar frown “you… are okay with me taking back Kattegat by force?” he asked surprised, seeing you smile softly “Ivar, I may not have known Aslaug for long, but after my own mother died, she was the only one who I ever came close to loving like that again” you explained, Ivar almost smiled softly at your words, knowing that Aslaug had meant just as much to you as to him, Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd’s unwillingness to get revenge sickened him, but at least he had you on his side in this, and everything else, he thought.

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You slowly walked into the cell where the bishop was held, Ivar calmly walking in like he was just going grocery shopping, making you frown slightly. You looked at the bishop and awkwardly waved “hello” you said, glancing at Ivar who glanced at you and then the bishop, saying something in a language you didn’t recognize, though it sounded a lot like Latin. He said your name, gestured to you and then the bishop glared even more at you, saying a word you recognized, ‘Heathen’, and then another word you didn’t recognize. Ivar glared at him, a small dagger in hand when you stopped him “n-no, it’s okay. I understood that word, but it’s okay” you said, giving Ivar a sweet smile as he looked at you shocked, but not as shocked as he put on, he knew you by now, after all. You turned back to the bishop, Heahmund, and kneeled in front of him, sitting on the cold ground, glancing once again to Ivar for reassurance before back at Heahmund. “Hello, I have heard some things about you. Where I’m from is… different. Believing in Jesus Christ is very common but most don’t believe in anything, actually. Or they believe in multiple or one completely different” you explained, Ivar translating what he knew, the bishop eyeing you with suspicion, cautious of you, with good reason, you were on the enemy’s side after all. “I just wanted to introduce myself, properly. I will be around Ivar a lot, and you will be around him probably more. I just thought introducing myself was better than having you make assumptions about me without knowing me” you explained, Ivar still translating. Heahmund seemed to accept your words, hesitantly bowing his head, saying something and then glancing at Ivar with a glare before looking back to you, something about his gaze seemed more… respectful, somehow.

Ivar gritted his teeth and you frowned at him “what did he say?” you asked, Ivar hesitating before eventually answering, though rather reluctantly as he probably wanted nothing more than to cut Heahmund’s head off “nothing worth repeating” he gritted out and looked at you, his whole face softening as he nodded towards the door, making you get up and walk towards the door, Ivar casting one lsat glare at Heahmund before leaving him once again alone in his chains.

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You watched Ivar get another tattoo, you were both fascinated by the tattoos he got and confused, you had no idea what some of them meant, others you only had an inclination about. Ivar smirked at you as he straightened up, making you frown at him as the tattoo artist, I guess you could call him, took a step back, beginning to clean his tools and pack them away. “What kind do you want?” he asked casually, making your eyes go wide as you watched his calm, amused expression “me? A tattoo? I-I’m not sure” you said with a smile and a nervous laugh, Ivar chuckling lightly “you do not have to, but if you want, all you have to do is ask, dove” he said with a smirk, your cheeks filling with heat at the nickname. Ever since you came back during the battle, ever since that first time, he had every now and then called you nicknames, mostly dove or love, and it filled your stomach with butterflies, making you feel both giddy and anxious at the same time, hell, sometimes even separately. You shrugged, thinking it over before deciding, what the hell, you only live once, right? Or in your case, once in the modern world and probably the rest of your life in the past. You shrugged and sighed “Odín has two ravens, right?” you asked and Ivar smirked, saying something quietly to the man who had been tattooing him and then he got up, sitting down on a crate next to him as he watched you get up and hesitantly roll up your left sleeve, exhaling heavily “so… maybe one of the ravens, just the outline…?” you asked and the man nodded, beginning to prepare to make another tattoo when Ivar jumped in “which one do you want?” he asked and you shrugged “I don’t know..” you said nervously, tattoos hurt, right?

Ivar noticed your anxiety and couldn’t help but admire how cute you were, leg bouncing, teeth nibbling at your lower lip, brows furrowed. Gods, you were beautiful, so beautiful, and you acted like you didn’t even know, but you had to know, right? No one could be so beautiful and not know it. “I will have the other” he said, making you turn and look at him with a small relieved smile “you will? Which one?” you asked and Ivar shrugged “there are two ravens, Huginn and Muninn. Memory and Mind, which one will you choose?” he asked and you thought about it before smiling at him “Memory, so I’ll never forget” you explained, Ivar feeling his heart flutter at your words, you wanted to remember, remember him, remember all you have gone through, with or without him. “You will have Mind, because of that clever mind of yours” you added, Ivar forcing a smirk to make you believe he found it amusing, when in truth he couldn’t get your beauty out of his mind, the mind you so adored. You wanted to remember your time here, in case you ever somehow got back to where you came from. The thought saddened Ivar, his smirk fading into a sollem look as you began to get your tattoo, your attention off of him. His eyes took in every single detail of you, as though you could vanish into thin air. You didn’t come from here, what if one day you suddenly woke up back where you came from? In your time? Would you still have the memory of him? Of this moment where you sat, giddy and anxious at the same time, wincing every so often but with a smile on your face as you watched the outline of a raven be tattooed on the inside of your wrist. Ivar began to feel a sense of envy, envy because one day, you’d probably return home, you’d return home and marry someone who deserved you, not an angry cripple who could not please you. But Ivar was a selfish man, he never wanted you to go home… not once had you talked of how you missed it, not once have you said that you longed for it, perhaps you were better off here? With him?

Ivar was brought out of his trance when you called his name, smiling at him as he looked adorable with his half-shocked and half ‘I was definitely paying attention to what you were saying… I think?’ look. “Ivar? It is your turn” you announced and got up, holding your sore wrist without touching the new tatto there, under the raven was the name Huginn in runes. Ivar sat down and instructed the tattoo to be filled out instead of yours, which was just an outline. “Don’t know how you can ask for that, it hurts like a bitch” you admitted, Ivar chuckling and then frowning at you, careless about the needle that was literally being bashed into his arm “what does that mean?” he asked curiously, making you grimace a bit “it’s actually a uh… a sort of bad word, I guess? It’s definitely not something you call someone, especially not a woman. It’s real meaning is a female dog, but it’s become more of a bad word, something you usually call someone to offend them” you explained, Ivar frowning and looking off into the distance for a second, thinking it over before looking at you, more confused “why would you call a woman a female dog?” he asked, confused, and you couldn’t help but laugh “some men do it, some women do it. It’s very offensive” you explained further, Ivar giving a small ‘hm’ in return before shrugging, much to the silent dismay of the man tattooing him, his movements halting before resuming once Ivar was still again.

You gave Ivar a wide grin as he got up, instantly grabbing his hand and raising it, turning his right wrist so you could see it. You grinned up at him and Ivar had already forgotten how he almost tipped over with you grabbing his wrist, your smile sending butterflies into his stomach. He almost leaned down, almost tried to press a kiss to your beautiful lips but before he could even try, a man shouted at him that they were ready to move, making him groan and grit his teeth, Gods he hated sailing... and interruptions.

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You grimaced as you watched Ivar try to act as though he wasn’t sea sick. You quietly moved over to him, sitting across from him with a frown, catching his attention “what?” he snapped, you could practically see the vomit in his throat, making you sigh “distractions help… I-I don’t have anything for seasickness” you whispered, knowing that admitting as a viking, Ivar Ragnarson, no less, that he was seasick would not be good, Ivar clenching his jaw and looking away from you, his eyes nervous scanning his men before going back to you “what would you have me do, hm? I am Viking, (Y/N)” he hissed and you thought for a second, hesitating before getting up, managing to not flatten him as the waves made the boat tilt ever so slightly. You sat down close to him, already noticing how tense he was. You sighed and took his hand in yours, flattening his palm against your own, palm facing yours, the top of his hand bared for you. You traced his bone structure with your other hand, fingers gently running across his hand, you didn’t say anything, nor look at him as you continued to gently trace his bones, humming each time your fingers went over a joint or something like that, Ivar’s eyes staring at you in slight amazement, adoration written all over his face as his eyes studied you. You were both broken out of your trance when one of his men announced that they were almost at their destination.

You turned and smiled at Ivar “still seasick?” you asked in a whisper, giggling at how he looked shocked. You got up and sat down by Hvitserk, taking some of the food he was eating and taking a bite yourself, earning a snarky remark from Hvitserk that made the both of you laugh. Ivar’s eyes stayed on you, a dazed expression on his face as he watched you, admired you, the crinkles at the corner of your eyes as you smiled or laughed, how your lips parted when you spoke, your voice carried all the way to the other side of the longboat to him as you spoke with Hvitserk.

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

Tags:

@not-another-viking-fanfic-blog

[somesaycosmo]

laurence, the first vicar - an analysis

hi! this is future marie, when i'm going back through and finalizing my draft of this post. this was originally meant to just be an analysis of laurence's song, but it turned into more than that, so just bear with it!

"oh look it's my favorite boss soundtrack in soulsborne! thankfully, bloodborne is a very simple game with straightforward lore, and the lyrics of its tracks are similarly straightforward, so there's not much to analyze here." -a quote from an alternate universe marie who was blessed with a game that didn't give her frenzy

"bloodborne's tracks have lyrics?" you might ask - and yes, in fact, they do! many of them have choral lyrics in latin, including mr laurence "i forgot the sacred adage" lastname's track here.

before we start, please listen to the song, if only because it's very good

this post is using the translated lyrics from this bloodborne wiki, while taking some liberties with the interpretation based on the game's lore. i do not know latin, but if anyone does, i'd love for them to hit me up. i'm also going to specifically tag @rococospade-main, both to shout them out for being great to discuss bloodborne lore with (it's where i got the idea to write this post)

as always, lore starts below the line

so the song starts with 4 lines, as follows

Children, know that if you will abide by the sacred rite with great commitment There will be a reward through the Holy Blood You will be rewarded with the hidden Holy Blood Or, maybe I shall lose my humanity through the Holy Blood

already starting off strong with the "questioning one's faith" vibes, eh, larry?

"children" might be in reference to actual children, or it might be the thing priests do, where they're called "father" and stuff (can you tell i'm not christian?) with laurence in this case being the "father" and the disciples of the church being his "children"

the reward from the holy blood is, of course, ascension, which we all know everyone from byrgenwerth strived for, because they're losers. "hidden holy blood" might be in reference to ebrietas bein all locked up in the chalice dungeons?

"maybe i shall lose my humanity through the holy blood" is, based on how early it is in the song, likely about laurence looking forward; loss of humanity is seen as a good thing, because it means ascension. the dramatic irony of this is of course obvious, considering the song plays when we're beating the shit out of laurence's fallen and bestial form - because loss of humanity can also mean other things, it turns out.

We honor you with the Blood Yet you judge this as blasphemy You are obsessed with this mystery And you shall be overcome by bestiality

We honor you with the Blood Yet you judge this as blasphemy We are hindered by this mystery Water does not achieve success

now laurence is speaking to the gods instead of to his followers. "we honor you with blood / yet you judge this as blasphemy" is likely him pleading to the gods. the description of the defiled chalice reads, "Curses are caused by inciting the anger of the Great Ones, and used to hex others." this paints a picture of the gods as somewhat vengeful; it makes sense that the beastly scourge, then, would be hypothesized to be a plague cast upon humanity for some sin they've committed, and laurence would know best what exactly that sin is.

"you are obsessed with this mystery / and you shall be overcome by bestiality" seems out of place in the rest of this section, given it's the only one that refers to humanity as "you," but i've taken this as it being the gods replying to laurence in the song, with the mystery likely being "how to ascend to godhood". this is the blasphemy you have committed, they say, and you shall be overcome by bestiality

"we are hindered by this mystery" once again, we're talking from laurence's perspective. firstly, laurence for the first time admits that obsession with ascension might not be so great, actually.

"water does not achieve success" this could be interpreted as talking about the whole "great bodies of water are often bulwarks" thing discussed in the lake and sea runes, laurence sort of saying "protecting ourselves from the truth does nothing to help us ascend," with water, effectively, being "safety." to go further, in my personal interpretation, this is more about the comparison of blood and water. you know that old saying, "blood is thicker than water"? that came to mind immediately while reading these lyrics, given the constant talking about blood in the song (and in the game). perhaps here laurence is comparing water to blood with water, water being "safety" and blood being "success" (ascension). to reference the item description for the white church set, "They believe that medicine is not a means of treatment but rather a method for research, and that some knowledge can only be obtained by exposing oneself to sickness." this will come up later.

By the Gods, friend Be afraid By the Gods, friend The Blood Be afraid You are right to

this is familiar! this could be willem speaking, this could be laurence speaking to someone else, or this could be laurence speaking to himself (my writer's brain imagines him muttering this quietly to himself in despair as his mental health and questioning of his faith declines) - due to "you are right to [fear the blood]," i lean towards him talking to himself as if talking to willem, perhaps wishing he had actually feared the old blood, or saying that willem is better off for doing so. regardless, it is incredibly reminiscent of the sacred adage ("fear the old blood" etc etc we all know it by heart at this point), and is likely supposed to be that.

It will be a majestic festivity By the Holy Blood So come, this sweet wine O defiled juice (this has to mean "wine" or "drink" i refuse to believe laurence would refer to the holy blood as a juice. i will not allow it)

this one, oddly, seems to indicate a toneshift - i would argue it's a result of his spiraling mental state. throughout the song he's questioning his faith and his actions, chanting his old mentor's sacred adage to himself; his life up to this point is a life of success while the cure and path to ascension he was peddling to yharnam turns them into horrific beasts. so he ends up doubling down on the religious fervor he started this endeavor with. this delves more into headcanon territory, so bear with me for a second:

have you ever thought about why laurence drops the beast's embrace rune?

laurence, the first vicar, the first cleric beast, drops the rune that allows you to enter a state of controlled beasthood whenever you want (provided you use a beastly weapon, of course). isn't that odd? shouldn't he drop something that, like, increases the amount blood vials heal you? maybe super duper extra special communion +6? why would he drop that rune, of all things, especially when the game already has a named character they could've put in to drop it (that being irreverent izzy)?

let's look at the item description.

After the repeated experiments in controlling the scourge of beasts, the gentle "Embrace" rune was discovered.

When its implementation failed, the "Embrace" became a forbidden rune, but this knowledge became a foundation of the Healing Church.

now i am not necessarily going to suggest that laurence dreamed up the beast's embrace rune himself - it could make sense, but that isn't necessary for the rest of what i'm about to say, which is this: the last part of the song is laurence giving into beasthood voluntarily.

perhaps he believed so strongly in the blood of ebrietas taking him to ascension that he decided beasthood must be it, must be the next step for humanity; perhaps, in a final move of desperation, he tried to control beasthood by experimenting on himself with this rune; or perhaps he had already imbibed so much of the old blood that he couldn't control his need to spill the blood of others.

personally, i lean toward the second interpretation. let's look at the description of laurence's (human) skull:

Skull of Laurence, first vicar of the Healing Church. In reality he became the first cleric beast, and his human skull only exists within the Nightmare.

The skull is a symbol of Laurence's past, and what he failed to protect. He is destined to seek his skull, but even if he found it, it could never restore his memories.

firstly, i'd just like to point out the irony in the statement "he is destined to seek his skull"; he spends his human life seeking ascension, and when he achieves metamorphosis, he is cursed to spend that form trying to find his humanity again, mindless, lost in a nightmare.

secondly, and more to the point, let's look at the line "a symbol of laurence's past, and what he failed to protect." examining this item for its symbolism is fairly clear - it's a relic of laurence's humanity, and that's exactly what he failed to protect, the humanity of himself and others. this description leads me to believe he wanted to protect humanity, but failed.

a lot of interpretations of him have him as this truly evil person who was just deceiving the city of yharnam for his own personal gain, but honestly, i don't buy that. that's not what bloodborne is about. i mean bloodborne is and can be about a lot of things, and i could ascribe dozens of basic thematic interpretations of it off the top of my head, but characterization that simple doesn't fit bloodborne (and, frankly, it's not tragic enough for miyazaki).

so, with all that combined, why do i believe that laurence branded himself with beast's embrace in an attempt to further research on the control of beasthood, so as to protect humanity? well, to go back to an item description from earlier, some knowledge can only be obtained by exposing oneself to sickness.

thank you for reading.

[iknowthekoolaidflavor]

Surrexit lingua vestra cattus

Thomas appears to be a friend, but he is a demon after all.

Pairing: demon!Thomas x reader

Word count: Abt 2k

A/N: The translations came from Google, so by any means, please correct my Latin. My idea for demons and their jobs is loosely based on Supernatural because I miss it so much 😭

Take Latin, they said.

It will be fun, they said.

As a senior, you thought taking a language class would somehow lighten your stressful workload, and you were wrong. Latin kicked your ass every single week.

“Why didn’t I take Spanish?”, you groaned, dropping your head on the desk

The dorm room was empty, save for the stressed-out senior studying for finals. Your roommate, the English major, breezed through all their courses with flying colors. Avery was a natural when it came to writing and criticizing your essays. They were sure to graduate at the top of the class. Y/N, on the other hand, struggled to conjugate daily activities in past tense. College may not have been too much of a stressor in life, but this semester has fucked you over in more ways than one. All you wanted to do was graduate on time and that meant for the next two semesters you had to take 18 credits.

With the final tomorrow, you knew relearning the information was a lost cause.

Can I go home and tell mom I failed? I will never hear the end of it.

I’ll have to sit through another lecture about switching majors.

The wayward thoughts took over, filling your head with how disappointed your family will be. You wrapped your arms around yourself, head dropped to your knees when you heard something hit the floor. To your left, a book managed to fall off the bookshelf, landing on its spine.

You took your time getting the open book off the floor and reading the bookmarked page. Who would have thought your precious roommate would also be interested in demonology? The page was in English except for one paragraph at the bottom written in Latin. You read it to yourself, wincing at your terrible pronunciation.

“I guess demons aren’t real after all”, you laughed to yourself as you placed the book back on the shelf

You turned on your heel, then ran into something solid.

“Who told you demons weren’t real, sweetheart?”

The figure braced himself for the scream that escaped your lips. It happened from time to time. Someone thought demon summoning was a joke, he showed up, then boom instant nightmare. The demon towered over you. He appeared to be in his thirties. The wild, but neat curls framing his face were enough to cover the bottom of his horns. He stared down at you with his pitch-black eyes, bored with your screams.

“Are you done yet?”, he scoffed, “I’m not that bad”

“You’re a demon”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing. I’m no longer disgusted in the presence of humans…although I should be. Just gross and full of emotions”

The demon walked around your small dorm, looking the at the bookshelf before his eyes landed on the book you just put away. He immediately perked up and pulled it off the shelf.

“I can’t believe they still make copies of these. Are you a fan of mine?”, he stared at you with a suggestive quirk of his brow

“It’s not my book, and why would I be a fan of you?”

“Sure, it isn’t. It’s also my book. Had to get the word out somehow”

“Everything is already stressing me out. Why would I want to add a demon to the mix?”, you hissed

“To make your life less stressful. That is what we’re here for”

“A demon just steps in, makes your life better at no cost at all?”

The demon smirked as he took a seat on your roommate’s desk. He remained composed during your interrogation. Typically, the deals were quick. Everyone knew what they wanted, and he set the nonnegotiable price for their demands. This might take a little longer, but he was up for the challenge.

“You have a point. Nothing is free, sweetheart”

“Don’t call me that”

“Don’t call me demon”

“Aren’t you a demon?”

He paused for a moment, opening his mouth for a smart remark, yet it never came. A soft laugh came in its wake.

“Thomas. You can call me Thomas”

The name put you at ease, but only for a little while. You sighed as you sat on your bed, picking up your Latin notes again.

“…and you are?”

“A human that doesn’t need your help. Nothing is worth risking a deal with a dem—you. I can’t risk that”

“There’s nothing I can help you with?”

“No”, you stated with as much firmness you could muster. The room felt slightly warmer since Satan’s spawn appeared out of nowhere.

“Not even your Latin homework?”, Thomas grinned, watching your faux hostility crumble. He knew you needed his help, but he did not mind waiting for you to ask nicely.

“I’m studying for a final and no, you can’t”

“I’ve lived for over three centuries. I think I’ve picked up more than enough Latin in my lifetime. Why do you think it’s all in my book?”

“Why would I want your help?”

“Because you’ll fail without me”

“No, I won’t. Maybe. Who cares? I don’t need your help”

“Well”, he sighed as he stepped off the bed, “te visurum”

Thomas’s hand touched the doorknob. How bad can it be? Why is he willing to help you? If he apparated in your room, why did he need to use the door?

“For dramatic effect. Do you want my help or not? I know a trick or two to help you study”, he reasoned, aware that you were already screaming yes

“Fine, but this is time for studying. I don’t need any distractions”

Thomas was indeed a distraction.

He stopped after every three phrases to ask you about your studies, hometown, and why you summoned him in the first place. You did not strike him as the type of person to summon a demon unless they were desperate.

The space between the two of you were sparse. The longer he stayed, the warmer it felt. The thermostat in the room remained untouched since he arrived. For some reason, you felt your body warming up the longer he stayed around you. You sat up on the bed with your laptop in front of you, attempting to put some space between you. Thomas laid on his side, holding himself up with his elbow. Every time his horn brushed against your arm; your skin tingled, sending small trembles to places in your body you did not want to speak about.

“Do demons have tails too?”

“Does it look like I have a tail?”

“You have black eyes and eyes, I wouldn’t put it past you”, you smirked, “Don’t get an attitude with me, blame the internet”

“I can’t do anything about the internet taking artistic liberties for what we look like, but some of it is erroneous. Don’t need a tail or wings”

“What about your horns? What’s their purpose?”

Thomas grew silent. He never wondered why he needed his horns, dark eyes, or claws. They were just there. They were a part of him. It made people fear him whenever they crossed paths and easier to get what he wanted without threatening violence. Although he loved the latter, it made his life much easier. It did not take much for him to intimidate the strongest of men, but you seemed different. Besides the initial reaction, it appeared that there’s no part of you that feared him. If no one knew who he was, one would think you were talking to another human.

“Did I offend you or something?”, you asked, finally looking up from your notebook

“No”, Thomas blinked, “Not at all. It’s going to take more than that to offend me…”

“I’m still not giving you my name and I like a challenge”

Little did you know, so did he.  

“I’ve been living amongst demons for so long, I forgot that humans aren’t used to our appearance. It got pretty lonely down there, then I came here and not much changed”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone who won’t scream for the hills when they see you”, you giggled

“I may have found one already”, Thomas replied with a devious smirk, “I’m going to give you a little push. There’s no way you’re passing this class…”

Trying to look offended was no use. You knew you were not going to pass either, regardless if Thomas helped you or not. This was a lost cause, and you were back where you started. Thomas pulled himself off the bed, collecting his coat and fixing his hair.

“There is another way I can help you, darling”

You closed your laptop and notebook, moving to the edge of the mattress.

“I’m not making a deal with you”

“You don’t have to. I’ll help you pass, and you’ll give me nothing in return”

“Why?”

“Do you know how often college students ask me for penis enlargement? Not help with studying. Not passing a class or paying for tuition. But you? You’re different. I like you, which is why this one’s on me”

“You’re going to help me…for free?”

“I only want to help”, he said, offering up his hands in mock surrender, “Next time, you’ll know when you’re summoning a demon. Do you know how much danger you put yourself in? Also, I’ll be happy to know you passed that final because you’re bound to fail”

“Gee, thanks”

If he helps you pass, he may come back and renege on his offer. There is probably some fine print that says you will belong to him for all of eternity. On the other hand, no more nagging from your mother about your major.

“Fine, I accept”, you agree as you moved to shake his hand

“Oh sweetheart”, Thomas laughed, “You naïve little thing. You really are new to this. That’s not how we seal the deal”

Thomas took a step forward, stepping in between your legs. In that moment, you became painfully aware of the dampness between your thighs.

“A quick kiss, then we’re all done”

You allowed him to move closer. He placed his hands against your cheeks as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. Thomas took his time kissing you, nails ghosting above your collar bone. The gasp that escaped gave him space to slide his tongue in your mouth. You found your hands tangled in his shirt, trying to pull him closer. Thomas happily obliged, placing his hands on the mattress, giving you the chance to wrap your arms around his neck.

Thomas’s hands inched up your shirts as he left rough kisses on your neck. The moan you released when he bit down on the flesh made him weak. His fingers wrapped around your hair and gave a slight tug. When your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he pulled harder, trying to hold himself up with his cock pressed into your thigh. You became so pliant in a matter of moments. This was all he wanted.

Before his hands could reach your bra, the faint sound of keys rang from the other side of the door. Panicked, you pushed Thomas off you.

“See you soon Y/N”, he winked before disappearing

Avery walked in as you were picking their book off the floor. You were quickly pulling your shirt down and trying to fix your hair.

“Told you the book was good”, they smirked

“Can I borrow it for a little longer?”

“Sure”

The next morning you woke up with last night as a distant memory. You quizzed yourself on past and present tense while you showered and focused on your phrases as you got dressed. You knew you were going to pass, something about today just felt right.

You stepped out your dormitory and headed to class. Across the yard, one of your classmates called out to you.

“Y/L/N, want to walk together?”

There was no reason to say no, but when you opened your mouth to say yes, nothing came out. You tried over and over, but each time, your mouth moved, your voice failed to follow suit. You stood in the middle of the yard. Everything felt like it moved in slow motion. Thomas took something valuable to you, and you were none the wiser to his game.

You yanked the demon book from your backpack, intent on summoning the very demon you now despise. In the middle of the cover was a sticky note with a message that made your blood boil.

Quid est? Surrexit lingua vestra cattus

 te visurum - see you later

Quid est? Surrexit lingua vestra cattus - What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?

[hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong]

The Century War of Wyverns, Part 2: Chase the French Soldier

[Previous] [Contents] [Next]

Kat: Our first encounters in a strange new land! It... doesn't go well tbh, but I'm sure the next one will!

Cris: Turns out Spartacus doesn't understand "the back of your blade" very well.

Jeanne: {CWs for violence against humans, death, first-person panic attack}

------

God dammit, how the hell can that mountain of muscle move so fast? We barely got a word in edgewise and he’s already left us in the dust! If we don’t get there in time those soldiers are gonna be a big red smear on the ground. One more hill, and… he’s just… standing there, having a conversation with them? He gestured towards the one in the gaudiest uniform before walking over.

Spartacus: Placet expectare.

Spartacus: Ah master, there you are! I have glorious news! These soldiers are themselves fighting against the oppression of a false king! Of course, a true king is also oppressive in its own way, but still! Their leader even speaks latin! Roughly.

French General: C'est ton géant ?

Kat: <Ooh, ooh! I got this! Time for all that duolingo to do its thing!>

April (Kat): Bonjour, garcon!

I internally rolled my eyes as the soldier blanched.

Cris: <Kat. Garcon means boy. Let’s try something else.>

April (Cris): (Hey, Mash, do you know French? Mine’s a little rusty.)

Mash: (Sorry master, I barely know enough to say hello.)

April (Jeanne): (Well, English is a common lingua franca, might as well try that, right?)

Cris: <Good idea!>

Mash: Wait, that’s-

April (Cris): Sorry about that, tried to be polite, don’t actually know that much French. The big guy’s with us, and we were hoping you… could… Ah, fuck.

The soldiers had already surrounded us. Cries of “L’Anglais!” erupted around us as they pointed their spears in our direction.

Mash: The French are at war with England in this time period!

April (Cris): I gathered, yeah.

Spartacus: So now they seek to oppress us as well?

Mash: What are your orders, master?

April (Cris): Take them down but try not to kill the idiots. Uh… hit them with the back of your blade, or something.

Mash lifted her shield up quizzically.

Mash: And what part of this, exactly, is the blade?

April (Cris): Dammit, just try not to kill them!

Even holding back, it was clear the soldiers were no match for Mash Kyrielight. She ran circles around them, their every attack parried as their weapons shattered against their shield. Even three on one, the soldiers didn’t stand a chance. Meanwhile, Spartacus ha- oh God.

I faltered, stumbled off the road and retched. If Mash had a spotless technique, Spartacus’ was nothing but spots. He simply walked from soldier to soldier and shattered their bodies with his fists. He hadn’t even bothered to draw his sword. The few soldiers Mash pacified were bruised, but relatively unharmed. The ones unlucky enough to face Spartacus weren’t going to get back up.

The forest span <Jeanne?> around me. I know someone was calling our name, but I couldn't <Jeanne!> hear anything beyond the blood rushing to my head. My chest hurt, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't- <JEANNE!>

A sharp sting as my hand slapped my cheek. Cris stopped me from spiraling again. I took a moment to breathe properly.

April (Jeanne): Okay… Okay, I’m good. I think.

I slowly stood up and made it back to the others. The surviving French soldiers had already made their escape. Mash’s spirit origin was shaking. I put my hand on her shoulder as I got closer.

April (Jeanne): Mash, are you alright?

Mash: I should be asking you that, Master. I’m… I can’t believe it, but I’m still not used to this.

April (Jeanne): It’s only been a day or two Mash, you don’t have to force yourself to be okay with this.

Mash: A day? Oh, right.

Spartacus: Mmh. It might be better for you two if you don’t become comfortable in these sorts of things. The two of you are unoppressed by the experience of warfare. Hold that close to you.

Mash: Right. Thank you, Spartacus. So, what’s our next move?

April (Cris): Right, I hate to do this, but… we need to follow the soldiers that ran off.

Spartacus: Ahah, we must finish the fight then?

April (Cris): NO! Nonono. I mean, they’re going to run to the nearest place with people. They’re our only lead right now. Did you see which way they went, Spartacus?

Spartacus: Of course! Follow me!

----

On our way, we got in contact with Dr. Roman again. Turns out our plugsuit comes equipped with a translator- would have come in handy earlier, but fuck it, at least we won’t have to fight literally everyone we come across.

The sky was turning red when we finally saw the smoke clouds over the horizon. We rushed over a hill and finally got a look at the fort. It was in bad shape. Walls crumbled in, with smoke and fire billowing out from several windows. Dark shapes moved through the smoke, obscured in a haze.

Another wall fell over as we descen-

Kat: <Hey, look! Isn’t that one of the soldiers?>

Sure enough, one of the survivors of Spartacus’ rampage was kneeling at the top of the hill.

April (Cris): Hey! Hey you! Don’t fucking run, I’m talking to you!

The soldier had started, but before he made it to his feet we were already surrounding him. He was speaking too fast to translate at first, so I just pressed on.

April (Cris): Look, I get it if you don’t believe us, but we’re not gonna kill you.

April (Jeanne): We have traveled a long way because we heard something very, very bad was happening here. Please, can you tell us what is going on?

French Soldier: Oh, and what are the English going to do about it?! Insult her and run away?

Cris: <Apparently we can do a lot fucking more than your soldiers can.>

April (Jeanne): We have fought worse. Now, who is this “her”?

French Soldier: You’ve fought worse than Jeanne d’Arc? Hah! Unlikely!

Mash: Jeanne d’Arc? She should be dead by this point!

French Soldier: That is the worst part, she is! She was dead for three days, when the Saint of Orleans appeared out of nowhere and started razing all of France to the ground. She’s been tearing around with an Army of monsters for days now! Even King Charles couldn’t stand up to her!

April (Jeanne): Thank you. We will figure out a way to stop this, I promise.

By the time we got closer to the ruined fort, whatever had caused so much damage had long since disappeared. However, I could still make out faint traces of enchantment on some of the bodies scattered around the field.

April (Jeanne): Roman, I'm noticing something off about this corpse. What do you make of it?

Mash: Senpai, we really should get out of the open while there’s still daylight.

April (Jeanne): Give Roman a second, Mash. I'm sure there's something off about it.

Roman: Huh. Good catch, April. This body had been treated for necromancy. Large-scale necromancy is certainly rare, but it’s still possible with or without a holy grail. Either way, it’s good to have an idea of what we’re up against.

We entered the keep. Walking around was a nightmare, it was as if every square inch of space was taken up by the injured. Their groans echoed through the fort. Suddenly, I felt something on the edge of my scanning area. It was faint, but unmistakable. A spirit origin.

April (Jeanne): Mash, do you feel that?

Mash: Barely. There must be a servant outside the castle.

April (Jeanne): No, about thirty feet in that direction. Does anyone catch your eye?

Mash: There’s no one there who could be a servant, Master.

Cris: <This is pointless, let me look.>

Kat: <No way! You got to yell at the guy, lemme look, lemme look!>

Yay, I won! I turned where Jeanne was pointing. The whole place was just beat up soldiers & less beat up soldiers taking care of them. Oh, there’s one! A little girl is going around comforting people as they fall asleep!

April (Kat): What about that little girl? The one dressed in all white? Can she be a servant?

Roman: That’s not likely. Servants are invariably summoned at the “peak” of their myth. It’s possible for child prodigies to be summoned young, but the vast majority will either be young adults when they are most powerful, or at old age when they are most skilled. You guys should get some rest while you can. I’ve detected a leyline a day’s travel from here, you should set out in the morning.

We found a spot near a wall and curled up to sleep. I don’t remember much of my dreams, but when I woke up it was still dark. That girl was still tiptoeing around the soldiers, and every now and then I caught her singing, at barely above a whisper.

That was weird enough, but then something amazing happened! The soldier she was standing next to, his wounds suddenly shrank, until it was like he never got hurt at all! He shifted in his sleep, and she moved on to the next one.

April (Kat): (I knew it!)

I pulled myself out of our pile as slow as possible, and inched closer to her.

April (Kat): Excuse me?

Little Girl: Hello miss. (Please keep your voice down, people are sleeping!)

April (Kat): (Oh, sorry! This might sound weird, but… are you a servant?)

Little Girl: (I am a faithful servant of God, yes. Is something wrong?)

April (Kat): (That’s not exactly what I meant. I mean are you human?)

A strange look crossed the girls face.

Little Girl: (I was. Let’s talk outside.)

She led me by the hand out of the castle. She had such a strong grip, it was kinda awkward! Once we were a bit away, she turned to face me. Suddenly, a spear covered in flags appeared out of nowhere and landed in her hands!

Little Girl: As you have guessed, I am indeed a Servant, Lancer class. My true name is Jeanne d’Arc.

[anachronisticcrab]

Nico and Portuguese

I don’t know if this bugged anyone else, but in the Hidden Oracle it didn’t sit right with me that Chiara and Apollo, who were both fluent in Italian, couldn’t understand Paolo when he spoke Portuguese, even though Nico could understand him because he speaks Italian (as seen in BoO when he read the Portuguese inscription in the Church of Bones, and when he was able to translate that Paolo wanted Apollo to have his lucky bandanna). At first I figured it was just weird Uncle Rick discrepancies and stuff, but then I figured why not do a bit of googling to see if I could find an explanation. I did a bit research on Italian dialects and second languages, as well as its connections to Portuguese, Catalan, and Spanish, and I think I discovered why Nico could speak with Paolo and understand Portuguese when no one else could

Just as a forewarning, I want to say is that I don’t speak Italian or Portuguese, I have never been to Italy or Portugal (or any other country that speaks Portuguese), and I am in no way an expert on the subject of any language. If you have any information on this topic, please correct any mistakes I make and feel free to add anything related to this. That being said, let’s get into this monster of a post

First of all, obviously Italian and Portuguese are very close together (they are both derived from Vulgar Latin, and have at least superficial similarities). However, this post will be looking into specific dialects and historical facts that would support Nico understanding Portuguese from Italian whereas the other two people who are confirmed to be fluent have no idea what Paolo says

I started trying to find out a bit more about Italian (because I knew there were differences in the language depending on where you are in the country, because everything in Italy varies from region to region). It turns out there are around 34 recognized spoken dialects within the country of Italy, and Standard Italian comes from Old Tuscany/Florence. The dialects vary from region to region, and even city to city in the country. All the different dialects are vastly different, especially between North Italy and South Italy. If you had a southern Italian speaking their native dialect and a northern Italian speaking theirs, neither of them would have any idea what the other was saying, unlike with different dialects in English, where you still know what the other person is saying. For example, in Venice, the dialect changes depending on the island you are on (ie. Burano to Pellestrina)

If we look specifically at the Veneto Region (where Venice and Verona are, and where Nico is from), one of the dialects is Venetian, although there isn’t a lot of information on the language that I could find, and even less about it’s roots. However I did find out that it is closer to Spanish, Catalan, and Portuguese than it is to Standard Italian (Tuscan), and the language isn’t just spoken in and around Venice, but also in Trieste, Croatia (which led me down the path of Croatia and Venice thanks to Nico visiting there, and I’m gonna make a post about that too now because it’s really cool to me and I’ve got ideas for that) , Slovenia, Mexico and Brazil

Apparently, in certain parts of Brazil, the Talian dialect of Venetian holds co-official status with Portuguese. (I couldn’t find a whole lot of info on this, so I’m not sure where or if this is a true/accurate fact). From around 1875 to the 1920′s, there was a mass boom of Venetian immigrants to Brazil, and of the largest place in the world for people of direct Italian descent is actually Sao Paolo, Brazil. The only article I could find on the Talian dialect cut off two paragraphs in and required a paid subscription to read more (which I couldn’t do since I’m broke), so all I know is that a Portuguese dialect of Venetian is spoken in some areas of Brazil, more of them down south from what I could gather

In my research on Talian, I found out about another dialect, this one of Portuguese. It is called the  Paulistano dialect, and is spoken in and around Sao Paolo, the city I brought up before. Paulistano has direct influences from the Venetian language, as it was created thanks to Northern Italian immigrants who spoke with think foreign accents, and a new dialect was created, and preserves characteristics from Venetian

Not gonna lie, I think that they might just be different names for the same language, but I’m probably wrong about that. As I said, I really couldn’t find a lot of information on this topic so I’m probably very wrong by saying that

On top of that, historically, Venice and Portugal (the places that created both languages) have had extremely close relations. In the 15th century, the Portuguese kings used Venice’s ports to help with the spice trade from Asia, South America, and Europe. There were Portuguese and Spanish people coming in and out of Venice’s docks all the time. This is presumably why Venetian is much closer to Spanish and Portuguese than it is to Italian

As you can see, Venetian and Portuguese have deep rooted histories and simmilarities, and show how Nico would be able to understand Portuguese. Nico would’ve grown up speaking a very similar language to Paolo’s, and Paolo may have grown up speaking a dialect inspired by Venetian

I did try to use Paolo’s name to see if I could get an idea of where in Brazil he might be from, but I have absolutely no idea. Montes was originally a French or Spanish surname, suggesting he might have had French or Spanish roots, but that could also be pure bullshit, because I genuinely don’t know. If he was Spanish somewhere along the line, he most likely lived towards the south, closer to Sao Paolo and probably knew either Talian or Paulistano

At this point, you might be wondering why Apollo or Chiara can’t speak or understand Portuguese, and my answer is the following:

Apollo was probably only fluent in Standard Italian/ Tuscan after the country unified in 1861. After all, Italy is the capital of music, art, and is well known for being sunny and warm all the time, and Apollo is the god of all that stuff. Therefore, he probably learned the standardized language, and didn’t bother with any local dialects (after all, most people don’t speak the individual dialects with tourists/foreigners)

Now Chiara was a bit different. She was from Italy, so she would’ve known a regional dialect, and I came up with an issue there. She could have been from Venice, and that would have thrown this whole thing into the trash. That would have thrown out this idea, and mean that my research would have been for nothing, and that it really was just a stupid error on Rick’s part

So I looked up the origins of her name to check this out, praying to all the gods I could think of that my two days of research and googling wasn’t for nothing. The first thing I saw was that most Italian surnames with an ‘i’ at the end are from northern Italy. Just as I was about to start crying, I found a link on ‘The Noble House of Benvenuti’, and it turns out she was most likely Tuscan. Therefore, she probably speaks a regional dialect of New Tuscan or something of the like, and wouldn’t know Venetian

Also, after a bit more digging just to double check some of the facts in this post, I found out that even if she was Venetian, she might not have spoken it. Since Venice is a dying city, apparently Venetian is a dying language, and most people who are fluent in it are older, and there are lot’s of other dialects in the Veneto region anyways. Nico probably only knows it because he lived in Venice before the city started really dying out! The only reason Paolo can communicate with someone could be because of the whole hotel thing!

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - I Was Given Four Rules to Follow ... I Broke Every One: Chapter 1/3 (Rated PG13)

Summary: When Warlock Dowling is summoned to the old South Downs cottage of Aziraphale and Crowley to help clean out their attic, presumably after their deaths, he is given four rules to follow.

... He breaks every single one.

Notes: For @silver-colour

Written for the @tricketyboo2020 prompt "Creepypasta format story (like a found footage or witness statement kind of thing)" by silver-colour. It is a mild reworking of an older fanfic of mine, but that goes tongue in cheek with the ending of this story sort of. XD I would put this between Spooky Level 2 and 3, with 3 being "major and minor character death, disturbing images or concepts, major dark themes, major violence, etc." But there's only minor mentions of blood/body horror. But the whole undead thing is a trigger for some people and I lean into that imagery a bit. I wanted this to be a sort of leveled up Goosebumps tale. Tl;dr proceed with caution <3

Chapter 1

 I am going to die.

I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.

I have to keep repeating it because I have to come to grips with it.

I am going to die.

Not in sixty years.

More like sixty minutes.

Oh, Amanda. I am sorry.

If you ever hear this … I never meant for this to happen.

My name is Warlock Dowling and I am 34 years-old. Devoted son and husband, I’ve spent over a decade working towards achieving my dream of following in my father’s footsteps and entering politics one day.

It’s a dream I don’t think I’ll be seeing through to the end.

I am telling you this because after reading what I’ve just read … and hearing what I’ve just heard … I am not certain I’m going to make it through the night.

I broke the rules.

There were four. Only four. And I broke them.

I didn’t break them by accident. I absolutely did it on purpose. I’m not suicidal or anything, but you only live once - am I right?

For the record, I don’t regret a single thing.

…

That’s not entirely true.

I’ll regret dying before morning if that’s the way things play out.

Today happens to be October 31st - Halloween night. I’d been tasked with clearing out the attic above a cottage in The South Downs which once belonged to a pair of old family friends. Technically, they were ex-employees of my parents from back when I was young, but I thought of them as surrogates. They practically raised me, educated me, taught me everything I know about coping in this cruel, pathetic world.

I held them in the highest regard.

They were the only people in my life who treated me as if I could become more than what I had been born into, that fate had something else in store for me. Because of them, I met the best friends a boy could ever have.

I will forever be grateful for that.

Cleaning out this attic was the least I could do to repay them, but to be honest, I don’t know who summoned me here. I assumed it was the executor of their estate, but now I’m not so sure. Looking over the letter in my hands, there is no legible signature. And the gold embossed emblem at the top that I took for granted as belonging to some upscale legal firm is, on closer inspection, gibberish - a mess of fleur-de-lis underscored by Latin words that roughly translate to “the cows shall rise”.

Ludicrous, right?

How did I miss that?

But more ludicrous - and confusing - are the rules.

I had been given rules about cleaning this attic.

The first rule on the list was to touch only what I could see. Under no circumstances was I to open any of the boxes or chests.

So, naturally, I opened every single one.

The second rule was not to put anything on. Fine by me. The only clothes up here are old lady outfits and a pair of white satin shoes.

But …

There was an awesome vintage leather jacket hanging on a dressmaker’s dummy in the corner and … well … it had my name written all over it! I had to try it on, see if it fit.

And it does.

Rule number three - keep to my torch. Don’t light any candles.

Nuh-uh! It’s Halloween! And torches are lame. So on the candles went. Jeez, there are a lot of them. Enough to burn down the whole place if I’m not careful. It actually seems like they’ve multiplied since I’ve been up here.

I won’t lie - it’s unsettling.

But according to the list, rule number four is the most important:

Don’t read any books I find. And definitely not out loud.

The first thing I saw when I entered the attic was a stack of leather-bound books. I scoffed at the sight of them, piled up to my chin, right inside the entryway. Isn’t that a bit like putting a huge bowl of candy front and center on your dining room table in the middle of dinner with a huge sign saying, “Do not eat?” If the most important rule about going into the attic is, “Don’t read anything!” why not put all the books on a high shelf?

Or the moon?

I’m not a book lover. I read hundreds of pages a day for work. I definitely don’t do it for fun. So this shouldn’t have been a hard one for me to follow.

But they looked like diaries.

And diaries hold secrets.

That made them a different matter all together.

I couldn’t resist.

But once I opened the top one, I knew I’d made a mistake.

These weren’t just any diaries.

They were the diaries of my two friends - Aziraphale and Crowley.

There had always been something odd about those two. I didn’t believe for a second that they were a proper nanny or gardener, not even when I was a young, impressionable child. But they were funny - a distraction from the dull as dishwater life of an attache’s son.

Yes, I was a spoiled little rich kid with everything I could ever ask for handed to me and, on top of that, diplomatic immunity.

Woe was me.

I realize how much of a douche whining about that makes me sound.

My life was still dull.

I was still lonely.

I never knew for sure what happened to them after they left us. I made assumptions - erroneous assumptions. I thought they lived happily ever after at least.

Now I know … that wasn’t the case.

I’m recording this in the hopes that someone will find it, so that you might know the true story of what happened to them …

… and why you might not be hearing from me again.

***

The Diary of Aziraphale Fell - Reluctant Widower

January 14th-

“Please, sir,” the decrepit woman hissed, but not unkindly. She came about her speech impediment by a mixture of symptoms - her thick accent coupled with her indeterminable old age caused her to talk that way. “Please, reconsider this decision.”

I glared at her regardless. I knew my eyes were bloodshot; my hair a mass of tangled, wayward strands; my lips quivered from constant, unrelenting crying.

“You said you had it!” I screamed, bypassing her arguments. “You said you would sell it to me! Wh---why else would I come here!?”

“You need to understand,” the woman implored, opening her hands in a pleading gesture. She fixed me with one clear blue eye, the other eye clouded – a useless, milky white lump of tissue bulging inside its socket, “what you ask for … it is unnatural.”

“But your granddaughter said it was a done deal!” I persisted, shooting a steely glare at the simpering young woman who ducked behind her grandmother to hide from my volatile stare. I wasn’t about to leave without the item I came for. At this point, I was willing to tear the place apart and everything inside - including the two of them - to get it.

They must have sensed that.

Even as the woman continued to defy me, she looked slightly more afraid than she had a minute ago.

“My granddaughter is foolish!” The woman directed the comment over her shoulder to the girl cowering there. “But she means well. We need the money. She was thinking with her head and not her heart.”

“I can pay you twice what you’re asking!” I reached into my back pocket for my wallet. “Three times! I’ll give you whatever you want!”

The girl, intrigued by my proposal, peeked over her grandmother’s shoulder, but the woman turned and barked sharply at her in a language I could not understand.

That was when I began to think I might be in danger.

I’d spent my entire life studying languages, so hearing one I didn’t comprehend, not even an inch, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Mr. Fell …” The old woman reached out, I presumed to comfort me, and took my shaking hand in hers “… your husband is dead. And I am more sorry than I can ever express at your loss. You carry your love for him like a beacon. I see it in your eyes. It shines from every part of you. With him gone, it is up to you to carry it. It will never fade as long as you remember him.”

Those were, without a doubt, the kindest words anyone had said to me since my husband passed. I crumbled, new tears falling hot down my cheeks. But regardless of her sympathy, sincere though it might be, I refused to relent.

I refused!

“I don’t want to remember him!” I whimpered, my anger renewed at the sound of my voice fracturing. “I want him here with me! I need you to help me bring him back!”

The woman sighed in pity but shook her head.

“The effects of life are varied, Mr. Fell. Our fate … it changes every day, with every choice that we make. But the effects of death should remain permanent.”

I flinched at that word as if she’d struck me across the face.

Permanent.

Crowley dead … my husband gone … and nothing for me to look forward to in life but emptiness. We’d had every moment of our lives planned together.

One arsehole drunk driver later and now I was alone.

I literally had no one.

I had lost contact with my mum early in life, never knew my father, didn’t have children of my own. My boss and mentor was an abusive prick who tormented me throughout the span of my career until I found a way out from under his thumb.

Until Crowley helped me discover a life where I didn’t need the man’s guidance or control.

But now I was going to lose him!? The only one who had stuck by me, who defended me, loved me through thick and thin!?

No! That was beyond cruel! And I wasn’t going to roll over and accept it!

I let the sorrow within me curdle, turn sour as I yanked my hand out of the old woman’s grasp.

“Your granddaughter said there are other methods of getting what I want!” I snarled. “Dangerous methods. Methods that might require payment in sacrifice … even blood. And not necessarily my blood. Innocent blood, if you catch my meaning.”

Both women gasped.

Despite the conversation at hand, I smiled.

Good, I thought. We were finally all on the same page.

Up until a few days ago, I never considered violence to be the answer to anything. But I had since come to a crossroads where an exception had made itself clear.

I was prepared to annihilate my humanity to get my husband back.

The old woman snapped her head over her shoulder, scolding her granddaughter in a harsh, guttural voice. The girl, who had started to brave coming out of hiding, shrank down once again.

“Be reasonable,” the woman begged, “please, and think about what you are saying. What you are willing to do.”

“No,” I said, my calm more potent than my anger … or so my husband used to say. “The time for me being reasonable is over. I will get what I want, no matter what the cost. The question is whether or not you will be the one to give it to me.”

The woman looked down at her gnarled hands and sighed a long, exhausted sigh. “Alright, Mr. Fell. I will sell the potion to you at the promised price.”

I stared at her for a moment in shock. I was relieved, of course. I hadn’t thought I would get this far. It frightened me how much I had begun looking forward to throttling her with my bare hands, imagined her neck snapping within my grasp, effortlessly like a twig.

That couldn’t be me though. I wasn’t that kind of person. It was this place - this shop and all of its trinkets, their age and professed magical abilities amplifying my grief, turning every rational thought I had into rage.

I had to get out of here and fast before I did something I might regret.

I opened my wallet with the onset of happier tears and thumbed through the bills, pulling out extra for the joy of getting what I wanted. I handed the money over, but the woman refused to touch it. She waved it away, her granddaughter popping up long enough to grab the money and then scurry off again. The woman reached into the folds of her skirts and retrieved a leather pouch that hung from a thin belt around her waist. From it she fished out a tiny blue bottle with a cork stopper sealing the mouth. She gave it a long, troubled look, then handed it to me.

For the first time, her hand trembled.

“Pour the contents of this bottle into your husband’s mouth, Mr. Fell,” she instructed, “and your husband will return.”

I held the bottle up to the dim candlelight of the musty Soho shop. The blue glass glimmered, a thick liquid inside swaying back and forth, shimmering like sun-tossed sparkles across a dark, foreboding sea.

“There are some rules that go along with that potion,” the woman said, her voice weeding into my head, summoning me back from my momentary trance, “and a few warnings you must heed as well.”

I sighed. I had hoped it would be a simple matter of giving my husband the liquid and living happily ever after, but I knew in my heart that nothing was ever that simple.

“Okay,” I said, slipping the bottle carefully into my pocket and patting over it twice to ensure its safety. “Tell me. What are the rules?”

“First of all, you will give that to your husband, but what will come back …” she paused, swallowed hard “… will not entirely be your husband.”

I nodded. I had expected her to say something along those lines, like a scene straight from an old time-y horror movie.

The woman locked both eyes, one clear and one clouded, on my face as I waited for her to finish her speech, eager to go back home and get on with my life. She realized, with regret, that I had every intention of going through with this, and took on the heavy burden of allowing this to continue.

“Be there to look into his eyes when he wakes,” she said.

I hadn’t dreamed of leaving his side, but since the woman made such a point of it, I asked, “Why?”

“He is being reborn, in a sense. And like other simple-minded creatures, he will imprint on the first person he sees.” She took my hands and squeezed them. “That person needs to be you!”

My gulp was audible, the weight of her words and of my plan suddenly settling within me. They pressed in on me, like that moment when the police came to my door. Their words – “Mr. Fell? I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but … it’s about your husband …” had turned me inside out, left my heart out in the cold.

I felt that cold now.

“Once the potion absorbs into his tissues, it will restart his heart,” she continued. “Then the potion will replicate. It will begin to take the place of his blood. It will make him calm, easier for you to control.”

I nodded again. I wanted to say something, assure the woman that I understood, but she didn’t pause long enough for me to speak. It wouldn’t have mattered. I saw the trepidation in her one, clear eye. I had no clue what to say to make this better.

“It will be a slow process, and you must learn to be a patient man!” She raised her voice, letting go of one hand to waggle an emphatic finger in front of my face. “You will be teaching him, raising him as you would a child. Remember, even if only a small portion of his soul returns, that soul belongs to your husband, and you must love him or this will not work!”

The woman stepped back, out of breath from her outburst, and her granddaughter (whom I had forgotten about) returned, pushing forward an ornate but dusty antique chair to catch her in. I held the woman’s arms gently and helped her into it, feeling strangely protective. The woman sat and waved us both off, not wanting us to make a fuss when she still had more to say.

“But most importantly,” she labored on, barely missing a beat in her speech, “do not let him taste blood.” I knelt down so that she didn’t feel the need to yell for her words to reach me. “He cannot eat meat, but most of all, don’t let him bite you or lick your wounds. Or anyone else’s – human or animal.”

“Will … will I become a zombie? If he does bite me?”

I’m not quite sure why the word ‘zombie’ leapt to my mind. In every interaction I had had with the woman’s granddaughter before tonight, she had been so careful not to use that term. She used other, more romantic euphemisms such as ‘bring back to the land of the living’, ‘re-associate with life’, and the most used - ‘rebirth’. But that’s what he would be, right? When we moved past the flowery vernacular and got right down to it? This potion I had pocketed would turn my husband into the walking dead, - a simple-minded creature that was once deposed from this Earth.

And that meant ‘zombie’.

As if I had nothing more pressing at hand, I suddenly recalled the Walking Dead marathon Crowley had convinced me to watch (against my better judgement). Crowley thought the show was hilarious, but I could barely make it to the middle of the first season. I had started watching with my hands over my eyes, then with my arm locked around Crowley’s, anxiously smacking his shoulder, and finally with most of my body lying over his lap and my face buried in his shirt.

It wasn’t just the gore in the show that skewered me, made me nauseous, unable to breathe. It was the fear and the pain those characters felt, being chased by a relentless enemy that needed no rest, constantly running into people they couldn’t trust, people who were so out for themselves they no longer believed in the sanctity of life, with nowhere to hide, nowhere safe at all, even behind thick, concrete and metal walls.

Watching your loved ones get turned into soulless monsters - still there, but everything about them that you had once loved out of reach.

And this ‘illness’ or whatever these people had - it spared no one. Even children had become zombies. And in the game that was survival for the remaining uninfected, children had become pawns.

Everything about it seemed so horrendous.

And while I suffered through my existential crisis, Crowley laughed at my antics.

I fought not to smile at the sound of his teasing voice.

“Uh … a little squeamish there, are you, angel?”

Angel.

From the first day we met, that’s what he called me.

Oh, what I wouldn’t give to hear him call me that again!

The old woman chuckled, bringing me reluctantly back from my daydream. “No. Not in this case. That’s not the nature of this spell. No, blood will give him back his memories.”

I looked at the woman, bug-eyed, and shook my head. “I … I don’t …”

“It will ignite his brain. He will begin to feel. In many ways, he will become more the man you married than in any other.”

“Wha---?“ I stuttered, baffled as to how that could be a bad thing. If drinking blood could make Crowley more Crowley, I’d set up an IV drip the minute I got home! I would serve him cups of blood with every meal! I’d make donating blood a requirement for entrance into my bookshop! (That one would definitely kill two birds with one stone. In fact, I might consider doing that anyhow.) “And why wouldn’t I want that again?” I asked, trying not to sound like turning my husband into a blood-sipping fiend was the greatest idea in known history.

The old woman smiled, but it wasn’t fond. It was shrewd, as if she could read every one of my thoughts.

And she didn’t approve.

“Once he has his memories back, he will start to crave it. Soon, drinking blood won’t be enough for him. It won’t work as well. It won’t keep the memories as fresh. He will have to go further, do more. He will become a killer.”

My face must have gone as green as I felt because the woman laughed again, this time with a touch of wickedness. A killer? My Crowley? My sweet, kind, compassionate Crowley?

Okay, maybe I was going too far with the endearments. He’d been a bit of a bastard, after all. Which was why I could picture Crowley becoming a full-fledged bad boy. With that leather jacket he wore like a second skin and his gleaming classic car, he’d been well on his way.

But a killer? No.

Then again, I was willing to become one myself a second ago, so maybe I wasn’t in the best position to judge.

“You are playing with the laws of nature, Mr. Fell,” she said, patting me on the cheek. “You are responsible not only for your own life, but for the lives of those around you.” The woman leaned in close, those eyes – one alive, one dead - more menacing than when I had walked into the shop; her face no longer that of a frail old woman but of a powerful witch.

This time, it was my turn to feel afraid.

“So don’t fuck it up.”

[lemmons-of-asterisk]

Chapter 2

TWs: trauma, flirting, fears, cussing, crying,  mention of bugs, frustration, google translate Latin, little spaced characters, child abuse mentions slight cliffhanger, etc.

Well, now you  know, at least part of, my backstory. There are some things I didn't mention, so here's a random few things I didn't say:  I use little space to cope with trauma and stuff, I like bugs, I have a record player, Riri owns a cabin in the woods by a lake and we go there every summer, I don't have any friends, I'm in my second year of high school. There's really not much special about me.

Minus one thing...

My magic...

I'm one of only about 30 people in the world...

One of 3 in the country...

The only one in my state...

And the only one with any real control...

Yet I can barely control it.

Riri says to practice but how do I even practice something where there's NO-ONE else who has!

[the next day you see Virgil rushing down a hall way. once our main character enters a classroom they sit down, a few moments later the new exchange student joins him.] "Greetings, my name is Logan." "I doubt you wanna talk to me" "So you are Virgil?Am I correct?" "h-how did you know my name?!" "Mr. Nolbert told me of you." "why are you talking to me like we're friends? no-one likes me." "I assume you have been bullied." "Y-yeah, so?" "I have too, mostly for the fact I identify as a gay man." "so why do you wanna talk to me?" "Mr.Nolbert told me we had all of the same classes." "so i'm stuck with ya." "I only ask you to escort me to my classes until I have an understanding of their location." "fine just don't expect much else."

[Two weeks later, they are in an area that no-one but the two of them know of] "C'mon Logan I really wanna go and its a couples thing!" "Virgil, I will not pretend to date you for a party! That would be committing a falsehood!" "fine! hmph!" "Virgil?" "I'n't here!" "Multum terror?" {google translate say = my little terror} "Etiam?" {google translate say = yes?} "If I take you shopping, will you forgive me? Any thing you want as long as it is less than $300." "Really?" "Yes, really."

"What about this?" [Virgil steps out of a dressing room wearing a crop-top that only half way covers his nipples and skirt that might have gotten him arrested for public indecency.] if this is what it takes to get him to figure it out, fuck it. [The moment Logan saw, he shoved him back into the dressing room.]

"Virgil this covers nearly nothing this is clearly a size if not multiple sizes too small. I refuse to let you purchase such a thing."

"fine..." why couldn't he get the hint? I'm so far out of my comfort zone for a unresponsive nerd! "Virgil, if this is your way of flirting-" "what!?" "I noticed you act very different when interacting with me opposed to others." "I-i'n't true....." "You also stutter and speak in incomplete sentences, not to mention your extremely shortened versions of words, like shortening ''is not'' past ''isn't'' and to  "i'n't", plus your tendency to look to the side "n-no i-i a'n't!" "You certainly are an anomaly, but quite a cute one." "O-out!" [he shoved Logan toward the door to the changing room] "Alright Multum terror." [He exits, Virgil changes and they leave the store soon after going to get food. While the whole time Virgil is thinking about how Logan finally caught on.]

[they are now in Logan's car] "So where would you like to eat, Love?" "s-stop flirting with me!" "Well, what do you want to eat?" "tacos..." "Homemade or restaurant?" "h-homemade p-please." "Okay then, I'll have to buy ingredients." "i-if you-" "Virgil, I know you don't like it when you think you're asking too much of someone. So I want you to know, you are not asking that much of me, and I do stuff like this because you like it."[Virgil slightly sobs, Logan continues] "You can tell me anything you want, you know that right?" "ye-yes" but what if he hurts me too? [Virgil was stressed, and struggling to act mature] "him hurt me." no no no no no [he didn't want Logan to think of him this way but his coping mechanism took over] "who did?" [he spoke softly as not to scare Virgil] "father... please no tell him, he hurt me for be bad!" [Logan was struggling to understand Virgil ] "how about we go to my house and get you some food?" "but he hurt me when i no do what him say" "he can't hurt you here. I promise." "o-oki" [Logan adjust himself and begins to drive to his house.]

[CLIFFHANGER]

[ughgclden]

bee, love, don’t apologise, please, it’s okay, and first and foremost, are you alright?? i hope you’re taking care of yourself, love, but i understand, i don’t think there’s been a year since third grade that i haven’t gotten pneumonia in the winter. I hope you’re feeling alright!!

honestly, dead poets society is one of my only personality traits anymore, i find myself drawing parallels to it constantly, for no reason but i love thinking about it. i’ve watched it so many times at this point, it’s,,, concerning. those tests always take me way less time than they give me, and i used to feel really awkward, i remember i took a bio one once, four hours they gave me, 45 minutes in, i was finished, and the moderator didn’t believe me. i aced it too, like the silly little neil kinnie i am. i’ve gotten used to the ‘worse’ side of being a neil kinnie, and honestly, now that my mum isn’t as controlling about everything as she used to be, it’s easier to deal with. i remember once, i’d gotten an 89 in algebra, and she threatened to pull me out of the fall show. that was a neil perry moment if i ever had one lol. the biggest thing these days is just imposter syndrome, imposter syndrome like oh you’re not hispanic enough, but also, you’re not queer enough, nonbinary enough, things like that. It’s exacerbated some days, but i try.

i watched the it movies on my cousin’s hbo,,, i may or may not have used it without her permission since she forgot to log out of my computer, but that’s neither here nor there. i remember having such a hard time taking the first one seriously initially, because of all the new kids on the block jokes, having a mum who was obsessed with them made it hard, especially when i actually got them all- in truth, the only midnight premiere i’ve been able to make was the force awakens, and i had school the next day too. i’m definitely a richie kinnie, and i have the internalised homophobia (only towards myself though) to prove it /hj my waterbottle has both a sticker of neil on it and a sticker of the r + e carving on it. in case there was any doubt about me lmao. stan kin makes sense for you, honestly, i can see it, i can see it.

okay so listen- no really, i’d bought them with the intention of only drinking half of one that night and spreading them out like that, but then came 9:45pm, and i had a research paper (on womens’ pockets/lack thereof) due at 10am that i simply hadn’t even started, so i downed them all in an hour and got the paper turned in at 5:56 in the morning. but i scare you huh? /hj bee, you’re too sweet, in truth, i’m fairly inelegant, but i try, as for the comforting and cosy, i’ll take you at your word, since that is something only someone interacting with me could discern. i do try to be kind to others for the most part. mainly i think because i’m usually on the other end of mean people.

i’m just perceptive like that bee, i dunno what to tell you, something just tells me, you know? /j and thank you, i always feel a little silly talking about it, because most of the tattoos i want are dead poets society tattoos, i guess some part of me, within the part of me that feels so incredibly tied to it, feels as if if i were able to get a tattoo i’d owe it to the movie in some way, if that makes any sense. i’ve already begged a friend of mine to go with me to get my first once i get to new york, the question though, is what to get first. i’ve got time to make a decision (for once in my life) i just spend a lot of time thinking about it.

honestly, i have never known a school rule to make sense. banning ripped jeans? banning dyed hair? it’s almost as if if they don’t stifle everything natural about kids expressing themselves they dont feel like they’re doing anything. but i digress. the same-sex couple rules were. awful. 12 year old me had enough going on without having an administrator yell at my friend and i for hugging in the courtyard and not leaving until we were a foot apart, but hey.

okay, jumping over a fence to go to a mcdonalds? how coming of age indie movie manic pixie dream girl of you /hj

200k words, is that a challenge? also ahaha not at all like my italian uncle up there just opened a ‘pizzeria’ /hj but mob!star au? might be a project i should start… granted, i’m not as good a storyteller as you, but i can try.

when i was little, i wanted to revolutionise things, i guess. i even actually wrote out a campaign, i wonder if its still somewhere. thank you for believing in me, but these days, bee, i’m thinking less about changing the world, and more about making it the next few weeks, and then the ones after that. little star was aware of so much, but also so little. i wonder what they’d think of me now, honestly.

i did, in fact, teach archery, it was so fun but my arms got SO SORE, and the kid who challenged my archery skills seemed surprised when i actually,, hit the bullseyes. my inner susan was happy then. incidentally the experience is also why i made a playlist called “touchstarved and wanting to teach you to shoot a bow” which low-key slaps when i’m lonely. and bee omg i cannot believe you said im better than susan pevensie i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life thank you- and yes, yes it was named aslan, however did you guess? /j prince caspian<33333

i’ll let you know my results from the tournament, as soon as they come out, and i say this having just put on pjs after taking off my suit, and sitting in the room with my cat in my dear evan hansen hoodie, frantically refreshing the results page because i’m anxious and impatient.

i hope you have a good night, with fitful and restful sleep, i’m sorry this got to be so long, but you know me, i certainly can talk. i’m honestly shocked i even made it to finals, considering i was running off four hours of sleep, having gone to bed at three last night. whoops.

all my love, hugs, and a warm mug of tea,

yours,

star✨

p.s i said yes so that?? happened?? it honestly feels surreal but we’re not gonna be in the same place anymore come the end of this year, so that’ll be something to deal with

P.p.s might just start adding spanish or latin or russian phrases to these if i keep having to translate your cute french bee /lh /hj

star my love, i know you said don't apologise, but i think the word 'sorry' makes up about 60% of my vocabulary. i'm okay!! was just a bit icky, but luckily i've recovered now!!

that's so nice - and again, makes so much sense for you. i think you would work perfectly in welton, i know it. i love bringing the messages from that film into my own life, as silly as it may sound. i'm astonished, and so fucking jealous of you. i used to finish tests maybe half an hour early, but hours is so impressive??? fun fact i did finish my physics final in about 45 minutes and slept for the other hour <3 neil would b proud my love!!! oh my god - i'm so sorry that happened??? but that is also so neil kinnie??? it seems futile me saying this, but i assure you that you are hispanic enough, and queer enough, and non-binary enough. you are enough, period. more than enough even. imposter syndrome is the worst, and i'm so so sorry you're dealing with it.

she did that to herself, you just saw an opportunity /lh a midnight premiere of the force awakens sounds so cute though omg - i hope you had the absolute best time. the r + e carving actually broke me. as a die hard reddie shipper since 2017, seeing the movie make it basically canon?! had me a mess in the cinema.

you are ridiculously comforting and cosy, everything about you feels like a warm hug from a familiar face and i love it. and the way you write is so smooth, it makes me think of a quill smoothly gliding across parchment, the deep black ink unsmudged and pristine. that seems a little pretentious of me, but oh well.

i also want some dps tattoos!! i desperately want "and still we sleep" from todd's poem, and was also so so tempted to get an outline drawing of meeks + pitts dancing on the roof. i love that, and i can't wait until the day you get it, whichever one it may be. my one concern is becoming addicted to them and making my bank account suffer - at least my piercing obsession is a little easier to fund /hj

i've NEVER gotten that - they claim it's 'distracting' but how on earth would it be?? when i got to college, no one was distracted by my dyed hair, and i certainly wasn't distracted by other people's outfits or painted nails. you were yelled at. for hugging. a friend.. what the fuck is wrong with these people??

just call me ramona flowers star /j it was possibly the highlight of my school career, sans hiding in the back room of the music room to avoid a maths test

i bet you're an amazing storyteller, if these letters are anything to go by. it would be a new york times best seller, i know it

we all have to take things one step at a time, i think. that's the only way i really get through things if i'm honest. one day after another and the cycle repeats. i love wondering what young me would think of me now - i'd probably be intimidated of myself, but i like to think i'd be proud that i'm still here, pursuing something i love

that playlist. sounds nothing short of sheer perfection. i too am touch starved and want to teach someone to shoot a bow - even though i.. cannot shoot a bow... but i can wield a sword so, it's close enough.

i saw your message about the tournament results - im so fucking proud of you!!!! you deserve it so so much and i couldn't be happier for you. see, your words and ideas are changing the world, even if you don't realise it.

ps; that is so fun???? omg im so happy for you star, you deserve tis <33 i hope towards the end of this year whatever happens leaves you both happy, no matter how far the distance.

pps; omg no.. please don't do that.. aha that would be awful... definitely wouldn't make my heart race.. haha not at all

all of my love, star. pardon the pun, but you are out of this world ;) i'll leave you with one of my favourite quotes;

il n'y a qu'un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé <3

[musicallisto]

without fail tag

THE “WITHOUT FAIL” TAG — List five things that you, WITHOUT FAIL, weave into or explore in your stories, whether it be specific themes or tropes, character archetypes, allusions to other literary works, what have you! It really can be anything that you consistently include in your narratives for whatever reason. Then invite others to share theirs by tagging them!

I was tagged by @deadlymodern - thank you so much for tagging me, this tag is amazing and I loved reading your answers! I can tell you have a very thorough approach to your writing & themes, it’s so cool!

(tagging people at the bottom of the post if you want to skip)

1. flowers, skies & words

grouping them together since they're all related to a wider, general literary device: symbols and allegories in my stories. Without fail, I’ll always use flower symbolism to evoke certain themes, places, characters... withered petals for death, blossoms for youth, you name it, it’s probably been in one of my stories. just consider my main WIP’s title, The Grave of Roses (Le Tombeau des Roses). It’s a little basic, and has been used time and time before in literature, but I still love it.

Other elements that often make it into my stories as symbols are planes (because I love aviation obviously, but also as a symbol of breaking free, independence, of man’s domination on mortality, what with having tamed the skies, but also his frail condition and how everything hangs on a thread). Also, the sky is pretty.

And lastly, words, stories, novels always have their place in my stories, and more often than not one of my characters is a writer, or someone who uses words and stories as some kind of comfort, outlet, or a driving force.

At its [the tombstone] foot, below the name, red roses piled up, enough of them to cover ten graves. A single vermilion bud, a wind-swept poppy, clashed with the rest of the bouquet, and Samuel knew that it was William's children who had placed it there. Only they knew that he didn't even like roses anymore, and that he would come to lay poppies on his father's memorial every time he returned to London...

The tomb was both smaller and prettier than Samuel imagined, less opulent than England would have wanted to give its precious child. The morning sun, like a caress, illuminated the epitaph, a Latin verse that Samuel had known in the past. “Bury me southward,” he heard William say so clearly that he almost turned around, "so that I can look at England and France in the same breath." His name, however, was drenched in full light, facing east, and inexplicably this saddened Samuel.

“And there it is... it's pretty, don't you think? I don't know if he would have liked it... You probably know it better than I do...”

“And why do you care about that, huh? You don't even believe in God.” “He's a writer. He believes in symbols.” “He believes in vanity, alright.”

“I think he would have liked it anyway,” he nodded in agreement, his eyes glued to the lonely poppy. (Translation)

2. parental roughnesses

this was bound to come, because I feel like we were all pretty fucked up at some point in our lives from our upbringing. I didn’t go for straight up “parental issues” because I don’t deal with like, abusive or absent parents or anything, just complicated relationships between parents and their children, but who still love each other. Oftentimes it has to do with one of the children idealizing the heck out of their parent and slowly realizing that they make mistakes and are not a hero at all, and/or unmeetable expectations and parental pressure. but it’s not like I’m projecting or anything lol

“You never knew Father, William,” Grace stopped him immediately [...]. “Don't you dare pretend you know what it's like.”

“Growing up without a father is not necessarily better than losing him in childhood! Everyone here has suffered from his disappearance, Grace. You have no idea how much I miss him, despite never meeting him. But that's all in the past now. And there's no reason for there to be another war.”

“Of course there is!” she retorted ferociously, despite the tears spilling from her eyes. “Of course there is, and they're going to send you there like Father, and you'll want to play hero like Father, and then you'll get shot down like a dog! Where's it going to be this time, huh? Above Luxembourg, just like him, or maybe somewhere in your beloved France?” (Translation)

3. patriotism

One way or another, all my stories always deal with patriotism, nationalism, pride in one’s country and more broadly speaking one’s relationship to it. It questions what it means to belong to a country, to share one culture, one language; does it justify acting in the benefit of one’s country, and where do you draw the line before you intentionnally harm others’; what even is a country, a nationality, and it what sense do you belong to one, and what do you owe it, if you even owe it anything? Is it wrong or right to feel love and attachment to your place of origin? And what does it mean to fight for your country, for its values, for its people? & other things of the like. It probably stems from my own experience as a binational person; growing up, I was always asked stuff like “but who do you root for in a football game” “but are you like really French or not?” “if Spain and France got into a war what would you do?”, and this all lead me to question “am I more French or am I more Spanish - which one am I, and which one would others perceive me to be - do I need to pick a side? And how can I express my affection to these places that raised me both differently, without undermining the other - or others? can I still be proud of my heritage given the horrors my countries have committed in the past?”. I still haven’t found a definitive answer, so my writing is just me throwing trails out to the world and hoping I’ll figure it out someday. that’s why my stories often have a war setting; firstly I just love historical fiction, and secondly it’s the perfect backdrop for all these questions to unfold.

William laughed at the idea - he, a true Frenchman! It was a very silly thought. He may have loved what he had seen of Charlotte's country, but England was not to be ashamed of any other land, for it was the only one he would love until his last breath. (Translation.)

4. just a hint of supernatural

I love me a good ghost story, and I’m a fan of everything spooky, but what’s subtly spooky, and not the gory, in-your-face horror. This particular theme may have increased since I saw The Haunting of Hill House which completely OBLITERATED ME with how it uses the house and its ghosts to tell a story of family and trauma and memories... but I’ve loved ghost stories forever. Another piece that truly resonated with me was One Hundred Years of Solitude (Cien años de soledad) by Gabriel García Márquez. It was my first dive into the world of magical realism and I didn’t make it out of there the same person I was when I entered. This one is not necessarily included in every piece without fail, because some are just too anchored in reality, but if it’s not a straight-up spirit or an otherworldly creature, I’ll always find a way to include an aspect of superstition, a myth, a legend, a tale from faraway that is neither proved nor disproved throughout the story. It truly adds to the atmosphere of the world, even in a very realistic and gritty setting, I believe.

I hear murmurs of legends among the soldiers. [...] One of those stories caught my attention, I must admit... It is not very special, nothing more than a children's tale, but I thought it was beautiful enough to please your Romantic soul. Some pilots speak of a cemetery, somewhere in the countryside north of London, which has something mystical about it, lost in the flowers that sway as far as the eye can see, in the calm rhythm of the wind, wrapped in the heady scent of eternal spring, and where the bravest warriors would go to rest forever, tired of their exploits and the continual explosions. No one knows exactly where it is or what to do to be buried there, but this beautiful image simply floats like a dream in the minds of many and, I confess, in mine as well since I first heard about it.

It is said that there only flowers dare to disturb the heroes in their sleep... This fragment of silence is called the Grave of the Roses.

So if I were to leave you, if you were to hear that I am gone...

With a bit of luck, that is where you will find me.

5. love

this one is broader and less obvious than you might think. Of course, I’ll always, always implement an element of romance to my story (and more often than not it’s angsty with star-crossed lovers or insurmountable obstacles or forbidden romances and whatnot), but there’s more to it. I don’t think I have ever written a story that is entirely grim and bleak, simply because I do not believe the world is built like that. I’ve said time and time again that love is my favorite thing in the world, and I believe it is the force that drives us all forward and connects us all together; love is, to me, the truest power of humanity, and its inherent purpose. And love covers all subjects and all types of relationships, but my absolute favorite ways to explore and show love in my stories is through long-lasting, rock-solid friendships (because friendships are often overlooked both in fiction and real life), and just a grandiose love letter to humanity as a whole. I’m an optimist, and many people who have suffered more than I have would deem me naive for thinking this - and I cannot blame them -, but as Anne Frank put it more bravely than I ever could, “despite everything, I still think humans are good at heart”. My stories are always born out of love and made for love. For the love of humanity and kindness and literature and love of myself, too, because sometimes I just like rereading the words and thinking, “wow, I’ve made it this far. look at me go.” In a word, yes, I would say that is what it boils down to; my work, but also what I hope my entire life and being will be. An ode to love.

“He admired you and truly loved you, you know. You were a good leader, I'm sure, and a good friend, above all.”

He thought she was going to put her hand on his shoulder, and prepared to bend to avoid it, but instead she came to rest on the polished marble of the tomb, which was already beginning to erode at the corners. The soft light bathed her hand, and Samuel's on the other corner, still resting above William's surname, the only thing he had been proud of from beginning to end.

“And I loved him too. I loved them all. If you only knew...”

well, I got carried away, as I always do when talking about my writing, but it made me miss it so much. I haven’t worked on any of my projects since literally October and I’m feeling the void rn. anyway, thank you again for enabling me to ramble about what I love most, Thais! and I’m tagging @softeninglooks, @lxncelot, @myriadimagines​, @swanimagines & @randomfandomimagine + plus any writer who wants to talk about their marvelous work <3

[lifblogs]

#SPNDBCC | Hunting | @foundfamily4eva

READ ON AO3

“Well, that’ll be our missing girl,” Jody commented, referring to the dead body in front of her and Sam.

Sam grimaced, and then took a step closer.

The body itself was tied to a tree with a thin, but strong, wire around the neck, and the head had been bashed in. The throat had been slit as well. The body had slumped, legs having gone limp, and the head hung forward at a disturbing angle. Blood was everywhere.

He leaned down, examining the head.

“The skull’s cracked,” he noticed.

“Any brain matter?”

He winced. “Yeah.”

She stepped forward now, going to examine the body. She covered her mouth and nose as she leaned in. As sheriff she probably didn’t see as many bodies as forensics did, though Sam knew she liked to get out in the field, especially when it came to hunting.

“This poor girl,” Jody commented. “Someone really wanted her dead. You seen anything like this before, Sam?”

“I was actually going to ask you the same thing.”

Jody just lifted her head and stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

“What? This is your jurisdiction,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but we don’t find dead bodies that look like a serial killer got to them” she argued. She shook her head, and started trekking up the grassy hill. “I gotta call this in.”

Sam searched around the area, looking for hex bags, or anything, testing for EMF. He found nothing, except for a footprint. It was small, probably from a woman.

Jody finished calling a forensics team and a few deputies, and Sam said, “Hey, I think I found something!”

She went back over to him, and Sam pointed out the footprint that was behind the tree.

“So not a ghost,” she said.

“Yeah, they can’t leave that kind of mark.”

“Could we be looking at a person?”

Sam grimaced, and turned to the dead body again. “Maybe.”

~~~

Research. Always research. Sam was having a difficult time with it because he truly hadn’t seen this before. Throat slashed, strangled, head bashed in… It felt like a new kind of messed up, especially since the killer could be a human.

He wondered which wound had killed the girl. All three of them could’ve done the job.

For now, Jody was at the sheriff’s station, searching through case files from before her appointment as sheriff. She’d call him if she found anything.

Sam sat at the rickety table in his motel room, laptop out in front of him. He had a multitude of links open, and at the moment, he was digging deep, using a search engine that wouldn’t alert anyone or be saved on the laptop’s history. Besides, it wasn’t as if Google would give him answers about someone getting violently murdered.

He didn’t have any ideas either. What could this thing even be?

“Human,” he muttered to himself. “Human…”

Could be a sacrifice.

With that in mind, he was able to make his research a little more specific. It took an hour, least, but he managed to find something. It wasn’t much, just a picture tucked away in an online copy of a very old book, a description underneath.

Sam frowned, examining the picture again. The renderings weren’t realistic, of course, having come from a time where the art styles were still being figured out. It was before the Renaissance. The book itself was at least a century old, so Sam wasn’t sure he trusted the source.

He searched the description attached to the image.

His phone started ringing.

“Hello,” he answered after hitting the green arrow and putting the phone to his ear.

“Sam, I found something.”

“I think I did too. You first.”

“So there were deaths like these fifty years ago.”

“Crap, that long?”

“And aside from that, there hasn’t been anything else. There were nine like it, all victims killed in the same way. Of course, the records aren’t as detailed as they would’ve been now, but it’s something. Could we be dealing with a copy cat killer?”

Sam shook his head, bewildered. “It would’ve had to be someone who knew about all this. I kind of doubt it.”

“Alright, what’d you find?”

“So I couldn’t find anything at first,” he explained, going back to the image. “But it looks like we’re dealing with a sacrifice.” Sam thought he could hear Jody wince on the other end of the phone. “Yeah,” he commented. “Um… I’m gonna hit the library, see what I can find.”

“I’ll look into public records.”

“Good idea. Reconvene in an hour?”

“It’s a date.”

Sam smiled, loving that he was working with Jody on this despite the horrors they were dealing with. It had been way too long since he’d seen Jody. Besides, he’d needed to get out. Dean and Castiel were dealing with the Mark, and Sam, who always felt anxious and just a little terrified around his brother now, had desperately needed something to drag him away from all that.

He grabbed his laptop, and his notes, and stuffed them into a satchel, and then he was on his way.

~~~

The first thing Jody did was search through the list of names she’d gotten from the old police file.

“Carter O’Connell,” she mused as she stood on a ladder and dug through a set of old files. She found the manilla folder with his information. There wouldn’t be much since this was before computer records, but it was worth something. It’d have his full name, age, family members, social security number, address, and history of work.

She climbed off the ladder, and brought the file with her. She went to look at the archival cards. The cabinets that stored them were a dark brown, and covered in dust. She blew the dust away, quickly leaning back to avoid breathing it in.

Jody put the file she’d found on top, and started searching.

“Ha!” she cried, as she found where the next previous victim’s file could be found. 

It was annoying that she had to do this, but she’d already looked through the file of the girl they’d found, and she couldn’t find anything of note. But maybe with more information she and Sam could make some sort of connection.

Jody went to go get the next file.

~~~

At the library, after taking a lot of books out that led to more books due to the information he found and wrote down, Sam ended up looking at a small shelf in the mythology section. The book he grabbed now was on Celtic mythology, druids and sacrifice.

As he read he realized that druids had committed some human sacrifices, except it had been rare. Searching through the index led him to a part of the thick book on beings called daraich. Sam found the page, right near the end of the book, and started to read.

He frowned as he read.

According to historical evidence, there was a subset of druids known as the daraich (singular: darach). The word druid translates to “knower of the oak,” or “wise oak.” Darach itself does not have a disturbing meaning at the present date, though for centuries it translated to “dark oak,” with the prefix of the word “da-” meaning “dark.”

Sam immediately took notes, underlining the word “DARACH” and then writing underneath it, “dark druid.” The text hadn’t specifically said that, but “wise oak,” being turned into “dark oak” was all the information he needed.

He searched through the book some more, and stopped on a disturbing artist’s rendition of the ritual sacrifice. It wasn’t exact, though the tapestry that the picture in the book was of showed the same injuries as the ones they’d found on that girl. Bruises around the neck from strangulation, blood leaking from the head, and blood coming from the throat.

The description underneath the image described that the dark druids would commit violent sacrifices in order to gain power.

This led Sam to reading the entire page.

While the deaths themselves were thought to grant power as someone’s lifeblood was spilled out, the word “sacrifice” in primary sources suggests that it was an offering to a deity. “Sacrifice,” when looking at the Latin translation as sacrificium, means, “Something of meaning offered up to a deity.” This is relevant due to the many definitions of sacrifice pointing to a relationship between the person committing the sacrifice, and the deity, along with the Roman invasion of Celtic territories at around 1000 BC.

The druids themselves did commit human sacrifices during their Iron Age, but the acts were later condemned. Instead, they would offer up animals, weapons, and food. Due to the nature of druidism having a close connection to the natural energies of the life of the earth, the deities were thought to be in the spirit of the world itself. More specifically, lakes, and trees, and growing things.

This belief falls to the wayside as deities are accepted as beings rather than things or places.

To understand the sacrifices, one must first understand the nature of the Celtic beliefs. Possibly as early as the year 500 BC, the celts believed in sacred beings that could walk the earth, or inhabited what was known as the “Otherworld.” The sacrifice of life was attributed to a triad of these beings, a triad of sacrificial entities: Taranis, Esus, and Toutatis. These were deities of strength and power. Sacrificing to them was thought to create strength in the person committing the sacrifices.

Primarily, the sacrifices were animals, with the druidic idea that the blood would please these gods. Yet when the subset of dark druids came into being, these sacrifices turned gory, with the sacrificial victims being humans. Supposedly, the human sacrifices granted greater strength, and even powers from the Otherworld. Typically, these sacrifices would be committed preceding a war, or a battle. With the creation of the daraich (plural form of the word “darach”), to appease the triad of deities they most closely worshipped and were thought to communicate with, victims were sacrificed with what is called a threefold death. Early accounts describe this as victims being slaughtered violently, the three actions taken against them each having the ability to kill them.

Accounts of the deaths committed by the daraich describe the threefold death to this triad of deities. Evidence from an early translation: “The head must be struck, the throat pierced [slashed or cut], and the breaths must be taken.” This last act suggests strangulation. Victims of this sacrificial ritual would be found with three wounds that could have each been the cause of death: the head bashed in, throat cut, and strangulation, typically done with a garotte.

The druids condemned these acts and sought to—

Sam stopped reading. He’d been steadily taken notes as he’d done so, and now he looked at what he’d compiled, satisfied.

He called Jody.

~~~

Jody sat at a table, the files around her. She was beginning to find a connection the the old victims. They all had had some position of authority. A police officer, teachers, parents, soldiers, even a government official. Perhaps the connection was weak, but it was the only one she could find.

Her phone started ringing, and she answered. “Yep.”

“We’re dealing with a darach,” Sam said, forgoing a greeting.

“A what?”

“A darach. It translates to ‘dark oak,’ and was a subset of druids. The meaning of druid is ‘wise oak,’ so a dark oak—”

“Is a dark druid,” Jody finished.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“So they sacrifice people?” she asked.

“Yes, committing what was known as the threefold death.”

Jody sat and thought. “So that’s what we’re looking at here. All the files I dug up described the deaths as the same, and that poor girl we found…” She shook her head. “Sam, how do we even deal with this? And why would someone do that?”

“Usually the daraich would do this predating a battle.”

“But there’s no battle coming up.”

“There could be,” Sam said. “Who do we know of that’s becoming violent and might turn into a demon again?”

“Shit, that could be related?”

“We’ve run into other creatures who have tried to protect themselves from more powerful beings in the past.”

Jody sighed, taking this information in. Then, she informed Sam, “I found a connection between the victims. All authority figures.”

“Wait, then what about the girl?”

“After asking around, I found out that she was a babysitter. I didn’t think it was important at the time, but—”

“She had power over someone.”

“Exactly. Sam, how do we kill this thing?”

There was pause, and then Sam cleared his throat, explaining, “We have to burn them.”

“Huh, thought it’d be harder.”

“Daraich have powers.”

And… there it was. “Fuck.”

Sam heaved in a breath, and let it out, sounding frustrated, and maybe a little worried. “Yeah.”

Jody’s walkie blinked with a red light, and Jody said, “Hold on, Sam. I gotta go.”

“Come in, Sheriff Mills. Come in. Over.”

She pressed the button to allow herself to talk. “Standby. Go ahead. Over.”

“We got a 187 over here. Over.”

“Say again?” Jody asked, standing. She hadn’t realized there would be another victim so soon.

“187. Body mutilated. Over.”

“Roger that. Where’s the body? Over.”

Jody was given the location. “Affirmative. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Over and out.”

Immediately, she called Sam, “Sam, we got another one.”

~~~

When they got to the crime scene, there were already had a few deputies there, and forensics were showing up to swarm the place, doing their job with vigorous detail.

Sam felt sick as he looked at the body.

“Do we know who it is?” he asked Jody.

“Used to babysit him as a kid,” she let him know. “Heard that he moved back here, and became a high school teacher after college.” Jody was teary-eyed as she looked at Sam. “I don’t want to see any more of my people killed. What do we do?”

“I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

Sam frowned, and then winced. He ran a hand through his hair, and then over his face. He let out a frustrated, and discontented growl.

“Sam, tell me.”

Sam heaved in a deep breath, and then said, voice rough as it came out, “How do you feel about being bait?”

~~~

Rain poured down on Jody, and she raised her hands to grip at the cord that had gone around her neck, securing her to the oak tree, even as it strangled her.

She kicked feebly. The cord cut through her hands. A choked out cry left her, and then she tried to gasp in air. It wouldn’t come in.

Sam. Where was Sam?

He’ll be here. He has to be.

“Your friend won’t be coming,” the darach murmured, the voice of a woman.

No. No.

Jody wanted to ask why, but she couldn’t get air in. Was this how she was going to die?

~~~

Sam groaned, his head aching and throbbing fiercely. Blood had trickled into his right eye, and had nearly made its way inside his air. The cut on his injured head was large, and the blood had even soaked into his air. The darach had hit him with a rock, and now it was all coming back to him.

Rain was cleaning the blood off, even while it soaked Sam all the way down to his skin.

He got up, nearly slipped in the mud, and then leaned against a tree.

“Jody…” he rasped.

Dizzy, he picked up the flamethrower he had with him, and then started to run, slipping a great deal on the wet ground, to where they’d left Jody as bait.

He slid down a hill, having thrown himself down it on his back, giving up on walking down that; he would’ve fallen. Sam clambered to his feet once at the bottom, and he blinked blood out of his eyes.

There she was, tied to that tree with the very weapon being used to kill her.

“Hey!” Sam cried.

The darach hissed in some kind of frustration, and then it released the garotte.

Jody gasped, and coughed, but then collapsed to the ground, mud splattering on her cheek.

She didn’t get up. But he knew she was alive. Just unconscious.

Sam came forward as the darach stepped towards him, and he raised the flamethrower. He could barely see in the dark, but he was sure that shadow was the darach raising its hand. A fierce pain took hold of Sam’s body, even as a choking, poisoned wind swept towards him and into his lungs. It went through his throat, his nose, even as his body felt like his bones were splintering.

Sam fell, screaming in agony.

Fight through it, Sam. Fight it.

Jody groaned and shifted on the ground, and the darach turned its power on her. She screamed herself into unconsciousness.

Sam trembled, body in shock as it remembered the pain, but he clambered to his feet, and he ran, putting himself nearly right in front of the darach.

“Say hi to your gods for me, bitch,” he said, pressing the trigger on the flamethrower.

The darach’s screams and wails as it went up in flames were high-pitched, seeming to pierce his eardrums. Sam didn’t let up until it fell to the ground, its body a charred crisp.

He breathed hard, and almost fell, still hurting from his head. He turned, and saw Jody trying to move again. He went to her, getting on his knees.

“Did you do it?” she croaked out.

He held her, and she held him. Was that blood from her palms seeping into his jacket?

“Yeah, I did it,” he assured. “All thanks to you.”

“Glad you could recognize my hard work.”

Sam clapped her on the back, and pulled her closer. “Anytime, Jody.”

He helped her up, and together they stumbled out of the woods, Jody kicking the body of the darach for good measure as they passed it. They made it to the Impala, then to Sioux Falls General Hospital. As they sat in the waiting room, Sam with a hand on Jody’s knee that she was bouncing up and down, she looked at him, and smiled.

“I’m really glad we were able to save people from dying,” she told him.

“Hey, it’s part of the job.”

She leaned into him, as a mother would a child, and Sam grinned despite how out of it he felt and how much he hurt.

“And it feels damn good.”

“It sure as hell does.”

[thefloorisbalaclava]

Everywhere - Chapter 4

Pairing - Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

A/N: Continuing my Fleetwood Mac trend, this chapter is based on the song Think About Me. There are some lyrics at the end :)

Summary: You discover that Javier may not be as intolerable as you thought.

Warnings: none. just some drunken shenanigans :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Tagging: @longitud-de-onda @pascalisthepunkest @misslolasworld @aeryntheofficial @mrsparknuts @theringostarfanclub @huliabitch @thinemineours @flapjacques Sorry if I forgot anyone!

You stood in the middle of the room as Javier closed the door and locked it. He turned to you and pointed to the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. "Want one?"

"Uh...no thanks. I'm good." You hugged yourself and looked down at the floor.

"You can sit." He sat on the couch and waited for you to join him. Your face twisted and you shook your head. "Why not?"

"I'm fine here."

"What is it?" he asked.

"Just...is there anywhere I can sit that hasn't been...you know…" You gestured awkwardly.

"No, I don't know. Please explain." He sat back and crossed his arms.

"Cut the bullshit, Javier." You walked over to the window and leaned against the pane. He looked at you and smirked. "Ugh! You're gross." You pushed away from the window and wiped your hands off.

"Sex is not gross...at least not if you're doing it with the right person." He put his cigarette out and stood up. "Beer?"

"Sure."

"So," he said from the kitchen, "today was...interesting."

"I guess you could say that."

"I didn't know you could move like that." He walked over to you and handed you a bottle.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Peña."

"You mean like the fact that you've been shot before?" he asked without skipping a beat. He sipped from his beer as your hand froze halfway to your mouth.

"Steve told you?"

"Yeah. That why you freaked out over that gunshot?"

"I didn't freak out," you snapped. "Besides, you grabbed me before I had a chance to actually react."

"You're welcome by the way," he quipped. You scoffed and drank your beer, feeling his eyes on you. "So...can I see it?"

"Javier!"

"I mean the bullet wound, negrita."

"Oh...right." You shrugged and put the beer down on the windowsill before pulling your sleeve and bra strap down to reveal the scar.

He reached out but stopped himself. "Can I…" You nodded and he touched you delicately, so gently you could hardly feel it. Your eyes closed on their own as you sighed. "You okay?"

"Huh?" You opened your eyes and moved away from him, grabbing your beer. "Yeah. Fine."

"Steve told me you almost died."

"Yeah, well, Steve should keep his mouth shut sometimes." You leaned against the window pane again and sipped your beer. The silence stretched on and you could tell he was itching to say something. "What is it?" you finally asked.

"Why didn't you wanna talk about...the other night?"

"Why do you wanna talk about it?" This was your way of avoiding certain topics and Javier was having none of it.

"Do you always act like a petulant child when you don't want to talk about something?" he asked.

"Petulant child?"

"Can you stop repeating everything I say and answer the first damn question I asked you?!" he snapped.

"Stop fucking shouting at me!" You stood up straight and walked around him.

"Look...you've been here for what--a few weeks now? You ever gonna stop hating me?"

"I don't hate you…"

"Wha...wait a minute." He walked over to where you stood. "Did you actually say something nice about me?"

"Don't push it, Peña." You sat down on the sofa and finished your beer. When he sat beside you your entire body tensed. You sighed and looked at him. "I don't wanna talk about it because it's too...familiar."

"What do you mean?" He placed his beer on the small table in front of the sofa and sat back.

"I mean that we're partners...in a sense." You looked back at him. "And that's all we can ever be. That connection we had, or whatever you wanna call it, was us getting a little too familiar and that's a dangerous thing."

He shook his head and sighed before standing. "You know what we need?" You watched as he walked to the kitchen again. He walked out holding a bottle. "We need something a little stronger than beer."

---

A few hours later, you both were sitting on the floor laughing and talking about everything under the sun. You were sprawled out on the floor laughing at something Javier had said as he talked to you.

"I thought you were gonna be another white guy I had to translate for," he confessed before taking another shot. "How are you so good at speaking and understanding Spanish anyway?"

"I took classes all throughout middle school and high school," you answered. "My only other options were French or Latin."

"Think you can have an entire conversation with me in español?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

You sat up and squinted at him. "Uh...nope."

He laughed. "Want me to teach you some more?"

"Will you teach me some...bad words?" you whispered.

"Don't you already know some? I mean you did call me and Steve assholes."

"I did, didn't I?" You burst into laughter and fell flat on your back again. "What the hell am I doin' here?" you asked no one in particular.

"You mean here in Colombia or here as in my apartment?"

"I dunno. Both I guess."

"No idea. Only you can answer that." He handed you another shot and you sat up slightly to drink it down. "I've been stabbed before too," you told him.

"Are you fuckin' serious?" He moved closer. "Where?"

You pulled your shirt to show him the side of your stomach. "Lost more blood with this one than with the gunshot wound."

He touched the scar carefully. "Bad guy?"

"Ex-boyfriend," you admitted and Javier bristled. "So, yeah, I guess you can call him the bad guy."

"What kinds of pieces of shit have you been dating?" he asked as you pulled your shirt back down.

"Don't ask." You stared at the ceiling. "What kind of women do you date?"

"I don't."

"I see." You yawned then rolled onto your side to look at him. "You ever been serious with anyone?"

He nodded, staring off at nothing. "Yeah."

"What happened?" You rested your head in your hand.

"Me…" He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. "I realized that I was no good for her." He looked at you. All you could do was give him a sad smile.

"I shouldn't have asked. Sorry."

"Doesn't matter." He lifted his glass and downed another shot.

"You...are a mystery, Peña."

"How so?"

"I'm not sure. I don't want to like you. I think you're an asshole." He made a face at that. "But I do. I like you for some reason."

"Well, if you like me do you think you can stop calling me Peña? My name is Javier."

"Should I just call you Javi?" You stuck your chest out and pouted your lips as you said it in the same way you heard that woman say it the night you met him.

"You're pretty good at that. If we ever need someone to go undercover at a brothel I know who I'd suggest." He laughed as you glared at him.

"Well, you're the one who spends more time than anyone there so I would suggest you. I'm sure you have no problem loosening their lips." 

"Oh, negrita, I promise you I am very good at that."

"Ugh! I'm outta here!" You attempted to stand from your place on the floor but only made it as far as the couch. "Just...gimme a minute."

"You're welcome to stay," he offered.

"With you?" You shook your head furiously. "Nah. I'm good." That's what you told yourself, but you sat back and closed your eyes and that was that.

---

You woke up to a pounding headache and a plate of food being placed on the coffee table.

"Buenos días," Javier said with all the pep of a man who hadn't finished almost an entire bottle of tequila the night before. "Coffee?"

"I slept here?" You groaned as you sat up slowly.

"Yup. Here." Javier handed you a cup of coffee. He whistled and sang a few words of a song you didn't recognize.

"Thank you," you sighed. "Didn't know you could cook." You reached out to take a piece of bacon from the plate in front of you.

"Breakfast is not hard." He walked out of the kitchen with a plate for himself and sat at the table then looked at you. "Sit with me."

You stood slowly and he watched happily as you picked up your plate and walked (if you could call it that) over to the table. "How are you...like that?" You sat with a huff and held your head.

"Years of experience."

"You're not hungover at all?" You sipped the coffee and sighed. "Did you make this?"

"I did," he said proudly.

"It's perfect."

"Was that a compliment?" He reached over and felt your head. "You're not getting sick, are you?" You slapped his hand away. "Ow!"

"I still think you're an asshole," you said before taking another bite of bacon. "An asshole who can cook though."

"I'm gonna shower." He stood and you did as well. "What? Are you coming with me?"

"What? N-no! I just...I should go." Why were you so nervous?

"I won't be long. Stay." And just like that you plopped back down into the chair.

---

Like he said, he didn't take long. He peeked out from around the wall to tell you he was getting dressed. You gave him time to get into his room then you tiptoed to the door slowly. Just as you reached for the doorknob, he walked out.

"Sneaking off?" he asked, buttoning that pink shirt that looked entirely too good on him.

"I...I need to go," you said, avoiding eye contact. "I've been here long enough." 

"Wait-" Javier started but you opened the door to leave only to run into Steve with his fist up prepared to knock.

"What the hell?" Steve lowered his arm slowly and looked at you then at Javier. "Uh…"

You looked at Javier hoping he would say something but he stood there just as awkwardly as you. "Nothing happened!" you exclaimed.

"I didn't say anything," Steve murmured.

"I gotta go." You pushed past Steve and ran to your apartment, slamming the door behind you. You leaned against it and closed your eyes. "Goddamn you, Javi." With a gasp, you slapped your hand over your mouth. Did you really just call him that? Soon you were giggling until it turned into full on laughter. Then it hit you. It hit you harder than a ton of bricks: last night had been one of the best you've had in a very long time and it was all because of him.

I don't hold you down Maybe that's why you're around But if I'm the one you love Think about me.

I believe that you really want me But it's not easy, just to give in So let yourself go, and let love begin. 

[nekoannie-chan]

Venefica

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Witch! Reader

Word count: 1742 words.

Summary: You're one of Earth's protectors, you mistakenly end up meeting Steve and other heroes, what's going to happen between you and Steve?

Warnings: Magic, mentions of nudity.

A/N: This is my entry to the @nastybuckybarnes ‘s Lex’s 7K Follower Challenge with the theme:

“Witch! AU”.

Venefica means witch in Latin.

The reader is a witch, so in the reader’s universe, the Avengers don’t exist.

Loa, Shadows, Dark Dimension is the same.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog. 

Tags: @navybrat817 @saiyanprincessswanie​

Somewhere 

 Once upon a time, there was a princess, so the wicked witch hated her so much that she kidnapped her, a charming prince was willing to save her....blah, blah, blah...

You closed abruptly the book and exhaled frustrated, keeping the secret tired and overwhelming, especially with all the "lies" there were about witches thanks to popular culture.  

No matter what happened, the result was always the same, the last time ended in trials against the witches since then you had agreed that you would not say anything about your existence again, you would simply remain in the shadows protecting the world from any danger. 

You settled in the chair, looked up into the forest, after some incidents you decided to live in a remote place, of course, you knew about the stories that were going on, you didn't care, when you saw some curious one you offered them some of the fruits you harvested, pretending that you were nothing more than a woman who lived in a quiet place.

Then you looked up at the little campfire you lit in the yard to cook one of your potions, the flames glowed strangely, you snort, you knew that meant.  

"There will be problems, the Shadows are very restless, nothing good, I think I should start preparing some things just in case," you told your cat.  

The cat lazily raised his head, wagged his tail and stretched to show his support.

 New York

 "Cap, where are you? Clint questioned.  

"In position, has anyone seen Cloak?” Steve replied as he peeked out to try to spot Tyrone.  

"In the shadows, watching as usual," Tandy replied.  

"We can't miss any chance, if they take the experiment, we'll be in serious trouble," Natasha reminded them. 

Tandy approached carefully and silently, would take advantage to "feed" on the hopes of the opponents and thus leave the way clear to their companions, reached the first, felt powerful as every time he did that. On the other hand, Ty was attentive to the movements of his partner, for no reason would he allow someone to damage her.

Once the road was clear, Dagger informed others that they could already enter, Tyrone took care of taking them to where his partner was.  

Natasha went in with Tandy, the place seemed empty, and they began to suspect that something was not right. The rest waited outside, hiding, in case they had to do some kind of intervention. 

"Guys, this is weird, there's nobody," Natasha reported by the communicator.  

"Don't let your guard down, it can be a trap," Steve ordered.  

They did not count on their enemies having thought of all the possibilities there would be, however, the superhero team never suspected the secret weapon with which they would attack them.  

The girls' screams were heard, without hesitation, the rest of the team came in to help them, they were found unconscious.  

“Ty... I think we should run away, it looks like it's a trap...”

A gas was beginning to appear in the room, they had no idea if it was poisonous or what it might cause them so as Tyrone could wrap covering the team with his cape to take them to safety.  

 Somewhere 

 The team showed up in the woods, Natasha and Tandy woke up, everyone looked confused. 

"Ty, where are we?” Tandy questioned.

"I just thought about going to a place that kept us safe, but there was an alteration in the Loa...” 

“Who are you and what do you want?” You questioned when you saw them.  

They immediately set their sights on the broom in your left hand.  

"Well... we are the Avengers," Tony replied as if it were obvious.  

"The Avengers?" you repeat. 

"Come on, how can you not know us? How can you not meet the famous Tony Stark?” Tony said incredulously.  

On the other hand, Steve didn't take his eyes off you, there was something about you that caught his eye.

"I don't know anyone by that name.” 

"I think we travelled through the Loa," Cloak interjected.  

"Loa? You mean the Shadows?”  

Tandy and Ty looked at each other, probably that's how you knew the Loa, and the others knew it as the Dark Dimension. 

"Yes, maybe there was a glitch and we finished... here," Tandy said.  

"And what do you want? Are you coming to attack or something?”  

"No, no, we were on a mission... we're the good guys, we're superheroes,” Steve replied. 

"Superheroes? Like in the cartoons?”   

"Don't they exist here? So, what are you? Who defends the Earth?” Natasha asked.  

"I'm a witch and that's our job," you answered.

"A witch? Of course, like in fairy tales," Tony mocked.  

"Yes, I'm a witch...” 

"Come on, you're an adult, stop joking," Tony said an annoying.  

"Last week I met with my witch friends and did broom races, which usually have different speeds and even automatics," you made fun of him.   

Steve tried not to laugh, Tony rolled his eyes when he detected the sarcasm of your voice.  

"Sure, sometimes I turn children into mice and so many others I eat them alive and never see their families again and you know, my cat speaks too," you continued and pointed out to your cat who had just come to sit next to you.

This time your tone was serious, making everyone doubt, they still couldn't discern whether you were a friend or an enemy.  

"Are you serious?” Steve a little discouraged.  

"No, I don't do any of that, my cat is a normal cat, well it's very perceptive, but sometimes those stupid clichés are very tired, you know, the typical ones that the evil witch and the princess in distress, that's why I live here... okay, it seems that you are from another dimension, do those stories exist in your world?”  

"Yes, they're very famous, people tell to the little girls," Tandy replied.  

"By the way, I'm Natasha, this is Tandy, the guy in the cape is Tyrone, you know Tony, the one with the shield is Steve, and the one with the arrows is Clint.”  

"Y/N, I suppose now I must find a way to return you to your universe.”  

"Maybe it's not necessary, we can come back the same way we got here," Clint replied.  

"I don't think that's necessary, Ty can bring us back, just as we got here, can you?” Natasha said, looking at him.

"Yes, of course, no problem," Cloak replied for sure.  

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience we caused you," Steve said with a little sadness.  

Everyone came together so Tyrone could cover them with the cape and be able to return to their dimension and finish the mission, they stayed for a few minutes like this until they realized nothing happened.  

"I think... you have trouble getting back from where you came from,” you said.

"No... I don't understand what's going on,” Ty replied confusedly. 

"The Shadows are back to normal, I don't think it's possible for you to return," with your head pointing out the flames of the campfire.  

"What do we do now? Steve questioned.

Without saying anything you entered your house, you needed your divination tools, you could predict those alterations, although that didn't mean they happened exactly like that.  

"Where is she going?” Tandy asked in a murmur.  

"Maybe she's bored of us," Tony replied.  

You came back with the bag in your hand, they looked at you curiously, and you waved the bag and dropped the contents of it on the table.  

“What... is she supposed to be doing? Clint asked the others curiously.  

He didn't notice you heard him, maybe in his dimension, the witches didn't exist.  

"Divination, so we can know more or less when it will be the next alteration in the shadows," you explained by putting your hands on top of the small stones without touching them.

“More or less? So it's not accurate? "Tony wasn't convinced at all.  

"Are you suggesting anything else?” You asked grumpily.  

"Excuse him, he's a little nervous because we were halfway through a mission," Steve excused him.  

"The next alteration will be in two months," you informed them.  

As the days went by, you and Steve started to get closer, he told you his whole story and vice versa.  

The others don't seem too happy to be there, especially because of the mission, although it was confusing, your dimension was too much like theirs, but no one knew them there. Thousands of times Tony tried to create something to come back, nothing worked.  

One full moon night you came out, Steve noticed and went after you.

"Y/N, where are you going? He asked.  

"To pick up some water from the lake," you replied.  

"At this hour? It's something... Suspect.”  

"Why? The water has already absorbed all the magical properties of the moon, it is the exact moment," you explained.  

"Well... in that case... can I come with you?” Steve volunteered.  

You agreed with a smile, it was a little hard to be completely alone with Steve. You walked up the river, once you got there, you started taking your clothes off in front of a Steve dumbfounded by your actions.

"W-what are…are y-you do-doing?” He asked nervously.  

"We're going to swim in the river, come on, take off your clothes," you answered naturally.   

You went into the river, Steve was intimidated, his hands trembled as he took off his clothes, then he walked to the lake. At first timidly, then you began to play with the water until you finally kissed.  

Steve and you had fallen in love, even though there was a huge problem, he wasn't from your world, what would you do when the time came when he had to go back to where he belonged?   

You couldn't ask him to stay with you, you couldn't go with him, both of you had very important missions and you couldn't leave them.  

“What am I supposed to do?” You asked your cat.

The little cat saw you lazily and meowled, you sighed.  

The two months had passed, finally the day there were alterations in the Shadows came, you didn't know how to say goodbye to Steve.  

"Steve...”

"Y/N, I promise I'll find a way back, soon we'll be together again," he told you by holding your hand. 

The rest of your team was waiting for you to leave, you two shortened the space and kissed.  

"I'll be waiting for you.” 

[straykidsupdate]

Nylon Japan: Interview with Stray Kids

In the cold winter of Korea I went out to meet Stray Kids in Seoul. They all looked a bit sleepy when we met up. During the waiting time they played with the kittens nearby, wrestled around: very much energetic boys having a lot of fun. Nothing at all like their strong stage presence. This time around for their first NYLON JAPAN they were styled in a more colorful and new image then they are usually presented. Which still felt very fitting.

NYLON JAPAN (below、NYLON)：So this months key word is “fortune-telling”. Has anyone gone to get their fortune told before?  Lee Know, Han, I.N：Yes! NYLON：Did you believe in the fortune teller? I.N：They told me 2015 wouldn’t be good but from 2016 it would get better... Han：During that time I.N and were part of the project. We went to the same place and they told us “In August something really bad will probably happen…”and honestly it was so bad. We got more scolded then ever before! Like even to the smallest detail… You should honestly only look at the good fortunes haha! Lee Know：They told me that around 30 my luck/fortune will become good….  Members：hahaha! How long do you have to wait? I.N：To be honest i dont believe in fortunre telling. My parents went to a fortune teller to know about the future and was told their child would become a judge or a prosecutor! So that's why I didn't believe in it. But when I was a trainee and went with Han they were quite accurate so, about half a year now? I have started to believe! 

NYLON：A lot of our readers of NYLON JAPAN really values individualtiy and also many has their own dream they want to follow. Is there any advice or message you would like to give to anyone who has a dream? I.N：No matter what people say about your uniquness/indivudality, just let it go and I think going at your own pace is important! Bang Chan：There will be many people who will accept you for who you are, and there will be people you become close with and relate to. However, I think it's important to not forget who you are and push yourself towards the things you truly love and have fun with.  Han：I honestly think if you have a dream you’re blessed and are already filled with good in your life. Knowing your dream is actually rare and something you should hold dear. I'm sure you can make those dreams come true! NYLON：For our 15th anniversry NYLON’s theme will be「NEW POWER NO BORDER」(*to erase the borders of age, place your from, gender and to find a new power) Do you have any similarities/ideology that can go off from there? Felix：NEW POWER NO BORDER!（ he said it with ease in his fluent english!!) Bang Chan：We always start our greeting by saying our name and “STEP OUT”. This STEP OUT means to step outside of the box. To do things in our style, to make music that can step outside of the framework! So this “BORDER” is very much like a box from my understanding? So I feel in that way we have a similarity there.  

NYLON：Well then, how about a word you would like to say to the youth?  Han：There are going to be people who have dreams, and those who don't. To those with a dream there is gonna be a time that is going to be really hard and times you will suddenly fall. But you can overcome them all and there will come a day that you feel your dream is your reality.  To those without a dream: its ok. You don’t need to panic; just carefully find yourself at your pass and you will find the things that you are passionate about. There is no rush so please give your heart a bit of time. “People who go with pure talent alone can’t overtake someone who tries hard, but people who tries hard can never overtake someone who is enjoying what they do” . Your hard work will never betray you and always remember to have fun! If you do so I’m sure you’re dream will become a reality. That’s what I would like them to know!  Bang Chan：Its a bit simple but “JUST ENJOY”! No matter what bad thing that happens; if you can have fun and be positive a little I feel you have won in life. If you enjoy I’m sure good things will keep happening! You are still young life is long so “Carpe Diem!”  *(Carpe Diem: latin word that means “to live now” ) I.N：Try not to worry about the unseeable future and things you have no control over and just focus on whats in front of you; the now. Members： Yeah, that's something that we need to work on/relate to.

NYLON：With this busy of a schedule what are things that keeps you going?  Lee Know：I mean this is obvious but STAYS are our biggest strenght! That’s for sure!  Bang Chan：Even though we are super busy its odd, and we have talked about it amongst us, our future seems bright? Like we don't really have to worry much. I feel helped a lot by the members. As a group we really do work together, we really do care for each other and help each other to keep going!  

NYLON：I am so glad you guys seemed to have lots of fun more than I anticipated. Thank you for this long interview. Lastly, your Japan Debut has been announced! Please give us a final word on how you feel about it. Bang Chan：We debuted in korea as Stray Kids for around a year and a half now but being able to debut another time feels new. We are really excited and can't wait for what can happen. Japan debut is almost here and we are eager for the day to come! Fighting!

Source: Nylon Japan

translation credit: Mod Z @ straykidsupdate; take out with full credit