#why yes i am still upset about vi but there is other stuff to be found here too

[brown-bear-64]

Honestly the best way I can describe the 2nd season of Arcane is written by extremely competend writers who bit off way more than they could chew. Especially in that short of a timeframe.

It's possible that it was a higher up decision for future League shows, but the focus on the Black Rose & magic worldbuilding took away focus from the core cast and the narrative of 2 cities/sisters opposed to one another. They desperately needed at least 3 more episodes

The writers are competent, but they made some deliberate choices I don't like and pulled focus from things I believe they should've left in focus. It feels like the entire narrative of the show got changed between seasons, and maybe it was always the intention and I should rewatch the entire show front-to-back without a massive hiatus in-between them for me to get it, but from my current standing... It could've been more, and the things that they did focus on and give time to were really good. It's just that the show lost its priorities and primary narrative along the way

[awesomefringey]

I may be naive but I do not see why everyone is so upset with Liam. Sure, everyone has the right to their opinion, but I also think that many choose to misinterpret what he says.

To me it sounds more like Liam is trying to defend Zayn. Maybe he should have chosen his words a bit more carefully but I don’t think he goes into detail regarding Zayn's childhood. He rather contributes with perspectives on why different people have different behaviors. And he is trying to give people a reason to forgive or understand Zayn. Even if that’s not Liams place, I do not think he did it out of spite. 

He says he doesn’t agree with everything that Zayn has done, but he will still always be there for him. I think that is completely reasonable. If my friends act wrongly, I do not have to accept it just because they are my friends. I will, however, accept the human factor, that we make mistakes. I definitely do not always do things that I am proud of and I do not want my friends to accept bad behavior from me. But I want them to believe in my ability to reflect and change and to support me on that journey. 

I think a lot of people think that Liam badmouthed Zayn just because he hinted at the accusations against him. But we do not need to continue to normalize a culture of silence around vi*lence. Regardless of what is true or not in the accusations against Zayn, one is allowed to say that a vi*lent or threatening behavior is not okay. That doesn’t mean we think that Zayn is a bad person.

Like I said maybe I’m naive or maybe I just misunderstood the whole thing. I know Liam said a bunch of other stuff too but this message is already long enough. I'm just upset about how mean people are.

Ok nonnie, there’s a lot to unpack here.

I’ve watched the entire podcast myself and I’m of course open to the idea that I’ve misunderstood what Liam said. But I’m not actively choosing so nor am I oblivious to the fact that my perceptions will always be impacted by my experiences and triggers. Thus all of us having different interpretations, but that doesn't mean it's malice. In this case the majority felt Liam shouldn't have said what he said about Zayn (and a lot of other things). Also Zayn's cousin was angry about it which leads me to believe that if Liam was misunderstood, he was also misunderstood by Zayn.

To me, Liam used Zayn's weakest moment (unsolicited! on a podcast!) to brag about his intimate knowledge of Zayn's background, turning it into a display of his empathy and implying he's been offering help over and over again (as if it wasn't Liam's mental health that's constantly being questioned in his fanbase but here we are now).

I don't see bad intend or spite. I even think this wasn't about Zayn as a person, at all. Zayn was just a vehicle for Liam to tell a story about himself. And while that's absolutely fair to do so, Liam did proactively choose a very very sensitive topic out of Zayn's life, to impulsively mock Zayn at first to then backtrack in a weird way of making sure we knew yes, Liam thought Zayn's indeed a d*ck, but also Liam is so understanding and super compassionate about it because he knows there are reasons. And that has nothing to do with speaking up against violence or calling out a friend. It's invasive and it's framing a narrative when Zayn himself asked for privacy to protect his family and his daughter.

What you describe and experience within your friendships is wonderful yet it's something that happens with a sense of privacy. You would feel different if your friends used your lowest moment - that was possibly misconstrued in the press and you had chosen not to fight and set the record straight in favour of finding peace - in an interview and reminding the world that it happened while you've probably long made amends in the meantime and are already in a better place...

Don't judge your perception as naive or other's as choosing a false interpretation. All is valid. We can always agree to disagree. And I can tell you're coming from a place of love for Liam there, and it's totally fair to point out how you feel about Liam's intentions.

PS: What a timing, Liam just tries to amend things there himself.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Vicious

Part VII

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1864.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

________

You wanted to slap yourself. What the hell was wrong with you today? Why did you tell Peter that?!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” Completely baffled with you behavior, you were deeply ashamed, unable to look the guy in the eyes and wanting nothing but fall into the earth.

“Ah, I got it. It’s Steve, isn’t it?” All of a sudden, Peter let out an irritated sigh, rolling his eyes skywards and rubbing his neck. “Of course, who else would say such nonsense. Blackmail, really? Funny he didn’t call me a stalker or anything.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean it, I’m really-”

“It’s ok.” He closed the locker, slamming its door loudly and making you jump. “It’s not your fault. If I heard that from somebody, I’d be scared too.”

He spent a couple of seconds staring into the wall until he rubbed his neck again tiredly and huffed. It took him less than a minute to regain his composure, and you heard him murmuring, “What a freak.”

He didn't return to the corridor, heading to the sports hall for his PE class, instead moving to the bench in the locker room and motioning you to sit. Feeling terribly awkward, you hoped he wasn't going to do anything out of anger, even though he had every right to be upset at your stupid behavior.

"About what he said," Peter took a deep breath, "it's nothing like that. I don't dig up some nasty stuff in the web to blackmail people. I've never done it. The reason why Mr. I-am-better-than-you said that is because I've made him take me into his little bodyguard group when I heard him talking to Loki. You're nice, and I wanted to help. Of course, Steve started acting like I was some creep, so he refused, and I had to remind him that, technically, he had to report your issue to the administration, not play a hero. I said that if I go and tell the whole story to the dean, Steve's gonna be in trouble because he knew who thieves were and didn't report them."

It was a loud off your mind. Goodness. Rogers called this a blackmail? Really? Just because Peter pushed Steve into taking him into their group?

You were less and less sure Rogers was sane. You definitely had to be careful around him.

"I can't believe he called it a blackmail." You admitted quietly, and the guy sent you a tired smile. "Peter, I'm so, so sorry. It was so stupid of me."

"Nah, don't worry. I'd freak out too if I didn't know the whole story."

You knew your apologies weren't enough, but you hoped Peter didn't take it to heart - if you can take such an accusation easily, that is. Shit, shit, shit, why did you believe everything these guys were saying? You didn't even know them in the first place! Why on Earth did you go asking them their opinions on others if all of them were biased, and every guy could twist the truth the way he liked? You shouldn't have let their words affect you that much.

"Whatever. At least now you know what Rogers is like." Peter sent you a grim smile and got up, picking his bright yellow sackpack from the floor. "Shit, I gotta go if I don't wanna be late. Let's meet in a library later, alright?"

"O-of course." You hurriedly stood up and left the lockers room after him, turning to the library: your Lit class was cancelled, so you decided to go study right away. At this time, the library was usually full, and you felt safe there.

Your thoughts were all about the guys again even when you were staring at your laptop, trying to focus on Excel numbers. Why did you feel like the atmosphere between them was so dense? If they were at such terms with each other, why did they group together to help you? What, because all of them loved you so much? It was ridiculous. There was something else to it, and you didn't know. You had a feeling no one was going to tell you the truth until you figured it all out by yourself.

Weird. It was all so weird. Steve's plan, their behavior, the relationships between them, and your nagging feeling they all were hiding something. Was it them who were actually following you?

The thought scared you to the point you started shivering. Oh shit.

"Hi there," the guy appeared behind your back so suddenly you almost jumped, looking at him wide-eyed, "sorry, did I startle you?"

"H-hi Jake! No, it's ok, I was just... studying." Both of you were talking in hushed voices, knowing the librarian would kick you out immediately if she heard some noise. "How are you?"

"I'm great, how're you?" You could hear concern in his voice: he was one of Thor's friends you met yesterday, and although you spoke briefly, Thor definitely told him more about you. "You look a bit worried."

"Oh, it's Math, I didn't really understand the topic, and we're having an exam on Monday... guess I'll be studying the whole weekend." You gave him your best smile to reassure you were totally ok, and the guy relaxed a little, smiling at you, too.

"I'm sure you'll pass. Thor said you're very smart."

What, he said that to all of them? Was he simply boasting about his girlfriend to his friends or was there something more to it?

"You're too kind. Thank you."

His smile grew wider, and he landed on the next seat to yours, resting his hands on the table. Apparently, there was something he wanted to talk to you about, and you grew uneasy.

"Listen, about these incidents... Thor told us all about it, so if you see any freaks following you around, you can message any of us, and we'll come right away." Looking at his serious expression, his bushy brows furrowed, you hoped he eas being sincere with you: you had enough with people you could no longer trust. "And also... that kid, if he's giving you troubles or anything, just let me know, and I'll tell him to keep his hands to himself"

Oh, he was talking about Peter, wasn't he? He had probably seen that silly photo. Wow, you though, Peter was totally right about Instagram: it was the best news source in the academy.

Thanking him for his concern, you laughed a little, convincing him there was nothing serious except for the theft and promising to tell him if anything weird would be going on. While it should have made you feel safer, in fact, you only grew more frustrated with this situation. You wanted to forget about these freaks and just spend you day like any normal student would, but everywhere you went people were staring at you as if you had a horn; one boyfriend or the other was always close to protect you from some unknown danger, and although you believed they tried to help, you hated the feeling they were hiding something from you. Why did you have to be going through all this? Wasn't it really better to drop off school, spend a year working and then apply to a better place?

Thinking of the faces your parents would make once you returned home, you realized it wasn't. This school with all those creeps wasn't worse than home that never felt like a safe place you wanted to come back to. Besides, all money you saved up until now were only good for buying food and things like that: you'd never afford to rent a decent place unless you found a well-paid job. It meant staying with your parents, and it wouldn't be much better than here, just different. If you wanted to drop off, you had to find a good place to stay.

Well, you could at least try, right?

When Peter met you in the library, the two of you no longer talked about anything important, simply studying together to prepare for the exams next week. It didn't feel off: from time to time you met his gaze, and the both of you smiled. You were thankful he didn’t talk about Steve or other guys or that weirdo in the lockers room.

Once you returned home, you went straight to bed, completely exhausted. Luckily, you did much more than yesterday, so you could rest now, but then you thought of Thor kissing you and bit down the pillow, angry at yourself. Why did you keep thinking of him right now?

______________

When you woke up the next morning, you felt like something was off: your body ached, your throat hurt, and your headache was only making it worse. Dammit, you caught a cold, probably. And that’s when it was finally the day to meet Steve, the guy you thought was a mastermind behind all these manipulations that were making you sick to the core. 

Anyway, it’s not like a mere cold would prevent you from doing everything you had planned. You left your bed and went to the bathroom, moving the dresser before again. 

Honestly, it felt terrible. It was definitely because of that flimsy dress you wore to school yesterday when the weather was becoming chilly. Argh. Watching your puffy eyes and swollen nose, you sneezed. Today you had to apply way more makeup to look decently.

Steve showed up earlier than either Thor or Peter: you had to skip your breakfast, hoping to buy something cheap in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” He said with his everyday polite expression that soon shifted into a concerned one. “Are you alright?”

What, was it that bad? You did your absolute best to apply enough makeup and do your hair. Did you still look so sick?

“Good morning. Yes, I’m ok, just feeling a little sleepy.” You yawned on purpose, covering your mouth with your hand, and Steve’s face softened.

“Did you study all night?”

“Yep, exams are driving me a little crazy.”

“I understand. I also stayed late last night.”

Of course, the student council president studying all days long to be number one student in the academy. If you didn’t know of his twisted nature, you’d think he was the most typical nerd.

You spent most of the time either in silence or talking about studies, the academy, and everything related to it. Steve acted like a gentleman and a scholar, albeit a little too demonstratively. Walking with you as if he were a king of the place, he constantly replied to greetings of others, waved to his acquaintances and smiled. You felt so off you wanted to find Loki and walk with him: unlike Steve, he was considered unpleasant by the prevailing majority of students.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” America golden boy asked you for the last time, and you forced yourself to smile.

“Of course. Thanks for coming, see you later, Steve.”

As he finally left you in peace, you almost fell down into your chair, your fever only getting worse despite the fact you took some painkillers. It was going to be a long day.

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic @mariatietacapitu @d3monslust @maybesandohnos @ibeatuptwinks @mangobangi @nectav @whatever-happened-to-the-ducks

[rumblelibrary]

Might we get some Sebastian Zollner soft smut 👀 maybe even like young him when he was still trying to do his own painting and you were his nude model

The Artist and his Muse [Sebastian Zöllner x his Muse]

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Smut, bit pf fem!dom and a mess of a man

A/N: As usual Sebastian is my weakest spot. The painting here is "In the Tepidarium" by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema.

You stood there quietly, a sense of expectation taking over you when he opened the door at you. You noticed him from day one and now you had to wrap the situation between the two of you.

"There you are"

He only said letting you inside, a second voice greeting you.

"Hey! Seb is that your girlfriend?"

He waved at his flatmate to shut up as he put an hand on your lower back pushing you to get out of that situation fast.

As you got into his tiny room it was a mess.

The space was small, scattered art books and biographies of great artists everywhere on the floor, on the big inclined drawing desk, one of those like architects had. Then drawings, drawings everywhere from the floor to the walls, from over the bed to every visible corner of the room.

Also mugs, ashtrays filled up everywhere, more mugs used as ashtrays and some leftover food also used as ashtray.

The place would have been grey and dull if it wasn't so chaotic and full of colours.

You also noticed from the big amount of duvets over the bed that the place was cold.

"Get your stuff here"

He said moving his, hopefully clean, clothes off a chair so you could lean your stuff there.

"Thank you for coming" he added briefly and you smiled.

"Thank you for inviting me"

It wasn't like you had much choice, you posed for the art academy, but some extra money was always nice and he daunted you for weeks by now, so in the end you said yes.

"So, let's begin or do you need anything?"

"Some water would be nice" you said as he nodded taking a glass full of dirty water, probably used to get wet the brushes, and going away. You heard him throw it away and briefly wash it before coming back to you with the glass full of water and still half dirty.

You smiled as you took it taking a sip only to be polite putting it back on side.

"Now please" he gestured something, he did a lot of hand gestures and a lot of waving like he was constantly trying to get rid of some smoke surrounding him.

"Get naked" he concluded and you nodded quietly undoing your dress as he looked away to look trough some of all those sketches he had around the room finally showing you a sketch of a standing naked figure, he clearly had some ideas for the background and it was quite classic as structure.

"You can hold this" he said handing you a ball "hold it low, around here" he said pressing the ball over your lower stomach.

"You know ,like a fortune teller" he said before giving you his back to prepare the easel and put on the canvas. You notice he sketched the back of it, so he probably didn't have all of that money. The chances to be paid becoming small by minute, but you were here and he was awkward enough to intimidate you a bit.

You put the ball down and proceeded to undress, you folded your clothing over the chair he freed for you and piled them neatly before picking the ball again.

"ruffle your hair, I need a kind of unkept vibe"

you nodded as you held the ball under your arm and with one hand you ruffled your hair standing nicely in place as you put the ball back to its position.

He stared at you as he leaned on side, he jerked his hand blindly on side to turn on the small radio to some low indie pop channel.

You took your time to observe him as you stared in front of you.

He had longish hair and he tied them up into an half bun, a soft beard. He wore a used t-shirt from the band The Smiths already stained with colour and some blue pants that must be his kind of working from home uniform.

He was barefoot and you noticed he bowed his feet inward as he got pensive, like a way to get extra relaxed.

He was cute, you had to admit it. He was also the first in line most of the time during real life drawing lessons, you could tell he was striving for it but he didn't take well criticism. He would glare and frown at every critic, nag at his bottom lip as he resumed his sketching every time with more passion.

It was always weird to go and see a student on your own. When you were working at the academy it was easy because you had a clear shift and pauses, while when working with artists alone you always had to give in some time.

"Relax your shoulders"

You blinked like his words woke you up and you took a deep breath resuming your position.

"It is a study for a classical image, you know something like Alma Tadema works, only modern" you smiled as you liked that painter and you nodded.

Silence took over as he observed you and disappeared behind the canvas. He was nervous from the moment you agreed to meet him alone. he felt like a creep because he always had a bit of a crush on you and he was upset when for a reason or another you were not the model on certain days. You were everything he liked, every proportion of your body was the ideal he had as an artist.

He sketched your shape as for once he had all the time, no change of position, nobody calling it too difficult or interrupting the moment.

He huffed softly as he got too excited awaiting for this moment he couldn't sleep at night and he even cleaned up his room. Well, you could tell he tried.

He observed every detail of you: from the way you had little moles scattered on your body that he never noticed before to the way your collarbone met deliciously under your neck, how your shoulders drifted up every now and then to unease the tension from the lack of movement. He bit on the inside of your cheek as he sketched the navel of your hips, the delicious curve where so many times he imagined to bury his head into, to be kept safe from the welcoming world of your female form, the origin of the world of erotica.

He frowned as you moved to take a sip of water, he looked at the time, 30 minutes already gone?

He stared down to the canvas as he had to focus, focus focus.

"Seb?? Do you have my lighter??"

A male voice that you guessed belonged to his flatmate shouted and he picked a cigarette

"NO" he shouted louder as the other guy groaned from behind the door, you smirked as you watched him light up his cigarette with a metal lighter and blow some smoke.

He resumed his sketching and you relaxed after some time, your eyes darting away as you barely saw him beside the smoke raising from behind the canvas.

"SEB"

Another shout interrupting but this time it was another flatmate that just bounced the door open. You gulped in surprise as you didn't have anything at hand to cover yourself

"What shit is this? What kind of pervert are you?"

The guy asked as Sebastian thew the pencil at him.

"Fuck you" he shouted "get the fuck out, out!" he jumped off his seat throwing the lit cigarette at him. And that’s why you hated to go to people's houses. Other that don't study art looked at you like that, like something dirt ,like a naked woman.

You sighed as you moved toward the bed covering yourself with one of the countless duvets scattered in the room, it was warm and soft at least. You looked away trying to zone out from the little fight going on between Sebastian and his the other guy.

"Sorry"

He said as he locked the door and pushed the drawer in front of it huffing and panting as he came to you showing with a gesture of his hand your way back to that position.

"No, look it is better if I leave, if you want to do it a private session let's do it at the school" you said as you got enough of that place and his flatmates and you also realised that if he lived in that chaos he probably didn't have the money to book the room and also pay you.

"no, no, no, no" he repeated as he moved after you as you marched to collect your belonging.

"please, they are just idiots" he said as he looked like he was ready to have a panic attack.

"I can see that myself, so that's better to end it now"

"no, no you don't understand"

You chuckled as you looked at him "don't understand what? the power of art?" you inquired as you had heard all sorts of excuses about it.

"I need you"

He said helplessly as your frowned and looked away as he gabbed you by your duvet yanking you back a little.

“I don’t work with other models, I can’t process it, when you’re there I am productive, I work and overwork, and my head is full of ideas, of hopes and more and more ideas, I can see things in perspective, I can feel it, it is like a raging fire and I need you t make it start, just please, just listen to me”

You tried to focus onto what was around you and there's when you noticed that from this new perspective you saw the sketch.

You moved closer to it as you admired how delicate was Sebastian's hand, he made little traits, quick slashes that made your figure look like you had never seen yourself before and you had actually seen a lot of sketches of yourself, so many pointing out unflattering things about your body that you tried to avoid having a look at those sketches.

"it is rough, don't" he said as he still held you by the duvet but he noticed you look up at the canvas.

He had never been this close to you. You smelled like fresh flowers and soft creamy after bath lotion, one of those that say your skin will be like honey and milk. He was sure you tasted like it.

He gulped down nervously as now this was widely unprofessional and he would have given all he had to avoid this moment and yet he daydreamed of it for so long while watching you getting dressed after the lesson.

"I apologise, I swear, I never.. I mean I know this is not the best place but I never felt like I do with you before and I didn’t want to screw it up on the first time”

You didn't really had the time to answer as he clashed his lips over yours grabbing the sides of your face with his hands and it was so desperate like he was about to break down.

You pushed him off as he frowned visibly. He looked so taken aback and saddened now.

You almost chuckled to his face as he looked like a pup that got smacked in the muzzle for biting onto something pricy.

You tugged him by his shirt still wrapped up in that duvet pushing him to sit down.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out of it when you moved to straddle him.

"Stay still"

You said as you moved your hand to his jaw making him close his mouth, he stared at you as you brushed you lips against his, he looked at you intensely before closing his eyes and letting you guide him into that kiss. He let out a soft sound as you showed him what kisses are made for, not that fearful rushed slamming from his mouth to yours.

"You're a goddess" he whispered softly as he leaned for another kiss. He pulled onto that duvet now hungry for more.

"Calm down, don't rush so much" you whispered as he almost didn't know what to do with himself. He was hard already, he was desperate for you that colonised his dreams for so long.

"Damn" he groaned as you lowered your hips against his. He stared at you panting softly as you started grinding against him, the fabric of his joggers was soft but you would have endured some itchy feeling just for the way he trembled and groaned from the friction you gifted. You were sure his boxers must be filled with precum already.

"Can I touch you?"

"Not yet" you whispered. You loved the way he draw you, you saw all the desire behind it and he deserved to enjoy it and not to rush through it.

"Fuck please, i have never" he stopped himself as you looked at you curiously.

"I did everything but that" he said as he tried to avoid to mention how usually girls got so annoyed with his that after a very good cunnilingus they would ask him to leave.

"even better then" you said as he looked so nervous it was adorable. you leaned in and kissed him again as he let you take off his shirt as he stared at you adoringly, the duvet falling off your torso as his eyes fluttered closed letting you guide him in the kiss, he had a lot to learn but he was eager to.

You swiped your tongue over his lips as he parted them and groaned as you joined your lips in a more eager kiss, your tongue trying his as his hips jerked aimlessly against you trying to get some relief, but you moved your hips away not willing to satisfy him too fast. He was used to stare at you, to long for you with his eyes and now he had to persevere in that.

You pulled back from him moving to stand up between his legs letting the duvet fall off your body, now the act taking a whole new meaning for him as you kneeled down taking off his clothing.

You pushed his cock out slowly stroking it, your cold fingers making him hiss as you pumped him slowly, your lips moved across his cock slowly sucking on it and tracing its length with your tongue.

“If you cum I will leave”

The threatening enough to make him groan, he couldn’t take his eyes off from you even if that made him only more horny.

“Fuck” he hissed as you sucked on his needy tip already spread with premium, your tongue twirling over it before taking it whole in your mouth.

Oh the strangled moan he let out.

He held over the edge of the bed like a dear of life, your bobbing head making him lose his mind, you let out soft moans and humming sound that echoed through his whole body.

“Fuck”

He repeated, more helplessly than before if possible, as he closed his eyes, he squeezed them as his thighs trembled eagerly fighting against his natural eager nature.

You pulled back as you stood up and he let out a loud groan.

“Look at you, already a mess”

You smirked as you moved to straddle him, your bare slit tracing his cock like your tongue just did before letting the tip of it inside you, then you pulled back making him cry out.

Once again, his hips jerked up helplessly.

“Please” he groaned “I need it, I need it” he begged as you held him by his jaw with your left hand as your right one guided him inside you.

You stared at him as you did, his eyes widened, his pupils blown as your warmth engulfed him and wrapped him in a dense sense of pleasure.

“Move, move”

Your leaned your head on side

“Please”

You still didn’t wince, he parted his lips not knowing what to say.

“You have been staring at me like that all that time, do you think I didn’t notice?” You whispered as he licked his lips nervously

“You used me for your little dreams didn’t you? I bet you wanked like a loser with your sketches, you were getting hard on the first day only”

He whined like a suffering cat his thighs trembling as he was bouncing on his heels lightly

“Am I wrong?”

He shook his head to you and you smirked

“I have been your fantasy, now, you’re going to be mine”

He moaned as you begun to move, your lips meeting his as he sucked onto your finger before you moved your own hand to rub your clit, he was completely out of his zone. He used to be hungry and straightforward and now he was just an idiot who didn’t know where to place his hands.

“My muse” he groaned as your moves were making him go wild, his hips jerking against yours “my muse”

He repeated it as you pushed him to lay onto his bed, your sensual bouncing over his lap making any sane man become a priest for your religion.

“Fill me Sebastian, please me”

You moaned as you rubbed over your own clit as he squeezed your thighs unable to phantom any move, to focus.

His mouth hanged open, he licked his lips and groaned, your permission making him lose control as he released inside you.

He kissed onto your lips rising to sit up, arms around your waist as he nuzzled helplessly against you.

A whole new world open in front of him.

“Do you want to paint me now?”

He nodded looking up at you, hair stuck up to his sweaty forehead as he looked so lost, pupils blown and erratic breath.

You smiled tenderly to him tracing his face with your fingertips guiding him into another kiss that he won’t forget for a lifetime.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling

[mlmpunisher]

[ non-canon compliant. no thanos au. vision lives au. they move to westview for real. agatha is wanda’s witch guide. ]

vision takes care of a sick wanda, only for them to get a surprise.

-requested from @thatoneaspie -

click below or click on summary to read on ao3

Wanda was normally very punctual when it came to doing stuff around the house. She was up early to help around the town, and attempt to make a normal life. It wasn’t easy, but she loved it.

Vision adored that about her. He adored everything, really, he loved her. He paid attention to everything about her, so he knew something was up when she was up late.

“Wanda, dear?” He called, knocking on their bedroom door around ten in the morning.

He heard coughing and the sounds of throwing up. He opened the door, seeing his wife scrunching her nose in disgust.

“I’m sorry, Vis, I’ll clean up,” she replied, sounding upset.

“Darling, let me help you,” he said back in a soothing voice. He put a cool hand to her forehead, furrowing his brows. “Let’s get you a cold bath.”

Wanda didn’t argue, she just let her husband help her up and to the tub where he drew her a bath. “Thank you.” She kissed his cheek, laying her head on his shoulder as he cleaned her.

“Do you know what made you sick?” he asked, washing her hair and gently scratching her head. “Was it my cooking? I’m sorry if it was, doll.”

Wanda shook her head, tired. “I’m late, Vis.”

“Late?” He shook his head. “Don’t worry about the town meeting. I’ll have Agatha give us notes.”

Wanda weakly laughed. “No, dear. I’m …,” she hesitated,”late.”

It took Vision a moment before he realized what she meant.

“You’re late for your menstruation?”

Wanda scrunched her nose but Vision corrected himself. “Right, we said I don’t have to be technical. Your period?”

Wanda laughed, nodding. “Yes, I am.” She sighed.

“I’ll call Agatha and have her bring over a test!” Vision stood up, water splashing. “I’ll only be a moment.”

Wanda watched as he left, rinsing her own hair. Most of her sickness was gone at that point, but she still felt uneasy. She let the water drain, grabbing the towel nearby to dry herself.

“Wanda!” Vision came back into the room, holding a hand out.

“Can you grab the robe over there?” She pointed to the one hanging on the door.

He nodded, handing it to her.

She looked in the mirror at her hair, annoyed. “My hair’s gonna hate me.”

“You’re a witch, dear,” he commented. “We can just dry it now and fix it once you feel better.”

Wanda nodded, letting her husband dry her hair.

“Get dressed, I’ll make you something light to eat.”

It didn’t take long for Wanda to put on something, just an oversized shirt and some shorts. By the time she was downstairs, Agatha was letting herself in.

“Wanda, honey! Vision told me the good news!” She announced, hugging the other. “Let’s hope these tests come back positive!”

“I just wonder how it happened,” Vision replied from the kitchen.

“Oh, Vision, you know how these things work!” Agatha winked at Wanda, still holding her. “Now let’s go get these taken care of!” She waved Wanda upstairs before going to sit in the kitchen while Vision finished breakfast.

“Did you help her?” Vision asked, setting down a plate.

Agatha nodded. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, feeling betrayed.

“I wasn’t sure if it’d work. Magic like that is tricky.”

“I suppose it is. I just wish I knew so we could be better prepared.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Vision, you should have almost the full nine months.” She gave him a pat on the shoulder.

The two of them waited in peaceful silence while they waited for Wanda to come downstairs. Vision made Agatha a plate, sitting down with Wanda’s.

A few more minutes passed until Wanda came into the room.

“Well?” Agatha asked, Vision looking up expectantly.

“They’re positive!”

“Oh, Wanda!” Vision was grinning as he hugged his wife. “We’re going to be parents!”

[twoidiotwriters1]

Déjà Vu (Or are we losing our minds?) VI -Modern!Shirbert

Words: 2,292

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Six: Kindred Spirits.

Anne to ‘Golden Trio’: I know you were looking forward to our party this weekend but I just got my period and I’m DYING so… rain check?

Cole: Bitch—

Diana: Oh, no! :( I hate when that happens, but it’s okay, we can wait!

Cole: I just want you to appreciate my friendship right now cause I’m on the verge of throwing myself over a cliff but fine, I have no uterus, no opinion. I’ll have to stand these beasts a while longer

Diana: Those are your nieces, nephews and siblings you’re talking about, Cole…

Cole: And I love them but doesn’t mean they don’t suck

Anne: I love you so much Cole, I promise next week it’s on!

Anne dropped her phone on her nightstand, then it buzzed once more, she groaned but picked it up anyway, Josie's name on the screen.

Josie: Ruby’s having a crisis. Waiter guy won’t answer his phone and now she’s on the verge of shaving her head.

Anne: goddamit I just got my period, I’m still on my pj’s!

Josie: We can go to your place? I really don’t want to deal with Ruby on my own...

Anne bit her lip, she had the tendency to lack patience during her periods, but the girls needed her, so she couldn’t say no.

Anne to ‘Golden Trio’: If you guys feel like witnessing some drama Josie’s heading to my place with a "Pink Crisis."

Cole: Fuck, did that waiter broke things off with Ruby already?

Anne: Apparently he’s not answering her texts and Ruby’s about to go crazy.

Cole: I’m in. Anything as long as I can leave the house.

Diana: Sorry, I was talking with Minnie May

Diana: btw I’m in too, let me see if I can take the car and I’ll pick you up @Cole

Cole: Cool, text me when you’re coming.

Anne dropped her phone again, this time on her pillow, and got up to let tell Marilla and Matthew that the girls plus Cole were coming. 

A strange thought came to her as she got up from bed. She felt like there was something missing, something was out of place, or unfinished. Was she supposed to text someone? Had she missed an appointment?

‘A doctor's appointment,’ said a voice at the back of her head.

Anne snorted at the absurdity of that, she knew there was no doctor's appointment scheduled, what the hell was wrong with her? Maybe it was just the hormones...

___________________

Bash was still not over the fact that Gilbert had had a “wet dream” about Moody’s girl and kept teasing whenever he could. It wasn’t Ruby though, Gilbert knew that, somehow.

He was sure that the girl in his dreams had red hair and grey eyes. Or blue, he couldn’t remember well. Either way, as the afternoon went away he started to forget. Sure enough, it’d been nice, he woke up feeling some sort of strange joy for the rest of his shift until it was time to close the diner, then his mind drifted to the dishes he needed to clean and the bills they had to pay.

While Mary was upstairs putting Delly to bed Bash sat next to him on the living room, making sure to mess up the comfortable position Gilbert was in by putting his legs on the boy's lap and laying on the whole lenght of the couch.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re the real twenty-year-old in this house and I’m the parent,” Gilbert rolled his eyes, pushing Bash’s legs away.

“That’s cause you’re always grumpy. You know why you always grumpy, Blythe?” Bash smirked.

“I don’t want to know.”

“It’s because you need to get laid.”

“There we go…”

“Why can’t you be a normal young adult and get one of those apps to hook up?”

“Because everytime I try it, all I think about is how I could end up murdered or sick- Do you want me to die of syphilis, Bash? Is that what you want?”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not that desperate for sex, anyway.”

“I don’t wanna know the context of that sentence at all,” Mary walked in holding a basket full of Delly’s clothes. “But since you have all this free time to talk about your sex life, why don’t you help me with the girl’s stuff and fold them while I make myself a cup of tea?”

“Sure,” Gilbert agreed, happy to change the subject.

___________________

“Am I asking too much? Does god hate me?”

The group groaned in exasperation at Ruby’s inquires.

“I think you should finish your tea and breathe,” Diana said patiently.

“What she needs is to get her shit together and understand that it’s the twenty-first century. No man is going to propose to you after a drunk make-out session, Ruby!” Josie rolled her eyes.

“I know that!” Ruby said defensively. “But he’d been so nice even before that... I thought he liked me!”

“Maybe he does,” Anne said. “You have to remember that it’s Christmas, maybe he’s shopping? Maybe his phone got busted? I don’t know, give him the benefit of the doubt!”

“You know what my advice is,” Cole said simply.

“Yes,” Diana and Anne said at the same time.

“I’m gonna say it anyway. Dump the idiot and live your best life. Why are you trying to have a serious relationship when half of the boys in college are desperately trying to get in your pants?”

“Are you trying to get her pregnant or with syphilis? Because that’s how you do it, that's how you get syphilis,” Anne said crossed her arms. “She doesn’t have to sleep around to be happy! She just needs to be logical!”

“Okay, Dr. Heart, what do you recommend?” Josie huffed.

Anne whined and curled up under the covers. Ruby and Josie were sitting at the edge of her bed while Diana and Cole laid casually on the floor, their heads against the pillows Anne had given them so they weren’t completely flat on the ground.

“I don’t know, I’ve never dated a guy for more than a month.”

“Ew, Roy,” Cole said instantly.

“But maybe… I don’t know, do you have his intagram or something?”

“I do,” Ruby sniffed. “I haven’t checked it cause I didn’t want to look desperate and you know how I always accidentally like old pictures…”

“Facebook?”

“No...”

“If you have his instagram, you have his facebook,” Cole said.

“How come?”

“Give me your phone,” His hand lifted from the ground, Ruby gave it to him.

“Okay, so we decided to go full stalker then,” Josie said bluntly.

“It’s either this or…” Anne stopped herself before saying ‘or hearing Ruby mop for another three hours’ but managed to hold her tongue just in time.

“This is for the best,” Diana replied almost as if talking of a medical procedure.

“Can someone go to the bathroom and fetch me the painkillers?” Anne groaned.

“I’ll go, see if I can drown myself in the toilet,” Josie mumbled. “I can’t believe you guys are my best friends…”

Anne laughed at that. Truth be told, Josie and her weren’t exactly close during their youth, Josie even sort of made her life a living hell for a whole year during Junior high, then some random dude tried to take advantage of her during a school dance and Anne stood up for her in front of the whole school. Josie spent the rest of her highschool years making up for her bad actions by defending Anne from any nasty comments anyone would throw her way.

She kept this up even during college, and Anne would’ve gladly told her it wasn’t necessary if it wasn’t because Josie seemed to get more insulted whenever Anne tried to point it out than if she was actually insulting her.

“You know what I’d love to have right now?” Anne yawned.

“A nap?”

“I’d love to have one of those god awful pancakes they used to make in our highschool’s cafeteria. God, they were awful, but for some reason I’m craving those fucking pancakes...”

“You ever crave flowers?” Diana asked absentmindedly.

“What?” Anne laughed. “What do you mean?”

“Like, you walk past a flower shop and you see a gorgeous bouquet, and then some random day you’re like, ‘Man, I wish I had the bouquet, it’d look amazing on my coffee table'”

“I… no– wow, I think it’s the first time you've beat me, Diana. That was the weirdest thing I’ve heard in a while.”

“Oh please, you love flowers, you must have felt that way at some point!”

“No, I swear,” Anne sat up. “I mean, maybe because if I see pretty flowers I just buy them, never been one to say no to buying flowers.”

“That’s the reason why our flat always stinks like gardenia, or roses, or lilies…” Cole adds distractedly.

“You know,” Ruby said, a bit calmer than before. “No boy has ever given me a bouquet.”

“That makes two of us,” Anne patted her knee.

“Three,” said Cole.

___________________

“So, Moody got mugged as soon as he left the bus station yesterday,” Gilbert sighed.

“Oh god, is he alright?” Winnie asked through the phone.

Winifred was back in town for the holidays, and she had many stories to tell about Paris and the girls she’d met there. She was one of Gilbert’s best friends from highschool, if not the only he still had from that time apart from Moody.

They were planning to have lunch the next day, but she’d called him to let him know she was home now, safe and sound, and they were chatting the night away.

“Yeah, a black eye and no phone or wallet, but fine,” Gilbert chuckled. “What’s worse is that he’s not even mad about that, he's upset that he won’t be able to text his girl...”

“What?!” She gasped. “I didn’t know Moody had a girlfriend!”

“He doesn’t,” The boy squinted. “Well, I think they saw each other the other night at the bar and they kissed, but I’m not so sure.”

“Right, because you were utterly shit-faced.”

“Yup.”

He heard her laugh.

“I miss you two so much! Honestly, sometimes I feel like french guys lack sense of humor.”

“Oh, but I bet the girls were quite amusing, considering you oficially dated at least two of them throughout the semester,” He teased.

“Didn’t say I wasn’t having fun,” Winnie replied, he could pictured her smirking. “Looks like the only one who’s got no game is Canada’s Golden Boy! What’s the matter, Gilbert? No girl is worthy of your charms? Are you waiting until marriage?”

“Not quite,” He grinned. “I’ve been busy studying, that’s all.”

“I worry about you, don’t want to see you in ten years all grey and grumpy.”

“That's awfully rude, Bash is not grey and he’s ten years older than us!”

“Yeah but I’ve heard that if you don’t have sex you die faster.”

“That’s the biggest slander I’ve ever heard. Don’t try to scare the future Doctor with fake news!”

“Well, future Doctor, I just want to make sure you don’t end up as the spinster of our group. Not that is bad, if you want to be alone that’s cool, but please don’t be a bitter one, you know, like those old librarians?”

“So what should I be then, the old spinster that invites you to have tea every sunday?”

“Yeah, you could even own a coffee shop- oh wait, you do!”

“Rude,” Gilbert frowned, but he was still smiling. “The Orchard is not a coffee shop, just so you know.“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Winnie chuckled. “See you tomorrow?”

“Totally.”

“Got it!”

___________________

The girls straightened up at Cole’s announcement, all of them excited.

“And?” Diana urged him.

“Good news or bad news?”

“Bad news,” Cole looked up. “He posted this five hours ago…”

He handed the phone to Diana, then she gave it to Anne, there she read the most recent post on his page:

‘Someone stole my phone and wallet, please block the number in the meantime. If you need me you can send a private message here.’

“Could’ve been worse,” Anne gave the phone back to Ruby so she could read what it said.

Ruby sighed heavily.

“He doesn’t hate me.”

“Of course not, you’re a ray of freaking sunshine,” Josie retorted.

“I still think this is god giving you the opportunity to reconsider,” Cole replied. “Don’t commit, Ruby, you’re too young to get married–”

“She won’t get married!” Diana slapped his arm, then hesitated. “Well, at least not anytime soon... right, Ruby?”

“It’s late, children,” Marilla peeked through the door. “You can have dinner here if you want, we have room for all of you, but if you don’t then I suggest you to say your goodbyes now...”

“Thank you Marilla,” Anne smiled. “They’ll be on their way.”

“You can stay the night if you want as well,” Marilla added. “Matthew and I missed the fuss you kids make around the house whenever Anne invites you.”

“That’s so kind, thank you,” Ruby beamed.

Marilla left and Anne turned to look at the group.

“So any of you want to stay?”

“You know I do,” Cole smirked.

“Same,” Josie admitted. “My mom's being a pain right now: ‘Are you dating someone, love?’ ‘Will you ever give me grandchildren?’”

“I’d like to stay too,” Ruby said, deep in thought. “I know he’s not avoiding me, but I really don’t want to sleep alone tonight…”

“You have two younger sisters, Ruby.”

“It’s not the same!”

“See?” Cole said. “Ruby gets it!”

“I’ll have to pass,” Diana sighed. “My dad needs the car tomorrow morning, last minute shopping.”

“We still have next week,” Anne assured her with a small smile.

Taglist.

@ninizkd @http-itsrebecca @fuckthisshitimoutyall @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​​ @little-boats-on-a-lake

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Black Cloth and Star Systems- Fusion AU

Ao3,   MasterPost,  More of This AU

Legally speaking this is the second installment in my fusion au, and u should definitely read the first one!! but it is not necessary to understand this one.

Relationships: Romantic Analogical, (briefly) mentioned romantic Royality

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, minor insecurity (it is Logan after all), one (1) kiss, excessive cuddling, Virgil and the Logan/Virgil fusion both have monster-like traits (big teef, pointy ears, nocturnal eyes, etc.), the fusion is also agender because I said so, and seriously lots of flowery descriptions cuz I was really having a good time with this one. Oh, and lack of sleep/unhealthy sleep schedules, brief mention of paranoia (very very minor), and I think I accidentally implied that Virgil has ADHD but that’s par for the course. 

Word Count: 3,797

Logan stared at the ceiling of his room, tired eyes tracing over the patterns etched into it. They were irregular, scrawls and lines that bumped up from the plaster and stretched on and on. If he squinted, they could almost look like maps- charting and directing the reader across a very foreign land, and in addition the reader might not be good with following maps, which would explain why this one seemed so vague. Or maybe it wasn’t showing a place at all. Nowhere real, at the very least. 

Oh, what the fuck was he talking about. The ceiling was a goddamn ceiling, and Logan was exhausted.

Sleeping would be the ideal solution, and it was something he definitely wasn’t opposed to, but by this point it was borderline impossible. Logan could shut his eyes, but he knew all he’d see would be that blinding flash of pink light. He could try and try to relax beneath his blanket, but still he would see double-set of eyes, swirling between emerald green and cinnamon brown, set behind big cutesy-framed glasses. He’d picture those two pairs of arms, that staggering display of height, and the body that was decorated with gold and crimson and sky-blue. 

What he was seeing was beyond understanding, and it was all that he could think about. His friends had fused. Patton and Roman, out of pretty much nowhere, had become one being right before everyone’s eyes. One burly, talkative, and endlessly fascinating being.

Like any person who persistently sought knowledge, Logan had taken to investigating the new creature at once. He’d had questions, burning questions, but Patron- as he’d named himself- had requested some alone time in his new form. It was a perfectly reasonable ask, so Logan resolved to postpone his interviewing until Patron was ready. But then, just as he was looking forward to finding out more about him that next morning, he was back to being two sides. Two sickeningly sweet sides who were way too caught up in their new relationship to answer any of Logan’s questions copacetically (All their answers had been full of purple prose, talking about how fusing was just the most amazing thing, and providing no real insight into it at all). 

Logan, presented with bizarre occurrences and offered no explanation, was understandably restless, abuzz with curiosity, and frustrated. And, if he was being honest, he was interested in the topic beyond what could be considered objective study, as well.

Very interested, in fact. He found himself wondering that… perhaps… Was he also capable of fusion?

Yes, the best way to learn about it would be to experience first-hand, so that would solve that problem. But that was hardly Logan’s entire reason for wanting to try it; Patton had soundly reported that forming Patron helped his and Roman’s communication by miles. Specifically vis a vis their more affectionate emotions, which really ended up being the thesis of the whole ordeal. It was, fundamentally, a very affectionate thing. 

Logan sat up abruptly, shooting a glare at his door from across the room. This was getting ridiculous; it would be a horrible idea to try something as significant as fusing with so little information on it. Just because it seemed self-explanatory didn’t mean that it was, and the results could be unstable and catastrophic!

But. 

But it wouldn’t be. There was the side he knew- the side he trusted- well enough to believe that it wouldn’t really go so awry.

Logan was making excuses.

What was there to be explained verbally that wouldn’t be much easier to just experience? Patron had proved two things: 1, fusing could happen, and 2, fusing could un-happen without issue. Any of the specifics would be figured out best by firsthand experience, that was pretty evident.

So Logan was making a few excuses, and maybe he was a bit scared about the whole thing, but so what? It was a moot point anyway, because Virgil would never want to participate in it, anyway. The idea of fusion would only upset the anxious side, maybe send him spiraling, and that was the last thing Logan wanted. 

With a groan, Logan flopped back down onto his bed, resuming his studious observation of the popcorn-patterned ceiling.

… 

Yeah, it wasn’t working.

Logan dragged himself up yet again, flinging the covers off of his legs harshly. He sat, immobile, glaring down just past the foot of his bed for an uncertain amount of time. He then heaved a very over dramatic sigh, kicked his legs over the side of his mattress, and stood. He set his feet down as though the carpet had personally wronged him, trodding across the room and throwing his door open with the same temperament. 

 The hallway was pitch dark, but Logan barely noticed it. He made his way down the stairs, the map of the Mindpalace splaying out in his head and directing him as well as light would. As soon as he hit the bottom of the stairs, his (moody) stomping ceased, for the time being. He tipped his head to one side, confused, as he listened out. 

There was a perfect silence.

An abrupt perfect silence. The very specific type of quiet that was too clearly manufactured. Such a- a tense hush could only be brought about by someone deliberately holding their breath. 

Logan shuffled his feet, peering into the blackness. Something shifted over by the couch, and the gleam of two reflectively-paneled eyes made themselves apparent. Logan yelped in fright, stumbling over his legs and bumping his back into the wall. 

There was a thump from across the room, a curse of ‘oh, shit’, and another shimmer from those eyes, animalistic and narrow. 

“Logan?” A gravelly voice asked, “Is that you?”

Logan blinked, staring at the dark silhouette that had come to stand before him. Animalistic, perhaps, but very very tall, and very very person-shaped. 

“Virgil?”

A lamp clicked on, washing the room in low and orange light, revealing that the creature was indeed Virgil. He looked considerably more human, now that he could be seen past his imposing outline- and he also looked more tired. 

Somehow, despite all of the other oddities in their situation, Logan found himself preoccupied by the smallest detail.

“Your eyes, Dear,” he drew forward for a closer look,  “How haven’t I noticed? They’re reflective!”

Virgil shrugged impassively, leaning down to let Logan hold his head and examine the unusual feature. 

“You can’t really tell unless it’s very dark out, or if you know what you’re looking for. I guess it just never came up.”

“But you can see in the dark, then?” Logan asked, perfectly aware that he sounded more than a little awed. Virgil just snorted, looking endeared. 

“Yup,” he popped the ‘p’, “Is it that big of a surprise?”

Logan turned the question over in his mind, but after a moment he shook his head, no. Virgil already had a multitude of unique attributes- his fangs, his claws, and a few more distinct things that only appeared when he got particularly stressed. (All of the sides had traits like those, actually. Of them, Logan was certainly the most average- the only discrepancy had to be his slightly exaggerated proportions, and even that couldn’t compare to some of the others’.)

Virgil hummed vacantly, shifting his weight a few times over. He kneaded his shoulder, glancing down at Logan with sudden interest. 

“So, what’s up with you? It’s like, three in the morning.” 

Logan stiffened, but tried to disguise the worry. 

“I could ask you the same question,” he deflected, ineffectively. Virgil only smirked in response. 

“I mean, I guess you could: paranoia, pent up energy, general inability to focus- you know, the stuff that keeps me up every night. You, though,” Virgil hovered over him, making him tilt his head back to keep eye-contact with their height difference. Logan felt his face flush, though it was only partially due to embarrassment. “You don’t stay up late, L, like ever.”

“I’ve just been thinking a lot,” he once more evaded. 

“You’re always thinking,” Virgil responded with a laugh, but he stood up straighter and gave Logan his space. Logan glanced up, confused, only to get a shrug by way of reply. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, babe. I’m not gonna, like, interrogate you. I just… wanna make sure you’re okay, is all.”

“Oh,” he smiled, “Yes, I am. Thank you.”

Virgil gestured to the couch, returning the smile.

“Wanna stay up with me? Might help you get your mind off whatever it’s on.”

Logan relaxed at that, nodding a bit sleepily as he followed his partner to the sofa. 

Virgil’s arm was twined around Logan’s waist, holding him into the taller trait’s side as they sat comfortably on the couch. In the near pitch dark, Virgil’s laptop was propped up against the coffee table, the screen lit up by slightly unnerving YouTube animations. 

Truth be told, though, Logan had paid attention to exactly none of them. He had a few reasons for this: one, he was very sleepy. Two, Virgil was warm- much warmer than himself, as Logan had always had strangely cold skin, and the heat was calming. And three, he was still caught up in his own thoughts, albeit less frantic and frightened versions of them by this point.

He knew that Virgil could easily sense his anxiety, but still, Anxiety did not pry. Add that to the many-paged list of reasons why Logan appreciated him as much as he did. 

Appreciate him he did, yes, and he also- he trusted him. Completely. To such a degree that, in the serene partial-silence between the couple, Logan found himself wondering what would happen if he just… told Virgil? If he explained what was on his mind, would it really upset him as much as he feared? The idea of fusing, well, just talking about it couldn’t be too much of a disaster. They were too strong, too stable for that.

“Virge?” Logan didn’t turn to look at him as he spoke. The name was really just a murmur on his lips, uttered noncommittally and with the hope that it might just go unheard.

With a soft click, the video paused, and Virgil shifted. 

“Yeah?”

Oh. He was really doing this.

“Could I ask you about something?” Logan would’ve left it at that, but feeling Virgil tense up beside him, he hurried to elaborate: “It’s nothing bad, my love, I just- it’s what’s been worrying me, this evening.”

“Uh- ask away, I guess..”

Logan took a deep breath, feeling his heart rate increase concerningly. He was thankful for the lack of light in the room; if the embarrassed heat spreading across his face was any indication, he likely looked just as nervous as he felt.

He exhaled, trying to focus on Virgil’s arm around him instead of the worries. Everything would be alright.

“You remember when Patton and Roman fused, I trust?”

There was an almost subtle intake of breath from Virgil. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t about to forget something like that, L.”

“Right, of course,” Logan found Virgil’s hand and wound their fingers together, fiddling with them. “I just wanted to know your thoughts on the situation.”

There was a beat.

“Um. I’m just relieved that they could get back to normal, I guess. I was sorta worried they’d get stuck- which doesn’t make a lot of sense in hindsight, but with how clingy they both are, I mean…” 

Logan hummed, encouraging him to go on, despite the intelligent side’s swiftly fading hope.

“But, like, now that I know they’re okay, I guess it’s not really any of my business?” Hesitation laced Virgil’s voice, as though he wasn’t sure what he was meant to say. “Other than that, though, I just think it’s kind of weird. Like, the whole idea of it. Fusion.”

“‘Weird’ in a negative sense?”

“I don’t know, man,” Virgil huffed, “I mean, I’m not a big fan of cartoons but- it’s weird like it’s interesting, weird like I wanna know more. If that makes any sense.”

Oh. That was promising.

“It does make sense,” Logan whispered, desperately emphatic. The glow of Virgil’s eyes turned to him, wide enough that they looked like little full moons.

“Did you-” he stopped short. Inhaled sharply. Then asked it all in a rush: “Are you asking because you wanted to try it? With me?”

Logan stayed silent, gripping too-tight to his boyfriend’s hand. He sounded… surprised? But maybe not upset? 

Oh, who was he kidding, he’d never been able to read tones, really, and it was too dark to try and figure out Virgil’s body language. He’d just have to go blind on this one.

“Yes,” Logan blurted, immediately holding his breath for a response.

Virgil was as stiff as a board. His hand was frozen in place, his gaze boring into Logan. 

“Are you sure?” 

His tone was soft, sweet, and so so careful. Logic blinked. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from Virgil, but he knew that it wasn’t something so… gentle.

“I- maybe? It’s not necessary, if you don’t think you’d be comfortable with-”

“That’s not what I was asking,” Virgil interjected, “I wanna know if you’re sure that you want this, not how you think I feel.”

Logan mumbled an apology, feeling oddly chastised. He collected his thoughts and tried again.

“Yes, I’m sure. I- I trust you, Virgil.”

Virgil relaxed considerably, his head dropping to rest in Logan’s hair. 

“Okay. Good.”

And with that, he went quiet again. The show was not unpaused, though. Logan wondered if he was meant to say something, and if so he wondered what it was. But in the end he couldn’t make any sound at all.

Virgil’s hand slipped out of his, instead moving to the back of his neck. Logan instinctively leaned forward with its direction, letting himself be held close. In turn, he wrapped his arms around Virgil’s waist, turning sideways into him. He was close enough now to hear the beat of the anxious side’s heart, which was always rather quicker than anyone else's. This time, though, it was like a hummingbird’s, hammering loud and excited.

Logan tilted his head (as much as he could) in confusion. Had the conversation somehow affected Virgil more than it first seemed? Was something about the situation that spiked his anxiety? But that didn’t add up, either, because his breathing was completely even, and he wouldn’t let anyone be this close to him if he really was panicking.

Before Logan could ask what- if anything- was wrong, Virgil nestled his face in his hair, holding him impossibly tighter. And at that point, they were pressed flush together head-to-toe. And that was what made it click. 

Oh, they were doing this now. This- this was Virgil’s way of attempting- 

Logan hooked his ankle around Virgil’s, clumsily attempting to reciprocate the- erm, the Thing That They Were Trying. Heat rose in his cheeks at even the thought of it. 

What was he supposed to do? Was there some way to activate it? Was it enough to simply touch, or was movement required to fuse? What if they couldn’t get it to work at all? That would make plenty of sense, Logan was logic and what was the possibility that he’d follow the same rules as, say, Roman-

“Hey.”

Logan glanced up, his neck straining at the angle. Virgil was gazing down at him, pupils expanded with fondness, his fingers easing through the hairs at the back of Logan’s neck.

“Calm down, okay?” 

Logan might have commented on the irony of that, but Virgil was leaning forward and pressing their lips together oh-so gently, and all his thoughts flew out of the proverbial window as he kissed back. 

It was soft, light, maybe a little clumsy. The touch was barely-there, really, just ghosting. And then it wasn’t there, at all. The feeling faded, as did so many others, but neither of them were moving apart- or at least, they didn’t think that they were. If anything, they seemed to be getting closer, and closer, but-

Closer to what, exactly?

They opened their eyes. Wait, no, they blinked a couple of times- ah, there, they opened all- five?- of their eyes. Not only was it no longer pitch black, but it seemed that lights had been conjured above them, dozens of tiny purple and blue tea lights that cast the living room in a pleasant glow.

Had- had they caused that? Somehow?

Conjuring on accident- how did they manage that? And what else could they do? What couldn’t they do, though, in this new form? Something like them was bound to have limitations.

They stood up sharply, and immediately cracked their head against the ceiling. They yelped in pain, silently amending that standing up straight while indoors was the first limitation to note. They hunched over, managing to keep upright if they just bent their knees and tilted their neck. And that brought on a much more important investigation into themself: their new physical form.

They were obviously very tall, but also sort of- long in general? Their limbs, their fingers, their face, every feature was very narrow, almost spider-like. And, on the topic of spider-like limbs, they had two sets of arms; one in the usual place, but another placed behind that, curving around from just under their shoulder blades. In addition, their fingers, lithe and spindly, were six on each hand. Despite the unordinary length to many of their appendages, though, they were still noticeably muscular. Wide shoulders, a defined abdomen, and sturdy legs.

With a sharp wave of their hand, they conjured a full-body mirror to hang in front of them, promptly leaning over to examine themself.

Their face was made of edges; sharp cheekbones, pointed ears, and blocky glasses that covered all of their eyes but the middle one. They ran their fingers through their shaggy, curled up hair- a good deal of which fluffed forwards past their forehead and into their face. It was mixed colors, swirls of purple and blue blending together in soft, bouncy locks. 

They had interesting features aplenty, but one thing stood out dramatically. One thing that drew their attention at once. 

The mouth.

Their lips were dark- almost black, with hints of color toned under it. They dragged a finger along it, but it didn’t wipe away like makeup. They opened their mouth, revealing long needles of teeth, dozens and dozens of them top and bottom- all except for the upper canines. Those were thick, overly large, and tinted with purple. They ended in dangerous looking points, shoving out past the new side’s lips even when they closed their mouth, appearing much like an arachnid's venomous mandibles. 

They took a step back from the mirror, experimentally poking their big fangs. To their surprise, the teeth moved; just a wiggle, but enough to show that they were mobile, that they could be flexed and retracted. Well, that was...

That was sick as hell.

Now, to investigate their outfit: they were a little monstrous, sure, but also very smartly dressed. They wore a navy blue plaid waistcoat, laid overtop of a pastel purple sweater, which in turn was beneath a plain, black, short-sleeved button-up shirt. Their tie was a simple white with subdued flecks of violet and sapphire, dotted to look intentionally asymmetrical. 

Their lower half also bore a layered aesthetic: sheer lavender leggings beneath strategically ripped black jeans. They also wore a short, tight skirt over it, the color and pattern matching that of their waistcoat. A few chains dangled from the belt loops on their hips, clinking a little as they moved. They had sleek black shoes with small platforms, something vaguely Demonia-style. Altogether, the look was a strange blend of elegant and alternative. Strange, but very, very, very… becoming, to say the least. 

They couldn’t help staring at themself. Actually, ogling might be the more accurate word. They were hot, was that vain to say? If it was, they didn’t particularly care, because it was true. Of all the things they could have been together, confident wasn’t expected, but it was more than welcome. Because- damn.

Five minutes of gawking at their own reflection wound up being enough, in the end, and they forced themself to wave the mirror back out of existence. There were so many more things to consider about themself, after all, and that just couldn’t wait any longer. There were infinite things to know, God, they were a new creature entirely.

It was… it was overwhelming. They had so many questions. They had so many concerns, millions of them, and millions of thoughts that didn’t fit into either of the aforementioned categories, thoughts that existed just to fill up space in a head that suddenly felt overpacked. Too many minds in such a reduced space.

It’s okay, they thought, sucking in a deep, slow breath, One at a time, Dear.

There’s too much. I can’t see it all. I can’t explain all of it.

Which half of them was that? Was it… both? Both of them, comforting and receiving comfort? What an impossible creation they’d become! Wait, no, they had to focus on calming down before they gave that any thought. 

We can’t get to all of it, they agreed with themself, Some of it, though, certainly.

Like what?

They thought for a moment.

We could start with a name?

Oh. That’s probably important.

Yes, just a bit. 

They let their breath out in a laugh, pulling their sleeves past their hands and curling their fingers in the fabric. It took only a second of contemplation before, quite promptly, they knew what they were going to be called from now on. They knew their name, and everything else began to click into place from there.

Livril.

They sighed, contented, and sat back into the corner of the sectional. They didn’t exactly fit, curling up on the couch as they had before, but they were easily flexible enough to find a way. Now that they knew their name, they could really start learning who exactly Livril was.

There was so much they could learn from this, so many things they could enjoy this way. What music did they like? (Probably sad. Most certainly folk punk.) How did they speak? (sharply, they would guess.) How did they move? (Quick, startling, definitely fidgety.)

And that was hardly all, though it was a good start. There was so much more to get to, and they intended to answer all of it as soon as possible.

...But that ‘as soon as possible’ would probably be in the morning, because Livril fell asleep exactly two minutes after their head hit the couch cushion.

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob 

[if-the-crown-fits-translate-it]

Discord pt 48

[Date: 24/02, 09.33 PM - 24/02, 10.32 GMT]

Viscount: “Hello! There was one question one of you asked that I did not want to answer on tumblr. You asked yet again for a "fit check" which is understandable, I am not some cartoon character that only wears one outfit”

[People ask why he didn’t want to share on the blog.]

Viscount: “I have my circlet of course which is gold, like most everyone's in the court aside from Prince, which has three red gems set into it. I am currently wearing a brown sweater over a white collared shirt with grey dress pants and of course my boots :) Demonia's? I believe you called them?”

[People compliment his style.]

Viscount: “I did not want to answer on the blog seeing as you all may find it a bit.. Distracting from the other questions you were asking :)”

[Jack the Observer: “Viscount you are so fucking stylish]

Viscount: “Why thank you :)”

[donti: “Veyecount is there other things, no way you came here just to talk about fits”]

Viscount: “Were you expecting something more? Why dont you share your thoughts :)”

[Jack the Observer:  “How did operating the blog go? You said you wanted to try something new.”]

Viscount: “It was very confusing and took much longer than expected... I hope Crown isn't too upset with how long it took..”

[A random Spark: “We want to hear from you as well”]

Viscount: “You'll have to ask more directly what you expect from me :) I'm afraid I cannot read minds”

[donti: “You talked about your sister a lot. Maybe tell us more about her?”]

Viscount: “Oh Countess? Yes she's lovely isn't she? I'm so happy to have her back :) It was so lonely without her”

[donti: “Its sweet that you found her! I have siblings myself and it wold be terrible if we were separated for so long. What did you do while she was gone?”]

Viscount: “I was very sad while she was gone, at the time she was all I had left. Being without her almost destroyed me. But she found me again, so it's okay! :)”

[Singletsona |Stars: “How long was she in the family before you?”]

Viscount: “Countess? Oh she's only been in the family a month longer than I have :) So she's been here for two months and I’ve been here for one :)”

[fetch: “So you were without her for a whole month? Why didn't she tell you where she was going?”]

Viscount: “She left a few months before she joined this family... I didn't know where she was for... What felt like a very long time”

[donti: “And how was she different afterwards?”]

Viscount: “Well, she's Countess now of course! Can you imagine a child being called "Countess"?”

[fetch: “That sounds horrible :[ She just... up and left?”]

Viscount:  “I don't.....know”

Viscount: “I don't remember much of when she left”

Viscount: “She was just... gone”

[daengelinotfound: “How old were you two when she left?”]

Vicount: “It was only a few months ago... I think”

[fetch: “I'm so sorry... at least you have her back though! That's gotta be a relief :]?”]

Viscount: “It is! It's such a relief to have her back. I can see her every day if I want to! I didn't leave her side for most of the last month. When Crown asked me to join the server, I had to leave her again but I still get to see her very often :)”

[A random Spark: “You don't remember?”]

Viscount: “I don't remember what caused her to leave. I don't know if I want to remember. She's back now though and that's what matters :) We're a family again!”

[A random Spark: “I try and write things down to remember. Some memories are bad”]

Viscount: “Mhm”

[Singletsona |Stars: “Isn't it weird that you just...don't remember what happened though?”]

Viscount:  “I- yes. It is a bit odd...”

[fetch: “Sometimes the stuff you don't want to remember is the stuff you really need to.”]

Viscount: “...”

[A random Spark: “All memories are important”]

Viscount: “I agree...”

[fetch:  “Just- look. You wanted us to ask questions, right? This is what we're asking. Isn't it strange how you have seemingly the best memory out of the entire Court, but you don't remember what could be the most important time in your life? When your sister left?”]

Viscount: "That wasn't directed towards me you-”

[A this point, Viscount started to send messages that automatically deleted after a short amount of time. We didn’t manage to screenshot the first few; the rest are recognizable by a clock emoji (⏲️) at the end.]

[Deleted messages w/o screenshot:]

Viscount: “I asked you to ask questions to further your knowledge, yes.”

Viscount: “But you have to realize that I intended you to ask the others, not me”

Viscount: “These gaps in my memories are... Concerning yes”

Viscount: “But I honestly dont think they’re of much important in the end. What’s done is done”

[A random Spark: “You need to write down things then, where he can't see”]

Viscount: “You don't think I have been?” (deleted)

[fetch: “Why are you deleting your messages?”]

Viscount: “So that he can't read them, Fetch” (deleted)

[fetch: “Where are you putting your hidden writings? Just tell us so we can tell you when you forget.”]

Viscount: “I.. haven't forgotten. Anything. I remember everything since being reunited with Countess. It's my memories beforehand that get....blurry” (deleted)

[A random Spark: “One shouldn't fear family”]

Viscount: “I know...” (deleted)

[fetch: “Just because you remember now doesn't mean you won't forget later.”]

Viscount: “I know.” (deleted)

[Void: “Vis, Crown once said that Prince will see things on the translation blog. Does Crown also check that blog?”]

Viscount: “I.. I dont know what Crown can and cannot see. I'm sorry, I don't have an answer for you”

Viscount: “I have to go now... It was nice talking to you all

I will see you tonight :)”

[thejollyroger-writer]

THE WASTELAND - Chapter 5: THE ATHENAEUM // THE CABIN, Part 3

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

SUMMARY:  In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

Header and the art for every chapter by the lovely @spartanguard​ – special thanks to @cssns​ for making this monster happen!

Prologue on AO3 // Prologue on Tumblr // Chapter One (ART) // Chapter Two (ART) // Chapter Three (ART) // Chapter Four (ART)

Chapter Five on AO3

ART

// 

The ride from Nephilysis to Prince David’s cabin outside the Northern Mountains takes a day and a half, stopping only when necessary — and most of those hours are completely silent, Mary Margaret, Regina, and Belle with their noses in books and notebooks when they’re not driving, but Emma finds herself unable to concentrate on anything outside of her own mind. 

Emma spends the whole ride — the time it's not her turn to drive — still trying to wrap her mind around everything. By the end of the first day, the only thing she can do to keep herself grounded is text Ruby, filling her in on everything she’s learned at the Athenaeum. 

Or, almost everything; she doesn't know why, but she leaves out the part about Killian. Everything else almost seems believable compared to that, and she thought she would be fine just ignoring it. 

Ruby, of course, is unsurprised by the news of her being a Vis. Everyone around her is unsurprised by the news, apparently. 

You really never knew? she asks. I always just assumed you stayed quiet about it. 

She thought she could handle herself, stay composed when they get to the cabin, when she sees Killian, but she finds herself incorrect. 

Seeing him with this new knowledge, seeing the warm way he smiles at her when she walks into the cabin, is too much for her, and her stomach flips as she turns on her heel to walk back out. 

Mary Margaret says something to cover for her, but her voice is nothing more than buzzing in her ears, and she shuts the door behind her perhaps a little too loudly.

She doesn’t care. She has to get away.  

Pulling her cell phone out of her pocket, she calls Ruby. When she doesn’t pick up the first time, she tries again — not usual for her, but she’s in dire waters here. 

Ruby answers the phone on the fourth ring with a grumble, which Emma ignores. 

"He's my true love," she blurts out. 

"What?" 

"I thought I could — along with everything else, I thought I would just be able to ignore this and just try to save him, but this is different." The words come pouring out of her, trying to keep up with the million miles a minute that has become normal in her brain. 

"Emma, what the hell are you even talking about?" 

Finally, she takes a deep breath, though she can feel her heart pounding in her throat. She tries to make the words come out slower, but by the time she reaches the end of her thought, she’s sped up once more. "Belle told me I'm a Vis, left her duties as Magistra to help train me because we're in a time crunch, but that's not the only thing she told me. There's apparently some sort of prophecy about a Vis and a Fae who don't know how powerful they are until they come together and need to use their powers to save each other. Their powers, and the power of their true love." 

Ruby scoffs. "And they think it's about you? And Killian?" 

"Belle seems to think so. It's apparently from some collection of writing from this Neverland place, one of the only things they've ever been able to decipher completely. Apparently Neverland is one of those places where, once you get there, you don't leave. Or can't. And that's why no one knows anything about it." Her mind is so muddled by it all that she can’t remember what she’s already told Ruby, or what they learned together before she left the hospital, but Ruby seems to understand.  

"But Killian's been there before? And he left?"

"Well, he hasn't shared the whole story with us yet, but I don't think it was a very positive experience for him. David knows more about it than I do, but I think — I’m almost certain at least one person didn’t make it out alive."

"And you guys… have to go back? To cure him from the effects of this poison?" 

"Yeah." 

Ruby lets out a low whistle. "Damn." 

The line is silent, Emma giving Ruby a chance to wrap her head around everything, but it doesn’t take long for her to come up with one of the very questions that has been rattling around Emma’s mind: "So then, because of this true love nonsense, you really are his only hope?" 

Even though Ruby can’t see the way she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, she somehow knows that Ruby knows she is doing it nonetheless. "Yes. What that's supposed to mean I have zero fucking clue, but… yes." 

Another low whistle. “You really have yourself in a predicament there, Swan. Though there could certainly be worse prospects for your True Love.”  

At this moment — of course — Killian steps out onto the porch, and she feels the embarrassment that crept up her cheeks deepen, though the stump she has taken a seat on is still a fair way away from him. 

She laughs, trying not to let the Ruby's right thought take up too much room in her mind as she tries to change the subject. "How is everything going at the hospital? Did you get the replacements?"

"He's there now, isn't he? Either that, or you agree with me."

Ruby always was able to read her like a book, even over the phone, and sees right through Emma's ploy. She smiles. "Yeah. Just answer the question." 

"Emma, come on! Which one!" 

"Both," she says quickly, surprising even herself, trying to hide her smile as she glances quickly at Killian on the back porch; and then, "Now, did you get the replacements?" 

Ruby laughs, and Emma can see the way she tosses back her head, letting it move through her whole body. "I'm almost upset you left me here." 

"I wouldn't trust the place in anyone else's hands, Rubes." She tries to stuff as much sincerity and appreciation in her voice as she can, only hoping Ruby picks up on it from hundreds of miles away. 

If she does, she says nothing, though finally answers the question Emma's been asking, a seriousness to her voice that wasn't there moments before. "Johanna's been here for a few days and Blue just got here this morning. Ashley finally delivered, no issues. We probably would have been okay with just Johanna, but I think Blue is glad to be away from the war for a while."

Emma feels a soft smile curve across her lips. "I understand that completely." 

"Any idea how long you'll be?" 

Out of instinct, Emma turns to the porch again, where Killian is sitting under one of the lit lamps, a few moths flying around over his head. He smiles at her, raising his hand with a wave, which Emma returns. "I don't even know where I'm going." The anxiety of it all washes over her: she really doesn't know where she is going, doesn't know what will be asked of her, between this prophecy and her new knowledge of being a Vis, not to mention this whole true love/saving Killian piece that has to fit in this adventure somehow. "There's a lot about this I'm not sure about, really," she mumbles, talking more to herself than her friend. 

But Ruby answers anyway. "If anyone is capable of succeeding at something like this, it's you, Emma Swan. I've never seen you take on more than you can handle." 

"I appreciate that you have faith in me, but what if this is finally it? What if I've finally gotten myself in too deep?" 

"Then you'll find a way to pull yourself out. You always have, and you always will." 

Emma smiles, trying to instill a little of Ruby's confidence in herself. 

Before she comes up with a response, though, Ruby says, "Now, I gotta go, and I'll let you get back to lover boy—"

"Ruby!" 

"Don't forget to update me from your far-off lands. And be careful."

"I always am."

Emma ends the call, though her eyes stay on her cell phone until after the screen goes dark, searching for the very confidence that Ruby just instilled in her, which seems to have already disappeared. Sliding her phone back into the pocket of her jeans, she wraps her arms around her torso, hugging herself. She forgot about the temperature change this close to the Northern Mountains after spending the last few years in all the same climate, and especially after the warmth of the city, and the chilliness of the dusk air quickly seeps into her as soon as she focuses on it, her skin already cold to the touch. She hopes she remembered to pack a jacket, at least for the next few days in the Northern Mountains — though who knows what the weather in Neverland could be like. 

Neverland. How the hell did she end up in this situation, traveling with a pack of soldiers, the Prince and his betrothed, a sprite council member, and the Magistra to a land they have never heard of? This is just the type of thing that she thought she left behind when she traded in her medic's bars to start her own maternity hospital, needing to live a life far from the death and destruction of the War. What brought her into this mess?

Killian, she reminds herself. Killian Jones, who fought and forced his way out of a prison camp and back to freedom, who lost his hand in the process — only to find his way to her hospital? A man who, against all odds, has a connection to her oldest friend, the Prince of the Gale, and found his way through the rain and the mud and the entire damn war just to end up in her hospital.

Killian. 

A violent shiver forces it's way through her body, shaking her shoulders and her knees. She's cold, much colder than she's been in a while, and knows she should go inside and find warmth, a blanket or a jacket and a nice cup of hot chocolate. 

But she knows what's waiting inside for her: questions and expectations and too many people needing too many things from her. 

When she looks up from her stump, she sees Killian slowly making his way across the yard to her, his leather jacket removed to reveal a dark blue sweater that clings to him in all the right places — no, stop, she tells herself. Don't go there. 

"My apologies if you're trying to have some alone time now, love, but I couldn't help but notice that you're without a jacket, which isn't opportune in this weather."

"Thank you," she says, taking the jacket from his hand and slipping it over her shoulders. The inside is still warm from his body heat, she realizes, remembering that he was wearing it when he stepped out onto the porch. "It's been a while since I've been in weather this cold, not since I used to travel around with David, and I've sort of forgotten that cold even exists." 

He sits beside her on the stump, far enough away that his arm only grazes hers every once in a while, not pressed up against her. "No need to worry, I have some sweaters and jackets here from when I was here last that you can surely borrow for the journey." 

She turns to him, trying her best to offer him a soft smile, though she does find it difficult. "Thanks," she mumbles, then lets out a small self-depreciating laugh. "You can just add that to the list of things I wasn't prepared for when I left home." 

"Yeah, Mary Margaret was saying that you discovered you're a Vis, I can't even imagine that." 

She nods, though her mind is instead on the prophecy. A Vis and a Fae. Though, as far as she's aware, Killian's not a Fae. 

"You don't have any abilities, do you?" she asks, trying to broach the subject gently, though she realizes immediately that she fails. 

He shakes his head. "Liam — my brother — was a dryad, hence the airships. We were never sure about our parents, though. Mum died when I was very little and our father disappeared one day not long after, but neither used any powers that Liam could ever remember." 

If he wants to know why she asked, he keeps it to himself, even as she offers him no response. The silence that settles between them is soft, not thickened by awkwardness or tension, and Emma is thankful for it. It's the first time in hours — days, at least — that her mind is not travelling at top speed, and she seizes the opportunity to take a deep breath, close her eyes for a moment, and focus on the soft sounds of the forest around them. 

"What about you?" he asks after a while, and when she turns to him, she finds him staring at her intently, almost as if he is trying to take in every detail of her. Normally, she would find advances like this overwhelming, almost creepy, but there is something in Killian's eyes — a softness, almost, more of an appreciation than anything else — that seems to calm her, even as he asks questions that bring up her past, something she tries to hide from and avoid as often as possible.

She doesn't feel that here. 

"I never knew my parents," she says calmly, as if it's not the biggest regret of her life. "They gave me away when I was just a few days old. I don't even know their names." 

"I'm sorry, Emma," he whispers, reaching his hand out to take hers. It's the simplest of gestures, his fingers wrapping tenderly around her hand, but it seems to light a spark within her, a warmth that has nothing to do with the jacket and a shiver unconnected to the crisp air. An air of confidence washes over her, bigger and more powerful than the one she felt while on the phone with Ruby, and she lets it wash over her and clean the dust and doubt that hide in her darkest corners. Suddenly, everything about this mission feels attainable: flying in a ship to an unknown land to retrieve the antidote needed to save Killian. It's as simple as that, really, and she feels like nothing can stop them. 

Them. 

Her and Killian. 

Together. 

Everything around him is dark. Dark rocks, dark fields, dark, dark jungle as far as the eye can see. But they’re not in the jungle; in fact, they’re up on a cliff, looking down over it all. It looks so small from up here, the path that’s taken them three days to get through. Up here, he feels like he can see the whole island, though he knows it’s much bigger, since he has actually seen it from above. 

A whole island that no one had ever heard of, that’s been missing from maps and history books simply because… why? Nothing about Neverland is simple, he’s learned. It’s — what word did Pan use? — alive. It’s alive, hidden from maps and books and knowledge because it wants to be. 

Killian turns around to where Liam and Pan are standing beside a large bush, their arguing voices covered by the rushing of the waterfall behind them, but Killian can still tell they are fighting by Liam’s use of his hands. The three of them were the only men to leave the Jewel of the Realm once it took anchor off the shore of the foreign land, so they are alone at the top of the cliff. 

Pan turns away from Liam to face Killian as he approaches them. "I can assure you, Captain, Dreamshade is a very valuable asset to King Gold because of its immense healing power. I don't know where you found these books your brother speaks of, but I grew up on the island, so I would certainly know." 

"See, Killian, I told you." 

"Yes, Killian, trust your brother,” the boy spits, accentuating his name much more than necessary, almost mocking. “Come help us gather some of these branches, but be careful of the thorns. We want to make sure as much of it gets back to the King as possible." 

There is still something about the boy — Pan — that Killian can't stand, and he watches as he carefully snips off the end of a branch and drops it in the nearby pouch. 

Killian narrows his eyes towards the boy. "If the plant really does have healing powers, then what would be the need of avoiding the thorns? What is it going to do, heal me too much?" 

Pan opens his mouth to respond, but Liam beats him to it, stepping back towards the bush, moving slowly away from Killian. “Come, now, brother, don’t be like that. The king would not have sent us on such a diplomatic mission if it weren’t for the good of everyone, and he certainly would have informed us if we were to collect a deadly poison instead of a plant with healing abilities.” 

Pan smiles, and the sense of fear that Killian has felt since the King gave them their mission suddenly becomes paralyzing because of it. 

Something is wrong. 

“Here, I’ll even prove it to you,” Liam continues, grabbing one of the branches from the bag, and before either of them can react, he slices the skin of his arm with one of the thorns. 

At first, nothing happens, but the way Pan stares at him wide-eyed makes Killian’s stomach turn.

After a few more seconds pass, all with no reaction from Liam’s arm save a scratch in his skin from the thorns, he shrugs.

“See, Killian, I told—” His words stop in an instant, his eyes going wide as he turns down to his arm.

Where moments before there was only a scratch, the cut has now turned black, the darkness webbing out along his arm and up under his rolled-up sleeve. He tries to say something, but his throat is quicky closing, and Killian is by his side just in time to catch him as he collapses.

“Brother—” he chokes, and the blackness appears from under the collar of his uniform, spreading up his neck.

Killian can’t believe it, and he whips around towards Pan, who is leaning casually against a tree, a sly smile across his adolescent cheeks.

“Why didn’t you stop him?!” Killian screams, clutching tight to Liam's body. “You knew this was going to happen! You could have stopped it!”

“Well, where’s the fun in that, Captain?”

“I have to get him back to the ship, back to the crew, show them exactly what the king sent us here for!”

As soon as Killian lets go of Liam, though, Pan flicks his wrist and whisks his body into the air. “I’m afraid not. Your brother is never going to leave Dead Man’s Peak, ironically enough.” Another flick, and Liam is propped against one of the rocks along the edge of the water — and with another, Killian’s hands are bound behind his back.

Rightfully, he’s furious, but no matter how hard he fights against his restraints, he somehow knows he’ll never get out. “What do you think you're doing?!”

“I’m just doing as Baelfire ordered.”

“The Prince ordered you to kill my brother? To take me hostage?”

“Oh, no, nothing quite so intricate. He simply ordered me to make sure the Dreamshade arrived back in Nephilysis by any means necessary. You and your dryad brother were simply pawns in a much bigger scheme.”

Suddenly instead of anger, Killian is overcome with a paralyzing sense of fear. “What are you going to do to me?” he asks, his voice much softer than even moments ago. Trembling.

“Well, see, now I’m going to make your crew believe you killed your brother for power so the prince can gain control of your whole fleet of ships.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Pan smiles, another flick of the wrist, and Killian finds himself unable to speak, all of his words coming out as mumbles. “Because no matter what you say, Baelfire is going to have you killed." 

 Killian is tied to the mast, his crew standing in a circle around him, every eye on him. He knows that many of these men — men that he has known for years, one that he’s known for most of his life — don’t believe the lies that Pan is spewing, but they’re all smart enough not to argue with him, backed always by Prince Baelfire. Not to mention the woman, the woman he loves, though he hasn’t had the nerve to tell her yet. The woman that’s not even supposed to be on the ship with them, that he begged Liam to let come. The woman whose eyes are brimming with tears, he just knows it, but he can’t bring himself to look at her. 

Milah. 

"The power the Admiral gained must have been too much for him," Pan says, his eyes filled with a fake sadness, but Killian knows (hopes) no one else sees it that way. "He saw how important the healing abilities of Dreamshade were going to be to the King and decided to kill the Admiral and take all the glory." 

That’s not true! his mind screams, but there is nothing he can do about it. Pan and Baelfire have worked their charm over the crew, and even if anyone did take his side, they would just be tossed overboard to their deaths with him. He knows at least some of his crew must be loyal to him, knows that they must know he would never usurp power from Liam. 

Right? 

Instead of focusing on Pan or the Prince, or even his love, he looks around the circle of men, searching for Merlin. Merlin, his oldest friend beside his brother — his oldest living friend, now — is the smartest man either of them ever met, and he must know this is all a rouse for the prince to gain more power. He must know that none of it is real. Finally, he finds him, and though he is weak from whatever charm Pan cast over him when they left Dead Man's Peak, he can focus on his friend enough to recognize his slight nod, the understanding in his eyes. If nothing else, he has Merlin on his side, and hopefully he is able to carry out the plan they discussed not long before about what they should do should the Jewel of the Realm ever fall into the wrong hands — as it is about to do. 

"Killian Jones," Prince Baelfire says, his voice loud, booming, demanding, and every eye on the ship is drawn to him — though Milah, he notices, is still looking only at him. "I find you guilty of treason and sentence you to death. Usually aboard a ship, the penalty would be walking the plank, and I do believe that would be equally efficient in these circumstances." 

Milah screams, but no one acknowledges her, which just makes Killian’s heart break more.

Killian gulps. Pan smiles, though no one seems to notice. 

"B-b-but your majest-t-ty," First Mate William Smee tries, his voice shuddering with fear. "We're th-thousands of feet in the — in the air!" 

The Prince whips around to face him, anger obvious on his features, and Smee practically cowers away. "That is precisely why it will be efficient, Smee," he growls between gritted teeth, then turns back to Killian, who has just a few more steps to reach the plank. 

He turns quickly, hoping to find Milah’s face one more time before falling to his death, but she is no longer looking at him. Instead, she has fallen to her knees on the deck, the winds whipping her wild, dark hair around her face, which she holds in her hands. 

“I love you,” he whispers, which uses all the strength he has left. 

"To your death, traitor," he says, and a whoosh of magic from Pan’s hand pushes him over the side of the ship, falling towards his death and towards the waters below.

 His eyes snap open moments before he hits the surface of the water, though every inch of his body remembers how it felt. But instead of the freezing cold that he expects, he feels… warm? Off-balance. Delirious. 

It takes him a moment to get his bearings, because everything around him is dark. There’s a light weight on his chest, a warmth emanating from it and through his whole body. 

“Hey, hey, no, you’re alright,” a voice whispers in his ear. 

Emma’s voice. 

She's comforting him, the soft light of her magic illuminating where her hands are pressed against his chest, relaxing him. A few more moments, deep breaths, and he has come to completely, so he relaxes, leaning back into her arms. There is something about her, something about the way she takes care of him and the care she has shown him since she first laid eyes on him in her office that he appreciates immensely, and he can't help the thoughts that come in his sleepy haze about how she has come to mean more to him than that. He hasn't opened his heart up to the idea of love his whole , but he can't help but think maybe, if they somehow succeed at their mission and save his life, he may be able to no longer hide from the feelings that he has been pushing deeper and deeper down. 

"You can't be comfortable like this, Swan," he whispers, realizing for the first time the position they are in on the back seat of the truck, but he is apparently wrong, since she's fallen asleep with her hands on his chest and her head resting back against the pillow pressed against the window.

He quickly drifts off. 

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[maraudererasmut]

Black and White (Part XV)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII | Part XIX

When Sirius Black walked into the run-down little coffee shop that Remus worked at, he looked extremely out of place. The Daily Grind was one of those cafes that had mismatched furniture and paintings from local artists on the wall. It wasn't glamorous, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it felt comfortable— homey. Remus was willing to bet that Sirius had never set foot in a cafe like this, preferring to get his coffee from Starbucks or a butler in a tuxedo or something. 

The first thing that Remus noticed about Sirius was that he was wearing a suit, like always, with his long hair in a loose bun and his posture stiffer than a board. He glanced around him, scanning the room, until his eyes met with Remus' and his jaw tightened. Remus forced himself to smile politely, offering the gallery owner a small wave. Sirius made his way over to Remus' table, his typical saunter less noticeable now that he was in an unfamiliar environment.

"Good evening, Sirius. Thank you for joining me." Remus kept his tone courteous, his words formal. He knew that he would have trouble relaxing around Sirius. The two of them had a business relationship exclusively; meeting up socially was strange and unprecedented.

Sirius' mouth twisted into what Remus could only assume was an attempt at a grin. 

"Remus," he muttered stiffly, giving a firm nod. He glanced down at the empty chair in front of Remus, but remained standing. Remus felt his shoulders tighten in discomfort.

"Please… have a seat." Remus gestured towards the empty chair and Sirius nodded again before sitting down. "Uh… thanks for meeting me."

He didn't know what else to say. Seeing Sirius in the cafe wasn't quite as hilarious has Remus had anticipated; instead, the two men were both uncomfortable, awkward, struggling to relax in front of one another.

"Yes, well…" Sirius began, before trailing off. "So… is this where you work?"

Remus nodded, his hands tightening around his cup of tea. He didn't hate his job, but it was exhausting. He was on his feet most of the day and he rarely had enough energy to paint at night. It took everything Remus had in him to drag himself out of bed each morning, ready to face the same mundane routine that slowly ate away at him. 

"It's… nice." Sirius glanced around at the paintings on the wall. His mouth spread into a thin smile as recognition lit up his face. "There's a familiar one…"

Remus glanced over his shoulder to find one of his older pieces hanging on the wall behind him.

"Oh… yeah… I forgot that one was there. It's… not my best work."

"No, it isn't."

Remus spun around to cast a glare at Sirius.

"That's not very polite."

Sirius cocked an eyebrow and Remus could have sworn he saw the slightest hint of humour in those silvery eyes.

"Why? It's not. Your current stuff is much better. The paintings that you've been producing recently? They're a different caliber altogether."

Remus could feel his cheeks heat up as Sirius paid him a rare compliment. It was backhanded, yes, but it was the closest thing to praise that he could hope for from the gallerist.

"Uh… thanks." 

Sirius leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his bangs and brushing them away from his eyes. Remus felt himself mirroring Sirius, finally able to sink into his chair and relax slightly. 

"So…" Sirius began, cutting the silence, his tone gentler than usual. "I… I am sorry. About yesterday. I know I said that earlier, I just… want you to know that."

Remus chewed the edge of his lip, trying to formulate his response. Every fiber of his being wanted to say it's okay, to brush off what happened the other day as if it had been perfectly normal. That was his immediate response to everything. 

It's fine.

It's no bother.

It's okay.

Although he couldn't figure out why, there was a part of Remus that didn't want this to be the same as always. It wasn't okay. The way Sirius treated him wasn't fine, and Remus wasn't going to allow himself to be a doormat. Not this time.

"You were an arse."

"I know." Sirius' gaze dropped to his hands, which were fiddling with a packet of sugar. Remus felt a wave of something— was it affection? — pass over him as he watched Sirius. He hated it.

"It was rude," Remus continued, trying to sound upset, to hide the fact that Sirius' fiddling was in any way endearing. "The way you spoke to me. The way you acted around me. It really was unprofessional."

"I know."

Sirius didn't justify his actions. He didn't make any excuses, didn't try to explain anything, he simply sat there as Remus called him out, a distinct look of guilt darkening his silvery blue eyes. 

"You… really shouldn't treat people that way…"

"I know."

Remus paused. He brought his tea to his mouth and took a sip, giving himself time to think.

"Why?"

Sirius glanced back up at Remus, his eyes shining like a lost puppy. Remus had to suppress a grin.

"Why what?" The gallerist asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Why did you… what made you so upset? Why were you so… cruel?"

Remus watched as Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly as he leaned further back in his chair, as if he knew this question had been coming the entire time. Sirius' eyes shot open, darting back and forth as they searched Remus' face. After a moment, Sirius finally spoke.

"You don't know much about me…" He began, before trailing off. Remus remained silent, assuming that there was more to follow. There was. "I… I do that on purpose. I don't like getting too close to my artists. It… this has been strange for me; you being friendly with James. It… made things awkward."

Remus cocked a brow and pursed his lips.

"How so?"

Sirius gave a heavy sigh.

"I don't… really have any family. I have James and Lily. That's it. They're… they're all I have."

Remus was confused. He had read about the Black family before; they were well-established business people, the family name known throughout the city from their various enterprises. Sirius was a member of this prestigious family, how could he say he didn't have any?

Remus' face must have betrayed his thoughts, because Sirius let out a dark laugh.

"Before you ask, no, I'm not close with the other Blacks. They're… the only thing we share is the name. I'm not… well, I'm different. We don't speak anymore. It's better that way."

"Oh." Remus didn't know how else to respond. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's as much my doing as it is theirs."

"I see…"

"Anyway…" Sirius' fingers turned the sugar packet over and over and over. "I'm… very protective of James and Lily…"

Remus scoffed. 

"You weren't jealous, were you?" He asked with a grin. Sirius didn't respond, and Remus realized his mistake. His smile faded. "...were you?"

Sirius shrugged his shoulders, his focus remaining on the sugar that danced through his hands.

Never in a million years would Remus have expected Sirius Black to be jealous of him. Remus was broke. He worked himself to the bone, barely sleeping, hardly eating, unable to afford anything beyond the absolute necessities. 

"I'm…" Remus began, not sure what it was he wanted to say. "I don't think James or Lily would ever replace you…"

"No, I know that…" Sirius said to the sugar. "I know that. I just… have trouble believing it…"

The man in front of Remus was someone so different than the Sirius Black he thought he knew. This was someone soft, scared, afraid of losing the people he loved. This was a man who had everything and nothing all at once, who couldn't fathom going through life on his own. This was someone that Remus understood.

"I'm… I'm sorry if I— "

"No, you're fine," Sirius interrupted, glancing back up at Remus, a forced smile on his face. "This was on me. I've got a bit of a temper. I lashed out at you. And I'm sorry about that. Anyway…" Sirius' hand dropped the sugar and brushed his bangs from his eyes. "None of this is important. You just… wanted to know why. So… that's why."

"I really am sor— "

"Can we please drop it?" Some of the ice returned to Sirius' voice, reflected in the glacial blue of his eyes. Remus gave the gallerist a curt nod, knowing that the subject was a delicate one. 

"Yeah, sure. Consider it dropped." Remus tried to smile, to keep his emotions hidden from his face. "We're good, you and I. As far as I'm concerned…"

"Good."

"Yeah…"

"So…" Sirius mumbled, picking up his sugar packet again, breaking the suddenly awkward silence. "You mentioned a message?"

Shit.

Remus swallowed past the lump in his throat. When he was still angry at Sirius, he had planned to make the man feel bad about his drunken voicemail. Now that they had connected over a candid heart-to-heart, it didn't seem right to bring it up.

"It… it was nothing. Honestly…"

Sirius raised a brow skeptically.

"Remus…"

"You… you just left a voicemail is all. It really wasn't anything… you didn't say much…"

Remus watched as the colour faded from Sirius' face, his eyes growing wide with horror. Butterflies erupted in the pit of Remus' stomach as the icy blue of Sirius' irises melted through his heart.

Shit shit shit…

"It really wasn't—"

"I don't remember leaving that…" Sirius twisted his sugar in his hand, accidentally breaking the packet and spilling the grains across the table. "Fuck!"

"It's fine! I've got it! I can clean it up!" 

As Remus moved to sweep up the mess with his napkin, Sirius slammed his fist against the table, startling the artist and causing the sugar grains to jump.

"Was I drunk?"

Remus blinked. He looked at Sirius, who suddenly looked more angry than nervous.

"Uh… p— possibly? It was only a voic— "

"Was I drunk, Remus?"

Sirius looked— well, serious.

"Uh… y— yeah… I… I think so."

"Fuck!" Sirius' profanities echoed across the cafe, earning him scathing glares from the other patrons. "Shit!" He muttered, a bit quieter.

"Really, Sirius. It's fine. It wasn't anything! You didn't say anything embarrassing or anyth—"

"I have to go."

Sirius was on his feet before Remus could even respond. The artist stared up at the other man, mouth agape, utterly confused.

"Sirius, you don't—"

"I'm sorry, Remus."

He did sound sorry. His eyes grew soft for a moment as his gaze lingered on Remus. Then, before the artist could get in another word, Sirius was heading towards the door.

"Sirius, wait!"

Remus' protests came too late, Sirius was already out of earshot. Remus stared as the expensive suit and elegant bun faded from view, wondering what the hell had just happened.

[solest]

This will be yet another mental health post, but I won't put it under a cut this time because a) I'm on mobile and don't know how to do it here and b) yes, friends might read this. I will eben tag this and try not to feel guilty for being an attention whore by doing so. This will be longer I guess, so sorry if you have to scroll through because of a).

I thought I would have stagnated. I went to a psychosomatic clinic this summer and felt like it had not helped at all. I tried to put myself out there again and had a good moment and an immediate throwback in more than one ways. But now I'm lying here, crying over videos I see or stories I read about certain mental health things and for the first time I can accept that what I read is applying to me. I knew before, but now I accept.

I have a trauma from school and bullying. It still feels weird to say it, because I always thought that Trauma had to be something big, something life threatening and not a shitty teacher and a bunch of kids you knew since you were 3, who turned on you all of a sudden. I studied social work, took child care and protection classes, but the Traumas that were discussed there were always cases of severe violence, abuse, neglect and so on. No one ever told me that things that don't seem so threatening can stick to you and change how you react for such a long time.

I've been told by three or four therapists by now that what vi experienced was trauma, but only recently therapists were using actual methods for this on me. I've been a lively and adventurous kid until second grade. I had a math teacher who was hysterical, got emotional outbursts, screamed at us and got physical. This was known, my brothers who's six years older had her as well.

I remember her screaming at us, especially me. I've never been a math genius but this woman managed that I developed a solid fear of maths. I clearly remember her pulling my hair in front of the class, because I did not know what 7x7 was. To this day, I forgot simple formulas, my mind goes blank if too much math is involved and I'm slow calculating in my head. I started to emotionally shut down and burst into tears when doing maths homework. I was 7.

When I got into third grade, we had a maths test at the very beginning of the year and I failed it miserably. I remember I was devesrated and I link the beginning of my bullying with it and just remembered why. I got an emotional outburst. I screamed, I cried I felt helpless and lost and it was too extreme a reaction to a failed test for all around me. I now know that it was a stress response to what I had experienced before and what I linked to it. I feared to get my hair pulled again, to be screamed at. But this odd behavior only made the other kids frown on me and trying to make me this upset again., which resulted in me not having friends and not understanding why people I knew since kindergarten and who were perfectly fine with me some months ago could be so cruel.

And just some weeks ago, I saw a video on how trauma comes to be. It isn't the severity, but the surprise that shake our core beliefs. I might have a genetic disposition to anxiety disorders, which might have made it "easier" to be shaken by what happened, but that's not the sole reason it affscted me like it did. Another video stated that trauma is the way we react to what happens. This firstly made me think "Oh, so you're an over dramatic bitch that was so startled by such a thing that you developed a trauma. How pathetic". How dare I think this about myself.

The way I experienced it is valid. It did what it did to me and I can't change that. Maybe I'm too sensitive, but I can't go back and tell this my sobbing 7 yo self. I lost all my adventurous attitude. I cried a lot and developed a general anxiety disorder that was only diagnosed when I was 21. I was shamed and frowned upon my overly sensitive and emotional reactions, and as the manifestations of my GAD, mostly extreme nausea. All of this only made me hate myself more and more. People said I'm weird, not normal, mentally disabled and I believed them. I tried to please them all, to just not be alone and laughed at anymore. I'm well aware that there are people with far more severe and terrible stories, but this is mine and I can't change either.

My parents tried best their could, but looking back a proper therapy as a child might have helped me. Instead I wasn't doing good in school, because stress let me break down completely. I had anxiety when doing tests and exams, a high perfectionism I'm still not able to act upon though. My parents had not been the cause for all this and tried to help as best they could, but the damage was done.

And still, parts of this personality I had before the trauma was still there, though I felt like I had to hide it, otherwise people would reject me for who I am. I missed out on much, simply because I did not grève the mental strength to try, fearing my peers would not accept me.

My self esteem is pretty low most of the times still, but somehow I'm now at a point where I can look back on this stuff and say:

"This was messed up. There's nothing you could have done better or to prevent it. The teacher should not have acted like this. Adults should have protected you and take your desperation seriously. The other kids, no matter their own awful experiences were not entitled to treat you like shit. You're réactions are not over the top, they were cries for help. You did not deserve this, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And if I could turn back in time, I would come to your aid and kick their arses."

I wasted so much time hating myself. I might not be perfect, no one is, but I'm okay. I'm enough. I don't have to be outstanding at something to be worth it, I already am, by merely existing. I'm worthy of love. I'm worthy of respect. I might have had a lot of help and I might took longer than most around ne, but I accomplished things. Things people like the math Teacher or stupid parents of stupid classmates told me I never will.

I got my high-school diploma. I studied. It took me 6 instead of 3 years for a Bachelor's degree, but I was experiencing flashback anxiety because it reminded me if school and I had to stay at home for one whole year, because I was so deep into anxiety and depression. And I made it.

I'm the first one with an academic degree in my whole family. Despite feeling like shit and thinking I can do nothing, I decided to pull through. The scores I had on papers do not define how professional I am, because I had to write them with severe panic attacks and procrastination problems.

I had long and stable relationships. I learned to drive. I figured I'm Bi, came out and nothing terrible happened. I went to Japan, with my girlfriend at the time for two months, just the two of us. I moved out and lived with another person. I quit a toxic job, because I knew it was toxic. I made friends.

Writing this down does not come easy, but I'm doing it right now. Being able to admit my successes is a huge step. I'm currently experiencing something like a second adolescents, and I think that's because I finally understand that I have to learn what I really am, what I want. I might overcompensate but that's okay. After 13 years of therapy and meds, and a noch most time without much help in this regard I'm allowed to do so.

I will not be loved by everyone and that's okay, because it means I don't have to love everyone in return. People do like me for what I am, even if it's hard to grasp. I'm not too old for things with 33 and I'm allowed to like "childish" stuff and it does not make me less of an adult. I deserve happiness and to cut toxic people out of my life. I will find a new job and it's okay if I feel like I don't know anything, I'm not dumb and I can learn quick.

I'm more than my mental illness, it does not define me completely.

[the-headbop-wraith]

2_26 Reoccurring Theme

“It’s a gorgeous day,” Vivi greeted, when Arthur returned.  Plumes of thick white mist trailed from the Styrofoam cups carried in either of his hands, and between his fingers he clutched the plastic lids.  Both were coffee, something she wasn’t fanatical for but sometimes the taste of it could knock her back on her feet.

Vivi sat on the vans back bumper, computer on her lap with its small universe of tabs and websites opened.  She absentmindedly cycled through the windows, passing the time and watching the day reach momentum.  Her night had been full of research and data, theories and sudden outbursts of intriguing facts to share with the others; Arthur was spent in the first fifteen minutes but Lewis had kept up with her until fatigue won at last.  She was almost convinced she had exhausted what resources were available – legends and rumors ranged from the old like La Llorona, to the sketchy Slender man – the prospects for missing children always distressing, the dire truth of what they sought.

Arthur sat the cups down beside Vivi, then reached into one pocket and pulled out handfuls upon handfuls of sugar and honey packets, along with another package of gum.  “How’d you sleep?” he began.  He stretched out his fingers over the little pile of packets and took a breath.  He could tell Vivi was watching, though she didn’t show it.

“Good.  It got cold last night,” she said, with a yawn.  “How were you?”

Nearly all of the honey packets went into one coffee cup.  Arthur stirred it and handed it to Vivi.  “Could’ve been better,” he admitted.  “I don’t do well in this weather.  Ugh!”  He went to the sugar next, tearing the little packets apart and haphazardly dumping the white silt into his cup.  “My eyeballs feel like swollen grapes.”  For emphasis he rubbed at his eyes with the armband on his metal wrist.

“It‘s cause you‘re so skinny.”  Vivi blew on her cup and tried to sip her beverage.  She winced when the hot liquid hit her tongue.  “You can afford to eat more.”

Arthur shrugged, with his good shoulder, and raised his cup.  “I try?”  Vivi looked at him.  “I have a high metabolism?”

“Okay-okay.”  She smiled. The hot cup in her hands felt good seeping through her palms, and the warm mist spilled over her knuckles. “All that running you do.”  She swirled the dark liquid around.

“Don’t blame that.  It’s the only way I can stay out of trouble.”  Arthur carefully stirred his coffee and raised the cup to his lips -

A shriek sliced across the parking lot, followed by a barrage of barks. Dimitri’s voice hollered out in a panic, but whatever was said couldn’t seep through the thick walls around the doors of the van.  Arthur snorted into his cup sending hot liquid splattering over his metal hand.

“Bloody hell, I should’a known better!” he stammered.  He passed the cup to his good hand and shook his dripping hand. “It’s hard to clean this!”

Vivi set her cup and the laptop aside and snatched at Arthur’s hand. “You’ll get it in the seams.”  She pulled the sleeve of her coat over her palm and soaked up the excess liquid.  “Lemme have the cup.  Hurry.”

A dark shape flew by, pursued by two smaller forms.  Mystery was barking up a storm, racing after Dimitri and Lewis.  “He’s gonna get you!” Lewis chimed out, skipping ahead.  Dimitri was too busy ducking and dodging Mystery’s erratic charges to see the bright sparks kicked up around Lewis’ feet.  “Careful Dimitri, look out!”  And Mystery yapped and bounced around the boy.

“Help me Lews’s!  Help!” The three charged by the van, Mystery’s hyper yips fading.

“I don’t think I can!” Lewis called back, still skipping, always a step ahead of the two, or at least Dimitri.

Vivi sprint around the vans side.  “Lewis! What have I told you about teasing Mystery!  I won’t tolerate it!”

“I didn’t start it this time, I swear!” yelled Lewis, as Dimitri ducked around his side.  “Whoa, careful!  Watch it!”

The three sprinted into the empty lot between the motel and an antique shop, the grounds coated in browning grass and snatches of green weeds struggling under the biting cold.  A piece of cement hidden in the grass caught Dimitri’s leg and he went tumbling, on top of Mystery when the dog darted under his fall.  The two rolled over and over, as Lewis trots to a halt.

“Help!”  Dimitri yelped.  “He’s got me, he won’t let me go!”  Mystery put his paws across Dimitri’s chest and nipped at the boys hands as he tried to push him off.  Finally, Dimitri jostles Mystery off his perch, but the dog refuses to move away and settles to roll over onto his back across Dimitri’s lap.  “Save me?”

Arthur steps up beside Vivi and gestures to the group.  “Ah, look at our children,” he said, imitating a sharp Irish accent.  “Don’t they make ye proud.”

“Mystery!  You better settle down!  You don’t know your own strength.”  Vivi smirked. “Not often he acts like a dog, hmm?” She watched as Arthur flexed his fingers, working out the stickiness that held to his joints.  “I’m not wrong to think,” her voice trailed off, and Vivi shook her head.  “I’m not sure… what we’re gonna find, but… this has been good for us.  For Dimitri.  Looking at him, you wouldn’t imagine what he’s hiding from.”

Arthur hummed a sound, and looked past his hand.  “I can’t get it off my mind.”

“I know.”

“Going back now, I dunno.  It’ll hurt him,” Arthur murmured.  “He’s past mourning.  That’s all it is.”  He remembered leaving the mansion, Vivi’s sorrow.  Not reliving, but experiencing it for the first time.  In a way that was cruel.

Arthur listened to the happy shrieks.  “This is a mistake,” he muttered.  “You know that.  Maybe it’s not too late, we could – ”  Vivi called out, bulldozing through his words.

“Are you three ready?” Vivi called.  “I know you’ve got some important business going on there, but the coffee’s getting cold.”  Arthur sighed.  Across the road, simultaneous groans wound out from the three.

Arthur takes stock of Vivi’s wistful stare on Lewis, as the tall figure hoists Dimitri out from under Mystery and dashes away.  Mystery gives chase.  “I’m taking a wild guess here, and say that Lewis didn’t realize how much he missed his sisters.”

Vivi stiffened and jerked to Arthur.  She mouthed a ‘What?’  and gathered up handfuls of her blue hair.  “The obituary didn’t mention… shit, did it mention that?  Why wouldn‘t I see— ?”  She exhales and drags her hands over her eyes.  Arthur waits, grimacing, as Vivi wrestles control over her face.  In the meantime, Dimitri is screaming as Mystery snaps at his feet.  “He never talks about them.”

Arthur blinked and pulled his fists up in front of his chest.  “No, I guess he wouldn’t.”  He paused and thought it over, and murmured, mostly to himself, “Some small kindness.”

“I’ll feel better,” Vivi murmured, as she fixed her hairband back in place.  “You too.  Once we get settled and take a look around.”  That was her hope.  She did her best to smile as a calamity of barks and giggles crashed towards them. In the lead pranced Mystery, yapping and panting a wispy white trail as Lewis pursued.  

“I think you’re safe now,” Lewis said.  Dimitri was hanging from his left arm, well above Mystery’s head. “What’s up?”  He lowered his arm when Dimitri let go.

“Watch out for the coffee,” Arthur choked, as he hurried to catch Mystery at the bumper.  Dimitri stumbled after them wheezing in pace with the dog.  “Think you can endure another hour of hurry up and waiting?”

“Meh,” Dimitri quipped.  “We’ll get there when we get there.”

Lewis waited until Dimitri and Arthur climbed into the van, then turned to Vivi and slanted his brow behind the thick tint of the sunglasses.  “Is everything okay?”

Vivi nods.  “We were just talking.  Mostly about where to stop along the way.”  She points out Lewis’ arm, where the sleeve of his jacket was pulled back revealing a portion of his wrist.  A small peep escaped Vivi, and she snapped a hand up to her mouth.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look.”

Lewis recoiled slightly and put a hand to his frayed sleeve.  “No-no, you’re fine.  I’m— Did I upset you?”  

Vivi shook her head behind her hand.  “Never.”  She squint her eyes, as if she wanted to close them.  “How could you ask such a thing?”

There were two possible reactions Lewis had anticipated.  One, Vivi would have been all over him with the questions and the ogling, probably the more favored outcome.  Or, she would have been repulsed by his thin veil; the latter scenario Lewis doubted but, he didn’t like mirrors.  

“It doesn’t matter,” Lewis twittered.  But it did matter, it mattered to Vivi.  She hadn’t moved.  What was it? He tugged at the sleeve of his jacket and let his ethereal suggestion calm, recoil.  “Did you…. wanna see?”

At first Vivi wouldn’t answer, she refused to look at Lewis.  “Am I allowed?  I mean, you don’t mind?  Oh… wait - ”

“Relax.  Look.” Lewis unbuttoned the jacket sleeve and pulled it back over his arm.  He took Vivi’s other hand when she began to raise it to her chin.  “I’m telling you,” he said, gently.  “It’s okay.”  He moved her hand to the underside of his wrist.  “See.  Just, y’know, me.”

Vivi pressed her lips together as she smiled.  She lowered her other hand down and set it over Lewis’ arm.  “I wasn’t worried.  I know it’s you,” she said.  It was funny in a laughable sort of way, that Lewis’ reluctance was based wholly on his assumption she could somehow not accept him.  “I didn’t want you to do anything you weren’t ready for. How do I say this?”  She gripped his arm and frowned.  “I can get ‘a little’ excited when it comes to the paranormal stuff, but you’re not just a ghost.  This is different.  I don‘t want to force you into situations you‘re not comfortable with. You don’t always let me know when it bothers you, though sometimes I can tell, but still I forget….”

“You‘re perfect, Vi,” Lewis said.  He clasped her hands in his and leaned down to kiss her knuckles.  “You worry too much.  Don’t do that, I—” He stopped and the frown returned to his brow. He studied her carefully.  “You’re under a lot of stress, and staying up late hasn’t helped.”

“You figure?” Vivi chuckles.  “Research has no end.”  She traced the bleached segments over his fingers with her thumb.  A low rumble emitted from Lewis.

“That feels nice,” he said.  She was about to say something, but Lewis snapped his head up.  Vivi spun around.

“Ooh, uh….” Arthur stuttered, head poking out just past the door. “Sorry, um…. You guys ready…?”

“Yes,” Vivi mumbled.  “Yeah. He’s right, we should – we should get going.”  She released Lewis’ hands and backed away.  “We’ll continue… later?”

Lewis caught the direction of Arthur‘s gaze and quickly fixed the sleeve of his jacket.  “Yes,” said the ghost.  “I mean, later then….that is.”  He let his voice sputter off.  Vivi was already gone, inside the van.  Thumps and bumping roved around, as the passengers organized themselves and their belongings. Lewis went to the driver side door. Voices muttered around; one was hissing, it sounded like Arthur.  Then Dimitri’s groan:

“Were they kissing?”

Lewis’ hand slipped through the doors latch.  Meanwhile, the brief chatter of excitement flared up within - Myster’s yips along with, ’what have you told him’ and ’I said nothing,’ among other variations of those two phrases and the confusion that ignited.  It took a few attempts by Lewis before he was able to grip the handle and get the door open.  He began to have doubts once he was situated behind the steering wheel. He waited until Arthur and Vivi’s ‘conversation’ had drawn to an awkward lull.

“Art.”  Lewis tried to remove the hitch in his tone, but he lacked the will.  “Could you drive for a bit?”  He glanced into the back when the others went quiet.

“You mean for the rest of the way?” Arthur said.  Lewis scooted over, and Arthur plopped down in the driver seat. He leaned over to set his Styrofoam cup in the holder and checked the other cup slot for the keys.  They keys were already in the ignition.

“No,” Lewis said.  He looked at his hands as Arthur turned the key.  The van roared to life and Arthur toggled the gas pedal, before letting the brooding purr settle into its rhythm.  “I don’t feel too… hmm, set.   On the driving.”  He paused. “Estamos bien?”

Arthur reversed the van, but before leaving the car lot he took the time to fiddle with the radio, cycling through the parched static and high-low of songs and commercial jingles. “What?”

“Look up?” Lewis hissed.  Arthur sighed and craned his head up, enough to catch the edge of the ghost in his peripheral.  “I’ll be right here.  Are you cool with that?”

Arthur flopped back and stared at Lewis.  “Y-yeah, I wouldn’t ask—” Arthur took a breath and tightened his fist on the steering wheel.  “Whatever you want.”  He made a point to lean far over in his seat to see the side mirror as he turned the van, and navigated them from the motels parking lot.  By late noon, the amber transport was merged with traffic, traveling on a stretch of road beneath clouds darkening in the distance.

After Arthur, Vivi drove, then, it was Arthur again, the two of them alternating between each stop.  If traffic wasn’t bad or they weren’t in the cities, Dimitri could sit up front and watch the scenery.  There was a big fuss over finding where the seatbelt had gone for the middle seat, until Vivi managed to drag it out from between the seats.  The miles flew by.  A blink and it was five gone, a short nap and over a fifty more now in the past.

Open plains and fields of farmland thinned out, cattle, ravaged fields of dirt were soon gone.  Trees became numerous and tall, and suddenly the road was surrounded by thick groves of oaks, here and between the large meadow filled with shrubs and creeping vines. It was familiar territory for Dimitri but unwelcomed.  He remembered the same landscape when they had moved – tall trees, meadows at the edge of open paths through the woods, enticing the curious explorer; wild groves that adventures could explore for years and never find their way out from; wilderness that could never be tamed by man and his civilization.  His father might disagree, but what did his father know?

As the clouds thickened the chill became unbearable, and Dimitri figured couldn’t be much worse in the back.  Traffic was getting thick anyway and soon one of the two, Arthur or Lewis, would gently request he relocate himself.  He didn’t mind, though he hadn’t let on how much he despised cops at this point.  They hadn’t caught onto his hints, anyhow.

Vivi raised her head from Mystery when Dimitri lowered himself from the seat.  A bit of gauze was wound around the dogs paw, but upon seeing their new company Mystery gave Vivi’s hair a lick and stepped over to Dimitri.  Vivi had warned him the dog liked chicken, and a chicken sandwich was what Dimitri had been nibbling on for the past hour.

“You had your own,” Dimitri muttered.  He held his sandwich out of Mystery’s reach as he moved to the vans back.

Mystery sat down and flattened his ears back.  True, but it wasn’t yours.  The dog raised his bandage paw for inspection.

Vivi sniggered, and returned to the work laid out atop a flattened grocery bag. Dimitri half expected some comment about, how finishing his sandwich would save him the trouble.  But none of them ever said such things.  Instead, Vivi focused on the shiny piece of rock or crystal she whittled at while she wasn’t driving.

Layers of notebooks and a few open texts lay open around the blue clothed girl, which she glanced at frequently under the pale glow of the camping lamp beside her.  A small brown case near her knees was filled with various small tools, needles, knives, some Dimitri didn’t recognize.  Vivi’s scarf was tightened around her lower face and she wore a pair of goggles.  The plastic bag was filled with dust and chunks of glittery bits of the rock/crystal.  Whenever the van hit a bump or rough spot the camping lamp flashed, threatening its impending annoyance.  Vivi kept her hands steady throughout this, but nicks were impossible to avoid.

Dimitri watched her work for a bit as he munched his food.  He didn’t look at the dog as he nudged Mystery away. “So, what’s it?” he asked, at last.

Vivi took a dirty buff cloth and rubbed away some of the excess powder from the stones surface. “Don’t get too close, the dust is really bad for you,” she warned.  “It’s a kind of totem.  For protection.”  She took the smaller knife and carved along grooves in the surface.  “Some people have animal guides, sometimes it’s a plant that offers prosperity.  Or words, words can be very powerful.”

Dimitri nodded as he chewed on his sandwich.  “A girl called me a rotten toad once,” he said, around a mouthful of chicken and bread.  “Made me feel like trash.”

Vivi tries not to laugh.  At least he couldn’t see her smirk under the sweater.  “Not what I meant, but I think you get the point.” She took a stiff cloth and rubbed it over the stones grooves.  “Would you hand over my bag?”

Dimitri took the indicated bag from beside the vans wall and shoved it over. “You really believe this hocus pocus, voodoo stuff?”  He poked at one of the cuvees stuffed with wrapped bundles of sage, and rolled rice paper. They had so much stuff, some of it packed away in Tupperware, most of it he’d never seen.

“Unwavering belief isn’t a requirement, but it does help.”  Vivi pulled out a container of water and used it to rinse the rock off.  The carved sides darken and it glisten under the light of the lamp.  She put the water container away, and produced a small wooden box.  From the box she pulled forth a few strands of metal, chains.  “This is for you.”  She ran one of the chains through the small hole in the rocks pointed tip, and blew over its surface as the water dries.

“Um… thanks,” Dimitri murmured.  He took the offered stone/crystal, he wasn’t sure.  It was flat on one side, and the new carvings on the surfaces were sharp along the deepened grooves.  “Are you sure?  You spent a long time on this?  I’m not supposed to accept stuff from strangers.”  Dimitri shut his mouth and stared at Vivi, puzzled by his own words. Vivi had already taken off the goggles, and was collecting the bag of powder with its chunks of rock.  She was laboriously careful not to let the contents go everywhere as she rolled up the bag.  “You’ve done -”

“Shh,” Vivi hissed, and held up a finger.  “This might be the most important thing you ever own.”  She shuffled over and took the stone in his hands, and moved his finger to trace along the smoothed edges.  “I’ve seen this rune in many books.  It offers protection from those that wish to harm. Keep it safe, and it will help keep you safe.”  She took the two ends of the chain and connected them behind his head.

Dimitri held the stone at chains length and turned it around.  He had his doubts about a piece of rock, but he could appreciate the skill and uniqueness that created it.  “Don’t even think about it,” he muttered.

Mystery was inches from where his half eaten sandwich was held low beside Dimitri, and momentarily unguarded.  The dog frowned and sat back.  You’re not interested in finishing it.  He tilts his head and flicked an ear when Vivi cursed under her breath.

The lamp kept honest to its threats and went out.  “Stupid short,” Vivi groaned.  She pat its side, and the light flashed a few times, but ultimately went out for good in the end.  “Batteries.” Mystery had already retrieved the rumpled shopping bag and tiptoed over to Vivi.  She paused to gather up the carving tools and stuffed the small brown case back into her bag.  “Thank you,” Vivi said, and gave Mystery a scratch behind the ear.  “But stop trying to take his food.”  Mystery grinned.

“Heads up, we’re getting into the town now,” Lewis called.  He spun around in his seat and draped his arm along the bench seats backside.  Dimitri wilted a bit.  “You want to… sit up front?”

It felt like years – could it have been years?  Dimitri stared at what was visible of the cold gray sky through the tilted windshield, and felt ill inside.  He pulled the folds of his coat tighter around his sides and lowered his head from Lewis’ gaze.  “I don’t think so,” he answered. “It’s nothing new.”  That day had been a dreary, gray sky too, rain pouring as he ran, like in some cliché movie.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Lewis hummed, gesturing with his palm.  Not for the first time, Dimitri found himself unable to look away from the gloved hand.  Something was off about it, but he couldn’t place what.

Vivi finished cleaning up, and shoved the little camping lamp aside. She had half a mind to kick it. “Where are we exactly?” she prompted, as she crept up on the bench seat.

“A main road,” Arthur mumbled, through his gum.  He blew a small bubble and let it pop.  “If I know roads, it cuts right through.  Traffics heavy.”  He eased on the brake when a car decided to streak across the lane in front of them.  “Stupid ass— ”

“Language,” Lewis rattled.

High in the sky the clouds had turned dark, ashy.  The hour wasn’t late but the winter months had come fast and the temperature was on a steady decline.  The numerous roads that crisscrossed over the main highway were surrounded by brown patches of yards, and trees gone bare.  The town was in the gulley of the valley with larger forests and meadows lurking in the distance, bleeding together in gray woodlands and snippets of small neighborhoods.

“Is the heater even on?” Vivi asked, voice misting.

Arthur leaned over and tugged at the air vents.  “Yeah,” he said, doubt in his voice.  “I think the weather report mentioned snow, or sleet.  You think the backs cold, try sitting between these windows.”  For emphasis he shuddered and raised his flesh hand to his face and blew on his knuckles.

Dimitri gave Mystery the rest of his sandwich and knelt near Vivi, far enough below the backseat that he couldn’t glance up to see out the windows. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“I’m wondering about that,” Vivi spoke, voice thoughtful.  She adjusts her glasses, and looked down at Dimitri.  “Do you want us to drop you off at your house?  You can get a good nights rest in your own bed, check in with your parents?” It wasn’t idea to send Dimitri off on his own, and take a chance his parents renewing a frantic search for his ‘abductors,’ or people tying the van in with his reappearance.  She missed the short glance Lewis sent her way.

Dimitri shook his head.  Mystery curled up beside him, and the boy strokes the dog’s fluffy mane.  “I’m not ready for that,” he whispered.  “I don’t care if I have to sleep on a bench in some park, I -”

“It’s fine,” Vivi assured.  “Let’s find a room for Dimitri tonight, and pick up a map of the town.”  Dimitri nods slowly.  “I have a motel in mind, but we should stop for directions.  The laptop cra— bugged out before I could write up a map.”

The van needed gas anyway.  While they were stopped Arthur fueled up and Vivi went into the store for directions, and came back with the map.  Traffic began spilling off the main road at a steady rate, provoking Arthur to relocate the van to the other side of the quick marts parking lot, and out of sight.

“Another walk?”  Vivi asked, as she flattened out the map over the dashboard.  She pressed her chin down onto the puffy scarf as she scanned over the lines on the map, a pen in hand.

Arthur was returning with the empty ice box, struggling to fling out the last droplets of water as he moved by the vans open passenger door.  “I’m not sure, he didn’t say anything,” called the mechanic.  His voice resumed when the back doors creaked open, and Arthur slid in the cooler box. “You know how he does it.  I blink and he’s gone.  Why do we keep drinks in here?  We could store them in the floor compartments.”

The leather jacket was resting on the passenger seat, beside Vivi.  She glanced over at the coat, pen dangling from her lips as she mused.  The martial of the elbows was getting cracked and stretched, the sleeves and coat edges had become frayed and crispy; the black pieces crumbled between her fingers as she touched it.  She held the loose sleeve between the wrist and elbow, and let it drape over her fingers. As far as she knew, it was the only article of ‘clothing’ that Lewis owned.

“You know I like Dimitri,” Arthur said, as he stepped up behind Vivi. “He’s a good kid, and I really want to help, but we’re walking a precarious line.”  He put his hands around the headrest and motioned the small map Vivi had pinned over the dashboard.  “Now we’re in his hometown, someone is bound to recognize him.”

“I’ve thought it over,” Vivi said.  “That’s why we’re leaving him at the motel while we search around.  We need to talk to some people, get more information on the kids that’ve gone missing.”  She chewed on the pens tip and pondered.  There was the story Dimitri gave, and then there were the dangers of seeking answers of their own.  Arthur wasn’t wrong in his concerns.

“Someone will see him,” Arthur insisted.  “We should find out where he lives and leave him with his folks.  It can’t be that hard, there has to be a poster somewhere.”

“We’re not doing that,” Vivi hissed.  She glanced back at Arthur with the edge of her eye.  “He doesn’t feel safe, and I don’t blame him.”

“I know, honest I do,” Arthur said, and sighed.  He rubbed the back of his head, and winced at his own frigid fingers on his skin.  “He’s practically lost his kid brother, and he survived by not relying a whole lot on people.”  Vivi turned her head more to look at Arthur.  “And FYI, he’s started to notice things.”

Vivi resumes scrutinizing the map and tries to focus on the crisscrossing roads, the center square, the names of streets and sub districts.  “He hasn’t talked to you?”

“Who?  Um,” Arthur paused, and leaned over to look out the open door.  “I told him to.  Lew took it the wrong way, as usual.” That last bit he muttered to himself.  “It worries me he doesn’t, he keeps it to himself.” He watched Vivi as she absorbed herself in the map and gnawed on the pens end.  “I can’t say anything, because what if it’s all in my head?”  He flung his arms up and snapped them back onto the bench seat.

“Have a little faith, Artie,” she murmured, and circled a spot on the map. “Dimitri’s personal feelings seem stronger than his instincts.”

“That’s the whole point.”  Arthur pressed his chin onto the headrest and dug his fingers into his scalp, one set colder than ice on his skin.  “Ugh! I don’t care what he thinks, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to believe the stuff we do.  But if he gets an idea—”

A sharp pop spat from the radio, followed by soft tunes and garbled static.  The vans ceiling light flashed, and Vivi shivered visibly from the sudden chill that crept through her coat.  Arthur let out a shrill yowl as he staggered backwards and tumbled around over the floorboard in the back.

“Take it easy,” Lewis chides, voice odd and distorted.

“Why do you do that?” Arthur yelped, breathless.  “Always!  Always, right next to me.”  He cringed back when Lewis leaned towards him, voice rasping through his jaw.

“It’s not like I can do it out there, with people watching.”

Vivi spun around and folded her arms over the seat.  “Art does have a point,” she hummed.  Arthur’s face turned white, and he ducked down behind Lewis as if looking for something, maybe the ice chest.

“Is that the map?” Lewis’ voice crackled.  Vivi pivoted and scooted over, as the ghost slid through the passenger side of the seat.  He pulled up the jacket and sort of melted - pulled it on around himself.  He paused while zipping up the front, and lay a tender hand over the locket.  A moment later he noted Vivi watching him, and pulled his hands back to entwined his fingers together.  He directed his index fingers, gun like, toward the map.  “You’re making plans.”

Vivi nods.  “Were you scouting?”  She marked up a line of road over the map.

“I thought about it,” Lewis hummed, his voice coming back more.  “But decided better.  I’ll wait till tonight, when we know where we’re going.”  Vivi smirked.  Lewis was still skull faced, but he was moving on to fix that.  He turned the rear view mirror towards him and gripped the thin slice of reflection.  He glimpsed back at Arthur, once the other had ceased fumbling around.  “And no.  He won’t find out.”  He pulled the sunglasses from the breast pocket of his jacket and fiddled with the handles.

Arthur moved closer to Vivi and set his hands, carefully, over the headrest above her.  “It’s not really a life choice, now is it?” The same moment that sentence left his lips, Arthur recoiled.  Vivi glance over at Lewis and caught the vivid stark white of his skull through his face, still fresh from the illusion.  Arthur withdrew his arms.  “Sorry, I’m sorry….” he burbled.

Lewis set a hand over his face and looked aside.  “It doesn’t bother me. Seriously, don’t worry about it.”  His shape seemed to retract within the coat, or deflate.  “Calm down Art, that’s not helping.”  Arthur was silent.  “It’s getting colder, isn’t it?  Don’t you have a coat?”  Arthur looked up when Lewis turned to him.

Vivi heaved a breath.  These two. “He doesn’t like to wear long sleeves, ‘cause the lint gets into the joints,” she answers.  Arthur made a silent motion to rebuke the comment, but Vivi beat him to it.  “I dunno why you act like it’s some kind of big secrete!  I get it, sleeves make your arm high maintenance.”

“It’s not like that,” Arthur blurted.  He glanced at Lewis, who was staring at his artificial limb like it was the first time he’d seen it.  “The friction and the static, it—” He snapped his mouth shut when Mystery scraped over the back bumper into the van, not far behind him was Dimitri.  Arthur wrenched around at the sudden entrance of the two. “We were waiting for you!”

Lewis fumbled to get his sunglasses on— dropped them, and ducked down to retrieve them off the floorboard.  Vivi sighed through her fingers and just gazed up through the windshield, at the darkening sky.  “No doubt about it.  I place all my confidence in you both.”

__

A room was rented for Dimitri and he was dropped off with his all worldly possessions, and one Mystery, to keep company and watch.  While he was safe and warm, the Mystery Skulls began scouring the small town for clues or guidance to the children’s disappearances. Vivi had one map with the areas marked where the children were seen last, but aside from that not much else. Thus far only Dimitri’s account of what children, some from his own school, had gone missing but not those from the general area of the town.

It was while they were streaking along one of the thoroughfares that Vivi came up with her next idea.  “I want to find out if the kids had anything in common, that might’ve led to their abduction.”

“Geez, Vi,” Arthur grumbled.  The lights from high streetlamps flash over the two in obnoxious patterns.  “You sound like some kind of PI detective.”  Vivi didn’t answer, she was focused on the map and the notebook opened up on her lap.

“We are detectives,” Lewis replied.  “And professionals.”  He was trying to organize the back of the van, a lost cause as far as he was concerned but it helped pass the time.

“Do you wanna drive?”  Arthur slipped down in his seat more, anticipating another one of Lewis’ weird scratchy hisses.

A toneless, “No.” was the answer.

An hour later, the Hall of Records was only mere minutes away from closing.  The janitor had already made her pass through the glistening halls of polished stone, pristine painted crème walls, and blazing fluorescent lights.  The receptionist at the entrance was logging out of his desk computer and packing up his shoulder bag with books and folders.  Outside, the sky was already pitch black and the few white and yellow lights barely glimmered through the wintery haze as flakes began to fall.  Next pay check he would order one of those thermal coats, the one with the warming pad and the cup holder.  All his colleagues had at least one.

The slow tapping of footfalls clicked through the quiet hall, and the receptionist, Dillan, was certain he was not alone.  Odd, the front doors should have been latched by the janitor when she began.

“I have a delivery.”  Dillan jumped at the voice, and the speaker tensed.  “Sorry.  Hey, can you sign for it?”

Dillan stared out of his glassed in office at the figure.  The person was not very tall and their brown hat hid most the face, but for a goatee that had to be in violation of some sort of dress code.  This seemed highly suspicious.  “Yes?”

The Delivery man blew a bubble with the gum he chewed and popped it, the snap echoed across the empty corridor that the two alone shared.  The Delivery man resumed chewing, and held out a clipboard with a small box perched atop, a crisp address label was stretched across the box.  The Delivery man pulls his hat up a bit to look Dillan in the eye.  “I’m kind of in a pinch, running late.  Are you gonna sign, or not?”  He wore white warming sleeves that clashed with his brown shirt and pants, and black gloves.

“Who’s it for?” Dillan inquired.  He had already slid the little glass door of his office window open and accepted the clipboard with box through.  He scanned over the page clipped down, everything seemed in order. He signed his name.

“Dunno.  I don’t tamper with the mail.  And initial.” The delivery man indicated a box on the paper with his finger.  “Groovy. You have a safe evening, and bundle up.” The man tipped his hat and, with clipboard under arm, and walked right on out.

Dillan watched him leave, then looked at the little box.  It had the Hall of Records address, and was labeled Archives.  He gave the box a shake and listened to its contents thump inside.  It might’ve been more labeling, but it didn’t feel like a box full of labels nor did it look like the boxes for labeling.  It had to be something else.

A chill crept up his spine.  It was getting late, and he was starving.  He locked the office window, but made sure it was secure before he turned away.  He took up the small parcel, swung his coat from his chair and slipped it over his shoulders, and stepped out of his office.

Archives were located in the basement levels, and could be reached under one of the large staircases that led to the upper floors.  Through the town was too small to afford renovations for the lower, unused levels, the government had seen it fit to update the Archives with a serial database.  The computer database was in its own alcove off to the side, guarded by a thick fence bolted into the low ceiling.  The rows and shelves of hard copy information stretched beyond into the depths of the basements thick shadows, protected only by a sprinkler system, security cameras, and more tall thick fencing.

Even in mid-winter the corridors of the interior ‘cave’ were warmed by the tireless diligence of the computer network, but that creeping chill seemed to soak into Dillan’s bones no matter where he went.  He sprint along the fence to the other side of the room, like a child racing from the hungry beast dwelling in the basement.  It was so childish, but he was reminded keenly of his grandpas old home, and that creepy cellar where they had to do laundry in the summer.  He’d have spent more time down there since it was the most tolerable place in the entire house temperature wise, but it was so creepy!

Dillan dashed the last yard to the desk with other mail order boxes of supplies, some still unopened and perhaps forgotten.  He stuffed the small box among the others and high tailed it out of there.  Lucky no one was there to see him scramble up the steps.

The light clicked out and the box remained among its companions, patient, lingering beneath the faint glimmer of the blinking lights of the surveillance cameras above.  Throughout the room raised a steady hum from the computer, miniscule fans whirring to gush icy air through broiling circuit boards.  The room itself had its own refrigeration unit, separate from the building above.

One by one surveillance cameras fail, beady lights hovering in the ceiling blimp out one by one.  The room becomes impossibly dark, but for a softly burning flame drifting down from the ceiling.  It alights on the cement floor near the desk of stacked boxes, and ignites into a vibrant burst of flames.  The fire subsides as it drinks in the surrounding shadows, the inky shape solidifies into a fine suit, bleached ribs, and a skull topped by a buoyant pompadour.

Embers linger on his suit, and Lewis dusts them off as he leans forward and takes up the small box.  He only need a bit of focus, a mild taint irritation to conjure a sharp claw to cut through the plastic tape.  Inside the box is a camera and a walkie-talkie.  “Come in Bluebird, this is Dapper Ghost, over.”  He turns and walks along the corridor scanning through the visible serial codes labeled along the tall metal shelves.  There are so many rows, stacked up to the low ceiling and only a few ladders that he can make out.  He grimaces and raises the communicator up to his jaw.  “Do you read me?”

“I thought we weren’t doing codenames.”  A pause.  “Over.”

“Humor me,” he said, and took stock of the imposing fence placed before him.

Passing through fences was a simple matter, but not when one forgets they are carrying two solid objects that must be carefully slipped through small openings in the fence.  All the more frustrating when one is trying to become partially insubstantial and not drop these devices onto the cement floor.

Lewis gave up.  He crouched down and just shoved the camera and walkie-talker through openings in the fence.  The entire time Vivi was asking questions and began to get worried when he refused to answer. “Lewis?  What’s going on?  You okay?”

He was huffing flames before he managed to calm down.  “That is the million dollar question.”  The communicator gave a sharp screech in response. Calm.  Calm-calm-calm.  Internally, he was thankful Vivi had not been present to see that.  She hadn’t stopped teasing him about that other matter.

Lewis went over the shelves present, some stuffed with files and papers of all sizes, some spaces in between stacked high with plain brown boxes crushed under the weight.  “Any idea what I should be looking for?  Over.” He ran a finger along the labels tacked down by tape.  Numbers and a few letters.

“Some names,” Vivi answered.  The van was parked across the road from the Hall of Record.  She sat bundled up in the driver side, her notebook open with the list of children names that matched up with Dimitri’s information. Light flakes descended beneath the edges of the windshield wipers, reflecting yellows through the patterns of white.  In the vans back Arthur fumbled around, redressing into his usual attire with the little camping lamp stationed nearby to help him not get lost in his shirt. “We’ll go in alphabetical order. Over.”  She turns to Arthur when he slips down in the seat beside her, and hugged him.  “You were great!”

“You know this is a federal offense,” Arthur grumbled, as he flopped his arms down.  “Impersonating a mail carrier, trespassing on government property.  These gloves and those sleeves!”  He tore a black glove off and tossed it into the back.

“It was your idea,” Vivi said, smirking.  She pulled the glove off his good hand when his attempts had failed.

“I didn’t think you nuts would take me seriously!” Arthur bundled his arms around his sides and sulked.  “And it’s cold.”

“You should have left the sleeves on, then.”  She raised the communicator to her scarf top and called back. “Dapper Ghost, you read? Over.”  There came silence.  “Dapper?” Arthur peered at her and edged forward on his seat.

“Read you,” the voice wasn’t a voice, it was garbled in some places, hard to comprehend.  But Vivi and Arthur spent years decoding EVPs, and Lewis made the effort to project a voice through as clearly as he could manage without lungs.  Some of the next sentence was choppy, but his voice ended with a, “—got idea.”

“Don’t do anything risky,” Arthur warns.  “Like, blow up,” he mutters, and hoped Lewis couldn’t hear that. “At least he can’t leave fingerprints.”

“Art, please,” Vivi whispers.  She returns her attention to the walkie-talkie.  “What you got, Dapper?”

The computerized database was on, but that wasn’t the problem.  It required a password to log in, and three wrong passwords would lock the entire system.  “The King wouldn’t by any chance know some possible passwords for a government database?” Lewis sputtered.  “Over.”

A long pause followed, then a, “Nope.”  Arthur’s voice prattled on.  “Maybe forget about that, and go to work the old fashion way?”

“Well,” Lewis said.  He set the camera and the walkie-talkie aside on the polished wood of the desk, then placed his hands on the flat screen.  The screen sputtered on bright, glittering over his suit and bones with the logo for the Archives Database.  Lewis jerked his hands back when the screen skipped, static pulsed through with a brief image before the normal display reappeared.  He plucked up the communicator and replied, “I’m gonna try something, Bluebird.  If you lose contact with me, don’t worry.  I’ll be back soon.”

Vivi’s voice screeched through.  “Lewis, wait!  What’re you saying—”

“Trust me,” he said back.  He wasn’t sure if Vivi heard or not while she was trying to get through.  Rather leave the communicator to chatter on, he took the computer mouse from the desk and wrapped the cord tightly about the speaker toggle, and set aside the two items.  He steadied his ethereal projection and pressed his hands onto the screen.  It sputtered and flashed as before, but this time he had anticipated it.

Flashlights were simple, on - off.  Yes or no.  Lamps were the same, lightbulbs, like… blinking.  He could make a mirror show what he wanted others to see, and he could project his image into the rhythmic strobe flashes of a camera if he focused the right way.  But it took energy to project.

Wires, circuits, electrical current.  Lewis let it absorb him, download his spectral manifestation.  The computer highway was a jumble of light and noise, stimuli trying to inform him all at once what business the machine had; code, images, stabbing bits of failed syntax clambering through and over without ebbing against his invading presence.  All of it stalled for a moment, grinding in the most literal sense over itself until the programs loosened and resumed the hectic flight.  What passed for Lewis amalgamated consciousness withered within a vague sense of placement.  Static ripped through him and a rising sensation of heat enveloped his ethereal self, but it wasn’t his fire. How do you drive this thing?  Was his last coherent thought before white tore out of him, and a deafening shriek filled his being.

[dermankey]

Lucas and the Vampire - Part 3

          “Really? All the way across the room?” Rose asked in disbelief. It was late at night, nearing eleven, and the two were just at Maelstrom Comics, having been a part of the latest Super Smash Bros. tournament there. They were now on the drive back to Rose’s house.

          “More like all the way across the store,” Lucas  chuckled in memory. “Like, it’s kinda routine for him to lose it like that. He’s a great guy, don’t get me wrong, but he goes at it when he loses. This, though, was when he lost the finals, and he just sent his controller sailing through the back room and into the store proper. I’m just grateful he didn’t bust a freaking window.”

          Rose was laughing so hard she was snorting. “Wh-what happened to his controller?” She asked after taking a moment to collect herself.

          “The thing left an inch deep hole in the wall right next to the door. Don’t tell anyone, but that’s why that Mega Man poster is there for,” Lucas told her and got more laughter. “But of course his controller was perfectly fine. Yeah, a chip in the paint, but it still worked.”

          “It still worked?”

          “It’s Nintendo, Rose. An elephant could step on it and it’d still work,” Lucas replied with a flat line of a voice as they pulled up to Rose’s house. Both got out and walked up to the door. “Ya did really good tonight, Rose. Not all newcomers get up to the semifinals.”

          “I was rusty tonight. Just wait until I get at them again,” Rose said with a smile. “So, I believe you said our next night  would be this Friday?”

          “Yep. Movie night,” Lucas confirmed with a smile of his own. “I’m not telling you what it is, but it’s gonna be something you’ve never seen before.”

          “Lucas, I have been alive for at least one hundred years,” Rose said with a chuckle. “What movie could there be that I have not at least heard of?”

          “Oh, I am sure you have most certainly never seen this movie,” Lucas spoke with a dramatically maniacal voice and rubbing his hands together menacingly.

          “I swear, if you’re hinting at Dracula here,” Rose jokingly warned and the two laughed. “So it’s your place at nine, right? Second Street, apartment 5A on the fifth floor. Don’t worry, I’ll find my own way there.”

         “Alright, then,” Lucas nodded, his face notably blushing. “I’ll, uh...I guess I’ll…” 

          “Lucas? What are you trying to say?” She asked with some concern and slight amusement. “Come on, just spit it out.”

          “Well, what I’m trying to say is...oooh!” Without another word, he quickly came forward and gave the vampire a quick kiss on the cheek, much to her surprise. When he pulled away, Lucas’s face was incredibly red, but he smiled. “See you then, Rose!” He said quickly before taking off.

          Rose stood there for a moment, putting a hand where she was kissed and watching with a surprised expression as Lucas hurried down his car, and with one last wave back to her, he took off for home. As he drove off, she felt the corners of her mouth turn up into a trembling smile, which settled out after she took a breath. She turned to the door and knocked the same way she did every time, with Violet’s voice calling to invite her in as always.

          “Hello, Violet,” Rose greeted, pressing up against the door as she closed it. “How are you on this fine evening?”

          “Someone’s in a good mood, I see,” Violet commented. She was sitting on the couch, as she always did when she was waiting for Rose to get back. “Why don’t you share what’s causing that smile on your face?”

          “Oh, it was a fantastic night, Vi,” Rose started as she sat down on the armchair. “I made it all the way to the semifinals. I think I would have won but this was fellow—Rambo was his tag, I believe—had an unbeatable Joker. He was a nice guy though, and he even won the whole thing. He got fifty percent off one thing in the store, so I probably would have given it away anyways.” She laid back in her chair, but immediately sat up at the sight of a small bowl of barbecue chips sitting on the coffee table. “May I have some, Vi?”

          “Go ahead. I got them out for you,” Violet told her, and the other vampire eagerly reached out and took the bowl. “What about Lucas? How was he?”

          “Lucas? Oh, he was running commentary with Reggie, his coworker. Nice lady,” Rose said between mouthfuls of chips. “We did get some time to play ourselves since we got there early. He was really good with Mega Man but also did good with Young Link, of all the characters. Personally, I was trying to get better with the Pokémon Trainer, but it will take a while.”

          Violet nodded. “That’s nice, but I was more asking about your ‘plan’ with him.”

          Rose stared blankly at her for a minute, seemingly thinking for a minute before her eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! Don’t you worry about him, Vi. Everything is going exactly in order. He will be ready soon enough.”

          “Good to hear,” Violet nodded. There was silence for a moment, the only noise being the crunch of Rose’s chips. “I noticed you are eating again.”

          She paused, holding a single chip in the air. “Well, yeah. Me and Lucas occasionally get some food when we go out, and what am I going to do, not get something? That would be impolite.”

          “You two must have been going out with each other for quite a while then, haven’t you?” Violet asked, a smile starting to appear on her face.

          “Of course. I think we have been seeing each other for...about…”

          She trailed off and simply stopped. Her gaze stared off into space, and the casual smile she wore slowly turned to a face of sad realization. “Rose,” Violet asked in a calm voice. “How long have you been with Lucas?”

          Rose laid back again into the chair, her head hung to hide her eyes. “...three months,” she finally said.

          “You’re not going to feed off of him, are you?” 

          Rose set her chips aside, clasping both hands in her lap. “I...I can’t,” her voice shook, completely losing her accent. “I don’t know what happened, when it happened, but I...I just can’t bring myself to do it anymore.”

          “Hm. I thought so.”

          Rose jerked her head up at her cousin. Her eyes made her look like she was about to cry, but no tears came. “Did you know?”

          “I’ve had my suspicions,” Violet nodded. “Please don’t be upset over this. Falling in love is a perfectly normal feeling to have when you spend a long time with someone.”

          Rose looked away, grasping hold of her arms and pulling them into herself. Her cousin took notice. “I get it, Rose. What happened before...was a terrible thing.”

          “Understatement of the century,” Rose seemed to spat out.

          “But I’ve never seen you happier with Lucas!” Violet continued. “I’ve seen how he looks at you, how he acts around you. He knows you’re a vampire and he still loves being with you. Times change, Rose, and so do people. Please, don’t ruin this for yourself.”

          “Times have changed, and so have I,” Rose replied, still looking away from her. “He...doesn’t deserve me. I don’t deserve him, not after all I’ve done. It would’ve been better if we never met.”

          “Rose, please.”

          Silence hung between them for what felt like an eternity, even for those who had the time for it. “...Friday,” Rose suddenly said, her accent returning. “That’s movie night. It’ll be...it will be the last time I see him. I will end everything there, whatever it takes.”

          “Rose, please,” Violet nearly sounded like she was begging.

          “I will be up in my room if you need me,” she said before taking off up the stairs without another word.

          Lucas opened the door and a smile quickly spread across his face. “Hey, Rose! Right on time!”

          “Hello, Lucas,” Rose gave a small wave and a smile of her own. “Um, may I come in?”

          “But of course!” Lucas spoke with a dramatic flair and a wave of his hand.  Rose stepped in, closing the door behind her. “Might I add that you look good tonight?”

          “In this?” Rose smiled a little, pulling at her top. She wore a black tank top that had the symbol for Sagittarius in a brilliant blue paired with plain gray sweatpants, and part of her hair was held together in what could generously be called a ponytail. “It was really more for comfort than for style.”

          “You definitely look the part. I just think you look good in whatever you wear,” he commented, a bit of red coming to his cheeks. “You’re very pretty, Rose.”

          Inside, the vampire was screaming. She could tell he was definitely trying to set up a situation, one that a part of her still wanted to happen, but she had made her decision. It would be better for both of them. Wouldn’t it? “How flattering,” she responded externally as collected as she could be. “But I know what I came here for. What is this movie that you have called me here to watch?”

          “Oh, just a simple little comedy, nothing all too much,” Lucas began casually, turning his back to her as they walked down the entrance hallway to his living room. “I’d be surprised if you even heard of it. Just a little flick called YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN!” He quickly spun back to her, bearing a wide maniacal smile and a beady stare.

          It had taken a while, but he had really opened up a lot to her. He did stuff like this all the time with things he was clearly passionate about or excited for. Rose knew she would miss that the most. “Mm-mm. I really expected more from you than this, Lucas. I was expecting some bizarre foreign film of some sort with a title I could not pronounce. Instead you chose a film that stars a comedic legend. A good choice, I have to admit, but I am so disappointed in you,” she spoke in a way to make it sound like she meant it, not even smiling and having toned down her gestures.

          “Oh, dear me. Whatever shall I do now, knowing that I have disappointed her Royal Highness?” Lucas exclaimed with a posh accent, leaning dramatically against a wall with his eyes closed. He opened one eye and grinned cheekily at her, seeing her with her arms crossed and a neutral expression. “Come on, not even a smile?”

          She could not help but at least give a small smile, which very quickly became a small laugh. She decided she at least had to give him this. “You are pardoned for your transgression, my dear Lucas, but do not disappoint me again.”

          “Bless your kindness,” Lucas said as he stood back up, and continued in a normal voice, “but if you do want to see something a little more out there, I actually do have some foreign movies apart from my DVD collection. Not all of them are good, exactly, but they’re definitely entertaining.”

          “No, Young Frankenstein will serve well for tonight,” Rose assured, walking past him and sitting down on the right side of the couch; it was only a two-seater, but as long as a three-seater. “It has been a while since I have seen it last, and I rather watch something that we can both enjoy unironically.”

          Lucas nodded in agreement, grabbing the remote and taking a seat right next to Rose as he started up the movie. “Um, Lucas?”

          “Yep?”

          “Would you mind scooting over a bit?”

          “...okay, sure,” Lucas replied, moving over to the other cushion of the couch. The slightest tinge of disappointment in his voice hurt her for only a moment, as it was quickly overtaken by something more concerning her. She began to feel pangs of hunger creep into her—a move she did plan, but was occurring much too soon.

          As the movie started, it was able to distract her for a while. Fifteen minutes into the movie, however, and it was getting harder for her to focus on it. 

          Come on, Rose, just keep it together, she thought to herself, just keep it together until the end of the movie and then it will...it will all...be…

         “Hey, Rose?” Lucas asked for what the vampire had just realized has been the third time. Snapping back to reality, she noticed the movie was paused. “I was asking if you wanted a snack or something.”

          “N...no thank you, I’m fine,” she replied with a shake of her head. 

          “Alright, but I’m getting something so I’ll be right back,” Lucas replied as he stood up and strode past her into the kitchen, a separate room right next to the living room. The scent of his blood easily filled her nostrils when he passed by, her full fangs shooting out on instinct. No not now! she thought as she tried to retract them, but by now her hunger was too great. Her fully extended fangs reached not far below her bottom lip; keeping them in her mouth would hurt too much, and they would be far too noticeable if left outside of it. Either way, her voice would sound completely different.

          Just as Lucas was pushing open the door back into the living room, she quickly clamped her hand over her mouth. “I thought I’d make a big bowl just in case you changed—,” Lucas began as he closed the door behind him, stopping when he saw Rose staring intently at her with her hand over her mouth. “I—is something wrong, Rose?”

    ��     Rose quickly shook her head, giving a dismissive gesture with a sideways glance.

         Lucas tilted his head in confusion. He sat back down on the couch and set the large bowl of popcorn he had on the table. “What are you covering your mouth for then?”

         “No reason,” Rose spoke quickly, but obviously sounded muffled. “Let’s just vatch the rest of the movie.”

          “Jeez, you don’t sound so good either,” Lucas commented, looking at her with concern. “If something’s wrong, Rose, you can tell me. Is there anything I can do?”

          An idea immediately popped into her head, one she was not overly fond of. It was earlier than she would have liked it, but she really did not have a choice at the moment. Slowly, she took her hand away from her mouth. “I think you can, actually.”

          “Your fangs?” Lucas looked at her with a surprised look. “Are they normally that long?”

          “They are, but I do not use them at full length often,” Rose explained. “They only stick out this long vwhen I get very hungry.”

          “Oh…oh!” Lucas realized, quickly raising up his wrist. “Well, you could have just asked, ya know.”

          Rose nearly flinched in surprise. “You’re...just going to offer yourself? Just like that?”

          “Why wouldn’t I?” Lucas asked back with a small smile on his face. “It’s for your well being, and I trust you’re not gonna suck all the blood out of me. You can just take what you need to hold you over, alright?”

          At first, Rose looked at him with the same face of surprise. Then, almost randomly, she slowly began to laugh; a small chuckle at first that slowly became full-on laughter. Lucas, while slightly confused, found himself smiling, about to laugh along with her until he began to hear sobs.

          She looked back up at him, a wide smile on her face with tears streaming down it. “You really care about me, huh? Some, idiot bloodsucker who can’t even do the vone thing she’s good at! How,” she said as the smile on her face quickly disappeared, her voice quieting, “how can you put up vith me?!”

          “Rose, don’t say that,” Lucas began, his voice confident yet calm and his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not some idiot, and I don’t put up with you, I like spending time with you! I’ve been enjoying my life a whole lot more with you in it. You’ve done so much for me and I really hope that I’ve done all I could for you.” She looked back up at him, staring back into his own watery eyes on his red face. He had moved closer to her, so much so their noses almost touched. “Rose...I…” Lucas set a hand on her cheek, both of them moving their faces closer to each other. “I think...I love you…”

          “N-no,” Rose said of all sudden, pushing Lucas away. “No!”

          A spiral of emotions were on Lucas’s face. “No…?”

          Rose felt both a stab to her heart and pain in her stomach. “I...I need to go.” The vampire quickly got up and dashed for the door.

          Lucas, not even having fully processed the sudden rush of emotions, quickly took after her a second later. “Rose, wait!!” Lucas called out, perhaps a little too loud. The vampire, who had only made a door or two down from him, turned back to him, her face nearly identical to when she left. “R-Rose...I’m sorry if I was coming on too strong there. This is my first really serious relationship like this and I-I-.”

          “Stop!” She yelled out, much to Lucas’s surprise. “It’s not you! It vwas never you! It’s me! I’m the problem!”

          “What?” Confusion quickly came upon his face. “But-.”

          “I am a vampire, Lucas!” Rose shouted, tears still streaming down her face. “Don’t you know vwhat ve do to people? Vwhy did you think I took you through that graveyard for?”

          The realization quickly came upon Lucas, and it hit him hard. Even as he tried to deny it, it was hard to argue that the pieces were not coming together. “B-But, you wouldn’t. You’re—.”

          “I’m different, right!? Because I vwas nice to you?!” Rose hollered, her voice oddly lacking anger. “Well that’s how I do it, Lucas! That’s how vampires feed off of humans because ve’re monsters! So if you have any idea vwhat’s good for you, you should never talk to me AGAIN!!”

          “What’s going on out here?!” A man hollered out as the door right across from Lucas’s came slamming open. The man had long brown hair that was only starting to gray and wore a matching set of turquoise pajamas. He walked out a bit from his doorway. “Some of us have jobs to get to in the—!”

          He paused when he finally registered the two people in the hallway. He never saw the girl before, but he recognized the other guy. “Uh, g-good evening, Larry.”

          Larry blinked twice in a tired fashion, turning his complete attention to his neighbor. “Lucas? Wh-what the hell are you doing out here at—?”

          He did not get to finish before Rose, with an unnatural level of speed, lunged forward and stuck her fangs right into his throat. Larry screamed in alarm and pain as his blood splattered about on everyone. Even as he saw it happen right in front of him, Lucas could only stare in shock as his neighbor’s struggle slowly wore down against the vampire’s grip. DO SOMETHING DO SOMETHING! His thoughts screamed to himself, until he moved on complete instinct, pushing Rose away while pulling forward on Larry, the separation sending more blood flying.

          Larry fell on his back, his face a sickly pale and his eyes shut. The two bite wounds on his neck were bloody only for another moment before they quickly closed to two brown scabs.

          Rose stumbled back but stayed on her feet. She let out a hoarse cough that she covered with her hand. “Oooooh…” she moaned as she removed her hand, staring at it in horror to see that it was covered in blood.

         Lucas stood right between them, his stance alert yet wavering. He glanced back at Larry who looked quite terrible. When he turned back to Rose, he saw her staring right back at him, her bloodied hand held up to herself and the look of having a breakdown. “W—.”

          “I told you,” she spoke quietly, almost a whisper. “I’m a monster. I’m meant to hurt people.” She sniffled, heavy tears quickly falling down her cheeks and her hands clenched into fists.

          Lucas tried to extend a hand to her before she quickly turned and ran off to the other end of the hallway. “Wait!” Lucas called out, not missing a beat this time as he took off after her.  

          The vampire, wiping tears from her face, barged through the door into the stairway, nearly taking it off its hinges. Just as Lucas reached her there, she crashed through the single window there into the night. “ROSE!” Lucas hollered as he looked down out of the window, quickly surprised when he saw she had completely disappeared. Looking around at what part of the city he could, he caught the slightest glimpse of a bat flying high in the moonlight, before it disappeared behind a building.

         Without a moment to lose, he first quickly ran back and checked on Larry. He was still breathing, to Lucas’s relief, and the wounds on his neck had nearly completely faded away. He lifted up his neighbor and took him back into his apartment, laying him on his couch and leaving a hastily written note that boiled down to I’ll explain later on his chest. Lucas then took off back toward the stairs, scurrying down the flights and into the building's parking garage.

          The traffic was light at this time of night as Lucas sped off to Calume’s residential square. He parked sloppily outside of the Bailey home, scrambling out of the car and up the steps, giving the door five quick raps with his knuckles.

          The sound of clicking footsteps could be heard getting louder on the other side of the door as it slowly came open. “Wow, Emily. I think this may have been the earliest you’ve—,” Violet’s voice began, stopping mid sentence when she completely opened the door. She was wearing a casual navy blue dress with a purple flower pinned to it. “Lucas? What on Earth are you doing here?”

          “Is Rose here?” Lucas asked quickly, sounding out of breath.

          Violet gave him an odd look. “Isn’t she supposed to be with you? Wait, don’t tell me—.”

          “Vi!” Rose’s voice interrupted from upstairs, the sound getting closer. “I am sorry to give you such short notice, but I really have to—.”

          Violet and Lucas turned to the stairwell as soon as her voice stopped. She stood halfway down it, her top changed to a T-shirt with a teal Libra symbol on it, a large suitcase in one hand and a duffel bag on her other shoulder. There was silence between all three of them, until Rose took one slow step back and then ran back up the stairs, letting her large suitcase slide the rest of the way down.

          Lucas opened his mouth in an attempt to explain, but Violet stopped him. “Just go. Her room is the last on the left.”

          He nodded and dashed up the stairs. The second floor was mainly just a hallway of doors, of which one end split off into two more hallways. On the side opposite to the hallway split, a door stood just the slightest bit open, with a board reading “Reserved Suite” nailed to it. 

          Slowly, Lucas approached the door and gave it a small knock with a single knuckle. “Rose?” No response. “May I please come in, Rose? I just want to talk, that’s all.”

          After a short moment, Rose responded with a quiet voice, “Come in.”

          Rose’s room was a fairly standard bedroom. A single person bed roughly sat in the middle of the room, a dresser against the wall with the door and a wardrobe along the west wall. The only marking of Rose’s personality was a poster for Super Smash Bros. Ultimate hanging by some thumbtacks on her wall. The vampire herself was sitting on her bed, her back to Lucas when he entered.

          “Well, go ahead,” Rose spoke in the same quiet voice, staying where she sat. “Say what you want.”

          Lucas sighed. “Al...Alright. I’m not going to dance around the issue here; what happened tonight was pretty bad. You did attack Larry, and you...you...I’ll just say he’s fine, at least.” He paused, as if he expected Rose to react. She did not. “But I don’t think you wanted to do that. You told me earlier that you haven’t fed for a while, so I think you only did that because you were hungry. I understand you feel bad about this, Rose, but it was just a simple mistake. I’m sure Larry will understand all of this once we explain it to him; he’s actually a pretty easy going guy. What I’m trying to say is that you’re far from a monster just because of one mistake. You are an amazing person, and I,” Lucas took a shaky breath, “and I love you, Rose. I really do.”

          Silence hung once more between them, until Rose said, “You don’t get it, do you? You really don’t get it?” She turned her head to him, bearing a wide toothy grin. “Do you really think this is the first time I’ve tasted human blood?”

          “Well, I—.”

          “Don’t tell me you forgot already,” Rose sneered as she got off the bed, slowly walking up to him. “The reason I took you through that cemetery? Should I add I’ve done things like that before, spell right out what I do to the people I take out?”

          “B-But you…,” Lucas tried to speak, taking an unconscious step back as the vampire moved closer.

          “What’s the matter? You’re not afraid of me now, are you?” Rose gave a small laugh as her fangs shot out. “Did you really think a vampire could love a mortal? That you were anything more to me than just some entertainment before my next meal?”

          “Rose, please, don’t—,” Lucas’s voice became shaky, stopping mid sentence as he ran back into the wall. 

          In a flash Rose grabbed Lucas’s wrists, pinning them by either side of his head. “It has been so long since I’ve had some good O negative, and I must really thank you for stopping me from drinking poor Larry to death, or I would have no room left for you.”

          Lucas could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breath rapidly increasing, both of which Rose took notice of. “Oh, don’t fret now, Lucas,” she said in a disturbingly sweet voice. “You said you loved me, remember? Well, this is the greatest sign of love you can give me now.”

          With a final hiss, Rose lunged forward with her open jaw. Lucas tried to jerk his head away, his eyes shut tight as he felt Rose approach his throat, waiting suspensefully to feel her bite.

          But no bite came.

          She was still around his neck, but only for another moment until, to his initial surprise, he felt her move away from it, her grip on his hands loosening and feeling shaky. Slowly, Lucas opened his eyes and saw Rose’s head hung, nearly resting in his chest. She started laughing slightly, which was quickly joined by a soft sobbing. “Isn’t this pathetic?” She said with a chuckle, her hands sliding down his arms as she fell to her knees. “Even when I get you right where I can do it, I can’t bring myself to hurt you. Aren’t I a joke of a vampire?”

          Her laughing eventually gave way to full-on sobbing, her head falling into her hands. A look of sympathy quickly came upon Lucas’s face as he bent down and wrapped his arms around Rose, her own arms finding their way around him soon enough. “I’m sorry I'm sorry I'm sorryI’msorry…” Her words slurred together between her sobs.

          “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Lucas reassured her, softly rubbing her back and kissing her forehead. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

          It was five minutes later, and the two now sat on the edge of Rose’s bed. Lucas had an arm around her waist while Rose rested her head on his shoulder. “Lu-Lucas?” Rose asked, finally breaking the silence.

          “Yes?”

          “...I need to tell you something,” she told him, turning to look him in the eyes. “It’s not easy for me, but you need to know. It’s why I lied to you.”

          Confusion came across Lucas’s face. “When did you lie to me?”

          “I didn’t tell you the truth, to be more exact.” Her voice had the slightest tremble. “You want to trust me, and if I want to earn that trust I need to be completely honest with you. I want to be honest with you. So, I’m going to tell you the truth.”

           Lucas reached out and took Rose’s hand, giving it a small squeeze. He gave her a tiny smile. “Okay. I’m listening.”

           The vampire took a deep breath, and began: “When I took you to the cemetery that first night, I was going to drink your blood. Not enough to...enough to kill you, but pretty close. I would’ve just...left you there for someone to find.” She paused, taking in a shaky breath. “You began talking to me just as I was about to strike. The way you talked about me, your pure happiness from our date, it changed something in me.” She clutched her chest with her free hand, her heart silent under it. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it after that, so I told myself I would do it on the next date, that’s when I would drink from you.”

          “Did you tell yourself that during the whole three months?” Lucas asked softly.

          “Mostly, yes,” Rose stated simply, nodding. “At first, I couldn’t understand why I didn’t do it, especially since...since I’ve done it before.”

          She glanced up at him, the smile on his face now turned neutral. “How many times before?”

          “Too many to count,” she responded. “Ever since 1890. I...never felt anything with them then with what I felt with you. Not since…” She stopped mid sentence, taking in another shaky breath, joined now by the hint of a sob.

          Lucas rested his other hand on her shoulder. “Are you going to be okay, Rose? You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not comfortable with it.”

          Rose shook her head. “No. I need to tell someone about this. This is the hard part; the reason why I am the way I am.”

          “Don’t rush yourself, then,” Lucas told her. “Take your time.”

          Another shaky breath, and there was silence for a moment. After another breath, this one slightly more controlled, she began again: “It was in 1865. Me and Violet were in London, returning after a trip to France. One day, I was out at a bakery getting something, I can’t remember what, when he approached me. He introduced himself as Vincent Relgorn. Apparently, by pure coincidence, he had been to several shops I have been at that week, each time wanting to say something to me but not having the courage to talk to me.”

          Rose pulled back her hand from Lucas, withdrawing both of her arms and grasping them firmly. “We talked for a while at the bakery. He seemed like such a nice and charming individual; he even bought my order for me...then he asked me out for the next evening, and I said yes, of course. Back then, I was much more of a romantic.” She spoke that part with a slight distaste. “From that night on, we regularly saw each other. At least once a week we went out or just spent a day together. We were...I was in love, but he didn’t know I was a vampire. I decided I needed to tell him, I wanted to tell him…”

          The vampire took a pause, her breath shaking once more. Lucas set an arm around her shoulder. She continued, “It was April, a Sunday even. I asked Vincent if we could talk in private, so we went to his house and...that’s when I told him. He seemed so patient then, understanding everything I told him...” Rose’s voice grew shaky as tears began welling up in her eyes.

          “Do you need tissues?” Lucas asked softly.

          She shook her head, wiping her eyes with her wrist. “He told me he would still love me even if I was a vampire, and that he even had a surprise for me, but I had to close my eyes first.” She took a pause, but as her mouth opened again no words came out, as if she struggled to say what had happened. “I woke up with my hands tied above me and I was in a church. Vincent was there with a small mob, already going on about how he was going to rid the world of an unholy monster. I-I tried to talk to him, trying to say I w-would never hurt anyone, but he didn’t listen...he came up to me with another person, both brandishing knives that were blessed...and they, they…”

          Rose covered her eyes with her hand in an attempt to stifle her cry. She laid her arms in front of her, the underside up. “Wounds inflicted by blessed weapons never fully heal. I’ve had glamour over them ever since.” She whispered something under her breath, tensing slightly at the sound of Lucas gasping. Two vicious slashes ran down each arm, from the wrists to the joint of the elbow. They were eerily white down the middle with spikes of gray lighter than her skin running alongside them. 

          Lucas reached out with a shaky hand, hesitantly hovering at her arms. “Do...do they still hurt?”

          “They tingle a little when they’re touched,” Rose explained, rubbing her fingertips along her scared arm. “Th-there’s more.” She took hold of the bottom of her shirt and lifted it up, again whispering something under her breath. A large white spot appeared over most of her stomach, it’s edges frayed with a thick line of light gray. Some trails even reached around her waist.

          “Oh my god,” Lucas exclaimed, his voice tense. “I-I...how did you…?”

          “Vampires are good at playing dead,” Rose continued. “After they did...this,” she indicated her stomach, “I stopped moving. The crowd decided to leave me hanging there until the next morning. I busted free as soon as they left, ran back to Violet and explained everything. We left London as soon as we could. I never saw Vincent again. I trusted him...I l-loved him, and he…” Tears began streaming down her cheeks. “Nobody would love me if they knew I was a vampire. They would always think I’m a monster. So I decided I might as well make myself one.” 

          “B-But, Rose, I love you! And I’ve known you were a vampire this whole time!”

          “That’s what I don’t get!” She exclaimed, clenching the top of her head. “How can you still love me?! I’ve drank the blood of humans, I-I attacked your neighbor, an-and I almost bit you! Can’t you see I’m a terrible person?!”

          “But that’s not you!” Lucas cried out, surprising the vampire as he grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her to look into his own teary eyes. “Rose, you are one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever known. I love how funny you can be, how you can say what’s on your mind without sounding like an idiot to yourself, but you still always show that you care about me by never going too far! You care about your cousin so much you consider her your sister! You have people who love and care about you! Being some uncaring monster who hurts people is what Vincent thought you were because he had his head too far up his religious ass to get to know the real you!”

          Even with tears still pouring down, Rose could not help but laugh a little. “He was a bit of a religious asshole sometimes.”

          “Exactly!” Lucas said with a smile of his own. “If you keep thinking of yourself like a monster you’re letting Vincent win! You need to be whoever you want to be!” He paused, taking a breath, continuing in a much calmer tone. “Who is it that you want to be, Rose?”

          Rose sniffled, whipping her eyes with her arm. “I...I think I need some time alone for this. N-Nothing against you, I just need some time to sort this all out.”

          “I understand,” Lucas nodded. “Please take your time with this. This is a pretty big change in your life, isn’t it?”

          “Yeah,” Rose responded quietly, “but I’ll still keep in touch with you! I’ll text you every once in a while, and don’t be afraid to text me either!”

          “Whatever you’re comfortable with, Rose.” Lucas leaned forward, giving her a small kiss on the forehead. “I’ll still love you, okay?”

         Rose nodded, then quickly grabbed Lucas in a hug, which he reciprocated after a moment of surprise. “Don’t worry, I’ll find my own way out,” Lucas said as he got up and headed for the door. “Have a good evening, Rose.” He waved goodbye, closing the bedroom door behind him.

[sherrybaby14]

The Option VI

This is a Dark! Bucky x Naïve!Reader story.  It contains questionable consent.

Warnings:  This is a dark/rape/noncon story.  Please do not read if that offends you.

Chapter warnings:  Smut, rough sex, spanking, (you’re into it, so its not noncon, but I don’t think Bucky really cares if you’re into it or not).

Words: 5k

Summary:  You get a break from domestic bliss that does not go as planned

Bucky ground his hips and you moaned, wrapping your legs even tighter around him, pulling him in deeper as the orgasm sent vibrations down your body.  

“Ugh!” Bucky spilled inside of you, pressing his forehead to yours before giving you a kiss.  

Both of you tried to catch your breath as he rolled over onto his back next to you.  

“Good morning.”  You turned to look at your grinning man.  

Bucky popped up on his metal arm and used the other to trace circles on your shoulder.  You still wondered what happened, but never asked the question again.  You didn’t want to risk upsetting him, those disappointed looks always killed you.

“Am I getting dressed today?”  The last few days every time you tried to pull a shirt on Bucky was there in a second to take it off.  

“Hmmmm…” He continued to run his finger over your skin. “Unfortunately I have some things I have to take care of today.  I don’t really think it’s fair to make you stay in bed waiting for me all day.”  

“I want to get back to the clothes making. I’m finally getting the hang of that old machine.”  You started to sit up, but Bucky’s hand was on your shoulder pushing you down as he climbed back on top of you.  

“You sound a little too eager to leave the bed.”  Bucky kissed your neck. “Maybe I should keep you here all day.  Remind you of what’s more important.”  

“A girl has to have some hobbies.”  You laughed. “It can’t be all sex all the time.”  

“I’m your hobby.”  Bucky kissed up your ear and lightly bit the lobe. “And I want sex all the time.”  

You felt his cock hardening against your thigh.   The vision of leaving the bed was fading, but Bucky’s face went in front of yours, his blue eyes electrified you.  Maybe you could waste another day with the man.  

He pressed his lips to yours as he lined up with your entrance and slid inside of you.  

Bucky had spent the last few weeks getting to know every way to push your buttons and master your body.  You didn’t think it should be legal for a man to have this much bedroom skills.  

“What a good girl you are Peach.”  Bucky bottomed out.  “So eager to please.”  

You moaned at his praise, hoping he wouldn’t leave the bed all day.  

~~~

Three hours later you found yourself walking back upstairs after eating breakfast.   You were in an oversized sweater and a pair of Bucky’s pants you’d managed to alter enough to fit you.  Still hadn’t tried to make any panties, but over your time here you’d gotten used to going without.  

You got the vibe Bucky liked having easier access and didn’t even think he would approve if you told him you were interested in wearing them again.  

You popped open the door to the small attic and walked inside.  It was hard to believe this was the same room you found.  You’d cleaned the whole thing out and made it your personal space.  The sewing machine and fabrics were in the corner, there was an old radio on a small table, the loveseat was cleaned and prominent.  You’d even hung some of the photographs of what you assumed were the previous owners.  

There was a stack of books you planned on using to make some sort of decoration.  You wished they were in English so you had something to read.  You laughed at the idea, as if you had free time for something like that.  

Bucky pretty much consumed you.  You figured you had two hours tops until he was back, carrying you to bed.  The man was insatiable and you had grown accustom to having sex at least four times a day.  It was almost like his stamina was superhuman.  

Thinking about him made you clench your thighs together as a wave of heat come over you.  You shook your head.

“Relax Peach.  Enjoy the break.”  Your words startled you, it was the first time you used the nickname out loud.  

But it was all Bucky called you and now you were more used to that than Y/N.  It made sense to refer to yourself by Peach.  There wasn’t anything wrong with it.  You reassured yourself and went to the sewing machine, sorting through the pile of clothes.  

“Hey.”  Bucky walked in the room, hands in his jeans.  

“Did you change your mind?”  You stood up from the machine, ready to strip at his command.  

“You are so beautiful and it drives me crazy when you look at me like that.”  Bucky folded his arms across his chest. “Come here.”  

You didn’t think you were looking at Bucky any differently than you always did, but if he was pleased you were happy, so you kept your eyes on him as you walked closer.  

“You really are perfect Peach.”  Bucky wrapped his arms around you and you draped yours around his neck. “My perfect Peach.”

He kissed you and the tingle between your legs flared.  

“Mmmm.”  He pulled away.  “I did come up here for a reason though.  I’m going to run into town.”  

“You’re leaving?”  Your eyes went wide. “How? The snow.”  

“Apparently we weren’t the only thing heating up the past few days.”  Bucky 

took your hand and led you down the steps and into the bedroom.

You went straight to a window and peered through the blinds.  Sure enough there were patches of grass and mud visible through the piles of white, everything looked wet, but all the animals were out enjoying the sunshine.  

“Is this normal for November?”  

“It’s December fourteenth and no.” Bucky was right behind you.  

“It’s December?” You did the math, six weeks and two days.  “Why didn’t you say something?”

“You never asked.”  Bucky shrugged. “But I’m going to use the opportunity to go restock, because trust me, more snow is on the way.  I’ll be back in a few hours.  Can you be a good girl while I’m gone?”  

You nodded your head, almost in shock over the passage of time.  Bucky placed a kiss on the top of your head.  

“Lock the doors after I leave and stay inside.”  Bucky opened his closet and pulled out the giant backpack.  

You remembered wearing it when he drove you on the motorcycle to this place.  When he saved you.  The thought made you hug yourself and filled you with a bit of dread.  

“Can I come with?”  You knew what the answer would be, but still needed to ask.  

Bucky looked up at you with smooth features, but then he bit down making his jaw clench.  Disappointment.  Your heart hurt and you looked away.  

“You’re safe here Peach.”  He sighed. “It’s too big of a risk…if the wrong people saw you.”  

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have asked.”  The idea of being trafficked was fading away and feeling like less of a threat.  

“It’s alright.”  Bucky stepped forward and kissed your head again.  

“What are we going to do?”  You’d already disappointed him once, but there were so few opportunities to get Bucky to talk about anything except for you.  “When the snow melts?  I can’t hide here forever; my uncle is probably terrified.”  

“Are you happy here Peach?”  Bucky put a finger under your chin.  “Are you happy with me?”  

“Yes.” You blinked several times, not sure you understood the question or what it had to do with your uncle.  “Of course.”  

The last thing you wanted was for Bucky to think you were ungrateful.  The corners of his lips started to rise, but he kept the smile down.  

“When the time comes, I’ll figure something out.”  Bucky dropped his hand. “I promise.  Until then, keep being my good girl.  Let me do the worrying.”  

You nodded your head and looked at the floor.  That single flash of let down on Bucky’s face was going to haunt you all afternoon.  

~~~

When he left you did as you were told and locked the door behind him.  It was strange being in the house all alone.  The farthest Bucky ever went was the animals.  

He didn’t seem upset with you when you left, but you’d known asking to come was a bad idea.  All it did was put him in an awkward spot.  Bucky deserved better than that.  

Maybe you could do something to show him you were sorry?  The thing he would like the most was your body tho, and he was welcome to that whenever he liked.  A thought crossed your mind and you licked your lips.  

He’d walked you through oral a few times, maybe when he got home you could drop to your knees and take the lead.  

You imagined your mouth filled with Bucky’s cock, his hands in your hair helping you to take more of him.  

“That’s it Peach, what a good girl.”  

You nodded your head and shook the fantasy away.  Once he got back you would show him what a good girl you could be.  

The minutes felt like hours and you needed something to do with your time or else you would go crazy waiting for him.  

A present.  That was another way you could show Bucky how grateful you were.  After all, Christmas was eleven days away.  You didn’t know if he celebrated or not, but you really didn’t know much.  

That wasn’t true.  You knew he was kind, gracious, caring.  So what if you didn’t know details about his life before you?  Did any of that matter?  

This situation is seriously screwed up Y/N.  You pushed away the thought before it surfaced all the way.  

You wondered what you could get him, obviously you would have to create something with what you had.  It would have to be something you could hide and work on in your alone time.   But what did Bucky like outside of you?

The two of you had played cards a few nights, and some other weird games he had in the basement, but that was always just a way to pass the time until he carried you up the stairs or took you on the hardwood floor.   A smile came to your face; Bucky really did like you.  

It was like a lightbulb went off.   You didn’t want to make underwear, but what about lingerie?  There were a few dresses in the attic that were too small, but maybe they could be altered quite a bit.  

You glanced toward the basement.  You hated it down there.  It was too creepy, but you knew Bucky took all the extra stuff you didn’t want in the attic to the far side.  You’d only been over there twice.  It reminded you of a prison cell, but you didn’t have much choice.  It wasn’t like you could wait for Bucky to get home and ask him to get the dresses.  He would want to know why and that would ruin the surprise.  

You tried to picture the design in your head to distract from the creepiness of the bottom floor.  You turned on the light and took the stairs two at a time, then didn’t stop as you rounded the corner to the other side.  

There was a light hanging and you pulled the string, putting the room in an even eerier glow.  There were several shelves with Bucky’s stuff and extra supplies, in the corner was a freezer too.  There was also a toilet sitting out and a shower built into the wall.  It wasn’t a second bathroom since it was so public, which again made you think at some point someone was locked down here.  

A chill went down your spine and you turned toward the storage space.  That was where you discarded dresses would be.  It was a crawl space, but one you could reach from your feet since the basement was so short.  

You grabbed the first bag and opened it up.  No dresses, but you pulled it out to get it out of the way so you could go further.  The next two bags had the same thing.  There was a box toward the front right you knew wasn’t from the attic.  But it was big and in the way, when you tried to yank it down it was heavier than expected and hit the floor with a thud.  

“Shit!” The top came off and some of the contents spilled out.  

When you bent to put it away you froze.  Your eyes went wide and mouth hung open.  A black gun was half out of the box.  

You looked inside and saw there were cases of bullets and a few other guns.  There was also thousands of Euros. More money than you’d ever seen. Why was there a box of weapons in the basement?  These were hand guns, not the kind used for hunting.  

The sense of safety you’d crafted started to slip away.  Why the guns?  Why the secrecy?  Why wouldn’t Bucky tell you a damn thing about himself? Why all the cash? Who was he?  

If this place was so bad, why was he here?  

Much like the night you sprinted out in the snow the dam you’d built in your mind broke and all the questions flooded in.  You felt yourself hyperventilate and had to get out of the basement.  

~~~

Did Bucky put the box away?  The thought kept gnawing at the back of his mind.  When he saw the weather he was so shocked he regretted staying in bed all morning.  

That was a lie.  He never regretted any time with Peach, but he was scared about stretching the food all winter and now he wouldn’t have to worry.  

But he would never leave the house without protection and he needed money to buy the stuff.  He kept that stuff hidden though, and for some reason he thought he may have been in such a rush he left it out.  

Not that it mattered, Peach hated the basement anyway.  Just thinking her name made him smile.  He was going to the closest town.  It was about 20 minutes away.   He didn’t like the idea of visiting one so close to his house in the event he was followed, but he liked the idea of leaving Peach alone less.  

She was so helpless.  It was endearing, but if someone happened on the house while he was gone Peach wouldn’t know the first thing about defending herself.  The thought didn’t sit well with Bucky.  He would have to teach her some basic fighting moves.  

But that would involve keeping his hands off of her for longer than five minutes and that was becoming harder and harder to do.  Everything about her turned him on.  

  He parked his bike at the end of the downtown area and got off.  All these little towns operated the same way. One grocer, a few restaurants, some bars, a few specialty shops, and a farmers market on the weekend.

  To an outsider it would look like a simple poor place, but living in this country was expensive. There was a fee just to cross the border, and there was no overnight shipping.  The people who lived here chose it for a reason and odds were they’d done something horrible in their past lives.  Just like Bucky.

  He thought about the way Peach looked at him, so intent and almost proud.  Would she still give him those longing glances if she knew what he had done?

  It wasn’t worth the risk finding out, and he didn’t want to lie to her either.  She seemed to accept his silence though.

  Before he left she asked what were we going to do. We. He liked that.  Even though it was unspoken she realized that they were a package now.  When it was time to move on they were staying together.

He hadn’t decided what would be better, climbing the mountains into Romania or smuggling her out the other direction.  

  Either way they had to wait until at least April. He hoped by then her traffickers had moved on to other prey.  

  He pulled open the door to the first shop. It was the clothing store.  Even though he wasn’t thrilled with the idea maybe it was time to get Peach some panties.  She could use a pair of boots and a winter coat.

  Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he celebrated any holiday, but maybe he would pick her up a gift too.  He hoped they had some lingerie options. Then it would double as a gift for him.

  The shopkeeper nodded at him and Bucky responded.  He didn’t like to speak to anyone, but decided maybe asking would be the easiest way to get in and out.  

He spoke the local language easily enough.

  “Hello. I was wondering if you could help me...” Bucky trailer off when he saw the sign behind the register.

  It was a normal piece of paper, but in the center was a big picture of his Peach.  Missing, Beloved Niece. 10,000 Euro reward for any information. 100,000 Euro reward if found alive.  There was a contact number.  

 “That sign catches everyone’s eye.” The shopman pulled it off the wall to see another behind it. He set it on the counter. “Big reward.”

  “Yes.” Bucky tried to hide his reaction.

  This was too close to their home, and with this sort of money everyone was looking for his Peach.  

  He wondered how many people in the other town had described him, his motorbike, at least he had his hair piled under the hat today. He would cut it as soon as he got home.

 “She’s probably dead, but that doesn’t stop people from looking. Pretty girl. Someone must have some major plans for her.” The shop keeper smiled. “Keep it, and good luck. Now what can I help you with?”

  Any idea of buying Peach anything went out the window.  He imagined purchasing anything for a female may result in this man calling up the tip line.  

 “I need black t-shirts, some thermal wear, and socks.” Bucky folded up the paper and shoved it in his pocket. “All for me. My size.”

  The shopkeeper walked around the counter to start grabbing the stuff.  Bucky channeled all his rage and fear into keeping cool.  But right now all he wanted was to get home to his Peach.

  The fantasy bubble he’d been living in popped.  And the reminder of how much danger she was in flooded him. But he would protect her. No matter what. Nobody was taking his Peach.

~~ You paced the kitchen, unable to stop crying.  Who was Bucky?  Where were you?  What sort of life were you living?  All the false justifications you were using came crashing down.  

When the sound of keys fitting in the front door came you paused, a shake in your arm.  You were in line with the door and when it opened Bucky walked inside.  His eyes were downcast as he took off the pack on his back.  

He looked up and you locked eyes with him.  At first there was a smile on his face, but it soon dropped.  

“Peach…what are you doing?” He took a step forward.  

“That’s not my name.”  You gave a sniffle and wiped your nose, wishing you had the strength to say these things without tears.

Bucky’s eyes got wide and he held his hands in front of him.  

“Whatever you’re thinking, we can work this out.”  He took small steps.  

There was fear in his face, the way his brow wrinkled.  You were expecting anger, and disappointment.  That would’ve made you crack, but you could deal with fear.  

“Who are you?”  You started pacing again, throwing your arms in the air.  “Why do you have a box filled with guns and money?  What is this place?  Am I prisoner?  Are you the trafficker?  Did you buy me?”  

“Peach, you need to calm down.”  Bucky continued to move slow. “You can hurt yourself.”  

“Are you even listening to me?”  You wanted to scream in frustration.  “This isn’t about me.  It’s about you.  Who are you?”  

“Who am I?”  Bucky was a few feet from you now.

You locked eyes with him again and gave a nod.  You wiped your tears, imagining what a mess you looked like.  

“I am someone who takes care of you.  Who protects you.”  Bucky was about an arm’s length away.  

“NO!” You pinched your eyes shut. “Who were you then?  I have a right to know.”  

Bucky paused, his arms still in front of him.  He was approaching you like you were some sort of wild animal.  It made your resolve falter.  Maybe you were wrong to demand answers.  He kept his eyes on yours as he moved forward again.  

His hand slowly moved toward you, but not like he was going in for a hug.  Then you looked down and saw it.  The gun.  

“Shit.”  You were so into your own head you hadn’t realized you were holding it.  

Before you could react Bucky grabbed your wrist.  He put pressure on it making you cry out and drop the weapon.  He snatched it up and put it on the stove then grabbed your waist and spun you around, slamming you against the counter.  

“I…I…didn’t mean…” You didn’t know how to explain that.  

“SHUT UP.” Bucky growled next to your ear. “Do you want to hurt me?  Or do you want to hurt yourself?”  

You replayed wiping away the tears and your nose, throwing your arms in the air.  You had just been waving around a weapon.  One that was incredibly dangerous and you had no clue how to use.  

“I’m sorry.”  There was a quiver to your voice.  

“Very bad Peach.”  Bucky put his arms over yours and grabbed your wrists, pining them to the counter top.  “Bad.”  

All of the questions you had, your demands on him amounted to nothing.  You shut your eyes as a tear fell.  He was so close to you, if his fingers weren’t bruising your wrists you would say it was almost a protective stance.  You tried to relax your body into his, scared that if he let go he would never touch you again.  That was what you deserved after screwing up this bad.  

“You want to know who I am?”  He bit down hard on your neck.  

You squealed as pain set in.  His teeth vanished and you felt the spot pulsing.  

“I am someone who doesn’t take well to having a gun pointed at them.”  He let go of your wrists and started to stand up.  “Don’t you think about fucking moving from this spot.”  

Your legs wanted to give out and your arms weren’t strong enough to support you, but you forced yourself to stay against the counter, bent forward with your arms in front of you.  

“I am someone who cares about your life more than you do.”  His hands were on your hips and he yanked your pants down.  

He stepped on them with his boot and nudged your foot to step out of them.  You were a mix of emotions, scared of what was happening, angry at yourself for the situation, but most of all hopeful that he was going to touch you. Stripping you was a sign he wasn’t finished with you yet.

“I am someone who corrects poor behavior.”  SPANK!

“Ahhh!” You lurched forward on the counter top when his palm contacted your ass.  

He grabbed your bum and sunk his fingers into the spot he just spanked, making you whimper.

“I am someone who is in control.”  SLAP!  Pain exploded on your other cheek.  

“Oww!” It stung, but the humiliation you were feeling was worse than the spank.  

“I am NOT the type of person who purchases people.”  SLAM!  

That one hurt the worst so far and you cried out again as a new batch of tears came.  How could you have ever thought that?  Bucky would never have bought you.

“I am someone who you NEED to listen to.”  SPANK!  

This time he brought both hands to your ass and again sank his fingers into your burning cheeks.  It made you shudder and fall forward.  Then he was gone again and you tensed, unsure of what was to come.  

“I am someone who knows what is best for YOU.” SLAP!

Your body trembled and you cried again.  He was right, he was so right.  You were a mess and you would be lost without him.  How could you ever think such horrible thoughts about this man?  

He leaned over your body and put his mouth next to your ear.  

“Now, are you my Peach?” Even though it was a question there was no doubt of the answer demanded.  

“Yes.” You nodded furiously.  “I’m your Peach.”  

“Do you want to be my good girl again?”  There was almost a playfulness to his tone now.  

“Yes.  Please, let me be your good girl.”  If said no, you were pretty sure your heart would stop beating.  

He stood back up and the sound of his zipper going down brought your relief and a whole new type of crying.  

Bucky stood behind you and placed one hand on the small of your back before slamming into you in one stroke.  

You gasped and raised your neck.  He slid in with ease.  You were turned on.  From the spanking?  From the dominance?  You didn’t have time to think about it before he started thrusting in and out of you with speed.  There was no warm up or teasing as he pumped you.  

Fingers fisted in your hair and he arched your neck back.  You groaned at the strained position.  

“You are mine Peach.”  He fucked you furiously, slamming his pelvis into your abused rear.  “If you EVER think about hurting yourself, you have no clue what I’ll do to you.”  

It was never your intention to shoot anyone, but you could have.  He sped up and you lost any train of thought as your insides came to life.  You felt the start of an orgasm building, but then he pulled out, leaving you empty and wanting.  

His hand left your hair, but before you could hit the counter he grabbed you and spun you around.  

His face was tight and his blue eyes looked like the devil himself.  There as no forgiveness in him as he grabbed your chin with his metal hand and squeezed slightly too hard.  

“Do you understand?”  He focused on you and you nodded as you whimpered.  

He dropped your chin and his hands were on your shirt, he pulled it over your head, but didn’t take it off.  Instead he twisted in behind your back, essentially binding your arms.  Then he picked you up and set you on the counter.  

“Very bad Peach.” He dropped his vision to your pussy and slammed back inside of you again.  “VERY BAD.”  

You nodded in agreement, unable to come up with an excuse.  His fingers dug into your thighs as he railed into you again.  He put his mouth on your neck and sunk his teeth back down, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough for your to feel the pinch.  

You didn’t deserve it.  You didn’t deserve him, but the orgasm came back.  You couldn’t roll your hips to meet him in this position, but it didn’t matter.  You wanted to touch him, wrap your arms around him for support, but that wasn’t an option either.  You had been so bad, he was right not to let you.  

“I’ll be good.”  You let your head go limp, giving him easier access.  “I’ll be so good for you.”  

He grunted in approval and then dug his fingers harder into your thigh and bit down further.  You cried out, but the mix of pain with the pounding of his cock was enough and your pussy fluttered around him.  Clenching and unclenching as the orgasm shook through you.  

Your vision went dark, but not enough to lose consciousness.  

“Ugh!” Bucky lifted his mouth and jammed inside of you one final time.  

You dropped your head forward on his shoulder, the tears still falling.  You were sorry.  You would show him.  

“Are you okay?”  He brought his hand to your back and pulled your shirt off.

“Yes.”  You through your arms around him, not wanting him to let you go.  

“That was scary Peach.”  He let out a sigh.  “Never again.”  

“Never.”  You squeezed him tighter.  

He pulled out of you and scooped you up in his arms.  Your body was still shaking, but he was so strong.  You felt his gaze on you and looked up.  There was sorrow in his eyes and you hated it that it was your fault.  

“I wanted to see that look one last time.” He swallowed and carried you up the stairs. “I was born March 10th, 1917.  My full name is James Buchanan Barnes.”  

[spacegaywritings]

Warming Paws and melting Walls (5/8) “Territorial Revenge”

Summary: Nobody responded within a week and so Remy made sure to inform Emile so they could repaint the office. Virgil does not like being alone for long, especially when it is unexpected.

Luckily, the two are quick to make up.

 Tags: animal waster, cat litter box, urine, descriptions of urine smell, cleaning, a bit of fighting bc this is an upset kitty, food and eating mention, feeding, late nights, metal clanking sound, vaccine mention, vet mention, slight restrictions of breathing? Pining mention, auditory triggers, migraine mention, somft feelings, more snuggles and cuddles, kitty gone bad boi,

i do not think there is any more to be applied. If you need me to add anything, please contact me here or on my tumblr (spacegayparty, spacegaywritings)

My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me

ao3: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 // all.

tumblr:  1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 (you are here!) / 6 / 7 / 8.

 Story under the cut: (Wordcount ~3,1k)

Metal clattered together as the key within the lock pressed deeper into it and started turning in order to open the door at last. The light sound filled the cool air. Eventually, the metal keys fell against the dark colour, wooden door and with a particularly loud ‘knack’ of the door, the lock gave way and the way was free.

Remy finally stepped into his home.

It was dark already but that did not stop him from wanting to go home, it encouraged him even further. He was the kind of person to change the night but with Virgil waiting for him, there was an intense urge to just be with the little pet. The darkness outside his apartment was driving him to be faster when the hours passed and passed.

 He had cleaned everything with Emile, right after fucking painting it all and reorganising two fucking offices. It was work. It was a lot of work but it was paid extra work on top of that, yet Remy was not exactly a fan of it. The man liked doing his thing, being left alone a bit but also having some non-annoying or intrusive/persistent social interaction. But.. working with Emile all day was as lovely as it could be exhaustive.

That pal did not gossip enough! Remy wanted to talk about chill things, not how he hated or did not hate his parents and whatnot.

 Sometimes he wondered whether people moved away and went to other therapists so they would be safe from all their dreadful puns. Maybe it helped in therapy? He did not know but it made him feel fluttered and warm all the same. Still, it would get him to feel nauseous after some time. Maybe Emile played into his auditory triggers - too many words in too little time.

 Remy stepped into his home and closed the door.

The sound of shutting it echoed through the vast emptiness in his apartment. Actually, there was so much nothing, it really filled the complete living space.

 Strange..

 All he could notice was a certain smell.. a pungent, intense smell. It was odd and he could not quite place it.

It sort of reminded him of...

 Oh no.

 He carefully switched on the light.

Whenever he used his lights, he could not help but be glad about having found proper lamps that did not cause too much eye strain at once. People who developed and invented ideas for dim light bulbs and lamps that were made to be comfortable rather than stinging in illumination were simply saints and he would never back away from this opinion. Those were fucking heroes because they helped the dumb minorities like him that was too Extra (tm) to live with regular things.

 When the dim lights, he loved so much, showered the hallway in golden warmth, he noticed.. a weird bit of something on the floor.

 Please please no.

 “Virgil?”

 He called into the void, for the void.

Nothing came back.

 Was the cat okay?

 Remy carefully made his way over to the weird something on the floor. It looked like spilled liquid, somewhat translucent and odd.

Did... Did Virgil vomit or pee onto the floor? Holy fuck, it smelled awful in the most indescribable ways. He did not want to describe it anyway, let alone sniff it enough to figure out certain components of the smell or any similarities to other scents.

 ...Oh dear fuck.

The smell - It was cat pee. Virgil had decided to fucking ruin his floor right in front of the little cat toilet he had put up.

 Well... that was it, he supposed. It had been a dream that Remy did not really have to “potty train” the kitten since it came with a lot of good manners already. That was so much of an indicator that the cat was from somewhere, that they were civilised and socialised.

Still, after weeks of no answers, Remy had cut the search and was happy to call the cat his own (albeit he never said so but the smiles on his face were more frequent than before and even his migraines seemed more at ease - not to mention how rare they had become).

 But it was too nice to have a cat - a first pet - that just was clean and trained and would use the litter box accordingly.

 “I swear, you are going to kill me, Queen. I just cleaned it in the morning. It cannot be that bad, can it?”

 He already moved to open a few windows and make sure the horrible smell would yield to the fresh air of the evening.

Maybe he should not have been outside for so long without sending anyone over to check on Virgil and catsit after all. Remy admitted he should look into some silly students who needed the money and would be happy about just cuddling a cat and being able to have some WIFI and such.

 But really, he had not planned to stay outside for that long. He had wanted to run over and check in on the dust ghost during his lunch break. Sadly, Emile did have that sort of amnesia effect on him. His horny brain went dumb and forgot all the important logic and memory. Therefore, he had been too stupid from love to really think about Virgil needing him at that moment.

Next time, he would discuss this with Emile beforehand. One mistake was alright as long as nobody was hurt and he learned from it.

 With black bags under his eyes and shades perched up on the top of his head, he grabbed a few tissues, gloves and a mop and got ready to clean up. Excitement as great as it could have been in such a situation, he got down to clean up and once done, he finished up over there and tended to the litter box.

 Nearly empty. There was like, the usual stuff but it was not much because he had cleaned it in the morning - on purpose!

 “Are you fucking kidding me? Virgil, why would you do this?”

 A deep groan of annoyance split his lips. He got up to remove the bit of waste that was still residing inside. It just took a few moment and it was already done. He disposed of the dirt properly and put his cleaning utensils into the dedicated space. 

A tinge of worry hit him as he did so. The cleanness was achieved at last but what about Vi- Just then, a streak of black crossed his view.

 “Virgil!”

 His tone was low, touching a bit into the territory of a parent. Specifically, when a goody two shoes did something wrong and the parents got all “I am not mad, just disappointed”.  

The kitten ducked away and whipped its tail down before slowly swishing it from side to side.

They almost looked ready to fight and as if Remy had provoked it, the void suddenly jumped at his black boot - yes, just one. This was one smol individual and they had yet to be tol enough to attack two Remy feet at once. Soft paws drummed onto the shoe and the ball of charcoal furry was hissing and scratching.

 “Hey! Ow-”, Remy hissed back in surprise and slight aggravation, “Virgil, what the fuck!”

 The cat jumped back and Remy quickly dropped his jacket, revealing a black sweat shirt he was wearing underneath.

 The angry cat hissed at the man and ducked and arched their back. Then, they went in for the fight, now aiming at his knees. A pair of claws jumped at him, so Remy committed himself to the idiocy of catching the cat and picking them up.

 Virgil did not get his knees but they did catch some skin of his arms.

 “What is wrong with you, gurl? Do you want to play? This is some shit way to tell me about it, queen. You pissed on my floor.”

 Virgil hissed again and Remy blinked in incomprehension. He should learn more about cats or something. Like, take a course in cat training because this whole behaviour was too sudden and confusing for him to make sense of it. These acts were so contrary to what they had done before to him. Even at the start of their relationship they had been somewhat loving towards once another.

 He did not want to admit it but.. the cat rejecting him kind of stung. Yeah, his attacked shoes were also a point of inconvenience he did not really approve of but they were manageable.

The cat was down on the ground again but definitely not down-to-earth. They were already spitting fireballs at the belated arrival and Remy was cursed with being puzzled forever since they could not communicate and explain what happened.

 Remy was unfortunate to think of Virgil as playfully fighting him. By instinct or whatever.

 “Hey Queen, if you wanna play, can you just give me a minute or two, so I can eat? I want to exist, too, and you need to eat as well.”

 He collected the food and water bowl and made sure to fill everything properly. Virgil had abandoned him again in favour of creepily staring at him from afar. The tail was swishing like a clock’s ticking arms. And they were counting his time until being brought to justice by Black Cat Law, aka The Void Law.

 The cat owner emerged from the kitchen, filled bowls filling his hands.

Dry food, just a bit - minimal amounts. Wet food - the main source of sustenance for the kitty cat. Water - because kitty cat got free bowls of water twice a day, thrice when at work with him.

Remy put it back into place and the kitten quickly returned to retrieve the food.

 “Yeah, now you are happy, are you not?”

 The cat very much ignored him so they could feast upon the bouts of food brought to them. Finally their slave human was working again and feeding them as he was supposed to.

Rude to just take an unannounced break.

 “Yeah, I should have expected you to be bitchy without food. You are just like me, are you not, little honey?”

 A chuckle could be heard as he took a little moment to relish in the sounds coming from the Void of Darkness and Fire (tm) purring and chewing. The noises were barely audible but Remy has started picking up the most silent ones. It helped him detect the kitten’s feelings or locations when he needed to tend to the cat. Also, it made finding the cat easier for when he wanted to give them a little goodbye-snuggle before going to work.

 The urge to cuddle the cat right now was strong but he made sure to not do it.

Cats hated that, as much as sources told him. Sources were the internet and people and also a book he had gotten by now. And the vet he had visited once more after he decided to keep the cat since nobody seemed to care enough. Also, vaccines.

Other than that, Virgil also scratched him once he tried to snuggle them while eating. This was only legal when Virgil was already snuggled up to him due to pure pity they felt for him. Such a Queen.

 “You are too good for anyone, kitty. I am sorry for leaving you alone for so long.”

 No answer - but the black blob of fur seemed to be at ease with the food and water. This was a start, he thought to himself. Remy still felt guilty for leaving them alone for so long. Then again, he had expected to have the time and get home for a little bit during his lunch break but that did not work out, somehow. And going after his official working hours was not okay.

 He should give someone his keys so they could look after the little Queen of Salt for a bit when he had to stay away longer.

What if an emergency ever came up?

 His head shook the thoughts of darkness and anxiety away. Instead, he busied his empty hands with the simple task of reheating some food he had made before. Tomorrow he would get some chicken for his kitten to make up for being so neglectful and thoughtless. He needed to be more considerate and accept his responsibilities. After all, he was some kind of caretaker right now - a cat parent, if you will.

 Remy leaned back and took a deep breath.

 “Virgiiiiil ~”, he cooed softly and took out a little kitty treat.

 Just one.

It was not just for his guilty conscience but also for the cat to know he did not mean to. Virgil needed assurance and the stability of life. Giving him some sort of praise for being alone all day - for literally at least 10 hours - was appropriate, he supposed.

 The kitten was already done with their bowl of food and was currently drinking when the smell of more food and the sound of Remy’s - their owner’s voice - reached them. They sensed being called over and looked up from their bowl, licking their muzzle and nose with a satisfied look on their face.

 “Kitty cat”, he purred again and the void gently let their tail swish just a bit above the floor for a few single strands of their fur to trace over the dark ground.

 They purred back in solidarity. Soft paws sunk into the similarly dark floor. The kitty took one step after the other and slowly progressed, body slightly lethargic from the recent intake of food. The ball of fur and mischief made their way over to Remy and sniffed the air.

A determination ruled their fine movements.

 Ah, yes. More food.

Good human.

Their eyes sparked at the man, radiating praise and appreciation.

 Remy smiled in return and carefully nudged his hand close enough for Virgil to nibble at the treat. Immediately, they welcome it into their mouth. Without realising it, the owner visibly relaxed, the air standing in his lungs was flowing out of his nostrils and allowed him to inhale deeply. His posture eased up and his shoulders were now more straightened and calm compared to before. St a few moments ago, the weight of guilt tore down his body and forced his back to be crooked along with pushing his shoulders into a hunching position.

No more guilt was crushing him anymore, though. The cat had accepted his apology and was carefully pushing their head into Remy’s idle palm. The feeling of warmth, a bit of dampness and furry delight was tickling the receptors in his hand. The warmth travelled up to his chest, spreading throughout all of his body in the process.

 “You are too good for me. Aw, Virgil. Little Queen of Salt”, he purred and gently shifted to lean over and started brushing over the smooth and slightly shining fur of his little companion.

 His left was holding the curious head of a peculiar kitty cat and he gently started scritching their chin - well, the underside of their chin. It was a bit lighter than the rest of their body. At least, this is what it seemed like to him. It felt warmer and more brownish, yet just as lovely as the rest of them.

 Peaceful purring filled the room with soft sounds and calming noise instead of haunting silence

 “I love you too”, he chuckled.

 Maybe he did not know everything about cats, nor did he understand all his little sass-bean was trying to express with their general body posture, the position of their torso or their tail either - really, he did not know much at all - but he was still trying his best. He certainly was getting better at it and this counted, did it not? Also, it was not like he did not try to educate himself. His workplace naps were replaced by reading in his “cat bible” and literally taking notes.

 Hands gently curled around the food-filled body of a satisfied little void. Cradling the coal cat in his arms, he held them close to his heart and walked over to their couch.

 “Does my little storm cloud want to cuddle?”

 His voice was a low coo and the kitten responded with audible purrs and an enthusiastic bonk when their heads crushed together again.

 Ow.

... He would totally never get used to cats showing affection like that. 

 Well, still worth it.

Apparently, cats did that to show love or some trash. Whatever, Virgil barely ever did it but it got more and more frequent after their first days together. Now it was more often instead of rarely but it certainly was not the most usual and common thing between them.

Still, it could change. At the moment he just wanted to relish in the warmth of their cuddles and the comfort of their intimacy.

 Remy flopped onto the couch and left the cat on his chest while he simply laid down flat onto his back like a lazy plank swimming in the water. Just floatin’... simply going with the flow, adapting to any wave.

 The cat returned the action by softly pushing their paws into his ribs. Lungs complained due to the compromised volume for more precious and essential oxygen. Not that Remy cared.. nor did Virgil have the cognitive ability to care.

 “You having fun there, kitty?”

 This cat was royalty and Remy would continue to lay around and simply have them run up and down his body. All he wanted to do was.... just take off his pants and such and put on a more comfortable and flexible pyjama. Falling asleep in tight jeans was not as great (they were great for getting some looks from his boss, though). The idea of moving around right now was just as unpleasant as the idea of falling asleep and waking up in the pants he had worked and sweated in all day.

 Unfazed by anything, the void was simply preparing their human bed for a little longer before settling down onto his ribcage...warm and pressing. Just a tad uncomfortable.

 “Okay, there you go-”

 Yes, this was love.

 Remy was too exhausted and comfortable to feel too bothered by his air flow being obstructed. Slowly, he felt himself drift off. The man was soon in a light version of a slumber and gradually become a victim to the sweet relief of a little nap. The discomfort of sweaty and smelly clothes was forgotten when exhaustion took over. The overwhelming state of being physically drained got the best of him.

All good sentiment was forgotten when the comfort of a good cat and a warm home hugged him.

 Bye bye meal he had wanted to have. He was already satisfied in other way.

He was home.

 This was heaven.

[overlyobsessedgaygal]

The Vampire Hunting Vampire and His Partners

So this is going to be a new AU. It's going to be posted in one-shot format, not in chronological order. Just random scenes I feel like writing/posting.

The summary is that Logan, Patton and Roman work for a vampire hunting organization that uses captured vampires as agents, forced agents. Virgil is assigned to be their partner, and they become close. Eventually LAMP/possible DLAMP, appearances of other random characters.

It's not the Virgil didn't like his partners, he actually loved the three hunters he was being held captive by, it's just difficult to adjust. Virgil spent a lot of time being a loner and escaping hunters who would use him to find others, he had fed freely on the human population, though rarely killing, and was able to walk freely.

      He didn't mind the bright red shock collar that he was required to wear, he didn't mind that he had to walk no longer than an arm's length away from one of his partners, he didn't even mind having to be chained and caged when his partners slept.

      The only part he minded was the fact that he rarely got to feed and it was never enough to last until the next feeding station. While it wasn't deadly for Vampire to go without blood for years at a time it was uncomfortable to the point of painful. Vampires under the Monster Hunter Association were only allowed to be fed every six months at official feeding stations.

      Many vampires would do anything to feed after six months and it led to the death of many hunters that had been to close. Virgil was lucky that he was older than most vampires because he could easily ignore the cravings and handle the pain.

     He had never once bitten, or attempted to bite, any of his handlers or his current partners. A fact that he was proud of. He got to walk around without chains and a muzzle, only the electric collar stood between him and his next meal.

      The bed in the hotel room creaked and Virgil whipped his head to see the smallest of the three humans sitting up. Patton was young at only nineteen and he had a certain compassion to him that made Virgil concerned. Compassion usually meant naivety and naivety and monsters don't mix.

      "Morning, Virgil!" Patton whisper shouted as he walked over to let Virgil out of his cage and unlock the handcuffs on his wrist. Virgil noticed right away that he was only holding the keys, which meant the remote to Virgil's collar was still sitting on Logan's bedside table. If Virgil wanted to he could attack Pat and kill him before he could get to the remote.

    "Good morning, Patton." Virgil waited patiently for Patton to undo the lock before crawling out and stretching his stiff joints. "Did you sleep well?"

    "Oh, yeah! The bed wasn't exactly comfy but Roman is the best cuddler," Patton responded with a giggle. Virgil smiled fondly at his humans. "What did you think about all night?"

   Virgil was no longer surprised by the question. All three of his humans showed concern over Virgil's mental health as well as his physical wellbeing. "I compared my life before capture to my life with you," Virgil answered with full honesty. He saw no point in lying to any of them as they had never showed any animosity towards his negative thoughts.

    "Oh," Patton said. Virgil could hear the remorse in his tone and the vampire winced. "Which do you prefer?" The question was accompanied by big, soft eyes and a slight quiver to his lips.

     Virgil smiled at him. "You all try so hard to keep me happy and I appreciate that so much. How could I not like it here?" It wasn't exactly a direct lie.

      "You liking it here and you preferring it are not the same. We do not question if you are comfortable here, we question if you would be more comfortable with your freedom," Logan spoke up. Virgil looked behind him to see the oldest human had sat up in his bed and watching the conversation.

      Virgil looked down, knowing what he was going to say next would upset Patton. "Of course I would prefer to be free. Freedom is something all living creatures long for, the choice to leave as they may and eat when they want. The right to be alive."

     "Oh, Virge," Patton said it softly but Virgil could still hear the tears. "We don't want to make you feel like you aren't equal to us." Virgil felt like a jerk. He knew Patton would never knowingly make Virgil hurt and all Virgil could do was complain. He was an awful partner.

      "Is it the collar? We could always just take it off," a new voice chimed in. This voice was much deeper than the other two and held a much more intense tone. All three of the previous participants swiveled their heads to look at Roman.

       "Roman, it is highly impractical for us to allow him to walk without a collar," Logan admonished and Virgil felt a ball of lead sink in his stomach. "It would be much wiser if we were to leave the collar on but disconnect the remote."

     Virgil gave Logan a look of pure disbelief. Why would Logan suggest they let him roam freely? He was meant to be the smart one of the group.

   "No, don't do that," Virgil protested. All three humans looked at him with varying levels of confusion. "I- I don't want to be able to hurt anybody. It's safer if you keep it on me so that if I slip up then you can stop me."

     "You've been with us for three years, and the headquarters for years before, and you have never hurt a single person. We trust you," Patton put a hand on Virgil's shoulder.

       "If you're feeding instincts are the issue then we can solve that easily as well," Logan spoke up when no other words were offered. Virgil swallowed with great difficulty, which seemed to confirm Logan's theory.

       "While we can't take you to a feeding station before six months, nor can we allow you to hunt, there are no rules stating we cannot share our blood with you. Consensually, of course."

      Logan's proposal sent fear shooting through Virgil's body. Patton and Roman agreed with the idea, Patton even volunteering his blood up on the spot. Virgil stepped away from them, his head arguing with itself.

       "If I can't stop myself then I'll hurt you. You have to be able to stop me," Virgil said sternly. He looked Logan dead in the eyes.

       "Hey," Patton cut in moving to stand between the vampire and the hunter. "We know you won't do that. You've never liked to cause people pain."

      "If it makes you feel better than you can keep the collar on and Logan can hold the remote," Roman offered. Patton frowned and pouted. He hated the idea of Virgil being uncomfortable, being trapped.

       "I'm sorry, Pat." Virgil shifted his eyes to Logan. "If we do this then I want to be safe about it."

        The humans all reassured Virgil. Patton let Virgil take full control in where he was situated and how the easiest way would be. Virgil made sure Patton was in the most comfortable position possible on the bed, propped up on pillows so he could easily see Sesame Street playing on the tv.

       Virgil was sitting on his knees on the floor in between the two beds where Roman and Logan could see him clearly. Patton's wrist was hanging limply over the edge, waiting for Virgil to sink his teeth into the vein.

      "Does it hurt?" Patton asked. Virgil took a deep, unneeded, breath when that question came. Patton had asked in a voice with no fear or worry, just trust. Trust in a monster like Virgil.

       "Yes, it does hurt. Until my saliva numbs the wound it's going to hurt, thirty seconds about. After that it will just feel uncomfortable. Try not to flinch or yank away, my teeth may snag your skin."

    Virgil watched Patton for a moment before the human nodded. "Okay! What should I do if I want you stop? How hungry are you?"

    "When you want me to stop then tell me, if I don't stop as soon as he says then shock me with full power. It doesn't matter how hungry I am, I can survive years without blood so you don't have to worry about my needs."

      Patton glanced at Virgil in disappointment. He didn't get an answer to his question, he had wanted to know how much Virgil should take, when Patton would be okay to stop him.

     "Alright, it would be wise of us to speed along if we want to locate and capture the rogue vampire within the daylight, " Logan advised. Virgil swallowed his nerves and nodded, glancing back at Roman for reassurance.

     "Okay," Virgil said as he lightly lifted Patton's wrist. He pressed his lips against the soft flesh right above his veins. He watched Patton shiver as Virgil's cold skin made contact. "I'm biting."

      Virgil let Patton take a deep breath before he tried to delicately bite into the wrist. He heard Patton gasp at the intrusion. The bed behind them shuffled as Roman and Logan moved.

      Virgil tried to focus all his energy on Patton, reading his body language, listening to his breathing. He tried but the blood rushed over his taste buds, making his eyes go wide. Oh, he wanted more.

     Virgil barely registered the small sob that came from Patton but he did and he forced himself to slow down. "Vi-" Patton started to say. Before Patton could finish the thought Virgil had dislodged his teeth and back into the other bed.

     He was breathing heavy, Patton's blood dripping from his chin. "Are you okay?" Virgil was shaking. He made Patton cry, he had been to eager and had hurt him. Logan should have shocked him, Logan should still shock him, punish him.

     "I'm okay, Virgil." The voice wasn't as shaky anymore. Patton licked his lips. "Just, a bit light headed."

    Virgil panicked. "You need food! Good food, not greasy stuff. Strawberries and sunflower seeds! That's what they give the people at feeding stations." A hand suddenly resting on Virgil's head made the rest of his panicked rambling cut off before it began.

      "Relax our Melancholy Mosquito, we know how to take care of slight blood loss. Logan and I have been bitten before," Roman said calmly as he brushed a hand through the vampire's hair.

       "Our entire career revolves around us getting into altercations with vampires who wish to injure us. You truly did not cause any distress by taking a small amount of blood from one of us," Logan calmed Virgil. "And, besides that point, your display of control was beyond satisfactory."

         "I made him cry!" Virgil shouted. He couldn't handle all the calming words when he felt the guilt pulling on his stationary heart causing it to spasm painfully. The hand in his hair paused in its stroking for a moment before resuming, in a slower, more calming pattern.

          "I wasn't hurt or afraid," Patton said softly. "I just wasn't expecting it to feel like that." Patton lifted his hand and reached out to grab Virgil's hand. Virgil took his hand with the still bleeding wrist and Patton squeezed softly.

           "Now, let's go get some food!" Roman said. He got up quickly, Logan following suit. "Logan and I will be back with a meal for our puffball and a Sprite for emo daydream."

      Patton giggled at his nickname while Virgil hissed at Roman. Logan fondly rolled his eyes at his partners before hurrying Roman along.

     Virgil almost stopped them and told them to change out of their pajamas, almost.