#time to whip out my ancient laptop

[rekistar]

hey gang so for some reason tumblr just fuckin hates me or sum idk- but anyway thanks to everyone who’s left comments on my posts! unfortunately anytime i try to reply, it doesn’t let me, and i’m not sure why, but thanks for the comments anyway!!

additionally, i use the ios app for tumblr on my phone, and for whatever reason the app also refuses to show me any messages i got, isn’t that just amazing? so i think what i should do is try to log into tumblr on my laptop and see if it’ll be nicer to me there.

like i said, thanks for any comments and stuff you guys have left me!! i highly appreciate it and will do my best to fix whatever issues i’m having so i can reply! <33

[latibvles]

❛ if you called just to get off on my voice, i’m hanging up. ❜ for viv x bucky

STUDY BREAK.

... more frat boys au who is surprised. no one? good. they're so deeply unserious here. takes place sometime after the au within an au that is the ocean city trip. John Egan with his tits out on FaceTime will bring about world peace.

—

The roar of her laptop’s fans are doing a fairly apt job of impersonating Viv’s overfried brain. Multiple tabs are open, and she’s half wondering if Inez would lend her those blue-light filter glasses she had. The clock in the corner of the screen displays an offensive-looking 11:45pm. If she could go back in time and stop eighteen-year-old Vivian from being so insistent in majoring in fucking physics, she probably would.

Or maybe that’s just her frustration talking. She doesn’t care enough to make the distinction.

She groans, rubbing her temples. 

If Viv had any less pride she’d curl up under her covers and have a long frustrated cry about it, but she’d learnt at nine that crying about it just would end with a swat to the mouth. Not that she imagined anyone would come into her room to do that now, but she’s pretty sure that Brady’s in Willie’s room and they probably don’t want to hear her whipping her pencil case at their shared wall in a math-induced temper tantrum.

She takes a small breath, eyes squeezing shut and them snapping back open.

The PowerPoint still glares at her: cold, ruthless, and unforgiving — just like the ancient professor who’d alluded to another brutal pop quiz tomorrow. Viv curses her as she clicks the next slide, trying to make sense of it with her array of highlighters and color-coded gel pens.

She’s got maybe five ways to stage that woman’s death like an accident when her phone starts buzzing with a FaceTime call. Viv fixes it with a long, hard look, before sighing in resignation.

Bucky’s the last person she wants to subject to her anger-induced isolationism, since temper tantrums are out of the cards. She answers and snorts as she watches him blink blearily at his screen before reaching over for the lamplight and flicking it on.

“You’re a real sight.” She teases.

“I may or may not have woken up from a nap.”

“Yeah, I can tell. Nice cowlicks,” she chooses to omit that really it’s mostly from his voice — gruff and gravelly as he clears his throat, sitting up and running a hand over the planes of his chest where the camera cuts off. She elects to ignore the warmth blooming in the pit of her belly from the way he grins.

“Keep talking like that n’ someone might think you like me.”

“Don’t know what gave you that idea.” Viv’s smiling as he lets out a small whine, stretching out sleep-stiff muscles and propping himself up on pillows to look at her. Somehow without being in the room, he sends a shiver up her spine, staring at her with such blatant attraction. “So you’re getting no sleep tonight, huh?” He chuckles and shrugs.

“Small price to pay. Feels pretty worth it right about now.” He keeps making small noises as he shifts, getting comfortable in his plaid sheets but not enough to doze off again. Sometimes, she wants to tape his mouth shut.

“Y’know, if you called just to get off on my voice, I’m hanging up.” She warns.

“That the kinda guy you take me for?” She fixes him with a pointed look when he asks that question. Of course, Bucky’s never hit her with some stupid ‘U up?’ text, or any variety of eye-roll-worthy messages on social media. But acting like FaceTime wasn’t their preferred method when they’d inevitably been in Wisconsin and Michigan respectively was just dumb. She likes to think she knows her boyfriend.

“John.” Viv says, because it’s all she needs to say.

“Vivian.” He counters, in a half-mocking tone. And she kind of can’t stand the fact that he’s the only one who could make her name sound so intimate. Or maybe it’s just the last of her brain cells being killed off by the slideshow.

“I’m just saying I wouldn’t put it past you.” He laughs at that, low and rumbling and— goddammit, John Egan.

“Yeah, sweetheart, you talking about Sir Isaac Newton just really gets me going,” he drawls, but the hint of sarcasm in his voice falls a little flat in consideration to the fact that yes, it does. As do most things. Because he’s both flatteringly and amusingly easy to rile up. That makes her laugh, rolling her eyes as she returns her attention to her prior focus. She can feel his eyes on her as she prompts her phone up by her lamp. “S’that my hoodie?” She glances down at the dark blue Ocean City hoodie from this past summer.

“You left it in my car.” He’s grinning, she can hear it in his voice on the next thing he says.

“Looks good. Guess I should leave clothes behind more often.”

“If you don’t plan on getting anything back, then sure.” She shrugs. Bucky hums, a low sound, keeping his gaze fixed on her as they lapse into a comfortable silence. Or rather, something like it, because with every momentary glance up to him he’s looking at her intently.

Eyes darting across her neck and collarbones, as he eases into being properly awake. He cracks a joke every now and again when she grunts or huffs or makes any noise of frustration, goes about the business of putting a shirt on. Selfishly, she wishes that he’d kept it off even as she wills herself into not being distracted by him. Easy, brief praises falling from his lips as he mills about his own room; really just a handful of blocks away. She knows that room and all of its baseball decals and overloved laminated newspaper clippings. He rises at some point and she gets a flash of familiar plaid pajama pants hanging off his hips.

Dammit Bucky.

He’s just existing, really and all she can think about is how she’d much rather be pressing kisses to that broad chest of his as opposed to cramming for a pop quiz that may or may not happen.

“Viv?”

“Hm?”

“You look like you’re about to snap that pen in half,” he remarks sagely and - huh - she is white-knuckling it. She sets the pen down with a less-than-subtle thud and looks up at him.

“You should come over,” she puts plainly. He grins a little bit, and she tacks on at the end a very blunt “I miss you.”

“Am I bringing anything or just myself?” he asks, which is sweet enough to make her smile, but she shakes her head.

“Just yourself,” and then, fixing a gaze on the shirt he’s got on: a plain black t-shirt, she quickly adds “Actually, an extra shirt. I’m keeping the one on you.”

“Already undressing me? Geez, Viv, thought I was the impatient one.” Even as he teases her he’s moving out of frame to presumably grab his slides and rummage through his dresser. Viv rolls her eyes, setting aside her stuff to watch him, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hand.

“Blame physics.”

“I think I’ll be thanking it this time, actually.” Viv narrows her eyes at his wicked grin.

“You’ve got twenty minutes before I start reading from textbooks for you instead of anything else.” The last look she gets before she goes to hang up the phone is something disbelieving, amused, and smoldering that makes her laugh and feel warm all at the same time.

She gave him twenty minutes to get to their house. He’s at the front door in fifteen.

[ahamasmiyodhah]

Promise

Pairing: Ray Kon x Mariah Wong/Mao Chen

Note: So for my dear followers and members of Bakuten Shoot Fandom, here is my ReiMao Oneshot and a snippet from my book "The End is Nigh"

Mariah was sitting at a hilltop, her eyes glimmering with tears as she rubbed her eyes again and again. She loved Ray. She loved him so much that it hurt her heart. But she had also promised herself one thing- that she will never come between Ray and his dreams. How can she be a good lover if she will bind Ray to her? Love isn't a bondage, its a bond that opens up the whole sky to fly freely. If Ray wanted to fly, who was she to stop him? Yes, it worried and hurt her heart that maybe, he will fall in love with someone else.

She scoffed. Of course, why would he love her? She was a reminder of the village anyways, just a village girl, nothing else. She would want someone with an open mind and modern thinking. She was a naive village girl, she wasn't even beautiful! He definitely won't love her-

"Mao?"

Whipping her head, she cursed in her mind when she saw Ray, and felt the tear marks on her cheeks. Frantically getting up she wiped them and turned to look at him with a smile. "Ray! You didn't leave?" She faked her happiness.

"Mao, what happened? You didn't even came to see me off. Are you hurt that I'm leaving?" Ray asked with concern lacing his voice, his eyes swirling with sadness and worry for the pink haired friend of his.

A Friend for whom he had feelings.

It wasn't long that he had figured it out. But when few months back The White Tigers and Blitzkrieg Boys arrived at same time at Tyson's Dojo- which was disastrously hilarious time of their life- he had been watching Mariah nearly tearing Kevin, Daichi and Ian in new one after the three had pranked Kenny and messed with his Laptop.

Surprisingly it was Tala who had pointed it out, just smirking and saying, "I didn't knew you liked pink." And when he asked how Tala knew his feelings, it was Bryan who snorted on his vodka and said, "It is so obvious that you love your pink haired Kitty." And that had made Ray blush, leading into the two taking it as their right to tease him about it at every point.

And ever since then, the pink haired girl of his own village had taken her heart. Maybe his heart was never with himself in first place, maybe she had it always.

"Oh it's nothing Ray, I just wanted some time alone." Mariah said and looked away, tucking a hair lock behind her ear. Something she did when she was nervous.

"Mao.." Ray held her elbow and turned her towards him. "You are lying. What is it? Tell me." Ray demanded, his golden eyes glinting in sun. Mariah felt her breath shortening. Ray looked like the very White Tiger, Baihu, the Protector of their clan. Be it his fair skin or those Golden eyes he—

Her eyes widened, and she gasped internally.

In the hazy midst of a dream, there stood a figure of enchanting allure. Adorned in the resplendent attire of an ancient Chinese dress, his long hair cascaded like liquid midnight, softly swaying in the ethereal breeze. His Zhishen robe, a pristine canvas of white, bore intricate designs in shimmering gold, each motif dancing in harmony with his every movement. Atop his noble brow rested the majestic Mianguan crown, a symbol of sovereignty and wisdom. Amidst the misty veil of slumber, he stood as a vision of regal elegance, a fleeting embodiment of grace and kindness, giving her a slow smile despite her being unable to see his face.

"Mao?" Ray's eyes widened in worry when he saw Mariah's tears flowing. "Mao!" He shook her worriedly and Mariah blinked, wiping her tears. What did she do? Did she zone out? Whom did she saw? Why was the person in her vision eerily similar to Ray? Why was she feeling this sudden urge to cry and hold Ray?

"I-I'm fine Ray!" Mariah choked out and Ray looked at her with a frown. "You are crying Mari—" "You want to know why I didn't came to see you off, right?" "What?" Ray was stumped by sudden question, thrown off guard.

Mariah took a deep breath and said, "You want to know why I didn't come to see you off, right??" She repeated, a tear rolling down her cheek. Ray widened his eyes, and his hand reached up, wiping the single tear that rolled down. "Yes, I do.." He said softly, cupping her cheeks.

Mariah gulped and took a daring step ahead, their chests now touching as her pink glove clad palms enclosed around Ray's black gloved ones. "Ray... Can I ask you something?" She whispered softly and Ray nodded gently. "Do you.. Do you love me?" She asked. She knew very well that Ray was aware of her feelings for him. Her feelings that never extinguished, despite him having left village. Lee always berated her for loving Ray before they made up, but she brushed it off and stood on her ground.

Ray was caught off guard as his breath got stuck in his throat, no words coming out for a while. He stood there silently, holding Mariah's cheek as his white eyes stared in her eyes, which were wavering. Mariah felt her confidence shatter and she tried to take a step back, but Ray's firm hold on her face prevented her to do so. Ray smiled softly and gently caressed her cheekbones with his thumb and peered in her golden eyes.

"Mao... I'm not a fan of Words. I would like to do the action." He smiled softly and tilted her head up, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against hers. Mariah felt her knees buckle as her tears flew rapidly, and she hurriedly wrapped her arms across his neck and his sturdy arms fell around her small waist, pulling her flush against him as he kissed her more deeply, savouring the taste if strawberry on her lips. He tilted his head for more access and kissed her more deeply, nipping at her lower lip with his sharp teeth.

Mariah let out a yelp at that, and Ray broke their kiss, adjoining their foreheads together as sun shone brightly over them, casting a lovely scenery around them. "I hope you know now..." He breathed out softly, smiling at her lovingly. Mariah nodded rapidly, her tears flowing more and more. "Mao, I promise you. I will return. And when I return.." He took out his Beyblade, and caressed the bitchip of Driger. "I will marry you.." He smiled softly.

Mariah let out a loud teary cry, and lunges forward. Ray yelled in surprise as he felt himself going off balance and he fell on his back, only for Mariah's lips to contact his in a sweet kiss. "I'm yours, Rei." Mariah mumbled shyly between their kiss, and he hugged her tightly, taking off her head scarf in process. "Ray!" Mariah gasped and tried taking her scarf back.

"Nuh-uh!" Ray shook his head and held her scarf up. "It's your token, I want you stronger than ever and face me in Tournament, okay?" He asked softly and her cheeks turned red as she nodded, and slowly laid her head on his chest, listening to his soothing heartbeat.

"I love you Ray.."

"I love you as well, My Little Mao.."

I wanted it to turn out more beautiful and aesthetic but well ig that's the level if romance I can write—

[nevaronn]

I am seriously considering getting a small kinda shit writing laptop that I can have because there really isn't anything like whipping out your laptop in bed and writing away

hello i am nev and my macbook pro is so ancient that she can't be disconnected from power for more than 20 minutes, but I get a week off and actually took her home from work for the first time in 2 years so i can actually write on a computer and not my iPad in my bed for once this is nice

anyways, slow burn time. Maybe I'll look into getting her battery replaced because sweet shit this is annoying

[erwinsvow]

Omg you’re the absolute sweetest and made me blush!! I’m super into Ancient Greek plays particularly Sophocles 

I absolutely LOVE this time concept thing you have going?? It’s so creative!! Did you come up with it? The 2:31am one was so sweet I’m a whore for mean rafe who cares🙁 I’m just projecting personal preferences but I vote reader calls rafe dad more

The rafe thinking you spoil him because you love him and your attentive drabble?? My heart hurts he just needs love :( Ward Cameron when I get my hands on you…

Also this is the first time I checked out your page from my laptop and I accidentally clicked a few things caused I’m so unfamiliar Tumblr on a browser and I have to say WOW?!?! Your layout is SO amazing and cool and gorgeous and different and camp and kooky and I love it 

I’m sorry I can’t shut up but I’d like to believe you like reviews and I’m a fan so I’m here to provide bae <3 I’m just proactive like that! 

I absolutely adore the way you write rafe as slightly manipulative but so in love with reader I can so easily overlook it!! And the fact that we got an entire drabble from the movie screening scene?? I jumped from joy it’s my favourite everrr 

Btw I saw you reblogged a cam girl one shot and I’m reading this little series it’s cam girl x rafe (I love it and it’s updated every two days or so) lmk if you’re interested  

Thanks for reading my novel long asks lmk if they’re too much though and it’ll be sure to adjust accordingly!! Hope you had a great day! Love youuu <33

-💓

Ps are requests open for the time concept? I have an idea!

omg hi bae!! full stop because i love sophocles!!! antigone is my shittttt i wrote a whole term paper on her once!!! why are we so linked... what plays are your favorites? huge fan of medea too

also thank you so much babe! omg i have seen the concept in writing before but i just started thinking of placing a timestamp on moments almost like bottling it up... i would love to expand it into a series if people love it enough! youre soooooo sweet i could sob. the 230 one was so cute i really love the idea of after hours with rafe he gets soft the later it gets.. esp my rafe who just loves his girlfriend and no one else haha

STOPPPP CALLING RAFE DAD GIRLIES UNITEEEE. i know i got it from princessbrunette but seriously its such a god tier idea. shes so big brained

also stop?! why are you so sweet. i need to update it to match my video game theme on mobile (the desktop version is still in tune with my old scream 1996 theme!!) but ur such an angel.

your reviews and kind words mean soooo much to me. everyone is so nice but i know everyone just kind of likes the posts and keeps their thoughts to themselves but hearing this stuff makes me so beyond ecstatic. <333 ur the best. so proactive jus like dad <3

yesss hes so manipulative. i try to write him mean(er) sometimes but i physically cannnot because i know he is the whipped in love type. literally just looking for someone to pour his love on. <3

omg yes do send! love reading rafe series <3 and stopppppp i love your long asks i love talking to u sm!!!! i had an okay day but now im in bed about to work on your req so !!! <3 all better. love u bae hope you like it!

[kaishoodiestealer]

Promise: Ray x Mao/Mariah

Note: Starting with one of the most loved straight abd canon pairing of Beyblade Bakuten Shoot series ❤️. It's a snippet from my Ao3 Fanfic called 'The End is Nigh' and I was particularly excited to write it. Hope you all will like it.

.

.

Mariah was sitting at a hilltop, her eyes glimmering with tears as she rubbed her eyes again and again. She loved Ray. She loved him so much that it hurt her heart. But she had also promised herself one thing- that she will never come between Ray and his dreams. How can she be a good lover if she will bind Ray to her? Love isn't a bondage, its a bond that opens up the whole sky to fly freely. If Ray wanted to fly, who was she to stop him? Yes, it worried and hurt her heart that maybe, he will fall in love with someone else.

She scoffed. Of course, why would he love her? She was a reminder of the village anyways, just a village girl, nothing else. She would want someone with an open mind and modern thinking. She was a naive village girl, she wasn't even beautiful! He definitely won't love her-

"Mao?" 

Whipping her head, she cursed in her mind when she saw Ray, and felt the tear marks on her cheeks. Frantically getting up she wiped them and turned to look at him with a smile. "Ray! You didn't leave?" She faked her happiness. 

"Mao, what happened? You didn't even came to see me off. Are you hurt that I'm leaving?" Ray asked with concern lacing his voice, his eyes swirling with sadness and worry for the pink haired friend of his.

A Friend for whom he had feelings. 

It wasn't long that he had figured it out. But when few months back The White Tigers and Blitzkrieg Boys arrived at same time at Tyson's Dojo- which was disastrously hilarious time of their life- he had been watching Mariah nearly tearing Kevin, Daichi and Ian in new one after the three had pranked Kenny and messed with his Laptop.

Surprisingly it was Tala who had pointed it out, just smirking and saying, "I didn't knew you liked pink." And when he asked how Tala knew his feelings, it was Bryan who snorted on his vodka and said, "It is so obvious that you love your pink haired Kitty." And that had made Ray blush, leading into the two taking it as their right to tease him about it at every point.

And ever since then, the pink haired girl of his own village had taken her heart. Maybe his heart was never with himself in first place, maybe she had it always. 

"Oh it's nothing Ray, I just wanted some time alone." Mariah said and looked away, tucking a hair lock behind her ear. Something she did ehen she was nervous.

"Mao.." Ray held her elbow and turned her towards him. "You are lying. What is it? Tell me." Ray demanded, his golden eyes glinting in sun. Mariah felt her breath shortening. Ray looked like the very White Tiger, Baihu, the Protector of their clan. Be it his fair skin or those Golden eyes he—

Her eyes widened, and she gasped internally.

In the hazy midst of a dream, there stood a figure of enchanting allure. Adorned in the resplendent attire of an ancient Chinese outfit, his long hair cascaded like liquid midnight, softly swaying in the ethereal breeze. His Zhishen robe, a pristine canvas of white, bore intricate designs in shimmering gold, each motif dancing in harmony with his every movement. Atop his noble brow rested the majestic Mianguan crown, a symbol of sovereignty and wisdom. Amidst the misty veil of slumber, he stood as a vision of regal elegance, a fleeting embodiment of grace and kindness, giving her a slow smile despite her being unable to see his face.

"Mao?" Ray's eyes widened in worry when he saw Mariah's tears flowing. "Mao!" He shook her worriedly and Mariah blinked, wiping her tears. What did she do? Did she zone out? Whom did she saw? Why was the person in her vision eerily similar to Ray? Why was she feeling this sudden urge to cry and hold Ray?

"I-I'm fine Ray!" Mariah choked out and Ray looked at her with a frown. "You are crying Mari—" "You want to know why I didn't came to see you off, right?" "What?" Ray was stumped by sudden question, thrown off guard. 

Mariah took a deep breath and said, "You want to know why I didn't come to see you off, right??" She repeated, a tear rolling down her cheek. Ray widened his eyes, and his hand reached up, wiping the single tear that rolled down. "Yes, I do.." He said softly, cupping her cheeks. 

Mariah gulped and took a daring step ahead, their chests now touching as her pink glove clad palms enclosed around Ray's black gloved ones. "Ray... Can I ask you something?" She whispered softly and Ray nodded gently. "Do you.. Do you love me?" She asked. She knew very well that Ray was aware of her feelings for him. Her feelings that never extinguished, despite him having left village. Lee always berated her for loving Ray before they made up, but she brushed it off and stood on her ground.

Ray was caught off guard as his breath got stuck in his throat, no words coming out for a while. He stood there silently, holding Mariah's cheek as his white eyes stared in her eyes, which were wavering. Mariah felt her confidence shatter and she tried to take a step back, but Ray's firm hold on her face prevented her to do so. Ray smiled softly and gently caressed her cheekbones with his thumb and peered in her golden eyes.

"Mao... I'm not a fan of Words. I would like to do the action." He smiled softly and tilted her head up, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against hers. Mariah felt her knees buckle as her tears flew rapidly, and she hurriedly wrapped her arms across his neck and his sturdy arms fell around her small waist, pulling her flush against him as he kissed her more deeply, savouring the taste of strawberry on her lips. He tilted his head for more access and kissed her more deeply, nipping at her lower lip with his sharp teeth. 

Mariah let out a yelp at that, and Ray broke their kiss, adjoining their foreheads together as sun shone brightly over them, casting a lovely scenery around them. "I hope you know now..." He breathed out softly, smiling at her lovingly. Mariah nodded rapidly, her tears flowing more and more. "Mao, I promise you. I will return. And when I return.." He took out his Beyblade, and caressed the bitchip of Driger. "I will marry you.." He smiled softly.

Mariah let out a loud teary cry, and lunged forward. Ray yelled in surprise as he felt himself going off balance and he fell on his back, only for Mariah's lips to contact his in a sweet kiss. "I'm yours, Rei." Mariah mumbled shyly between their kiss, and he hugged her tightly, taking off her head scarf in process. "Ray!" Mariah gasped and tried taking her scarf back.

"Nuh-uh!" Ray shook his head and held her scarf up. "It's your token, I want you stronger than ever and face me in Tournament, okay?" He asked softly and her cheeks turned red as she nodded, and slowly laid her head on his chest, listening to his soothing heartbeat.

"I love you Ray.." 

"I love you as well, My Little Mao.."

*author squealing in fan moment*

[a-bunch-of-bees]

The Old One strode through the streets of hell, lined with blazing braziers and firepits (conspicuously devoid of old ash) and marked with signposts to such places as Sisyphus' Hill, Hot Coal Valley, and 'Ouse of Oubliettes. A gaggle of advisers tried to keep up, some of them carrying stacks of paper, tomes and ancient scrolls. They were a curious medley; demons, hellhounds, humans and spirits from all walks of life. A human intern named Dave struggled to balance a laptop in one hand and type with the other as he took notes for the Dread-Lord of Hell, who had been in the middle of listing phobias when he trailed off.

A shrill voice could be heard down the path to Flailing Fields, shouting, "Mr S! Mr S!"

With an abrupt twirl the Great Tempter loped towards it and his hooves struck sparks against the cobbles, showering his attendants, who were jogging to keep pace with him.

Cries filled the air as they came to a field of humans in stocks, each one being whipped by small, chthonic drudgers. One drudger stood by a human woman, but his flail was limp at his side as they gazed expectantly at the Untold Darkness.

The Breaker of Wills spoke in a throaty rasp, "What is wrong, Melissa?"

Melissa gestured apologetically from the stocks, waving a trapped hand as she said, "So sorry to bother you, Mr S, but I think there's been a bit of a mix up in administration. I ended up here, in flogging, but I actually signed up to be in the spider pits?"

"I see," the Beast rumbled.

"I wouldn't usually kick up a fuss but I have a really bad back so as you can imagine being bent over for pro-"

"No, no, it's fine," the Forsaker waved his dread paw, "Get her out of this contraption. Abaloth, take her to the spider pits."

Abaloth unlocked the great trap and eased it open. The Harbinger of Doom was already back on the main road, but a short person with a pixie cut hung back and introduced themselves with a grimace of embarrassment.

"Hi, I'm Jay... From resourcing? I'm so sorry, I was the one counting the requests and I must have mixed you up with another Melissa! Again, I'm really so sorry for the inconvenience."

Melissa drew her head out of the stocks and stretched, smiling broadly. "Not to worry. I got here by getting my life-ending and my life-saving drugs mixed up. Mistakes happen, right? No one's to blame!"

Jay smiled gratefully and gave a little nod before turning to sprint after the Endless One.

Abaloth gestured with a black claw and his guttural voice cracked the air, "Shall we head to the spider fields?"

Melissa hooked her arm under his and nodded warmly, taking a couple of steps before stopping to look up at him with a frown. "Actually, before we leave would you mind having a word with Roger?"

She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, "I'm really worried he'll give the game away."

Abaloth followed her motion to a balding man, trousers down to his ankles, who was making exaggerated "Unh!" sounds and shouting "IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT?! HARDER! FUCK! WHIP ME LIKE YOU HATE ME! YEAH!"

Abaloth contorted his ghastly features into a vision of despair, "I told Jay to make sure they gave him a gag. Every fucking time, Roger!"

Satan’s usually pretty chill in the way he runs Hell. Today he’s scrambling to make it look as miserable as possible because God is soon to visit

[carletes]

Any more snippets from werewolf au? 👀

sigh i mean i wouldn't normally do this but i've had no time to write so here, have the entire first section of werewolf au. this is everything i've written so pls enjoy. no real spoilers, mostly just worldbuilding.

//

The first thing Lando did, when he walked into his new student dorm, was notice how bloody hairy his roommate was. The second thing he did was scowl about it. 

Not the hairy part. Just the roommate part. Specifically, the roommate for a single bedroom (plus en suite, at least) that consisted of two beds, just about a reasonable distance away from one another, two desks, and what would charitably be called a kitchenette yet was, more precisely, a microwave, a mini fridge, and a single countertop.

Jesus Christ.

Lando didn’t expect a whole lot of luxury. He was a first year student at the Evropan Academy of the Casting Arts, in fucking Nowhere, Zémē. Was it the most prestigious school for casting in Evropa? Yes. Did it have to be in the middle of fucking Nowhere, Zémē?

Apparently, also yes. But at least a kettle! Fuck! He’d probably have to buy one next time he was in town. Whenever that would be. Wherever that would be.

Lando’s roommate had apparently not gotten the memo that they were in a country with more reindeer than was entirely sensible, because he was still, somehow, tan. And hairy. Like, hairy. His head was hairy, of course: fluffy, dark hair that was pretty successfully framing his face. His hands were hairy, from what Lando could see of them (freakishly long fingers). But his arms and chest—he had freaking ringlets popping out of his v neck! 

And he wasn’t paying attention to Lando.

Lando sighed and swung his suitcase onto his bed. That startled his roommate. His head whipped around to look at Lando. 

Lando swallowed. His roommate’s hair framed, it turned out, a freaking gorgeous face. He had huge brown eyes, a jaw that could cut, high cheekbones, an imperfect, big nose that made him even hotter. 

“Oh,” he said, blinking (why were his eyelashes so long?). “Hello.”

“Hi,” Lando said, in a stunning show of wit. And then: “Carlos Sainz?”

“Vazquez de Castro.”

Lando stared at Carlos. Then, slowly, he said, “What?”

“My name,” Carlos said, just as slow. Lando felt his skin prickle. Condescending. “My name is Carlos Sainz Vazquez de Castro. Hiberian, so…”

Lando stared at Carlos (Sainz Vazquez de Castro). Of course he knew who the Sainzes were. Fucking everyone did. He was shocked a Sainz was in this shitty room to begin with. But as Carlos stared back, Lando found himself getting…annoyed. 

“Okay,” Lando said, and Carlos frowned. Frowned!

“You are Lando Norris?” Carlos asked. Was his voice a little tight? Lando frowned in kind.

“Yeah,” he said again, before adding, “Just Lando Norris.”

That was bitchy. That was definitely bitchy of Lando. But it felt gratifying in the moment, and Carlos’ frown deepened. He just said, “Okay,” and turned back to whatever he was doing at his laptop.

Lando stared at Carlos a little longer. Then, seeing that Carlos had removed himself from the interaction, Lando scowled and began unpacking his suitcase with some heat. Fine. If that was how Carlos Sainz Vazquez de Castro was going to be, Lando didn’t want anything to do with him. 

Entitled dick, Lando thought as he tossed his clothes into a dresser. He tried desperately not to crackle, but he wasn’t sure if he was succeeding. Typical ancient casting family bullshit. Some ancestor defeats an eldritch horror one time and every single fucker after’s assumed to be a hero at birth. Dick.

Well, fine. Lando wasn’t looking for friends anyway. He already had friends. And he didn’t need to spend anymore time in that goddamn, dingy room than he needed. 

By the time Lando had finished unpacking, he was aching for a shower. It had been a long journey to the Academy. His parents had two other kids they needed to worry about, and they didn’t have the energy reserves to help teleport Lando to Zémē. And Lando sure as hell wasn’t going to risk his unreliable wild magic on international teleportation, of all resource-intensive castings. So, he managed to convince Alex and George to take a plane with him. It was an annoying journey, to be sure (and it took another subsequent train ride to get from the capital of Zémē to, again, Nowhere), but it would have been way worse alone.

Carlos didn’t even spare Lando a glance as he made his way into the bathroom, semi-slamming the door behind him. Petty, yeah, and Lando even started feeling bad about it; but then he stepped under the stream of the hot shower, and all his worries and agonies melted away. He even found himself getting excited. Finally! A place that could help Lando hone his wild magic! He had managed to get by his whole life with the usual mundane casting skills everyone had, but he had spent years salivating over how easy it was for George and Alex to cast, unsaddled as they were with the burden and promise (God, the promise) of wild magic. All the control Lando had been taught over his wild magic was fucking meditation; enough that he wouldn’t electrocute himself and die while showering. 

Still. It did mean he could enjoy showers. But he wanted to actually do things with his casting! Not just avoid doing things! 

Lando smiled as he rinsed himself clean and hopped out of the shower. Now that he was happier, he could attune himself to the Academy: he closed his eyes and focused. He smelt water, pure and salty in turn; fire, warm, alive, bright and furious; earth, steady and mossy, ubiquitous—so much more besides! He could even feel the pulsing of magnets, brisk cold, an odd brilliance in his peripheral, the abject silence of nothingness. 

Lando shivered. All casting, alive, here. It was terrifying and invigorating.

It was thus, in a shockingly good mood, that Lando strode back out into his room. And then he yelped, because Carlos was looking at him. 

“Ay, I’m sorry,” Carlos stammered. He held his hands out in a gesture of peace and stood. “Truly,” he said, his voice gentle and solemn. “I am sorry. For my behavior. It was unbecoming of me.”

What? Huh.

“Uh…mate, s’fine,” Lando said, taken aback by how serious Carlos was. But Carlos shook his head. 

“It is not fine. I was tired and rude,” he sighed, running a hand through his thick, glossy hair (Jesus!). “That is not an excuse, just…an explanation.”

“Hey, I get it,” Lando laughed softly. “Bet you weren’t expecting a roommate.”

“I was not,” Carlos conceded, “but that doesn’t mean I can be rude. This is annoying for us both, no?”

“We’ll just have to live with it,” Lando shrugged, hopping onto his bed. He hadn’t shared a room with anyone since he and Oliver were little. “It is what it is.”

Carlos hummed, thoughtful. Then he smiled, and it was a lovely smile. “It doesn’t have to be,” Carlos said brightly, and before Lando could inquire, Carlos closed his eyes and reached out. Lando pulled back instinctively, but Carlos seemed to- grab at something. He pulled across, and Lando gasped as he understood: and sure enough, a filmy veil appeared between them. It wasn’t quite opaque, it wasn’t quite transparently—Lando could just about make out Carlos’ shape on the other side, but nothing beyond that level of detail. 

“Sick,” Lando breathed. He blinked and focused, and he could see Carlos again. He grinned. “Let me guess. Light affinity?” 

“Light and fire,” Carlos shrugged, smiling softly. It occurred to Lando that Carlos looked very, very tired. “I prefer light, though. Details.”

“No kidding,” Lando murmured. He blinked again and the veil was back in place. “Carlos, this is a lot to ask. You can’t keep this up-”

“No, no, this cast is very easy for me,” Carlos said, and there wasn’t a trace of bragging in it. He said it in such a matter of fact way. “I have two sisters so I had to get very good at this. It barely takes me any concentration now.”

Lando laughed. He blinked again and the veil disappeared. “Thanks, Carlos,” he said. Carlos’ smile widened, and Lando suddenly felt horrible about his previous thoughts. “I can’t really do anything in return—”

“I don’t expect—”

“I know. But- still. I’m sorry too,” Lando said, his cheeks hot. “Just- shitty mood, you know?”

“I know,” Carlos said, and his voice was so serious that Lando believed him completely. “But…maybe the privacy will help, eh?”

Lando smiled. “Yeah. Definitely. But I’ve got bad news for you, mate.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, and it was, fucking infuriatingly, hot. “Oh?”

“Once I get more of a handle on this shit,” Lando said, and he let his wild magic out of its tethers briefly, letting the static from his blood ripple out through his skin, “I’m gonna need you to teach me that.”

Carlos’ eyes widened, and Lando wondered briefly if he’d misunderstood the kind of person Carlos was. Most people accepted wild magic casters nowadays, but there were still some superstitious types. Maybe Carlos-

But then Carlos grinned widely and said, “I would be happy to.”

[finelinevogue]

he’s so vogue

Description - you are the journalist for the new Harry Styles December Vogue Issue

A/N - how is everyone doing? hope you enjoy! if you have any requests please feel free to ask. love you all and have a lovely rest of the week!

warnings: swearing

[masterlist]

Being a journalist for Vogue was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

After 3 years of studying English Literature at Surrey University, you never thought, only a year after, you'd be working as an apprentice at Vogue UK. If it weren't for your Aunty, who worked in the fashion design section at Vogue HQ, then you'd no doubt still be a broke-ass, single, lonely student. Ok, lonely you still were but your job was so full-on that you didn't have time for a relationship.

Two years into your apprenticeship you were promoted to an official member of the team, and then another two years later you got promoted to team leader in your department of journalism, and editing; The Media - or as you like to call it - "The Celeb Goss". You were beyond happy with your job and found such passion in every article your wrote. Whether it be about a new celebrity romance or the collapse of one, you found a way to story-tell in such a meditated way that everyone loved your pieces.

That's why the Harry Styles had requested you to be the one to interview him.

Of course you'd written about A-list celebrities in the past, producing articles on pregnancy rumours, or engagements, or breakups, but you'd never met them before authoring an article. You'd met plenty of D-list celebrities who thought they were mega famous, but if you mentioned their names people would turn around and ask "who?".

This is why interviewing Harry Styles was a massive thing for you.

Not very often did you get to do work out in the field, especially in these covid infested days, but nevertheless it was your favourite part of the job. Getting to meet the people you were writing about was completely refreshing, allowing you to obtain a clearer outlook on which direction to take on your journal piece.

You were asked to go to Stonehenge, where the photoshoot was being filmed, as your office of interview. Even though you'd lived in the UK all your life, you'd never actually been to Stonehenge. It wasn't really on your bucket-list, but it was a pleasure to get to see it all the same.

Being the prepared interviewer you were, you'd prepared an array of questions that you were set on asking Harry. You'd never met him before, but after much googling and youtubing of him prior to meeting him today you would already be confident in saying he's the most brilliant man to ever exist. You were really nervous that you were going to screw this interview up and make a terrible mess in front of Harry Styles.

"Lisa! What if I accidentally say something I shouldn't?" You ran your stressed hands through your hair.

This whole morning had been frantic. It had started off by you waking up late, no thanks to Lisa, your best-friend and co-worker, pressing snooze on the alarm. You wanted to look professional today so you'd put on your best shirt - only to spill coffee down it ten minutes later. So now, you smelt of coffee and were wearing what was left in your wardrobe - and it wasn't much. The only things left clean were a pair of pink corduroy flares and some, pastel coloured, graphic t-shirt to go with it.    

"You won't. Stop being so negative." Lisa rolled her eyes, probably fed up with the amount of winging she'd heard from you this morning - and you'd only been awake an hour.

"My outfit is hardly professional either." You huffed, pouring the rest of your, second, coffee down the drain.

"Well I think you look gorgeous." Lisa stated, whilst putting her breakfast bar wrapper in the bin.

You and Lisa were back and forth about you stressing, and such, for about half an hour before you had to leave. You had a great panic about losing your glasses too. You could see without them up close, but for long distance viewing and reading you were practically blind. You were taking Lisa's car, since she didn't think you were emotionally stable enough to drive. Lisa was the creative director on the set, and thank goodness she was so you could at least ramble to someone.

After a two hour drive up from London, you arrived at Stonehenge and it was freezing. Although the sun was out, it did nothing to keep your body heated. The journey up had been nice because you sat in your nicely heated car, chatting away with Lisa and blasting some Harry Styles out of the speaker. You'd made it through the first album, and the second one up to Canyon Moon before reaching your destination.

Upon arriving you could just about, without glasses, make out about 15 other cars, arranged at the bottom of a hill. There was an array of Audis and BMWs, a few Range Rovers, which you placed your bets on one was Harrys, and a green, vintage, Jaguar which was most likely belonging to the fashion editor or something. There was also a modern barn, perched at the foot of the hill, which was where Harry would be getting changed in to his various different outfits.

It took you a moment to register that Lisa had parked and was already clambering out of the car, making you look a little idiotic still blankly staring at the beautiful scenes in front, and around, of you.

But it was still bloody freezing.

You jogged a little to the boot and whipped out your white cardigan. Originally you'd thought that this would've been enough to keep you warm, but now you were starting to think otherwise.

The atmosphere here was amazing. People were rushing around left, right and centre loading, and unloading, various pieces of equipment and clothes. You caught sight of brightly coloured fabrics being carried to and from various places. There were the camera crew, and presumably director, all chatting amongst themselves. The smell of the very fresh air was so lush that you'd forgotten what it smelt like - especially after years in London.

You grabbed your bag from the boot, which had your notes, recording kit and laptop stuffed inside, before locking the car and following Lisa in to the barn.

It was lovely and warm inside - a completely different climate to than the outside. It was as if it was Bali inside and Antarctica outside. Better Bali than Antarctica though.

"Ok. Let's put our stuff down over here and then go find people we need to meet and such." Lisa instructed, you still too in awe of the place to fully comprehend what was going on.

You followed Lisa and you two ended up dropping off your stuff next to some other bags. You took a liking to the purse next to your stuff. Next to your bag, it made yours seem ancient - like it was worth nothing more than a penny. It was luscious and a beautiful baby blue colour. You softly ran your hands over it, finding satisfaction in how smooth and subtle it was.

"Hope you're not planning on stealing that, love." A manly voice appeared from behind you. You whipped around to see who's bag you'd been messing with, and it was just your luck that it was to be Harry Styles'. Of all the people's it could've been it had to be his. 

Perfect.

He looked dashing. He was in black flares and his iconic 'But daddy i love him', t-shirt, along with a huge green anorak. His hair was prettily clipped back with a pink clip, presumably placed there to gave his curls greater volume. In his hand he had a pink toothbrush and you guessed he'd come back over to put it away in his bag - only to find you caressing it instead.

"Oh - no, no. Not at all. I - uh - I just thought it was beautiful." You stammered over your words, choosing them carefully to try and make you look less like an active criminal.

"Mhm." Harry nodded whilst looking you up and down, most likely judging why a peasant like you, in comparison to him, was touching his expensive property. "Well, I love your flares darlin'." Harry looked down at your trousers, his compliment making you blush a little.

"Thank you. That wasn't professional, and neither is my outfit, I know, and I apologise." You added, because you knew that if your boss knew you turned up today the way you did she would give you a right bollocking - and potentially even fire you.

"Never apologise for flares. You look amazing." Gemma perked up, making you feel more self conscious surrounded by all these other beautiful women. Gemma was in a slouchy, knitted, jumper and basic jeans - no doubt all from shops beyond your budget - and yet she looked like a model fit for the runway for Vogue.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised again, to which you, creepily, got the exact same, stern, look from the Styles siblings at the same time.

"My stylist, Harry, introduced me to big pants. He offered whether I wanted to try a pair of flares, and I was like, 'Flares? That's fucking crazy'!" Harry laughed as he told his story, earning a laugh out of you too. "Now they're my favourite item of clothing. Have a whole wardrobe dedicated to them."

"I wish he was joking." Gemma laughed at her brother and his flare obsession.

"Well you do look handsome in them, so I understand why." Your words rolls off your tongue before you could even comprehend what you were saying. Only after you finished your sentence did you completely intake what you'd just said.

"Good start." Lisa giggled to you, before turning to walk over to the coffee station. It was a help-yourself coffee bar and you knew that you were going to bed at least five cups to get over the last five minutes alone. You'd probably drain the station before letting anyone else have any.

"Oh god." You awkwardly mumbled, not daring to see how weirdly Harry would be looking at you, before walking off outside.

You had spent less than 10 minutes here and yet you'd never felt like a bigger clown. Joining the circus had never been so easy.

The outside wind hit you like a powerful leaf blower, and your hair blew around like crazy - most likely compiling into a birds nest on the top of your head.

Today was supposed to be the start of something great. Your hopes were set on a promotion from your written masterpiece, whilst enjoying the company of one of the most handsome, most lovely, most talented men of this century. Those hopes seemed a little too distant now. They seemed to mock you, as if to laugh at how you ever thought you were going to be any more successful. You'd completely, in more ways than one, made a fool of yourself in front of your interviewee, you were so underdressed, you were caught fondling his Gucci purse and you were still bloody cold.

It all felt too unprofessional for a job where professional was practically the driving force of the company.

You leaned against the barn, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You were a master in over-thinking, but unfortunately that wasn't something you could add to your resumé. You let your eyes close and the other senses come alive for a few moments. The sounds of distant sheep and the smell of the cold wind were just two of the senses that allowed you to take a step back for a minute, and breathe.

"Thank you." A voice interrupted you from your attempt of quick meditation. You looked to your left and noticed Harry standing there, still in the same outfit as before.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused, taking a step away from the barn to considerately pay more attention to him.

"Thank you - for saying I look handsome in flares." He repeated, smirking when he added the second part.

"Oh." Was all you could respond, feeling too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. "I should—" You pointed back to the barn, using it as an excuse to leave before yet screwed up anymore.

"Lisa told me you're the interviewer." Harry added, and it only occurred to you that you'd never actually introduced yourself. "So it's lovely to finally meet you Y/N." He stuck out his hand for your to shake, which you did willingly. His hands were a lot softer than you'd expected.

"Ho... You know my name?" You asked surprised.

"Of course. I also know you're the best writer in Vogue right now." He flattered you, which made you blush. You had a feeling he'd make you do that a lot today.

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you spoke sarcastically.

"Well I chose you for a reason, didn't I?" He rhetorically asked.

"I mean.. I, well.. I don't know?" You stumbled over your words, making yourself look like a larger fool than you did already. Today was just turning out to be exactly what you didn't want it to be. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You do it too often." He told you, nearly making you apologise again but he gave you a jokingly stern look, as if he knew what you were going to say, and so you decided otherwise.

"Harry!" You both turned to see there was a man waving towards you both, but specifically to Harry. "Come get changed!" The same man shouted. Harry lifted his thumbs up, as if to signal he'd be there shortly.

Harry turned back to you and noticed you shiver a little.

"I'll start the interview after I come back from the dressing rooms, yeah?" Harry asked, taking off his, khaki green, trench-coat in the process. He handed it to you before you could oblige against it.

"Wait what?" You confusedly looked down at the coat and back up to Harry.

"Gives me a piece of mind knowing my interviewer isn't going to die of hypothermia before actually interviewing me." He smiled, obviously attempting to crack a joke and you have to admit you did laugh.

"Thank you." You say, before he runs off to where he's being called to.

                                                            ••••

You'd been sat inside for a little while, waiting for Harry to come back. It gave you time to perfect your questions though.

Thinking up questions to ask Harry had been a challenging task, but one that you'd been fully invested in. You loved creating questions to ask him that were going to get to understand him on a deeper level. He was a very private man, and you completely respected that. If you crossed any boundaries, with the questions you'd ask, you would write them out of the interview. You liked to think you hadn't thought up a question that would make him feel uncomfortable though.

Pissing off Harry would be on another level of shame.

"Coat kept you warm?" Harrys voice disengaged you from your notebook.

"Hm?" You asked then replayed what he'd just asked in your mind. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much." You stood up, from where you'd been perched on the floor, picking up your nearly finished green tea as you did so.

Only when you stood up did it come to your realisation that Harry was now in costume. He was dressed in luxury. Each item looked like it cost more than your rent, and that was saddening. He looked rich and luxurious. To be quite honest, you were finding it rather difficult to take your eyes off him.

"You think the outfit is Vogue enough?" Harry asked, striking a few poses, which made you laugh. It was refreshing to see him act so relaxed and carefree, rather than a stuck-up-prick you knew some celebrities to be.

"Completely. I love it!" You exclaimed, appreciating the twirl he did for you.

He was wearing a kilt-like skirt and he looked beyond beautiful in it. Fuck toxic masculinity. Fuck being a manly man - like what does that even mean? Harry was embracing gender fluidity and experimenting the ways in which there was no definitive line between men and women's clothes anymore, and you thought it was marvellous. Revolutionary, for times as politically and socially troubled as these.

You started removing the coat in attempt to give it back to him, but he refrained you from doing so by holding on to your forearm.

"Keep it. I thought we could go outside to start the interview, so you'll be needing that." Harry told you, and you agreed - however reluctantly that was. You couldn't really complain though, because the coat did kept you warm and, what's better, it smelt divine - just like you'd imagine Harry to smell.

"Okay. Thank you. Do you want to go now?" You asked hesitantly, not knowing whether he was busy for someone else right now.

"Whenever you're ready, love." He answered, making you feel more relaxed. He was going at your pace and was making you feel settled - he was even more of a gentleman than people described him to be.

The two of you had walked around the backside of the barn in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Well, at least you were. It was a blessing no one was back here. It was just you, Harry and the scenery that surrounded Stonehenge.

You approached a bench and you plopped yourself down on one end, whilst Harry sat on the other. He respected the fact that there was a pandemic going on, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You still had your mask on, so Harry had taken that as you were very conscious about the virus - which he admired.

You pulled out your glasses, from the depths of one of the coat pockets, and placed them on your face, probably making yourself look even geekier than you already felt. Today was just one of those days you wished you had good eyes...

You opened your spent notebook, musty pages practically falling apart, and turned to the section of questions you needed for that interview. You were so nervous already and you hadn't even asked anything yet, all because of the previous interactions with Harry today. Your shaky hands shuffled through the pages and you cursed under your breath when you struggled to find what you needed.

"Shoot. Come on." You mumbled quietly under your breath, hoping it would make this terrible situation end faster. You mustn't have been as quiet as you thought though.

"Y/N." Harry's name broke through your clouded mind of self-disappointment.

You looked up at him to see him softly smiling at you, blowing all worries away from you away with the wind. "Yes?" You timidly asked, pushing your wind-swept hair out of glasses - where it'd gotten caught.

"You’re alright, love. You don't have to be professional around me, alright? We're just two strangers having a conversation, to get to know each other, okay?" If his words didn't calm you enough, the soothing sound of his husky voice certainly did.

"But that would mean you asking me stuff too?" You replied, confused at his implications of the phrasing 'getting to know each other'.

"Mhm." Harry nodded his head.

"Oh I don't know Mr Styles, i'm not a very interesting person." You answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose from where they'd fallen.

"I refuse to believe that." Harry chuckled, making a quick smile appear on your face. "And please call me Harry. Just Harry." He begged, obviously finding it weird you calling him by his professional title. All you wanted, ever, was for your interviewee's to feel comfortable and safe, so if Harry wanted you to call him Harry then so be it.

"Ok, Harry," you sarcastically said, earning a shake of the head on his behalf, "you can ask me a few questions throughout the day." You told him, but you knew he'd struggle to find even two questions when he realises how bland you are.

"Does that mean you only get to ask me a few as well?" Harry smirked, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike Harry, you had to write an article about today when you got home and so he knew that you'd have to dig as much dirt as possible from him.

"No, sorry. I don't particularly want to lose my job." You paused to look down at your notes, squinting a little as you did to see better. "Okay. Tell me your experience with corona virus."

"Sorry I didn't quite catch that, love." Harry apologised, leaning in slightly to see if he could hear you a second time around.

"Sorry." You looked down to fiddle with your fingers - a habit you'd undertaken when you're embarrassed. "Um..," you cleared your throat, "would you mind if I took off my mask?"

Your timid voice sent tingle down Harrys spine. He didn't think anyone could ever be this sweet. "Not at all, ‘course you can." He replied, again, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You hesitantly took off your face mask, feeling like you were in some dramatic movie where they face revealed someone. You kind of liked having the mask on, because, for one, it kept you warm, and for two, you were a little self conscious with how you looked compared to all the other women here today. You shoved the mask in your pocket, with trembling fingers, before looking back down to your notes.

"Woah." You heard Harrys voice being mumbled under the wind. You eyes shot up to his and you noticed him staring right back at you.

"W-what? Is my acne playing up? I knew I should've—" You self-consciously run your hands over the areas you know you got acne. The masks really didn't help when it came to skin care.

"Hey, stop. No. You just... You look beautiful." Harry complimented you, and a roaring blush arose on to your cheeks. You'd never been called beautiful before, and so you were taking the compliment like such a 13-year old.

"Oh, uh, thank you." You awkwardly answered, not really having any other words come to mind in that moment. Harry chuckled under his breath, still keeping eyes on you for some reason.

"Would you mind repeating your last question, I didn't quite catch it?" Harry asked politely.

"Sure. Um, tell me how you've experienced corona virus." You repeated for him, gripping ahold of your pen to start copying what he says and pressing start on your recording device in case you needed it later.

"Well, it's been tedious that's for sure. However, I just want people to be safe and for life to return back to normal, so therefore i've been very MIA for a lot of the time. Keeping to myself mostly. I only went out for hikes or bike rides. All my meetings were online, so it's been very lonely." Harry kept eye contact with your figure the entire time, and if it weren't for you concentrating on writing what he was saying then you'd probably melt away under his gaze.

For such soft eyes he sure was intimidating.

"I presume the loneliness sent you crazy at times." You laughed, because you sure felt that way through lockdown. Curse being single.

"You have no idea." Harry laughed along with you, making you, slowly, feel more at ease.

"Actually, you'd be surprised." You looked at him unsure, before returning down to your notebook.

"Okay then, first question from me," Harrys words made your head shoot up, "How can someone as amazing as yourself be lonely?" He asked and you made a mental tally of how many questions he'd asked.

"Could ask you the very same question, Harry." You slyly replied, avoiding the question by answering with another question. It was a tactic you'd learnt, throughout your years of journalism, when you wanted to dismiss something .

"That's cheating." Harry pointed at you and raised his eyebrows, but you couldn't take your eyes off the big, cheeky, smile perched on his face. You shrugged you're shoulders in defence and returned to your questions. "But you did just call me amazing, so I think i'll let it slide this one time." You blushed, again, when you understood what he meant.

He was amazing though - that was the truth.

"You were in L.A. for the majority of quarantine, am I right to say?" You already knew the answer but your manager had just wanted confirmation.

"Yeah, but L.A. feels like holiday, whereas London feels like home." He answered, which you appreciated. He hasn't got lost in the way that Hollywood could let people. He'd stayed grounded.

"So what did you entertain yourself with during quarantine?" You asked curiously, slightly side-tracking from your pre-written questions - just because you were intrigued (nosey).

"Not much, not to be boring. I ate a lot of bread. I worked out pretty much every day. I wrote quite a bit actually." He used his fingers to pinch his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did in interviews.

"Does that mean a new album on the way?" Your inner fangirl was screaming at the thought of HS3.

"Can neither confirm nor deny." Harry smirked to himself, like the cheeky bugger he is.

"That's a yes then." You joked, pretending to write it down in your notes.

"You're impossible, you." Harry laughed and shook his head. It made you feel all funny the way you could make him smile like that. You were the source of his happiness for just that moment, and that was enough to make you feel happy for a lifetime - not that he felt the same.

"Next question," you stated, moving swiftly on because you knew you had limited time, "How's your experience with Vogue been so far?"

"Wonderful. Everyone has been so welcoming and that makes it so much easier for me to have fun. It's daunting going at things alone, but i'm getting slowly used to it now." Harry sniffled a little, probably due to the freezing cold weather here.

"Must be strange, not having four best friends around you, all the time, anymore." You stated rather than asked him, sure that he was missing his bandmates. I mean, you were - so he definitely would be.

"Brothers." Harry replied, making you look up at him confused.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, giving him your full attention.

"You said four best friends. Well, actually they're my brothers." His words actually caused a rift in your heart. You could feel it being pulled apart and torn in to two. If you wrote this in to the magazine the fans would have a worldwide passing-away-party.

"Harry." You said softly, slightly tearing up at his words. "God, I swear i'm not normally this emotional." You chest your throat and try to establish your dignity - however there wasn't that much left anymore.

"Oh shut up." Harry looked away obviously trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up too. You laughed at him but didn't draw any more attention to it than you guessed he would've wanted.

"They mean a lot to you then?" You asked, hopefully not treading on any unwanted territories.

"Much more than a lot, yeah." Harry nodded his head, turning it back to face you. He could tell this conversation was now off-the-record because of your closed notebook, your undivided attention towards him and the fact you’d turned off the recording device. He liked being able to look at you, rather than the top of your head. He swore you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You still see them often?" 

"Not as often as i'd like. Niall did come around the other week to drop off some old guitars he didn't want anymore, and then we ended up playing around with some music for a bit." He admitted, which stitched your heart back together.

"So does that mean a Narry collab?" You teased, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Narry? You so are a directioner." He laughed along with you.

"And you just avoided my question, therefore there is a song out there written only by you and Niall." You concluded, which shut him up.

This conversation was going a lot better than expected. Certainly a lot better than earlier. You will be permanently scarred by the way you spoke to him and handled his belongings. It was going to haunt you forever - and yet he'd forget about it by tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't, which is why you felt the need to apologise.

"Harry?" You asked, clearly indicating this was still a conversation away from the interview.

"Yes Y/N?" He watched you intently, listening to your every word.

"I, um, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just really nervous to meet you, and to be honest still am. I didn't mean to touch your stuff without your consent and I certainly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with any of my comments. So, i'm sorry. I can only imagine the awful, yet true, things you must think of me." You rambled really quickly, that you were uncertain whether Harry even caught one word of what you'd says.

"Do you know why I asked for you to interview me Y/N?" Harry asked, which wasn't the first thing you expected him to say after your apology.

"No. I...well Lisa told me it was because I can write well or something." You suggested, not wanting to sound egotistical.

"I mean you do write perfectly, but no." You were intrigued now. "I asked for you because I, and this is not for your magazine, have a secret - but not-so-secret - crush on you." This time it was Harrys turn to blush.

"Harry... you don't have to say that to—"

"I'm not saying it for anything. I sincerely think you are the most delightful, most prettiest, most fucking sweetest person i've ever met." Harry exclaimed, which you were taken aback by. Never, ever, did you think that Harry Styles would proclaim his likeness towards you. Ever.

"Harry don't mess with me, please." You shyly spoke, tilting your head down in disbelief that the Harry Styles was smitten about you.

He shuffled along the bench, stopping a little way from you but close enough to reach out for you. Your heartbeat increased when you noticed his hand move closer towards you. It didn't stop till he reached your face. He took his time, courteously, pushing your hair behind your ear before removing you of your glasses. He held the right-eye frame and slowly pulled the glasses off your face.

Once he'd successfully taken them off he folded them up and placed them alongside your closed notebook.

"Can see those pretty eyes now." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't lie. They're so dull." You mumbled, lifting your head up slightly. His face was still away from you.

"Not to me they're not." He retaliated, looking deep into your eyes as you did his. "I hate this corona virus."

"Why?" His words were so out of the blue sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

"Because I can't be as near to you as I want to be." Harry told you. And yeah, you hated corona too. It was getting a little laborious now.

"Smooth, Styles." You chuckled. You wondered how many new and weird pick-up lines could be made from covid. 

"I know." He winked, which honestly would have made you throw up if it were any other man on the planet. Somehow, though, Harry just made it seem attractive - along with every other thing that man ever did. "After this, would you like to come back to my house for a cuppa tea?" He asked sweetly, like a five year old asking whether you wanted to play together.

"Okay. Lisa was my ride though." You said more to yourself than anything else, debating on how you'd even get to Harrys. Uber? Taxi? Lisa? Walk?

"I'll drive us, it's fine. I have to drop Gem off, but i'd be more than happy to chauffeur you." Harry kindly offered, to which you were internally screaming about. You were literally, and metaphorically, having a field-day with all this Harry content and interview.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden." You question politely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries - especially in these covid infested times.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise." He protested, waving his hand at if to say it was no bother. You were already trying to work out, in your head, how much petrol money you were going to owe him.

"Then i'd be honoured to have a brew with you Harry." You giggled at how cringe you were being, even if this was just your normal self speaking.

"Great." Harry genuinely smiled, teeth and all. "My shoot should take a couple of hours, but feel free to continue to write and journal. I'm looking forward to reading this particular article." He winked at you before standing up.

"Wonder why?" You sarcastically asked, knowing full-well it was due to his exposure of his own feelings towards you. Even though you'd never says anything back you were quite in agreement on how you felt about him, like he did you. He would be a narcissist to say he knew you liked him the same, out loud, but he knew. And you knew that he knew.

"Wonder why indeed." He gave you one last smile before he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you to digest and relive the past half an hour or so.

Being Harry Styles' crush was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

                                                          ••••

After Harry had finished up his shoot he was quick to come find you again.

You'd watched parts of his shoot and he looked magnificent. There wasn't a good enough word to describe how amazing he looked. Harry, his stylist, was probably the best stylist out there. His fashion choices were unmatched and you wanted him to be yours. You were not rich enough nor fashionable enough, ironic for working in a a fashion company, to hire a stylist, but you would if you could.

You were so proud to see what he was achieving now as the person that he was. Harry was just being Harry, without the devilish control of shitty managements or ridiculous amounts of PR stunts. Harry was more free than ever, and it definitely showed just how much he was enjoying it.

You were certain that this Vogue magazine would break the internet - his fans were good at doing that. This could be a turning point for many people, with their outdated and ignorant views. There was no room for people with racist or homophobic or transphobic or xenophobic - and the list does go on - views anymore.

You were waiting by the front door of the barn, to catch Harry as he walked past. You caught sight of him in a white robe, presumably to get changed back into his everyday clothes. He looked really pretty in the robe - very domestic actually.

Today had been a good day.

Harry asked you to send over the more specific Vogue questions to him via email, so he could devote more time in to answering them in a lot more depth. You thought he meant you'd be sending them to some PA in his team, but you were shocked to understand he'd given you his personal email.

People were walking back to their cars and packing away the filming kit. You saw Lisa and the director talking to one another, no doubt discussing some in-work gossip.

"You ready?" Harrys voice reminded you that you'd been waiting for him. You looked to see he was back in the same clothes as this morning, only this time without his coat.

"Here?" You offered, having him over the coat once again but he declined.

"Looks better on you anyways." He winked at you, before walking through the car park and to his car. You were very surprised when you found out Harry was the one to own the green Jaguar. You assumed all celebrities drove the Range Rover, but no. The vintage car added to Harrys immaculate vibe and just made him that little bit more hot.

Harry properly introduced you to Gemma, who was equally as lovely as Harry. They were both amazing people and they were crazily alike. From the way they looked, down to the way they phrased their words, they were mistakingly twins. Gemma explained how Anne, their mum, didn't know they were doing this photoshoot and that it was going to be a surprise, which you thought was so cute.

Gemma spilt a lot of gossip on Harry, to which he got very embarrassed over. You learnt that Harrys first word was Cat. You learnt that Harry is godfather to multiple children, which you found heartwarming. You learnt Harry used to be a baker - which was something he elaborated on for a good half an hour. Harry was just a fountain of memories and Gemma was the one sharing them all with you.

The drive back to London was relaxed. You sat in the back, listening to Harry and Gemma pointlessly argue whilst an Arctic Monkeys album played in the background. You forgot that people like Harry drove, and listened to music, just like other regular people. You often misplaced celebrities in society, thinking they had everything done for them but in reality that (often) wasn't the case - at least not for Harry.

Gemma was dropped off quickly before Harry drove to his. It was no surprise that the Styles siblings didn't live too far away from each other. Harrys house was beautiful. Bigger than anything you could ever dream of buying. It was a palace compared to your cupboard-sized house. You were unbelievably jealous. He gave you the tour of the house, showing you where the toilets were, and even his panic room if necessary.

You migrated to the kitchen for a bit, talking about anything and everything. Getting to know the minuscule pieces of information that no-one else was trusted with, made you feel special. Harry made you feel special - even if he weren't meaning to.

Every moment held a spark. Every touch set off a firework. Every laugh was an electric burst. He made you feel so alive.

"We can go to the living room after this has boiled." Harry said, pointing towards the streaming kettle. He wanted to show off his fancy tea collection he had, and let you have a try if you wanted to. Harry was boring and chose the basic green tea, but, after much deliberation, you chose the cranberry green tea. It intrigued you and it sounded delicious.

"Why the extensive tea collection?" Not even you, a certified caffeine addict, had this much tea in your house. Coffee was a different story and one in which you didn't want to talk about.

"They help me with my meditation." He took the teabags and placed them in his glass mugs. They had a delicate Gucci stamp on them, and you just imagined that they probably worth the same amount as your daily salary.

"You meditate?" You were slightly surprised that he did.

"I try to yeah." Harry nodded, focusing on pouring in the boiling water into the mugs. "I've got very tight hamstrings and so it helps if I meditate twice a day."

Harry finished making the tea, in the light-filled kitchen, before showing you around to the open-lounge area. Everything was modern and chic. It was exactly how you imagined it, but better. The open, red-brick, wall was a beautiful feature and one that you were a whore for! It reminded you of New York and the memories you'd made there one summer.

The sofa was a beautiful velvet, green, sofa. It was soft and gentle, a lot like Harry when you thought about it. The whole house was an architectural masterpiece and you'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous. You sat on one end and Harry went to go and sit on the other end.

"I don't bite you know?" You joked, self-consciously wondering whether he didn't want to be sat near you.

"I know, I just don't want to step on any of your covid boundaries - which is perfectly fine by the way." He added, apprehensively taking the spot next to you.

"No, not at all." You ushered him to sit next to you, as you took a sip from your steaming hot cup of fruity tea. "If I smell though, do tell me!"

"Yeah, you smell bloody awful!" Harry sarcastically remarked, but laughing afterwards to assure you he was joking. The atmosphere went quiet for a minute, only the sounds of passing cars and deep breaths being heard.

"Y/N can I ask you something?" Harry turned the tone of the conversation. It sounded like he wanted to be more serious than you two were being beforehand.

"Anything." You encouraged him to continue. You placed the cup of tea down on the table, deciding it was too hot to drink right now, and gave him your full attention.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Harry questioned. You didn't think you'd be having a conversation this intense - especially if you had different opinions - on your first day of knowing each other, but here you were.

"I believe you can love someone at first sight. I don't believe you can be in love with someone at first sight. Why?" You were curious as to how his brain had journeyed to this particular topic. You'd never really had this conversation with anyone before, mainly because you were unaware of the true power, and meaning, of love.

"It uh... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head and you could tell by his body language that he was shutting you out. Maybe you'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. Please don't apologise. It's just - I like you a lot more than you may think." Harry shyly told you, which made you all soft inside. He was being vulnerable and that was something you admired in a partner. You didn't just need love, affection and trust in a relationship. No. You needed vulnerability and heartbreak too, and Harry was revealing that part of him to you.

"I like you a lot more than you think too." You repeated, not because you felt bad for him but because you truly did like him a whole lot. Love was a weird yet wonderful thing, and if you were to hazard a guess you'd say you loved Harry. 

You couldn't wait to be in love with him.

"Does that mean I get to crown you my girlfriend?" Harry excitedly asked. Harry happy was something that should be made a constant, and you were more than happy to be in control of that.

"At least take me out first." You bargained, wishing for nothing more than to go on a date with Harry. Where you'd go, you had no idea. Everything was closed right now and there was still the chance of becoming sick with corona, but no doubt Harry would think of something not only clever, but special.

Of course you'd love to be Harrys girlfriend. However, you wanted one more, official, opportunity to really get to know him - unprofessionally. You wanted to make sure that you knew, and he knew, that you wanted to be with him because he was the charming Harry you've come to love, not because he was Harry Styles.

"So you're allowing me to take you on a date?" Harry smirked like a little child, your heart fluttering at how excited he was to be able to treat you to dinner.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I am." You answered sweetly, offering him the cutest smile you could.

You can't believe what a turn of events today has been. You've gone from nearly writing yourself on Harrys enemy list to writing yourself on to his 'people he's dated' list. Who knows what the future would offer you. At the start of the day you had wished this whole day to end and for the ground to just swallow you up, now you never wanted it to end. It was too perfect to be true and yet it was.

Harry was the most wonderful human to exist and you were beyond surprised to be the one to catch his attention. You didn't understand why you were so special, but it was nice to feel like this for a change. It was nice to feel wanted.

                                                             ••••

A few months later and you were officially Harrys girlfriend.

It had been such a crazy few months. Harry religiously took you out on dates every week. Whether it be to grab a hotdog at a local diner, a coffee from a quaint cafe, a walk in Hyde Park or a late-night drive around London - which normally ended up with you falling asleep before you could make it back to yours. On sleepless jet-lagged nights he'll still drive through London's quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way, just as an excuse to spend time with you.

Harry often stayed over at yours. Even though you looked like you lived in a shoebox compared to Harry, he liked it. He liked the subtly and normality of it all. He wanted your life to remain as normal as possible and, apart from the occasional paparazzi incident, it did. You never had anything to complain about. Of course the online bullying created emotional wounds, at the start of your relationship, but it was nothing that Harry couldn't repair with a bit of love.

Lisa has nominated herself to be maid-of-honour when the day comes - if the day comes. Harry has already pinky sworn that you are it for him. The one, as some may say. You were utterly flattered, but you certainly unsure of what the future help for you both.

You loved Harry, you do love Harry and you will forever always love Harry.

It was ridiculous to think that all this stemmed from you working at Vogue. From you studying English Literature in a city away from London. From you dedicating you extra hours gaining work experience and money to be able get in and afford university. So many moments in life have you stopped and said 'i wish i hadn't have done that', but now you were convinced that they were the best things to have happened to you - because they lead you, all, to Harry.

And, being Harry Styles girlfriend was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

--------

For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

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Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

[blackacre13]

More of the proposal au please

Part 5 is here. Here's part 6:

“Let’s say, we’ve been dating for six months,” Debbie nodded. “Of course, it was a secret. Couldn’t tell our co-workers or they’d judge us. The engagement was fast, but it felt right. When you know you know and all that jazz, right? Oh, and that you’re the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Lou shot her a dirty look, her fingers paused on the keyboard as she whipped her bangs out of her face.

“You told them what?” Lou hissed.

“Just wanted to make sure you’ve been paying attention to me,” Debbie smirked, savoring the look on her boss’s face.

“Well, it would be,” the blonde smiled devilishly. “But we should probably refrain from sharing that with you parents.”

That had Debbie’s mind wandering for a moment as a blush pinked over her cheeks she prayed Lou wouldn’t notice.

Lou’s lips curled into a smirk as she closed her laptop, turning in her seat to fully face Debbie.

“Alright,” the blonde nodded. “I’m listening. Promise.”

“Really?” Debbie scoffed, closing her own laptop. “Alright. What else do we need to know about each other?”

“Well, I guess first and foremost,” Lou cleared her throat, looking down at her lap awkwardly for a moment. “Do your parents know that you’re…I mean I don’t even know if you’re…”

“Gay?” Debbie laughed. She took a deep breath before she nodded, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s always been a bit of a touchy subject honestly. Dad’s…old fashioned. Mom was probably always waiting for a boyfriend to come along to be a creepy crush of her own. But my brother? He’s been great. More than supportive. My parents though, I think they’re holding out hope. You know the whole phase thing. And I have dated guys before, so I’m sure they think I’ll marry one.”

“I’m sorry,” Lou sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back against the seat, swallowing thickly.

“For what?” The brunette scoffed. “Disappointed and stubborn is better than a lot of things it could be.”

“That’s one way to describe it,” Lou smiled sadly. “I guess my dad would’ve fallen into that category. Mum was great though. She just wanted to see me happy. Would’ve shocked them both, I guess.”

“Lou,” Debbie whispered, reaching for her hand before she realized what she was doing.

Lou simply looked down at it until Debbie retreated, her cheeks burning as she tucked it back in her lap, silently apologizing and praying Lou would just ignore the movement.

“It was cancer,” the blonde offered before Debbie could ask. “With my mum, that is. Never really gave a Fuck what happened to my father. Heard he passed a few years back though. Not sure how.”

“I’m sorry,” Debbie frowned.

“Don’t be,” Lou smiled, ruffling her bangs like she was trying to brush away the emotions that came with talking about her parents. “It’s ancient history now. I wouldn’t have time for family anyway. My whole life is work.”

“I think that’s very admirable,” Debbie whispered. “Anyone can see how hard you work. You’re the youngest VP the company’s ever had. Highest paid female executive too. I think your mom would be more than proud.”

“Thanks,” Lou murmured, Debbie unsure if she truly meant it or if she was putting a lid on the topic of conversation.

“So, do you have any tattoos?”

“What?” The blonde laughed.

“They ask some intimate questions,” Debbie shrugged. “I know some of the more basic ones for you. Allergies, phone numbers, interests, favorite restaurants. You name it.”

“Please,” Lou snorted.

“I think I proved myself the other day.”

“There’s more to me than knowing the color of my favorite suit, Debbie.”

“I bet you can’t even tell me one thing about me.”

“Your parents live in Alaska,” Lou winked.

“Touche,” Debbie rolled her eyes.

“I know more than you think,” the blonde grinned. “I think I can surprise you. But I’m all ears. Whatever you want to tell me or have me read. You name it.

“Thanks,” the brunette nodded. “That’ll really help.”

“So, what’s the deal with your parents this weekend? What do I need to know?”

“My dad used to do some shadier stuff in the city. We lived in New Jersey, he worked in New York. Always had a cover job, but mom never knew exactly what he was up to. All I know is the wrong people got involved, turned their back on him, and he tried to get as far off the grid as he could without leaving the country completely. Mom pretty much just keeps to herself and follows whatever he maps out for them.”

“What?” Lou laughed. “Was he in the mob or something?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Debbie sighed. “Always deals going down. Always moving. He used cover names all the time. Finances all over the place. Says he doesn’t do any of that shit now. Living off retirement. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he still has plans in motion.”

“Well, shit.”

“Guess it’s gonna be hard for you to beat that with your secrets, huh?” Debbie laughed.

“Seven.”

“What?”

“I have seven tattoos,” Lou announced, leaning over to reach for the water she’d tucked into the seat in front of her. “Do you need to know what they are or is that enough?”

Debbie was thrown, stuttering to try and come up with a response, torn between extremely curious and not sure if she was prying too much.

“Oh, and you probably need piercings too, right?” Lou continued. “You can obviously see my ears, but my tits are pierced too.”

“Your…”

“Tits, Debbie,” the blonde sighed, taking a sip from her water. “My nipples are pierced. So jot that down in your diary for INS or whatever.”

[dooodle-bug]

annnd another short and sweet fanfic, this time revolving, not around the los, but around the beloved Professor Toad! Enjoy!

Late!

At 7:54 am, the students, all sorts of different paperfolk, filed and flowed into the lecture hall, slipping into their seats and preparing for their morning class of ancient history. As they sat in their seats, surrounding a board and desk in the lower center, they pulled out their notes and laptops and writing utensils. It was quite a normal day for them.

However, as they waited, some began to take notice their professor was not present at his desk, scribbling away at his notes or typing away on his computer. Oh well, it was a bit early today anyways. Some students whipped out their other notes and classwork, while others socialized and slept. 

Minutes passed and it was now 8:01 am. The professor was still not present, which was odd, as such a tidy guy would normally at least arrive at 8 am on the dot. The peers had little concern for such, it was quite a dreary Monday anyways. 

Several more minutes passed. It was not 8:16 am and the professor was nowhere to be seen. Where had he gone off to? How could he have been this late?

Some students, irritable, left the lecture hall, assuming it to be free time now. Others remained, growing concerned for their teacher.

Suddenly, the metal double doors burst open, swinging and slamming into the doorstop. 

  In the doorway was the Professor, who seemed rather unkept. He was huffing and puffing, his shirt was untucked and stained, his hair frizzy and grizzly. In one arm, he was gripping his notebooks, with crumpled papers and notes sticking out of them.

The students stared awkwardly, as he stumbled into the hall down to his desk, some notes and pages drifting out of his notebooks. Some kind students collected these notes and gingerly handed them back to him. 

"Go-good morning class," he panted wearily once he made it to his desk, "My..sincerest apologies for my tardiness, I, ah, got a little caught up in my work and…overslept.."

That was indeed true, he spent much of last night doing research and studying his notes on the ancient ones, particularly the elusive Khaptaan Teeowede. Unfortunately, he lost track of time and before he knew it, it was past midnight and soon fell fast asleep right after, only to wake up just when his class was going to start.  

He whipped open his binder and shuffled through the pages and notes, "Uh, thank you all very very much for your patience. I. I really do appreciate it-"

Eventually he found what he was looking for, yanked out the note, and began hurriedly scribbling on the whiteboard whilst trying to tuck his shirt in. "Now, class! We have a lot to get done today so please retrieve your notes and we shall begin!"

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Weenis - Kellex x Reader

Prompt: kellex x adhd! reader? Maybe where reader has a really hard time getting homework done and gets frustrated, but kellex helps her out?

Yes, I wrote this when I should have been doing my own paper. No, I’m not stoked about how this one turned out.

“Can Y/N come out and play?” Sonnett knocked on the younger soccer players door, Alex keeping the door partially closed.

“You guys aren’t six,” Alex rolled her eyes, still keeping the blonde defender in the hall.

“So, she can come play?” she perked up, “We found a perfect spot to…”

Sonnett stopped talking at the firm glare Alex gave her.

“Perfect spot to study, perfect spot to study is what I was going to say,” Emily frantically nodded her head up and down.

“Go away Sonny, Y/N is doing homework,” Kelley called from inside the room.

Sonnett trotted off once Kelley joined in. Alex closed the door, moving back into the room where Y/N was hunched over the desk, typing away at her laptop.

“Come on guys, like 20 minute break,” Y/N tried to plead with them.

“Nope, you never come back and actually finish your stuff. Once your paper is done you and Sonny can go do whatever it was you were going to do,” Alex smoothed a few of Y/N’s stray hairs behind her ear, Y/N nodded along.

Y/N went back to her laptop, typing away for a few minutes, before turning around to the pair both sitting on the bed reading.

“Did you guys know the plastic part of a shoelace is called an aglet?”

“Yes,” Kelley deadpanned, not looking up from her book.

Y/N huffed and turned back to her paper.

“Did you know tickling is technically a panic response?” She turned around after another couple minutes.

“Ok that one is kind of cool,” Kelley lowered her book this time.

“Right? It’s supposed to be as defense for small predators on the skin, such as spiders,” Y/N turned around fully, proud to have gotten the attention.

Kelley nodded along, “Is that why people can’t tickle themselves?”

“Kelley no, Y/N needs to focus on her homework. Y/N you can tell us after you finish you’re done your paper.” Alex chastised both.

“But I really want to know more about the tickling thing Al,” Kelley whispered to Alex.

Alex rolled her eyes, “How about this, you can tell us a random fact for every page you finish on your paper? Can you handle that?”

“I have so many random facts! I’ve got this!” Y/N whipped back around to the desk, quickly typing away at her computer.

Y/N abruptly turned back around, “So! You can’t tickle yourself because our body doesn’t register our own touch; more specifically, the sensations made by our movements. Also, we don’t register the action as a danger or threat.”

“Dude, how do you know this?” Kelley asked, Alex’s eyebrows shot up at the technical response.

“Meh I don’t know, I read. I’m actually smart guys, I just sit don’t still well,” Y/N responded, hurt lacing her tone.

“We know you are kid; you always have an answer for everything and you’re killing it at school,” Kelley sat up straighter, softening her eyes at the young player.

“We just want to help you focus, so you have more time to play with your friends,” Alex added, rolling her eyes when she realized it sounded like she was talking to a child.

“I know you are, and I appreciate it,” Y/N nodded sincerely, “because Sonnett and I convinced…” she trailed off when Alex raised a single eyebrow, “we convinced no one of nothing. Look! My laptop!” She exaggerated her excitement, turning around and began typing again.

Kelley laughed softly and shook her head; Alex rolled her eyes.

The room remained quiet for the next several minutes, typing the only thing heard while Y/N focused on finishing her paper.

“Did you know your weenis is the crinkled skin on your elbow? It’s actually a slang term, the technical name being olecranal skin. The slang term is supposed to have been derived from an ancient Egyptian pharaoh named Wenis.”

“What the fuck Y/N? Why do you know that?”

“I don’t know, It was a funny word, so I looked it up,” Y/N smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

“Why is it named after the pharaoh?” Alex was interested now.

“I don’t know, I just know a little bit about a lot,” Y/N shrugged again and turned back to her computer, focussing back on her paper.

Alex and Kelley made eye contact, surprised at the variety in Y/N’s random facts.

“Did you know chimps, gorillas and koalas all have fingerprints? Koalas are very similar to humans.”

Without waiting for a response she turned back and continued to work. The couple gave each other another look, now wanting Y/N to finish her paper faster so they could see what she was even working on.

Both kept glancing up from their books to see if Y/N was ready to give them another random fact.

“Boom! Done! Can I go play now?” Y/N closed her laptop, jumping out of the and fist bumping the air.

“Wait, you’re done? How are you done do fast?”

“Yea, you didn’t even fight us.”

“Giving you guys random facts gave my brain a chance to jump around a bit. Physically moving helps, but some time I just need to mentally move. If that makes sense. Distract myself with random different topics,” Y/N shrugged.

“What were you even writing a paper on?”

“Oh post-concussion syndrome and active recovery techniques and subsequent psychological factors associated,” Y/N offered nonchalantly, while she looked for her room key to go find Sonnett. “Later losers,” she gave them a peace sign and opened the door.

“What the fuck Y/N, what fucking class are you writing a paper like that for?”

“Pathophysiology of Post-Concussion,” Y/N stopped at the door.

“What so you’re like smart smart, not just smart,” Kelley stopped her again before she could leave.

“Meh I guess,” Y/N just shrugged again.

[lambourngb]

For the first line meme: It's later than he thought when the knock on the door interrupts another night of staring at the computer screen.

the heart is a muscle - post season 2, mentions of forlex , getting back together malex fic for you dear @jule1122, and @haloud, and @christchex.

It's later than he thought when the knock on the door interrupted another night of staring at the computer screen.

Mr. Jones and his last words to Michael, before he was forced back into stasis, still haunted him. “You really think there was just one ship? We were in formation, kid. What you should ask yourself is, where did everyone else go? Did they just keep zippin’ on their way to the colony? Or did they stop and take a gander at this planet and what they did to the survivors?” 

The tiny bit of hope that this Max-lookalike psychopath didn’t represent the last of his species, had Michael diving back into his research behind the crash of 1947. The online conversations about Roswell had moved on to other topics since Michael had abandoned the message boards in the wake of Caulfield, but with some effort, he had found new threads detailing neighborhood folklore regarding newcomers with eerie talents, like the ability to grow food in droughts. Stories that peppered all over the world. Stories that might mean an alien colonist on Earth.

The thirst for knowledge about his planet and his people would never leave him, even if the actual urge to go had quieted down into just a soft whisper. Life was finally good in Roswell. After the mind games of Mr. Jones, Michael could admit now that he did have a family here, even if they weren’t related by blood. Sanders, Arturo, Mimi, Michelle Valenti had all stepped in at various times to offer a guiding hand to him, or just a quiet nod of reassurance that he was valued. Max and Isobel would always be his siblings, but now he could count Liz, Rosa, Kyle, and even awkwardly in their new friendship, Maria, as extended his family now.  

It didn’t escape Michael that not even in his thoughts could he attribute his feelings for Alex as brotherly. There was still a vacant place at the head of Michael’s overflowing table of family for a partner, a spouse. That somehow, the seat even as other people came and went, only seemed to fit Alex. 

Except they were still just friends.

Another knock, more impatient this time, rattled the Airstream’s door. Michael sat up, placing his ancient laptop on the counter and rolled off his bed to get to his feet. His life was had changed so much in the last couple of years that he had enough people in it, friends, who dropped by his trailer at all hours of the day, not just Isobel, that he couldn’t even guess the identity of the visitor. 

Backlit from the auto yard’s security lights, stood Alex Manes holding a cardboard drink holder from ‘Bean Me Up’.

“Alex,” Michael greeted, a smile already at his lips. He glanced at the coffee and back to Alex, “Couldn’t wait until tomorrow I take it?” This was part of the new normal for Michael, meeting Alex for coffee, three or four mornings a week. It was something that had grown out of a happy coincidence, Alex’s gym was near the Boys and Girls Club that Michael volunteered at, serving breakfast in the mornings and tutoring kids in math in the afternoon.

Same place at the same time, once, then twice, became a standard thing. Not a date. Just, taking advantage of the mutual collision to talk. And at first, it was awkward to share news with each other, like Alex’s dating experiences with Forrest or Michael’s attempts to recover his memories of his planet, but later things had softened into a routine. Order coffee, find a small table, and then spend the next hour playfully fending off Alex’s attempts to foist food on Michael’s side of the table while also stealing sips of his caramel lattes. 

Perhaps one day Alex would realize that Michael had only ordered the ridiculously sweet coffee drinks because he knew that was what Alex preferred to drink. It was still a damn toxic hold over from Jesse Manes that Alex still persisted in ordering black coffee with no sugar. Dating Forrest might have helped Alex be open with his sexuality, there were still lessons for Alex to learn in being gentle with himself, Michael observed. The act of indulging in pleasures, instead of engaging in deprivation, it was something he struggled with as well.

In the meantime, Michael could at least help Alex in this small way, letting him ‘steal’ his lattes.

“Alex?” Something about Michael had robbed Alex of all speech as he just stared up at Michael in response, still holding the drinks dumbly in his hands. “Are you okay? What’s wrong-”

The switch from teasing to urgent concern finally snapped Alex out of his apparent stupor. “Right, nothing, um, just- since when do you wear glasses?”

Michael’s hand went to his face automatically, realizing belatedly that he was still wearing his reading glasses. He started to pull them off, blushing in embarrassment, when Alex blurted out, “They look good! On you. The glasses. Um great even.” 

“Oh.” Now that. Michael did not know what to do with that. 

In the yellow-wash of light, Alex was clearly the same man from yesterday’s coffee visit physically. His soft mouth was there, but it came with his standard closed expression that he must have picked up abroad, wearing it now as Michael’s least favorite souvenir. His posture was the same too, forever changed from losing his leg, straight-backed and rigid but just then, he was someone Michael hadn’t seen in a long time. That awkward stuttering response was Alex Manes, the seventeen-year-old boy who had whipped off his visor nervously in the museum, the same boy who touched with soft gliding palms newly revealed skin before snatching his hands away at the first sign that it was unwelcome. 

Aware that it was his turn to stare at Alex, Michael forced himself to smile naturally, “I guess not even my alien physiology can beat back the glare of a computer screen. I forgot I had them on.”

“Did I interrupt something? I can go if you want,” Alex stopped, probably hearing the past echo between them but not in the benign way of before. “Or I can stay and help, even if it’s with surprise coffee?” This time he lifted the tray up between them, an offer or a barricade of politeness, Michael wasn’t sure.

“I’m looking for other survivors,” Michael admitted, before looking down to avoid Alex’s sharpened gaze of interest. “On the internet, obviously, since I don’t think I can trust that I could sense them with my mind.”

It was clear that Alex hadn’t forgotten any of the various tactics Jones had employed against them, but Michael in particular. A frequent repeated taunt was about how damaged their psychic abilities were for adults, to the point no one had sensed Caulfield, but that from his pod prison Jones could hear Nora calling for help nightly right until the end. The twisted knife of how Michael had grown up waiting for someone to save him. Alex pursed his lips to object, “Michael-”

“Jones was full of shit about a lot,” Michael assured him quickly, “but I think he was right about the ships, that it wasn’t just one that crashed. I’m just combing through stories, basically internet mythology, looking for clues about strangers who might have some sort of power. It’s a lot of ‘world’s biggest cucumber’ stories right now, but hey, come in, you’re the computer genius and I could use your help and your coffee.” He placed his hands on the coffee holder, carrying it for Alex and backed away from the steps to let Alex have as much room as possible to navigate the cumbersome metal steps into the Airstream.

The seating area of the Airstream had been folded away and stored in order to make room for the drying rack of his clothes from laundry day, leaving only his narrow bed for seating. Michael had half-a-minute’s pause in reconsideration. They could relocate outside to his fire pit with the cheap camp chairs, and sit pressed together elbow-to-elbow around the dim screen of the laptop between them. Or. Or they could squeeze together on his bed, a place where that sort of contact between them had always led to sex. What was the safer option for their friendship? 

His heart always strayed too far from the safety of his bones when it came to Alex. 

Ignoring his pounding pulse, he grabbed the coffee cup marked “Alex” and pulled it to his lips to drink and made a gesture to the bed. At least he had made the bed up earlier with clean linens, the spread was neatly tucked into the corners, almost military sharp. That made it feel slightly less risqué to him than inviting Alex into warm mussed sheets that reeked of Michael’s skin. That rain and bourbon scent that Alex had pointed out.

“Um, your coffee was the other one.” Alex picked up the abandoned cup marked with a ‘M’ and followed him over to the bed. 

“No, I’m drinking the coffee I always end up with. Your black tar juice.” 

Alex smiled slightly, caught out by the observation before gingerly sitting next to Michael as Michael scooted over toward the wall of the Airstream. “Yeah, I guess I do end up stealing yours.” He brought his left leg up easily on the mattress and then passed his coffee cup over to Michael’s waiting hands as he brought his prosthetic up with both hands for balance. The smile faded, as Alex reclaimed the ‘M’ cup to sip from deep in thought as he seemed to review the history of their morning encounters. “I’m sorry-”

“Alex, come on,” he teased leaning his shoulder against Alex’s. “You haven’t caught on by now? I only order that sugar monstrosity because I know you won’t let yourself do it. I don’t even like caramel that much.”

“What? Come on, that’s what you ordered that first time-”

“I ordered that for the director at the community center.” Michael placed his coffee on the window of the Airstream and concentrated on bringing the laptop back up to rest on his knees between them not daring to look at Alex. He would never be able to confess the next bit and see Alex’s too-expressive gaze at the same time. But. As he had reminded himself earlier, he needed to work on indulging in pleasures as well, not just holding on to the pylon weight of depriving himself, of never believing he was worthy of good things. And being Alex’s friend was that. A pleasure. A good thing. The best thing.

“Once I saw you though, I kinda forgot the errand I was on in the first place. Then, I might have gone back at the same time the next day. And the day after that. For reasons.” He glanced to the side, meeting Alex’s wide eyes briefly before turning back to the laptop. “So I guess it's my turn to apologize? I might have had an agenda.”

It was quiet between them, as Michael clicked through a few different forums. He wasn’t paying any attention to where his cursor landed, he just kept scrolling through window after window as a distraction because the urge to pull back, to crack a joke, to do anything but let Alex process in silence was hard to suppress but needed. That was a part of becoming friends, learning that Alex needed extra time to formulate a response, something that came from needing to shut all emotional responses off during a drone operation at work.

“Me too,” Alex replied softly. “About the agenda. I mean, I don’t even have a membership at that gym.”

Michael frowned, the words not making any sense to him.

“That first time was dumb luck, I mean, I stopped in that morning because I had stayed the night at Forrest’s for the first time and I found out he doesn’t drink coffee. Doesn’t even own a coffee maker.” Alex scoffed quietly, before leaning against Michael affectionately, “I should have known that it was doomed from the start, just on coffee alone but what really put the nail in the coffin was the fact I pretended to go to that gym for two months because I had a bag of clothes with me when you saw me.”

“That was your clothes from staying over with him,” Michael said slowly, almost to himself, before he frowned even deeper as the connections fell into place. He didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or not, but this was a new level of avoidance of an awkward subject for Alex.  It did make sense considering the timing, and maybe that was why he was confessing now to Michael because not that Michael allowed himself to show it, the early days of Alex’s relationship with the historian were difficult for him. He didn’t begrudge Alex being happy or being with someone else, but there was still an old, gnarled bit of Michael’s heart that pinched painfully at seeing the romance play out for everyone in Roswell to see. “Alex, I know you guys are dating, you didn’t have to lie about that and pretend you had gone to that gym.” 

“Were dating,” Alex patiently corrected. “Pay attention, Michael. I just said it was doomed from the start.”

“Because he didn’t drink coffee?”

“Because I was engaging in a deep cover operation that involved a fake gym membership, rescheduling my appointments to the afternoon and blocking out time in my mornings all, so I could see you.” The gears were still turning too slowly for Alex’s liking as he rolled his eyes at Michael and continued, “I ended it with Forrest about a month ago. Or well, he ended it with me because I was always too busy in the morning for breakfast and I never wanted to stay over at his.”

Michael blinked, then looked down at his laptop. The ancient fan and processor were making a soft whine of effort, much like his own brain at the moment. Alex was single. Alex has been single for over a month. A month where he didn’t mention it once during their get-togethers. 

Alex exhaled slowly, draining the latte before placing the cup out of range. “I’m really trying to use my words here, but you have exactly one minute to understand what I’m saying before I have to get creative-”

“Are you saying that you-”

“Yes-”

“Still want me?”

“I never stopped,” Alex reached for Michael’s hand, stilling the rapid clicking. “I came here because I wanted to be honest with you. It occurred to me that somewhere along the line, those meetups for coffee had basically become the most important part of my day. I … I was turning them into dates in my head. With you.” He licked his lips, his eyes drifting down to Michael’s mouth, causing Michael to bite his own lip in response. The anticipation between them thickened, until Alex groaned softly, his head briefly ducking toward Michael’s. “In the past, I’ve been guilty of thinking we were on the same page, and we weren’t, so I’m- Michael, I will still be your friend no matter what, but I want-”

This time, Michael didn’t let him finish and closed the scant distance between them on the bed to kiss Alex. The laptop fell to the side of their legs as Alex surged into it, pushing Michael down flat on the mattress in his eagerness. Michael opened for Alex, letting him have whatever he wanted and buried his fingers in the soft, black hair as they traded kisses.

Suddenly, a bubble of laughter burst from Michael’s chest, the lightness of the situation that felt almost too good to be real spread through his veins. “Oh my god, you brought me coffee to tell me that getting coffee together wasn’t just getting coffee for you, Alex-”

“Shut up!”

“You need a new job, nothing in intel, sweetheart-”

“I am, I did, that is.” Alex lifted his eyebrow at Michael’s too-still pause before he sweetly brushed the long stubborn curl out of Michael’s face, “Done with the Air Force as of next month.”

“Fuck me.”

“I can do that too.”

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (3/8)

If you’d like to read on AO3, you may do so here.

They were just passing over the border into Ohio when Lily shifted in her seat and felt the crinkle of photograph paper under her.

Monica Reyes, whom Lily had known only as an acquaintance of her parents, had pulled up to the house earlier in the day with a screech of tires and instructed both kids to grab any last minute things and get them into her car. Twenty minutes later, with the family’s two cats moaning plaintively from between them in the rear seat, they pulled under an overpass in the Springfield Mixing Bowl where both their parents were waiting with a new-to-them SUV and worried expressions. Her father had pulled her into a hug so tight, she’d been temporarily short of breath.

As the miles wore on, and they were assured that they hadn’t been followed, everyone in the car began to relax.

Will was sitting in the other captain’s chair in the back seat of the vehicle -- a black Yukon with Pennsylvania dealer plates -- he had headphones on and his nose stuck in a graphic novel. Her mother was asleep in the passenger seat, her head tilted on the headrest toward her father, who was driving, sunglasses on, now hours into a spell of highway hypnosis.

She pulled the photo out to finally give it a look and was surprised to see that it was a wedding photo. In it, her father was smiling without teeth, in a loose-fitting black tuxedo, a white rose boutonniere affixed to his lapel. He was looking down at the woman in his arms, the bride, who was only a few inches shorter than he was, a thin brunette who was most assuredly not her mother.

Lily had known her father had been married before -- she was over a year old when he’d married her mother and she had attended the wedding as a dandelion-haired toddler -- but it was something her father rarely talked about, and, she had suspected, not the happiest of times in Fox Mulder’s life.

She studied the woman in the photo curiously, seeing nothing that reminded her of her short, redheaded mother, who always looked intelligently -- sometimes aloofly -- at the world with a kind blue gaze. The woman in the picture held her head high, looking straight into the gaze of Fox Mulder, challenging but pleased, a victorious glint in her eye.

Lily tried to remember the woman’s name. Laura? Lauren? Something with an L.

Her father had always been a self-assured man, nearly always correct in his theories and assumptions. She wondered how he could have made such a major miscalculation as to marry a woman that was any less perfect for him than Dana Scully was.

She was intrigued.

With another look out the back windshield -- though her parents both said they were safe, she still felt mildly jumpy -- she shoved the picture back into her pocket as the mile markers flew by the window outside.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully is sitting on rock in a meadow, her bare feet spread out on the boulder below her, the rock sun-warmed and specked with lichen. Her stomach still has that full, bloated feeling of pregnancy, but when she looks down, her waist is concave, narrower than even in her prepubescent days. That tether of connection she felt with her children in her other pregnancies is still there, but it feels stretched out, pulling her eyes up and out to the meadow before her, where there is a small dark-headed child walking lightly through the wildflowers, its ice-blue eyes cast down, hands out to run lightly along the tops of the flowers it passes as it walks. She squints as the child approaches. It is a boy, she thinks.

The sky is a fathomless blue and there is no wind that she can feel, though the meadow before her undulates as though from a zephyr. She can hear the soft padding of the boy as he gets closer, the crunching of the wild grasses under his feet, their thin stalks whipping against the soles of his shoes.

When he gets to the boulder, he raises his eyes and looks at Scully without expression, then nods at her.

“Mother,” he says, formally.

“Hello child,” she says formally back.

His face shows no emotion, but his aura is warm, his face long like his father’s, with the same plump lower lip.

“May I join you?” he asks.

“You may.”

The boy crawls up onto the rock next to her and sits cross-legged, looking out over the swaying grasses and flowers, each delicate bloom turning its face to the child as though listening for what he’s about to say.

“What happens when the universe stops expanding?” he asks, and though he doesn’t look at her, she knows he expects her to answer.

“Maybe it collapses back on itself,” she hears herself say, “returns to the singularity.”

“That’s a reasonable answer,” the boy says, rising to his feet, “I can accept that.”

She wants to raise her hands to touch him, but her arms won’t move, and she starts to feel a quick surge of panic.

He jumps off the boulder and lands easily on the ground in front of her, then turns to look directly at her, maintaining eye contact as he leans down to pluck a flower and hold it out to her; a bluebell.

“Flowers grow from where dirt used to be,” he says, and then, in a much deeper voice, “wake up.”

She jolted upright in the passenger seat, the seat belt digging into her clavicle as she did so.

“Scully?” Mulder said, from her left, a hint of concern creeping into his voice. He reached a hand over and put it gently on her knee.

She took a deep breath, running a hand along the gentle curve of her belly, willing her heart rate to drop. She exhaled slowly then turned to look at Mulder.

“We’re here,” he said, nodding his head toward a modest looking house on a residential lane. The houses were close together, though not packed cheek-by-jowl. Small front lawns with large maple trees in front of each one, the new leaves just opening. There was a blue sedan idling in the driveway in front of them. The sun had just begun to sink below the horizon, one last ray shining in through the rear windscreen and onto the white hair of its driver. Scully glanced at the clock. It was nearly 9:00pm.

“Any sign of a tail?” she asked him, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

Mulder shook his head.

She heard the crack of a metal seat belt hitting the plastic door casing and turned to look into the backseat, where William and Lily were unhooking themselves to bend down and curiously peer through the windshield at the house. She caught William’s eye and smiled at him. He tentatively returned it.

“You guys stay here for a minute,” Mulder said and then shot a quick look at Scully, which she returned, nodding. Scully’s service weapon was in the glove compartment, and she did a quick calculation of how long it would take her to get it out and into her hands as Mulder jumped down out of the driver’s seat. He allowed himself a quick stretch and crack of the neck before he approached the driver’s side door of the sedan, cautious but confident.

After a quick conference with the driver through her open window, Mulder turned toward the SUV and beckoned them over. Scully and the kids tipped themselves out of the Yukon just as the woman opened up her door and heaved herself up and out of the sedan.

She was older, at least seventy, with a full head of bushy hair that had been pulled back into a ponytail, her midsection round. She wore jeans and a military style jacket (complete with about 30 various pins) and an ancient pair of Doc Martens that had once been black but were worn into a grey. She had the same nose as Frohike, but otherwise looked markedly different from her brother.

“Mrs. McDonald,” the woman said to Scully, giving her a significant look as she reached out to shake her hand. Right, Scully thought, my new name.

“Darlene?” Scully said, grasping the proffered palm and giving her hand a firm shake.

The woman nodded and looked to the kids.

“This is Lily,” said Scully, as Darlene shook hands with her oldest.

“Your name is Lillian now,” Darlene said, and Scully was happy to see Lily take it in stride, nodding.

“I like your jacket,” Lily said.

“You can have it when I die,” said Darlene, all business, who then turned to Will.

“Billy now,” she said, “You got a problem with Billy?” Darlene asked him as she reached for his hand.

“Not unless he’s got a problem with me,” said Will, giving her hand a firm shake.

Darlene turned back to Scully.

“You get to keep Dana,” she said, then turned to Mulder, “But you…” she said, turning to Mulder, “Do not get to keep Fox.”

“Pity,” he said, not sounding all that broken up.

“I’m sure you’ve seen from the documents Melvin gave you, but you’re Emmet now. Everyone can call you M. Hopefully it’s an easy transition.”

Mulder nodded, and Darlene looked at each of them in turn.

“Let’s head into the house,” she said, “I can answer any questions you might have.”

XxX

“The professor who lives here is on sabbatical abroad for a year,” Darlene said, ushering them into the house, “he and I go back quite a ways.”

She threw the lock on the front door and then dropped the keys unceremoniously into Mulder’s hand.

“Come on,” she said, sounding a touch impatient, though Scully was beginning to suspect that she always sounded that way. The woman made her way into the kitchen and the rest of the family followed like little ducklings all in a row.

“I’ve stocked the fridge for a few days, though I’m sure there’s some things I didn’t think of that you’ll need.” She pointed to a couple of credit/debit cards sitting on the otherwise empty kitchen countertop. “Melvin has moved your money around the world and back again. No one will be able to track it. Try to stick with using these cards if you can. If you need cash, use the University Credit Union.”

Scully nodded.

“I’ll need your old credit cards, check books, cell phones, laptops, anything they can trace…”

Mulder nodded his head toward the front door.

“They’re already in a box out in the car. Phones are off, SIM cards out.” he said.

“I’ll take them with me for safekeeping,” Darlene said with a curt nod. “There’s a landline here you can use until we get you set up with new phones.” She looked to the kids. “You all ever been on the run before?” The kids shook their heads. “Learn your new names. Call each other by them even when you’re in the house. Don’t even think of leaving the house until you’re convinced that’s always been your name. You cannot call your friends. You cannot call your family. You cannot log onto social media. Do not log onto anything using your old login information or password. In fact, it’s best if you stay away from technology full-stop.” At this, both kids froze a bit in their tracks and shared a look. “Start reading books for entertainment. God knows this house has enough of them.”

At that Scully looked around them at the room they were standing in, an open-concept kitchen/living room. An entire wall was covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves, each shelf filled to bursting with books of every shape and size.

“It’s going to be a big adjustment, but you have no choice. Do it or die.”

“O kay ,” Mulder said quickly, putting a hand on Darlene’s shoulder, and ushering her a little further into the kitchen. Scully took a quick assessing look at her kids, and could register an appropriate but not alarming amount of fear on their faces.

“Is there at least a TV?” Will asked her in alarm, and she shushed him, though hoped to god there was one. Both her children had inherited their father’s penchant to be underfoot when bored, and so help her, any moratorium on technology would not extend to the pre-90’s analog variety. And to think she had almost talked Mulder out of packing a box of their favorite old movies. She turned her attention back to where Darlene and Mulder were talking.

“For the first week or so, I’d like a nightly safety check-in, after that we can space them out. Call this number,” she slapped a magnet on the fridge and pointed to it. It looked like it was for a local pizzeria. “If everything is okay, just say you want a large cheese pizza for take-out. If things seem like they might not be totally kosher, order a large pepperoni. If the shit hits the fan, order a pizza with the works and someone will be out here to help you as soon as humanly possible.”

Mulder nodded at her, and she turned, holding up a finger as though she had another thought.

“If you do actually want to order pizza,” she said, “stick with Cottage Inn. The other places around here are shit.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Okemos, Michigan May 6, 2018

Scully heard Mulder awaken with the dawn, sliding out of bed in the periwinkle light. Not long after that, noises came filtering down the hallway of him in the kitchen, fumbling around the unfamiliar space, likely trying to make coffee with a new machine, and opening various cabinets in search of mugs. She dozed after that and came to consciousness however long later, finding Mulder standing in the window of the master bedroom with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, looking out at the backyard of the professor’s house, the new rays of the day slanting on his minky hair.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, searching by feel with her feet for the pair of slippers she’d left next to the bed the night before. She stood and walked slowly to her husband, whose head tilted slightly back as he heard her approach. When she reached him, she wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning into him, and he handed her the mug of coffee without a word.

She took a grateful sip, letting it slide hotly down her throat and he leaned down and kissed her hairline.

“It’s decaf,” he whispered.

“I appreciate the solidarity,” she said quietly back, and he smiled at her and turned back to the window. She handed the coffee back.

“I wonder how the kids slept,” she said after a quiet minute.

“They’re still sleeping,” he said, squeezing her gently into him.

“Mmm,” she said, an idea forming, and she raised herself up on her toes and pressed a kiss into the side of his mouth. He turned her until they were facing each other, their lips still connected. Finally he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.

“What kind of ‘Mmm’ was that?” he said, his voice low.

She nosed his cheek gently.

“What kind does it feel like?” she asked, and heard the quiet clunk of the mug being placed on the dresser next to the window.

She ran her lips lightly over the stubbly curve of his jaw, reading the story of him in Braille. She’d always been drawn to this gnathic arc of him, when he clenched in anger or passion, the stoutest line of his profile in situ.

For as long as they’d been together, even just the rasp of his skin on her lips still made her weak in the knees; a remnant echo of five years of pent up longing still reverberating down the hallway of their life. Two (plus) kids and a mortgage and her center still clenched when he whispered her name.

“My favorite kind,” he said and hoisted her up easily in his arms, her legs going around his waist with practiced ease.

Making love with him had always been revelatory, and these days were no different; her breasts more sensitive with the fluctuating hormones of pregnancy, her center swollen and aching with need.

Mulder moved them to the untested bed in this unfamiliar room, and as he ran a hand up under the soft silk of her pajama top and settled between her legs, it started to feel a bit more like home.

They probably had hours before the kids woke up -- the lethargy of teenagehood had settled soundly into their house -- but they still had a tendency toward sex of the quicker sort; stolen moments in rare downtimes, and now was shaping up to be no different.

Mulder had shed his clothes before she knew quite what was happening, and he began tugging at her pajama bottoms with a wicked smile on his face, which he buried in her lap before her pajamas hit the floor.

Pregnancy already had her as sexually restive as a tightly strung instrument and Mulder played her with his tongue with the familiarity and talent of a maestro. His hand on her breast, tongue laving at her ripe seam, before she knew it she was moaning into the pillow next to her head, practiced in the art of keeping quiet. She tugged on his hair twice, an old cue for him to get his ass where she wanted it, and a moment later he was sliding into her, the blunt head of his penis bumping into her tender cervix. Five deep strokes and she was gone, soaring into the heavens, his name on her lips.

[butternuggets-blog]

OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW BETTER

@baldwin-montclair @adowobsessed @sylverdeclermont @nicki-mac-me @thereadersmuse @kynthiamoon @adowbaldwin @profoundme444

@beautifulsoulsublime thank you for giving me a character design for my OC, and thank you @lady-lazarus-declermont for helping me pick a name!

Part Nine

Summary: Baldwin de Clermont manages to upset an ancient hag. He wakes up.. different.

It was inevitable really; the Congregation had to be told. Diana organised a video conference call, and paraded the reluctant trio in front of the laptop.

‘And you say the curse is transferable?’ asked Janet Gowdie. The witches had been eyeing them with deep interest; Satu Järvinen in particular looked positively giddy that her former allies had been rendered virtually helpless.

Diana was privately quite pleased that she had refrained from bursting into peals of hysterical laughter, because she looked like she was going to the second the conference call ended and she wasn’t entirely sure Gerbert wouldn’t have simply stormed out, booked a flight to Finland, and whipped up a mob of angry locals to help him tear her limb from limb.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the daemons were the most sympathetic. Baldwin bristled at Agatha’s pitying gaze, but her words were more biting.

‘Perhaps now you’ll come to appreciate our position a bit more’

Domenico snorted. Gerbert twitched. Baldwin looked away.

‘Again, it’s transferable? There’s nothing we can do?’

‘No’ said Diana, firmly, ‘If we tried I think the curse would continue transferring from caster to caster until every creature involved would be changed. Luckily, the situation won’t be forever, but we’d appreciate it if you could keep an eye out in case Verich shows herself again’

‘Of course’

There was a chorus of confirmations, and Diana cut the video feed.

‘Well, now that’s dealt with, I’m going out’ said Baldwin. Diana looked up at him, startled, and he rolled his eyes at her concerned expression.

‘Don’t worry, I’m only heading into town to do some Christmas shopping. I’ll be fine.’

________________________________________________________________

He was not fine.

Everything had started out alright. He had successfully navigated the busy congestion, paying careful attention to the hoards of screaming children, harried women and distracted men scurrying back and forth across the narrow streets, and parked the black SUV in an underground carpark just off the main square.

He’d walked around the corner, allowing himself to be caught in the tide of people headed forward, and had spent a pleasant hour meandering through the busy market stalls set up in the square to entice further business for local craftsman and the surrounding shopfronts.

Then he started to feel...off.

A lump of bile had risen up his throat that he just couldn’t swallow. He felt lightheaded, and kept skittering forward impulsively every time there was a break in the crowd.

After a further five minutes nervously zig-zagging around clusters of people, the crowd suddenly grew so thick that he was walled in on all sides.

Baldwin couldn’t breath.

He was, he knew he was, but it felt like his lungs were working double-time and taking nothing in. He froze, rooted to the spot, then suddenly bolted out through the press of people, shoving his way past until he breached the edge of the mob and flung himself into a wooden bench.

Five minutes, twenty; he thought he was going to be sick, trembling from head to toe, gripping the bench so tightly that his knuckles turned white. 

He had to get awa-NO, no, he had to stay-what was happening-run awa-

‘Open wide’

Baldwin let his jaw go slack and something cold and wet was pushed onto his tongue. He paused, confused.

Why do I have an ice cube in my mouth?

‘Wha ifher ‘n ‘scoob ‘n ma m’th?’

‘My name’s Livinia but my friends call me Liv. I’m pretty sure we’re the same age; did you know that bees can recognise human faces?’

Baldwin spat the cube out into his open hand. Liv handed him a tissue.

‘On average, people who complain live longer due to positive stress relief’

‘Hah! Then I’m going to live forever’

‘A bite from an African boomslang snake will cause your blood to come pouring out of every orifice’

Baldwin turned and stared at her, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

‘Eurgh, that sounds disgusting’

Liv nodded sagely, her hands reaching up to re-tighten the black hairtie wrapped around her messy bun. A few strands of chestnut hair escaped and dropped down over her eyes, but she pinned them back into place.

‘René Laennec invented the stethoscope because he wasn’t willing to put his ear against the chest of his female patients in order to listen for heart disease’

‘Very respectful of him’

Liv smelt faintly of potting mix. A black velveteen jacket covered in Hungarian embroidery was draped elegantly over her shoulders, complimented by a grey t-shirt and jeans. She was smiling broadly at him, faint laugh lines starting to settle around her dark hazel eyes.

‘Feeling better now? I hope so’

Baldwin blinked. He was surprised to find that his heart rate had come back down without him noticing, and his breathing was even.

He grimaced and rubbed his hands awkwardly together.

‘Sorry about that, I don’t know what came over me’

Liv was already shaking her head.

‘It’s tough, walking through a crowd. Especially at this time of year. No need to apologise.’

‘Still, I feel I should’

She nodded. ‘Well you have, so it’s done. By the way, you don’t have to leave just yet if you don’t want to; you’re not bothering me and I’ve got all the time in the world.’

Baldwin smiled at her.

‘Well, I suppose I could hang around for a few more interesting facts’

Liv chuckled, and Baldwin joined in.