#ugly hate it gonna go hunt to see if I can turn the shop off lmao I want easy access to my blog on the bottom

[blog--witch]

Wtf came on here so excited about the wizard worm only to find they replaced my blog with a store

[themoonmunchkin]

Don't look!

Pairing : Bakugo katsuki x gn!reader, Midoriya Izuku x gn!reader, Todoroki Shoto x gn!reader.

Genre : fluff

Warnings : insecure reader, cussing, savage deku?, kinda angsty but overall super fluffy ^3^

Synopsis : you're insecure about your side profile but they're having none of it.

Not gonna lie, he probably wouldn't even have known that this was an insecurity that people had.

So when you first start dating he wouldn't think much of it when you cover your nose while laughing or when you contour your jawline extra hard.

Until one day you start letting your thoughts get to you again, you think about how everyone around you have such a beautiful side profile.

You start wondering why Katsuki even bothers to be with someone as "ugly" as yourself, I mean has he seen his face.

But anyways you start distancing yourself from the world again, start hiding your face with your hair, have mental break downs in the night, refuse to take pictures and completely shut him out while thinking you're being subtle.

But no, no, no- my mans noticed...and he's currently having a full blown panic attack on the inside.

He's really worried at this point and starts thinking about what he's done wrong, he tries to talk to you but you're always making excuses and running away from him.

Now, he's had enough and so he quite literally barges into your dorm room and demands an explanation as he keeps shouting at you until....

.....he takes in your tear stained face with fresh tears forming at the corner of your eyes.

You were seated on the floor with a hand mirror clutched to your chest, the same one that you use to point out all your insecurities in, your phone is on the ground next to you with a picture of a model, her perfect side profile on display...the same one that you always compare yourself to.

Cue in a confused, angry and sad boom boom boy 😔.

Who the fuck had the audacity to make his baby cry hmm 🤬.

But then his anger vanishes just as it comes and before you knew it, he's shut the door behind him, quickly walks upto you, swoops you into his arms and cradles you in his lap.

"Ssshhh....its ok baby, I'm right here". Bakugo softly coos in your ear while running his fingers through your hair and letting his other hand rub your back. "Talk to me honey, what's wrong?"

You pull back a little and look up at him into his pain filled eyes that still hold so much love for you and that's when you tell him everything.

You tell him about how you've always hated your nose, how you've always wished you'd had a more chiseled jawline, how you've been bullied about your side profile by your peers and how you've never felt good enough.

He still doesn't get it because you're genuinely the most stunning person he's ever laid his eyes on, but understands how this is something that seriously bothers you and so he's gonna do everything in his powers to yeet those insecurities out.

Now Bakugo isn't one to lie or sugarcoat something, but he's also not someone who'll let you sit and hurt yourself like that.

He takes a deep breath, cups your cheeks in his hands and looks at you with the most earnest look on his face.

"Listen here baby, you're right maybe you don't have the most chiseled jawline or the sharpest nose out there-"

You winced at that a little but he was quick to speak again.

"I'm not done yet-" he closes his eyes and thinks for a second, words have never been his thing as he's someone who prefers actions instead but right now you needed more than just a kiss or a hug, you needed security and reassurance, so he takes in another deep breath and opens his eyes to look at you again.

"-just because you don't have those doesn't mean you're any less beautiful." He said with a smile as you curiously looked at him. You looked so damn cute to him all he wanted to do was pounce on you right then and there, but he held himself back for your sake and the next things he said made you fall in love with him even more.

"What you have suits your gorgeous fucking face, you don't have to change for any stupid extra and no one's opinion, not even yours is going to make me view you any differently or make me love you any less." He leaned in and gave you a chaste kiss on your lips that pretty much took your breath away and then he pulled back with a cute blush on his face.

"So from now on only listen to me okay and no matter what-" he kisses you again and pulls back a second time "-I will make you look at yourself the way I and so many other people look at you".

Now he's had his fair share of insecurities and he's had a lot of people call him "plain looking" (which I still don't understand how when he's got some of the rarest and most beautiful features) even then those words about his looks have never really got to him.

But when it comes to you, he immediately knows something's up with all those self-deprecating jokes you apparently find to be funny.

Doesn't question you cause he doesn't want to scare you away, also because he trusts you to come to him if something is wrong.

But alas you and your stubborn ass refused to seek help from anyone and instead you chose to cope with yourself by putting yourself down in the form of those awful "jokes".

You've always tried to get yourself to stop this, but it soon became more than a coping mechanism, it was the only way you could hold yourself up without wanting breaking into peices.

That was dangerous.

But it's ok! It's still all fine and dandy until one day everything changes and you realise that all that self-deprecation didn't do shit.

Its Sunday today and you and your boyfriend Izuku have been walking around the shopping plaza for a while now.

The two of you were on a date, but you were also on a hunt for the new all might merch that your boyfriend has been fangirling about since forever. So far there was no luck on your end but y'all weren't about to give up just yet.

"OMG! I think I see it in there!" Izuku squeals cutely while pointing at what looks like a moderately big comic store that had an emo cyber punk looking aesthetic to it.

*Gasp*..."OMG! I think I see it too!! Let's go!!" and with that you grabbed his hand and were dragging your blushy stuttering mess of a boyfriend towards the store. It was adorable how easily he got flustered even after how the two of you were almost half a year into dating.

The two of you finally reached the store and stepped in, there it was the brand new neon tinted holographic Allmight figuring with working layers. Izuku's eyes sparkled as he ran towards it and immediately snatched it off the shelf.

"Yay we finally got it!" You cheered as you walked over to him and gave him a high five. The two of you had bright smiles on your faces as you talked about the figuring and walked towards the counter to pay for it.

You looked towards the counter where a young girl who looked about your age was working as a cashier, she had this bored expression on her face until she saw your boyfriend and it immediately changed into something you could only call as a flirty expression.

"Hey there handsome~ what can I help you with today~" she said in a sultry tone and gave him a wink. You and izuku were both puzzled at the fact that she not only just openly flirted with your boyfriend but also completely ignored your existence.

"U-um....er....we just need this figuring please". Izuku placed the box covered figuring on the counter and was about to pull his hands back when she quickly grabbed them and cupped them with her own hands.

"You sure, how about I give you my number and we ditch this place to go get coffee."

"Um -uh no thank you, I have a s/o!"

"Hmm...I don't see them."

"Well I'm right here and maybe you'd have seen me if you'd stop flirting with your customers and did your job properly." You said and at this point you were seething because even though she knew you were right there, she hadn't spared you a glance and pretend like you were completely invisible.

"Oh, so that's who you are....I was wondering why such an ugly person would be hanging out with someone like him-" she pauses and looks into Izuku's eyes with a bored expression "-you need to raise your standards, I mean have you looked at how hideous their nose is or how ugly their face is."

The two of you froze. Sure You've always made fun of yourself before but this was the exact reason why. You've always told yourself that if you'd make fun of yourself, you'd be desensitized to what others say to you but it's only now you realize that no amount of preparation would ever be enough to handle the real thing.

Shame. Humiliation. Pain. Fear.....This is what you felt at the momen-

"How. Dare. You." You turned towards Izuku and for the first time ever you were met with the most terrifying expression on his face. His eyes were dark and he looked...mad....like really really mad and you froze, the cashier looked like she was about to cry with the look he was giving her.

"I don't know who you think you are but you had no need to say whatever you just said and you are wrong because they have the most gorgeous facial features ever." at this he turned to you and softened his eyes a bit, he reached for your hand and gave you a gentle squeeze.

"I promise you sweetheart, you will always be the most beautiful person in my life and no one can tell you otherwise-" he looked at the slack jawed cashier with disgust and pointed towards her "-not stupid people like her-" he looked back into your eyes like you were the only two people in the store and pointed towards himself "-not me and lastly never will you ever tell yourself those kinds of words again even as a joke, got it."

Always openly staring at you in the most respectful way ✨.

Even before y'all started dating he would always stare at you in secret, but hey! it's not his fault you were so irresistibly attractive all the time.

Uhm...so moving on, he is observant as heck especially when it comes to you but unfortunately he's just as oblivious T_T.

He's always noticed how you'd get shy and walk away whenever he'd stare at you for too long and genuinely thinks it's adorable at how bashful you get.

But truthfully.....you're mortified, paranoid even at how much he stares at you.

I mean yeah it's adorable to see him so whipped for you but you're always wondering if he's secretly bashing your side profile in his head and the thought makes you wince ever single time.

But you always tell yourself to not let your insecurities define Shoto or effect your relationship and besides Shoto isn't a cruel person, he'd never think of you that way.....right...?

Oh God, he's doing it again, he's staring at you and this time it truly is terrible because he is seated right beside you. The two of you are seated wooden chairs, side by side in the U.A. library.

Your textbooks and notebooks are spread out on the table in front of you. You're in a more secluded part of the library opting to study in a more private area and boy oh boy did Shoto take advantage of that.

"Shoto, could you please stop staring at me like that". You held your textbook upto your face and looked the other way.

"But I want to look at you". Shoto pouted slightly and furrowed his brows at your actions, he reached for your wrists and tried to pull them down and to much to your inconvenience, he succeeded.

You see, while you still had a bunch of work left to do, Shoto had finished about 15 minutes ago. You told him to go back to the dorms but instead of listening to you, he denied your offer and has been staring at you with the most unreadable expression on his face.

"Why can't I admire the one that I love the most". He slightly tilted his head towards the side and flashed you the most genuine smile. Damn him for being so adorable but that's not enough for your insecurities to go away.

"Because I'm ugly". You finally said softly with your head hung low and tears threatening to fall. You wanted to shrivel up in a corner and fade away for sounding so vulnerable but at the same time it felt so good to let your thoughts out.

"You're....what..." His eyes were wide and his jaw was set a slack. Now this took him by surprise, he had expected a lot of things but never once had he expected....that. He gently grabbed your chin and tilted your face to meet his. "Love, you're the most beautiful person I've ever met, why would you ever say that."

"Because I'm not beautiful, everyone has such a gorgeous face especially from their side. I don't and you don't have to lie to me to make feel better about myself. I know I'm ugly and I'll always be that....just let me accept that and be Shoto." You said with your voice slightly raised and shaky from the lump in your throat.

Shoto's eyes darkened a little and his grip on you tightened a little but not enough to hurt you. To even think that someone as precious as yourself could ever have such awful thoughts about yourself- how long have you been silently suffering like this all by yourself.

He cupped your cheeks with his hands and met your eyes with the most determined look on his face. "Darling, I don't know who said that to you or even if that's an inside voice but, I will absolutely never let you accept yourself this way."

"Everything about you is perfect, from those gorgeous eyes that i always get lost in," he kisses your eyes.

"-to that perfect nose that helps you breath so you could live by my side another," he kisses your nose.

"-to those delicate beckoning lips that I wish to kiss forever." he finally captures your lips in a breath taking kiss just to slowly release them and look at you.

"And besides, you know better than to call me a liar baby, you know that I would never lie when it comes to you so let's pack up for today and let me show you how much I love you and how utterly enticing you are."

[narrators-journal]

May I have this dance

So! This little ditty was inspired by This song, which I highly recommend. I adore the song, so I kinda took some inspiration for some writing. I hope you enjoy~ Every monster hunter had that one type of creature they hated hunting, it came with the job. For example, with Senku, Xeno's mentee, that creature was the Nymph, they were usually peaceful, but every once in a while they'd lash out at people for disturbing their territory or them when they were trees or whatever form they took, and Senku hated having to find which tree they were. For Xeno, he absolutely despised hunting vampires. Vampires were a hassle for the grumpy man to deal with. They were commonly hard to find in the populace, and even harder to lure out without drawing his blood and hoping the creature wasn't too wary. On top of that, Vampires commonly had some form of inhuman strength, which put the already somewhat weak hunter at a major disadvantage. That wasn’t even mentioning their ability to heal. Nevertheless, when he got called out on jobs to deal with his least favorite monster, he went out and dealt with them in some way and that was the extent of his confrontations with them. However, that pattern was broken one night when he wasn't even on a hunt for a blood sucker. In fact, the hunter wasn't even out on a hunt. He was simply walking home from the store one day while his apprentice was out on a solo job, he was carrying bags of food and drinks, not his usual backpack full of monster hunting equipment. That wasn't to say Xeno had nothing on him, he always had at least a stake on him to ward off any ballsy creatures wanting to take any sort of nibble, but he was in some sweatpants and a t-shirt, not even out of his hard-bottomed-slippers, he obviously wasn't out looking for any inhuman troublemakers. That didn't stop the nagging feeling of being watched from washing over the casually dressed man while he walked down the quiet, street,            "Whoever or whatever you are, give it up, I know you're there." he called, turning his head to look over his shoulder at the increasingly dark sidewalk behind him, but no one was there that he could see, but he could still feel their eyes on him, "I'll only warn you once, I'm a trained monster hunter, so if you think you can just convince me you aren't there and surprise me, you're gonna fail." He warned, once again to no reply. The snowy haired man simply rolled his dark eyes and turned back to continue down the sidewalk, but almost as soon as he did, he almost ran right into someone, making him stumble back briefly before looking up at the new person with a glare. The new person on the street was a tall man, somewhat broad and well-built, with fair skin and pale, nearly white, blonde hair. However, what caught his attention most, was the man's captivating, winter-blue eyes. They were honestly gorgeous, a captivating blue that made Xeno's head swim so much that it took him a moment to realize the man had spoken,              "Excuse me?" he asked, blinking rapidly for a moment to snap himself out of the spell and focus his thoughts,              "I asked why you were out here, doll." The man asked with a coy smirk on his dark-red-painted lips, where a currently-unlit-cigarette hung casually, but the hunter tried to not focus on the stranger's lips, instead, just crossing his arms to draw attention to the rustling plastic bag on his wrist. The stranger saw his shopping and snorted, "Ah, out buying dinner? How ironic, so am I," The man's suggestive, almost predatory purr sent a bolt of energy through the white haired hunter, but he repressed a shudder or anything that would give away the effect the tall, handsome man had on him, opting instead for eyeing the off stranger.              "That's pretty funny, well, the shop is down the street and around the corner," he informed him, not outright confronting him about his mortality status, but both of them knew the answer. Could be a sex demon, judging from the heightened attractiveness and trance I was just under. He mused, but he saw none of the tell-tale signs that the man was a legitimate demon of any sort, more likely he's a damned vampire though. Which WOULD just be my luck. The thought annoyed him, but he didn't say anything more to the oddball, just stepping around the tall monster to continue down the eerie sidewalk towards home. He got a few steps away when he smelled smoke and his ears picked up on the sound of boots hitting pavement, but not fading into the distance, instead they followed him until he finally stopped again and turned to glare at the stranger still following him.             "Alright, this little game or whatever you're doing has lost all humor. Fuck off, before I am forced to defend myself." he threatened, his free hand going to his pocket for the extendable metal stake he kept on him at all times, but all his warning seemed to do was amuse the smoking monster.           "Defend yourself? That's a new one for me," he hummed nonchalantly, breathing out another puff of smoke from his cigarette before continuing with blatant interest, "Most of my dinners aren't this aggressive," That set the hunter's teeth on edge for a moment, making him snarl at the monster,           "I'm not your fucking dinner," he spat, "And what exactly did you expect me to do? Cower and run?" The vampire shrugged at his question,            "Usually, my food does tend to cower and run, so I am used to that," he hummed, but his nonchalance was broken when the small man lunged at him and stabbed his metal stake into his side. After his attack, Xeno jumped back to where he'd dropped his shopping, scooping it up and standing up properly while his companion hissed and laughed tightly,            "Oh you really are a feisty one!" the vampire hummed, pulling out the stake and grinning wolfishly, seeming to get some sort of sick enjoyment out of Xeno fighting against him so much or the pain of his slowly healing stab wound. It honestly unnerved the hunter, but he hid it, simply preparing to grab a second stake while keeping his eyes glued to the creature in front of him, who simply tapped the ashes from his cigarette and staunched the bleeding until he’d mended enough to leave it be while he looked Xeno over and thought, "y'know what? Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I'll admit, I was being a bit aggressive, you were a bit aggressive in return. We're even now, so let's move past that and start over. Hi, my name is Stan, what's yours?" They stood there for a long, tense moment. The handsome stranger, Stan, watching Xeno with intrigue in his icy eyes, while the human scanned his expression for any hint of malicious intent or danger behind his words, but if he had any, it was well masked. Nevertheless, he stayed on edge, muscles tensed to dodge or attack if needed, using all of the possibly helpful knowledge he'd gotten from his time at college to attempt to not only sniff out any of the predator's plots, but also formulate an escape plan of his own. If he got attacked, he only had one weapon left to defend himself with, and he was no real match for the taller, stronger, inhuman blonde that looked down at him with a growing grin and a small stream of smoke spilling out of his lipstick'd lips every once in a while.             "No answer, huh? All out of vitriol, doll?" Xeno knew he shouldn't respond to the blood sucker, but the nickname hit a confusing cord, some humiliating mix of childish assumptions and contrasting offense, and the thought of Stan ramping up the embarrassing nicknames out of some sadistic enjoyment of messing with his food honestly scared the hunter more than the thought of letting out personal information in the moment.              "Quit callin' me fuckin' doll!" He snapped, barring his blunt teeth at the taller male,              "Well, I don't have any other name for you!" was the other's retort, "If you don't like my pet names, tell me yours." he continued, and the gleam in his eyes told Xeno that he already knew he had him trapped by the pride, so he just gave in and played along,              "My name's Xeno, now quit calling me doll,"              "Alright, sweetheart," Stan laughed as the college graduate reached for his second stake again, glaring daggers at the tall vampire until he put his hands up in mock-surrender, "Okay! Fine, fine, how about one last compromise? To end this little squabble and get some mutual fun out if." The only reply he got was narrowed eyes and a long stretch of silence.              "Fine. I'll compromise." The hunter finally relented after a long moment of debate, "But only because I fucking hate having to fight vampires." he clarified swiftly, getting an eye roll,               "Just admit you're curious, doll,”               "just state the fucking compromise." Xeno snapped, feeling his pale cheeks begin to burn slightly, inwardly grateful for the darkness while Stan rolled his eyes again,               "Look, we've got a small conflict of interest." He stated, "You don't want to be my dinner, but I'm now far too interested in you to just turn my back on this chance to feed on a cute, and as you said, trained monster hunter. So! I want to offer a fun little game," The dark-eyed hunter relaxed only a little at the mention of a game, but he didn't give him much leeway, so Stan continued, "It's simply tag. With the simple twist that if I catch you, I get to do whatever I want with you," Xeno narrowed his eyes and felt his cheeks begin to burn again, the pretty vampire was not trying to hide the flirtatious implication in his words, but asking about the wording felt like he was revealing information unnecessarily.             "I'm guessing that if I get home before you catch me, my prize is that i'm not eaten?" The predator nodded, making the smaller male huff, watching him crush out his cigarette for a fresh one while he mulled his 'compromise' over. This is a really dumb idea, he told himself, but then, that morbidly curious voice that loved to rear its ugly head to give him stupid ideas and questions to obsess over for days at a time spoke, but it would be a wonderful chance to get a glimpse into the instincts, abilities, and hunting method of a vampire. It could undoubtedly give vital information for later. That was all it took, Xeno knew he was doomed to yet another bad life choice, so he at least lessened the blow by whipping up some on-the-fly math and plotting. "Fine. Only if I get a five minute head start though." Once he got an approving nod from the vampire, the monster hunter turned on his heel and took off, his shopping abandoned to either make it home or be torn from the bag, he didn't care. Knowing his stamina wasn't the best, Xeno focused on pacing himself and trying to get as far away from his pursuer as he could in his small window of time, Judging by his playful attitude so far, he might not jump right to catching me. He's likely to toy with me like a cat would, give chase and tire me out before pouncing, He reasoned as he turned the corner onto a street just a medium sprint away from his home, That, paired with the fact that my earlier attack's wound won't heal for another seven minutes after this head start, should buy me just enough time to make it home. So long as I don't trip, I can get away from him. He told himself, using his logic and reasoning to keep himself calm when he finally heard Stanley giving chase. His five minutes were up. He couldn't exactly hear the vampire as much as he could sense him. Relying almost solely on his years of experience in killing and confronting his kind, the college graduate could estimate where the blood sucker would be and how far behind he'd stay. For the moment. And while it was helpful that his assumption seemed to be right, the monster would play with him first, the simple fact that he was being hunted messed with his nerves a bit. Nonetheless, he pressed on. Just as his fence-less backyard was in view though, he felt his pursuer finally closing in. At that point he couldn't hear Stan's foot steps even slightly over his thundering heart beat drowning other noises out. But, Xeno knew he had another three minutes of running in himself, and the blood sucker was sure to recognize the signs of that. So, the snow-haired man had to turn to his first drastic plan. See, if he fully sprinted and took off on the last of his stamina and pure prey-instincts, he could make it home in four minutes, which was still a bit too far, but he didn't have much other choice to avoid being eaten. so, before anymore of his energy was burned, the hunter tapped into his reserves and took off in a full sprint. On the grace of the vampire's surprise and his years of outrunning high school bullies, Xeno managed to make it to his yard. However, Stan was right behind him. So, without thinking of anything but survival, Xeno made one final drastic move and launched himself through the sliding glass door of his back patio. He crumpled bonelessly to his kitchen floor as soon as his feet hit the tile, but he didn't stop himself. Not even when the shards of glass he landed on and slid across slashed at his skin and clothes, because he knew that without verbal permission, his predator couldn't enter the house. So, Xeno let himself smile at the glowing ice-colored eyes of said predator as he loomed in his doorway, forbidden from even reaching out to grab the tantalizingly close piece of prey           "Looks like you lose, Stanley," Xeno taunted after catching his breath a bit, but all the blonde did was smile, his eyes alight with the thrill of the chase and an unnerving giddiness,           "I never said when the game would end, Xeno."

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Shots and Guilt

First, Previous(Chap. 23), Ao3

Word count: 3610

Warnings: Gun, Blood and Injury, (kinda) Torture, Knives, Bloodlust, Smoking, Underage Drinking, Drinking and Driving, Gore, Skipping a Meal, Alcohol (even more of it), Guilt, Choking, Mention of Past Murder, Panic Attack, Self Harm

This really isn't a nice chapter. If anyone needs it I can make a summary of it. Just leave a comment or send me an ask if that's the case. Stay safe.

Virgil listened to the sound of the rain pattering against the car and the radio woman report what had happened in Aunt Lian's block earlier this night.

Glitch monsters.

He dug around the glove compartment until he found Uncle Remy's cigarettes, hidden under the ammunition, lit one and took a drag. He watched the smoke curl and opened the window just by an inch to release it into the night.

Destroyed street lights.

He glanced at the Seven11 Remy had disappeared in about half an hour ago and lit his lighter again, watching the tiny flame dance in the stale light of the car lamp.

Messed up electronics.

A shadowy figure stood next to his window and Virgil glanced over at them. They were holding a knife. Good for them.

"Fuck off," Virgil mumbled tiredly and took another drag.

"Open the car door if you know what's good for you, kid," the guy demanded.

Virgil couldn't help but chuckle at that. He took his feet off the headboard and sat up slowly.

"If I know what's good for myself? If you know what's good for yourself you're going to fucking piss off now!"

"Kid-!" he thrust the knife at the window gap and Virgil kicked open the door hitting them square on the chest. They stumbled back and growled. "I'm going to fucking kill you, brat!"

Vigil stepped out of the car, taking the butterfly knife and the colt from the glove compartment with him.

"No, you're not," he stepped on his cigarette to put it out.

The robber was big. About twice as tall and five times as wide as Virgil, all muscles and heavy bones.

But at the sight of the gun, he froze. An uneasy smile took the place of the angry grimace.

They were in a lonely and dark parking lot. Nobody would look out of the window if they heard a gunshot or scream.

"Kid, don't do anything you're gonna regret. I'm part of the Trulow family. They're gonna hunt you down if you shoot me. No ones gonna find you're body! I bet yer mother's gonna get worried sick if her kid doesn't come home!"

Again Virgil laughed humourlessly.

The rain was cold on his skin and his hair stuck to his face and neck but he couldn't care less. There was that feeling in his chest again that he knew Papa knew well, even if he never wanted to talk about it, the feeling he couldn't imagine living without even after being told a thousand times that it wasn't normal, that he wasn't supposed to talk about with people outside of the family. That intoxicating feeling - better than any liquor, pills or joint but no less dangerous. "It's what makes our kind what we are," Uncle Emile had once said. The man across from him knew it too. Virgil could tell. Otherwise, he wouldn't flinch back. Wouldn't be able to see it in Virgil's smile and his every movement like a bloody red threat.

The bloodlust felt like a promise in his lungs.

"Jokes on you," he slowly walked towards the man. "My mothers dead. And if you're really a Trulow, how come I've never seen you on the Christmas card? I'm sure I'd remember a face as ugly as yours."

"What-?" the man stumbled backwards.

"If you want to make it in this city you really ought to learn who to threaten and who's out of your league. You're just another sewer rat. I'm like a motherfucking prince to you."

The man fell back on his ass, crawling backwards.

"Run along now, rat. Wouldn't want mommy to worry, would we?"

The man scrambled to his feet and turned to run.

Virgil raised the gun, aimed and fired.

A scream cut through the air as the man crashed into the concrete.

He sobbed and whimpered, staring at the blood sprayed over the ground as if he couldn't believe it was his. As if the realisation that there was now a hole where his foot connected to his leg hadn't quite made its way into his thick head yet.

"Sorry," Virgil said as he got closer and knelt down next to him. "Couldn't resist. You better not tell my Pa about this."

He dug his hand into the wound until his fingers found the bullet, ignoring the pained screams.

"He hates when I use guns. Which I honestly don't get. I mean, he uses them all the time! Bloody double standards," he inspected the bloody bullet in his hand.

"Who- Who the fuck are you?" the man sobbed.

Virgil grinned. "Have you ever heard those rumours? About Professor Logic having a child?"

The man's eyes widened in terror.

Virgil heard the doors of the Seven11 slide open and stood up.

Remy raised an eyebrow as he got closer.

"Jesus, can't I leave you alone for five minutes?" he asked.

"That was half an hour. And he started it. He wanted to rob the car or something. I only used one bullet if that's what you're worried about," Virgil tossed the gun over to him and Remy caught it in his free hand.

"Whatever. Just get in the car, hon. I got slushies and alcohol. We can stop at Crispy Creme if you want to."

"Sure," Virgil picked up the knife the would-be robber had dropped and jogged back to the car. "I hope they have warm doughnuts."

"They better. Oh, and there should be some baby wipes in the glove compartment. I'm not letting you eat with that guy's blood on your hands. Who knows what's been in that-? Wait, did you steal one of my cigs?"

"...No," Virgil claimed and was suddenly very interested in cleaning every crevice of his hand.

"Don't fucking lie to me. Just don't smoke in the car next time and ask before you take one. Emile doesn't like when the car smells," Remy handed him one of the slushies.

"Sorry," Virgil took a long sip until the pain of bain freeze bloomed behind his forehead before digging around in Remy's bag until he found the alcohol..

"Pour me some in too, would ya?"

"Sure," Virgil unscrewed the cap and poured some in his own then a bit more in Remy's cup. "More or is this good?"

Remy glanced over at him.

"Who the fuck do you think I am?"

"More it is."

"Exactly."

"I swear you're that "Two shots of vodka" vine," Virgil shook his head.

Remy chuckled. "I take zero offence to that. Also, I gotta make sure you don't drink too much. You have school tomorrow."

"You're literally drinking and driving. And I'm going to school trollied tomorrow whether you like it or not."

"I think this is why your father hates me."

"He doesn't hate you. He can't. You and Uncle Emile are like his only friends."

"Doesn't he also have that flower boy?" Remy pulled into the Crispy Creme's parking lot.

"That's his boyfriend," Virgil corrected and took another sip. Slowly he felt the alcohol kick in.

"You mean your new father, then?"

"I guess. Not officially yet but hopefully soon. He's nice. On the other hand, if he moves in I'll have to hide my skull collection."

Virgil followed Remy out of the car and into the shop.

The sugary sweet smell of warm doughnuts filled the air.

Remy bought a box, tipped a twenty and pulled Virgil back out with him.

"I'm not letting you drink any more," he decided. "You're not going to school drunk, kid."

"Yes, I am. Fuck off and give me a doughnut."

"Either you stop drinking or you don't get any doughnuts."

Virgil glared at him and took a doughnut.

"Fine."

---

He still had a headache when he went to math class later.

He wasn't sure if it was just the hungover or also something else.

Not that it mattered. He had already learned the shit, the man, whose name he couldn't remember, was explaining incredibly badly at the blackboard.

Instead of paying attention he stared blankly out of the window.

Slowly the sleep deprivation was also starting to catch up with him, making his eyes heavy.

Janus had texted him that they wouldn't be coming to school for the day, which made it even more dull than usual.

He should have stayed drunk.

Then it at least would've been somewhat interesting.

Virgil woke up again to the sound of the school bell. He blinked a few times, trying to reorient himself and sighed.

At least math was over.

His next lesson was English, then Chemistry.

Or maybe he should just skip.

It wouldn't make a difference.

Maybe he could find a nice spot for the graffiti design he'd come up with based on the last body he'd found in the sewers.

The rats had eaten the fuckers stomach out and Virgil had set the eyebrows or rather what had been left of the eyebrows, on fire before taking a few pictures for reference.

He'd just have to come up with something for when Janus asked where he'd gotten the idea.

Virgil left the classroom and ducked into the nearest bathroom, locking the stall door behind himself before climbing out of the window. He wondered briefly how long it'd stay locked before someone noticed that it wasn't occupied at all. Probably at least until the toilets were cleaned. Whenever that'd be.

A sports teacher was preparing a lesson by the tracks but she was too focused on the task at hand to notice Virgil sneak to the fence and climb over it. He gave the school a middle finger over his shoulder as he walked away. For all he cared, every single person in there could go fuck themselves. Especially the principal.

Papa was working - at the university today - so Virgil went home to drop off his backpack and picked up his graffiti bag, headphones and the sketchbook he'd drawn the design in..

He strolled through the streets of downtown, avoided a few coppers and took an underground to take him wherever. As long as there were big empty walls there he didn't care.

He got out at the sixth stop.

Virgil didn't make a habit of spending time uptown.

Occasionally maybe, for family celebrations or when he and Janus planned heists but other than that he stayed in the part of town he had been raised in.

But that didn't mean that he didn't know the streets and alleyways, the shops, public buildings and skyscrapers made of glass, like towers out of a fairy tale. Papa was of the firm opinion that knowledge was power and he'd made sure that Virgil knew everything he needed about Woethough.

It didn't take him long to find a good wall.

The back of the main police station was just painfully boring.

Virgil pulled the half mask he used for vigilante business over his face, partly to avoid someone seeing his face and partly because of the fumes. Then he opened the sketch book and pulled two spray cans out of his bag, shaking them.

This'd be fun.

He worked far slower than usual, the anxiety over being spotted by the damned pigs making him pack up the cans he wasn't using immediately, so he'd be able to make a quick escape, and check for witnesses every five minutes.

By some miracle no one came by. For a while, he had the insistent feeling of being watched but couldn't find anyone.

He watched the flames, body and rats take shape with every colour he added until he got to the point where more would only make it worse.

Virgil took a few steps back and grinned. He signed it with his usual spider and took a photo to send Janus. They weren't online so he didn't bother waiting for a reply and packed up his stuff.

It was around noon now and he was getting hungry but ignored the feeling. He could eat later.

Instead he walked around some more, pickpocketed a businessman he recognized from TV - Mr Grimm or something like that - and bought a few new markers from the stolen money, before climbing onto the roof of a library to test them out.

At eight he took a train back to downtown.

It was already dark thanks to autumn finally taking over properly and most other teens were probably either suicidal, gang members or at home.

This was the beauty of the city.

As soon as the sun went down the few laws that were actually followed became meaningless.

Now the city belonged to the street rats and the lawless. They were all animals. From the racoons and possums, over the henchmen and thieves up to the mafia and his family.

All animals.

Hungry for blood.

Greedy and destructive.

Virgil absolutely loved it.

He passed a few of Uncle Jeremy's men beating up a cop with a crowbar in an alleyway, greeting him as he passed, watched a woman smash a chair over the head some guy who had tried to grope her, dishevelled and angry, and grinned at the raven and racoon, which were fighting viciously over some small animal one of them had killed.

There was a light burning in the living room when he got home. Not the ceiling light - it was far too muted for that.

He unlocked the front door and shut it behind himself. It was warm in here.

"I'm home!" he called, taking off his shoes and jacket.

No reply.

"Papa?"

Still no reply.

Virgil frowned, waiting for a moment longer and went into the living room.

Papa was slumped on the couch, fingers tracing an empty glass. Next to it on the table was an empty bottle of whiskey, that Virgil knew had been more than half full just this morning. He'd opened it after all.

Slowly Papa looked up as if only noticing him standing in the doorway now.

"...V'gil," he slurred.

"How much did you drink?" Virgil asked with a frown. He couldn't remember ever having seen Papa drunk.

He blinked at the bottle and gestured vaguely with one hand. "J'st a little."

Virgil sighed.

"Well, you clearly had enough. You're fucking trollied. Let's get you to bed, shall we? You'll hate yourself for this tomorrow, you know?"

"Already do," Papa mumbled as Virgil put his arm over his shoulder to support him.

Papa leaned on him heavily and Virgil staggered under the weight slightly but managed to bring him to the stairs, where Papa could also hold onto the bannister, taking some of the weight of his shoulders.

"You look so much like your mother," Papa suddenly said, just as they reached the second floor and Virgil almost let him fall in surprise.

Papa didn't talk about her.

He never did.

"She had her hair like that for a while too," Papa continued. "Then she grew it out longer. She looked so beautiful. Like an angel."

Virgil kicked open the door to Papa's room.

He didn't say anything, almost forgetting how to breathe. Papa was actually talking about her.

Carefully Virgil let him slide onto the bed and ducked to take off his shoes.

"I didn't mean to kill her," Papa said, anguish in his voice as he began combing through Virgil's hair with one hand. "I really didn't. I  just- I just wanted to scare her."

His hand slid over Virgil's cheek slowly and even though Papa was looking at him Virgil had the feeling that he wasn't seeing him.

No.

Papa was seeing her.

"I didn't think it'd be that fragile," Papa's hand slid down further and settled on Virgil's neck. A jolt of panic shot through him. "I didn't think it'd break that easily."

Papa began to squeeze.

"I just grabbed her and pressed down."

His grip began to hurt and Virgil tried to gasp for breath, clawing at the hand on his throat.

"And then she was dead. Just like that."

Blackspots appeared in Virgil's vision and he swung out wildly.

His fist hit Papa on the temple and he collapsed onto the bed.

Virgil gasped and coughed, stumbling back towards the door and slammed it as soon as he was on the hallway.

He still couldn't breathe.

Why the fuck couldn't he breathe?!

His vision swam, from tears this time instead of lack of oxygen.

Was this how she had felt?

In her last moments, getting choked by the man she had loved and trusted?

He didn't want this. This panic in his chest keeping him from breathing and making the world around him blur. At least not because of Papa. Not him. Never because of Papa. Papa was supposed to be safe. Papa protected him. Papa helped him calm down.

Papa had just tried to kill him.

Virgil sobbed.

Papa had tried to kill him the same way he'd killed her.

Virgil barely remembered to grab his jacket as he ran out, slamming the front door and running down the dark street.

He stopped at the North Bridge and collapsed against the railing.

The air was now so cold it almost burned in his lungs as he finally managed to take a breath. His throat hurt. He carefully wrapped his hand around it. It'd bruise.

 "You look so much like your mother."

Virgil stumbled on through the streets. His reflection in a dark shop window caught his attention and made him stop.

His cheeks were streaked with black.  His eyes were covered almost completely by messy black hair.

So she had had shoulder-long hair at one point.

Virgil grabbed a hand full of hair and pulled at it until a few strands ripped off.

He stared down at them.

He didn't want Papa to see her in his place.

The lights of another store, also reflecting in the shop window he was standing in front of caught his attention.

Did they have bleach there?

He crossed the street.

The shop was empty and Virgil was barely aware of the song playing over the speakers, so quiet that it was drowned out by his mind.

He grabbed two cartons.

Bleach and the first hair dye his hand touched. He didn't care. He had no idea what colour her hair had been. He just didn't want black.

He didn't bother to wait for his change as he handed the cashier a twenty and fled the store.

Back at home, Virgil locked himself in the bathroom and ripped open the bleach carton, barely skimming the instructions.

The chemical smell filled the room as he spread it over his hair and when he was done he had to open a window to breathe.

He set a timer on his phone and busied himself with washing off his make up while he let it set.

Once he was done with that he began pulling at the skin of his arms and digging his nails into the scars to keep his thoughts from spiralling again.

The timer went off and he rinsed his hair out.

It was almost white now.

He ripped open the secong carton.

Purple.

For fucks sake.

He spread it over his hair, careful to get it everywhere.

If he was going to look stupid he might as well make sure it wasn't splotchy.

He wasn't hungry anymore but he still went into the kitchen and warmed up some soup, forcing himself to eat, despite the gag reflex that kicked in a few times.

Then he washed his hair again.

He didn't bother looking at the result before he grabbed the razor and scissors. Once he was done he pulled on a turtle neck to hide the forming bruise, poured a glass of water and grabbed an aspirin.

For a few minutes he stood in front of Papa's door, frozen until he managed to go in, put both items on the nightstand and immediately flee again.

Then he once again grabbed his jacket and left, locking the door behind himself.

He wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. At least not if he stayed here.

---

A knock on the window snapped Janus out of the half-asleep half-awake state they'd been in for hours.

Slowly they stood up, the floor cold against their bare feet, and frowned at the figure in the window.

They grabbed a glass water bottle as a weapon and cautiously opened it.

The figure slid inside.

"Virgil?" Janus frowned and set down the bottle. "The fuck are you doing here?!"

"You owe me," Virgil rasped. "Five nights. From that bet."

Janus blinked, their brain catching up slowly.

"The one we made for my parent's wedding?"

Virgil nodded.

He was upset. Even in the dark Janus could tell.

They closed the window, cutting off the cold draft, and Virgil took off his shoes.

For a moment they contemplated what to say.

They were sure that something had happened.

They just didn't know what.

"I won't ask," they finally said, "but if you want to talk... I'm here for you, okay?"

Virgil nodded.

"Thanks."

He didn't say anything else. His voice was hoarse.

Janus led him over to their bed and climbed in, letting him follow.

He'd cut his hair.

It also looked lighter than usual, though they couldn't be sure in the bad lighting.

Janus had almost fallen asleep again when they hear a muffled sob.

They looked over at Virgil again.

He was crying.

So something bad had happened.

For a moment they hesitated before they wrapped their arms around Virgil and pulled him against their chest.

"It'll be okay," they promised.

Virgil just latched onto them and buried his face in their shirt.

Next

Taglist:

@patton-cake , @isabelle-stars

[nightybreeze]

Sound of Fury

Original female character/Billy Hargrove

A/N - I've created it with a Lady Macbeth/Macbeth dynamic in mind. I'm gonna try incorporate that into this fic as we go along. This is gonna be a long series. You could call it a slow burn but in terms of the plot. But I promise I'm pouring my heart and soul into this thing.

Summary: Action takes place in the season 2 of stranger things.

Word count: about 2 200 words

Chapter 1

Smash of the door. The twist of the key. Loud roar of the engine. Sudden rush of adrenaline that made goosebumps rise up on her skin. And then quick and daring take off.

The feeling was nearly invincible each and every time, but in its steadfast nature it never failed to bring a little bit of joy to her heart. As the machine accelerated it felt like taking a shot directly to the veins. And then what came next was just a steady, subtle drift that set her off into the wide blue. Mika in those moments was finally able to relax. Could forget about the sombreness of the reality that sourrounded her. Even if it was just a second, she could finally get a glimpse of how it felt to be truly free. The wind grizzled into the girl's ear and winnowed wildly through her hair to the beats of hard rock music coming from the radio. As the next track blasted out from the speakers, Mika was quick to recognize the piece. The song began with a distinguishable, descending tetrachord in a form of slow tremolo. It repeated itself a couple of times before the second guitar and the drums joined in. Soon enough, the lead vocalist started singing. Mika tightened the grip on the steering wheel and clenched her jaw in response. On paper the song seemed her type: full of energy and spark, quick-paced, with off the chain solos. If it was not for the lyrics, it would surely land on one of her personal cassette tapes. The persona came across as someone with real naive worldview and it was enough to struck her nerve. It didn't take a minute before she was speeding up.

𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘫𝘰𝘣

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘴

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭

'𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰

𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘬 '𝘯 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭 

She pushed the gas pedal even harder placing her well beyond the speed limit. As the song was reaching an end, she pushed the brake and sharply turned the wheel. The car smoothly slid across the street, making a one-eighty, and with a screech of the tires came to a halt. Mika didn't bother to move it closer to the pavement, it was good enough. She turned off the radio, released the keys and heedlessly slammed the door after leaving the vehicle. The girl entered the liquor store. She didn't seem out of place. She's been here many times before and it was like she had had every right to it. She was confident that nothing would ever jeopardise the purpose of her being there. Mika grabbed a standard-sized bottle of cheap tequila and went over to the counter. She noticed that the man behind it wasn't someone she recognized. She quickly then grabbed the ID from her pocket and casually flashed it at the shopkeeper while handing him her drink. The salesman glanced at it.

𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘢 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯

𝘔𝘢𝘺 13𝘵𝘩 1962

Soon enough she was settling up the bill and on her way out of the store until suddenly a police officer entered the shop. He scanned the place with his eyes before giving Mika a suspecting glare. The girl tried to manoeuvre around him but the cop didn't let her.

- Woah, woah, woaaah there young lady. Not so quick - he said stopping her in her tracks - Is it your car outside the building?

It took her a second before collecting herself.

- Yes, sir, is there a problem? - she said calmly while fluttering her lashes and giving him the world's fakest smile.

The officer didn't seem to notice, she was a true pro.

- It's parked incorrectly. It's disturbing the traffic.

Mika looked above his shoulder. There was no traffic outside.

- I'm terribly sorry, I was just about to leave! It won't happen again, sir - she sighed dramatically.

She tried to take a step forward but the officer held her back.

- I'm afraid I'll be forced to check your ID

Mika's heart sped up a beat. She knew she could be busted. On the other hand her calm demeanour seemed unbothered. She glanced at him, smiled and quietly passed him the card. She took a peek at cop's badge and then noticed a couple of thick, white hair strands on his uniform. Just as the officer was about to get a closer look, Mika chimed in.

- Oh gosh, you've got a dog, Mr. Brown? - the girl asked cheerily, trying not to tip off her immense frustration.

- Am I that obvious? - the man chuckled while trying to examine the ID

- You struck me as the type - she said smiling innocently and after a short pause added - It's nice to meet a fellow dog person.

That was of course a plain, ugly lie -  the best card she could play at that very moment. She figured the best way to distract a man is to have him start talking about himself.

- So what's his name? - she asked but she couldn't care less

- Her - Officer Brown corrected - Becky. A pitbull. Loyal little beastie.

Of course, she thought, what else could have she expected than a national pride that is a fighting ring dog.

- I sure hope she is.

The cop seemed like he was about ask something, but he was then quickly interrupted by another male voice coming from behind the girl.

- Jerryyy!! What's good, is your wife alright?

Jerry Brown looked up and Micheala turned around to see another man who freshly left the back.

- Old Nick! Yeah the migraines finally stopped and she's better now.

- Say, what brings you here today? - Nick said while eyeing the girl up with concern

- Nothing much, just duty, sir.

- Duty, ey? - shopkeeper gave Mika a knowing look - Did the girl do something?

- I think she's too young to be buying stuff here. And besides, her car isn't nowhere near the sidewalk.

- Awh you know how women are, their parking is horrible, they shouldn't be driving in the first place

Mika furrowed her eyebrows at Nick but the man just gave her a sheepish grin in response.

- Tell that to Sarah! - Jerry laughed, clearly entertained - She's insisting on getting a driver's license. Can you imagine?!

The two men burst out laughing in unison. After a couple of seconds they stopped and then carried on with their conversation for another good minute or two. Mika stepped to the side, clearly bored. She was considering running off to her car and just driving away.However she didn't want to get in trouble with the police again and besides, Jerry still held her ID captive. Nick saw that and that was his cue to finally get to the point.

- So whatcha gonna do about... - he paused focusing his eyes at Mika

- The girl? I don't know man. What if she's underage? - the cop Jerry raised the card with his hand, recalling that he still hasn't properly inspected it yet.

- I assure ye, she's not. Mika's my loyal customer since she hit 21! She wasn't showin' her ass here before.

The police officer looked at the ground lost in thought. Then glanced to the side at Mika and back again at Nick and sighed.

- You'd vouch for her?

Nick hesitated for a second but after that a wide grin crept onto his face.

- Yeah, I would.

And that was enough for the officer Jerry to resign from his witch hunt. He moved aside to stand in front of the girl and finally handed the ID back to her.

- Here you go Miss, sorry for the inconvenience.

He left the store and called out from the outside.

- Practice your parking!!

Mika was so done with this whole situation but she managed to put on a one last smile.

- Sure thing, officer!

And with that it was over.

She wasn't this close from being caught by the police since her late evening trip to the pub near the centre - a foolish decision on her part. This wasn't New York. Not only was she the only woman at the bar, she was the only young woman at the bar. She managed to talk her way out of it of course, but the encounter still left a sour taste in her mouth. "Cops" she thought. "Always acting like they're noble and benevolent. Like they don't have anything better to do than meddle with somebody else's fucking business instead of doing something that is actually important".

Micheala stood there seconds longer, following Jerry with her eyes. After a while she grunted at Nick.

- You should've let us be.

She had it under control, she didn't need his help.

- You're welcome? - the man raised an eyebrow at her visibly amazed.

- I had it handled! - the girl scoffed.

- Like shit you had! I've saved your sorry ass, some words of appreciation would be nice.

Mika looked at him with hateful eyes, her pride hurt.

- Didn't ask for your help - she murmured quietly under her nose as she turned around and pushed the door open.

She walked outside but Old Nick quickly rushed after her.

- Hey, hey, Mika don't be like that - Nick closed off on her, undeliberately catching the girl's attention - I know you don't do well with that kind of talk, I'm sorry, okay? I just wanted you to be safe. Wasn't too keen on getting in trouble for selling booze to a minor either. You understand that, right? - he looked at her with pleading eyes.

She did, yes. It was his store after all. Mika was a little mad at herself for snapping like that. She just really hated being given favours though. She sighed.

- Yeah.

     Thanks Nick.

***

The girl arrived back home - a shithole that was looking same as always. Except at the house on the opposite side of the street were parked two cars. Which wouldn't be anything worth noting, but the 5280 Cherry Street stood empty since Mika came back from college a couple of months ago. At least it's what she recalled. So yeah. A bunch of new shitty neighbours. If her mother made her bring them a "welcome pie" she swore she was going to murder someone. Or she'll just end up throwing it in the dumpster as a big ol' "Fuck you". Or eating the thing herself. She's not decided which out of those three ideas appealed to her most.

Mika leaned against the trunk and lit up a cigarette. She spied some figures moving behind the window curtains.| "Please, don't borrow any fucking sugar". On a further inspection she noticed that one of the cars parked outside, the blue one, was a Camaro. "Right, another pathetic male playing macho" Suddenly a front door swung open. A boy came out of the house. He strot in a hurry. Mika took a nice, long drag of her cigarette. The boy was young, approximately her age. Pleasantly looking. She stared intently at him as he made his way to the blue Camaro. "Of course" - she thought as a slight grin crept onto her face. The boy wore the most generic bad boy hairstyle, a pair of tight, midwash jeans and a black crew neck. He seemed irritated, quite over the edge. But then again, maybe it was just his bad boy facade.

She let out a big puff of smoke.

Okay, yeah, he was handsome. He looked like taken out of a goddamn TV screen. The Boy was gorgeous. So gorgeous, Mika started wondering when was the last time she's seen a man so damn pretty? Ah, yes. 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘠𝘰𝘳𝘬.

What was he doing in Hawkins? He really must have been new. Was he there unpacking when she went out to that store? Guess she couldn't care less to notice.

No no, she would've seen him.

Probably...

The unnamed Boy took a large box out of the back of his car. He held it with his one hand while he slammed the boot door shut with the other. And then, unexpectedly, as Mika was about to take another blow out of her cig, the Boy's and hers eyes met. They held each others gaze for a split second. She breathed in the smoke and he adjusted his seemingly heavy pack. And then Boy disappeared behind the same door he so quickly came from.

Mika stood there, finishing her smoke. She threw the burnt bud on the ground and crushed it with her shoe.

Alright so maybe she wouldn't be so mad if 𝙝𝙚 was the one to ask for that bag of sugar. The girl decided she must make herself acquainted with this handsome newcomer. Yes, she was planning to get to know him real 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺.

She grabbed the tequilla out of her car along with the cherry coke that was laying there on the floor. She wrapped the liquor in paper and wandered off into the nearby woods.

[malcolmwhitly-bright]

“I don’t like the idea of you walking down the streets all alone.” I’d love to see Gil say this to Malcolm, but Mal doesn’t listen & goes out anyways and gets WHUMPPEDD🤍

1. I’m so sorry this took so long

2. Don’t hate me for what you’re about to head. You said whump, didn’t say nothing about any comfort tho

Dani gets pregnant. A night of fun turned into her problem. So she sits in her apartment and sobs. The bathroom tile is cold and her bare legs freeze. Her hair is a mess. She can’t make spaghetti without making way too much. She doesn’t know how to braid and every time she opens a Capri sun she stabs the straw completely through it.

“Uhhh.” She doesn’t know why but she calls Malcolm. He picks up the phone with a groan and that’s something she’s learned about him recently. He’s up all night, she can almost always talk to him at any point during the night but if she wants to then Malcolm will answer just not conventionally. “Mmmmm?” He doesn’t know how to talk to people after a certain hour in the night (not that he knows how to during regular hours either).

She sighs,” I’m pregnant.”

Malcolm chokes. She’s not sure what he’s doing but all the noises in the background stops. Nothing but silence over the line as Malcolm processes the news he’s just been given. “Huh,” he clears his throat. “You know, all the times I dreamt about news like this I always thought it would come from a stranger over the phone. You know?” He hums,” or, you know, it would at least come from someone I had slept with.”

Dani rolls her eyes. She tosses the test down on the floor, letting it clatter until it slides against the toilet. She hears Malcolm move over the phone, not thinking anything about it until she hears him pick up his keys. “What’re you doing?” She’s suddenly self-conscious about calling him. He’s not the father. Why did she call him? He can’t-

“Uhm,” Malcolm climbs into his car, she can hear the door shut. “I was gonna hit the corner shop. Pick up some ice cream.” 

Dani’s eyebrows pinch in confusion.

“Mint chocolate chip is still your favorite, right?” The car stops and she leans against the toilet seat. She can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness. This is why she called him. “Oh, or I could get those sandwiches- Now I’m hungry. I’m never hungry.”

Dani smiles. Her problems melting away. She can figure this out. It’s a baby. Nothing can ever compare to dealing with Malcolm Bright. “I would really appreciate the ice cream.”

She can hear his smile,” trust me, I know.” After a moment he adds,” if I get chicken nuggets do you want to spl-”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even let me finish, Dani.”

She rolls her eyes. She knows exactly what he was going to say. Her + Him + a 20 piece chicken nugget meal from McDonald’s. He’ll order a large iced tea, drink half on the ride over, and give her the rest. “I’ll see you when you get here.” She looks down at the test,” and… Thank you, Malcolm. For-For coming.”

Malcolm chuckles,” anytime, you know that.”

For some reason, he really means that.

“Stop looking at my vagina Bright!”

Malcolm shakes his head, eyes huge. His hand is holding hers and he’s as pale as a ghost. As far as the nurses know he’s the dad. It was the only way Gil could get him back and Gil had to get Malcolm back there. Dani’s broken sobs, ‘I can’t do this! I can’t!’ were breaking his heart and Gil knew the only person who could help her was sitting in the waiting room just as much as a mess.

Malcolm glances back down, each time a doctor or nurse shouts his eyes look. He can’t help it. “I’m not trying to,” he defends himself, wincing when her hand tightens around his. “Her head is huge Dani and she’s got so much hair.”

Dani screams, pushing as the nurse asks her to. 

“Dad?” The doctor stands, a ball of wiggling, crying baby in his hands. “Wanna cut the cord?”

Malcolm looks at Dani, eyes still huge and he has no idea what to do. 

Dani’s sobbing too. Utterly exhausted. She nods her head and he knows she wants him to. It’s an unasked, unsaid invitation into her and her child’s life.

“She’s got so much hair,” Malcolm’s afraid to touch her. He can’t tear his eyes away though. The parenting books didn’t say anything about all the hair. Every baby he’d ever seen was bald. Then again, Dani has very thick curly hair so maybe it’s genetics. Would that mean babies with bald dads aren’t born with hair? He opens his mouth to ask but she cuts him off.

“Will you be her GodFather?”

Malcolm freezes. Emotions flooding his brain. People don’t trust him things let alone their children. He breaks mugs all the time, his hands are just too shaky. He forgets to eat and he’s a hazard to himself. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Dani,” Malcolm smiles sadly down at her. “I would love nothing more.” He reaches down and squeezes her hand,” I was just surprised you ask.”

Dani squeezes his hand back. She looks down at the baby in her arms, sleeping peacefully. Dani knows, without a doubt in her mind, that she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Malcolm. He’s been her rock. 

Nights full of ugly sobs as she cries through crappy romcoms. Tucking her cold toes under his thighs on the couch. Morning sickness. Giving up coffee for three months when she told him the scent made her want to vomit. Going out to get weird foods. Holding her hand through labor.

She smiles up at him,” you’re my best friend, Malcolm. Who else would I ask?” 

The room suddenly fills with people. JT, his wife, Gil, and Edrisa. They’ve got balloons and flowers. Malcolm steps away from the bed. Allows them their moment but Dani doesn’t miss the way his eyes track the baby, never leaving her tiny body no matter who is holding her.

He’s there though. 

For everything.

“Mallory does not like peas,” he informs her, weird-looking green vomit on his shirt.

-

“Tell your mommy what you just called me,” he holds her up under her arms, acting angry as Mallory babbles some nonsense to Dani. 

-

“No, no,” he says from her living room. Mallory out on the carpet in front of him. “Say, Malcolm. Malcolm?” Mallory screeches, throwing a block against another block. She offers him a ‘mamama!’ He groans.

-

“Yeah!” He’s right beside Dani, arms raised in the air in triumph. All three of them shouting in glee, Mallory falling back on her little butt. “I can’t believe it!” He declares,” she took her first steps!”

-

“These are big girl underwear,” he shows her the carebears on them. “If you don’t have an accident in your pull-up, I’ll let you wear them.” He smiles back at Mallory’s excited grin,” I’ll buy you all the big girl underwear you want. Just no more accidents.”

-

“I’ll squeeze him tight,” Malcolm squeezes the stuffed bear tight to his chest. Mr. Bear, he notes because Mallory has named all her stuffed animals but this one is special. He gave it to her and she has to take him everywhere. “Now,” he lays the stuffed bear beside her,” you’ll have all the Malcolm hugs you’ll ever need. Okay?” She nods and he places a kiss on her forehead,” okay, goodnight, Mal.”

-

“You’re okay,” he holds her close to his chest. She hiccups miserably, her skinned knee aching. “You know what happens now?” She shakes her head, not even bothering to pull her head out of his shoulder. “You have to try again. Get back up on your bike.” She pulls back to object and he cups her cheeks in his hand,” I’ll be right here, Mallory. I promise.”

Until one night, insomnia gets the best of him.

“I don’t like the idea of you walking down the streets all alone.”

He lays in the frigid cold. His own blood a puddle around his waist. Gil was always nagging about Malcolm’s late-night walks. ‘There’s safety in numbers’, that was Gil’s philosophy. Recently, Gil dropped his consistent reminders. Malcolm was always with Dani and Mallory though. That kid wears him down, he’s dead on his feet most nights.

Except, Dani took today off and treated Mallory to a day at the museum. Leaving Malcolm to sort out his own plans for the day. Hince the need for a mid-night walk.

“Give me your money” turned into a sharp knife too quickly. Malcolm’s trembling hands unable to produce any money. Malcolm’s hands stained with his own blood.

He tries to fight it, at first. His body numbing to the pain, his eyes drifting shut. He promised to take Mallory to the dentist for Dani tomorrow. Promised Mallory a special surprise afterward. It’s too much. The cold, the pain. 

There was a point in his life he imagined death so much it seemed like an old friend. A means to an awful life, an escape. In its grasp now, he’s afraid. He wants to stay. To fulfill his promises. He wants more time. 

He needs more time.

Hadn’t realized what he has until it’s slipping through his fingertips.

“No!” It’s Gil who gets the call. Who holds Dani as she sobs, openly and freely. She curses him and she shouts at nothing and calls it Malcolm. He’s hurt them all, reckless and stupid until the end.

“You can’t fix me, Dani.” Years ago, now. On her couch, a tub mint chocolate chip ice cream between them. Her stomach large with her unborn child in it. His eyes heavy, voice soft. “I’m not who you think I am.” So unsure, convinced he was unfit. He could never help her, not with a baby.

Except, he did. Mallory’s father is out of the picture but she always had Malcolm. They both did.

“Baby-” Dani squats down in front of Mallory. Cupping her daughter’s cheek and praying that she can find the right words to make her understand. To explain that Malcolm’s not coming back. “You love Mr. Bear.” Dani rubs the old bear’s ears thoughtfully. Remember the eagerness Malcolm had for her and Mallory. In life and in general. 

Mallory nods her understanding, her own hand joining in her mother’s soft toying of the bear’s ear. She does love Mr. Bear. From the moment Malcolm gave her him he’s gone everywhere with her. Every day of Mallory’s life Malcolm has been there. Picking her up from school while Dani hunts bad guys. Taking her for ice cream just because. Cuddling on the couch for Saturday movie nights. Buying her popcorn and candy at the movies even when Dani insists Mallory doesn’t need both.

Those things are never going to happen again.

Dani brushes a strand of her daughter’s hair behind her ear,” baby. Do you remember what we talked about with Grandpa Gil?” Death is permanent. Her daughter doesn’t understand permanent. 

Dani can sympathize with that. There’s a part of her that keeps waiting for Malcolm to show up and give her some crappy excuse. Blame it on some vaguely disguised daddy issue. To hug her. She already misses his hugs. The scent of his cologne in a room. Him falling asleep on the couch when she’s trying to talk to him. 

“If you put Mr. Bear with Malcolm,” tears prick her eyes. She shouldn’t have to explain this to her daughter. “You’ll never see him again.” A tear slides down her cheek,” either of them.” Dani sniffles and wipes her cheek of the tear. She smiles sadly,” and Mr. Bear is your best friend. You don’t want to lose him.”

Mallory looks puzzled and Dani’s hoping that she can grasp what being said. After a moment, Mallory shakes her head, disagreeing. “No mommy,” she says softly,” Malcolm is my best friend.” She frowns,” and Malcolm is scared of the dark. So, I want to give him Mr. Bear so he won’t be so scared.”

“Baby-”

Mallory hugs Mr. Bear tight to her chest. Squeezing him with all her might. She offers Dani the bear,” you have to charge him up with hugs, mommy.”

Dani cries openly as she clutches that stupid bear to her chest. 

Mallory smiles proudly,” good job! Now Malcolm will have your hugs too.”

Dani chokes on a sob but she manages a watery smile,” that’s right, baby.”

Mallory stands for a long time, just looking down at her bear. She squeezes her mother’s hand,” I’m gonna miss him, mommy.”

Dani stands numbly. The wind blowing straight through her coat. If Malcolm were here, her Malcolm, he’d wrap an arm around her. Produce a scarf from seemingly nowhere. Something that somehow makes this impossible moment okay. Bearable. “Me too.”

[nerdypinupcrystal]

Every Breath You Take Chapter 3: A New Day

Plot: Iris has moved to Hell's kitchen with only a backpack and a past she struggles to leave behind. Will a budding romance with the kind and enigmatic lawyer next door help her move on? Or will the monster from her past find her and destroy them both?  Warning: This story contains adult content including descriptions of spousal abuse and violence.  If this content bothers you, please refrain from reading.

Hey guys! I’m back with Chapter 3!!! Thank you so much to my lovely followers for enjoying this story, I know I keep saying this, but it just makes me so happy that this story I’m super excited about has others excited as well! And boy have I got a long chapter for you guys! I could not stop writing, the juices were just flowing! Quite a bit happens in this chapter, it’s gonna be a bit dark in the beginning.  Which is why I’m officially attaching a warning from here on out, there are going to be themes of violent nature throughout the story, whether it’s vague references to past occurrences or vivid flashbacks,this is my warning. If anyone is bothered by the content, please skip the section or refrain from reading any further.  I don’t want any hate for not issuing this warning, so thank you for your cooperation.  Now onward to Chapter 3!!!

Chapter 3: A New Day I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to take on the new day.   I sat up to stretch and I could feel the familiar pain of the angry bruises that painted my body.  The pain was starting to dull down bit by bit each day; it should be reduced to an uncomfortable but far less painful feeling in a couple more days or so.  The bruises he inflicted always lingered longer. I looked at my body in the mirror as I was getting dressed for the day. The bruise that covered most of my stomach was the worst of the ones I currently had. The shade still an angry purple, had shown no signs of fading yet. He had kicked me harder than I thought, I could still feel the impact of his foot slamming into my stomach all three times. That one will definitely take at least another week to heal. I turned to look at the rest of my body; the bruises on my back and right shoulder still visible, but thankfully fading away. The bruise at my left temple had faded slightly more since yesterday, my hair could easily hide it. The angry cut on my lip, however still felt fresh despite it being four days old now; that one I can’t hide easily.  Makeup wouldn’t be enough to cover it, I’ll just have to hope people don’t care enough to notice or at least not ask about it. You’re okay, Iris. These wounds will fade away like they always do. He’ll never lay a hand on you again. Soon those bruises and the monster that inflicted them will be nothing but a bad dream. You survived. You’re safe. I quickly got dressed to cover up the ugly marks on my body, and continued getting ready for the day. I looked through my backpack for the stack of money I kept hidden. I still had over $3,000 left, which would keep me comfortable for only a while, but it wasn’t going to last forever.   I was going to have to look for a job. The thought of it made me anxious.  Anxious that the fake identification papers I had to sneak off to get (and got severely punished as a result) wouldn’t work.  Anxious that not having a resume would ruin any chances of getting a job. Anxious that people would see through the lie. Anxious that he would somehow be in my place of work and see me. I was stressing myself out over these “what if’s”. I took a deep breath, and decided to push the job hunt for a later time and go shopping for food at a real grocery store instead.  I also needed a phone, and some more essentials for home. But first, find the nearest coffee shop for some breakfast.  With that plan in place, I grabbed my backpack to head out the door. I found a little coffee shop close by where I was able to get a large chai latte and two blueberry muffins. I had already inhaled the first muffin by the time I got to the door, I was so damn hungry. When I was about to open the door to exit, someone was opening it to get in. I had stopped just in time to avoid crashing into the person entering the coffee shop. “Excuse me,” I said as I held the door open for the person as I kept my eyes on my drink to make sure it would avoid being spilled. I looked up when I heard a familiar voice chuckle, “I’m glad you managed to avoid a second assault this time, neighbor.” I couldn’t help but laugh at how funny fate worked. “Mr. Murdock! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get in my way on purpose.” I teased as I opened the door wider to allow him in. “Well business has been slow, so I try to grab potential cases wherever I can get them. And I’m pretty sure I told you to call me Matt, Iris.”  He replied with a teasing smile that lit up his beautiful face. Down, girl. Don’t let him get you all flustered again, no matter how sexy he looks in that grey suit of his. “What’s this I’m hearing about cases, don’t you be holding out on me, Matthew!” A new male voice chimed in, interrupting my thoughts, causing me to tense up. Matt let out a laugh as he turned toward the voice in question. “Sorry, Foggy. Just an inside joke between neighbors.” The blonde gentleman the voice belonged to frowned as he stood next to Matt. “Well now I feel left out of the loop. How dare you give me false hope?” He dramatically shook his fist at Matt. Matt and I let out a laugh, his friend instantly making me feel at ease.  Matt turned toward me  to make the introductions, “Foggy, this lovely lady is my next door neighbor Iris....” he trailed off, not knowing my last name. “Roberts.” I replied, thankful I actually remembered the new last name I had. “Iris Roberts.” Matt finished, with a hint of skepticism in his voice. He turned toward Foggy, “And this is-“ “Foggy Nelson, of Nelson & Murdock,” Foggy cut in, making a silly attempt at being suave as he reached for my hand, “Law partner and much better looking  best friend to this putz here.” He gestured his thumb toward Matt, who was practically rolling his eyes at his best friend. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Iris.” He finished with a brief kiss on my hand and a sweet smile on his slightly rounder face. I let out a giggle at his silliness. Foggy was as endearing as a teddy bear, I couldn’t help but like him already.  “And it’s most certainly a pleasure to meet you as well, Foggy.” I curtsied, joining in on his silliness as well. Foggy chuckled and turned to Matt, “She just did a little curtsy. It was adorable.” Matt smiles towards me, “I bet it was.” It felt as if his eyes were piercing through me, even though he couldn’t see. I couldn’t control the blush coloring my cheeks. Foggy looked toward me again only for his smile to fall into a frown as he focused on my face, “Oh wow, are you okay?” He asked with concern. I frowned in confusion, “What do you mean?” He shook his head as he softly replied, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude or to pry, but that’s a pretty nasty cut on your lip.” My heart stopped. My face changed from a flushed red to pale white. How could I have thought that nobody would notice? Because Matt and Foggy are the first real decent people you’ve met, and are apparently the kind of people who are going to ask questions. My heart was beating so fast, I could hear the rhythm in my ears, and I thought the entire coffee shop could too. Matt’s face tightened into a puzzled frown as he turned towards me. “Uh..well I...I...” I was stuttering. I was panicking, I had to leave. “It’s nothing! I’m just a clumsy clod. Matt can testify to that,” I gestured to Matt who looked concerned and almost angry. Whether at me or something else, I had no idea. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got a lot to do today,” I said in a rush as I was inching closer and closer towards the door. Both gentlemen looking at me in bewilderment. “It was nice seeing you, Matt. Foggy, it was great to meet you. Bye!” I bolted out the door without so much as a backwards glance. 

Matt and Foggy

The two friends were frowning as Iris all but ran away from the coffee shop. Foggy cleared his throat, “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to spook her like that. It just shocked me, I guess.” Matt’s teeth clenched, his jaw tight with tension and aggravation as he asked, “How bad was it?” “How bad was...” Foggy trailed off. “The cut, Foggy,” Matt spat out, his jaw clenching even tighter as he held a firm grip on his cane, “How bad was it?” Foggy sighed, “Pretty fucking bad, Matt.  Like she fell into someone’s fist instead of a piece of furniture.” Matt’s grip on his cane tightened even further as he tried to control is growing anger. He could sense Foggy hesitating. “What is it, Foggy?” His friend paused for a moment before replying, “I don’t know for sure, but it looked like she had a bruise on the temple of her left eye as well.” Snap! Matt snapped out of his thoughts as he held the loose piece of his now broken cane. “Oh shit, Matt!” Foggy exclaimed as he looked at his friend with concern and unease. “I have more at home.” Matt stated, though he couldn’t care less about the cane. Foggy left Matt alone with his thoughts as he went to place their order. He returned with two coffees. “Do you think she’s in trouble?” Foggy asked, feeling concern for the petite redhead that’s captured his best friend’s attention. “I think so.  I don’t know for sure what’s going on with her,” Matt replied as he stood still, “staring” at the spot Iris stood at. “But I’m going to find out. And if she is, then whoever’s giving her trouble is going to have to answer to me.”

Back to Iris

Goddamn you suck at this! Stop folding under pressure like origami every time you get caught off guard! I felt so stupid for slipping up again; in front of Matt and his friend no less!  I didn’t understand why I lost my composure in front of Matt so easily. I guess because it felt like he could see right through me despite having no sight. I felt so at ease and comfortable around him, I didn’t want to lie to him. I didn’t want him to know the truth either though.  I just needed to stop engaging in conversations with him.  Easier said than done, apparently. But I didn’t have time to dwell on that any further. I needed to look for a job. I hadn’t worked in years, I couldn’t help but worry that my lack of work experience would really hinder me.... My lack of experience wasn’t the only thing that hindered me.  It was also “we’re not hiring at this time”, “we’ve already accepted another candidate”, and also the fact that some establishments were too overwhelming for me to even try to apply.  Waitressing was definitely a no. Customers can be absolutely horrible and downright abusive to the servers, and my skin just wasn’t thick enough for that; not after just escaping from my own abusive setting. It was mid-afternoon when I stumbled upon a cute little bakery with a pastel pink exterior on the corner just a couple streets away from my apartment. I was exhausted and frustrated from the disappointing job hunt, eating my feelings sounded really therapeutic right then and there. I heard a bell chime as I opened the door to the bakery, followed by the catchy melody of Bobby Darin’s “Beyond the Sea”. It was even cuter on the inside! It was tiny and intimate with a pink and teal color scheme and a sweet vintage vibe. Beautiful assortments of cupcakes, pastries, donuts, and French macarons were displayed under the glass casing.  My mouth was watering and my stomach was rumbling just looking at them. A sweet woman’s voice snapped me out of my hunger stupor, “Hi! Welcome to Sweet Heaven. How may I help you?” I gazed at the tall, beautiful brunette the voice belonged to. She was statuesque with a slender but curvy frame in a  baby pink dress with a white frilly apron. She had long dark hair hanging in loose vintage waves, kind grey eyes, and a sweet smile painted in pink lipstick.   “Hi, this is my first time here” I replied with a tired smile, “Your bakery is so cute and everything looks delicious! What would you recommend to someone who’s had a rough day and just wants to eat their feelings?” The woman giggled in reply, “Well first of all, thank you! It took a lot of work to make my baby look the way I imagined.” She winked. “Second, I would recommend the red velvet macaron, the white chocolate raspberry truffle cupcake, the sea salt caramel cronut, and/or the bacon maple cupcake.” Good God I’m going to get so fat. My mouth watered with each item she mentioned, “You know what? I’ll take all four of those. And a large hot chocolate, please. I’m going to be here for a while.” I paid for my treats and took a seat at one of the three small tables off to the side. I gazed out the window, lost in my thoughts as I waited for my cocoa.  It didn’t take long for the kind baker to approach my table carrying a silver tray topped with the desserts and hot cocoa, beautifully set up like it was Afternoon Tea.  I noticed the tray had a second helping of each item including the cocoa. “Here you go, sweetie.” The sweet woman stated as she took a seat across from me. “Do you mind if I join you?  It’s a slow day today and you got me craving for these myself.” She let out a giggle. I grinned, “Thank you, I’d love the company.” Her smile brightened, “Wonderful! I’m Lucy, proud owner of this little paradise.” She introduced herself, holding out her hand. I grasped her hand in mine as I replied, “I’m Iris. It’s so lovely to meet you. You have a beautiful bakery!” Lucy’s face glowed with pride, “Thank you so much! It took a long time, and a lot of blood, sweat, and makeup-ruining tears to get this baby off the ground, but it was all worth it.” I smiled softly, feeling insecure. Oh how I envied this woman and her ambition. I wished I accomplished something this big. She must have noticed my discouraged thoughts as she gently asked, “I don’t mean to pry, but are you okay?  You mentioned wanting to eat your feelings, so I’m guessing you’re having a pretty bad day.” The last I wanted was to burden anyone with my problems, hence the sorry attempt at isolation, plus it’s been a long time since I was allowed to talk to anyone. But this woman seemed so genuinely sweet, and I could really use a friend. “Yeah,” I sighed, “it’s been a pretty terrible day.” “Do you want to talk about it?” Lucy asked with sympathy,  “I’m a very good listener.” I smiled as I replied, “Well I just moved here. I’m trying to start over, but I need a job. I’ve gone to so many different jobs to apply and have been rejected by all of them.  I thought of waitressing, but I can’t handle the overwhelming craziness that comes with the job. I have hardly any job experience, practically nonexistent, and I just feel like I’ll fall into another black hole after I just crawled out of one!” I finished without taking a breath, breaking down in frustration. It was silent in the tiny bakery and I started to panic.  Damn it, I’ve said too much.  I thought for sure Lucy was going to ask me to leave. She surprised me with her response though, “Do you have any food allergies?” My eyebrows furrowed from being thrown off by the random question. “I’m allergic to cranberry juice, but that’s it....” Lucy nodded in understanding, “Have you ever baked from scratch before?” My eyes widened as I started to get what was happening. “Yeah, all the time. Not professionally, though. I mean I’m decent, but I don’t have a culinary degree or anything like that.” She just smiled, “That’s not a problem at all.” Lucy reassured me as she gently grabbed onto my hand, “Iris, my dear, your timing couldn’t be more perfect!  My boyfriend was working the bakery with me, but he’s now my ex-boyfriend. So it’s just me operating this place all by myself. I am in serious need of a co-Captain for this ship.  What do you say?” I was stunned. This was honestly the most unconventional and unexpected job offer I’d ever had. “Lucy, are you sure you want to hire me?  I don’t know the first thing about working in a bakery. I don’t think I’m qualified.” I replied, not wanting to turn down the offer, but just being as honest as I could. Lucy wasn’t the least bothered. “Don’t you worry about that. We’ll set you up to get your food handlers card to please the health inspector on their occasional visits, I’ll take you on as my baking apprentice and train you every step of the way. Please say yes.” She held her hands together in a silent prayer waiting for my answer. This felt so unreal. These kind of things never usually happened. It seemed too good to be true. But all I felt from Lucy was genuine kindness and trust. I didn’t feel an inch of doubt towards her. She was a sweet, unconventional business woman who was giving me a chance when I had none. Who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? “How could I refuse such an amazing offer?” I asked with a glowing smile on my face. “I’m in!” Lucy squealed with excitement as she shuffled over to my side to hug me. “This is going to be great! I have a good feeling about you, and I’m usually a pretty good judge of character, ex-boyfriend being the one exception.” I giggled with her on that, knowing all too well about being wrong about an ex.   “Now,” she continued, “let’s enjoy our sweets in celebration and get to know each other, shall we?” “I’ll drink to that!” I happily replied as I held up my now warm cocoa, causing Lucy to hold hers up as well. “Iris, my dear, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.” Lucy declared with excitement. “I couldn’t agree more, Lucy, my dear.” I replied with a grin. “To a new start!” “To a new start!” Lucy responded as we clanged our mugs together. I felt like I was walking on sunshine.  Things were truly looking up.

This chapter was a roller coaster, but it ended on a happy note! I’m gonna have fun writing Lucy, Iris deserves a wonderful gal pal! For Lucy, the only lovely lady that came to mind was the beautiful Christine McConnell

Thanks for reading! I’ll be putting up a master list soon.  Until next time! *kiss noise*

@jobean12-blog @cametobuyplums @tomhollandeu @emilymarie0422

[artificialqueens]

Indomitable; shattering glass doesn't fix hearts (Trixya) - Dymphna

Hi! I began posting this on AO3 awhile ago but decided to bring it here as well since… well, I don’t know, it’s the fic I like most that I’ve written myself. I’ll be the first to admit it takes quite awhile to get to the actual plot but… bear with me guys! I hope you enjoy, any feedback is appreciated :) <3 

You can find me at my blog @tropicaldepressionkatya 

-

Who the fuck wears nude shoes to a hunt in the woods? Trixie couldn’t believe her own stupidity. She’d think it was her first hunt. When she glanced down at her feet, the mud was already all over the soft shoe. The fabric soaked it all up, and Trixie wanted to just take them off, preferably throw them in a fire as well. Unfortunately, she had made a choice. And the price was a pair of perfect nude colored heels.

So there she was, crouched, a once beautiful pair of shoes on her feet, her hair in a ponytail. She was chewing on the inside of her cheek, eyes not leaving the tree. The tree where the demon was supposed to appear.

Everything had led her to that point, and she was prepared. Salt, salt bullets, iron, even. The thing about demons was that they responded differently to certain things. Salt always kept them out, but couldn’t always kill them. Iron only worked on some.

After Trixie had seen a hunter with angel blood kill a demon, she had cursed her own parents for not sleeping with angels. The runes, which apart from looking amazing, also made them better at, let’s say, everything. They had knives and swords that were given to them by the angels themselves, buzzing with light and slicing through the demons with ease. After a hit in the chest, they crawled back to where they came from.

Trixie was jealous, but she couldn’t change her blood type and decided to let it go. She had killed plenty of demons all on her own, without runes and fancy knives. She was an amazing hunter, even though working alone could get her killed faster than she’d like.

Her legs and knees were beginning to hurt, the demon hadn’t showed up yet. Beginning to get impatient, Trixie cocked her gun, checking the bullets, cleaning her knives.

“Did you hear that?” Someone hissed, a little too loud, to be sneaky. “Someone is here.”

Changing the position of her feet, Trixie stopped breathing, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from.

“It’s probably nothing. Let’s get this over with.” She exhaled again

Two women walked towards the small open spot, the tree in the middle. Big, majestic, demonic. Probably all Trixie’s favorite things, it just missed some pink.

The smaller one, wild curls bouncing as she glanced around, reached for a bottle, which she sprinkled over the tree. Trixie caught a glimpse of a tattoo. She had no idea what they were doing. The other woman, a little taller, wearing a tight dress and black pumps, almost tripped a couple of times, before she lighted a match.

Trixie liked to think she was pretty smart, but she didn’t realize that the girls were going to light the demon tree – her demon tree –on fire until the match was thrown towards the tree.

“What the fuck?!” Trixie jumped up, her voice a low growl. “Do you have any idea what the fuck you’ve just done?!” She yelled, grabbing her gun and cocking it again.

“Oh my-“

The smallest girl also pulled out a gun, black and modern, yet not a revolver. Trixie knew her bullets wouldn’t kill a human, but the long shaft looked intimidating.

The taller blonde, apparently a lot slower than her friend, pulled a machete from her back. The fire reflected on the metal. It seemed so close, too close. Trixie might have been angry, but her job was protecting the mundane, so she lunged forwards, yanking the smallest girl closer to her. “Watch out! Your fucking fire is gonna bite your asses.”

Stunned, they looked back. Just shortly, but Trixie had lowered her gun. “I hope you know that this town is seriously fucked now, it’s y’all’s fault.”

“We actually saved the town!” The blonde called, machete loosely dangling in her hand. “You don’t know what we’re talking about.”

“Whatever,” Trixie put away her gun. “I’ll drop a flower on your grave.” She turned her back to the girls, jogging away. The girls wouldn’t hurt her. Not when she saved them from getting severe burns. Trixie thought it was weird they carried weapons, but consumed by anger and annoyance, she didn’t think to give it, or them, any attention.

“Is she wearing nude shoes? Out of fabric? Is she stupid?”

-

Throwing the shoes back into the sink, Trixie rubbed her eyes, sighing. As expected, those shoes were ruined. Now all she had was a pair of pink and white cowboy boots and a selection of ugly black and blue pumps. After she’d saved the town from the demons that were going to flood the town, she’d go shopping. Her formal wear was beginning to thin, all her nice clothes destroyed during working hours. So there she was, in black jeans and an orange sweater. She hated that sweater. It tickled her all the time, and by the end of the day, her skin would be red and itchy.

The sun was beginning to rise, and Trixie realized she had lost another night of sleep to working and not being able to sleep. The coffee maker was way too loud, deafening almost, in the quiet motel. She didn’t like coffee, but the lack of tropical redbull forced her to do things she didn’t like.

Slipping into her white boots, Trixie took her shoes, strutting through the hallway. The lights were on, but there was no sound, no living soul in sight.

The dumpster next to the motel doors were something that had put Trixie off at first, but it was the closest to the woods and the city. After all, it was convenient. From where she was standing, she could see a crushed wall and an obvious hole in the roof. She hoped no one was dumb enough to use those rooms.

She dropped the shoes in the dumpster, sighing once again before she turned around.

“What is a pretty lady like you doing up so early?” Trixie had almost bumped into a tall man. He had a lot of muscles, and light hair. Generally speaking, he was attractive.

“Not just appearing and scarring other pretty ladies.” Trixie didn’t mean to snap, but his gaze held something offputting and empty. She tried to brush past him, but he spoke again.

“Come on, we’re already here, let’s make the most of it.” His voice was deep, but missed the warmth Trixie liked.

“I have an appointment in two hours.”

“Oh, with a boyfriend?” He teased, and Trixie turned fully back to the man. Her face was blank, something she always had been able to do. Resting bitchface, people said. Others said she was just a bitch.

“No, with the police. I’m helping them.” Trixie was bluffing, but she had a certain confidence, one that people simply couldn’t ignore.

“Oh,” His voice dropped in volume. “What are you investigating, hm?”

“Classified,” Trixie smiled, waving. “I’m going to get ready now.” The man didn’t say anything else.

Closing and locking the door behind her, the coffee maker was done, and she poured herself a cup. The key to delicious coffee was lots of sugar and milk. A lot of it.

Walking over to her suitcase, Trixie frowned. FBI clothing. Her last formal skirt was covered in blood stains, after she had raided a vampire nest a few weeks ago. She really needed to go shopping.

Since she didn’t have much choice, she picked a dark pant suit. One of the few positive things about it was that she had a pocket for her lipstick.

Moving to the small bathroom with her mug in her hand, clothes over her arm, and shampoo bottle in her other hand, she bumped the door open with her hip.

She’d been in the motel for a few days, so she knew the water took ages to heat up. So Trixie turned on the shower, carefully hanging the clothes over the sink as she sipped the last of her coffee. The motel towels were crappy, they always were, but bringing her own was just something she couldn’t afford. She was usually on the road, anyway. The apartment she owned in California was just collecting dust. She hadn’t been there in four months.

But having a place where she could stack all of her stuff, her books, her bills, and pictures was nice. She planned on going back for some time after her current job.

She stepped into the shower, the water turning dark with dirt almost immediately. Her feet and legs had been gross, covered in dirt. She’s washed most off when she got back, but dirt was annoying like that.

Her flowery and over-expensive shampoo covered the smells of her adventure and the lack of sleep, even though her makeup was going to finish that job.

Whatever she had to do, she would. She was going to fix the mistakes of the girls in the woods. She didn’t have a choice, really. She wouldn’t run away, even though it’d probably be safer.

-

“Miss Johnson?” Trixie turned at the sound of her fake name. When she was an FBI agent, she was Jessica Johnson, a widow. “Your coworkers have arrived.”

“I-“ Trixie bit her tongue, offering the officer a polite smile. “They’re here sooner than expected. Delayed flight,” She explained. “Could I talk to them for a minute?”

“Of course, they’re with officer White.” He said. “I’ll take you, Johnson.”

“Please, call me Jessica.” Trixie followed the man, wondering if they were real agents. Her fake ID was convincing, but with the shoes she picked, she’d never be fast enough to outrun an agent.

“Well, here they are. If it’s fishy…” He trailed off, clearing his throat. “Call me when you’re done, okay?”

Trixie closed the door behind her. The doors in the whole building were rather heavy. Trixie wondered why that was. But when she spotted the two agents, it was a good thing the doors were heavy.

She pulled her gun, pointing it at the woman with wild curls. The blonde pulled her gun a little later.

“What are you doing here?” Trixie snapped. “You set a very special tree on fire, no way they would let two idiots be FBI agents.” Trixie slowly cocked the gun, her eyes following every movement of the girls.

“We are,” The blonde spat back. “I’m going to reach in my pocket, grab my ID.”

Trixie nodded, balancing her focus over the blonde and the girl with dark hair. The blonde fished out an ID, it looked real enough. Then again, so did hers. “Isabel?”

“The one and only,” Isabel lowered her gun. “That’s Rose.”

“Sounds like the fakest names ever,” Trixie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m the FBI agent. Y’all are imposters.”

Rose scoffed at the same tone as Trixie. “Well, girl, what was a real FBI agent doing in the freaking woods at night? Alone?”

“Important stuff, but that’s-“ The door was flung open, startling Trixie, who turned to the person. It was the man from that morning. “What the-“

Even though the man only hit her with one hand, his power was enormous. As she was being thrown against the floor, she realized that it was a demon. Her vision got blurry, the air was slammed out of her lungs. She needed to get up. She needed to protect the girls.

She forced herself up, slightly dizzy, but she had fought in worse shape. The blonde girl, who Trixie had written off as not so bright and slow, had a blade in her hand. Trixie would recognize blades like that everywhere. Freaking angel bloods. Of course they were, no one else would be as stupid to burn a demon portal tree. The other girl, Rose, reached for a weapon, but the man – demon – hit her with his fist, full against her head.

“Shangela!” The blonde called out through gritted teeth. Trixie’s head was too messed up to connect the dots. She didn’t care, anyway. It didn’t matter who these girls were, as long as they would be alive when Trixie left the building, trying to come up with a great lie.

She cocked her gun, the metal cold against her warm fingertips. She could feel blood drip down her neck. The blonde girl lunged away from the demon, hissing when he clawed at her skin.

Narrowing her eyes, Trixie had trouble keeping the gun straight, seeing straight. She shot. She was pointing at the demon’s head, but missed. It hit him in the shoulder, an unnatural sound leaving his mouth. Even if he was just distracted for a moment, the blonde lady, Isabel, jumped back forwards, slamming her fancy knife into the demon’s chest. With much more strength that Trixie thought was possible for a skinny thing like Isabel, she repeated the action multiple times, until the man opened his mouth, the demon circling out before vanishing with an agonizing scream.

Isabel was panting, dropping the dead body and rushing to Rose, or Shangela’s, side. “Hey,” She whispered, so softly that if Trixie had been standing two steps back, she wouldn’t have heard it. She wouldn’t have heard the desperation, fear and slight crack in her voice. “Shangela, Shangie, are you there?”

Trixie wondered how no one had noticed a gunshot or the obvious sounds of a fight. She just assumed the walls were soundproof. She hurried to the door, seeing a few officers frown at her. She smiled politely, closing the door again. Getting that body out would be a problem.

“Is she alright?”

“Fuck no,” The blonde snapped. Trixie was almost sure her name wasn’t Isabel. “Damn it, why did I leave my Steele in the hotel?” She ran a hand through her hair, biting her lip before getting up in frustration. She kicked one of the chairs before a few creative and impressive cuss words left her mouth.

“That isn’t gonna solve anything,” Trixie bit at the woman. She moved closer, her first-aid classes coming back. She had plenty of experience with wounds. Her head had stopped spinning, and the blood hadn’t dropped onto the floor, so she knew she was good. Better than the girl – Shangela, she assumed – on the floor.

After a quick glance, she knew the woman needed a hospital, or a real doctor, at least. She remained calm, speaking slowly to not alert the other girl. “She probably has a concussion. I can’t tell if she’ll wake up all by herself. I think she needs a doctor.”

“Okay, okay,” The girl breathed out, returning by her friend’s side. “Hear that Shangela? We’re gonna call Pep for you.”

“Who the hell-”

“Did I fucking ask you anything?” The blonde snapped probably harder than she intended to. She released another shaky breath. “I’m sorry, I’m really frustrated. I can’t carry her all by myself. Could you please help me?”

“My Jeep is outside,” Trixie said, looking at the still unconscious body. “But the body. We can’t become wanted after y’all burned a demon portal.”

Isabel closed her eyes, grinding her teeth. “Fine. I’ll take care of the body. Can you cause some distraction?”

“Isabel,” Trixie smiled. “Distraction is my second name.”

-

From the corner of her eye, Trixie could see the younger woman drag the body behind her, doing surprisingly well for her slim and breakable form. The officers were gathered around her as she clutched her forehead. The wound wasn’t deep, but stretched long enough over her face to worry some. Her agonizing groans were rather convincing, and men were always looking for a damsel in distress.

“I- it was a man! How did you not see him?! He rushed over there!” Tears were streaming over her face, and Trixie was amazed at how amazing she was doing. “Please, he said he was going to kill me!”

Several officers shuffled away, to the direction Trixie pointed at. Two stayed by her side. “Miss, it’s going to be okay. Come with us, we’ll make some phone calls-”

“No, no,” Trixie wiped her tears away. “I- I should go home.” Trixie wiped at the last tears. “I’m okay, I’ll be okay. I just… need to get out of here.”

“I understand, miss,” One officer said softly, a soothing tone to his voice. “Should I go and grab your purse?” He already was moving towards the door when Trixie saw Isabel hurrying back inside.

“No!” Trixie cleared her throat, hoping her voice would break just a little. “It’s fine, I can do that myself. Can you please help him get behind bars?” The innocent flutter of eyelashes broke something in the man, his eyes softening. It wasn’t the best thing for an officer.

“Thank you,” Trixie sniffed, wiping under her eyes again, offering the man a smile. She got up from her crouched position, taking the offered hand before she slowly skipped back to the room. Isabel was already inside, A bright grin on her face. “Good enough?”

“Yeah,” She said, a hand pressed against Shangela’s arm. “Help me with her, okay?” Trixie didn’t even have time to brag about her theatrical skills and charm.

Trixie put the lady’s arm around her neck, gently lifting her to her feet. The other girl did the same. “So, I’m guessing you’re not Isabel?” As she groaned softly under her weight.

“Aquaria,” She muttered back, walking as fast as she could. Even though no one was walking in the main office, they didn’t know how fast they’d be back. The black Jeep was shining around the corner, and Aquaria let Trixie alone to deal with the unconscious girl as she opened the door. The two of them gently laid the girl on the back seat. She’d been out for a good ten minutes, and Trixie was beginning to worry.

Hopping in her car, the blonde was already sitting in the passenger seat, typing furiously on her phone. “Who’re you calling? We’re bringing her to the hospital.”

“No!” Aquaria snapped once again. She really seemed on edge, and Trixie couldn’t blame her. “How do you think they’ll look when they see her with all those wounds? With weirdly shaped scars? Too many questions. Besides, Peppermint can get her back on her feet in just a few hours.”

Aquaria pressed call, and was getting frustrated pretty fast. Trixie watched the girl on the backseat with caution and worry. She hoped this Peppermint person was as talented as Aquaria claimed her to be. If she wasn’t, Shangela would be dead by morning, she guessed. But Trixie felt like she couldn’t argue. Shangela had angel blood, after all.

“Okay,” Aquaria breathed out. “Here left. Pep will be there in half an hour.”

“That’s fast, where’s she from?”

“She’s in France, right now,” Aquaria glanced at Shangela, her curls decorating the last seat. “She needs to set up a portal, but she loves us. We’d do anything for her, and so would she.”

Trixie decided to say nothing. So Peppermint was going to travel by portal. Right. Sure. Whatever.

Trixie followed Aquaria’s direction, parked in front of a rather fancy looking hotel, at least in comparison to her motel, and helped carry the brunette to their room. Room 015, first floor, luckily. The hallways were thankfully empty.

“Let’s bring her to the bed,” Aquaria opened the door with a key, and Trixie was stunned. How in the world could they afford that place? The kitchen was small and neat and the dinner table had 4 spots. The table was decorated with a white tablecloth and yellow flowers. There even was a rather large lounge. “Over here.”

Trixie followed Aquaria’s lead, Shangela’s eyes sometimes opening a bit. At that point, Trixie wasn’t sure if she was affected by the hit on her head or if the demon blood had been too much for her. The burns in her legs and arms had been big.

Gently, they placed the woman on the bed, which was big and looked incredibly soft.

Aquaria brushed Shangela’s hair out of her face with a fond look on her face. “You’ll be okay, Peppermint is on her way.”

Trixie felt like she didn’t belong in that moment, too intimate and familiar. “Wanna help with the hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate?”

“Pep likes hot chocolate. We’re kinda friends, I guess. We don’t need to pay her anymore, so I make sure we always gets some chocolate when she comes to the rescue.”

“Oh,” Trixie whispered, nodding her head and following Aquaria back to the kitchen. Now that there wasn’t an unconscious girl hanging between them, Trixie noticed that it wasn’t white and gold, but a soft pink cream color and bronze. The couch was one of the few shades of brown that Trixie thought didn’t look like shit, and the painting above a dresser had blue and pink tones that matched the walls and the kitchen cabinets. “I didn’t know hunting paid this well.”

She let her fingers glide over the dresser, which was spotless. Cleaned that morning, probably.

“Oh, it really doesn’t,” Aquaria smiled, opening the cabinet to grab a pan before moving to the fridge, which undoubtedly was too large for a hotel room. Aquaria’s mood had shifted, she didn’t seem too worried anymore. “You get creative, though. Lots of people die, you know. The unsaveable. We just…”

“Take their money,” Trixie finished. She hadn’t done that often, found it a rather disrespectful thing to do, and got what she wanted by lying, shoplifting, and going on dates to fancy restaurants. “I thought y’all angels were nice people.”

“Being nice doesn’t bring bread to the table,” Aquaria added some sugar to her mixture. “Can you close the curtains? Peppermint will be here soon.”

Since Aquaria didn’t say why, Trixie didn’t think it was her place to ask. She just did what was asked, muttering her questions under her breath, growing annoyed with the whole situation. In all honesty, she should probably go to her motel, try to solve the case, and forget about Aquaria and Shangela. But her curiosity was sparked, and if there was one thing Trixie knew about herself, it was that all questions should be answered.

So Trixie let Aquaria babble on and on and on. Humming or chuckling where needed. She talked a lot, stumbling over her own words from time to time, earning a genuine giggle from Trixie. It only took Peppermint about ten minutes, before she literally walked through the wall.

“What the fuck?” Trixie chocked out when she saw the light wall darken, the core so black, it looked as if nothing had ever been there. “Aquaria, What the fuck is happening?”

Aquaria glanced over the edge of her phone, an eyebrow raised. “Oh,” Aquaria dropped her gaze to her phone again, shutting it off a few seconds later. “The portal.”

Aquaria moved closer to the wall, a bright smile of excitement on her face. It was as if she had forgotten about Shangela. Or that she didn’t really care. Trixie shrugged those thoughts off, because it could just be her coping mechanism, and because it definitely wasn’t her job to judge whatever was going on between them.

A woman with black braids and pink lips stepped through the ‘portal’, smiling brightly as she spotted Aquaria. “Hello, dear,” Her voice was soft and gentle, and Trixie could imagine her hug being comforting and motherly. “What happened? Where is she?”

Aquaria led the woman to the room, and Trixie felt left out and unsure what she should do. It was a familiar feeling, even though she rarely paid attention to it. She preferred to work and travel alone, not wanting to take care of anyone, or being a burden for someone else. However, it did get lonely.

But Kim had warned her for that, yet young and dumb Trixie had been fueled by anger and fear, and she never thought about what it had meant, getting into the business. Now that she was almost ten years older, Trixie knew, and had to live with the consequences every day, sleep with it every night.

She hadn’t worked together since Kim, and even though she wouldn’t call saving Shangela’s live working together, she didn’t mind listening to Aquaria’s rambling, or the change of scenery. Sometimes, Trixie wondered if she made the wrong decision by working on her own.

“You okay?” Aquaria had her hair pulled in a high ponytail, the grey-ish tone in her hair more prominent now that she was opening the curtains again. The sun was shining, and even though Trixie doubted it would warm her skin up, it was pleasant to know she wouldn’t need a raincoat.

“Yeah,” Trixie gently shook her head, coming back from wherever her mind had wandered. It was a place she didn’t like to visit. “Is she going to be okay?” Trixie pointed at the door. The door was closed, and she swore she could hear a faint whisper.

“Pep is fixing her,” Aquaria’s hands were balled into fists. “She’s been through worse, Shangela,” The blonde let herself fall on the couch, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. Trixie could see the hint of dirt under her nails. Maybe it was blood.

“What about you?” Trixie couldn’t believe she forgot to ask that. Her social skills were rusting, that was obvious. The occasional hook up didn’t require much talking. Most of the time she was lying, anyway. She couldn’t be Trixie Mattel, often she had to be Jessica, or Isabella, or Alice. It was easy to forget who she was, even though fighting always brought her back.

“I’m fine,”

“No demon blood?” Trixie had a hard time believing that. Aquaria had been dressed in a skirt and the thinnest white blouse she’d ever seen. “Want me to take a look?”

“No, when Shangela wakes up, she’ll do it, it’s fine.”

“You sure?” Trixie carefully stopped herself from correcting Aquaria. If Shangela wakes up.

“Yeah, runes will heal it in no time.”

Right. Aquaria had angel blood. Trixie tensed up. “I can look at yours, if you want. I make killer healing runes, just so you know.”

“No,” Trixie sounded harsher than she meant to. “I mean I’m fine. I should just … go.”

“What?” Aquaria sounded surprised, pushing herself up and shaking her head. “Hell no, you’re staying. Wouldn’t it be better if we solved this case together?”

Trixie scoffed. “It’s obvious y’all need it, because you set a portal on fire.”

“Geez, let it go,” Aquaria chuckled. “We’ll work on that, it’ll be good in no time.”

“Let it go,” Trixie scoffed, pushing the tip of her shoe into the carpet, which looked too soft and expensive for an hotel. “I could be on my way home, but no, I might have to stay for weeks if it’s as bad as I think it is.”

Aquaria raised an eyebrow. “Weeks for closing a broken portal? Girl, how aren’t you dead yet?”

“What?” It came out harsher than she meant, but Aquaria seemed unbothered.

“I already texted someone from back home, she’ll bring some stuff and we’ll be done here in like, two days.” Aquaria looked at her nails, sighing in annoyance when she noticed that the baby blue polish had chipped a little bit. “I have to fix this.” As much as she tried to hide it, Trixie guessed she wasn’t fine, too restless to be okay.

The girl walked away, but Trixie wasn’t done. She often spent weeks trying to find a solution, and this freaking teen just let someone bring the answer to all their problems to them? Well, the solution to some problems.

“What do you mean? What is she bringing?”

Aquaria, who had an air of slight arrogance around her, looked at Trixie as if she was the one who figured out how to use the potty two days ago. “Some sort of dirt made from iron and salt. A few sticks with runes. I don’t know, we’ve used it for ages.” Aquaria spoke while painting her nails a cute orange, soft yet outstanding. “Where are you from?”

Dumbfounded by the simple question after Trixie had come to know something major, she just stood there for a long moment, trying to grasp the meaning of the words, before they hit her in the chest. “I live in Cali. Well, my house is there. I travel a lot.”

“I can tell,” Aquaria didn’t clarify what she meant, and when Trixie was about to ask, about to be offended, the girl began talking. “We’re from Boston. We go home often enough, Raven has a large place. Sometimes we do smaller cases in little groups, the big ones all together. We’re with a lot, you know.”

Trixie, for one, couldn’t imagine working with a large group. That only meant more people to look after, more people to protect. She couldn’t even protect one extra, how the hell was she about to take care of a group? However, Aquaria didn’t seem to have that problem.

“Sounds like fun,” Trixie rolled from the heel of her foot back to her toes. “Does this Peppermint person always take so long?”

“She won’t be ready before dawn,” Aquaria closed the bottle, blowing her nails with elegance and a certain laziness that was fascinating. “You can leave, if you want. It was really nice to bring her here.”

“I-“ What was she supposed to say? “It’s fine, I hope she’s okay,” Trixie glanced back to the closed door. “Can I come over tomorrow? Just to check if she’s okay.”

“Of course!” Aquaria stopped blowing her nails to smile. “Maybe you could help with cleaning up some more demons. You seem like a good hunter.”

It did feel indispensable to leave Aquaria, a foolish girl who painted her nails before fighting demons, possibly alone to kill maybe a dozen of demons. “Sure, why not?” Trixie scratches her nose, careful not to smudge her makeup, a strange tingle in her chest. “I’ll come over at noon?”

Aquaria nodded, giving her an awkward wave while not stopping her blowing. When Trixie left, she knew for a fact that Aquaria wasn’t looking at her.

-

Her fingers were shaking when she tried to open her room, the faint smell of something disgusting not bothering her for the first time since she checked in. She couldn’t stop the tremble, her heart was throbbing in her throat, and tears were threatening to well up any moment. It was weird, Trixie didn’t know where it all came from.

And yet she did.

Careless banter with someone who understood what she did. Someone who knew more than her and wanted to work together. She hadn’t worked together in three years.

When the lock finally clicked open, Trixie pushed herself in, hoping to find relief in the motel room, an empty room, a silent room. Nothing changed.

So, deciding that facing her feelings would be too hard, she kicked her shoes out with more force than intended, and moved to the little kitchen. The glasses had been dirty when she arrived, and she had only cared to clean one. Filling it with water, she took a small sip. Even though it did cool her down, she still felt like crying, like fainting.

I love you.

The words were loud and clear in her mind, she could even imagine that stupid crooked smile.

She threw her glass against the wall with a yell. She reached for the used plate in the sink, which soon followed the glass. Some of the glass hit the wall, jolting back at Trixie. She didn’t know if something hit her. Not then. She didn’t care.

See you at dinner, loser.

She leaned with her palms on the itchy tablecloth, her breathing uneven when a large tear rolled over her cheek. She never saw her at dinner.

[wildroseofarran]

Cute, Cont. || Bretan, Gralloway, Fletcher, Victoria, Emmanuel, & Guildias

Brett: "Ummmm..... let's see." Brett circled the tree in search of the tag, reading it out. "It's just over eight feet but I'll bet they can trim off those extra few inches. It's fifty-five dollars." He gave Bo a quick kiss in thanks before waving over one of the assistants and requesting that they get the tree down to eight feet.

"Absolutely, gentlemen," the man said. "If I clean up the trunk and get rid of those stray branches it should be no problem at all."

Bo: That was it? He thought it would be so much more. That was alright. He wanted to begin contributing more in their everyday life.

"How long will this take? Can we go to the bakery while they work?"

Brett: Brett turned to the guy--Hal his name badge read--and asked, "Do we?"

"You should. We had a couple people call in sick today and there are a few people in line ahead of ya'll. We should be done and dusted and ready to load the tree in about...half an hour?"

Brett nodded. "Plenty of time then. Do we pay now?"

"Yep." Hal detached the half of the tree's tag with the price on it and handed it over. "Take that inside."

Bo: Bo was quick to jump ahead of Brett in order to pay. Once that was out of the way he felt a sense of relief. He'd yet to open the last letter he'd received from - No, he didn't want to think about that right now. Anything from Norway put him in a sour mood.

"Are you ready?"

Brett: "You didn't even give me a chance to try to grab it!" Brett chuckled as he followed Bo into the nursery. He made festive small talk with the other people in line while his boyfriend paid, wishing them all a happy holiday before turning all his attention back to Bo.

"Ready," he said, taking Bo's hand and leading him back to the car.

Bo: The afternoon seemed to disappear in half the time. The phrase "time flies when you have a good time" was one Bo did not appreciate. He didn't want the hours to pass like minutes, the minutes like seconds. The world needed to pace like molasses.

Which was why, once home, he was adamant about putting up the decorations on the tree. The baking would have to wait.

"We can order in tonight? I can make us something warm to drink though. Maybe mulled wine later?"

Brett: Brett would've agreed with Bo's train of thought if he'd known it. He wanted days like this where it was just the two of them in their own little bubble to be endless. Especially today. Today was one of those days that reminded him exactly why he loved Christmas.

He looked up from his battle with the lights and nodded. "Absolutely to both, baby. Mulled wine will go really great with the cookies. What are you in the mood for?"

Bo: "Food wise?"

Brett: "And also movie wise."

Bo: Bo thought for a moment. "I...I have a craving for...bread. Not just any bread. I don't know how to describe it other than taste. It's...I think a memory."

Brett: "That Italian place has really good ciabatta. Is that close?"

Bo: "It's a warm bread...like...ginger. It has dates in it and...I smells like cinnamon." Jul...June...no. Jule...something. Ugh. It was on the tip of his tongue. What did that mean? "Probably something I've had while here."

Brett: "Ginger with dates and cinnamon....the only thing I can think of is that cake-ish thing we had at that European bakery in Whites Beach."

Bo: "It's - How would you feel about roasted potatoes and green beans?"

Brett: "Very strongly in favor." And heading for his laptop.

Bo: "Going to order online?"

Brett: "Yep. I swear half the time they don't hear the phone. Do we also want broccoli and cheese soup and garlic bread?"

Bo: "You go ahead. I'm in a potato mood."

Brett: "....Would you judge me if I got the roasted potatoes and mashed potatoes?"

Bo: "Is your craving worse than my craving?"

Brett: "It might just be," he chuckled. "It's the picture on their menu page, it looks so good."

Bo: "Order however much." He was in the middle of debating how to begin with the string of lights.

Brett: "Glorious vegan feast it is!"

Once the food was ordered, he set the laptop aside and considered the tree. "Which one of us is going to get up on the step ladder and which one of us is going to start the winding?"

Bo: Bo had yet to question why it was the sheriff had transitioned himself to veganism. He hadn't asked him to. Not that he minded. He didn't have to stare at ugly carcasses anymore.

"The more experienced one should do more work," he smirked.

Brett: He laughed. "Then it looks like I'm doing the winding. Gonna need your help with the top part though."

Bo: "Alright." A saucepan was pulled from its hiding place, ingredients for mulled wine gathered in a row. "Do you spend time with...your mother for Christmas?"

Brett: Brett shook his head. "Nope, not for a long time. She brings by cookies and a present for me on Christmas day and that's it. Oh, and a card she signed on my father's behalf."

Bo: Bo stared at the cinnamon sticks, mind elsewhere. "What if you broke that cycle?"

Brett: His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Bo: "What if you just showed up?"

Brett: "At their house? On Christmas?"

Bo: "She shouldn't have to visit you like you're in a prison."

Brett: "I prefer it that way, and so do they."

Bo: "How can that be love?"

Brett: "It isn't, sweetheart. There's never been any love or warmth in my family. The cookies, present, and card? It's familial obligation. Nothing more. Simon doesn't even care enough to sign it himself."

Bo: "But your mother, she cares."

Brett: "She feels guilty."

Bo: "She carried you for nine months, suckled you, witnessed your first step. I don't think she's going to give up."

Brett: "She carried me and breastfed me, but she didn't witness my first step. Megan Hunt did."

Bo: He looked his way, brow furrowed.

Brett: "Meg is a professor at the community college and she and her son used to live next door to them. She babysat me on Sunday mornings when Simon and my mother went to church. She caught my first step on video." Brett smiled softly. "I think she took more pictures of me than my parents did. She loves kids. They've always been welcome at her house."

Bo: "Why wouldn't they just take you to church?"

Brett: "They went twice a week. Took me on Wednesdays."

Bo: He wondered if his mother had done the same, wondered if she had been a ghoul. Given what the revenant knew, he couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't want to know.

"Mm..."

Brett: Brett went over to kiss Bo's cheek. "It's better that I don't go over there."

Bo: "I'm just being rebellious for you." He leaned himself into the sheriff.

Brett: "I appreciate it," he said softly, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. "Maybe...I'll ask her to stay for a cup of tea."

Bo: "Now, if only we can get rid of your other problems."

Brett: "If only." He squeezed Bo tight. "Enough sad things. This is our happy day."

Bo: "When was the last time you had to see him?" Him. "I never see you...with...in a way that..."

Brett: "Over a month ago." His voice was soft. Ashamed. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't sheriff."

Bo: "How often does he see you?"

Brett: "About once a month. Sometimes a bit more."

Bo: "If you stop, someone else will take your place; not just as sheriff, but his...thing."

Brett: Brett nodded. "I know." And he hated that.

Bo: "Do you...like it?"

Brett: "I used to," he admitted quietly.

Bo: Bo turned to face him, arms crossed. "Tell me."

Brett: "At the beginning, when I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. When I was still the empty, starving shell that walked out of Simon's house one day and I couldn't...really see what they are."

Bo: "Do you want him?"

Brett: "No."

Bo: "Not in any way?"

Brett: Brett shook his head. "None. I only want you."

Bo: For a long time there was silence, studying his eyes, his wrinkles, his lips.

Brett: There would be nothing but sincerity in Brett's expression. In his eyes. In his heart. The man standing before Botan was a far cry from the guilty, ashamed man that gave in to being in a ghoul and let it rule him. He was stronger now, at peace with himself.

And it was all because of Bo. Because being with him--loving him--had made him feel more whole than he'd ever felt. Whole and happy and strong.

"Jeg elsker deg med hele mitt hjerte, Botan Nowicki."

Bo: Bo stilled, surprised by the obvious practice Brett must have taken to profess his love so flawlessly. He wanted to fly away with his heart, but instead placed his fingertips over Brett's lips.

"Don't see him anymore. Don't take...anymore."

Brett: He thought about the gift sitting in Peabody's house and smiled. He should be scared. He knew he should. But right now all he could feel was certainty in that gift.

"I won't see him and I won't take anymore."

Bo: Hands came alive, rested over Brett's ribs, squeezed. "You promise me?"

Brett: The smile grew. "I promise you, Botan. I belong to you and myself and no one else. I was planning on going to Callum MacGillvray's shop and telling him that I was done being a ghoul."

Bo/MJ: "I'm cautious about your promises," he whispered. "I'll take it just the same..." He was asking for a lot, he knew. If an attempt was made, then the outcome wasn't nearly as important as the promise kept.

Bo leaned in for a kiss; behind him began to darken. The backsplash tile patterned with red and pink lifelike hearts. The room began to smell of pumpkin and lavender.

Brett: "I know you are," Brett whispered back. Which was exactly why it was so important to him to keep them. For a while now he'd been considering going to Callum, and this seemed like the perfect time.

Brett leaned in just as Bo did, poised to pull his boyfriend into his arms and kiss him and lavish him with all the affection his heart desired.

But when he did pull Botan into his arms, it wasn't out of passion; it was protectiveness and fear caused by the sudden change to the atmosphere inside their home. "What the hell is going on?!"

Bo: "What?" Hands held to Brett's face, concern etched in Bo's brow and subtle hint of crow’s feet. "What's wrong?"

Brett: Bewildered eyes locked with Bo's. What the hell? "What do you--can't you smell that? Can't you see it's gotten dark--look at the tile!" He pointed. "What the hell happened to the tile?!"

Bo: "What -" He looked back, gestured to the backsplash. "What are you talking about?"

Brett: "Th-there are hearts on it! Right there, pink and red hearts!" Fear was starting to creep in now. "I can't smell the tree, I can't smell you. All I can smell is...fucking pumpkin pie! And soap!"

Bo: "Brett, ro deg ned. There is nothing there. The house smells like the tree, like cinnamon and your cologne. I don't smell anything else. There are no hearts."

Brett: Was he having a stroke? Weren't weird smells and hallucinations signs of a stroke?

No, he couldn't be having a stroke, he felt fine.

Brett pulled Bo close and buried his face in his neck, breathing him in and willing whatever was happening away.

Bo: Bo's scent was completely masculine. Musky, anise, and fennel. His soft pine and powder had somehow faded to nothing.

Brett: It wasn't real. Whatever he was seeing, whatever he was experiencing, it wasn't real. If it was real Botan would be experiencing it with him, but he wasn't so it wasn't.

What was real was the beautiful man in his arms. Their tree. The beautiful day they were having. That was real, and that's what he would use to anchor himself.

He lifted his head and softly kissed Bo.

Bo: Fingers curled into Brett's hair, still very much dizzy with bewilderment but kissing just the same. The sound of the doorbell had him growling into the sheriff's mouth, though.

"Don't answer it."

Brett: "It's probably just our food, baby," Brett said softly, pulling Botan into another kiss and nuzzling him to comfort them both. "If it's not I'll just tell whoever it is to leave. Today is our day." And nothing else was going to intrude on it.

Bo/MJ: Oh right, food. He glanced to his watch. That was swift, was his flitted thought as the doorbell rang again.

"Mm. Don't forget to tip."

Bo remained in the kitchen, unaware of the man standing leaned into the doorframe, worn black leather jacket zipped and buttoned just to the collar, sagging loosely on one side.

MJ Calloway smiled as soon as the door was opened. His hair was the same, skin still pale, eyes slightly darkened. His smile, though wide, didn't reach his heterochromatic eyes.

"Hello, hello."

Brett: "I won't." He gave Bo one more quick kiss before pulling some money out of his wallet and going to the door.

......And not finding Richie the delivery boy on his doorstep.

Brett blinked. This was the very last person he expected to see today. "Hello, MJ. What are you doing here?"

MJ: "What, that's all?" he laughed, a sound which turned the head of the man in the kitchen. "C'mere, I got somethin' for ya."

Brett: "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. I'm just...surprised." Both that MJ was here and that he'd used the doorbell instead of throwing pebbles at one of his windows.

"Ah...can it wait? It's just that I'm the middle of something."

MJ: MJ didn't give two shits about the man in the next room. Not a single thought was regarded as he leaned closer, smelling exactly like the fluffy tree in their living room, cheek pressed to Brett's.

"No, it can't wait. What I'm gonna give ya can't wait, n'I miss ya."

Brett: MJ might not have cared or given a thought to Bo, but Brett did, and gentle and polite as it was, he leaned away and broke the contact between them.

"I'm sorry, MJ, but today is--"

"Evenin', sheriff!"

Brett looked past MJ and spotted Richie coming up the walkway, arms laden with bags of food.

"Hey, Richie. What do I owe you?"

"Thirty-four fifty."

Brett handed the kid two twenties in exchange for the bags. "Keep the change."

"Thanks, sheriff! Happy holidays!"

"Happy holidays, Richie."

"Happy holidays, Mr. Botan!" Richie called loudly enough for Bo to hear.

Bo/MJ: MJ leaned away and smiled to himself, eyes to the kitchen, locked with the human within. Bo didn't give his farewell as he usually would have. There was an awkward silence until the delivery boy was out of sight.

"I see," he whispered. "I've been replaced."

Brett: "MJ..." Brett began, stopping the sigh before it left his lips. "This is my boyfriend, Botan. Botan, MJ. I'm really very sorry but we have plans and I really don't want an unpleasant scene today. Or ever, but I'll settle for not having one today."

MJ: "Guildias told me he hasn't fed ya," he continued, as though nothing had been said. "Won't be a scene if ya come with me." Pure green eyes stared intently, features soft, but giving absolutely nothing.

Brett: "I'm not coming with you, MJ. I'm going to go inside and have dinner with my boyfriend."

MJ: "Brett...I brought ya a present."

Brett: "What present?"

MJ: "How will ya know unless ya come with me?"

Brett: "You could tell me. I'm not coming with you, MJ. Please respect that."

MJ: "So ya want me t'tell ya what I got ya?"

Brett: "That's why I asked."

MJ: "Does he tell ya what he got ya 'fore ya get it?"

Brett: This time Brett did sigh. Why did something always have to happen? Why couldn't he and Bo just have one day to themselves that was peaceful and happy without something or someone deciding to intrude and make it end on a sour note?

"MJ, please. I'm not going to get into this with you. I just want to go inside and have dinner with my boyfriend. If you don't want to tell me what this present is, then thank you for the thought but I am going inside."

MJ: The Ravnos began to wilt. "Here I thought ya still loved me. That man that kissed and licked my neck n'didn't want me t'go." He soon recovered. "It's either I do it t'day or Guildias comes over here. Which way is it gonna be, sheriff?"

Brett: "Tell him not to bother." There was a part of him that wanted to give in because it was easier than this but that part was shrinking a little bit more every day. He wasn't the man cowering in the corner anymore, cowering and praying for his life. But then he wasn't the man clinging to any affection he got just because he was starved for it either.

He was the man who was in love with Botan Nowicki and who wouldn't let anything come between them again. "I'm not taking your blood, I'm not taking his blood, I'm not taking anyone's blood ever again." It was said gently, but there was no waver to his voice. No hesitation. He did not relish hurting MJ and he was sorry for it, but he wouldn't give in. "I'm done being a ghoul, MJ."

MJ: MJ closed his eyes, a calm washed over him, and the green in his eyes, which was all there seemed to be suddenly, deepened, darkened. "Sheriff Parker, I don't mean t'sound cruel. I came here with the best intentions. Ya know me. Ya know ya mean a lot t'me, but I just got my privileges t'be here returned. Ya know how this works. Ya know what he's capable of. Ya know how far his generosity goes. I don't wanna be like him, but lately I have no fuckin' patience."

The vampire turned the corner, disappearing for but a moment, returning with a leash in hand. Tethered to the end was perhaps the smallest teacup chihuahua to exist.

"This is Maximillian. Merry fuckin' Christmas."

Brett: Brett unconsciously took half a step backwards. That...that had to be a trick of the light. Didn't it? Or a trick of whatever it was that was happening to him today. MJ's eyes weren't that dark. He was certain they weren't that dark.

"Yes, I know," he said softly. And it scared him, but it wasn't going to stop him. "I know very well what he's capable of and it's because I do know that I've given it so much thought. I'm not doing this lightly." Neither he nor the precious man standing behind him could afford any foolhardiness. "You don't have to be like him. You have a choice, there's always a choice. But if being in Edenton means that much to you then don't tell him anything. Don't give him a chance to shoot the messenger. I was already planning on telling him a different way."

He took another step inside as MJ stepped away, wanting to reach for Botan but also not wanting him to come any closer to the door. This whole situation suddenly had him feeling so on edge that he nearly jumped when MJ returned with...

Was that a chihuahua?

"You...got me a dog?"

MJ: MJ looked to the animal and back. It seemed content at his feet licking air.

"Yeah. D'ya not remember anything 'bout me n'the time we shared? Ya took care of Miss Swiss. This is thank you."

Brett: Speaking of Miss Swiss....

Brett stepped just inside the door and opened the drawer of the table beside the door, taking out a thick envelope. He offered it to MJ.

"These are pictures of her. There are a couple of flash drives too with videos on them. I thought you might like to have them since you didn't get to say goodbye to her."

MJ: MJ smiled at the gift, smiled at the human giving it to him. "This is pretty equal. Thanks." He paused, stared down at Maximilian starting up at him.

"Been able t'talk t'animals?" It would have stopped after a month of MJ's absence.

Brett: "You're welcome." He shook his head. "No, I haven't." He hadn't been able to do any of the things he was able to do after drinking vampire blood, and even though he no longer had the power to bend violent drunks to his will, he was grateful to just...be Brett.

"Thank you for the gift. For Maximilian."

MJ: "Brett... Can we speak outside?"

Brett: Brett shook his head. "No. There's only one person you should be talking to now that you're back in Edenton and it isn't me.

"Pete's back from France."

MJ: "...Ya don't seem t'understand the position you're in."

Brett: "Yes, MJ, I do." He turned to Bo, tried to tell him how much he loved him without saying anything at all.

"I'm standing at the gallows."

MJ: "I'd rather it be me."

Brett: "And I'd rather not be there at all. In fact there's only one place I want to be right now."

MJ: "Enough."

Brett: "Yes, it is. Go see Pete, MJ. Thank you for Maximilian." He closed the door and locked it.

MJ: Inside, the tree was gone, Bo was gone, the house was silent.

Brett: There was fear clawing at Brett's throat as he closed his eyes and silently held his hand out for Botan's. Everything in his house appeared to be gone and now he knew MJ was the one doing it but everything in his house wasn't gone. He knew Botan was still there.

Let him take my hand, he prayed. Please God, let him take my hand. Let all of this fall away. Bring the serenity back to us both, guide us and keep us. Please put his hand in mine.

Bo/MJ: MJ watched from the window with neutral expression. He hated having to do this, he really did, but he was also sick and tired of being underestimated, of no one listening. This was going to happen. He hadn't asked Brett his opinion. He'd given two options. He'd really rather not have to deal with Guildias any more than he had upon his return. He remembered the sheriff's scream, how he held to himself and prayed. He remembered the faraway look in his eyes after taking Guildias' blood. This was not how he wanted this evening to go. He missed Brett; missed their beautiful moment together. Foolishly he had believed they could replicate it.

Quickly, he stepped out of the way as the front door swung open.

"Brett?! Brett! Brett, where are you?!"

Nothing. Neither would hear or see the other.

Brett: Tears slipped from Brett's eyes, his breath quickened, his heart pounded. "Don't be him," he said softly, speaking to MJ. "Don't be him. You don't have to be him, you're not this cruel. You know what it's like to lose your heart. Don't take mine. Don't be him."

He sank his knees and clasped his hands together. "But now, this is what the Lord says—he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I called you by name; you are mine." Brett's voice was soft, pleading. But not with MJ. "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not burn; the flames will not set you ablaze."

MJ: As the door remained open, MJ stepped within. He would be what Brett could find, walking around in front of him, wrist open.

"Don't be...Guildias? Don't be the Devil? Don't be what, Brett?"

Brett: "Guildias, don't be Guildias. Don't be Gertrude. Don't be any of them."

Brett wiped his eyes and continued to pray. He prayed for this to end, for someone to intervene, for God himself to descend from the Heavens and deliver them from all of this.

MJ: "Just drink this n'ya get him back. It's that simple."

Brett: "If I drink that blood then I won't deserve him."

MJ: "Did ya before?"

Brett: "No. I didn't. And God gave him to me anyway, and I am going to spend the rest of my life trying to deserve him and be worthy of him."

MJ: "Did I mean nothin' to ya?"

Brett: "You told me yourself that it wasn't real. You told me I felt what I felt because of the blood."

MJ: "I told ya a lot of shit, didn't I?"

Brett: "Yes, MJ, you did. You told me to take care of Pete. You told me to take care of Miss Swiss. You told me you were leaving Edenton. You told me never to go into the Harrak house."

MJ: "I told ya so much because I cared about ya. I came t'town when I was banished just t'see ya. Did ya know that? Been banished a few times. Yet I still came t'feed ya."

Brett: "Being banished meant you were free. You didn't have to live under the rule of Gertrude Draegan, why on earth would you subject yourself to it again? A ghoul can't be worth that."

MJ: "Really? Ya ain't worth that?"

Brett: "I'm a puppet! My life isn't my own!"

MJ: "All ya have t'do is what they tell ya. Ya think I wanna see ya like this? Ya think I want someone like Guildias doin' this t'ya instead of me? I thought ya gave a fuck about me. I thought 'at least it'll be someone he actually desires.'"

His wrist was offered again. "I don't want ya t'fuckin' die, Brett."

Brett: "They told me to cover up a murder, MJ! They told me to hand over the love of my life so they could do God knows what to him! That's what they told me to do and I did it! I did it all! They took what I worked so hard for, the thing I was most proud of having accomplished and they tainted it! They destroyed it!

"Chains are still chains whether you lock me in them or Guildias does. Having you do it doesn't make them cut into my skin any less, it doesn't make me any less disgusted when I look in the mirror."

MJ: "Was it easier for ya t'take him t'Gertrude or would ya rather someone else have done it?" The only reason he knew any of this was because he had asked. He didn't care about any politics, anything else Guildias was prepared to update him on. He'd asked about Brett; that was all he needed to know.

Brett: "Would it hurt more to have your heart torn out of your chest or cut out with a knife?"

MJ: "They didn't have t'give him back to ya. They don't have t'ever do anything ya say. D'ya understand, Brett? Guildias gave him back n'put effort into your plea because you're a good ghoul that does as you're told. What d'ya think will happen t'that human if ya disobey?"

Brett: "I'm a good ghoul," Brett repeated, more tears spilling as he shook his head. "My dad was right. He was right. I'm going to Hell. He was wrong about the reason but he's right about where I'm going."

MJ: MJ rested on his knees in front of him, watched, admired with eyes like that of a stranger.

"'Firsts are always special,'" he quoted. Words from the sheriff over a year ago. Words that he had carried with him. Words Victoria now used for her entertainment.

Brett: "Firsts are always special..." Firsts are always special? Why did that sound so familiar? Had he said that? He had...he said it to MJ when MJ had told him he was he first ghoul. But why repeat it now? Just to torture him? Because MJ was going to such lengths to remind him that he was a breath away from getting himself killed by refusing to take blood?

MJ was trying to convince him to break his promise to Bo. Why would he say that to convince him?

Brett looked up and immediately scrambled away, eyes going wide with fear.

MJ: "Where are you going?"

Brett: "What's wrong with your eyes? Is that a trick, too? Why bother?"

MJ: There was a pause. "What are you talking about?"

Brett: "Your eyes are green! Why aren't they green?!"

MJ: "Of course they're green."

Brett: Brett shook his head. "No, no, they're not. Not right now. I thought it was a trick of the light but it's not."

MJ: They were green, but it was much too dark. Victoria was in a mood, and it was reflected in his irises. He didn't know; he'd never known.

"Strange change of subject."

Brett: "WHY ARE YOUR EYES DARK? WHAT'S MAKING THEM DARK?"

MJ: Parker's face was held in both hands. "Why are you yelling?"

Brett: It was pure panic. His house was empty, he couldn't see Botan, MJ was trying to force feed him. MJ wouldn't try to force feed him, not unless there was a gun to his head. Brett had spent enough time with to be certain of that and right now, yelling was the only thing that was giving him some semblance of control.

He suddenly understood Pete Graham a lot better.

"Because those aren't MJ's eyes! You're not MJ!" Brett made to scramble away again. "You know things MJ knows but you're not MJ!"

MJ: Firmly those hands held to the back of his neck. "D'ya hear yourself right now?" The accent made its return. "Listen to yourself! D'ya even remember what we talked about in November? Or - Or August? You're not my Brett, either!"

Brett: Brett wasn't crying anymore. Tears were still wet on his cheeks but no new ones fell. They'd been edged out by fear, by confusion. By the absolute certainty that there was more happening here than just tricks and his refusal to continue being a ghoul.

He blinked. MJ sounded like himself again. "You...you don't realize it's happening."

MJ: "What...the fuck...are ya talkin' about?"

Brett: "Your eyes changed! Your voice changed! You were someone else!"

MJ: "Because my eyes are green - which they've always been - ya think m'someone else? The fact that ya looked at me like I was just the mailman when I knocked on your door - but no, it's me. I'm the one that's changed."

Brett: "You've been gone a year and that wasn't what I meant! My eyes are still blue, my voice sounds the same! Yours weren't and yours didn't and I'm not being fucking metaphorical!"

MJ: "What d'ya want me t'tell ya?"

Brett: "THE REASON!"

MJ: "Leave it!"

Brett: "YOU SHOW UP AT MY HOUSE AFTER A YEAR WITH A CHIHUAHUA THAT CAN FIT IN MY COFFEE MUG AND MAKE ME THINK I'M FUCKING CRAZY AND MAKE ME UNABLE TO SEE MY BOYFRIEND AND MY STUFF BEFORE PULLING AN EXORCIST AND TRYING TO BULLY ME INTO DRINKING BLOOD AGAINST MY WILL AND NOW YOU'RE TELLING ME TO LEAVE IT?"

MJ: "I was gone for a year! One! Ya meant the world t'me! Ya act like I mean absolutely nothin'! Suddenly ya don't want blood? Ya were with him that night I crawled through your window! Ya drank from me n'he was right there!"

Brett: "Twelve months! Fifty-two weeks! Three hundred and sixty-five days! How much could I have possibly meant to you if you stayed away that long? Did you really expect nothing would change in all that time?! I FELL IN LOVE IN THAT ONE YEAR! YOU MANAGED TO GET YOURSELF POSSESSED IN THAT ONE YEAR! I'M NOT GOING TO APOLOGIZE FOR NOT WANTING TO BE THE MAN THAT BETRAYED MY HOME TOWN!"

MJ: "A year doesn't turn someone into a fuckin' stranger! I was gone t'protect ya! T'grow n'get better n'be better! D'ya know how fuckin' hard it's been on me? No! Ya don't! Ya don't know 'cause ya didn't ask! I just wanted t'talk n'give ya what ya used t'love! What brought us so close n'I fuckin' missed you, goddammit!" Pink tears had accumulated in his heterocromaic eyes. He took a breath, absolute hurt resonating.

Brett: "A year forces someone to force themselves to move on! You told me to tell myself it was only the blood and that's what I did, MJ! That's what I had to do! I had to make you a stranger! You were gone! I fell in love! I fell in love and I hurt him and I failed him and you're not the only one that feels they have to get better and be better!

"I'm a junkie! I'm a goddamn fucking ghoul and I'm tired of it! Somewhere someone decided that I was the kind of ghoul that gets bonded and I can't fucking help that but I can certainly fucking try! And if I go crazy and die trying to be more than the need for blood then God bless me, that's the way I'm meant to fucking go!"

MJ: Hands cupped Parker's face again. Parker. His Parker. He was more than stolen moments cherished every night for so many lonely nights.

"I told ya that, n'we both realized it was more. I didn't expect ya t'replace Pete. I just wanted ya t'be happy. I didn't want someone t'take advantage of ya, like Guildias. S'why I'm here. Because if anyone in the world should have such privilege, I wanted it t'be me. This is your life now n'I can't help that. I can't, Brett. I can't n'I'm sorry. The best I can do is be your domitor instead of someone else. M'tryin' so hard not t'give in n'be like them. It's - It's so hard. Fight it in other ways. Don't talk like you're fuckin' suicidal, because he needs ya n'I need ya."

Brett: "You've never been like them, not in all the time I've known you. I don't want you to be someone like Gertrude Draegan and you don't have to be. You can be different, you can make a different choice! This you can make a different choice, not the you that has darker eyes, and you've been making it all this time."

Brett closed his eyes. He couldn't cry anymore. Crying wouldn't solve anything. Crying wouldn't bring his Botan back into his arms where he belonged. He had to make MJ understand. He just had to.

"I made a promise to him, MJ. You know what happened the last time I made a promise to him? I broke it. I was weak and I broke it and I can't do that to him again. I have to find a way to change my life and this is the only way I can think to fight it. I don't want to die, but being a ghoul is what made me hurt Bo. It made me hurt someone I love. How would you feel if something you couldn't control made you hurt Pete? Something that was forced on you, that you never asked for?"

MJ: The silence was brief before action. A hand grasped Brett's throat, and those eyes flickered swiftly this time.

"Don't...talk...about Pete."

Brett: Brett saw the flicker but couldn't react quickly enough to get away. His mind was racing too fast, his emotions too frayed and ragged.

This was the noose, and it was tightening.

"MJ..." he managed, desperately trying to remove the vampire's hand, to take deep breaths. "It's not you....it's not you..."

MJ: "What if somethin' made me hurt him? I have. What if somethin' was forced on me? Fuckin' everything. What I am, what I've done. Even you were forced on me."

Brett: In and out, in and out. He had to breathe, he had to see Bo again. "It's the other MJ...he's doing this....not you..."

MJ: "You're so set on there bein' someone else. Just call em Victor, Brett." Fitting, she thought, if this body would one day be hers to claim.

Brett: Victor. Victor was the one doing this. Victor--whoever he was and however he came to be--was going to be the one that killed him.

Desperation had Brett digging his nails into MJ's hand and redoubling his efforts to dislodge his hand. "MJ, h-help me...help me!" Fear and panic were making it harder and harder to catch his breath. All his training seemed to have gone right out the window, all his stone-cold calm and years of experience had vanished into thin air.

"Not you...help me...."

MJ: Help...him. Brett was begging for his help. Why was he begging like that? Why was his desperation so gorgeous? Why should he listen to a man that had forgotten him?

Jade eyes flashed, mixed with familiar hazel, and the vampire blinked. Brett should never have to beg and plead as he had that night at the station. He should never be put in these situations. He was a delicate but resilient ghoul and he deserved the world.

Despite the softening look in his eyes, his right hand joined his left around the sheriff's throat.

Brett: Brett began to struggle in earnest, trying with all his might to find some sort of leverage, some way to free himself from MJ's hold while he was still conscious enough to try and save himself.

But even his best efforts weren't nearly enough to hold off a vampire. Already his breaths were becoming increasingly shallower. His vision was going fuzzy around the edges, his limbs weakening from lack of proper oxygen. He was starting to fade, and he didn't know whether the flicker he saw was real or the hopes of a dying man.

"Victor...ia....not....n-not...."

MJ: A single hand began to ease. The wound still present on his wrist was forced against Brett's lips.

"'Victor...ia'?" The vampire laughed, green eyes glistening. The laughter soon faded into a sigh, eyes closed. Despite the violence, the struggle, the offering of blood was still very much orgasmic.

Brett: Brett tried to turn his head away, to keep his mouth closed no matter how much harder that made it to breathe and no matter how much that addicted whisper in the back of his mind urged him to give in.

'Don't swallow it,' he told himself, trying to spit it out and keep his mouth glued shut at the same time as tears flowed freely from his eyes and ragged sobs shook his body. 'Don't swallow it, you're better than it. It's evil, you can't swallow it. You can't break your promise. You can't break it, you can't. Just die, just die, don't swallow it, don't.'

MJ: A threat towards Botan's safety was on the cusp of utterance, but MJ refrained. He couldn't, for the life of him, imagine why he would. It was cruel beyond measure, but it was there, nagging.

Eyes darkened once more.

"I wonder what Guildias will do...to the human...when he finds out about this."

Brett: 'Botan....my Botan...' he thought, crying harder as their conversation came floating back to him through the haze of suffocation and death and struggle.

Don't take anymore. You promise me?

I promise you, Botan.

I'm cautious about your promises.

I know.

Brett looked up at MJ, at the monster inside him that was taking his life. There wasn't just fear and panic in his eyes. There was fury.

I promise you, Botan.

He spit out whatever was in his mouth and managed a scream.

I promise you, Botan.

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: From the backyard, Bo stilled. Had he heard something? It sounded so far away, like in an empty well.

"Brett!" He felt as though he were calling to a dog. This was ridiculous. The sheriff was just there in the living room, staring at...someone named MJ. Why was that name so familiar?

The scream succeeded in forcing his wrist deeper into Brett's open mouth. By now he was straddled, considerable weight against his lungs. Dark blood trickled down his tongue, sweet and coppery and smooth, gliding down his throat. It was only a matter of time.

"Victoria."

A snarl, MJ looked up to the doorway, stared into the eyes of a man not seen in over a year. For a moment there was a slip, a look of confusion as though staring into the face of a stranger. Victoria had forgotten what Fletcher Goodman looked like.

The Christmas tree came into focus, the scent of cinnamon and pine.

Brett: No no no no no! NO! MJ wouldn't make him swallow, MJ wouldn't make him keep that evil in his system! He wasn't going to be the man that betrayed the love of his life.

With his last burst of energy, Brett abandoned his efforts to remove MJ's hand from his throat and instead focused on removing his wrist so he could make himself throw up. He focused on trying to gouge out those horrible, dark, evil eyes.

If he was meant to die tonight, he wasn't going to go without a fight.

....Victoria....

A voice said Victoria. Not his voice. Whose voice? God's? Had God come to take him at last? Why did God look like Fletcher Goodman?

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: The arm forcing Brett's head against the hard wood floor had no intention of being removed. It welded him to the floor with supernatural strength never once used on the ghoul before. Perhaps that was the problem, Victoria thought, reaching into MJ's memories. They were all too soft on this piece of meat. In all her years she'd never had such difficulty with a slave. They worshipped the ground in which she stepped.

"Victoria, let him the fuck go."

The vampire simply stared, leaning away from those desperate hands.

"Try fuckin' harder, MJ. Ya don't deserve Peter if this is all the better ya can do!"

The backdoor creaked open.

Brett: Nails sank and scratched into MJ's skin, legs flailed and kicked in their hopeless search for leverage, getting weaker and weaker by the second.

The door creaked like the stairs in his mother's house. He remembered them so well. He used to like to read on those stairs, he pretended to climb Everest. He'd put that old white duvet at the top because it looked like snow.

Brett reached into the closet and grasped for it, it was just there out of reach. He needed the chair from his desk to reach the snow to put on the stairs.

His eyes slipped closed as he reached for it, and his arm fell limp.

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: "The fuck are ya doin' here, Fletch?"

His grip loosened, hand transferring from throat to mouth, forcing it closed, fingers dangerously close to cutting off his airway.

"Ya ain't got no right t'treat him like that."

"What d'you know about it?"

"Victoria, get up."

Quietly, Bo opened the bottom cabinet. Carefully...carefully he removed the ugly cast iron skillet he refused to cook with. He'd never seen the point of owning one until now. Today it was going to be used as a weapon.

"Do I know you?"

In debate, the Samsa licked his lips, took a cautious breath and shook his head. "Ya sayin' that means a lot t'me." It meant that up to this point he had been successful. It was now shattered thanks to his pathetic humanity. He'd died for this man once before, according to a certain druid. So long as he kept his eyes on him, kept the vampire's attention long enough...

But he looked. He looked back to the kitchen and so too did the vampire, greeted with a desperate swing of iron and a scream.

Brett: He was waiting for the fire. Hell was fire, wasn't it? It was fire and brimstone that burned and tortured the sinners that were thrown into it. He was one of those sinners, and he was being thrown into it.

He waited for the burn, waited for the pain and eternity of suffering and the smell of scorched flesh....

...and got air.

Brett eyes flew open as he curled onto his side, gasping for breath only to end up coughing and choking on the blood that was still in his mouth and throat in an effort to expel it completely.

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: Shutting the door was the first step to containing the situation. Bo fell to the floor and scrambled for the sheriff. The frying pan crashed to the floor ignored. Fletcher grabbed for MJ's leg, yanked the snarling creature away from the renewed ghoul and human before he had a chance to bite.

"MJ! Look at me! Look at me!" Now it was he who was straddled, arms pinned by his wrists. There was no where for him to go. His strength, no matter how great, would not match that of a fera. He was nothing close to a Brujah.

"MJ, it's okay! You're better than her! Ya can kick her out!"

Brett: There was only one phrase repeating itself on a loop in Brett's head as he crawled away from death and stuck his fingers down his throat to make himself retch: Get it out, get it out, get it out! Out! Get the evil out, get it out!

He didn't know how much blood he managed to swallow but whatever was in his stomach was soon on the floor. Only then did he crawl toward the beautiful golden angel--his beautiful golden angel--who'd rescued him, clinging to him for dear life his abused body and torn throat wracked with sobs.

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: The muscles of Brett's arms and legs began to tighten, warmed by their renewed strength. Much of the blood was expelled, but the affect had taken place. His preternatural physical vigor was as it had been just weeks before.

Bo held tightly to Brett's shoulders and head, hugging him close to chest, watching in horror as the creature underneath the stranger writhed and snapped horrid fangs, bewildered by what was happening.

MJ had fallen into frenzy. This was as dangerous as he could possibly be, and now it was Fletcher had to struggle to keep him at bay.

"Ya can't keep doin' this! You're gonna die, ya idiot!"

Brett: "Jeg beklager," he cried, hearing his voice return to normal and hating himself for it. He should've died. Dying and burning were better than having this poison in his veins.

And yet he couldn't help but cling tighter to Bo. He couldn't help but burrow against his chest and weep with gratitude that he could finally smell him. "Jeg beklager så mye. Jeg beklager så mye."

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: "Brett, shh. Shh..." Fingers combed through his tousled hair, but soon pushed him back enough to grab the frying pan. He was caught in a moment and he needed to ride the wave of adrenaline. The sheriff had been tortured and that word was sacred and black.

"Get out of the way," he said to the stranger, raising the pan. It would be like squashing an insect. Little did he know of the man pinning the vampire down.

"Don't!" shouted Fletcher.

Brett: The tears came harder when Bo pulled away. Bo's arms were warm and safe and home and Brett needed them. He needed him.  "No, don't leave me, come back! He'll hurt you, come back, please! He'll take you away from me!"

Bo/Fletcher: "Parker, calm down!" There was nothing Fletcher could do than hold MJ down and wait. Letting go just meant having to grab him again. He would hold out for as long as he possibly could in keeping his other forms to himself.

"Go t'him n'leave this alone, kid!"

Arms shook with rage. He raised the pan again but the sound of Brett's sobs forced him to lower his stance, drop the pan.

"Get it out of this house."

"I will."

Backwards he scrambled to the sound of Brett, pulled him back into his arms.

Brett: Here, Botan was here. Brett had him back, he was back in Bo's arms.

"God brought you back to me," he whispered, all but trying to crawl inside his boyfriend's skin as he filled his lungs with Bo's cologne and the Noble Fir and the scent of the home they made together. "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me. Jeg elsker deg."

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: Softly, Bo shushed the ghoul and held him fast, kept his distance and watched as the stranger wrestled with the vampire's strength. It would be some time until the frenzy would subside. Some time being nearly thirty minutes.

Brett: Those thirty minutes seemed endless to the man in Botan Nowicki's arms. Though he continued to weep, his sobs softened and quieted until they were more or less muffled against Bo's chest. He didn't lift his head or turn toward what was happening a few feet away; he simply clung to his boyfriend and waited for it to end.

He wouldn't answer if spoken to, wouldn't acknowledge anyone but Bo. He simply waited and prayed for them to be alone again behind a locked door.

MJ/Fletcher: The growls, the snaps, the wild curses in a language he knew MJ didn't know had come to an agonizingly slow halt. This was misery, but this was better than the alternative.

"Parker. Sheriff Parker." When ignored, he regarded the blond. "Come get my phone out of my back pocket. I need ya t'call Peter Graham."

Brett: The mention of Pete had Brett clinging even tighter to Bo as he lifted his head just enough to peek up at his face. Bo didn't have to let him go to do what Fletcher asked.

"My phone's in my pocket," he managed, his voice sounding parched and tired. "His number's in there."

Bo/Fletcher: Bo swallowed and nodded to both, taking Brett's phone and finding the number. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Tell him t'come here n'help me get this out."

Before hitting call, he had to look to the sheriff for confirmation.

Brett: Brett just nodded before burying his face against Bo again, soothing himself with the sound of his boyfriend's heartbeat.

Bo/MJ: The vampire had managed to calm by the time the phone was answered.

"Is this Peter Graham?" Bo greeted. "I'm in no mood to explain, but you need to come to the sheriff's house. Do you know where it is?"

Pete: It was a good thing they'd hit a lull, otherwise it could've easily been hours before Pete so much as looked at his phone, let alone got time to answer it.

Such as it was, Parker's name on the display had him picking up after only one ring. "Evening, sher--yes, this is him." Pete straightened, brow furrowing with concern as...was that Botan? Why was Botan calling him from Brett's phone and telling him to go to the sheriff's house?

"Yeah, I know where. I'll be there as quickly as I can." He hung up. "June, you're in charge!"

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: The calm which had washed over the vampire unnerved Bo more than his beastly snarl. One was understandable. The almost serene look in his green eyes however, made no sense to him. Why was he allowing the stranger to ground him like this? It felt strategic in nature.

Fletcher was not looking forward to seeing Peter like this.

Pete: Pete had no idea what he was going to find when he arrived at the sheriff's house. He had even less of an idea of why the sheriff's boyfriend had even called him. Shouldn't they be calling Peabody if there was an emergency of some kind? What could possibly be happening that he was qualified to handle but a cop wasn't?

He jogged up the steps and knocked on the door a couple times before letting himself in.

"Eve...ning."

Oh.

This was what Peabody wasn't qualified to handle.

"Hi, Fletcher. Hi...MJ."

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: "Hello again," said MJ.

Fletcher wasn't sure how to begin explaining the situation. Bo wasn't going to wait on him.

"Get that out of my house."

Pete: Pete did a double take. That wasn't even close to the greeting he'd expected from MJ after what happened nearly a year ago. He'd expected yelling and cursing and punching, not a polite hello.

Unless...he wasn't talking to MJ.

"....That's Victoria, isn't it?"

Bo/MJ: "What the hell are you doing talking? I said get it out!"

Fletcher turned to Peter and simply nodded. They needed to move this along before the frying pan was picked up again.

Pete: "Right, yes. Okay."

As he got closer, Pete was finally able to get a true grasp on the situation. There was a frying pan on the floor, Fletcher was pinning Victoria down, and Brett....oh, god. Brett.

It was the police station all over again.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked Fletcher. "Do I grab his arms or legs or...?"

MJ/Fletcher: "Just his left side, there." He knew Peter had the strength should MJ struggle, but more than that, he had a feeling his presence would calm. His intuition had been accurate, and the vampire got to his feet without resistance.

Pete: He nodded, moving to MJ's side and helping him up. He was prepared for a struggle and was again surprised when reality didn't meet his expectation.

He just hoped Fletcher had a plan of where to take MJ because he sure as hell didn't.

Fletcher: Fletcher really had no idea what to do next. As much as he preferred staying out of other people's affairs (as he had the last time Sheriff Parker was in danger) this was an ugly situation he couldn't play bystander to. Remembering what he'd been told, remembering those last images of the blond stranger before he'd been phoenix-ed, he felt obligated.

In honor of this man he didn't know, himself, each time he'd died.

So here they were. MJ was led out the back door. As soon as they were through the other side, Bo shut and locked the door behind them.

On the other side of the living room, Maximillian was asleep on the sheriff's slippers.

Brett/Pete: "Should we....where are we going?" Pete asked, which wasn't to say that what they were currently doing was a bad idea. Taking Victoria in the opposite direction of Brett and Bo's house was by far the best thing to do right now. Hopefully the two of them had the good sense to barricade themselves in.

And they were, and Brett was immensely grateful for it.

He simply sat on the floor and stared at the little dog while Bo locked the door, face still wet with tears that didn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

The moment Bo rejoined him, he was clinging again.

MJ/Fletcher: Maybe take him to the nearest shore and throw him in the river, Fletcher thought. Of course he wouldn't say that, not to Peter. He simply sighed.

"Maybe we could take him - I dunno. I hadn't thought that far ahead."

Pete: "The beach?" The beach was far away from Brett's house. And with the cold, there were no people on it for Victoria to eat, maim, or torture.

MJ/Fletcher: For a second, Fletcher believed Peter had the same fantasy in mind. "Sure," was all he'd say.

MJ heaved a long and impatient sigh.

Pete: To the beach then. He just wanted to ascertain one thing, for his own curiosity.

"You still driving, Victoria?"

MJ: "Do you know how often he's cried over you? Almost exposed his shame to his new lover."

Pete: Pete felt a muscle in his jaw clench but otherwise gave no reaction. Yep, that was definitely still Victoria, and he wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of rattling him. She'd done enough damage today.

Still....he couldn't help but wonder about this....new lover. If there even was a new lover. She could easily be fucking with him just to see what he would do. And even if she wasn't lying, it wasn't like he had any room to talk.

MJ/Fletcher: Once at the beach, Fletcher's grip began to loosen. Where to go from here, he wondered.

"Don't go back to the sheriff's."

"I don't need to." No, the damage had been done. It's what he deserved for stepping out of line.

Pete: "Don't go to the sheriff's station either."

Victoria: "Anywhere else?"

Pete: "Yeah. Into the part of your brain she's in."

Victoria: "You mean him? He doesn't have much left."

Pete: "I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to him."

MJ: MJ's body laughed. Could it really be his? Might as well call it Victor, conform to the male body.

Pete: "Now let me tell you something, Miz Harrak." He stepped closer.

"Un jour, d'une façon ou d'une autre, je vais vous arracher de lui. Et quand je le ferai, je déchirerai votre cœur avec mes dents."

Victoria: Oh, that smile widened. So nice to hear such a civil language in a savage world. Still, "Not quite there, but close, darling."

Pete: Pete was smiling, too. If it could be called a smile. It was almost as if he knew something no one else did.

"That's not the only thing that's close, Miz Harrak."

Victoria: "You're really not intimidating in the least."

Pete: "To someone like you I expect I'm not."

Victoria: Hmm. MJ's body, but clearly not his mannerisms. Those hands on his hips might as well have been alien. "Now what?"

Pete: "Now you go."

Victoria: "Sure. Off I go. Want a kiss for the man you broke?"

Pete: Pete's expression went stony again. "I don't think you understand. Go. Back into your corner."

Victoria: "It doesn't work that way, darling."

Pete: "Make it work that way, MJ."

MJ: The eyes closed, a deep breath taken. It seemed saying his name was the trigger.

Pete: He heaved an internal sigh of relief. Thank god.

"MJ?"

MJ: "Mm?" He had to keep his eyes closed or he would lose focus.

Pete: "You driving again?"

MJ: "Tryin' to."

Pete: He nodded. "Good."

MJ: "What d'ya want?"

Pete: "Just wanted to make sure. I'll go."

MJ: "That's it?"

Pete: "Did you want to get another hit in?"

MJ: "What?"

Pete: "On me. Did you want to deck me or yell or..."

MJ: "...Don't want anything from ya."

Pete: "...Right. So...I'll....go."

MJ/Fletcher: "Ya know you're makin' a mistake, MJ."

"Fuck off, Fletch."

Pete: He had no intention of jumping into the second round of World War 3.

"I'm gonna go check on Brett," he said to no one in particular, making to head up the beach.

Fletcher: "That's it?" Fletcher straightened. "That's all the fight y'all got in ya?"

Pete: "Tonight yes. Something tells me there's been too much fight tonight."

Fletcher: "Not where it counts."

Pete: "Having our fight now is going to poke at her again and I sure as hell ain't fighting with her."

Fletcher: "She's always gonna be there," Fletcher sighed. This much was the point.

He turned to the vampire. "Stay away from Parker. I know ya once loved him," he whispered, "but ya don't mean shit anymore. Not t'him, not while ya got her runnin' shotgun."

Pete: "She's especially there tonight, and if it's all the same to you, MJ, I'd rather not fuel her when she's already raring to go."

Fletcher: "We're just gonna trust that he won't go back..." Fletcher wasn't sure.

Pete: Pete sighed. He wasn't sure either, but he wanted to be.

"I don't know what the hell happened in that house tonight and something tells me I really don't want to but whatever it was, it was serious enough for you to call me. And if it was serious enough for you to call me, then MJ has a hell of a lot of motivation to stay away from Brett and his boyfriend."

MJ: "Yeah, I get it," MJ growled.

Pete: "I sincerely hope you do," Pete said softly. "Because I know you know better than anyone that Parker really doesn't deserve whatever Victoria wants to do to him."

MJ: "I know better than anyone? Think I slept with him?"

Pete: "Jesus, no! I meant you know better than anyone because you didn't deserve her."

MJ: "How would ya know? D'ya really know me?" His eyes were forced open, heterochromatic and focused.

Pete: They would find Pete's staring back at them with no small amount of irritation.

"Yes, MJ, I do. Whether you like it or not, I do really know you and I know for a fact that you don't fucking deserve Victoria Harrak so quit acting like you do!"

MJ: "I thought I knew ya, too! We all make mistakes!"

Pete: "Oh, don't give me that, it's not a mistake! You do know me! And I do know you!"

MJ: "I don't know a man that would lie t'my face and betray me."

Pete: "Well I didn't think I knew a man without the decency or the balls to say goodbye to me face to face when he left town or a man that would bash my face into a tree when I tried to explain myself but apparently I do!"

MJ: "Ya still think that was me then ya can go fuck yourself. Better yet, just have Fletch again."

Pete: "If it really wasn't you then that's fucking worse! You just let her! Have you really forgotten what it is to be you? Have you really let that bitch take so much from you that you're letting her go around hurting the people in your life? Because if you have then you're right. I don't know you."

MJ/Fletcher: "Because it's that easy, like flippin' a switch. Ya ran away just like I did n'suddenly you're a goddamn expert in all things Kindred n'ya get t'talk down on me, like it's all my fuckin' fault."

Fletcher remained silent, standing off to the side should he have to grab his once friend. At least they were talking...yelling.

Pete: "Like you did? Bullshit!"

Pete stormed back down the beach. "I might have left Edenton, I might've needed to leave Edenton, but I didn't do it like you did! I fucking said goodbye! You didn't leave me a number to reach you at or an address with a freezer to leave you a letter in but I found a fucking way to say goodbye to you!"

MJ: "Because that's the most intelligent thing t'do with Victoria in my head! Because that's workin' out so well right now!"

Pete: "She's always known where I am! She was in this town before I was even born!"

MJ: "I couldn't risk ya convincin' me t'stay!"

Pete: "Could I have?! Could anything I said have convinced you?! And even if I did, what would've been so bad about staying? Of at least giving me a lifeline to you?"

MJ: "How can ya say such fruity bullshit when she bashed your fuckin' skull in? You're not that stupid!"

Pete: "That's exactly my point, MJ! You left. You cut me off from you completely. And she still managed to hurt me!"

MJ: "And I was supposed t'know that?! Was is s bad t'just wait for me that ya had t'stick your dick in that?!"

Pete: "Wait for what, MJ? I have been waiting for you since the moment we met, before Victoria, before Fletcher, before any of it. I've always been just...waiting for you."

MJ: "Then I guess I deserved it. You're never fuckin' wrong. Get the fuck away from me."

Pete: "No, you didn't deserve it. I fucked up. I fucked up and I hurt you. That's not your fault, that's not Fletcher's fault, it's mine."

MJ/Fletcher: "Ya can't go doin' that. I had as much say as ya did, Peter. We both fucked up."

MJ glared between the two of them.

Pete: "Maybe, but I was the one in a relationship," Pete said softly. "The bulk of the blame falls on me."

Fletcher: "...Are y'all good for me t'leave alone?" Fletcher asked.

Pete: Pete nodded. "We'll be fine."

Fletcher: "I won't be far." No, he'd have his eyes on this regardless. Still...he forced himself away.

Pete: Another nod was given in silent thanks.

MJ: "Thought ya were leavin'," muttered MJ.

Pete: "Yeah, well, we're not done here."

MJ: "What else?"

Pete: "What else? What else?"

MJ: "Yeah, Peter, what else?"

Pete: "How about you just letting Victoria 'flip the switch' whenever the hell she wants?!"

MJ: "Ya really got some fuckin' balls talkin' t'me about shit ya know nothin' about."

Pete: "Victoria? No, I know nothing about Victoria and I don't care to know because she's a terrible fucking person but as we've established, I know you. For better or for worse."

MJ: "Ya don't know me n'y don't know what it's like t'have someone else literally inside ya."

Pete: "I do know you, you stubborn goddamn vampire, and I might not know what it's like having a homicidal bitch inside me but that doesn't mean I'm completely clueless about having something inside you that you barely understand and have no choice but to deal with!"

MJ: MJ kept his eyes towards the open water. "And now it's all better that ya got some idea."

Pete: "Okay, you know what? I'm trying to be sincere with you and actually talk to you and you've got nothing but sarcasm so I'm going back to my goddamn bar."

MJ: "Ya think I let her beat ya n'try t'rape ya! There is absolutely nothin' for us t'talk about!"

Pete: Every thought in Pete's head came to a grinding, abrupt halt. All the fight and irritation simply drained out of his being, leaving his eyes wide and his face pale.

For a few moments, he could do nothing but stare.

MJ: There was much to be read in MJ's eyes. Absolute pain and misery were the most obvious. Disappointment rose on the subtle waves of love which burned his eyes a pale pink. There was...nothing to be done to salvage this relationship, not while Peter felt the way he did.

Pete: Pete could barely hear his own voice over his thundering heart when he said, "....She...she tried to...to...?"

MJ: "...Ya know what she did."

Pete: The confusion and horror in his eyes said he didn't.

MJ: "Ya were just talkin' about it n'belittlein' me."

Pete: "I passed out, I...I don't remember what happened after my face hit the tree..." He thought the tree was as far as it went.

MJ: "S'why I've been gone...again. Some giant came 'round n'I got control again. Callum...he...told me t'fuck off."

Pete: He gave an absent nod. "Right. The bouncer." Callum had mentioned Tane the bouncer; he had not, however, mentioned telling MJ to fuck off or the attempted...the thing Victoria had attempted.

"You haven't come back because of Callum?"

MJ: "...Yeah. I didn't want... He was right. I didn't want her t'have another chance."

Pete: "She won't have one. I'm...she won't have one." He was stronger now.

"You don't um...Callum was just pissed, he's Scottish, you know? They're...passionate. You're not blackballed from town or anything."

MJ: "I'm not anymore, no..." He looked back to the water again. "He was right. Ya saw what she...what I...what we did t'Brett."

Pete: "I don't mean to sound like a broken record but..." He sighed. "Don't take the blame for the shit she does. You're not her. I don't know what happened in that house that led us here, but I know you wouldn't hurt Brett."

MJ: "Brett doesn't know, he doesn't understand what just happened. I... I love him, n'I hurt him."

Pete: "Why?" Pete asked quietly.

MJ: "Why what?"

Pete: "Why did she hurt him?"

MJ: "He wasn't listenin'. He's a ghoul. We're not... askin' if he wants t'be. He has t'be or he's dead. I didn't want t'lose him, n'then she took that...n'then I remember that human hittin' me with somethin'."

Pete: "...He told you he didn't want to be a ghoul anymore?"

MJ: "He can't say shit like that. He's gonna fuckin' die."

Pete: "Do you blame him?"

MJ: "We didn't hurt him. We didn't beat him or pull his teeth out. We didn't make him like us. He just had t'drink. I don't wanna hear 'bout some soft "his feelings" bullshit. This is the real world."

Pete: "Yeah, it is. And in the real world people want to be free. They want their lives to be their own and no one else's. A gilded cage is still a cage."

MJ: "He's either bonded n'loves us or he's not...n'he's gonna get himself killed."

Pete: Pete was quiet for a long time, staring out at the sea as MJ had done. Finally, "Brett and I turned thirty-four this year. Thirty-four. And this--his life now--is the happiest I've seen him since we were six years old."

MJ: "N'he used t'look at me like I mattered. When he opened the door...he...hated me."

Pete: "There's only one person Brett hates in the whole world and I promise it isn't you."

MJ: "Now it is."

Pete: "Only if you don't tell him it wasn't you."

MJ: "'Cause that worked so well with ya, with everyone."

Pete: "I don't hate you, MJ." Soft as a whisper.

MJ: "'Ya just let her', ya said."

Pete: "Anger doesn't always equal hatred."

MJ: "Ya lied t'me n'ya hurt me."

Pete: "I know."

MJ: "I can't...forgive that. Just like I don't expect Brett t'forgive me."

Pete: Pete nodded. "I understand."

MJ: He didn't know what to say now.

Pete: He really didn't either, but there was something he'd been meaning to say since...well, since he was still in France sitting on a beach with his teacher.

"I know I can't take it back, but I want you to know that I'm going to try to make it right. To make it up to you."

MJ: "...What?" The vampire frowned. "After what ya just said t'me? This ain't some movie. I know before when I called - I know this is over."

Pete: "Movies leave holes and questions. Real life is messy and hard and it hurts like fucking a bitch but it's better. When you called....I wasn't in a good way. I felt like a...nerve. An exposed nerve. Not just because of what happened with us, it was--I was just starting to get myself right again and hearing your voice hurt. I never thought I'd ever hear it again. And I shied away because I was already hurt and I wanted to be better."

MJ: "I wasn't good enough. I had no right t'call ya n'remind ya that I ain't. Remind ya of what I "let" happen. You're...the first person I've ever been in love with, n'what I am...those things don't mix. I won't do it again."

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Don't say that. I'm the one who wasn't wasn't good enough for you. I was weak and I hurt you."

As long as they were here, they might as well sit. The sand was as good a place as any. "Being a vampire doesn't mean you can't love or be happy with someone. People far worse than either of us, than Gertrude and Victoria even, find love and happiness every day. Maybe it doesn't look like Hollywood love, but it's love."

MJ: MJ stood over Pete with caution. There was still trust for him to just sit so comfortably like that. There had to be something, and it felt wrong.

"Ya can't take back what ya just said, just like I can't take back what I did. Ya need t'be with your own kind."

Pete: "We can't, but maybe it's not about taking things back. Maybe it's about finding a way to move forward."

He shook his head again. "Humans have been falling in love and making it stick with non-humans since the beginning of time. Whether or not you make it with someone has nothing to do with species, you know that."

MJ: "D'ya still believe I just let her hurt ya? That I would let anyone do somethin' like that t'ya?"

No, no, he frowned. "Just because they can don't mean they should. Look what it's done t'ya. I couldn't give ya what ya want n'ya witnessed murder n'other terrible shit. Was that healthy? Don't answer that; ya know the answer. It's an entirely different way of thinkin' n'I was stupid t'try. I love ya but that don't mean we're meant t'be."

Pete: Pete was quiet for a few moments. "I remember wondering if it was her or you when I was...when it was happening. I thought the only reason she could hurt me was because you wanted to hurt me, and that you wanted to hurt me because you hated me. I didn't blame you for hating me, but...yeah. It still kills me that she's in there with you, that she has power when she should be slow roasting in hell while Satan shoves flaming swords into her, but...no. I don't believe you just let her hurt me."

He sighed. "Who the hell decides what's meant to be? Look at Callum. He's not with the person he's 'meant' to be with and he's happy and in love. They're solid, they've built a life together. All I ever wanted was to just...have you. Have all of you."

MJ: "Ya just said "let" t'me just minutes ago. Why are ya backtrackin' what ya say? We're not them, n'Callum ain't no angel. He knows what happened at the police station. He's still with him. Guildias gave me this as pretty much the only option n'Callum knows. Where's the yellin'? The reprimand?" He looked around to find nothing. "Ain't nowhere. Ya wanna be like that? Ya lied t'me n'said it was on me because we never actually fucked. Wanna backtrack that, too?"

Pete: "I said 'let' because I've spent the past few months thinking she was only able to hurt me because you wanted to hurt me, which is a reasonable assumption considering we were fighting in the middle of the damn woods when it happened."

He got to his feet again. "I am not backtracking and that is not what I said to you. I said that I lied because I was sad and lonely and heartbroken over you leaving me and over that goddamn feeling of never really having you even when I did have you. You're the one that reduced it to just sex."

MJ: "Ya talked 'bout sex! Ya mentioned it! Ya did that!"

Pete: "I talked about sex, I didn't say it was the only reason!"

MJ: "We can't be together."

Pete: "MJ....don't...."

MJ: "We already know that."

Pete: "We don't know that. I'm not done trying."

MJ: "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm done killin' myself with guilt."

Pete: "I don't want you to kill yourself with guilt. Not because of me, not because of Victoria."

MJ: "Sayin' that don't change it."

Pete: "Tell me what will. Tell me how I can make things right between us."

MJ: "Got a time machine or a - a time spell?"

Pete: "If a time spell is what it takes, I'll find it. I've got the Library of Alexandria of magic just a phone call away."

MJ: "And then ya go back in time and change it, replace yourself, and pretend ya didn't lie n'cheat on me."

Pete: Pete took a deep breath. "I'd go back and I'd make a different choice. I'd find a way to be stronger for you. Fuck, I'd go back even further and stop them from ever even thinking of putting that awful woman inside you."

MJ: "...It woulda been one thing if the moment I came back ya told me ya wanted him, that we were over. It wasn't like that, Pete." He didn't want to think or speak of Victoria.

Pete: "I know," he said softly, closing his eyes. "I know, MJ. And I wish...you have no idea how badly I wish I could change it. How badly I wish I'd never hurt you or lied to you."

MJ: "If I'd never come back, ya'd be with him, wouldn't ya?"

Pete: "I honestly don't know." Soft as it was, his voice reflected the sincerity in his eyes as they opened again.

MJ: "N'what if... What if I said that t'ya? What would ya do in my situation? Gonna tell me ya'd listen n'open up n'just accept your words?"

Pete: Pete studied the horizon for a moment, thinking of all the times he tried to contact MJ, all the nights he'd laid in bed staring at his window in hope.

"I wouldn't give up," he whispered. "I'd...I'd give us a chance."

MJ: "And you would believe me when I say I won't cheat again? You'd believe I wouldn't look at that man n'want t'fuck him again? M'just supposed t'take ya at your word?"

Pete: "No, you're not supposed to just take me at my word and I'm not expecting you to. I never have. All I'm asking is for you to give me a chance to  earn your trust back."

MJ: "I can't...deal with this right now, Pete."

Pete: Pete nodded. "I understand." And he did. He'd give MJ all the time and space he needed but he still wasn't planning on giving up.

MJ: "So, what now?"

Pete: He sighed. "I don't know."

MJ: "Ya think Victoria's gonna come back n'I'm goin' back over there?"

Pete: "I'm really hoping that doesn't happen."

MJ: "So, what now?" he repeated.

Pete: "I'm gonna....go." Maybe he'd camp out in front of Brett's house. Just in case.

MJ/Fletcher: Fletcher would be waiting up the hill near a half naked tree, waiting for any sign of distress. Given Peter's new identity, he wasn't strained by concern.

"Yeah...So..." He didn't know what to say. See you later? Talk to you soon? Bye? He just turned around, watched the ocean.

Pete: Pete waited for some sort of farewell, even if it was half-hearted. When none came, he simply nodded and said, "So....I'll see you later, MJ."

After waiting one more beat, he turned and walked back up the beach. He'd finish up at the bar and check on Brett and Botan on his way home. And again in the morning.

Fletcher: Fletcher was waiting for him at the top, standing now with slumped shoulders.

"Hey, so...how's that workin' out?"

Pete: Despite Fletcher's earlier assurance, for some reason Pete hadn't expected him to stay this long. He supposed he thought Fletcher would want to stay as far as possible from the drama that seemed to follow in his wake. Nobody would blame him.

"Oh, you know. About as well as a screen door on a submarine."

Fletcher: "That's...that's how vampires are, man." Of course he'd stay. Love wasn't on the table for them, not romantically, but anyone would be foolish to believe Fletcher didn't care for the man in front of him.

Pete: "I think the vampire bit only contributed about half of the...stuff. The rest is very human."

Fletcher: "If ya say so, Peter. So, you're just gonna leave em there?"

Pete: He nodded. "Don't really have a choice. I can't tail him for the rest of the night. I can check on the Parker household, though, and I will."

Fletcher: "I was gonna, but the human's pretty adamant about us fuckin' off."

Pete: "I don't blame him," he sighed. "A person can only be scarred for life so many times."

Fletcher: "So ya know 'bout what happened t'him?"

Pete: "No specifics, but nothing that has anything to do with Victoria Harrak is going to leave someone happy and unaffected."

Fletcher: "Are we talkin' 'bout the human or the sheriff?"

Pete: "Brett. Whatever happened, happened to him."

Fletcher: "Ah. Was talkin' 'bout the kid after that shit happened at the bar."

Pete: "What kid?"

Fletcher: "Botan, the one that hit MJ with a frying pan."

Pete: "Right, right. He hit MJ with a frying pan? Like in Tangled?"

Fletcher: "What's that?"

Pete: "Disney movie. Rapunzel. She hits the guy with a frying pan when he breaks into her tower." He shook his head. "Sorry, spent a lot of time around kids."

Fletcher: "...Ya did?" He wanted to hear about it, but this wasn't the time nor the place. He could feel MJ's eyes on him.

"We should start walkin'."

Pete: "Yeah, uh, their mom thought watching the movies with them in French would help me learn. French, I mean."

Pete nodded. "Right, yes." He stuck his hands in his pockets and fell into step beside Fletcher.

Fletcher: "Ah, right. They did that shit in high school, too."

Say something else, he thought. Ask more questions, talk about sheriff Parker.

"Ya have fun?" was all he could think of.

Pete: Pete smiled to himself as he thought back on all his months in Brittany, on all the good and the bad and everything in between. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "I did."

Fletcher: "...Well...good." If Peter hadn't done it, he would have, and then he would never have met Luke in time. The correct response was to be grateful.

"I uh...so how much did ya learn 'bout yourself while gone?"

Pete: If you only knew, he thought. He learned more about himself with every lunar cycle.

"More than I bargained for."

Fletcher: "Coulda just stayed gone. Luke would taken over the place "

Pete: "Luke is why I came back. He needed me."

Fletcher: "Oh, right...that."

Pete: He nodded. "Yeah. He's...it's been rough on him."

Fletcher: "They weren't really a thing-" but then he looked at Peter and away, cleared his throat. Never mind that.

Pete: He'd just...let that one go. No harm done.

"They were enough of one for it to really hurt. Parker thinks Luke was the last one to see him alive."

Fletcher: "Mm...yeah." That’s as far as he'd go with that. "How long ya back for?"

Pete: "For good."

Fletcher: "New friends are just pen pals now?"

Pete: "I'll go back for visits. Couple of them are thinking about visiting me here. We talk during the week."

Fletcher: "Well, that's...good." He really wasn't as well versed in small talk with Peter as he used to be. That window had been pathetically small and briefly open before snapping shut.

"So, I...uh - Fuck, I dunno what t'say. Feels like too much or too little."

Pete: Pete gave a small chuckle. "You're fine. Hell, given what happened tonight I'd say we're doing a fantastic job of keeping the conversation light and flowing."

Fletcher: "Just...wanna say more is all," he muttered, eyes to the ground.

Pete: He nodded. "Well...there's no pressure. I went to New York and Paris before settling in Brittany. Ended up seeing pretty much all of France."

Fletcher: "Oh. Why did ya pick France? Your family French or somethin'?"

Pete: "Not as far as I know. It was uh...Anthony Bourdain."

Fletcher: It took him a moment. "Oh right. That guy. Figured ya woulda done somethin' like... Scotland or Bangkok."

Pete: Pete chuckled. "Luke thought I'd gone to Nepal or the Amazon. France was more appealing. And has better wine.

"I actually went up to Scotland for a couple days in the summer. Saw Callum's dad."

Fletcher: "So the majority of places were not romantic. Thought ya were toughin' it out."

He bit into his lip, nearly drew blood.

"This gonna be awkward for ya, talkin' t'me again?" He felt a stirring in his stomach which answered for himself.

Pete: "I toughed it out in other ways. Mostly I just wanted to be in a place with lots of people and lots of things to do. No better place for that than France." You'd have to be dead for a million years to be bored in France.

Pete shook his head. "No, not at all. For you?"

Fletcher: "Feel a little...sick t'my stomach. Thought ya weren't comin' back. Kinda...got used t'not seein' ya at the pub anymore. Like one of those...outta sight outta mind instances. I still regret not keepin' a better eye on ya. Maybe I coulda prevented what had happened." Maybe if he'd watched MJ better they wouldn't have been caught in the first place.

Pete: "I got used to not being there," he said quietly. "But I was always going to come back. It was just a question of when. And when Stella called to tell me about Luke, it wasn't a question at all. My time in Brittany had come to an end."

He shook his head. "Nothing could've prevented what happened, Fletcher. It wasn't your fault."

Fletcher: "But I coulda. I coulda done it. I can do so much n'I didn't do enough. I think bout that...that m'not smart enough; that I ain't usin' my curse as a gift enough."

Peter didn't want to hear this. He must sound like a whiny child.

"Anyway...m'gonna check on the sheriff if ya wanna just go back t'work."

Pete: "Hey, no." Pete came to a stop, made Fletcher come to one, too. "Unless you're a psychic as well as a Fera, what Victoria and her diseased mind do can't be predicted, anticipated, or controlled. Nothing short of putting a forcefield around me could've stopped her."

He considered for a moment. He'd decided to stop in on Parker after work anyway. Wouldn't do any harm to go back to the bar and let Fletcher take the first checkup. "All right. Thanks."

Fletcher: Much by accident he flinched from the touch, afraid he would enjoy it in some way and betray Luke Husher.

"Ya say that, but I was downstairs with June feelin' sorry for myself."

Pete: Pete slipped his hand back into his pocket. Message received and not taken personally.

"Being downstairs with June doesn't change the fact that you can't create forcefields. Victoria wanted to hurt me and she found a way. She was always going to find a way."

Fletcher: It was entirely personal. Their bond was delayed but deeply, deeply intimate.

"I hate hearin' ya say that."

Pete: "I hate saying it but it's true. That woman ran this town for years, she threw Callum off a balcony. I'm just another drop in the bucket."

Fletcher: "I shoulda not been a coward."

Pete: "Don't beat yourself up, Fletcher. I'm alive, I'm healthy. If anyone's messed up it's Brett."

Fletcher: "That ain't ever been my problem. M'not the hero in this town." But so much he tried without labeling it.

Pete: "I'll bet Brett will feel differently."

Fletcher: "Right now, yeah..." He sighed.

Pete: "Always. You should give yourself more credit."

Fletcher: "I keep hearin' that."

Pete: "That should tell you something."

Fletcher: "You're all delusional."

Pete: "Or we're all right on the money."

Fletcher: "No, you're not, but it's...nice I guess."

Pete: "That's the spirit."

Fletcher: "Do uh...D'ya wanna still be with him?"

Pete: Pete hesitated for a moment before nodding. His hesitation wasn't because he doubted his mind or what he wanted, it was....well, due to present company and his history with said present company.

Fletcher: He was going to try his best not to overthink that. It was just as he'd suspected; nothing new to that. He had been nothing more than a substitute.

"Right..."

Pete: "....Yeah. So....." It was time to exit this minefield but where to take the conversation from here?

"I should...head back to the bar."

Fletcher: "Yeah. I'll see you, I guess." So much guessing. They had left on such a beautiful note. Why did it have to be like this now?

He forced himself to turn, keep heading to the sheriff.

Pete: "Yes, you will." It was inevitable. Pete was back home and he was going to stay that way. That didn't mean things had to be tense and awkward though.

"Hey, Fletcher?"

Fletcher: Just keep walking. Just pretend like you didn't hear him.

He stopped and turned.

Pete: "You really were a hero today, even if you don't believe it. You saved Brett. There was nothing stupid or cowardly about that."

Fletcher: There was action and then there was reason. He didn't want a missing sheriff to make the news. It had been about protecting himself, but it had also been about the human with the frying pan, about keeping the vampire in check, about keeping his territory running smoothly. He too believed Brett Parker should have just drank the blood and remained complacent.

"Okay..."

Pete: "Okay," Pete repeated, nodding. "Just...remember that, all right? Always remember that."

Fletcher: "Why are ya sayin' that?"

Pete: "Because you need to hear it."

Fletcher: "I haven't heard from ya in months. Is it really necessary at this point? I'm fine." No need to snap in these last moments. He just had to turn back around and walk away. So he did.

Pete: "That goes both ways, Fletcher."

Pete sighed and watched Fletcher walk away. "That goes both ways."

Fletcher: Wait, what?

No.

"I was supposed t'contact ya? Ya were gonna answer, after ya just quit this place because things got difficult?"

Pete: "I asked you if I could write you. You didn't think that was a good idea."

Fletcher: "Everyone had wild ideas of where ya were because ya didn't think it was important t'tell us. Don't go turnin' this shit around. Ya left. I said I'd do it n'instead ya ran off like some teenager fresh outta graduation."

Pete: "I emailed my family once a week. I had my phone with me in case of emergencies, which is how Stella was able to contact me so quickly when Luke's boyfriend went missing. I may not have told anyone where I was but I didn't leave them with nothing, and that includes my reasons for leaving. Reasons I shared with you.

"Are you mad that I left or that I came back?"

Fletcher: "How fucking selfish are ya that ya wouldn't tell your own family what country ya were in? What if somethin' happened t'ya? How would they even begin t'help ya?" How could I help you?

"Both." Stop. Just stop.

"I gotta go."

Pete: Pete just shook his head. "Well, Fletcher, I had no idea that my coming home was causing so much trouble and unpleasantness for you. I'll make sure to go to my bar and my house and my relatives' houses and nowhere else in case you see me. I wouldn't want to contribute to raising your blood pressure."

Fletcher: Seems like their animosity was set back to rights. At least it was a familiar clutch.

"Right," he said, kept walking.

Pete: "And just so we're clear, my family's names, numbers, and addresses are written in four separate places in the place I was staying in Brittany. If something happened to me they would've been contacted and flown over. I'm not the idiot you seem to think I am so whatever you're mad at, stop taking it out on me. I haven't done anything but try to have a conversation with you and get you have a little faith in yourself."

Fletcher: "Just fuck you, Peter."

Pete: "Why are you suddenly so angry with me? Because I called you a hero? Or is it really because I came back?"

Fletcher: "Why are ya followin' me?"

Pete: "Because you did a complete 180 out of nowhere and I want to know why. A little while ago we were talking just fine."

Fletcher: "Were we really? That's what ya thought it was?"

Pete: "Are you saying it wasn't? It was a little stiff, sure, but it's been a weird night. We were talking about me learning French and Luke's boyfriend going missing."

Fletcher: "Stop followin' me. Fuck off back t'the vampire n'just leave me alone. I can't do this. I can't pretend we - just fuck off."

Pete: Pete took a deep breath. That was why Fletcher's mood had changed.

"Okay, Fletcher," he said softly. "Okay. I'll go. I'm sorry."

Bo: It had taken longer than Bo had anticipated to coax Brett to get up from the floor and onto the couch. He made a nest of their throw blanket, made himself comfortable against the arm of the chair, positioning himself like a pillow for the sheriff to rest against.

Brett: Truth be told, Brett was afraid to get up from the floor. He was afraid that the second he got up, Botan and everything inside would disappear and be out of his reach again.

He was only willing to risk it because Bo was there holding his hand.

When everything remained normal, he let himself relax and settle into the nest Bo had made and against Bo himself.

He felt....drained. He just wanted to burrow into his boyfriend's chest and disappear.

Bo: "I need to clean your face," he whispered into Brett's skin. "Your mouth...there's some...stain."

Brett: Oh, god. It was still on him.

He nodded, wiping fruitlessly at the flood of tears still trickling down his face.

"Shower," he whispered.

Bo: "I can give you a bath if you want."

Brett: Brett nodded again.

Bo: "Will you stay here will I draw a bath?"

Brett: "Yeah," he said softly, nodding yet again.

Bo: "The doors are locked. It's okay." Just had to remind him before wriggling up and away.

Brett: "Okay." Locked. Locked and secure and safe.

He snuggled into the space where Bo had been, letting his residual warmth comfort him until Bo came and got him for the bath.

Bo: The tub was filled half way, sprinkled with lavender and eucalyptus bath salts from under the sink. He stared into the water for some time, swirled his fingers in it. This had been such a beautiful day. As though he couldn't despise vampires more.

He carried himself into the living room. "Come on." He offered his hand.

Brett: Brett was thinking the same thing as he stared at the little dog that was still sleeping on the other side of the room. It was bordering on ridiculous, he knew it was, but there was a part of him that was terrified of that dog. That thought it would hurt him.

He was more than relieved when Botan returned, taking his hand and following as meekly as a lamb and undressing in the same fashion.

Bo: The dog remained asleep, curled up on its side, tuft hairy ear twitching by some invisible dream bug.

Despite having seen the sheriff naked before, Bo averted his eyes, taking a seat on the edge of the tub.

"Want me to warm a towel for you, too?"

Brett: The soothing scent of the bath salts had hit him as soon as he stepped into the bathroom and was going a long way toward helping him relax. Bo being in his line of sight helped too.

He carefully lowered himself into the water and splashed some onto his face to clean it before resting his face against Bo's thigh. "In a bit," he whispered, closing his eyes.

Bo: He combed his fingers in Brett's dark hair. "I don't like seeing you like this. You're like a baby bird. I don't feel violent most days, but...today I want to see someone die for this."

Brett: "I feel as strong as a baby bird. One that hasn't learned to fly yet." And wanted to stay in its nest. This house was their nest. Their haven. And today it had been violated.

Brett sniffled. "Do you think it's possible to kill a demon?" he wondered.

Bo: Slowly, shampoo was added to his fingers, lathered in Brett's hair.

"I think it's possible." He would have to look into it. He had a reason to now. "Maybe we could just burn him to ash."

Brett: Brett closed his eyes against the threat of yet more tears.

"There's a demon in there. A demon like the ones they taught us about in Sunday school. I could feel it."

Bo: "It's all demon. They're all demons. I'll find a way to make them all go away, Brett."

Brett: He just buried his face into Bo's leg. He was so very worried that the demons were always going to be there.

"I love you."

Bo: "I love you, Brett Parker."

Brett: "I'm afraid."

Bo: "I'm...angry."

Brett: He nodded. "I know."

Bo: "I'm not angry with you." Not entirely.

Brett: He looked up as if to say 'you're not?'

Bo: "I want you to fight them, but I also want you to live to fight another day. If we're going to sever your ties with them, we have to find the most opportune time in which to strike."

Brett: Brett took a deep breath, then another. He could feel his relaxation slipping away; he needed to grab onto it again.

"I wish I knew what to fight them with. I wish I had it. Why does being human have to mean we're so vulnerable?" He sniffled. "It's like we're being punished."

Bo: "I think we have more power than we're aware of. I believe we have knowledge just within reach, we just need to look. I need you to sit back now...rinse your hair."

Brett: It didn't feel that way. It felt more like they were fish in a barrel, swimming in circles until they were picked off.

Brett wiped his eyes and nodded, leaning back into the water until all the soap was out of his hair.

Bo: This wasn't going to be the end of this. That other vampire, the one with long hair...that was going to be the problem. He didn't care if he'd aided in his escape. He wanted him dead.

"I'm going to get your towel and new clothes. We're going to put up lights...I'm going to throw out that rat-looking animal in the living room."

Brett: Lights. They'd been planning to put up the Christmas lights because this was going to be their beautiful, romantic Christmas decorating day and it had been shot to hell.

"Okay," he said softly. "Don't um....don't throw out the dog. We should take it to Emmanuel Gaia in the morning. Judy wants a puppy."

Bo/Fletcher: "If you say so. I don't see why he'd think you'd want that thing." Above all of events today, offering a dog seemed most out of place.

A gray sweater was taken from the closet when the doorbell rang. It and a new pair of jeans were tossed onto the bed.

Fletcher wasn't surprised to see a scowl on the human's face when the door swung open. He also wasn't at all deterred by the frying pan back in his hand.

"What do you want?"

Brett: Brett could see why, but after what happened he just couldn't accept Maximillian. He was...he just couldn't.

But he also knew it wasn't the dog's fault, so it was only right that Max go to someone nice who could love and care for him properly.

While Bo was gathering his clothes, Brett grabbed the soap and his washcloth and started scrubbing himself from top to bottom. He had to get it off. He had to get it all off.

He barely registered the doorbell and the sound of Fletcher's voice.

Bo/Fletcher: "I've just come to check on Brett, make sure he's alright."

"How did you know he needed help?"

"I...I heard him..."

"...I want you to stay away from him and this house. Just stay the hell away, and you keep that thing away from here as well."

Brett: Brett had started to cry again as he tried his best to cleanse himself. It didn't matter that he was perfectly clean already or that his efforts were making his skin turn red; he didn't feel clean. He probably never would again.

He needed...he needed his toothbrush.

Bo: With the door shut in Fletcher's face, Bo returned to the bathroom, paused in the doorway.

"Stop that."

Brett: Brett stopped in the middle of scrubbing his face and looked miserably at Bo.

How could he stop? He wasn't clean.

Bo: He returned to his place by Brett's side. He used a wrung rag to wipe away the soap. Gentle, Brett. Like this.

Brett: Brett closed his eyes at Bo's ministrations, whole body trembling. Gentle.

Bo: Once clean, he was rewarded with a simple kiss. His towel was then offered.

"Let's get you warm."

Brett: The kiss made the trembling stop. He was okay. He was with his Botan.

"Okay," he said, wrapping the towel around himself and snuggling into it as he stepped out of the tub.

Bo: The tub was set to drain, and the sheriff directed to the master bedroom.

"I want to ask you who that man was. The other one. The one that sat on his chest."

Brett: "His name is Fletcher Goodman. He owns the pawn shop across the street from Pete's bar. Used to be his dad's."

Bo: "What is he, another vampire?"

Brett: Brett shook his head. "Not a vampire. I've seen him in daylight since I was a kid."

Bo: So whatever he was, was something which aged.

"He just appeared. He knew. He has to be something."

Brett: "How could he have known? I was screaming and no one heard me."

Bo: "He came back to check on you. Until we know more, I don't want him here."

Brett: Brett's brow furrowed. Fletcher had come to check on him?

"I don't think he meant any harm. I've known him nearly all my life." But he wasn't going to fight Bo on banishing him. Brett wasn't all that keen on visitors if he was perfectly honest.

Bo: "How many more people in this town are mutant beings..." How many more people did he have to beat with a frying pan, he thought.

Brett: He shrugged. "I have no idea. It can't be that many."

Bo: "You don't have any idea?"

Brett: Brett shook his head. "This is all fairly new to me. It wasn't that long ago when I thought supernatural things were just...horror stories."

Bo: In the bedroom, Bo took a seat on the edge of the bed, much as he had in the bathroom. Though he urged Brett to calm, there was still considerable pain in his shoulders from tension. He refused to let his guard down.

Brett: Brett made slow but steady work out of drying himself off, putting on lotion to soothe his skin, and putting on the clothes Bo had laid out for him.

"I love this sweater," he said, leaning against his boyfriend as he joined him on the bed.

Bo: "I know." Which was why it had been laid out. He knew trauma well enough to know every little detail mattered.

Brett: Brett nuzzled into his boyfriend's shoulder. "Thank you, baby," he whispered.

Bo: "We're going to go back into the living room now. Alright?"

Brett: He took a deep breath and nodded. "All right."

Bo: "I'm going to detangle a string of lights. I want you to call Emmanuel and get rid of that thing."

That thing which was now sitting pretty on his spot on the couch waiting for pets.

Brett: "Okay." He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It wasn't inappropriately late yet. Besides, he knew Emmanuel kept an owl's schedule.

He pulled up the number and dialed.

Bo/Maximillian: From the living room he would hear, "Go away. Get down."

Moments later, Maximillian appeared by his feet.

Brett/Emmanuel: "A Chihuahua?" Emmanuel asked.

Brett nodded. "Yeah, a puppy. He was...someone gave him to me but I don't...my house is pretty small. He'd have no room to run and do...dog things."

Emmanuel nodded on his end. "Fair enough, fair enough. Judy has been asking me for a dog for a while now..."

"Yes, that's why--" A surprised yelp at the dog's sudden appearance made him break off his sentence.

Maximillian: Max tilted his head, utterly innocent to the exclamation. What?

Brett/Emmanuel: "Parker?! Parker, are you okay?! Parker!"

Brett snapped himself out of it. "Yes, sorry, I'm here. I'm fine. The dog startled me."

"Jesus, Parker," Emmanuel chuckled, a little breathlessly. "Damn near gave me a heart attack."

Brett took a deep breath. "I'm right there with you. Not used to having a small creature in here that can move from room to room on its own."

"That's how I felt when Judy started to walk." Emmanuel was quiet for a moment. "All right, I'll take the dog."

Brett's shoulders sagged in relief. "Good, yes, thank you. When can you come get him?"

"I can be there in...half an hour."

"Okay, see you then."

Brett hung up and looked down at the dog. "Looks like you have a new home."

Maximillian: 'This house is very loud.' The child-like voice came from by his feet, from the little dog starting up at him.

Brett: "Oh, no. No, no, no." Brett curled up on the bed and put a pillow over his head.

He didn't want to hear Maximillian. Hearing Maximillian meant that some of...

"No, no, no."

Bo/Maximillian: Max placed his paws on the bed and yipped. Bo immediately returned and clapped his hands.

"Get out!"

The chihuahua retreated under the bed with his tail between his legs.

Brett: He didn't want to, but....

'I'm sorry, I really am. I can't take care of you. I know it's not your fault. Emmanuel and his little girl can.'

Out loud, he said, "Emmanuel will be here soon."

Bo/Maximillian: "Good. It's under the bed. I'll get a broom."

The animal couldn't hear unless with eye contact, now that Brett had lost his progress.

Brett: "No, it's okay. He'll come out on his own eventually. Let's go get those Christmas lights untangled."

Maybe the dog would follow them if they left the room.

Maximillian: Being yelled at for existing wasn't helping the puppy's confidence in coming out to speak to the one person able to communicate with him.

Brett: When he got to the door, Brett crouched so he could see under the bed.

"....Puppy? You can come out."

Maximillian: Max looked to his temporary owner with wilted ears.

'No, thank you. I think I'll stay here for a while.'

Brett: Brett nodded and sank to the floor.

"I'm sorry."

Maximillian: 'The house isn't too small, Master.'

Brett: "I can't look after you. It's not your fault. I don't...you're better off with someone else. Someone better."

Maximillian: 'Why would he give me to you?'

Brett: He shrugged hopelessly. "I don't know. Today wasn't supposed to happen this way."

He wiped the moisture that gathered in his eyes. "Today was supposed to be good. It can still be good for you."

Maximillian: 'It can be good for everyone.'

Brett: Brett sniffled and leaned against the door frame. "How?" All this time it hadn't occurred to him that he was speaking aloud.

Bo: Bo watched from the end of the hall, frowning. Had his companion lost his mind completely?

"Brett, what are you doing?"

Brett: Brett turned toward Bo, only now realizing how he must appear right now.

"I'm apologizing to the dog."

Bo/Maximillian: "Why?"

'He's scary.'

Brett: 'He's not scary. He's protective.'

A tear slipped down Brett's cheek. "Because he didn't ask for any of this. He's just a little dog that had no say in who brought him into this situation."

Bo: "Well, he won't be our problem for much longer."

Brett: "I feel guilty." He wiped at his face for the umpteenth time. "I feel like I'm abandoning him."

Bo: "You didn't ask for him to begin with."

Brett: "I know. But I feel responsible just the same."

Bo: "Emmanuel will be here soon." For now, he'd keep Brett's attention with the lights.

Brett/Emmanuel: The lights did manage to occupy him, but only to a point. His mind kept drifting to the puppy hiding underneath his bed.

By the time Emmanuel knocked on the door, Brett didn't know if he dreaded or welcomed seeing him and having him take Max away.

Bo: Bo opened the door as he had last time, ready to yell at an unfamiliar face or beat someone with iron again - It was just Emmanuel Gaia.

"Oh." The door opened wider. "Come on in." Only you're allowed in here tonight.

Brett/Emmanuel: Emmanuel blinked. Well then. That wasn't exactly the greeting he'd expected.

"Hey, Botan," he said, stepping inside. "Hey, Parker. How you guys doing?"

Brett stared at the string of lights in his hands. "I've been better."

Bo: Bo looked between them. Had Brett told him when he was out of the room?

Actually, "Do you know what Fletcher Goodman is? Do you know of Fletcher Goodman?" It wasn't his secret to keep. He had no reservations in asking and exposing another creature.

Brett/Emmanuel: He hadn't, but considering what they'd been through with Emmanuel, Brett saw no point in pretending he was fine. He wouldn't offer details, but he wouldn't put on a show either.

Meanwhile, Emmanuel was looking at them both in utter confusion.

"Yeah, I know Fletcher Goodman. Kinda. Can't say what he is though, I have no idea. Never seen him do anything weird."

Bo: He wasn't satisfied by that answer. In this town riddled with abnormalities, how could anyone keep a damn secret?

"The...dog is in the bedroom."

Emmanuel: "All right. Uh, can I ask why you're asking about Fletcher? You see something weird?"

Bo: That, he would have to look to the sheriff. How much did he want him to know?

Brett: Brett gave Bo a pleading look and shook his head.

Bo: "Just...knew things without being present to witness."

Emmanuel: "He could be a Seer or have enough of the gift to be able to see certain things. With some help, of course."

Bo: And take on a vampire? He looked to Brett again and sighed. Not without his express permission would he continue.

Brett: Brett shook his head again. He didn't want to talk or think any more about it. Not tonight.

Bo: "...Anyway..." He'd have to leave it at that for now.

Emmanuel: Emmanuel gave them both another look. "All right. So the puppy's in the bedroom?"

Bo: "Mhm. Under the bed. Won't come out."

Emmanuel: "Why don't I go see if he'll come out for me." And give the two of you some privacy.

Emmanuel made his way to the bedroom, crouching as Brett had done to get a look at the dog. "Hey, buddy," he said gently. "Whatcha doin' down there?"

Bo/Maximillian: Eyes on Brett, Bo offered his hand. He didn't have to take it, of course. It was just an option.

"Are you alright?" he whispered.

Maximillian was having none of that.

Brett/Emmanuel: Of course Brett would take it. He'd take it and squeeze it and seek comfort against Bo's chest.

"Yes," he whispered back, nodding.

Emmanuel laid on his stomach. "It's okay, buddy. I'm not gonna hurt you. You can come out, it's okay."

Bo/Maximillian: Ears tucked themselves against his apple shaped head. He wasn't sure if he wanted to trust this strange bird.

Bo pulled the sheriff into his arms and squeezed him as though he were made of glass.

Brett/Emmanuel: "Still nothing, huh? Not even a peek out?" Emmanuel mentally kicked himself for not bringing some kind of treat. Oh, well. His gentlest voice would have to do. "Can't be too fun under there. Much warmer and more fun out here."

Brett snuggled into Botan's embrace, burying his face into the crook of his boyfriend's neck. He needed to smell him. He needed that reminder that he was real.

Maximillian: The problem was, he'd been attempting to speak to this human for some time with no success. This wasn't the same as the one that replied with literal understanding; not the same as his first master, either. He was already spoiled.

Still...he was hungry. Maybe he could scramble past to the smell coming from the warmest room in the house.

Emmanuel: Okay this wasn't working. The dog was simply not having any of Emmanuel's coaxing.

Maybe luring him out with food would work.

"Sit tight, buddy," he said, groaning as he stood. Maybe Brett and Bo would be willing to part with a spoonful of peanut butter.

Bo: He would find them in their tight embrace, Bo comforting the sheriff much as he had once done for him not too long ago. The human didn't seem to notice him.

Emmanuel: Something about seeing the two of them clinging together so tightly pulled at Emmanuel's heart. It was such an intimate moment. He almost felt like he was doing something wrong by witnessing it.

He slipped into the kitchen as quietly as a church mouse, going directly for the peanut butter and skipping the spoon all together. He'd buy them a new jar tomorrow.

Maybe now the dog would come out.

Bo/Maximillian: The scent peaked his interest enough to come to the edge of the bed for a better sniff.

"How difficult is it to pull a little dog out from under the bed," Bo sighed.

Brett/Emmanuel: Emmanuel smiled. "There we go. Good boy. Smells good, huh? You want some?" He scooped some onto his finger and held it out. "Tastes real good."

"Isn't there some saying about little dogs being stubborn?" Brett wondered.

Bo: "I wouldn't know," Bo frowned. "Don't think dogs were ever an interest to me."

Finally, Max was out from under the bed, licking Emmanuel's finger clean.

Brett/Emmanuel: "My grandma had one when I was little. Ollie. He was big and furry and I used to sneak him food off my plate when no one was looking."

Emmanuel sighed in relief. "Good boy. Good puppy. Want some more?" He scooped out more peanut butter. "Here you go, buddy."

Bo: "You would like them. It's very...you to like a companion animal so...friendly." Clingy and wholesome.

Brett: "Playing with Ollie was a lot more fun than watching Jeopardy with Gran. And I was lonely, so..."

Bo: "A child...shouldn't have to feel that way."

Brett: "No, they shouldn't," Brett sighed. "But too many do. I loved that dog."

Bo: He wasn't sure what else to say, so he said nothing, glanced to the master bedroom, hoping to see Emmanuel emerge.

Emmanuel: Emmanuel thought he was making some progress.

He was slowly moving back, using the peanut butter to lure the puppy further and further out, offering lots of praise along the way.

Maximillian: It wasn't the same communicational freedom he'd experienced just minutes before, but the man provided peanut butter, so he couldn't be all bad. He would sit by his lap and feast for as long as he was allowed.

Emmanuel: Emmanuel got as far as the hallway before deciding to take the victory. He didn't want to push his luck.

He turned to his hosts with a smile. "I think we're making some progress. I'll get you guys more peanut butter tomorrow."

Bo: "Can you pick him up now?" Bo asked. "The thing makes me nervous." Translation: I hate the thing and want it gone.

Brett/Emmanuel: "Should be able to now." Still offering peanut butter, Emmanuel gently attempted to pick up the puppy while Brett looked on with sad eyes.

Bo: "He has a leash by the door." He took Brett's hand and gave it a squeeze.

Brett/Emmanuel: Brett squeezed Bo's hand in return. There were so many doubts running through his head, so many things he wanted to say but couldn't articulate.

"All right," said Emmanuel, nodding. "Let's get your leash on, buddy."

Bo: "Thank you for doing this," Bo said to Emmanuel, though his eyes were on Brett.

Brett/Emmanuel: Brett wasn't looking at either of them; he was looking at the puppy.

"Yeah, sure. Gotta figure out how to hide him until Christmas. I guess I could ask my brother Bash to look after him."

Bo: "You're daughter will love it." Possibly. "Thank you again." He let go of Brett to get the door for him.

Brett/Emmanuel: "Absolutely. Happy to help."

Brett watched Bo release him as if frozen to the spot, heard Emmanuel's goodbye as if from a great distance before something inside him tugged too hard for him to ignore.

His old friend and the puppy were barely a quarter down the drive when Brett rushed to the door and called, "Wait!"

Bo: Oh, no. Bo frowned and moved out of the way. This was...not about to work the way he'd hoped. He could hold out for the idea that Brett just wanted one more goodbye, but...

Brett/Emmanuel: Emmanuel turned, brow furrowed in concern. "Everything okay?"

"I just...I...." Brett took a shaky breath.

"Parker?" Emmanuel asked gently. "What's wrong?"

"I..." He turned back to Bo, expression a mixture of apology and hope and sadness. "I can't," he whispered. "He needs me."

Bo:  He could apologize, but he knew what was coming. He was already attempting to deal with it.

Brett: "I'll look after him, you won't have to do anything, I promise. I'll walk him and feed him and take him to the vet, I'll do it all."

Brett took Bo's hand in both of his own, held it. "He needs me."

Bo: Bo looked to Emmanuel, as though he could somehow rescue the situation.

Emmanuel: Emmanuel was looking between the two of them. Something else was going on here, and it wasn't just about the dog. There was tension practically clinging to the air.

"Uh...why don't I take him to Bash for the night, that way the two of you can....decide if you want to keep him?"

Bo: "Yes, thank you. That's what we need tonight." He looked Brett in the eyes, squeezed his hand in return.

Brett/Emmanuel: Brett nodded and brought Bo's hand to his chest. "Okay," he said, nodding. "Thank you, Emmanuel."

Emmanuel nodded. "Of course. Ya'll have a good night."

Bo: Perhaps out of sight out of mind would work in his favor, but more importantly, they finally had a chance to be completely alone. Once more he could focus on Brett's needs.

The door was shut and locked, Brett was led to the couch.

"What was that all about?"

Brett: Brett sank onto the couch and against his boyfriend. How could he begin to explain that--God help him--some part of him identified with that little dog, saw himself in it?

"Something about him pulls at me," he said softly. "I know he needs me."

Bo: "He was put upon you without your consent, like so much tonight. That doesn't make him your responsibility, Brett."

Brett: "It's not his fault. He's just a little puppy, he didn't ask for any of this. He's..." Brett closed his eyes. "He's me."

Bo: "I don't think...you're thinking clearly right now."

Brett: He shrugged. "Maybe I'm not, I don't know. But right now it feels like I'm doing him wrong. Like I'm betraying him."

Bo: "You shouldn't keep something out of guilt." He stood, tugged both of Brett's hands. "Let's finish out night the way it was intended."

Brett: "I know. But...I also shouldn't write him off for something that's not his fault."

But Bo was right. Maybe he should just put it out of his mind tonight. There was enough on it already.

He nodded and stood with Bo. "Yeah, okay. Let's put up our lights."

Bo: Lights, decorating the tree, and a good meal. Brett was watched closely, spoiled with affection and made to not want for anything for the rest of the night. Solitude was scarce tonight, leaving his side just long enough to shower and ready for bed. By tomorrow, Brett could change his mind. Perhaps the vampire's filth would be out of his system. He doubted both.

Brett: As the evening progressed, Brett's mood began to lift, just a little. Christmas was his favorite time of year, and he was still stubborn enough to refuse to let a demon take it away from him. From both of them.

He was the first to climb into bed, snuggling up to Bo the moment he joined him and staying wrapped around him the whole night.

But tired as he was, sleep wouldn't come. When it did, it was fitful. Images he wished he could've washed away with the blood kept flashing behind his eyelids, his own prayers and pleas and the demon's taunts kept playing on a loop.

Sometime before dawn, he woke from a nightmare in a cold sweat and sobs tearing at his throat.

Bo: Bo wasn't sure whether or not he should sleep in the same bed tonight. When upset he always preferred being alone, but he knew Brett was not the same. What was best for Brett was climbing into bed beside him, watching over him for as long as he could before falling asleep in his arms.

The sweat was what first woke him. He was hot, sticky, and uncomfortable. The blanket was tossed away from them, allowing air to circulate. He didn't assume anything. He watched, tried to go back to sleep, but the sheriff's cries soon had him sitting up, holding his shoulders and muttering, "Shh, it's alright. You're alright. We're home and everything's going to be alright."

Brett: Brett flinched at the touch before he realized that it was just Bo. Just Bo. Not MJ or the demon inside him forcing themselves on him to make him drink blood. It was just his Bo.

He held one of Bo's hands to his chest and curled onto his side, weeping miserably.

Bo: He wasn't sure if what he was saying was appropriate. This felt so raw and he felt so ill-suited. He had to force himself to lay back down, to pull Brett back into his arms.

"What did you dream?"

Brett: What Bo said wasn't nearly important as his presence. As long as he was within reach when Brett needed him, as long as he held him, he was doing enough.

It was a few moments until the tears subsided enough for Brett to speak.

"I could f-feel them. They were pinning me d-down and..."

Bo: "It's just a dream. Dreams aren't real. I know you know that, but you need to remember...you're okay."

Brett: Brett just burrowed his face into the crook of his boyfriend's neck and nodded. He knew the dream wasn't real, but he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever feel clean again.

Bo: Lost for words, Bo squeezed the sheriff. What could he do, he wondered.

"Tell me about when we first met."

Brett: When they'd first met?

"It was um....it was raining," he said, sniffling. "I'd stopped by the bakery for a danish and I saw you outside."

Bo: "Just sitting there. I wasn't cold, but you wouldn't leave me alone," he smiled. Was this a decent distraction?

Brett: "It had just become fall. The rain was still a little warm but the wind was cool." Bo would be able to feel his smile. Yes. This was enough distraction.

"I didn't want you to catch a cold so I invited you inside and offered to buy you a cup of coffee."

Bo: "You just wanted an excuse to see more of me dripping wet."

Brett: Well, well, well. Was that a soft, quiet little chuckle?

Bo: Excellent. He kissed Brett's hand. "Good morning."

Brett: Brett gave Bo a small smile. "Good morning," he whispered.

Bo: "Want to try and sleep again?"

Brett: He nodded. He was still completely exhausted.

"Hold my hand?"

Bo: "I'm not going anywhere."

Brett: "I love you."

Bo: "Love you too, Sheriff Parker." Brett needed to hear it, so he would shower him in affection.

Brett: Brett did need it, and knowing he was safe in the arms of the person who loved him most in the world was what finally helped him fall into dreamless sleep.

Bo: This time Bo only took a nap, kept the blanket away from them so as to keep Brett cool. When he did sneak out of bed, slipped into his robe, it was with the intention to cook. Surely the sheriff wouldn't have yet another nightmare. He hoped.

Brett: Brett stirred a bit when Bo left the bed, calming again as he turned over and nuzzled against his boyfriend's pillow.

There would be no more nightmares today. He'd sleep peacefully until the smell of food stirred him again.

Bo: The smell of tofu scramble, vegan bacon, toast, and a chocolate peanut butter banana smoothie began to overwhelm the house.

Brett: It was the bacon that finally coaxed Brett out of bed. Even if it was vegan, he never could resist the smell.

He shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway with what could only be called a zombie noise, eyes still half closed.

Bo: "You don't have to be up right now," said Bo, back to the sheriff. "Go lay back down."

Brett: Another zombie noise. "Bacon," he mumbled.

Bo: "Come get some, then." He motioned Brett closer.

Brett: Brett walked over and rested his head on Bo's shoulder, taking a piece of bacon and nibbling on it.

"Good." His vocabulary was still set to 'caveman'.

Bo: "I added some garlic to it, cooked it in avocado butter. The scramble is usual, butter, salt, pepper, turmeric, garlic powder, and chives." That's fine. He'd carry the bulk of conversation.

Brett: "Mmmmmmm," Brett hummed with approval and nuzzled Bo. His sleepy version of a thank you. "Smells really good. Coffee?"

Bo: "I haven't started it yet. Just hit the button."

Brett: He stepped away just long enough to start the coffee maker before returning his head to Bo's shoulder.

Bo: "Couldn't go back to sleep?"

Brett: "Smell of food woke me. And your pillow was cold."

Bo: "Hmm. How about...you put on some Christmas music for us?"

Brett: Brett smiled. The only thing that could make him happier than bacon was Christmas music.

He pulled up the Christmas playlist on Pandora and turned it up, letting Dean Martin echo throughout their house.

Bo: "When we first met, I thought the 4th of July would be your favorite. Being a sheriff, it just seemed the logical choice."

Brett: "I can see that. Small town sheriff, red-blooded American. It'd be very fitting and patriotic. It's Peabody's favorite actually."

Bo: "That doesn't surprise me whatsoever." He wondered if he had a favorite. He couldn't say. "I like...winter." That's all he had.

Brett: "Doesn't surprise me either. I've never met anyone who likes grilling and fireworks as much as he does."

He smiled and kissed Bo's cheek. "It suits you. When I think of you, it's always in a sweater, curled up in front of a fire."

Bo: "Curled up? Like in a fetal position?" He didn't know if he liked that, but in a sweater, yes.

Brett: "Curled up like in a big squishy chair, with your feet up."

Bo: "Oh. Yes. That's fine." His eyes began to drift in a daydream. "My home in...Oslo, I wonder if it has a fireplace."

Brett: "I bet it does. A fireplace, a nice chair, and lots and lots of books for you to read in it."

Bo: "I hope so. I'd hate to be ashamed of my old home...my old life." Though he already was.

Brett: Brett nuzzled his boyfriend. "I hope so, too. Speaking of books. You know that section of wall in my room between the two windows?"

Bo: "You're going to put up a bookshelf?" he perked.

Brett: "Floating bookshelves. Right on the wall. What do you think?"

Bo: "Floating, yes! That's going to look very sharp." He paused. "Wooden?"

Brett: His smile was instant. "Yep, but we can paint them so they're any color we want."

Bo: "That's...That's going to be a fun project." Something to help Brett take his mind off of the darkness which lurked in this town.

Brett: "I was hoping you'd like it. We definitely need the space and the floating shelves will look nice and clean."

Bo: "Some bookends, too. Something...Something you'd like."

Brett: Bookends...

"What about those we saw at that antique shop? With the different stained glass?"

Bo: Stained glass of course peaked his interest. "We can buy them today...the shelves, too."

Brett: Brett smiled and nodded. "Deal. I'll measure the wall after breakfast."

Bo: As much as he didn't want the subject with his breakfast, he couldn't wait for the topic to be broached naturally.

"What are we doing with the dog?"

Brett: "Ah....well....."

Bo: "You still want it."

Brett: Brett looked down at his hands and nodded. "Yeah. I do."

Bo: "...Bookshelves and bookends first. We'll...get it after lunch." No use arguing the subject, not after what had happened to Brett yesterday.

Brett: He blinked. "We'll get it? You'll let him stay?"

Bo: "If I deny you, it will only depress you."

Brett: "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. You won't have to do anything, I promise. I'll take care of him."

Bo: "You'll do everything?"

Brett: "Everything. I'll feed him and walk him and train him and take him to the vet."

Bo: "You...really want it," he sighed. "Alright. Then...as I said, after lunch. Deal?"

Brett: Brett nodded. "I do," he said earnestly, wrapping his arms around Bo and squeezing him tight. "I really, really do. Thank you, baby. Thank you so much."

Bo: "Don't thank me just yet." He squeezed in return. "I might become a monster if it urinates in this house."

Brett: "I'll make sure he doesn't, I promise." Even if he had to take the dog out every hour on the hour.

Bo: No more talk of that animal. He turned to build a plate of breakfast to hand over. Today had to be positive.

Brett: Brett accepted it with a smile and a kiss, taking to the table before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Where do you want to go for lunch today?"

Bo: "It's only breakfast time," but he considered. His options were limited. "The fish and chips place you like. The fries and turnip greens are well made." One of the new places not to throw bits of ham into their pot of greens.

Brett: His face lit up as he said, "I walked past it when I was on patrol the other day and saw they added new things to the menu. Fried mushrooms and green bean fries."

Bo: "They must know a vegan frequents their establishment." Not really. He was only teasing.

Brett: Brett smiled and played along all the same. "They must indeed. We should camp out at Pete's until he makes his cook make black bean burgers."

Bo: "I don't think it would be that big of a feat for Peter's."

Brett: "No, probably not. It would be for the diner though."

Bo: "We're having a boring conversation right now," he smirked.

Brett: "Yes we are," he agreed with a nod, though he didn't seem at all fazed by it. It was....comforting.

Bo: "So...with what happened yesterday," he began again, "what's going to happen now?"

Brett: Brett looked down at his plate. "I don't know." And a very big part of him didn't want to. Ever.

Bo: "The tall one, is he going to show up here again?"

Brett: "If he does, I doubt it'll be any time soon," Brett said to his toast, voice quiet. Ashamed. After all, MJ had managed to do what he'd come here for.

Unless, of course, MJ had gone to him and Gertrude last night and told them what had happened.

Bo: Bo stared at the eyes of the stove, tried to solve the puzzle in his own. Going to the press would be useless. Brett would be killed and no one would believe them. Those that did, what use would they be? Creatures like this, thriving for as long as they have, must have their fingers everywhere.

"How's breakfast?"

Brett: His shoulders sagged in barely perceptible relief, grateful for the change in subject. He never wanted to think about that horrible night again for the rest of his life. Only of the beautiful day that preceded it.

"It's wonderful. Your scramble's better than mine."

Bo: "Good..."

Unfortunately, it would not be the end of the subject. The very man Bo was concerned with already knew, and knew he would have to bang the gavel on judgement sooner rather than later.

Brett: Brett finished the rest of his breakfast in relative silence, only speaking to compliment Bo on some aspect of the meal he had prepared. It wasn't that he had nothing to say to his boyfriend, his mind was just hellbent on dragging him under again and not letting him forget what had happened and what could happen as a result.

"I'll do the dishes," he offered. "You sit and have another cup of tea."

Bo: "I think," he stood from the table, kissed Brett's cheek, "I'll take a shower." As was his ritual, a shower in the morning and one before bed. This would give him the much-needed solitude to collect himself. He wasn't necessarily smothered, but being alone was his primary means of remaining sane.

Brett: He nodded, smiling at the kiss. They'd been together and lived together long enough for him not to take offense at the retreat. He knew his Botan liked solitude. "Okay, baby."

Bo: Surely, Brett would be alright for fifteen minutes. His apprehension felt like an old friend. There had to be something he could do. He was in no way responsible, but Brett's distress was one he had to share.

The shower was turned on the highest setting, Torsten Glockner pulled from his contacts.

{Text} Vampires are going to kill Sheriff Brett Parker. I need your help.

He hit send. It might not be a lie by next week.

Brett: Brett would be all right as long as he kept his mind occupied. He put away any leftovers they had, emptied the dishwasher, filled it again, poured himself another cup of coffee, added to the shopping list stuck on the fridge. He just had to keep from thinking. As long as he did that, he could almost make himself believe that everything was going to be okay.

Guildias: As Brett sipped his fresh cup of coffee, his phone would vibrate with a new text message. The number was a familiar, of course, belonging to Guildias.

{Text} I need to see you this hour.

Brett: His stomach turned with a fresh rush of anxiety and fear as he looked at the notification on his screen.

Guildias knew.

"Botan?" he called, voice trembling.

Bo: "Yes?" From the shower.

Brett: Brett picked up his phone and walked to the bathroom, stopping at the door.

"I-I just got a text. He...he knows."

Bo: "Who knows? The tall one?"

Brett: "Yes." Brett closed his eyes against the renewed threat of tears. "He wants to see me within the hour." He's going to kill me.

Bo: The bathroom door was opened. Water dripped from the ends of his bangs and chin, loosely wrapped in a towel.

"I'll go with you."

Brett: "I don't want him to hurt you," Brett whispered, taking in every single feature on Bo's face, tears clinging to his lashes. He didn't want to think that these could be his last moments seeing it, but...

Bo: His lips pursed, clearly not accepting of such possibility.

"What do you want me to do?"

Brett: Brett didn't want Bo to be hurt, but he didn't want to be without him either. It was weak, perhaps even selfish, but he knew he couldn't face whatever came without Bo by his side.

"Hold my hand."

Bo: He took it. It didn't matter if he meant now or by his side in front of the vampire.

Brett: Brett squeezed it. "I want to stop by the church first."

Bo: "Will that help against him?"

Brett: "I doubt it." Going to the church was for his own comfort. It was his way of getting last rites.

Bo: "Let me get dressed...I'll...I'm going with."

Brett: Brett nodded. "Okay." He should probably get dressed as well. He couldn't very well face his doom in pajamas.

As he gathered his clothes, he texted Guildias back.

{Text} All right

{Text} Where?

Bo/Guildias: Bo tried to dress sensibly. Jeans, of course, boots, jacket, leather gloves. He had no fathomable idea of what he could do to protect the sheriff, but he tried, for once, to imagine how Deputy Peabody would dress. Running away, hitting something or someone; none of it was ridiculous today.

{Text} My home. I just need you for a few minutes.

Brett: Brett closed his eyes. A few minutes. He supposed, in the grand scheme, that a few minutes was all it took.

{Text} Okay. I'll be there within the hour

He hit send and finished getting dressed, periodically stopping to wipe his face. Each movement felt heavy, like he had rocks attached to his chest and all his limbs. Considering the circumstances, that was probably normal.

Just before he left his room, he opened the bottom drawer of his dresser. Inside was a little wooden box containing the scapulary his father had given him for his first Communion. Brett hadn't looked at it or worn it in years but for better or for worse....he wanted it today.

Bo: Bo stood in the doorway to the master bedroom and watched, arms crossed, lip bitten. He knew the name of what Brett held, but not its purpose. Probably, he thought, just recycled remnants of memory.

"You don't have to go to him. We could right now to go an airport, go to Oslo."

Brett: He felt Bo before he saw him, before he heard him. That presence had been such a comfort to him in the time they'd been together.

"They'd find us," he said softly. "Come after us. Stop us. We'd be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives."

Brett slid the scapulary over his head and tucked it into his sweater. "Let's go to church."

Bo: "They're not all knowing all seeing creatures. They're flawed and can be avoided. No one else knows where I live." No one but Torsten Glockner. Would he tell them? He gave him away before, didn't he? Just one letter and he was taken away...with Brett's help.

"Alright. After you."

Brett: After last night, Brett wasn't so sure of that. He felt so small and powerless, and they so strong and omnipotent. Whatever hope he had was nowhere to be found today.

He put on his coat and the gloves Bo had gotten him, taking his boyfriend's hand as they walked out to the car.

Bo would be able to see and feel how it shook, how tightly he held to the steering wheel.

He drove in silence until, "We'll go to Oslo after New Year's." Maybe if he said it aloud, it would come true.

Bo: Bo held to his seatbelt as he had before, squeezing it like an anxious child.

"You promise me?" He watched his driver intently. "Promise me."

Brett: Brett looked over. There was so much misery in his eyes, so much torture. If God lets me live, they said.

Bo: "Say it out loud." He knew what those eyes were communicating but it wasn't enough. They had to hear it and feel it as one.

Brett: He reached for Bo's hand. "Jeg lover," he whispered in Norwegian. And may you and God forgive me if I can't keep it.

Bo: Once they arrived, Bo stepped out of the car and straightened his jacket. He didn't want to linger anywhere until this was all said and done and they were back home. Jeg lover, he'd said. He'll hold him to it.

Brett: Brett was a little slower getting out, having taken a couple of moments to breathe and gather himself. A part of him felt like he had no business being here, but that wasn't the part he was listening to today.

He took Botan's hand and led him into Father Patrick's beautifully restored church, crossing himself as he stepped over the threshold.

It was empty this time of day. Peaceful. Welcoming. Brett walked all the way down the aisle to the very first pew, where he got down on his knees and crossed himself again. Bo's hand was given a squeeze before Brett released it so he could clasp both of his in silent, desperate prayer.

Bo: The ritual of Catholicism felt cultish. Watching Brett cross himself multiple times reminded him of magic spells. He could and could not relate to such faith. He understood its power; understood that with its existence came creatures he could recognize. Having spent clandestine time in the company of a demon, he could not sneer at Brett's beliefs. Still, he could not join him in prayer.

He took a seat at the nearest pew, stiffly leaned back in the wooden seat.

Brett: No matter how far he thought he'd come from saying Hail Mary's any time his father thought he should be repentant of something, here Brett was, saying those same words he'd said so many times and hoping with all his might that they reached Heaven. But this time, unlike all those others, he wasn't praying to save his own soul.

He was praying for a quick death, for mercy, and for Botan.

'Keep him safe,' he begged the saints towering over the altar. 'Don't make him pay for my sins--for my weakness--any more than he already has. Protect him from those who would do him harm, let him live happily and in peace even if I can't be with him. Please keep him safe and warm until the day I can be with him again.'

Brett took a deep breath.

'The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.' Another deep breath. 'He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.'

Brett carefully got to his feet and went over to the basin of holy water at the altar. He dipped his fingers and crossed himself one last time before holding a hand out to Botan, silently inviting him to join him.

Bo: Bo wasn't sure what he was meant to do other than watch. He wished there was a spell he could recite to make Brett's misery float away as ash. He didn't understand how this was the same creature from the MacGillivray house, the problem solver with blood to spare. He was also the one to encourage his capture, but also secured his release. Was he a puppet or master?

Bo twitched when he realized he was the temporary center of attention. He took the sheriff's hand and squeezed.

Brett: Brett himself didn't know what he was anymore. He just felt...human. Fallible. Guilty. His only chance at redemption was purging himself of the blood and no longer being a ghoul and that was what was about to get him killed.

What hope was there?

He brought Botan's hand to his lips and dipped his free hand back in the holy water.

"Can I?" he asked softly.

Bo: "For you...yes." He would entertain the notion. It might mean something more than dead symbolism. In this new-yet-old world he couldn't be certain.

"Go ahead."

Brett: He gave Bo a small, grateful smile. "Thank you." There was no way of knowing if his prayers would reach Heaven or if the sign of the cross would protect either of them, but then this wasn't about certainty. It was about faith.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen." Brett crossed Bo, bringing his fingers to his boyfriend's lips for Bo to kiss.

Bo: His kiss was blasphemous indeed. If it was meant to be part of the ritual he didn't really care; there was a chance to offer Brett affection and he was going to take it.

"Ready?" He managed to keep his tone level and gentle, as was needed.

Brett: It was, but completing the ritual wasn't nearly as comforting as the affection.

Brett took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm ready." Even though he wasn't, he led Bo back out to the car.

Guildias: Guildias waited quietly in his living room, re-reading an old classic for the sake of occupying his mind. He knew what he had to do and he had no qualms, just a sense of anticipation which had him re-reading every seventh sentence.

Brett: Brett's hands started shaking on the steering wheel halfway through the drive. His stomach and chest felt so jittery and tight that he couldn't tell if he wanted to throw up or cry. He'd probably do both very soon.

He sat in the car for a few moments after they parked, reaching for Botan's hand and holding on to it for dear life.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you with all my heart and soul."

Bo: "I'll stay in the car." He didn't know why it seemed necessary to whisper. "Let me come with you."

Brett: As much as he wanted Bo to stay where it was safe, Brett nodded. Please come with him.

Bo: "Please don't die. I don't want to drive this clunker into the building you perish in." His attempt at a joke was in poor taste.

Brett: Despite the moisture gathering in his eyes, Brett managed a weak laugh.

"Maybe one day you'll drive something nicer."

Bo: "Perhaps. For now I appreciate you being my driver." So don't die.

Brett: "I know. And I appreciate being your driver." I'll try not to.

Brett unbuckled his seatbelt. Time to face the music. "I just need to grab something really quick."

Bo: A gun or a cross he hoped. Perhaps they should have stolen some holy water. He wondered if the crime would contaminate its power.

These thoughts were not helping him relax.

Brett: It was both, but neither were for Brett. He wanted Bo to have the rosary for some protection and peace of mind, even if it was only symbolic. He also wanted Bo to have his service weapon in case...just in case.

When he returned, the gun was put in his glove compartment and the rosary given to his boyfriend. "I know you're not Catholic but...humor me?"

Bo: Bo stared at the rosary, which felt more dangerous than the gun.

"What am I meant to do with this, Brett?" He took it just the same, held it clumsily in both hands.

Brett: "Just wear it. You don't have to pray or anything." I already did that for you. "It might not do much, or anything at all, but....I'd feel better if I knew you were wearing it." If I knew there was a chance God would protect you.

Bo: "Then if it'll make you feel brave, I'll do it." He didn't imagine people worry rosaries. The only images which came to mind were that of it being held between praying hands. He wore it just the same, held the cross in his fist.

Brett: It didn't make him feel brave at all, but he'd take all the comfort he could get right now. Maybe it would help take his mind off of how completely terrified he was.

He kissed Bo's cheek. "Thank you, baby." For everything.

Time to drive to the gallows.

Guildias: The gallows were quiet. A serene looking house nestled in the woods behind Devon Moss' house, down a steep hill. Tucked away, it seemed, from humanity's noise.

The porch light was the beacon, the narrow dirt path warmly lit by tiny copper and black yard lights. Impossible to guess a vampire dwelled within, thought Bo.

Brett: Impossible to guess but hard to deny. If a vampire was going to live anywhere, it made sense that they would choose a spot where barely any sunlight made it through the canopy of trees above.

Brett held tightly to Bo's hand, reluctant to let him go and face Guildias. "I love you, baby. No matter what happens in there, please remember that. And whatever does happen in there...I'm so sorry." He let go of his boyfriend's hand to pull him into a hug. "If anyone tries to hurt you, you grab my service weapon and you run, okay? Promise me."

Bo: "If I run anywhere, it's going to be into the house to get you." A final squeeze, and he cupped Brett's face.

"Don't let him see you're afraid."

Brett: There might be nothing to come and get, Brett thought, nodding anyway.

He took a shaky breath. "I'll try." Just one more hug.

Bo/Guildias: Bo couldn't allow him to linger. If he did, he might say something, might encourage him again and whatever was going to happen was set in stone.

Now go, be brave, he thought.

The path was clear, and the door was opened before Brett Parker had a chance to knock. His owner stood just behind the door, leaving the path open for him to walk through.

"Punctual you are again, sheriff."

Brett: Heart heavy, Brett turned from Bo's embrace, from his eyes and his face and his lips, and stepped into Guildias' house feeling colder than he had in his whole life.

He wouldn't let himself cry. He would try his best to mask his fear and be brave.

Brett swallowed and nodded. "I always am." Don't let your voice shake.

Guildias: "Here...let me see you."

The door was closed, locked. He didn't need the human in the car to interfere. He had a tendency for bursts of courage.

"I hear our Mr. Calloway was less than kind." Gentle and warm hands turned the sheriff around by his shoulders, tipped his chin and examined him.

Brett: What little blood had made it down Brett's throat might have taken care of most of the physical damage he'd sustained, but the near violent flinch Brett gave the moment Guildias touched him would tell the vampire far more than any mark ever could.

Brett closed his eyes and turned away, almost as if he expected pain and was trying to curl in on himself in trembling defense. No. Mr. Calloway had not been kind.

Guildias: "Mr. Parker," he said with tone equal to his hands. "Take a breath for me." His left hand slid down to his elbow, the other remained on his neck, caressed affection there.

Brett: Brett flinched again when Guildias' hand slid down his arm, but he was still Guildias' ghoul. He was bound to him, and as much as Brett didn't want it to, the vampire's affection brought a measure of comfort.

Eyes remaining closed, Brett managed a breath. It was shaky and was too shallow to do anything but it was a breath.

Guildias: "Why are you frightened? Do you think I'm going to kill you, Mr. Parker?"

Brett: He wished Guildias could see into his head. He wished Guildias could see everything that had happened the night before, everything that had been done to him that had turned anyone's touch but Bo's into something to fear without Brett having to say a word.

He finally opened his eyes and looked at Guildias. Aren't you?

Guildias: "I spent a week up north finding a suitable replacement for your human you have waiting out in the car. You're much more valuable to the world alive than dead."

Brett: Brett blinked in confusion. "....What?" he asked, much more softly than he intended. Replacement for Bo? What did that mean?

Guildias: "Getting him out of Ms. Draegan's house was not of her own good will. I had to give her something just as interesting."

Brett: "To be my office manager?"

Guildias: "No, no." He chuckled. "Replacement for her experimentation."

Brett: "Oh." He seemed to relax just a bit. "So she's moved on? She won't come after him?"

Guildias: "For now, but what happens to you reflects on his safety. I'm not in control of that. I'm not the prince."

Brett: Brett nodded. He could only hope that Gertrude lost her appetite for torturing Bo. It was awful for the poor soul who was now on the receiving end of her cruelty, and he felt awful for it, but he couldn't help but be glad that that poor soul wasn't his Botan.

Of course, that still begged the question....if Guildias wasn't going to kill him for declaring that he no longer wanted to be a ghoul...then what was he going to do to him?

Guildias: Guildias cupped his face with both hands once more. He had to do to him what he had their first meeting. His warm and inviting hands transferred sensation, obsession, a desire which would have felt honest. A desire to belong to him, a desire to be his ghoul, for the conditioning of strength and immunization.

"Mr. Parker?"

Brett: Again there was the flinch. It would be the last, however. At least where Guildias was concerned.

Because the longer the vampire touched and looked at him, the more Brett felt that being Guildias’ ghoul....wasn't that bad. It was....it was good. Guildias had always been kind to him. Patient with him. And if Brett was his ghoul and if he was good, Bo would be okay. They both would. No one would hurt them.

He blinked when Guildias said his name. It was like he came out of a trance.

Guildias: His vampire caressed the side of his face with his thumb, removed one of his hands.

"What do you want me to do about Mr. Calloway?"

Brett: Brett swallowed. The mention of MJ had that familiar, heavy nausea roiling inside him again.

"I don't want to be his ghoul anymore." He hurt me. His demon hurt me.

Guildias: "So be it. You won't see him again in such manner. He does not deserve you."

Brett: "What about the demon?"

Guildias: "The demon?"

Brett: "There's a demon inside him. It..."

Guildias: Guildias walked to the couch, leaned against the arm and crossed his arms. "Go on."

Brett: Brett took a deep breath and hugged his arms around himself.

"It has dark eyes," he began, eyes closing again. "It talks differently. When I told him no, he...he f-forced himself on me and..." A solitary tear rolled down his cheek. "He choked me. He forced his arm into my mouth. I begged him to stop but he...I couldn't make him stop. I passed out."

Guildias: "Do you want me to be brutally honest with you, Mr. Parker?" He offered his hand to the sheriff, encouraging him to approach.

Brett: "What do you mean?" he asked, stepping closer.

Guildias: "About your situation."

Brett: Brett gave a hesitant nod.

Guildias: "If you were a sheriff in say, Raleigh. Have you been to Raleigh? Had you said no, that you did not want to be a ghoul, you would be dead right now. It would not matter which vampire you denied. You would be a breech to the Masquerade. You know too much. You would not be allowed to walk away with the information you have. Others, less kind, would do as MJ had...or worse. Trust me, Mr. Parker...I've seen worse. Morality is a concept for your kind, not ours. You are a means to an end. You are called kine."

He took the sheriff's hand, squeezed it in both of his. "I love each and every ghoul I have. We are here in Edenton because we are, at our core, Autarkis. We want no part of the politics, but we must uphold some sort of rule. We have a prince namely for appearance sake. I uphold what few rules we have. We keep this small sanctuary safe for those in need. This includes you, Mr. Parker. I love you and want you safe. I don't want to kill you."

Brett: Brett nodded at the question. "I went to the police academy in Raleigh," he said before falling silent and listening.

Much of what Guildias was telling him had been told to him before, and much of it also coincided with what MJ had said and with conclusions Brett had drawn on his own. It was...humbling, to say the least.

Humbling and in a very real way, horrifying.

In any other place, with any other domitor, he wouldn't be standing here. He would've been assaulted for saying no, for becoming a threat. He definitely would've been killed. That much was crystal clear.

It was as Brett had said earlier. They were being punished for being human. Having Guildias' protection didn't negate that, nor did Brett's knowledge that being a ghoul kept him safe. He was a means to an end. Expendable.

More tears fell as his hand was squeezed. "I don't want to die," he whispered. "I made a promise."

Guildias: "I don't want you to die. From now on you will come to me if and when any vampire approaches you. From now on, you will take your feeding from me only. I promise, you'll never be put in that position again."

Brett: As much as Brett wanted to take Guildias' reassurance for what it was, last night was still too present in his mind. For every comforting thing the vampire said, a dozen awful ones popped into Brett's head.

"He made my house disappear. I couldn't see Bo or hear him or smell him or my tree or anything and the tiles in my kitchen had hearts on them and he wasn't even there! What if he does it again? What if he does it at the station or to Bo when I'm not there?" Notes of panic were entering into his voice.

Guildias: So, the trickster had improved since their last meeting.

"His kind are manipulators of reality, Mr. Parker. I cannot begin to fathom all that they are capable of, but Mr. Calloway...has his issues. Seeing as they are causing destruction to the peace, I will get rid of him." Brett Parker didn't need to know MJ Calloway's internal struggle. However, his close proximity to others meant he might find out eventually. Peter had been of little use as they had anticipated.

"There is a demon inside of him. His control over that demon has dissipated. Now it will be dealt with."

Brett: Brett couldn't even begin to fathom how that was even possible. Some days he still had a hard time believing that vampires and magic were real and were in his life and his town. How was he ever supposed to understand the world they lived in if new things kept appearing at every turn?

"Why is the demon there? What's going to happen to MJ when it's gone?"

Guildias: "To explain that, I would have to expand your knowledge. Is that something you want?"

Brett: His chest tightened at the mere thought of having some more of those new things appearing.

"Maybe not today." Or this year. Or ever.

Guildias: "Then don't ask me why a demon is inside of him."

Brett: Brett nodded. Understood.

Guildias: Gently, Brett was pulled closer, brought between Guildias' legs.

"Where do you want to feed from me? Anywhere of your choice." You've earned it.

Brett: He didn't resist being maneuvered, didn't shrink away at the prospect of feeding like he would have an hour ago. Guildias' magic had done its job. He wanted to be a ghoul. He wanted to feed.

But there was something...a small, insistent little something that felt like it was clawing out of his throat to say, "....Can I have a spoon?"

Guildias: "You may drink from my finger, though it will take longer."

Brett: "Okay," he said with another nod. Maybe next time he would be able to use a spoon. It was important to him that he be able to use it.

Guildias: Guildias was also dwelling on the whys and hows. From his back pocket came a tactical folding knife. He sliced into his right thumb.

"I'll find you ways to enjoy an on-the-go treat. For now," he offered his hand.

Brett: Guildias was given a grateful look. "Thank you." What a contrast this was to last night. This felt so much gentler. So much less tense. Perhaps that wasn't all due to Guildias' magic, but such thoughts wouldn't come to Brett for a long time.

Brett took Guildias' hand with great caution, feeling only a small bit of trepidation as he brought the wound to his lips and fed slowly.

Bo/Guildias: Bo adjusted in his seat uncomfortably. The seat belt was pulled forward for the zip sound and brought back. Again and again he did this to pass the time, to somehow occupy his mind, but it did nothing but leave a strange tingle in his fingertips.

He eyed the glove compartment.

They could end this now. He could go inside and shoot the vampire in the head. They could be in Oslo by tomorrow. Whatever life existed there had to be better than this one.

But whatever ripped out his tongue might be waiting for them in Norway.

The seat belt was pulled again.

And Brett Parker was pulled closer by his waist.

Brett: Brett stiffened for just a moment before he remembered where he was and relaxed again, letting himself be pulled in close. Close and safe. Guildias wasn't going to hurt him.

Guildias: No, Guildias wouldn't, and he wouldn't tell Brett to stop. He could have as much as he wanted short of draining him completely. He was curious to see how far he would go.

Brett: Just like with the spoon, that insistent something inside Brett told him when to stop. It wasn't more than he usually took when Guildias fed him, it wasn't less. It was just enough.

Guildias: "Very good," he praised. A sweet milk and honey sheriff he was. In some ways, he reminded him of Callum. That shy, cautious nature withholding an eruption of desire. Nothing more beautiful to corrupt.

"Are you going to be alright now?"

Brett: That managed to coax a small half smile out of Brett. His need for praise and approval and affection wasn't as strong as it had been when he'd first become a ghoul, but it was still present enough for praise to make him happy.

"I think so," he said softly. "Um....I'm going on vacation with Botan soon. After New Year's. Is that okay?"

Guildias: "Where do you want to go?"

Brett: "Norway."

Guildias: "Leaving means being unprotected. You're stronger with this blood, but...not against my Kindred."

A sharp thumbnail was scratched over his forehead.

"Someone is going to see you're a ghoul and want to know where I am. I'm going to have to mark you. I've been ignoring this for too long."

Brett: Brett frowned. "M-mark me?" He did not like the sound of that at all. It brought to mind images of brands. "But how would anyone know I was a ghoul if I'm just out in the daytime in a city full of people?"

Guildias: "The methods are almost endless. Clearly I can walk in daylight. There is all sorts of magic. A ghoul with the correct power from their domitor would know immediately and I don't want to risk you around those with questionable mental health."

Brett: "But....does it have to be a mark?" His voice was beginning to shake again. "Maybe....maybe Callum or Miss MacAllister can give some protection. Callum said she knew how to make amulets."

Guildias: "What is that going to do against a vampire wanting to keep you?"

Brett: "What if the amulet hides me so they won't know I'm there? Can amulets do that?" Please don't mark him.

Guildias: Guildias remained silent, placed his hands in his lap, wrapped his arms around Brett's waist and held him close.

Brett: Again the momentary tense, again the immediate relaxation.

"I promise I'll be careful," he said softly. "I won't stay out late or stray from places with people."

Guildias: "Just a word and a vampire can make you follow them home and - and I'm not going to risk your safety over a small tattoo behind your ear."

Brett: "Can I still ask Miss MacAllister? I need to talk to her anyway." About an amulet for Bo. Just as Guildias wasn't willing to risk his safety, Brett wasn't willing to risk his Botan's.

Guildias: "Of course you may. If or when someone asks who you belong to, I want you to tell them...Valiant and Guildias. Will you do that for me?"

Brett: Brett was about to ask who Valiant was, but reconsidered. Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to.

He nodded. "Okay. I will."

Guildias: "Good man. Well discuss the tattoo closer to your departure. Is there anything else?"

Brett: He shook his head. "No, that's everything."

Guildias: "Then I will conclude with this." A hand to the back of Brett's head, pulling him into a brief kiss to his forehead, ritual to every night for the past five months.

"Be well, Mr. Parker."

Brett: The kiss, more than anything else that had happened from the moment he walked in the door, made Brett realize that he was really going to walk out of here alive. God had let him live. God had let him keep his promise to Bo.

He was going to live and they were going to Oslo in the new year.

"I will," he said, closing his eyes at the affection.

Bo: Bo was about thirty seconds from exiting the vehicle when Brett reappeared. No screams, no clashing. He was in one piece.

He visibly sagged with relief.

"What happened?" he greeted.

Brett: He wasn't the only one. Before Brett said a word or even took a complete breath he was closing the distance between them and pulling Bo into his arms.

"I'll tell you everything, just let me hold you for a second."

Bo: So he would cling to Brett's jacket and breathe with him. There didn't seem to be a scratch on him.

Brett: There wasn't, and that alone was something to be grateful for.

"I love you so much," he whispered. "Thank you for coming with me. For being with me. For existing."

Bo: "That's a lot to thank me for."

Brett: "I have a lot to be grateful for."

Bo: "You're alive. Tell me why when we get home. I don't want to be here."

Brett: Brett nodded, squeezing Bo tighter. "I'm alive. Let's go to the hardware store and lunch and anywhere else you want."

Bo: Bo would wait until distance was placed between them and the concrete house before taking Brett's hand again.

Brett: He immediately twined their fingers and brought Bo's hand to his lips. "Where do you want to go, baby?"

Bo: "Are you wanting to do anything constructive, or go home after this? What...happened?"

Brett: Brett thought for a moment. "I want to build the bookshelves and have lunch with you. I want to feel normal." He sighed. "I got a reality check."

Bo: "A reality check?"

Brett: He nodded. "I told him what happened last night. MJ already had, but....he didn't go into detail."

Bo: "And?"

Brett: "He told me that if we lived anywhere else and I had said that I didn't want to be a ghoul anymore, I would've gotten...much worse than what MJ did. And they would've made sure to finish me off because I couldn't not be a ghoul, knowing what I know. I'd be a threat."

Bo: "That sounds... unsurprising." He understood the logic there; that didn't mean he appreciated it being administered to the sheriff.

"We could go to Oslo and never come back."

Brett: "There are vampires there, too. And who's to say Gertrude wouldn't send one of them after me for stepping out of line again."

Brett squeezed Bo's hand. "Being a ghoul here is the only thing that's going to keep us safe. I won't be killed, and that awful woman won't lay a hand on you again."

Bo: "She doesn't know where I live." Yet he hesitated. Torsten Glockner knew. He had reason to doubt that creature's loyalty, given their recent experiences.

"I hate this place."

Brett: Brett seriously doubted that would stop her. All this business with vampires reminded him of the mob. One way or another, he was sure Gertrude Draegan would find them.

"It seemed so different when I was growing up. It felt so safe. Like a little bubble tucked between the river and the sound."

Bo: "Maybe they have limitations. Maybe children...are not to be considered. Maybe we were both blind. Maybe only you. I can't say."

Brett: "I hope they have limitations," Brett murmured to himself. Adults were one thing, but preying on innocent children would be beyond heinous, beyond morally corrupt. He wanted to believe that even vampires wouldn't stoop so low.

"No, not just me. Every sheriff since they got here. I'm just the latest in a long line."

Bo: Again, he saw the logic, but he didn't want it applied to Brett Parker. "Let's go home, please."

Brett: He nodded and brought Bo's hand to his lips again. "Okay, baby. We'll go home and lock the door."

Bo: "New locks...and I want the windows always locked unless it's daytime."

Brett: Another nod. He'd been thinking along the same lines. "They will be from now on. I want to get a doorbell camera too."

Bo: "Good. Sooner rather than later." He wanted to feel safe again. "So...more to get at the hardware store."

Brett: "We can order the doorbell camera online and have it in a couple days. The rest can be done in an hour."

[sadisim]

All questions for Voteporix ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) and a saxy picu

sry i dont have pics of him hes ugly rn

+ thank u @simtai

Gonna skip some that aren’t relevant to his character development.

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?

I’ve previously answered this on him.Click here.

2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them?

Not one. He’s that much of a loser

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory? 

Heeee kind of died when he was young.Younger than he can recall. The only thing he remembers from his childhood is that he was human.

4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents? 

Does not remember who his parents are/were.

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?

He’s sensed that not knowing anything about his past might bring him some interesting surprises.Some of his friends are looking into family ties hoping to find something.

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

He didn’t attend school.

9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals? 

Not really, all animals seem to hate him. They sense the undead in him and this makes him extremely nervous,especially around dogs.

10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?

Children are probably his second most hated,after women. He is so easily annoyed by noise and children are very weird in his eyes. He just sees them as a mini snack

12. What is their favourite food? 

Humans. Flesh. Anything in the stomach area is his most favorite and especially on women.

13. What is their least favourite food?

Human food is completely gross to him, not because he cannot eat it but because it simply doesn’t contain any human meat inside it. He kinda likes crackers.

14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal?

He once feasted on a 12 year old and he couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing about eating more people. He almost got caught after the national police declared a new serial killer is out hunting.

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it? 

All sorts of things from bottle caps to buttons. But his favorite are human teeth. When he finishes off a victim he carefully removes the teeth in order to not get caught and keeps them as collection or to make jewelry. His friend,Wren, called him tooth fairy once.

17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos?

He’s an amateur with technology and all of his photos turn out blurry or his fingers cover up the lens, although he really likes snapping pics at times.

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else

His fave music is grunge,punk,heavy metal,emo stuff. He doesn’t read because he’s illiterate but he loves fucked up shows like hannibal and ahs. The gorier the better.

19. What’s their least favourite genres?

Anything stupid and cheesy like romance,drama and children stuff. Musicals suck too.

21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?

He’s pretty patient because he’s laid back and doesn’t care about shit but if he loses his temper his inner undead comes out and he’s unable to control.

22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?

“Fuckhead” or whatever stupid thing he can make on the spot. Dick and fairy are his favorites at the moment.

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?

He snores REALLY loud because he has serious breathing issues, you know being undead and all that. He’s all over the place, turning around and twirling in bed like a ballerina. If you sleep next to him you’ll get seriously punched and kicked. He only sleeps in his bed which has a very soft mattress and helps his back issues.

25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?

He adores dark/creepy humor and anything that makes people uncomfortable. His faves are dead baby jokes and he loves pulling puns and such.

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?

He does cry from time to time, especially when he’s too high to remember his own name. He simply cries,bails and screams to let it out,crawls on his floor and curls like a worm and cries for hours on end, letting out all the anger and depression he hides behind his creepy mask.

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

He’s not scared of many things for real, like legit fear. But he’s terrified of falling in love. The idea of it simply brings him to tears 

29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective? 

Listen he gets really violent real quick. Once he finds your weak point he’ll tease you to death, make fun of you and pull these strings to make you do whatever he wants. He LOVES to instill fear and terror into his victims or partners in bed, the feeling is overwhelmingly sexual for him.

31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing?

He’s not that much of a drinker but enjoys soda or carbonated drinks a lot. When he’s drunk he acts really mellow,sleepy and sad.

32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?

He has a really trashy wardrobe. Something among thelines of „fuck this i don’t care as long as i feel comfy” . He loves mixing allcolors at once, wearing darker colors like dark green, washed out colors,black, matching styles like rappers clothing with asian inspiration. However henever wears classy things like shirts, ties, bowties. What describes him bestis „he looks stupid and awkard”. He loves saggy pants, shorts, jeans, bandtshirts, simple tank tops in dark colors,ripped jeans, really large shirts,gloves, socks anything that can be combined. He sometimes wears leather buthe’s always wearing weird materials that chafe on his skin like waterproof,synthetic materials.He loves jackets and weirdly colored socks like bright pinkor whatever that fits in those lines. He also wears sneakers or trainers sonever leather shoes or anything fancy. 

33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties?

He doesn’t wear underwear.

34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body?

He’s average tall,about 170ish cm, very slim,like VERY slim. He detests his legs for being really thin and being self conscious about them.

35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure? 

Guilt isn’t a real thing for him but his porn addiction,drugs and killing people definitely count as that.

Unguilty...not sure if there’s any?

36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?

He’s very good at dissecting bodies,hiding corpses and such. Being a serial killer has

41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship?

He is homoromantic, pansexual. Appearance wise he’s into normal guys,really. Doesn’t fancy anything special but he is dominant by nature so if his partner doesn’t look more submissive he can’t be attracted to him. He prefers shorter men because they are easier to dominate in bed. He’s not the relationship type.

42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?

Doesn’t really have a plan or anything. Hasn’t yet settled for world domination so he just goes with the flow for now.

43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people?

His religion is hentai.

44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most? 

He kind of likes the weather in between. He hates the rain and snow but he despises the sun as well. So darkness+ a light breeze is just about right.

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves? 

He doesn’t care or know what people think. He never leaves the house during daylight so it’s easier for him to sneak between crowds and such.

46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?

Never. He’s the creepy guy you see across the street that you try to avoid without looking obvious. He’s the type who doesn’t introduce himself because the people he hangs out around aren’t that formal to care so the impression isn’t something that’s important to him at all.

47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event?

lol,no.

48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend? 

He’s both a party animal and a social events hater. So he parties on his own. Problem solved!

49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?

He’s not really attached to anything but he loves his house. It’s decorated with misc stuff that he calls home.

50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials?

His vape, drugs to last him until he dies and a lighter.

[notoriousffmirror]

wishful thinking (a steve harrington one-shot)

based on the prompt: “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”

pairing: steve harrington x reader

word count: 1.8k

a/n: hello! i don’t bite. i promise. feel free to pick something from the prompt list and drop it on my inbox maybe? or just leave our suggestion k byeeeee enjoy

—        Of all the awful things about working at The Gap - the long hours, dealing with (annoying) people, having to fold hundreds of neon shirts countless times throughout the day, doing inventory - the thing you hated the most was closing up the store. 

      You hated the creepy, empty environment, having to check every room to see if there was anyone there (yup, like a robber would yell “hey, over here!”), and having to turn off all the lights before locking everything up. 

(Even though you were over eighteen, you still flipped the switch and ran upstairs every time you grabbed a cup of water in the middle of the night at home.)

(You did the exact same thing at The Gap. Turned off switches and just ran.)

(Good thing there was no one to watch you.)

(Except, y’know, the imaginary robber.)

      And today, it would be your lucky day to close up the shop. 

      You were dreading it. 

      And you were also regretting agreeing to see Friday The 13th with your brother that past weekend, cause now your mind was playing tricks on you. 

      First, you could’ve sworn that a blazer with very dramatic shoulder pads on the fitting room was actually a person, and almost had a heart attack. 

      Then, a hanger fell out of nowhere from a pile as you were locking up the break room and you were pretty certain that if someone, anyone, was hiding out trying to rob The Gap they’d be deaf by now, because you let out the most embarrassing, ear piercing scream you could muster. 

      And now you were hearing footsteps. 

      Taking a deep breath and praying to God it was all in our head, you hid behind a rack of ugly neon shirts, holding an iron that you found at the back to your chest. 

      Someone was approaching. 

      Someone had actually entered the store, and you hang onto the iron until you heard that said someone was close and just…

      “Hello?”

      Threw it at them. 

      “Oh my God, you could’ve killed me!” The intruder yelled, and “Oh my God, what the fuck are you doing here?!”, you yelled back, coming out of your hiding spot. 

      The intruder was wearing a ridiculous sailor outfit. 

      The intruder was Steve Harrington. 

      You let out a breath of relief. You knew Steve. You went to high school together. He was a major dick but had fantastic hair. 

      “I heard someone screaming and I came running to check out what happened.” He still seemed startled by almost getting hit on the face with an ironing device. 

      “Oh. Sorry.” You picked up the iron from where it landed, a feet away from him “I hope this isn’t broken or my manager is gonna murder me.”

      “You could’ve killed me, Y/N.” 

      “Sorry, wasn’t expecting a knight in shining armor.” You replied sarcastically and Steve rolled his eyes. 

      Typical you, he thought. Queen of Sarcasm. 

      “Anyway, is everything okay?” 

      “Uh, sure, it was just an… well, I think you deserve the truth.” You knew that if you two were still in high school you’d get mocked endlessly once that got out but, at the moment, you couldn’t care less “I got spooked by a hanger that fell. It was very creepy and I watched a horror movie on pure peer pressure so I might be traumatized for life. Sorry.”

      “You’re closing this entire thing alone?” Steve looked concerned and you guessed the rumors were true. 

      King Steve had changed from High School to now. 

      “Yes, but I am almost done. I think. I kinda got distracted after the hanger thing and I started hearing footsteps.”

      “Do you need help?”

      “Yes!” You replied, maybe a little too eagerly. 

(Not because he was King Steve With The Good Hair and all of that.)

(You hated closing so much that if Freddy Krueger had offered you help, you might’ve taken him for it.)

(Okay, maybe not.)

      Steve gave you a sideways smile - one of those that, maybe once upon a time, would’ve made your heart do little pirouettes, taking the iron from your hands “I hate closing alone too. And Ahoy is probably as big as your fitting room.”

      “You on solo duty tonight too?”

      “Yes, Robin uhm, she had to leave early” He seemed embarrassed “She had ahm, lady problems”

      You scoffed “Steve, y’know that’s a lie right?” 

      He actually looked appalled and you wanted to laugh. 

      “The girl who was supposed to close up with me beat me up to it and used the exact same excuse to our manager. I’d be mad if I hadn’t done the same thing last time.”

(You really hated locking up the store.)

      You’d feel bad for Steve if you didn’t have an amazing memory and remembered when, a long time ago, when you two were juniors, had  Science together and had to do a presentation in front of the class. 

      He bailed on your group by saying he had basketball practice every single time you guys tried to schedule a meeting. 

(Your group ended up doing the entire thing without him.)

(Still put his name on the final paper because he was King Steve and all the boys were terrified.)

(On the day of the presentation, he said three lines as charmingly as possible, made the teacher blush and got an A overall.)

      “Can you help me fold these ugly shirts? Then I’ll just lock the register and on our merry way we go.”

      “Sure thing.”

      Should you say something?, you wondered. Were you two even friends? You were friendly enough, you supposed, he may have been king of Hawkings High, but you weren’t a complete loser. 

(Or at least you hoped you weren’t.)

(Fuck, were you?)

(Hell, it didn’t even matter now.)

      And what could you even say?

      Nice hair? Nice uniform? Fun summer huh? 

      So you decided to let the comfortable silence reign. 

      Meanwhile.  

      The silence was getting uncomfortable in Steve’s head. 

      Should he say something? Robin talked about you often enough. Said you gave her all of your employees discount and were saving up money to go to some fancy Ivy League. He didn’t doubt it - he knew you were smart. You two had lots of classes together growing up. Should he ask something? About college? Well, then he’d have to talk about his disastrous acceptance experience and that wouldn’t be so nice and yup, the silence was dragging and God he hated it, he had to say something to you, had to and…

      “So, ahm… You come here often?” 

      You stopped folding one of those ugly neon shirts halfway through. 

      “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”

      He wanted to hit himself in the face. He’d been out of practice for so long he had to let out the most obtuse pick up line in the planet to one of the few girls who’d never let him live it down. 

(And whom, he was just starting to realize, he didn’t want to leave with the Steve Harrington is a complete Idiot impression.)

      Fantastic. 

      “I…” he started, and, eager to break the silence and noticing how embarrassed he was, you interrupted cheerfully “Best and worst thing about working at the mall, go!”

      “Erm, best: I can get all the free ice cream that I want. Worst: that’s really starting to show up on my adult size small sailor uniform.”

      “For me the best is… definitely the employees discount.” You paused “Although I wouldn’t want to use it on this ugly thing.”

(The ugly neon shirt was indeed very ugly.)

      “And the worst, wait, wait, let me guess.” Steve pretended to think for a second “closing up the store?”

      “I just think the mall gets so creepy when it’s empty.” You shuddered “I’d rather deal with a thousand stay at home moms yelling at me cause their shirt shrunk than closing this goddamn place one more time.”

      “Wishful thinking, y’know. Keep thinking that everyone else except you will get the locking duty.” He replied, with a solemn tone on his voice. 

      That was a side you didn’t know: Steve Harrington, advice master. 

      “Think that works?” You eyed him skeptically.

      “You’ll never know if you don’t really try.” He shrugged, and you two made small talk for a while longer. 

      After making sure everything was at it’s expected place (except the iron, cause Steve was pretty much sure it was broken and asked if he could give it to a “friend of his who likes building stuff and could use this”, which you agreed to, as it was always better to get rid of any crime evidence), you helped Steve close up Scoops Ahoy (and took the opportunity to try every single ice cream flavor without someone behind you breathing down your neck).

      As you said your goodbyes at the parking lot - Steve walking you to his car like the gentleman he was -, he made you promise that, if all the wishful thinking failed and you had to lock the store by yourself again, you’d hop by Scoops Ahoy to let him now. 

(And to get some free ice cream.)

      You promised, and you went for a mocking salute as he went for a hug and it was awkward and nice and little did you know that would be the last time you’d be closing up The Gap. 

      Cause on the week after, something uber strange would happen, half of the mall would get destroyed and you’d lose your job. 

      That was the thought running through  your mind as you went to the videostore to grab some movies, as you had lot of time to kill and wasn’t exactly ready yet to go job hunting on retail again. 

      You were surprisingly greeted by Steve. 

      No stupid sailor hat now, just his regular old clothes and hair in all of it’s full, tall, thick glory. 

      “Hey! At least no more closing up the shop at eleven pm!”

      “At least that! That wishful thinking thing really does work, huh?”

      Steve smiled. Behind you, Robin was mouthing “ask her out! Ask her out!”

      Noticing something going on behind your back, you turned to face her, a huge grin on her face as she spoke “So, hey Y/N! Do you come here often?”

      You laughed, Steve groaning and with a shrug you replied “Not really, but I might start showing up more.”

      “I leave at seven!” Steve quipped, and you nodded, grabbing your movies (the horror one for your brother obviously, you learned your lesson).

      “I might show up again at seven then.”

(You did.)

[mairzymarzipan]

More of Hat Loves Lamp

this might lead to a few subsequent bits- basically the origin of my villain’s evil and my brat’s hattiness.

“Dragon no!  No!  Stop it!”

There was a playful growling noise in the other room to go along with the yells, and Lyle looked up from the refrigerator.  It wasn’t the first time he’d heard his twin sister argue with the dog, but it was the first time he’d heard her so upset.  She sounded on the verge of years.  

“Bad dog!” She screamed, almost at the top of her lungs, and the dog’s happy growls were replaced with a yelp.  A second later a white and fawn furry blur of a collie went running past the boy.  Dragon darted under the table and hid there.  

Lyle headed for the living room, leaving the fridge door wide open.  If it had been anyone else, Lyle would have checked to see if the dog was alright, but Mabel was his twin sister and she had sounded way more upset than usual.  

She was in the middle of the living room floor crying, holding something in her hands.  Lyle stood next to her, “Mabes?  What happened?”

Unable to speak through her tears, the eleven-year-old held up the object.  It was the pinwheel- the magic one.  Only it was broken.  The stick was snapped, and the paper torn and with bite marks.

“Oh, no,” Lyle said.

“Dragon ate Rain!”  Mabel said between sobs.

“Oh Mabel, I’m so sorry!”  Lyle gently touched the pinwheel.  It- it was really rough.  The handle was splintered in the middle, hanging to itself by the single grain.  The paper in the wheel was half chewed, half melted.  Any life Rain had had in her was gone, now.

“That stupid dog!”  Mabel’s mouth twisted, “I want him dead!”

Lyle jumped a little at the force of Mabel’s proclamation.  He’d never rage in her like this before, “You don’t mean that,” he said.  Dragon was their dog.  They had chosen him together after much deliberation and kisses from the entire litter.  They’d raised him from when he was small and taught him all the tricks- sit, fetch, lay.  Dragon slept between them on the floor at night.  

“I do, I do!  I hate him!”

“He didn’t mean it,” Lyle said, “Dad says he’s still just a puppy even if he’s big.  He chews on everything.  He didn’t know Rain was alive.”

“Someone mention me?”

Mabel gasped.  The pinwheel in her hands was moving.  The wheel itself bent in her direction and spun a little.  It looked- better.  Less chewed and more whole.  Lyle couldn’t even see the break in the handle anymore.  Had he actually seen it?

“Rain?  You’re- OK?”

“I’m fine sugar, how ‘bout you?”  Now Lyle knew he hadn’t seen things- the wheel was getting itself back shape.  He didn’t know how, but the paper was unfolding and, growing back, where it had been eaten.  Pretty soon it looked like a brand new pink and yellow pinwheel, just like the day they found her.  

Mabel wiped tears from her eyes, “Oh, Rain!  I was so scared!  I thought you died.”

“Died?  Ah no- a dog can’t kill a maguffin!  That would be too kind, huh?  Sugar- dry your eyes.  I remembered another spell.”

Lyle sighed with relief but, it was strangled.  He’d feel awful if Dragon accidentally killed Mabel’s friend.  But there went the pinwheel off again about spells and magic.  Remembering spells.  Performing spells.  It was all Mabel talked about these days.  It used to be about cutting faces out of teen magazines and making her dinosaur books really bizarre, or playing Barbie house with her friends.  Now, it was just magic.

“Oh, gosh!  What’s the spell?”  Mabel was jumping on her knees now.  Tear streaks were on her face but seemed to belong to another person.  Mabel looked like a girl who had only know happiness.

“I’d tell you,” Rain said, “but-” she turned her pinwheel toward Lyle, who sighed.

What made Mabel’s new hobby worse was the Lyle wasn’t invited to these lessons.  ‘Sorry Sonny-sorcery is for girls!’  Rain had said.  Lyle wasn’t a stranger to being excluded from things- he was always told he was too young or too dumb or something.  But, Mabel was his twin sister.  They shared everything.  The hot-boy dinosaur collages, the doll tea parties, the baseball games, the bug hunts- everything.

Until now.

“Oh, Sonny?”  Rain said.  Lyle didn’t know why she called him Sonny like it was his name, “You can make yourself useful, you know.  There’s some things your sister’s going to need.”

“Hold on,” Mabel pulled a pen from behind her ear, “OK, let me write this down.”

Rain had taken to floating in the air again, and Mabel was writing down a list of plants on a pink post it pad.  It was like the pinwheel had never been devoured by a dog.  Lyle didn’t know half the plants Mabel was writing down, but he didn’t ask for a clarification.  When Rain was done, Mabel stood up and stick the list to Lyle’s forehead, and grinned, then went into the other room.  

Lyle was about to leave when he noticed her top hat on the floor.  Must have fallen off when Mabel was trying to get Dragon to cough up Rain.  He picked it up and almost raised his voice to call for her but then, promptly, changed his mind.  If Mabel wanted to send him to do stupid chores, then Lyle ‘accidently’ use her hat as a shopping bag for dirty flowers and stuff.

The front door opened before Lyle could get there, and his friends were waiting for him.  “Ly!  What’s taking you so long?  Where are our juice boxes?”

“Oh, sorry!”  Lyle smacked his head where the list was.  He and his friends had been fishing outside, and Lyle had run in to get them drinks.  “I had to help my sister,” he ran to the still-open fridge and grabbed four juice boxes.  He gave three to his friends.  

“Thanks, Ly,” Dustin said, “we’re going over to Allen’s house now, though.  His brother finally left for work so we’re gonna play on his Nintendo.”

“OK, sounds good,” Lyle pulled the sticky note off his head, “let’s look for this stuff on the way there.

Allen’s big brother hadn’t gone to work, it turned out, and the flock of boys were chased away when they got to the house.  Dustin half blamed Lyle for making them find all those flowers, but he didn’t have much of a foot to stand on.  Their plans dashed, and not wanting to be in the hot sun anymore, the boys split.

Lyle carried his plants home.  Rain hadn’t specified, so Lyle and the boys had snapped them at the stocks.  They weren’t all flowers, and those that Lyle didn’t know about had been identified by his friends.

He struggled with the lock, which meant Mom wasn’t home yet.  Mabel wasn’t in their room. Lyle dropped the flowers onto the middle of her bed unceremoniously, and that’s when he noticed Mabel’s diary, sitting wide open.  Her diary, where she had been furiously writing the stuff Rain had been telling her about lately- the super secret stuff.  The diary that actually locked, with a key that she kept on a chain around her neck, and always stashed under her pillow or in her backpack.  

Lyle realized that if there was any chance to see what Rain had been teaching his sister, the time was now.  He put the hat on the side table, crown down.

The words on the top of the page read MAGUFFIN STUFF.

Below that were words, followed by paragraphs of gibberish.  Lyle cocked his head but none of this made sense.  Lyle set his hand down on the hat, his fingertips resting just on the sweatband.  Maybe if he read this out loud, it would make more sense?  So he did that.

There was a tug from the hat.  His hand was gone into it!  His fingers and thumb weren’t visible, but his wrist stretched impossibly into the dark hole.  Before he could say anything, he elbow disappeared into it.  When the rest of his arm disappeared, his torso was tugged closer to the hat.  It pulled to hard- he couldn’t fight against it!  When he tried to push with his other hand, that just went inside too, like it was a black hole.  Too late to scream, his shoulders and head went into the hat, and then his body and legs and feet.

Lyle was in a long, black shaft.  There was a hole in front him and an empty blackness behind him.  He was falling.  The hole got smaller and smaller, and the walls around him got narrower, and narrower.  They got so narrower they pushed up against him.  They got so narrow that they squeezed him.  Lyle thought they would stop him from falling, but he fell still.  The wall got so narrow they were inside his body.  They got so narrow he didn’t have a body anymore.  He was only walls.  Walls and fabric and blackness and deepness.  And even now, he was falling, falling, falling.

Then he was on the side table.

***

Rain had sent Lyle to do busywork, she’d revealed, after the boy had left.  Mabel had objected but Lyle was already gone.  But that meant that now she and her mentor could do the real work.  For this spell, Mabel would need a perfect opal.  Might her mom have one in her jewelry?  Mabel wasn’t sure what an opal was, but she could look!

And so she’d been spending the last hour going through her mom’s jewelry case looking for opals.  She would hold a stone in front of Rain and the Rain would confirm or deny.  Mostly deny.  Once she found an opal, but it wasn’t perfect.  But at least now she knew what the right stone would look like.

She heard a scream that made her head come up and smash into one of the open shelves.  It sounded like Lyle!  Mabel ran to it right away, into their shared room.  But she didn’t see him here.  “Lyle?  Lyle?”  She looked under the beds.  She looked in the beds. There was a pile of flowers on her bed.  

Her magician’s hat fell off the table- so that’s where that thing had gone to.  “Mabel!  Something’s wrong with me!”

“Where are you?” She opened the closet door and pushed aside their shirts and looked behind them.

“I’m on the floor.”

But the only thing on the floor was her hat.  It was rolling around on it’s brim.  It rolled around a bit, then it pushed itself up with it’s ribbons.  Wait- since when had her magician’s hat had loose ribbons?  It pushed itself onto its crown, then felt itself over with its ribbons.  There was an ugly tear across the front of the hat that Mabel had never seen before.  It opened up, revealing weird, sharky teeth.

“Mabelllll!”

That was Lyle’s voice.

“Oh my god- Lyle?”

“Of course it’s me.  Mabel, something’s wrong with me!”  He reached his ribbons for her, and Mabel came to kneel in front of him.  It kind of twisted her up on the inside to look at him.  He- he wasn’t her brother right now.  He was a weird version of her hat with teeth and arms.  

She put her hands on her face and tears started to come to her eyes.  She knew right away- this was her fault.  This was her fault and she had to fix it.  Lyle had tried to warn her about using magic, but Mabel had been too caught up in it.  Now Lyle was the real one paying the price.

“Mabel?”  Lyle’s voice was soft, “What’s wrong with me?”  He put his ribbons in front of his teeth and gasped, “I’m blue!  And- my bones are gone?”

Mabel sort of hic-sobbed, “No!  Wait- Lyle, you can see?  Without eyes?”

“What?  What do you mean I don’t have eyes?!”

There was a mirror on the door of the closet, “I’ll show you,” she got up and closed the door.  The full body mirror revealed an opposite of the room.  

“I can’t see myself,” Lyle said, “I’m invisible?”

“What?  No!”  With one hand on her mouth, she knelt, then softly she rested her hand on Lyle’s brim, “Do you feel that?”

“Yeah.”

“Look in the mirror at what I’m touching.”

There was silence for a good one, two seconds.  It was- unbearable.  Then Lyle said, “You’re touching your hat.  But I’m not your hat,” he waved his ribbons, and paused when the mirror hat did the same thing, “No, I can’t be,” he waved his ribbon arms, crossed them, jumped up and down.  Lyle screamed again.

“Nooo!  I don’t want to be a hat!  Mabel!  Mabel!  Change me back!”

“I don’t-” Mabel got her diary off the bed, and gasped when she saw what page it was open to, “Lyle- did you read aloud from this page?”

“Yes,” Lyle flapped his ribbon arms wildly, “and I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry!  I’ll never read from your magic book again, just change me back!”

“I- I can’t.”

“What?”

“I’m- I’m not a good enough sorceress.”

“Then get Rain to do it!”

“She can’t either!”

“What?”

“She said that I can’t either.”

The new voice came from the doorway where Mabel’s pinwheel was floating in the middle, bobbing and her pinwheel turning slowly.  Rain floated lower, more to Lyle’s level.  

“She’s wrong though, right?”  Lyle said, “You’re a really strong sorceress.”

Two of Rain’s points folded, “Sonny, if I knew how to get people out of maguffins, do you think I’d still be in one?”

“What?”  Lyle asked.

Mabel sighed, “Rain isn’t a pinwheel- she’s a person inside a pinwheel.  What we’ve been trying to do all this time was get her out so she could teach me more stuff.”

“And now you’re a being like me,” Rain said, “a maguffin: a magical object with a human soul battery.”

“But- but- I read the spell from your diary!  It was really easy!”  Lyle said.

“It’s really to make maguffins,” Mabel said, “but really hard to unmake them.”

Lyle started to hyperventilate, and and then rise from the ground.  He was now floating inches above the rug like the other maguffin.  “But I want to be a boy!  I want to be a boy!”

There was a click at the front of the house- the door being opened.  “Mom’s here!”  Lyle cried, “Mom will help me!”  He jumped for the door, lost his elevation and sort of fell in the hall.  He rolled a couple of times and landed brim-down.

“Help!  I’m upside down!”

“Mabel!”  Rain said severely, her wheel spinning, “Listen sugar- adults can’t see him.  You have to hide him.”

That seemed extremely unfair, “But he’s my brother- and my mom is his mom.”

“She can’t, Mabel.  You know what happens if adults see magic- they’ll take me away.  And they’ll take your brother away, now that he’s magic, too.”

Mabel’s insides froze up.  Having a hat-brother was bad, but having Lyle taken away was the absolute worst thing that could ever happen to her.  Lyle wasn’t just a brother.  He was a twin.  Being with him was like being with herself.  It was like the world made sense.  

She could never lose that.  Never.

“Take me away?  What?  I’m still upside down!”  

Their mom was still struggling with the door- the lock was kind of loose and they all had problems with their keys.  Mabel picked Lyle up and brought him inside the room.  She set him on his bed ‘rightside up’, and looked at him sadly.  Lyle’s strange looking mouth frowned.

“I’m a hat forever, aren’t I?”

“No,” Mabel wiped a tear from her eye, “just until Rain and I figure out how to fix it.  I will fix it.  I promise.  I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s OK, Mabel.  You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yes, I did,” and there was no way anyone could tell her otherwise.  She’d written down dangerous spells- spells Rain had warned her over and over not to say out loud.  And she’d done the worst possible thing- left her diary out, and open, where Lyle could find it.  

“Lyle?  Mabel?”  Their mother had gotten in the house, “You guys are being awful quiet.”

Mabel got up, and Lyle said, “I’ll hide.  What are you gonna tell mom?”

“I don’t know,” she sobbed.

“Don’t cry.  If you cry, she’ll know something’s wrong.  Tell her I’m still at Allen’s house.  And when I don’t come home…”

Mabel swallowed.  Lyle gathered his strength, “When I don’t come home, she’ll think I ran away.”

Mabel stifled a cry, failed, and tried to think of an excuse for it.  “I watched Dumbo,” she said.

Lyle nodded, “Good, good.  Now go meet her.”

“Mabel?  Lyle?  You around?”

Mabel walked into the hall, shutting the door behind her, “Lyle’s not here!  He’s still with his friend.”