#sorry for the last part feel free to throw me a pitchfork at my head

[cinnabundoll]

Will you ever draw Palette and Goth together some day???

Hopefully, but not right now

I do have plans on making my own version of Goth (like what the rest of the people are doing right now) I have his concept down in my head but I'm not as motivated about it unlike my Pre Escape Due and Just's Backstories where I think about it 24/7 and do lore drops at 2 am

I have thought about two Goth concepts, 1 was a discussion with my friend (who I collab with to write our Lotus variant) this is where Palette and Goth know each other from highschool. It's heavily inspired by another pairing (surprise it's not your average sappy highschool romance)

The second one is my personal Goth variant where he's cursed with immortality by the Gods, and in every lifetime of his, he gets killed over and over, sacrificing himself for others. In one of his lifetimes, he meets Palette - one of the few people that don't actually betray him and the first person to save him from his own inevitable desth

In short, au or auless, I don't think I'll be drawing them together romantically, I see them more as a qpr (queer platonic relationship). And sometimes it feels like Goth isn't even Palettes best friend lol, more like he just focuses more on his crush towards Palette than being an actual friend to him

[thiswasinevitableid]

#5 Sternclay please? SFW or NSFW, doesn't matter to me. Thank you!

I went NSFW, minor CW for light D/S and a brief mention of suicide.

5 Should I update my outfit again? I think they like my new boots but the cape didn’t get the reaction I was hoping for 

“Okay, I want your honest opinion.” Barclay turns towards the communication screen.

On the screen, Indrid Cold raises an eyebrow, “My honest, unvarnished opinion?”

“Yeah.”

His friend throws his silver haired head back and cackles, the kind of supervillain laugh that makes Barclay jealous, “Oh, oh my friend, that is the most absurd get up I have ever seen on any hero, villain, anit-hero, supermodel, or psuedovillain.”

Barclay sags, “that’s kinda what I figured.”

“I mean, the tight black tank-top? The black pants? Those boots, goodness, did you get rid of your modified hiking boots?”

“No. Pretty sure he liked those.” He mumbles.

“Ah haaah.” Indrid tents his fingers, leaning forward with a grin, “still pining for your man in black, I see.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Barclay, I doubt changing your outfit is going to bring him over to your point of view. And what happened to the trans-pride patterned flannel top you got for the last time? I recall you being proud of how it flattered your physique?”

“He didn’t even mention it.”

“Wasn’t he chasing you off government property at the time?”

“So? He’s commented on things like that before. Uggggh.” Barclay slumps down in his command chair, “How did you get the Ranger to move things to the next level?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

Barclay stares him down. Indrid stares right back. 

Finally, his friend sighs, “My wires got crossed during a fight and I kissed him instead of headbutting him. Not one of my prouder moments. Though it has decreased the number of fights in my life and increased the number of orgasms.”

“Don’t think that’ll work. No offense to the Ranger, but Agent X is all business. I try kissing him, he’ll taze me or some shit.”

“Well then, you’ll have to get creative. Perhaps...oh drat, he’s early.”

Barclay’s about to ask who when a crash echoes offscreen. 

“We should catch up again soon, Barclay.” As the feed goes dark, Indrid turns and shouts, “You green-clad nuisance, I just had that door fixed!”

Barclay shuts off his end of the communication, stands and stretches as he regards the security feeds from his cameras scattered through the woods. Being fifty miles from the nearest town was supposed to make him feel safer; lately it makes him the frustrating combo of lonely and paranoid. 

Then again, does it really count as paranoia if Agent X is always on his tail? The man is intelligent, and has government resources behind him. If he wants to find Barclay, Barclay has a bad feeling he’ll be found.

Worse, he suspects he wouldn’t mind being found.

That’s part of why he’d called Indrid. Yes, he wanted feedback on his new look, but Indrid is one of the few people he trusts to understand his situation. They each chose cryptid aliases (Mothman and Bigfoot). They fell into villainy through similar channels; Indrid from being chased out of towns with (usually figurative) pitchforks one too many times when he was just trying to help, Barclay because he’d learned to survive mostly on his own and grown tired of seeing certain kinds of evil rewarded while things that didn’t even count as evil were harshly punished. But Indrid also understood what it meant to get a crush on the very person who was hunting you. 

He knows the affection is one-sided. Agent X is the put-together, cultured, cosmopolitan; Barclay is not (were you to ask his friends, they would argue that being tidy, well-read, and widely traveled shakes out to the same thing).

The elevator ride from his underground hideout to the main cabin is brief. Another ding in his villainy score is that he really loves his rustic, cozy home, and only uses his fancier tech for work. What’s the point of a suite in some skyscraper? You can’t even have a proper back porch. 

Maybe he should start a fire in the fireplace, or read that stack of food magazines he has squirreled away. He could reheat dinner too, homemade green onion pancakes and bao for one. 

In any case, he’s not going to get anything serious done tonight, as he doesn’t really scheme in the way his fellow villains do. His actions are a tad more impulsive, in response to the government or certain corporations doing corrupt shit. Besides, the forecast calls for a snowstorm, and he’d rather not get stranded in the woods. 

After settling on the couch he picks up the top magazine, a travel issue. 

Twenty romantic getaways off the beaten path

Hmmmm, would Agent X like the beach? Or is he more of a mountains guy?

He should read a different article

8 recipes to cook for a special someone

What the fuck, this is supposed to be the travel issue, not the valentines day issue.

After sorting through the pile, he grabs the Halloween issue from last year and heads upstairs. He needs to sleep, only partially because sleep might keep him from daydreaming about his arch-nemisis. 

The black boots come off and he sets them in his closet. Hops onto the bed and stretches out.

Somewhere in the middle of a fascinating article on cast iron pans, he falls asleep. 

When he wakes up, his arms are trapped above his head and someone else is reading his magazine.

“I’d been meaning to read this issue. Their writing is always excellent.” Agent X looks up, smiling mildly.

“Glad I could help. Now help me back by untying me.”

Agent X sighs, “You know very well I can’t do that.”

“So what, you break in here just to read my shit?”

“Of course not. Actually, I didn’t choose to come this time.” he stands, producing a slender, silver device from his sleeve, “In fact, I’m being reassigned.”

“Wait, how the fuck is that even a thing? You’re a ‘hero’ you pick your enemies.”

“No, I’m a government agent. And they’ve decided that you are not nearly a large enough threat for me to keep chasing you. Never mind that I devoted years of my life to the endeavor.” Barclay finds the bitterness oddly flattering. As the agent talks, Barclay moves his hands; there’s a reason he taught his security AI ASL. The mirror behind his enemy flickers to life, showing him a video feed of the Snowspeeder Agent X used to get there.

“They were going to assign me to chase The Mothman, but his nemesis is….very territorial and they decided that was not a wise move.”

Barclay can’t help snorting out a laugh. 

“This isn’t funny.”

“Trust me, that bit’s hilariou-oh shit” he registers the solemn look on Agent X’s face, “Are you supposed to fucking kill me?”

The tricky thing about a nemesis who wears glorified sunglasses is that it makes his face hard to read most times, but right now he looks horrified.

“No. I, I was allowed to decide how best to handle you as a threat, and I do not believe you’re that dangerous. So I’m just going to install a tracking chip in your spine and be on my way.”

“Like hell you are.” Barclay curls in defensively, signs “destroy.” In the mirror, the snowspeeder silently explodes.

“Barclay, please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Don’t fucking tag me like some wild animal then.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

Barclay growls, “That’s been your line for three fucking years. You’ve got choices, agent, we all do.”

“You’re right. And you could have chosen something other than a life of crime.”

“Don���t act like you know what I choices I was given. And don’t come any closer with that thing.”

Agent X takes a half step before Barclays feet connect with his chest, sending him clattering into the dresser and the tracker pen under the bed. 

“Shoulda tied those too agent!” With all his might he yanks on the cuffs snapping the wrung of the headboard.

“Is this really how you want our last interaction to go?” Agent X stands, nightstick coming free from his belt. 

“Nope.” Barclay charges him, the agent sliding gracefully out of is path. Just as they pass, Barclay spins, cuffs connecting with the agents hand.

They glow green, accepting the fingerprint. 

“Damn it.” The Agent turns on a dime, launching at him.

“Three years, agent, I know your gadgets as well as you do. Sorry about the speeder.”

He points at the mirror and Agent X glances away momentarily to look.

“Shit.”

“Yep. Have fun getting back on foot. If you stop fighting, I can loan you a snow-cat.”

Agent X turns the stun function of his nightstick on in response. 

“C’mon really?!” Barclay growls, pounces before the agent has a chance to react, and hurls him into the mirror. 

It shatters, and the agent falls, crumpled and clutching his arm, to the ground. Barclay straddles him, pinning him on his stomach, immaculate black suit ripped in the back.

“Okay, let’s try this again: You’re going to stop attacking me, break that tracker thing in half, and then I’ll give you the keys to something that can get you out of here.”

“I can’t, I cannot fail this mission.”

Barclay does his best, wicked smirk, “In that case, I get one more thing for all the trouble you’ve caused.”

With that, he rips off Agent X’s mask and goggles. 

The face beneath them is better than he ever envisioned: sharp cheekbones, blue eyes, movie star handsome in every way.

His gaze is unflinching, enraged, and when his fingers curl minutely Barclay grabs his hand and pries it open.

In the center is white, cylindrical pill.

“Is this...fuck, is this a suicide pill?”

“Yes. Now give it back.”

“Not a fucking chance.” He stands, crosses to the window and chucks the pill out into the night, “Christ, agent, do you really think I’m going to torture you?”

When he turns back, arms crossed, the veneer of Agent X’s expression cracks, and he presses his face into the floor with a shuddering gasp. 

“It’s p-protocol. If, if my identity is compromised.”

He wants to be moved by the tears in that voice, but he’s still pretty pissed. 

“You’d swallow a pill for them, just like that. Shit, they really do brainwash you guys.”

“It’s not that.” The agent raises his head, spits out blood, “I still have family. If an enemy knows who I am, they could go after them for leverage. Ending my own life keeps the people I love safe.”

The fight goes out of him and he sighs, “Look, I’m not gonna go after your family, I promise. I won’t share your identity either; I know you’ve probably figured out the identities of people I care about and haven’t ratted them out. Consider this a thank you for that.”  

“They’ll terminate me anyway.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“That’s protocol.”

“Fuck protocol.”

The agent giggles, the sound increasingly hysterical, “I’m quite the triple threat; in one move I lose my job, my safety, and my purpose. I guess I live on your floor now.”

“I’m not gonna make you live on my floor.”

“Your holding cell, then.”

“Uhhhh” Barclay rubs his arm, “I don’t have one. It’s not like anyone besides you has ever tried to infiltrate here.”

“Please tell me you have a guest room.” The agent is still hiccuping laughs.

“Yeah. I can fix it up real quick for you.” 

Agent X sits up, wincing, “You’re really letting me stay?”

“I mean, yeah? No way I’m sending you back to people who we know will kill you. I know you think I’m a villain, but I don’t really want people getting hurt. And I respect you as an adversary, not to mention I actually kind of like you,  Agent X.”

“Joseph.” The agent slowly drags himself up onto the bed. “It’s just Joseph now. Joseph Stern.”

“Don’t seem like there’s much ‘just’ to you, Mr. Overachiever.”

Joseph tries flipping him off, only to flinch when he moves his arm. 

“Good lord, I thought that wasn’t a real mirror, why is there so much glass in my skin?”

“Uh, you know how when you drop a cell phone and the screen kinda-splinters and you can get bits of it in your fingers? That’s basically what happened to your back. Uh, sorry.”

“It was in self defense.”

“Will you let me help? I got lots of first aid stuff.”

Joseph nods and Barclay hurries into the bathroom to grab one of the two dozen med kits scattered around the house. 

“On your stomach.”

The other man rolls over, and Barclay gets to work on his back. Joseph remains stoic the entire time, until Barclay begins dousing the cuts with disinfectant, at which point he hisses. 

“I know, I hate this shit too. Dunno why people are always inventing new torture devices and interrogation techniques, this’d do the trick on most people I know.”

“Very true. It’s alright, pain is deserved when you fuck up as royally as I did tonight.”

“Hey, none of that, okay?” Barclay says gently, easing the tatters of Josephs shirt off, “That pain isn’t a punishment, it’s something I’m doing to keep you safe and so you can heal. You don’t deserve to be hurt, Joseph. And I’m sorry for all the times you ended up that way because we fought. I know it comes with the territory, but that doesn’t mean I can’t apologize.”

Silence as he finishes bandaging that well-developed back, and as he cleans up the debris from the fight and the aftermath.

“In that case” Joseph murmurs, “ I’m sorry too. For, well, for any time during the last three years where I hurt you.”

“Apology accepted.” Barclay sits down on the bed, facing his guest, who turns his head to smile weakly at him.

“What happens now?”

“No clue. I can heat up some dinner, and there’s lots of books here, and some movies. Even got a couple of video games for when friends visit. Or you can sleep, if you want.”

Joseph gives him a curious look, “I meant to ask, is this what you wear at home all the time?” 

Barclay blushes, “No, uh, I was just trying out a new costume. Usually wear, like, my flannel shirts and stuff.” 

Joseph cautiously rolls onto his side for a better look. A prolonged, hungry, better look.

“What do you think?” Barclay keeps his eyes fixed on the headboard and not on the lines of muscle on Josephs stomach. 

“I think you look like you should be cruising the Folsom Street Fair looking for some gym bunny who’ll call you sir.”

“Is that a...good thing?” 

“Yes.”

When he meets those blue eyes, their pupils are wide.

Barclay chuckles, “You gonna call me, ‘sir, babe?”

“Only if you want me to.”

The bed dips as shifts to be next to Stern, “Nah, but I’ve been dying to fuck you since the Pipeline Incident.”

“Lord, Barclay, that was a year ago. But the answer is yes.” Stern tries to sit up, but Barclay rests a hand on his shoulder, kissing his cheek.

“I just patched you up, babe, so how’s about we keep this simple for tonight?”

“Oh, okay, uh, how should we?” Stern is blushing, head dipping in slight deference, and it’s the most gratifying goddamn thing Barclay has ever seen. 

“Get those pants off, lay on your stomach, and put your ass in the air.” He sits back so Stern can obey, which he does as quickly as possible.

“Good boy.” Barclay rumbles, sitting behind him, “Shit, all that superhero training makes for an amazing ass.” He rubs it possessively, Stern moaning softly at the touch. 

“Thank you.” 

“Think it’ll look even better with my handprints on it?” The question is breezy as he drags a nail along the right cheek, waiting for Sterns permission.

“Yes.” Stern whispers into the pillows.

Barclay swats the right side, “What was that?”

“Yes!” Stern cries out, wiggling his hips in response. 

“Much better.” He hits four more times, two for each side, Stern yelping with delight at each one.

“Now, let’s get one thing straight,” He grabs Sterns hips, pulls his ass against his crotch, grinding slowly, the pants for his definitely not for work anymore outfit just tight enough to give excellent friction from the movement, “I get the feeling you get off on a little pain. And I sure as hell like watching you squirm from it. And” he smacks his left side, for fun, “I bet you think you deserve this.”

Five slaps, fast and with more force behind them.

“Yes, yes, Barclay, please.”

“You’re right, you do. But not because you deserve to be hurt, or to suffer. You deserve to feel good, Joseph. And the second this stops feeling good and you start using it as punishment, I stop doing it. We clear?”

“Crystal.” Stern whimpers at the next slap, and Barclay bends forward to loving kiss a line up his throat and nuzzle his cheek. 

“Good boy. You okay to touch yourself--hah, that answers that.” He laughs as Sterns right hand disappears beneath him and his mouth parts in a moan.

“Fuck, Barclay, I, I’ve, nhhnn, I’ve wanted this so long.”

“Me too babe. God, Joseph, you got any idea how fucking incredible you are?” He finds an angle that lets him continue rutting against his ass and kissing his neck and face without touching his injuries.

“No, perhaps you can say more?” Stern grins 

Barclay growls, delivers a particularly hard slap, “Oughta make you stop jerking off since you’re fishing for compliments but, fuck, babe, you look so goddamn hot when you’re moaning and twisting around under me, shit, I love hearing your voice, and your smile makes me forget my fucking name and fuck, fuck, yeah, ohyeah.” He tugs Stern close as he comes, keeps pouring out increasingly jumbled praise as Stern tenses in his arms and comes across the covers with the most erotic sound Barclay has ever had the good luck to hear.

“Lord almighty I needed that.” 

Barclay chuckles, guides them both down into a comfortable cuddle, “Glad I could help. You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Okay, lemme rinse off and I can make us dinner.”

By the time he’s out of the shower Stern has stripped and remade the bed with clean covers, and takes his hand as they head downstairs. Barclay reheats the leftovers and makes them tea while Stern reads to him about fifty of the best new restaurants in the west. 

The next morning, the FBI’s villain control division receives word that Agent X has been killed in the line of duty. 

Three weeks later, they learn that Bigfoot has a new partner: the man in black. 

[psalexanzondria]

Imagine being Bella's older sister, and you and Carlisle fall in love

This was supposed to originally be a ONE SHOT, but I think we all know I have more planned for this. So PROLOGUE! Fandom: Twilight Pairing: Carlisle x Reader (OC name, feel free to change it in your mind) Warning: CURSING! ‘Holy Shite on a cross!’ Is the first thought the crosses my mind as I stare up at the large, beautiful house that is at the end of the mile long drive, which has yards upon yards of white Christmas tree lights strung across the trees lining it. The house is huge, open, with wall to floor windows the reveal, what seems to, hundreds of teenagers other than my sister’s graduating class. Music pulsates outside, vibrating the windows it’s so loud, dozens of different colored lights even wave back and forth inside, reflecting across the lawn. Alice had no doubt, out done herself; Bella always told me in our messages that she did, but I never believed her until now, as to expected of Vampires. Oh yes, I was in for a nasty shock with THAT email from Bella, see I had graduated two years before Bella, and was currently on break from my College abroad, in Japan. I knew the Cullen’s through the messages that Bella and myself exchanged, the years I was gone, never met them in person, never video chatted with them, and never been to their house. Bella sent me pictures of the younger Cullens, Jasper has blonde hair and was constantly at Alice’s side, Alice is a pixie-like girl with a sassy brown bobcut, Edward is the lanky brunette that constantly has to pull Bella out of trouble, Emmett is a burly brunette that seems to like to fight, and Rosalie is the beautiful blonde girl, with a love of cars, and looks like she belongs on a runways. I knew of Esme and Carlisle, but little else. Esme posed as Carlisle’s sister, who had fallen on hard times, and staying with the others until she got back on her feet. Carlisle, he was an anomaly, one that I was very interested in figuring out, a vampire that works in a hospital, helping people, not attacking them, not stealing blood, but being kind and gentle, he saved Esme, Edward, Rosalie, and even Emmett by changing them, but he doesn’t go around, biting and changing people all the time. This makes me very curious. Currently, only Alice, and possibly Edward, knew of my arrival, wanting to surprise my sister, who as far as Bella was concerned, I was still in Tokyo. Climbing out of the car, sticking my sister’s graduation present under my arm, glancing in the mirror on the side of the door to make sure my hair is flyaway free, the brown ringlets are down my back, bangs braided around the crown of my head, I smooth the skirt of my purple dress, which stops at my knees in the front, falling into a train in the back, which ends at the heels of my black and white Converse high tops, before I hold the present before me, walking up to the house. Before I can even open the door, it swings open to reveal a beaming Alice, who throws her arms around me with a happy squeal, yanking me inside. “You’re Emma! It’s so great to finally meet you!” Alice crows over the music. “You too, Alice! Where is Bella?” I ask just as Edward appears over a group of people’s heads, Esme’s hands clasped over Bella’s eyes as they follow him. “Surprise!” Esme cries, uncovering my sister’s eyes as soon as the stop before me. “Emma?!” Bella lunges at me, wrapping me in a hug. “Oh my-! Oh my god! What’re you doing here?!” She asks as I hug her back. “You didn’t think I’d miss you graduate, did ya?” I laugh as she pulls away, I tuck the present in her hand, which she opens hesitantly, only to find a signed copy of Stephan King’s The Firestarter, causing her to beam at me as I notice people staring over at us, confusion evident. “Let’s move somewhere more quiet.” Edward suggests, reading my discomfort easily, Bella mods as she wraps her arm around mine, tugging me through the crowd, before everyone joins us in a glass room that must be Carlisle’s at home office, said man is looking up from his desk in confusion. “Who’s this?” He asks, gesturing to me, I have to force myself not to gawk at the handsome blonde in the office chair, he’s dressed khakis, a blue button down dress shirt, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. “This is Bella’s sister! Emma. Emma. this is Carlisle." Alice chirps as Carlisle nods, gaze landing on me. Heat streaks to my cheeks as I cover it with a cough, before turning to Bella. “Sorry that I missed your actual graduation, my flight was a little delayed.” I explain. “It’s fine, I’m just so glad you’re here.” She throws her arms around me once more, causing me to let out a surprised laugh. “I’ve missed you! Please, please tell me you’re done in Japan?” I laugh, shaking my head. “Bella, it’s two more years.” I state. “And then it’ll be two more, then four more, then six more, and then you’ll be married with kids, wearing kimonis 27/7, and never come for visits, and then I’ll be a vampire, and-” I pinch her lips between my thumb and index finger, Edward watches in vague amusement, while Alice smiles at me. “First, it’s kimonos, and second, you KNOW that I can’t have kids, so that’s out of the question. You know that I would never just leave you like that. Two years. That’s it. Then it’s three months in Russia, three months in England, and I will be back here, filling out a community college application to finish my doctorate.” I explain, she sighs as I release her lips. “We never see each other, though!” Bella complains. “You know, it probably won’t even be another eight months, I’m flying through my classes with ease.” She nods, beaming up at me. "You just have to be patient a while longer." I glance down at my watch, frowning at the dead battery. "It's a little after eight." Alice says, causing me to smile up at her in thanks. "Do you have to go already?" Bella asks, causing me to let out a soft laugh. "No, I'm just tired. Jet lag, I have to go to bed at an acceptable time." I explain as Bella nods. "Well, let me introduce you to some of my friends." She stands, reaching down to grab my hands, tugging me out the door as I shoot a helpless look back at Alice and Edward, who simply shake with laughter, following us as the sound and party swallow us whole. It feels like an eternity of being introduced to everyone, when in reality it's about an hour or two, before I manage to slip away to the only other place in the house, that is unoccupied by party goers, which is Doctor Cullen's office. Stumbling into the room, I swing the door shut as I let out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose as I shake me head, feeling a migraine coming on. "Are you alright?" I jump at this voice, whirling around to find the doctor himself, sitting in a chair, before his desk, book in hands as I press a hand to my chest, heart thudding rapidly behind my ribcage. "I... ah, I needed an escape. My head is throbbing, and it's... very crowded out there." I explain as I close my eyes, taking deep breathes so that my panic goes down a bit, before opening them once more. "I don't do... parties, often. They make me claustrophobic." He nods as he closes his book, standing to cross over to me, reaching up I press myself back into the bookshelf behind me, to give him more room, before he turns back to his desk, rounding to the opposite side. "Feel free to sit in here, for as long as you need. I am not one for parties myself. Unfortunately, Alice has a penchant for them." I nod empathically as I cross to the chair he previously occupied, settling down into it as he seats himself at his desk. "So, may I ask- or is it too intimate of a question?" I mumble the last part to myself, causing him to look up, tilting his head at me a bit. "You may ask me anything, I will not withhold information, nor get upset." He promises. "Oh, uh... alright, well..." I bite my bottom lip in thought. "How did you, become a vampire, if you don't mind?" He blinks at me, as though in surprise. "I admit, that wasn't what I thought you'd ask." He states, causing my neck to suddenly feel a bit warm. "O-Oh, um, y-you don't have to answer, you know. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, or upset you, o-or...uh-" I cut myself off, feeling the heat traveling up my neck to my cheeks and ears, as I realize that I'm rambling, he is looking at me with a crooked smile, eyes bright, as though amused at my reaction. "It's quite alright. Let me see, I was born in the Sixteen Forties, I believe, time wasn't inheritantly accurate back then, honestly, for the common people. My father was an Anglican Pastor, my mother died when giving birth to me, and my father, he led hunts against witches, werewolves... vampires." He looks at me. "He burned a lot of innocent people, of course the real creatures that he sought were not so easy to capture, when my father grew old, he placed myself in charge of the raids. At first, I was a disappointment; not quick to accuse, to see demons where they did not exist, but I was also persistent, and more clever than my father. I had discovered a coven of true vampires in the sewers of the city, only coming out at night, to hunt, many had lived this way." He shakes his head. "We had gathered pitchforks and torches, waiting where I had seen the monsters exit, and one finally emerged." "He changed you?" I find myself asking, sitting in the edge of my seat, he look up at me with a simple nod. "He was ancient, and weak, with hunger, I heard him call out in Latin, to the others when he caught scent of the mobs. I ran through the streets, I was rather fast for being twenty-three, and lead in the pursuit." I can picture these things happening in my mind, coming alive with his words. "The creature could have easily outran us, but I believe he was too hungry, so he turned on us, as he attacked. He fell upon myself first, but the others were close behind, and he turned to defend himself. He killed two men, and made off with a third, leaving me bleeding in the street." He shakes his head. "I knew my father, the bodies would be burned– anything infected by the vampire would be destroyed, and I acted instinctively to save myself. I crawled, away from the alley, while the mob followed the vampire and his prey, I hid in a cellar, buried in rotting potatoes for three days. It was a miracle I was able to keep silent, to stay undiscovered, it was on the third day that if was over, and I knew what I had become." Without a thought, I reach out, resting a hand on his chilled one, causing him to look up at me in surprise. "You are remarkably strong." I breath out, causing him to smile at me, flipping his hand over beneath mine, to squeeze it. "I... thank you." He says softly, my heart starts to thump rapidly behind my ribcage, once more, as a comfortable silence looms between us, smiling at one another, before the door swings open, causing me to jump. Looking up to see Alice, Edward, Bella, and three Quilete boys, one I recognize as Jacob Black. "Carlisle, we've got a problem." Edward says, causing me to sigh as I stand. "I believe that this is my signal to got find a motel for the night." I state. "Actually," Alice speaks up. "upstairs, third bedroom from the right. Carlisle is allowing you to use his room, during your stay." I nod, smiling thankfully at the doctor, before ducking out the door, swaying through the party, then outside to get my bag from my car, before head back inside, and into the designated room. Closing the door behind me, I shut out the party, leaning against the door with a sigh. Throughout the rest of my stay, Carlisle and I seem to connect more, talking and bonding as friends, as it is rare for me to do so with people my own age, being 20, even if it's only that Carlisle is physically 23. When I leave, I feel sad to go, even though Carlisle and I have a great friendship, exchanged phone numbers, and emails, I'll still feel lonely with his constant company, and friendliness. Driving away, I feel determined that I will see them again soon, sooner than I might think.