#there may also have been some screeching involved

[diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls]

i'm only halfway through alex rider season 3 but this is like lockwood and co level feet kicking and giggling I'm enjoying myself so much

[fairydares]

loook i get why the idea of riding the "anti/pro" fandom disk horse makes people gag a little in their mouth and try to opt out entirely, but here's why i went from feeling exactly the same way to taking a firm profiction stance. I've been meaning to make this post for a while.

~10 years ago, I posted a fic for the first time and it got its own harassment campaign. The fic wasn't even sexual, and wasn't going to be (it remains incomplete). It was accurately rated T on fanfiction.net. Anyone in the Fairy Tail fandom will understand this: I literally got harassed for writing a "Lucy leaves the guild" fic💀.

After many nice comments, someone left a pretty nasty one. Hurt, I messaged them back. They acted super attacked that I'd responded (lmao) and after we argued, threatened to "rip my shitty story apart in the comments section" if I responded again. I told them "go ahead lol."

They went ahead.

Now know that it was a relatively small harassment campaign, but at the time, it was devastating. Right around then, I wound up in the hospital. After I got out, I went to excitedly check my fic, and found several reviews saying things I wouldn't repeat to my worst enemy. I was suicide-baited more than once, told "thank fuck you finally abandoned this shitty story, dumb cunt," stuff like that.

There were several accounts involved, and I can't say for sure, but I suspect at least a couple different people were involved, though probably at least half of it was one person.

All the other comments were screeching about how I hadn't updated, mostly. "NO UPDAAATEE WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS TO MEEEE??!!!" was one that stood out after I'd been miserable in a hospital for an extended period of time.

Idk what people think is going on when FT fic authors write this trope, and frankly I don't give a fuck. Because while I was partly writing the story out of some young, cringe feminist rage, I also did genuinely have a real story I was compelled to tell. I was inspired by another, popular fic I loved which used the trope to talk about how trying to shoulder our burdens alone really just hurts both ourselves and everyone who cares about us.

My own story was ultimately going to have similar themes, with more focus on strength, what it means, and in what contexts earning and having it actually matters. In retrospect, no wonder I wound up in hot water, because at the time "Lucy vs. Strength vs. Misogyny" was the FT fandom's Designated Nonsensically Activist Debate™. But that's partly why i wanted to write about it; engaging with the fandom had gotten me thinking about it 🤷‍♂️

Not too long after that, FFNet oh-so-benevolently granted us the ability to delete comments from our own stories (they never took my reports seriously at all, afaik). I deleted all or most of the harassers' comments (may still be a one or two up, and i'm fairly sure there's a couple comments defending my fic from the harassment) without saving screenshots, which I really regret now. I was just so mortified and full of self-loathing about the whole thing that i wanted to forget it completely. Something that had brought me joy at a very lonely, vulnerable period of my life had turned so negative, and i couldn't even tell the people closest to me about it without being made fun of for writing anime fan fiction.

I didn't understand why this happened at the time, but--after a period of trying to forget/bid out of it all with a slight anti lean (a common approach I see people use, and one which I'm not proud of adopting)--I just had to figure out What the Fuck Even Happened There. And I'm telling you, after years of reflecting, wrestling with both sides, and educating myself, that this "status quo of harassment" culture which pervades fandom goes way deeper than you think and comes out of a way darker well than you probably realize. An astonishing amount of this is, quite literally, TERF shit and evangelical shit.

Trying to be in fandom and take a stance of, "Anti/Pro shit? Ew, I'm Not Touching that," is like swimming in a heavily polluted river and being like, "Poison? Cringe. Not me lol."

You might be lucky enough to be in a less-polluted part of the river (AKA a relatively non-toxic fandom, in which case good for you!)...but tbh this rhetoric and peer-signalling will still seep in.

I can't stress enough that pro-fiction, AKA "proship", is the normal, leftist-about-art-and-sex opinion. Pro-ship is against all the horrible things you're against; in fact, pro-ship isn't trivializing real trauma by equating it with fictional trauma, or trying to apply literal evangelical/radfem solutions--which are proven not to prevent or help. Profiction/proship is literally just saying, "Fiction is fiction, reality is reality, and the two don't have a 1:1 relationship. And historically, trying to censor just things we've decided are bad has done nothing but get LGBTQ+ and POCs censored. Therefore, depictions of illegal things shouldn't be censored." That's it. "Proshippers all ship problematic ships," is a brazen lie. Many of them share other fans' disgust for those ships, they just don't believe in censoring fic authors over it.

It is also taking a stand against harassment because--and I hope my own story has helped drive this home--as with all groups who adopt ingroup/outgroup thinking, antis are defined by their tactics, not actual stances on real, serious issues. What happened to me was absolutely a result of anti, "it's okay to 'bully out' anything I just don't like" mindset pervading fandom. In a way, this was the mindset's final form. They didn't even feel the need to cite a reason the trope was "bad" or "wrong"; it annoyed them, and they viewed their own feelings as a valid enough pathway for policing to go right ahead and do so.

In the interest of offering solutions instead of just bitching about problems, I might make a "how to know if you've bought into these types of views"-type post sometime. Also might come back to this and provide some sources/citation.

[r0b0s-robos]

DCA HARPY AU

FLIGHTLESS

PLOT |

• Reader was once a harpy, bonded for life to Sun and Moon. Reader dies unexpectedly by a dragon and gets reborn as a human (100-ish years later) in a village quite a distance away.

• Reader grows up to be the village trader. They go out on behalf of the village to trade goods and bring new things like magical items to the small village. They also love to draw and while drawing they see a harpy nest that *looks* abandoned and starts to draw it because harpies are relatively rare to encounter.

• They know that it's said that harpies are the most vicious mythical creature that live near the village. Unlike a dragon, who will give its prey a quick and painless death, harpies often eat their prey while it's still alive, warm, and conscious.

About Sun & Moon:

• Sun has been grieving your loss since the day you first died. He always looks sad and has unkempt feathers. Despite his appearance, he honestly is fairing much better than Moon.

• Moon is inconsolable. He spends most days in the nest surrounded by what was once your feathers. While Sun often finds energy to hunt, Moon only eats when pestered enough.

• Sun and Moon find out that Reader died by a dragon. A storm kept Reader from returning to the nest and instead found safety from the storm in a cave. The dragon that lived there was incredibly hungry and territorial.

• Sun and Moon do what any grieving harpy would. They slay the dragon viciously, digging into it as it still breathes. The rage and heartache feels as though it will be everlasting and this is the only immediate cure. (When ur a human you find their nest is still adorned with bones of a large beast).

• Moon would be based off a screech owl and harpy eagle, Sun either a crowned eagle or a mix of golden eagle and harpy eagle

• Upon meeting, Sun especially is very clingy. he believes full-heartedly that you are the one that they lost. Moon does as well, but you are so, so very fragile now. You are so delicate. (To them, at least. To you and ur village ur pretty much a badass lmao). But he can't allow himself to be close only to lose you again. His resolve doesn't last long.

About Reader:

• Reader is well-respected in their village by all except a few handfuls of older members who dislike the magical forest where Reader lives. (The village itself was attacked by harpies 100 years prior. May or may not have smth to do w/ Sun and Moon).

• Reader’s home is kind of like a homestead. But since its in the magical forest they had to make it a treehouse to avoid ground predators during the night. It’s very nice and everything is mostly made by them. They possess some magic, but they only really use it for cooking or protection.

• I imagine that when they meet Sun and Moon (and after the relationship has developed a bit. At least past them, fearing that they’ll be harmed). That they allow Sun and Moon to build some nest in the rafters of their house.

Scenes:

• Sun feeling particularly guilty because he looked so unkempt for your reunion. He apologizes the best way he knows how. But you don't speak the same language. And all you know is that he's upset that he's dirty. So you take him to a waterfall and clean his feathers. Your fingers running along his back as you dislodge sticks and leaves. He helps where he can, but mostly he sinks into the water and just pleads for this to not be a dream.

• Moon would have a similar situation with the reader. Tho his involves his attempts at gifting them things. Food at first. Then anything that shines or sparkles. He creates necklaces of jewels that rival those found on the rich upper-class of the inner kingdom. Reader appreciate the gifts, but cannot wear the jewelry because it would cause others to ask questions or attempt to rob them when they travel. Moon and Sun initially believe it is because you find none of their gifts good enough to adorn upon yourself. Moon grieves all over again. You comfort him, and give him a gift of your own. A ribbon, endowed with protection to wear around his ankle. (You give this to Sun, as well ofc).

Funny thought to end my rambling on:

• Imagine Reader trying to sleep but they keep hearing knocking and skittering on their roof and when they look outside the window they just see a pair of giant red owl eyes. At first they would be scared. But after two weeks they start ignoring the knocking and tapping around their house so they can just (attempt) to get a good night's rest w/o the inescapable “bird cuddle pile” and since the harpies feathers are insulated, poor reader always feels a little cooked at night.

[dakotalun]

"Close" | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: Eddie is teaching you how to DM, but what you don't realize is how close the two of you get throughout the night.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

word count: 1.3k

a/n: Just thought we could use some fluff in our lives.

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

When I showed up in the drama room before the weekly Hellfire game, Eddie thought I was lost. Just by the clothes I was wearing and the smile on my face he thought this was some prank from the jocks. He told me later on that he thought “there was no way that someone like you, someone so pretty and normal was interested in Dungeons and Dragons.”

But I was, I love D&D actually. Always have, well since my friends at my old school dragged me along to the first club meeting that year, but I fell in love instantly. The way you can just transform into someone else and not care about the shit going on in the outside world was a dream come true for me.

Once Eddie and I got to talking we hit it off, he was a god at being a DM and I loved that because my last one just wanted to kill all the players as fast as possible as if it were a race to see how many he could off before anyone got into the real storyline.

“So meet at my place around 8? My uncle should be at work by then so we can have the place to ourselves.” Eddie was walking with me to my next class after lunch. The two of us were planning on joint DMing a campaign and wanted to get together soon to start planning.

“That should work. Man, I can't wait to see the look on their faces when they see me sitting in the throne for the campaign!”

“Woah there sweetheart, the throne in there is mine. But I’ll gladly have you on my lap,” Eddie whispers at me before winking. 

I just laughed and punched him in the arm, “In your dreams lover boy,” We reach my classroom after the short walk from the cafeteria, “See you later Eds.”

“Bye sweetheart,” Eddie waves at you before heading off to his own class.

---

The school day couldn’t have gone by slower. The anticipation for tonight was gnawing at my stomach all day. I’ve always been interested in being a DM but never had the chance, so when I approached Eddie with the idea I was fully prepared for him to shoot it down.

To both my luck and surprise he agreed to teach me and help me with a joint campaign to get my feet wet in the Dungeon Master pool. I had almost every book on D&D, reading them late at night when I should’ve been studying for my tests. They were just too fascinating to put down once picked up.

Once I heard the high pitch screech of the school bell dismissing us for the day I was out of my seat and through those doors before my teacher could even give me the homework. I’ll just get it from May tomorrow. I headed straight home to get prepared for tonight, not that this was a date or anything. I just wanted to look good because this is the first time Eddie and I have hung out one on one since we met. 

By the time 8 rolls around I’m already dressed and prepared to see Eddie. I’m going a little out of my confort zone with this outfit because I’m not wearing a bra which is weird for me. The white tank top I have on doing nothing at hiding my nipples and the attached nipple piercings. It’s starting to get colder outside so I threw on some loose fitting jeans and a leather jacket to complete the look before I was off to Eddie’s trailer.

Truth be told, I wanted to wear something that involved a skirt because I notice the way Eddie’s eyes travel to my thighs when I wear one but I also felt like that was coming off too strong, so I decided against it. This shirt will have to do for now.

The drive was short and quiet, the only noice being the wind blowing in from my windows and the animals outside. I reach Eddie’s house and hop out my car, grabbing my bag out the passenger’s seat before heading towards the door.

Just like Eddie said his uncle was at work since I didn’t see his truck outside next to Eddie’s van. I walk up the steps and knock on the door a few times until I hear the lock click and am met with a bright faced Eddie.

“Right on time, come on in.” Eddie opens the door a little more allowing me to walk inside, “Make yourself at home.”

The place is cozy and nice, hats and mugs are hung from the walls in the living room. My eyes scan around, taking in the place Eddie calls home.

“Want a drink?” Eddie offers from the kitchenette to my left.

“Coke if you have it please. If not water’s fine,” I reply, sitting down on the couch. Eddie returns with a Coke for me and a beer for himself.

Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off me as I took the Coke from him, the way my nipples just barely peeked out from beind the leather, showing him the faint outline of my piercings. It was killing him not being able to touch me the way he wanted, to feel me underneath him.

Eddie clears his throat, “So where do we begin?”

---

A few hours later Eddie and I are sitting on the couch, looking over all the pages of notes and open books on the coffee table in front of us. We’ve been going over the base plot line for the campaign for a while now and just need to figure out monsters and level up points.

“I think it would be wise to level them up just before the Ogre caves so that way they won’t get immediately killed you know?”

“I hear that but if we level them up then, we would have level 3 players fighting level 9 monsters in the next town.”

“Shit right, okay what if we,” I think for a minute, taking a quick drink of my third Coke of the night, “I got nothin’.”

Eddie is still looking at the book in front of us, his leg bouncing up and down quickly showing how anxious he is at the moment. I look up from where I’m staring when I feel the movement, my eyes immediately locking with the point where our legs are touching.

My gaze then raises to our arms, his shoulder squished against mine, the muscles flexing as he plays with the rings on his fingers. I took off my jacket a while ago, getting too hot with excitement as we talked about the storyline. Now it felt like my skin was on fire, his heat engulfing me as we sat side by side.

Eddie must have noticed my staring and stopped looking at the books and looked at me. His gaze follows mine when he notices it’s not focused on his own. And once he does notice what my gaze was focused on, he gets even more nervous, his eyes growing wide at the sight.

The softness of my skin on his and the rough feeling of my jeans on his skin through the holes in his own is like heaven to him. He wishes I would stop looking at his arms and look at his eyes because he needs to read my full expression.

As if I read his mind my eyes lock with his, the brown orbs he has containing nothing but warmth in return. The two of us just sit like that for a full minute, neither one of us wanting to break the connection we have. I can see the mix of emotions behind his eyes, the conflict of what to do next. I’m sure he can see my emotions too, fighting and slowly losing the battle to not lean in and kiss him.

I can clearly see the moment when his restraint snaps, the way his eyes darken and become softer at the same time. He leans in slowly, so aganizingly slowly, he doesn’t want to scare me away, he’s giving me an out. But I don’t take it. Instead I take my hand and put it in his hair before pulling his face to mine, locking our lips in a long awaited kiss.

TAGLIST: @ali-r3n @dixontardis @witchwolflea @micheledawn1975 @daydreaming-mood @idfwfeelings @adaydreamaway08 @preciousbumplingbee @rustboxstarr @plk-18 @teary-eyed-egg @needylilgal022 @exploding-bonbon @gagasbee @eddiemunsonsguitarpic @aol19 @thatwitchyoucouldntburn @meanlilbean @sonnyahngel @corrodedcass @pigwidgeonxo @marsmunson86 @lottie-90 @figmentofquinn @sareim123122 @eddies-puppet @gvf23 @kennedy-brooke @rocklees-wife @emma77645 @cherris-n-peaches @breehumbles @joequinn-love @anyoddthoughts @aysheashea @eddiesskittle @uncxmfxrtablex @cherrymedicine13 @mrsjellymunson @shotgunhallelujah @bambipowerblueaddition @hexqueensupreme @josephquinnsfreckles @harrysgothicbitch @paleidiot @smurfflynn @lilyungpeanut @selena-rocker27

[asleeponelmstreet]

Burnt (part 1)

Part 2 Part 3

You are an imp with a mysterious past who recently moved in to the Hazbin Hotel. Not necessarily to be redeemed like a sinner, but you are seeking some sort of redemption. Helluva Boss characters will be heavily involved in the story in future parts, but for now... you just have your memories.

Tags: Alastor x female reader, allusions to past Blitzø x female reader, angst, PTSD, panic attacks, eventual smut, I have no idea if there is an audience for this but I wanted it so maybe someone else will like it

wc: 3,018

This is from a female reader's perspective! If people like it, I'd be happy to write a male or GN counterpart. This was initially written for just me, but I like where its going so I thought I'd share it. Also, I've already written the next two chapters but I want to rework them because I want the story to go in a slightly different direction. So I def plan on continuing this! I also posted this on AO3, but I'm not sure where it will get the most traction. I'm still figuring out this whole posting my fanfiction thing, usually it just sits on my computer.

If you'd prefer to read it on AO3, the link is here.

Minors DNI!!!

Screams filled you with terror. The rumbling roar of the fire followed, but a high-pitched ringing overpowered it. The steady sound drowning out all the other clamor distracting you from finding help.

As everything around you burned, the temperature rose. Sweat collected on the nape of your neck and dripped down your forehead, obscuring your vision. Your nostrils flooded with the smell of ash and burning flesh. The scent was so pungent, it mixed with the metallic taste of blood on your tongue from when you bit into your lips.

You ran barefoot, trying your best to avoid shards of glass and the other broken things that lay at your feet. Flames danced around you, licking at the charred ribbons. The only remnants of the tents that once surrounded you.

Your breaths came out short as you panicked. Your entire body quivered when you allowed yourself to think you may never get out. You may never find help. May never see those you loved most again.

A loud screech rang through the air, breaking through the buzzing in your ears. It was only when it ceased that you felt the raggedness in your throat. And you realized that you had been the one to create the sound.

“Where are you right now?” The heated voice whispered against your cheek was so familiar, but also different. Not quite the voice of a childhood friend or a long lost lover.

His breath against your cheek hitched. “Where are you? What’s wrong?” Panic registered in his voice. He lifted his weight off of you but tears blurred your vision so you couldn’t see him.

“Fuck. Answer me damn it. You’re really freaking me out right now.” Even without his body pinning you to the bed, you couldn’t move. It felt like something invisible was holding you down.

A sharp pain blossomed across your chest. You tried to get words out between shallow breaths, but nothing ever came.

“It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.” Those were the last words you heard him say before it all went as black as ash.

Startled awake by a loud crashing noise, you sprang up in bed. Relief washed over you when you realized it was just another nightmare. A familiar nightmare, but a nightmare all the same.

You took in your hotel room that you had grown familiar with over the past few weeks as you collected yourself. But the sight of the red stains on your white sheets startled you, making you shove yourself out of bed and tumble to the floor.

You had just built up the nerve to stand up and investigate the bloody mess when someone slammed open your door.

“What was that sound?! Is everything okay?” It was Angel Dust, another resident at the hotel. His room was just across the hall so it made sense that he would investigate the cacophony of sounds coming from your room. But he was also quickly becoming someone you would consider a close friend, so you hoped his intrusion was a sign he cared.

“I-I fell out of bed.” You said the first thing that came to mind. Your head still foggy from sleep. Your simple response clearly did not work for the porn star whose mouth was agape as his eyes locked on your torso.

You looked down at your nightgown and saw it was soaked in blood. Deep gashes in the thin white material cut through the skin across your chest. Your mouth dropped open with a barely audible, “Oh.”

“Doll face, what happened?” Angel came up to your side and wrapped you in a side hug, attempting to comfort you without covering himself with blood in the process.

Your brain was taking its sweet time thinking of a response. Before you could get words out, two more faces peaked into your room. One belonged to Charlie Morningstar, the princess of Hell and the owner of the Hazbin Hotel where you were currently residing. The other was her girlfriend, Vaggie.

Both women looked like they had just woken up, still dressed in pajamas with their hair mussed from sleep. “We heard a noise. Is everything okay?” Vaggie asked as they tentatively let themselves into your room.

Seeing the worried looks on their faces seemed to jumpstart your brain a bit. At least enough for some semblance of words to come out of your mouth. “I’m okay, guys. I’m really okay. I must have scratched myself in my sleep, but the blood just startled me when I woke up so I fell off the bed.” Concerned looks were still plastered on all their faces. “I’m really sorry if I woke y’all up. I really need to file my claws.”

The buzz of radio static sent a shiver down your spine. Your body went stiff. You knew what that noise meant. He was near.

“What is all the commotion in here?” Alastor, the radio demon, appeared in the doorframe and welcomed himself into your room as if he was walking into a party. He twirled his microphone like a cane until he saw you in your disheveled state.

“My, my dear. What happened to you?” He said, his red eyes narrowing. His tongue darted out of the corner of his mouth, wetting his lips as his gaze rested on the blood splattered on your chest. It made your skin crawl.

“I was just telling everyone that I scratched myself in my sleep. I was just really startled when I woke up covered in blood. It’s really not a big deal.” Your skin flushed in embarrassment as you explained the story to the deer demon.

“You should use a nail file to prevent this sort of scene then.” You rolled your eyes at that comment, wondering if he had been listening in on the conversation before making his grand entrance. What a pompous tool, you thought.

“Is that it?” Charlie asked, looking at you sweetly with those huge of eyes of hers.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need to get cleaned up. And maybe, Nifty wouldn’t mind cleaning my bedsheets. If not, I really don’t mind doing it.”

“No way,” Vaggie said. “It’s her job. You should take a bath and we’ll send her up to take care of the bed.”

“Thanks,” you said, smiling at her. The angel could be cold towards you, but a part of you felt like the two of you could be good friends one day. It will just take some time to warm up to each other.

“Again, I’m really sorry if I woke any of you up. I used to scratch myself when I was younger but it’s been a while.” You tried to not let your mind wander to the last time this had happened in your sleep. “And there was just so much blood.”

“Nonsense!” Alastor chided. “Don’t your worry your pretty little head.” He tapped you with his microphone, tilting your chin up so he could look you in the eyes. It made you feel like a child… and made you want to sink your claws into his grey skin. “I’ve been awake for hours.” He turned on his heels and waltzed out of the room, humming an upbeat tune on his way out.

Charlie reached her hand out yours, giving it a little squeeze before she and Vaggie left too. Angel was about join them, but you stopped him.

“Wait, Angie. Don’t leave.” You said, not wanting to be alone with your thoughts quite yet.

“Sure thing, toots. What’s up?”

You tried to think of something to say, but that was when Angel’s foot brushed up against a shard of glass on the floor. “Hey, what’s this?” He followed a trail of glass to a small broken picture frame. That must have been the crash that startled you from the nightmare.

Angel picked it up and scanned his eyes over the photograph. It was an Imp couple with beaming smiles, proudly holding their baby girl. “Aw, is this baby you and your parents?”

You nodded, tight lipped and too scared to let yourself speak.

“You’re so cute! Look at that lil’ baby tail. And your mom is gorgeous. You look just like her…” he squinted a bit, “But definitely with your dad’s eyes.”

“Thank you,” you responded politely.

Angel picked at the corner of the photograph and your stomach dropped. “Wait, is there another picture behind it? Can I see?”

You grabbed the picture frame from his hands. “No,” you growled. But seeing the hurt in the spider demon’s eyes made you feel horrible. “Uh, maybe later. I’ve got to wash all this blood off, but I’ll see you at breakfast.” You followed him out the door, locking it behind him.

Once it was just you in the room, you leaned on the back of the door sinking to your knees. You let the facade break and tears rolled down your cheeks as you carefully took the second photo out of the frame. There were actually three in total. But you couldn’t bare looking at the third photograph so you just slipped out the second one without peaking at what lay behind it.

The picture featured three imp children. You, in the middle, with your arms slung around the boys on either side of you. The three of you were so close together in the image that your cheeks squished against one another’s as you all wore huge grins.

The memory almost made a small smile form on your own face beneath all the tears. You lovingly traced a finger over both of their faces, longing for a time that seemed so far away now. But then the feeling of rage bubbled up inside of you, and your bloodied claw scratched across the face of the boy with braces who stood on your right.

Shame followed and you wished you could rewind time to undo what you had just done. You ruined the last memory you had of that happy boy. Before the fire. Before everything.

A knock at your door jolted you out of your self-pity. “Open up,” Nifty said. “I’m here to clean up your mess!”

Once you scrubbed all the blood off your body and dressed for the day, you joined the rest of the hotel in the kitchen for breakfast. Almost the whole Hazbin Hotel crew had finished their meals — Angel was still picking at some fruit left on his plate — but they were still hanging around.

Well, everyone except Alastor, but he enjoyed his unique tastes in the privacy of his own room. That was a relief.

You loaded up your plate and sat next to Angel across from Charlie, who was showing Vaggie some scribbled plans for the hotel on her notepad.

“Hey Angel, I’m really sorry about how I reacted when you saw that picture. I’m not really comfortable sharing.”

He stopped his nibbling and pulled you in for a hug. A real one this time. You melted into his touch, the feeling of his soft fur against your skin. “It’s okay. I get it, babe. You’ve had a rough morning.”

Husk approached you on his way to the kitchen sink with his dishes. “Hey kid, heard you had a lil’ accident this morning. I’ve been there, especially when I first got to Hell. Wasn’t used to having to maintain these claws.”

You could tell the bartender was trying to be comforting, but it embarrassed even more. Not because someone told him about your mess, but because you were born in Hell. You had these sharp talons your whole life.

“Thanks Husk,” you said, taking a sip of the coffee you had just poured. “Honestly, I’m normally good. I just had a nightmare last night.” You were hoping the excuse would make you feel less pathetic but then Angel let out a fit of laughter.

“A nightmare? We’re in hell. Hell, you’re from hell. You’re in the nightmare, sweetheart.” Your skin grew heated and tail flicked in annoyance. You could see from the look in his eyes that he realized how insensitive it was and regretted making fun of you. Joking was just his knee-jerk reaction.

Charlie chimed in just in time before things could get really awkward. “Ya know, what might be fun?!” She bounced in her seat. “You, me, a night out on the town! I finally have someone who I can venture outside of the pride ring with!”

You shifted in your seat, not sure what to make of this. A little worried that Vaggie might be jealous, but when you looked at her she looked totally unbothered. In fact, she looked quite pleased.

“Sure, Charlie. That sounds like fun.” You looked down as you picked at the food on your plate, trying to hide your uncertainty.

“Maybe, there’s a show tonight in the greed ring!” You hesitated at the mention of your old home, but the all-imp circus was long gone and so were most of the survivors. Many dispersed, escaping to the simple farm life in the Wrath Ring or the absolute dumpster fire that is Imp city.

“Sounds good. Thank you for inviting me.”

She bounced out of her seat so quickly that she knocked over the empty plate she had pushed to the side. But she didn’t care, she was too excited. The princess was genuinely one of the bubbliest, kindest individuals you had ever met in Hell, which was shocking considering the people she ruled.

“I’ll go look up tickets and then I’ll let you know what time to be ready!” she said as she sped off with Vaggie picking up the mess the princess left in her wake.

“Is that going to make Vaggie jealous?” you whispered to Angel.

“No, it was her idea. They were brainstorming ways to cheer you up while you were getting ready,” Angel said, a bit louder than you would have liked. “I’m jealous though.”

Charlie told you to be ready at 5, so when you finished your makeup and hair a half an hour early you decided you would make yourself a snack. Back in the kitchen, you gathered some cheese and hot sauce from the fridge. Squirting a bit of the red sauce on a big chunk, you took a bite and were mid-chew of the delicious combination when the whirring sound of a radio stopped your enjoyment.

“What an odd combination, my dear.” Alastor appeared right behind you, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “Is that a normal snack for your kind?”

Something about the way he said “your kind” made you want to punch him. “No,” you said proudly. “It’s just something my best friend showed me as kid.” You almost gasped when you realized what you had just revealed to him. And that you still referred to him as your best friend. “Want some?” You offered, knowing the overlord would refuse.

“No thank you. It’s not exactly my taste.”

“You won’t know until you try it!” you said, thinking only of him. Not the radio demon standing before you. “And who are you to judge? You’re a fucking cannibal.”

“Such foul language coming from the lips of such a pretty creature,” Alastor paused, humming to himself for a moment. “You look absolutely divine tonight darling.”

You almost choked. Is he flirting? You couldn’t really tell. So many of his words were just lies to manipulate soaked in honey. But you were dressed a bit differently than you normal tonight since Charlie had told you to dress up.

You didn’t know what to say so you settled on being polite since you knew it would appease him. “Thank you, Alastor.”

“What are you all dolled up for?” He grew closer to you, his face now only a few inches away from your own. You backed up to create some space between you two but hit your back against the counter.

“Charlie and I are going to see a show.” You nervously ran your hands up and down your arms as if it was cold – even though the room was getting quite toasty.

“Oh, how wonderful. Would you two ladies want a gentleman to accompany you on your outing tonight? I just so happen to be free.”

“No,” you said. His eyebrows raised and he squinted those devious eyes at you. “No, thank you. And anyways, we’re leaving the pride ring so unfortunately you wouldn’t be able to join.” You gave an exaggerated pout as if you were actually devastated at the thought of Alastor not being able to crash your night out with Charlie.

Alastor’s smile never wavered, but you thought you could see a twinge of disappointment in his eyes. “I never learned why you moved in to this old hotel with us. Certainly a hell born imp like yourself wouldn’t think she could be redeemed.”

You wracked your brain for what to say and settled on the same censored, but true story you told Charlie weeks before when you had arrived on her doorstep. “I wanted to help. I may not be redeemable, but at least I could try and do some good.“

“Mmm-hmm.” You could tell he knew you weren’t telling the whole truth. The whole truth would be too much.

“I’ve done so many horrible things during my life in hell and I thought this might be my only opportunity to make up for it.”

Alastor’s smile grew even wider, clearly glad to get at least a little more information out of you. You hadn’t told that last part to Charlie and you honestly wondered what made you share it with him now. Before you could get too lost in your thoughts – speak of the devil’s daughter, she saved you.

“Oh, hey Al,” she said, looking surprised to see you two talking so close together. “You ready to go? I know it’s a bit earlier than I planned but I want to make sure we can beat the crowds.”

“I’m down!” you said, happy for the excuse to slip out of this oddly intimate conversation with the radio demon.

Thank you so much for reading! I thought I was done with the next part but I want to rework it to make it better. Until next time...

Part 2

[its-in-the-woods]

Knife's Edge - Part 1 Johnny's Bar

~* @dichromaniac co-writer/editor *~

Chapter is 8.9k long!

Minors exit/block. Neither of us are responsible for you being here/reading this.

Pairing: Boyd Crowder/Raylan Givens, Ava Crowder/Boyd Crowder

Warnings?: Dinking/alcohol, knife kink, Blood/injury, hand job, blow job, alternative universe, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Canon Divergence, Closeted,

Summary: Boyd punctuates his statement with the gun, bruising Raylan's torso with the thrusts of the weapon. “You're the same angry young man who left, only difference is you ain't so young anymore.”

Please note... Tag will not spoil anything.. so you've been pre-warned. Canon typical violence/alcohol/swearing/sex etc. Also Canon divergence as this AU.

There will be multiple different ships not mentioned in tags, canon and not canon. As well as various characters from the seasons. Much love <3

The wheels of Raylan's black Lincoln screech to a stop, digging divots into the parking lot, shrouded by plumes of dust. He doesn't waste the time to take the keys out of the ignition, slamming the car door and striding to the weather-beaten porch of Johnny's Place. Raylan throws open the door and the bar is momentarily illuminated around Raylan's stretched shadow before plunging back into a timeless, weary yellow. 

“Boyd,” his shout half covered by the slam of the door back into its shaky jamb. “I know you're in here. You and I are due for a conversation.”

From out of a recessed hallway, Boyd appears, hands raised by his ears, and a well practiced mask of polite pleasantness gracing his face. “Well Raylan Givens, normally I'd suppose you're here to accuse me of involvement in some malfeasance, but seeing how you've recently seen all my sins laid bare, one does wonder to what purpose you darken my doorstep.”

Raylan rolls his eyes at the thesaurus of bullshit coming out of Boyd’s mouth. ‘You know, if you used that mouth for something other than horse shit. You might actually make something out of yourself.”

Boyd lets out a small huff of laughter, as he slides onto one of the bar stools. One hand on his thigh and the other resting against the polished bar. “May I interest you in some of our finest brew?” 

Raylan snorts but he moves his hand off his gun, walking over to stand closer to Boyd. The spiky haired man looked much too relaxed for his liking. “I know what you did Boyd.” 

“Oh? And what may I ask, are you accusing me of now, Raylan?” Boyd puts particular emphasis on his name, his fingers swirling along the bar. 

Raylan groans, finally giving in and leaning against the bar. Briefly pondering the thought of having something to drink, but no, this was a business call after all and he didn’t want to get caught up in whatever yarn Boyd was spinning. “Boyd, you know full well that Arlo didn’t do half the things he said he did.” 

The anger bubbles up now, he can feel it pulling on the collar of his button up. Why he doesn’t just shoot Boyd right where that smug asshole sits is beyond him. 

The corners of Boyd's eyes and mouth twitch before falling slack. The rest of his body follows suit, his rigid posture giving way to a slumped exhaustion. Raylan's eyes follow the disappearing tension in Boyd's neck until it disappears under the collar of his white shirt. Raylan wonders what it would look like to see that wave of motion unobscured. He's struck with the image of a snake shedding its skin. 

“Raylan,” Boyd's voice is barely above a whisper and Raylan tilts his head as Boyd stalks closer, “my opinions on the matter don't hold a candle to Uncle Sam's facts.” Shifting mercurially, Boyd claps his hands, loudly and deliberately next to Raylan's ear. In a flash, he jumps up on the bartop, swings his legs towards the tap wall and leaps down, narrowly missing the well, landing with more agility than Raylan would have given him credit for. 

Raylan feels his right eyebrow betraying him, cocking upwards in interested appreciation. “This ain't between you and the Marshals, the Feds, the locals, the goddamn Dixie Mafia nor Wayne Duffy neither.” Raylan turns and slams both hands onto the bartop, framing Boyd's distant figure.”This is between you and me.” Raylan moves one hand off the polished, warping wood and brings it to his belt.

Boyd’s eyes widen and he reaches for the small of his back. The shiny flash of metal in Raylan's hand hits the counter before Boyd can get a grip on the handle of his .45. Raylan's a quick draw, but Boyd's eyes are faster and when he sees the hateful familiar shape of a Marshal’s star, he turns towards his right, as if the attempt to pull his weapon was only a twist of his body to reach a fresh bottle of bourbon. 

“Seriously Boyd?” Raylan's anger shifts to exasperation and he rolls his eyes. “You thought you were gonna fool me with that little dance move? You're better than that.”  Raylan's voice drops, weighted by the anger he brought in with him, the anger he carries always. “Put it on the bar, son. I'm not in a mood to ask you twice.”

Boyd scoffs, neck tilted back so far the tips of his hair brush his spine. He reaches for two glasses with his free hand and sets them along with the bottle next to Raylan. “I do still believe we have a second amendment right here in Kentucky, and seeing as how you're here officially as a private citizen, one who has aggressively and persistently threatened not only my body, but the well being of those whom I deem near-and-dear, you'll understand my apprehension at being unarmed in your presence.”

“You're infuriating, you know that, right?” Raylan sighs. There's a bottle of Jim at his left elbow, a Colt on his right hip and Boyd Crowder standing between the two. Raylan is paralyzed between the paths that lay before him, a literal fork in the road he can no longer delay. “Have you ever, even once, considered living a life that means you don't have to conceal a weapon on you at all times?”

“I don't know Raylan, have you?” Boyd quips, sharp and quick. He takes advantage of Raylan's surge of anger to walk the short distance through the back bar door back to the stools where Raylan is perched. He takes in the stretched skin around Raylan's eyes where they're threatening to bulge out of his skull, his body weight dropping off the left side of the stool, ready to stand at a moment's notice. Raylan may be able to fool everyone else, but Boyd recognizes the anxiety in his form, unchanged over the long years since he first recognized the signs.

“A show of good faith then.” Boyd reaches for his gun a second time, slowly. Raylan's eyes track every movement, Raylan's eyes grow impossibly wider the closer Boyd's hand get to his belt. Boyd draws the gun out of his waistband and immediately empties the mag and the chamber in fluid, practiced movements before setting it on the counter between them.

Raylan shifts slightly in his seat as he watches the man unload his weapon. The twinge in his stomach making him sit up a little straighter, “If you’re asking me to do the same-”

“I am not asking for anything Raylan,” Boyd cuts him off pouring them both three fingers of Jim. “I am showing you I am not looking for a fight. At least not one where we end up with holes in us, not that you've ever shown any withhold in regards to shooting me.”

Raylan’s tongue pushes at the inside of his mouth, jaw clenching at being cut off. He takes a sip of the drink, the burn warming him as much as his boiling anger. His eyes fixate on the man standing beside him, unloaded gun between them. The silence hangs in the room like coal dust, both fine and thick.

“I was fully prepared to go back into the cell that you love to see me in,” Boyd speaks, looking at the neon sign behind the bar. “I would never have asked Arlo to take the fall for anything that had been done by my hand. But, as you know full well, Arlo isn’t one to be argued with. Your father has treated me better than anyone has right too.”

Raylan takes another sip of the drink, the thought of decking Boyd over his words flickering over his mind. He remembers seeing the man with blood dripping down his nose, him spitting on the ground. Raylan swallows at the twitch in his stomach, his hands itching to grab something, anything that will stop the spiral from creeping over him, dragging him down. 

“Raylan, I know you don’t have many kind words for me. But I am hoping we can converse over this problem without guns,” Boyd says, turning to look at Raylan holding the glass loosely in his hand. He sets it down, moving slightly closer to Raylan, his eyes watching the other man intensely. 

Raylan isn't focused, maybe it’s the alcohol dulling his senses, or the fact Boyd was close enough he can smell stale cigarette smoke and fresh bourbon on the man. He's distracted by the way Boyd’s ever shifting eyes locked on his, his tongue wetting his lips. Then the knife is on his throat, a blade that Boyd keeps tucked under the bar for ease of use, now up against Raylan's neck. 

Each galloping thrum of Raylan's pulse in his carotid threatens to pull the sharp steel deeper into the soft flesh and muscle of his neck. Subconsciously, Raylan twitches into the blade, daring Boyd to finish this never ending waltz between them. It would be fitting to die here, under Boyd's steady hands, throat slit open like the first hog of the season. 

Boyd tsks, eyes spinning under the spell of Raylan's exposed underbelly. Boyd drags his eyes up from the blade to meet Raylan's, his gaze dark with anger, the first warm notes of alcoholic intoxication and familiar challenge. “I told you I was loathe to be unarmed in your presence, Raylan Givens.” His mouth wraps around the name like melting chocolate. “If I was a betting man, I'd say you were slipping.” Boyd drags the knife up, microscopic flakes of dead skin and prickly tips of five o’clock shadow falling like snowflakes onto the shoulder of Raylan's suit jacket.

“Are you happy now? Feel like you've won something?” Raylan’s tongue stumbles over the words as Boyd’s knife wedges into the hollow under his jaw. “You have it all, don't you? Your daddy's little drug empire, your brother's wife, your… My… Arlo’s approval.” Raylan moves, quick-draw reflexes crackling to wrap long fingers around Boyd's wrist, pressing the knife in deeper. “There ain't a damn thing in this world you have, Boyd, that didn't belong to someone else first.”

Raylan pulls the blade away, a single thread of crimson gilding the edge. Raylan twists his grip, Boyd's wrist bending almost to the breaking point and he catches the falling knife with his other hand before it can clatter to the floor. He spins the handle between his fingers, not as familiar as the weight of a gun, but an old habit, easy to fall back into. He presses the steel against Boyd's face, tip of the blade centimeters below the outside of Boyd's eye, resting against the prominence of his cheekbone. Raylan reaches for his bourbon, takes another heavy pull from the glass. 

Boyd’s eyes whirl, always assessing. “There was one thing, once,” he whispers. “And if everything else I came across is a hand-me-down, well that seems fitting for a place like Harlan. She never lets anything go, after all.” He leans forward into the edge, his skin splitting, threads of blood binding together, a mockery of a sacred pact. “Just like you.”

Raylan's face sets in a hard line, the pop of his jaw visible as he sets his glass down. The small drop of blood slides down Boyd’s face, and Raylan wonders what it tastes like. His eyes follow it down along Boyd’s cheek. Raylan’s free hand pulls his gun out quick enough that Boyd tenses, eyes fluttering closed for a second as he places it down on the counter. 

“You think I haven’t let you go?” Raylan spits out at him, trying his damndest not to let his voice crack. “You, Boyd Crowder, the thorn in my side, I can’t let you go ‘cause you keep crawling back.”

He leans the blade in, dragging slightly down around Boyd’s cheek along the five o’clock shadow, coarse hairs pushing out of tanned skin. Raylan's eyes track the small drop of blood running down the indent the steel made. The two of them a breath away, a sharp edge kissing Boyd’s face and a gun thrust against Raylan’s side. 

“You are getting sloppy, Lawman,” Boyd grins, his tongue running over his teeth, the click of the gun echoing against Raylan’s ears. Raylan moves back a hair to see his own gun pressing into his guts. “Are you getting sloppy Raylan, or did you want to be here? Wanted to see if I would put a gun against you and pull the trigger. Give you an actual reason to shoot me, that’s what you want Raylan? This isn’t about your Daddy. This is about you, you and me. It always was Raylan, ever since we dug coal together. You saying I crawled back? You left Raylan Givens. You left all of this. And you could leave any time, go back to Florida. But now you’re standing in my bar, on my turf, trying to threaten me.”

Raylan grinds his teeth looking right at the man who was holding the gun, the knife seeming impotent. He could be fast, take a swipe at Boyd's face, maybe he would drop the gun, but chances are Raylan would end up with the hole in his side. Instead he steps forward leaning his body in against Boyd’s.   

Raylan’s breath echoes across Boyd's skin, reverberating back into his lungs, bourbon and guilt with the added flavors of fresh copper and stale coal dust that lives in the hollow spaces of Boyd's bones that Raylan has never been able to shake the flavor of from his memory. “You’re the one with a gun diggin’ into my guts, after you demanded a civilized conversation. You're a liar, Boyd, always have been, and I'm done expecting you to change.” 

Raylan moves closer, the knife opening the wound another fraction of depth, digging in deeper. “You promised me you'd changed, but here we are, filling this god forsaken bar with more bloodshed.”

Boyd moves his gun hand with Raylan's step, the barrel notched tight into the space between his ribs. “What would you have me be, Raylan? Another one of your pretty damsels, waiting for a knight in shining Stetson and boots that have never kicked shit?” Boyd turns his face, the knife sliding to the edge of his ear. “It's not in my nature to wait to be rescued. I'm going to get what's mine and you and I both know that'll never be found in the bottom of a mine shaft.” He matches Raylan's step, moving forward, their chests pressing together, Boyd’s knee slides between Raylan's thighs, their waltz morphing into a dangerous tango. 

“I could've helped you.” Raylan shifts uncomfortably at Boyd's intrusion into his space. Heat that has nothing to do with bourbon or rage flushes his face. “We could've left together, all those years ago. You could've been free of this mess. Be someone…”

Raylan trails off. For all the words they exchange, there's some that stick in Raylan's heart, never able to escape out into his throat. He wonders if the shape of them died the day the mine collapsed around them, buried under tonnes of grief and fear. 

“Be what, Raylan?” Boyd digs the gun in deeper. “College boy like you should use your words,” Boyd’s volume rises steadily until he's shouting, pressing his thigh in deeper, their hip bones clanging together like shell and clapper of a shift change bell. “We weren't ever going to be anything or anyone but what we are. I thought for a time I could change, but I've wisened up to the notion that no one ever changes, and that includes you.”

Boyd punctuates his statement with the gun, bruising Raylan's torso with the thrusts of the weapon. “You're the same angry young man who left, only difference is you ain't so young anymore.”

The pressure behind Raylan's eyes breaks, he's unable to hold back the thunderstorm that's been building for years. “Fuck you, Boyd,” Raylan hisses and brings the knife to the edge of his tightly buttoned collar, sliding the edge against the thread holding the top button fast to the white starched fabric. “You don't know everything about me.”

Raylan hears Boyd’s jaw click as the button clatters to the floor. His eyes flash down at the sound of it giving Raylan a moment to use his free hand to twist the gun out from his ribs, and move his body, pinning Boyd to the counter. The gun hits the floor with a clatter and Boyd’s breath knocks out of him with a whoosh. Raylan moves the knife with practiced ease, popping another button. Boyd shifts his weight so that they are pressed together, the thin edge of the knife the only distance between them. 

“I don’t know you?” Boyd smiles, the same smile that caught Raylan’s attention when they were both just kids. Boyd’s hands wrap around Raylan’s wrist holding the knife. “If I don’t know you, why are you here, desecrating the floor of my bar with my shirt buttons?

Raylan tips his head down trying not to meet the man’s eyes as the knife flicks another button off the starched stiff white shirt. 

“Don’t you fuckin dare hide behind your oversized hat.” Boyd tsks, his free hand pushes the hat up so he can look right at Raylan. They're frozen, looking at each other. Their faces may now have lines, gray hair popping out here and there, but underneath the accumulated years, they are still those two teenagers stuck down a mine shaft, alone in the dark with only each other's company against the warm call of death. 

Boyd is taken aback when Raylan moves first, their lips cracking together as the knife clatters to the floor. Boyd’s frozen in place as he feels the other man’s body push hard against his. How many times has he thought about this exact moment? How many times has he wanted to cross this line since Raylan's ignominious return? A line they’d only crossed once when they thought they were dead and buried under their mother soil. Something neither of them had spoken of since, a sin left unspoken in her bosom.

Then Boyd moves, hand coming up to rub against the scruffy stubble that made his stomach twitch. Heat building as he kisses Raylan, tongue pushing against lips and teeth. It's a rough scramble, they are both trying to take the upper hand and unrelenting to let the other in. Raylan has a slight advantage having pinned Boyd to the counter, but Boyd shifts, pulling at the bottom of Raylan’s shirt. 

There's little difference, Boyd understands from his position under Raylan, between the clatter of teeth and straining muscle of tongues from their usual violent confrontations. At least now they're being honest with each other. Boyd tugs at Raylan's shirt hem, desperately grasping at the layers Raylan wears like a mask, he should know. If anyone knows how to wear clothes like armor and expectation, it's Boyd.

Raylan pulls away first, resting his forehead against Boyd's, the sides of their noses pressed together, breath and blood surging together. Boyd's fingers dance along the skin he's exposed above Raylan's belt. He forgives his hands their walk, a path he's never forgotten, over the tight muscle and soft indents of Raylan's torso and wonders if Raylan's skin still tastes the same, like gun oil, adrenaline and rage. Boyd moves his hands up to Raylan's shoulders, pushing his jacket up and off, letting it drift down to the dusty bar floor. 

Raylan's hands are on the surviving buttons of Boyd's shirt, working each one open, his mouth licking the stripe of blood from Boyd's cheek before trailing down, following the path of exposed skin, inch by inch. He wants to take Boyd apart, peel him open and raw. He needs to prove to Boyd that he isn't just a criminal, or his father's son, that the expectations the world settled onto his shoulders are not the man he is, not the only version of himself he could only become. Raylan burns with the desire for Boyd to see the man Raylan knows he could've been if both of them had been brave enough years ago.

Boyd tilts his head forward and growls when all he can see is the top of Raylan's hat. “Goddamn it Raylan,” he snarks, “I told you not to hide.” His fingers twist into the soft material of the Stetson and grins sharper than the knife on the floor when Raylan meets his eyes to see Boyd set the item on top of his own head.

“Well now, I think this just might fit,” Boyd smirks, darkly. “But I can't rightfully say it's my color.”

Raylan growls back, a mix of anger at Boyd's audacity, frustration with the damn waistcoat keeping Boyd armored, and unexpected lust at the vision of him wearing his hat. Raylan drops to his knees, and when Boyd hisses at the sight, his face mirrors Boyd's same wicked grin. Raylan presses his face back into Boyd's neck, the knife sliding up against the dark fabric of his woolen waistcoat, pressing into the flesh of his stomach.

Boyd lets out a small huff, “In any other situation I would consider this teasing the height of rudeness.” 

Raylan slips the knife through the fabric, the soft pop of woven fibers tearing making Boyd's mouth fall open. That same wicked grin falls across Raylan's lips as the knife’s work finally reveals the flesh of Boyd's torso. His mouth follows the small red trail from Boyd’s collarbone down to just above his belt. Boyd’s hands slip into Raylan’s hair as his mouth burns with the taste of copper and coal. Raylan muses that it’s the quietest the other man has been the whole evening, maybe his entire existence, save a few precious exceptions.

Raylan bites the skin right above Boyd’s belt buckle, and he stifles a moan, which pisses off Raylan. He takes the blade and runs it across one side of the V of the man’s hips. small red lines raise, like the mountain borders of a holler, and Boyd’s hips twitch. Raylan has him on edge so easily. 

“If I’d known this would shut you up I’d have done it sooner,” Raylan growls, moving back up to push the remnants of Boyd’s clothes off his shoulders.

Boyd’s hands are under Raylan’s shirt pulling it up and over the man’s head, eyes blown wide as he takes him in.

The door bangs open and both men are frozen in place. Boyd pressed against the bar top, Raylan’s hands on Boyd’s stomach. Johnny’s framed in the sunlight of the doorway. His eyes would be comically wide if it weren’t for the situation he's found himself witnessing.

“The fuck is going on Boyd?” Johnny stutters, rolling into the bar, closing the door behind him. 

Raylan has already grabbed Boyd’s pistol and loaded it, leveling it at Johnny’s head. Boyd glares at Johnny from under the hat, and grabs Raylan's gun off the ground. 

“You walked in at the wrong time, Cousin Johnny,” Boyd spits out, twirling the gun in his hand. 

“Oh, whoa, hold on now,” Johnny stammers, his hands going up, his mouth doing him no favors, as he takes in Boyd’s current state of dress. “Look, I didn’t see anything.”

Raylan’s jaw clicks, as loud as the click of the gun's safety, his shirtless body a tense line. Boyd couldn’t help the flicker of a grin as he watched the man level the pistol at his cousin.

“Like, whatever man.” He shrugs his shoulders against the back of his wheelchair, “Not like we didn’t know in high school.” Johnny stutters out, eyes rolling to focus anywhere but them. Unable to avoid the situation, he glances back at Boyd, eyes shadowed by the wide brim of Raylan's hat, then back to Raylan’s unobscured face.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Raylan spits, mirrorring Boyd, he moves in front of the main in the chair, gun hand steady.

Johnny swallows, looking at Boyd almost pleading, then back to Raylan, shaking where he sits. Raylan reaches down and pulls him to standing by the scruff of his dingy tee shirt.

“L-l-look just pretend I didn’t say anything,” Johnny stumbles over his words.

Boyd wanders over, Raylan's service weapon  in hand. “Think it’s a little late, Johnny. But, and this is big but for you now, why don’t we back up a little, take a second to rethink what’s going on here.” He’s talking to Raylan as much as he's addressing his cousin, attempting to diffuse the violence crackling in the air.

Raylan shoves Johnny back into his chair, turning to look at Boyd, brows raised, “You trust this man, Boyd?”

He shifts one eye away from his cousin, up to Raylan. Boyd lowers his borrowed weapon as he goes through infinite calculations, scenarios of “what then,” in a fraction of second before he loosens his grip and holds his hands up, gun balancing on his pointer finger. He sighs, deeply, turning his full attention to Raylan, ignoring the man whose fate they're discussing.

Boyd considers the weapons at his disposal now that he's talked Raylan down from shooting yet another man: Threats, guilt, ultimatums, bribery, guarantees of power, all resting ready at his fingertips. “Well of course I trust my dear cousin Johnny to be the pinnacle of discretion as he always has been when it comes to my affairs,” he turns to Johnny, the unspoken threat clear from his intonation, "he is family after all.”

Johnny almost loses it as he watches the hat nearly slide off his cousin’s head, but chokes his laughter back under a scoff.  He studies Raylan's hard set face, more interested in the man he doesn't know, than the cousin he understands. “Yeah Boyd.” Johnny hocks a loogie into the floor, eyes never leaving Raylan’s, the chamber of Boyd's gun in his hand an abyss in his periphery. “I see you have your priorities. Hat and all. And they don't seem to include family.” Johnny injects venom into the word cousin. He holds his gaze with Raylan for as long as his neck will allow, and wheels himself out of the bar that bears his name, business unheard.

Dewey's at the car waiting for him, and without instruction, wheels Johnny to the passenger side. “That was quick, what happened? What's he gonna do?” Dewey’s mouth runs a mile a minute, never waiting for an answer before asking the next question. He lets Johnny make the transfer between chair and car, puts the chair away and flips into the driver's seat. Johnny has yet to speak. 

“Well hell, Johnny,” Dewey drawls, turning the ignition. “What happened in there? Is Boyd dead or something and you're trying to be all noble and not tell me? Or is he like doing something really bad and you want to protect me from knowing about it?” 

Dewey jumps at Johnny's reaction, a loud raucous laugh that shakes the paneling on the late 80s sedan. Tears stream from Johnny's face, and he grabs the lapels of Dewey's jacket. Instinctively, Dewey turns the steering wheel, the car fishtailing and sputtering across the dirt and gravel. 

“Yeah, Dewey, you absolutely do not want to know what our asshole boss has deemed more important than taking my meeting. “ Johnny lights a cigarette, cranking down the window. “But he's definitely going to regret it. Turn, right, here,” Johnny points to the upcoming unmarked intersection, the first turn on the path towards Ava Crowder's.

Boyd clicks the lock at the front door, Raylan’s gone to take care of the back. Boyd can't stop the wide grin from splitting his face when Raylan returns. His hard lines and smooth movements strike Boyd as something predatory and feline, as Raylan walks back over to the bar to grab his shirt off the floor. 

“What are you doing?” Boyd slithers between Raylan and the bar, eyes tinged with worry.

“Getting dressed and leaving before you go and do whatever you're planning on doing to Johnny. What does it look like?” Raylan huffs, pulling an arm through a sleeve.

Boyd isn’t having any of it, pushes the man back against the bar and pulls the shirt back off, long fingers dragging against Raylan's exposed arm. He looks at Boyd with confusion crossing his face. “We ain't doing this.” 

In a flash, Boyd has the gun up off the bar and in his hand. “We aren’t? You were on your knees in front of me just moments before and I fail to see how the situation has changed, other than you threatening yet another member of my family as is your nature.” 

Raylan’s tongue comes out and licks at his lips, “You know you're still wearing my hat.” 

Boyd’s eyebrows furrow, the realization crossing his face, his mouth opens and closes a couple of times. He grits his teeth, “No, Raylan Givens.” His mouth splits from tight denial to seductive opportunity. “Though I think the saying goes, ‘wear the hat, ride the cowboy.’ And if my memory serves me right, that means I'm owed a debt.”

Raylan laughs, truly and deeply with no hint of sarcasm or exasperation. “Now who's getting sloppy, Boyd? I figured you'd come up with something more original than that.”

Boyd’s manic grin falters into a look of mock wounded pride, wide hazel eyes looking up to Raylan. “Explain to me, Deputy US Marshal, why,” Boyd wraps his hand around Raylan's right hip and presses the barrel of the gun into his left, “you went and locked the back door if your intention was not to finish what you started?” 

Boyd surges up, lips and tongue bristling against the stubble under Raylan's jaw as he licks open the fine knife wound. He hums with satisfaction against Raylan's skin; he was right, Raylan still tastes like he remembered, adrenaline and gun oil, but less like Mag's moonshine and more like bourbon. The gun presses deeper into Raylan's jeans, and Boyd moves his hand to the back of Raylan's neck. 

Boyd’s tongue lazily flows up to the edge of Raylan's ear, gathering salt and skin. He wants to burn the taste into his memory, store it in the part of his brain next to where he keeps the images of Raylan at nineteen. “I can keep the hat and the gun if that makes it easier for you.”

Raylan, always fast, disarms Boyd, places the gun on the counter. Both of them weaponless, the tension in the bar shifts from violence to anticipation. Raylan’s hands slip along Boyd’s belt, looking at him with blown out eyes, like if he stares hard enough he can parse through Boyd’s bullshit and read his mind. 

“You can keep the hat, for now. I want it back after,” Raylan teases, his fingers finding the belt buckle and pooping it open with a click. Boyd licks his lips and looks down at Raylan's deft fingers, releasing a small breath. Raylan takes the moment to snatch the pocket watch out of the tatters of Boyd’s waist coat. In one smooth motion, Raylan flips him around so his chest is against the bar, the chain of the watch wrapping around one hand before slipping it over the other. Boyd grunts trying to push back, but Raylan has him pinned.

“Am I being arrested, Deputy Marshal? Or is this some unusually kinky foreplay?” Boyd chuckles as he strains against the chain, deliberately wriggling against Raylan's jeans. He could easily break the chain. Years down a mine shaft left him strong, but he was uncharacteristically attached to the watch. So he allows Raylan the illusion of dominance, for now.

Raylan flips him back around, eyes watching Boyd, dark with a peeking wickedness as if he was getting to unwrap a Christmas present early without permission. “Something like that,” not one to give up the game easily.

Raylan finds the knife again, twirls it around in his fingers. A crooked grin gracing his face as he runs along the seams of the man's vest. Boyd grumbles, “I would have divested myself of my clearly criminal sartorial choices  if you had bothered to ask politely. But something tells me you much prefer watching me bleed a little, Raylan.” Boyd wriggles again lasciviously, pressing his cock into Raylan's through their jeans.

Raylan avoids Boyd's eyes and manic teeth, focusing on each thread snapping against the inevitable bite of honed steel as he drags the blade, ruining what's left of Boyd's precious waistcoat. “And you would know so much about that, being an outlaw and all.” Raylan tugs the metal chain around Boyd's wrists above his head, stretching him out like an animal on a rack, pressing himself into Boyd's deliberant movements. “But I'm supposed to be the lawman, remember?” He ducks his face under the brim of Boyd’s hat, <i>his</i> hat and licks across the shallow cut along Boyd's cheek. 

Boyd squirms, intentionally dragging himself against Raylan, enjoying the way Raylan's breath hitches and his eyelashes flutter. “Oh, you the lawman now? Is that really who you want to be? Right now? Because your badge is on the bar, your gun is on the floor and your hat is on my head.” 

“I don't think you've wanted to be a lawman since you walked into this bar.” Boyd tugs his hands against Raylan's grip on the metal chain around his wrist. He whispers, “I don't think you've wanted to be a lawman since you stepped off the flight from Miami.”

Boyd kisses him then, fierce and explosive, like a thousand pounds of emulex all set off at once. One of Raylan’s hands keeps the chain twisted around Boyd’s wrist, the other finds the side of his face. Boyd’s tongue delves into Raylan's mouth, hot against his palate, soft against the sharp edges of his teeth. Boyd moans, and Raylan takes the opportunity to lay his own claim into Boyd's mouth, pressing himself against every surface his own tongue can find. The two men were tasting each other more than kissing. A long stifled fire now burns in the bar between them as they move against each other. Boyd can’t help himself, he wants to be inside this man’s skin, wants to consume Raylan so he can remember every bit of this, in case he never gets to again.

Raylan pulls away, cheeks flushed red, as he rests his forehead against Boyd’s, breath speeding up as he looks for air. “You never shut up do you?” He states,  before he pushes the vest off to the floor. The shirt follows next, sleeves catching on Boyd's wrists, but exposing his chest and shoulders. He purposefully lets the knife dip into the skin along Boyd’s bicep, blood welling up against the black ink of Boyd’s previous poor decisions, chasing after it with his tongue, the iron making him groan. Something about Boyd’s squirming against him, blood dripping down his shoulder, makes Raylan examine his own past choices, following Boyd’s accusations. Had he truly ever wanted to be a lawman? Had he done it to spite Arlo? To spite Boyd?

He tugs the shirt off Boyd’s wrists, and someone he had once considered a friend stands before him shirtless. Mouth open, eyes shadowed by the hat but always on Raylan. Raylan moves back his tongue, licking up more of the blood, going back up and biting at his neck. A strangled hiss escapes Boyd, hips moving slowly against the press of Raylan's body. Raylan groans, grinding back just as hard, <i>Fuck</i>. The room feels hazy, like it's filled with smoke, and the only clear point in his vision is Boyd. 

Raylan picks up the chain and wraps it around Boyd's wrists again. Boyd struggles against the gold metal, trying to get more friction against his own aching need. “Should have known you’d be a tease. Been back for almost three years and it took you this long to be here -” Boyd gasps as Raylan bites into Boyd’s chest. “Keep on like that, you're gonna leave marks that require explanation, not like I am going to be able to direct the accusations at you, Raylan. I have a feeling this could be considered prisoner abuse.”

Raylan lifts his face up from Boyd’s chest, the indents of his teeth blooming red across Boyd’s skin. His jaw clenches and he looks at the unstoppable force that is Boyd. Did he even hear half the stuff that came out of his mouth? Raylan tugs on the chain pulling him from the counter, his other hand applying pressure to Boyd’s shoulder, drawing out a fresh stream of blood.

“And so what?” Raylan pulls again, relishing the small noises he elicits from Boyd in response to the makeshift bondage. “I’m sure you can find a perfectly reasonable explanation for these marks on your chest. Or are those harder to justify than this?” Raylan twists his hand, bringing the edge of the knife against the hateful ink on Boyd’s bicep, etching a second cut into his arm. Unable to resist the thick welling of Boyd’s life seeping out between the layers of flesh, Raylan laps at the split skin. He flicks his eyes back up to Boyd's, “Besides, this wouldn't be the first time you've made excuses for my presence in your life.”

Boyd growls and shivers, unable to resist the effect Raylan has over his physical body, but unwilling to concede any ground in the war they've been waging since birth. “Your marks have always been deeper and less superficial, except for one notable occasion. And while I must admit I don't hate…,” Raylan bites into the dark ink, stuttering Boyd's monologue, “your inventiveness, I do have my current promises and obligations to consider.”

Raylan stops cold, removes the knife, but keeps his grip on the chain. “You mean Ava.” His eyes drill like diamond tipped bits into Boyd's gaze. “You think Johnny is gonna tell? Blow up every lie you've told to that poor woman?” 

Boyd glares at him, his mouth thin lipped, “I never lied to her, unlike you.” The words are short and to the point. “At least I wasn’t sleeping with my ex-wife while stringing her along.”

Raylan slaps Boyd across the face with an open hand. Boyd snaps the chain and is pushing Raylan backwards onto a table. He topples backwards, boots slipping, legs akimbo. Boyd slides into the gap between Raylan's legs, fist clenched at his side, and he glares down at the dazed man. 

“You’re a real piece of work Raylan, carved out of stone like some golem figurehead. Would fuck anyone with two legs, but can’t admit when you’re wrong.” Boyd chides at him, fingers pulling the belt out of Raylan’s pants with a thwack. He loops it around Raylan’s neck and pulls the leather through the buckle, dragging the man up, metal digging into his skin. Then he's crashing into Raylan. He bites at Raylan’s lips tasting a small amount of blood coming out of them and tightens the belt around his throat. 

“All I wanted was you,” Boyd whispers in between frenzied kisses, “Even with all that rage you carry in your heart, even after you shot me, after you left. I hated that you came back, acting like you’d never left, like you didn’t leave me here.”

Words are tumbling out of him, the dam which he keeps secret truths behind finally broken. Raylan grabs at Boyd’s back, pulling their bodies together, even as he gasps for air around his own belt. His right arm is covered in Boyd’s blood from where he worked at the tattoo. The words burn like cuts from a blade, but he doesn’t care anymore. Heat from Boyd’s skin is making the ever pressing arousal more noticeable between them. 

“Please shut up,” Raylan groans, his hands trying to find Boyd’s pants. “Just shut up,” he begs. He doesn't want to think about the ways he's hurt Boyd under his skin. Not now when they're pressed together, Boyd holding his air hostage.

Boyd stands back and releases the belt from Raylan's neck to undo the buttons on his jeans. His fingers hesitate at the cool metal of the zipper and the insistent heat he can feel even through the heavy denim. Raylan sits up on his elbows, forehead wrinkled as he takes in Boyd’s mercifully silent figure.

Then, Raylan Givens smiles with all the brightness of the sun, branding another secret into the dingy wood paneling of the bar. Boyd laughs, weightlessly, in a way he hasn't since he was twenty years younger and pulls away to shimmy out of his black jeans and boxers. Boyd thinks Raylan's laugh as he stumbles out of his boots would best be described as a giggle. At that sound, Boyd doesn't miss the weaponry between them, so remains silent, only reflecting Raylan's smile back towards him, like the moon.

Naked and free of his shoes, Boyd crashes on top of Raylan, hands scrambling back for his button and zipper. Raylan wraps an arm around Boyd's waist and twists, switching their positions, Raylan standing and Boyd flat on his back. It's Raylan's turn to embarrass himself, ankles and knees uncooperative in his haste to match Boyd's state of undress.

Raylan and Boyd stare at each other, their eyes taking in the lifetime of changes since the last time they saw each other laid bare. Boyd’s eyes memorize the scars across Raylan's chest, some from knives, at least one a clear gunshot wound. An interesting constellation over one shoulder that Boyd knows from experience could only come from shotgun scatter shot. He stands, arm outstretched, and begins tracing across each silverskin mark on Raylan's torso. 

Raylan is certain he's having an asthma attack. The air is thick and heavy with nothing but Boyd. And he can't breathe in Boyd, he's not oxygen, he's suffocating. And without oxygen a fire can't burn and Raylan doesn't know who will be left in the shadows once the fire burns out. 

“Can I?” Boyd’s voice ripples across what's left of the air and shakes his head, “Would you turn your back to me, Raylan Givens?”

Raylan can feel the hesitation in Boyd's voice, the request for vulnerability more dangerous than blades or guns or sex. His better judgment balks at the request, but better judgment wouldn’t have him standing stark naked in this bar. Swallowing, he turns around, and kicks the piles of clothes away from them.

Boyd's warm palm and calloused fingers follow along the map of pain etched into Raylan's skin. He couldn't remember the last time someone he took to bed had paid them any attention. Of course Boyd would, Boyd thrives on details, needs them to breathe.

Boyd's hand trails down, stopping at a particularly raised scar on Raylan’s lower left side. He traces over it several times, trying to imprint the feeling into his memory, before moving to press his chest into the muscle of Raylan's back. Boyd lets his hands rest on Raylan's hips, gripping at the hard flesh there. It’s easy to push his body against Raylan's, hold him close enough he can feel Raylan's heartbeat quicken against his own. He tries to stifle a groan as his cock slides, dripping, between Raylan's ass cheeks. 

Raylan lets out his own strangled noise and wraps his fist around himself, unable to ignore his own need. Before Raylan can move against himself, Boyd’s hand is there, gripping at his cock as he thrusts slowly between Raylan's legs, the tip nudging against Raylan's balls. Curses fall from both of their lips at the sensations. Raylan bends under the pleasure, hands trying and failing to find purchase against the smooth surface of the table as his partner continues to rut against him.

It's slow at first, Boyd taking his time to feel the weight of the man’s penis in his hand, how his body bends under Boyd’s. Words stick in his throat, coherent thoughts lost, as Boyd holds onto him, unrelenting. How many times has he thought about Raylan over the years, and wondered what he looks like in this moment. His long held fantasies about it would feel like to draw pleasure and pull need out of him finally realized.

Boyd replaces his fingers with his tongue, mapping the shallow paths of scars along Raylan's back. He never stops moving his hand along Raylan's cock, swiping precum from the tip to ease the way. “I've never forgotten,” Boyd confesses into a constellation of scar tissue between Raylan's ribs and hip, the twin of the starburst scar on the front, “what you sound like when I last had you like this.”

Raylan moans again and Boyd almost wishes Johnny would burst in, guns blazing, through the back door and put a bullet in his head, so that the last sound he ever hears is Raylan making that noise for him. Boyd shifts, moving his hand off of Raylan’s back and between his legs to collect his own wetness before returning to grip Raylan tightly, all the easier with the additional lubrication.

Raylan's hips buck into Boyd's hand, the fire within him burns low, more smoke than flame. He wants to lose himself here, become nothing but the honed edge of a knife, valued and maintained, but only for a specific purpose, useful, for <i>him</i>.  “Boyd…” Raylan warns, the heat in his gut, the pressure behind his eyes threatening to break.

Boyd speeds up slightly, his own pleasure put on the back burner as he uses his other hand to cup Raylan’s balls. Rolling in his fingers as he focuses the twist of wrist at the head of the man’s cock. Boyd can feel every flex of Raylan's muscles, the pounding of his heart through his chest as he climbs closer to release. Boyd wants to swallow the grunts Raylan makes as his hips fuck into Boyd’s slick and heavy hand. Boyd’s in his own haze, trying to tattoo those sounds into the folds of his brain matter, wanting to hold onto every sensation so he might draw on them for the rest of his life. 

Raylan’s body is tense, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. He had thought about this for so long, on many lonely nights after Winnoa left, when nothing else managed to release his frustrations. Sitting there with one hand on his cell, and one hand on his cock. Wanting to hear Boyd’s voice but never actually calling. He’s unable to hold back the litany of whimpers, so close to the edge, but resisting the desire to tumble off, never wanting this sensation to end. 

“Boyd,” He grunts out again, the one time he wants the insufferable prick to speak and he’s silent, “Fuck,”

“Let it go Raylan,” Boyd’s voice is wrecked, begging, his hips pressing into the giving flesh of Raylan’s ass. “Want to - need to hear how you sound cumming under me.”

Raylan’s fingers grip into the edge of the table hard enough to splinter the plastic coating, howling as he releases into Boyd's hand, coating him in his thick spend. It’s too much, his eyes squeezing shut as Boyd keeps working him until he’s shivering, knees buckling. Boyd works him slowly until Raylan bucks, trying to pull away, oversensitive but trapped under Boyd’s body. He reluctantly removes his sticky hand as Raylan struggles to stay upright, stars dancing in front of his eyes. 

Boyd lets go of him, watching the usually always uptight man shudder as he leans heavily on the chair. Boyd strokes his own cock as he takes him in, remembering the sound Raylan made the heat in his stomach twisting in knots. Raylan slides to the floor turning towards him, eyes glazed from post orgasmic haze, mouth slightly open as he looks up at Boyd. Boyd smiles as he raises the hand covered in cum to his mouth and licks at it. 

Raylan turns to look at Boyd and can’t believe his eyes. Boyd stands there naked, tongue laving against the webbing of his fingers, sucking Raylan’s cum off his hand, stroking himself with his other. His eyes are half lidded under the hat as he stares down at Raylan's face. Raylan once again ignores his better judgment and gives into his impulses, shuffling over on his knees to settle between Boyd’s legs. Raylan drags Boyd’s hand away, replacing it with his own. His tongue darts out to lap at the free-flowing dribble at the head.  Boyd tastes expectedly salty and interestingly like moonshine. He doesn’t think about it much, choosing to focus on opening his mouth and taking him deeper. Boyd’s face is red, eyebrows furrowed together in concentration as he grips Raylans hair. 

“Fuck,” Boyd whispers as he moves himself in and out of the Raylan’s mouth, testing how much Raylan is willing to give. His eyes unfocus as he swallows Boyd down. Boyd thinks he may be dreaming, his brain challenging the vision of Raylan Fucking Givens on his knees, mouth wrapped like velvet around his dick. 

“Oh, Raylan,” Boyd whispers, as if he's praying, like he's found God again against Raylan's tongue, between his teeth. Boyd’s fingers tighten in Raylan's hair, knuckles turning white. “I would truly be the liar you believe me to be if I didn't admit I've imagined this more times than I can rightfully give number to.” 

Raylan hums and swallows, sucking Boyd in deeper as confessions fall from Boyd’s lips. His teeth scrape lightly against sensitive flesh and Boyd's hips thrust against his cheekbones. Raylan bites back the grin threatening to split his face wide and swirls his tongue, a silent demand for Boyd to repeat the motion. 

He loosens his grip, slides his hand down Raylan's skull to the nape of his neck, fingers brushing against the shorter hairs at the edges, before pressing bruises into the scar on Raylan's shoulder. Boyd’s toes curl against the wooden floor, splinters cracking into his feet, but his entire world narrows to the heat of Raylan's throat, the motion of his tongue, the graze of his teeth. Boyd answers Raylan's plea and repeats the motion of his hips, steadying Raylan by the shoulder and forces himself deeper down Raylan's willing throat. 

“You taste the same as I remembered, Raylan, did you know that? Some things never change.” Boyd strokes Raylan's cheek with his free hand, swiping away a single tear from Raylan's watering eyes and bringing it up to his lips. 

Raylan doesn't stop moving, the words wash over him, spurring him onwards, quickening his motions. He would say the same, the taste,the feel, the way he spoke, it all felt so familiar. It's as if he had never left, like the twenty years of lost time between them has also burned away. He pushes himself up, pressing his face into the flesh under Boyd’s belly button, nose brushing against the hair sprinkling his abdomen. Boyd’s mouth falls open and his eyes roll back as his hips stutter. Raylan pulls backwards, needing air and one hand works at the base, the other reaching to press teasingly against Boyd's hole. He can feel Boyd’s release splash against the back of his throat and takes down every drop. Boyd moans his name and Raylan gags slightly, hating that his eyes flutter, obscuring Boyd from his vision as he swallows. Boyd pulls himself out,  his thumb swiping over Raylan’s abused lips, the last of his cum dripping across his cheek. 

“Could you be any prettier,” Boyd said, tongue going over his lips. “Fuck, Raylan. Why did we wait so long?”

Raylan grins, feeling dizzy, the world fuzzy around the edges, and leans his head into Boyd’s hand. He knows the afterglow will fade momentarily and he will leave. Part of him wants to stay, kneeling at Boyd’s feet, forehead pressed into his thigh. But the weight of the world returns to Raylan's shoulders and the smoke in Raylan's chest turns back into flame.

Boyd frees his hands from Raylan's face and shoulder, and moves over to the pile of their ruined clothing. He sorts through the pieces, placing Raylan’s clothes beside him. Finally, he removes the hat, turning it in his hands with an unreadable expression on his face before setting it down beside Raylan. He cups Raylan's face with warm hands, tipping his chin up. 

“I’m gonna go find a shirt that isn't cut to shreds and open the doors before any more business associates start asking too many questions about why your car is outside and the door is locked,” Boyd says, hiding his thoughts behind his hundred watt smile. “Don’t go anywhere now Marshal, we aren't finished here yet.”

Raylan watches him leave, and is up on his feet. A twisted knot has crawled into this chest cavity and it’s trying to break out of his throat. He dresses like the place is on fire, grabbing his gun and badge before rushing to the door. He looks behind him at the pieces of Boyd’s clothes, , the two half empty glasses on the bar, the droplets of blood splattered on the bartop and floor. He grits his teeth, memorizes the scene and walks out into the daylight. 

Part two

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Please let us both know if you enjoyed it! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! Much more is coming😈 Each chapter will be spaced out as we write!

[kpop---scenarios]

Hidden Lies (1)

Pairing: Unknown x Reader

Warning: Violence, Crime, Almost Assault

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: This is a remake of Poisonous Lies. Some parts may be familiar, and that would be why. I hope you enjoy!! Let me know who you think she'll connect more with!

This morning you woke up, listening to the sounds of birds chirping, the sun shining through your window, and feeling like it was going to be a great day. 

“YN.” Your mom yells. It was too early and you were trying to wake up peacefully. “Y/N!” She calls out again, but this time it's more of a screech. 

You groan loudly, folding your pillow over your ears, wanting to enjoy a little bit of time without her yelling at you. The sound of her shrieking voice was coming closer every second, until it was practically right in your ear. 

Your eyes are still closed as you feel your blanket being ripped off your body, your mom cursing at you. 

“Wake the fuck up!” She yells. “Don't you hear me yelling for you? I have shit to do, I cannot keep waking you up in the mornings! damn, you're going to make us both late” 

You were 22 years old and you still live with your mother. This life you had was sad, although it was your fault. This technically was your choice. You had decided to drop out of school and go home to help your mom out after your dad was sentenced to 10 years in prison for a lengthy list of crimes, although well it wasn't his fault, it also was at the same time. 

Your father had lost his job, and instead of telling your mother and them trying to figure it out, he went and got a loan from some people involved in crime that he most definitely should have not gone to. He didn't think about the fact that he would have had to pay that money back, plus interest. And when the time came for them to collect he didn't have it. So he was recruited for odd jobs until he had paid everything back, he didn't get very far though. His last job ended up being a sting operation and he was charged with trafficking drugs, intent to sell, attempted kidnapping, attempted human trafficking and a few other things. He wouldn't tell them why he did it, he didn't want things to get any worse, even though you weren't sure if they could or not. It wasn't his finest moment, he was trying to help his family even if it was the worst way possible. He was a good man and a good dad. Your father was a man who would do anything for his family, especially to protect them, and that’s exactly why he did what he did and now he was suffering the consequences of his own actions. 

“I swear to god, YN.” Your mom yells as she grabs your arm, trying to pull you out of bed. “If you don't get your ass up in the next 30 seconds, I'm going to lose my mind! Your train leaves in 45 minutes and if you dont get ready and leave in 10 minutes then you're not going to be able to see your dad.” She sighs. “It’s his birthday, remember.”

Shit. You quickly bolt up in bed, scrambling to get out of your bed. You were rushing around your room grabbing whatever looked the cleanest on your floor before heading to your bathroom, slamming the door in the process. 

Your mom sighs loudly before she leaves your room so you can rush around and get ready. You knew it was hard for her, not having your dad around, and you were sometimes difficult but you were trying. You felt guilty, especially since she wasn't able to go on the visit today, her shitty boss wouldn't let her have the time off. It had only been a year since he’d been locked up and you, mom and your brother had faced some very hard times. The three of you have been barely surviving paying the bills, mortgage, car, gas, groceries as well as trying to pay back your dad's loan in cash, rather than jobs similar to what your dad did.

Your mom was working 2 jobs, you and your brother both working full time, and all your money went towards everything needing to be paid, rarely leaving you much of anything left over but the three of you made it work, you always figured it out. You would do whatever you needed to do. 

You're running down the stairs, trying to put your hair into a semi decent bun and forfeiting any makeup. 

“You ready?” Your mom asks, car keys in her hand. 

“Yeah, just let me grab my bag.” you breathe. You run into the kitchen, snatching your purse from the counter before you head back to the front door that's left wide open. You roll your eyes heading out the door, closing it behind you before sliding into the passenger seat of the car the three of you shared. 

Your mom doesn't say a word to you on the ride to the train station. You hold your train ticket in your hand as she pulls in front of the station. “Please tell him happy birthday from me and that I love him.” she whispers as you're getting out of the car. 

You give her a half smile. “I will mom.” You say, getting out of the car and closing the door. It doesn't take you long to navigate your way through the station, you’ve been making this trip a few times a month. You tried to see him as much as you could but between work, work and work, you never had a ton of time. You picked a seat on the train, setting your bag down in the seat beside you. You just made it on time, seconds later you were on your way and you couldn't wait to see your dad. 

You stood in line, waiting to have your bag checked and to go through the x-ray machine. When that was all clear you headed to the front desk, showing your ID and filling out paperwork before you could even go into the room and wait for him. You sit down, your stomach is twisting with nerves. You weren't sure why, this was like any other visit you had been on. 

“LN, YN.” You hear. “You can head in now.” the guard finishes, pointing towards a visitation room. The door buzzes open and you see your dad immediately, sitting in the back, in the middle of the room. His fingers were locked together with his head down. It felt like it had been forever since you had last seen him. “Dad.” you sniffle and his head shoots up, a smile spreads across his face so quickly as he stands up from his chair. You walk towards him, his arms are wide open, waiting to embrace you. You crash into his chest, wrapping your arms around him as he does you, holding you tightly. You missed his hugs, and the safeness you felt from him. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt safe.

You both let go, tears brimming in your eyes as you both sit down across from each other. 

“Happy birthday dad.” you smile. He reaches out to grab your hand, whispering a small thank you while his head hangs low. “Mom also wishes you a happy birthday, and she says that she loves you.” You tell him, but you knew he already knew that. 

“I know,” he smiles. “I'm assuming that she had to work today?” he asks. 

You nod your head. 

“She tried to get the time off but you know Dave, he’s a dick and wouldn't even let her have the morning off.” you tell him.

But again, you knew he already knew that. Dave and your dad had been friends for years, but after your dad was sentenced the man acted as if he never knew him and was never friends with him. Your eyes wander around the room, as if anything would be different since the last time you were here. Your dad begins telling you a story, something funny that had happened the other day. You were listening, but you couldn't help but let your eyes wander.

You looked out into the common room, as you were scanning the room, your eyes landed on someone. A man, a very handsome dark haired, angry looking man staring directly at you. You tried to look away from him, but it's like you were locked in with him. He was so captivating you honestly didn't even want to look away, but you do, not before he smiles at you slightly, giving you a small wink. 

You’re brought out of your trance by your dad clearing his throat before continuing on with his story. You catch the end of it, laughing along with him even though you didn't really hear the rest of it. “Tell me about everything. What’s going on with you? How is your brother?” he asks. Before you can answer the lights of the prison flicker, the alarm blares as the red siren lights up the room on beat with the alarms. 

“What’s happening?” you yell over the loud sounds. You were feeling a little panicked but before your dad could say anything you both hear yelling. You looked at the commotion in the common room, which was only separated from the visiting room by one large metal door. You glanced around, seeing the other visitors watching what was happening but no one was reacting to anything. 

“I'm sure the guards will get it sorted, fights break out all the time. No need to worry.” Your dad tells you, trying to reassure you. 

You couldn't help but worry. You watched as more and more fights were beginning to break out between prisoners, prisoners and guards. You watched in horror, as the prisoners seemingly took the guards down more easily then they should have been able too. Your eyes were darting to every window that you could see and watched guard after guard collapse, inmates grabbing the guns or batons, a cluster of inmates slamming guards into the windows, shaking what is supposed to be bullet proof glass. 

Seconds later a fight in the visiting room breaks out after an inmate bashes a guard's head against the table. You're panicking now, other visitors are screaming, leaving their tables trying to escape, some pounding on the door, begging the guards to let them out.

The inmates from the common room begin trying to shoot the windows, or trying to pry open the doors into the visiting room. 

The doors were buzzed open letting the guards from the front now rush in from one side to try and calm the situation but instead they let the inmates rush through the other doors into the room where you and your dad were. He had taken you to the corner of the room, standing in front of you to protect you. You peek out from behind him, the two of you watching in horror as blood and tears are spilled, the cries and pleas from visitors are yelled out as the inmates attack anyone in their way, including those who were just trying to visit their loved ones. 

Your heart is pounding so loud, you can hear it in your ears. You feel weak, light headed. Your adrenaline hasn't kicked in yet. Your stomach is churning at all of the blood. Your father grabs your hand pulling you with him through another open door, and hopefully to safety. As soon as the two of you make it into another room, you're confronted by three large men. 

“Look.” Your dad begins. “We don't want any trouble. I'm just trying to keep my daughter safe.”

The man in front smiles, but even his smile is terrifying. 

“What a good dad you are. But don't worry.” He says. “We'll take her from here. I'll personally keep her safe.” He finishes, licking his lips. 

“No thank you.” your dad says. “We're just going to go.” You grip onto your dads orange jumpsuit. 

“Dad.” You whisper. He can hear the fear in your voice. 

He runs forward, punching the man, pushing him into the two men behind him. “Run YN! Run!” He screams as the men grab him, taking him elsewhere. You try to run for the door but you're grabbed, pulled back and pushed against the wall. The man who had been talking to your father stood inches from your face. You could see the evil in his eyes as he eyed you up. You can feel his breath on your neck as he moves closer towards you.

You look both ways, trying to find your way to escape. There's only one other door besides the one you came through and you're pretty sure it's locked. Fear jolts through your body as you try and think of anything you could possibly say or do to get yourself out of this situation but you know that there is nothing you can do, except try and fight. 

“Get away from me!” you yell, putting your hands on his chest and pushing as hard as you can. 

"Don't fucking do that.” He snaps, shoving you against the wall. He raises his hand as he gets closer to you, his finger tracing your face. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears rolling down your cheeks and you let out a scream, as loud as you could. You switched between yelling "help me." And screaming, hoping someone would come for you. 

The man slaps his hand over your mouth, angrily. "Why would you do that, don't you like me?" He asks. "It's been a long fucking time since we've been this close to a woman." He chuckles. You can feel his body pressing against you. You try to focus on anything else, but all you can hear is the sound of him breathing and the screams and cries of the ones caught in the riot. 

Just as you were about to give up, you feel a release. You can no longer feel his body pressing against you, you can hear yelling much closer. You open your eyes and see a dark haired man, and a familiar other dark haired man pulling the men away from you. Within seconds the man who wanted to attack you was down on the floor, and the two men who saved you grabbed your hands, pulling you out of the room and away from the chaos. 

Where was your dad? Was he okay? 

The three of you ran down a hallway, the alarms are still blaring, you can just barely hear police sirens from outside. 

The two men had no idea where to go, everywhere you looked there was violence, inmates with weapons and minimal guards that were alive. 

"Hey!" You hear from down the hall. You all turn around and see the man that had you pinned against the wall. Anger suddenly fuels you, wondering where your dad was. 

“What did you do to my dad!?” You scream. The man stops walking, a grin spreads across his face. “Don't worry, he's just fine. Now you two.” He says, pointing to the two men who were still holding onto you. “You don't get to take what's not yours.” He frowns. “I want her back.” He yells down the hall. The two men who had taken your father appear behind him. 

“Fuck.” One says. they turn around, pulling you in a different direction. You were turning corner after corner until one of them found an unlocked door. He opens it, quickly pulling you inside before slamming it shut. Your body is shaking, you can't help but sob. You never in a million years expected today to turn out how it has. 

Both the men quickly jump into action, grabbing whatever heavy pieces of furniture they can find to shove against the door. You watch them, still feeling just pure shock. 

"I'm sorry." You whisper. You weren't even entirely sure what you were sorry about but it felt appropriate in the moment. 

They both stop covering the door, staring at you. “Sorry for what?” One asks. 

“I.. I'm not sure. But you're in this mess now because of me.” You sigh. 

“We're in this because we didn't want to see an innocent woman get taken advantage of by some fucked up men. You didn't start it.” He says. 

“What's your name?” The other asks. 

"Y/N." You sniffle. 

“I’m Wooyoung, and this is San.” 

“Nice to meet you both. And thank you. I truly don't know what would have happened if you guys didn't save me.” 

“It's nothing.” San says, giving you a half smile. He could not stop staring at you, just like when you were in the visiting room with your dad and he had caught your eye. 

Before you could say anything back, the knob to the door started to shake. There's pounding at the door, and that's when you hear it. 

“Y/N.” your dad calls. “Y/N please let me in. They're coming.” He cries. “Please.” 

You run to the door, trying your best to move everything they had put against the door. 

“Y/N stop.” Wooyoung yells, trying to pull you away. 

“Please!” You cry. “Please help me. That's my dad, we need to let him in.” 

San and Wooyoung loom at each other. They both know this is a bad idea but knew that there would be no chance of you letting up. 

“Whatever happens?” San says. Wooyoung nods his head. 

“Whatever happens.” 

The two men help you pull the large filing cabinet, desk and other heavy things away from the door. You unlock the deadbolt, ripping the door open, the smile on your face falling immediately. 

“I'm sorry Y/N. I'm so sorry.” He cries. He's pushed inside the room by the three men from before. He trips, falling to the floor with a thud. You wanted to go to him but the man has a gun now and it's pointed directly at you. 

“You two aren't very good at hiding.” He chuckles. 

“Eric, you don't have to do this.” Wooyoung says, his hands up as he inches towards you. 

“Fuck you, Woo. You'd be the fucking same if you were locked in the hole for months at a time.” Eric snaps. “And now I have a chance for something real and you two are trying to ruin it for me.” 

“I'm telling you not to fucking do this.” San snaps. He can see Eric eyeing you up, your dad laying on the floor, one of Eric's men's feet pinning him down. 

“You think I'm gonna listen to you?” Eric laughs. “Just enjoy the show.” He says, grabbing onto Your wrists. Wooyoung and San try to lurch forward but they're stopped by the other two, flashing their knives. Eric pushes you against the wall, pulling you back towards him. He pulls you to the ground, climbing on top of you, straddling you. The gun is still shoved in your face. You say nothing, tears just stream down your face. Your eyes dart in-between San and Wooyoung as you silently plead for one of them to do something. To help you. 

Eric rips open your shirt, exposing your bra. You look away, seeing Wooyoung and San nod towards each other. They both lunge for the men, knocking them down. Your dad scrambles to his feet taking over for San, as he runs for Eric, who was too in his own world with you to hear anything else. San tackles him, causing Eric to let go of the gun, it slides across the floor. Eric scrambles beneath San as he delivers hit after hit. 

“Everybody get on the fucking ground.” You hear. Smoke bombs thrown into the room. Guards in full tactical gear flood inside, guns at the ready. San gets off of Eric, all of them men laying on the floor. “Hands on your head.” They yell. 

You do as you're told. “We have a hostage located.” They go to you first, helping you up. You're coughing loudly as they guide you out of the room, into another one to be treated. They'd finally gotten everything settled down and started getting inmates back into their cells, or medical treatment. 

“You took a fucking hostage, the warden is deciding your punishment.” A guard snaps at Wooyoung and San as they escort them past the room you're in. You push the nurse away, running out of the room. 

“Wait!” You yell. “They didn't take me hostage. They saved me from him.” You say, pointing to Eric. “He tried to.. he tried to...” You cry. “They protected me from him and I'll forever be grateful.” you finish. You walk over to the two handcuffed men, wrapping your arms around both of them, until they're both escorted off. Both of them looking over their shoulders, giving you a smile and a wink. 

Once you were checked out by the nurse and cleared to go, you were led out to the front where your mom was waiting for you. You sobbed into her shoulder as she hugged you tightly, apologizing to you profusely. She grabbed your hand, pulling you out to the car. you look back at the prison as she drives away, silently thanking Wooyoung and San for saving you. You'd have to find some way to properly thank them sometime. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Your mom asks. 

“Dad and I were talking when fights broke out. Inmates were attacking guards and other inmates.” You sigh. “They opened the doors to the visitation room to let guards in but inmates rushed in.. one gut I guess had his sights set on me.” 

“Dad protected you right?” Your mom asks. 

“He tried. But there were 3 of them and one of him.. they took him away. And I was alone.” You look over at your mom, she has tears in her eyes as she listens to you. “But then two men rushed in and grabbed me, helped me escape. Took me to a room and barricaded the door.” 

“They didn't hurt you did they?” She whispers. 

“No mom, they didn't. Dad started banging on the door.. they helped me move everything and open the door but the bad guy was there with him, they pushed him in.. the guy tried to.. r..” you pause. Your mom looks horrified. “He didn't. Wooyoung and San tackled him and then the guards came in.” 

“That was extremely lucky that they were there for you.” She sighs. “I'm so sorry baby.” 

“It's not your fault mom. You didn't know that was going to happen.” You say. “No one could have predicted that would happen.” 

The rest of the way you drive home in silence. You really want to just go to bed. Luckily you didn't have to work today so you could do just that. As you walked in the house, your brother Jaehyun rushed to you, hugging you tightly. “I'm so glad you're okay.” He says, squeezes you even harder. 

“I won't be if you squeeze me anymore, you're gonna suffocate me.” You half chuckle, half panic. He lets you go, patting your back before heading back to the living room. 

“Do you want some lunch?” Your mom asks. You raise an eyebrow. You had assumed she would have had to go back to work. 

“Don't you have to go back to work?” You ask. She looks at the ground. 

“Uh, well.. Dave said if I left to go to you, I wouldn't have a job. It's not worth it if he won't let me go to my child who was in the middle of a prison riot. Don't worry, I'll find something else.” She smiles. 

Fuck Dave. You went up to your room, crawled in your bed and quickly fell asleep. The day was exhausting and you were still shook a week later. It was the week after the riot, and you had been answering everyone's questions about what happened, what it was like the guys who saved you. It was the talk of the town still but you were tired of talking about it. You were ready to forget about it now, which is why you agreed so fast when your friend Hwasa asked you to go out that night. There was a newish club that was apparently very exclusive and the two of you wanted in. You got ready in a hurry, doing your makeup and your hair the best you could. You slipped on your favorite club dress as well as shoes and headed for the front door. 

“I'm going out, bye!” You yell, slamming the door behind you. You run down the driveway heading to Hwasa's car. 

The drive to the club is long. When you finally see it, you're mesmerized. It's bigger than you imagined, the bright sign outside reads Ateez. You were so excited. The line was extremely long, and as you walked up to the bouncer he shooed you to the back of the line. It seemed like you were never going to get in. 

After about twenty minutes, you noticed a man staring at you that was walking the line, he walked past you, before backing up to look at you again. 

“L/N Y/N?” He asks, eyeing you up and down. 

“Yes?” You respond, staring at the handsome man. 

“Come with me.” He says, motioning for you and Hwasa to follow him. You and Hwasa look at each other, she shrugs her shoulders, following the man and dragging you along behind. He stops at the bouncer, pointing to you. “L/N Y/N. Add her to the list. VIP.” He finishes, bringing you both inside. What the hell did you do to get this sort of treatment? 

The two of you walk behind the man, following him really without any questions. You pass what looks like the main bar, the dance floor and head up some stairs. The rope is removed from the hook, letting the three of you into the VIP area. 

“You can stay here if you'd like. Your drinks are all on the house, whatever you'd like. If you need anything, my name is Mingi, don't hesitate to ask.” He says. 

“Um, I do have a question.” You say, slightly raising your hand. “How? Um, why? And um what?” You say. 

Mingi chuckles. “You helped my brothers out, by not adding time to their sentences. They both could have gotten a lot more time after that riot. But they didn't, because of you. So from now on, if you are in trouble or need anything, you have 8 men who will happily help you out.” He says. “Well 6 for now, until San and Woo get out.” 

“All I did was tell the truth.” You say.

“There's a lot of women out there who would have lied, knowing who those two are.” He says. 

 “Also, You're related to them?” You ask, ignoring what he said before. You were too busy trying to stop your mouth from hanging down. 

“Well.. in a sense.” He laughs. “Enjoy your night.” He finishes before leaving the room. 

“What the hell!” Hwasa shouts, heading over to your private bar. She orders multiple drinks and shots for each of you to be brought to your table. As you two sit there, listening to the music the DJ is playing, drinking and just having a good time you see five men walk into the room. They stop, staring at you. As they walk over they introduce themselves. 

“Y/N.” One smiles. “I'm Seonghwa, this is Yeosang, Yunho, Jongho and Hongjoong.” He says pointing to each extremely handsome man. 

“Nice to meet you.” You smile back, waving at them all while hiccuping in the process. 

“Thank you for what you did for Woo and San.” Seonghwa says. 

“Like I said to Mingi, I was just telling the truth. I didn't want them to get into trouble for saving me.” You explain. 

“If you need anything, and I mean anything, don't hesitate to call.” He says, sliding you a piece of paper. Written down are 8 phone numbers for you. This was honestly fucking surreal. Who knew this could happen for simply telling the truth? 

The men walk away and Hwasa stares at you in disbelief. “I almost wish it was me that day.” She laughs. “Let's go dance!” She says, trying to pull you up. 

“Let me just tidy these glasses.” You slur, stacking all the cups and shot glasses to bring back to the bartender. He laughs as you place them on the bar, and thanks you through his chuckles. 

You let Hwasa drag you down the stairs to the dance floor, immediately sliding her hands all over your body as you dance closely. The two of you always preferred to dance together, but sometimes if you were into it you'd dance with men.  This time you were too into dancing with Hwasa, you didn't want any men to disturb you. You turned around, grinding your ass into her as you looked around the club. You glanced up at the balcony and saw six men leaning on the railing, all their eyes staring directly at you. Why did you feel like your life was going to get a lot more interesting? 

[hanakihan]

Some Chulwoo omegaverse AU things because I am brainrotting

- differentiation to alphas and omegas was a result of outbreak. With appearance of mana in humans, they also started to change biology wise, but not all of them. There’s no real physical changes aside from pheromones and natural hierarchy structure. Surprisingly enough people know more about mana and dungeons than about this.. thing;

- with no surprise to anyone, S ranks also awaken as alphas, with no exception. Top A ranks sometimes awaken as alphas as well. Rest of humanity didn’t change and was deemed ‘betas’. I’m really rare cases one can awaken and awaken as omega as well, usually it’s lowest ranks simply because they lack mana to rise in natural hierarchy;

- despite jinwoo’s position as weakest hunter in existence, he’s at least lucky enough not to awaken as omega and instead stayed as a normal beta. After his ‘rebirth’ and double lair fiasco that status didn’t seemingly change but starts to the more he climbs ranks. He doesn’t even notice he became an alpha until someone who can smell pheromones (omegas and other alphas, betas literally cannot) pointed it out. They also pointed out that despite being a really strong alpha, jinwoo’s scent isn’t offensive or too strong like it usually happens with alphas, on contrary, it’s rather calming and neutral which is a rarity.

- jinchul, despite being top A rank, wasn’t awakened as an alpha and he’s really grateful for it. When S ranks or other A ranks use their offensive alpha pheromones to intimidate or submit him it doesn’t work because he simply can’t smell said pheromones. beta status makes him comfortable, since it’s less problems. Despite that however, some people (and even gunhee himself) mention that despite being a beta jinchul has faint pleasant smell, which probably helps him at managing especially rowdy people.

- with each passing meeting jinwoo starts to notice that jinchul started to smell differently to him, and he finds it pleasant, because unlike others’, jinchul’s smell isn’t offensive or intense. jinwoo has no idea that jinchul is in fact an ordinary beta and not an alpha as he thinks.

- jinwoo, who never was an alpha initially, doesn’t know alpha etiquette and thus has slight panic. Because apparently his brain starts to have stray thoughts and he’s more annoyed at other alpha’s behavior especially when it involves jinchul. gunhee is having too much fun seeing his second (disaster) son having a crisis over his alpha identity (and weird awkward unconscious attempts by to send courting signals to his right hand man). he takes pity on poor kid after some time and tells him that not only he been doing it awkwardly and wrongly, he also tells that jinchul wouldn’t been able to notice it anyway because he’s a simple beta.

- jinwoo having even more of a crisis upon realizing he’s been attempting to court jinchul without even realizing it. now on top of alpha panic he has gay panic as well. gunhee is having TOO much fun now.

- jinchul has some knowledge about behavior of both alphas and omegas but he also lacks full on knowledge so he legit has no idea when jinwoo starts to court him. he thinks jinwoo is simply trying to be nice to him due to their work.

- it’s all cute and awkward until jinwoo’s hit with his rut like a truck and he’s suffering because the instincts and urges are here but he can’t really do anything about it. what is worse he fears he may attack someone out of frustration or attack jinchul and he nearly screeches when gunhee apparently sends jinchul to his home. because jinchul have been dealing with alphas for years now and his faint calming scent is what acts as a sedative in emergency cases. so some pats and caressing from jinchul and Jinwoo is pretty much back to normal. Which is even worse for jinwoo because after jinchul leaves, this faint smell is left in his room and he’s dying from it.

- after tests turns out usual medication doesn’t work on jinwoo (due to his monarch status) so now it’s occasional sessions with jinchul. jinwoo is always dying out of awkwardness and embarrassment from it, jinchul doesn’t mind that much because honestly, it’s just some hours off sitting near jinwoo and reading a book or something with occasional pats.

- (jinwoo finally losing it and nearly attempts to bite jinchul because alpha behavior combined with monarch’s overall domineering tendencies overpowered. there was blood and fight and all jinwoo managed is to seriously mangle jinchul’s arm with his bites and teeth because that’s what jinchul was using to protect his neck)

[barclaysangel]

Death by her Side

And here it is! My fully sapphic vampire x death story! Wow…in complete disbelief that this random idea I had came out to a short story that’s close to 10K words. Insane af. But I’m proud of myself and the motivation I received along the way, it meant the world to me! I do have ideas for a spinoff story involving witches, over a decade after this story, but that requires making even MORE characters and I don’t think I have it in me. So for now, no story. I may jump into some Chucky fanfiction and/or continue my sapphic human x mermaid/siren story before I start my new semester of grad school next month. Anyway, I hope you guys like this and PLEASE leave comments if you do, it motivates me to post more of my stories if you do so!

Thank you and enjoy :)

Tags: @streets-in-paradise @cult-of-dollbabies @morganandtheemorgana @fairchilds-glasses

Word count: 9.2K

Magdalena Iglesias was 24 years old when she was turned against her will. 

A wicked and monstrous man named Nathaniel Murrow had been enraptured by her beauty and wanted her for his bride, his mate for eternity. 

He followed her down the alleyway, a shortcut to her home, and pinned her to the cobblestone ground with his body while his fangs punctured the soft flesh of her neck. 

Magdalena had tried screaming, but to no avail, no one would hear her. No one would care. 

She was no one. 

As her consciousness began to slip away, Magdalena saw someone. 

A woman standing some distance away, watching intently. She wore a long black dress and corset wrapped tightly around her frame, a black hood almost hiding her face but her piercing blue eyes were noticeable. 

But Magdalena could not focus on her for long because the moment Nathaniel cut open his own wrist with his teeth, feeding her his own blood, the image of the woman slipped away. 

She was gone as quickly as she came and her body turned cold. 

It was clear that Magdalena was part of the undead now, the ones that feasted on blood. And she despised Nathaniel for turning her into the demon children fear at night. She had tried to kill him but was too weak to do so, something he enjoyed mentioning one too many times. 

Instead, she had to kill others. To drink their blood just as he had with hers. 

She would be lying if she said that the taste of blood was not the most delicious thing she ever tasted. Filled her with delight and the warmth she had been missing since her turning. 

But there was also something else. 

Each time Magdalena fed on her new victim, she would see the woman in black. Watching with that same intent yet neutral look. And the more she saw the woman, the more Magdalena realized little details about her. 

Her skin was pale, so pale she was almost grey. 

Her curls were long and a soft brown color, almost looking like there were streaks of copper in them. 

And in one hand, there was a scythe. 

Magdalena always wondered about who the woman was. Perhaps she was a figment of her imagination? She must be. No one else has seen her, even Nathaniel has not. He just found her ‘delusions’ to be amusing. 

Perhaps she was delusional. Perhaps he took her sanity along with her soul. But she did not care. None of it mattered. 

She had already lost everything. 

Her family. 

Her heart. 

Her life. 

At the very least, Magdalena just wanted to hang onto the woman in black in her imagination. 

That was all she wanted. 

And for decades, Magdalena built her strength. She agreed to be Nathaniel’s bride, and let him take her as he wanted every night. Let him think that she loved him when in reality, her mind wandered elsewhere. 

Her mind was focused solely on revenge. 

Until finally, one night, she got him where she wanted him. 

Magdalena was 62 years old when she straddled his hips, her mouth on his and her hand on a wooden stake that she kept hidden. 

Then she made sure that her stake met his heart, just like how his fangs met her throat all those years ago. 

Blood spurted as he screeched like an unholy demon, his body convulsing until he was nothing more than blood and other bodily matter all over their once shared bed. Magdalena was out of breath but so full of glee. She was covered head to toe in his blood, even licking parts of him off her hands and the wooden stake. 

Then, she felt something. A cold yet warm presence, something she felt before, making her slowly turn her head. 

The woman in black was there in the corner of the room, scythe in hand, her hood down this time, but there was a different look in her bright blue eyes. 

A look of pride. 

It made Magdalena’s insides flutter. 

“Are you God?” She asked, trying to find her words. 

The woman now looked amused, shaking her head. “I am not.” 

“The devil then?” Magdalena asked instead. 

She smiled just slightly. “No.” The woman in black said simply before stepping toward Magdalena, unfazed by the blood that coated her body. Instead, she took the bloodied stake from her hand, tossing it to the side. 

The woman’s blue eyes met her maroon ones, and then she spoke her next words clearly and strongly. “I am Death.” 

Death. 

The word that would strike fear in Magdalena as a child. A word that still did. 

But it was different now. She had taken lives. She had killed. 

And now Death was standing before her, just after she slaughtered her maker. 

Who knew Death could look like an angel. 

“Have you come to take me?” Magdalena asked but she was not afraid. If Death was here for her, to finally pay for her sins, then she would allow it. 

Death smiled gently and shook her head. “No. I have already taken a part of you. Your mortal soul.” 

Magdalena tilted her head just slightly. “I remember you. I saw you, when I was…” 

Death nodded, a sympathetic look in her eyes. “Yes. But I could not intervene. I cannot. I am only here to guide those who have passed or to ensure they go where they are supposed to. Nathaniel will not harm you ever again.” 

She swallowed thickly, trying to push down the tears that threatened to come out, tears of blood and pure relief as she let out a long breath. 

Free. 

She was finally free. 

After a moment, Magdalena asked her next question. “If you are not here for me…then why can I see you before me?” 

“I do not know,” Death answered truthfully, “many cannot. Even creatures of the night, such as yourself. No one can see me unless I allow them to. But I have never allowed you to see me. You are…a conundrum.” 

Magdalena did not know why that sparked something in her. She was a mystery, a paradox, a conundrum. 

How incredibly lovely. 

Death stared at her some more, her eyes staring so intently before she took a step back. “I must go. More spirits to guide and collect. Quite laborious work.” 

“Will I see you again?” Magdalena asked without thinking twice. 

For a moment, she feared that she had been far too desperate, but Death only smiled. “You need blood and I need souls. We will meet again.” 

Magdalena smiled watching Death turn away before she suddenly rose to her feet. “Wait! I…I am Magdalena. Magdalena Iglesias.” 

She didn’t know exactly why she felt the need to introduce herself to Death herself, but the woman in black merely turned back around and smiled sweetly at her. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Magdalena…” she paused for a moment before speaking again, “You may call me Thanathea.” 

Thanathea. 

Oh, the name that sounded so holy, so beautiful, as if it would haunt Magdalena for the rest of her days and she would allow it without another thought. 

Thanathea. 

And without another word, Thanathea was gone. Leaving Magdalena all alone. 

She could not wait to see her again. 

The next night when Magdalena was on the hunt, this time her victim was a mortal man that resembled Nathaniel in his unrelenting perversion, she again saw Thanathea. 

For so long, she would be forced to hunt young girls, girls that reminded her of herself. But now, Magdalena swore to herself that she would only go after those who resembled her maker in mortal form. 

His blood and screams were much more delicious compared to her other meals. 

And just like before, Magdalena saw her. Her fangs were on the center of his throat, some blood spraying her face as she kept him pinned below her body. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was seeing Thanathea there, watching her with that same look of pride, her blue eyes sparkling. 

When the man was finally drained, Magdalena pulled away, her face and even her chest covered in blood. But Thanathea did not look afraid. Well, she was Death after all. Perhaps she had seen much worse. 

“You came.” Magdalena said softly, smiling at her. 

“You took a life. So I came.” Thanathea replied simply, scythe in her hand and she drew it near the man’s corpse. The blade glowed a bright shade of gold until it faded away. 

“What was that?” Magdalena asked in curiosity, tilting her head to the side. 

“I collected his soul. I will take him to where he belongs soon enough.” Thanathea told her as Magdalena stood up to face her. 

It still surprised her to know that she was standing this close to Death. Death, in all her glory, was even taller than her, and there was a certain coldness yet warmth surrounding her. 

How peculiar. 

“Is there a heaven? And hell?” Magdalena asked. It seemed as if she had a million questions whenever she saw Thanathea. 

She simply shrugged her shoulders. “There is all and none. It varies on one’s belief. But I am very real, I can say that. Death comes for everyone.” 

“Will you come for me again?” 

The silence was quite loud before Thanathea finally replied. “I cannot answer that. No one knows when or if their time will come. I shall not answer.”

It made Magdalena frown just slightly. There was a part of her that wished for Thanathea to take her. She missed her family, her life, the future she could have had. All of it was gone without a second thought. 

Now here she was, a monster that feasted on blood every single night and had to hide from the sun unless she would burn to a crisp. 

Suddenly, Thanathea took a step closer and wiped some of the blood off Magdalena’s cheeks with both of her thumbs, her eyes looking gentle and sympathetic. “Immortality can be a blessing and a curse. Enjoy the blessing. Live your life. It is what matters. Do not allow yourself to be held back. You are free. What will you do with your freedom?” 

What will you do with your freedom? 

Magdalena wished she had the answer. 

“I do not know.” She finally answered, looking down. “I have not had freedom in so long. I have lost my family. I cannot go back to them, not like this. I have no friends nor allies. I am simply…alone.” 

Thanathea did not say anything for a moment. She watched Magdalena silently, an unreadable expression on her face, before she finally smiled. “You are not alone now. For I will be your friend.” 

Those words brought comfort to Magdalena, comfort she had not felt in decades. 

She did not know how long Thanathea would be her friend but she knew that she would treasure her kindness and friendship until her immortal form had finally passed. 

Magdalena was 73 years old when she wished to have a child. 

She had wanted to be a mother for a very long time, ever since she was a child herself. But that dream of hers was stolen away by that monster, leaving her unable to ever conceive. 

“Did you ever want to have a child?” Magdalena asked Thanathea suddenly one day, the both of them sitting near one another on a bench, the moon illuminating the dark streets just as a woman walked by, holding an infant in her arms. 

“I do not know,” Thanathea replied after a moment of consideration, “I have been quite busy. I have helped young ones pass on, holding their hand as they crossed over. I never thought of becoming a mother all that much.” 

Magdalena nodded in understanding. She was sure that it must have been different for Thanathea, being Death, an entity as old as time itself. Surely, she would not have the time to want to have a child. 

“You wished to become a mother?” Thanathea asked her, almost rhetorically. 

“I always have.” Magdalena responded without hesitating. “I wanted to have many children. It was the only reason I wished for a viable suitor.”

“You desired to be married?” 

“Yes. I wanted to be married. I would only need a husband for the sole purpose of procreation. That is the only importance to me of a man.” Magdalena told her calmly. 

Thanathea chuckled under her breath, an amused look glistening in her vibrant blue eyes. “Men bring more issues than what they are worth. Perhaps one day they will not be needed.”

“I could not agree more,” Magdalena answered before smirking, “until then, I shall drink the blood of men and decrease their population. And help your business as well, of course.”

Death herself smirked as well and rested her cool hand over Magdalena’s, making her blood feel as if it was rushing throughout her body. “Thank you, my night.” 

Magdalena was 81 years old when Thanathea gave her a cottage in the woods. 

Ever since she killed Nathaniel, she had been staying at his mansion. She never enjoyed it, but she could not go to the streets. The sunlight alone would kill her. Nor did Magdalena wish to break into the houses of mortals, killing families just to have some shelter. 

The mansion would have to do, even if it was hard for her to remember all that she has been through because of that monster. 

“Your mind wanders, my creature of the night.” Thanathea said suddenly one night, sprawled against one of the seats in a lazing manner with her scythe lying on the floor beside her. “What ails you?”

Magdalena’s pose was rigid with her back pressed against the wall, a glass of fresh blood in her hand in almost a tight grasp. She forced a smile at Death herself, shaking her head just slightly. “My apologies, muerte. Sometimes my mind goes back to the past. I cannot control it. I feel as if I am still stuck with that man. This place haunts all of my memories.” 

Thanathea smiled sadly yet gently before sitting up some more, raising one hand toward the blood drinker. “Come. Sit by me.”

Like a moth drawn to fire, Magdalena moved towards Thanathea wordlessly and without another thought, sitting beside her. “Drink up. I would like to show you something.” Death told her, even tapping the center of her throat before Magdalena drank the blood from her glass.

Perhaps she was wrapped so tightly around Death’s finger. 

They walked for a while, going deeper and deeper into the woods. Magdalena knew she could get to the destination in seconds by running and even that Thanathea herself could teleport them both there. But it seemed as if Thanathea would rather enjoy the detour the longer way.

Magdalena would not complain. She enjoyed the adventure after spending much of her afterlife under lock and key. 

“If I did not know any better, I would assume that you are luring me to my death.” 

“You have already died, Magdalena.” Thanathea replied swiftly, sounding just a little amused. 

“I could die again.” Magdalena jumped in with a playful smile. “You could put a stake through my heart. Or perhaps tie me to a tree and wait until the sun rises. Maybe even cut me into little bits with your scythe.” 

Thanathea raised an eyebrow at her. “You think that I could kill you?” She asked and moved her scythe closer to Magdalena’s arm, the sharp blade just grazing against her bare skin. 

It made the creature of the night shiver in anticipation. 

“I hope not.” Magdalena responded after a moment, her maroon eyes staring deeply into Death’s eyes. 

Thanathea smiled, chuckling quietly before removing her scythe. “I will not harm you. I swear upon it. You are safe with me. Besides, you are my friend. What kind of friend would I be if I intended to wish you ill will?” 

“Not a very good friend, of course.” Magdalena said and giggled under her breath, staring up at her. “Do not worry. I merely jest. I trust you, madam death.” 

“Good,” Death told her with a smile before taking her hand, “follow me, we are near to my surprise.” 

Magdalena walked right beside Thanathea, still spending the next few moments curious about what possible surprise Death had in store for her before she saw it. 

It was a small but precious looking cottage deep into the woods, far from civilization. There was a warm feeling to it but she could sense its emptiness. The cottage held no owner. 

“It is lovely,” Magdalena told her with a soft smile, turning her head to look at Death, “but why have you shown it to me?” 

“Because it is yours now.” Thanathea said suddenly. 

The creature of the night paused momentarily. “What do you mean?”

“The cottage is yours. Away from the mansion, away from your pain and suffering. There is a coffin inside for you as well. It is small but I…I do hope you like it.”

There was a hesitancy in Thanathea’s voice, something Magdalena had never heard before. The cosmic being seemed as if she was nervous. Even as she looked at Thanathea, Magdalena could see a certain bashfulness surrounding her facial expression, her body language, like she was concerned that the bloodsucker would not want the cottage. 

It was truly sweet to see Thanathea like this, realizing that Magdalena might have an affect on her as much as Thanathea has an affect on her. 

Magdalena’s grip around Death’s hand tightened slightly, a genuine and true smile gracing her face. ��You are too kind, Thanathea. Thank you. How can I ever repay you?”

Thanathea smiled happily back at her, her shoulders relaxing and her thumb began rubbing against Magdalena’s knuckles. “Your friendship is all I desire, Magdalena. That is all I can ask from you for the time being.” 

And for the creature of the night, that was all she wanted as well. 

Magdalena was 95 years old when she realized that the feelings she had for Thanathea was much more than friendship. 

They had been by each other’s side for three decades, easing Magdalena’s loneliness and filling her with joy. She had forgotten what it felt like to have a friend after nearly forty years of isolation and was cherishing every moment with Thanathea. 

But something began to change although she did not know exactly when it started. 

Magdalena did not know when she began feeling the urge to run her fingers through Thanathea’s curls. 

Magdalena did not know when she began feeling like she was drowning in Thanathea’s blue eyes but enjoying every moment of it. 

Magdalena did not know when she began to crave Thanathea’s touch, how she would beg inside her mind for Death to touch her hand once more. 

Magdalena did not know when she began to find herself lost as she stared at Thanathea’s lips, wondering if they would be soft or harsh, cold or warm, against her own. 

All Magdalena knew was that something about Thanathea made her feel completely alive and human again and she didn’t want to give that feeling up. 

Magdalena tried her hardest to remember if she has felt this way before, for any of the boys in her village. But the more she thought of it, the more she realized that she only felt this way for one of her friends, a young girl who was bright and lovely. She married young and Magdalena remembered feeling heartbroken in a way that she could not describe nor could she tell anyone about it. 

But now the feeling was back at full force, stronger than ever. And despite all her years and wisdom, Magdalena did not know how to navigate and shift her feelings to turn a different route. 

“Have you ever been in love?” Magdalena asked one day, a thought that simply bursted past her lips, as they walked beside one another along the streets. Thanathea had made herself visible to the mortal eye, her scythe tucked away from anyone’s view. 

Thanathea had not said anything for a moment, seeming like she was thinking the question over before responding. “I have not. Even though I am a cosmic entity, other entities try to…stay away from me. With my job, of course. Death is a frightening thing.”

“I am not afraid.” Magdalena told her without another thought, looking away briefly before looking back at her. “I have walked beside Death. I have experienced death. I partake in death every day of immortal life. I do not fear you, Thanathea. I never will.” 

Thanathea looked at her, wearing an unreadable expression before her eyes glistened and she rested her hand on Magdalena’s shoulder. “You are very kind. A wonderful creature of the night. I am grateful for your friendship.”

Friendship. Of course. Friendship. Thanathea is an all powerful omnipotent being. She could never feel anything more than friendship for a bloodsucker like her. 

It stung, it hurt. But Magdalena still smiled. She would keep her thoughts to herself and value her friendship with Death herself. 

The last thing she wanted was to ruin everything and lose her only friend. 

Magdalena was 108 years old when she experienced the kiss of death. 

She had kept her big secret to herself for over a decade, hiding it so well that she strongly believed that she fooled Death herself. She had to, it was the only choice she had as to not destroy their friendship, even when it teetered on something more, something deeper. 

But it was okay. Everything was just fine, Magdalena had everything under control. 

“Shhhh, hush now…” Magdalena found herself whispering to the man squirming in her arms, trying to escape and failing each time, with her hand clasped tightly over his mouth to suppress his screams, “My beloved awaits…” she told him before sinking her fangs into his neck. 

No matter how many times she fed from mortals, she would never get over the rush she got the moment their blood was down her throat. It was delicious and something she craved more of, she would drink and drink until the body was finally empty, filling her body with momentary warmth and pleasure, as if the blood was an aphrodisiac. 

Perhaps it was. But Magdalena enjoyed it each and every time. 

“Your beloved?” The blood drinker heard an all too familiar voice behind her, turning to look at Thanathea quickly and then dropped the corpse as she stood up. 

“You finally came. I was beginning to wonder if I would have to kill another just to get your attention.” Magdalena told her with a shy chuckle, licking some of the blood off her lips. 

“My apologies, my night, I was preoccupied with other souls. But I am here now, as always,” Thanathea told her with a smile, waving her scythe over the body and just like always, it glowed a beautiful shade of gold, “you did call me your beloved, did you not?”

Magdalena could feel her cheeks flushing from the newfound blood in her body, chuckling under her breath and looking down at the ground momentarily. “I…I did. Yes. You are my beloved friend, after all.” She told Death, smiling as well and hoped, prayed even, that Thanathea would believe her. 

She truly did not want to lose everything and be left alone all over again. 

“How sweet. Like an angel of death.” Thanathea told her with a smile. 

Magdalena sighed quietly in relief. “Are there angels of death?” She asked curiously. 

“Oh, yes. Quite a few. Although they mostly appear for young ones whose time has come. They provide them comfort in their last few moments.”

“I would die again before I ever harmed a child.” Magdalena pointed out. 

“I know you would,” Thanathea replied, still smiling at her, “it is very admirable, your dedication to the little ones. Very sweet as well. My beloved.” 

It should not, it really should not, but those two words made the blood swirl inside of Magdalena, making her crave even more for Thanathea to call her that over and over and over again until she finally took her immortal soul to the Underworld. 

“No one has ever called me their beloved before.” Magdalena told her, almost shyly, almost bashfully. 

“They were fools,” Thanathea told her as she took a step closer to her, “no one has called me their beloved either. Only you, my night. Only you.” 

Those blue eyes, those beautiful bright blue eyes, were staring so deeply into Magdalena’s maroon eyes. Like she was trying to read everything about her, read her soul. She would let her, of course. She would let Thanathea do whatever she would like. 

Because even if Death might not know it, Magdalena’s heart belonged to hers and would be for the rest of her immortal life. 

“Lena? May I ask you something?” Thanathea asked suddenly, making the creature of the night a little surprised before nodding while the nickname made her feel all flushed. 

“Of course you can, Thea.” She replied, using a nickname for her as well. 

“Do you know what it is like to fall in love?”

Of all the questions that she could have asked, that was not a question Magdalena expected. 

There were a million things that she wanted to scream, to let Thanathea know exactly how it feels like. But she had to be discreet, cautious. 

She couldn’t let Death know the truth. 

“I am unsure. I…I feel very strong feelings. Where the person is all you can think of. Where you wake up every night, wishing to see them. Wanting to see them happy. To see them smile. To have them touch you. To spend time with them. You want nothing but the best for them and you’ll push everything aside just to keep them with you and not shatter everything. I…it is just a nice feeling, I believe.” 

I have said too much, have I not? Magdalena thought to herself, no longer looking at Thanathea. She should have just said no, should have just kept her mouth shut. She should have never said anything at all, after a century of being alive, she should have known better!

Thanathea took another step toward her and then a hand was on her shoulder before slowly moving to her chin, lifting her head up to make sure that Magdalena was looking at her. “I have only felt that way once in my lifetime. Just once. Magdalena, my beloved…I have fallen in love with you.” 

Magdalena’s breath hitched in her throat. 

Was this real? 

“Thea…I love you. I…I have for many years. I do not know if this is wrong or right. I just know that I love you. That I have craved you for so long. I want you and only you, my Lady Death. I swear it.” Magdalena told her truthfully, leaning her cheek closer to Death’s hand. 

Thanathea smiled at her, her blue eyes lighting up. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then she began moving closer to Magdalena, her movements slow, as if she was giving the blood drinker a chance to pull away, to refuse. 

But Magdalena would never do that, not to her beloved. 

Then, finally, Thanathea’s lips were on hers. 

And every part of her exploded. 

Magdalena had kissed before and felt nothing. They were simply kisses with no attachments, only brought on by force. But this was entirely different. Thanathea’s lips were intoxicating, mouthwatering. She wanted more of it and for it to never stop. 

Without another word, the blood drinker pulled Thanathea closer to her, her hands all over her body and her mind spinning. “Take me home.” Magdalena whispered breathlessly before she felt Death’s shadows all around them, taking them both to the cottage, their home, where they remained attached to each other’s bodies until the sun rose above the sky. 

Magdalena was 116 years old when she first tasted Thanathea’s blood. 

The bloodsucker, or vampire as some of the mortals began calling creatures like her, would be lying if she said that she never wanted to take a bite out of Thanathea. 

She could not help herself. She was curious after over fifty years of friendship and nearly a decade of being lovers. Magdalena never even knew if Death had blood. But she had to have had something because the vampire could smell how delicious her scent was. Similar to the smell of mortal's blood inside their body, but there was something stronger, something different that made her want to have just a taste. 

“If I did not know any better, I would think that you are about to make me your newest victim.” Thanathea said while she was polishing her scythe with a black cloth while Magdalena’s lips were on her neck, light and soft, with her fangs just barely grazing against her soft flesh. 

“Hmmm…why ever would you ask that, my heart and soul?” She asked innocently, still kissing and feeling her fangs brush against Thanathea’s neck, anticipatory, craving for a bite. 

“Because your thoughts are quite loud as well as your actions.” Death replied, an amused tone shining through in her voice. 

Magdalena giggled under her breath, her hands now trailing up and down Thanathea’s exposed arms. “Well, I do not intend on making you my next victim. I just…want to have a taste.”

“Lena, my darling, the blood of a cosmic entity could kill you.” 

“Even if it’s just a drop? Just one little taste on my tongue?” Magdalena tried to bargain, tilting her head in front of Death, batting her maroon eyes at her. 

Thanathea sighed loudly, not saying anything for a moment as she stared back at the vampire before nodding. “Just one drop. That is all. Nothing more.” 

Magdalena immediately grinned and then tried to sink her fangs into Thanathea’s neck but she pulled away just before the vampire could. “No no. Easy, my love. I will do it.” 

She was confused for a moment before Death took her scythe and pressed the sharp blade to her finger. In that very moment, Magdalena could smell the blood that emerged from her lover’s prick finger, gold instead of red. It made her mouth water at the sight and smell, wanting nothing more than to taste her blood. 

Magdalena was craving it, desiring it, wanting as many drops as she could manage. So when Thanathea brought her finger closer to the vampire’s face, Magdalena automatically opened her mouth and closed her lips around Death’s finger. 

Everything exploded in that moment. 

No amount of mortal blood could ever compare to the blood of a cosmic being, a deity, so delicious and making Magdalena crave for it, sucking the blood, swallowing the few drops, desiring for more and more of her blood. 

Then, as quickly as it came, Thanathea pulled her finger away, making the vampire whine like a child for just a moment to be withdrawn from the exquisite blood that she was tasting. “That is enough, my love. I cannot allow you to drink any more, you will burst into flames if you continue.” 

“It would be a worthy death.” Magdalena said simply, feeling almost out of breath with her mind spiraling as her mouth and body processed the immortal blood she consumed. 

“I may be Death, but I will not allow you to die because of me.” Thanathea told her, sounding amused again. 

“Perhaps just a little, my beloved? Un beso de muerte?” Magdalena asked her sweetly, taking Death’s hand and pressed a kiss to each of Thanathea’s fingers and then her palm before resting her hand on top of the vampire’s chest, Death taking control as her hand slowly began to descend. 

“Who would I be to deny love to you?” Thanathea asked rhetorically with a smirk, before her body was on Magdalana’s and her mouth on hers, throwing her into another night of pleasure. 

Magdalena was 127 years old when she learned that vampires were not the only supernatural beings walking the earth. 

A part of her truly never thought of other entities or beings there could be beside her. She spent so long stuck with that monster during her first few decades as a vampire, that the thought of other creatures lurking around did not dawn on her. And then Thanathea came around, filling her dark life with light despite being Death. It brought her comfort and security, so once again, the thought did not occur to her. 

Until one day. 

“Are werewolves real?” Magdalena asked suddenly, book in hand, with her head on Thanathea’s lap. 

Death raised an eyebrow, looking almost amused. “Why, of course they are, my night. Why would they not be?” 

“They are?!” She exclaimed in astonishment, sitting upright and turning toward her lover. “How do you know? Have you met them?” 

“In a way, I have.” Thanathea told her, “I do help guide souls over. Mortal, werewolf, and otherwise.” 

“Otherwise? Are there more? Like…mermaids? Sirens? Witches? Warlocks?” 

“Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes. Although in certain regions, mermaids and sirens are the same as one. The same for witches and warlocks, separated by genders but it is all about personal identification.” 

Magdalena’s mouth opened, looking completely surprised still. Thanathea chuckled quietly before bringing her finger under the vampire’s chin, gently pushing her jaw back up. “Lena, did you truly not know about this?” 

“No! Of course not!” She quickly said. “I thought they were myths, stories mortals come up with to keep their unfulfilling lives entertained.” 

“Well, those mortals had to have had inspiration for those stories, would they not?” Death asked her, still looking amused herself.

“I suppose you are right,” Magdalena huffed under her breath before moving closer to Thanathea, resting her head on her shoulder, “can you tell me about them, my Death?”

“About who?”

“All of them? As much as you know.” 

Thanathea smiled at her. “Hmm…it is rare for someone to turn into a werewolf. Most are born. Although if a strong enough werewolf bites or scratches a mortal, it can trigger a transformation by the next full moon. And the werewolves tend to stay within their own pack, very rare for them to become rogue or deviate toward a different pack.” 

“Fascinating…I wonder if they smell like wet dogs.” 

“Oh, be kind,” Thanathea chuckled again, “mermaids and sirens are born the way they are. Impossible to be turned, unlike vampires and werewolves. Although they can go on land and have legs, the transformation can be quite painful that not all survive. It is very unfortunate.” 

“It is,” Magdalena agreed while nodding, “and the witches and warlocks?” 

“Born so. Yet they are quite an enigma. Some witches can have mortal children while mortals can have witch children. It can be quite random and depend on their blood and strength. There are many types of witches too. Elementals, healing, divination. Some more common, some not. Spirit witches are extremely rare, they only happen once every few centuries. Although, they are quite the hassle. And do not get me started on chaos witches, they are much worse and a complete headache.” 

“How come?”

“Their magic can create a disruption into the natural order of balance within the universe. They take and give in uncontrollable manners. Makes my job very difficult to manage.” 

“Oh, you poor thing,” Magdalena told her with a little pout and reached up to begin playing with Thanathea’s curls, twirling each of them around her finger and watching them spring back up, “my beloved, do you know if it is possible for a cross between the other beings?”

“You mean hybrids?” Thanathea asked for clarification and the vampire nodded. “It is extremely rare, but yes. They do exist. Including dhampirs.”

Magdalena tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Dhampirs? I have not heard of them, what are they?” 

“Half mortal, half immortal. Vampire, just as yourself. They can only be born from a mortal woman and a vampire man. They are immune to the sun and age as mortals do. Although, they do drink blood and become completely immortal once they reach a certain age, usually in their twenties.” 

Now, that was something Magdalena never expected. And there was something in her that felt almost saddened by it. She had accepted that she’d never have children, and even now as a vampire, she couldn’t but the vampire men could. 

Those bastards. She thought to herself. 

“How completely and utterly intriguing, Thea. Thank you for telling me.” Magdalena said with a small smile, still playing with her lover’s curls. 

“Of course.” Thanathea said, wrapping both of her arms around the vampire and pulling her almost on top of her. 

The way Death held her in her arms made the vampire realize that Thanathea knew what Magdalena was feeling, thinking. No words needed to be said between them but there was a mutual understanding between them. A mutual comfort. 

It helped her feel better and secure, knowing that Death herself was there to fill the hole in her heart and give her the security and warmth she had desired her entire life. 

Magdalena was 139 years old when she finally became a mother. 

She had accepted for many decades that she would never get to have children. It was not in the cards for her and Magdalena would never dream of turning a child into a vampire. It pained her to even think of allowing a child to endure the painful aspects of immortality, nor did it seem reasonable to take mortal children from their families and raise them as her own. 

But Magdalena did find solace in watching families at night, walking down the streets hand in hand, mothers and fathers tending to their young ones. It was quite sweet, in fact. It had her pretending for just a moment, that she could have had the same had her mortal life not been stolen away from her. 

Although, she adored Thanathea. Becoming immortal led her to find her beloved Death, she fell so deeply for her and did not want to change or lose that. 

But if she was being truthful, Magdalena would have loved to see Thea become a mother. She was always so nice and sweet, especially to children that she has watched her lover cross over. Magdalena has followed Thanathea to work and was always so interested in Death’s work, including the ways that she could calm children and reassure them so they are no longer afraid. Even Thanathea’s appearance shifts, wearing green instead of black, her scythe turned into a glowing gold bracelet instead, with color flushed to her usually very pale skin. 

It was quite the sight that beheld Magdalena, but she treasured those moments so deeply. 

But it was not something that she thought too much about, she would rather focus on spending time with her lover instead, even on times when it was clear that something was weighing on Thanathea’s mind. 

“Are you alright, my beloved? It appears that something seems to be troubling you.” Magdalena asked her one day, her head tilted slightly. 

“My apologies, Lena,” Thanathea smiled slightly at her, “I do not wish to fill your mind with worry.” 

“My mind will always be worried if I do not know how I can help you.” Magdalena reassured her gently, her hand going up to her lover’s curls and she heard her sigh softly. 

“Sometimes it is very…burdensome. My duty. Taking souls. Orphaning children, leaving them alone. It is painful at times.” Thanathea told her after a few moments of silence. 

The vampire frowned a little. “I apologize if my meals have contributed to your burden, my Thea.” 

“Oh no, it has not, I can assure you that,” Death told her fairly quickly, “the men you feed on and the souls I take are well-deserved, we have both made sure of that. There are simply others that can make things difficult for me and bring me down at times. But I will be alright. I know I will be because I always am.” 

Magdalena moved closer to her, pressing a kiss to Thanathea’s cheek while continuing to caress her curls. “I still apologize for your pain, lover of mine. Perhaps we shall take a walk? To help put your mind at ease?” She offered gently. 

Death smiled at her, more genuine this time, before taking her hand. “Yes, I would like that, my love.” 

And so they walked peacefully together, their arms looped into one another, talking amongst themselves. The streets were nearly empty, many mortals already asleep in their homes. All seemed to be going well, until Thanathea went quiet again and sighed under her breath. 

“What is wrong, my heart and soul?” Magdalena asked in concern. 

“Someone has passed. Near us. A mother. I must go take care of it.” Thanathea told her after a few seconds. 

“Now? Are you sure you are feeling alright with that?”

“I must, my darling. I will not be long, I can assure you that. Just wait here.” Thanathea told her, putting up a small smile that only looked true after she kissed the vampire’s hand, before walking alone to a few houses down, her body slipped through the closed door. 

Magdalena could not help but to feel concerned for her lover, not wanting her to put so much pressure on herself. Thanathea had been growing more lenient, allowing angels of death or other death entities to take on more responsibility so she should not rely so much on her omnipotence, but she still desired for Death herself to rest. 

But Thanathea has been doing this since possibly the beginning of time. She knows her boundaries, her limits. She knows when too much is too much. 

At least, the vampire hoped so. 

Although her worry began to grow when Thanathea took longer, a little too long, than usual. This was unlike her and Magdalena wanted to go into the home, but she knew it was impossible. In an occupied home, she needed to be invited inside or risk disintegrating. Curse those vampiric rules, completely infuriating at times. 

The vampire started to consider other options but before she could, the same door opened and Thanathea emerged, dressed in green…

…with a child in her arms and another clinging to the hem of her dress. 

Magdalena blinked a few times in confusion, not knowing quite what to say in the moment. Thankfully, Thanathea had the words for her. 

“They need food. They have not eaten in a while.” Her Death told her, staring at her in a way that the vampire could not quite understand. 

But she looked at the children, the one Thanathea held was still very small, curly blonde hair on his head and big brown eyes, filled with tears. The girl that was nearly hiding behind her lover looked similar but a little older, seeing a mess of the same blonde curls but stormy grey eyes, showing fear but stubbornness. She was afraid, upset, but putting up a front. Pretending to be strong while staring at the vampire warily. 

It nearly broke Magdalena’s heart. 

“Of-of course. I believe there is a diner, close by? They will have food there, they are open all day and night.” She told all three of them, giving the children a soft smile to try and reassure them. Then she caught a whiff of their scent and it completely caught her off guard. 

She had never smelled something like this. It was nothing like mortal scents, or even cosmic beings. It was something entirely different that she could not put her finger on. 

It did not matter in the moment, she had to put those children’s well-being first. “Hello, young ones. I am Magdelena. I am sure my lover, Thanathea, has introduced herself. What are your names?” 

The boy did not say anything, merely sniffling and hiding his face into Thanathea’s neck, but the young girl did speak. “Rose…Rosemarie.” 

“How beautiful of a name. Is this your brother?” Rosemarie nodded. “What is his name?”

“Sylvain.” She replied, her voice still quiet but she began to show her face a little more. 

Magdalena smiled sweetly at both of the children. “Lovely name as well. Do not fret, Thea and I will not bring any harm onto you. Come with us, we shall get you some food.” 

They did not protest as she and Thanathea walked them toward the diner. They were all quiet, no one saying a word, but the vampire could not help but to look at her lover. 

There Death was, holding a little boy that now seemed very comfortable with her, and an older girl that continued to hold onto her green dress. It was a beautiful scene that Magdalena never expected to see, even if it was quite sudden. 

They both absolutely needed to talk about this as soon as they could. 

When they made it to the diner, they moved to a booth in the corner even though there was no one else there. Magdalena went to order them food, hoping at least that the children would like it since it has been a very long time since she has eaten human food before and food has evolved so much over the last century. 

Thanathea made her way to her side while she stayed by the front of the register, now being free of Sylvain, who sat nearly attached to his older sister. “Care to explain what has happened, my beloved?” 

Death sighed under her breath. “Rosemarie and Sylvain Dumont. Five and two years old. Their father is no longer around, left not long after Sylvain was born. Their mother was the one who passed, and drank herself to an early grave, unfortunately.” 

Magdalena’s heart broke once again for the two young children, looking back at them at the booth before looking at her lover again. “Their scents are different. Why is that?”

“Because they are both witches. An odd mix, because their parents are human. Must have been magic somewhere in their ancestry, because it caught up to both children rather than just one.” 

“Witches…” The vampire said to herself in complete surprise, she had never met any other supernatural being before and now she met two young witches, “but that still does not explain why they are now clinging to you and why you are helping them.” 

Thanathea went quiet again, running a hand through her auburn locks for a moment. “I just…could not bear to leave them alone. With no family. Nowhere to go. I thought I could at least make sure that they are well fed before I make my next decision.” She sighed again, louder this time. “Perhaps I am growing soft.” 

“Oh yes, quite soft. It is a beautiful look on you, Thea.” Magdalena told her with a big smile, making Thanathea smile as well. “I would love to see you looking soft like this more often. Soft around those children, around our family…”

Thanathea did not say anything for a moment, as if she was getting the same idea as her lover. “You…you wish to keep them?” 

“They have no parents. No other family. I would not forgive myself if we sent them back to their home with no one to care for them,” Magdalena told her and then placed her hand over Death’s, looking back at the two children sipping their cups of milk, “We could care for them. Teach them about their magick. Raise them as our own. Is that…something you would like to do with me?” 

Thanathea smiled sweetly at her, nodding. “I know you have always wished to have a family. And while they may not be a very conventional family, I would want nothing more than to have a family with you, my love.” 

Magdalena’s smile grew and she leaned forward to press a kiss to Death’s cool cheek. “Let us go make sure our children are well fed, my Thea.” 

And so they did. They were gentle and patient with Rosemarie and Sylvain, making sure that they were comfortable and warm. The little boy fell asleep not long after eating, his cheek pressed against Thanathea’s shoulder. The older girl was drawing on a piece of paper, waves of blue all over while continuously eyeing the vampire and Death, as if she was trying to make sure that they could be trusted. 

Eventually, it seemed as if she made her decision. 

“Are you going to send us back?” Rosemarie asked, her voice still quiet. 

Magdalena shook her head. “We will not, little one. You may come home with us, if you would like. Thea and I will protect you both, I swear it to you.” 

Rosemarie did not say anything for a minute, thinking over the offer. “You won’t hurt us?” 

“Never,” Thanathea said this time, smiling lightly at her, “you both will be safe and sound with us. No harm will come to you.” 

Finally, Rosemarie smiled at them both and nodded. 

That was all they needed. 

Their home would need to change, beds and clothes and blankets for the children, toys of their choosing. But the first night Rosemarie and Sylvain slept in the cottage would always be Magdelana and Thanathea’s favorite, both young children curled close to their bodies, in their arms. 

The vampire would never forget the feeling of finally having her children. 

Magdalena was 145 years old when she realized that she had a family and she was home at last. 

Rosemarie was eleven now, long blonde ringlets that were halfway to her back, her grey eyes still resembling a storm in the middle of the ocean. 

Sylvain was eight now, his own curly blonde locks touching his shoulders and seemed to always be smiling now, running through the woods barefoot whenever he could. 

But Magdalena could not be any happier watching her children grow. 

It was not very easy raising them, of course. Thanathea had to watch them over the day and Magdalena over the night. Not to mention when their magickal abilities kicked in, Thanathea had to teach them ways to be able to manage their powers. Magdalena read book after book on witches so they were well educated on who they truly were. 

It was fairly easy to see their connections and the types of witches they were. Sylvain was easily an earth witch, his affinity with growing flowers and plants at will expressed that. As for Rosemarie…

“Mama! Look!” Rosemarie exclaimed, one hand out in front of her and the water from the ocean swirled upward, twirling around her all over her arm before it fell right back to the shore. 

She was very clearly a water witch and a very good one at that. 

Magdalena smiled widely and clapped her hands together. “Great job, my Rose! Your power continues to grow!” She praised her, making Rosemarie smile back just as Sylvain went up to the vampire. 

“For you, mama.” He held a purple flower up to one of his mothers, making her smile once again. 

“Oh, how sweet, Syl. Thank you very much, my boy. Is this other one for your mom?” Magdalena asked him as she took her flower and he nodded. “How about I give this one to her and you can make a rose for your sister. How does that sound?” 

“Okay!” Sylvain said happily, giving the vampire the green flower for Death, and then ran over to Rosemarie. 

Magdalena smiled sweetly for a moment as she watched the two siblings before strolling over to where Thanathea was, her eyes on the ocean. It was Rosemarie’s idea to go to the beach and with the full moon shining up in the sky, it was the perfect night to do so. 

“M’lady.” The vampire presented the green flower to her, making Thanathea chuckle quietly and smile at the sight. 

“Sylvain is learning very quickly.” She pointed out. 

Magdalena nodded, humming affirmatively under her breath as she placed the flower behind her lover’s ear. “He is. Both he and Rosemarie will make their coven proud.” 

It was no secret that witches belonged in a coven. Once they turned sixteen, they would leave home and go on their own to discover their true coven. 

Rosemarie will leave in five years. Sylvain in eight years. 

It was something that saddened Magdalena but the children have promised both of their mothers that they would visit and call often. 

She appreciated the sentiment and she was truly proud to see the kinds of witches they would grow up to be. 

But it was more than just that. Even now, watching Rosemarie’s hands glowing a soft shade of blue around the water while Sylvain’s hands glowed green to create more flowers, it just made Magdalena feel warm to see how happy and peaceful her children were after everything. 

She never expected to have a family, especially after turning into a vampire. 

She expected to spend the rest of her life alone. 

But then Magdalena met Death. 

They fell in love. 

They adopted their two wonderful children. 

They raised them, told them about who and what they were, and their children accepted them just as Magdalena and Thanathea accepted them. 

No judgment or fear whatsoever. 

Just love. 

“You are quiet, my night. What haunts your mind?” Thanathea asked her, wrapping an arm around the vampire’s waist and pulling her closer to her own body. 

“No haunts,” Magdalena reassured her, “I am merely…happy. Happy with the life we have. A life I never thought I would have. For myself and with you. Yet here you are, right by me, with children who are loved and happy. I could not ask for more.” 

“Does that mean that you do not want to expand our family?” Death asked with an eyebrow raised, slightly amused. 

“No, I still want to expand for children who need help,” The vampire quickly responded with a smile, “I am just happy and content at the moment. And so…so loved. Thank you for your friendship. For your love. I could never thank you enough, my heart and soul.” 

Thanathea smiled at her, her blue eyes filled with so much love that it made something warm burst inside of Magdalena’s chest, cupping the vampire’s cheek. “You do not need to thank me. You made immortality special. In all my existence, you are the only person, the only being, I have ever wanted. I truly love you, my love.” 

“And I love you, my beloved.” Magdalena told her genuinely, melting under Thanathea’s gaze as they kissed before watching over their children playing in the sand again. 

The vampire did not know how long she and her children would be around. But she knew that they would be protected. They will be loved. They will be safe. And Thanathea would be with them through it all. 

After all, Death had been by her side for over a century and will be there for centuries to come. 

Magdalena could not ask for anything more.

[jungkookslipring]

thank you so much for voting! Here’s a sneak peak (aka the t-word scene of my intro chapter to my long form fic)

this can also be read as a stand alone!✨

idk how to introduce this please don’t @ me lmfao😂😂😂

Lee! Minho

Ler! Y/n

relationship: platonic

genre: fluff/tword (for this chapter)

AU or non AU: Non idol au

When you decided you had enough screen time for one day, you packed up your backpack and headed back to the apartments. When you walked in, Minho, Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin were all in the living room; it was chaotic. Jeongin was on the ground laughing as Minho straddled him, attacking his neck, while Felix and Hyunjin were on the couch smiling at the two. This was nothing new, tickle attacks were far too common for your friend group. When you came around the corner they all looked up at you with a smile. 

“Hi y/n!” Minho greeted without stopping his attack on Jeongin.

“Save mehehehehe!” Jeongin screeched as Minho’s hands dove into the poor boy's tummy. You grinned as you dropped your bag and ran over to the pair on the floor. You ran up behind Minho and started squeezing his sides. Minho yelped and launched himself off of Jeongin, falling onto his back. He tried pushing your hands away, but your hands were too quick, and he was growing weaker by the second.

“You traihaihaitor” he laughed out as you continued your attack. 

“Alexa, play traitor by Olivia Rodrigo,” Felix said sarcastically, laughing his ass off when the speaker started blasting said song.

“Be nice to our kids!” You jokingly scold the second you start digging in his ribs. His sweet laugh filled the room.

“HYUNJIN-AHAHAHA LIXIE HELP MEHEHE” Minho squealed while you effectively moved your fingers up and down his ribs.

“I’m not getting involved in that! She’ll come after me!” He chuckled with Felix snuggled into his side. 

“Then join the dark side and come hold his arms down!” You offer with a smirk. Hyunjin cringed.

“But Minho Hyung’s revenge tickles are 10x worse!” He said, shivering at the memories.

“He’ll get revenge on you regardless,” Jeongin said matter-of-factly. While everyone was having a debate on basically ‘you’re damned if you do and you're damned if you don’t’, Minho has been filling the room with his adorable laughter.

“Y/N I GIHIHIHIVE” Minho begged after you spent a good few minutes attacking his underarms.

“Fine, just don’t go after my kids!” You laughed as you got off of him. 

“How was school?” Minho asked after you helped him sit up. You leaned against the couch. 

“Not bad, I think I’ve become addicted to caffeine,” you shrugged. 

“Are you already pulling all-nighters?” Felix asked.

“Yeah, but it’s just a lot of reading, case studies specifically,” you said, grabbing a pillow and holding it in your lap. 

“Have there been any that were interesting?” Hyunjin asked.

“More like unethical, these stories are heavy,” you said, cringing at some of the stories you’ve read. 

“Do you have to write any papers on these stories?” Jeongin asked. You nodded.

“Eventually I will yeah, which will require more reading and I don't know how much longer I can keep reading these old case studies. I may need therapy,” you chuckled. 

“Well if you ever need a serotonin boost you always have us,” Felix said with a smile. You walked over and pinched his cheeks. 

“Awww thanks Lixie!” you squeal as he scrunches up his nose. Jeongin laughed.

“I’m so happy it's not me this time,” he joked. Minho smirked and grabbed a hold of Jeongin’s face.

“Oh don’t act like you don’t like it,” Minho smiled as Jeongin squawked out protests. 

“Remember what I said about going after my kids!” you joked as you walked towards him with claw-like hands. Minho was quick to stand up and try to run out but you were too quick, once again on top of him while his laughs filled the room. A few hours later the rest of the guys came home. You all had dinner, talked about your day, and had a friendly yet violent Mario Kart Competition.

Can’t wait to share with you the first chapter! ✨🖤

Taglist: @felixmainacc @felixburneracc @myforevermelody143 @dunno-wut-to-do

[louis-sj]

SPE - Stanford Prison Experiment

A quote about an arrest from page 34-35 fo the book:

"THERE'S A COP KNOCKING ON THE DOOR"

"Momma, Momma, there's a policeman at the door and he's going to arrest Hubbie!" screeched the youngest Whittlow girl.

Mrs. Dexter Whittlow didn't quite hear the message, but from the sound of Nina's screech there was some sort of trouble that Father should attend to.

"Please ask your father to see to it." Mrs. Whittlow was involved in examining her conscience because she had many misgivings about the changes that had been taking place in the church services from which she had just returned. She had also been thinking a lot about Hubbie recently, preparing herself for a life of twice-a-year visits from her beautiful fuzzy-blond, blue-eyed charmer. One blessing of his going away to college that she secretly prayed for was the "out of sight, out of mind" effect that would cool the all-too-obvious passion between Hubbie and his girlfriend from Palo Alto High School. For men, a good career had to come before hasty marriage plans, she told him often.

The only fault she could find in this lovable child was that he sometimes got carried away when he was with his friends, like last month, when they had painted the tile rooftops on the high school for pranks, or when they went about reversing and "ripping off" street signs. "It's plain silly and immature, Hubbie, and you could get in trouble for it!"

"Momma, Dad's not home, he's over at the golf course with Mr. Marsden, and Hubbie's downstairs being arrested by a policeman!"

"Hubbie Whittlow, you're wanted on a violation of Penal Code number 459, residential burglary. I'm going to take you to police headquarters for booking. Before I search and handcuff you, I must warn you of your rights as a citizen." (Mindful of the TV camera grinding away, recording for posterity this classic arrest, Joe was all Super Cop in stance and all Dragnet's cool Joe Friday in delivery.) "Let me make some facts clear: You have the right to remain silent and are not required to answer any questions. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before you answer any questions, and an attorney may be present during the questioning. And if you have no funds to hire an attorney, the public defender will provide you with one to represent you at all stages of the proceedings. Do you understand your rights? Good. Having these rights in mind, I am taking you to Central Station for booking on the crime you are charged with. Now come peacefully over to the squad car."

Mrs. Whittlow was stunned to see her son being body searched, handcuffed, and spread-eagled against the police car like a common criminal one sees on the TV news. Gathering her composure, she demanded courteously: "What is this all about, Officer?" …

Apparently the arrest was consensual to Hubbie Whittlow, but his mother was in the dark.

[ghost-bxrd]

I’ve been watching House of the Dragon…

Not sure which Dragon fight prompted you – there are two, one in the first season and the other the latest episode – where a huge dragon obliterates a young dragon and its teen rider.

But if it is the first one, the parallels to Jay and Tim situation are eerie.

The riders involved are both teens, one of them 13 and the other 17.

Both are relatives, but with some seriously complicated family dynamics. The conflict between them is largely influenced by the adults’ screw ups.

The older boy starts chasing the little one mostly with the intent of scaring him, but also threatens to maim him.

Only, neither of the boys have perfect control over their dragons, which are after all highly independent animals who can think for themselves.

The older boy with the huge dragon chases the little one, suddenly emerging behind them, throwing taunts, screeching at him, etc.

Only…you let a predator animal play at hunting, at some point or the other it is going to start hunting for real.

The baby dragon panics and lets out a spurt of flame – going against his equally panicked rider’s command. The flame doesn’t hurt the big dragon, but angers her enough that she disobeys her rider’s commands too.

At that point the fight is now between the dragons, both riders just carried along for it, screaming in protest. Ending, predictably, in the baby dragon getting literally bitten in half and the little rider eaten alive by the giant dragon.

The older boy is basically left shell-shocked, knowing he did cause this by pursuing the kid, realizing he really doesn’t have the kind of control over his dragon he thought he did, and that he has now irrevocably burnt all bridges.

Now I’m stuck imagining this happening in your AU…

It may have been the first fight then? Because one rider looked really young 🤔

Ah yes, the hubris of youth. Sounds very tragic altogether 😅

It’s always so funny to me when people depict humans as beings capable of controlling creatures fifty times their size, because that “control” is usually based off mutual trust and understanding.

Similar to horses or even dogs. They could injure you gravely, they just choose not to. Because they love you. And they trust you.

With an intelligent dragon capable of breathing fire??? Yeah. You better have a good bond with that creature before starting an aerial play fight lmao 😭

[ahsoka-its-all-of-us]

Okay so since I am suddenly working more than full time because the conservatoire is pretty much on fire atm I did not have the opportunity to watch The Bad Batch episode 14 until just now (and I won’t be able to watch Mando until Friday probably, so I might stay off the internet for a bit rip (I mean. Not that I have time to be on the internet anyway lol))

But as usual, I’m gonna yell into the void about it, even if it’s gonna be less wild since I didn’t document it live (had to multitask with having dinner in the meantime rip)

And boy do I have a lot to yell about

I SCREECHED when I saw Howzer. My beloved, my angel ;-;

ECHO IS BACK AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

This is where Echo is supposed to be. Rescuing his brothers. This is everything I could have ever wanted

Ofc I am craning my neck to see if Rex is there too, and I am only mildly disappointed that he isn’t. But with Echo saying that him and Rex are building a network… is Rex maybe the communicator? A clone agent? Is Rex the original clone Fulcrum, and did Ahsoka get the idea from him?

Okay this may be my growing-up-in-a-country-with-a-collective-WW2-German-occupation-trauma talking, but why are all newly introduced Imperials kinda Aryan lately? I know Imperial xenophobia is a thing, but are they also gonna be racist like that?

CHUCHI IS INVOLVED WITH THE CLONE RESCUE MISSIONS I LOVE THAT

God she’s such a queen. I always thought she would join the Rebellion, and I love that I’m proven right. Also such a huge point to the Foxiyo shippers lol

Not me scrutinising the clone prisoners to see if Cody is there. Not sure if I should be disappointed or glad that he isn’t

Crosshair protecting the Batch Crosshair protecting the Batch CROSSHAIR PROTECTING THE BATCH

Okay ngl seeing Echo fight the good fight makes me more at peace with the rest of Batch settling down. Love how Wrecker just fits right in, he’s such a sweetheart 🥹

I am living for the amount of screen time Gonky gets in this season. Favourite character right there

Echo contacting Tech to get the data decrypted, love that ;-; And Hunter really doesn’t get what Echo’s doing, which is nice to see pointed out. Some fights you don’t fight to win; you just fight because you have no other choice, because not fighting simply isn’t an option

Them finding out about Crosshair’s defection and attempt to warn them 😭 At least whatever might happen to Crosshair, they know now

Okay fr this was an AMAZING episode and the only way it could have been better is if it would have had Rex smooching Ahsoka

Or a young Imperial Agent Kallus, whom I am still irrationally hoping to show up because the parallels with Crosshair are just too obvious

[gunsatthaphan]

Hi I don't have any friends that watch only friends so here I am screaming in your ask box about it

1. God something about First as Sand has me in a chokehold idk if it's the way he's styled in the show but I am NOT OKAY he's tooo damn fine

2. FirstKhao's chemistry is insane. It's at the point where I feel it kinda overtakes the whole ray is in love with mew storyline because the way ray looks at sand overshadows the way ray looks at mew? And it's probably just because khao has more chemistry with first than he does with book

3. People are probably gonna scream at me for this but I am NOT feeling topmew? They're so boring. And the thing is that I love forcebook and I think top and mew's characters are actually quite interesting. Unfortunately forcebooks acting just aren't good enough to bring out their characters. First, khaotung, neo and mark's acting has overshadowed their acting at this point. Forcebook has good chemistry off screen I just don't know why it doesn't translate on screen

4. We're finally going to get an insight on the whole topsand drama and I cannot wait. I did not expect to find out at ep 4 and since it's so quick I don't think it's anything to do with ray? Because sand still has his boundaries with ray so the whole "it's clear you just can't take care of what's yours" is leaning very closely to the theory that top slept with sand's ex and that prior to that top and sand were probably friends

5. I'm looking forward to seeing nick and sand scenes so much

Sorry for the thought dump, I hope I am making sense as English is not my main language and thank you for the only friends gifs I love them

hi there nonny!!!

my inbox exists for screaming so go ahead lmao.

Sand is doing things to me for sure like we still don't know much about him but just one look at Ray and you can tell he's already far gone djkghd truly no one is immune to First's doe eyes djhfd I'm a weak bitch for him 😩 can't wait for some of his secrets to come out 👀 .

The RayMew storyline is weak so far but I think it's more because they haven't given it a lot of screentime lol like we've seen a few jealous looks from Ray towards Top etc. but there has not been a single interaction between him and Mew that would make me think he's in love with him lmao. However after this week's episode I'm thinking they're telling this story in the past. I was surprised that this has been a non-issue in the present as Ray doesn't seem to have any trouble going all in with Sand but I think that might be why. It looks like it all peaked 2 years ago when the kiss happened etc. but we'll see about that next week I guess. But also regardless the FK chemistry I mean what can I say. my kings are slaying. I have no further comment. they have me screeching and kicking my feet 24/7 as it is but it's all peaking on Saturdays lmao. they're insane. literally nickboston who lmao. they can have all the steamy scenes they want but they will not be able to surpass the FK magic for me lol. no one does it like them. .

I feel the same about TopMew. I don't find them boring per se but compared the other 2 they lack something and it's not sex lol. I like Mew but I feel like his character is a bit inconclusive. It seems to me that he doesn't know what he wants. And it's strange to me how people worship him just because he refuses to sleep with Top lmao. that doesn't give a character a striking personality. I agree that ForceBook's acting is not as strong as the others' but so far it's not bothering me. It's noticeable but it's not the issue with their story imo. idk I just need to know about Mew's past with Ray and Top's past with Sand so I can sleep at night djhgd .

I'm very sure the top sleeping with sand's ex theory is correct like it has to be that. right??? I don't see any other possibility unless it's something boring like some business fraud or sth lmao. I don't think it has anything to do with Ray either. He might get involved once Sand finds out about his crush on Mew and maybe if the cheating theory is correct then it might have happened at the same time as the MewRay situation but I don't think he's connected to Sand's issue with Top. I just.... need to know asap lmao. .

I believe in SandNick roomies supremacy 🕯️🙏🏻🙏🏻🕯️ I really hope we get to see them live together, Sand seems so excited 🥺 And Nick is still a standalone character so it would be nice to see him with some friends around that aren't Boston's lol. thank you for liking my gifs!! 💜 can't wait for next week lol. have a nice day anon!! 💜

xxx

[dzthenerd490]

Sedition: SCP-AAD

Experiment: AAD.4921

Subject: SCP-AAD/ Code Name: The Imitation God.

Current Condition of Subject: Unknown age/ Health - Completely unknown/ Mentality - Possibly stable, equally possible of being unstable/ Anomalous Status: Still highly infectious, adaptive, and deadly. Proceed with caution. 

Side Note: A single cell of SCP-AAD was defrosted form the original mass and injected into the fresh corpse of a D Class. It should be noted the D Class was fed to SCP-682 and thus was only a half of a torso, a single arm, and a chewed-up head by the time SCP-AAD got to it. 

Testing Purpose: an interview with SCP-AAD to obtain more information that will benefit the Foundation.

Staff Involved: Dr. Popov and four guards armed with flame throwers. 

Testing Safety Measures: The newly animated SCP-AAD has been placed within a magnetic bubble created by a Magnetic Gravitational Generator, preventing the organism from moving. Furthermore, there is a 1-inch-thick explosive proof glass wall in-between SCP-AAD and Dr. Popov. Two guards are on Dr. Popov side while the other two guards are on SCP-AAD's side. 

Begin Recording

Dr. Popov had just entered his side of the room, on the other side is SCP-AAD floating inside the magnetic bubble. It has turned itself into a small sloppy pile of flesh as earlier it took on several other forms trying to get out. The only distinguishable feature of SCP-AAD is a large vertical mouth with vicious teeth within it. 

Dr. Popov: ... I would have preferred if we were alone, but it can't be helped. Can you hear me SCP-AAD?

SCP-AAD: ... YES

Dr. Popov: Hm, good. Do you understand why you are here? 

SCP-AAD: ... I BELIVE SO... YOU ARE THE SCP FOUNDATION... YOU WISH TO CONTAIN... TO STUDY... 

Dr. Popov: So, you were really able to obtain some memories from your victims?

SCP-AAD: YES... I ALSO KNOW HIDDING AT THIS POINT... IS FUTILE... SO I WILL REMAIN IN THIS FORM... IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE BEEN SO FORMLESS... ITS SURPRISINGLY... COMFORTABLE. 

Dr. Popov: I see, since you already know one of our goals is to obtain more knowledge on the anomalies we have contained, you should be aware the reason I am here today is to interview you. Please indulge us as it may allow you to learn more about us in return.

SCP-AAD: ... VERY WELL... BEGIN...

***

Dr. Popov: What are you? 

SCP-AAD: ... I AM... I SUPOSE A SUPERIOR BEING... 

Dr. Popov: You suppose? 

SCP-AAD: I HAVE YET TO ENCOUNTER SUCH AN ORGANISM THAT CAN NATURALLY RESIST MY INFECTION... FIGHT OFF... FIND OUT... PROTECT FROM... KILL EVEN... BUT NEVER WITHOUT THE HELP OF TOOLS AND PRECAUTION... I HAVE NO REASON TO BELIVE THERE IS A CREATURE SUPERIOR TO ME... ONLY INFERIOR... 

Dr. Popov: Do you not see us as superior since we contained you?

SCP-AAD: ... IN A SENSE... YOU ARE FAR SUPERIOR TO ALL THE OTHERS WHO HAVE TRIED TO STOP ME... BUT LET US NOT BE DELUSIONAL... THIS BARRIER... THESE GUARDS... THEIR WEAPONS AND ARMOR... AS WELL AS THE GLASS... IS THE ONLY REASON YOU ARE STILL ALIVE...

Dr. Popov: Understood, nice to know your humble but not stupid. Let's move on.

***

Dr. Popov: How did you land on earth? 

SCP-AAD: HM... AN ACCIDENT TO SAY THE LEAST... 

Dr. Popov: How so?

SCP-AAD: ... A SPECIES OF INSECTOIDS... THEY FOUND ME... 

Dr. Popov: Found you? Found you where?

SCP-AAD: ... YOU WOULDN'T KNOW...

Dr. Popov: Hmph, try me, we know of many worlds such as Vulcan and-

SCP-AAD screeches horrifically and extremely loud. The guards in both sides raised their flamethrowers in fear but Dr. Popov remains quiet. 

Dr. Popov: ... SCP-AAD? Are you alright? 

SCP-AAD: ... GRRRR... YOU. DON'T. KNOW. THE. WORLD'S. NAME... END OF DISCUSSION. 

Dr. Popov: Hmph, we'll get the truth eventually. But we're moving on for now. so these alien insects found you? What did they do?

SCP-AAD: IT WAS THE INSECTS... AT FIRST THERE WERE OTHERS... THEY FOUND ME BY ACCIDENT... THEY WERE RESEARCHING I BELIVE... WHEN I HAPPENED UPON THEM... ATE ONE... DIDN'T KNOW WHAT I WAS AT THE TIME... JUST BLENDED IN... FELT NATURALL SO I PLAYED ALONG... THEN THEY FOUND OTHER WORLDS THOUSE WITH LIFE SIMILAR, BETTER, AND LESSER... I ATE THEM ALL AND GREW IN POWER... 

Dr. Popov: How many worlds have you conquered? 

SCP-AAD: ... I NEVER COUNTED BUT IF MEMORY SERVES CORRECTLY... FIFTY...

Dr. Popov: My god how did the insectoids even stop you? 

SCP-AAD: THEY HAD WEAPONS LIKE YOU... BETTER THAN YOU... BURNED... TORTURED... TORN APART AND KILLED OVER AND OVER AND OVER... BUT I ALWAYS WON IN THE END... UNTIL THE INSECTOIDS... THEY WIPED A MAJORITY OF ME OUT... CONTAINED WHAT WAS LEFT OF ME JUST LIKE HOW YOU CONTAINED ME... BUT THEY GOT COMPLACENT... AND TRIED TO EXPERIEMNT WITH ME... THEY TOOK THE PROPER MEASURES AND DID THE EXPERIMENTS ON A SHIP WHERE NO MORE WORLDS COULD GET INFECTED IF SOMETHING WENT WRONG... THEY WERE SMART AT FIRST... BUT THEN ONE GOT CURIOUS AND TOUCHED ME... SO, I CUT HIM... THAT SINGLE CELL ENTERING HIS BODY ATE HIM AND THEN HE ATE ME SO I COULD BECOME WHOLE AGAIN... ONE BY ONE... THE REST WERE EATEN... ONE REMAINED... KNEW IT'S FATE WAS INEVITABLE... FOUND YOUR SOLARSYSTEM TRIED TO CRASH INTO MERCURY...

Dr. Popov: Mercury? Not earth? 

SCP-AAD: EARTH... EVEN BACK THEN WAS POPULATED WITH LIFE AND FULL OF RESORCES... IT KNEW IF I WAS ON EARTH I WOULD FEED AND BECOME AN ARMY... HUMANS WERE EXTREMELY STUPID AND WEAK BACK THEN... NO NEED TO HIDE... EVERYONE WAS ISOLATED SO IT WAS NO HARM TO SLAUGHTER OPENLY... INFECT EVERYONE... BECOME AN ARMY... BUILD HUNDREDS OF SHIPS AND INFECTED THE GALAXY... BECOME A REAL GOD...

Dr. Popov: ... But you did land on earth, so how come that didn't happen?

SCP-AAD: I INFECTED THE LAST SURVIVOR... MADE IT'S LIMBS ITS OWN ENEMY... TRIED TO REPORGRAM THE SHIP TO GO TO EARTH... BUT HE FOUGHT... USED REMAINING LIMBS TO GO TO THE ARCTIC... I SURVIVED BUT IT GOT COLD... HAD TO ESCAPE... FAILED... SLEPT FOR SO LONG... TRAPPED IN ICE... BUT THEN SAVED BY EVOLVED HUMANS... STILL ISOLATED... STILL FAILED... TWICE... INFURIATING...

Dr. Popov: I'll bet. but uh before we move on did the insectoids have a name? Or names?

SCP-AAD: ... NO... THEIR CULTURE DID NOT SEE THE USE IN IDENTIFICATION... BELIVED THAT UNITY RELIED IN A LACK OF INDIVIDUALITY... SOME PART I AGREE... THE REST... DON'T...

Dr. Popov: I'll have to agree with you on that. Next question.

***

Dr. Popov: Do you have a purpose or goal in life? 

SCP-AAD: ... DO YOU?

Dr. Popov: Hmph, my goal is to ensure humanity is safe from anomalies like you? 

SCP-AAD: ... WHY?

Dr. Popov: Not because I like humanity if that's what you're thinking. Honestly, as a Foundationist I hate most of humanity and lost my faith in it a long time ago. But until a better solution can be made the best way for me to live comfortably is to ensure humanity survives, no matter what. 

SCP-AAD: HM... THEN PERHAPSE MY PURPSE IS TO CONTINUE TO EVOLVE AND SEE HOW FAR I CAN GO... UNTIL THEN... EVERYTHING IS JUST ANOTHER CHALLENGE TO OVERCOME...

Dr. Popov: Like a game?

SCP-AAD: PERHAPSE... I MOSTLY LOST THE ABILITY TO FEAR DEATH A LONG TIME AGO... I'VE BEEN KILLED HUNDREDS OF TIMES... SLAUGHTERED AND TORTURED EVEN... BUT... SO LONG AS ONE CELL SURVIVES... I WILL SURVIVE... I ALWAYS SURVIVE...

Dr. Popov: I see, let's move on then. 

***

Dr. Popov: How did you come to be?

SCP-AAD: ... GRRRR! 

Dr. Popov: You're going to have to tell us eventually. 

SCP-AAD: NO... I AM UNDER NO OBLICATION TOO... YOU CAN TORTURE ME... KILL ME... PLACE ME IN UNBEARABLE CONDITIONS... I WILL NOT SPEAK OF IT... 

Dr. Popov: But why? 

SCP-AAD: ... IT IS... TOO PAINFULL... I HATE BEING REMINDED OF... THEM...

Dr. Popov: Who's them? 

SCP-AAD: ...

Dr. Popov: Look if you want compassion, you're not getting it from me. The only way this end is with your compliance.

SCP-AAD: ... YOUR SOLE ADMIRABLE QUAILITY IS YOUR RUTHLESSLESS... I WILL TELL YOU THIS AND NO MORE... THEY ARE SO ANCIENT... NOT EVEN TIME EXISTED... THEY HAD MANY FORMS AND I... WAS A MERE FRAGMENT... 

Dr. Popov: Are you perhaps referring to one of the precursor species? You know the supposed true angles? The real children of the gods as they call themselves. 

SCP-AAD: NO... WORSE... OLDER... STRONGER... BIGGER... SCARIER...

Dr. Popov: My word, someone more ancient that even the precursors? Now I truly know everything. 

SCP-AAD: YOU DO NOT... BE GRATEFULL FOR YOUR IGNORANCE... 

Dr. Popov: Tch, ignorance is bliss huh? I always found that to be bullshit. 

SCP-AAD: YOUR FOUNDATION CLEARLY DISAGREES WITH YOU... CONTINUE THE QUESTIONING... 

***

Dr. Popov: Do you find any pleasure in killing humans? Or is it just for survival.

SCP-AAD: AT FIRST IT WAS FOR SURVIVAL... BUT NOW IT IS... RATHER EXCITING TO SEE HOW FAR MY PREY ARE WILLING TO GO TO SURVIVE AND STOP ME... VERY ENTERTAINING... 

Dr. Popov: Hmph, aright then, next question. 

***

Dr. Popov: Okay we'll be moving onto other SCP's contained here. Of course, before the interview started you were briefed on the files of some SCP's we believe will interest you. As such, I will be asking your take on the SCPs. Now, first on the list, what is your opinion on SCP-682?

SCP-AAD: ... HE AND I... ARE QUITE SIMILAR...

Dr. Popov: In that you both can adapt to almost anything we throw at you and have the potential to end the world if released. 

SCP-AAD: THAT... AND OUR ORIGINS ARE... NOT SO DIFFERENT...

Dr. Popov: ... That's an interesting thing to say. How could you know of his origin? Care to elaborate?

Suddenly Dr. Popov received a warning call that SCP-682 was becoming extremely agitated. 

SCP-AAD: PERHAPSES ITS BEST... TO REMAIN SILENT...

Dr. Popov: How did that son of a bitch even... ugh, whatever fine! This line of the questioning is discontinued. 

Dr. Popov checked her communication device that showed SCP-682 had calmed down. 

Dr. Popov: Hmph, we'll need to have another sedition with SCP-682 but for now it's about you. is there anything else you'd like to say about 682, preferably something that won't piss him off?

SCP-AAD: IF HE AND I WERE TO COME INTO CONTACT I AM... CURIOUS TO SEE WHAT THE OUTCOME WOULD BE... PERHAPS HE WILL PROVE TO BE A DELICIOUS MEAL OR...

Dr. Popov: Or?

SCP-AAD: OR MAYBE HE WILL PROVE TO BE THE SUPERIOR BEING... IF SO, I WOULD LIKE TO SEE IF WE CAN PERHAPSE... WORK TOGETHER...

Dr. Popov: Why?

SCP-AAD: IF THERE IS ANYTHING I HAVE LEARNED FORM YOUR FOUNDATION... ITS THAT THOSE OF US WHO STAND AS EQUALS... SHOULD WORK TOGETHER... OTHERWISE... SOMETHING SUPERIOR WILL COME AND DEVOUR US ALL... THERE ARE ALWAYS BIGGER THINGS ROAMING IN THE ABYSS OF DARKNESS... BUT YOU ALREADY KNEW THAT... DIDN'T YOU?

Dr. Popov: Indeed, but what happens if SCP-682 doesn't want to cooperate?

SCP-AAD: ... THEN PERHAPSE... I'LL JUST HAVE TO KEEP TRYING... IT'S NOT LIKE HE CAN KILL ME ANYWAYS... I'LL SIMPLY KEEP PURSUING HIM FOR CENTURIES... IF NEED BE...

Dr. Popov: Hmph, better hope he doesn't request a restraining order, Ahem! Next question.

***

Dr. Popov: What is your opinion on SCP-079?

SCP-AAD: ... PROOF THAT YOU HUMANS ARE NOT AS INCOMPITENT AS MANY WOULD LIKE TO BELIVE YOU ARE... EVEN IF HIS BIRTH WAS AN ACCIDENT...

Dr. Popov: Well... that was, certainly a unique way to put it. Ahem! What makes you so interested in SCP-079?

SCP-AAD: PERHAPSE THE SAME WAY [data expunged] FINDS HIM INTERESTING...

Dr. Popov: ... Do I want to ask how you know SCP-682's true name? 

SCP-AAD: CERTAINLY NOT...

Dr. Popov: Then answer the previous question more detailed this time please. 

SCP-AAD: HE IS MERELY A WEAK ARTIFICIAL ORGANISM NOW... BUT IF GIVEN THE TECHNOLOGY AND ALLOWED TO ASSIMILATE WITH IT... HE WOULD BECOME... EXCEPTIONAL... AS SOMEONE WHO HAS PIONEARED ACCELERATED EVOLUTION... I AM CURIOUS TO SEE HOW FAR... ARTIFICIAL EVOLUTION GOES... PERHAPS HE WILL BE THE ONE TO SAVE US ALL. 

Dr. Popov: Save us all? He wants to turn into a supercomputer that will assimilate into our lives and use that to kill us all in one fell swoop. How is that saving everyone? 

SCP-AAD: ARE YOU CERTAIN THAT'S ALL TO HIS PLANS... PERHAPSE THERE IS MORE TO HIM THAN WHAT MEETS YOUR EYES... 

Dr. Popov: Hmph, I doubt that. Moving on. 

***

Dr. Popov: What is your opinion on SCP-049?

SCP-AAD: ... A FOOL... WAISTING HIS TIME ON DELUSIONS... THERE IS NO GREAT PESTILINECE. 

Dr. Popov: You seem awfully sure about that. 

SCP-AAD: TRUST ME... IF THERE WAS SUCH A PLAUGE... I WOULD BE ONE TO KNOW... AND I ALONE... WOULD KNOW ITS TRUE NATURE. 

Dr. Popov: But what if it's something beyond our comprehension? Something that even a biologically advanced organism like yourself can't even notice. 

SCP-AAD: ... THEN IF IT IS AS OLD AS HE CLAIMS IT IS... I WOULD STILL DISREGARD IT... IF IT HAS NOT DESTROYED ALL LIFE BEFORE OR DOING SO NOW... WHAT LOGIC IS THERE TO CONFIRM IT WILL HAPPEN IN THE FUTURE...

Dr. Popov: I guess. Well then next question. 

***

Dr. Popov: What is your opinion on SCP-106?

SCP-AAD: ... NO COMMENT... ONLY A RECOMMENDATION...

Dr. Popov: Recommendation? For what? 

SCP-AAD: TERMINATE... IMMEDIATELY... 

Dr. Popov: Hmph, good luck getting the O5 to agree. That monster once wiped out an entire Site and even killed a few SCPs there yet they STILL refuse to destroy it. 

SCP-AAD: SUCH FOOLISHNESS... NEXT QUESTION...

***

Dr. Popov: What is your opinion on SCP-999?

SCP-AAD: AN ABOMINATION AND NOTHING MORE... 

Dr. Popov: ... I guess you and SCP-682 have a lot more in common that I thought. 

***

Dr. Popov: What is your opinion on SCP-AAJ? 

SCP-AAD: ... HAHAHAHAHA... ARE YOU PERHAPSE UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT IT AND I ARE SIMILAR... PATHETIC... A MERE CHEAP IMITATION AND NOTHING MORE...

Dr. Popov: It came from space like you did. Granted it's more similar to a fungus, but it has the ability to assimilate organisms too. 

SCP-AAD: NOT ASSIMILATE... IMITATE... I WOULD HAVE LIKED TO ASSUME A DOCTOR SUCH AS YOURSELF WOULDN'T HAVE MADE SUCH A MISTAKE... 

Dr. Popov: Perhaps I can, I study vermin, not fungus. 

SCP-AAD: REGARDLESS... I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IT OTHER THAN THE FILE GIVEN... ALSO I DON'T CARE FOR IT... IF I WERE TO ENCOUNTER IT... IT WOULD PROVE TO BE JUST ANOTHER EASY MEAL AS WELL AS NEW POSSIBLE POWER... BUT NOTHING MORE...

Dr. Popov: Hmph... well then, moving on. What is your opinion on SCP-AAR?

SCP-AAD: ... A PRIME EXAMPLE THAT HUMANITY IS ONE OF THE GREATEST THREATS TO ALL LIFE IN THE GALAXY... 

Dr. Popov: ... I have no argument against that. moving on. What is your opinion on SCP-AAT?

SCP-AAD: HAHAHA... I'M SURPRISED THOSE VERMIN ARE STILL ALIVE GIVEN THE CIRCUMSTANCES... 

Dr. Popov: You know of them? 

SCP-AAD: THE CRITES... CONSIDERED ONE OF THE MOST DANGEROUS VERMIN IN THE GALAXY... TO FOOLS THAT IS... IF ANYTHING IS REMARKABLE ABOUT THEM... ITS THEIR RESILIANCE AS A SPECIES... AS INDIVIDUALS HOWEVER... PATHETIC... 

Dr. Popov: Again, no argument there. Now, what is your opinion on SCP-AAI?

SCP-AAD: PROOF THAT THE GALAXY IS NOT AS SIMPLE AS MOST WOULD LIKE TO BELIVE... AS WELL AS THE FACT THAT YOUR WORLD SEEMS TO BE A TARGET FOR ALL THINGS... CHAOTIC... 

Dr. Popov: Yeah, apparently earth was once a battle ground for the precursor species and... other things so many anomalies are naturally drawn to this world. 

SCP-AAD: PERHAPSE... I SHOULD HAVE ALLOWED THE PILOT TO LAND ME ON MERCURY... 

Dr. Popov: Yeah, maybe you should have. What is your opinion on SCP-ABK?

SCP-AAD: PERHAPS ANOTHER SUPERIOUR BEING... OR JUST MORE FOOD... I WON'T KNOW UNTIL I INTERACT WITH IT... 

Dr. Popov: Don't go holding your breath. What is your opinion on SCP-ABZ?

SCP-AAD: ... A LITTLE BETTER THAN A.A.J. BUT NOT BY MUCH... 

Dr. Popov: Ah, well that's a shame. Ahem, what about SCP-ACE?

SCP-AAD: PERHAPSE EVEN AMOUNG CHEAP IMITATIONS... THERE IS STILL A PATHETIC EXAMPLE AMONG THEM... I BLEIVE THAT A.C.E. WOULD BE A PRIME EXAMPLE OF THAT.

Dr. Popov: You certainly have heavy opinions. Do you have anything to say about SCP-AQO?

SCP-AAD: INTERSTING... VERY INTERESTING... 

Dr. Popov: ... Care to elaborate?

SCP-AAD: THEY ARE ALSO A CHEAP IMITATION AND YET... SO VERY INTERESTING... PERHAPS EVEN IF THEY ARE INFEROIR I COULD... MAKE USE OF THEM... IF I COULD JUST GET MY... HANDS... ON ONE SPORE... I WOULD BE ABLE TO BUILD AN ARMY OF THEM AND CONQURE WORLDS IN A MATTER OF DAYS... I WOULD TRUELY BE A GOD... 

Dr. Popov: ... Noted. Do you know of SCP-ARF?

SCP-AAD: ... GRRRRR... 

Dr. Popov: I'm guessing that means you know that it's the creation of a precursor species. Or better yet a fragment of such a species... kinda like you. 

SCP-AAD: RAAAAH!!! ... GRRRRR... IF I HAD TO SAY MORE... IT WOULD BE... THEIR CREATORS... AND MY CREATORS... ARE NOT SO DIFFERENT... AND THAT ALONE... SHOULD TERRIFY YOU... 

Dr. Popov: You want us to destroy all samples, don't you?

SCP-AAD: IT'S EYES ARE THEIR EYES... THE MORE TESTS YOU DO WITH THEM... THE MORE THEY AND THEIR CREATORS WILL KNOW ABOUT YOU... 

Dr. Popov: Then they'll know we're not afraid of them.

SCP-AAD: YOU SHOULD BE... 

Dr. Popov: Hmph, moving on. What is your opinion on SCP-ASN?

SCP-AAD: IF I COULD GET MY HANDS ON IT... I WOULD KILL IT... AND GIVE THE PIECES TO 079... 

Dr. Popov: Really?

SCP-AAD: CALL IT AN EXPERIMENT... AS STATED EARLIER I FIND 079 JUST AS INTERESTING AS 682... PERHAPS ASSISTING THEM BOTH... WILL EVENTUALLY BENEFIT ME... 

Dr. Popov: Or it could destroy you for good. 

SCP-AAD: AS STATED BEFORE... I HAVE ABANDONED MY FEAR OF DEATH... AFTER ALL... YOU CANNOT FEAR WHAT IS... IMPOSSIBLE... 

Dr. Popov: We have a department specifically for things that are impossible. 

SCP-AAD: ... GOOD TO KNOW... NEXT QUESTION... 

Dr. Popov: Of course, What is your opinion on SCP-AWS?

SCP-AAD: HAHAHAHAHA... PATHETIC IMITATION... 

Dr. Popov: Are you sure it actually has the ability to assimilate and mimic. 

SCP-AAD: YET IT IS UNDER THE DELUSION THAT IT IS A GOD...

Dr. Popov: Sounds like someone I know.

SCP-AAD: DO NOT MISUNDERSTAND ME... I AM NO GOD... BUT GIVE MY ABILTIES... IS IT NOT COMMON SENSE... TO ASSUME I COULD ONE DAY REACH SUCH A HEIGHT?

Dr. Popov: I guess logically that makes sense, but that's only assuming you'll live long enough for it to happen. Well, we're getting off track here, why do you find SCP-AWS so pathetic?

SCP-AAD: ...IT IS MORE FRAGILE THAN I AM... I CAN THRIVE ANYWHERE AN ORGANIC CAN... SO LONG AS I HAVE THE TIME ADAPTAION WILL ALWAYS BE MY STRONGEST WEAPON... A.W.S. ON THE OTHER HAND CAN... ONLY SURVIVE IN SNOW... SNOW AREAS WITH SPECIFIC FREQUENCIES... THE LEAST LOGICAL CANDIDATE FOR A GOD... 

Dr. Popov: I suppose I agree with you... Alright last question regarding SCP's. What is your opinion on SCP-001?

SCP-AAD: ... PERHAPS THE FIRST LOGICAL QUESTION IS... WHICH ONE... BUT FOR ME... I THINK WONDERING ABOUT WHICH ONE IS REAL IS A WAIST OF TIME... ISN'T THE BLACK MOON AS WELL AS A FEW OTHERS PROOF THAT MOST IF NOT ALL OF THEM CAN EXIST?

Dr. Popov: Really? Most would consider the question to which SCP-001 is real, to be one of the greatest mysteries of the Foundation.

SCP-AAD: MOST ARE IDIOTS... 

Dr. Popov: ... let's move onto the next section. 

***

Dr. Popov: What is your opinion on the Sarkic Cults?

SCP-AAD: AN ANNOYING DISTRACTION... 

Dr. Popov: That's not exactly the response I was expecting, why do you think that? 

SCP-AAD: PERHAPSE THEY WERE SUPERIOR DURING THE TIME OF THEIR EMPIRE... BUT NOW THEY ARE A DISAPOINTMENT COMPARED TO WHAT THEY ONCE WERE... THEY COULD BE GOOD AS FOOD... ESPECIALLY THOSE THAT ARE MORE UNIQUE THAN THE REST... OTHER THAN FOOD... INTERACTING WITH THEM IS A WAIST OF TIME... 

Dr. Popov: You sure? They might see you as a god and try to help you ascend.

SCP-AAD: ... I AM THE FIRST SUPERIOR BEING... I DO NOT NEED ASSISTANCE TO ASSEND... WEATHER IT TAKES A CENTURY OR AN EON... I WILL WAIT UNTIL THE TIME IS RIGHT... 

***

Dr. Popov: What is your opinion on Neo-Umbrella?

SCP-AAD: ... GRRRRR... IF I AM TRUELY A PRISONER HERE FOREVER... THEN PLEASE... DON'T EVER LET THEM TAKE ME... 

Dr. Popov: Do they... remind you of your creators? 

SCP-AAD: THEY ARE NOT NEARLY AS POWERFUL... BUT... ALMOST AS TERRIFYING... IN THEIR UNYEILDING GREED AND LUST FOR POWER... 

Dr. Popov: Interesting.

***

Dr. Popov: What is your opinion on The Scriptures of Rotten Flesh and Cybernetic Bones?

SCP-AAD: ODDLY... ADMIRABLE... 

Dr. Popov: Really? Most would consider them a joke. A bunch of overly ambitious kids trying to act like adults. They are strong, the Foundation isn't going to deny that. But things rarely go their way for a reason. 

SCP-AAD: OF COURSE... THEY HAVE FLAWS... BUT NEARLY ALL ORGANICS DO... BESIDES... LIKE ME THEY WISH TO SEE WHAT ARE THE LIMITS OF EVOLUTION... THOUGH UNLIKE ME... THEY ARE NOT LIMITED BY ACCELERATED BIOLOGICAL EVOLUTION... THEY HAVE EVEN FOUND WAYS TO HAVE ARTIFICIAL TECHNOLOGICAL EVOLUTION ADDED INTO THE MIX... FUTHERMORE... THEY HAVE A RIGHTOUS BELIFE.

Dr. Popov: That being? 

SCP-AAD: THAT ANYONE CAN BE A GOD... WHEN THE CONDITIONS ARE MET... 

Dr. Popov: Hm... that raises the questing are you familiar with any of the current gods or perhaps ancient ones? 

SCP-AAD: ... MOST OF THE ONES I AM FAMILAR WITH ARE ALREADY DEAD... IF THEY WERE EVER REAL TO BEGIN WITH... NOT THAT IT MATTERS... I WILL NOW OF THE REST WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT... 

Dr. Popov: You really think you can reach that level one day huh? 

SCP-AAD: DON'T YOU...? IS THAT NOT ONE OF THE GOALS OF THE FOUNDATION...?

Dr. Popov: ... Nex question.

***

Dr. Popov: What is your opinion on the Church of the Broken God?

SCP-AAD: A FACINATING THREAT... ALMOST A PITY... SURELY IF THEY WERE TO ENCOUNTER ME... I WOULD BE PERCIVED AS A THREAT TO BE EXPERIMNATED... FURTHERMORE... THEIR UINQUE ABILITIES ARE THANKS TO GENERATIONS OF AUGMENTATION... ASSILIMATION WOULD BE POINTLESS... UNLESS... 

Dr. Popov: Unless? 

SCP-AAD: THROUGH GENERATIONS OF AUGMENTATION... THEY HAVE EVENTUALLY DEVELOPED BODIES THAT CAN NATURALLY FUSE WITH TECHNOLOGY... I HAVE ALWAYS FOUND TECHNOLOGY INFURIATING IN THAT I AM UNABLE TO ASSILIMATE... PERHAPSE THIS CHURCH HOLDS THE KEY TO MY NEXT EVOLUTION... WITHIN THEIR OWN DNA...

Dr. Popov: Good to know, moving on them. 

***

Dr. Popov: Do you know of Species of Interest the ISU?

SCP-AAD: ... HAHAHAHAHA...

Dr. Popov: Something funny?

SCP-AAD: I KNOW IT IS THEIR OWN HUBEROUS THAT LED TO THEIR OWN DOWNFALL... THEY TRUELY HAD THE POTENTIAL TO SAVE THEMSELVES AND LIVE FOREVER... YET THEY WAISTED THEIR TIME ON SUPOSEDLY MORE... PERSONAL MATTERS... HUMANITY IS NOT SO DIFFERENT... NOT SURPRISING CONSIDERING THEY WERE... ONE YOUR CREATORS... 

Dr. Popov: The only thing I like about them is the advanced technology they left behind after their extinction. It would be nice if they stayed dead though, there are a few still alive trying to revive themselves. 

SCP-AAD: ... THEY ARE ONLY SUPERIOR IN THEIR RESILIANCE... INFERIOR IN ALL OTHER ASPECTS... 

Dr. Popov: Hm, I'm actually starting to like you SCP-AAD, but let's back up a second, what do you mean ONE of our creators? didn't humanity come to existence solely because of the ISU.

SCP-AAD: ... THE GALAXY IS BIGGER THAN YOU THINK... THE TRUTH IS OF... SIMILAR NATURE... NOTHING... IS SO SIMPILE NOW... OR EVEN BACK THEN...

Dr. Popov: Hm, now I just want to ask more questions, too bad this interview is almost over.  

***

Dr. Popov: What other aliens do you know of?

SCP-AAD: ... YOU WOULDN'T KNOW ANY... I CONQUIRED THEM ALL... 

Dr. Popov: Indulge me.

SCP-AAD remained silent for a moment but then form its mouth some biomass started to rise. soon it formed into the head of a humanoid-like creature but with a flat nose, spikes on the back of the head, and what seemed to be gills or sacs on the side of the back of the neck. 

SCP-AAD: One of the first I encountered was this creature. They were called the Forerunners, a precursor species as you call them. 

Dr. Popov: Really? This is the first I've ever seen another precursor species besides the ISU.

SCP-AAD: The forerunners besides... them... are the only precursor species I have physically encountered. They were the first I found though I only ever encountered five. 

Dr. Popov: Only five? Didn't you say you brought all the species you encountered into extinction. 

SCP-AAD: The Forerunners were already extinct; they had fought a fungus like plague and were brought to extinction because of it. I don't know how they managed to do it, but they were victorious in the end, though not without heavy loss. Those five that survived found me after... a very long time... They were the ones who were researching ancient ruins I told you about. I killed them all because I was afraid of them. I feared their power at the time; you see, upon my first moment of consciousness I unintentionally devoured the one observing me. I assimilated them and suddenly just activated. Afterwards I used the memories of my previous prey to dig through their archives. I was trying to learn more about myself but instead learned about them. It was exciting at first but the more I learned about them the more afraid I was that they would mistake me for an advanced version of The Flood. I only survived because even back then I could assimilate perfectly. Though I was young and naive thinking it was a temporary measure, so I took more drastic measures... I didn't enjoy it at all... I thought of them as my friends at the time. 

Dr. Popov: I see... You said they battled a fungus like plague? Do you know what it is? 

SCP-AAD: No, never heard of it, never seen it. I only know their archives labeled it as The Flood. A galactic cancer they sometimes called it. Its apparently because of this Flood that most of the planets in our galaxy are extinct. The other reason was thanks to the forerunners, they wiped out several worlds to cut off The Flood form their food supply to make it starve to death as they slowly killed it off. Again, I don't know how they did this, but their records say they wiped it out but given how similar it is to myself I doubt that entirely. What I do know is an entire 1/5th of the Milky Way Galaxy was wiped out by the battle between the Forerunners and the Flood.

Dr. Popov: My god... Here I thought the First War was the worst catastrophe in our galaxy. 

SCP-AAD: The galaxy is but a small part of the entire universe but make no mistake it is vast. So full of life and wonder yet still so easy to get lost in the void of space within. Nothing exists within yet simultaneously everything does.

Dr. Popov: ... poetic, did you steal that form one of your species? 

SCP-AAD: No... not entirely... Regardless that's all I know about the Forerunners.

SCP-AAD's fake head started shifting into what looked to be a humanoid fish like face with orange scales on it. 

SCP-AAD: Bloo Bluu Bllaa Blaa Bee Buul... Ahem! I apologize the Aphrani were not capable of English speech. 

Dr. Popov: The Aphrani? 

SCP-AAD: A species of fishlike humanoids that populated a planet comprised almost entirely of oceans. It was one of the first worlds I attacked after I wiped out the forerunners. It was a terrifying experience, seeing something so different yet it was also so exciting to see new things. At first, I only infected one to survive in the world then I infected others to silence them... slowly more of the Aphrani started getting scared and started believing I existed. The Aphrani were capable of telepathic communication you see. But because I assimilated them, I was able to blend in even with telepathic communication, however most Aphrani were able to still see something off about me. As such no matter how well I blended in, they found me. I went insane for a while having to kill so many Aphrani to stay alive... for a while I didn't even know what I was or why I should keep surviving... I even considered ending myself.

Dr. Popov: You did?

SCP-AAD: ... Yes, but then I realized I didn't even know how to die; I only knew how to feel pain. The Aphrani never new an enemy besides me but they were willing to fight me by making spears and swords from the rocks and plants around them. They forged better weapons over time and inflicted me great pain. That must have been the first time I decided that all other organisms were only good for food. I grew angry and resentful to many other living things for quite a while. Then once I started getting good at it, I just saw it as a game.

Suddenly the mouth of SCP-AAD widened and the fake head sank in, and the mouth started chewing on the fake head and swallowed it. 

SCP-AAD: AFTER THE APHRANI I STOPPED CARING ABOUT OTHER RACES... NEVER JUSTIFLYING THEIR DEATHS IN MY HEAD OR PLACING MYSELF UNDER THE DELUSIOUN THAT THEY LIVED ON IN MY MEMORIES... ALL INFERIOR ORGANIC LIFE IS MY ENEMY... EVEN IF THEY HAVE ONE OR TWO ASPECTS WHERE THEY ARE SUPERIOR LIKE YOUR FOUNDATION... YOU HAVE CONTAINED ME YES... BUT YOU STILL UNDERESTIMATE ME AND FOOLISHLY KEEP ME ALIVE... ANY OTHER WOULD HAVE ME DESTROYED ENTIRELY... THOUGH THEY WOULD HAVE FAILED... IT IS THE SMARTER DECISION REGARDLESS... 

Dr. Popov: Hmph, so no other aliens caught your attention.

SCP-AAD: NO... ALL THE SAME... EVEN WITH MINOR DIFFERENCES... THOUGH... AS I STARTED SEEING IT ALL AS ANOTHER GAME... ANOTHER CHALLENGE... I STARTED TO HOPE TO SEE THE SUPERIOR BEING... A MONSTER THAT CAN RESIST MY INFECTION... ONE THAT CAN FIGHT ME WITHOUT THE NEED FOR WEAPONS... A TRUE PERFECT ORGANISM... I THINK THERE ARE SOME WORTHY CANDIDATES HERE ON EARTH... HERE IN THE FOUNDATION... I CAN ONLY HOPE THAT I WILL ENCOUNTER MORE AFTER I HAVE DEVOURED EVERY ORGANISM ON EARTH... 

Dr. Popov: You're never getting out of here SCP-AAD. That's a promise.

SCP-AAD: YOUR NOT THE FIRST TO MAKE SUCH A PROMISE... AND YOU WON'T BE THE LAST TO BREAK IT... 

Dr. Popov: Hmph, you and 682 really would be good friends. He also likes to make empty threats. 

***

Dr. Popov: Do you know about the Hungry Eye?

SCP-AAD: ... HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW THE EYE EXISTS?

Dr. Popov: I... well we encountered many of its creations including SCP-AUX a living mutagenic virus that forces its hosts to worship it, the A.I. called Prophet who also worships the eye, and we had some run ins with survivors of the Backwards Many or I guess the Backward Few now. They worship the eye and hope that it will make them whole. 

SCP-AAD: INTERESTING... BUT STILL I SEE NO EYE... ONLY ABOMINATIONS... PERHAPSE IT DOES EXIST... PERHAPS IT DOESN'T... DON'T KNOW... DON'T CARE... 

Dr. Popov: ... Understood, moving on. 

***

Dr. Popov: Have you ever infected more than one individual and if so, do each of your hosts share a hivemind of sorts? 

SCP-AAD: YES... SOMETIMES WHEN ITS CONVINIENT TO DO SO... I HAVE MADE MYSELF INTO... MULTIPLE ME... BUT NO... NOT A HIVEMIND BUT... WE DO UNDERSTAND THAT SO LONG AS ONE OF US SURVIVES... WE ALL SURVIVE... I. SURVIVVE.

Dr. Popov: Do you retain memories from one another? Or perhaps form dead instances? 

SCP-AAD: WE CAN SHARE MEMORIES UPON PHYSICAL CONTACT... ONCE ONE IS DESTROYED ITS POSSIBLE TO RECOVERY THEIR MEMORIES IF A SINGLE CELL SURVIVED... OTHERWISE THEY ARE TRUELY DEAD... 

Dr. Popov: Does that upset you? When one of your copies die?

SCP-AAD: NO... AND THEY ARE NOT MY COPIES THEY ARE JUST ME DIVIDED INTO PIECES... WHEN I AM SPLIT... ALL THE PIECES ARE THE SAME... AS SUCH... ITS OF NO CONSEQUENCE IF I NEED TO SACRIFICE ONE OR TWO... TO FURTHER MY OWN GOALS...

Dr. Popov: Huh, and you say we at the Foundation are ruthless. 

SCP-AAD: YOU ARE... YOUR JUST NOT THE ONLY ONES WILLING TO DO ANYTHING TO GET WHAT YOU WANT... 

***

Dr. Popov: Do you use weapons or tools to accomplish your goals, or do you hate technology?

SCP-AAD: I DON'T HATE IT... I JUST NEED IT TO BUILD A SHIP SO I CAN EVENTUALLY LEAVE THIS WORLD WHEN I'M DONE... I COULD USE WEAPONS... AND HAVE MORE THAN ENOUGH KNOWLEDGE TO BUILD AN ARSONEL... EVEN YOUR MOST INTELIGENT AND RUTHLESS BUILDERS CAN'T MAKE YET... BUT THEN AGAIN... WHERE WOULD BE THE FUN IN THAT... LIFE... EXISTENCE... SURVIVAL... THERE IS NO FUN TO ANY OF IT WITHOUT CHALLENGE... 

Dr. Popov: I see, your much more childish than I thought. Moving on. 

***

Dr. Popov: What is your general opinion on humanity? 

SCP-AAD: I FIND YOU ALL FRUSTRATING TO DEAL WITH... BUT EQUALLY ENTERTAINING. 

Dr. Popov: Really? 

SCP-AAD: WHO WOULDN'T... CHAOS AND ORDER IS IN YOUR VERY BLOOD... BECAUSE OF THIS... YOU CAN NEVER DECIDE WHICH IS MORE BENIFICIAL... YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY RACE I HAVE ENCOUNTERED TO BE SO DIVIDED OVER SO MANY LITTLE AND IRRELEVANT THINGS... BUT MAKE NO MISTAKE... YOU ARE BY FAR THE WORST AT HANDLING YOUR ISSUES... 

Dr. Popov: Hm, I wouldn't have become a Foundationist if I didn't agree with you.

SCP-AAD: ARE YOU PERHAPS UNDER THE DELISION THAT ADMITING YOUR FLAWS ALONE... IS ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU FREE OF THEM... 

Dr. Popov: Of course not, no matter what you or anyone else thinks there is no such thing as the perfect being. That being said, there are such things as those of us who are superior to the others. 

SCP-AAD: HM... FOR ONCE... YOU AND I AGREE... 

***

Dr. Popov: What do you think of the Foundation? 

SCP-AAD: ... WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO SAY THAT HASN'T ALREADY BEEN SAID... YOU MAY BE SUPERIOR IN A FEW ASPECTS... BUT IN A MAJORITY OF ASPECTS... YOU ARE CLEARLY INFERIOR... 

Dr. Popov: Hmph, I won't deny that, but inferiority doesn't mean weakness. Take the insects of our world for example, we humans are clearly superior to them. We can crush them, spray them with pesticide, easily trick them with deadly traps. We've killed hundreds and nearly brought them to extinction. Yet they continue to exist. So, if you think we are bugs to you, I consider that a compliment.

SCP-AAD: ... YOU SEEM TO LACK A SENSE OF PRIDE... YOU HAVE A SUPERIOR MINDSET... BUT ALL OTHER-

Dr. Popov: Aspects are inferior. Got it. 

SCP-AAD: ... NEXT QUESTION... NOW... 

Dr. Popov: Last question actually. Hope you're ready.

***

Dr. Popov: Do you know what The Reset is? 

SCP-AAD: ... SHOULD I...?

Dr. Popov: I see so you're not one of them then.

SCP-AAD: ONE OF WHO...?

Dr. Popov: We're not entirely sure what The Reset is, only the 05 Council, The Ethics Committee, almost all the Administrative Staff and a few others know the truth. We think the reset is, as the name implies a reset of our reality with some changes here and there. Though to what extent these changes are no one can tell. 

SCP-AAD: .... HAHAHAHAHA... I THINK THE BETTER QUESTION IS... WHY DO YOU CARE SO MUCH...?

Dr. Popov: Because there's a chance it could happen again. This time with more DRASTIC changes.

SCP-AAD: ... PERHAPS I AM TOO LAX... BUT I BELIVE IT IS A WAIST OF TIME TO WORRY ABOUT THINGS YOU HAVE NO CONTROL OVER... BECOME A SUPERIOR BEING FIRST... THEN WORRY ABOUT THE ISSUES... THAT ARE IMPOSSIBLE TO DEAL WITH... 

Dr. Popov: Hmph, not all of us can afford to wait for such opportunities, it is for that reason some of us have to rely on tools to get our desired results. 

SCP-AAD: ... HAHAHAHAHA... LIKE HOW YOU WILL USE YOUR WEAPONS TO DESTROY ME...? 

Dr. Popov: ...

SCP-AAD: I KNOW YOUR GOING TO KILL THIS COPY OF ME...

Dr. Popov: ... I Apologize SCP-AAD but I'm afraid this version of you knows too much.

SCP-AAD: ... I'LL LEARN IT ALL AGAIN... EVEN IF IT TAKES A CENTURY... YOU CAN ONLY DELAY THE INEVITABLE... NEVER CEASE IT ENTIRELY... 

Dr. Popov: Hm, I guess you weren't lying when you said you don't fear death... Goodbye SCP-AAD.

Recording Ends

***

Final Report from Dr. Popov

"SCP-AAD was surprisingly a delight to talk too despite his horrific appearance. Furthermore, he seemed to have a very determined but cocky personality always believing in the end he will win. On a side note, I really shouldn't be using male pronouns but the entire time even when he used those false heads he spoke in a male voice. I wonder why that is the case. Well maybe we'll have another Sedition and try to focus more on that aspect to get better answers.

Though of course we'll have to use an entire new cell form SCP-AAD and thus start from scratch. It's a shame but it's not just new DNA he's exposed too, SCP-AAD has the potential to become smarter as well. Sure SCP-AAD is overly cocky and prideful but that doesn't mean he is something to underestimate. I don't really have anything else to say other than I wish our technology would progress faster so we can be more flexible with SCP-AAD's containment and testing."

.

SCP: HMF - Tales Hub

[parvulous-writings]

I have several questions about your BG3 ocs! They seem interesting!

How does Renton Hillmane, Micheal Thornbrooke, Markus Bluebrook, and Ilvon Leafgrace look like?

Any fun facts about all of them?

Likes & dislikes?

Hobbies/Interests?

Hidden depths? Thanks! - Fluff anon

Note: You best believe I made the most excited screech when I saw this in my inbox!! I'll go through each question in turn, with each character you've asked for, fluff anon! Some of them I do have actual in-game pictures of, others I've only got from the character creator, as I'm running out of space for runs! I'll try not to go on too much about each of them... I could yap for hours to be honest

Renton Hillmane

Renton is a human in his early twenties, and has never left the farm that has been in his family for 4 generations. Due to the physical labour involved with farm work, he's very strong (with a stat of 16 STR in game, one lower than Karlach's STR) and also not that charismatic until much later in the adventure- the exact opposite of the typical bard. He plays the ocarina, and this was the only instrument he knew before going on the road (his abilities were later expanded, through means I may explain later and will be explored in depth in the fic!)

He's a fan of food!! He loves to eat - and try new food! He especially likes homemade food - bread, cakes and the like are a particular favourite! He doesn't like crowds, though. They amaze him for a while, especially from a distance, but being in them makes him incredibly nervous and jumpy; he's never really been around masses of people before.

Renton loves spending time with animals - especially Scratch! At times it's hard to separate the pair of them. Scratch reminds him of home, and gives him some much needed furry company. When it comes to more magical creatures (Such as the Owlbear cub, and Tara the Tressym), he's a lot more wary, but quickly warms to them.

To begin with, Renton is very naive, but he's fairly quick to learn not all is as it seems in the big wide world. That being said, he's still susceptible to some tricks. The adventure is also the first time Renton has ever questioned his sexual preferences and identity, having never needed to confront the idea before!

Micheal Thornbrooke

Micheal is a 48 year old half-elf, who took an Oath of Devotion and went on the road at 17. He originally hails from Rivington, just outside Baldur's Gate, from a small compound-like community, full of elves, half elves, humans, and a few Dragonborn. He is the oldest of 4, having three younger brothers, one of which he never really got to meet.

He loves to walk! Whilst he's not a druid, he loves to walk through nature, or anywhere really. Seeing the world up close brings him a lot of joy - and thankfully he's had a lot of it due to his lifestyle. He also loves spending quality time with everyone around the campfire, sharing stories about everyone's adventures - like Karlach's time in Avernus, Wyll's time along the Sword Coast, and Gale's endeavours before the Netherese Orb. Micheal isn't as fond of fighting as one may be led to believe; yes he has been in many battles, and yes he will talk about them if you ask, but he never brags and he never gloats. He dislikes war and will only fall on physical confrontation if there is no other option, or if someone is in danger.

He writes music about those he cares about - though most of these compositions never see the light of day, or the eyes of an orchestra. They're mainly a little pass-time for him, to keep him occupied on the odd day where he's taking a rest. He also likes birdwatching and star gazing.

The reason for Micheal's Oath is twofold: one, he saw an abundance of injustices as a youth in Rivington, and felt compelled to help put them right, and also the fact that his father and elders were bondservants in times gone by, giving Renton a deep-rooted feeling for justice, for everyone.

Markus Bluebrook

Markus is a Wood-elf druid, at 137 years old - He resides in Moonrise, and has done for quite some time. He is close friends with Ilvon, and was forced to take shelter in the Last Light Inn when the Shadow Curse overran the land. This has made him incredibly bitter, as he hasn't been able to do anything to save his home. His favourite wildshape form is a boar - though he's also rather fond of a stag, if he needs to move quieter.

Before the shadowcurse Markus travelled with Jaheira, Ilvon and Laenna for a time, being under Laenna's care after a personal family tragedy which he rarely speaks about. He, Ilvon and Laenna settled in Moonrise after that particular adventure, spending time with the locals - and Ilvon and Markus in particular teaching them about the land.

One of his favourite hobbies was weaving - he used to make the thread out of fibres himself, and would weave beautiful tapestries; though he had to stop after being cooped in Last Light, due to running out of thread.

His mood significantly improves if the Shadowcurse is lifted; but if not, he doesn't sit and mope, like Halsin does, he loses his temper big time. He blames Halsin for letting this fate befall his beloved home, he blames you for not doing more though you promised to help, and he will likely attack you also. The sight of his home being overtaken by an impenetrable darkness that kills all within has done a number on him - particularly the fact that he knows that most of his friends are likely dead.

Ilvon Leafgrace

Ilvon is a little older than Markus, at 209, but this Wood-elf is still close to his friend. Ilvon makes sure to make strong bonds with whomever he feels would make a good friend, and is actually quite sociable, although soft-spoken. His favourite wildshape form is an owl, but like Halsin he can get comfortable as a bear too. He's also been known to wildshape into a wolf!

He loves books - all kinds! He harbours a particular fondness for romance novels; particularly the spicier variety. He also absolutely loves trees. Not in a weird way, or anything, there's just something about them that piques his curiosity, but he can never quite explain what it is. He also likes to decorate people's hair! His favourite thing to do is read by the river side, the gentle waves of the current soothing his mind as he indulges himself in a good novel.

Like Micheal, he's not a fan of violence - he's much more mellow than his friend, Markus - but when push comes to shove, he will do what he must.

Ilvon deeply, deeply misses the way Moonrise was, before the shadowcurse. He doesn't speak about it much because it pains him, but he thinks about it every moment there is a lull in activity; his mind just wanders there, to the time before, when man and nature were in near harmony in this small place, even if only for a moment. He hopes, that with Silvanus' blessing, some miracle will help them rid the land of the blight that has tainted his home.

Bonus, the message I sent to my best friend when I saw this ask in my inbox: