#sorry miriams sad it will happen again

[moonlightsmasquerade]

I wonder if she went back to the beach hoping he'd come back.

[embrosegraves]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤

(request) Sebastian Vettel x Reader (he/they) Kids: Vincent/Vince (4) and Miriam/Mimi (5 months)

Warnings: Mentions of Reader not having a good childhood, mentions of Bad Mental Health™, self-doubt from reader, badly written angst?

It had been an unbelievable few years for the Vettel household. First Sebastian married the love of his life and they moved to a farm in Switzerland. They spent three years together before they adopted an energetic 2-year-old boy named Vincent. They were a perfect family of three. Sebastian retired from Formula One when Vince was 3 and a year later they found themselves at home with a now 4-year-old son and a newly adopted 5-month-old baby girl, Miriam.  

It was everything Seb could’ve asked for. He had a husband and two gorgeous children, he had never been more satisfied with anything in his life. 

Sebastian was so in love with his life that his heart shattered when he saw his life partner struggling. Y/n put up a good show in front of the children, but Sebastian and Y/n had been together for close to 9 years. Not to mention that they had known each other for 13 years. All that to say, Sebastian basically knew them better than themself. So he knew that while Y/n was outwardly happy and excited, their mind was in the trenches between anxiety and doubt. 

Seb could see that he was struggling with something and it physically pained him to not know how to help. Y/n was the single most important thing in his life. Every fibre of his being was made to love him and to make him feel happy and safe. He had to try something to help.

Prior to getting together with Seb, Y/n had explained vaguely what it had been like growing up for them. How they had to basically raise themself from a very early age. The sad fact was, Y/n had never had a consistent flow of positive affirmation or physical affection until finding Sebastian. Growing up both things had been a taboo. Meeting Sebastian had made Y/n determined to break the generational cycle before it had time to fully begin. Sometimes that mindset was hard to keep. Especially when asked a seemingly innocent question from a totally clueless 4-year-old. 

Vince hadn’t even asked Y/n the question, but he had overheard the small boy ask Sebastian. 

“How much am I loved?”

Those five words had sent Y/n into a silent spiral for days. Y/n hadn’t bothered to stick around to hear Sebastian answer the question. Instead, they tried as best they could to continue the day as normal. Why did Vince ask that, of all questions? Y/n was aware that children were always curious about everything, and they knew that it was more than likely just a child’s healthy curiosity. But curiosity had to start somewhere, right? What happened for their son to ask how much he was loved. 

Had he turned into his parents? Had he, without realising, not shown or said how much he absolutely adored his child? Did he somehow do the one thing that he swore he never would? Just the thought of it made him feel sick to his stomach. 

Sitting on the couch one evening, Baby Mimi asleep in one arm while the other circled around a sleeping Vince, Y/n found themself within their mind once again. Thinking about everything they had done leading up to Vince asking that dreaded question. He couldn’t pinpoint anything that seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing had changed in the dynamic since they had adopted their first child. Y/n blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, my loves.” Y/n whispered as they looked at their children. Their voice was choked with emotion as they spoke.

“I’m sorry I haven’t done better. I promised myself that I would be better, and it’s not just myself that I’ve let down.” Y/n sniffled. “I said, years ago, that I would never become the people that raised me. That I would stop the cycle before it could begin, but clearly I’ve failed.” 

Sebastian had stopped just before the doorway to the living room, having heard his husband speaking to the no doubt sleeping children. 

“I wish that I could take back every moment you ever doubted my love for you. Prove that I am not my parents and that you are the most important parts of my life. I never want for you to feel how I did as a child.” 

Sebastian couldn’t take it anymore. He walked into the room, gently picked up his son and sat down next to Y/n. Keeping an arm around Vince, he used his free arm to wrap around his partner and pull them close to him. 

Sebastian pressed a lingering kiss to Y/n temple and whispered to him. “They do not doubt your love for them, Blume. I promise you.”

“How would you know that? I have failed as a parent if my child has to ask if he is loved.” Y/n took a shuddering breath, trying to stop themself from bawling their eyes out. 

“I know because I asked. Vince knows how much you love him, he knows how much I love him and I have no doubt in my mind that Mimi also knows how much we love her.”

“Papa, how much am I loved?” 

Sebastian looked at the 4-year-old in his arms, “Why do you ask?” 

“Baba always says that he loves you to the moon. And then you always say that you love Baba for all the stars.” 

“We do say that, yes.” Sebastian could help but smile at his son. He knew that for the young boy to know the endearment he exchanged with his husband, he would’ve had to hear it often. It pleased him to know that his children were growing up surrounded by the notion that affection and openly loving someone was a good thing.

“I just wanted to know how much I was loved. Like you and Baba.”

Adjusting Vince so that he could see his face, Sebastian gave a kiss to his forehead. “Baba and I love you so much that there is nothing we could compare it to”

The boy looked at his father, “And Mimi too?” 

“Of course Mimi too. There is nothing in the whole world that Baba and I love more than the two of you.” 

“Not even your trophies? Baba says you love them a lot.” Vince said, laying his head on Sebastian’s shoulder.

“My trophies don’t even come close, Kleine.” 

Sebastian pulled his husband closer as he finished speaking. I was silent for a moment before Seb spoke up again. 

“You have not failed as a parent, and I know that you will never fail. I have seen how much our son adores you. In every language I know there are not enough words to explain how much he loves you.” 

Sebastian knew that it wasn’t going to be easy to convince his partner that they didn’t need to be upset or worried. He knew that it was hard to come back from your mind. Especially if you had been there for a while. Sebastian was determined to help his partner, no matter how long it took him. He would go to the ends of the Earth if it meant that Y/n knew how much their little family loved them. He would trade every Championship trophy in the world to show Y/n that they are nothing like the people who raised them (because they sure as shit weren’t parents). 

“I love you so much that seeing you doubt yourself hurts me. You are the best damn parent for our children and I just wish that you could see that.”

It might take me a while but I can potentially do a part 2 for this if people liked it.

but anyways, I hope everyone enjoyed <3

[aajjks]

TC!dad!JK

“i am not selfish!” you scream back. “he wasn’t going to go back, jungkook—,” you’re cut off when jungkook shoves you onto the horse and it takes everything in you to not cry right now.

it takes you back to when you both first met. he’s still that same person who wouldn’t take his eyes off of you the moment he saw you.

the same person who killed sana, hurt song dongmin, and in the end, killed your father. you can’t bare to look at your son jinseoul who heard everything, sneaking peeks every now and again on how his own father treated his mother.

it hurt him to see his parents like that. for his father to call you selfish when it was, in his mind, his fault for leaving with you. it was all his fault. his inner thoughts didn’t leave him alone for the rest of the day. he slowly began to feel very sad knowing he made things worse for you and not even he could help you.

when you all return back, areum and ae-cha immediately rush to you and hug you.

“mama!”

“we missed you!”

“where did you go?”

“are you okay?”

they say, question after question and you weakly smile “it’s okay. mama’s okay. i just…your father and i have to talk okay?” the nod their heads and ae-cha can’t help but notice her sonder brother. “what’s wrong?” she asks jinseoul and he responds “it’s all my fault” and doesn’t say anything more.

back to you, your in the dungeon which throws you off because you thought he’d send you to the room but once your eyes lock on miriam, you know exactly what’s going to happen.

“MIRIAM!! jungkook, no!! please!! i’m sorry, please don’t hurt her!!! JUNGKOOK NO!!”

the sword slices through her neck, the walls are painted in miriam’s blood and you let out a loud scream.

“AAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! MIRIAM!!!!” you immediately draw the sword and attempt to attack jungkook before guards are holding you back. “I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU!!! I HATE YOU!!” you yell before tears fall down your eyes. “you’re just like your father. you’re a monster” you say, no ounce of love left in your eyes.

“i hope you’re proud of yourself” you say. “because this will be the last time you’ll ever hurt me”

“SHUT UP. I WARNED YOU TO NEVER ESCAPE AND BETRAY ME LIKE THAT BUT YET YOU DID. AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN THINK ABOUT OUR CHILDREN. YOU ARE MORE SELFISH THAN ME. YOU HAVE BROKEN MY HEART- and she deserved to fucking die.@he screams at you. Glaring holes into your soul.

“ I know you’re trying to attack me.. but it is of no use. because you’ve already hurt me. AND NOW YOU WILL ROT HER UNTIL I WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN”

“and you won’t even get to see the children.”

Your husband doesn’t even spare another glance and he leaves. What you don’t notice are the tears in his eyes that he finally lets out.

[fridayisbestday]

(A Kiss 1, 2 & 3- pls listen to the song before, while or after reading it)

"You sure you wanna do this?" Susie asked for the last time, the two now standing in front of his door. "Drunk?" She conformed. Midge answered by banging on the door.

After a few painful seconds the door opened, and there he was, in an undershirt and blue and green plaid pyjama bottoms. “Did it mean anything to you? Any of it?” Midge gazed into his eyes, “Miami? At the Wolford? The raid?” She paused, “The blue room?”

The world grew still for a second, frozen in time, she saw her own reflection in his eyes.

He looked down to the side, “Midge, I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Look me in the eye and say that all of it meant nothing, and I’ll never speak to you ever again.” Her hand balled into a fist by her side, her nails digging into her palm, it was her only solace. To express the pain she felt without showing him.

“It’ll be like nothing ever happened between us, we were never friends, never anything more." She clarified, “Like we," Her breath hitched, "we never met in that cop cruiser.”

His face shifted from apologetic to expressionless, his eyes held still, she saw his chest raise then fall. Please don’t, please don't break my heart, she silently begged.

"Midge, I'm-" His voice downed in shame.

“Susie," She called, her voice almost a whisper, "Dinah gave us the wrong address.”

“Miriam.” Susie's hand reached for her tight fist, holding onto her pinky.

“Or we came to the wrong address.” Midge eyes began to fog up. “Because the Lenny I know," She paused, "my Lenny would never, he would never…”

He barked out a mirthless laugh, "Your Lenny? Midge, do tell me. What would your Lenny do? Huh? HUH?" He hid his sadness and guilt behind his anger as he continued, "The one you put on a fucking pedestal, elaborate for me. WHAT WOULD HE NEVER DO?"

"HE WOULD NEVER HURT ME SO CARELESSLY!"

"The one who handed me my ass on the biggest night of his entire career when I was fucking up my own, 'cause it would break his fucking heart if I blew it." She began to list.

"The one who let me, a comic who was insignificant to open for him, when I was blackballed, his only request was that I changed my name."

"The one who told me that I, no matter all my fuck ups was more important to him than God!"

"SO WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

"Midge, it's not that fucking simple." He tried to explain.

"Fine. Then, let's make it simple. A simple yes or no question." She calmly replied, "Did it mean anything to you?"

“Midge- I- it meant- everything meant- it all meant-” It was like all the words he wanted to say were constantly sucked into a blackhole, never to be known or found, just stretched or morphed, as he scrambled to find another one. And another one. And another one.

"Was it all to just…” She couldn't say it, “Was it really nothing more than just…” She couldn't finish the question. There were no words, or too many words to describe what they had, what they did in that very blue room.

But finally settling with, “Midge, I’m sorry.”

Was that all he had to say? A measly, "I'm sorry." Something her 3 year old daughter would say after being caught eating a cookie before dinner. Something her 6 year old son would say after getting grass stains on his trousers from playing with his friends.

“Ok.” She breathed, she held Susie’s hand and pulls on it slightly before turning to walk away, but her friend stayed put.

Susie's face darkened as she muttered under her breath, the corridor was quiet enough for her insult to be heard. “You cruel fucking bastard.”

“Susie, let’s go.” Midge called, but her voice held no confidence, it was weak. It angered her friend even more.

“No!" Susie shouted, scolding Midge, “Fuck you! You wrinkled piece of shit! You made her fall in love with you! Then you go and say that she should forget about you?!”

“I-” Lenny tried to speak, but Susie cut him off.

“Of all the shit I know you can get off of in that junkie apartment of yours, you chose to get off on this shit? You’re gonna tell her that all of that, everything you’ve ever done, everything, was to fucking bed her?!”

Midge looked at the floor as though ashamed, ashamed for being so naive, so gullible, so embarrassed that she didn't see it.

‘Don't pick a weak man.’ She heard her father voice echo in her head.

Lenny pinch the bridge of his nose, “Susie, let me explain-”

“No! You've had your fucking chance. You cruel vindictive asshole!” Susie stepped closer towards him, a finger pointed at him accusingly, the other still in Midge's hand.

“If you think for a fucking second that I’m going to let you get away with this, you are so fucking wrong.”

“Susie.” Midge called.

“Midge, I'm not done.” Susie looked up at Midge, meeting her watery eyes, before moving back to his.

“I’m gonna punch you in the dick so hard that it’ll spilt into a fucking vagina! I don’t know how it’ll work and I don’t care, but I will make it fucking happen!-”

“Susie!” Midge finally shouted, “We’re leaving.” She stated quietly.

"ok." Susie sheepishly obeyed, Midge tugged her hand, gripping it tighter as they turn to walk away.

“Midge, I-” He call from behind.

She stopped and turned her head, meeting his eyes, her chest felt tight, her fingers grew cold, her heart cracking and breaking on every beat.

“It’s Miriam, my friends call me Midge.”

[apinchofm]

Part 2!

A lot of angst!

Phoebe was silent when they recounted what had happened. Benjamin had bitten her, not taking too much blood.

"Did he...?" Phoebe asked hesitantly. Miriam avoided eye contact and cleared her throat.

"I need to check," Miriam said, "If you want me to?" She nodded quickly.

He hadn't. No, he had just made sure that his scent was all over her. To taunt Matthew, but also Marcus in particular. Demonstrate himself as the superior son.

But Phoebe still showered and scrubbed her skin with a washcloth and then a pumice stone. She washed, detangled and deep conditioned her hair. She still felt violated. 

As she combed through her hair, standing at the sink, she tried to ignore the bandage on her neck.

"Marthe's made you some tea," Marcus said, walking into the bathroom.

"How long will this take to... go away?" She asked.

"I gave you some of my blood, so a few days. I promise." He rubbed her shoulders gently.

She turned around and hugged him, and he wrapped his arms around her gently.

"He didn't..." Phoebe murmured into his chest, "He just.."

"I know. I know." 

"I provoked him. I called him pathetic." Phoebe said. He had warned her about provoking vampires with blood rage, particularly ones like his father.

Marcus, however, smiled, "Good. You really don't scare easy, do you?" 

"There's just something about the men in your family. It's very easy to insult you all." Phoebe joked and Marcus chuckled. 

Marthe had drugged her tea. A kind yet invasive measure. She slept for a few hours. When she woke up, it was dark outside and Marcus was asleep next to her.

She moved closer to him, and he instantly pulled her in closer to him, wrapping his arms around her.

.....

She acted as if everything was normal. That was a benefit of her upbringing. They were taught to never make a scene, never give anything away.

It isn't ladylike.

But she still felt jumpy at times. 

"Diana, I'm fine," Phoebe said when she came to see her in the library. She spent a lot of time there now, losing herself in books and research.

"He scares me too." Diana admitted,  "And he didn't do anything as close to what he did to you. So, it's okay if you're not."

Her neck had finally healed and she cried in relief when she saw the faint, closed marks. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine. The bite marks are gone." Phoebe said to Marcus that evening when he checked on her.

"I'm glad." He smiled and kissed her gently. Phoebe, however, deepened the kiss and climbed on top of him, unbuttoning his shirt. He stopped her.

"Are you sure?" He knew that this high she was on was temporary.

"Make me yours again." She pleaded and he couldn't find it in him to refuse her.

.....

She still couldn't sleep, however.

"Well, we haven't exactly looked at the effects of biting on humans outside of memory loss," Miriam told her apologetically when Phoebe called her.

"Marthe likes drugging me." Phoebe said, "I don't think she knows I know, but it doesn't help." 

.....

One evening, when she'd been sound asleep, a dream jolted her from her slumber. She sat up, breathing heavily. Benjamin had gotten into her house and attacked her.

But she was fine. She was in her and Marcus' bedroom. She was safe. She was fine.

Phoebe went to his office. She could hear a meeting being held, but she didn't care about these stupid vampires and their stupid meetings. She wanted Marcus.

"We're having a meeting." Baldwin protested when she walked in.

"You're standing around, drinking. It's a sad bachelor party." Phoebe retorted without missing a beat.

"Phoebe, what's the matter?" Marcus asked, standing up.

"You're shaking lass, why don't you sit?" Gallowglass suggested, moving to sit her in an armchair.

Relax, you're shaking like a leaf. A voice crooned in her memory.

"No!" Phoebe yelled. Marcus, in an instant, was next to her. The other creatures looked at her with worry and concern.

"I'm sorry, Gallowglass. You were being kind." She apologised. He shook his head, her apology unnecessary to him. He could tell that she was shaken from her encounter with Benjamin.

"We'll reconvene tomorrow afternoon. Leave." Marcus ordered. And they did so, quickly. Not even Baldwin protested.

"Phoebe. I'm here. It's okay." Marcus whispered as he hugged her. He kissed her, just so she would feel him. She wrapped her arms around him.

"I don't know what's wrong with me." She cried.

"Nothing is wrong with you. This is a completely normal response." He'd been anticipating this. She'd been too calm, too polite for the past few weeks. 

"Can you bite me?" She asked after a while.

"Phoebe, you're tired." He protested.

"I'm tired of being treated like a piece of glass. If your family's stupid custom is that no one can harm a person because of a stupid bite mark, then I want that. I don't like feeling... like this!" 

"Me biting you won't make it better." Marcus argued, "It won't my love. I'm sorry.'

.....

"You'll be okay," Ysabeau said when she sat down next to Phoebe in the garden of Sept-Tours.

"How do you know? He's dead but I still can't sleep."

"I am. So you too will be okay." Ysabeau assured. Phoebe looked at her, slight surprise on her face. Whilst she knew the story of how Philippe rescued her, she didn't know the details of Ysabaeu's capture.

The older woman gently squeezed her hand.

"Marthe's still drugging my tea."

"Sleep soundly and she'll stop."

.....

"Where are we going?" 

"It's a surprise."

That was all Marcus would reply as he drove. He drove them out of London, occasionally kissing her hand.

"What is this?" She asked, confused.

"Our house." Marcus explained, "Far away from London and Oxford but close enough for us to still commute." 

Phoebe looked around, "It's beautiful, but..."

"I think being around my entire family has been difficult for you. After Benjamin. As lovely as they are." Marcus explained, "And I think that's why you aren't sleeping. So, I thought a fresh start. A fresh house. I know I can't fix everything. But I can try and help you get some sleep.

"I think I also need to find someone to talk to," Phoebe admitted.

"I can help with that." Marcus promised.

"And tea that hasn't been drugged." Phoebe added.

"I can promise that." Marcus said.

[p1x1e-sims]

  Paul found out Eva had passed through a letter. A simple paragraph, telling him his wife had died three weeks prior.

  And in all honesty, Paul believed he had handled Robert’s death better. Robert, who died clutching his older brother’s hand on the way to the infirmary tent, calling out for their mother. 

  Still so stricken by his brother’s death, Jane’s letter seemed surreal. How could he still be alive, hunched over in trenches with bullets whizzing over his head, while his wife died in the safest place she knew. Her own home. Bringing another life into this world, nonetheless. 

  But there was no other option but to soldier on. Paul had two–– no, three children now. With Eva gone, he was the only one who could be there for them. So he folded the letter and tucked it into his breast pocket, where he kept an old photograph of his wife and the boys. And he kept on marching. 

  By 1917, the war was nearly over, and Brindleton Company was sent home. Disillusioned and numbed, Paul felt as if he were in a dream as he laid eyes on his home for the first time in years. 

  Miriam and Jane waited on the steps for him, looking far older, and much more tired, then they had when he had seen them last. 

  And cradled in Jane’s arms was a small girl, no older than one, with hair as golden as Paul’s own.

 Irene. Eva’s final pride and joy.

  But two young voices broke Paul from his trance.

  “Pa!”

  It was Samuel, a bit taller and a bit older. And Theodore, he assumed, was on his right. He was no longer the toddler Paul remembered so fondly. God, had time flew by.

  Everyone was so alien to him now. 

  “Pa!” Sam shouted again, running to his father. 

  Paul caught the boy, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Tears stung his eyes. “Hi, pal. Have you been holding down the fort while I’ve been gone?”

  Sam squeezed him tight. “Mmhm.”

   “Good, that's good.” A sad smile spread across his face. 

   His son wiped his eyes, clearly upset. “But...but they couldn't save Mama. I’m real sorry Pa...”

  “Sam, it was no ones fault, there was nothing anyone could have done.” Paul felt his heart clench, trying to believe his own words. “She’s in a much better place now. She’s alright.”

  Sam nodded and did his best to understand. “Still...the house feels real empty now, and cold, too. Irene doesn’t like it much here, she always cries. And Jane says it’s not good for Teddy, ‘cause he gets real sick sometimes for no reason.”

  Paul wanted to hit himself. He had left his children cold and alone and afraid for over a year. The poor souls were miserable. Making themselves sick over their fear and their guilt. 

  So, in that moment, Paul made a decision. 

  This wasn't their home any longer if Eva wasn't in it. They couldn’t stay here. 

  “I know it’s been hard, pal, and I’m so sorry I couldn't be here sooner. But I’ll tell you what. We’re not going to live here anymore, I promise.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t think it’s been good for you three, to stay here after what happened to your mother. We’ll go someplace better.”

  Sam’s face lit up. “Really? Where?”

  “I think I’ll take you all back home, to Brindleton.”

Previous | Next

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. XCIII

It was a love story from the very beginning.

And you are not here... (Part I)

(13x01)

Hello beautiful people! We reached season 13!!! This was a very analyzed season, so, many of the things I will say won't be new. There wasn't much Destiel in the second half of the season, so, I hope we can have less volumes than season 12.

But, let's focus now in the angst, and when I speak about angst, I mean Mourning! Dean.

Priorities?

At the beginning of the episode we have Dean, down his knees by Castiel's dead body, he can't believe he just lost him, so, he is not thinking here, he can't thing in another fact more than Cas.

Sam feels he has not time for crying for his best friend, because he has to focus in saving the world: Lucifer's son had just born.

I always like to point the difference here: Why Sam can focus on the Mission right away and Dean can't? Is because the amount of the emotions and the meaning of this lost.

Don't forget they lost Mary too, but this is different.

Because Sam lost his mother, but because she didn't died, he keeps hopes in bringing her back. Because Jack is there, and he was the one opening the rift. He lost Cas, he saw him die, his best friend, but even so, he keeps going, he runs towards that cabin to find the Nephilim. Because just like Cas, even with the loses, he has to keep fighting, to try to save the world, Cas would do the same.

But for Dean Cas represents his Everything, his faith, his hopes, the love of his life. So the world just stopped there. And he can't think in anything else but the deep pain of loosing the man he loves.

Then the scene in the car is heartbreaking.

SAM: Hold on a second. Can we just talk about what happened back there?

DEAN: Sure. Which part? Let’s see. Crowley’s dead, Kelly’s dead, Cas is—(he pauses) Mom’s gone, and apparently, the Devil’s kid hit puberty in thirty seconds flat. Oh, and almost killed us.

This is Dean not wanting to say Cas is dead, this is Dean not being able to say Cas is dead. His worst nightmare became true.

SAM: Yeah, because you tried to shoot him.

DEAN: I tried to shoot the monster, Sam. It’s kind of what we do.

SAM: We don’t know what he is yet, Dean. And I had it under control.

DEAN: I’m sorry. Are you defending the Son of Satan?

SAM: I’m not defending anything. I’m just saying, look, with everything that’s happened, I’m obviously spun out also, but we need a plan.

DEAN: Yeah, kill him! Okay? That’s the plan. Look, right now all that matters is finding him, and ending him, before he hurts anybody else. And once we do that we’ll figure everything else out.

Again pointing at the difference between the two brothers. Sam is thinking strategically, but Dean wants to kill him, because he blames Jack of Castiel's death. Jack is a monster that deceived, used and killed Cas. So there's no doubt for Dean JACK IS A MONSTER AND HE MUST BE ELIMINATED. For Sam, Jack represents the hopes to get his mother back.

SAM: What about Cas? Is he - is he really dead?

DEAN: You know he is.

And this is terrible, Because Dean is answering this to himself. 'You know he is.' Is the fact he has to assume. But he is avoiding to do it.

"Angels are real too."

So sad when the angels find Castiel on the table. The contemptible way one of them referred to Cas breaks my heart, because is so fresh now his dead in 15x18.

1ST ANGEL: Castiel. Always knew he’d meet a bad end.

2ND ANGEL: He deserved better.

1ST ANGEL: No, he really didn’t.

This is so accurate now, is like hearing Misha wanting his big sacrifice for love as Castiel, and all the fandom repeating HE DERÑSERVED BETTER, trying to show the point, and the C*W and broniles saying NO, HE REALLY DIDN'T. But well... Just a bitter thought... For this angel, particularly, is referring to Castiel's choices, his repeatedly chosing Dean Winchester over Heaven.

When they arrive to the Burger Shop, Dean decides to stay in the car and wait for Sam.

The drunken girl, which results to be an angel, comes out from the same shop, and the camera shows us Dean's bruises in his knuckles. So, we can infer something happened...

The dialogue between the angel and Dean is very interesting, because she create a whole scenario and character:

DRUNK WOMAN: Anyway, Becky was - and I say this in the most feminist, screw the patriarchy way - a giant superbitch. She’d take things, and break things, and piss people off, and just do whatever she wanted, no matter who it hurt.

She will say after revealing who she really is, that Dean was Becky. And the way she speaks about this character is with the same contempt as the angel talking about Castiel. Because Dean is guilty of Castiel's fall and disobedience. He is the human that broke Castiel, and that's why Cas ended up dying.

Once in the police station, Dean tells all the truth to the sheriff, and when he speaks about angels... His face turns even more sad.

Gif credit @wanreina

Look how he drops his eyes and turns his face to the window. This is pure grief, pain, sadness. Because it was almost as if he was mentioning Castiel again. And it hurts too much.

We were witnesses of Dean's prayer to Chuck, mentioning he wanted Castiel back, pleading not just for him, but Mary and even Crowley. Desperate prelaying. And when he turned around, with this little hopes in being heated, and maybe finding everyone there, CAS, and then realizing they weren't, he exploded in anger, breaking the pirate on the door, and hurting his knuckles.

Still trying to make Cas to come back to him...

Goodbye Cas

When Dean was fighting against the drunken woman, now an angel, the dialogue between them is showing us again how Dean was still expecting to find a way to make Castiel come back to him.

MIRIAM: Because Bieber in there? He can do almost anything.

DEAN (hopeful): Anything?

MIRIAM: (Chuckles) Oh, sweetie. Almost anything. Castiel, he's dead.

Gif set credit @godshipsit 👇

Dean's grief all over his face while the little hope that had found it's way is slowly fading again, listening to these words. These words that Miriam says with pleasure.

This scene is showing us how Dean was only thinking about CAS, in how to bring him back, with desperation, he was longing for him so hard, even the angel perceived that emotion.

The other super sad scene was Dean preparing Cas' body for the funeral...

(the follow gifs are from @wanreina)

When he comes back to the cabin, he faces again the reality. Dean is down that sheet, dead. He stops just for a second, and swallows. Encouraging himself to keep walking towards him. Before doing that, he flicks his eyes away from the corpse.

Then he goes to his side, and sighs, and then breaths... The pain is all over him.

This is Dean realizing again Cas is gone. Look at the deep sadness in his face, while he is staring at him, maybe he is talking with him, asking Cas to come back to him. Then, he is swallowing again, hard, he looks away, because Castiel won't come back, Castiel is definitely dead, as the angel said. No one will bring him back, nobody is gonna help him to bring Cash back. The despair is huge. Yes he has to aknowledge that in his heart.

Okay I read somewhere that maybe Dean was praying here to Cas to come back again, then he sees Cas is still dead. But I really believe, Dean didn't stop praying to him, or to Chuck, because that was the only things he could do. What else? So maybe he was praying the whole time, putting his hopes in those so many times Chuck relived him, or Cas camber back to him. Trying to reach Cas somehow. But with each desperate prayer he was convincing himself Cas wouldn't come back, and this time he was dead, really dead. For ever. That's the pain in his heart. He was trying to wake him up, he was pleading for one last miracle, and not to burn his body in the pyre. So this was his last attempt to bring him back.

The last and hard scene was the funeral

Gif credit @inacatastrophicmind

"You say goodbye" Sammy's voice sound in the background and we see Dean's sad face. The pain and the grief. So different from Sam and Jack. And so different from another times when he had to burn his father, or friends. Nothing is gonna be norm from now. Because he lost Cas, the love of his life.

Visual Narrative: Just a little mention of Pirate Pete's Burger Shop. The place was in blue and red, (Cas and Dean), with references about the ship (Destiel), and jokes about the butt, and, according the Urban Dictionary, the Pirate Pete is a sexual joke too. So, we can maybe infer, base in how angels were mocking Dean and CAS relationship and how it ended in this episode, that place was related to it.

To Conclude:

This was just the beginning of Mourning!Dean, we will see him depressed and with no faith, no hopes. Ig gonna be alarming for Sam, and we will have one huge revelation in the episode in wich Billie will talk with Dean about his grief.

Hope you like the first meta from season 13, see you in the next ones!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weird-dorky-little-d @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @authorsararayne @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@destielle @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis @superduckbatrebel @2musiclover2 @madronasky @anon-non2 @cea1996 @lisafu02 @asphodelesauvage @destiels-canonahhhhhhhhhh

If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know.

Buenos Aires, December 20th 2020, 6:03 PM

[jpegjade]

Writer’s Block - Spencer

IT HAS BEEN A LIL BIT SINCE I ACTUALLY COMPLETED SOMETHING. literally i’m jumping from job to job. i barely found time to write this lmao. 

this is for the lovely anon who requested this: can we have a fic where the reader has writer’s block and spencer is helpful? 

here you go anon, HELPFUL SPENCER 

warnings: all fluff and a lil bit of a reference talking about weight but it’s all fluff and nothing seriously deep. 

_____________

“Ugh.” You yelled, throwing your hands in the air. “This is pointless.” 

Spencer was sitting at his desk when he looked up to see you having a partial meltdown on your shared apartment couch. 

“Please tell me why I decided to do this. I can’t think of a single reason why anyone would go through this torture willingly.” You groaned to Spencer, who just smiled in response. 

You were glad he found this so amusing because you surely didn’t think any of it was cute in the slightest. 

“You’ve got a psychological inability to produce a substantial amount of content to satisfy your drive to create.” Spencer continued smiling at you. 

“Cliff Notes version, please. I’m mentally spent.” You said, looking over at him. 

“Writer’s block.” He said, as if he couldn’t just say that in the beginning. 

“At the worst time possible.” You said, groaning again. 

As an author, you were used to the words coming to you easily. There were so many ways to describe a single feeling that you just knew how to craft the language most of the time. It’s one of the many things that made Spencer fall in love with you: You crafted a world of your own through imagination and you were able to pull other people in to experience it with you. It was something special about you that set you apart from so many other writers in your genre. 

Getting up from his chair, Spencer walked over to your spot on the couch to sit next to you. He put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. 

“How far have you gotten on your story?” Spencer said, leaning over to see your laptop screen. You turned it away from him so he couldn’t see anything. 

“Baby, you know I don’t like you to see my works in progress. I only want you to see things when they’re complete.” You said. 

“Baby, I want to see every stage of your creativity no matter how rough.” Spencer smiled. “Maybe I can offer some advice and corrections.” 

“I don’t want you to see everything bc plot holes and such. And I don’t want you to know the plot until it’s complete.” You closed your computer screen so he couldn’t see anything. 

You turned to stare at him as he pulled his arm back, leaving on the back of the couch. The two of you stared at each other, both holding your own secrets. 

Your secret was that you secured a book deal for a Young Adult book. While the signatures were still needed for paycheck negotiations to close, you were holding out on telling Spencer until your manager confirmed everything was official. The call could come at any minute so you were checking your phone every few minutes. You weren’t superstitious but you didn’t want to tell Spencer something before it was completely confirmed. You didn’t want to get your hopes up but more importantly, you didn’t want to disappoint Spencer. He was so proud of you for your constant writing and he loved to read your stories after you sent them to your editor for content when your story was chosen for different magazines, contests, and blogs. If you secure this book deal, it will be huge for you and Spencer, making your dream come true. 

Spencer’s secret was that he was off for a month. He just got back from a case that lasted 3 weeks and before that, he was gone for the larger part of 2 months. There were a lot of back to back cases that ran right behind each other. The two of you made a sarcastic joke that it was serial killer season because it was like clockwork that these cases would come in. It was sad that so many people were hurt and killed in the process but there were countless lives saved by the team and their constant, tiring work. They needed some time off, especially with the last case draining them so greatly. 

“I won’t push you but just know, I’m excited about everything you do. I’m so proud of you for being so persistent in everything. You know, the word persistent is a great word to describe you because it’s more than just the determination to accomplish a task, although many people use it in conjunction with the word. Based on the definition by the Miriam-Webster dictionary, the word persistent means to exist for a long or longer than usual time continuously. You’ve been determined to continue your writing but it’s more than that. You’ve evolved from only writing for whoever will read your work to writing for yourself. You connect with...” Spencer wanted to go on before he noticed your phone vibrating. 

“Hold on, Spence. I’m so sorry.” You said, pulling out your phone. 

It was a text message from your agent. 

“Closed and complete. Sealed the deal. Mucho bueno mi amor.” Your agent followed that text with celebration emojis and you couldn’t look away. By calling you her love, your agent meant nothing by it any more than you called your friends your girlfriends. Your agent knew you well so she was very friendly. 

Your heart was beating a mile a minute, your breathing strained. You didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry, or both at the same time. It was real. It was really real. It was entirely real. A tear ended up slipping through the floodgates, quickly followed by another. Spencer immediately saw the shift in your body language before you were able to hide it. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer said, worry crossing his face. He didn’t understand how such a happy moment could go south so quickly. 

“It’s not you.” You said, trying to hold back the fact that you were ready to start sobbing. You wiped the tears away and put your hands back in your lap. Fresh tears were right behind those and you weren’t going to stop them this time. You hung your head, chin barely touching your chest, watching the tears fall on your hands. 

“What is it? You can tell me, lovely.” Spencer grabbed your hands from resting in your lap. His thumb immediately began gently rubbing your hands, which only made you cry harder. 

Readjusting how he sat so he could pull you into his lap, Spencer was so confused and so hurt because he didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t fix it when he didn’t know what was wrong. He just wanted you to be okay and you seemed far from it. You fought him a little bit. 

“I’m going to flatten you.” You said, finally calming down. 

“Then I will be the happiest flat man alive. You won’t flatten me, lovely. You’ll put your cute butt in my lap, swing your arms around my shoulders, and hang onto me for dear life as you let go of whatever just happened. You don’t have to feel alone if you’re sad.” Spencer said. 

You got up, sat on the couch next to him, and put your legs over his. It was much more comfortable that way and made you less self-conscious. He was staring at you with his puppy eyes and it melted your heart all over again. 

“I have something to tell you.” You said, taking a deep breath. 

“Okay…” Spencer looked concerned, stoic even. He was even a little bit scared. 

“I’ve been hiding something from you and I feel so bad about it.” Tears sprang to your eyes again. 

“Lovie, whatever it is, we can work through it. There are very few things in this world you can tell me that I would be upset about. I”ve seen the worst of the worst. Working out a minor bump won’t break me.” Spencer slightly smiled. 

“No, no. It’s not bad. I promise it’s not.” You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding. “I got a book deal.” 

Spencer was silent for a second before he broke out in the biggest smile you had seen from him in a while. He obviously didn’t have a problem being happy as his emotion. Joy overcame him and he gently put your legs on the ground and stood up just to kneel in front of you to cover you in kisses. He kissed every major part of your face before kissing you. A slow, gentle kiss but it still took your breath away. 

“You know you’re amazing, right? You deserve this out of anyone.” Spencer held your face gently in his hands, his thumb slowly rubbing your cheek.  

“I’m stuck, Spence. How am I supposed to finish the book when I can’t even finish the short story I’m writing.” You couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Maybe I can help. What’s it about?” Spencer stood up, sitting back on the couch next to you. 

“It’s the story of this brilliant teacher who moonlights as a spy. Not the most original idea but it’s not supposed to be original. It’s just a short story that someone requested on my blog.” You grabbed your computer and put it back on your lap. 

“So you’re writing about me.” Spencer smiled. 

“You’re not a spy. You moonlight as a teacher.” You said, opening your computer. You couldn’t bear to look at Spencer’s face right now as he thought about how you were basically writing about him. 

You always took character inspiration from him. He was such a big part of your life that all of your writing had hints of Spencer in them, no matter how hard you tried to leave him out of things. So it was a big deal for him to even figure out that he was largely related to this story. 

“What if…” Spencer started, “You wrote about his dashing butt?” Spencer said, beaming at you. 

You choked on your spit. 

“What?” You said, in between coughs.

“His fabulous behind in pants. You’re always telling me how amazing I look in my black slacks. So why not write about that for fun? I’m sure your blog readers would be quite amused.” Spencer was so hilariously serious that you couldn’t stop laughing. 

“Okay, fine. You win. I will put in something about your butt.” You said, turning your computer on. 

“And insert something about his beautifully flowing hair.” Spencer said. 

“Baby, your hair is short right now.” You said. He allowed you to cut his hair a few days ago and he missed his longer hair but he really liked when you gave him haircuts. 

“I know but if he’s a badass super spy and a teacher, he needs to have versatile looks.” Spencer ran his hand through his hair, a new habit he started when you cut his hair. 

“Baby, you’re going to overwhelm me with ideas.” You said, chuckling. You felt a little better about the writer’s block and the book deal the more Spencer made you laugh. 

“Good. Maybe we should go on a walk and figure out more ideas. Exercise is good for ideas because your blood flow to your brain is increased. You also get mental clarity. Over the next 6 weeks, we can do that more.” Spencer quickly walked to the door to grab both of your running shoes. 

Sitting down next to you, what he said finally hit you. 

“Next six weeks?” You asked, putting your computer on the coffee table. 

You didn’t care that all you were wearing were some cozy shorts and an old t-shirt that was way too big for you. 

“Oh, I didn’t tell you.” Spencer got his right shoe on after a little bit of struggle. “I’m off for 6 weeks after the last case. We all need the break…” He said, his eyes going to a dark place for a moment. You gently touched his arm and came back to life, in the moment with you. 

“So… You can help me?” Your mood got significantly better as you realized he was all yours for 6 weeks. 

“Every step of the way, y/n.” Spencer said, popping up from the couch in his shoes, ready to go.

[sithsecrets]

A Matter of Expediency - Part XII

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

---

Part 12

4k words

Mentions: allusions to past/possible abuse, swearing, sad themes about pregnancy

---

Final preparations for your charity gala are done in the snow, puffy white flakes falling from an overcast sky as servants bustle about the Palgoduan castle. You oversee some of the goings-on, a bit tired from your fitful night’s sleep. Kylo is elsewhere, preoccupied with some Order business of a different sort, and you cannot help but feel a bit thankful. Though you’re in better spirits today, sadness lingers at your core, and the last thing you need right now is Kylo asking you if everything’s alright.

Queen Eleanor is by your side for most of the morning, holding her pregnant stomach as the two of you walk about together. She is so sweet, this Queen of Palgodu, but you still feel a pang of jealousy each time you lay eyes on her, on her children and her body. You ty very hard to do as Miriam told you, to not dwell on your empty, fruitless womb, but that’s easier said than done.

At midday, the Queen declares that she is practically starving to death, and she very graciously invites you to take lunch with her and the children. Your first impulse is to decline the invitation, your raw heart wanting nothing more than to avoid sad reminders of all that you do not have, but you force yourself to accept anyway. It wouldn’t do to appear rude, and this childish little self-pity party must come to an end sometime.

You eat in a small, informal dining room in the company of Princess Maudie, baby Eli, and the children’s nurse, Mya. The meal you’re served is rich and heavy, lots of hearty meats, cheeses, and winter vegetables. Queen Eleanor practically inhales a slab of red meat all on her own, eating ravenously in a way that makes you believe that she really was starving.

Princess Maudie takes great interest you as lunch carries on, regarding you curiously as she munches on bits of shredded meat and little slices of fruit.

“Who are you?” the little girl asks after a while, head cocked to one side as she stares you down from across the table.

“Maudie, we talked about this,” her mother chides. “This is the Empress of the galaxy.”

“You met her yesterday, darling,” Mya adds.

Maudie seems perplexed by this revelation, though she moves past it quickly. Her next inquiry centers around why you’re here, asking next where you live after you tell her about your charity work. After serval minutes of intense grilling, Queen Eleanor and Mya tell Maudie that that’s enough.

“Nonsense,” you declare, amused by the little girl’s line of questioning. She’s quite intrigued by the fact that you live on a ship in space all the time, and she wants to meet Kylo again since she, quote, “forgot about him, too.”

You’re in better spirits when you retreat back to your chambers, but rather tired. A nap would do you good before the party, you think, so you draw the curtains and climb into bed. Sleep comes easily, and it’s some time before you wake again.

The room is no different when you open your eyes, sunlight still trying in vain to seep in through the thick curtains you shut tight. Everything is dim and dark, just as it should be, but you’re no longer alone as you were when you lied down.

“Good afternoon,” Kylo murmurs, the pad of his thumb soft and warm on your cheek.

Snuggling against your husband’s touch, you give him a sleepy, loose smile. “It certainly is now.”

---

The merrymaking is well underway by sunset, everyone drinking and dancing and chattering happily as if none of you have a care in the world. Many important officials from around the galaxy are strewn about the room, your cause’s most generous benefactor by far. Others are around as well, of course, lesser nobles from Palgodu, a few choice friends. To your utter joy, Lydia, Helda, and Joon could all make it tonight, and you’re practically vibrating at the thought of seeing them again. Comm correspondence just isn’t the same, and you can’t wait to hear all about what’s been going on in their lives in person.

You and Kylo’s arrival is met with thunderous applause, though you’re thankful that you don’t have to formally receive any guests the way you did at your wedding reception. Nonetheless, you do a fair bit of schmoozing out on the floor, greeting ambassadors and generous benefactors alike as Kylo accompanies you. He’s quiet, letting you do all the talking, but the adoration in his eyes is not lost on you every time you look his way.

Joon finds you first, mercifully saving both you and your husband from a rather droll conversation with a couple of diplomats. Her approach is slow and deliberate, though smile on her face is wide.

“I was going to just run up and hug you,” Joon says, fitting the both of you together in an embrace, “but Nobi said that two Praetorian Reds would probably cave my head in before I could explain myself.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, squeezing your friend soundly. Even Kylo cracks a little smile, though it seems he doesn’t know quite how to act naturally in this situation.

Joon has much to tell you, talking your ear off as she whisks you away from the party’s main staging area. To your utter joy, Helda and Lydia are waiting for you off to the side, nursing drinks and talking idly until they see you approach. Their embraces are painfully and spectacularly familiar, warm in the way that true friendship should make one feel. Stars, you think you might cry as you look upon their faces, upon Lydia’s dark eyes and Helda’s red curls.

Poor Kylo is nothing more than an afterthought for a few minutes as you and Joon and Helda and Lydia all make over one another, chittering like birds and grinning like happy children. Only when he gently grasps your wrist do you remember yourself.

“I’m going to speak with Hux, darling,” Kylo tells you, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek. You feel bad then, expression melting into something apologetic and you twine your fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “you really don’t have to go.”

Unbothered, Kylo shakes his head. “I want you to speak freely with your friends. Find me in while, please.”

And with one last kiss on your face, your husband turns on his heel to leave, striding off in a dark swirl of cloak. You can feel eyes on your before you so much as turn back to face your friends, all of them no doubt about to tease you mercilessly.

“So that’s the galaxy’s biggest tyrant?” Joon muses, one eyebrow cocked. Helda’s grin is as sly as she can muster, and even Lydia seems pleasantly intrigued for once in her life.

“He’s not so bad,” you murmur, glancing over your shoulder at the back of Kylo’s retreating head.

“We’re glad to see that,” Lydia declares, the look in her eyes uncharacteristically soft.

There’s no more talk of Kylo after that, or of men in general, for the four of go out onto the dancefloor together. It’s just like old times again, you and your friends spinning and jumping and holding hands in time to the music, wisps of hair clinging to your flushed faces. And though it’s all great fun, you tire of the activity after a while, thirsty and a bit too sweaty for your liking under the thick fabric of your gown.

Helda and Joon split off from you and Lydia, both going in separate directions. It’s grown a bit late, Helda’s mother beckoning her away, Joon’s boyfriend missing her by his side. Lydia and yourself grab something refreshing to drink and head outside, warm despite the chill in the air. Neither of you says anything for a while, simply sipping out of your respective cups as the two of you take in the night.

You turn your gaze Lydia’s way, studying her face, the set of her shoulders. There’s something lighter about her, something… peaceful. As long as you’ve known Lydia, you’ve seen her happy or content, but at peace? Never, not once. It looks beautiful on her, truly.

“What’s happened to you?” you ask, words coming out of your mouth along with an icy puff of air.

Lydia turns to you, eyebrows narrowed, her own breath fogging before her face in the darkness. “What do you mean?”

“You seem different,” you explain, “like all the weight’s fallen off your heart.”

Lydia rolls her eyes at that bit of poetry, but the smile that creeps over her face is rather telling.

“I’m… I’m with someone now.”

A noise of surprise escapes your lips, uncontainable as a bolt of unbridled excitement shocks your chest. Lydia shies away from your exclamation, but you won’t let her off that easily.

“Who is he?” you demand, grabbing her arms now. “Where is he from? What does he do?”

“His name is Jacob, he’s from our planet, and he owns a manufacturing facility,” Lydia tells you, answering all of your questions in one go. “We met a couple of months ago at a harvest party in the country.”

“’Months,’” you breathe, though you can’t bring yourself to be angry at Lydia for not telling you about all of this until now. She’s so guarded, always has been— you’d be a fool for expecting anything less.

“I know,” Lydia concedes, speaking quietly. Some of the light in her eyes flickers for just a moment, jarring you from your euphoric state. “I wanted to be sure it would be different this time.”

You cup Lydia’s cheek then, willing her to stop thinking of that vile man you’re sure she’s seeing in her mind.

“Is he good to you?” you ask, because that’s all you care about. “I mean really good to you.”

And, as if someone flicked a switch, that soft, soft light is glowing in Lydia’s eyes again.

“Jacob is kind,” she tells you, “with his words and with his hands.”

You can’t help the tears that slip down your cheeks, hot reminders of how truly happy you are for this friend of yours. For Lydia, who deserves all of this and so much more.

“Well that’s good,” you begin, swiping at your cheeks, “because if he wasn’t, I’d have to have him executed.”

Lydia lets out a little laugh then, a real one, not one of the humorless barks that you’re much more accustomed to hearing. “I assure you he has no reason to tremble at your feet, Empress.”

It’s a jab, the emphasis Lydia puts on your title, but a playful one. You shove her for it still, rolling your eyes.

“If I remember correctly, you told me you’d help me become a runaway bride at my wedding reception, Lydia.”

The both of you break down into chuckles then, laughing at yourselves and at each other. And though it’s cold, though the wind is biting at your back through your bodice, you feel so very warm, wrapped in the company of an old friend.

“So when do I get to meet this Jacob?” you ask, locking arms with Lydia as the two of you retreat back into the warmth of the party. Your friend shrugs, as practical as ever.

“Well, if you’re willing to endure Princess Mila’s wedding—”

Your whole body shudders to a stop, your feet nearly tangling in your skirts as you take in that particular combination of words.

“Mila’s what?”

Lydia balks beside you, obviously taken aback by your surprise. “You didn’t know? Mila’s due to marry in a month. Your uncle arranged it, I’m sure, some nonsense about making mineral alliances. I can’t believe no one told you. Rumor has it that you and the Supreme Leader were to be invited.”

You’re not sure about all of that, given how you left things with your uncle and his children the night before your wedding, but the news itself is still… discomforting. Mila hasn’t shown you an ounce of kindness in years, but you know good and well what her father’s capable of. Stars, he sold you off without so much as a second thought, not caring what became of you once you were sent to live with Kylo. Everything worked out in your favor, but how were you, or him, or anybody else for that matter supposed to know that? Besides, you don’t think your uncle could get so lucky twice.

Lydia submits to a virtual interrogation right there in the middle of the party, giving up the name of Mila’s betrothed, the exact date of her wedding, and a few other pieces of information that are more gossip than confirmed fact. Apparently, most of the maids and the concubines are saying that your uncle’s selling Mila off to pay some of his gambling debts, the matter made even more sickening by the fact that her future husband is nearly as old as your uncle himself. The mere of idea of this makes your blood boil, for your marriage to Kylo bagged him similar benefits just earlier this year. And, to your horror, the man’s raised taxes on his people yet again without explanation.

Knowing your uncle, he’s taking every single credit and putting it right back on the card table. You knew he was a man who liked to have a good time, but fuck…

“I have to go speak to my husband,” you tell Lydia, pulling her into a quick hug before you start walking off. “Thank you, Lydia, really.”

Kylo is thrilled to see you, tucking you against his side with one strong arm as the officers around him bow. While the affection does make your heart bubble a bit, the anxiety you feel is much more pressing.

“May I speak with you?” you ask Kylo, praying that he senses your urgency.

Your husband takes you away at once, guiding you through the castle and back to your shared chambers without so much as a word of question. He listens intently as you tell him everything, rambling about Mila and your uncle and how the taxes on your planet’s people were already astronomically high to begin with.

“Do you have proof that he’s using the taxpayers’ credits to fund his lifestyle?” Kylo asks, coming to help you with the zipper on your dress. You shake your head as you slip your arms out of the sleeves, rushing to throw on something comfortable and warm.

“No,” you concede, “but I know how he is. When I came to live with him, I always wondered how he afforded the parties, and the women, and everything else that he fills his free time with. And it worries me that my uncle’s already angling to having his debts paid off again, especially at the expense of shipping Mila off to be with a man that he could have gone to school with. She’s supposed to be finishing her education, not helping him get out from under a bad habit.”

Kylo nods at that, though the look in his eyes expresses reservation. “My love,” he begins slowly, “why… why do you want to help your cousin? From what you’ve told me, she’s been awful to you all your life, and I certainly didn’t like what I saw of her at our rehearsal dinner.”

It’s a good question, and a hard one to answer at that. Kylo lets you think for a moment, pulling together some night clothes to wear to bed in the meantime.

“I want to help her because… because my uncle won’t live forever, and it’s not like he’s doing a good job of ruling as it is. My uncle may be impulsive, but he’s not stupid. Sebastian couldn’t pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel, and Tensin is no better. Mila, though… Mila is cruel, but her wit is sharp. Without her working behind her brothers, the planet’s fucked.”

You pause for a minute, a bit irritated by your more sentimental feelings now.

“And, as a woman, I can’t send her off to marry that man. He’s old enough to be her father, and you know how all of those Valderan mineral barons are. I worry about what would become of her, what he would make her do…” You picture Lydia’s sad eyes, and something in your chest clenches. “Mila may be awful, but I can’t sell her out like that, not for my uncle’s bullshit. I remember how afraid I was when we got engaged, how much I feared not being able to please you.”

Kylo’s hand is warm on your face, the back of his fingers stroking over the curve of your cheek. You press into the touch, taking his hand in both of your own.

“But of course, all of my worrying was for naught because you’re more loving and gentle than I could have ever imagined. You respect me, and you want me to be happy, but I have a feeling that that’s not how Mila’s husband will feel.”

“If you think something must be done, then by all means, step in. I’ll have a ship prepared for you tomorrow at once.”

The both of you go to get in bed, more to relax than to lie down the night.

“No,” you say, waving Kylo off, “let me do some digging first. I want to be sure I’m right before I go off and make a big fuss at home.”

---

You’re back on the Supremacy by late afternoon, anxious to get to the bottom of all of this. Hux, ever the good friend, briefs the Board of Charitable Affairs for you, allowing you time to hole up in your office for most of the day.

You pore over financial documents, intel from First Order informants, and numerous reports, looking for discrepancies or abnormalities in your home planets spending and accounts. It’s no surprise to find that your uncle’s run up a long list of expenses, many of which are listed as “miscellaneous” or “personal”— or, to the layperson, stimulants and whores. However, no one’s cooking the books. It appears as though every credit is accounted for, every tax dollar where it should be— the money’s just being spent like it’s in the hands of a child. With everything correct (in an extremely technical sense) on your uncle’s end, you move on to Mila’s fiancé, a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that he warrants investigation.

Tarlak Tu’Iuni is middle-aged, decent-looking, and filthily, disgustingly rich. Mineral money, naturally, seeing that he was born and raised on Valdera. He’s never been married before Mila, but he has a couple of illegitimate daughters that he seems to care for in some capacity. However, Tarlak’s personal life matters little to you. It’s always the money with the mineral barons; they can be perfectly good people in their personal lives— real upstanding citizens, even— but they just cannot keep their accounts straight to save their lives. They always want a little extra, they’re always moving money around… Lets just say that paying taxes and being frugal are two things that do not come easily to the Vaderan elite.

But, well— you’re the Empress of the Known Galaxy. For every slick accountant a mineral baron like Tarlak Tu’Iuni has in his corner, you have five even slicker financial investigators in yours.

Your team comes to you with a report in a matter of hours, and you nearly fall down when you learn of their findings.

“You’re absolutely sure?” you ask the woman before you, clutching onto the datapad in your hands for dear life.

“We triple checked all of the transactions. These people are good, I must admit,” she affirms, shaking her. “This is the sort of fraud you have to really look for. I’m not surprised we weren’t tipped off until you made us start looking for inconsistencies.”

You blow out a huge breath, anxious and enraged all at once as you scroll through the numbers. Your companion’s right— even laid out plainly this way, most it seems legit.

“Would you like me to contact the Guard?”

“No,” you tell the woman, though you’re grateful for her loyalty and sense of urgency. “Tell no one of this. I’ll handle it.”

“Yes, Empress.”

And then you and your bearer of bad news are going your separate ways, she to brief the team on your wishes and you to find your husband.

It’s later than you’d realized, the intensity of your work sapping away time with little effort. The ship’s night cycle is well underway, guard shifts down to barebones personnel, most corridors empty and quiet.

Kylo is with his nights, just as you suspected, the lot of them stowed away in a dark corner of the ship that they like to frequent. Each one rises to their feet upon seeing you, the Knights bowing in respect as your husband comes to greet you.

“She’s been skimming off of the charity accounts,” you declare, holding out the datapad for Kylo to take before he can so much as say hello. “Her and all her fucking friends on Valdera. Mila’s fiancé is going to essentially paying off my uncle’s debts with money he and Chairwoman Evan stole from the Palgoduan donations and a couple of lesser projects in the Outer Rim. Millions of fucking credits, Kylo! Millions! And that’s just recently!”

You don’t mean to shout, but rage is hot in your veins now. Kylo looks horrified and bewildered all at the same time, scrolling through the information you’ve given him quickly. Not two seconds later, the air seems to crackle all around you, lights flickering under the influence of Kylo’s powers.

“Is your uncle in on this?” he asks you, eyes dark and wild as he regards you. The Knights stand at attention now, waiting for orders, waiting to be sent off for an attack.

“No,” you scoff, waving your hand flippantly. “They’d be stupid to involve someone like him in this. This is inside shit, crime committed amongst a tight-knit group of intelligent people. I wasn’t even looking for something like this, my team found it when I had them doublecheck Tarlak’s accounts.”

“It’s a good thing you did,” Kylo says, trying to stay calm even though you know an outburst is bubbling up inside him. His fist is tight at his side, shoulders tense and taunt. And the energy in the room… You’re just grateful he isn’t angry at you.

Finally, your husband hands the datapad back.

“We’ll deal with this issue at once,” he declares, and the Knights are ready to follow him out of the room without so much as a cue, the lot of them already grabbing for weapons and tools of destruction.

“Kylo,” you cut, stepping into his path. “Kylo, my love, let’s talk about this first.”

“That bitch stole money from the Order,” he spits, murder in his eyes. “All of those credits are for food, and medicine, and schools—”

“I know that, my love,” you soothe, though a fresh wave of rage does sweep through your insides at the notion of one of your subjects going hungry so that Evan and her cronies can play another hand of cards. “But we have an opportunity to make a statement here. Gutting Evan in her quarters may be satisfying now, but why not put let everyone else see what happens when they try to steal from the Order? Why not show the galaxy that we’re in control, that no one can just get away with things like this?”

Kylo draws in a shaky breath.

“I will have the offenders arrested at once. They shall be executed on a live broadcast tomorrow afternoon.”

You nod at that, satisfied with the statement. Still, you know your husband well.

“Well,” you begin, smoothing down the front of his shirt, pulling a few pieces of hair out of his face, “I never said all of them had to be executed publicly— just the important ones.”

Kylo’s hands come to rest on your hips, his grip tight on your body. Feigning innocence, you begin caressing his cheek in lazy, slow strokes.

“I also think it would be wise if we got a few of the main players to confess. You know, just so no one thinks we’re making this up. I’m sure you and the Knights could handle that, right, darling?”

[meflemming]

Nothing Changes || Solo

TIMING: After this 

SUMMARY: The mess at Devil’s Gullet has been taken care of, but not the mess that Miriam has made of herself

CONTAINS: Emo vampire and a dog

What’s done, what’s done, what’s done is done That’s the way the river runs

Though the mess at Devil’s Gullet had been cleaned and properly disposed of, nothing remaining of the act that Miriam and Morgan had committed but acrid smelling smoke and torched plastic, Miriam still did not feel settled. She couldn’t find a way to feel settled after everything that had happened.

Miriam had parked her car back at her house and sat in it, the engine still on, for as long as she dared. She couldn’t go back inside, couldn’t dare face Evelyn with that man’s blood still on her face. She wiped away at it, though most of it had dried. She’d need water to clean herself off properly. She saw a shadow move, inside her house. No, she wasn’t going inside. Not right now. Not like this.

Leaving her car door open, Miriam vanished out the garden gate, the rusty metal squeaking as she left. She made a mental note: she needed to get that fixed.

Miriam had made it partway into town when she realized she still clutched the man’s phone in her hand, the screen cracking under the pressure but not shattering completely. She looked at the screen, the picture of the dog staring back at her. Miriam had never had a pet, had never been allowed one. It was probably for the best, seeing what she’d become, but she’d always loved animals. The dog in the picture seemed to be smiling at her behind behind the cracks.

“You have choices, Mim! You have fucking choices. We all have choices! We don’t have to be like this, it’s too fucked.”

Morgan’s words echoed in her head like it was that damned cavern, and Miriam tried to shake the thoughts away. She had made her choice. It didn’t matter, in the end, whether it was good or bad or something in between. She’d made it, and she would deal with it. She always did, and she always came out on top, didn’t she? Miriam Flemming, successful business woman, charming, filthy rich, witch hunter extraordinaire. Capable of catching her prey without them even realize they were being led to their end. She made a choice to kill and hurt and feast on whoever and however she pleased. Even if she didn’t need to. Even if she didn’t particularly want to.

“I could have stopped myself if you’d given me the fucking chance,” she whispered out loud and through sharp, gritted teeth. She could have stopped herself. She made the choice not to. Why was this so hard.

Even from a distance, Miriam could hear that there was noise coming from the Common, shouts and screams and Miriam didn’t want to deal with that, couldn’t deal with that, especially not when she still needed to clean herself up. Instead, she made a choice: she turned the phone over, saw the little pocket that had been attached to the back. Inside, there were a number of credit cards, a dollar bill, a picture of the man and his dog, and the man’s driver’s license. Thomas Klein. She wondered if his friends called him Tommy, or Tom. She shouldn’t be dwelling on this. She looked at the address on the card, committed it to memory, and started walking.

“Tell me you can feel how wrong this is.”

Of course it felt wrong. Of course there was a part of it that was always nagging in the back of Miriam’s mind that maybe she could stop. And she had stopped, hadn’t she? For almost twenty-five fucking years, she’d stopped. But stopping made her anger, her hurt, scream louder and louder until she had to start up again. And, really, she told herself she was doing good. She was making sure no one else ever got screwed over in the name of magic like she had. Wasn’t that worth it? Wasn’t that enough? It was hard for her to believe that, though, when she thought of all of the spell casters she’d known that had been kind, that she’d loved and cared for. The Wildes had been her family just as much as they’d been Theo’s, until the end. Until they’d decided to collectively hate her for taking out one of their own. Until they’d decided not to hear her side of the story, to try and understand her rage and anger and, fuck, she hadn’t been able to stop herself with him? Why couldn’t they have understood that?

She hadn’t been able to stop herself with any of them ever since. If she pushed it down, the wrongness of it no longer felt so wrong.

She arrived at a tiny, empty house with the lights off. She checked, the address was correct. This was where Thomas Klein lived. The front door was locked, and Miriam could only hear one living thing inside. She knew what it had to be. She walked around to the side, snapped the lock on the window as she forced it open, and slipped inside.

The padding of clawed feet met her ears. Darkness meant nothing to a vampire, and Miriam clearly made out the warm, coppery-blonde color of the dog as it cautiously approached her, letting out unsure woofs.

“I know I’m not who you expected,” Miriam said, then frowned as she realized she was talking to a dog, of all things. She bent down, and stuck her hand out. The dog approached and sniffed, though it let out a whine and moved away from her. “I… probably smell like your owner in the worst way possible, don’t I?” Of course she did. She was covered in the man’s blood. She’d held his throat between her teeth. Moving over to the sink, She washed her face off, watching the final traces of blood swirl down the sink.

“You are so terrified that things could be different, because it would mean you and everyone else has suffered for no good reason and it really was as shitty as it felt this whole time!”

Miriam forced the water to shut off and gripped the edge of the sink, a snarl working its way out of her mouth. The dog backed away from her, whining again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the creature. “Sorry.”

Smearing her fingerprints so that no trace of her remained on the counter, Miriam turned her back to it and slid down to the floor. “I’m sorry,” she said again. Her throat felt dry, tight. It shouldn’t feel like this, not after such a large meal. She should be sated. Instead, she felt empty. Something like shame wormed its way into her stomach as the dog walked closer. Miriam held out her hand, and the dog sniffed it again, licking her fingers. She felt tears prick at her eyes. Miriam gripped the dog’s collar. “Penny?” she asked, reading the name off the collar. The dog perked up at the sound of its name. “Penny.” The dog was the color of a copper penny. “I’m afraid your owner isn’t coming back. I’m afraid I’ve been rather bad, tonight. I’m so very sorry.” How sad, that she could more easily apologize to a dog than a person.

“You’re only incapable right now because you’re a fucking coward. But you know what? Mission accomplished! You win! You’re a monster and a liar, but it’s not because of the magic boogeyman universe that made you. It’s just you. Alone.”

It was just Miriam, wasn’t it? A successful business owner of a company that should have died off with her parents. Charming, but only on the surface. Filthy rich, but where had that gotten her? Wrapped around a pole with a broken heart, all because the person she loved couldn’t see past her dollar signs. And a witch hunter? She was ripping herself apart just for a meal, just because she was broken on the inside and didn’t know how to fix it. She lived in a mess of her own making.

Happy fucking holidays.

She would tell herself, later, that it was out of boredom that she wandered around Thomas Klein’s house, learning about his life. He was a part of some odd gaming group that enjoyed strange comic books and cartoons that she didn’t understand. He had a nephew that was prevalent in a number of pictures littered around his sparse home. He was probably a spell caster, based off of the numerous books on witchcraft around his home, but that didn’t seem so damning, anymore. He had friends, a family. So many of her victims did.

This changed nothing. There was no going back, no biting her pride and allowing the poor bastard to live. She’d seal his fate, as well as hers and Morgan’s. If only the damned woman hadn’t told her to stop. If only she’d trusted Miriam. Miriam would never earn such trust now. Did she even want to? Or would that hurt all the more?

Miriam snapped off the tag on Penny’s collar that showed off Thomas Klein’s address. “I cannot keep you,” she told the animal. “I have a friend who is staying with me, and I don’t know her opinion on animals. I don’t believe surprising her with one of my victim’s dogs is considered a nice gift for the holidays. I’m sorry.” She stroked Penny’s fur, the feeling of it soft between her fingers. “I cannot bring your owner back, either. What’s done is done, and it is cruel to you. But I will stay with you, until I can have you taken to the shelter. I will compel someone to ensure you get a good home, the best home.”

This was proof, Miriam decided, that she should hunt alone, or only with people who could possibly understand her. This was proof that perhaps she should cut back more, only feeding when absolutely necessary. This was proof that she shouldn’t trust nice people with strong moral compasses.

Stroking Penny’s silky ears and sitting back down on the floor of a dead man’s house, Miriam Flemming did not allow tears to fall down her cheeks. She didn’t allow herself to lose control of her emotions, not even for a moment.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.19

Under the suggestion of Coran, Keith accepted a room for the remainder of the day and possibly overnight. Lying in his back, he was propped up by two overly hard pillows, Lance sleeping on his chest as Keith repeatedly sighed to himself. Coran insisted they needed to rest, and that he’d let them know the results later, but for now Keith was in charge of making sure Lance didn’t fly off and get himself in trouble. He knew he really shouldn’t be thinking of contacting Shiro again so soon, but all of this was so damn complicated... plus, his brother would worry about him. He’d scold him on the outside, while worrying internally.

Opening up his messages, Keith tried to think of what to write, writing and erasing half a dozen things before settling with “can you talk?”. Simple was best. He had no answers for his brother, but he really needed to hear Shiro’s voice. The hunter was made to wait 10 minutes before Shiro finally called him, the noise waking Lance who gave a very disgruntled squeak

“It’s Shiro. No need to be grumpy with me”

Sliding his thumb across, Keith noticed it was a video call as he did. Relief flooding through him as Shiro’s tired face filled his small screen

“Hey, kiddo”

“Hey, old man. What’s up?”

Shiro sighed

“Next question?”

“That good. Is it safe to ask where you are?”

“Not really. I’m safe, though. Where are you?”

“At that dumb address you sent me to. You could have given me the heads up”

“They were able to help?

Keith tilted his phone down to Shiro Lance

“We’re waiting”

“Lance turned into a bat again?”

“Yep”

“Is he okay?”

“No idea. They all know him here. Thanks for letting me know that this was a resource centre”

Shiro groaned, scrubbing at his face with his free hand

“I should have. I knew he’d been there. You met Coran and Allura, I take it?”

“Yeah. He was waiting when the elevator doors opened. Felt like a fucking trap”

“Coran was waiting for me too. Something about seeing Lance’s car on the security feed. So they don’t know if he’s alright?”

“Not at the moment. He hasn’t been very well”

“That’s unusual”

“Not for him. I got the impression he’d been here for treatment more than once. He turned into a bat in public”

“That’s not good. Did anyone see?”

“Cameras might have picked something up. Shiro, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

He wasn’t equipped for this. Mundane life wasn’t something that happened for hunters. Too much peace was bad for him. He needed Lance to change back and keep teaching him how to fight against a vampire

“I’m working on that. I know it’s hard, kiddo, but has it at least gotten easier living with Lance?”

“Pffft. No. I have no idea what he’s thinking half the time. He says one thing and does another. He doesn’t want me there, but he hasn’t kicked me out like he said he would. He seems pretty uninterested in me, he didn’t even try drinking from me when I cut my hand”

“He is rather odd. I’m sorry, but I have to go. There’s a slight issue. If you’re not comfortable staying at Lance’s any longer, you can lodge there, I’m sure he’d understand that you’re there for his protection”

“I don’t think he’d be happy about that...”

“Sorry, Keith. I really have to go. Stay safe”

“Yeah. You too Shiro”

Shiro had already hung up before Keith could reply. Why couldn’t he be with Shiro? Lance seemed able to take care of himself. He wasn’t as old as Keith thought he’d be, his youthful exterior didn’t match the age of 44, but Keith was more surprised Lance was walking around looking 18 at 44, than being a more vampire age of 150 and looking 18. Vampires were wrong like that... and 44 seemed both young and old to him at the same time. Lance had mentioned he felt his development had suffered from being turned so young, yet when Keith had eavesdropped on him during his work call, he’d been unexpectedly smooth and respectful. There seemed so many sides to Lance that Keith couldn’t help but be curious. Would Lance never age past 18? And if he was turned as a child, why had he continued to age? And why was he clinging to Keith? That was the big question. Shiro accepted Lance being a bat far too easily. Coran had claimed he was human. Allura was weirdly nice. All he had was confusion. He felt different since meeting Lance. He didn’t know what Pidge and Hunk were thinking trying to befriend him. For years Adam and Shiro insisted he socialised, but everyone at work was kind of a dick. Especially the pack of werewolves working for the Vatican. They were led by a guy named James, who always went out of his way to be a dick towards Keith. Keith thought he’d finally have answers joining the Blades... but... Fuck. This was all Lance’s fault.

*

Three fucking days. It took Lance three full days to turn human again. Keith had been told by Coran he could leave at any time, but the world felt uncomfortably big outside the facility they were in. With Lance finally turning back, the man exceptionally embarrassed to wake up beside Keith absolutely naked, Coran had supplied them both with a change of clothes before announcing they all needed to have a little chat.

Led to what seemed a conference room, Lance was given a bag of blood to sip before Coran sat himself down across them

“No need to be fearful my boys. I thought we’d have a nice chat and clear the air”

Three damn days Keith had waited for answers. Coran waved him off, telling him it was best to wait until Lance had the strength to turn back. Lance was human again, and Keith patience had been stretched to breaking point

“You’re slurping too loudly!”

Growling at Lance, Lance ducked his head

“Now, now. Let him drink in peace. Lance, I paid Miriam a visit, she’s recovering well. Allura also paid a visit to Blue, she’s perfectly fine. Keith, I’ve spoken to Shiro. He will be returning in two weeks time. Poor boy had a hell of a time with a werewolf friend of his. Seems he got himself in a little trouble”

Lance’s eyes went wide

“Shiro went to see Matt? Is he okay? Is Matt okay?”

“You know Matt?”

“Matt is Pidge’s brother. You already know this”

“Ah, yes! Young Katie. I quite enjoy her online videos. Yes, yes. Now. Keith, I got the results from your blood work. Your in good health. Everything as it should be, and very much human”

“But...”

“I feel your symptoms may come from emotional trauma, as well as contact with Lance. There were no traces of Vampirism in your results. Now, Lance, there’s a little issue we need to address”

Lance sank back in his chair, chewing annoyingly on the cap of the blood bag

“We’ve done some follow up testing, comparing them with the original results and can now say with certainty that your body is changing. You’re exhibiting new abilities, as well as changing physically. Being a vampire who has fed on blood bags is vastly different to a vampire who feeds on fresh blood. Feeding on fresh blood has started a chain reaction within your body. So far we’ve seen a physical change in you, but with a little time things should settle into a new normal. Until then, you may feel some other changes in your body. Increased libido, mood swings, weakness, hunger, headaches. Now, here’s the good news. It seems your quintessence is comfortable and familiar with Keith. I believe I have some idea of what the future holds, I believe you’re becoming a breeder. A tasteless term that’s commonly used. This is just my belief, Allura disagrees given how long you’ve been turned, symptoms would have been more pronounced sooner, though you are a rather exceptional case”

Keith turned in his chair to look at Lance, the vampire frowning

“Coran... is this... can I lead a normal life once these symptoms settle”

“Within reason...”

“Then I don’t need to know”

Keith might not have been the one being addressed by Coran, but this kind of sounded fucking important. He didn’t know what a breeder was, but from name alone it sounded like Lance could some how... have a kid. Which was ridiculous. The guy was a guy. As far as Keith knew, Lance didn’t have the plumbing for that

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“It means if it isn’t going to immediately impact on my way of life and being able to do my job, then I don’t need to know”

“Are you fucking brain damaged? Haven’t you been moping for weeks about not knowing?!”

“And some things are better off not being said. Coran said I’m going through some blip I’m going to come out of”

“He also said that you’re becoming a breeder!”

“It’s not your life Keith!”

“No, I’m just the poor sucker who’s been looking after your dead arse because you couldn’t turn back into a human!”

“I never asked you to!”

“You could at least pretend to be grateful! You transformed in the hospital, where anyone could have been you!”

“But they didn’t!”

“Boys! That’s enough. Lance, I respect your decision, but this is something you cannot ignore. Your body is going to have needs”

“I’ll deal with it”

“It’s not that simple. We’re talking about a change on a structural level”

“I’m already dead, I don’t think it can get any worse. I don’t want you feeding my vampire ego!”

Coran sighed

“I don’t want to fight with you. You’re like a son to me. But if you are changing into a breeder than you’ll be in danger from the constant pheromones your body will be producing. Do you really wish to put Hunk and Pidge in danger?”

Lance gave Coran such a cold glare that a shiver ran down Keith’s spine

“That’s not fair”

“It is what it is my boy. Now, listen to me, I have only your best interests in heart. You’ve lived exceptionally well as a human, but until your emotions stabilise I think it best we have Keith stay with you. Your body is going to change. His presence is quite compatible with yours”

“He’s a hunter!”

“And you’ll be hunted by far worse without protection. If your status gets out, you can expect many a vampire caller upon your step”

Lance let out a sad sigh

“I can’t change this, can I?”

“No, but we can keep you safe. Breeders are quite sort after. Not every vampire can be a breeder, it’s rare even amongst the ranks. All breeders that we know of have started as humans before turning with their first feed from a human. Keith was your first feed. You’ve held off feeding off him again, but your body is craving his blood and his presence as you change. You... I know you never wished to be romantically involved with anyone, and I’m not saying the relationship has to be physical, but for the next few weeks as your system levels out, it truly is best Keith stay with you”

“Just... what am I becoming?”

“Able to bear children. Now you can see why breeders have such value. Any child you bear will have the characteristics of a normal human child, unaffected by the curse you carry. A rare and precious gift, that cannot be stopped once the transformation begins. Any vampire of the highest rank wishes for a lineage of their own. They will use you and toss you aside, for the sake a child born with their blood”

Lance stared at Coran, Keith’s heart was damn near hammering inside his chest cage. He didn’t know that there was such a thing. He’d poisoned himself, Lance had saved him, now Lance was... he was changing and in more danger than ever... because of him. He always ruined everything. Constantly. He drove everyone away. Never the man they thought he was

“That’s not funny”

“It’s not a joke, my boy. Your manifestation as a bat is a sign of the change. When your flight or fight instinct is triggered, or your emotions are out of control, you revert to the smallest and fastest form possible. You need to work on coming out of your bat form on your own, as well as working on training to protect yourself. Keith will train with you, you will both benefit from the lessons each of you can teach one another”

“I’m not having sex with a human”

“Then find relief in alternative methods. You have no control or sway over Keith. He is not your servant, nor did you turn him. You fed to save his life, and I’m truly sorry things are turning out like this”

“Then kill me”

Keith felt his rage growing. Lance was rolling over so easily. What happened to the man who loved his friends and family? Who fought for those caught in family dramas?

“Lance”

“If I’m becoming something dangerous, then it’s better to kill me now before a potential incident occurs. I refuse to let anyone be hurt by my existence”

“Lance, please. I don’t want to see you die. I don’t want to lose you. Please, you can lead a relatively normal life again once your body has settled down”

“I’m going to be a fucking vampire magnet!”

“You know vampires are attracted to each other as it is. You’ve led a fine life. You have so many things you can still do. Keith will be my eyes and ears. He will keep an eye on you and keep you safe, until the return of his partner. You have friends and family who love you”

“Who will be the first in danger over me! Keith will be in danger! This place will be in danger... all because of me...”

Lance’s anger petered out into sadness. Keith felt a strong tug in his chest. The kinder thing to do would be to put Lance down. Before those problems rose

“You said we don’t need to have sex. He simply needs to settle into a new routine... right?”

“Keith...”

The question was to Coran, yet Lance softly said his name

“I’m serious. If he agrees to teach me how to fight better, so I can protect those I love, then I’ll watch him”

“You will need to let him heal. At least a days full rest and we’ll temporarily increase his blood intake. I will make a charm for you. It’s blessed silver and will sit inside your forearm until you are ready for its removal. It will ward against any forms of infection, giving us time to act if you do come into accidental contact with Lance’s blood. But blood alone will not turn you. You need to be drunk near dry, and the desire to turn you must be clear in Lance’s head. How many hunters do you think come into vampire blood on a daily basis? One small drop to the eye doesn’t turn them, not always. Of course, sometimes an accidental turning may occur, but generally the vampire in question has already settled on its prey when they turn someone. There are different rules, not a “one size fits all” kind of thing. Lance’s blood isn’t very potent seeing he’s fed from blood bags”

This was a lot. A lot more than a lot to take in. Lance wasn’t taking things well, Keith was freaking the fuck out, and Coran’s sympathetic smile was not helping. He and Lance... with Lance having urges... and he’d... well, he’d never done the do. Sure, he jerked off, but his prime focus was work. He didn’t have time for meaningless hookups when there vampires to slay. He’d made out before... drunkenly and he couldn’t even remember their face the next morning, he was so hung over that Adam insisted on being as loud as humanly possible.

“So I’m not a vampire”

Lance groaned

“I’ve been telling you ever since that night you’re not. I thought you’d finally dropped that”

Keith huffed. That didn’t explain things. Like why his heart went all funny when he looked at Lance, or why his eyes were drawn to those big blue eyes of his... and soft brown hair... He hated him, but felt weirdly connected to him. It had to be something was changing in him

“No, Keith. Perfectly human in every respect. Now, I’m going to send you home to rest, Lance. I’ll stock you up with some extra blood, and I want you to refrain from high emotions until you’ve settled. You may go visit Miriam, she’s always brought you great comfort, but after that, I would prefer you limit your outside interactions to a minimum, and absolutely avoid big crowds. It’ll help if you keep a written record of how you’re feeling and the things on your mind. If you can pinpoint the things that cause your transformation, you can work on levelling your emotions”

“You sound like Mami. She always says I worry too much”

“She’s a smart woman that mother of yours. Now, Keith, would you mind stepping out for a second so I can have a little word with Lance”

[multific]

Have You

Michael Langdon x Reader

Request: what about an imagine with Michael Langdon actually joining Cordelia when she asks him to do so ? (after she burned Miriam) He is then reunited with the girl he loved that is a witch. (They had to split up bc they were absolute opposite, it was painful bc they loved each other but they couldn't go on that way) He arrives at the coven, she sees him, lots of fluff, maybe a little crying and cuddling? If you need help with the storyline bc you haven't seen this season I can help !

 Pure rage was all Michael felt at that moment. Cordelia stood there as if nothing happened. As if Miriam wasn’t dead. As if the first person to ever show affection to him wasn’t just burnt to death.

They already took you away from him, why did Miss Mead had to die?

As Cordelia stopped behind the crying man, Michael’s rage soon turned into sadness.

He couldn’t really remember what happened after that but he soon found himself in the coven surrounded by witches.

He soon got a room where he just sat on the bed. Thinking everything through. He can’t just stay there, he needed to take his revenge and find a way to get Miriam back.

He felt so torn apart. First, you left him because of your differences. He knew that you were forced and that you didn’t leave him because of your own will, you loved him too much. You proved that to him on many occasions. For example when you slapped Tate right across the face when he was yelling at Michael. You knew that Michael had a soft and loveable side, yet everyone treated him badly, and Tate just said some things that really pushed you over the edge. No one should judge Michael, especially not Tate.

But just when Michael was about to throw himself on his bed and sleep a light knock was on his door.

“Yes?” he called out and the wooden door creaked open to show a very familiar face.

It was you.

And you were just like he remembered. Beautiful, kind with a smile always on your face.

As soon as you saw him, you ran into his arms, your eyes teared up, while Michael just sat there, trying to process what was happening.

“I can’t believe that you are really here.” you pulled back to look at the surprised man.

“I missed you.” was the first thing he said as he finally processed everything. A newfound fire got lit inside him. His assumptions were true after all, they did make you leave his side because of who he is.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Miriam didn’t deserve to die.”

Michael’s brain was already working, creating a plan.

“I’ll get you out of here. I’ll have my revenge. And I will bring her back.” he said and after each sentence, he kissed your knuckles.

“I can’t th-“

“You can, and you will. We were meant to be together Y/N and now that I finally have you here, I’ll never let you go. Never again. Will you do that for me? Will you leave this place and come to me? Will you stand by my side forever? Will you? Even if that will mean that lots of people will die?”

You loved Michael, you truly did, at first, his murderer side caused you discomfort, but you even learned to love that dark side of him. From the moment he saved you when a car nearly hit you, you were in love. You watched him age within literal days, you watched his struggle as he couldn’t understand who or what he was. And when he finally learned that he was the Antichrist, you were there by his side. Then Cordelia and the witches came, and she made you leave his side. She promised that if you leave him and join her to use your powers for ‘what’s right’, she would leave Michael alone. But that turned out to be a lie. After your long thought process, you looked into his shining bright blue eyes.

“What’s your plan?” you asked and it made Michael smile.

“Everything at the right time, My Love. For now, let her think that she won. At least I have you.”

“And I have you.” you leaned over and kissed him fully on the lips. Soon he had you sleeping on his chest while he was looking at the ceiling.

Michael had already made up at least three different plans to kill the witches, but for now, he wanted to enjoy the moment of having his lover back.

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[emily64cooper]

If I Lose Everything in the Fire (I’m sending all my love to you)

Title: If I Lose Everything in the Fire (I’m sending all my love to you)

Author: emily64cooper

Rating: PG-13 for language

Fandom: The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (tv)

Characters/Pairing: Susie, Lenny/Midge, Mentions: Sophie Lennon, Joel Maisel

Summary: Susie turned around to leave and instantly began berating herself for speaking to a comedic legend like Lenny Bruce like that. Still, she moved very slowly, hoping that he would stop her. She really didn’t want to have to involve Joel in this.

(Or, after getting kicked off the tour, Susie can't go comfort Midge, so she sends the next best person she can think of: Lenny Bruce).

Author’s Note: Takes place immediately post-season 3. Like, immediately.

“You again.”

She'd caught him coming off an act at a club in midtown. The club was ritzy by midtown standards, much nicer than the Gaslight, but still enough beer on the floor to remind you you weren't at the Copa. She'd kill to get Midge into a place like this of her own accord, without having to rely on someone else's reputation. She’d hoped they were heading toward that, but she wasn’t so sure now.

“Hi Lenny. Nice to see you too,” Susie said. She was already mad enough at herself for having to come down here, she didn’t have time to deal with his sarcastic bullshit.

“Aren't you supposed to be in Europe?" he questioned, pulling out and lighting a cigarette.

“I need your help.” Fuck, she hated that. She hated saying those words. She hated that they were true. Fuck.

“I expected nothing less.”

“It’s about Midge.”

"She talk about the pregnant friend again? Disparage the Sophie Lennon?" Lenny asked, feigning disinterest by leaning back against a post.

Midge was always vehement that she and Lenny were just friends, but the fact that he was clearly pretending to be so casual about two of the hardest moments of Midge's comedy career was telling. Just what it was telling her, Susie wasn't really sure, but it reinforced her decision to seek him out for this. "What? No."

Lenny sighed. “Look, you know I like her, but at some point my reputation’s going to take a hit if I keep playing gigs for free, and, uh, between you and me, I don’t think it can stand to get much lower.”

“This isn’t about that,” Susie cried out, exasperated. It was time to pull out the big guns: “She needs you.”

He looked at his feet and took a long drag from his cigarette before meeting her eyes again. “Is she, uh, okay?”

“Yes. I think. But her career's back in the shitter.”

“And you expect me to do what?”

“I’m not asking you to do another gig. She messed up. And she’s alone and sad and she needs a friend. And I can’t do it, so it’s gotta be you or she’ll turn back to that asshole ex-husband of hers and god knows that is the last fuckin’ thing she needs. Miriam is not going to be insignificant and he makes her turn into a fuckin’ nobody.” God, Susie hated that guy. He represented everything wrong with men. He'd had a perfect woman like Midge and he'd thrown her away like fucking garbage.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” he responded quietly.

Susie let out a breath. “Thank you. Asshole.” Fuck. She'd just called Lenny Bruce an asshole. And had been kind of a jerk to him in general. She was losing her goddamn mind. "I am so sorry, uh, Mr. Bruce, sir."

Lenny smirked at her. “Where is she?” he asked after a moment.

Susie looked at her feet and mumbled a response.

“I’m sorry, I don’t subscribe to the Strasbourg Method, I don’t speak mumble. You’ll have to speak up.”

“I don’t know, okay?” She exclaimed. “Look, she said some shit she shouldn’t have and Shy kicked her off the tour. She was upset, and after she had a good cry, she told me she needed to go figure out if it was still all worth it, whatever the hell that means, and just took off in a cab before I could stop her.”

“Midge got kicked off the tour?”

“Yes! Jesus fuck, Lenny, keep up. Look, I need you to go find her.”

“I’m sorry, isn’t it a manager’s job to manage her client?”

“Fine, if I’d’ve known you were gonna be a fucking prick about it, I wouldn’t have come. I’ll just go fuck off and find her fucking dick of an ex-husband to help Midge. Thanks for nothing, asshole.”

She turned around to leave and instantly began berating herself for speaking to a comic legend like Lenny Bruce like that. Still, she moved very slowly, hoping that he would stop her. She really didn’t want to have to involve Joel in this.

“Wait,” Lenny said finally.

“Oh thank God,” she mumbled, turning around.

He looked past her for a moment, then chuckled quietly to himself. “I know where she is.”

“Great... so are you gonna go or?“

“I’ll get her.”

Susie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” They stood looking at each other awkwardly for a few moments. “So I’ll just-“ Susie said, motioning toward the exit.

“Yeah,” Lenny said with a curt nod.

She took two steps out the door then heard him call her back.

“Hey,” he said. He sounded... not like Lenny Bruce. He sounded melancholic. He sounded sad. “Why me?”

“What?”

“There are other people in her life you could have come to, more important people, her parents for example, her former ex-husband. I bet even the doctor would leave a man’s chest open on his operating table just to chase after her. But me, I’m just a background character in her story. I’m not a leading man here. Why did you come to me?” He asked.

Susie would have laughed at the absurdity of Lenny Bruce standing so uncertain before her had his entire being not been shining with sincerity as he asked. This was a side to him she didn’t expect. This was a Lenny Bruce with demons, with self-doubt and self-loathing. Was this sincerity something that Midge was privy to? Because Susie definitely didn’t know how to handle it.

She could only put out so many metaphorical fires in one night.

"Oh, uh," she hesitated. Honestly, she wasn't sure why she'd come to him. She hadn’t even thought to ask anyone else – except Joel, but ew. Not if she could help it. But now that they were out of jobs, Susie needed to find a way to make Midge’s money back fast, so she couldn’t try to track her down. And if she couldn't go after Midge when she was down, Lenny Bruce was the next best choice. "Well, uh, you seem like you care about her, or whatever. And she uh, she told me a little bit about that night in Florida."

Lenny's interest piqued at the mention of Florida. "Oh," he said quietly. "She did, huh?” He cleared his throat and looked anywhere but at her. “She, uh, tell you how it ended?"

"She did not," Susie responded slowly. She knew Midge had left some things out when she'd told her about the date she insisted was not a date, she'd acted as nervous as a whore in church about the whole thing. And now Lenny Bruce stood before her, melancholic. And shy, almost? Something more had definitely happened between them.

"Look, far be it from me to give advice about love or relationships, I don't know the first thing about that shit. The longest relationship I ever had was with a plunger. God, I loved Pamela, may she rest in peace." She took a moment of silence for her beloved plunger, who Jackie had killed one afternoon at the Gaslight. They'd held a funeral. It had been beautiful, yet tragic. She breathed deeply and shucked it off, then turned back to Lenny. Right, she reminded herself, Lenny Bruce needed emotional support. What a weird fucking day.

"I don't know if you slept together, or didn't sleep together or whatever the fuck happened between you. I don’t need to know. But you obviously like her. And Midge can be a moron when it comes to men - have you met Joel? - but you mean something to her. Something special. Just give her time."

Lenny smirked at her around his cigarette, then tossed it and put it out with the toe of his shoe. She watched as he grabbed his jacket, then moved to follow her out the door. "Uh, thanks, for that," he said finally, grimacing slightly and scratching the back of his neck.

"You're, uh, welcome," Susie responded. They looked at each other awkwardly for the second time that night. "Right, so I'm gonna go," she said at last.

"Yeah," Lenny nodded, shoving his hands in his pocket.

She turned to leave, then turned back around. "For the record, she'll be happy it's you. If that uh, if that means anything."

He smiled tightly at her. "Thanks," he said. He turned to leave and gave her a little wave. "See ya, Susie," he said over his shoulder, walking away.

“Yeah, see ya,” she responded slowly. She shook her head a little - offering relationship advice to Lenny freakin’ Bruce was definitely not a thing Susie ever thought she’d do - and kept moving.

She desperately wanted to be the one drowning her sorrows with Midge, but she couldn’t be. Susie didn’t think she could really even face Midge right now. How do you tell your best friend and probably only client – she doubted Sophie would want her as a manager after that verbal sparring match outside the theater – that you lost every cent they’d made? No, she had to get their money back fast and she needed time and space to figure out how to do that without letting Midge know she’d been the one to lose it all in the first place.

Besides, she knew Midge was in good hands with Lenny. She could trust him to find her and take care of her the way she deserved to be taken care of.

Midge needed to be with someone who loved her. And tonight, that meant Lenny freaking Bruce.

Susie shook her head at herself incredulously and picked up her pace. “Weird fucking day.”

[skalesjr]

Ninjago Next gen Fic | Chapter 1

Tw: Choking, Bullying (Mentioned) and Bad Lunch food

It was Common Knowledge that Archer ‘Sad Excuse for a Person’ Garmadon was The Son of Lloyd Garmadon – Better known as the green ninja. But even that Wouldn’t stop the relentless teasing, despite what Poor Archer said His father would do to them. Archer Didn’t Know why he was Bullied So much, maybe he was Easy to pick on? He sighed, At least it was Almost Lunch, and then after that, only one Period Until it was time to go home. As He Scribbled Down the notes on the board, He could Almost, feel… Eyes, Peering at him, So intently. He Turned Around, to see a Kid Scribbling Down, Something. The Kid had Bleached Blonde hair And Bright Green eyes. The Kid Noticed Archer Looking at him, and he gave, a Polite yet, Scheming? Evil? Shy? Smile, And Archer gave one back, before turning back to the board, Scribbling down more Notes.

When the Bell finally rang, Archer Quickly Packed up his books and Scuttled Out of the Classroom, Careful to dodge Other Students, before arriving at his Locker. There were Some Nasty Notes In there, but he Ignored Them, Packing His books into the Locker and Grabbing His lunch money. He wasn’t going to keep that in his pocket. Today, as a Relatively calm day, there were some insults thrown his way as he made his way into the Cafeteria. But No one Tossed a book at his head or Tossed him against a Locker, once he even got trapped inside his own! That was actually pretty painful. The Cafeteria was a Big expansive Room, With Silver benches and Tables Lined Neatly in rows. He walked to the front, Where the food was. It was Alright For school food, but even he had seen better. He Played the Lady and She gave him his food. He Glanced around the Cafeteria, eagerly looking for his friends. A table Close to the Back, on his left-hand side, Was J.A.I.M.E Waving at him. She preferred to go By Jaime at school because who wants to know you go to a school with a robot? Anyway, Archer Walked a little faster, Dodging Other members of the school, Towards the Table. He Sat down, Next to Jax, who was Trying to Heat up His Chicken nuggets because apparently, they were too cold. “Can't you just use your Elemental Power?” Aria, who was sitting next to Jaime, Asked. “Unlike You, Sparkplug, I don’t want to set off the fire alarms and get grounded!” Aria Smiled Gently. “Alright, Trashman.” She went back to eating her Noodles and Reading her book. Jax huffed. “Will you two Gremlins ever shut up?” Sparks Said, Coming to still at the table. “Na-uh, Cry-baby!” Jax Spat his Tongue out at him. “I don’t even Cry that Much?” Sparks Questioned, Sitting Next to Archer. Aiden, who was sitting at the end of the Table, taking a nap, Somehow, suddenly awoke when the Familiar Yells of an over-excited girl in wheelies Racing towards their Table. She screeched to a stop, laughing her head off. “Miriam, Why the absolute First Spinjitzu master did you that for?” Aiden Questioned, obviously angry to be awoken from his nap. “Oops! Sorry!” Miriam, her Dull Purplish eyes Gleamed Back at Aiden happily. Aiden shifted to the side and Miriam Sat down. “Where’s your brother?” Sparks Questioned, Hopeful. “I left him in the queue!” She yelled, Bubbly, Her Friendly Demeanour not shifting for a single second. Archer Looked Behind Himself at the queue, and he could See a Slightly Grumpy Man with very slight purple hair close to the front. “You Guys Excited for This weekend?” Meriam Asked, beginning to eat at her food. “What’s happening on this weekend again?” Jax asked, already finished with his Cold food. “You don’t remember? We’re Having our first training!” Aria, Replied, Finishing her Noodles. Archer finally began to eat at his food. “Oh damn! It’s Finally here?” Jax Mumbled. “Yes, it is, Stupid, I told you when we first arrived at school,” Jaime Told Him. Confused, If only slightly. “Oh, you did?” Jax smiled wickedly. “I guess I couldn’t hear you, You nerd.” Jaime Huffed in response. Archer Turned around again to see where Meriam’s Brother, Neroli was in Line. As he looked, He saw the kid from Class again. His Bleached blonde Hair, Striking Green Eyes. The Boy Gave off a Feel of, Not Un-human, Not Calmness, Just Incredible Unease. Archer pointed him out to the group. “Hey, Who’s that?” He asked, Turing to face the Group. “Seth? Isn’t that Oleander’s kid?” Aiden asked, Curious. “Yes, I believe so. I assume he’s inherited his mother’s Elemental Power of-” Jaime was cut off as Archer Began to Choke on his food.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Phancy Pheromones || Morgan & Jeff

Before Miriam, before the endless night, Morgan went to Dell’s Tavern...

(pheromones were released, but no witches are harmed in the writing of this chatzy)

Morgan’s face was starting to ache from smiling at the woman in front of her, and not in a good way. Sure, she had a star-crossed not-girlfriend she would much rather be with, but that wasn’t happening at the moment. So to ease her sanity, or at least to feel less like a pining damsel, Morgan continued to swipe and chat and on occasion, even meet. Unfortunately, the meeting part tended to implode. 

Morgan’s date, a barely thirty admin assistant from the university with bright curls, seemed to be feeling the foreshocks for how the night was going as well. She kept checking her phone and when, at last, it sprang to life to the tune of the FRIENDS theme, she took the call faster than Morgan could say, “No worries! Do what you need to!” When she excused herself early a minute later, Morgan let her go with the lightest, most pitiful of hugs, and turned back to her margarita, ready to dunk her face right in. Maybe she was self-sabotaging, she thought glumly. Or maybe the universe really needed to remind her that, yep, still one hundred percent cursed.

She waved at the bartender. “Hey,” she said, not even hiding her pout. “Another one please?”

Jeff had watched the failing date a little painfully. He had seen it before, and he certainly would see it again, but the second hand embarrassment was always hard to watch. He was happy, though, that it at least didn’t seem like he was going to have to step in and throw anyone out. There had been far too many ‘blink twice if you need help’ or the ‘special drink order’ in his life time. He watched as the woman took a call and as he expected, dipped out as fast as humanly possible. 

He had already been making the woman another margarita before he’d been waved down for one. Jeff was not a smart man, but he knew. He placed it down in front of her, and leaned on the bar, looking at her out with  a grin. “Bad night?” he asked. “That’s alright, but maybe we should be a little careful with the margs, yeah? I’m Jeff.” 

Morgan welcomed the margarita with a dejected sigh and began to slurp straight from the sugar rim. “Was it that obvious?” She said, lifting her eyes to the bartender. He was one of those big, stupidly chiseled types, the kind that probably moonlit as actors or bouncers and got the best tips from sad moms who liked men. But he seemed kind, and his name lit something in the back of her mind. “Jeeeff…” It was a little name, but that big slurp of margarita made it hard to finish. “Are you Jeff with the dog Jeff? Wait, like fa--” She stopped herself and covered her drink with her hand while her brain sloshed back into the right position. “We maybe talked online Jeff. Which would be making meeting you so great if I was less of a mess right now.”

He gave her a wary smile. “Only a little. I’ve seen much fuckin’ worse, let me tell you. Before you two came in, one couple threw their drinks on each other and I had to toss them out. Totally fucking public and embarrassing.” It was true, someone had been filming. But he left that out as she said his name, and he brightened slightly when it looked like they actually knew each other. Or, well, he had talked about his dog with her, at least. “No shit?” Jeff asked. “I have a dog. Lettie. She’s a mastiff.” He grinned widely at her. “Ah, don’t fucking worry about it, no big deal. What’s your name. I talk a lot about Lettie, you know.”

Morgan smirked, a little prolonged by all the syrupy mix and tequila. “Lettie! That’s her name. I have a pet too, she goes on walks, but she’s a cat. Oh, but me. I’m Morgan,” She said. “Morgan Beck. I sell rocks to people who don’t know better and teach frat boys to like reading. You told me about your coin and about your umm…” She gestured clumsily around her back. “But like not really? You’re a very nice Jeff, but you’re also very obvious. I still bet they’re really cool though.” Brain sloshed back enough into place, she took a sip from the straw, smiling at him with her bright blue eyes. 

“Morgan!” Jeff said enthusiastically. “You helped me with my fuckin’ mime problem! The coin shit worked. With the coin.” He was still going to go find that stupid ass mime and beat the shit out of it, though. For Lettie. His eyebrows furrowed slightly when she gestured to her back, unsure what she meant, before his eyes widened. “Oh fuck,” he said, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice. “You figured out I have…. Well, you know.” Jeff shrugged slightly, wincing. “We can’t, uh, fucking tell people about that. Wait. How do you know about wings? Are you a fairy?” 

“JEFF!” Morgan put out a hand on his face to shush him. And in that moment of contact, she realized even his beard was ridiculously perfect, like, better product than what she used perfect. “This is you being obvious! I’m two margaritas deep and I’m not even using the...F word. And don’t your people hate that word anyway?” She looked at him incredulously, shaking her head. She took back her hand, trying not to be too obvious about giving it a sniff. Jeff’s product smell or maybe Jeff smell was...really good. “Jeff, you gotta be more careful than that. You’re way too pretty to get Warden’d-d…” Morgan waved the word away. She was confident enough he got the point.

“MORGAN!” He responded instantly, almost jumping from the sudden contact. “Ah -” Fuck. Humans and their damn body heat. Jeff was glad he had fed before this otherwise he’d be tempted to take some from Morgan. He didn’t like feeding off people he knew. At least, well, not anymore. He shook it off. “Oblivious? That’s not - oh. Yeah. Fuck, I forgot again.” He frowned. Deirdre was going to be disappointed. “I’m a little new. Sort of. And I don’t get what the big fucking deal is, it’s just a - oh. You know about Wardens?” Jeff frowned, rubbing the back of his neck slightly. “I know about Warden’s alright, don’t fuckin’ worry. They killed my father. I’m up to speed.” 

“Ob-vi-ous,” Morgan sounded out the word gently, although she was no longer confident about which one she had actually said. She wondered if by ‘new’ Jeff meant that whatever he was had been freshly activated, wings and all, but it seemed rude to ask in a busy bar. “Words have power,” she said, nursing her straw some more, eyes still fixed on Jeff. He had the brightest eyes, like little blue lanterns. “But you can reclaim things for yourself, that’s a real thing,” There was a very clever and very helpful speech to accompany that, but it fell out of Morgan’s head as Jeff frowned (it was a very pretty frown) and mentioned his father. “Oh, Jeff! I’m so sorry, that’s horrible! Did someone kill them for doing it? I probably can’t do it, but someone should. Could I do something to make you feel better instead?”

Jeff looked at Morgan a little doubtfully. He wasn’t even a real fae - well, he was, and he had the fucking wings and iron allergy to prove it. But he missed the memo where they were supposed to be better than everyone else. “I don’t think so,” he said with a shrug. “I’m supposed to remember so my fair- fae friend doesn’t get upset.” He though that was a good explanation as he looked back at Morgan, before his eyebrows shot up. “Kill them? The wardens? Fuck if I know. I was only called in to identify his body - asshole listed me as next of kin or something. We weren’t closed. You don’t have to - I mean, that’s kind of fuckin’, you know, murder.” Jeff said, thinking on it. He didn’t think the rules were the same for humans, and he wasn’t especially sympathetic to people that would murder his father just because he was Fae. Maybe murder was the right answer. He shrugged it off. “You know what would make me feel better?” He said, realized that Morgan was a little sloshed. “If you let me get you a glass of water.” 

“Equivalent exchange, Jeff,” Morgan said with fond patience. “And it’s different when you’re doing it for payback, or to protect someone, even if that someone’s you. There’s probably other good reasons, but I can’t think of them right now.” She laughed again, encouraging Jeff to smile. Jeff really should smile more. Morgan propped herself up on her elbows as he mentioned something to make him feel better. She looked at him eagerly. “Water! Because I’m this close to being sorority girl drunk, right? Aw, Jeff, you’re so sweet! For you, yes, I will have water. So much water. A whole pitcher if you want me to!”

“You can’t think of them because you’re drunk,” Jeff informed her, with a wry grin. He probably should have been more annoyed, but he wasn’t. He liked Morgan, she was clearly a sweet woman and wanted what was best for not only him but for others. He hoped that the shitty world would be kind to her and give her a better date the next time she went out. He held up one finger to her, to tell her to wait a second while he grabbed a glass and filled it with ice water. “If you were a drunk sorotiy girl, I’d make fuckin’ Marty deal with you. You’re my friend. Why don’t we try one glass, for now, and then we can call you a car. I’m sorry, but I need your keys too.” Jeff said sheepishly, putting the glass in front of her.

“One glass? That’s easy.” Morgan took it in hand and started to chug. She was halfway through when Jeff asked for her keys. She put the glass down with a pout and fished the keys out of her pockets. “But I love my car! Will you take good care of her? She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever had. Like crazy pretty, like the girl that gave it to me. It’s a Subaru.” She plopped them into his hand with a sigh. “Do you have a pretty car, Jeff?”

“Oh! Hey! Don’t chug, it’ll upset your fucking stomach!” Jeff said, quickly, shaking his head, but he relaxed when he safely took her keys from her. “Your car will be safe, I’m sure it’s very pretty, don’t worry. Your Subaru is safe with the bar, they won’t tow - ” Jeff stopped slightly, eyes narrowing as he looked at her. Girl that gave it to her. She was on a date a girl. Subaru. Jeff had been pretty sure Morgan was giving him the drunk cow eyes a half second ago, before he realized something. He hadn’t been paying attention to his fucking pheromones. He cursed, and leaned forward. “Morgan,” he said, carefully. “Look at me a sec. You, uh…. How are you feeling right now?” 

Morgan moved down to a sip at Jeff’s insistence. Anything to make that big guy happy. She even made a show of it, holding the glass up for him to see. “Ooh, me? I’m feeling great! I’ve had so much tequila I’m not even sad anymore, and I have you! Sweet, pretty friend Jeff!” She blinked at him, lashes fluttering coyly. “And how are you feeling, Jeff? Are you feeling better yet? Because we can keep working at this if you’re not.”

Jeff stared at her a moment, before cursing again, running a hand down his face. She was definitely fucking pheromoned. Pheromones mixed with alcohol… Not great. He glanced at the clock behind him, and around the bar. It was quieting down too. Marty could survive a half hour without him. “Morgan,” he said, carefully, lowering his voice. “Fuckin’ look at me a sec - uh - you know what a Gancanagh is?” He asked. And then, “Nevermind, you’re drunk, I accidentally fucking gor you with my pheromones. I need to take you home.” 

“A gang-a-roo-huh? Is this a, you know, the f word thing?” Morgan asked. She gasped. “Are you telling me your species?” She whispered, badly. “That’s so sweet! Jeff, I don’t even know how to pay you back for something like that.” She arched a brow, laughing. “Take me home? Seriously? You know, I’m usually way too gay for this, but you’re just like--the man, Jeff. If you’re in, I’m in.”

“Fuck me,” Jeff groaned, running his hands down his face. His fellow bartender glanced over, and Jeff just waved him off. “Marty, I gotta take this ‘ne home. I’ll be back to help you close up.” Technically, he was head bartender. He could do what he wanted. And Marty wasn’t an idiot, he trusted him. He looked back at Morgan. “Yes, I am,” he said, “Lower your fuckin’ voice - and don’t get any funny ideas. We’re not doing anything, I’m taking you home because I accidentally pheromoned you. Shhh, let’s go. I’ll drive your car home and take a car back.”

“Whatever you say, Jeff!” Morgan sing-songed. She slipped off her stool, clumsily. “You are the man, I’m just along for the ride.” She made her way around to the other side of the bar, legs shaking like a baby deer and braced herself on the end to meet him, smiling big. “But, you know, if you changed your mind, you could get to say you did it with a lesbian. And you’ll be nice to the pretty car, right? She’s fae-ry magical. You see what I did there?” 

“No! No, stop that!” Jeff scolded, but he couldn't exactly be mad at her because this was his fucking fault. He almost groaned when she saw how she was walking, but he remembered his manners his mother taught him. He was going to have to help her to the car. Jeff held out his arm for her to grab. “Morgan, my friend, you will not be fucking saying that tomorrow. And also, you’re drunk,” he reminded her. “I did that. Very fuckin’ funny.” He started to very carefully lead her outside. “Subaru, right? What color?” 

“No one says the same thing tomorrow,” Morgan said, feeling very clever in the moment. “Mm, yes, pherom-men-o-menomes. You’re gonna have to explain the details on that one later, and I trust you, because you’re Jeff! And it’s the red one! She’s perfect right? I love her, but ssshhh. You’re bad at keeping secrets Jeff, but sssshh. I trust you to do the thing though. You’re a good Jeff.”

“You might be right about that, but it’s different when - ah, why the fuck am I bothering,” Jeff muttered. He couldn’t believe he had done it again. It was different when he accidentally did it to the occasional too-drunk Karen, where he could shove them in an uber and feel a little bad about it later, but Morgan was his friend. “She is a nice car,” Jeff said, rounding to the passenger side to open the door for her. “What thing? We’re not doing any fuckin’ things. And yeah, I’ll explain when you have your head on straight tomorrow.” 

“The thing thing!” Morgan said. She plopped into her seat and fumbled with the buckle and ran her hands fondly over the upholstery. “The um…” It was slipping out of her brain again, like so much margarita mix over the rim of a glass. “Well whatever it is, you got it just fine, because you’re the best, you know? Oh, but hey, can you um--?” She held the buckle over her eye, like an alder stone. “I can’t make my hands do the thing. I can’t do a lot of things without making a mess but you got me for this one, right Jeff?”

“No, no!” Jeff said, having gone round to the driver's side. “No thing thing either!” He was assuming all things were sexual in nature until specified otherwise. Abso-fucking-lately not. He glanced over at her. “Your seat belt? Ah - it’s going to make it worse,” he muttered shaking his head. Still, safety first. He turned the car on, and gingerly reached over pulling the belt across her and clicking it into place. Then he adjusted the seat so he could drive more comfortably, and pulled out of her spot. “Alright, you tell me where to go now. When I get you home , you have to drink a lot of fuckin water, alright?” 

“Aye, aye, Jeff!” Morgan said. She gave him her address and settled into the comfy seat, still fondly running her hands over the upholstery. She gave Jeff her address and let him walk her inside, where she promptly collapsed face down on the couch. It was after a massive jug of water had materialized at her side (had she peeled herself off the couch like Jeff asked? Had Jeff gotten it for her?) and after she accidentally turned on the TV by rolling on top of the remote wrong, that something cleared in her head. Something not quite the rapid intake of tequila she’d had. Morgan sat up on the couch. She looked to the door. Looked at the water jug. Looked to her car keys. “...Did I seriously hit on a guy??”

[irisandlily]

more Fjorm x my summoner Miriam!!

I love writing mermaid aus (ESPECIALLY THE LITTLE MERMAID AUS!!) so i obviously had to write mermaid Fjorm cause she’d be a pretty mermaid uwu

Prompt: What if Fjorm is a mermaid and she rescues Miriam and that’s how they meet in heroes

The first thing Miriam thinks when she wakes is that she’s dreaming. Either dead or dreaming, because mermaids do not exist. They’re myths, legends, whatever you want to call them. It’s a simple fact that mermaids are not and never will be real.

Except for the fact that they apparently are real. And that she is staring directly at one.

“You’re awake!” the mermaid exclaims, and Miriam tries to remember what happened before waking up in the cavern.

Miriam remembers Anna ordering them to retreat. The only way of escape had been across the frozen lake they had been fighting on that was beginning to crack under the weight and frenzy of the two armies, so they ran. 

She had carelessly allowed Breidablik to slip from her grasp and just as she turned and dove for the legendary relic, there was an explosion ahead of her and the ice split open underneath her, the ice water swallowing her whole.

She remembers trying to swim, but something had weighed her down.

No, that wasn’t it. Something had been dragging her down. She remembers the feel of something wrapping around her boot, gripping her leg and yanking her further down, deeper and deeper into the depths of the lake. She remembers blacking out for who knows how long, then waking when a hand grasps her arm and begins dragging her up. She remembers blinking and seeing a pair of bright blue-green eyes staring at her, hands cupping her face and lips on hers before she passes out again.

Breidablik lays next to her, her Order of the Heroes uniform is soaked through, and Miriam is freezing. Her entire body feels like it was doused in a bath of ice water from head to toe. She shivers.

“Ah- you must be freezing.” the mermaid says, “Here- let me.” the mermaid takes Miriam’s hands and holds them between hers. The mermaid’s hands glow, and Miriam can feel warmth spread from her fingertips to the rest of her body slowly. While this happens, Miriam takes the time to examine the mermaid.

Her blonde hair is short, the ends fading into an icy blue color. She wears what Miriam thinks resembles a white seashell bra, with strings of pearls attached, hanging off her shoulders. Her tail is a shimmery arctic blue of delicate scales, and she wears a ring of pearls around the end of her tail where it meets the fin, which is partly submerged in water. 

Beautiful.

“You should be feeling warmer now.” the mermaid looks up with her bright eyes and when she smiles, Miriam feels warm for an entirely different reason.

“Thank you.” Miriam pulls her hands away awkwardly. “For that- and for saving me.”

“Of course. I’m Fjorm, second Princess of Nifl.” she introduces herself.

“Miriam,” she replies automatically before registering what she heard. “Sorry did you say princess?” she’s trying to wrap her head around the fact that the royalty of this world are apparently mermaids. “You’re a mermaid princess?”

“Partially. The royal family of Nifl has the ability to turn into mermaids when in water.” Fjorm corrects her. 

“Are you aware your kingdom’s being invaded?” she clamps a hand over her mouth, cursing herself and her brain-to-mouth filter not working. She flinches at the expression on Fjorm's face, the sadness and anger, and lowers her hand, “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean-”

“No- it’s alright.” Fjorm takes one of her hands and shakes her head, giving her a reassuring if not tight-lipped smile. “I ah- am aware. I was fleeing in the forest when I saw you on the lake and you fell under, so I dived in to save you.” she pauses, looking down at Miriam’s hand, tracing the lines of her palm with a finger. “You were fighting against Muspell. Why?”

Miriam explains to the best of her ability. How she was summoned to Askr and is stuck as it’s permanent Summoner, what Breidablik allows her to do, and what the Order of Heroes is. She then explains why the Order of Heroes is in Nifl.

“I would like to join your Order of Heroes,” Fjorm says shortly after Miriam finishes speaking. “The king of Muspell killed my mother and my siblings and I were forced to flee separately from each other. Will you help me, Miriam? Help me take back my kingdom and exact vengeance on Muspell?”

“It’s really not my decision to make- but I’ll help if I can.”

“Thank you!” Fjorm leans forward and plants a kiss to her cheek, and Miriam feels her face grow warmer than before. 

“I should find the Order.” Miriam clears her throat, “They’re probably searching for me.”

“I saw where your friends went, I can take you in that direction.”

“Lead the way.” Fjorm sits up and slips into the water where her tail was submerged. She resurfaces seconds later. “We’ll have to swim to leave here.” Miriam groans, not looking forward to swimming in the below freezing temperature water. 

Fjorm laughs, and it’s airy and light, and oh it sounds like music.

“You can hold my hand.” she holds out her hand, “I’ll lead the way.” she waits as Miriam straps Breidablik to her side securely before placing her hand in the mermaid’s and sinks into the water beside her, shivering. Fjorm squeezes her hand comfortingly. “Hold your breath.” is the only warning Miriam gets before she’s dragged down under the water.