#went on a walk to a graveyard near my house and the last part was uphill and i got up and my heart kinda just Had A Moment

[ultradiqueer]

abt to fucking pass out on top of this goddamn hill

[unknownarmageddon]

SonderTale Masterpost!

god damn this was an absolute pain in my ass to make. Also it’s long as hell but it’s done! /lh /nm

This is also an updated version, so if you’ve seen something similar on Quotev, I strongly recommend reading through this one too!

Let’s start with a bit of an overview/introduction

SonderTale is an original Undertale AU of mine, which consists of several one off stories located in its own one-shots book. (Linked here) as well as some art I’ve made of the characters here and there.

SonderTale is an AU inspired by Cryptids and folklore, and has both dark, horror, and almost surreal themes as well as more fluffy/domestic themes. Though ST is inspired by some folklore, most of the Sanses’ origins are not in any way supposed to be exact representations of said folklore. Mostly, I’ve made characters loosely inspired by the folklore and creatures, with only some pieces of their original inspiration. The characters are also not meant to be the Cryptids themselves (like, SonderTale’s Dust is not meant to be what his inspiration is) but rather separate creatures entirely. 

      SonderTale canonically includes the ships Kross, HorrorDust, and Killermare, which will be expanded on later. Also, I do not own the originals of the characters included in SonderTale, only the AU itself and its concept. All credits go to the original creators, and Undertale belongs to Toby Fox.

       Now, for the question of how I got my inspiration for SonderTale. Last year I was on a trip with family, and one of the places we went to was near something related to Goatman. This sparked the conversation of Goatman himself, and just Cryptids in general. Later, we were walking over a bridge at a swap-set nature walk, I got inspiration to write. Of course, I got the idea for an Undertale AU, which was based around/inspired by Cryptids and set somewhere similar to the forest that gave me that initial inspiration. Several of the locations in SonderTale are actually inspired by different places I’ve seen, either through media or personal experience.

      SonderTale’s main setting is a forested swap, located near farmland. Amidst the forest is a small lake, in the middle of which there is a medium-sized island that houses an abandoned graveyard. Not far away is a large, metal bridge leading over a human river. 

Below the cut will be bios of the characters found in this AU, starting with SonderTale’s Horror

SonderTale!Horror (Rueing)

       This version of Horror Sans is inspired by the Goatman. Cadaver has been known to call him “Rue”.             

      Rueing is mostly paranoid, dull, apathetic, territorial, gruff and feral. He minds his business, and he’d like it that others do the same. However, when around SonderTale Dust, he may be calmer and more toned down. Rueing isn’t drastically overprotective of his forest, but can be protective of Cadaver if he gets harmed in some way. He will also attack anyone who tries to interfere with his home or garden, or is found caught in one of his traps. Rueing is very self-sufficient, as he grows his own crops and preserves and slaughters his own meat. He hardly travels outside the forest, and stays as far away from humanity as he can manage.

      Rueing normally feels conflicted and uncertain when it comes to his own, and Cadaver’s, hunting habits. His preferred hunting method is traps, and several bear traps have been set up throughout the forest. He collects fungus, herbs, dead preserved deformed animals, and the skulls of dead animals. He also keeps jars of eyes (animal) as well as jars holding the internal organs and smaller body parts of animals. He keeps most of these jars in his cellar, along with his unpacked and unprocessed dear meat.

Below will be a bit more compact bio of Rueing.

Active : Nocturnal 

Height : 6’7”

Place of Residence : A cabin located in the forest, neighboring marshland 

Preferred Prey : Deer, homegrown produce, and most other forest-residing animals. 

Current Partner : SonderTale Dust (Cadaver)

Skills : Cooking, Watercolor Painting, Gardening, Foraging, Botany, Wound-Attending, General Off-The-Grid Survival, 

Weakness : His legs and head wound, blindness is one eye, his connection with his partner

Magical Abilites : Bone summoning and manipulation, higher physical endurance, limited healing, and Gaster Blasters

Origin : Rueing worked as a farmhand on a goat farm, but as a punishment for “antagonistic behavior” was trapped in the homeowner’s basement. Here he went practically insane, and was gruesomely starved. Once he was free he slaughtered and ate more than half of the farm’s goats which he previously cared for. In a rage he fled to the nearby woods, which is where he was mutated into his current form and where he stays to this day.

SonderTale’s Dust (Cadaver)

This version of Dust is inspired by the Wendigo. He has been called “Caddy” and “Dusty” by Tryst.    

      Cadaver is generally very dull, distrustful, reserved, wild, aggressive, and territorial. (Compared to Rueing, he is much more animalistic as well) He shows very little emotion around anyone he isn’t close to, and has a generally inexpressive face and mannerisms. As mentioned, he is extremely territorial, and won’t hesitate to kill anyone who trespasses in his forest. Cadaver dislikes being trapped inside, and would much rather be outside hunting with his companion, Sonder Killer. He is prone to getting himself hurt, and therefore will often need to be healed by Rueing. His hunts can last for weeks, or even months in some cases.

   Cadaver sheds his antlers, like actual deer do. He regrows them during the spring. The antlers are covered in velvet before they completely harden. It is unknown why his antlers function this way.

Below will be a bit more compact bio of Cadaver.

Active : Nocturnal 

Height : 6’10”

Place of Residence : He has no concrete home, and instead lives within the forest. He will usually stay with Rueing between hunts.

Preferred Prey : Humans (However, he may settle for deer or livestock)

Current Partner : SonderTale Horror (Rueing)

Skills : Hunting, stealth, navigating through thick forest, combat, tracking, 

Weakness : his relationship with Rueing, his recklessness, his low agility, detest of small spaces, his aggression

Magical Abilities : Bone summoning and manipulation, enhanced physical stamina and endurance, and telekinesis 

Origin : It is said that while on a winter hike, Cadaver got separated from his brother. He searched tirelessly for him, eventually getting himself more lost in the labyrinth of the woods. He wandered for what may have been days, starved, delirious and cold until his brother finally found him. In Cadaver’s ravenous confusion, he slaughtered his brother and ate most of his body. He quickly developed a taste for human flesh, and this greed disfigured him into the creature he is now.

SonderTale’s Killer (Tryst)

This version of Killer is inspired by the Chupacabra. He tends to be laidback, witty, stubborn, cocky, reckless, impulsive, energetic, and a tease. He doesn’t care much if humans sight him, and bothers very little with keeping a low profile when near civilization. He is especially cocky when he’s around both Alpas and Cadaver, and tends to be more extroverted. However, he is indeed distrustful of strangers, despite not usually expressing this externally.  He can be quite competitive, and enjoys partaking in friendly competitions with Cadaver while on their hunts. Additionally, when on a hunt he tends to revert to mad, almost sadistic ways. Sonder Killer carries himself low to the ground in an almost slinking manner, and accompanies Cadaver on many of his hunts.  Trust prefers to keep to himself, and does not venture very fair in any direction alone. He is also currently in a toxic relationship with Whist, as Whist is controlling and abusive toward Tryst.

Below will be a bit more compact bio of Tryst.

Active : Nocturnal, occasionally diurnal

Height : 5’8”

Place of Residence : Tryst lives under an abandoned overpass, which is near expansive farmland.

Preferred Prey : The blood of goats, sheep and other livestock. However, he has been known to drain humans and eat human food. 

Current Partner : SonderTale’s Cross (Alpas)

Former Partner : SonderTale’s Nightmare (Whist) ((toxic relationship, abusive))

Skills : Stealth, knife-related skills/tricks, pick pocketing, agility, acrobatics, close combat

Weakness : Poor defense, fear of failure, his soul, sight problems, low skill in ranged combat, his relationship with Alpas

Magical Abilities : Teleportation, knife summoning and manipulation, blood digestion and dependence, enhanced speed and endurance

Origin : It’s not fully known where he came from, but sightings date back several years of a skeletal, canine figure mutilating livestock. Many suspect he came from the forest.

SonderTale’s Cross (Alpas)

This version of Cross is inspired by the Thunderbird. He has been nicknamed “Crisscross” by Tryst.    

       Generally Alpas is serious, solitary, alert, extremely distrustful, reserved, and paranoid. He is practically always on edge. Though, once he’s around someone he’s comfortable with (notably Tryst), he can be more relaxed and upbeat. He is also incredibly protective of those he’s formed a bond with, and would do anything to keep them out of harm.

      Alpas usually never attacks or hunts humans, and is seen as generally harmless. He also refuses to go near civilization. Thus, he normally stays solitarily to himself and is sometimes seen as an omen for bad comings or as a powerful nature spirit amongst humankind. When he travels via flight, he uses the cover of thick storm clouds as to not be noticed. Despite being incredibly tall, most of his size comes from his massive pitch black wings. (He has a wingspan of roughly 16 feet) When he flaps these wings hard enough, lightning and thunder are produced. He tends to fluff up his feathers when he’s on edge and as a method of intimidation. He carries a golden heart locket in a pouch on his hip. While he does not know many people apart from Tryst, he has a very bad relationship with Whist. He despises Whist, and Whist despises him. Alpas only wants to protect Tryst from Whist, and has gotten into countless fights with Whist because of this. These fights have left both sides seriously wounded.

Below will be a bit more compact bio of Alpas

Active : Nocturnal, occasionally diurnal

Height : 8”

Place of Residence : He has no distinct home, but mainly sleeps in one large, old oak tree located within the forest. He spends most of his time flying, or with Tryst.

Preferred Prey : Scavenged human food, and occasionally animals

Current Partner : SonderTale’s Killer (Tryst)

Skills : Aerodynamics, agility, navigating, celestial navigation, ranged combat, resistance to harsh weather,

Weakness : his relationship with Tryst, his wings, fear/wariness of humans, sensitivity to bright lights

Magical Abilities : Lightning summoning and manipulation, other electricity-related abilities, summoning and manipulating storm clouds and in some (special) cases tornadoes, enhanced endurance, and Gaster Blasters

Origin : Unlike many of the other monsters, Alpas was created the way he is. He’s been around much longer than anyone else, and it’s unknown how he came into being.

SonderTale’s Nightmare (Whist)

This version of Nightmare is inspired by the Jersey Devil. Whist is a reserved, collected, calm, sadistic, apathetic, and cruel person. He shows very little positivity, and has a habit of using others. Though, he can be quite curious of things unknown to him. He often times puts up a fake, more approachable, persona when he’s trying to learn more about someone. He’ll act polite, friendly, and calm when he does this, attempting to gain their trust and friendship. Most of the time he ends up using any information gathered from his desired victim against them to siphon negativity from them, on which he feeds and draws energy. He is also prone to snapping if angered enough, and will have the occasional outburst if outraged. Many of these outbursts are directed at Tryst.

    Whist appears to be the most refined of the Monsters, and has very “human” or “proper” mannerisms. He also isn’t very territorial, and has on occasion even escorted humans out of the forest if they had been lodt. Additionally, Whist is incredibly powerful, both magically and physically. He can hold his own well in battle, but prefers to not have to engage with it at all. He is completely blind in one eye, which he takes care not to let his adversary take advantage of. Whist is very fond of games, and will often subject his victims to card games or mental games of his own making. He is sly in this way, and takes great enjoyment in these games.

Below will be a bit more compact bio of Whist.

Active : Any time, not strictly nocturnal

Height : 6’4”

Place of residence : An abandoned house located in the forest, which is collapsing in some places. Whist has partially fixed it up, and added his own furniture. 

Preferred Prey : He appears to feed entirely off the negativity of others

Current Partner : N/A

Former Partner : SonderTale’s Killer (Tryst) ((Toxic relationship, abusive))

Skills : Manipulation, Writing/Language arts, reading emotions, tactics, poetry, piano, card games

Weakness : Intense positivity, fear of remembering, his blind spot, his past, his issues with anger

Magical Abilities : Sensing emotions, summonable tentacles, limited shape-shifting, resistance to projectiles, acidic body that is harmful to the touch, negative aura with a wide radius

Origin : It is said that Whist was orphaned at a very young age, and lived in an orphanage for most of his adolescent and teenage life. Here he was bullied severely. His bullies saw him as weak and worthless, and this became a large insecurity for Whist. Eventually having enough, Whist found a way to summon a demon of pure negativity. The two fused, thus converting Whist into his current state. After the fusion everyone in the orphanage was massacred.

SonderTale’s Error (Knell)

This version of Error is inspired by the Mothman. Generally he tends to be cocky, irritable, curious, eccentric, confident and somewhat narcissistic. He’s very much a loner, and doesn’t personally know any of the other monsters apart from Whist. Knell, like Alpas, is generally harmless to humans. He typically does not hunt humans or animals, and spends a majority of his time either in the graveyard, his bridge, or flying. The inside of his wings are decorated with large, intricate golden eye-like patterns, and the antennae on his head function similar to a cat’s whiskers.

     Knell enjoys observing humans and their antics, as he finds them entertaining. He collects a variety of human items, taking interest in their oddity. He keeps his horde of these items tucked away on his bridge. He is also known to capture live humans, as well, keeping them for as long as he pleases trapped on his bridge. He practically toys with them like dolls, and occasionally he kills them, but most times he frees them once he looses interest. Knell is farsighted.

As previously mentioned, Knell is also very irritable. He is easy to anger or upset, and if he does not get his way, he may through entire tantrums. These are quite desctructive, and can go on for days at a time.

Below will be a bit more compact bio of Knell

Active : Crepuscular, sometimes nocturnal 

Height : 6’4”

Place of Residence : He mainly resides on a large metal bridge leading over a human river, but also rests on trees and power lines.  

Preferred Prey : scavenged human and animal carcasses, and stolen human candy (mostly chocolate)

Current Partner : N/A

Skills : Knitting, sewing, crochet, deception, perception, stealth, ranged combat, literature

Weakness : Close combat, his bad eyesight, his protectiveness of his captured humans, fear of physical contact, a fear of needles and enclosed spaces, his past/fear of remembering his past

Magical Abilities : Silk-like strings, summonable magical bones, limited portals, sharp night vision,

Orgin : Knell is a product of human meddling. Apparently, he was captured and subjected to severe experimentations, both mental and physical, causing him to be disfigured into his current state. He managed to break out, killing the humans responsible in the process. It is unknown precisely what these aforementioned experiments entailed.

SonderTale’s Fresh (Akrasia)

This version of Fresh is inspired by the Skinwalker. He is usually very upbeat, friendly-seeming, laidback, approachable, and eccentric when around other people, but has been known to act in drastically contrasting demented, cold, crazed, and dull ways when alone, angered, or around his victims. Akrasia himself is actually a parasite that has infected a host’s body. The parasite itself has very little basic emotions, is almost completely mindless, and only has the motivation of survival.

     Akrasia’s most notable ability is shapeshifting. He accomplishes changing shape by breaking his own bones and reconfiguring them into the structure of other entities. This causes him very little pain, and is done magically. He is able to reform entirely new joints, and fully change the shape of his skull this way. It can take up to five hours to completely finish a transformation, while smaller changes take shorter amounts of time. He also has the ability to imitate any human’s voice, or the sound of any animal.

     Akrasia’s method of hunting involves luring his decided victim away either by voice imitation and/or shapeshifting, before killing them. He has also been known to “hone in” on a single specific person for months, getting close to them and slowly luring them away to where he can easily kill them. He wears the pelts of his victims’ household pets as disguises. 

    Very little is actually fully known about Akrasia. Mostly all that is known is just pieced-together speculations. 

Below will be a bit more compact bio of Akrasia.

Active : Mostly nocturnal, sometimes crepuscular or diurnal 

Height : 6’5”, fluctuates between transformations 

Place of Residence : In and around nearby farmland, prefers to take cover in tall grass

Preferred Prey : Humans, occasionally household pets. Never wildlife. 

Current Partner : N/A

Skills : Deception, imitation, hiding/masking emotions, agility, stealth, 

Weaknesses : Unknown

Magical Abilities : Shapeshifting, enhanced speed, some immunity to attacks, body regeneration/self healing, summonable magic bones

Origin : Little is known about his origin. All that is concretely known is that he is a parasite, and nothing more.

Unsorted Trivia

- SonderTale Murder’s name comes from the Norwegian horror film “Cadaver”

- SonderTale Killer’s name, Tryst, means “A secret rendezvous between lovers”. This is a reference to his relationship with Alpas

- This image was a main reference/inspiration for Alpas’ design

- The Great Raven (Thunderbird) from Hilda is also another large source of inspiration for Alpas

- July 13th is SonderTale’s anniversary. This is the date that the first work related to SonderTale was finished.

- There is an already existing Undertale Comic series named Sondertale. They are unrelated, and the name similarity was unintentional.

- Rueing was the first character created, along with Cadaver.

- All of the characters are unaware of the existence of other timelines/universes

- Resetting doesn’t exist in this AU

- All of the Monsters have ‘human’ souls (right-side-up souls)

- The “video game” aspects of Undertale aren’t as prominent in this AU, and it’s more realistic in that sense. Eating food or sleeping doesn’t increase or replenish health, and HP and LV are not as relevant if at all. Save points don’t exist.

- The way monsters are created in this AU is, when an enough of a human soul’s humanity is stripped away, their physical form and mental state is distorted into that of a monster. They are not born they way they are, but created. The only exception to this is Whist, and Alpas. (Akrasia’s parasite infected a human host, but through hunting other humans, was made into a monster)

- When monsters are created, their souls loose all color

- Alpas still has the iconic gold heart locket, but he just keeps it in his jacket pocket most of the time so it isn’t visible

- SonderTale Papyrus was Cadaver’s brother, and was human. He had a very similar personality to the original Papyrus, and his name was Conner.

- When they are transformed, the monsters forget their human names and are “given” a new name, which they somehow know without ever being told. They also forget parts of their human lives, mostly the positive parts.

- The monsters are their own species. They wouldn’t be called “Goatman” or “skinwalker” only just “monster”

- The only monsters that generate any kind of body heat are Akrasia, Alpas, and Rueing. All the others are very cold to the touch. 

Anyway, thank you so much if you managed to read all the way through that! I really we wanted to get this all out there so. If you’d like to see any art or other posts related to these guys, please check its Tumblr tag. Also, feel free to ask any questions about them that you have!

[wherevermybiketakesme]

The Last 79 Days

Mid-October, and the season hasn't changed much. From a climate standpoint, I know this isn't a good sign, but I can't help feeling grateful being granted another sunny day.

V had a class at Pancasona Club today, so I drove her to KBP as early as 6 AM. I didn’t mind because while V was teaching, I had an hour to hit the usual Cipangeran gravel loop on the outskirts of town.

Before getting into the main course of the route, I went past this house with a yard that's really a graveyard. What stopped me on my path was the orange cat walking toward one of the tombs and on the mound of the grave! It's proof that cats' job is to disrespect you, in both life and death.

I took the picture of the minion of the devil and realized that I was standing under a jam fruit tree, colloquially known in this part of the world as kersen tree. This tree is one of the central characters in the early episodes of my life. There was a kersen tree growing at the house next door, that I used to climb when I was around nine or ten. It was a basecamp for me and the kids in the neighborhood, and each of us had dibs on our own spots.

One day, there were the three of us (me, Yanti, and another kid whose name and face I forgot) up in the tree when we heard a cracking noise. The next thing we knew the tree fell from the base of its bark, like some giant invisible hand just snapped it down. The whole thing happened in slow motion, it seemed like forever for the tree to hit the ground. When it did, we got down and the adults rushed toward us, freaking out. We were all okay. We laughed it off when the adults scolded us for climbing the tree, for all we knew it was a cool experience (I told everyone in school the next day). In retrospect, that was probably the closest I’ve ever come to a near-death experience.

Okay, flashback's over. Please join me back to the present moment as I stood under another kersen tree, in the body of a thirty-four-year-old woman. I looked up and saw some kersen fruits within my reach. I plucked one from its twig, the one that looked ripe. When I squeezed the berry in my mouth, the sweet juice and the feel of the fine seeds on my tongue were so familiar. It's the sweet I knew from my childhood, Mother Nature's timeless recipe.

The ride was as usual, nothing stood out in particular. So was the day, which is okay.

Until tomorrow.

Bandung, October 14, 2024

[dancingamongstdust]

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting Part 2

Hoodie

The area where you lived had a ton of back alleyways that acted as shortcuts in a pinch. They were generally safe but you often got an uncomfortable feeling when using them so you preferred to take the busier roads if you could.

Unfortunately, when you had gone to leave work that day, you had spotted the customer who had been harassing you the entire day. It wasn’t anything creepy but it was over-the-top persistent and you weren’t in the mood to deal with it. You slipped out the backdoor as a result. At least you’d get home sooner.

For the most part, you didn’t encounter anything too suspicious and the light from the streets illuminated where you were going.

The large bins outside the grocer’s home indicated that you were getting close. You sped up and rubbed your eyes blearily.

Ahead of you, a dog was barking from inside one of the buildings. It was a pretty noisy animal and you began peering around to see what the source of its agitation was. Ironically, you ended up bumping directly into him.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, rubbing your shoulder.

The guy was tall, wearing dark clothing and standing right in the shadows. You could have probably noticed him if you were a little more awake.

He turned and your breath caught.

His face was obscured by a dark mask with red features stitched onto it. His hoodie which originally seemed dark was now illuminated into a soft yellow or orange, stained with a dark substance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice crackled out, clearly coming through a voice changer of some kind.

“I – I was just taking a shortcut home. I live near here so I thought… I really didn’t mean to bump into you. I’m super tired.”

“Tired or not, you shouldn’t have seen me,” the guy said. “Do you have a phone or a camera?”

Slowly, you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone. “I don’t have any cash in my wallet –“

“I don’t want your money!” he snapped. “I’m not some petty thief, believe me, I have better things to do with me time. Unlock this.”

You did so and he went through it with a gloved hand. He didn’t have a weapon but something in your gut warned you to just go along with it. Nobody covered up everything, including their voice, when they were up to something good. This guy may not be a thief… but the alternative didn’t feel too much better.

He shoved your phone back at you. “Get out of here and don’t breathe a word of this to anybody. Consider yourself lucky that I’m in a good mood today.”

You swallowed nervously. “Thank you?”

“I’m serious,” he warned. “I can let you go just because you seem pathetic enough to not take this to the police but unless you want to catch a bullet in your back, you’ll keep quiet. My boss doesn’t like people getting involved with this nonsense.”

“A bullet?”

He didn’t answer and your heart thundered in your chest. Part of you wondered if he was going to kill you while you ran away but his attention seemed to have moved away from you. You hurried away, holding your breath the entire time. Every time you glanced over your shoulder, the guy remained unmoving.

When you reached your home, you locked the door tightly and slumped against it in exhaustion.

Homicidal Liu

The sunset was beautiful over the graveyard – the only beauty to an otherwise morbid place.

You stared at the purples and oranges dancing across the sky. The wreath pricked at your hands after a while and you stared down at it. Why did you still bother with bringing flowers? Hadn’t it been long enough? Still, you made your way down to the grave and placed them there, not even bothering to read the name on there.

Lately, your graveyard visits had becoming fewer and fewer. Time hadn’t been on your side recently and thus, your precious solitude had to suffer. You relished in the way that nobody really bothered you here.

An orange glow warned you when the streetlights came on. Perhaps you had been there for longer than you thought but this was to be your last visit.

Better to make it count.

Something caught in the wind made you raise your head. A piece of fabric was stuck in the nearby fence, identifiable as a scarf when you ventured closer.

You took it from the fence and looked around for its owner. Nobody was in view… maybe it had been blown off one of the graves? It did seem homemade.

Guessing, you began to place it on a grave when a voice startled you.

“I’m sorry to bother but I think you have my scarf?”

The man was standing far too close for you to have not seen him when you were glancing around but you blamed that on your night vision. He wore dark clothing and seemed awkward just to be speaking to you.

“Thank goodness,” you said. “I was just going to leave it on one of the graves because I didn’t know who it belonged to.”

He thanked you for it, wrapping it around the lower half of his face almost immediately. “That would be a waste,” he said. “Especially to leave it on this one. Thank you for grabbing it.”

A harsh wind blew through the graveyard, carrying with it the smell of an incoming storm. He grabbed his scarf just in time to prevent it from going flying away again.

“Seems like the weather is determined to steal it from you.”

“Far more powerful things have tried.”

You buried yourself further into your jacket and smiled. “I haven’t seen you around before, are you new in town or just coming to visit a new grave?”

“I’m not visiting a grave,” he admitted. “I just thought that this would be the way back to my house… I grew up in this town but only recently moved back and I’m already lost. It’s a little embarrassing if I’m honest.”

“Well, I like to know everybody,” you said. “What’s your name?”

“Su – I mean, Liu,” he said. “Liu. Sorry, I nearly gave you my surname.”

You laughed. “Oh that’s no problem. It’s nice to meet you but I really like your name. Is it Chinese?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He looked around and began walking away. “I really have to go. Thank you for getting my scarf and all that.”

“I’ll see you around,” you said with a wave.

It was only later when you realised how suspicious that entire interaction was. You had never seen Liu before in your life and he was just hanging around in the graveyard? He hadn’t seemed too creepy at least. Maybe you would see more of him in the coming days.

Jane the Killer

It wasn’t that you were unobservant or inattentive toward girls but nobody had really caught your eye until Jane.

She was stunning in a way that few people could ever match with dark hair that tumbled past her hips and soulful eyes. Her walk was always confident, her smile always perfect, and her attention always desirable. Your main regret about life was that you didn’t speak to her sooner – especially when you thought back on what happened not too long after your first meeting.

You organised with your friends to somehow bump into her but instead, you wound up getting treated for a pretty painful bruised hip. Your second plan didn’t work out either and your third never even left the drawing board.

“Just go up to her and say hi. Tell her that she’s beautiful,” your friend encouraged. “She’ll say thanks and then you’ll be able to talk to her.”

“That’s so boring though,” you said. “It’s not like something out of a romance novel.”

Your friend groaned and stood up. “Well, I’m going home. We have like three months left of high school and I’m not going to spend that time obsessing over how to speak to a girl. She’s literally a regular person.”

They were right and you knew that. No matter how you tried to set up a sweeping romance, it probably wouldn’t work out.

So you tried.

And you tried.

Two weeks later, you were about to give up on mimicking a romance novel and it appeared that your friend was thinking the same thing. She grabbed your arm and began to drag you somewhere, muttering about changing the topic. You had a vague idea of where you were going but you didn’t fight too much.

“What if she’s still dating that Woods boy?” you asked. “The older one.”

“They broke up after literally a month of dating. I don’t blame her – those Woods boys are pretty enough but the older one has something seriously wrong with him. And the younger one is always talking to himself…”

“I really don’t care about the Woods’,” you commented.

“No, you care about Jane who is honestly quite weird as well,” they said. “But that is going to be your problem and not mine.”

They dragged you directly up to her group. It wasn’t large – despite Jane’s beauty, she wasn’t incredibly popular due to her associations. Your friend wasn’t the only one who was a little scared of the Woods boys and Jane had hung out with them for quite a while.

“Hey,” your friend said before even letting you go. “You have no idea who we are but my friend here has a massive crush on you. Could you please just say hi so they can get it out of their system?”

You were sure that it was unhealthy to be as red as you were. It felt like your heart was about to leap from your chest.

Jane laughed, a soft and gentle sound. “I’m not really interested in a relationship,” she hummed. “But thank you. That’s very flattering.”

Somehow, your heart sped up still and you awkwardly rubbed your arm. “No problem?”

“Why don’t you join us for a little bit?” Jane offered. “Just because I don’t want to date anybody doesn’t mean that we can’t become friends. You look like my kind of person.”

You stumbled over your words but somehow, your conversation managed to go extremely well. Jane was brilliant in every possible way and you quickly grew attached to seeing her every day. That was why you mourned so greatly when she died.

Jason the Toymaker

The sun was so warm against your skin. You could stay there forever, stretched out on the grass and basking in the sunlight.

“It’s done,” your friend’s voice broke through your daydreaming

You opened your eyes and rolled over to see exactly what they had been working on for the entire trip. After realising the first few times that you weren’t going to get a reaction, you had decided to wait for them to finish working before you tried to have a conversation.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” you said. “That’s amazing.”

The hyper-realistic man was sketched to perfection with a top hat, a fur coat, and a small mouse sitting on his left shoulder. It felt like his eyes could piece into your soul.

“Who is that?” you asked them.

They stared blankly at the image and shook their head. “I don’t know,” they said. “He’s been in my dreams for so long. I think it has something to do with my amnesia. Maybe I knew him once before.”

“He’s a little intimidating,” you said. “I could imagine him to be a ringleader in a circus that’s like a secret cult. Maybe he’s why you lost your memory.”

“Maybe…” they said, tapping the picture. They suddenly shoved it into your chest and stood up. “You keep that. I don’t want it anywhere near me. I need to go talk to my parents.”

You watched them race out of the park in confusion. The man in the picture stared up at you with haunting eyes.

Folding it in half so it didn’t freak you out, you stood and dusted off your clothing. Maybe it would be best if you headed home. It was getting late either way.

Later on, you’d call your friend and check up on them.

About 10 minutes away from your house, the feeling of being watched snuck up on you. It hung heavily around your shoulders like a cloak. You glanced around but saw nobody.

Still, you didn’t feel comfortable leading whoever was following you back to your house. You made a point of walking amongst large crowds and headed for the police station.

They were watching you the whole way.

You sped up. A few people bumped into you and you apologised as best as you could. Your grip on the picture was getting tighter enough for you to tear it. The later it got, the fewer people were on the streets and so you were pretty much alone when you bumped into him.

It took you a few seconds to recognise the man from the drawing.

If you thought his drawn eyes were captivating, they had nothing on his real ones which glowed with an almost ethereal light.

“You’re him,” you breathed.

He stared at you, smile falling from his face in confusion. “Who?”

You shakily held out the drawing and he yanked it from your hands. “My friend drew that,” you explained. “They said that its of somebody from their past. They have amnesia you see.”

He was unmoving as he studied the picture. You began feeling a little uncomfortable and then his gaze snapped to you. “Is that so?” he asked.

You nodded and took a small step away from him. “Maybe you should go and talk to them? See –“ you swallowed nervously. “See if you can help them remember?”

“No need,” he said, dropping the paper on the ground. “Who are you?”

Your name came out as little more than a soft whisper. Something about the entire scenario made you uneasy. His appearance was too unnatural.

A gust of wind came by, picking up the drawing and whipping it away. You watched it go and when you looked back down, his eyes were locked on you.

“Such a pity,” he said. “You would have been the perfect doll.”

Wearily, you took a step backwards. His words made your stomach churn uneasily. “What are you talking about?”

He smiled. It was kind and warm but it only made you more nervous. His eyes looked like they had almost changed colour; shifted a shade darker than previously. “Thinking aloud my dear,” he said.

“About dolls?” you asked.

He tilted his head a little towards you. “I’m going to have to bid you goodbye. It seems I have other matters to attend to.” He brushed past you, stopping briefly when directly next to you. “Consider yourself lucky.”

He was gone before you could even spin around to face him.

Jeff the Killer

Pausing the song, you removed your earphones as quietly as possible and placed them down on your desk. According to the blinking numbers on your phone screen, it was nearing 2 AM. Far too late for anybody to make an excess of noise.

You listened closely. The music had been too loud for you to hear anything and you almost brushed the strange noise off as your sleep-deprived imagination. Until something squeaked like shoe soles on tiles.

In retrospect, you should have immediately called 911 but you didn’t want to sound a false alarm.

The light switch was thankfully directly outside your room. The hall illuminated most of the house when they were on and it steeled your nerves. Your roommate’s door was open, allowing you to confirm their sleeping state, curled up in their bed amongst the piles of mess. They had had to move to the spare room due to a faulty window earlier in the day and had clearly given up sorting items.

You glanced into the apartment’s other rooms before heading to the kitchen. There was nothing odd. The scuttling when you entered the kitchen just suggested that your neighbour’s rat infestation may be migrating.

Making a mental note to call the exterminator, you turned to switch off the kitchen light.

Something slammed into you, forcing your back to collide with a wall. A hand covered your mouth and the overwhelming scent of blood and decay invaded your nose. Something cold and sharp pressed against your neck.

“Shut up and stay still,” the man snarled at you. “I don’t think anybody will appreciate you getting blood in the kitchen.”

Your heart leapt into your throat and your body stilled. The man in front of you was terrifying. His skin pale and mutilated. Eyes far too wide for a normal person and dancing with an insanity that sent chills down your spine.

And his mouth… a bloody smile carved across his face, stretching halfway to his ears.

He studied your face carefully and his expression twisted. “You’re not the right one,” he snapped. The knife moved away from your neck, so he could point with it. “I had this all planned and yet when I came into that room, I found it empty. Why?”

Even if he hadn’t been holding your mouth shut, you doubted you would have been able to formulate an answer. The pounding heartbeat in your ears was nearly blocking out his voice.

He lightly tapped your cheek with his knife. “Not that it matters,” he said. “I’ll just have to adapt my original plan. You’re not the right target but I’m a huge fan of collateral damage.”

A small whimper escaped you and tears welled at your eyes. You didn’t want to die.

“Don’t blubber!” he ordered. “View it as a good thing. You’ll be all over the news. Another victim of Jeff the Killer. Hell, you might even be added to a Wikipedia page or something.”

You could recall that name from the news. Often followed by a lengthy list of deaths and the police chief begging for any information about the murderer.

Jeff stared at you for a long minute before he pressed the knife’s blade to your throat and moved his hand away from your mouth. “Scream and I will remove your vocal cords,” he threatened. “Who are you?”

It took several deep breaths and a flicker of impatience in his expression to give you the ability to talk again. You stammered out your full name as quickly as you possibly could.

He rolled his eyes and tilted the knife so it scratched your skin. A sticky and warm substance ran down your throat in small droplets. “Pathetic.”

“Sorry,” you whispered on instinct. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You ruined my earlier plans to take out my original target by interrupting me before I could find them. Why shouldn’t I settle for you instead?”

You didn’t have an answer.

He took the blade away from your throat. “If you call the police and report what happened here tonight, I will slice you into little pieces.”

It was almost twenty minutes after he left before you regained any movement in your body. You slumped into a heap on the kitchen floor and started sobbing.

Kagekao

Things had been going missing around your house.

Initially, you had thought it was just due to you forgetting where you’d plopped things because it was simple things. Drinks that vanished, keys turning up on the opposite side of the house, and random spills that you didn’t remember making.

But then it started getting weirder still.

You would make food and pack it away, knowing that you would eat it later, and find it gone. Picture frames disappeared, never to be seen again. Your rug half-unraveled during the night and you found it in a pile the next morning. A candle in your bathroom fell over and, somehow, the curtains on the other side of the house had caught alight.

It was suspicious, to say the very least. You began to think that you had some kind of intruder – once, the news reported that a woman found a homeless man living in her attic and eating her food when she wasn’t looking.

So you went out and bought cameras, setting them up throughout your house.

For two weeks, they caught nothing until one of them ended up breaking. You went to get it repaired and the company managed to recover what it had last seen. Which was nothing on your first glance.

But you were soon to realise, that was only because you had been looking at the floor.

While you were rewatching when you got home, you noticed something. The window was sitting wide open and the camera’s angle only allowed you to see half of it. Right toward the end of the feed, a gloved hand appeared on the side of the window and a slight shadow indicated something climbing through.

So you got reinforced windows and made sure that none were open unless you were in the room.

Things still continued happening.

You were beginning to get really annoyed by this. It was tempting to go to the police and let them just handle it but that was going to be a lot of effort that you really didn’t care for. You didn’t feel like you were in much danger. Nothing had happened in your bedroom.

Your next plan was to set up a trap of some kind. With a hidden camera set up, you made extra food and left it on the counter to see if something happened.

The next day, you watched as a plastic toy of some kind was thrown directly into the plate from somewhere off-camera, breaking it and leaving an absolute mess everywhere.

Still not considering it to be anything dangerous, you just cleaned up the mess and loudly cursed out anybody who was listening. You stalked the house after that, searching every nook and cranny with a bat in hand. The final place was the closet in your bedroom and you peered in, expecting nothing.

When you turned around though, you spotted something sitting in the corner of the room.

It was humanoid with arms twisted into awkward positions and a mask on its face. Half the mask was black and the other white, both sides bearing an unnaturally smiling expression. The creature cackled when you saw it and scuttled out of the door, stuck to the roof the entire time.

A second passed.

Then another.

You pinched your arm hard and waited to wake up. Surely there was no way… I mean, why would… humans didn’t generally crawl along the ceiling? Well, you were quite sure they never did that. You must have been imagining it.

A second laugh corrected you on that.

You swallowed thickly, walked over to your door as calmly as possible and locked it. Then you took out your phone and finally called the police.

Kate the Chaser

The day when Kate was sent away remained very clear in your mind. It was a moment that brought extremely change to your life, mixing up your friend group and sending you in a different direction.

The years has passed and you had never gotten over your best friend. They said that she had lost her mind and you knew it was true. All those games investigating the woods and ghost hunting must have put a toll on her mind. Sometimes, you blamed yourself for all the pranks and you knew that Lauren had similar doubts.

And now she was back.

Lauren and you hadn’t remained close, the entire situation feeling too real with one another. Your greeting was stilted but neither of you wanted to be the first to approach the house.

“Do you think that she remembers us?” Lauren asked.

“If she didn’t then her mom wouldn’t have invited us over,” you said.

You stood in complete silence, staring up at the house. Would you even recognise Kate? The last time that you had seen her was when you were both young children and her face remained at that age in your memories.

Eventually, you gained your confidence before Lauren and you walked over, knocking on the door before anxiety could find you.

Kate answered the door and you forgot why you had ever been nervous.

Time had slimmed her face and shortened her hair. Her eyes were still a gentle brown and the cockiness had faded from her smile, but it was recognisable from your nostalgia. It made you feel warm and known – an aura that you had missed without even realising it.

“Hi,” you greeted.

Kate pulled you into a tight hug and you returned it, clutching at her tightly as though she could slip through your fingers. It really had been too long and when you moved away, she held onto Lauren with the same enthusiasm.

“How have you been?” she asked. “You have to tell me everything.”

The three of you spent the rest of the afternoon having tea and just talking about the world at large. Kate didn’t have many stories from the hospital – she claimed it was because the place had been extremely boring and neither of you pushed to find out more about it. Honestly, it was more comfortable to act as though she had simply moved away.

Lauren had to leave first and you were going to go with her but Kate had looked so down that you remained just a little longer. That was when things got weird.

“I’ve missed music a lot,” Kate sighed.

“Did they not allow you to listen to music?”

She grimaced. “No, they did but often I couldn’t hear it over the static. Its mostly gone away now but it came back last night… it fills my brain and all that I can think of is a way to make the pain stop.”

The colour drained from your face as you stared at her. You didn’t know much about what happened to her but you had thought she would be okay now.

Realising it, Kate hurried to reassure you, “I really have recovered,” she said. “My hallucinations have faded and my medication keeps my emotions in check. You really don’t have to be scared of me.”

You stared down at your cup awkwardly. “I’m not scared of you,” you reassured her. “You’ve never done anything to me.”

She nodded. “It will be alright, you’ll see. I’m ready to get back to a normal life with my friends and not have to worry about that ghost stuff ever again.”

Laughing Jack

It was on your leg…

The glare you fixed the small child with could wilt plants. It didn’t care though and merely clutched at your clothing with a happy smile. “Come play with me?” it asked. “I can introduce you to all my friends!”

“How old is she again?” you grumbled at your friend.

Your friend laughed and ruffled their cousin’s hair. “I had an imaginary friend when I was 10. She’s only 6, she’s still at the stage where they’re a big deal.”

The child was oblivious to your conversation and reached out her arms. “Come on. The parents are being boring. I have candy that my friend gave me. We can share it.”

“I agreed to come along to your family get together to keep you company,” you said to your friend. “You know I don’t like children. Babysitting really isn’t my forte.”

All you received for your complaining was laughter.

By the time you had the 4th teddy bear had been introduced, you were done. Why did one kid have so many toys?

“Now which one of your friends gives you candy?” your friend asked. “Because if it’s from Princess, I don’t think it’s edible. What if she secretly puts glitter in it?”

Expected to play along, you sighed. “Unless it’s glitter from rainbows because then it’s got magic powers and allows you to fly.”

The child liked your thumb-sucked statement because she jumped up in excitement. “I don’t get it from Princess. Jack gives it to me! But if Princess can make me fly, I want to have that kind of candy instead!”

“Which one’s Jack again?” you asked, eyeing the line of toys.

“He’s not here right now,” the child said, biting her inner cheek. She turned in a circle. “Sometimes he hides in the cupboard though!” She ran over to her cupboard and pulled the doors open. “I don’t think – OW!”

She reeled backwards, clutching her cheek. Both you and your friend immediately jumped up and ran over to her. A tiny slice mark ran across the side of her face. It wasn’t anything serious, but she was sobbing as though it would kill her. You presumed a small edge on one of the boxes in the cupboard had been the cause.

“Do you want me to take you to mom, so she can kiss it better?” your friend asked. “Your new best friend can wait here and make sure all your toys are safe.”

The child nodded, and she got led out of the room. You rolled your eyes at the sensitivity and reached into the cupboard to push the box out of the way. A clawed hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed your wrist tightly.

Before you could even shout, it lifted you off the ground by your arm and a second hand had wrapped around your mouth.

The monster’s body appeared out of the closet.

It was a clown. Easily 7ft tall and comprised of monochrome colours with a sharp, pointed nose and long, greasy hair. Its black lips spread into a smile, revealing pointed teeth and a sickeningly sweet breath.

You writhed against its grip, trying to scream or do anything but it was insanely strong, and it just laughed at your efforts.

“How mean,” it purred, leaning in close to your face. “You ask who I am and then, when I appear to you, you insult my appearance. Awful etiquette. Your parents should be concerned about how rude you are to strangers.”

You strained your memory to think about what you had been doing before it grabbed you but the adrenaline was clouding your mind. What had you asked? You struggled more with the lack of memories.

The clown shook its head. “I haven’t revealed myself to somebody so old in a long time. You should be flattered but instead you choose to try and kick me. This is why I don’t do this. Children are far more polite.”

He released you suddenly and you landed hard on the ground. It winked and disappeared, right as your friend and her cousin returned.

“You met Jack!” the child shouted excitedly, pointing to the candy lying next to you.

You shoved it away from you as quickly as possible.

[live-the-fangirl-life]

By the Light of the Moon

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Ghostly Stroll

Walking through a graveyard on Halloween, what a cliché. Happy Spooktober

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection

Warning: Potential Crying, Mentions of Death

1358 words

*******

The moonlight shown through the cloudy sky, reflecting in the small puddles left on the paved, damp road.

Aelin liked stepping in those puddles.

She would huff a laugh every time her boot fell in the shallow water, creating rippling distortions to the light before it calmed and mirrored the moon once more. She liked the feeling of the stray droplets of water splashing against her foot.

Rowan didn’t comment, simply shook his head fondly and rolled his eyes with each passing puddle.

There was a chill in the air as a soft, crisp breeze blew through the trees. Aelin listened to the rustling of leaves—the ones that were left anyway, seeing as most had already turned shades of crimson, ochre, and toffee, before blanketing the ground.

As a particularly strong gust of wind lifted strands of Aelin’s blonde hair, now shimmering in the moonlight, Rowan reached across with the arm not entwined with hers and gently tucked it behind her ear.

She smiled at the gesture and leaned closer to her husband, savoring the feeling of her shoulder pressing into his and smiling again as he turned his head to kiss the top of her head.

“This is nice.” She said quietly, “don’t you think?”

“Which part?” he asked, facing her and meeting her blue and gold gaze.

Aelin didn’t answer him right away, instead enjoying their peaceful stroll along the empty road. She pushed a stray silver lock back from his face. “The breeze.” She smiled as sounds filtered from houses out towards the road. “The echoes of strangers telling stories. The smell of a fire and roasting marshmallows.” Aelin caught and held Rowan’s gaze. “Walking this beautiful night with you.”

They kept walking, not in a hurry to get anywhere but just enjoying each other’s company. “It is nice, Fireheart. It’s the best time of year.”

Aelin smiled again as she caught the faint sounds of children giggling as the last, straggling trick-or-treaters collected their candy before returning home. She squeezed Rowan’s arm, keeping pace with him as they strolled farther down the road, enjoying the fresh October air.

“My favorite.” She agreed.

They walked along the familiar road for a while more before the houses disappeared and gave way to a large plot of land housing graves, tombstones, and mausoleums.

Aelin turned to grin at Rowan, and he knew exactly what she was going to say.

“It’s Halloween.” She said as if that was question and answer enough. He supposed it was, but Rowan raised a brow, and she rolled her eyes before amending, “Halloween, All Hallows Eve, Samhain—the sentiment’s the same. But we’re here,” she looked toward the graveyard for a long moment before insisting, “we can’t not go in.”

“Walking through a graveyard on Halloween,” he muttered dryly, but followed her lead as they passed through the creaky metal gate. Its not like he would say no to this, or to her. “What a cliché.”

Aelin snorted and met his amused stare with her own. “You say that like we don’t do this every year.”

The front of the graveyard mostly held newer burials, all polished headstones and fresh flowers. The farther back they walked, the older the dates on the stone became. The organization also became more haphazard the further back they roamed. Near the gate the plaques and stones had been lined up in neat rows, but as asphalt turned into cobblestone turned into grass-covered paths, the headstones were placed at odd angles and spaced at random.

“Hmm” Aelin contemplated, halting in front of a new-looking stone and glancing at the dates.

“No, not again, Fireheart.” Rowan groaned, knowing his wife too well.

“I’m going to say that this woman died at the ripe old age of eighty-seven while posing for a tastefully nude portrait.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think it’s a little vulgar to make up outrageous stories about the dead?” Then he snorted. “And how would that even kill her?”

Aelin raised a brow at him even as his lips quirked up. She steered them down another aisle. “Are you saying that because you actually think that?” Her tone made it obvious she didn’t believe it. “Or are you upset because you know you couldn’t come up with anything more interesting?”

He scoffed as they landed in front of a stone with slightly older dates. He glanced down at Aelin who was watching him expectantly as if to say show me what you’ve got. He glanced around, making sure one no one else was within earshot.

Occasionally, Aelin and Rowan would spot another person or sometimes a small group of people walking through the graves or staring solemnly at a particular headstone. They would nod in acknowledgment and share a brief, understanding look.

Not seeing anyone, he begrudgingly focused on the plaque and said, “Let’s say that this fellow lived his life in the circus and had an unfortunate fire-breathing accident.”

Aelin laughed, her eyes sparkling as they continued to make up stories.

They kept walking. Every now and then they would hear a bird flying across the grounds or the wind whistling through the trees.

“Ooh here’s an older one.” Aelin glanced at Rowan before nodding, “this one accidentally shot himself with a cannon.”

Rowan snorted, “how does one shoot themselves with a canon?”

“I don’t know,” she rolled her eyes, “maybe it failed to fire, and he went to check on it and suddenly boom.”

They meandered through the aisles and slowly watched as the stones became rougher and covered in moss, the words etched into them barely legible.

The clouds had cleared and now the sky was filled with the light of the fading moon.

This far back into the graveyard, neither Aelin nor Rowan could make out the entrance from which they came.

But that didn’t matter. Not as Aelin kept her arm hooked through her husband’s while they turned down another row of ancient, long-forgotten tombstones.

Rowan stopped walking and felt Aelin press herself closer towards him.

“What do you think about these?” he whispered; voice barely audible above the low wind.

Aelin squeezed his arm. “I think,” she whispered just as quietly, “they lived a long, happy life and forever thanked the stars that they found each other.”

The stones were old. Rounded corners from age and layers of moss were identical on the pair of faded headstones. And even though the letters had long since faded, the inscription was something neither of them would forget.

Go Rattle The Stars. Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius & Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius. To Whatever End.

They stood quietly for a long moment. Their humor replaced with a calm serenity.

“How long has it been, Buzzard?” She whispered. “I lost count ages ago.”

A lie. Aelin knew exactly how many years had passed—how many anniversaries, how many holidays, how many celebrations; how many children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren; how many Halloween nights she and Rowan had made this same trek through the graveyard.

“Too long, Fireheart.” he murmured.

She held his hand even tighter. They didn’t speak again, relishing in their companionable silence and the comfort of simply being with one another, until the moon had almost fully dipped beneath the horizon.

Aelin faced him, a fond smile growing as she placed a hand on his cheek. He still looked as handsome and young as the day she’d met him, despite them having grown old together long, long, ago.

“Until next All Hallows Eve,” She promised.

It wasn’t a thing to feel sad about, nor angry or frustrated. It simply was.

She wasn’t sure how it happened or why, but she and Rowan found each other every year on this night, and she would thank the universe for letting it be so.

“Until next year.” He held her waist as she wound her arms around his neck. Rowan leaned down to press his forehead against hers. “To whatever end, Aelin.”

“To whatever end, Rowan” she raised herself on her toes to kiss him.

As the last glimmers of moonlight disappeared, Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn faded away once more in a ghostly whisper.

*****

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[mxbeezkneez]

Graveyard Companions

Chapter 2: i'm coming back from the dead, and i'll take you home with me

Link to ao3: x

Warnings: Blood, Minor Injury, Cursing

Fandoms: The Addams Family

Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams/Reader, Gomez Addams/Reader, Morticia Addams/Reader

Tags: Vampire, Vampire Turning, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Blood, Polyamory, Eventual Romance, Eventual Relationship, Pre Relationship, Cursing

Summery: “I’m a vampire… a goddamn vampire,” you whisper.You wake up in the living room of a gothic house, and are told you were found unconscious in a graveyard. They claim you are a vampire. As crazy as it is, you can't help but start to trust the couple who found you.

Chapter notes: hi i'm back! i started thinking about the addams family, and well my interest in vampires didn't rlly diminish much... this chapter's pretty long, so i hope you enjoy! i apologize if my french or spanish is bad, i don't speak french, and i only speak a bit of spanish! i actually have like a whole plot n stuff planned, so i'm pretty hyped for this fic! hope u like it! :) (the title is from it's not a fashion statement, it's a fucking death wish by my chemical romance)

You wake up to a loud bang, bolting straight up out of bed. “What the hell?”

You rub your eyes before slipping out of bed. The night before feels very far away, almost unreal, but being in this room confirms your memories. You’re staying in the Addams’ house and are… a vampire. You take a slow breath before grabbing new clothing. You find a pair of black pants to match a dark sweater. While near the dresser, you look out of the room’s window. It’s dark outside, the sky a navy blue sprinkled with stars. The graveyard behind the house is illuminated by the moon shining over it.

You leave your room, deciding to try and find the living room once again. You wander through the halls before finding it. Inside you find Wednesday, the small girl, playing with a younger blond boy. She’s talking to him while holding a headless doll in her arms. You walk farther into the room, stepping on a squeaky board, alerting the children of your presence.

They both turn their heads to stare at you. You nervously chuckle.

Wednesday points at you, “That’s (y/n),” she tells the boy, “I heard father say they’re a vampire.”

“Wow really?” the boy exclaims, “Is it true? Do you drink blood?”

“Um,” you stammer, “Well, I am a vampire, but I haven’t been one very long so- no I haven’t drank any blood. Uh… what’s your name again?”

“I’m Pugsley,” he reaches over and offers his hand.

You shake it, “Well, nice to meet you Pugsley. What are you guys up to?”

“We’re playing the French Revolution,” Wednesday answers flatly.

You chuckle, “Huh. I mean I guess it was an exciting time. Who’s your doll there?” you point to the headless doll in her hands. To be honest, the beheaded doll was very unnerving, but the children themselves seemed nice enough, so you push your nerves to the side.

“Marie Antoinette” she says matter of factly.

“Oh,” you pause, “Explains the lack of head I guess.”

You stand there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to exit the conversation. “Do either of you know where your parents are?” you ask.

“I saw them in the dining room earlier. Uncle Fester was there, but I think he went upstairs to play with his dynomite caps,” Pugsley replies. Uncle Fester? Dynomite caps? There’s too much to unpack there, so instead you decide to find Gomez and Morticia.

“Okay, thanks.”

You head out the door, realizing you have no idea where the dining room is. You go to turn back, but the children are playing animatedly and you don’t want to interrupt, so instead you look for it yourself.

You find the dining room, and sure enough, Gomez and Mortica are seated next to each other at a long table. You walk over and take a seat near them.

“(Y/n)! How’d you sleep?” Gomez greets you.

“Like the dead,” you say flatly. A second later what you’ve said hits you and you blink slowly, “I mean, I slept well, thanks.”

“You did seem rather tired last night,” Morticia remarks, “I’m glad you got some rest.”

“Wait, did I sleep through an entire day?” you ask.

“Yes, though we did tell Lurch not to disturb you,” she answers, “We thought you needed the sleep. How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” you take a moment to survey yourself, “I feel okay. I think if anything I feel a little hungry.”

“We can get that squared away! Mama makes the best yak stew.” Gomez springs from his chair and over to a rope hanging from the ceiling. Remembering last night, you brace for a loud noise. Sure enough, once he pulls it, the house shakes as the ringing travels through the house.

“You rang,” Lurch grumbles.

“Yes Lurch, a bowl of yak stew for our guest!” Lurch groans and exits.

“Thank you,” you tell them, “You’ve both been very hospitable, I’m thankful you were the ones that found me.” You feel sincerity in that statement, you were not only grateful for their help, but another part of you has some feeling when you’re near them. You’re not sure what the feeling is, though you can confidently say you didn’t mind the couple, or hell, the weird household in general. Even if it is kooky, you can’t say you’re not charmed by their life.

Lurch comes back with a silver platter that he sets on the table. On it is a bowl of stew that he places in front of you.

“Thanks,” you say, before grabbing the spoon and looking back at the meal. Lurch takes his leave. You’re unsure about eating yak, but you are also hungry and the stew looks fairly appetizing. You take a scoop and put it in your mouth, surprised not only by the flavor of the soup, but also the feeling of chewing. It’s like you can feel your canines rip through the meat faster than before. In the time where you’ve been thinking, it’s completely slipped your mind that you probably have fangs now. That you’ve changed.

“This is- this is actually really good,” you remark.

“I told you, Mama is a culinary genius! Nothing beats her yak stew!” Gomez gleams.

You smile at Gomez. Something about him just makes you want to smile in a soft admission of admiration.

You turn your attention back to the stew, eating it quickly until there is nothing left.

“I’m glad you enjoyed Mama’s cooking,” Morticia smiles, “I’ll have to tell her you enjoyed it. It’s not very often she gets to feed guests.”

“It is very odd, usually most people never come back after eating her food… I can’t imagine why…” Gomez says with a puzzled expression on his face. You chuckle. You notice that you find yourself enjoying the Addams’ company immensely. A part of you feels sad that you will eventually have to leave.

“Ah, c'est la vie (that’s life) ,” Morticia remarks.

“Tish!” Gomez’s head swivels quickly to face her, “That’s French!” he exclaims, grabbing her arm. He begins to kiss it, from her hand to her shoulder, though is interrupted by Morticia, “Darling. We have company. Later,” she says with a sly grin. Gomez raises his head to meet her eyes, a dazed look on his face. “Later.” he remarks, before finding himself back in his seat, “So, Hester, any plans for the night?” he asks casually.

“Um…” you stutter, flustered by the show of passion from the man sitting across from you, “I- I don’t really know… I mean, I’m a vampire now so- does that mean I have to act like one too? I’ve never been in a situation like this, I don’t really know what to do,” you admit, staring at your hands. You look up towards Morticia, “Didn’t you mention you’ve known vampires before? Could you maybe help me?”

“Of course, darling.” Morticia says, “Why don’t we talk in the living room? If you’re alright with it, the children would enjoy listening, they are curious creatures.”

“Yeah, that’s alright. They asked me a question or two when I ran into them earlier. I don’t blame them for being curious,”

“Pugsley’s been very interested in nonhuman creatures lately, ever since that run in with that werewolf he’s been wanting to know more. Wednesday’s been teaching him some things, she’s always had a firm grasp on certain folklore!” Gomez said proudly.

The three of you walked to the living room and sat down, them on the couch, and you in a chair facing them. The children were still in the room, sitting on the floor. You fidget with your hands nervously. “So, do I have superpowers or anything now?” you half-heartedly joke.

“Vampires have very fast healing capabilities,” Wednesday states, “They are very difficult to kill, they must be stabbed with a stake to the heart or decapitated.”

“Very good Wednesday,” Morticia smiles.

“Huh,” you respond, “Alright, that’s not too bad.”

“There are certain weaknesses that should be mentioned, such as sunlight, garlic, crucifixes and running water.” Morticia adds.

“Wait I can’t eat garlic anymore?” you ask, “That kinda sucks, huh.”

“Well technically you can eat anything if you try hard enough,” Gomez says offhandedly.

Morticia cocks an eyebrow at him and sighs, “It’s not so much deadly, it’s more like a food allergy.”

“So I can still eat things with garlic in it?” you double check.

“As long as you aren’t a coward!” Gomez says enthusiastically.

You let out a laugh at Gomez. Wednesday is rolling her eyes, though Morticia just keeps looking at him lovingly. For a moment you forget about the obvious question hanging in the air.

“So…” you start, “I have to drink blood now?” you ask nervously.

“Yes, all vampires must ingest blood to keep themselves alive,” Morticia says, “You’ve got to be hungry by now I imagine,”

“Yeah… but I just ate.” you reply.

“You can still eat food, it just will never fill you. In order not to starve you have to drink blood.” she explains.

You look down at your shaking hands. Everything before now had felt unreal, but this? The seriousness in her voice is making everything too real for you. How could you possibly do that to someone?

“I- I don’t know if I can do that…” you voice shakes, “I mean- how… how could I?”

“Children,” Morticia addresses them, “Why don’t you go play with Uncle Fester while we talk with Hester.”

“Awwww, do we have to?” Pugsley complains.

“A vampire’s eating habits are quite personal Pugsley. I’m afraid so.”

“Alright,” he sighs and follows Wednesday out of the room.

“If you need help procuring someone, you just have to ask. Gomez and I would of course be willing to provide.”

“Provide…?”

“Bodies of course.” Gomez affirms.

“Human bodies,” you repeat, your mind reeling. You had noticed the family was quite odd, even creepy at times, but what they were offering? It sounded too close to murder. You suddenly become very aware of where you are: in a strange house with strangers. Your hands become clammy.

“Is everything alright darling?” you hear Morticia ask. Your throat swells up. You try to force words out, but nothing will leave you lips, leaving you in what is now panic. Finally something spills out, “You can’t kill people for me! You- you can’t!” you sputter out.

“Kill people?” Gomez repeats, “Why we’d bring them alive of course.”

You let out a breath, “Okay, alive. I mean- I just still don’t think I can…”

“Well I suppose there is another option,” Gomez adds.

“What? What is it?” you ask, hopeful.

“Animal blood! It doesn’t work as well, but it’ll do in a pinch.” he explains.

You perk up, “I can do that. That works.” you feel relief.

“Should we make some arrangements? The children could fetch some for tonight.” Morticia asks.

“You have been so kind, really. I would appreciate it, at least for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll work on leaving, I’ve been here long enough.”

“It’s been our pleasure,” Gomez responds, lighting a cigar, “It’s been so long since we’ve had guests.

“Well you certainly are great hosts,” you smile. Despite your situation, you’ve found yourself fairly comfortable here.

“Thank you,” Morticia says, “Now, we ought to ring for Lurch to get some blood. I’m sure the children would love to accompany him.” As she reaches for the bell, you ready yourself for the loud ring. Lurch walks in, “You rang?”

“Yes Lurch, could you gather the children and find some animal blood for our guest here?”

“Yes, Mrs. Addams,” he drawls. He leaves the room in search of the children. A quiet silence falls over the room. Deciding to strike up conversation, you pipe up a question, “So, when did you two meet?”

“Oh, on the best day of my life,” Gomez grins proudly,

“We met at a funeral,” Mortica explains, “It was a lovely day. Grey clouds filled the sky, thunder rolling in the distance.”

“Oh cara mia, I remember it like it was yesterday, our eyes meeting over the coffin,” Gomez starts, “I swear the whole funeral party had to be half as enchanted with you as I had been.” You notice the two of them becoming more enveloped in their memories of each other. You can’t help but smile at how truly in love they are, even if that love meant that you would sit there awkwardly wondering if they were going to just make out in front of you.

“Oh mon cher, you are as charming as you were back then.”

Gomez’s eyes dart up, “Tish! That’s French!” He grabs her arm and starts kissing it.

“Gomez darling,” she warns, “Later.”

He looks up dazed, “Oh yes, our guest. Where were we?” he asks.

“I think you’ve answered my question,” you smile awkwardly.

“Do you have anyone special back home?” Morticia asks politely.

“Well…” you begin to explain“There is this one guy, my roomate, I guess… but I don’t think he likes me like that.” you explain.

“Tiene que estar loco si no le gusta, eres muy guapo. (He must be crazy if he doesn’t like you, you are very handsome.) ” Gomez comments under his breath. You feel your face heat up. He must not know you speak Spanish, judging by how offhandedly he said it. You look over to Morticia who nods ever so slightly, making you even more flustered.

“Uh… gracias, pero… sabes que hablo Español, sí? (Uh… thank you, but… you know I can speak Spanish, yes?) ” you ask. Gomez’s hand, which was placed on Morticia’s knee, now grips it somewhat tightly. Morticia looks over to him in curiosity. His face seems flushed.

“¿Comprendes lo que yo digo? (You understand what I’m saying?) ” he asks tentatively.

“Sí, aprendí a hablar en Español en la escuela. (Yes, I learned to speak in Spanish in school.) ”

“Oh,” a breath leaves his mouth. His eyes keep darting back and forth like he doesn’t know what to do. You can tell his weight has registered onto the balls of his chair like he is about to leap off his seat, but something is keeping him grounded. You look back at Morticia, who seems about as intrigued as you. A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone sat on edge.

Breaking the awkward scene, Lurch walks in with heavy footsteps holding a platter, “Your blood.”

He sets the platter down on the table, removing the lid. On the platter is a wine glass with a dark red liquid in it. As soon as you see the glass you can smell it, the blood. Rather than smelling rancid, the metallic scent smelled like everything you could ever want. You quickly grab the glass with both hands and hold it up to your lips, gulping down the liquid. The taste of it floods your mouth, though some of it dribbles down to your chin as you frantically consume it. You drink the last drop and set down the glass, looking up.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. You wipe off your chin with the back of your sleeve. “Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s quite alright,” Morticia affirms, “You’ve just been turned, I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without blood… well I guess there was last night.” You wince at the mention of that encounter. Trying to change the subject, you ask, “What happens if I can’t get blood?”

“Well, either you go to any length to get it out of pure hunger, or if you don’t, you die,” Morticia explains, “So it’s best you feed regularly.”

“So is that why I…” you try to think of a way to phrase it, “Why I don’t feel much restraint when I see blood?”

“Yes, though you’ll get more constraint as it goes on.”

“Oh, okay. By the way, I’m not keeping you up, am I? It has to be pretty late. I mean, I guess I’m already a night owl, so this isn’t too unusual for me, but you two probably should sleep, right?” you ask.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to get some sleep. Perhaps tomorrow if you plan on leaving, we can help you get back?” she asks.

“Yeah, that’d be great. And of course, go get some sleep. I’ll just hang out for a bit.” you say, putting on a small smile.

“Alright, good night then,” Mortica says.

“Goodnight Hester.” Gomez says.

“Goodnight.”

You stay in the living room much longer after they leave, lost in your thoughts. The weight of your new life- or death has started to sink in. Your mind drifts to drinking the blood earlier. The feeling of it had been great, though immediately after your chest felt heavy. You don’t suppose it has anything to do with your newfound changes. No, instead you recognize the feeling as the weight of your guilt.

You can’t help but wonder what kind of creature feeds off the life force of others. You try to reason with yourself by saying it’s like eating animals, yet you can’t accept the notion. This had felt different. Looking back to having Morticia’s blood makes your face flush, but you can’t also help but notice the difference from tonight. While the animal blood was good, and mostly filling, Morticia’s blood, human blood, brought a type of euphoria.

You didn’t need Morticia to spell it out for you. Using animal blood works as a substitute, but you know deep down you are now meant to feed on humans. The realization hits you as you think that. You are no longer human. On this thought your heart aches. What does this make you. Confused? Scared? Yes, those both applied. You feel lost.

You feel anxious thinking about going home tomorrow. Going home means it’s real. It means you have to face your roommate who you’re in love with and somehow not let him know you’re a vampire. You let out a huff. God, how are you supposed to do this? You take a small amount of solace knowing you have the Addam’s help. You’re glad they’ll help you get back home, you don’t think you could do it alone. You know even if you never speak to them again, their impact will be left on you forever.

You get up off the couch, deciding to go to sleep. You trudge to your room and plop onto the bed with a sigh. Eventually you drift off to sleep.

[imaginesmai]

Arvin Russell - The right time

SO YEAH I SAW THE DEVIL ALL THE TIME AND I LOVED IT!! My opinion about it is at the end! In case you haven’t seen it and you still want to read this, you can skip it by not looking at the A/N. Let me know what you think about the film in the comments, please! Or just message me! I’m feeling like writting about him, so please 

SEND YOUR REQUESTS.

Plot: Arvin’s father always told him to wait for the right time, and he thought it was the only right way to do things. Now, when you’ve been hurt because of him, he’s ready to take the matters into his own hands.

WARNINGS: TDATT SPOILERS. Mentions of rape. Murder. 

Arvin didn’t know if the preacher had heard him or not coming in, because he hadn’t turned around to look at him. If anything, that only made him angrier. He was sure that if he had heard him and looked at him, he wouldn’t have spared him another glance. Because Arvin Russell wasn’t of his interest, not because of the money and the gender. The last thought made him tighten his grip around the gun, willing himself not to shoot him before the right time.

Since Lenora’s death, he had been waiting for the right time. That was what his father told him; to wait for the right time, and then to avenge yourself. He had been doing pretty good with that mantra, or at least most of the times. Arvin had followed the preacher to his house and to his adventures with young women. He had watched as he fucked a young girl from Lenora’s class and then went back to his wife, scoffing when dinner wasn’t ready and urging her to satisfy him when bed time arrived. He had held his gun tight to his chest, knowing the right time would eventually come; and then, he had hated his father more than ever, because listening to him had almost caused another precious death.

“Arvin!” his grandma called from downstair. Quickly, he closed the notebook where he was keeping track of the preacher’s actions. “Boy, Mr. Y/L/N is here!”

Arvin frowned at the mention of your father. You had known each other for your whole life, so he knew your family story; that your mother had left you after promising your father that she would leave her adventurous life when she got pregnant. She left with some young man that was going to travel the world, and your father had locked himself up in a unbreakable shell, forgetting about his eleven’s years old daughter.

Not once he had seen your father outside your house, you being in charge of dropping food and money for him. Not matter how many times Arvin had tried to convince you that you would be better on your own. Even living with him, once your relationship wasn’t just friends anymore. But you had just shook your head softly and told him that you couldn’t leave him, not yet.

So it was strange that it was your father and not you who was knocking on his door. He had agreed to meet you that morning to show you finally what he was on lately, since he couldn’t hide anything; but you hadn’t come, with the excuse of visiting Lenora’s grave once more. You were her best friend, so after offering to go with you, he agreed on meeting you at night.

Briefly, he looked to the box where you two were saving a bit of your earnings for your life together. He doubted your father knew about it, so he got up and walked down the stairs.

“Here he is” Emma smiled at him. “Well, I’m leavin’ you to it. I’m in the kitchen”

“Arvin” your father called his name, voice croaked from not using it. “God, you’re a man now”

Arvin gave your father a small smile. The man, once handsome, broad and tall, was now hunched shadow. He had a several days long beard, skinny arms and wide clothes. Mr Y/L/N was hiding his hands behind his body, only making him look worse. Still, Arvin extended one hand and offered him a shake, greeting him.

“I’m – uh, sorry, you didn’t have to come down. But Emma started calling you before I could explain” he gave him an awkward chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Y/L/N. Is there… anything I can help with?”

“Is Y/N here?”

The question caught Arvin off guard, because usually you spent days in Arvin’s house and your father didn’t notice as long as there was food on the fridge. Lately, the man had been doing an effort of getting better, and some nights you had told Arvin how he had attempted to cook for you. From there to wondering where you were there was a huge step, and for a second Arvin tried to sniffle for any track of alcohol. There was none.

“Usually, I wouldn’t really care but, you know – getting better and all” he tried to explain himself. “She spends most of the time here, so I thought that maybe she’s around? I haven’t seen her since yesterday’s afternoon”

The last part caught Arvin attention. He talked with you last time before starting yesterday’s shift, which was before noon. And you told him you were going to spend the rest of the day with your father, and that the next morning you intended to pay Lenora a visit. He hadn’t worried about it, because he had been busy and trusted you to take care of yourself. But if you hadn’t slept on your house, then there was something to worry about.

“She… Y/N told me she was goin’ to spend the mornin’ in the graveyard” Arvin mumbled.

“Oh, she went yesterday after you left her home” he explained, making Arvin’s blood run cold. “I had things to do so she told me she’d go and then pay you a visit”

Your father said something else, but Arvin wasn’t listening anymore. There was another person he had missed last night; the preacher, who usually went home somewhere near eight, didn’t appear until very much later. He knew because he had been waiting outside his house, watching his wife sitting in front of a cold dinner with tears on her eyes. He had thought nothing of it at first, but now, he choked on his breath knowing what could have happened.

Arvin’s body collided with your father when he walked past him and ran out of the house, hearing the man calling out for him. His grandma also looked through the kitchen window, screaming his name before Arvin disappeared into the field that went to the town’s graveyard.

Thinking about it, Arvin knew it was like finding a needle in a haystack. Knockemstiff was full of sinners, bad people and wicked intentions. Even if you didn’t go to highschool no more and worked to provide to your father, Arvin had had to deal with a few men who thought you were available, whether you wanted or not. There were a lot of people who could have hurt you, a lot of reasons why you didn’t go back home last night, and none of them made sense in his head.

You knew how to defend yourself, you had a car that could help you to escape any delicate situation, and you never got lost. Not once you had wandered off without telling anyone, not even your father. Even if he wasn’t listening or paying attention, you always told him where you were going.

Thoughts ran past his mind at the same time Arvin ran past his neighbours and cars, trying not to collide with anyone but finding it difficult, since he couldn’t see much past his oncoming tears. Loosing Leonora had been one thing. His sister, his family and the person he had fought nail and tooth to protect for so many years. He had been waiting for the right moment to avenge her, to put a bullet in between the preacher’s eyes, or maybe a few. One for every second she had suffered hanging from that rope.

And he swore, that if he had had anything to do with your disappearance, there wouldn’t be an inch of his body untouched by the bullets.

He wasn’t as late as he could have been, he guessed. The police was warned, a group of villagers offered to help, and Arvin himself kept running in circles around the graveyard for the whole day. Even Grandma, who wasn’t in the best shape, had helped into the search. And she had been the one who had found you, maybe because she had just this woman-ly instinct or because God had wanted it to be a woman who found your naked, bruised body and not some sinful man.

Arvin had arrived then – and sure, you were alive, recovering in his room because he didn’t want to leave your side ever again, barely saying a word and healing from the bruised kidney. But you weren’t fine, you weren’t smiling at Arvin and cradling his head when he lost his track. It had been obvious what had happened that day, why it had taken Arvin a few hours to find each piece of your clothes and where the bruises around your thighs came.

Your father had dissapeared again, locking himself in his room and forgetting about his daughter once more. But Arvin had been there every second for the past week, getting you to eat what you could and holding you tight through the nightmares. 

The bench he was sitting on creaked under his fingers when Arvin thought about your sobs, how your tried to hide beside him when last week you complained about Virginia heat. The preacher looked back to Arvin, who wasn’t visible because of the cap.

“Excuse me, preacher” Arvin’s voice didn’t waver. “You got time for a sinner?”

Upon hearing Arvin’s voice, and knowing it wasn’t anyone from his interest – a girl – he turned around and motioned for him to keep going. It wasn’t any more about Lenora´s death, because Arvin would have had enough with killing him. Maybe making him suffer for a bit, making him feel the desperation of knowing death was the only answer. Now, however, Arvin wanted to cut off every inch of skin that had touched yours.

“Go ahead” preacher Teagardin told him, going back to his lecture.

Arvin took his time, talking about everything that the preacher had done of thought about since he put a foot in Knockemstiff. He talked about how the preacher forced his wife to please him late at night, how he ordered her around as if she was just a servant. He talked about how he liked young girls, those who were innocent enough that didn’t have to be forced, just manipulated. About the pregnancy, and how he cowered away once his decisions had repercussions.

He watched from behind his cap how the preacher left the book on the bench, his eyes widening in size as he realised the sins Arvin was talking about were his. He turned around finally, locking eyes with Arvin, but not recognizing him. Why would he, though, since everything he looked at were Arvin’s precious girls. First his sister, and now his girl. As he continued, he shifted the gun on his lap, wanting to end his story before blowing his brains out.

“And there is this other girl. She ain’t like the rest, cause she doesn’ fall for the lies. So I decided to approach her when she was alon’, kicked her head open and brought her to the back of my car. Forcer her and left her in the woods” Arvin’s finished. “Didn’ care if she was a ‘right or not. Just fucked her good and left her to die”

“Who are you, boy?” the preacher chuckled awkwardly, getting up. “Why don’t you take off your cap?”

“She was found, thankfully. Naked, bruised, unconscious. She doesn’t talk no more, just cries” Arvin’s voice was full of venom, finally taking off his cap. “But I don’ care, cause I ain’t responsible for that neither”

The preacher went to jump forward, maybe hoping to kill Arvin, scare him away or knock him unconscious. If it came to Arvin’s word against his, probably just a few people would believe Arvin; but the truth would come out eventually, and both of them knew it. No one would ever know what the preacher would have done then, because true to his word, Arvin Russell didn’t leave an inch of the preacher’s skin untouched from the bullets.

-

Later that night, Arvin walked into his dark room, knowing it would be his last night in Knockemstiff. He still didn’t have a plan, didn’t have a way to leave without being chased or hurting his family. For that night, he was just a scared boy whose responsibilities would have to wait.

He climbed into the room through the window, not making any noise and avoiding his grandma and grand uncle. If they didn’t know he was there that night, they wouldn’t have anything against the police; they would be safe. They would be just fine with the money he was leaving behind, probably a bit tight but enough to have a good life. The next problem, however, was harder. He let you nest against him when he crawled into bed, let you hide your face against his neck and not talk for another night of what happened that day. Not that there was much to talk, because it wouldn’t happen again.

Not knowing if you heard him or not, Arvin told you what he had done. Tears ran down his cheeks when he told you how he couldn’t stop pulling the trigger on him, how he would do it again and again, and how he felt guilty about not doing it sooner. The same as your father, he expected you not to hear a word of what he had said. But you surprised him when your shaky, thin hand made its way to his cheek and made him look at you.

“You can’t say anything, Arv” your whispered, the pale cheeks a contrast with your hard voice. “We need to run away”

“W-we?” Arvin frowned, confused. “You can’t – darlin’, I-I can’t… you and, uh, we –“

“You’re not leaving without me, Arvin Russell”

For the first time in a week, you pressed your lips against him. He had almost forgotten how it felt to have something good, not just rage and pain. Arvin let more tears fall as he slowly cradled the back of your head, not wanting to move in case it would end. It didn’t last longer, anyway; soon, you were tearing away. But rather than just cuddling his side, you laid your head against his shoulder and hug his middle.

He had thousands of thoughts that he wanted to say. That he was sorry, for not telling you sooner what he was doing and for not taking better care of you. That he should have taken care of the preacher on the begging, and not trusting on the advice of someone who killed himself in front of their kid. But he didn’t say anything, just hug you close, knowing there was no way he would leave the town without you.

Because together, everything felt like the right time.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists​, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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A/N (my opinion on tdatt):

So, WOW. I saw it last night because I don’t have Netflix, so I had to meet a friend to watch it. And it was - wow. The way Tom Holland and Robert Pattinson go out of their way to work their accents and roles is amazing. Even though I hate the preacher’s character (who doesn’t), I loved how Robert works with him and makes him his. He’s always an amazing actor, but this time he outdid himself!

And Tom... Well, he got me with the first word he said. That part when he’s with Lenora and gets beaten up... and then, the way he avengers her from the bullies is amazing. I also loved watching how he had a relationship with a fem character that wasn’t romantical. He showed every emotion, thought and action with just his face, and I love him for it.

I don’t think it’s a film that should be seen just becuase he’s in it. It’s amazing, breath-taking and beautiful. I love this kind of films, but if you don’t is understable. It’s quite violent and can tigger anybody. Still, I’ll give it 8/10 - becuase I would have loved to see more of other characters! Message me if you want to talk about it

[highqueenofelfhame]

no tag list bc im posting this from my phone and am too lazy so pls reblog so this gets traction! thank you for reading and follow @highqueenofelfhamewrites for better and more frequent updates and turn on post notifications! i might do away with tag lists soon idk. the whitethorn kids are headcanons from @musicmaam and i so i hope you love the babies we love them very much and becca is a mastermind

masterlist

Outside, it was a still and quiet morning. Despite the sun having risen hours ago, the sky remained a murky gray. Dew clung to the grass and a light fog remained settled over the landscape. It looked cold and like the kind of day that would usually have Aelin curled up in the study, a roaring fire warming the room while she sat in one of the oversized leather chairs and reread a favorite book. Rowan knew that once outside, the cool air would be a sharp bite at his skin. It’s how Terrasen always was in early November.

Instead of reading, though, Aelin was staring at her side of the closet. Her fingers nervously tapped above her elbow while she surveyed dresses and pantsuits, jackets and turtlenecks. More than once she had murmured that she never knew what to wear, and more than once he had told her that it really didn’t matter and she would look beautiful all the same.

A level below, Rowan heard the front door open and close, followed by their oldest son, Arden shouting up the stairs that they were home. They referred to him and his boyfriend, Jamie, and Aelin and Rowan’s oldest, Evalin. The three had driven from the University of Orynth on the other side of the city to the family’s house on the outskirts of town.

Genevieve, Declan, and Endymion, the younger half of the Whitethorn kids, were all getting ready. Genny had been up with the sun to make breakfast for everyone, her hands sticky with cream cheese frosting and cinnamon by the time she had finished. Declan and Endy were down the hall, fighting for counter space in their shared bathroom while Genevieve finished up at the vanity Rowan had built her last year in her bedroom.

More noise followed the voices downstairs turned to a quiet murmur as Rowan approached his wife and rested his hand on her lower back. Aelin leaned back on her heels and into his touch, turning her head slightly. Rowan pressed a kiss to her temple and she shivered, reaching out for the dress that he knew she’d end up picking. It was his favorite.

“Perfect choice, fireheart,” he murmured, rubbing his hand across her middle back as she sighed and pulled it off the hanger that she dropped to the floor. Rowan chuckled to himself, nudging it toward her pile of shoes as he followed her back out into their bedroom.

Rowan was already showered and dressed. He wore a simple black suit with Aelin’s favorite dark green tie— one that she claimed brought out his eyes, though Rowan hadn’t noticed a single difference as he tied it around his neck.

“You are worrying about nothing,” he murmured into her hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. Aelin shuddered a sigh, licking her lips as she turned to look at Rowan over her shoulder. Their eyes met for a single heartbeat before moving to the door.

“I hope Arden and Evie remembered to pick everything up this morning.”

“I’ll go check,” he promised, squeezing her shoulder before walking away. Rowan paused in the doorway, turning to look at his anxious wife. She stood in front of the window, dress draped over one arm while she twisted her wedding band around her finger. It made his heart squeeze in the most painful way, but he left her and jogged down the stairs to where the rest of his family mingled in the kitchen.

Entirely typical of his children, none of them looked up when he entered. Gen was dressed in leggings and an oversized sweater, manning the stove to make everyone else eggs. Endy and Declan were arguing over who got the cinnamon roll in the center of the pan: it was the most gooey and beheld more icing than the others. Declan won out in the end, but only because Genevieve pointed a spatula at Endymion to remind him of a petty crime he’d committed against her the day before.

“You don’t deserve that cinnamon roll. You know what you did.” Endy snorted, but relented, allowing Declan to eagerly swoop in for the golden treat. A large dollop of icing slipped off the side, barely making it onto his plate as he did. Endymion sighed wistfully, likely dreaming of how good that would have been in his stomach instead of his brothers. Rowan laughed to himself, ruffling Endy’s hair as he walked by. His youngest shrugged him off with a shiver, lips pulling down into a frown while he looked over at his father, then to his older sister as she walked into the room.

“Has mom been down yet?”

“She’s still upstairs,” Rowan said, while the other kids mumbled that she’d yet to come down. Arden and Jamie slid into the empty barstools at the counter, accepting plates of bacon and eggs from Genevieve. “Can someone go check on her?”

“I’ll go,” Evie decided, heading up toward Rowan and Aelin’s bedroom, stairs creaking with every step.

Genevieve was watching Evalin up until she disappeared at the top of the landing, her lips twisting to the side as she shifted to turn the stove off. The kitchen settled into a comfortable silence, the scraping of forks the only disruption. Genny poked at the cinnamon roll she’d chosen for herself before pushing it away, toward Endy.

“I can’t eat,” she said quietly, tapping her phone screen, the time blinking up at her before it went dark again. It seemed that Endy could eat, however, because he pulled her plate over and dove into her cinnamon roll immediately after finishing his. It was almost enough to make her smile but she seemed to be fighting it off. Rowan moved to wrap his arm around his daughter, but she shrugged out of his embrace and disappeared up the stairs. If he had to guess, she was joining Aelin and Evalin.

“I’m worried about her,” Rowan and Arden said at the same time, the former cracking a half smile.

“Me too,” Endymion agreed, fingernail tapping against the counter while he looked over his shoulder. Rowan opened his mouth to speak, but the soft closing of a door followed by the squeak of the top stair silenced him. A moment later, his three girls were filing into the kitchen. Aelin hugged each of her babies, pressing kisses to their cheeks that they didn’t shy away from.

“We ready?” Arden asked, picking up the bag he’d brought in with him. Aelin nodded and rubbed her hand over Genny’s upper back.

Genevieve had always been the most anxious of their kids in the worst way. Over the last year, her panic attacks had only gotten worse and nobody really knew how to help her. A few months ago, she had finally caved and agreed to start taking medicine for it when she needed to. Judging by the way she stood, worrying her lip and twining the ends of her silver hair into tiny braids, Rowan wondered if she was already debating taking one of those pills to keep the monsters of the day at bay.

The ride was quiet. The only conversation consisted of Aelin and Rowan asking Evalin, Jamie, and Arden about their college courses. The youngest three Whitethorns stayed quiet and listened while looking out the windows and tapping on their phones. No music filled the empty silences— the last five minutes was nothing but garbled road noise and turn signals, the occasional sniffle of a nose, or a small sigh.

When the car was put in park, nobody moved immediately. Aelin stared through the windshield, fingers drumming on the gear shift. Rowan lay his on top of hers, but she didn’t look over at him. Instead, she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and, after several heartbeats, nodded. Only then did the kids file out of the back seats, Genevieve going to take her mother’s left hand while Arden took her right. Rowan walked beside Endymion and attempted to steady his son when he stumbled over a rock that was hidden in the grass.

They walked through the cemetery, moving by headstone after headstone. Some of them were large and ornate weeping angels, others were crosses jutting out of the ground. A fair few were simple concrete rectangles in the ground with a vase for flowers. The one they came to stop at was something in between.

It was about two feet high in the middle of the graveyard, simple text embedded into the shiny quartzite stone. A large hawk had been carved into its surface, wings spread wide mid-flight, beak parted as though it were releasing a fierce battle-cry. There was no vase for flowers anywhere near it. Instead, piles of stones were left all around it. They were in all shapes, sizes, and colors. One had a painted hawk on the surface that he knew Genevieve’s boyfriend had left behind at the funeral last year.

Arden placed the bag he carried on the ground and they let Aelin be the first to pick her stone. She picked a large smooth one, a paler gray than the headstone itself that fit perfectly in her palm. She folded her legs beneath her body as she knelt before it, trembling fingers tracing over the name.

ROWAN M. WHITETHORN

JULY 16, 1970 - NOVEMBER 11, 2020

HUSBAND. FATHER. HERO.

TO WHATEVER END.

A breeze shifted through the air, moving Aelin’s hair across her face and she could have sworn it was warm. She could have sworn she smelled the familiar pine and snow scent that she would always and forever associate with her husband. Aelin could have sworn it felt like a lover’s caress, like fingers brushing away the tear that slipped down her cheek.

Aelin wasn’t sure how long she sat there, surrounded by their children. Each of them swapped their favorite stories about their late father, about what they missed most. All of them cried enough tears that Terrasen could hit a rare drought but the patch of grass they held each other in would still be green as ever.

When they finally stood, the air had dropped a few more degrees because the sun had never come out to keep them warm. It made that fleeting warm breeze even more bizarre, the one that smelled like him, considering the one that rustled the leaves on the nearby tree was cold enough to bite.

Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw him. She swore she saw a head of silver hair sock his head in her direction, but she blinked and he was gone, her oldest son stepping up in the place she thought she saw him, felt him, smelled him. Silver hair faded into a golden blonde that matched her own, but the eyes that peered down at her were as bright green as his father’s. Aelin felt her face crumple as she leaned into him, resting her temple against his shoulder. She inhaled hard, desperate for that pine scent to feel her lungs, desperate to erase the last year of her life without him. Desperate to pretend that he was still alive and it was his shoulder that she put her weight on.

But it wasn’t. And it wouldn’t be.

Still, as she looped her arm through his and started to walk back toward the car with their kids, she spared a last glance over her shoulder, projecting their vows into the void of the world: to whatever end.

She wasn’t sure what it was, but Aelin was almost positive she heard his voice whisper it back as another strange, warm breeze wrapped around her and left her completely breathless.

[flowerbarrel-art]

~ Puffballs United, InnerSloth, The Henry Stickmin Collection

~ Day 23 of Stickmintober: Shipping

~~~~~~~~~~

“So, this place is haunted?” Gremlin asked, glancing up at the haunted house ride.

“Yeah, but only after eight,” Ken responded with a nod.

“Why not earlier?” Gremlin asked, moving up in line when the two people ahead got into a car.

“I think just so they don’t scare any kids,” Ken said.

“Oh…yeah,” Gremlin murmured.

“And it wouldn’t be as scary if a bunch of people dressed as ghosts were walking around in broad daylight,” Ken went on. “Even though some visitors were wearing costumes.”

“What?” Gremlin asked. “You mean those weren’t real werewolves and zombies?”

“Well…probably not,” Ken chuckled.

“Isn’t it weird Reg wanted everybody to have time off for Halloween?” Gremlin remarked, folding her arms. “I didn’t think he was into it at all.”

“Me neither,” Ken said with a laugh. “Maybe he had a date.”

“Probably,” Gremlin said.

“Right?” Ken asked.

“Yup,” Gremlin said.

The two got into a car when the line attendant gestured to them. He quickly buckled them in and the car rolled forward.

“You want to stay til it gets dark?” Ken asked as the car headed down into a sloped part of the ride.

“Hmm…yeah, sure,” Gremlin said.

“My parents and I used to come here every Halloween,” Ken said.

The car turned a corner and a pair of headlights blared, causing him to jump and lean into Gremlin.

“Uh…sorry,” Ken mumbled sheepishly, and Gremlin shrugged.

“Two years ago I was the one scared of rides like this,” she said, glowering at the strobe lights overhead that made it look like bats were flying by.

“That was only because you’d never been to a theme park before,” Ken said, grinning and elbowing her lightly in the side. “You wouldn’t have been scared otherwise. You don’t get scared of anything.”

Gremlin looked away, then back with a smirk.

“And I haven’t barked at anything yet,” she said, lightly elbowing Ken back.

The car began to roll past walls painted to look like a graveyard full of bare, moonlit trees.

Gremlin felt Ken shaking slightly and glanced at him.

“I think it’s almost over,” she said, just as a train horn blared loudly. Ken jumped and grabbed Gremlin’s hand.

She looked at him, then glanced back ahead and squeezed his hand once.

The car stopped, and the two unbuckled and hopped out.

“That always gets me,” Ken said, rubbing his arm.

“They wouldn’t have put it in there if they didn’t think it would scare people,” Gremlin said. “But we don’t have to go on anything like it again. How about another roller coaster?”

Ken nodded, brightening.

“Same one as last time?” he asked, and Gremlin nodded.

They made their way towards the double-loop rollercoaster.

“Let’s get something to eat after this,” Gremlin said.

“If we don’t get sick,” Ken said, sliding into a seat near the front of the coaster, Gremlin quickly sitting next to him.

The ride attendee walked briskly past, securing everyone into their seats.

“We won’t,” Gremlin said as the attendee double-checked the seats restraints. “We haven’t even…oh, no…”

“What?” Ken asked, giving her a worried look.

Gremlin nodded at the people in front; Ken looked discreetly to see a person with bright red hair and another with bright red headphones. A third person with short brown hair was sitting between them.

“Let’s get off,” Gremlin hissed quietly.

The roller coaster lurched and began to inch forward.

“Oooh, here we go, you guys!”

“I thought you were scared, Charles.”

“When did I say that, Ellie? I love roller coasters!”

“They’re only a bit crazier than Charles driving.”

“Heh, come on, Henry!”

“What a damn coincidence,” Gremlin sighed as the rollercoaster neared the top.

“It’s okay,” Ken whispered. “Let’s just get off quickly when it stops.”

“First time?” Charles asked cheerfully, looking back. Ken and Gremlin froze. “Don’t worry! It’s always hard the first time, but you’ll love it!”

Gremlin and Ken nodded stiffly, then sank back against the seats when Charles quickly turned around again.

The rollercoaster reached the top, then shot down the track, picking up speed for a bit before hitting the first loop, then the second, and continued along a spiraling track before going up and back to the beginning.

The coaster came to a stop. Ken and Gremlin pushed their safety bars up the instant they unlocked, then ran down the ramp and away from the rollercoaster.

“What the hell are they doing here?” Gremlin huffed after they’d ducked behind a sign. “Were they on a date?”

“Maybe,” Ken sighed.

“Remember that ball game we passed a while ago?” Gremlin asked, tightly crossing her arms. “Let’s go win some masks. I don’t want them getting another look at us.”

“Huh?” Ken asked, but had to jog when Gremlin took his hand and pulled him along. “We could just buy some.”

“They’re too expensive,” Gremlin said. “Don’t worry.”

They stopped at the ball game, and Gremlin paid for two rounds.

“Whenever you’re ready,” the man said, stepping out of the way.

“Yup,” Gremlin said, aiming for a moment before throwing the balls, getting each one in the middle hole.

“Whoa, good job,” the employee said, and Gremlin played the last round, getting another high score.

“You wanna go again?” the employee asked, and Gremlin shook her head.

“Nice work. You’ve got good aim.”

Gremlin turned slowly to see Charles, Ellie and Henry standing there.

“Been wondering where you were,” Ellie said calmly. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”

Ken and Gremlin looked at each other, then followed after the three.

“Hey, you forgot your prizes!”

Gremlin waved a hand at the man.

“It’s alright, it was just for fun.”

Once they’d walked a fair distance away, Gremlin glared at the trio.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“Just to tell you that you don’t have to run,” Charles sighed. “You haven’t done anything, and we’re off-duty. We are going to have to mention we saw you, though.”

“Of course,” Ken muttered.

“It was just a coincidence that we were here too,” Ellie said.

“Fine,” Gremlin hissed. “If that’s all, then goodbye.”

Ken and Gremlin quickly walked off, not looking back.

“Jeez,” Gremlin said. “Finally. Where do you want to go next?”

“You want to stay?” Ken asked.

“I’m not letting them chase us away,” Gremlin huffed.

“Alright,” Ken said. “Where do you want to eat?”

“Let’s stay in the park,” Gremlin said. “Why don’t we wait until it gets haunted?”

“Alright!” Ken said, smiling. “Thanks, Grim.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That was a lot of fun,” Ellie chimed as they walked out of the walk-through haunted house. “We should do this again next year!”

“Definitely,” Charles agreed brightly, and Henry nodded with a smile. “So, you two ready for dinner?”

Ellie and Henry nodded enthusiastically.

“Me too,” Charles said. “Let’s get going, then!”

Ellie put her arms around Charles and Henry, hugging them tightly.

“I’m paying,” Ellie said.

“No you’re not,” Charles huffed.

“I could pay,” Henry said. “I’d switch your cards out for mine no problem.”

“Don’t you dare!” Ellie and Charles exclaimed, and Ellie ruffled Henry’s hair.

“We’d better go before it gets too crowded,” Charles said.

“I’m gonna pay,” Ellie said, and Charles sighed, while Henry laughed.

“You two are goofs,” Charles said, hugging them close.

“You love us though,” Ellie cooed.

“Well, yeah, I do,” Charles said, grinning. “That was my point. Now we really better get going.”

The three of them strode off, chatting happily along the way.

[anguigenus]

Wow you should really continue the Vincenzo vs Lorenzo discourse forever. Just make it a series and I’ll hype it forever.

Love,

A person who hasn’t asked for this on Twitter, tumblr, discord, AO3. . .

Ok so I'm both certain this is exactly what you were looking for and nowhere near what you were looking for. Enjoy.

Also, headcanon that because Luz reads the Good Witch Azura and a lot of other old fantasy, her writing voice sounds like some dude from the 1800s.

Part one to this madness

~~~

The Love of a Father is But an Illusion

An Autobiography by Augustus Porter, Young Illusionist Prodigy

Recorded and edited by Luz Noceda, Human

~~

I was 12 when everything in my life went wrong. I still remember the day — dreary after an acid rain — that I lost my father’s love. I was walking—

~~

Luz stopped typing. “Woah, Gus. Dude. Do you need to talk about something? Because if you need somewhere to stay—”

“I was getting there!” Gus protested. “Just keep writing.”

“If you say so. Just know I’m here for you, all right?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Luz. Now, where was I?”

~~

I had just arrived home from an afternoon of study at The Owl House with my two closest friends. Though there had been snacks, the studying had been particularly grueling, and I was famished. Thankfully I was met at the door by the delicious aromas of one of my favourite meals. It was one of the last sparks of happiness I felt.

You see, another of my dear friends had infiltrated that house and in my absence had supplanted me, filling my father’s mind with insidious propaganda in order to turn him against me. But I get ahead of myself. Let me relate to you the scene as it happened.

I had just walked in the door. There was conversation coming from the other room, which was odd seeing as it was only me and my father who lived in that house, and I didn’t remember my father mentioning company that night.

My father looked up from his cooking as I entered, investigating the source of this vocal anomaly.

“Ah, Gus, you’re home!” he said, his cheery voice unindicative of the sinister malice lurking nearby. “You have a guest here for you!”

Confused as to who could be calling — since I did not recall inviting anyone to my home — it was then that I peered around the corner and laid eyes on him. He looked innocent, then. He was standing on the other side of the counter, a smile on his face — rare in its sweetness — though for some reason he was clad in an old set of my clothes which I had thought discarded after my recent growth. Loathe though I am to admit it now, he was quite a handsome figure in them, though that may have just been the change from his usual raggedy attire.

“Mattholomule?” I asked. “What are you doing here? And why are you wearing my clothes?”

“Hey Gus! I was just stopping by to see if you wanted to work on the graveyard when the acid rain started. Your dad let me in and gave me some new clothes since my old ones melted a bit.” Then a smirk spread across his face and my stomach dropped. “Your dad’s been really nice. In fact, I was just telling him about this game we were playing together.”

Betrayal. It tore at my very heart. You see, we two had been embroiled in a long and passionate war over two characters in that game, each convinced one character was far superior. Both of us had tried to recruit our friends, but to little success. However, his smirk meant he had talked to my father and convinced him that Fernando — his preferred character — was the better man.

The horrible revelation left me rooted to the ground in shock, but before I could confront him my father cut in to tell us supper was ready.

We sat around the table. I was across from that vile backstabber and my father sat between us at the table’s head.

For a bit we exchanged small talk, me probing to discover what else Mattholomule had said, and my father curious as to our relationship.

~~

“Oooo,” Luz leaned over the typewriter, “what is your relationship?” She’d stopped worrying about Gus once she learned this was just another fight about the game. She almost regretted showing it to Gus, but if it gave her some good gossip… well, it would certainly be worth the drama.

Gus blushed. “We’re just friends! My dad was just being nosy, now can we get back to my tale of woe?”

Bingo. “Of course! So, what happened next?” Luz settled back down on her stool as Gus began again.

~~

My father was rather persistent in his attempts, but I was still bashful of my feelings for Mattholomule and so endeavored as best I could to fend off his questioning by bringing up the dreaded topic itself. I asked him what Matt had told him about the game.

He smiled, and there was a warm joy in it, yet it ripped me apart when he spoke. “Why, he was telling me about his favorite character, Fernando. I think this Fernando sounds very nice, in fact. He’s talented, he’s charismatic, he’s sweet and kind — everything someone could want from a love interest.”

As he uttered these terrible words he turned to smile at my enemy, confirming his endorsement of Mattholomule’s side and betraying my trust forever. I knew then I had lost my father, yet still I persevered. Desperately I spoke up. “What about Vincenzo? Did he tell you about him?”

My father turned back to me, curiosity etched on his features. “No, he didn’t. I suppose that’s your favorite?”

“Yeah! Fernando may have it all, but Vincenzo is so much better as a love interest! He’s a bit arrogant at times, but as you go into his story he’s actually just on hard times, and he’s got a heart of gold!”

“I see. Certainly another worthy pursuit,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye — but I knew him. He’d been my father for all my life (up until that day, when I disowned him) and I recognized the playful patronization beneath his gaze he really felt.

It was as though my heart had been ripped from my chest. I knew it was not the place nor the time to confront him though, and so for the rest of dinner I sat, alone in spirit and surrounded by foes while we talked idly of many things.

After we finished dinner, my father shooed us off with assurances he would clean up. I pulled Mattholomule aside in the hallway outside my bedroom and slammed him against the wall to confront him. However, in that moment I faltered. Pinned against the wall, smug and defiant, yet with a hint of fear deep within his eyes, I recognized then someone else in his place. Vincenzo.

I could feel my face flushing at the revelation. His face turned crimson as well, and I had a second revelation. If he was my Vincenzo, then I was his Fernando. The knowledge tore at me, but something else pressed more deeply at the desires of my heart.

“Mattholomule,” I breathed. “May I… kiss you?”

He nodded and as I leaned in, our lips brushing against each other’s sweetly, a tear ran down my cheek. I knew this moment was fleeting, for how could I still love Vincenzo when I knew he loved Fernando? I began to pull away, and—

~~

“—and then I pinned him to the wall and confronted him, and you know what he did?”

“Hmmm?” Luz kept typing away furiously. Oh, this was getting good. A few evil snickers must’ve slipped out though, because Gus paused his rant.

“Wait, Luz, why are you snickering? You’re supposed to be recording my tale of heartbreak and woe!”

“I am!” Luz protested. “I’m just giving it some narrative juicieness!”

Gus narrowed his eyes. “Let me see.”

“No, no, keep talking! You can see it when I’m done!”

“Luz show me what you’re writing!” Gus lunged forward.

~~

[This account was never finished. After the last printed line, there are signs of a struggle and some spilled ink. However, the following is scrawled at the end of the paper.]

Obituary for a Luz Noceda:

Luz was a kind, creative human who improved the lives of most people on the Boiling Isles. After writing fanfiction about one of her friends — Augustus the Illusionist Prodigy — she was strangled to death by the same.

May she live on in the Titan’s dreams.

[puppetsoftomorrow]

the avalance news reader au

hey who said peer pressure doesn't work. anyway i made this post and y'all seemed to like it so here we go!! might post to ao3 later on idk...

It had been a truly terrible day.

Ava considered, in the moment that her coffee machine spluttered coughed up coffee grounds over her last clean shirt, that maybe she'd just had a truly terrible year. All her dreams about finally moving to television after being stuck in the doldrums of local news media for six years had been slashed when she'd been placed on the graveyard shift - sure, Ava was finally reading the news, but her shift was from 1AM until 4AM, so her only audience was long-distance truck drivers and new parents.

Still, she persevered, with the slightly foolish belief that if she worked hard enough, she could be promoted to a primetime slot. Or at least a slot that didn't require her to be making coffee at 10:45PM.

Her day had started off badly - she'd barely slept, as the sound from the construction work three blocks away rattled her windows, and she’d woken to find that her cat, Merlin, had kicked his litter halfway across the house in a fit of pique. Ava couldn't even have her normal oatmeal, as she was out of oat milk, and now she was having to drink her coffee black.

After changing her shirt to a dark dress and grimacing as she choked down the coffee, there was a knock on the door, and Ava groaned as she realised she was running late.

"Hey, Sara." She sighed.

Sara stood in the doorway, hair wavy over her shoulders, hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie - the same grey hoodie she wore every day, branded with their news station's logo.

"Woah, a dress?" Sara said, eyebrows raised appreciatively, as Ava grabbed her coat and bag and they moved to go down the stairs.

"Don't mention it." Ava grumbled, pulling the coat around her shoulders.

"It looks good on you." Sara said, and Ava shot her a look. Sara mimed zipping her lips. "Do we have to time for Starbucks? I had to have black coffee; my mouth tastes like something died in it." Ava muttered, and Sara shrugged.

"I mean, we've arrived half an hour early for every shift for the past year -"

"Do you want to go back to taking the bus?" Ava said, looking over at her as they reached the lobby. They'd discovered they lived in the same building almost accidentally in Ava's first week, awkwardly meeting across the hall in the early morning, until Sara had realised that Ava had a car and they'd started riding in together.

"Fine, if you're happy with having bad angles." Sara said, holding the door open for her, and Ava rolled her eyes.

"Are you saying I have bad angles?"

"Oh, I'll find one." Sara muttered, and Ava snorted with laughter and unlocked the car. One of the benefits to giving her camera operator a ride every day was always having excellent angles.

After a stop at Starbucks, Ava rolled along the dark, quiet roads, sighing deeply.

"What's up?" Sara asked, sipping her drink - black coffee, which she somehow enjoyed.

"Nothing." Ava muttered, but it only took one look at Sara for her to come out with the story of her crappy day. Sara laughed.

"So that's why you're wearing the dress."

"That's what you're focusing on?" Ava said, focusing on the road with a small smile on her face. "I have to go back to my apartment at 5AM and clean up kitty litter and coffee grounds."

"Not to mention getting coffee out of your shirt." Sara snorted, and Ava groaned, loud and over the top.

///

They always split when they got to the studio, Ava marching off to make-up to get ready, and Sara taking the elevator to the studio floor to set up her camera. The studio was always dead past midnight, just a skeleton crew left, which Sara found she enjoyed - it was easier to know everyone that way. She waved at Nate, distracting him from where he was running through the weather, muttering under his breath and checking his perfectly coiffed hair in the camera. He waved back, a bright smile on his face.

Careful not to trip over any of the wires on the floor, Sara made her way up to the box above the studio, the cramped room filled from head to toe with blinking lights and buttons, with a large window so they could look down on the studio. The techs – Behrad and Charlie - were sat with headphones on, running through sound checks, so Sara just waved to them as she found who she was looking for.

Zari, the studio runner, was running through her clipboard, muttering under her breath. When she saw Sara coming, she rolled her eyes. "Back again?"

"What have you got for her today?" Sara asked, keeping her voice nonchalant.

"The usual. Some city councilor has been embezzling funds, Star City is readying to bid for the 2028 Olympics, and former mayor Queen is opening a patisserie down-town. It's been a quiet week."

"Exactly." Sara said, her grin widening. "You've got to add the cat one."

Ray, their head writer, had found a story a week ago about a fat cat attending the Star City pet spa to lose weight, and Sara had been tracking down clips of the poor thing, bribing the editor, Nora, to pull them together. She'd even written a script. Zari looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Seriously?"

"Yes! I have a bet going with Mick - if I can get Ava to break on camera by the end of the month, he's got to give me $50." Sara said. It was ridiculous, she'd started the bet - truthfully, she found it endearing how Ava read the news with the same abject sternness whether she was covering a political scandal or a dog who'd learnt to surf in Star City Bay. She'd only broken her composure once - a smile creeping on her face when reporting on the 5th birthday of a crocodile at Star City Zoo named Snaps. From that day on, Sara had vowed to make her laugh, properly, live on air.

"I don't have any time to make up." Zari said, and Sara sighed.

"Yeah, but you know Ava reads quick enough. Please? For me?"

Zari seemed immune to the puppy eyes, so Sara sighed. "And I'll give you $20."

Zari snorted. "Do you have $20?"

"I'll have $50 when I win the bet." Sara countered, and Zari sighed.

"Fine. I'll see what I can do."

"Z, you're the best." Sara said with a grin, and turned to return to the studio floor.

///

The program went smoothly, like always. Sara liked her job, the focus of filming and the pride she got when she saw her own work on TV, but she liked it better when she was filming Ava, who had pretty much insisted from day one that Sara be her primary operator.

Ava looked especially pretty today, someone in make-up evidently having convinced her that she didn't need the bun today, and instead curled her hair over both shoulders, which didn't completely cover Ava's defined arms, visible in her sleeveless dress.

The night ran the same as most others, Ava transitioning smoothly between topics and engaging in light, courteous banter with Nate before he presented the weather. Sara looked at Ava during these moments, the five minutes she was off camera, where she looked down at her notes, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

Okay, so maybe Sara wanted to make Ava laugh because she looked so pretty doing it. Sue her.

They were coming near the end, and Sara was losing hope that the story would be included, until she heard the segue.

"Now, in lighter news," Ava started, her eyebrows suddenly shooting up as she read the prompter. Sara grinned; Zari had obviously left this out of Ava's notes to inspire more of a reaction.

"Cats," Ava blurted out, steadying herself before continuing, "they're not normally known for their love of swimming, but one feline in Star City is hitting the water instead of the gym in a bid to lose weight. Mr. Snuggles -" Ava bit her lip as the pictures played on the monitor - a black and white cat in a life vest, looking absolutely terrified, and Sara grinned. "Mr. Snuggles is a thirteen-year-old cat who - dislikes the outdoors and other physical activities."

Sara's grin widened as Ava lost it, barely making it through her lines through her giggles. Her face was flushing pink and she bit her lip to try and compose herself. "But with encouragement from his owner -" Ava pressed on, trying to hold herself together, "Mr. Snuggles had lost one pound in six months."

That was the final straw, as Ava descended into a full-on laugh, barely making it through her sign off. Sara was so distracted by the sound she nearly missed Zari's voice in her ear. "Camera 1 to Camera 3 in 3, 2, 1 -"

Sara switched off, but not before Ava snorted, flushing even deeper and covering her face with her hands at the sound, not disguised by the jingle from the lottery numbers playing across the screen.

///

Ava had bolted from the set, and Sara packed up her equipment as quickly as possible, ducking out just in time to catch Ava as she walked down the corridor to the lobby. Her face was now free of make-up, her hair tied up in a messy bun, but she was still in the dress that left Sara's mouth a little dry. She looked at Sara, blushing again.

"I can't believe you did that." She groaned, and Sara put on her most innocent face on.

"Did what?"

"Bribed Zari to put the cat story in! John in make-up said that Charlie had told him that you'd bribed Zari."

"To win $50!" Sara said, grinning. "And you have a really cute laugh."

Ava looked up; eyebrow furrowed. "Really?"

"Yep." Sara said, trying to play it cool. "Look, do you want half? I feel bad now."

Ava sighed. "No, it's okay."

"I could buy you dinner." Sara said, almost blurting it out, and Ava looked at her. "To make up for it."

Ava's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Uh - yeah, okay. I can do dinner."

~the end~

okay so this was fun to write and i kind of want to write more so uhh send me where u think this story should go. or ideas for a part 2 maybe. thanks for reading!!

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Inukag *warning this chapter might hurt*

Staring out through the windshield of his car, his darkened home was the picture-perfect mirror of the pain settling into his soul. Inuyasha had no idea how he’d even managed to make it home without driving off a cliff or plowing himself into a stone wall, because his body and mind were completely numb.

‘Read’ but not answered…

Was it a good sign that the woman at least looked at it? Inuyasha rested his head against the steering wheel and closed his eyes. He’d fucked up… again— just like the night of the accident. His eyes squeezed tighter shut as the emotional pain of everything slammed him with the force of a freight train. This was bad… bad, bad, bad… “FUCK!!” He roared into the still night air. With Kagome’s memories coming back, she’ll remember everything, and it was over. He’d had this second chance to reverse all the damage and he went and fucked it up again.

Not surprisingly, Kagome didn’t respond to his first text, so he typed out a final message for the night: ‘You’re mad at me. I get that so I’ll give you some space but I just wanna say good night Kagome. I love you -Inu’

‘Read’ but not answered…

It was all he could do for now, his only solace knowing Kagome had her mother to comfort her. Inuyasha sighed, long and deep as he pulled the keys from the ignition and dragged himself into his home. His body felt heavy with exhaustion. A weight crushing him down like a boulder. It took all he had to just drop his keys to the floor beside the entrance and shuffle into the bedroom instead of falling right then and there. He didn’t want to move anymore. He deserved the silent darkness of this tomb-like home along with its judgmental echoes of the life it once held.

The next morning after a restless sleep, Inuyasha called out of work. When would he be back, he couldn’t answer them? Part of him didn’t care anymore. Fire him, it wouldn’t matter to the walking dead. Miroku called in concern for his friend, but Inuyasha let it go to voicemail. He didn’t feel like talking to anybody right now, not when he knew it would have a ring of ‘I told you so,’ mixed in. That wasn’t necessary. Didn’t he feel bad enough?

A good morning text sent… left on Read…

An apology text….

Another apology text…

Voice messages left randomly through the day…

All left on Read and unanswered.

The anxiety filled hours ticked on with Inuyasha left curled up in a ball under his blanket. He’d done a number on his living room to physically release the anger he felt at himself, and now he was just dead to the world. All the drapes were tightly closed to the sunlight outside and he only left his bed to attend to bathroom matters. He didn’t wanna give up all hope, but with his mind in tatters and thoughts only of despair, there was nothing left to cling to.

By nightfall Inuyasha was convinced Kagome had truly given him up and he couldn’t blame her for it. This was all his fault. Him and his stupid big mouth. There was no denying it. He shouldn’t have argued with her. Just like before, instead of using his ears to listen, he responded with ego when he had no right to chastise her over not telling him something. The whole reason he was in this mess is because he never listened to her when it mattered the most— and there in lay the heart of it all. Neither of them had the opportunity to talk about what caused the original fight or process what drove Kagome to leave. Inuyasha thought he’d understood its origins and accepted responsibility for it, but clearly, he was wrong, and this new situation is most certainly what would have taken place if Kagome hadn’t crashed her car— a debilitating depression.

If Kagome didn’t want him anymore, then there wasn’t anything left for him in this world as far as Inuyasha was concerned. His yoki called out for her, wept for her loss, and with it all the energy in his soul to care slipped away. He was simply empty without her. No appetite or desire or thirst, just an ocean of dread, and waves of numbness dulling all his senses.

How much time had elapsed, how many days gone by? The clock ticked away hour by hour like a death knell with Inuyasha simply waiting for a release to come. All the messages left on his phone were from everyone other than the one person who could have brought him out of this funk. But her ringtone never came. It is what is it. Was it day four? Five? Six? Inuyasha couldn’t tell, but feeling his body starting to let go, he decided to send one last message to Miroku before shutting off the phone for good.

At the Hoshii residence, Miroku and Sango were on edge dealing with the crisis. Sango had been doing her best to help Kagome to cope with her pain, but Miroku was growing frantic over Inuyasha’s refusal to answer him. He’d driven by the man’s home and knew the car was there, and that was it. No one answered the door and with all the curtains closed he couldn’t see inside. Finally, on day five while they were visiting with Kagome, Miroku heard his phone ping with a message.

Inuyasha: thanks for being a good friend. Tell her she was the only one I’ve ever loved

“What the hell?” Miroku blurted out as he mulled the message over and over in his head.

Sango rushed over at the concern in her husband’s voice. “What is it?!”

“I think that idiot is planning to kill himself— I better… I better go.”

Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Higurashi also came out of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

“It’s about a message Inuyasha just sent,” Sango explained as her husband was digging around in his small pouch and grabbing his car keys. “Miroku is gonna check on him.”

“What did it say?” Mrs. Higurashi questioned.

So, Miroku showed the woman his phone. “It doesn’t sound good.”

“Oh, dear!” She reached for a jacket near the front door. “I’m coming too! Sango will you stay?”

“Of course, I’ll be here with Kagome. You two go.”

It was a good thing that Miroku had held onto a spare key to Inuyasha’s home that he’d been given and simply forgotten to return. When he and Mrs. Higurashi walked through the door, chills crawled over his skin. It was evident that the house had been closed-up for several days, no windows opened, or ventilation, just a silent graveyard feeling with a fog of musty air mixed with the scent of rotting kitchen garbage and body odor. It was revolting and only heightened the pairs concern for the occupant.

“Inuyasha?!” Miroku yelled as they made their way through the dark home but received no response. The man wasn’t in the living areas or bathroom, so the logical option was the master bedroom at the far end of the hallway. ‘Please be alive,’ he prayed.

Once inside the room, they could see an unmoving body underneath the blankets and if the buildup of body odor told a story, it was sure to be his friend underneath those covers. “Inu?” Still no response.

Mrs. Higurashi turned on the bedroom light, and the brightness finally caused the blanket to shift ever so slightly. “Oh, thank heavens,” she gasped out in relief as she held a hand to her chest. He was still alive.

Miroku rushed over and yanked the blanket off. “Inuyasha!” Tears instantly gathered in the panicked man’s eyes. The state of his friend was heart breaking. Inuyasha had lost weight. His skin was gaunt and pasty white, hair matted and dirty. “Oh, fuck, we— we should call emergency!”

“No…” Inuyasha croaked out and buried his face deeper under his arm. “Let me die.”

“Fuck no, you idiot! Kagome still needs you!”

“Better… off… without me…”

‘Seriously?!’ It was rare for Miroku to get so upset, but in that moment, the anger that bubbled up to surface took over and his arm flew up ready to strike his friend. “You stupid—!!”

“Don’t!” Mrs. Higurashi yelled at Miroku. “He needs help, not anger right now.”

That seemed to snap Miroku out of his emotions, but the tears broke free. It was hard to see his friend in this position, just so frail— nothing like the tough hanyo that he’s known for years. Even after the death of his mother, Inuyasha didn’t break down this badly. Miroku grit his teeth to his own pain and pushed forward. “You idiot. Dying isn’t gonna help Kagome. So, whether you like it or not, we’re gonna help you.”

Mrs. Higurashi now moved around the bed to where she could sit beside Inuyasha. Her own eyes were clouded too, but the woman pulled on all the strength she could muster to hold it together. She placed a hand on the arm he was using to cover his face. “Inu, Miroku is right. Kagome is hurting just as much as you, and I don’t think you’d want to cause her anymore heart ache by going out this way.”

“But she hates me…” Inuyasha whimpered weakly. “Please just let me go.”

Mrs. Higurashi had to squeeze her eyes shut to hold back her tears. Her heart broke for the man. Gently, she pulled his arm down, her voice shaking as she spoke. “Inuyasha, you’re like a son to me, and I won’t let me son die. We’re gonna figure this out, but you need to live please, for her, for all of us that cares about you.”

Inuyasha’s eyes cracked open just a tad. “I’m so, sorry,” he mumbled. “So… sorry…”

She kept her voice as soothing as possible. “I know, and so does Kagome.” Mrs. Higurashi then turned to Miroku. “Do you think you can get him into the shower and clean him up? I’ll make something for him to eat. He needs something in his stomach immediately.”

“Y-Yeah, I think I can do it.”

It took both of them to help Inuyasha into the bathtub. He was so emaciated and dehydrated, that he had no strength left in his body, just dead weight. While Mrs. Higurashi left them to deal with the kitchen, Miroku stripped his friend of clothing and ran a bath to bathe him. Inuyasha offered no resistance, just a few tears flowing down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Inuyasha kept repeating.

“Don’t apologize to me. Save it for Kagome. I can’t believe you’d think we’d be okay with you dying! You’re my best fucking friend you asshole! I want my kids to grow up with their uncle!”

“But I keep screwing up.”

“And that’s life. It ain’t the end of the world yet.”

“Feels like it.”

“Whether you believe us if not, Kagome is hurting cause she in love with your stupid ass too. You can still fix this.”

“Don’t know how.”

“And that’s why we’re here.”

“Thank you…”

Inuyasha’s eyes started to roll back, so Miroku slapped him hard in the face. “Oi! Don’t you be dying on me now! So, wake the fuck up!”

“So… tired…”

“Gonna clean you up and momma Higurashi will get your strength back, so hang on just a little longer…”

Now cleaned up and dressed in something comfortable, they prop Inuyasha up in a recliner since he was still struggling to hold up his own body weight. He simply had no reserves left to draw from and under human standards wouldn’t have lasted this long. A hospital was better equipped to deal with this kind of situation. Inuyasha should have been put on IV fluids to hydrate him faster along with special supplements pumped directly into his system because after this long, the organs would have started to shut down, and his stomach would struggle to process anything. But Mrs. Higurashi made due to honor his request, starting with a bland rice water chicken broth of starch, proteins, and vegetable nutrients to re-prime it slowly. She also sent Miroku to the store to purchase drinks with electrolytes given to infants when they are dehydrated. It was a painstaking process to feed Inuyasha spoonful by spoonful.

“I need you to help me fight Inuyasha,” the woman coaxed the weakened hanyo. “So, you can live through this and see Kagome again.”

Tears flooded Inuyasha’s eyes at the mention of Kagome’s name. “After everything, why would you still want me around her?”

“Because you love her, and she loves you, and as long as there’s love it can find a way. Son,” she placed a hand on his, “I know it feels like the end of the world, but it will get better if you want it to. Do you want it to?”

“Yes,” he sobbed.

Her hand now gripped his tightly as her expression grew determined. “Then fight for it!”

It took several bowls of soup before gradually Mrs. Higurashi started giving Inuyasha fish and small pieces of chicken meat to eat. She had to stick to easily digestible foods, but at least his coloring was improving, and he could feed himself now. The sun has already set, by the time Inuyasha could finally stand up on his own.

“You’re lucky you’re a hanyo. That’s what’s probably saved your life.” Miroku expressed to his friend.

“I know.” Inuyasha could feel his demon half working harder to regenerate his physical body. Though while his body was recovering, his heart still felt broken. They kept telling him that Kagome still loved him so there is hope, but a part of him struggled to believe it. He’d already hit such a low point, to suffer rejection now was almost too unbearable to even comprehend.

Miroku continued talking. “Inuyasha, you’re not gonna do this alone. We will be there to support both of you, but it’s time you confront this. You and Kagome need to talk… about everything— even though she may not remember, a lack of communication is exactly what triggered this whole situation.”

“I know…” Inuyasha sighed.

“All couples go through struggles,” Mrs. Higurashi added with a comforting tone in her voice. “A strong relationship doesn’t come from a having a perfect one, Inuyasha. It’s developed through adversity. How well a couple can take the challenges thrown at them and grow from it.”

“You remember what happened with me and Sango, we almost didn’t make it because of my bad behaviors…”

“Your damn womanizing,” Inuyasha cut in.

“Yeah, that,” Miroku grumpily agreed. “She had to give me a harsh ultimatum to wake me up. But I did, and now look at us. This is your harsh moment, and you can choose to wake up, or loose the best thing that’s ever happened to you. It’s your choice.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Inuyasha ran a hand down his face. “Of course, I don’t wanna lose her.”

“Then are you ready to see Kagome?” Mrs. Higurashi questioned.

Inuyasha exhaled slowly. “Ready? No…” he was terrified to face the woman. “But I’ve gotta do it.”

[echo-three-one]

Run run run....

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : Going Dark - Part 1

Chapter 23 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Going Dark - Part 2

John "Soap" MacTavish

London, United Kingdom

Soap never knew that the bloody guy would pull that trick off his sleeve. He's been sick of the same ringing he first experienced when they went out with Francine.

So he did what he could and quickly got up to his feet as soon as he saw Alex attempt to halt the hostage on his tracks. That bastard's going to pay for stomping on Alex like that.

With comms down once again, he had to act fast, stomping down the stairs, never leaving sight of the runner. He could sense someone following him and assumed it's any of Roach, Price or Jack. And it looked like Ghost caught wind of what happened too.

"Oi! Let's flank him!" Soap roared across the empty streets as Ghost and Roach split ways and ran toward their target.

They're not kidding when they said the Shadow Company is at par with the 141, the guy ran like a horse which Soap never expected from his build. He could see Ghost and Roach sprinting from his sides, one wrong turn and he's done for, but he still had one last trick. 

He raced to the emergency stairs as his heavy feet clanged against the metal. Soap followed, optimizing the steps on edges to gain on him. Going up the rooftops was his biggest mistake.

"Bollocks, he's still running!" he announced as he felt his ears crackling. 

"Well…. st….by…. do….airs.." His earpiece crackled through the static. It's recovering but they're already far off MacMillan's truck where their line connected.

He leaped. Soap almost stopped in his tracks as the runner courageously leapt across the huge gap and rolled on to the next building. He braced himself and continued dashing across the roof and did a mighty leap, his arms circled like he was swimming and he carefully placed his feet to perform a proper land and rolled.

That's going to hurt as soon as the adrenaline fades, but he quickly got up and made use of his remaining burst of energy. 

The runner stopped in his tracks as soon as Roach emerged from the opposite fire escape, raising a pistol pointed straight at him as he raised his hand in surrender.

"Nowhere to run now." Roach said, cautiously walking near him. He's aware that his phone is still inside his pocket and that they had no idea when it'll go off again.

He didn't talk, but he looked panicked. He was sweating all over and his face was beyond recognizable. It looked like he's out of options.

"Tell us Where Shepherd is…" Gary pointed the loaded gun on his head, the desperation in Gary's eyes were obvious.

"There's an abandoned plane graveyard near Afghanistan…" he whimpered. His voice was shaky enough to warrant the truth.

"What's he doing there?" Soap added.

"He's trading the blueprints for the I.P. Address… Please that's all I know" he begged and they quickly left the place, walking back to MacMillan's car.

"You got something?" Ghost asked as soon as Roach's feet landed on the dark alley.

"A place. In Afghanistan." Roach answered.

"And he also had the I.P. Address.." Soap added.

"But that's impossible… didn't Samantha already forget about it?" Ghost asked but there was a quiet pause. Their brains almost looked like working together.

"Holy Crap." Roach finally broke the silence.

And from that moment they realized the other reason behind Samantha's memory returning. One way or another, her memories were once again toyed with.

~

"So how was it?" Price asked the team that ran off to chase the runner.

"We got an address. An abandoned plane yard in Afghanistan." Roach replied. Soap turned to Alex as he sat at the back of the jeep tending to his wound. 

"You okay mate?" he asked walking close to his ally, who was wincing in pain.

"The guy's boots are heavy." He chuckled and so did Soap.

"Listen, Alex. We heard that Shepherd has the I P. address, did Samantha tell you anything about remembering it?" Soap asked as the whole team fell silent and turned to the two.

"Not really. What's bothered me is that she remembers everything except after when Shepherd explained his plans to her… Could it be that…" Alex trailed.

"She remembered because they undid their operation on her…" Jack continued. The whole group stood in silence. 

Price's phone rang and delivered them with more bad news. It looked like while chasing the runner, Shepherd had caught wind of their activity and had some of London police scour the nearby streets for them.

"Da, It's time to go, my comrades." Nikolai announced as soon as Price relayed the message. Their ride home was compromised.

"Where to?" He asked.

"I know a place." Soap said.

TRAIN STATION

It looked like Soap's hunch was right. None of the people onboard to Scotland mind about the faces of the fugitives flashed on the news recently. 

Their day packs had reserved clothes and they opted to change to something more civilian. Soap could smell the fabric conditioner France used to wash his newly bought clothes and couldn't help but miss her. If they weren't on a rush, Soap could've topped up for international calls.

"How long is this trip? 7 hours?" Price asked a civilian with surprised expressions.

"Wow. It's like a plane ride, but I'm still in the same country!" Jack cackled at the idea. He does have a different sense of humor. Just as Alex described him.

The rest of the team took this time to rest, they sat on the emptiest part of the train, away from the people that might recognize them and report their presence.

"I've contacted Samantha. It looks like they're having a small problem over there." Alex said.

"Someone saw one of us fugitives and tried to get inside the house to claim his bounty. At first they just talked him off but he's persistent now. So they decided to fly to our location and regroup there. And Soap, where exactly are we going?" Alex asked. Soap took a careful look around his team and felt nervous about his decision.

"Our old house. In Scotland. It's far off civilization. I think no one would look for us there." he muttered, gaining a nod from Price and Jack. Soap sighed in relief as soon as they thought of it as a good idea. Roach actually felt excited despite having to go there by train for seven hours. He immediately made that decision a few minutes ago without anyone's approval, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Hey, you three… Thanks for chasing that runner while we were out. Go catch some sleep. We'll watch over this train. It's going to be a long trip." Price nudged and Jack nodded. Soap gave a pair of earbuds to Price, the old man immediately looked at him with question.

"What's this? A hearing aid?" Price asked.

"Our runner wore that so it might be the reason he wasn't affected by his own blast." He muttered before crossing his arms.

"Thanks, mate. I'll let someone have a look at this." Price nodded and Jack immediately inserted with a suggestion.

"I know someone near Glasgow. A close friend of mine." 

"That's great. He's closer." Price agreed and Soap slowly drifted himself asleep, trying to rest his tired legs all while also trying not to worry about Francine.

GLASGOW, SCOTLAND

The never shifting scenery of the road home sent John MacTavish into a little nostalgia trip. The sound of trains screeching across the station reminded him of so many things from the past.  The road they're walking along now was the same road he's walked on everyday of his life, and now after a lot of years, he can't believe he's back.

"I don't see anything nearby,  are you sure we're not lost Soap?" Roach asked.

"We aren't. The house is just obstructed by the trees. They've grown taller since I last left." he replied enthusiastically. He looked obviously excited to see his home.

As soon as they reached the short curve, a huge cream-painted house greeted them from the distance. He could hear Alex and Roach's collective oohs and aahs every step they took closer.

"When you said old, I was really expecting it to be abandoned." Roach mused.

"It is, actually. My parents are off… somewhere else." he replied leading the way inside the house. The pool was already dirty and most weeds already outgrew the fences.

Soap pushed the huge wooden double door open and was greeted by the same visage of their entrance way back when he was a kid. Same pictures hung on the walls of his adventures as a kid up to the recent photo of his graduation. His mom was always proud of him no matter what, but he couldn't forget the way she looked at him once he chose to enlist to the riskiest job ever.

The rest of the team helped themselves to discovering the inside of the house, looking at photos, sitting on the couches and grabbing a glass of water. Soap quickly gave them a tour of the house and that they're free to pick a guest room of their choice. It was appropriate that they'd feel comfortable after a tough day.

"Nice place you got here, comrade. Why'd you give this all up for a life that's always hanging on the ledge?" Nikolai asked, tapping his shoulder. 

"I don't even know." he muttered and Nikolai chuckled, making his way to the living room. The team was quick to adapt to the place. Roach and Ghost already chose their rooms and he assumed they already attempted to recover while the three older men gathered around the television and watched the news. Alex was by the telephone, probably contacting Samantha. He wanted to check on France himself, so he planned to go to his room and make a call.

"The New York attack stopped." Price discussed with Nikolai and Jack, the three began speculating about a lot of things. Soap would love to join in the conversation but he decided to update on Francine first.

His room looked the same as when he left, the same shade of blue wallpaper, the same color sheets that were changed weekly and the same things on top of his bedside drawer.

Dialing her number, which he subconsciously memorized, he immediately placed the receiver on his ear and anxiously waited for her to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" her voice sounded different over the phone, but it still sent shivers across his spine as soon as he heard it.

"Hey. It's me." he replied.

"Angelo?" she asked, her voice almost sounded like she's fighting herself not to laugh.

"It's John." 

"I know, silly. Who would mistake you for anyone else with that accent." she retorted.

"Do ya like it?" he teased, making sure he emphasized his Scottish accent well.

"Why'd you call?" She changed the topic. She wasn't budging on his teasing, but he knew she's already blushing on the other side of the line.

"Did Price give you the landing coordinates?" he asked.

"Yeah. Maxine looked it up on the map. It looks like a shady house in the middle of nowhere. Who are you?" she joked.

"Great. I'll see you here. I-" he hesitated. He wanted to tell her how much he misses her. But even with his oozing confidence, he felt like chickening out this time.

"Yeah. We're on our way. Take care out there John." She said and dropped the call. Soap sighed and plopped himself on his bed, deeply sighing at his actions. This girl was making him crazy… and the funny thing is he's all fine with it.

Next Chapter : Going Dark - Part 3

Notification Squad my Beloved

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @beemybee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

[brelione]

The Surfer And The Siren

Chapter Two:The Blondes,The Dog and The Girl in the Woods.

Chapter One

@kelsiejayy​ designed this mood board :) 

“Why is it always the blondes?”Richard asked.You shrugged,folding the snack bag closed. “They remind me of him.”You answered.Richard just nodded,pulling the strings of the bag tight. “Will you tell him stories about me when im gone?”Richard asked.You pouted. “You’ve still got a few more years,Rich.”You mumbled.He just chuckled. “Lets get going,weve got thirteen hours to go.”he locked the door as you walked out.You two got into his older car,driving down the bumpy roads to his house.You ran up the small grassy hill and up to the front porch,kneeling to pet Blue on his stomach.You then ran inside,jumping onto the couch and holding your favorite pillow to your chest.Richard let the dog in,going into the kitchen to show you that he had already set out your favorite cookies.ayou ate seven before you ran into the backyard to see how much taller the sunflowers had grown since the last time you had been over to the house.You rolled in the grass,lifting yourself into a tree and giggling loudly.

It felt like it had been a long time since you had even touched a tree.Probably because it had been.Richard placed his phone on the outdoor table,allowing your favorite songs to play.There was some Queen,some Disney,some instrumental and some early 2000’s music.You got down from the tree,telling him you were going to take Blue for a walk.Richard nodded,standing up.He wasnt as fast or energetic as he had been 60 years ago.He couldnt give you piggy back rides anymore or play soccer in the middle of the woods.It didnt really matter though.He was still good old Richard with his shitty jokes and his big grey hound.You grabbed Blue’s leash,clipping it to his collar.RIchard shouted to you to let you know that you could go without him.You ran down the street,racing the large dog all the way to figure eight.You ended up on the beach behind the kook mansions.You had watched as they had been built all those years ago,wondering what kind of rich straight white dudes were going to move in there.

You were unaware of the camera watching you from a tall tree,oblivious to the notification that was sent to Rafe Cameron’s phone.Blue leaned against you,laying down at your feet.You sat indian style,allowing the dog to rest in your lap. “Are you a handsome baby?”You grinned,tapping the dogs nose.He sneezed,moving upwards to look your chin.Rafe came up behind you,his eyes focusing on your hair.He hadnt been prepared or even thought about what he was going to say.He just didnt want to miss you. “Hello?”You called out,feeling someone looking at you.He inhaled sharply and his fists clenched. “Sorry,sorry-I didnt mean to scare you.”He spoke awkwardly.Blue sat up,staring him down and growling.You looked over your shoulder,grip tightening on Blue’s leash.That wasnt Ward.Ward was a normal person,he aged.You had watched him age. “Ward?”You asked,not calling off Blue.Rafe shook his head,not being able to form words.You dragged your fingers along the back of Blue’s neck to calm him.The dog leaned into your touch,slumping against you. 

“Um...Im Rafe-Rafe Cameron.My dad’s name is Ward,though.”He answered.You nodded,standing up and brushing the sand off of your clothing.He looked just like Ward when he was in his early twenties.Ward had always been a bit of the sketchy type but never too bad.He wore his long sleeve shirts rolled up to his elbows,socks and sandals and always had some sort of fancy watch clinging to his wrist.You had been to the Cameron’s dock countless times just to check if Ward Cameron was still alive and walking.You wrapped Blue’s leash around your wrist so he wouldnt go too far. “I like your hair.”He spoke,pointing to the blue curly mess.Your eyebrows fell over your eyes,Blue sensed the tension and licked your fingertips.He glanced up at the tree where the camera was hidden before looking back up at you. “Okay.”You mumbled,not wanting to continue the conversation.He didnt have good intentions.It felt like you were talking to Ward,In fact,you could remember Ward telling you the same thing.Rafe sucked in a big breath,looking down at Blue and trying to ease his mind.

 “Is this your dog?”He asked,gesturing towards the greyhound.You gulped,glancing around the beach for other people. “Friend’s dog.”You answered,your voice hitting him like a wave.He stumbled a bit,deciding to just sit down.His legs couldnt hold his weight and it seemed like his head was full of wet cotton.He felt exhausted and not just from running down the road.He nodded,hands in his lap. “I will see you around,Rafe Cameron.”You spoke softly,allowing the power to sink into the air.It was probably enough to enchant the boys inside houses across the whole neighborhood and more than enough to cause Rafe to fall forward with his eyes closed.You grinned,biting down on your lip and holding back a chuckle.Men were just too easy.You jogged back up the sand and to the street,seeing a boy asleep on his lawn.It only made your smile widen as you ran back to the cut,Blue panting as he sprinted with you.When you got to the cut you were a sweating and panting mess,laughing at the feeling of pain in your kneecaps.

You kept running,savoring the sore feeling at your ankles and heels as your feet smacked the cement.When you got back to Richard’s Blue had dragged himself up the stairs tiredly to drink some water.You went inside the house,leaving the door open for Blue and laying down on the couch.Your cheeks were flushed,your skin damp from sweat. “Did you have a good run?”Richard asked.You nodded,sitting up. “I didnt know that Ward Cameron had a son.”You frowned,pushing the blue hair from your face.Richard gulped,sitting down in his reclining chair. “You saw Ward Cameron?”He asked nervously.You shook your head. “Just his son.Strange looking boy...kind of like Ward with moist hair.I didnt tell him my name,just Blue’s.He’s asleep on the beach as of right now.”You explained.He nodded,opening a bag of skittles.You giggled. “God,do you remember back in 82’ when those things first got to the store?”You asked.He nodded. “How could I forget?I was trying to get you a bag but the buggers were sold out.The rich boys were mixing them with vodka and throwing up on the streets.”He let out a wheeze like laugh.You grinned at the memory,holding your pillow to your stomach.

 “The boy...JJ.Do you know him well?”You asked.Richard raised his eyebrows,shaking his head as he poured skittles into his palm.You sighed,leaning back. “He looks like him...I saw them while I was out today.JJ and Pope,I mean.They were with another boy and a girl.The other one….I forget what he’s called.He looks like an Adam,though.He’s very terrible at surfing,I had to rescue him during a storm.And the girl...she was diving near the caves to clean up trash that had sunk.I feel drawn to them like im supposed to be part of their group.It was that feeling I had when I saw you on the beach on the night we met...I knew it would lead to something good.”You tried your best to explain your feelings.He nodded,reclining in the chair and stretching out his sore legs. “I understand,(Y/N).But I dont know enough about these kids to let you go around them.Im not trying to control you,Im just concerned for your safety.You’ve seen it all before where your kind gets involved with the wrong human folk and winds up dead or trapped in a tank.You cant let that happen,I cant let that happen.I’ll learn as much as I can about them,okay?”He asked.

You sighed,watching as Blue slowly walked in and sat by the door. “I wouldve felt if he had bad intentions or anger,he didnt.When I was out for my swim they tried to find me again to make sure that i was okay.If they were bad they wouldnt have done that.”You mumbled.He nodded. “But they didnt know who you are and what you are.Maybe if they had they would act differently but I dont exactly want to find out.Let me learn about them first,alright?”He asked.You nodded as he turned on his television. “Netflix has new films this month,why dont you flip through them until you find something you’d like to watch?”He offered,leaning forward and handing you the warm black controller.You grinned,biting your bottom lip as you watched the preview for H2o Just Add Water. “Hey-hey Richard.”You laughed.He looked up at the television,holding back a laugh as his nostrils flared. “No-nope.”He shook his head.You laughed,looking through the episode titles before snorting. “Siren effect!”You giggled.He sighed,pinching the bridge of his nose. “If that is what you want to watch than go for it.”He grinned.

You shook your head,going back to the home page.You settled on a show called I Am Not Okay With THis.You werent really paying attention because you were too busy thinking about all the things you wanted to do in such little time. “It really sucks that we cant go into the woods like we used too.”You sighed.Richard frowned,nodding in understanding. “You know that its not safe for you out there alone.”He reminded you.It was dangerous for anyone to go out at night especially young girls.The Cut had some pretty dangerous places that became even more dangerous at night. “Do you think I could go if Blue came with me?”You asked.Blue’s ears perked up at his name,his mouth falling open in a dog smile.Richard nodded hesitantly. “Alright.Dont go too far and stay away from the graveyard.”He leaned back in his seat.You grinned,standing up.You didnt bother with the leash,hopping down the front steps excitedly with Blue right behind you.You didnt think you’d ever get used to the smell of grass and the feeling of dirt between your toes.Your hair got caught in a few branches but you couldnt care less.

You could see the faint green glow of fire flies a few feet away. “Why do I always have to get the firewood?They’re perfectly capable but no,no of course theyre just too high to do basic things.”A feminine voice ranted to herself.There was no way of telling exactly how far away it was but you assumed it was pretty close when the fireflies dispersed.Blue barked softly,a growl coming from her throat. “Hello?”The voice called upon hearing the noise.You huffed,silently thanking the gods that you wouldnt have to speak to yet another boy. “Hello.”You replied,finally seeing the owner of the voice.Her dark hair was tied into a fancy french braided bun that probably took years of her childhood to master.Her skin was the color of werther’s chewy caramels.She wore a white and black hoodie that was large and a bit baggy on her small frame along with a pair of light shorts.You knew she probably couldnt make out your features in the dark.That was one of the advantages you were grateful for.You had always been able to see close to perfectly in the dark which definitely helped with your insecurities when you knew for a fact that others couldnt.

 “Why are you in the middle of the woods?”She asked.You held onto Blue’s collar so he wouldnt lunge at the pretty girl. “The dog needed to pee,what about you?”You asked.She giggled,playing with her fingers nervously as her legs got a tingly feeling. “Oh-um-firewood.What’s your dogs name?”She asked.You slowly let go of the collar.Blue walked forward eagerly to sniff at the girls shorts,hands and shoes. “Blue.”You answered.She kneeled down to pet the large dog as he sat down in front of her,licking a slimy streak on the side of her face. “And what’s your name?”She asked,directing the question towards you.You grinned upon realising that this was her.This had to be a sign. “(Y/N).”You answered,watching as her face fell and her mouth fell agape.You were the girl JJ spoke so fondly of.She could absolutely agree with him about your voice.She had never heard one quite like yours with that weird accent.

You could probably make some really incredible ASMR if you wanted too. “Do you….by any chance have blue hair?”She asked.You smiled to yourself. “That would be me.”You confirmed.She blushed,biting her lip. “Im Kiara.I think you know my friends,JJ and Pope.”She muttered.You hummed,swatting a mosquito away from your face. “I met them briefly.”You told her,snapping your fingers by your side to get Blue to come back to you.You rubbed the back of his left ear,seeing Kiara stand up straight again.The original blue was missing part of his left ear after getting into a fight with a rat the size of a puppy.That was definitely in the top ten scariest moments of your life.You and Richard had been inside the house baking a cinnamon peach cake for his mother when she came home from a long day of work.You had started to smash up butter in a large bowl that you had actually made for them when you heard a mix of screams,hisses and whimpers coming from the backyard.

He had grabbed the broom,ready to break up a fight between two young children.You had both ran outside,screaming in shock at the sight in front of you.Blue had been shaking his head back and forth,trying to get the rat of of him.You had to tackle the poor dog,ripping the rat off and practically suffocating it.Richard had ran inside to grab one of his old dirty shirts,running it under the cool faucet water before running back outside and holding it to Blue’s damaged flesh.You had thrown the rat down the hill as adrenaline coursed through your veins.He had gotten the bleeding to stop,the red liquid had stained the already dying grass.You used your bandana to hold his ear down and bandaged.That had happened only a few months before you had lost your ring and became pretty much completely confined to the ocean.Since then Richard had tried his best to keep everything the same.When the first Blue died he was quick to find a similar looking grey hound from an animal shelter.He’d created a raft out of branches and grape vines and fitted sheets so he could float out to your cave.He put newspaper into plastic wrap so you could keep up with things going on in the land.He didnt go anywhere outside of North Carolina without telling you first.Pretty much his whole life revolved around you.

“Cool,cool.So are you visiting from somewhere?”She asked.You had gotten used to that question. “No,actually.I kind of just stay under the radar,you know?”You asked.She nodded. “So are you a kook or a pogue?”She asked.You shrugged,scratching your nose. “Um...I’d say its complicated.”You answered.She hummed. “Yeah,I get that.So where do you live?”She asked. “Between friends,I suppose.I should probably get this handsome baby home before he falls asleep.It was great meeting you though.”You grinned.She nodded. “Ill see you around,(Y/N).”She smiled.You walked back through the woods the same way you had came,eventually coming back out outside of Richard’s house.

You went through the back door,the dim kitchen light making you realize the scratches on your ankles.It brought a smile to your face.You felt like a normal teen girl for the time being and you knew you only had so long. “(Y/N)?Are you back?”Richard called from the living room. “Yep!”You shouted back before heading to the bathroom.You looked in the mirror,smiling at how dry your hair was.It was dry and hanging at your shoulders,not flowing in the water or getting pushed into your face by currents.The small slits behind your ear were covered with skin and you could move your feet in circles.You werent sure which part of your life you preferred.You turned on the faucet,staring at the water that flowed out of it.You turned it off,looking back up at the mirror angrily.Your sisters never had to deal with everything you had gone through.They were all dead anyways and only god knows how many others there were out there.Hell,there could be some walking around Outer Banks right now with their rings keeping them safe.The shit you would do to get your ring back was ridiculous.

At this point you might even kill for one. “Are you okay in there?”Richard shouted.You flicked the light off,coming out of the bathroom with your hand sin the pockets of your jeans. “Rich,I just met the girl.”You told him,standing in the doorway of the living room.He say up straight,placing his bag of skittles down. “What girl?”He asked.You sighed,sitting back down on the couch indian style. “The girl.The girl from the group I saw earlier today.Ive encountered all of them now,that cannot be a coincidence!”You exclaimed.He shrugged. “Well,lets not jump to conclusions now.You say the Maybank boy looks a lot like him,yeah?”He asked.You nodded. “Well then maybe he’s related to the fella.You still have your old photo albums in the caves?The ones I laminated for you?”He asked.You nodded,waiting for him to continue. “This might be jumping to conclusions but what if Jesse is related to him?”He asked.

You sighed,shaking your head. “No,no he never had any kids.”You answered.He grinned. “Yeah,he didnt.But that doesnt mean his older sister didnt.Linda,I think.Wasnt it something like that?”He asked.You gulped. “Linden.She died in 55’ though.I dont know if she ever had kids.How would we find that out?”You asked.His eyebrows knit together,the bags under his eyes seeming darker. “We have google now.Hand me my phone,please.”He requested.You grabbed his phone off the kitchen counter,looking at his screensaver.It was a picture of a sunset taken awfully close to your cave system.You remembered that sunset in particular because of how bright the pink and purple hues had been.You didnt remember him taking the photo though.You tossed it to him,the strange object falling into his lap. “Hey siri.”He spoke to his phone.A ding came from the device. “Show me all information on Linden Silslip.”He requested.A few articles came up so he handed the phone back to you for you to scroll through.It wasnt until you got to the very bottom that you found an article about “The Sea Monster of OBX” with and interview from Linden.You looked through the article,pressing down on Linden’s name.A whole page of information came up.You couldnt believe what you were seeing.

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[alj4890]

Delicate

(Olivia Nevarkis x Ethan Ramsey) (Olivia Nevarkis x Drake Walker) in a Choices The Royal Romance/Open Heart Crossover crack series.

A/N The story continues with their first date. Ethan remembers a night where he was ready to admit that he was attracted to Olivia. And during another date, Olivia gets a surprise from Cordonia. 

@jooous​ @krsnlove​ @nomadics-stuff​  @twinkleallnight​ @motorcitymademadame​

Masterlist

Part 2

Bistro Du Midi, Boston...

Ethan couldn't recall the last time he enjoyed a meal more than he was this one with Olivia. Though they had shared a number of meals the last few months at the hospital, something about this one seemed, well, more.

He knew it had to be because he had been honest with her in what he wanted. And surprisingly, she wanted the same.

A chance to be together.

While she was relating a story from one of her adventures with her friends in Cordonia, he studied her closely. Her red hair was down, making he yearn to run his fingers through it. Her emerald eyes lacked the suspicious edge he had witnessed directed at people she didn't know well. He loved that he had watched it slowly fade with each coffee date they had.

They were dates, he thought to himself. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I went from using them to find out her true mission for the hospital to wanting to discover everything I could about her. Be near her. Have her undivided attention.

He prided himself on not simply falling for a pretty face.

Olivia is gorgeous.

He required more from people, like intelligence and steadfastness.

She is as sharp as those daggers she always has on her. Her ability to understand the complexities of not only medicine but also the trials I face both personally and professionally have left me astounded. For an outsider to step up and face my personal demons head on, without flinching, without wavering...how did I not notice it sooner?

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

The Royal Palace, Cordonia...

Drake paused on the way to his chambers when he overheard Riley say Olivia's name.

"Hana said that Olivia is wearing one of the dresses for her date tonight."

"So the suspicions you all have had are true?" Drake could hear the teasing in Liam's tone. "She and Dr. Ramsey have fallen for one another?"

"Working together allowed them to discover that there are some sparks worth exploring." Riley giggled. "I can't wait to meet him."

"If Olivia agreed to a date then it must be serious." Liam mused. "She wouldn't risk losing him to head the research hospital."

"You're right!" Riley exclaimed. "I thought Hana was joking about drawing up possible wedding gowns for Liv. No wonder she is looking ahead."

Drake staggered back.

This is why Maxwell suggested I go to Boston. He must have overheard Riley and Hana's conversation.

He headed to his room. He had some decisions to make.

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

Boston Opera House...

"Interesting choice." Olivia whispered as she read the title Turnadot on the program.

Ethan chuckled as he settled his arm along the back of her chair. "I thought you might think so."

She shook her head as a smile played about her lips. "I hope you aren't about to say that I'm anything like Turnadot."

"A cold woman who enjoys making men suffer with riddles, torture, and death until finally the right man comes along?" He winked at her. "Not at all."

She laughed softly, enjoying the lightheartedness she felt around him.

His fingers brushed her shoulder as he toyed with a lock of her hair. He found his attention couldn't remain on the opera. Seeing the contentment on his date's face held him captivated.

Ethan thought of the other times he had been unable to focus on anything other than her. There had been a few where her guard had dropped and he had seen a new side of the fiery duchess. One night in particular had caused him to realize his feelings for her had changed.

And he knew that it must have for her too...

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

Two months ago, Edenbrook...

Olivia Nevarkis, report to the E.R. immediately.

"What on earth?" Olivia paused mid step on her way out of the lobby.

Why is someone paging me to the emergency room?

After two months at Edenbrook, she had learned every shortcut and exit.

Getting to the E. R. Was not a problem. Being called there like a member of the medical staff was the real mystery.

She scanned her I.D. and paused at the pandemonium that had erupted.

Her eyes immediately found Ethan at the center of the chaos as he gave orders to the ones working the graveyard shift.

She had never seen him in this type of situation before. Most of their time was spent walking down hallways or sitting in his office discussing aspects that she should present to Liam and the council with building a research hospital.

This was eye opening.

He's...he's impressive.

His blue eyes settled on her.

"Olivia, follow me." He ordered.

She quirked an eyebrow at not only his command but that he didn't bother checking to see if she was following him.

If she didn't know better, she would mistake him for a noble.

She hurried to catch up to him.

"What's happened?" She asked.

"There was a wreck on I-95." He explained. "Multiple cars involved."

Her brow furrowed with concern at the thought of using her nursing skills. "Are you shorthanded? Is that why you paged me?"

"In a way." He paused outside of a closed off section of the E. R. "I need you to sit with a child around five or six years old."

"What?" She blinked in surprise.

"Her parents were severely injured." He lowered his voice. "Both are in emergency surgery as we speak."

Olivia swallowed, averting her eyes. "I--I don't really have that much experience dealing--"

"Look around, Olivia." He motioned with his hand. "There is no one else right now."

She briefly closed her eyes. "Very well. Is she hurt?"

There was a  warm look of approval in his eyes that sent an unexpected fluttering in her stomach.

"Broken arm." He replied.

Olivia opened the door and preceded him.

She felt a jolt of déjà vu.

There sitting on the bed was a little girl with red hair.

Tears were running down her cheeks as she looked up at them.

"Kylie, this is Olivia." Ethan's deep voice was warm and friendly. "She is going to sit with you until your grandparents get here."

"What about Mommy and Daddy?" She sniffed.

"They are being taken care of." He told her. "In fact, I'm going to go see how they are and come back here to tell you." He lifted her arm that had a purple cast around it. "I'll make sure and tell your mom you picked her favorite color."

Olivia quietly observed as he helped calm the little girl down. He even caused her to giggle when he handed her a stuffed bear he had bought at the gift shop.

If only I had had someone like him when my parents died. To be given that kind of comfort during such uncertainty...

But Kylie's parents weren't dead. Nor were they traitors to their country, Olivia thought grimly.

Ethan turned to leave, pausing once more to look at the duchess.

"Olivia?"

She lifted her eyes to his.

He studied her quietly and gave a brief smile. "I'll be back."

Once the door shut, Olivia sat down in a chair by the bed.

Not knowing what to say, she hoped Kylie would rest or speak first.

"You have pretty hair." The little girl said.

Olivia reached up self consciously to smooth her hair. "Thank you." Her lips curved in a smile. "So do you."

"My daddy has red hair too." Kylie told her. "But he says his isn't pretty like mine."

Olivia nodded, unsure if she should agree or not.

"Does your daddy have red hair?" Kylie asked.

"No." Olivia grimaced at her harsh tone. Why her parents still brought this out in her irked her to no end. "He had brown hair."

"Oh." Kylie tilted her head. "Does your mommy have red hair?"

"Yes." Olivia lowered her eyes. "I used to love to brush it for her."

"I do too!" Kylie beamed at her. "But mine has yellow hair."

Olivia's forced smile disappeared when Kylie began to softly cry again.

"I wish mommy was here."

The duchess quickly rose to her feet unsure how to quiet these tears.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Olivia looked about the stark room. "Something to drink or--"

"I want my mommy." Kylie wailed, rubbing her eyes with her good arm.

Olivia sat down on the bed, intending to pat her back in sympathy.

Kylie instead crawled into her lap and nestled her head under Olivia's chin.

Momentarily shocked by this, the duchess lifted her arms a few times before gently hugging the little girl.

She spoke softly to her, reassuring her that her mother wanted to be here just as much.

She smoothed the red locks of hair off the damp cheeks, and rested her own cheek against the little head.

This type of pain she was well acquainted with. How often had she cried that very sentence into the darkness of her bedroom in Lythikos, just to have it unanswered?

Olivia silently prayed that this little girl would not suffer a similar fate. 

Something within her seemed to soften, almost break. It was as if that part of her heart that she had smothered through years of hardness cracked anew with each little tremble of the child in her arms.

Tears pricked her eyes when Kylie snuggled closer. The need to be held was something Olivia had tried to ignore most of her life. Holding this scared, tiny girl brought that feeling back, nearly causing her to cry out with her own anguish.

Ethan paused at the window on his way back in the room. His hard gaze softened at the sight of the fiery tempered duchess holding a sick child as if she was somehow dear to her.

He had suspected that she might have a tender side. He had caught glimpses of it throughout her stay. But tonight, he was able to witness it in full form. He especially noticed them whenever it was just the two of them, usually when their conversations turned from the hospital to more personal memories.

The few brief remarks followed by the stark despair in her eyes each time parents were mentioned had led him to believe she had not had a happy childhood. If it was anything like his own, then Olivia was a remarkable woman.

His own heart twinge at the thought of being abandoned by his mother. For years he had ignored it, repeating to himself that he had not needed her. Was he not one of the most sought after diagnosticians in the world?

Everything he had accomplished he had done without a mother or the need of one. His hardened heart had kept him focused. Driven. He prided himself by not feeling emotions that he considered a weakness in his line of work.

But something about the sight of Olivia holding Kylie touched his numb heart. It wasn't so much the sweetness of the moment, but rather that long ago despair being awakened. It was almost as if he had found someone who could truly understand his anger and hurt he had kept buried all these years.

"Excuse us. Are you Dr. Ramsey?"

He turned toward an older couple. "Yes."

"We were called about our daughter and family being in a car wreck." The man said.

Ethan quickly explained the injuries of the family of three. He reassured them that it looked well for their daughter and son-in-law.

"They are both in recovery." He told them. "Their surgeons were pleased with how everything went."

"And our granddaughter?" The woman asked.

He opened the door for them. "Right in here."

"Kylie!" Her grandmother wiped her eyes, smiling as the little girl held her arms out to her.

Olivia set her back on her bed, and silently made her escape.

Ethan excused himself, promising to keep them updated, and chased after the duchess.

He caught up with her when she stepped outside.

"Olivia?" He reached out and touched her back in concern.

She was struggling to take deep breaths.

"What is it--" his arms closed around her when she pulled him close.

Her head rested on his chest, eyes shut tight, as she tried to calm down.

His arms tightened around her when hers slid around his waist.

Neither was sure how long they stood like that. Not a word was spoken as they gave each other the comfort they so often denied themselves through the years.

There was something different about being held in Ethan's arms compared to the few times Drake had briefly embraced her. Perhaps it was simply that this wasn't occurring doing the heat of passion like her former lover's had been. Something though about this felt more intimate than all those other times before.

Eventually, Olivia stepped back. Her reluctance wasn’t lost on Ethan. He let his hands move to grasp hers, keeping her near.

"I'm...sorry." She lowered her eyes from his perceptive blue ones. "I don't know what came over me."

"No need to apologize." He squeezed her hands. "I..." He swallowed and looked down. "I needed a moment like that too."

Her head jerked up, eyes searching his face for any sign that he was merely saying that to make her feel less foolish. When she saw nothing but his own vulnerability at being caught needing a hug too, she relaxed.

He cleared his throat. "It's late. Why don't you let me drive you home?"

"Thank you." She noticed that neither of them was willing to let go of the other.

Ethan forced his fingers to slip away from hers. "I'll meet you in the lobby."

She watched him walk towards a set of elevators. His confident stride seemed less so as he turned to look at her once more.

For some reason, she felt like he needed her to give him some form of encouragement. Her lips curved somewhat into a half smile.

His own flashed before he disappeared in the elevator.

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

Ethan knew in that moment that he was ready to admit at least to himself that he was falling for Olivia. He had been reluctant to suggest a date, but all that changed when he noticed that she seemed happier whenever he invited her out for coffee or lunch. Her smile came more easily. Her eyes had that sparkle that made it hard to look away. 

She had made him excited at taking a chance to see where this could go.

Now he intended that this date was the first of many nights spent together.

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

Olivia’s heart raced when they finally were at her apartment. Clearing her throat, she invited him inside.

There was nothing Ethan wanted more than to spend the night with her. But he wanted to do this right. He thought she deserved everything, including himself, at its best.

“I intend on taking things between us as they should be.” He pulled her close. “You have no idea how hard it is to not step inside and...” His lips captured hers in a heated kiss.

Olivia felt herself melting against him. Each brush of his tongue, the soft feel of his lips contrasted by the prickly sensation of his stubble, all of it was a heady mixture that made her desire more. She wanted all that he placed before her: a true romantic relationship.

He groaned when her hands moved up his chest as their lips crashed together for another kiss.

He lifted his head, softly smiling at the smile forming on her slightly swollen lips.  “Why don’t we plan on spending the weekend together?”

“I’d like that.” She gently caressed his cheek. 

“So would I.” He kissed her once more swearing to himself that this would be as far as he could push his restraint. 

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” He added as he let his arms slide away from her.

She nodded, feeling a bit dazed by the emotions she felt from his words and touch.

They parted, each surprisingly happier than they had been before.

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

The following weekend...

“...and that was how Thomas knew I was the one.” Amanda finished, laughing at the soft groan coming from her husband. “You know it’s true.”

“Not even close.” He wrapped his arm around her. “And you know that’s true.”

Olivia rolled her eyes to hide how pleased she was to see one of her closest friends with someone who adored her. She settled next to Ethan after offering refills of wine. She felt a brief burst of delight when he draped his arm along the back of the loveseat. His fingers toyed with her red hair before dropping to her shoulder. She felt her cheeks heat up at finally finding a man not afraid to show her affection in front of others.

Something about this felt so foreign and yet at the same time, it felt right. This was a whole new experience, one she thought she could easily get used to.

The two couples had enjoyed dinner at Olivia’s apartment. Though Ethan was familiar with Amanda during her sporadic visits to assist Olivia in her preparing to move forward with the research hospital, this was the first time he had met her husband. Uncertain what type of man the famous director would be, he found a somewhat kindred spirit in the gruff man. Like Ethan, he had little patience for foolish people. He seemed to prefer avoiding large crowds and such. And just like the doctor, he seemed most content with a particular Cordonian lady.

“I still say we go sailing.” Olivia added when suggestions for the next day were bandied about. “It’s been ages since I have had a chance to get out on the water.”

“I haven’t been in a while either.” Ethan added.

“I wouldn’t mind relaxing among the waves.” Thomas remarked.

“I guess this means we’re going sailing.” Amanda teased.

“Good, I knew  I would wear you all down.” Olivia smirked as they all chuckled.

Right when she got up to get dessert, her door was knocked on.

Her brow furrowed as she went to answer it. 

Seeing the last two people she would ever expect to visit her in Boston caused her to lose all ability to speak.

Her lips parted, yet not a sound came out.

Maxwell nudged Drake.

Clearing his throat, he slowly smiled at her.

“Hey Liv. It’s been a long time.”

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Chapter Twelve (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 3k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The second that you stepped foot off of the hovercraft, all you heard was the distant sound of gunfire. The peacekeeper gave you a bitter reminder of your due date, and then kicked you off the ramp almost instantly after. You waited a moment to make sure that the hovercraft was long gone, and then you went straight for the noise.

You know that they would want you to head straight to your house, which is the exact reason why you chose not to. They probably have something there waiting for you. A note, a bunch of roses, your house being trashed, bloodstains--maybe it’s been set on fire! It doesn’t matter to you all that much.

You’d much rather know what’s going on in the heart of the district, than take a shower and get a change of clothes. Plus, you only have two weeks until your evaluation by Snow, which means you have to act fast. And this is all under the assumption that there won’t be people checking up on you every couple of days.

You came up with a plan on the way here, as any sane person would. The basis of the plan being; you’re not going to follow Snow’s directions in the slightest. You’re not going to calm the people down, you’re going to add fuel to the fire. 

Snow threatening to kill Tanith is the last fucking straw. Him threatening to strap you to a chair and torture you like Peeta and Johanna is one thing, but bringing Tanith into this, when she has nothing to do with it, is a whole ‘nother ring of hell. If he thought for one fucking second that he’d get away with a statement like that, he’s wrong.

You’re not going to fuck up your life twice, especially not because of what Snow says or does. 

You weigh the necklace in your hand for a second, staring down at it. Then, you unclasp it, and bring it around your neck. Once it’s not tangled in your hair, you let it rest against your chest.

The entire district seems to be barren--at least that’s what you’ve seen on the way. All houses have their doors shut, but windows are broken and porches are in splinters. The shops are basically the same way, though it’s much worse. Some are burnt down, others are void of all things that were once inside. 

It looks like a tornado blew through here, and had no mercy. Everything that could have been ruined, is. It’ll cost thousands of dollars to fix the damage done on these places. Buying a whole new house or store would be much easier than to restore what it looked like before.

“Approaching civilian!” Someone yells above you.

Covering your eyes, you look up to see where they are, since this is the first person you’ve come across the entire walk. The second that your eyes adjust, you’re met with a gun pointed at your face.

“Point that away from me!” you snap.

“Who are you, and how did you get back here?” a different voice asks closer to you.

Lowering your hand and whipping your head to where it came from, the situation isn’t much better. There’s a man with an automatic rifle pointed at your chest, finger near the trigger as if he doesn’t know if he should pull it or not. Not to mention all the people behind him hovering, and having the same intentions as him.

You should pick your words carefully.

“My name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, victor of the sixty sixth hunger games, tribute of the Quarter Quell.” What a hell of an introduction, “And I walked.”

He lowers the gun a bit, “You’re alive?”

Your first reaction is to scoff, “It’ll take a lot more than the Capitol to kill me, am I supposed to be dead?”

“That’s what we were told.”

“Hell of a shock, then.” you resume walking, “Who’s in charge of District Two’s rebellion? Like, who’s organizing the attacks against the loyalists?”

“Lyme.” A girl answers, “She’s also a victor.”

Lyme… well, you definitely recognize the name, and you can hardly remember what she looks like. Tall, likes to exercise, short blonde hair. She’s always been more modest and rebellious, it doesn’t surprise you that much. She’s older than you, almost twice your age.

“Take me to her.” you tell them.

“You’ve got it.” the boy says.

It’s a long walk, as you’re told. The only good news he had to offer was that you wouldn’t have to fight your way through gunfire to get to the Capitol building--where she’s at. They’ve pushed back most of the loyalists into the train tunnels that run through the mountains. Everyday they gain new ground, but they don’t really dare to go inside of the tunnels. It’s the loyalists’ territory.

“So, where have you been?”

“The Capitol.” you say, following the boy around the corner, “Unconscious and recovering from venom. I’m not easy to get rid of.”

“How’d you get here?” 

“Snow organized a personal hovercraft to drop me in the abandoned part of District Two, near Victor’s Village. You should probably get some people watching over there in case it happens again, so the peacekeepers won’t be able to sneak up on you as easily.” 

They don’t say anything else after that, even though you mentioned Snow pretty boldly. Of all things they could have asked you about, they ignored the one that would give them the most answers on why you’re here and wanting to see Lyme first.

“I’m going to check to make sure that it’s clear.” the girl says, the rest of you wait for minutes on end, and none of them seem antsy about it.

When she does show up, she tells you that you’re clear to head up, but they’ve got to go back to parolling. She says that you should mention the abandoned thing to Lyme, since she’s more likely to listen to you, and then they walk away.

You take the easiest path you could possibly take to approach the Justice Building. It’s also the one that will put you in the open, allowing the people standing out front to get a good look at you. If you snuck up through the shadows, they’d likely be more distrusting.

You hold your hands up even before you’re out from around the corner. They turn their guns on you quickly, but you don’t stop walking, “I’m here to speak to Lyme.”

“Stop--!”

“I don’t have any weapons on me, put your guns down before you shoot me by accident.” you head up the stairs, “My name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, and I’m here to talk to Lyme. I don’t have much time, so let’s leave the formalities for another time.”

“We should go get her--” 

The second you turn to look at him, he stiffens, “Open the fucking door and bring me to her, or you’re going to be added to the graveyard.”

His eyes slowly drag to your arm, which is very clearly presented thanks to the short-sleeved shirt.

No words come from him as he opens the door and heads inside. You follow behind him, and from how new your shoes are, they sound like heels against the tile floor. You’re surprised that they aren’t squeaking as if you’ve just come in with water on the bottom of them. You guess that you should be grateful instead.

The guy brings you up the staircase, “You don’t have any weapons on you?”

You have a hundred snarky things that you’re willing to say to him, but you settle for the simple, “No.”

He brings you around a corner, and knocks on a door a couple times. He makes you wait out of sight while he opens the door, “You’ve got a guest.”

“We’re busy--”

“She insists.” he says, and then he allows you to come over.

You don’t wait in the doorway, you head straight inside, “Scram, runt.” 

He tries to stand his ground, but the second you force the door to shut, he removes his fingers. After that, you go up to the table to see who’s standing there.

Lyme, as you expected. But there’s a strangely familiar face standing near her, finger still pointing out a place on the map. When she realizes that you see the place she’s pointing at, she retracts her finger into a fist.

“Who are you?” she asks.

You laugh, crossing your arms as you get closer to the map. There’s a bunch of lines drawn in pink marker, and considering the amount of space left behind the line, you’re guessing that’s the rebel’s side. As for the loyalists, they’re marked in red, like they’re the bad guys.

You place your hand on the free space, “Just letting you know, since this entire place is abandoned, the Capitol can sneak right in.” you look up, they’re puzzled, “The Capitol had enough room to drop me off and leave without anyone noticing--I walked for miles until I finally came upon one of your scouting groups. If you’re not careful, they can drop peacekeepers off behind you guys, and you might as well be extinct after that.”

“You’re from the Capitol?” Lyme asks, one of the guys by the window reaches for something in their belt, you can take a solid guess on what it is, even without the sight of it.

“I’m a little disappointed that you don’t recognize me, but I can point you two out even if your guys’ hunger games were ten to twenty years before mine.” you remove your hand from the map now, “As I’ve introduced myself a hundred times now, (Y/n) Rosecelli, District Two’s tribute for the Quell.”

Lyme’s face lights up, “I thought I knew you. You were in the Capitol?”

“Snow took Peeta, Johanna and I out of the arena. While he was ordering people to torture Johanna and Peeta, he put me in a ‘medically induced coma’.” you use the quotation marks, “Because of the spider venom in the arena. Today is my first day back to life, and I’ve experienced more than my fair share of shit today.”

“Welcome back.” Paylor says.

Paylor is a victor from District Eight, like six years or so before your games. She’s young, and really fucking pretty. You’re just a little dumbfounded on why she’s here in District Two, rather than ordering around her own district.

“Thanks.”

Lyme shifts on her feet, “You don’t look too bad.”

“I’ve got scars all over my body, they’re just not visible above the waist.” you shake your head, “And the only reason why I’m even in good condition, is because Snow wants me to calm down the rebels.”

“But you’re not going to.” There’s an edge to Paylor’s voice.

“No, I’m not. Instead, I want a ride to District Thirteen. That’s where Katniss and Finnick are, right?”

Lyme nods, but her face is scrunched up, “I can’t send a hovercraft there because I don’t have any. You’ll have to wait until Coin sends one here with supplies.”

“Coin?” 

“President Alma Coin.” Paylor answers, “She’s the leader of District Thirteen.”

Great, another dictatorship.

“Alright, when’s the next supply drop?” you shift on your feet.

Paylor and Lyme share a look, clearly thinking.

“We got one a week ago?” Lyme asks.

“Not even that, a few days ago,” Paylor shakes her head when she looks back at you, “You’ll have to wait at least a week, maybe more.”

You laugh, but nothing about this is funny, “You do know the state of Peeta and Johanna?”

“We know about Peeta, he’s been televised a few times.” A guy says.

“Alright, well take the last time that he was on air, and worsen that by ten. They’re fucking torturing them, you realize that? Johanna had her head shaved and she was drenched in water, like they were waterboarding her.” you lean forward, “We need to get them out.”

“We don’t have an opening for that, much less know where they’re keeping them--”

“The training center.” you say, “And I know how to get to them, I was a door away from them, Peeta and Johanna saw me.”

“That’s the heart of the Capitol.” Paylor says, “Even if we did get the volunteers to do it, we wouldn’t be able to go.”

You raise your eyebrows, “You’re telling me that Beetee hasn’t tried to hack into the security already? Didn’t he work on it for them? He would know some secret window at least.”

They share another look, and Lyme tilts her head, “She has a point.”

“And then what? You think anyone would actually want to go in?” Paylor asks, “It’s a suicide mission.”

“Listen to me,” you lean forward on the table now, they look at you, “I have two weeks--maybe not even that. If Snow finds out that I was lying or keeping information from him, he’s going to come for me and I’ll end up like Peeta, Johanna and Tanith. And if I don’t help the loyalists, he’s going to kill Tanith.

“I am working on a strict time frame, and you guys bickering about this, isn’t helping. Contact Alma Coin or whatever, at least present the idea, and if she likes it and asks for volunteers, you put me at the top of that fucking list. I will lead as many volunteers as she wants to the others. The only thing I ask in return is a free ride to District Thirteen.

“If Tanith is out of his hands, and I’m in thirteen, Snow can’t do anything to me.” you raise your eyebrows, “He won’t be able to use anyone as leverage anymore, and you’ve gained another foot in the rebellion. But all that can’t happen without you at least suggesting the idea to your supreme leader first.”

Lyme rubs her forehead for a moment, before saying; “Get Coin on a call.”

“Want to sit?” someone asks, pulling out a stool.

“Thanks.” you sit, crossing your legs.

You watch as they set up the entire call and as it pends. You spend most of the time fiddling with the hemming on the bottom of the shirt, ripping the stitching out, and then pulling on the string.

Paylor goes back to what she was saying with the map and all before you came inside. She writes down that she needs to add people to scout behind her lines, and then plans the ways that they can get into the tunnel. You want to chime in some way, but you keep out of it.

You can help as soon as Tanith is safe. You need to get Tanith out of the Capitol first, because if you’re even taped being around Lyme and Paylor with no argument going on or anything, you’re going to be fucked. Snow doesn’t have any morals, as much as he hates to admit it. He’s heartless.

“The call’s gone through.” the one by the computer says, “Plutarch’s answered.”

He projects it onto the large blank wall in front of you, but Paylor has to turn around to see him.

“Plutarch… Heavensbee? The gamemaker?” you ask, “Why?”

“He’s the one that helped organize getting them out.” Lyme tells you.

Plutarch has a smile on his face, “(Y/n), it’s nice to see you healthy.”

“You got Katniss, Finnick and Beetee out of the arena?” you ask.

Plutarch nods, “With the help of Haymitch, yes.”

“Fuck you.” you spit, “You fucking left me there! I was right there--you could have gotten me and you let me be taken by the Capitol! You’re the reason why the Capitol has had me for the past couple of weeks, you asshole--”

“Calm.” Lyme comes over, placing her hand on your shoulder, “You can yell at him later, keep on track.”

“Whatever.” you shrug her hand off, crossing your arms.

Paylor picks up where you didn’t start, “She’s been in the training center with the other tributes. She knows how to get to them, and we’d like to try and revisit the idea of a rescue mission with the tributes.”

His face says no, but his words say otherwise; “I wish it was my decision, but Coin has already decided that now isn’t the time. Especially not after we were just attacked by the Capitol.”

“When?” Lyme asks.

“A couple hours ago, we haven’t gone to the surface just yet to make sure that it’s over.”

Your mouth drops open a little bit, “I was on that hovercraft.”

Paylor nearly breaks her neck from how fast her head whips in your direction, “You were?”

“Yeah--I thought it was odd that the space was filled with… bombs. I was expecting them to attack two almost immediately after I hit the city, but they just flew off, away from the direction of the Capitol.” You shake your head, “Before you ask; no, I didn��t hear anything while I was in there.”

There’s a moment of silence, before Paylor sighs, “Where’s Coin?”

“Making sure the systems are still running, I sent someone to get her, so she should be here soon.”

“Good.” you slide off of the stool, “Because when she gets there, you’re going to do everything you can to convince her to consider the idea.”

Plutarch raises his eyebrows.

“She means--” Lyme tries.

“I mean what I said.” you lean against the table, staring at Plutarch’s face, “If you were just attacked, they’re going to be expecting some sort of retaliation. So, you attack their defense systems using Beetee’s knowledge. You get them down long enough, and that’s when the hovercraft slips through. Beetee stops, and then when the hovercraft is heading back, he starts again, or whatever.”

“That’s not exactly how things work…” someone in the corner mumbles.

“Well, they need to make it work.” you stand again, “Because I will be getting them all out of the training center. Even if I’m the only volunteer, I’ll do it.”

Plutarch laughs, “Not hellbent on killing them anymore?”

“They’re strapped to chairs being tortured like animals. Even I know when enough is enough.” you back off after that, “If I come back in here in an hour, and her answer is no, you better start fucking praying, because I am much worse than the Capitol.”