#the mortician is staying inside thank you very much

[everlarkficexchange]

Magic as Always

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 71: Magic of Ordinary Days AU: 1940s, Katniss is a single pregnant girl. Desperate for her daughter not to have a child out of wedlock, Mrs Everdeen contacts a priest who in turn knows a young man who just may be willing to help. Sweet, kind and shy Peeta stayed home to take care of the family farm when his beloved brother went to war to never come back. He’s always wanted a family but rural small town life gives little chance to court. He hears of Katniss’ plight and graciously offers to marry her and raise the child as his own. He does everything he can think of to make a home for Katniss and the baby. How does Katniss take it? How does their relationship develop? Will they fall in love? [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: this chapter is rated Teens and Up  

Tags: Historical!AU; WWII; 1940’s Era views on marriage, sexism, pregnancy, etc; Katniss/Marvel relationship; Non-graphic Unprotected Sex; Unplanned Pregnancy; Arrange Marriage; Miscellaneous Religious views; Grief/Mourning; Canon Characters Death; OOC!Mrs.Everdeen; Somewhat OOC!Katniss; Everlark is Endgame; Other tags to be added.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this prompt. I must confess, I’ve never seen the movie ‘The Magic of Ordinary Days’ or read the book the movie is based on. I did a quick skimming on the plot of the movie and then dug up all kinds of reviews on the book, most of my plot points come from a combination of movie and book (which apparently differ only in a few parts), besides what the prompter asked for. I just really loved this prompt, and see the potential of this story, which will be a few chapters long, cross posted to AO3 and I already have a good chunk written ;) The rating will be adjusted too, because there will be explicit Everlark smut in the following chapters. Anon, I hope I don’t disappoint you, this story will be only loosely based on the source material, and adapted to fit THG characters in the narrative, I will try to stick to the main plot points as much as I can, but I’m also taking several liberties with the story. I hope you still like it though. 

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

Prim died on a Tuesday, after a very long, strenuous battle with poliomyelitis. My sweet little sister’s face looked as fresh as a dew drop even in death. 

  “Come now, Katniss,” my mother calls from the open door of the mortuary hall, where visitation took place an hour ago. 

  The mortician has arranged for the coffin to be taken to the cemetery and put in the ground this afternoon. There will be no graveside mourning. It’s all we could pay for, but then again the war has left everyone penniless nowadays.

  A big, rotund man comes to close the coffin, and offers a curt nod. 

  That’s it then. The very last time I’ll ever set eyes on Primrose’s sweet face. 

  “Katniss,” Mother whispers, insistently. It’s probably all she can muster before breaking down in tears.

  I look on at the box my sister’s body lies in, numb and heartsick. I bring my 3 middle fingers to my lips and then rise them in the air. My last salute to my beloved Little Duck. I step away from the coffin and shuffle towards mother. 

  Up close, I can see the deep, dark bruises under my mother’s eyes. She used to be beautiful in her youth— according to friends and old photographs— but now she just looks tired and defeated. I guess having to bury first her husband and then her 15 year old daughter, in less than a year, would have that effect on anyone.

  Prim would’ve looked like our mother, with their soft blonde locks, almond shaped blue eyes and alabaster skin. She had a softer spirit though, she enjoyed music and loved animals. She always said that if she was older, she would’ve joined the Red Cross and signed up to serve as a nurse to our boys in the Pacific, like Father did… Father wasn’t a nurse though, he was a chaplain. 

  It’s funny to think that I inherited so much of my father, like my dark hair, gray eyes and olive skin. We both also share the same aversion to human pain and blood that moves my mother and Prim to action; but unlike Prim, my father’s calling to help the soldiers in their worst situations, passed me and went directly to my baby sister. 

  I sigh… Prim would’ve made a terrific army nurse, if only she hadn’t wasted in bed with that odious disease! If she had been given the chance to live, I’m sure Prim would’ve had so many boys trailing after her. She would marry at some point and have a beautiful full life. 

  I don’t plan on marrying and having a family. If the acute pain in my own chest wasn’t enough warning,  watching my mother walk silently from the funeral home to our apartment, with her head bowed and listening to her quiet sobs at night would be enough evidence that there’s too much sorrow in losing one’s husband and children. 

  I think my efforts will be better spent in cultivating my mind, and getting my degree in botany, like my father always dreamed, anyway… plus, I’m not much of a looker… not like Prim at any rate. 

  We finally arrived at our modest home. Mother drifts ghost-like into the door, and then we both shuffle quietly into our separate bedrooms. There won’t be a meal at the table tonight, but I make sure Prim’s old tomcat gets fed and watered, and after he meows in distress at my sister’s door, I open mine, and let him strut inside my bedroom and hop into my bed. The hideous fur ball and I distrust each other, but he understands his mistress is never coming back, and he’s the last thing I have from her… so he lets me pet him and he cuddles close to my chest as I fall asleep, crying. 

——————————-

Mother and I walk slowly through the busy streets of town, mostly ignoring the bustle and disarray around us. People shout, cars honk horns, a baby cries in the distance, and the few young men rush back and forth in the busy sidewalks, like they’re being lashed by invisible whips.

  “We should stop by the grocer and see if we can pick up some eggs.” Says my mother, pulling her “Sugar Book” out of her handbag. 

  Because of the war, everything is being rationed, from sugar to shoes.

  I could care less about food and clothing, though. But I still go into the shop, dutifully. 

  I’m so immersed in my own thoughts, I don’t see the lanky man walking towards me with his arms full of vittles. 

  We collide. The man’s groceries fly up in every direction, raining over me, as I sit on my rump on the floor. 

  My mother is nowhere to be seen. Typical.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!” Says the man, pulling a packet of oatmeal from the floor, while extending his other hand to help me up. 

  “No… it’s alright, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “Well, let’s agree that we’re both klutzes, and leave it at that?” The man offers.

  I’m on my feet, dusting my skirt off and righting my blouse, “Sure, let’s do that.” I scowl at the skew state of my clothes and finally look up at the man. 

  He’s smiling down at me, and I must admit, his smile is dazzling. He’s got short brown hair, greenish-brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles over his nose. He also towers above me. 

  “My stars! If it isn’t Katniss Everdeen!” The young man says, unexpectedly excited.

  I blink owlishly at him, and try to place his face, but I’m horrible at remembering people. Or their names. 

  “Marvel Quaid,” he offers genially, unfazed by my lack of response, “we went to grade school together?” He prompts, “My pa used to sell luxury goods in District One?”

  “Oh, I think it’s coming back now,” I say smiling for the first time in what feels like months. “You used to throw sticks, pretending they were spears or something,” I tell him, showing that indeed, I do remember him.

  Marvel scrunches his nose, “Javelins, actually. I was pretending I threw javelins. I saw a fellow doing it for the Olympics in a film, and then he won a medal for it. I thought to myself that making a victory lap with the good old American flag flapping after oneself looked like fun; well, I wanted to be a victor too!” He chuckles, then deflates. “But as everything, those dreams are gone now, crushed to dust under the weight of the war.”

  As is the norm, once the war gets brought up, gloominess settles on, dampening the cheeriest of spirits.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m all too familiar with the sentiment.”

  Marvel nods, grimly. 

  “We lost Father in France.” I’m not sure why I said it. “We put my sister in the ground last week, too.” I avert my eyes. 

  “Aww, geez, Kit… that’s truly awful. I’m so sorry for your loss,”

  I’m mildly surprised I don’t immediately recoil at his little pet name. I guess the fact that he doesn’t sound condescending while delivering his condolences, helps. 

  “Oh, well, as my father would’ve said, at least their toils in this world are over. They can finally rest in peace.”

  After a moment of heavy silence, Marvel shares, “I’m being shipped out tomorrow morning.”

  I scowl, “Oh,” I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering how he’d manage to evade the draft for this long? Marvel is my age, 19 going on 20… boys get sent to the front lines at 18. “I… I could write to you… if you wanted?” I offer shyly. 

  Isn’t that what young women are being told to do, in order to keep our boys’ morale from plummeting?  

  Marvel grins, showing slightly crooked teeth, “That would be swell, Kit!” He stares at me for a long moment, then sighs, “I should go back to my shopping, before they miss me at home. Lord knows when will I have the chance of doing something as mundane as picking up my mother’s weekly grocery allowance.”

  These days it is not only uncommon seeing men doing grocery runs, but simply seeing young, able-body men around, period. All of our boys are either in Europe or the Pacific, fighting to keep the devastation of the World war from reaching our shores.

  “Well, for what is worth, I hope you get to return home safely… you know, so you can do all the boring tasks your mother tells you to do. And when I say safe, I mean, I hope you don’t run anymore into spaced out girls, like me,” I smirk. 

  “Oh, Kit, if only you knew how much I’ve enjoyed our accidental skirmish. It’s like a gift from above, seeing you after all these years. Your smile and the color of your eyes will forever be branded in my mind, to give me a reason to fight. To have a dream,”

  I’m momentarily floored by Marvel’s florid little speech. Nobody has ever said anything nearly as sweet and gallant as that to me, and for a moment, I forget all about my dead sister and father, the war, and my own sorrow. 

  I avert my eyes, bashfully, as he finishes picking up his vittles off the floor.

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I lean over to pick up a can of milk, and put it on top of his pile. 

  “I only speak the truth,” he smiles brightly. 

  My mother chooses to interrupt at the exact moment I bat my lashes at him, “Katniss, there you are! I’ve been waiting for you by the counter.” She shakes her head. 

  Marvel wobbles on his feet, rearranging his load, and then greets my mother, warmly, “Mrs. Everdeen, how nice to see you again,” 

  My mother eyes him, unimpressed. “Good afternoon, young man,” she answers. 

  “Ma’am… pardon my forwardness, but, would it be too troublesome to ask Miss Katniss to accompany a soldier about to be shipped out, to supper in the town?” 

  My mother narrows her eyes, distrust dripping from her voice as she speaks, “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. My daughter and I are in mourning, you see,”

  “Oh, this won’t be an untoward celebration of any kind, ma’am. With the war raging on, we’re all in mourning. All I ask for is one last night of normalcy, a chance to reconnect with an old grade-school mate,” he smiles, hopefully, “For old times sake?” 

  I’m watching my mother’s face closely, with bated breath.

  “Very well,” Mother sighs, “You may ask Katniss out to dinner. But have her home by 9 sharp!”  

  I don’t hesitate to step up and give him directions to my apartment building in District 12. 

  I spend the rest of my day giddy and nervous, pressing my best Sunday suit, the gray one with the matching jacket, and polishing my only pair of leather shoes. There isn’t much I can do about my hair… the thing can’t be fashioned into the favored waves, not even putting it in curlers overnight, so I let it be. 

  I briefly wonder if this was all Prim’s doing? Meeting Marvel and mother’s somewhat easy aquiciscent. Prim hated seeing me sad, and constantly talked about how she’d love to help me get ready for dates with a beau. She couldn’t wait to be of courting age and date a strapping, young man herself… but of course, that would never happen for her, but she would probably still want to see me have those things. 

  Maybe Marvel is right, and our serendipitous encounter is a gift from above, to heal our wounds… at least for the night. 

  ————————-

  Marvel arrives at my house in his father’s car at 5:45. Riding is now such a luxury, with gasoline being rationed and all. He takes me to a quaint little dinner in the middle of town. We share malts, a greasy burger, and a small portion of fries and onion rings. 

  We talk about baseball:

  “You’d look good in a baseball uniform, Kit! Can you still run as fast as you did in school?” 

  I laugh. “I’m not much for sports,” I demure, “but I’ve heard playing in one of the new teams pays alright. Anyway, I’m gonna be starting my second year of college soon. I put my studies on hold while Prim was at her worst, but now that it’s only just me and mother… I’m anxious to go back to study.”

  “Wow, beautiful and smart!”

  We talk about cars:

  “I loved driving… but Mother sold our car when my sister took a turn for the worse. She didn’t want to at first, saying that Father saved up to buy it, and it held sentimental value to her, but I had to push to sell it. We needed the money and gas was a nightmare to come by, anyway,”

  “The only reason we still have ours,” says Marvel, “is because Pa is too stubborn to let go of the things that still made him feel wealthy.” He scowls, “He’s trying to get into the ice business now, since it’s pretty much the only thing one where the raw material is plenty and relatively cheap, and there’s guarantee that people will buy the product… everyone still needs ice for their ice boxes, right?” 

  No one can afford luxuries anymore with every penny going out to support our boys in the battlefields.

  We talk about many other subjects: his sister’s wedding; my father’s unit getting pinned and killed by Germans… We didn’t get a body to bury, but I got a medal on his behalf as his eldest child. 

  Marvel lets me sniffle against his chest, and then kisses my lips slowly. 

  I’ve never been kissed on the lips, and I feel my face heat up. 

  “Would you… like to take a drive with me, Kit?”

  We drive all the way to the city limit. It’s exhilarating to be in a car again, and sitting at the overlook, at twilight,  alone with a handsome boy, feels positively forbidden! 

  I’ve never done anything remotely injudicious all my life, and this whole moment feels… magical… exciting! 

  Tentatively, I initiated our next kiss, but he takes over in a rush of caresses and flitting touches. 

  “Beautiful, graceful, Kit. You have no match!”

  “Marvel…” I kiss him again, not knowing how to answer his sentiments with words.

  His hands are restless, groping my shoulders and elbows. “I wished he had more time! I would’ve loved to marry you before departing. I would’ve show you so much passion and love!”

  “You still can show me, Marvel… you absolutely can!” 

  It’s all the permission he needs to dive into a frenzy. He doesn’t stop until the deed is done, and we’re a sweaty, tangled mess of limbs in the back seat of the car, only partially clothed. 

  A deep feeling of lethargy pours over me. My muscles are sore and heavy, and wished I could fall asleep in here. 

  “I intend on coming back to marry you, Katniss,” Marvel says, stretching his lanky, long legs to zip up his pants. 

  I sit up and start finger-combing my ruined hair, hoping my mother won’t notice the strands are extra frizzy. “Um… I guess we should after this,” I say shyly, gesturing between us. 

  “You could still go to college while I’m away,” he offers with magnanimity.

  “You… wouldn’t mind that?” I ask incredulous, college women are so rare, unless they’re trying to become nurses or teachers. Most girls start courting right after high school and get married in the span of one to two years, and their husbands don’t normally encourage an education beyond what their wives came into the marriage with; so to hear Marvel say that wouldn’t mi d me stay in college is just about the greatest thing possible!

  “My darling, Kit, I don’t want you to be one of those girls pining and wasting away for her beau. I’ll be busy at war, it’ll be unfair to keep you from occupying your own time while you wait fir my return. Go to college, my clever girl!”

  I smile indulgently at him, leaning closer to slip his necktie around the collar of his shirt, “You are truly a generous, loving man,” I say.

  Marvel beams, circling my waist with his arms pulling me against his body. “It’s all inspired by you, sugar plum!”

  I giggle, kissing his cheek, “I’ll write to you every day!” I promise. 

  “That’s nice… but just so you know, I might not be able to write back right away. It’ll be a while before I get settled enough to write. But you’ll be in my thoughts every minute of every day, and that’s the honest truth! I’m serious about marrying you when I return, Kit,” he kisses me again. And then, he looks at his watch, sighing. “It’s 8:32. We should get on going, gotta keep in my future mother-in-law’s good graces!” 

  We share a carefree laugh, and finish tidying ourselves up to drive back to my house. 

  He walks me to the door, takes me in his arms, and kisses me passionately before promising he’d be back to officially ask for my hand in marriage, and for my part, I swear I’ll write to him every day until he returns home safe and sound. 

  But neither of us keeps our promises in the end, although I tried. 

  ————————-

  Three weeks go by and I keep my word of writing daily letters. I receive no word in return from Marvel, but think nothing of it… Europe is far and traveling by sea is tedious and time consuming; Marvel will get in touch once he’s settled down. 

  Another week goes by, still without news from my would-be fiancé. I still don’t worry. I’ve been busy with university, and the few other girls attending school with me keep me busy, but my heavier workload is starting to get to me.

  I’m usually so tired and moody after school that socializing with my classmates becomes a chore. I barely eat supper before I’m passing out in bed, and my letters to Marvel start to get shorter and simpler with every passing day.

  I skip writing one afternoon altogether, and take a long nap. Buttercup— Prim’s ugly cat— perches on my bed like a sentinel to watch me sleep. I believe he’s worried about me… stupid, clingy cat thinks I’m sick.

  But the feline’s intuition proves right, because just two days later, I shoot out of bed and run into the washroom to spill every last ounce of last night supper into the toilet. I must’ve caught a bug or something! 

  I feel queasy and lightheaded every morning after. My appetite wanes and it seems my delicate stomach can only tolerate pears, and broth. 

  I visit the post office to place out my letters to Marvel almost everyday; Every time I come, the nice old mailman comments on how sweet it is to see all the young-uns holding romance strong. Marvel has yet to respond to one of my letters, so I just smile tightly and demure. 

  I’ve been thinking though; the longer I go without news of my supposed future husband, and despite the whirlwind night of romance with him, I start questioning my actions, my promises. I never wanted to marry before, and suddenly I was okay getting a hasty, unofficial engagement with a virtual stranger, I barely remember from grade school… maybe it’s better if Marvel never writes. 

  My plans on earning a college degree and finding a well paying job will go unencumbered— I’m aware women in prominent working professions are as rare as snow in July, but women’s presence in the working forces keep growing as industries need laborers to keep up producing while the men fight in the war. Educated women are almost becoming less rare. 

  At the two month mark since I last saw Marvel, I become weepier than usual… is to be expected in my opinion; Prim’s been gone for a little over two months and she was the only person I knew I loved. But now I’m worrying about my health on top of everything.

  One morning, while I’m kneeling on the cold, hard floor in front of the toilet, feeling miserable and tired, my mother calls my name from the open door.

  “Katniss, I think it’s time to get a test.” She states evenly, and then enters the room to fetch a damp washcloth to wipe my face clean. “I hope I’m wrong, but I’m afraid you may be with child,” she sighs. 

  I squirm. “No,” I gasp. “I— I can’t be with child. I just can’t!” But the thought has crossed my mind a few times already. “It’s not supposed to be this way!”

  “I know, child,” My mother pats my head, “there’s only one way to know. Get dressed for the day, I will call the most discreet physician I know, and have him pay us a visit.” 

  ————————-

  Doctor Aurelius— a physician my mother has helped deliver babies and treat maladies with— confirms the pregnancy with a grim face. 

  I sit at my kitchen table numb and despondent. My mother writes a check to the doctor for his services, while talking in no so hush tones in the other room. I listen to their whole conversation, as if submerged in water.

  “I blame myself for this, doctor. I should have kept a closer eye on her,” 

  “Don’t blame yourself Ms. Everdeen, it’s that war business bringing out all sorts of evil into the world! It’s unfortunate the rise of these cases in our community. Young ladies— from good families!— engaging in acts ought to be saved for marriage. Youth do things without thinking, guided by fear. Our boys fear they may not return from that senseless, awful war, and settle down properly, and I don’t blame them one little bit.”

  “The only solace I have right now, is that my poor husband is not here to see the shame that’s fallen over our family,”

  “I understand the sentiment, ma’am. There’s no telling how Preacher Everdeen would’ve taken this blow. But I’m sure things will work out as soon as young Katniss hears from the father…” 

  I dissolve into silent tears then. My mother escorts the doctor to the door and then there’s silence. 

  My pinky finger curls into the soft fabric of the table cloth, and I try to ignore the urge to vomit boiling in my stomach. There’s one thought circling mi mind: my college days are over.

  ——————————-

“Ah! Miss Everdeen, I have something for you.” Says the mailman as soon as I reach the desk. He smiles, but rather sadly, like he’s about to give me bad news. 

  I’ve come to the post office with urgent letters every day for 6 days, and he’s never looked at me this way. 

  The old man digs around for a moment and almost reluctantly, passes a parcel tied up in twine. An envelope is attached to the top of the parcel, and with a sinking feeling, I realized it’s a stack of my own letters. 

  “It came in today, miss.” Says the man, voice laced with pity. “Sorry for your loss.” He says. 

  At first I don’t understand what he could possibly mean by that; he’s offered his sympathies fir my dead father and sister already; it makes absolutely no sense to repeat himself randomly after so long. 

  Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. 

  I gasp, and press the parcel to my chest. “Oh no! Marvel!” I whisper. I give the man a hasty wave, thanking him, and rush out of the post office like mad. 

  Tears run down my cheeks, while I dash home, imagining the worst. “Poor, Marvel!” Is all I can think.

  “Katniss, what’s wrong?” My mother calls, alarmed, when I rush to my bedroom, sobbing. She follows me in, and watches me tear into the envelope at the top of the stack. 

  I frown in confusion when I’m met with handwritten, chicken-scratch scrawl, instead of a formal missive typed in official US military stationary. 

  My scowl deepens as my eyes rove over the flowery vocabulary, and then I screech, “What?!” 

  “Katniss, what’s going on?” 

  I ignore my mother when she approaches to read over my shoulder; I step around her, shaking the piece of paper in my hands and stand by the window, as if sunlight will make the words change their meaning.

  I smooth the creases and folds on the page over, and read out loud, “Dearest Kit, sorry it took so long to write, it’s been a wild time since we arrived and finding time to correspond with everyone back home it’s been hard.

  “At times, your letters have been the sole source of light and hope in the darkness of this conflict. Is for that reason, and with a heavy heart, that I must come clean to you now. I truly meant it when I swore to come back and make you my wife, but as the Good Book says, the Lord works in mysterious ways, and love has sprouted out the most unlikely place! Kit, I’ve fallen in love and married a lovely gal here in England…”

  I stop reading. He goes on talking about the why and how, but I sincerely don’t care. 

  “That good for nothing, virtue dasher, future crushing… liar!” My mother bleats to the ceiling, raising her palms over her head, dramatically. 

  I’m angry too, of course. I feel used and disposed of like a dirty rag, but my mother’s reaction is borderline hilarious. Except, it isn’t. 

  I’m pregnant, unmarried, and soon— once my still flat stomach starts rounding— I’ll be socially ostracized for my condition. My only saving grace was the promise of marriage that bastard Marvel had given me. But that’s gone now. 

  “I knew that boy was bad news the second I laid eyes on him! He never even introduced himself to me, the little weasel! This is my fault. My fault! I should’ve never allowed you to run amok with the likes of him…”

  “Mother, will you please?” I nearly growl, gesturing at the open bedroom door.

  She stares at me uncomprehendingly for a moment, before pursing her lips in disapproval, and stalking out of the room muttering her aggravation under her breath. 

  I sink into my bed with Marvel’s stupid letter crumpling in my fist. A single, hot, angry tear rolls down my face, and for the first time since finding out of its existence, I hug my midsection and address my child, “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this mess. I know you didn’t ask for a mother like me, but I’m all you got now, little one. I promise we will be alright… I’ll try not to let you down.”

  ———————-

  My mother has been unbearable for the last two days. She cries in her room worse than when Prim died, and when she sees me, she starts lamenting my poor choice, like I’m not even standing there… as if I don’t feel discouraged enough. 

  I keep myself busy with my education. I will need to earn this diploma now more than ever before, and I need to do as much as I can before the baby arrives and my studies get put on hold. 

  In the meantime, I scout the newspapers for possible work options to sustain me and my mother. Our savings keep diminishing and the small stipend my mother got from the Army since my father passed away is becoming more insufficient by the day. 

  There’s a knock on the front door, and I push out my chair unhappy by the interruption. 

  “Afternoon Miss Katniss! Would you let your mother know she’s got a telephone call down in the lobby?” Says the building’s doorkeeper. 

  “Of course, thank you. She’ll be right down!”

  Telephones are yet another luxury we had to give up when moved to this small place after losing my father. 

  I go back to my job hunt, and my mother descends to the lobby, quickly. 

  She returns after only 10 minutes, almost running through the door, excitedly calling my name. Tears wet her face, but her smile is so blinding, even without knowing what sort of news she’s heard to cause her such joy, I stand from the table with nervous anticipation. 

  “Oh, Katniss! Katniss my dear daughter, you’re saved!” She exclaims, hugging me tightly. 

  I’m confused. I step away from her embrace, “What do you mean?” 

  “It’s the best thing possible ever, I tell you! The Lord has answered all of my prayers!”

  “This is all so exciting and all, mother, but… could you please share this great news already?” 

  My mother cups my face in her hands, and beams at me, “You need to pack your things, darling! Your father’s good friend, Reverend Undersee, has found a husband, and you are to wed, in three days time!”

  —————————

Reverend Undersee and his daughter, Madge, meet me and my mother at the rinky dink bus station, in the equally tiny town my mother has banished me to.

  “Katniss! How long has it been?” Says Madge, hugging me enthusiastically.

  I bite my tongue to keep the acidic retort of “not long enough!” to leave my mouth. 

  “Welcome to Panem,” says the reverend, soberly, shaking my mother’s hand in greeting.

  “Thank you, revered. We appreciate your hospitality and your understanding,” my mother responds, then gives me a pointed look and a wordless command. 

  I nod and mutter, “Thank you, sir. Madge,” 

  I scowl at a crack in the pavement, not feeling an iota of gratefulness for this charade! 

  Any man agreeing to this questionable union has to either be desperate, or be hiding terrible, ulterior motives to go along with all of this. Nobody in their right mind would willingly marry a girl pregnant with another man’s baby, and be happy about it… unless that’s the reason! 

  I shudder at the thought. 

  But it is a very real possibility that my intended is a simpleton, who can’t find a wife otherwise… or worse! It could be a man very advanced in age, looking for a supple, young body to leech off. Gross!

  My mother had been too excited about the news that a man offered to marry me (as if I asked for, or even wanted a husband!) to bother to ask his name. 

  Reverend Undersee coughs daintily, clears his throat, and starts, like he’s giving a lecture at the university. “It is our Christian duty to lend a helping hand to widows and orphans in their time of needs. Same way it’s our duty to keep the memory and honor of an old friend from being dragged into the mud.”

  I wince at the harsh words, and let my face fall lower, if that’s even possible. 

  “Well, it’s a good thing that we are all recipients of the abundant grace of the Lord, which covers multitude of faults, and it’s never hard to reach,” a deep, velvety, masculine voice cuts into my embarrassment. 

  I lift my eyes from the ground, to find a man striding confidently in our direction. He smiles kindly at me, his eyes fixed on my own, like I’m the only person still standing in the station.

  He finally cedes our staring contest, to take in the rest of the group.

  A knot forms in the pit of my stomach, because I recognize him from years past when my family used to visit this town, and I’m afraid I know exactly why he’s here. 

  “Good afternoon, all. I apologize for my tardiness, I had a last second detail to take care of before leaving the house,” he nods in our general direction, taking his hat off; a riot of ashy blonde curls falls onto his forehead, before bending forward to shake my mother’s hand, “I’m Peeta Mellark, at your service, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

  “Likewise, mister Mellark,” says my mother, her lips twitch tersely, “Widow Everdeen, and this here is my daughter Katniss… your bride.” 

  Peeta Mellark���s baby blue eyes slip back to mine, and the left side corner of lips curls into a shy, earnest smile. “Welcome to Panem, Katniss, I’ll sure do my best, so you’d like it here.”

[impala666]

The One With The Boobies Part Two (Ronnie)

I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me!!!!!!

Last Part (Part One), Series Masterlist 

Joey was very angry. Very very angry and confused and you could tell by how hard he was slicing into the mushrooms that he was preparing for all of you to have for dinner. At first you kept on trying to sneak away and hide in Joey’s room or leave the apartment because you thought that this conversation should be between Joey and his dad. But Joey had a different opinion, because every time that you actually got close to leaving, he would call out for you to stay. So now, there you were sitting uncomfortably at the counter, watching Joey cook, while his dad tried to explain himself to his only son. “Her name’s Ronni.” Joey’s dad decided to start off with what you hoped wasn’t an ice breaker, because that would have been the worst one ever. “She’s a pet mortician.” You narrowed your eyes in confusion at the odd job title. But you decided to put all of your uncomfortableness aside and try to get Joey to talk to his father. When Joey looked up, he saw that look on your face when you wanted him to do something or say something; eyebrows rose and head slightly tilted to the side. At first Joey rolled his eyes at you, but then decided that you were right. 

“Sure.” Joey played along. “So how long you been..?” But he just couldn’t bring himself to ask, his father was cheating on his mother for goodness sake. How was anyone supposed to react to that?

“Remember when you were a little kid and I used to take you to the Navy Yard?” Joey’s dad asked him, 

“Since then?” Joey’s face completely fell into sorrow as his voice rose high. 

“No. It’s only been six years. I just wanted to put a nice memory in your head so you’d know that I wasn’t always such a terrible guy.” Joey Sr. tried to make Joey feel better as his father came to stand next to you. But apparently anything that the man was going to say was going to make Joey feel any better. You just wished you could be there for him, right now. But he and his dad needed to work through this. So you would just be a helpful bystander. “Joe,” his dad placed his hand on Joey’s hand so that he would stop chopping and look up at him, “you ever been in love?” You looked from father to son with a smile on your face just knowing what he was about to say because Joey was. 

“I don’t know,” was all Joey answered. And you felt your smile fall into a deep frown, and losing all expression on your face. You felt frozen, numb. It made it worse when Joey’s dad looked at you, clearly not expecting that from his son either. 

“Then I guess you haven’t.” Joey’s dad told him trying to push past the awkward, but to you it felt like you were just smacked in the face. Then got your heart ripped out and stomped on. “You’re burning your tomatoes.” His dad changed the subject. 

“You’re one to talk.” Joey scoffed at his father.

“Okay, seriously?” You couldn’t help but blurt out. “You’re just going to gloss over that little bit there?” You asked staring at Joey’s back as he added.

“Look, Y/N, can we just talk about this later?” Joey hinted to you that he didn’t want to have this conversation with his dad in the room of all people. 

“Oh, yeah, yeah, sure. Whenever you want.” You sarcastically told him in a fake happy voice. But if you weren’t going to get an explanation, then you didn’t think you could be in the apartment. Whether your “boyfriend” needed you or not. “You two just finished your conversation and I’m just gonna head out. Sound good?” You hissed, looking up at Joey with a look that meant you were pissed off and hurt. Not being able to stand another second in the apartment, you quickly grabbed your jacket and quickly made your way to the door making sure to slam it behind you. So you wouldn’t hear Joey calling out your name, but of course he didn’t go after you. 

*******

You were acting like a teenager. You were supposed to go over to Monica and Rachel’s but you were scared to, you weren’t sure if you were ready to see Joey. But you guessed that you didn’t have to talk to him, plus you had run out of places to go. So you sucked in a deep breath and let it out as you grabbed on to the door handler of apartment 20 and made your way inside. “Hey,” Monica smiled to greet you, but it immediately fell when she saw your blood shot eyes and frown on your face. Clearly you had been crying. “You alright?” Monica asked, her voice filled with concern causing Ross, Rachel, Joey, and your brother to look over at you. But you made eye contact with Joey, and felt your heart break again. 

“I’m fine.” You spoke plainly not breaking your eye contact with Joey.  Clearly you were lying, but you clearly did not want to talk about it so everyone else just let it go. But Chandler kept looking between you and Joey, then he opened his arms for you as you walked over to him on the chair and quickly wrapped your arms around his waist. “What were you guys talking about before I got here?” You asked just to change the weird and sad energy in the room. 

“Oh, since Chandler saw my breasts then I get to see his PP.” Rachel smiled at you proudly.

“Oh, well. I’m glad we settle things around here like the adults that we are.” You joked as the rest of them nodded in agreement. The buzzer to the front door went, so Monica went to let whoever it was up. While everyone else was talking, Joey cautiously sat forward on his spot on the couch, and cautiously looked up at you as he held on to his jar of peanut butter. 

“Y/N/N, Y/N.” Joey called for you and you reluctantly looked down at him as you leaned against Chandler. “Can we talk for a second?”

“No,” was all you said before you got up and sat yourself in one of the chairs that was placed in front of the window just so you could sit by yourself for a little bit and stare out at the view. 

“It’s Phoebe!” Phoebe told Monica through the intercom.

“And Rog!” The man that Phoebe had been seeing also announced. 

“Come on up!” Monica told her, buzzing Phoebe in.

“Oh, good, Rog is here.” Chandler cheered sarcastically.

“What’s the matter with Rog?” Joey asked for everyone. 

“Oh nothing. Just a little thing. I hate that guy.” Chandler complained. 

“Come on. So he was a little analytical. It’s his job.” Ross told Chandler, just trying to defend the guy. But it turned out that Ross was about to be proven oh so wrong.

You weren’t sure why Ross was yelling at Phoebe’s new boyfriend, but you were distracted when you noticed Joey coming over and sitting in the chair next to you. “Are you ready to talk now?” Joey asked as he kept digging into his jar of peanut butter with just his finger. 

“I’ve been ready to talk,” you fired back quietly so that the others didn’t hear. “You don’t love me?” You asked him.

“I don’t know,” Joey shrugged. “I thought I did.” You couldn’t help the scoff that came out of your mouth. 

“Well, this isn’t something you think about Joey. You either do or you don’t, and you don’t which is fine. But why did you say that you did?” You asked, just needing to know why he kept telling you that he loved you if he really didn’t.

“Because I really did feel it at the time, plus I knew it was what you wanted to hear. But I guess I don’t anymore.” Joey shrugged. Joey felt his heart break as looked at you as you hid your face and felt tears rolling down your cheeks

“Yeah,” I guess you don’t,” your voice muffled as you bit onto your bottom lip to keep from sobbing.

“So are we still together? What do you wanna do?” Joey asked. You couldn’t even believe he was asking you that. What the hell was he thinking?

“No. No, we’re not. As much as I loved and for some reason still love you, yeah we are. We’re done.” You spoke your final words. Officially breaking up with Joey, as much as it broke your heart

“Hey, what’s going on?” Chandler asked with a friendly smile, which fell when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. He looked at Joey in confusion and a little bit of anger. “You okay?” Chandler put a hand on your shoulder and bent down to be face to face with you.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lied. Chandler could tell you were lying, but you clearly didn’t want to talk about it. So he just decided to save it until the three of you got back across the hall. “Is Rog, the creep gone?” You asked since you had heard all of the offensive stuff that he said to Monica. 

“Yeah, he is. Come on guys, let's go home.” Chandler grabbed your hand and pulled you up and into his side as Joey got up and followed him with a solemn face. 

“Good night you guys.” Joey smiled a fake smile at Monica and Rachel, before the three of you went to make your way across the hall. Chandler was about to ask what was going on, but was a little distracted by the grown woman that was sitting at their door. 

“Oh, look. It’s the woman we ordered.” Chandler joked to the both of you, mostly trying to cheer you up. 

“Hey, can we help you?” Joey asked, as the woman looked up at you three as she munched on her snack. 

“Aw, no thanks. I’m just waiting for Joey Tribbiani.” The woman told you. Chandler and Joey looked at each other and shared a smile. 

“Um, I’m Joey Tribbiani.” Joey flashed her a polite smile as he gestured to himself. 

“Oh, no, not you.” The woman explained as she got up from the floor. “Big Joey. Oh, my god! You’re so much cuter than your pictures.” As the woman continued to talk to more frozen Joey’s face had become. “I’m Ronni. Cheese nip?” She offered him trying to soothe the tension. 

“Uh, Joey’s having an embolism, but I’d go for a nip.” Chandler smiled, trying to help her out and relieve the awkwardness as he reached forward and grabbed himself a cheese nip from Ronnie’s bag, as you couldn’t stop but looking at Joey’s face. You guess he was going to have an even worse night.

[adenei]

A very sad fic where elderly Ron is unable to cope with Hermione's death

Oh, anon. I’m not gonna lie, this was a tough one. I almost couldn’t cope with writing about Ron not coping with Hermione’s death. Thank you for the ask! 

Side note: I’m so thankful for everyone’s support in my writing, but please let this be the only death fic I’m asked <3 <3

**************************************

The day his world stopped turning

Ron sat silently holding Hermione’s cold hands in his own. She’d passed only a few hours ago, with Ron and the kids by her side. The mortician would be by soon to take her away and prepare her for the funeral, and Ron continued to sit by her side until he couldn’t any longer. 

She’d lived a long, happy life, and he knew he should be happy that he’d had so much time with her. And he knew how many close calls they’d had in their teens, when life wasn’t guaranteed during the Second Wizarding War. They’d practically been inseparable since they were eleven, but it still wasn’t enough time for Ron. It’d never be enough, and the emptiness that he felt continued to grow inside of him as he faced each new reality of Hermione not being there anymore. 

Fate was cruel in that way, as he’d always wanted himself to go first, since he could never imagine a life without her. And yet now he was the one here, and she’d gone beyond the veil. Ron looked over at the pictures that adorned the wall. They highlighted many of their life’s big moments. Their first date in Australia when they went to find her parents, move in day of their first flat and house, their engagement and wedding days, various family photos including the days Rose and Hugo were born, the day Hermione was sworn in as Minister of Magic, and photos from their 25th and 50th wedding anniversary parties. 

The tears began pouring down Ron’s face again as he thought back to all those happy moments that transitioned into those last few months, as Hermione became sick and more frail. He thought about their final conversation they’d had last night.

“I think it’s time to call the kids home,” Hermione had said. Ron had just stared at her. Of course he’d do what she wanted, even if he was in denial.

“Are you sure, love?” he asked.

She nodded, so he went to make the call. Hermione had always wanted the kids to stay in touch with muggle technology, so they had cell phones, and Ron was fully capable of making a quick call. It made sense sometimes, since they were much faster than an owl. 

 “Come lay with me?” She’d asked when he finished. So Ron had climbed into the bed next to her, wrapping her in his arms and cherishing every minute they had left.

“I wouldn’t’ trade any of this, you know.” Ron whispered in her ear.

“Neither would I. I’m so glad you and Harry came after me when the troll was on the loose.” 

“Sure was a good thing someone had to show me the right way to cast wingardium leviosa.” He smiled as she laughed at his recollection of the nightmare incident. Hermione’s laugh turned into a coughing fit, and Ron leaned over to get her glass of water. When she’d settled, she said, “I’ll still be with you, you know.”

“Won’t be the same,” Ron responded.

“Well, don’t you dare do anything stupid in an attempt to try and join me sooner.” After hearing Harry’s accounts before facing Voldemort, they knew there was an afterlife waiting for them.

“I won’t make any promises.” 

“Ron, the kids will need you. Be strong for them.”

“Reckon they’ll need to be stronger for me.”

“I love you, Ronald Weasley,” Hermione decided it was time to change the subject. “Thank you for choosing me.”

“It was never a choice, Hermione. You were always it for me, even when I didn’t want to admit it. I love you, too.”

A tear slipped out of Hermione’s eye as she snuggled closer to Ron. He held her close as her breathing pattern changed and he could tell she’d fallen asleep.

There was a knock at the door, and Rose walked in with the mortician. “Dad?” she said softly. “It’s time.”

Ron looked at his wife once more, and leaned in to kiss her forehead and whispered, “I can’t wait to see you again, love. Thank you for everything.”

He stood up and Rose led him out of the room. Ron wanted nothing more than to join Hermione. Even despite knowing this was coming, he still couldn’t imagine going on without her, whether it was for a week or ten years. God, he hoped it wouldn’t be that long.

As he made his way downstairs, Hugo met them in the kitchen. He handed him an envelope. “What’s this?” Ron asked. 

“It’s a letter. We all got one. Mum asked me to give it to you after…” Hugo trailed off. Ron looked at his son, who’d inherited so many of Hermione’s features, save the auburn hair. 

He took the letter from Hugo. “Thanks, son.” Ron made his way to the sitting room and sat down, staring at the envelope. Rose and Hugo gave their father his space. They knew how heartbroken he was. Growing up, they’d always known there was a special bond between their parents, and they’d heard stories as they grew older. Hard as this was for them to lose their mum, they couldn’t fathom how hard this must be for their dad, who lost their one true love and soulmate. Ron carefully opened the letter and began reading Hermione’s neat handwriting. 

Dear Ron,

If you’re reading this, it means I’m not there anymore. Physically, at least. I’m writing this to you because I know that if the tables were turned, I’d be so lost without you and not know how to cope. I’m not going to tell you that things are going to be okay because I certainly wouldn’t want to hear that if I’d just lost you. So, it’s okay to not be okay. 

Don’t be afraid to seek comfort in the kids, or the rest of the family. I’m trying to think of how you are feeling, and forgive me if I’m thinking back to the time on the run when you’d left (I know, I’m sorry for bringing that up), and I truly thought I’d never see you again. The emptiness and loneliness I felt is hard to describe, but I imagine it might be similar to this now.

You know I could go on and write forever if it meant you finding solace in these words, but I know that it will not take away the pain and the hurt. I’m sorry I had to leave this life. If it was my choice, I’d stay with you until your very last breath so that we didn’t have to be apart. I’m so comforted in the fact that we know there’s an afterlife, and I promise you I’ll be the first one there to welcome you when it’s your time. 

Remember this: I loved you then, I love you still, I always have, and I always will. You were and are my everything. I love you, Ron. I’ll see you soon.

All my love,

Hermione

The tears were pouring down Ron’s face, and he let out an audible sob as he realized he’d been holding his breath. Rose and Hugo entered the room quickly and flanked either side of him on the sofa. Rose wrapped her arms around her dad. 

“It hasn’t even been a day, and I miss her so much,” Ron said.

“I know, Dad, I know. We do, too,” Rose said as tears fell down her own face. “We still have each other, though.’

“We’ll always be here for you, Dad,” Hugo added. “We’ll get through this together.”

Ron looked down at the letter once more and re-read the last paragraph. He closed his eyes briefly. He knew the next few days would be hell. Probably even the next few weeks, months and even years, if he was still here that long. He made a new determination to try and be present for his children and grandchildren. Ron knew it would be what Hermione would want. I’ll see you soon, my love.

[ninjakitty15]

Chapter 22: Deader is Better (Loki x OFC Pairing)

It was exactly one day before the greatest holiday of all time, and not just because I was the most powerful I'd ever be that year. The streets were packed with people, every parking lot was booked solid, every parking space even, residents were even renting out some of their spaces for pocket money. Loki and I helped out Zari with her little store in exchange for letting us crash at her place, Loki was both surprised and delighted by how accepting people were of him even after asking if he was who he was. I explained to him that while the country as a whole has a longass way before it can be completely progressive and welcoming, Salem, being one of the first historical places here that destroyed itself in fear and intolerance, was probably the first to turn that around. It went from burning, hanging, crushing, and torturing people that were considered different and therefore dangerous to welcoming the different and weird as one of their own. No one even cared he took over New York, what they saw was an alien army attacking the city and a god that brought a bunch of heroes together to stop them.

"If Asgard were still around, I wish it had a city like this, celebrating magic and welcoming the weird as you'd say," mused Loki.

"Isn't there a realm entirely like that? Where the Light Elves live?"

"Look at you, trying to learn my culture," he teased. "It was where my mother learned magic and passed it onto me, yes. But we didn't go there often enough for me to call it another home. Most of the time, if we went anywhere it was to beat the natives into submission thanks entirely to Thor."

"For all the advancements your people had on us, the technology, the magic, the fuckton more years in a lifespan, you're not that far off in some idealogies from us. Rarely does peaceful methods end a dispute between peoples. Oh sure, there's been tons of times we tried that, it rarely works in our favor though. Peaceful rallies or marches are usually ended with police brutality they claim is the right way even when they're throwing tear gas grenades at unarmed civilians, tazing random protesters they later claim as dangerous, or just blasting them with high pressured firemen hoses. It always ends badly, with injuries, false claims, and injustice. I'd seriously love to meet Odin just to tell him he ain't special."

Loki smiled at this and kissing the top of my head. "I shouldn't be proud of you despising him like I did, but I am anyway. I am glad you met my mother in some form though, I had a feeling she'd like you."

"She told me to trust you and that in doing so, you'd stay with me as no one else besides Thor if even that, has trusted you since you came here indefinitely. A lonely existence that is, everyone keeping you at arms length. I can understand that, outside of Salem, skin color alone is an excuse not to trust someone, people see someone that looks like they're past their expiration date like me and they go running. Hell, even hair color or skin ink can keep you from getting jobs here, we're still an extremely regressive country. Not worth saving anytime soon."

"Then why bother?"

"Because unfortunately I'm one of the idiots inhabiting it with no way to some place better."

"I asked Thor why he fought so hard to protect this speck of a planet once, don't recall him giving me a good answer but yours shall suffice, if nothing else, because you're part of it."

"Whoa, hold your eight legged horses, you really don't need to do that...at all. Just find a way out of here if we can't at least save this city, the Avengers can handle this planet and if they can't...well at least they tried right? We don't need to get involved when neither of us signed any kind of hero contract like they did."

"You sure?"

"I'm not just sure...I'm HIV positive."

"You'd have to be alive to contract that disease and I'm not quite sure it would transmit to something already dead."

I opened my mouth to retaliate but something else stayed my tongue for a moment, something felt wrong, unnatural even. "Listen...do you smell that?" I asked curiously. Loki didn't get a chance to answer as a great surge of necro-power struck me full force and I was sent flying back several feet away, breaking several trees of the park we were enjoying till then along the way before my back slammed against a particularly thick one and I stopped flying. A dull pain exploded from my chest mere inches from where the stone was protecting my important bits and cool black blood lightly dripped from my lips. I looked down at where the pain came from and blinked in surprise.

"Oh look I've been impaled," I mused before breaking off the branch sticking out of my body and stepped away from the tree behind me. I looked for the source of the power surge and glared as I spotted the culprit walking toward us.

"Are you hurt?" asked Loki warily.

"Just a flesh wound," I assured him, gathering power from behind into my arms and fists. "You might wanna sit this one out though."

"No no, let him try," the attacker taunted as he got closer to us.

"I knew I smelled something rotten in the wind," I muttered. "What is it this time? First the heart, now the brain rotting away, would make sense if it was you that sold us all out."

The man before us glowered at me then flashed rotting, blackened teeth, while for the most part he looked alive, he was essentially rotting from the inside out. "You aren't the only one with a stone organ, my head will remain just as much as your heart does till I rip that out of you."

I arched an eyebrow. "Lemme guess, one of your Hydra buddies was a brain surgeon or so he claims. They all think themselves doctors of something that organization, not one medical degree posted when I was with them though, kinda makes you wonder."

"They don't need doctors for corpses," he snapped.

"You sure you're not braindead? Cuz I'm sure coroners and morticians both require a medical degree to be licensed with the job."

"Have a few run-ins with those folks have you?" he sneered. "You know the best part about you was at the very least being a warm body at the end of the day, now you don't even have that."

I snorted at his attempt to insult me. "Oh hun, the best part of you ran down your mother's legs. You gonna bark all day, you little bitch, or are you gonna bite?"

He held his hands to his head and another ball of smoke and lightning came hurtling at us but this time it was aiming for Loki at breathtaking speed, he was essentially pulling an Azula on me thinking I'd either let Loki get hit or take it myself but I saw his Azula and raised him a Dumbledore, telling my guiding spirits to yank him away from the path of the ball as I wouldn't be fast enough to help myself. I waved my hand toward Loki and he was suddenly swept aside and away from the direct battle ahead. Loki scrambled to his feet, a dagger in each hand and returning to his battle armor swiftly, glancing at me in shock. I mouthed a sorry to him before focusing all my attention to the rotten necromancer in front of me.

"Targeting what's mine isn't your best move when you really don't need to give me more motives to decapitate you than you already have," I warned.

"I know he's your weakness though. I want to see just how weak he really makes you," he sneered. "If what doesn't kill you makes you strong, what about when you're already dead."

"You're well on your way to finding that out yourself, hun. I can help answer that for you though." I thrust out a hand and black lightning flew from my fingertips. My rival managed to shield some of it with his own magic but as he wasn't a demi god the impact of that much power still sent him flying back. I didn't wait for him to get up though as I charged at him with a ball of power around each fist.

He rolled away right before I could punch in his head and destroy the stone inside it and got to his feet as I stood up, charging at me as I straightened up so we were suddenly toe to toe trying to kill each other. For a solid few minutes it was just dodging and exchanging blows and balls of energy before he decided to get sneaky and tried to slash me with his ceremonial dagger hidden in his boot. I dodged it just enough to not actually cut me but it did do some damage to my hoodie which had me glaring at him as I loved my hoodies. From there, it was throwing either each other, balls of power, or punches at each other with him occasionally trying to throw power at Loki who quickly learned to keep an eye on his attacks as much as I was without interfering, this wasn't his fight anymore. The ground around us was starting to look barren and dead from the effects of our powers used against one another, the grass brittle and brown. We both paused for a moment, both battered and frustrated neither of us were getting the upper hand with what we were doing.

"Why won't you stay down?!" he demanded.

I scoffed. "What is dead can never die. What's your dilemma here? What did Hydra even offer you to make you switch sides?"

"A chance to be something greater than this, the other necromancer, to be a demigod."

"And how's that working out for you?" I asked in bemusement. "They aren't higher powers, they're hired powers, there's a difference. There's no cutting corners on that one, ask nicely or die trying. How did you know where to find me? On the plane?"

"I had a spook tail you, not all the spirits are on your side you know."

"The good ones are, the rest are usually locked or exorcised so kudos on finding one of the select few willing to help a brother out."

He narrowed his eyes at me, collecting powers as he did. "If I'm not given what I want, then I'll have to take it myself just like I did with the other necromancers that went against me."

"And that's why no matter where that stone is surgically implanted in you, you will never be one of us, going against your own kind for something you'll never get." I lowered one hand to the ground and reached into the earth with just death magic alone, calling for something very specific as I waited for him to make the first move this time. "Especially not from me."

"And what makes you so special?" he demanded.

"Come here and find out." He lunged forward, taking the bait and I dropped to one knee at the last second, dodging his power-fist at the same time a rotted hand burst from the ground with my own dagger I snatched up and sliced into my enemy's rotted guts. He stumbled back, his free hand going to his stomach as he was weakened but not done for, the stone keeping him barely alive inside him. "Almost seems pointless since you're already decaying inside."

He looked at the wound I gave him from my dagger and glared at me as it was already speeding up the process. "You little cunt."

"Let me guess, you're gonna kill me, right? Join the line of people with empty threats they never finish."

Black lightning danced around his head and down to his body, staving off the spreading death from reaching his neck but not healing the blade wound either. "Should I rip out your soul first or your stone?"

"You say that like you've actually gotten the upper hand in this fight but who here has the unhealed wound and who here has survived worse?" I retorted.

He sneered at me with his rotten teeth and lunged forward once more but being the slimy little bastard he was, pulled his dagger apart so there were actually two identical ones and threw one at my leg while making a bee line around me with the other dagger at Loki. I gritted my teeth as the dagger hit its mark in my thigh and not wasting time even to take it out of me, threw a power ball at him from behind so he couldn't dodge it and sent him off his course to my lover. I then took out the dagger in my leg and limped over to the bastard despite the agony burning through the entire limb. I didn't wait for him to get up and kicked him hard in the head right where I guessed the stone was before aiming for the wound I gave him with my blade. "Silly asshat, kicks are for ribs." His snapped under my leather boots. He tried to throw the other knife he still had at Loki but I caught it this time and dissolved the twin dagger like I did the one in my leg. I grabbed him by the throat, lifting him up, and slamming into another park tree while holding him in place.

"You really wanna know why you can't kill me after all this time?" I challenged.

"You don't scare me, Nell," he choked out.

I recalled what the Wiccan seer had told me and let go of everything holding me back. "I can fix that. You can't kill a Horsemen." A different kind of power rippled throughout my body, not necromancy, but something stronger, eternal and deadly and incomparable. The entire arm and hand holding him up was skeletal as was half my face and that's when fear started to leak into his. He fought and wiggled in my grasp, trying to pry my bones off his neck but my finger bones just dug in deeper while he kicked at me. I raised my free hand, also all bones, and went for his head, aiming for the stone still managing to keep him alive when his throat was slowly being punctured and torn. And then the world seemed to pause, everything went silent and still, everything was frozen even including most of me as I couldn't seem to reach the stone in his head but was poised to grab it out of his forehead. And then something else happened, something that only happened to me when something very specific was coming. I got what Peter Parker would call the "the Peter tingle" and chills ran up and down my body despite the whole lack of nerves and feelings thing I had being a skeleton.

[thetaleofsirthopas]

The Long Wait

Summary: Stan's eyes were cloudy with pain. He looked small, which was wrong. Grunkle Stan was larger than life. Mabel sat in the chair and waited. Characters: Stan Pines, Mabel Pines, Ford Pines, Dipper Pines, Soos Ramirez, Melody Tags: Major Character Death, Death by Old Age, Grief/Mourning AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27137243

Mabel had been lying in bed, flipping through her art history textbook and debating whether she should go ahead and start on her term paper or toss the book in favor of a night in with popcorn and cheesy vampire movies when she got the call.

Mabel scrounged around for her phone as it vibrated sonewhere underneath the blankets. "Hey, Dipping Sauce," she chirped when she finally found it.

"How soon can you come home?" Dipper asked without so much as a 'hello.' He was using his 'this is very serious and I am an adult' voice. "Can you ask your professors for a leave of absence?"

"Uhh..." Mabel jerked upright and she saw her roommate give her a concerned look from their desk. "Yeah, I don't think that'll be a problem. What's up? Is something wrong?"

"I think you better get to Gravity Falls. Sooner than later. Stan isn't doing too good. I think--" Dipper's voice hitched. "It might be time."

Mabel hadn't bothered to wait for permission from her professors, only barely remembering to send them an email from the airport. She didn't care if they failed her; her Grunkle needed her.

She was a wreck all during the flight. Three hours was such a long time. Anything could happen. Nothing was going to happen, she harshly reminded herself. Grunkle Stan had punched a pterodactyl in the face! He was going to laugh himself silly when he saw how worked up everyone was getting. Mabel sucked in a breath and let it out slowly between her teeth. She closed her eyes and felt the way his arms had wrapped around her when she was a child, safe and protected. Not as they felt now, when she was too tall and his waist and arms too thin.

Dad was waiting for her at the airport. "How are you holding up, sweetie?" He asked as they climbed into Soos's jeep. Mabel shrugged and refused to look up from the last text Dipper had sent: no change. That was good, wasn't it? At least, she didn't think it was bad.

It was still another hour before they reached Gravity Falls.

The mid-March sun was beating on the lingering hints of snow, turning the ground into a gray slush. Dad drove slowly, to keep from spinning out. The minutes added on. Mabel sucked in a breath when they finally pulled around the bend in the forest and there was the Mystery Shack. Dad drove around to the back, parking in front of the house Soos had built with Melody.

Mabel jumped out of the car and was racing up the stairs before Dad had even put the jeep in park. Mom was with Melody in the kitchen, sipping coffee and talking in low voices. "I just talked to Sherman. He's devastated that he can't come up, but he just had that surgery, and oh-- Mabel, honey, they're all in Stan's room. Go on in. Mason's been asking when you'll arrive."

Mabel nodded and looked past the staircase, down the hall that had been a guest room until Grunkle Stan moved in permanently. His memory had never been quite the same after Weirdmageddon. He knew Mabel and Dipper, could recall each and every moment he had spent with them and Mabel had felt a vicious and possessive sort of pride at that. He had loved her so much that even when everything else was gone she remained. His years as a drifter were spotty, his high school days hazy, Filbrick was almost non-existent. But not her, not Dipper.

Grunkle Ford said his recovery had "plateaued." Mabel could remember when her Grunkles had come to California for a visit. He had shuffled into the kitchen from the guest bedroom, where Mabel had been eating a bowl of Fruit Loops. "You want a glass of orange juice, pumpkin?" Stan asked as he grabbed the carton from the fridge and poured himself one.

"No thanks, I'm good!"

Stan nodded, drank his OJ, put the glass in the sink and sat at the table. After a few minutes, he got up, pulled the carton back out and got himself a new glass. "You want a glass of orange juice, pumpkin?"

"Uhh... no, still... still good."

Stan didn't answer. He just stared at the already dirty glass in the sink like he had no idea how it got there. Grunkle Ford decided they would stop sailing soon after that.

Mabel stared at the yellow door, took a deep breath, and pushed it open. It took her a moment to find her Grunkle. He looked so small in the bed. She could see a sliver of his dark eyes peeking through the half-closed lids, but they didn't move when she came in. Didn't recognize her. His breaths were wispy and rattled with each intake. He didn't move, didn't react. Just breathed. That was enough for Mabel. Ford sat by his head, his hands clutching Stan's. "It's alright," he whispered near his temple. "You can let go now. We're going to be alright."

The scene was torn from her, blocked by Soos's body. She felt his arms wrap around her and it reminded her so much of when she was little, with Stan holding her, that she sagged and let out a choked sob.

She finally pulled back and wiped at the wet stain she had left on Soos's shirt. Soos gave a little laugh. "It's okay," he whispered. "That's not the worst stain on here."

Mabel gave a soft chuckle and looked to see Dipper sitting in a corner, wringing his hands, pale and frightened. He jumped up from the chair and gestured her towards it. "Here, take a seat."

"You two should go outside, get some fresh air while you can," Ford spoke. He didn't take his eyes off of Stan. "It'll be a while yet."

Mabel's stomach did a weird little flip. "Are you sure?" Dipper asked.

"I'm sure." There was no hesitation in his voice. "I'll come get you if there's any change. Go on."

Dipper reached out and Mabel met him half-way, clasping his hand as Soos led them back out the bedroom. He gave them a sad smile and Mabel was suddenly struck with the fact that Ford hadn't asked Soos to leave. Surely he needed a breather too. But the door closed and Dipper was pulling her outside.

The sun was too bright, too warm. She blinked away the dots dancing in front of her vision and caught just a glimpse of something red darting through the trees. "Was that a gnome?" She asked, pointing to where it had disappeared. She was still holding Dipper's hand.

"Maybe we should turn on the sprinklers, scare them off before they can get into the garbage."

Mabel tugged him toward the tree line and they spent twenty minutes picking their way through the underbrush, searching for little gnomish footprints.

They heard the screen door open and Melody stood on the porch. She said something, her voice too small to be heard. She coughed and tried again. "Kids? Come inside."

Mabel ran up the steps, Dipper close at her heels. "How is he?"

Melody's hands fluttered, and she coughed again, running her hand underneath her nose. "It's happened. Stan's gone."

Mabel froze.

Dipper shook his head. "Great Uncle Ford would have called us."

"I'm so sorry--"

Dipper pushed past her and Mabel latched onto his hand again before he could leave her behind. He stormed into the living room, towards their Grunkle's door. Ford blocked them, closing it firmly behind him. "You don't need to go in there," he said. "Soos is arranging the body. Someone from the funeral home will be here in about thirty minutes."

Dipper glared at him, his voice accusing. "You were supposed to get us."

"I didn't want you to see."

Mabel tugged on Dipper's hand. She didn't want to fight about it. It wasn't right to do that after... Dipper let her pull him away. Their parents were sitting on the couch and Mabel buried herself between them. Her Mom ran her fingers through her hair and Mabel let her head droop onto her shoulder. "Are you going to be okay, sweetheart?" She asked.

Mabel nodded her head. Soos came out a few minutes later and they all sat around, talking, waiting, eating. Mabel opened her eyes at the crinkling sounds of tires over rocks as a car pulled up the dirt driveway. There was a knock at the door and Melody left the couch to answer it. There were low voices. Soos and Ford and her parents all wandered over to where the mortician was waiting. "We still remember what he did for us," the man was saying.

Mabel glanced at the door that led to Stan's bedroom. She looked at Dipper and he nodded. He already knew what she was thinking. What she needed. Dipper stayed on the couch, keeping watch as Mabel crept toward the bedroom and stepped inside. Stan's rattled breathing was gone. He was laid out on the bed, ready to be taken somewhere dark and lonely. Where Mabel would never get to see him again. She moved closer and peered at his face.

It wasn't her Stan.

It was some other old man, someone she didn't know. His skin was yellow and hung off of his face like dripping wax. They mistook Grunkle Stan for Wax Stanley, she thought. That was when the smell hit her. Mabel burst into tears, gasping for air that wouldn't reach her lungs. She couldn't breathe. Her Grunkle was gone.

A pair of large hands -- twelve fingers, six on each hand, hard and warm -- pulled her out of the room and wrapped her up in a fierce hug, hiding her face into his coat.

[morbidgrl-archive3]

𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖎 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖆𝖉𝖉 -

scream - an ex of billy loomis and sister of stu matcher. stu,billy and scout - the three musketeers for as long as scout can remember,scout has a close brother / sister relationship with stu and still has lingering feelings for billy and was there for him the day his mother left due to his father's unfaithfulness with sidney prescott's mother,maureen. there for the murder of sidney's mother,scout would do anything for billy and knows him inside and out,she's been there for him on his worst nights,the two were attatched to the hip as lover's and long after the end of their relationship due to the plan that falls into the scream verse and she's alongside him every step of the way,unbeknownst to the rest of woodsborro. (i've decided to make this exclusive to @fxntasmagoria's billy loomis bc i love the ship i have with them and can't see myself rping with any other billy's)

it ch's 1 & 2 - scout bowers,only daughter of butch bowers and sister to henry bowers. only girl in the bowers gang turned member of the loser's club after kids in derry,maine go missing. she teams up with the losers club after IT affects her and everyone she loves,defeating IT alongside them. ch 2 scout deals with the loss of patrick being a victim to IT,and her brother completely loosing his mind murdering their father and being sent to an institution where she visits him often,she stays in derry for him alongside mike hamlon and remembers everything that happened that summer. IT claims lives again and they're reminded of their promise that if IT comes back,they'd all come together,no matter what and defeat IT once more.

what we do in the shadow's tv series & film - in the series,scout's vampire obsessed,horror obsessed,and long time on again off again familiar to laslo and nadja whenever they can't find a new one since theirs keep dying,she comes to save the day and does anything and everything for them. she's very close to the two and sees them as parental figures. she isn't just doing this to one day become a vampire like them but because they basically took her in when she had no where else to go after her parents passed away. in the film,she's one of the few humans that's not a hunter that knows of the existence of vampires and hangs out with them without worrying about being murdered thanks to viago,vladislav,and deacon.

stranger things - born and raised in hawkins,indiana and close with the byer's family,scout carver is known for being the mortician's daughter,having the reputation of being the school freak due to her being a metalhead and general outcast,scout is thrown into the world of the upside down when eleven comes to hawkins and she finds herself there with will,trapped until el saves them and seemingly closes the gate. seasons remain the same plot just with scout thrown into it.

saw - taken in and raised by john kramer himself,trained to help him with his saw traps and finding victims for his games,scout carver(later changed to kramer after being legally adopted by him) she is like a mini apprentice for him and is blinded by her love and admiration for him to see him for who he is and doesn't see that he is using her for his own games. she stalks his victims for him,gets close to them - then before they know it,they're trapped and in the game and they hate her for it. the bond she has with kramer is incredibly toxic and a rollercoaster,even after the old man dies she still continues his work.

heathers - she's an outcast by both her peers and the staff,it seemed. heather chandler is her number one enemy,someone she can hardly look at yet heather and her goons are hellbent on making her life a living hell at good ol westerburg high school in her hometown of sherwood,ohio - or hell,if you ask her. she doesn't mind veronica sawyer,someone she'd like to be friends with but can't due to her status with the heathers. when the heathers start turning up dead,one by one it seemed,scout wants in. scout wants in on making her bullies pay. and she'll do whatever it takes to make that happen even if veronica doesn't.

hp - pure blood slytherin,american as they come transferred tot he wizadring world once she got the letter from hogwarts. she gets the witch side from both of her folks,them waiting until her 12th birthday to tell her. snape is a good long time family friend and someone she considers an uncle,and she mingles with gryffindoor,having befriended the weasley family due to her father working with arthur weasley. the rest of the slytherin's don't understand her friendship with the weasly family and shun her for it,except draco malfloy,another family friend. she's much like the weasly twins,always causing chaos and mayhem where ever she goes and you can often find her in detention or catch her sneaking out of it.

[singofsolace]

Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge Masterlist!

Many thanks to everyone who participated in the Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge! Over five weeks, we created thirty-four, I repeat, THIRTY-FOUR fanfics, and five pieces of gorgeous fan art. A grand total of 73,530 words were published to the collection on Ao3. I am in awe of how much content was created, and over the moon at the response this challenge received. 

Since this masterlist is going to be very long, I've decided to put it all under the cut! Check out the 39 pieces of fanwork below!

Week One Prompt: New Year’s

a year has fled o’er heart and head by Singofsolace (@concreteangel1221)

Summary: Mary Wardwell has never been kissed on New Year’s Eve. Zelda seeks to rectify this grave injustice.

A Mortal Tradition by lady_needless_litany (@lady-needless-litany​)

Summary: Even though months have passed since Blackwood’s massacre, everything’s still up in the air. Zelda’s barely hanging on - and now she can’t even kill Hilda as a form of stress release.

Remembered Footsteps on Old Roads by brokenmemento 

Summary: Lilith asks Zelda to take a little trip, one that will prove difficult for her to do.

Happy New Year darling, for whatever is in store by Saturn_Silk 

(@saturn-silk)

Summary: Mary and Zelda spend New Year’s Eve together at the cottage.

this gorgeous fanart by @bainelland  

Art Description: A polaroid picture from the Spellman’s album. Taken on a New Year’s Eve night by Sabrina who accidentally walked in on a quiet moment between Zelda and Lilith. Illuminated by the Solstice Tree, with Ella Fitzgerald’s “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” playing in the background. It’s one of Zelda’s favorite pictures in the whole album.

this stunning fanart by @miss-spellman (aka @asterleaf and @moon-rise )

Art Description: Zelda Spellman and Lilith stand, wrapped in an embrace. They are kissing as confetti and streamers fall around them. Zelda has one hand wrapped around Lilith’s waist, and the other is precariously holding a glass of champagne. Lilith’s hand is placed on Zelda’s cheek. 

Piece of My Heart by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish (@claire-de-macarune​)

Summary: Yes, Lilith, I love you. Yes, Lilith, this is your home now. I could never deny you. Yes, Lilith, I want you to stay.

~~

Week Two Prompt: Road Trip

Strangers by brokenmemento 

With the coven in shambles and the Academy without a sense of direction, Zelda finds a place to start rebuilding and settles on asking an unlikely person to aid her in her mission.

this will be our year (took a long time to come) by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish ( @claire-de-macarune ) 

Mary’s keys in the ignition and her head lolled back on the headrest, Zelda blew a last, elegant kiss out the back windshield to her family and trundled the old Ford down the drive, onto the passing road. They disappeared in a wink of distance rather than magic.

Road Trip by AlexusOnFire ( @alexusonfire )

Poetry, written from Lillith’s perspective.

wrestling with the wind by Singofsolace ( @concreteangel1221 )

When Lilith, the skateboarding, tomato-stealing lesbian meets Zelda, the elegant, willful daughter of a mortician, sparks (and motorcycles) fly. 

this sweet fanart by @moon-rise​  

Zelda and Lilith take an impromptu road trip and stop at a little witch friendly café. Zelda orders her black coffee and Lilith orders a coffee with 4 creams and 7 sugars. Zelda hates the colour scheme of the room but the romance of it grows on her as the sun sets and lights up Lilith’s impossibly gorgeous blue eyes. 

Pulp fiction for Zelith by @jyou-no-sonoko19​ 

(please show your support for this fabulous edit by reblogging from the original source!)

~~~

Week Three Prompt: Winter

Breathe by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish ( @claire-de-macarune​ )

"I think you have what it takes. It’s completely reasonable for you to have some support, but this needs to work. I need this to work. We both do,” Edward said, under his breath. “It’s this or go back home. You know that.”

Chasing Out The Chill by Jyou_no_Sonoko ( @jyou-no-sonoko19​ )

After the fall of the Church of Night and its ceasing to worship Lucifer, Zelda in her new role as self-appointed High Priest has to transition them to the Church of Lilith. And while she believes in her Patron, it is a difficult adjustment to make. Lilith grows concerned for her and plans a little getaway.

Dance Under the Winter Sky by TommorowNeverCame ( @its-a-goode-day )

A year later, the coven has a winter ball. Zelda decides it's time for her and Lilith to be happy.

Double Black Diamond by Singofsolace ( @concreteangel1221 )

When Zelda Spellman gets driven off the ski trail by the Judas Boys, Lilith (the snowboarding lesbian) comes to her aid.

Fire and Ice by Saturn_Silk ( @saturn-silk​ )

Lilith really wants to go ice skating, and eventually, Zelda caves in and takes her.

Their Heart Grew Cold by stellastellaforstar ( @stellastellaforstar​ )

She looked beautiful, Zelda could tell even through the haze of snow. Her glasses were foggy and her nose was red, but every snowflake seemed to land so beautifully on her head.

These Winters Can Be Maddening by brokenmemento 

Winter through the eyes of Zelda Spellman at three points in her life.

Winter by AlexusOnFire ( @alexusonfire​ )

a lovely winter poem!

winter and hard earth by CallmeCordelia 

Zelda observes the Winter Solstice. Lilith observes her.

~~~~

Week Four: Alternate Universe

Like a fool, I fell in love with you by Saturn_Silk ( @saturn-silk​ )

Zelda Spellman, Greendale’s local coroner, needs a date for her sister’s wedding and who better than her colleague Detective Lilith Morningstar. Will they get away with it? Or will it turn into something more?

Lady Justice by Singofsolace ( @concreteangel1221​ )

Lieutenant Lilith Demos had spent the last twenty years investigating New York City’s most sensitive crimes. She was intimately familiar with the worst humanity had to offer, but getting justice for rape victims made everything else worthwhile. There was no case too perverse or too delicate for her to handle; she always remained coolly professional, no matter the situation. But that all changed the day Zelda Spellman walked into her squad room. Bringing Zelda’s abuser to justice proves to be her most difficult case yet, and it doesn’t help that Zelda is extremely uncooperative when it comes to the investigation. 

The Muse by AlexusOnFire ( @alexusonfire​ )

Zelda Spellman attends an art class. Lilith is her muse.

No Man is an Island by brokenmemento 

Zelda and her roommate Lilith have been fighting with this thing for five years. With the rain comes absolution. AKA the Madam Spellman as Grace and Frankie AU.

Vying Off Course by Claraon ( @sheep-in-space​ )

Her eyes stop in their track, surprised at spotting the eldest member of the Spellman family sitting at the bar. Her frock is modest enough – a pale linen thing with a simple blue lacing, and her strawberry hair is tied back in a conservative bun –  but she somehow manages to look at once regal yet perfectly at home among the buccaneers and other shady characters crowding the place.

We Lost the Sea by bainel ( @bainelland​ )

Their eyes locked for a second across the room, and Lilith felt her breath catch in her throat. She felt as if the whole room had faded away. For a fraction of a second, they were the only two people in the inn. But then the bartender placed a glass of amber liquid next to the redheaded woman. She turned away, towards her drink, and the moment was over.

Lilith gets dragged into a series of events that will lead her into one of her greatest adventures yet.

Wild with Adventure by stellastellaforstar ( @stellastellaforstar​ )

It’s a wild west AU, y'all! Sheriff Zelda and Outlaw Lilith.

Your Song by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish ( @claire-de-macarune​ )

Songwriter AU

And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it’s done I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you’re in the world

The Spelldelaire Children by @claire-de-macarune​ 

(please show your support of this fabulous fan art by reblogging it from the original source!)

~~~~~

Week Five Prompt: Fix It!  (the list is in alphabetical order)

a little death (une petite mort) by Singofsolace ( @concreteangel1221​ )

Mambo Marie intervenes when Zelda Spellman denies Lilith sanctuary. This changes many things, but not all things. Lilith proposes that the only way that the three of them will survive the wrath of both the Dark Lord and the Pagans is to perform an incredibly intimate ritual. Mary Wardwell stumbles upon this ritual, with gun in hand.

An Offering of Trust by paradox_n_bedrock ( @paradox-n-bedrock​ )

Zelda and Lilith try just a little harder for each other. They’re lucky Marie has an emotional intelligence greater than a potato.

Forever…(is a long time) by brokenmemento 

After the events of Part 3, things are still left hanging in the balance. Lilith forges an unlikely alliance with the least likely of suspects.

From Her Beacon-Hand by CallmeCordelia 

Lilith seeks asylum, but what will she find?

home in the heart of hell by sweetdreamsaremadeoffish ( @claire-de-macarune​ )

And all shall fade The flowers of spring The world and all the sorrow At the heart of everything

I Was Housed by Your Warmth by daisygrl ( @asterleaf​ )

Something about the other witch pulled her ever closer, made her ache inside. It was the strangest sensation: two parts nostalgia and one part pain. If she had lived lives other than this one, she would have sworn that they had met before. Perhaps their souls had passed one another by as they swam in the primordial muck.

The Witch’s Lullaby by marla_black ( @marla-black​ )

With Lilith pregnant with Lucifer’s baby, she is in need of a midwife, and who better than Zelda Spellman, the witch who has never lost a child in her life.

~~~~~

Many thanks to everyone who reblogged and commented on all of these pieces! You were as much a part of this challenge as the writers and artists!

[floutua]

it’s enough for me

I know I said the second part of Just Us will be posted either today or tomorrow, but I was inspired to write this! This wasn’t requested by anyone but I still hope you enjoy this nonetheless.

p/s: i have received quite a lot of requests for Five and I enjoy reading the requests. I will get to them as soon as I can! Thank you for sending those requests in. 

The entire day had been taxing and by the time you got to your apartment, you are absolutely tired and both physically and emotionally drained. Your day hadn’t gone exceptionally well, and your boss also has your entire team running thin, asking everyone to cover this and that event. Unfortunately, you had been stuck with covering the recent murder cases that had started happening around the time Sir Reginald Hargreeves passed away – you honestly didn’t think this is a coincidence, but right now, you are too tired to think about conspiracy theories. Although, you reckon the only reason why you had been assigned to this job is because of how you aren’t as queasy as your other colleagues: the perks of having parents as morticians maybe.

“I should sleep.” You murmur to yourself, squinting your eyes at your clock. It is after 8PM – 8:43PM to be exact – and to be truth, this is still a tad bit too early for you but you feel like the longer you stay up, the crankier you will be and no one really wants to be around a cranky you. Moving away from your vanity, you head over to your bed, climbed in and pulled the covers up to your chin. You must have been more tired than you actually thought you were because as soon as your head hits the pillow, you knocked out.

You might have only been asleep for an hour or two when you hear someone stumbling and staggering around from the living room. Your eyes shoot open and you immediately sit up as your heart starts to race and you reach over for your phone, getting ready to dial the police if the need arises – you can never be too sure. You wait with abated breath and when your door opens, you almost screamed out loud, only stopping yourself because standing by your door looking like an absolute shit is Diego Hargreeves. Your ex-boyfriend.

“Diego!?” Your heart is still racing, and your fear dissipates, turning into anger at the thought of Diego breaking into your apartment. “What the hell – what time is it!” You stare at your phone and let out a groan: it is almost midnight and on top of that, you had received a text from your editor, requesting you to rewrite one of the pieces you had sent earlier that day. “What are you doing here, Diego?”

Diego keeps quiet, shoulders trembling, and hands clenched into tight fists as he stares at the ground. The anger slowly disappears when you realize the lack of response – because for as long as you remember, Diego always had something smart to say (and more often than not, always wanted to have the last words) – and how frozen stiff Diego is. Pushing the covers away, you drop your phone beside you and get out of the bed, furrowing your eyebrows when you notice that Diego’s hands are red, judging from the light coming from the living room. “Are you bleeding? Jesus, Diego!” You move over to him and pause briefly when you notice that his hands had dried blood and you swallow the lump in your throat: this was one of the reasons why the two of you had broken up. “Diego…”

“It’s not mine.” Diego’s voice is slight hoarse, almost broken and he trembles when the image of Eudora laying there, lifeless flashes right before his eyes and his eyes well up with more tears. Diego breathes heavily as he tries his goddamn hardest not to break down in front of you. Diego isn’t entirely sure how he had ended up here; after finding Eudora’s body a little bit too late, he had blown up at his brothers and slammed the door behind him and the next thing he knows, he is standing here. “She’s gone, Y/N.”

It takes you a few seconds to understand what Diego is telling you and you gasp, bringing a hand to cover your mouth. This had been the other reason as to why the two of you had decided to separate: Eudora Patch. “W-what? When?” You swallow the lump in your throat as tears start to well up in your eyes.

Diego finally looks up at you and your heart breaks completely. His nose is red, his eyes are full of tears and he looks absolutely and completely lost and heartbroken. Even though the two of you did not part in good terms – there were a lot of screaming and name-calling and things that weren’t meant to be said were exchanged – Diego had been one of your closest friends before and to see him hurt like this makes your heart shatter. “They killed her.”

You aren’t exactly sure who ‘they’ refer to but at that very moment, it didn’t matter. All that matters to you is Diego hurting. “Oh, love.” You did not even think twice as you pull Diego to you and wrap your arms around him. Since Diego is taller than you, he had to bend his head down just a bit just so he can actually bury his head in your shoulder, and you tighten your hold around him. “I’m so sorry, Diego.” You begin rubbing his back soothingly and this is when Diego finally lets go: he begins to cry, sobs racking through his body. Seeing and hearing the strong man before you cry like this is enough to make your own tears fall.

Diego and you had been an ‘us’ a long time ago and you always used to think that the two of you would end up together. (You had been completely naïve). Now that you are much older, you realize why the two of you would probably have not worked out if you had stayed together back then. Diego and you were completely immature – both wanting and demanding different things from each other. You hadn’t understood why he needed to put himself in dangerous situations and he didn’t understand why you couldn’t support him in doing what he does – which probably led to him turning to Eudora Patch for comfort at that time. Things simply went downhill after that and the two of you broke up when you found the two of them together.

You continue to rub Diego’s back, not minding how wet your shoulder is right now. At some point, Diego had curled his arms around your body, crying over the lost of his love. If only he had gotten the message earlier, if only he hadn’t been out trying to find Five, if only Five hadn’t come back – this just makes him cry harder, angry and heartbroken over the turn of events.

(At one point, Diego even thinks he must have also cried over the death of the monster they all call ‘father’ and how he had to pull Grace’s plug too).

“It’ll all be alright, love.” You murmur into his ear as you try your hardest to console him. You quickly wipe your own tears, clearing your throat. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay, Diego?” You ask him quietly and it takes a few minutes for Diego to slowly nod his head and when he pulls back, you almost instantaneously want him back in your arms but you mentally scold yourself, this is not the time.

“T-th, th- thank y-ou.” Diego stutters clearly upset to the point that he could not even speak properly, and you shake your head. You lift a hand up to his face to wipe the tears away and Diego looks at you, grateful at your action. Diego has always regretted how things had ended between the two of you and it wasn’t until he found himself standing inside your apartment, being comforted by you did Diego realizes just how much you still have his back. “I’m s-s-sorry.”

You shake your head once more. “Let’s get you cleaned up, alright, love?” You drop your hand from his face and grab on to his hand, pulling him out of your bedroom into the living room. “You have nothing to apologize for, Diego. I will always be here for you.”

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Begin Again (Mortician!Steve and Baker!Bucky Modern “Moving On” AU)

Eleven:

Taking another drink of his coffee, Steve tried to busy himself. Straightening chairs here. Fluffing pillows there. Adding more funeral programs to the already large pile on the side table. Making sure that the large, beautiful bouquets on either side of the twin sets of double doors looked as full as they were. Keeping the candy dishes on the table next to the exits full with assorted candies. All the while with Vinnie following close behind.

Scratching the dog between his floppy ears, the doorbell rang. Brows furrowing, Steve glanced up at the clock. The service wasn't for another half hour, but Steve assumed that some people would be early. It wasn't that out of the ordinary. Steve, himself, was the type of person who was early to everything. Most of it was because Joe hated when people were late, but a lot of it was just having everyone look at him.

Heading over towards the door, Steve felt Vinnie comfortingly brush against his leg. Always excited to meet someone new. Especially if it involved head scratches and possible belly rubs.

As Steve opened the door, he made sure that Vinnie sat off to the side, like he was trained to do. Even though Vinnie was trained for emotional support, that didn't mean that everyone was going to be welcome of said support. So, Vinnie sat as calmly as he could; behind Steve and slightly to the left.

Before Steve could fully open the door, a blonde woman whisked inside. Swiftly, she started shrugging out of her black peacoat and nervously explained, "I know I'm early, but I came straight from the airport -- I hope that's okay. I talked to someone on the phone and they said that it was, but I just want to --"

Gaze finally landing on Steve, the woman abruptly stopped talking. Perfectly sculpted eyebrows lifted in surprise on her pale forehead while her mouth pursed into an oval shape. Her eyes glued to his face, but only momentarily. Once she took in his face long enough to make Steve blush, her gaze traveled down over his tall, muscular frame.

It was clear that she was checking Steve out, and Steve's blush darkened. Averting his gaze, Steve took the last drink of his coffee. Gathering his wits Steve prompted, "You mentioned something about talking to someone…"

"Oh!" The blonde answered, shaking off her leering and holding her hand out as she introduced herself, "I’m Sharon."

"Steve," he shook her hand. Briefly, before taking it from her grip and placing it on Vinnie's head.  Self-conscious about how his palms were already starting to sweat and just how rapidly they were growing clammy.

Sharon correctly assumed, "I didn't talk to you on the phone."

"No, you didn't," Steve confirmed with a small grin even though his cheeks still felt hot from his earlier blush.

"Is it still okay for me to be here?" Sharon questioned, her brows furrowing as she leaned closer to clarify, "I'm here for my Great Aunt Peggy."

"Yeah, it's fine," Steve reassured, transforming leaning away from her into leading her towards the parlor that was set up for the funeral. "We usually let family members in before the service, so they can have some alone time to mourn."

"That's very generous of you," Sharon grinned, blushing a bit, herself. Linking her arm through his, she looked up at Steve, "Very sweet."

Remembering that some people acted strangely when they were in mourning, Steve forced a placating smile on his face, "It's the least we can do."

Stopping a few feet away from the open casket, Sharon took in a shaky breath. Suddenly dropping the seduction act, her gaze locked on the casket. Her smile slipping off her face and her fingers twitching on Steve's bicep. Vinnie, who had been following the pair brushed against Sharon's leg as he joined her on her side. Nosing at her free hand, Vinnie brought Sharon back to her surroundings.

Clearing her throat, Sharon softly questioned, "Can I have a moment to myself?"

"Of course," Steve assured, removing his arm from her grasp. Leaving the room, Steve turned back around and let her know, "If you need us, you can find us in the --" office? Dining room? Hanging out by the grand staircase? "--back…?"

Not turning to watch Steve exit through the open double doors across from the grand staircase and closest to the family side of the house, Sharon simply nodded and took a step towards the casket. For a moment, Steve wondered if he should stay close, just in case she needed someone there. But Steve was never good at this part of the business. Preparing a dead body for the service in a basement that most would consider creepy? No issue at all. Steve could probably do it blindfolded, in the dark, at three in the morning while a séance went on in the corner of the room. Being there for a mourner who needed support? Scared the ever living shit out of him to the point where he had had countless nightmares of that exact situation.

Seeing Joe exiting the dining room, Steve rushed over to him, "Dad!"

Startled by Steve's obvious call for help, Joe's eyes widened and he asked, "What? Everything okay?"

"There's a, uh, Sharon," Steve threw his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction that Sharon was, "Came early to see her aunt."

Quirking a brow, "Is she okay?"

"A bit shaken," Steve answered.

"You or her?" Joe teased, earning a weak eye roll from Steve. Knowing how introverted Steve was, Joe didn't pester him for long. Instead, he patted his son's shoulder and reassured, "I'll go check on her."

"Thanks," Steve sighed in relief, knowing that if he had run into Cliff, there would've been more teasing.

Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, he watched as Joe entered the parlor where Steve had left Sharon. Letting out a deep breath of relief, Steve entered the dining room to find Sam setting up.  Although the reception wouldn't start until eleven, at the earliest, Sam knew that setting up early helped soothe those around. Namely, Steve and Sarah who hated waiting until the last minute for things to be prepared.

Needing to ease his own discomfort at the encounter, Steve decided to tease Sam, "Ya gonna wear that to our wedding? Geez, thought I was special."

"Stevie, you are the most special person in my life," Sam smirked, straightening the stacks of white ceramic plates. Squaring his shoulders, Sam questioned, "Besides, it shouldn't matter what I wear to the wedding. It's about what I wear during the honeymoon."

Blushing, Steve shook his head and softly chuckled. Remembering how he had nearly said the same thing to Brock all those years ago, Steve swore that his blood ran cold for a moment. Practically hearing it aloud again. The way he had handed Brock the empty gift bag while seductively suggesting that he would be only wearing that on their honeymoon. His stomach churning as he remembered how unamused Brock had been. Hindsight is 20/20.

Before his mind could take him down that hurtful road again, Steve looked around for something to do. Spotting the containers of silverware and the stack of napkins, Steve headed into the prep pantry and quickly washed his hand before he grabbed the supplies and headed over to one of the tables set up.

Having done this many times in the restaurants that he worked in while in college, and having done this for the funerals here, Steve started rolling the silverware. Laying out the white paper napkin, Steve gathered a fork, spoon, and knife. Placing the utensils diagonally in the napkin, Steve folded the bottom corner up over the ends of the silverware. Bringing the furthest corner towards himself, Steve tucked it and started rolling. Finishing, Steve kept it from unravelling by placing a white napkin band on it.

By the time that he had a stack of twenty rolled in front of him, Sam came to sit beside him. Grabbing some of the materials for himself, Sam glanced over at Steve while nonchalantly asking, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Steve answered too quickly, which was his first mistake. Clearing his throat and ducking his head because his blush was sure to give him away, he asked, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You don't usually roll silverware," Sam shrugged and gestured towards the Weimaraner, "Plus, Vinnie hasn't left your side since you sat down."

"That's because Vinnie is codependent," Steve playfully waved off, rolling another silverware.

Sam gave Steve a pointed look, but didn't comment on it. The pair had been friends for a couple of years now, and Steve knew that Sam knew that if he waited long enough, Steve would spill the beans. Natasha had informed Sam as much, in the start of their relationship because she knew that pushing Steve was counterproductive. Instead of making him want to confess, it made him shutdown and hold on tighter. Ever since that chat though, Sam changed his tactics all while using a meat analogy where the longer a meat cooked the less tough it would be. Steve wasn't sure how he felt about being compared to a slab of meat, but knew that his contact name in Sam's phone happened to, "Beef Cake."

Luckily, Steve seemed to want to talk about it as he caved, "She -- Sharon -- seemed kind of, um… interested…? In… me…?"

"You sound surprised," Sam's brows furrowed as he started rolling more silverware.

"I am," Steve admitted easily. Brows furrowing, he paused in his current task to look over at Sam. Sometimes, Steve forgot that Sam wasn't there during his awkward phase. Sure, he had seen the photos that Sarah just loved bringing out at every opportunity. But seeing the pictures and experiencing the bullying were two different things. And as much as Steve spouted about body positivity to Eddie and Natasha, he was still just as insecure now as he had been back then.

"Well, you shouldn't be. You're hot," Sam shrugged again. Playfully, Steve quirked his brow and Sam rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face as he reminded, "I'm comfortable in my sexuality to admit when another man is attractive."

"Fair enough," Steve conceded, grabbing another napkin to roll more silverware. Focusing his attention fully on his current task, Steve asked, "So, what should I do?"

"Ask her out," Sam jokingly suggested.

Pausing again with only one side of the napkin tucked, Steve deadpanned, "Sam, she's mourning."

"See," Sam waved a finished silverware accusingly at Steve as he teased, "If she heard that, she'd only want you more."

"Sam, I'm gay," Steve reminded just as unenthused as before.

That time, Sam paused too. Brows furrowing as he feigned confusion, "I thought you dated Nattie?"

Chuckling, Steve balled up one of the napkins and tossed it at Sam as he corrected, "In the fifth grade!"

"Huh," Sam good-naturedly scoffed. A slow grin stretching his lips as he teased, "So, I guess I don't have anything to worry about with you running away with the love of my life and my future wife?"

Playfully rolling his eyes, Steve balled up another napkin and threw it at him for good measure. Recognizing the way his shoulders relaxed and just how thankful he was that Sam was there. Thankful that Sam was his friend. Thankful that Sam was marrying his best friend. Thankful that Sam knew how to calm him down like no one other than Natasha did. Even if he did purposely make himself look like an ass for Steve's benefit.

[sengenweek]

SenGen Week: Day 02

Day 02: December 30

Cell phones / clothing/palette/role/etc swap

-’-

Title: Unfulfilled Reality.

-’-

A/N: Five fun facts about this chapter before beginning (you can skip them if you wish, they’re not really relevant, I just wanted to mention them):

01. A key to rescue Aeryn Sun from Katratzi, was John Crichton’s knowledge of unfulfilled realities, that series of episodes and events inspired today’s chapter, hence the title. (Fuck, I love Farscape. I gotta finish ‘Prolonged Insanity’, I’ve been delaying writing it for far too long).

02. The tale is 'Jack the Cunning Thief’ (the idea to use this tale came from 'And the Fables of Doom’ an episode of The Librarians. Because I think Senkuu would be just like Ezekiel Jones if he were to switch places with Gen).

03. In Newsradio the chapter 'Led Zeppelin Boxed Set’, Catherine Duke teaches Jimmy James how to beat a crooked 'three card monte’ dealer. During the episode, they repeat 'Find the lucky lady’ 'Where is the lucky lady?’, when practicing the scam.

04. This version of Gen was actually inspired ever so vaguely by Subaru in Houkago No Pleiades (Wish Upon The Pleiades). Mind the word ’vaguely’.

05. 'Black Holes Apocalypse’ is a documentary that explains in simple terms, what black holes are, and their role in the universe. Thanks to this documentary, black holes are briefly mentioned here.

-’-

It had been one of Byakuya’s many attempts to distract the newly arrived boy in his home. He’d read him a story, from a very old book Byakuya had no recolection of ever buying. The story told the tales of a rogue in old times, who used his cunning to deceive people –thieves, farmers, chiefs–, and gain money as well as the hand of a lady in marriage. Senkuu was marveled at the many tricks and ruses the man used to get what he wanted, how he tricked everyone to obtain his goals, with no actual harm done to anyone.

“Byakuya, I want to be like him” he said with sleepy eyes.

“Sure, kiddo. If you go the steady constant route, I’m sure you can be just like that rogue” he answered the boy.

-’-

The very next day, Senkuu went to the library, and he read everything he could find that came close to teaching how to deceive people. Naturally, these were psicology books, explaining human behavior. He absorbed the knowledge as best as he could, and tested it on field experiments.

Like, one time at school, he would tap his desk three times quickly when the teacher announced it was lunch time. He did this constantly for a few weeks, until one day, he did it about an hour before lunch time. A kid was halfway to his things when he realized it wasn’t time to eat yet, several more turned their heads in the general direction of their lunch, and another kid cried, she didn’t understand why it wasn’t lunch time yet. Senkuu was thrilled with his accomplishment.

The next step were deceptions, and what a better example of deceptions, than the ones magicians would pull off. Once more he went to the library, and read. Then he turned to TV to get more information. Then, the field experimentation.

He had practiced a long used scam with cards, a three card monte.

“Find the lucky lady. Where is the lucky lady?” he vociferates.

He scamed a couple older boys at the park, naturally he wasn’t skillful enough just yet, so he ended up being caught. Luckily a kid named Taiju came to his aid. Taiju was marveled when Senkuu’s tricks would work, so he stayed by his side, they became best friends in no time.

Slowly, but surely, Ishigami Senkuu became excellent at his field of work, especializing mostly on human behavior, he wrote a few books about it –some of them aimed just for sales–, he did presentations, and became well known amongst the youth. He was cunning, and arrived at the top not only with hard work, but with tricks and deceptions. Just like Jack had done.

-’-

Gen would often be lonely at night, so he counted the few visible stars that he could make out, the many artificial lights of the city making them almost invisible, so he had to use a telescope to see properly. He tried counting them one by one, until he knew their place –and their names– by heart. It all begun with stars, and loneliness for him.

When the stars were no longer enough, he had to find another thing to occupy his mind with, so he started to formulate questions about the sky, the typical ones, like: ’what’s out there?’, ’why is there so much color?’, ’why is it so quiet in outer space?’.

So he searched, finding answers with numbers and big complicated words he does not understand, and he goes from physics to chemistry to biology, and from there on onto everything else that a rhymes with the stars, with the sky, with the world. He reads, and writes, until he can trace some sense into this chaotic nonsense of unintelligible words and equations.

He dismantles –dissects– the mechanical devices he has on hand until their busted organs are bleeding out from their torn coppery veins. And like a mortician, he finds the cause of death: ’Curiosity’. It hangs from their plastic –sometimes metallic– toes.

-’-

’What is the world made of?’

The periodic table answers this question, with it’s many elements lined up in their ranks, subdued into their defined hierarchy. And Gen wants to bring this hierarchy down. He is unsuccessful. So he simply goes back to watching above him. And he finally dives into the dark stars. The dead ones, the collapsed supernovas that made points of amassed gravity –black holes–. He thinks they are as beautiful as the ones that still have light.

He wonders if his curiosity will end up crushing him one day –tampering with the elements until he creates iron–, and he will go out in a violent explosion of light, creating so much strain in the fabric of space-time that a black hole will be born where he stood.

He writes all of this down, going from his curious dissections, to his anarchistic tendencies, unto the flickering thoughts of destruction. He makes one or two important discoveries, which put him in a spotlight. But he remains as anonymous as he can, writing books, and papers, giving a conference here and there. Traveling around, making the name Asagiri Gen to be noticed.

-’-

Awards. They mean recognition for one’s actions. And people like recognition so much they make a big fuss about it, throwing parties, and making a show of being given an award. Such events tend to gather recognizable names into one place, mixing them up and stirring them together. There is no need to specify that parties are the favorite go-to method.

Asagiri Gen didn’t hate parties, rather he simply had a distaste for being around so many people, he had so little knowledge about social interactions that he grew awkward with each passing minute. Naturally, he pulled away from everyone else, and went out into a balcony, he did what he always did, he observed the sky.

He wore an elegant suit, a purple bowtie strangling his neck. He heard the crystal door to the balcony being opened and closed, heard the faint footsteps approaching; still, he didn’t turn back.

“Lovely night isn’t it?” questions a sultry voice behind him.

He turns to look at the newcomer out of the corner of his eye. It’s a young man, a strand of white-green hair falling in his face, the rest of it tied down in a ponytail. His suit is black, with a white shirt that lacks a tie –the first button is undone–. The young man gives an image of formal-casual, leaning more towards casual, given that his hands rest inside his pockets. He knew him. ’Ishigami Senkuu’. A sort of mentalist, a magician, he’d read one of his books out of curiosity –as he did most things–, it didn’t perk his interest.

“Yes, it’s unusually clear” he answers out of politeness.

“Why are you so secluded, the party is inside” he asks halting to a stop next to Gen.

“I get anxious around crowds”

“Hmm”

Senkuu gives him a sideways glance, as he leans his forearms on the railing, looking down at the fast moving vehicules that leave a stele of red-orange-yellow lights in their wake. Gen’s eyes are locked up into the inky mass of heavens, clouds gathering around the moon like a nightdress.

“You know corals get stressed too”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, they get real stressed because of the current events”

Gen looked at him dumbfounded for a second, and then laughed.

“You know, if you’re stressed, they say laughter is the best medicine” says Senkuu.

“That is a terrible joke!”

“It made you laugh” he points out pleased. “Ishigami Senkuu” he introduces himself as he extends his hand.

“Asagiri Gen” Gen takes the offered hand.

“So, Asagiri Gen, why did you come if you dislike it so much?”

The scientist grimaces a bit.

“I was sorta… ” he begins. “Blackmailed, a co-worker stole my favorite bracelet, and she’d only give it back if I came tonight”

Senkuu laughed –it was a throaty, raspy laugh–.

“Clever woman” he praises.

“Unfair woman. She insists I have to get out more”

“These kinda parties aren’t so bad”

“They’re okay, I guess. They just don’t have anything I like to drink”

“Oh. And what do you like to drink, Gen?”

“Cola” he smiles.

Senkuu looks strangely delighted, as he pulls out a medium bottle of cola out of his suit. He offers it to Gen, who practically beams with happiness.

“Thank you!”

He opens it, and takes a long swig. Then he gets aware of himself, sheepishly, he offers the bottle back to Senkuu, who takes a gulp.

“I prefer cola myself, too” explains the magician.

“Sweet black nectar of life” sighes Gen.

The other laughs again. They share the drink, until it runs out, and the scientist fumbles lazily with it in his hands. His phone rings, his co-worker send him a text. And he sighes.

“What’s the matter?”

“My co-worker. The one who blackmailed me. Well, she’s asking where I’m hiding”

“Hmm” Senkuu holds his chin. “I think I can help you out with that. Give you an excuse not to answer yet”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Give me your phone”

Gen cautiously gives it to him, and Senkuu then takes the emptied bottle of cola. He presents both objects in his hands, as if he were in front of a crowd. He clanks them together a few times, before hitting them hard against one another. When he hands them back to Gen, his cellphone rests within the plastic bottle. He examines the bottle astonished, the phone is indeed inside, the bottle has no damage on the outside.

“How did you even do that?!”

“A magician never reveals his tricks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a producer in there that I must go charm up” he parts, while blowing Gen a kiss.

He stared at his back, both amused and annoyed, holding a cola bottle with his cellphone inside. Gen decided he preferred to stick to his science and his stars –although, magic didn’t seem so bad–.

-’-

A/N: Also on fanfiction:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13464121/2/SenGen-Week-2019-2020

[boglog]

HILL HOUSE NOTES !!

Objectively speaking, I like the show as a weird crossover between Transparent and American Horror Story but there are always some cons :/ One thing I will say is that I find it hard to review horror bc I'm too busy swimming in cortisol to notice plot holes but I watched the scary scenes w subtitles and no audio and that will have to do!!!

Cons:

The diologue is occasionally awful.

Scratch that it's terrible and the more the show goes on the more it nears Grey's Anatomy levels of nauseating

Firstly, there are way too many name drops esp when there are only two characters in the room, sometimes even one sentence after another, it's exhausting.

i.e. 'Stay right here, honey. I'm going to talk to the police now sweetie, I'll be right back.' // 'You eat people, Steve. You are a parasite, Steve.'

Second of all, 'Don't do that ever again. Don't do that. Where were you? I thought the house thingy got you.' kids don't talk like this. I know irl children tend to imitate the adults around them but the sheer amount of stock cliches these child actors are required to say is incredible

And honestly overall there's too much talking period. There are dozens of scenes where a character monologues for almost five minutes!!!!

I loved mind doppelgänger Leigh's speech but really let's tally it up: we've got Mrs Dudley's monologue, Olivia monologues a few times, Theo's monologue, Luke 2 or three monologues, one from Shirley, Hugh is not much of a talker so thank god they were consistent. And of course a lot of these are important to the story and even close to entertaining (see also: Nell yelling at Steve) but it's way too much and anything actually significant is diluted in this deluge of info-dump-y speeches

Why god??? Why?

Like this is television not radio but I guess it's another case of Forced Diegesis when summarising w flashbacks would actually be way easier on my psyche but Tacky for these Kinematic Auteurs

I would've liked a more in depth exploration of Olivia and her childhood experiences of paranormal tragedy to give us a better context for her morally grey slip into an evil mother

Still somewhat peeved at how, bc of supernatural instinct, we can justify Theo and CPS taking a child away from her home. Obviously the show can't waste so much time on what's only supposed to be a quick detour into Theo's character and it works within the world of the show given that the guy did confess but portrayals of police, first responders, social workers, ad nauseum making snap descisions like that is Not Good for people's real world perception of their rights. Just sayin.

Maybe a scene where Steve and Hugh apologise for being garbage humans or something idk that would've been nice

This show has many layers and interpretations which could either skew towards clever ambiguity or clumsy indescision and while I'm leaning toward the former, I will say it does go a little all over the place for me.

Are the Crains' superpowers genetic, from their mother? Did it come from the house? Why is the house was so vindictive? What does it want? Or is it more symbolic of the emptiness inside the characters? Why is Olivia decidedly an over controlling mother but Nell is an innocent? Is really the only thing Steve had to do to save his marriage was reverse the vasectomy? Nell died of her own paradoxical haunting that began when she was six so was the cause ultimately a sadness within herself before the house of strictly the house's pull?

Like it's v unclear (probably deliberately) wether or not the story was Psychosis All Along or it was the house's vendetta or bc the Crains specifically are a supernatural mutant family

We never find out what Nell does for a living and I'm curious

Finally: it's really white sometimes. Like. Painfully white. Granted, the Crains come close to my favourite kind of white person, the quirky dysfunctional family of adult children scattered all over the country who only reunite at their dead sister's funeral. Still, the POC tally up to two love interests (one of which DIES), one cop, one naïve widow, and one poor daughter-less foster parent. One could argue only a middle class white family would stay in a haunted house for so long ://

Pros

The show juggles seven characters and two plots flawlessly. Each character is recognisable w a distinct personality after about only two episodes, the nonlinear structure as we alternate between the present day frame story and the main plot in flashbacks before ultimately converging when the family reunites at the house for the last time is not only clear but parses its information in way that's not only not confusing but strengthens the tension and dread. Even while they show the flashbacks' ending (w Olivia and later Nell's death) as well as the epilogue, the build up still feels entirely justified. This is peak plotting right there.

Furthermore, Nell's ghost still manages to be in the spotlight with some jumpscares even after we know who she is

My soul pretty much left my body when Nell's ghost attempts to bond w her sisters via screaming as they argue in the car

A quintessential microcosm of the show's representation of time and memory is Nell's final speech: whimsically disjointed at first, poignant and clear by the end

It's a horror show that is completely dedicated to its characters (and I'm sure some of you already know my love of dysfunctional families) and centres around human themes of connection, mourning, and trauma and the necessity of vulnerability and letting go in order to live a full life. That's very rare in horror where we usually get gratuitous gore with a small spattering of sentimental scenes to further the gore.

Olivia's Forever House served as an excellent symbol for her need to control, the house's monicker implying her fear of change.

An incomplete but not bad portrayal of trauma, a decent addition to the topical and ever-expanding mental illness discourse

Also ft. meta commentary on writers

In the beginning, Olivia really was portrayed as a concerned mother who was always trying to be considerate of her children's emotional well-being despite her occasional snaps. One has to wonder wether her slip into an irrational need to control might reflect society's paradoxically oppressive expectations of motherhood: to have absolute control of your children while also being a benevolent saviour to them 24/7. I mean in all fairness to Olivia, she was working and raising 5 kids. I'd lose my marbles too.

Or maybe I'm giving the creators too much credit and they were only angling for an Other Mother thing. I like this Foucaultian nihilism though so we're gonna go w that.

The show's acknowledgment of Useless Dad and Entitled Eldest Son syndrome.

Spat my tea when doppelgänger Leigh ripped Steve a new one, and since she's a representation of his psyche maybe that means that Steve himself has gained some self awareness. (He should still... apologise to his family....)

I mean they were really spot-on with how birth order family drama goes.

Human portrayal of a lesbian as an adult and a child! As tumblr user Lesbeet said, this is very rare and deftly done!

Theo doing literally anything

Shirl is p adorable

Theo and Shirl: the comedy duo we absolutely need in our lives

Arthur and Nell's romance is joining Up's prologue in the golden vault of world's greatest ten minute love montages. (Both of which ended in tragédie. ☹️)

Shirl's AU dream sequence, which unlike the others, presents us with an extramarital faux pas that we were not previously aware of, manages to seem totally appropriate for her character

The set and costume design are perfect for the primordial fear of the unknown aesthetic the show was going for. Fairy flappers! Gothic stairwells! Punk rock leather gloves! A McMansion that doubles as a funeral home! Motels! A curvilinear LA mansion! The absolutely insane brutalist million dollar rehab centre! Oh boy!!!

Accurate mortician portrayal: they really do gotta wire the corpses' mouths shut. Those damn chatty dead people.

Tldr:

Diologue is lengthy and cheesy while the characters are Too White. The rare portrayals of POC and how social services work were lacklustre. 👎

The show's incredible ambition and dedication to its characters and themes of trauma, dysfunctional family relationships, and the consequences of coping via trying to control your life is amazing. Theo, especially, is amazing. It's a very goth show with clinically depressed ghosts.👍

[blxxdingstars]

◈

Send a ◈ for a first kiss between our muses

The day was absolutely awful.

It started in the early morning. Claudia couldn’t fall asleep all night, suffering with a strange uneasy heart beating. The girl didn’t feel like this through all her ninety years old life. Maybe disgusting view of the victim was the reason? Her father had learnt her the ropes since he decided his daughter is ready to share the weight of his duties and the young woman felt quite overwhelmed with them. Especially when she wasn’t ready for such images like a man with a head chopped off with a hatchet in the last investigation. It was awful, but no, not this bothered her.

That feeling was rather like silence before a storm what made your every muscle stiff and ready to defend. The fear you couldn’t name correctly and certainty you will be attacked.

She was right. Her face expressed absolutely nothing when later father asked her to stay after breakfast and announced that agreement between two Houses is ready: Claudia will meet her future husband soon. Not that she hasn’t expected her marriage will be a part of family business, but he hoped for a chance to even little choice. Apparently not many noblemen wanted to marry a girl whose name they are forced to take as own only because Earl Phantomhive hasn’t got male heir. Listening father’s explanation, Claudia soon confirmed own suspicions: the man with who she will spend the rest of her life was fifth in the queue to the viscount title, but his family had impressive connections with sea trade and that was the way England enemies usually sought entrance to London’s underground. Phantomhives always had to look for new pairs of eyes around to protect their country better.

So that was Claudia’s fate. Wrath explode in her mind, but she was helpless. Crying and stamping feet in anger wouldn’t work, besides she wasn’t a spoiled brat anymore. Everything ended with polite nodding, although the young woman was dying a little inside with every father’s word. Before leaving him, she asked for some days alone in London’s mansion to think a little. Besides she had things to check about their current investigations.

In a way to the city one of carriages horses foundered. When a few HOURS later Claudia finally arrived to London, decided to walk a little to refresh her mind. Soon the lady was even refreshed too much, when intense rain caught her in the middle of the street.

The only Phantomhive’s heir counted slowly to ten, trying to keep the rest of her dignity and decide where to look for shelter. Nearest pub offered cheap alcohol and Claudia was more than willing to get drunk, but possible rumors about future countess drowning her sadness in beer discouraged her enough. The second solution fit more to her actual mood: The Undertaker. A very useful Phantomhive’s cooperator when her father needed information about people who weren’t able to talk anymore. The young woman herself considered eccentric man even as a kind of friend when from her childhood his dark silhouette was always somewhere in the background. Yes, all that the young woman needed was some time with a grim humour of the mortician. Claudia prefered rather laugh than cry so she easily found the way to the funeral shop, but to the moment she reached her destination, all her clothes were dripping with water and she had shivers.

The lady Phantomhive wasn’t sure if she looked more like stormy cloud or maybe miserable puppy, but her host’s reaction wasn’t something she has expected. Has he noticed that something is really wrong with her today?

The Undertaker helped her take off a wet coat, but before Claudia was able to greet and thank him, pale hands with long black fingernails cupped her cold cheeks gently. Next thing she remembered was touch of hot mouths on hers. Her eyes opened widely just a moment before her legs became weak and trembling. The girl pinned her palms into his chest not sure if she should push him away and slap or maybe grab his clothes tighter to not let him step away. That was… surprising, overwhelming and what the most important, it made fade away almost every awful news of the day. Why? She never thought about him in that way. He was only a family friend, right? So why her lips parted so easily when his tongue pushed on her teeth. How could she protest against his confident moves? The Undertaker knew what he wants and that fact made a total mess in her head. He tasted nice, waves of heat run through her body when she closed her eyes and responded to him with a little shy, unsure way. The first real kiss in her life and Claudia totally hasn’t plan it.

“Oh my…” her voice was weak when he finally let her take a deeper breath, but soon her lips widened in a teasing smile to cover her real shaken feelings “Is that a new offer of your company, Undertaker? Warming up cold ladies? I’m not sure I can afford such luxury.”

@deathlymemoirs

[elleberquist6]

Believe in Me - prologue

Summary: Dan Howell is living at home while he’s saving money for college, which isn’t easy since his parents don’t understand him. Unlike them, he loves dogs, is a vegetarian, has no interest in the family business, and he despises the supernatural. He struggles to accept things that are illogical, even though he is a kitsune. Kitsune are foxes whose powers involve the ability to cast illusions, but Dan just wants to be normal. Phil Lester has just moved to London, where he works as a dog walker. When his path crosses with Dan, Phil is eager to get to know him. Unfortunately, Phil soon finds that being friends with Dan is far more complicated than he could have imagined.

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2723 Warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Smut

— 

“Tale of the Kitsune” (the oldest surviving Japanese tale about the shape-shifting fox, written by the monk Kyoukai in the late eight or early ninth century): There lived a man named Ono. He fell in love with a very beautiful lady he met at a vast moor, and soon they became lovers. He married her a year later, and they lived a happy life.

Years later, his beautiful wife gave birth to their son. Simultaneously, their dog also gave birth to a pup. As the pup grew up, it always barked and growled at Ono's wife. She always avoided the pup (now a dog), and became very tense when it was around. One day, it suddenly attacked her violently. She ran and ran and when she got cornered, she had no choice, but to reveal her true form, which was a fox-like creature, in an attempt to scare the dog away.

When she saw that her husband saw her transform, she panicked and leaped over the fence and tried to flee. As she was escaping, Ono called out to her, "You might be a fox, but I still love you! My heart will always be yours. I still want you to stay with me forever. Whenever you want to come back home, you will always be welcome."

That night, and every night after that, she came home to her husband and child. She slept in his arms, and they continued to live happily ever after. From that day onward, the fox was called "kitsune" because kitsu-ne means come and sleep, and ki-tsune means always.

Source: http://japanlover.me/cool/kakkoii-information/tale-of-the-kitsune-fox/

PROLOGUE

1965 – London

Elspeth Smith was alone. She had accepted that she would always be alone, but that did nothing to fill the emptiness inside her – she felt like her skin was a brittle shell surrounding a hollow center, and one day the surface would crack. She would blow away like dust in the wind.

Elspeth was lonely, but there was nothing that could be done about this. She wasn’t like other women. She wasn’t even like her parents. Elspeth learned at a young age that she was adopted. Her parents couldn’t help her to understand herself, and they no longer talked to her. They couldn’t even tell her who her biological parents were, and Elspeth looked but she couldn’t find them either.

Her search for the truth about herself had led her to a career as a secretary in a Social Services office, but she soon found out more about herself in the bookshelves of the mythology section at the library. Kitsune… yes, that seemed to fit. Knowing the name for what she most likely was didn’t offer much solace though. She was still alone.          

“Weirdest fucking kid I’ve ever seen. What kind of kid doesn’t like a puppy?”

Elspeth looked up from her desk, surprised by these words. She was even more startled to see a puppy in her coworker’s arms. She shrunk slightly in her chair as the puppy started to rumble with a low growl at the sight of her, but Elspeth hid her fear and asked her coworker, “What kid?”

He gestured to a closed door with the hand that wasn’t holding the puppy. “There’s a little girl in there. She was found living on the streets. We’ve since learned that her parents are dead. I thought a puppy might cheer her up and give her something to play with while arrangements are being made for her, but she freaked out when I brought it into the room. Isn’t that weird?”

Elspeth nodded, though she could think of a reason why a child might be scared of a puppy. It couldn’t be though… the odds of it, of finding someone like herself. Elspeth couldn’t stop thinking about it, and she slipped away from her desk when no one was looking.

She entered the room where the girl was staying. There were chairs, a table, crayons and drawing paper, but the little girl – she must have been 5 or 6 years old – was huddled in a ball in a corner of the room. Her long brown hair was hiding her face.

When the door clicked shut, the girl shivered at the sound. She whispered, “Please don’t bring it back. I don’t like dogs.”

“I didn’t bring the dog back.” Elspeth crossed the room and knelt before the girl. “What’s your name?”

“Gertrude. I like to be called Trudy.” The girl looked up and she wiped her blotchy cheeks dry. “What are you here for? People came to ask me questions already, and I told them everything I know.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Trudy. I’m Elspeth.” She hesitated. This girl was smart, much more so than she should be for her age, so Elspeth had to be careful not to make her close up. “I only have one more question for you: why don’t you like dogs?”

The girl hugged her knees closer to her chest. “I… don’t know how to explain it. Not in a way that would make sense to anyone.”

“Maybe I’m not just anyone. Maybe I will understand.”

The girl bit her lip for a moment, but then she started talking, “Dogs see me in a way that people can’t. People look at me and they just see a girl, but dogs know that there is something different about me. I can’t hide from them. They make me show what I am, and then people can see it, too.”

Elspeth sat in stunned silence when the girl stopped talking.

The girl looked at Elspeth, and then her cheeks flushed. “See? I told you that you wouldn’t understand.”

“No, I do. Trudy, I understand everything.” Elspeth glanced at the door, saw it was still closed, and then looked at the girl again. As the girl watched her carefully, her eyes widened as a fluffy black tail suddenly appeared behind her. The fur billowed, buffeted by a noncorporeal breeze. “You’re like me, aren’t you Trudy?”

Trudy nodded and a fluffy white fox tail appeared behind her. She wrapped the tail comfortingly around her legs, but it didn’t shift the fabric of her dress. “The man didn’t see my tail,” she announced, as if expecting Elspeth to chastise her in the way a protective mother would. “I kept it hidden behind me when the dog scared me.”

“Good girl,” Elspeth said. My girl, she was already thinking.          

The adoption went perfectly, but there was one issue that Elspeth didn’t foresee. She had been wrong. Trudy wasn’t a kitsune like her. She was a fox – Elspeth hadn’t been wrong about that – but she was a different kind of fox. She was a gumiho. Elspeth figured this out when the girl insisted she was hungry, no matter what she fed her. Trudy asked her adoptive mother for a special type of meat that her late parents said ‘made her strong.’ Elspeth thought she knew what the meat was, but she still didn’t know what to do.

Elspeth took her to a doctor when the girl started losing weight. The doctor called it ‘failure to thrive’, but he couldn’t help. He stuck Elspeth’s crying little girl with needles, ran tests, and found no answers. As little Trudy became paler and weaker, the doctor eventually started talking about being prepared for the worst. When Elspeth asked him what he meant, he said that she should make the girl comfortable, and make plans… And then Elspeth knew what she needed to do.

Elspeth visited several funeral homes until she found the perfect one, which was run by the perfect man: he was alone, he was trusting, and he was kind. Elspeth came to visit him, and she told him mostly the truth. Her little girl was sick, and the doctor had told her to make preparations; the only thing she hadn’t been honest about was Trudy’s imminent demise. No, her mother wasn’t going to let her die.

The funeral director, whose name was Mr. Howell, went above and beyond to try to comfort the grieving mother. He invited her into the kitchen to offer her a hot drink. He showed her the selection of tea and coffee in the kitchen cupboard, but he didn’t have one she liked, and would he be kind enough to go to the store and buy it? Yes, he was kind enough.

While he was out, Elspeth went to the basement to get what she came for. No one was in the basement but the dead. She opened the drawers in the wall until she found one that was occupied by an unembalmed man whose chest was stitched closed. Elspeth’s stomach squirmed at the thought of what she was about to do, but she would not let her little girl die, and she needed this. Elspeth pulled on a pair of gloves and cut the stitches with a pair of scissors. The man’s ribs had already been cut, so she easily extracted the liver. The bloody organ shivered gelatinously in her hand as she deposited it in a bag that she hid at the bottom of her purse. Then she stitched the body closed so that Mr. Howell wouldn’t suspect anything, and she disposed of the bloody gloves.

She was upstairs and waiting at the kitchen table when Mr. Howell returned with the tea that she requested. She honestly felt bad making excuses to leave without having a drink, but she had to get the liver on ice. Mr. Howell didn’t help her guilt by continuing to be so nice. He even offered her a business card, saying, “My personal number is written on the back. If you ever need anyone to talk to, please call.”

No one had ever been so nice to her. She looked at him – really looked at him for the first time. He was in his 30s (around her age) with tanned skin, wavy brown hair, and kind brown eyes. He was lovely. So, she said, “You know, I think I will call. Thank you.”

Six months later, Elspeth became Mrs. David Howell of Howell’s Funeral Home. At first, she told herself that dating a funeral director and mortician was just an easy way to get continued access to the organs that her daughter needed to be healthy, but eventually Elspeth had to admit to herself that she liked him. He was wonderful with Trudy too, whom they were both overjoyed to see was recovering from her mysterious illness. They had become a family, and they had even decided to grow their family. In 1968, Elspeth gave birth to a son, whom they named James. Elspeth was completely happy, and she could never foresee this feeling ending.

Then, her husband found her standing over a body, holding a bloody liver. Elspeth tried to explain herself and the needs that Trudy had. She even showed him her tail. She thought that he would understand since she knew that he loved their daughter as much as she did, but he only became more horrified. She left with Trudy. Her husband was sitting in a chair holding the baby when she left, clutching their son as if he was protecting him from her.

It wasn’t long though until she knew… she wasn’t sure how she knew, but she knew that her husband was crying for her. He still loved her and he wanted her to come back. So, she went back, and they tried to be a family again. Things were different, but he needed her and his son needed his mother, so he was prepared to turn a blind eye as she took from the dead what Trudy needed.

The children grew and they were happy. It became clear that little James was a kitsune like his mother. His tail was white when he was young, but it turned black when he celebrated his 21stbirthday, though they didn’t understand at the time what that meant. He took after his father too, who he made proud by going to school to be a mortician. It wasn’t long after that that they lost David in a car accident. Elspeth was devastated by the loss, but she saw her son was really a man now when he carried on for the family. He ran the business in his father’s place and he provided for his sister. He didn’t exactly see her as a sister, though – she was so much more to him.

They announced their engagement to their bemused mother, but when they explained things to her she understood. James and Trudy had dated other people and denied their feelings for so long, but no one had ever understood them the way the other did. It would take some time for Elspeth to become used to the idea of her children being a couple, but she tried to be accepting. After her rocky marriage to a human who never completely understood her, Elspeth could see the appeal in marrying a fox, and her children had yet to meet another fox outside of the family.

In the end, Elspeth found that all that mattered to her was that her children were happy. It wasn’t long after the marriage that their family grew again. They named their first son Adam and their second one Dan. At this point in her life, Elspeth was completely content. She was sitting in the parlor of the funeral home (it was also the family’s home with bedrooms upstairs), watching little Adam crawling on the carpet, while Trudy sat with baby Dan bundled in her arms. Everything seemed right with the world, so she was surprised Trudy started to cry.

“I’m scared for them. For my sons,” Trudy explained to her mother. “What are they? Who will they be like?”

Elspeth looked at the babies as she considered it. “I’m sure they’re foxes. I’ve seen dogs bark at them in their strollers. So, the only question is if they are kitsune or gumiho.”

Trudy nodded, clearly at this point in her contemplations. “You raised me and James. Were there any differences? Besides the fact that I got sick?”

There had been some. James had been a mischievous child, but she would almost call Trudy malevolent – her pranks had always gone too far, people had gotten hurt, and Trudy had never cared. Trudy didn’t need reminding of this, and they couldn’t be sure if this part of her nature really came from the fox. Also, all of her energy was now focused on being a protective mother, so Elspeth wasn’t going to judge her daughter for her past. “Well,” she said. “There was the way his tailed changed color when he became a man.”

They still didn’t know why James had a black tail, though Trudy’s tail had stayed white. They assumed it had to do with how he was a different species of fox. Trudy shook her head, looking at her sleeping son. “This can’t wait until they’re grown. What if they get sick like I did? If they’re gumiho they need to eat what I eat to stay healthy and grow.”

Elspeth gave her daughter a sad look. “You want them to be gumiho.”

“Of course I do! I brought them into the world. I…” Trudy didn’t need to explain it. She was young, but they had all noticed it. James was 8 years younger than his wife, but the difference wasn’t noticeable. He was aging and she wasn’t. They knew it must have something to do with the lifeforce she obtained from the livers, and she was coming to accept that she was probably going to outlive her husband. She didn’t want to outlive her sons. How could she even comprehend the possibility, while holding her newborn in her arms? She couldn’t. Trudy looked at the baby and insisted, “He’s a gumiho. They both are. I know it, and they need to eat what I eat.”

All Elspeth could say was, “I’d suggest waiting until they’re ready for solid foods.”

Trudy nodded. “And let’s do some research. I know you tried to find out what you were through books when you were younger, but maybe there is more we can find out now. When they’re older, I want to be able to explain to them what they are.”

[writingkeepsmewhole]

Never Give In

This is part 3 to A Team. Emily and Andy figure out who the other one is.

Andy Biersack X OC

Warnings: Rape, language, I think thats it?

Let me know if you want to be tagged in this or any of my other fics :D

Andy's POV We, we being me, Ashley, Jake, CC, and Jinxx was sitting in the hotel room that me and Jake shared, when there was a knock at the door. I got up to answer it but Jake beat me to it. He quickly opened it wanting to get his pizza. When he opened it there was not a person there holding a pizza. Instead someone fell on the floor at Jake's feet. I quickly walked to the door and bent down beside the person. It tuned out to be a girl, that looked to be around my age. She had black hair down to her waist. I moved the hair out of her face and that's when I realized that it was that one girl from the club we went to yesterday. "Who is she?" Jake asked crouching down beside me. "I don't know. But she works at the club we went to yesterday." "Okay so why is she past out in the hallway in front of our door?" I started to say something back to Jake when I realize that her stomach was covered in blood. I picked her up and laid her on the couch. I had to make sure it was her blood before I called anyone. Emily's POV

I woke up in a room. I started to freak out, since I knew that Jack had got to me and took me somewhere that I would never be found. 'Why has he not killed me yet? Why am I not tied up?' I asked myself looking around. making my head spin, but I ignored it. I had to find away out. The room was kind of small with only one door. There was a big slightly opened window to the left. There was a warm breeze coming threw the window making the light green curtains move slightly. The walls were a deep green color. The bed covers were the same light color as the curtains, with white sheets. The bed was a full size, with a pine wood. There was two bedside tables both the same pine wood. On both of them in the middle of the tables were lamps. On the left one was a pack of cigarettes and a batman lighter. 'Jack don't smoke. So where am I?' I asked myself setting up. When I did my stomach started to sting really bad and growl. 'Great I'm hungry and in pain.' I thought standing up. I held my stomach as I started to walk to the door. To the right of the door was a six drawer pine dresser, with a mirror that went from one end to the other. My clothes from before were folded on the end closest to the door. I looked down to see that I was in a black batman T-shirt that went down to my knees. 'Ok someone really likes batman.' I thought laughing slightly as I got to the door. I was going to open the door but I heard talking from the other side of the door. It sounded like the voices were getting closer to the door. 'What should I do? Act like I'm sleeping? No they might kill me.' I quickly opened the door before I could talk myself out of it. There was two guys with black hair setting on a white couch with there back to me. They didn't seem to realize I opened the door or was even there. One of the guys the one with the short black hair had a pen in his mouth the other had a guitar in his hands. The one with the guitar was playing it softly but you could tell the song was went to be faster then what he was playing it. "Dude lets take a brake. I cant think of what will work for the chorus." The guy with the short hair said laying back on the couch. "Lets take it from the top one more time and maybe you will get it and if you don't then we can stop." "Alright." The guy with the guitar started to play was he was playing before but faster. The short hair guy started to sing. Before your life is over, know this to be true All the hate we hold inside still won't save your youth Don't waste your time on tragedy, easy to forget Time that's lost enemies fought are worth the price to live One day at a time, one day at a time Listen when we're calling Your time has arrived With out thinking when he stopped singing I started. Our days are numbered in the world of fools We feel the hunger and follow no one's rules Everybody wants eternal life and nobody can seem to get it right, oh, Our days are numbered and you're no fool, nobody's fool When I started singing both of them men turned around, when I stopped they both clapped. "How long have you been standing there?" The long hair one said putting down the guitar. "Right before he said he wanted to take a brake." I said softly pointing to the short haired guy "Do you write songs? What you sung was really good, do you mind if we use it?" "No, and no I don't mind. I helped my best friend write a song for his girlfriend ones but that was a long time ago." "Oh well you should write songs that was really good. I'm Jake by the way" Said the guy with long hair. By then he had done walked around the couch to stand in front of me. He stopped about half way when I started to back up. "Were not going to hurt you. Your safe here. We can take you somewhere if you need us to. I'm Andy by the way." Said the short hair guy I shook my head and took another step back. "No you wont need to do that. I'll just get changed and be on my way." I said softly turning around. I turned to fast and got really light headed. I started to fall hitting my shoulder on the door frame. Andy grabbed me by my forearm stopping me from falling more. "How about you eat something? Then you can leave." He said softly "No I cant do that. You don't need to take care of me. I'm a big girl I have been taking care of myself for a long time now. I can get home by myself. Thank you for all you have done." I said lightly pulling my arm away from his warm hand. "I don't know if you realized but you kind of fell into our hotel room bleeding. The lest we can do is take you to go get some food." Jake said smiling at me "Fine. I promise to pay you back as soon as you get me home." I said nodding at them and walking back into the room, closing the door behind me. I walked over to the dresser to see that it was not my clothes siting on the dresser. It was clothes my size but not my clothes. I opened the door to just see Andy sitting on the couch. "Who's-" "Jake's girlfriends clothes. You can give them back when we take you home. Even if you didn't give them back I'm sure Ella would not mind." Andy said smiling. "Oh ok, well I will give them back." I said smiling back slightly and once again closing the door. I took off the shirt to see that I still had my underwear on. I looked in the mirror to see I had a long cut going from my right hip stopping right under my right boob. It was long but not very deep. I guess that's why they didn't have it wrapped up. There was cuts all over my thighs. My wrist was still rubbed raw. There was black and blue spots all over my body. I had a black eye and a busted lip. 'Well don't I look sexy today...' 'Why don't I feel all the pain that I should?' I asked myself picking up the clothes. The only thing that really hurt was my stomach. I shrugged. I was not about to be unhappy about not feeling pain. I quickly got dressed in ( polyvore.com/unnamed_48/set?id=101148618 ) not wanting to make them wait on me anymore then they had to. 'If only I had a brush or a hair band.' I thought looking at my hair. I was stinking up every were. I walked to the door and opened it. I about to ask Andy if he had anything I could use. But I stop for twso reasons. Reason one there was four other guys and two girls standing in the room with him and two why would he have a hair band. The other four guys was sitting on the couch and they were all talking. The girls was sitting on a love seat talking as well but just between themselves. Andy was in the kitchen across from the living room. He was bent at the waist looking in the refrigerator. I started to just shut the door and stay in the room. But I wanted to fined out which girls clothes I was wearing to thank them. Before I could say anything words to a song that I knew all to well ran threw my ears. I turned my head to fined who was singing it. Andy went from singing it to softly humming while, what look to be like making a sandwich. How could he know that song? There was only a few people that knew that song so how could he know it? How could he know The Morticians Daughter 'Okay Emily calm down. If Andy got big maybe people would have found out about the song. So maybe that's why this Andy knows the song.' I thought trying to calm myself down. But it all started to make since. This Andy had the same bright blue eyes, same jaw line Andy had, same rough voice. His was slightly deeper but that happens with age right? That's when I started to got mad. He said he would come back for me. He said he would never forget me. And here I am just a few feet from him and he don't even know who I am. I get that I must have changed some but not that much. I mean he has changed more then I have. He has a full sleeve tattoo now, he has a nose ring now, his hair is short, and he is at lest four inches taller. I don't think anyone was thinking what happened next would ever happen. I mean these people had took me in and have been nothing but kind to me. I walked up to Andy and lightly tap his shoulder. He turned around and smiled at me. The same smile that I would do anything to see, when we were kids. "He-." Andy started to say but I stopped him. I smacked him as hard as I could. So hard I made his head turn to the side and my hand burn. "Don't you dare 'hey' me. I trusted you to come back for me. What happened to getting me out of that hell hole? I thought you cared about me, enough not to lie to me. I thought I could trust you, yet here you are not even knowing who I am. Did you even think about me after you left? I sat waiting for days, weeks, mouths for you to come get me. But you never did! I was so stupid lying to myself. Telling myself you were just busy with trying to get started. I wanted you to live your dream so bad that I never thought you would forget about me. You said you would come back for me but you never did. Here you can have you necklace back. Clearly its not going to keep me safe if you can't even remember me." I said pulling my necklace off and throwing it on the ground. I didn't bother looking at him again. I walked pass the couches, everyone was staring at me. "Which ever one of you is Jake's girlfriend thank you for the clothes." I said smiling as best as I could. I doubt it was a very nice smile since I was very much feeling angry at Andy. But These people didn't do nothing to me. They didn't need to see me like this and I started to feel bad at the fact that they had. I nodded at them and walked out of the hotel room. As fast as I could I walked to the stairs not wanting to wait for the elevator. I was mad and I need to blow of as much steam as I could. At the moment they only thing I could do was walk it out. Once I was in the lobby, I quickly walked out of the hotel. I was shocked to see guards holding back teenagers with signs, Black Veil Brides, BVB, We love Andy, Ashley, Jake, CC, Jinxx, on them. If only they knew what there beloved Andy did to me. I wanted so badly to tell them all, but I could not do that to Andy no matter how much he hurt me. This was his dream and I would not take it from him. I knew how much he wanted this. I knew more then any one how hard he worked to just get the band started. I would not take away his fans. I could not do that to him. I walked around the best I could , but I had to go threw them at some point. 'At lest its the smaller part.' I thought starting to push threw people. I was pushed to ground twice and it was rather hard getting up, with a messed up stomach. I finely got threw. When I did The teenagers started screaming, I turned around but could not see why they were screaming. Till I heard Andy and Jinxx name being call over and over again. Then I understood. They must have come outside. But why? Why would they want to be screamed at like this? Then again this was always Andy's dream to make a difference in peoples lives. Come to think of it, if Andy still smoked like he used to he most likely was doing that. That's why he was out here. I sighed and shook my head. No wonder your voice got deeper.' I thought laughing a bit. I started to walk back to my house since I knew where I was but I stopped. I could not go home. My house was a crime scene. Then where could I go? The bar? No it was closed. Jack's place was not ever going to happen. If only I had my phone then I could call Tina or something. But I had to leave it in Jack's hotel room. I kept walking hoping I would think of something. I reached up to start playing with my necklace but my hand just touched my neck. I sighed. Wishing I would not have throw it at Andy. I missed it not being there. I felt like I didn't have a neck or something. Like I was in a way broken. I was missing a piece of me. The sound of some one whistling brought me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see two guys in a beat up, once black, now a gray looking truck. "Hey baby. Need a ride?" The guy driving said. He looked to be about 30 at the oldest he might pass for 25 but not younger. He had red hair and pale skin. He had a slight beard but it was not very much. The other guy was African American with oddly enough very light brown eyes. He didn't have any hair on him that I could see but is eye brows. "Maybe. Where are you going?" I asked putting my hands on my hips. "Where ever you wanna go." The African American said winking at me. He could have not be much older then me. He looked way to young to be as old as the guy driving. "I doubt you have that kind of money." I said hoping they would leave me alone. I was hoping that they didn't want a hooker but knowing my luck they did. "How much do you cost?" As the red head "What do you want me to do?" "What can you do?" Asked the driver again "Everything." I said not sounding to happy about it. I was not really happy. I just wanted to find somewhere safe to think. *You should have stayed with Andy. He would have kept you safe like he used to.* Said the voice in my head 'Andy dose not want to take care of me!' I yelled back at myself. "Alright then, How much for you to everything?" Asked the younger of the two "500$ each for sleeping with me.100$ each for a blow job. 50$ each for a hand job. Add another 200$ for anything else you want. Plus my two rules you have to wear a condom and no kissing on the mouth." I said flatly looking bored. I so didn't want a job tonight. "Dang don't you think that's a little much? "Not really. I have to eat to you know." "Alright how about just two blow jobs then." "Whatever." I said walking up to the truck The driver opened his door and I got in. I had to clime over his lap and when I did he smacked my butt. I did not like it one bit but I would have to put up with it. I must have no soul if I can do this the day after I was rape. Then again I have been rape so many times. I guess you just get used to it. Plus it could have been by someone I trusted. But I never really trusted Jack plus I was used to him hurting me, but he had the money to pay to do so. I was not really shocked that he rape me. Still don't mean it hurt any less though. I was not watching where we was going so when we pulled behind some building I was socked in a way. I though they would take me back to there house or something. No I was socked ones again today. The driver turned off the car and opened his door I started to say something but he slapped me. "Just shut up and get out. I'm not paying you to talk. I'm paying you to suck my dick." He said grabbing my by my hair and pulling me out of the car. There was no way anyone could see what we were doing. There was no cars noises anywhere. They diver threw me to the ground and started to take off is pants. 'Oh why didn't I say with Andy?' I asked myself as I tried not to think about what I was about to do. He didn't just make me give him and his friend a blow job. No They had there fun with me in ever way they could think of. Oddly enough though they never broke my rules. I was thankful for that. I didn't want to have some random guy that raped me behind a buildings baby and I sure as hell didn't want to kiss one of them. I have only ever been kissed ones in my life and I didn't really get the chance to kiss back. He left before I had to chance to kiss back or say or do anything. So here I was once again laying somewhere broken and beaten. The men left a hour ago. 200$ laid at my feet. After laying there another hour I got up. There was dried blood on my back and throat. It was on my throat because it got rub there. My body hurt worst then it had in a long time. Not a very long time but for about year. I have not been hurt this bad. Maybe because I went threw this the night before. I don't know and I really didn't have time to worry about. With all the energy I had left I got up and put my clothes on. I picked up the money and put it in my back pocket. I started to walk threw to ally way. That seemed to be the only way out from behind the building. 'So how did he get his truck back here?' I though limping threw the ally. My left hip was killing me. The man like to punch me there over and over as hard as he could. His friend was not would I would call nice with me, he was still rough but it was a normal rough. I was happy when I seen a clothing store. I quickly walked to it. Well I was has fat as I could with my messed up hip. I walked into the store trying to look at normal as I could but I was in a lot of pain now. I was glad when I walked in. This was not only a clothing store it had other things as well. I smiled at the cashier as I grabbed a basket. I walked to the meds part of the store. I grab a bottle of pain killers and threw them in the basket I was holding. I walked to the back of the store where the clothes was at. Of course they had nothing I would wear on a normal day. But today was not a normal day. I wake up in a place I don't know, meet knew people, one of them be happen to be my old best friend that promised he would come back for me and he never did. I slapped him smoothing I never thought I could ever do to him but I did it. I got rape by to guys at the same time. I have never even had sex with two guys. I don't have my necklace anymore, which was one of the only things that could help me get threw days like this. This day was the worst day I have ever had. I picked out the first thing I seen in my size. I didn't like it but it would have to do. I walked to the cashier and paid for my things. "Do you think I could change in the bathroom?" I asked her smiling then looking at the bathroom door at the very back of the store. "Sure. I would get yelled at if my mom knew I let you do it, but you look like you could use a good change of clothes. I left my make up bag back there if you want to use it go ahead." She said smiling at me. She looked to be 16 maybe 18 at the most. Hey hair was blond and down to her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep brown. She had long eyelashes. She could make easy money if she wanted to. I'm so glad she didn't want or have to like I did at her age. I didn't want to but I hade to. What else was I going to do. I was between a rock and a hard place. I smiled at hair and have her a 20 out of the change she gave me from buy the stuff I did. "Thank you." I said and quickly walked back to the bathroom. It was just a toilet and a sink on the left wall. The right wall was a changing table. 'I guess they get lot of babies in here.' I thought laying the bag on changing table. I found the bottle of pills and quickly opened it and took two pills. I use the water from the sink to wash them down. I frond her make up bag on the bottom shelf of the changing table. I opened it and was happy to see a small comb in there. It was no brush but it would do. I brushed my hair as best as I could and put the comb back. I washed all the blood of of me and I could. After I quickly took of my clothes and changed into my new ones. I did my make up trying to hide as much as I could of what has been done to me. I would not say I liked it but it would do for now. I put everything back they way I found it. I left the bathroom dressed in ( polyvore.com/nataleighs_outfit/set?id=100076608 ) and quickly walked out of the store. I thank the girl ones again before I left. I started to walk down to street not knowing where I was going till I found myself in front of the hotel again. 'What the hell is with this place?" I asked myself. Oh well I need to give that girl her clothes back anyway. I was happy there was not the crowd of teenagers there this time. There was still a few but not many. Maybe 20 at the most. They were all sitting down talking. I walked around them and tried to get in the door but one of the guards stopped me. "You cant come in here?" He said strongly "And why the hell not? I have a room here." I said not wanting to deal with this guy "You prove it?" "No I cant prove it. What the hell do. I don't want to see who ever is in the building. I just want to go in and relax on my time off with my boyfriend. I don't want o have to stand here all night talking to you." The guard started to say something till the lady at the front desk came outside. "Sir this lady has room him with I think her boyfriend will you please let her in." She said softly He nodded and moved out of the way. "Thank you." I said walking past him and threw the door. I walked up the stairs again till I got to the fourth floor and walked down to hallway. I got to room 485. I knocked but no one came to the door. I knocked again and nothing. I was about to leave till I see the maid three doors down. I walked over to her and lightly touched her shoulder. She turned around and smiled at me. "I'm sorry to bother you but I locked myself out of my room when I went down stairs to get my bag of clothes out of my car. My boyfriend is in the shower and wont opened the door." I said softly and smiled at her. "Oh sure sweetie. Which room is yours." She asked pulling out a key that went to all the rooms. "That one." I said pointing at it She unlocked it for me and went back to the room she was cleaning. "Thank you." I said to her as she walked past me. I walked into the room, closing the door behind me and sat on the couch. I threw the bag of clothes on the table in front of me. My back was hurting me from laying on it but I was not going to move. I laid my head back on the couch to see my necklace sitting on the kitchen table. It was behind me just a few feet. I wanted to get up and get it but what would it mean if I did? That I forgave Andy for him not coming for me? That I was okay with why he just forgot about me? I don't know but I really wanted to feel he cold sliver on my neck again. I made up my mind I got up and walked across the table. I grabbed the necklace and put in on my neck. I smiled when the coldness of it sent shivers up my spine. I sighed but quickly took it back off laying it on the table. I was just here to give they girl her clothes back. Not take back a part of my life. I sat back down on the couch and realized that there was a Ipod on the table in front of me. I knew I should have left it alone but I was bored and didn't know how long till any one would be back. I quickly unlocked the thing since the password was batman. "Really Andy?" I asked out loud to no one I laughed as I put one of the head phones in my ear. I quickly went to music and was not shocked when I seen Kiss, and band like them. There was one thing that I quickly opened when I found it. It was under the name "Band Songs" They first song was a song called We Stitch These Wounds. I could not help but smile at the sound of what I knew to be Andy's voice run threw my ears. I closed my eyes and put the other head phone in. I was in love with the meaning of the song. There was a story behind it and I loved that it was not just things that would come on go and never truly matter. Soon, to soon the song ended and another on came on. I looked down to see the name was Heaven's Calling. I got up and went to the room I was in before. I took the blanket off the bed and walked back to the living rom. I laid down on the couch and cover up. Again to song the song ended. The next Never Give In. Andy's voice was much deeper in this one. I could not help the shiver that went down my spine. Andy only used to make his voice like this when he wanted to get his point across. It work with the message of the song perfectly. I soon stopped looking at the names of the songs I was just so shocked so many songs could come out of just one boy with a dream. I was shocked that his band, his voice was the one I danced to last night. he did the cover of Rebel Yell that I loved so much. Yes he even had two covers in this. It may have not been by his band. But they did they work when recording it. Andy did the work when singing it. I tried to fight it wanting to say up and listen to more songs. But I felt myself slipping into darkness. Maybe it was a dream and if it was, I faintly remembering dreaming someone coming threw the door. They picked me up and took me to the bed and tucked me in. I dreamed they left but I also dreamed that they came back and laid down with me. They had a new blanket with them I think. They never took off my head phones which I was happy about. I liked falling asleep to Andy's voice it made me feel safe. Like when we were younger. Me laying in Andy's bad after I snuck threw his window. Listen to whatever Andy had playing that night. Him singing along softly to me, till I fell asleep. Those were the only time I truly felt safe. I soon stopped dreaming to fall into a deep dreamless sleep.

Part 1

[omgkatsudonplease]

How about Michael Jackson's Thriller for Victor and Yuuri?

ohohooo hoohOHOhhohOHO who wants an izombie au? no one? cool, more zombies for me 👈😎👈 warning for some light gore, ofc

Yuuri isn’t exactly sure what he’d expected from his new roommate. Viktor Nikiforov is pale, a bit gaunt, with silver hair cut into a fringe across one of his eyes, both of which are very heavily shadowed as if he either had recently escaped from a dark basement with no food, or he’s just exceedingly into the goth aesthetic. 

He also has a residency at the local morgue, so the goth theory is probably very likely.

Despite the fact that they’re living together in the same apartment, Viktor very rarely seems to be around, and whenever he is, Yuuri rarely ever sees the man eat. He knows Viktor eats – he can hear him rummaging through the fridge at night when he’s cooped up in his own room FaceTiming Phichit to make sure he and Seung-gil are handling his move-in well. He tells Phichit about it, and Phichit laughs, saying that sometimes people don’t like to be looked at when they eat. 

Yuuri doesn’t blame his new roommate too much. Viktor seems to be having a rough time of it, considering how much he had emphasised his nonexistent social life when Yuuri had been interviewing him. Apparently he’d gone to exactly one party in this past year, and given that said party had been the Lake Paulsen Massacre, Yuuri is pretty sure the guy just has a severe case of post-traumatic stress or something.

Still, there’s something that Viktor’s hiding. Yuuri knows he shouldn’t pry, shouldn’t keep tabs on Viktor’s behaviours whenever he’s in the room, but it’s far too much of a curiosity for him to bear. Viktor seems to have a strong fondness for hot sauce, given all the new bottles of it that pop up. He also keeps a separate set of pots and pans, and sometimes the flat smells like heavily-sprayed Febreze when Yuuri returns to it. Under the Febreze there’s a distinct strong odour. Yuuri isn’t sure if he wants to know. Maybe Viktor just has a fondness for pungent food or something.

He’s determined to get to the bottom of this, though, if only for his own peace of mind. So one night, he broaches the suggestion to cook for Viktor.

“I know how to make pork cutlet bowls, if you’d like,” he says.

Viktor blinks at him from where he’s seated in front of the TV. “What’s that?”

“Breaded pork cutlet and rice?” asks Yuuri, frowning slightly. “It’s my favourite comfort food, and you look like you could do with some.”

“Oh.” Viktor nods. “I’m sorry, Yuuri, I have special dietary needs.”

“You’re a vegetarian?” asks Yuuri.

Viktor snorts at that, but then catches himself. “No,” he says. “It’s something else. Don’t worry about it, Yuuri, I can cook for myself.”

“I just wanted…” Yuuri trails off, feeling his cheeks flare. “I’m sorry if I come off as a bother. I just wanted us to get to know each other better.”

“You’re not a bother.” Viktor’s eyes are soft, gentle, slightly regretful. “I’d love to get to know you better, but maybe just not while cooking.”

Yuuri laughs at that, but he drops the subject. 

The thing is, Viktor is strange sometimes, and that’s even factoring in all the strangeness from before with his special diet (apparently replete with hot sauce) and his odd hours of eating. Sometimes he’s friendlier, sometimes he’s surlier. Sometimes he’s more outgoing, sometimes he’s reserved. Yuuri can’t seem to pin him down precisely, especially when Viktor pauses, and stares off into the distance for a moment before returning to earth, as if he’d suddenly had an epiphany of some kind and won’t tell anyone about it. 

Yuuri’s curiosity is rewarded, though, one night when he returns late from his shift at the Cherry Flip, his and Phichit’s small bakery. It’d been unplanned – there’d been a body discovered in the dumpster out back, and the police had closed down shop in order to take everyone in for questioning. Yuuri had stayed to make sure everything was all right and the police had all the answers (namely, that neither he nor Phichit knew how that body happened to end up in their dumpster), and so it’s past his usual dinnertime when he walks into his apartment and into the sight of Viktor Nikiforov biting into a piece of brain at the kitchen island.

“Viktor?” Yuuri asks, and Viktor looks up, face even paler than Yuuri remembers as he shifts to obscure his dinner from view. Slowly, Yuuri steps back out of the apartment, trying to blink away the image of the brain – at least, it looks very undeniably like one, albeit diced and seasoned – speared on Viktor’s fork from his mind’s eye. 

And then he opens the apartment door again and steps inside once more.

The kitchen island is now clean, obviously devoid of anything vaguely brain-like or food-like. Viktor is washing his hands at the sink, and when he smiles at Yuuri, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Yuuri focuses on the plate depicting a rooster right above Viktor’s shoulder. “So, uh, did you get that from work?” he asks.

The faucet stops abruptly. “What?” asks Viktor.

“The brain,” says Yuuri. “I saw you eating a brain, right?”

Viktor looks distinctly uncomfortable. “Maybe?” he hedges. 

“Maybe I’m just hallucinating,” says Yuuri, shaking his head as he tries to piece together the new crime scene in his kitchen. Besides the bowl and fork sitting by the sink and the bottle of hot sauce on the counter, nothing in the kitchen seems to indicate that Viktor had been eating anything at all. “But I’m pretty sure I saw you eating a brain.”

“It was… it was a pig brain,” says Viktor, though something about his voice tells Yuuri that he doesn’t believe his own story at all. 

“No wonder you have your own pots and pans,” says Yuuri, hesitantly crossing over to the fridge to grab a bottle of wine. “Do you usually eat at this hour?”

“You’re usually asleep by now,” says Viktor.

“And there’s something about pig brain that requires all this secrecy?” wonders Yuuri. “I’m… I’m not judging, I swear. I want to be a good roommate, even if it means putting up with my roommate’s weird dietary habits.”

Viktor opens his mouth, as if to point out that Yuuri calling his diet ‘weird’ is a judgement in and of itself, but then he clearly thinks better of it and closes his mouth. Yuuri goes to pour himself a glass of wine, offering Viktor a glass as well.

Viktor takes it with a wary expression. Yuuri sits down at the counter, noticing that it vaguely smells of bleach. 

“Are you usually this meticulous about clean-up?” he asks.

“Definitely,” says Viktor quickly. “I’m not going to be a bother, I swear. If you want me to leave –”

“No,” Yuuri says, to his own surprise. “And I know you said you wanted to room with me because I keep to myself and don’t ask questions, but… I think I’d appreciate a bit of forewarning about a zombie flatmate, you know?”

“Who said anything about zombies?” asks Viktor, clearly feigning innocence. Yuuri swallows. Maybe he’d gone a bit too far. Maybe ‘zombie’ isn’t exactly the politically correct term – maybe Viktor preferred ‘undead’ or ‘person of undeath’ or something. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that… you’re one of the victims of the Lake Paulsen Massacre, and my friend Phichit’s mortician boyfriend was the medical examiner that day and he’d noticed that some of the bodies had significant amounts of missing brain tissue, and… well. I don’t know if that’s pig brain or not, but I can make some guesses.”

Viktor worries at his lip, before taking a swig of his wine. “You got me,” he says after a moment, hanging his head so that his sunken eyes are hidden behind his curtain of silver hair. “I’m a zombie.”

Yuuri peers at him curiously, casting his existing knowledge of Viktor Nikiforov in a new light. “I’m… honestly surprised it took me this long to figure it out,” he admits. “You kinda look the part.”

Viktor laughs a little harshly. “Thanks,” he intones drily. “I swear I was a lot hotter when I was alive.”

“I didn’t – I didn’t mean that,” blusters Yuuri, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I just meant you look gothic and you have a job at a morgue. But I probably would’ve guessed vampire before zombie, then.”

“I think I’d rather be a vampire,” laments Viktor, taking a pointed sip of wine as he does so. “Much sexier. The hottest zombies have ever gotten are, like, as backup dancers for Michael Jackson.”

Yuuri laughs at that. “So the… brains thing?”

“I have to,” says Viktor. “Otherwise I get more… well, feral. You don’t want to see that. I don’t want to see that, at least ever again.”

“Ah.” Yuuri nods. “I’ll take your word for it. And the hot sauce?”

“I can’t eat anything without at least six chili peppers next to it on the menu.” Viktor drums his fingers against the counter. “And you’re… you’re fine with all of this, Yuuri? Like I said, I could move out –”

“No!” Yuuri shakes his head. “You can’t find anything in this city on such short notice, and since you already have your own kitchenware, I really don’t mind. Just, you know. Disinfect everything.”

Viktor chuckles. “Yeah, I know,” he says. 

Yuuri hums, before taking a sip of his wine. “Okay… and how did you get turned?” 

“The massacre,” replies Viktor. “I got scratched.”

“Oh,” says Yuuri simply. Viktor nods, and Yuuri heads back to the fridge to grab himself a slice of quiche he’d saved from the bakery.

He turns with the box of quiche, intending to set it on the counter, but suddenly Viktor goes very still, his gaze becoming unfocused. Yuuri recognises it – sometimes Viktor had done that in the past. Slowly, he puts the box down and waves a hand in front of Viktor’s face.

“Hello?” he asks. 

Viktor jerks himself out of his trance, his blue eyes wide and sparkling. “Oh my god,” he says. “I have to tell Yurio about this.”

“Yurio?” asks Yuuri.

“Detective Plisetsky,” says Viktor, already halfway across the living room in his scramble for the hall closet and the brown coat contained inside. “There was a case this morning, something about a Jane Doe found in a bakery dumpster. She was a customer at the Cherry Flip.”

“Oh my god.” Yuuri gasps. “You were eating her brain.”

“Yeah, when I eat one I get the person’s memories and stuff. It’s really weird.” Viktor’s smile is now reaching his eyes as he swings on his coat. “Yurio’s going to love this, I swear.” And then he’s gone, the door to the apartment slamming shut behind him, and Yuuri is left in a dim kitchen with one and a half glasses of wine for company.

He downs his glass, and sighs. Maybe he should get himself another one.

[stunudo]

That Got Away: A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction Part 3

Inspiration: Katy Perry’s The One That Got Away  Kings of Leon’s Use Somebody

Rating: Teen?    Setting: Season 4   Featuring: Spencer x Reader

A/N: I needed a little more inspiration to keep the story rolling, sorry it took longer between parts 2 and 3. I love writing these flashbacks, hope you like reading them too! xoxo Stu

After your meeting with the lawyer was over, you headed over to the funeral home that your dad had indicated in the will. You weren’t sure when he had made his arrangements, but you were extremely grateful he had. The staunch mortician greeted you with a cool handshake, you sat down before the intimidating wooden desk. You knew you could have waited for this meeting until the following day, after meeting with the school, the groundskeepers, whomever you were going to have to coordinate with. You half-listened to your father’s wishes, realizing he had set this up years ago, probably not long after your mum had passed.

You thanked the man, rising to leave before was necessary. You headed to your rental car in the side parking lot. You sat in the driver’s seat and let the radio play:

I’ve been roaming around Always looking down at all I see Painted faces, fill the places I can’t reach You know that I could use somebody

You cry into the steering wheel as the song fades and the D.J. drones on about traffic. After a commercial break you pull yourself out of your grief and pick up your phone.

“This is Dr. Reid.”

You sniffle into the phone, “Spencer?”

“Y/N/N?” Spencer paused. “How are you doing?”

“Frankly? Crappy.” You bark out a clipped laugh. “Listen, I didn’t read your letter, yet. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye and I know that’s what it was.”

Silence answers you. “I didn’t want to say it either,” Spencer finally acknowledged, “I could barely write it, Y/N.”

You rest your head back, cherishing his tortured voice on the other end of the line. “Spencer, I know you are working, but is there anyway?” You exhale, “Is there anyway we can forget the letter until after the funeral and after you get this bastard?”

“Y/N, do you think that is a good idea?” Spencer’s voice was calculated.

“There are no good ideas in my head right now,” You whisper to yourself more than to him, “I just know that being with you, now, is finishing something that I didn’t know needed an ending.”

“I will be here until the funeral, if not longer, Y/N,” Spencer sighed. “But I will be working up until we catch the unsub. I owe it to your dad.”

You nod, holding the tears back again. “Thanks, Sir-sir. For everything.”

“Don’t thank me until he’s in cuffs, Y/N.” Spencer retorted determinedly. “Call me if anything or anyone crosses your mind, alright?”

“You got it.”

Used to steal your parents’ liquor And climb to the roof Talk about our future Like we had a clue Never planned that one day I’d be losing you

It had been a week since you and Spencer had kissed in your bedroom. You hadn’t seen him or heard from him. You were pretty sure you had lost a friend over trying to get some summer lovin’. You were also rational, this was something that happened a lot that summer. You were trying not to overthink things, Spencer was not like other guys; he would be back over on his bike in no time. You hoped.

Your dad was having a party for people from the school, celebrating a new building or renaming a building. You were not interested, therefore the specifics filtered through your memory. There were waiters and caterers and bartenders all over the house, the yard, the pool deck. You wore a white, Grecian style, backless dress, a present from your aunt for graduating last year.  You had braided your hair so that the heat wouldn’t make it stick to your face. You felt like Helen of Troy, with all the compliments from your father’s colleagues. You made small talk with professors and the few students in attendance, like most events you were out of place.

After an hour of mingling, you found your dad, talking to some British guy about the tech revolution. There were a few other people in the circle, most you didn’t know. You did recognize Olivia Madison who was a newer graduate student, Dr. James from UCLA and ungainly standing with a wine glass in his hand was Spencer. He had worn his glasses and had a real tuxedo on. He visibly shook when you caught his eye. You were embarrassed and confused, but his reaction was uncalled for. You nudged your head toward the backdoor, he squinted at you.

“Dad, I am going to borrow Dr. Reid for a moment.” You said, interrupting the entire conversation flow.

“Oh, yes, alright, Y/N/N.” Your dad chuckled. “Don’t hurt him, sweetheart.” He teased as you tugged Spencer’s free arm. The crowd laughed at the unceremonious fleeing of the pair of teenagers.

“What do you want, Y/N?” Spencer stage whispered at you as you pulled him into the kitchen door. He was trying to be cavalier, since he was here as faculty and you were just some professor’s daughter. You were frustrated that he was acting this way, especially since it was just you and the waitstaff inside.

“What do I want?!” You practically shout, a mirthless laugh escaping your astonished face. “I want you to look at me and tell me why you haven’t called me, Spencer!”

Your hands were on your hips, your face was inflamed with anger and embarrassment. He stared at you, ducking his head as your voice got louder.

He held up his hands, the wine glass sloshing about. “Okay, okay,” He tried to calm you, “I haven’t called you because I have been helping organize this event for the department, helping my mother,” He exhaled. “And I didn’t know what to say to you.” He slowed and softened his voice as the sentence cut off.

You knew you had blown up at him out of nowhere, but he could have just told you these things. You stared at him, trying to stay tough. He gulped down his wine with a grimace and wrinkling of his nose. You shook your head at him, what a putz. “Alright, I forgive you.” You conceded. “But only if you keep me company for a little bit, this party is lame.”

You figured out that Spencer was able to get alcohol because his name tag read “Dr. Reid Mathematics & Physics”. You slowly broke him down and convinced him to get you a glass of wine and made him order something more manly. “Go ask for a G&T, Spencer!” You must have been intimidating because he obliged. After he came back with the drinks, you dragged him upstairs to the deck overlooking the pool.

He gagged on the gin, so you drank it for him. “Wine is enough for my blood,” Spencer teased in a pretentious voice.

“I say, “ You giggled, “We are down right civilized this night, Dr. Reid.”

“Here, here,” He leaned over to tap your glass to his. He was smiling easily with the alcohol in his system and you were feeling warm in new places with it in yours.

“So!” You begin,”Are we going to talk about the other day? Because, other than missing your mouth, I thought it was a good kiss, as far as kisses go. Not that I know how kisses go really, having not had much experience with kissing?” You were rambling and it wasn’t in your own head this time.

Spencer was watching you, nodding in agreement. Why wasn’t he speaking? Wasn’t he the one with the facts and figures and the nonstop thoughts? Spencer sighed, setting down his glass haphazardly on the stone-top table. “I should have called you, Y/N/N. I just didn’t want to come off as, well, creepy.” Spencer voice was off, he was talking with his eyes half open. “It was a good kiss, methinks.”

You blush at his proud smile. You stumbled out of your deckchair, and attempted to haul Spencer up by his wrists. “Alright, Dr. Reid, we are going to do this in a more romantic setting.” You huff out a breath as he stands, leaning into you for stability. You slide your hand into his, skipping across the planked floor to the edge of the patio. You lean against the stone pillar and wrap your arms around his neck, like you were slow dancing. He braced himself up with one hand on the pillar and the other hand kept flitting from your shoulder to your waist and back, unsure of where to be. You rolled your eyes and place it on your waist for him. He smirks at you, relief in his lidded gaze.

He leaned down, to stare at you, your foreheads touching. His glasses were sliding down his nose. Your breathing hitched and he planted a sloppy kiss on your surprised mouth.

Prentiss and JJ had made a food run after Morgan and Rossi got back from the Medical Examiner’s office. Hotch and Spencer were going over the hierarchy in the university, surprisingly Spencer knew a lot of people who remained within the Cal-Tech system.

“Dr. Y/L/N had a great deal of influence over the field, he had many rivals. Cal-Tech is a highly competitive environment. It goes with the profile: a highly intelligent, organized, loner.” Reid set down the file he had been paging through. His hand cupped the back of his neck, which was sore from his fall the night before.

“Unfortunately that isn’t enough to narrow down the list of unsubs.” Hotch surmised.

“Alright, we go back to victimology, why Dr. Y/L/N?” Morgan interjected.

“His research is outstanding stuff, but nothing worth killing over. It is years before application would be lucrative.” Spencer admitted.

“What about students?” Rossi ventured. “Anyone do poorly on a midterm? This being such a competitive atmosphere, bad grades can be devastating.”

“We should contact Dr. Madison again Hotch, it’s a possibility. Dr. Y/L/N always had an open door policy with his advanced students.”

“Is there anyway this was romantic?” Morgan took the conversation in a different direction. “He’s a single guy, been that way since Y/N was young. Perhaps we are looking at a jealous student or a Black Widow?”

“Y/N didn’t mention that Dr. Y/L/N had been seeing anyone, but he may not have told her either.” Spencer shared. “I will say I doubt it would be a student, he was very professional and very fatherly. If it is a student, it was completely a one sided affair.”

Spencer was grateful for the large column that was hiding this private moment from the rest of the party, specifically Y/N’s father. His natural social inadequacies were amplified by his nerves, the wine and the possibility of discovery. He couldn’t stop his brain, despite the softness of Y/N’s lips and the bitter pine flavor of the gin on her tongue. She started smiling, it was hard to kiss lips stretched like that.

“What’s so amusing, Y/N/N mon cher?” Spencer peeked down through his disheveled glasses. She was fascinating: a timeless beauty, inspiring, so thoughtful, so challenging.

She giggled, her eyes closing briefly. “Votre cher? Oh rien, mon chevalier.“ She whispered, placing her hand on Spencer’s chest over his racing heart. Her Y/E/C eyes had entranced him, he couldn’t look away. Spencer’s hand found its way around her waist, on to the smooth exposed skin of her back. This dress may have been the only thing she had on, he thought, not knowing much about what kind of garments girls would fit beneath something so delicate and graceful. His breath was ragged with all the sensations rushing through him.

Y/N slipped her hands up to remove his glasses, placing them in the inside pocket of his jacket. Spencer squinted, and pursed his lips. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you don’t need your eyes for this,” Y/N whispered over his lips. She began kissing him again. She was everywhere, his long arms were holding her close, his hands twitching in yearning to explore her further.

“Ahem.” A hazy figure had appeared in the periphery. “Dr. Reid? Dr. Y/L/N wants you back downstairs before the speakers begin.” Said the roughly reddish figure interrupting.

Spencer set Y/N down as gently as he could, he coughed nervously. “Thank you?” He had to clear his throat again.”I will be down in a moment.”

“Alright everybody, we will start fresh in the morning.” Hotch checked his watch. “Prentiss and Rossi will meet with Dr. Madison during her office hours tomorrow morning. Morgan and Reid I want you questioning all of Y/L/N’s TAs, tomorrow is the first day back after their spring break, they might be a bit shaken up.”

Spencer glanced across at Morgan, the older agent nodded at the doctor’s knowing look. Hotch continued, “JJ and I have a security meeting in the morning. We are meeting to prep for the funeral on Wednesday. The locals and campus police will be aiding us in monitoring anything or anyone suspicious.”

Everyone slowly cleared from the borrowed space, Spencer waited behind to talk with the unit chief. He was over caffeinated and shifted on the spot. “Hotch?” Spencer began, voice catching. “I won’t be able to help with surveillance or the canvasing after the funeral on Wednesday.”

“We could really use your insight to the campus, Reid,” Hotch replied, somewhat annoyed with his agent. “This is going to be a huge event, your observational skills are crucial to the team.”

Hotch’s firm tone was eating at Spencer, he hated disappointing the man. Spencer’s big eyes were glistening and his body twitched at the emotions that were tearing him apart.

“Hotch,” Spencer pleaded. “I cannot be on the job that day. He was my friend,” Spencer’s emotions were rarely this exposed, Hotch felt his resolve wavering as the young man continued. “and Y/N needs someone there. Please? I will take a personal day, seeing as bereavement wouldn’t cover a former teacher’s death.”

Hotch nodded in agreement. He watched Spencer closely, “Reid, are you able to keep working on this? I need you here, but I trust you enough, to know when you should be taken off of a case.”

“Yes, sir, thank you,” Spencer nodded, his hands in his pockets, his mouth slinking into an odd, wide frown grimace. “I will be fine the rest of the case; you don’t have to worry.”

“Alright.” Hotch nodded, granting Spencer leave to return to the hotel down the street.

“Alright, Baby-doll, gimme all the dirt.” Morgan was on the phone, in a small booth at the hotel’s bar & grille. He had passed on the gym to double up research on the Y/L/N family with Garcia.

“Oh, Boo, you know I can’t keep anything from you, “Penelope murmured, “Y/N Y/L/N Doctor of History at Columbia, for 3 years. Specializing in Ancient Greece and the Byzantine Empire, which are two vastly different specialties. She is ridiculously smart, got her first doctorate at 23. She has traveled the world, major passport usage came up. She is not on social media, but has many papers published online and in actual academic journals.”

“Garcia, this sounds like things I already could have guessed.” Morgan whined slightly. The flirtatious agent was drinking a seltzer water, behaving while winding down for the start of a new week.

“Well, what do you want to know?” Garcia snipped back, “No arrest record, foreign or domestic. She is an only child, which you know. She lost her mother to cancer when she was a child, which you know. Her father’s sister is her only surviving relative, she will be flying in sometime on Tuesday.”

“Ever been married?” Morgan clarified his line of investigation.

“Nope.” Garcia replied, her fingers clicking away. “Huh.”

“Don’t leave me hanging Baby Girl!”

“Well, it’s just, remember when you said that Reid had barely known Y/N?” Garcia asked.

“Yeah, that’s what the kid said.”

“I found a picture of our boy Reid, Y/N and her father from a ball or gala held at the Y/L/N estate summer of 1999.” Garcia had stopped clicking through her search windows. “It was published in a back to school newsletter promoting summer programs.”

“We knew she was home from school for the summers, Penelope.” Derek chided.

“But! But if I zoom in, because I am that good and this picture is uber- grainy b.t.-dubs. I can see a little tux-wearing Reid is holding Y/N’s hand behind her back, Derek.” Garcia revealed.

“Oh that sneaky little scientist,” Derek laughed, “Okay, well, if need be, I can call him on his bullshit. Good for him, putting the moves on the professor’s daughter.”

You had corrected every paper you had brought along for your break. After two hours in one spot, your body was screaming for movement. You uncurled your legs from the loveseat and paced around the room while reading the folder of propaganda listing the attractions and restaurants in the surrounding area. You toss it aside, disinterested.

You weren’t hungry, but knew you should eat. You didn’t want to call anyone in town because it would be all about you and losing your dad, one thing that you were trying to keep to the background of your thoughts. You grabbed your purse and headed to the lobby, the gift shop could distract you for awhile.  You smile at yourself, remembering your Teaching Assistants and Susan the receptionist in your department back in New York. They would need souvenirs from your trip, after all.

You buy some kitschy magnets and a sunlight activated palm tree, both cheesy and overpriced. As you scan the awful book selection, you feel someone behind you, someone who wears a very intoxicating cologne. “Excuse me, Dr. Y/L/N?” says the voice belonging to the presence. You spin, facing a tall African American man with kinds eyes and a face that could melt the polar ice caps.

“Yes?” You answer wearily.

“I’m Agent Morgan, we spoke on the phone.” He held out his hand to you. You take it firmly, patting the back of his with your left hand.

“How nice to meet you in person, what brings you to the gift shop?” You ask, still on guard. Your face fell slightly. “Please tell me Spencer didn’t ask you to follow me?”

“No ma’am, nothing like that.” Agent Morgan clarified, “I just saw you as I was passing by, wanted to check in.”

“Oh, that’s right, Spencer did say your team was staying here as well.” You smile, attempting to let the tension dwindle. “I am just distracting myself with some trinkets for my staff at Columbia. Aren’t these gift shops awful?” You giggle.

The tall agent smiles brilliantly, no wonder Spencer spoke of Morgan as being such a charmer. “That they are,” Agent Morgan agreed. “We are in for the night, but if anything comes up, we are on the sixth floor, alright?”

“I should be fine Agent,” You shake your head at his protective instincts. “Is Spencer back? I was hoping to see him, honestly.” Your cheeks betray you with a blush.

Agent Morgan chuckles and nods, “Why don’t I walk you to his room, Dr. Y/L/N?”

Someone like you, and all you know, and how you speak Countless lovers under cover of the street You know that I could use somebody

Spencer had made it back into his room after his conversation with Hotch. His mind was racing over Y/N and preparing for questioning the TAs in the morning. He had printed out some information from the Cal Tech website before leaving the precinct so that he and Morgan could best profile the young academics. It wasn’t that long ago that Spencer’s face would have been included in that pile, he felt amazed at how fast ten years had passed.

The knock at the door and the buzz of his cell phone happened simultaneously. He glanced down at the screen “SURPRISE!” from Morgan. Spencer shook his head at his co-worker’s jokes. He didn’t check the sight glass because he assumed it was just Morgan or a bad prank from Morgan on the other side. But it was Y/N, alone, clutching a generic shopping bag. Spencer’s confusion was apparent on his features, he cleared his throat.

“Y/N, what brings you here?” Spencer asked skeptically.

“Agent Morgan, actually,” She replied, her face was lacking in its usual color, but her smile still called his very being to her. “We ran into each other at the gift shop, I hope you don’t mind he showed me to your room?” She sounded nervous.

“Of course not,” Spencer swallowed, “Why would I mind? Do you want to come in?” He held the door back, chivalrously.

Once she was inside the room, he didn’t hesitate. Spencer caught Y/N’s hand, pulling her into his embrace. He held her face in his large hands, soothingly. He gently kissed her bare lips, without opening his eyes he whispered a sultry. “Hello, mon cher.”

He felt her body release the weight she had been carrying, leaning into his embrace. “So we are still sneaking around, then?” She deduced through a mischievous grin. He nodded, his brown eyes a light, as his lips caressed her jawline.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

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