#wr writing

[raisareigns]

TIMING: Late January LOCATION: The Mushroom Circle PARTIES: Raisa and Wyatt (and a fussy faun) SUMMARY: Raisa and Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) were both looking for a little entertainment, never mind that Wyatt was already entertained when Raisa arrived. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Raisa stepped inside, the warmth of the bar soaking in compared to the cold creeping in behind her. She took a deep breath, letting the room and its inhabitants wash over her. She wasn’t hungry, wasn’t looking for anyone in particular to inspire and feed on, but something pulled her toward this main room. Normally she’d slip behind that employee door and let the dance floor pull her along with whatever another fae wanted for their night. 

Instead she wandered over to the bar and slipped onto an empty stool. Raisa ordered herself a drink and sipped on it. The grenadine pool sitting at the top was overly sweet. She focused on it anyway. If she hadn’t wanted something sweet, she’d have ordered gin instead anyway. After allowing herself to bask in that moment, Raisa turned on her stool to observe the room as a whole, taking in faces tucked into corners, trying to hide, clearly letting go, and any number of all too human experiences. Nothing like an evening at a place like this to give a cross section of everything.

Eventually Raisa looked a little closer to home and met the eyes of a man sitting two seats away from her. Raisa tilted her head, observing him back. “Not polite to stare,” she teased, though Raisa herself was staring plenty.

—

He'd seen her walk in, and immediately she'd caught his attention. That wasn't to say that there weren't plenty of beautiful people in this establishment, quite the contrary, but it was something in the way she carried herself that piqued his interest. At any rate, it had Wyatt slipping away from the person he'd only met twenty minutes prior, excusing himself for ‘just a moment’ to instead make his way over to the bar. He sat a couple seats over and ordered himself another Old Fashioned, keeping a quiet eye on her as she received her drink and sipped at it, gaze raking over the room of potential company. 

She must have felt his gaze on her because she eventually turned to him, and the little smirk she wore made his heart flutter in his chest. “Beggin’ your pardon, miss,” he offered, tapping a finger against his glass and returning the knowing smile. “Won't do to forget my manners.” He extended a hand to her hopefully, leaning across the empty space between them. “Wyatt Barlow, at your service. Can I buy your next drink as an apology?”

Before she could answer, the young man he'd abandoned came sidling up beside Wyatt, resting a hand on his shoulder and narrowing his eyes at Raisa. He could tell she was fae, because he himself was a faun, and he'd just warmed the lamia up enough to start making a meal of him. The lamia who, of course, was none the wiser. 

“Who's your friend?” the faun asked silkily, to which Wyatt gave a patient but challenging glance. 

“I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name,” he responded, looking up at the man with a raised brow. It was true, which seemed to annoy the faun. He let out a tense laugh, his grip on Wyatt’s shoulder tightening. The tight, polite smile he flashed Raisa's way was more a warning than anything—this was his dinner. 

“I'm afraid he's spoken for, love,” the faun insisted, and Wyatt looked puzzled. This was a first. 

—

Raisa didn’t consider herself easily swayed, but she did give into charm when it seemed like a prosperous thing to do. And this man had charm oozing from every pore. She flashed him a smile and shifted, starting to put her hand out to shake his. Wyatt. A nice name. In her mind’s eye, Raisa could see the way the rest of the evening would play out, the kind of potential it could have. 

Instead a self-righteous fae came crashing into her vision of the night with that possessive little hand on her new friend’s shoulder. Really Raisa couldn’t imagine the gall. He seemed intent on spinning Wyatt back into his web, but if someone escaped once–and so easily–she would have thought he’d had the sense to realize his cause was a lost one. 

She flashed the faun a much more cutting smile to mirror the one he offered her, leaning forward, mindful of those listening ears at the center of this accidental tift Raisa had found herself in. That hadn’t been in her plan for the night, but then again, neither had rolling over to someone a little too mighty for his own good. “Spoken for?” she repeated. “My, I didn’t realize his time was so precious that it was a competition.” Because she could, Raisa winked in Wyatt’s direction, partially because she thought he’d find it funny and partially to rile up the fae. 

“We’re just having a conversation.” This time Raisa did turn her attention to Wyatt. “You’re welcome to stay and join us, but forgive me for assuming that our friend here can make his own choices on who he’d like to speak with.”

—

Beaming as Raisa winked and then came to his defense, Wyatt decided to lean into the bizarre situation, finding it to be pretty entertaining, if not endlessly flattering. “Well don't I just feel like the Belle of the ball,” he chuckled. His bright blue gaze drifted upward to find the faun’s, half-lidded and just daring the other to make a scene of this. “Look, I told you where I work, didn’t I? If you wanna get uppity about losin’ the bid for my attention tonight, take it up with me at the restaurant, hm?” He gave the fae a smarmy grin, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles before giving a lazy, four-fingered wave that sent the other away again with an indignant huff. “Ta-ta!” he called after him, sighing dramatically and shaking his head as he looked back to his newer friend. “So sorry about that, ma cherie, I guess some people just don’t take rejection quite so well as others! Now, I think you were about to tell me your name, and that you’d love to let me buy your next drink…” 

—

Raisa watched the faun’s face carefully. As mysterious a reputation as all fae could have, she knew they couldn’t all keep it together. Here was the proof just now as a delicious string of emotions from outrage to hurt to resignation crossed the poor thing’s face. She suspected he wouldn’t have given up the fight so easily, but with the mood soured, he’d have to start his work over anyway. Besides, whether or not he realized it, Wyatt had offered up an opportunity to become a future meal instead. And what a coincidence that he apparently worked at a restaurant when that was his offered up location.

Something about that tugged at Raisa’s memory, and she mentally sorted to figure out what it was. Something about food and Wyatt’s face. As he turned his attention back on her, those pieces slotted together, and she readily offered him a smile.

“I do believe I was,” she agreed. “Raisa. We never had that dinner, but it would seem that drinks are a welcome substitute.” She angled her head to the side, letting her hair drape down toward the bartop. Perhaps some would have been put off by his easy flirting and with the faun in front of her too to get rid of him, but Raisa had never particularly cared about such semantics. She was here to have a little fun. What a pleasure that she’d managed to reconnect with someone else who seemed to want the same.

—

Realization manifested itself as a widening grin and raising brows, and Wyatt seemed delighted by this development. “Never say never, my dear. This is just a preview. And without a fish burger in sight!” He chose that moment to move from his barstool to the one next to hers, settling in beside her with an air of self-assuredness. “Raisa. Raisa, I’ve never heard that name before. Where’s it from?”

Her body language was promising, at least. She’d not gotten irritated at the arrival of the young man now staring daggers at them from across the club, nor had Wyatt’s dismissal of him sent her away from the bar. She was interested, and she didn’t mind a little competition. That was good. Many things in Wyatt’s life boiled down to competition, and vying for his attention was certainly not the least of them. 

—

“None indeed,” Raisa agreed and took another sip of her drink. She considered him for a moment, taking in his features. They suited him well, and he carried himself like he agreed. A charming man if ever there was one. 

“It’s Russian,” she said. “Of which I’m not especially, but through my mother’s side. She picked it more because she liked it than a strong national connection.” The longer she lived, the more she understood her mother’s instincts to pick something that wouldn’t rise and fall with baby name trends. She tried to imagine spending eternity as an Elizabeth. Far too many of them to share a name with these days or any others.

“How about you?” she asked. “Any story behind the moniker?” 

—

“I like it, it’s fun to say.” Wyatt could think of a few scenarios where he’d like to be doing something more than just saying it, but mentioning that this early in the game would be in poor taste. Anyway, she was asking him a question, and he was obliged to answer. 

“Ah, well, my mother had a love for the old westerns, you see, and Wyatt Earp was a common fixture among ‘em. He was a tough guy, but a fair one. Used his gunslingin’ to keep law n’ order in Dodge City and Tombstone. Guess she thought it sounded like a strong name belongin’ to someone who’d always do the right thing.” And for that, she’d been wrong. “And Barlow, hell, that’s a name you’ll hear in damn near every town south of the Kentucky border. And most of us are related!” It was an exaggeration, sure… to an extent. While he’d been the only one of his siblings to survive, he had what seemed to be hundreds of cousins, aunts, uncles, grandmamans and grandpappies, all in varied degrees of removal. The family tree didn’t make much sense to him anyway. Besides that, if he was honest with himself, there was a good chance his mother had had another child after he’d left as a teen. Maybe more than one, maybe a dozen, if they lacked the killer instinct he seemed to have from the moment he’d hatched. 

His glass was empty so he waved down the bartender to get a replacement, and one for Raisa as well. “Hey, after I make good on my word,” Wyatt nodded at her glass, “we could find someplace with fewer angry rejects around to… get to know one another.” He wasn’t fully suggesting that they bail on public spaces fully, because he knew how that might appear, but he wouldn’t mind a change of scenery, even if it was just for a different bar. “What d’you think?”

—

Raisa’s fond smile was genuine. “Thank you,” she said, biting her tongue before letting out any innuendos. They were just having a polite conversation so far. It wouldn’t do to be too forward. Instead she listened to the story of his name, chuckling slightly as she imagined him as some kind of gunslinging cowboy himself. She could see it. “Sounds like your mother wanted you to have a name worth remembering.”

Nodding graciously, Raisa took a sip of the new drink as it landed in front of her. She raised a brow at his suggestion and considered it carefully. She could take care of herself just fine if his vibe changed when they weren’t in such a crowded place, but perhaps that was good. As long as they remained in a fae bar, the odds of someone else trying to snoop in probably weren’t small. Plus, his attention had wandered once in her favor. Even if she had the sensibilities to believe she could keep him from doing so, Raisa would hate to give him the opportunity to wander again. “I could be persuaded,” she said rather than an outright yes, but Raisa still slipped off her stool to stand. She took a longer drink, not quite finishing it but making good progress. “Take me where you want to go, cowboy.”

[oceansrevenge]

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @faustianbroker & @oceansrevenge SUMMARY: Your typical sea monster meet-cute or something. Marina happens upon Leviathan swimming in the ocean and unfortunately for boaters, the two had a great time.

There was nothing in the world that compared to the open sea. The motion of the waves, even on a calmer day, soothed Marina in ways no tank ever could. No matter how meticulously the water was monitored to ensure her survival, it didn’t have the pull of the tides or small crevices to squeeze into while she slept. Since escaping the glass prison, she simply couldn’t get enough time in the ocean. Every cephalopod protected and in her presence helped return the strength that had been taken from her, healed the aches in all but her hearts. The feeling of strength in her tentacles had her craving one of her favorite pastimes. It had been too many years since her tentacles had wrapped around in a ship and sunk it to the ocean floor. 

The summertime months were filled with various vessels venturing into waters that were not theirs to explore and Marina longed to sink them all, but today, she would start with one. Test her strength and affinity with these new waters. She swam swiftly through waves as searched and finally laid eyes upon a vessel filled with humans with their phones out. There was a slightly satisfied curve to her mouth as she raced ahead, only to feel something else in the water swimming in the same direction. Something that mirrored her in size and intensity. She stopped in her place and laid eyes upon one of the most stunning creatures she’d ever seen. It had a dragonesque look that reminded her of tales the other nereides back home had told of sea monsters like the kraken and the Leviathan and it had a pale turquoise glow around some of its parts. It was remarkable. Would it like to toy with the humans in the same way she did or would it consider her a foe? It was decidedly not fae, the familiar chiming feeling under her skin wasn’t present and it was not one of her cephalopods. It was a risk and it was thrilling. She approached more slowly, wonder present in her eyes. “Wow,” her deep voice vibrated through the water, “You magnificent creature. What are you?” She didn’t expect a response, but she was curious to see what it did next. 

—

Some days Leviathan wanted nothing more than to return to the sea from which it had come, but it had things keeping it here, now. People. Besides, that sea was decidedly more lonely than this one, and so the demon often compromised by spending a day or two shifted and in the water until it felt ready to return to the human life that waited for it. 

This was one of those days, and Leviathan swam lazily through the water, fully aware that it had wandered into the path of one of the vessels from its tourism business, figuring that it might as well give some lucky bastards a show while it was in the area. 

But… huh. What was that? Many pairs of eyes flicked this way and that as its great, frilled head turned in the water, massive clawed and webbed feet pawing at the water to turn the serpentine body in a tight formation. 

Behind it was… whoa. Whoa. That giant mouth hung open in surprise at the sight of the… the what, exactly? Octopus… person. Fae? Had to be. It didn’t know of anything that looked like that, and fae were probably the most diverse species in appearance. 

I am the Leviathan, it answered honestly, voice sounding in her head and hers alone as it swam a little closer. Its heart thudded against its ribcage, gills flaring and bubbles erupting from its snout. What are you?

—

The way its voice reverberated through her mind made it feel as if its words were a song meant only for her. If Marina were to hazard a guess based on the clarity, she was almost certain that the words were for her and her alone to hear. There was a certain thrill to that, one that made her confident that its words were true and she was truly swimming before the Leviathan itself. And it was a thing of beauty. She wanted to see it in action, live the many stories she had heard of its antics. Her imagination surely could not do it justice. 

“Your words are true,” she stated plainly, her eyes still carefully monitoring its movements. As if taking in every small detail of its form, the way its gills moved, and the way she felt the change in the currents changing path around the large creature would commit it to memory with flawless clarity. “Leviathan,” she repeated softly, intrigue clear in her voice even under the water. 

The Leviathan was a legend, one she remembered telling tales of to Eula when she was just a young little thing. That thought added another layer of longing, one mixed with an ache that her sweet girl didn’t get to experience this moment of wonder alongside her. The memory still stood, Leviathan was the thing of legends and she would not slight it by leaving it waiting for an answer. “I’m a nereid,” she offered, “You may call me Marina.” 

Somehow, she had the feeling her name would sound something akin to the symphonies inspired by muses hearing it echoed in her own head in the voice of the beautiful sea serpent. A tentacle tentatively extended toward the demon, unable to help herself, but not foolish enough to show the creature anything but the utmost respect that its notoriety commanded. “May I?” 

—

Marina… its voice vibrated through her head once more, swelling and bursting like waves crashing through the entrance of a sea cave. Its many eyes danced to the tentacle she extended, and if that great, toothy maw could have cracked into a smile, it would have. Yes. Even in this body, it craved all the same things it had grown accustomed to by living among humans, and touch was top of the list. And to be touched by such a magnificent creature of the sea, well… that was simply a bonus. 

It swam closer, serpentine body coiling behind it as it leaned into the grasp of her many arms, clearly welcoming the closeness that it brought. She was small compared to it, but Leviathan still marveled at her size. I have never seen one like you, it mused, claws dragging lightly across her body as it admired the form. You are very beautiful, Marina. Marina… The voice now rumbled almost as if it were laughing, a theory backed up by the way its jaws parted and its head lolled as it pressed its snout against her. All those aquamarine eyes closed and the beast coiled tighter, basking in the effortless and mutually respectful connection that had been forged in an instant. If only it were always this easy.

—

Had her own name ever sounded quite so beautiful? The way it flowed and ebbed through her so that she could feel every syllable, feel the wondrous way in which this legendary being regarded her. If Marina hadn’t already been thoroughly taken with the magnificent creature, she would have been in that moment— instead, something akin to affection swelled through her that only grew when Leviathan leaned into her touch. The sensation of its skin was rough and she could feel its power. The very maw that danced into her touch could destroy even her and there was something exhilarating in that fact. 

There was a wave of pride in her. The Leviathan found her form beautiful and its appreciation showed in the gentle way its claws moved across her skin. Marina could hardly believe something so large, so powerful, could have such a light touch. She hummed in contentment. There was something especially thrilling in the promise of pain the sharp claws held despite the soft way they grazed her form. “And you are absolutely stunning,” she practically sang, leaning into its form as it looped and coiled around her, “What beautiful destruction you must be capable of.” 

Tentacles with a mind all their own, followed delicately across the demon to bask in its affection. Marina already felt a sense of adoration for it, one that normally only came so easily for other fae, but this creature so embodied the ocean that it was easy to feel at home in its touch. Her eyes drifted towards the vessel in the distance and she gave the creature a small nudge. “Perhaps you could show me,” she said deviously, low voice carrying in the water. 

—

Head turning in the direction she’d indicated, Leviathan let out a low, gurgling laugh. You know I would love to, it thrummed, but that vessel actually belongs to me. Looking back at her, it cocked its head to the side. Still. I will happily show you what I am capable of, Marina. You need only follow… 

Uncoiling from around her, the massive beast started a swim deeper out to sea, listening for the roar of engines. While it could travel at frightening speeds, it kept the pace leisurely, instead enjoying the feeling of swimming in a spiral around the nereid, brushing its scales against her body. 

If she was this gorgeous looking like herself, it could only wonder what her human disguise might look like. If she had one of those: it wouldn’t fault her if not. The ocean was a far more preferable place to be, after all. 

I have a home among them. For entertainment, mostly—this town provides plenty of that. You are always welcome, should you feel the urge to venture onto dry land. The house is on a beach, so there isn’t much arid travel required. 

A far off rumbling met its ears and the demon gestured with a jerk of its head. There we are. It was one of the big ones that hauled shipping containers full of god knows what—amazon packages, probably—overseas. A sizable boat, but nothing that the demon’s powerful jaws couldn’t rip through. As they approached the ship’s powerful propellers, Leviathan placed itself below Marina, eyes growing dark as pupils expanded in excitement. I like going for the propellers, it explained, they tickle. But, ladies first, if you like.

—

Bubbles seemed to surround them as the Leviathan seemingly laughed and there was something strangely endearing about it. Many stories of it had been told from the limited viewpoint of humans who were terrified of it and had painted it as a terrifying monster. Marina had no doubt that it could inspire terror in the hearts of many, but there was something so delightfully playful in the way it coiled around her and how she could feel its chuckle shifting the current around them ever so slightly. “Curious,” she thought aloud, letting her tentacles brush against its scales as it unwound itself from around, “I would not dream of destroying anything that is yours.” As much was true and not only because even she looked small next to its massive form. No, there was a kindred nature— a connection she couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t the same humming of bells under her skin she felt in the presence of other fae, but the feeling brought its own kind of warmth. 

“Lead the way,” Marina hummed, eager to follow alongside it. She had the feeling they could both swim faster, it likely considerably moreso, but the relaxed swim held its own magic to it. The way the great creature spiraled around her in a way that allowed them to brush each other every so often. It was an all encompassing experience that only became more so when its voice swam through her mind again. Even more curious. It had to have a human disguise, one she was almost certain could not hold a candle to the beauty it possessed now, but she wanted to see it all the same. She wanted to know where it fit into the human world and perhaps what it could teach her in that regard. 

“A home and a boat,” Marina wondered aloud. The more human-like arm of her form reached out toward it and her fingers stroked its scales as it made another loop around her. A quiet show of acceptance as she gathered her thoughts. “You divert expectations,” she finally said, “I appreciate the invitation and will likely take you up on it.” She paused briefly. “I have matters on land to attend to.”

For now, Marina would leave it at that. Discussing her business with the humans meant letting her thoughts drift to the circumstances that inspired her vendetta. The glass tank. The isolation. Eula. 

No, this particular moment was a bright one that didn’t need to be marred with thoughts of vengeance and rage. Marina could carry the happier memories of her daughter with her and let this experience be what it was— something beautiful, magical. As much became all too easy when she could hear and feel its voice again. Her skin flashed from its normal orange to an inky black before finally fading into a light brown. Somewhere alongside its voice, a laugh from her memory rang clear, too. Her own shortly followed. 

“Ach nai,” Marina let slip in her native tongue, before slipping back to the English they had been conversing in, “Surely just a tickle for one with such thick skin.” The powerful propellers on the vessel likely wouldn’t be quite as kind to her. Instead, she watched the vessel momentarily and focused on the movement of the water. Her eyes flit shut as she allowed herself to fully feel the current and tides, let herself become fully one with them. When her eyes fluttered back open, they gazed upon the ship. She willed the water to form waves larger and choppier than they were previously on such a clear day. The water was happy to oblige and the boat began to rock slightly. That was her moment. 

Marina drew in closer toward the ship and reached a couple of tentacles out to grab along some of its side railings. Paired with the motion of the water, she was able to gain enough leverage to violently jerk the vessel from side to side, sending a few of its crew over and into the water. She was quick to wrap a tentacle around one of the trashing humans and pull it under the surface with her as she moved closer to Leviathan. “I have a few humans to drown,” she spoke, “That’s my favorite part.” If she had been wearing her human visage, a devious grin would have painted her features. “Your turn. Show me your worst.”

—

Watching delightedly as the nereid commanded the water to do her bidding, Leviathan flexed its claws and flared its gills, now itching to take a bite of the vessel itself. It paced in the water, if you will, swimming to and fro as the massive nymph sent men hurtling overboard and into the stormy waters, where she snatched one up, ignoring his struggling and muted screams as he tried to claw himself free of her grip. 

Damn. That was pretty hot.

My worst, my worst… Its worst would require a different form. Larger, more lethal than this gentle cruiser. But that was easily done. Of course, Marina. Diving deeper, the demon opened its jaws as wide as it could, and something began to emerge from them. Tentacles, not unlike her own but scaled up considerably. They writhed and grasped the side of its great head, ripping the lower jaw off of the body. A split ran down the beast’s side, clouding the water down deep with blood, and something burst forth. Impossibly large when compared to the vessel it was vacating, unfolding like it had been vacuum sealed inside. It looked different, lacking in clawed appendages and with an enormous mouth like a lamprey—a gaping, circular opening lined with hundreds of jagged teeth. Once it was free of the gore of its former body, it sped toward the surface and crashed against the underside of the cargo ship with enough force to launch it out of the water about twenty feet. Its tentacles wrapped up and around the ship, circling it fully as that horrific mouth clamped down on the propellers. They groaned and stuttered before being ripped from their bearings, and the rear of the ship dipped low, the upper deck sinking a few feet beneath the water. Leviathan opened its maw wide, tentacles gathering at the end of the ship nearest its head, making it tilt at an even more extreme angle—and the desired effect was realized as a few of the crewmen fell, screaming, into the sea monster’s jaws. 

—

There was a hum in the currents as Marina watched the creature change into something bigger, something far more terror inducing but somehow even more beautiful. It carried into her hearts which pulsed with excitement as she watched the change and delighted over the inclusion of tentacles in this form. A deep laugh rang around her as she watched its massive maw go straight for the propeller. She imagined a mirror of a tickling sensation in her own beak, knowing full well the massive propellers would be more than a tickle for her. The way its tentacles wrapped around the ship and the loud crunch it made under its grasp had to be one of the most amazing things she had the fortune of seeing. 

Then the Leviathan was holding the ship at an angle, letting its crew fall into its jaws, and she knew those humans would never see the light of day again. Marina was giddy at the thought. It was magnificently destructive, a show to let the humans know they weren’t welcome here. The demon had taken her favorite pastime and made it into something even bigger, even deadlier, and it made her feel warm in a way she hadn’t in decades. 

“Brilliant,” Marina encouraged. She practically danced around the wreckage, grabbing wayward crewman who hadn’t quite made it into the Leviathan’s late afternoon snack and pulled them under. Some were easier to pull down than others, she took her time with the ones who trashed against her grip. One, two… a dozen? In the excitement, it was hard to keep count. 

“Such quick work of it,” Marina awed, “With a flair for the dramatics. I approve.” More than approved, she craved more. She could watch it swim and rip things apart for hours, but she longed to see its human disguise too— perhaps become better acquainted with it. It could create such carnage and wreckage with ease and lived amongst the humans from time to time. The Leviathan was a curious creature and this show only left her only more awestruck. 

—

Satisfied with its work, Leviathan dragged the ship below the surface with those massive appendages and slithered along the bottom of it, distributing its weight more or less evenly on each end of the ship before gripping tightly and ripping. The vessel cracked in half and began its descent to the sea floor where it would, in time, create a new reef. Whatever humans were still aboard, huddled in their hiding spots, would make food for the predators that were already headed this way. 

I am glad to hear that, the demon responded to Marina’s approval, moving her way again, its sheer mass shifting the currents around it and nearly pushing her about. And I am glad to see you… have enjoyed yourself. If it had had a mouth capable of smirking, it would have done so. 

If you have business among humans… I’d like to show you where you can find me up there. Wasn’t the only thing it wanted to show her, but that didn’t need saying. Yet.

—

There was always something satisfying about watching human-made vessels sink. Slowly, it’d be pulled to the ocean’s floor and be reclaimed by the life there. Algae and corals would grow on the surface, smaller fish would swim through it and make it their own. Larger predators would find meals in the remaining humans abroad. For all they took from the ocean, in moments like these, they were giving back. Marina found satisfaction in her waters reclaiming something so large. It’d soon be home to many more deserving and she found it easy to bear affection for the creature who made it possible. In such a stunning display, the kind sailors of older days wrote shanties about. 

“I’ve most certainly enjoyed myself,” she hummed, “And I’m glad you got a good meal out of the endeavor.” In so many ways, the demon embodied the ocean that its form was suited to it. It was capable of great destruction like the waves in a storm, but had a certain whimsy about it, too. The kind that made the sea enchanting and the subjects of poems and paintings, century after century. Just like its voice in her mind, the shift in the water as it moved toward her again felt all encompassing. As it neared her, she reached toward its tentacles, not asking this time before feeling them against hers. Even with her own considerably large size, her tentacles seemed so small in comparison. It didn’t scare her. Intuitively she knew Leviathan would do her no true harm, but the fact that it could was thrilling. 

“It’s as if you read my mind,” Marina responded, her hands brushing along some of the seafoam colored accents in its scales, “Though I have no intention of ruining such a wonderful day with business as such. I had… more exploratory endeavors in mind.” This form, while far superior to the glamour she wore, didn’t quite allow for the same expressive mannerisms. She hoped the emphasis on certain words served the same purpose as a smirk or the strange winking thing that humans did. Her fingers traced its scales a moment longer before gesturing ahead, “Lead the way.” 

[letsbenditlikebennett]

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @magmahearts & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: While walking in a sketchy part of downtown, Alex smells Cass nearby and decides to follow the trail, only to find a very lava-y Cass stopping a mugging. CONTENT: Just soft gorls being soft.

While the streets were a little darker and likely more prone to a little danger, Alex preferred her quiet route back to her parked scooter downtown when she found herself on campus later than planned. Today, she had gotten distracted doodling some drawings of rocks instead of balancing chemical equations like the homework assignment had instructed. They were hardly noteworthy pieces of art, but she couldn’t help but feel like Cass would appreciate them either way. The familiar scent of earth and fire drifted into the werewolf’s nose, as if on cue, and she found herself instinctively following it. 

There wasn’t much in the way of thought for Alex. Her senses picked up on Cass’s scent and her feet just seemed to follow. It was hardly the most sensible thing to do, she and Cass didn’t have plans. Then again, she found logic and sensibility went out the window for her when it came to Cass, which was admittedly kind of nice. She didn’t feel the need to cater to her worries and insecurities like she usually did, and surprisingly, Cass seemed to actually like who she was even if Alex wasn’t sure she fully understood the implications of wolf girl… though she might find out when said wolf girl found her by scent alone randomly in a— Wait, why was she walking down a dark alley? Was Cass in trouble? 

The change in pace was immediate. Enough students had gone missing in this part of downtown that Alex immediately sprung into panic mode when she realized she was following the familiar scent into such a dangerous area. Then, she heard signs of a struggle and she felt like she might actually be sick. What could she actually do to help Cass? That didn’t matter, all she knew was she had to try. 

She raced down the pitch black alley as fast as her feet would carry her, only Alex found that not too far in, the little dark corner was illuminated by something– someone. She watched the exchange somewhat incredulously as a lava-like person seemingly stopped a mugging from happening. It all happened so fast and she found she was stuck in place, watching until only the lava remained. And Cass’s scent still danced around her the same way it had that first afternoon in the cave. “Cass,” she breathed out, looking at the glowing figure with a hint of awe as she slowly put two and two together. 

—

Cass had always liked a good old fashioned mugging. Maybe that was selfish of her. It was scary for the person being mugged, she knew; unlike the pickpocketing that Cass tended to lean towards when she was making money for herself, muggings weren’t something that the victim didn’t notice until they got home. There were weapons involved, there was fear. But it was straightforward, too. You didn’t have to think about it, didn’t have to wonder if you were doing the right thing. It was less ‘moral dilemma’ and more like the colorful pictures in the comic books she loved so much.

Stumbling upon one was always a little exciting. She dropped her glamour, she followed the sound of trouble, she let the knife bounce off her rocky skin. (Why did this one bounce when Owen and Debbie’s hadn’t? Was it all about where the blade hit her? She still didn’t understand it.) The man holding the knife stumbled back, clearly afraid. The wallet dropped, and Cass kicked it towards the woman who it belonged to. She picked it up and ran, while the would-be-mugger sprinted away in the opposite direction. Cass watched them both go, sighing. Not even a thank you. It was like that, sometimes.

She leaned down, picking up the discarded knife and carrying it absently over to the dumpster. The handle was melting against her skin already, and she had just tossed it away when a new voice broke through the silence. A voice speaking her name. Cass froze.

There was Alex, standing in the mouth of the alley. Alex, who liked her enough to follow her into a cave, to want to go with her to a party. Alex, who thought she was human and now knew she wasn’t. Would she be afraid of Cass in this form? Other people were. She thought of Kuma, of the terror in her eyes the first and only time she’d seen Cass’s unglamoured form. The world felt like it was closing in a little and, when Cass spoke, her voice was frantic even with the distortion her unglamoured form naturally brought to it. “Uh, hi there, um… random citizen. I don’t — I don’t know —” Already, the nausea was ripping at her gut. I don’t know who Cass is, she wanted to say, but the lie was too big. I’m not sure who you think I am, was just as untrue. So she settled on, “I best be going!” It would all but confirm Alex’s assumption and she knew that. Alex would never talk to her again after this. She knew that, too.

—

There was something enchanting in the way she lit up the dark of the alley. The mugger and victim had both run away, but Alex slowly approached, entranced by the nymph before her. All of her seemed to be covered in the very igneous rocks that she loved so much and lava seemed to glow along the surface of her form. In that context, the warmth that Cass seemed to radiate, in both temperature and spirit, made perfect sense– a puzzle piece that fit perfectly in place. For the briefest moment, it brought a small smile to her face, but it quickly faded when she realized Cass was trying to get away from her. 

“Cass,” she frowned and followed after the oread. Alex wasn’t sure what was wrong, but found herself moving after her friend almost instinctively. She wasn’t outright running, but the deflection was enough to worry Alex. “Hey,” she called out, despite the fact she was closing the distance between them, “I know it’s you… I don’t know why you’re— You don’t have to go. I don’t want you to go.” 

The alley wasn’t all that long and Alex found herself awkwardly standing in front of the glowing form that was Cass. Somehow, it seemed to melt the previous frown and confusion. Closer, she was able to see the differences in texture of the rocks that made her up— were here? Alex didn’t properly care either way. She hadn’t thought it possible for Cass to look more beautiful than she had in the light of the bioluminescent fungi, but this was something else. There was a certain power behind her movements, one that Alex could never emulate, not even now as a monster. But here Cass was, using everything she was to do good. It was everything she wished so badly she could be. Beauty aside, she felt a deeper respect growing paired with a desire to be worthy of someone that good, to be that good. That feeling of letting herself want something so badly terrified her, but Cass’s form did not. If anything, she looked on the oread with even more awe than she had before. “Wow,” she breathed out after a moment, not bothering to hide the adoration in her face. 

Alex was at a loss for words. What could she possibly say that even encompassed half of the amazement she was feeling in that moment? The moment of racking her brain for something to say quickly passed as a smirk played at her lips. “You rock.” 

—

Alex was looking at her, and all Cass could think about was Kuma. The way she’d reacted the first and only time she’d seen Cass like this, the fear in her eyes. Surely Alex was in shock right now, wasn’t she? Any moment now she’d get her wits about her and start screaming, terrified of the monster in front of her. Except — Except Alex was smiling. Small and uncertain but there. Cass’s eyes were wide and uncertain, met Alex’s, a question hanging in the air between them.

Her name left Alex’s lips again, not a hint of fear in her tone. I know it’s you. I don’t want you to go. Cass froze.

That was all she’d ever wanted anyone to say to her, wasn’t it? All she’d ever wanted was for someone to see her and like her anyway. It was strange enough that she’d found it with Nora, impossible enough already; now Alex was saying the same thing, was insisting that Cass was worth sticking around for even when she was like this, that she was desirable even when she was hard to swallow. It felt like something of a miracle, a beautiful and impossible thing. 

Alex wouldn’t let her walk away, didn’t want her to. She wanted her to stay, and Cass did. Still frozen near the mouth of that alley, still afraid to think, to move, to breathe for fear of breaking whatever spell fooled Alex into thinking she was anything more than a terrifying, fiery monster. She turned slowly to face Alex again, the magma dancing behind her eyes in a way that was uncertain; a delicate flow that continued to ask that unknowable question of is this okay, is this okay, is this okay? 

And Alex’s answer, with the smirk and the pun, was a resounding yes. 

Relief crashed into her like an avalanche, like a cave in. Cass swallowed, eyes searching Alex’s for any sign that she was lying, but she found none. “You’re not — scared?”

—

There was something in the way that Cass held herself that felt so familiar. The way she froze, the way the magma in her eyes seemed to move in such an uncertain way. Even the disbelief that was palpable in the air was so familiar. Because wasn’t that exactly what Alex feared too? Someone seeing her and not liking the monster they found? She felt it all around her, but it wasn’t quite making sense. The math simply was not mathing. It made sense for Alex to have that uncertainty, she was an actual monster with teeth and claws to match, but this? It was breathtaking, Cass looked like she emerged right from the earth and how could anything be more beautiful than that? 

When the oread finally spoke, Alex felt something in her crack. The way she was asked if she was scared? There was one monster in that alleyway, and it certainly wasn’t the incredible being of rock and lava. Hell, she looked like an actual deity like this where Alex just… looked like the monster no one wanted to come across on a dark night. If anything, it starkly highlighted that she didn’t deserve Cass, but it seemed the other girl couldn’t see that. Her features softened and she looked to Cass earnestly. “Of course I’m not scared. You’re literally stunning,” she reached a hand forward, “Are you hot to the touch?” She wasn’t sure why she asked, she wouldn’t have cared if holding Cass’ hand like this burned her to the ground. It’d be the kindest ending a monster could possibly ask for. 

The thought… stung more than Alex cared to admit. It was hard to keep that small detail of being a monster to herself when she saw Cass like this, when it had caused her to stumble right into a side of Cass that she hadn’t even been ready to share. Her hand fell back to her side and she found her eyes focused on the cracks in the pavement. She swallowed back the lump forming in her throat. “Wolf girl, remember,” she said weakly, “Pretty sure if anyone’s scary here, it’s me.” 

Alex wasn’t sure what that was worth, that she felt like the monster and somehow still too soft and weak all at the same time. Which was it? The answer wasn’t one she was even sure she wanted to know, but she looked up to Cass anyway. Whatever Cass was, it was something far less monster-like and much more like some sort of superhero protecting the earth, especially considering she’d just stopped a mugging. Using whatever supernatural abilities she had to save people in a way that despite her hunter training, Alex still couldn’t manage. “I’m a werewolf,” she explained, “Was supposed to be— well, that doesn’t really matter. But I’m not afraid, Cass, if anything I’m… amazed?” And maybe simpin’ just a little bit harder because of the whole saving the day thing, but that was neither here nor there. 

—

Of course I’m not scared, Alex said. Of course. Like it was a given, like it was something she should have expected, like almost everyone else in her life hadn’t hated her for this. It was how it was supposed to go, wasn’t it? No matter who she was around, one half of her was always wrong. The nymphs in Hawai’i hated the human parts of her. The humans outside of the aos si hated the fae part of her. No matter what she did, one half of her was always wrong, was always bad, was always dangerous. The only one who’d ever thought otherwise was Nora, and given the fact that Nora was literally incapable of seeing her glamour to know the ‘human’ parts of her, Cass wasn’t even sure she could count it. 

But here was Alex. Alex, who’d called the human parts of her, the glamour mask she wore, cute and hot. Alex, who was looking at her true form not with fear but with wonder. Like she was still something worth looking at, even now. It took everything Cass had not to start crying right then and there because this was a first. Alex said of course, and it was the best thing Cass had ever heard. Of course I’m not scared. Was there a better sentence in all of existence? Was there a prettier string of words in the world? She didn’t think so. “I can make it safe,” she whispered. “To touch me.” When she was like this, calm and at ease, it was simple enough to make the warmth beneath her rocky skin manageable to human touch. 

Or werewolf touch, maybe. The way Alex said wolf girl now, in the alley instead of in that crowded party space, the way she introduced it like it was something to be afraid of, Cass knew it was more than an internet meme. She knew Alex was making a confession, she knew it was a big one. If the look on Alex’s face was any indication, it was a confession she wasn’t proud of. 

And then she continued, said it plainly. Alex was a werewolf in spite of what she wanted, was a werewolf even though she was meant to be something else. And it hurt. Cass could tell. It wasn’t something she wanted to be, wasn’t something she liked being. Deep down, maybe Cass could relate to that. She didn’t think she would have minded being an oread if she were any good at it, but she never had been. She was wrong, was bad, was clumsy where she should have been graceful and graceful where she should have been clumsy. But maybe if Cass was bad at being an oread and Alex was bad at being a werewolf, they could be bad together. Maybe that was all friendship really was, at the end of the day — still being bad at being, but with someone to hold your hand.

Cass reached out, taking Alex’s hand in hers and squeezing it as gently as she could. Her touch was different like this, she knew; rough and warm. She hoped Alex wouldn’t mind it much. “I don’t think you’re scary, either,” she said quietly. “I think you’re really cool. Werewolves are awesome.” She smiled faintly, remembering Nora in that mine. We can be monsters together. “I’m fae. Um, an oread. A volcano nymph. But I don’t — I don’t hurt people.” Not on purpose, at least.

—

That hand that held hers was warm, but not in a way that burned her, though Alex supposed in a metaphorical way, it melted her. Despite the rough edges that came with the small divots and intricacies of her rocky form, it still felt soft. Maybe not in texture, but in the gentle way in which it squeezed hers, offered support and reassurance that what Cass had said before was true. She could like all the parts of Alex that she couldn’t bring herself to like. It was everything she was afraid to let herself want, but she didn’t feel afraid. Why didn’t she feel afraid? In the soft glow emanating from Cass, all she could feel was adoration. In her own right, Cass was incredible and despite the fact she had been trained to be anything but soft, Alex admired gentle kindness the oread showed her in this moment and every other they’d spent together thus far. 

“Good,” Alex breathed, “I’d never hurt you.” She lifted her hand to touch Cass’s cheek. Much like her hand, it was warm and had a certain coarseness to it. Her fingers lightly traced the bumps and hollows, trying to commit them to memory because she never wanted to forget this moment. The feeling of adoration and acceptance so closely tangled together that it felt like soaring. “Or anyone, really.” She wasn’t sure how proud of that she was, but that was the last thing she wanted to piece together at that moment. 

“An oread,” Alex repeated, “So like… a volcano version of a nix? Do you keep those environments safe like nix do with water?” Her knowledge on fae was very limited, given that had never been what she was supposed to hunt. It wasn’t as if she had befriended a lot of wardens in the past. No one really wanted to hang out with the kid getting her ass handed to her every day at hunter camp. But looking at Cass, she couldn’t imagine wanting to hunt anything like her. Or even Teagan, who kept the waters on the lake safe for those who called it home. That didn’t seem monstrous to her. 

Alex found herself looking up to Cass, feeling somewhat emboldened by the fact the part she hated most about herself felt appreciated. Cared for? Cass deserved that feeling, too, and so much more. All she wanted to do was give that to her. “That’s really cool, Cass,” she said softly, “I mean it. This only makes you more awesome to me. And the way you stopped that mugger…” It was hard to feel the normal sense of inadequacy on her part when she felt so warm in Cass’s glow. Only the inkling of the thought registered and faded just as quickly. “Do you do stuff like that a lot?” 

—

Sometimes, Cass forgot that she wasn’t invincible. It happened in the supermarket with Debbie, happened in the fight she’d gotten into just before stumbling into Abigail’s office, happened when Owen pulled a knife on her after she stopped him from killing that vampire. She was made of stone and magma, and sometimes she forgot that stone could break and magma could harden and shatter. But right now, with Alex’s hand gripped so gently in her own…

She felt vulnerable in the best kind of way. Like fine China that someone might keep on a shelf in a place of honor, like a vase that you only put out when you had something precious to put inside of it. Alex made her feel like the kind of thing people would try not to break, and she liked feeling that way. She liked feeling soft and desirable, liked the way Alex’s hand brushed her cheek carefully, gently. “I know,” she said, and she meant it. Alex wouldn’t hurt her, and she trusted that. In spite of the way the nymphs who’d raised her insisted that anyone who wasn’t a nymph was a problem, in spite of the way people had hurt her before. Alex was different because Alex was Alex. Because she held Cass’s hand so carefully, because she touched her face like it was precious. So few people had ever done that.

“Yeah! Yeah, kind of. Oreads and nixes are both types of nymphs.” She wondered if Alex had experience with a nix specifically, thought of Teagan and her lake. Were there others like her in town? She thought Teagan would be so pleased to find out if there were, remembering how excited she’d been in the moment she’d assumed Cass was a nix herself. Privately — and a little selfishly — she hoped Teagan was the only nix in town. It was a terrible thing to hope for, given how happy she knew her friend would be if the opposite were true… but if another nix was around, Teagan wouldn’t need Cass anymore. And Cass liked Teagan, just like she liked Alex. She wanted to keep having her. “I protect caves, mostly. The ones in the same system as the one I showed you before. I live in one not far from there.” She’d thought of showing Alex after their experience in the Emerald Oasis, but something made her hesitate. She wouldn’t hesitate now. She wanted to show Alex. She thought Alex would understand.

Her smile softened a little as Alex insisted that Cass being what she was was cool, was admirable. Had anyone who wasn’t fae or Nora ever thought that before? She wasn’t sure, but she liked hearing it from Alex. “I still think you’re the cool one. Definitely, definitely awesome.” Not just because of the werewolf thing, though Cass did think that was cool; Alex was cool because of who she was, not what she was. Glancing off in the direction the mugger had run, she nodded. “Every night, pretty much,” she admitted. “I like superheroes a lot, you know? And I figured… I mean, it couldn’t be that hard, with what I can do. So I started doing it.”

—

The warmth that radiated off the oread was more than just the flickers of glowing magma. It was in everything she was and everything she made Alex feel. It was in how safe she felt in that moment, despite the fact she shared one of the parts herself that she hated most, despite the fact the very gentleness of her touch highlighted another— and it didn’t matter. Well, it mattered. It was everything. It just didn’t make Cass like her any less like she had expected it would. There were still parts of the story she couldn’t fill in as they weren’t just hers to tell, but she couldn’t help but feel like even if Cass knew, she’d be holding her hand just the same. It was hopeful and she wasn’t afraid of it. 

There was a small sense of pride that she had understood that aspect of nymphs. Before Teagan, she hadn’t really known of them, but she liked the idea. Nature was so beautiful and so many parts of it were endangered, Alex couldn’t help but see them as good in ways she wasn’t, in ways she hoped to be. “That’s amazing,” she breathed, “And you shared the caves in your system with me.” It felt important in the same way it had when Teagan had extended the invitation to her lake. But also, moreso, too. Because it was Cass and more than anything, she wanted the budding potential between them to grow into something more. To be trusted to cherish something that was so inherently just a part of Cass made her feel as if she could float away if the oread’s hand wasn’t there to tether her. 

“Well, if I’m the cool one then you’re the hot one,” Alex joked with a grin, “Pun intended.” Already, she knew better than to disagree and for once, she actually felt kind of cool. Maybe not in the traditional sense of the word, but she didn’t want traditional, she wanted exactly this. The superhero thing clicked and it made her like Cass that much more. And maybe herself a little bit more, too, because if someone this good could look at her and see someone worthwhile, someone cool, then maybe she was worth liking. “Okay, seriously,” she exclaimed, “That is the coolest thing I’ve ever heard. It's awesome that you do that— help people.” She looked into magma eyes that burned orange but soothed something in her all the same. “You’re my favorite superhero, officially.” 

What role that left her, she didn’t know, but Alex found she really didn’t care. She was just happy to be in the damn movie. It seemed like a movie thing— walking up on a hero unexpectedly and discovering their true identity. And she thought back to their dance in the cave and how the light twinkled around them, how Cass could make her life feel like a movie with a good ending on the horizon. All she knew was that if this was a movie, she never wanted it to end. 

[canis-or-cannotis-lycaon]

Faete Night

TIMING: June 12th LOCATION: Gael's car in front of Beau's House PARTIES: Beau (@mayihaveyournameplease) and Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f SUMMARY: Thinking Beau is being stood up on a date, Gael offers to be his backup. They never leave the car. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Someone wanted to go on a date with him. Beau! Someone had sent him an anonymous little love letter saying that they would be around at six today to pick him up for a date. It was like having a secret admirer. A little love, tucked away just for him. Check yes or no. Oh boy had Beau checked yes. Now he was standing outside of his house, dressed firmly in shades of blue. Gael, of course, had seen the anonymous ask and must have been jealous. Don’t wear red. Of course not! Red would be saved for his little Gaerlic clove. Their date at the Codfather had been dream worthy. Beau had shown up dressed in red, the color of passion, and Gael had been handsome as ever. They had talked and talked and talked for forty-five minutes until the check was handed to them and went their separate ways.

Beau had those charming memories to hold on to as he stood outside in the humid night air as he waited. Six forty-five, where was his date? Seven rolled around and Beau was starting to think this might have been a prank. Would someone trick him? Someone didn’t actually want to admire him? Beau started to wonder if he should give up and go inside. Perhaps his parents had been right. He did have an unlovable air about him. The person probably just saw his ‘I’m kraft single and ready to mingle’ quip online and wanted to catfish him. Beau was not cheesed about that. Or as Gael would say ‘Cheesed is something bad.’ Which would mean, Beau was cheesed about this.  _______________________

He shouldn’t be doing this. Gael shouldn’t have been doing this, what was he doing? He had gone on that ‘date’ with Beau before, to the Codfather, with Beau wearing as much red as he could possibly fit onto his body, and much to his surprise, it didn’t go terribly. Sure, he had asked some of the questions he wanted to ask, receiving no satisfactory answers but most of the evening was full of Beau excitedly regaling his tales at the BMV. And that was fine by the man; he wasn’t a hypocrite and he really did like hearing about what other people found their passions in… even if it was because Beau probably did to other people what he did to Gael. In any case, despite all these shortcomings, Gael didn’t sit right with the knowledge that Beau had received an anonymous message pertaining to a date, having a strong feeling that no date was going to be arriving for the man. Beau was much but Beau also seemed to… Gael wasn’t sure, he seemed genuine. Maybe he was being a fool; he certainly felt like one as he pulled up to Beau’s house slowly, seeing the silhouette of the man who stole his name at one point. Sure enough, because he could see the man, he knew he was right. Coming to a stop, he left the car running and put it into park before getting out of his seat and standing next to the car with the door open. “Hola amigo,” Gael greeted Beau, who was wearing blue now -  he’d listened when Gael told him not to wear red. “I’m guessing your secret admirer never showed up.” _______________________

Everything could be rationalized right? It wasn’t that he was being stood up, it was that his secret admirer was shy. That had to be it. Beau basically radiated positive energy, handsomeness, he was literally a dream guy. His secret admirer just had to be so super shy. Beau wished he knew who it was, that way he could ask for their name. To keep and to hold forever and ever. Then reassure them that it was okay! Beau was a very nice and cool guy. He would hold their hand and walk them through the date and it would be a happy and fun time. And yet, no one was showing up.

Until a familiar car arrived. A smile pulled across Beau’s features as his little Gaerlic clove pulled up in front of his house. “Was this a trick, my charming little Gaerlic butter spread on a nice thick piece of bread.” Gael was sliding out of his car, leaving the door open and the car in idle. Standing there like the true charming gentleman that he was. Beau wasn’t big on fairy tales, after all he was made of them, but this must have been one of those classic fairy tale moments. God, if only Beau had gotten to keep Gael’s name. That would have made this moment perfect. 

Beau let out a fit of giggles.“You could have just asked for a second date, you know I adore spending my time with you.” Beau stepped closer, standing a reasonable distance from the other man. Normally his smile was forced, years of practice keeping it in place when his anger seethed within him. At this moment the smile was the most genuine thing about him. “I should have known you were trying to trick me when you told me not to expect you.” Beau reached out, once again tapping a finger on Gael’s nose. “You’re a tricky one like that. You got me! Then being late? What a great touch. I was almost worried for a second.” _______________________

Then again, Gael was starting to wonder where the line was, when the well of positivity within Beau would start to dry up. He figured Beau probably would’ve thought that it was actually Gael doing some… elaborate hoax in an attempt to get him on a second date– it wasn’t a date. These were outings. He decided to keep the part where Gael thought Beau was being actually tricked to himself and he offered nothing but a subconsciously quirked eyebrow when the other man tapped his nose - he’d long since gotten used to it. “I wouldn’t have asked on anon,” He did say, if only to establish that he wasn’t shy or afraid or anything like that - for some reason, he knew Beau would’ve said yes. He’d found himself with a little leprechaun who gave him attention and while this might not’ve been the healthiest relationship, he did find it… nice that he had found the one person in Wicked’s Rest who exuded more energy than him, allowing him to stop smiling for just a moment and identify as a sleep-deprived chemistry professor. “But I’m here and you’re without your date,” Gael glanced around as though whoever it was that sent the message would’ve popped out of the bushes at any moment. “I was… going to go to the science museum. Would you want to come with me?” He asked slowly. _______________________

“Of course you would.” Beau was using his appeasing voice. The voice that said I’m going to pretend to believe you, but we both know I’m smarter than that. The voice that conveyed in Beau’s brain there was absolutely no doubt that Gael had been too nervous to ask for a second date and he had to do it on anon. Beau’s voice added in the layer of while I know you’re lying, I’m going to play along with you because it's cute, and I accept that you’re a coward. Beau was trying to layer so much connotation into one phrase that only a chorus of people saying it in unison could properly convey everything he was trying to get across with it. Beau was not a chorus of people, but he sure did his best to fit it all in. 

“I am here. With my date.” Because was that not what was happening? Was this not the scene in the romcom where the outlook was looking bleak and the handsome protagonist was about to cry into a cake from dairy queen when the heart throb of the story shows up and saves the day? Didn’t this mean they were about to go on the most romantic date to the… science museum? Who took people to dates to the science museum? Confusion coursed over Beau. Okay. He could work with this. “The science museum, so we can learn all about each other, right?” Beau asked, a flutter of his eyelashes accompanying the question. “I would be cheesed to go with you.” But this time, he didn’t need to use cheesed. He was actually pleased. There was no underlying hatred in him in the moment. No need to walk himself to his kitchen and grab a piece of cheese so he could force out the word cheesed in placed of please when dealing with the unfortunate and ungratefuls of the internet. 

“Shall we away?” Beau was sliding into Gael’s car before the man could change his mind. He was buckling himself into the passenger seat, slamming the door and staring expectantly at Gael like ‘come on, let’s go have our most beautiful date in the whole world together.’ _______________________ 

Aaaaand the man had gotten into his car. And said ‘cheesed’ again, though Gael was learning more about the maniac who sat in his passenger seat and part of him was increasingly under the impression that he might’ve meant ‘cheesed’ in both connotations.

Whatever. Gael rolled his eyes to himself, exhaling something in Spanish as he sat back down in his car. As he closed the door and started to fasten his seatbelt, he thought more about whether or not he actually wanted to go to the science museum. Granted, he didn’t think it was what Beau had in mind when the latter thought of a ‘date’ but on the other hand, this WASN’T a date. This was Gael trying to do something to prevent the embarrassment of someone else. But why? It’s not like he figured Beau actually had shame so why was Gael feeling for him?

This relationship wasn’t healthy and this wasn’t the first time Gael thought about it that night. He inhaled deeply, his brow furrowed and he turned to Beau - this wasn’t right. “Hey, I–” Suddenly something caught his vision and his eyes were drawn to something on the shorter man’s head. “Wait, you got something in your–” He instinctively reached forward to remove what looked to be a tightly knotted mass of something in Beau’s short brown hair but as his fingers brushed against it, he immediately caught a texture that was decidedly not a clump of hair. Unless it was. “Are you… wearing horns?”

Beau was in his car, and it smelled like him. Gael’s musk mixed with cedar and leather. Beau’s eyes shifted over towards the other as he wondered what the leather on Gael’s scent was from. Perhaps he was into tying people up. A smile tugged at the edges of Beau’s mouth as he thought about how fun it would be for Gael to tie him up, or for Beau to tie Gael up. Which ever way made Gael happy. Now that they were on good terms. Hadn’t it been silly? Beau being mad at Gael. That had been silly. Of course Beau was going to get his name eventually. He just had to be patient. Gael wasn’t a guile filled man, he just didn’t want to type that silly little accent. Now they had been through so much together. Plus, he held the knowledge of what Gael was deep in his little fae heart. Gael would always need him. 

If Beau hadn’t been so lost in the day dream of them, then perhaps he would have realized what Gael was talking about. Something in his hair. He saw those strong hands reach towards him, hands that he wanted nothing more than to hold tight. His smile widened as it came closer, sure that Gael was about to brush a lock of his hair behind his ear before leaning in for a kiss. Beau scooched forward in the seat, ready for the beautiful moment. Instead Gael tugged at his horn. The fantasy shattered around Beau, broken pieces of glass ruining the rose tinted movie in his head, and leaving reality. “Wearing? Can’t leave home without them.” Beau let out a deep chuckle. “Haha. They come built in.” He reached a hand and tugged at one, to show it wasn’t going anywhere. “Probably because of how horny I am. Haha. Get it? Cause I have horns? And I would sleep with you right now if you asked.” _______________________

“What do you mean they–” Gael blinked and his sentence reached a dead stop as the rest of what Beau said sunk in. Did… He leaned back in his own seat slightly and his eyes pointed up at a furrowed brow as though they were trying to solve an impossible logic problem just out of his peripheral vision.

Okay so Beau just straight up said that he’d sleep with him.

Gael shook his head after a long few moments of contemplation, more confused and caught off-guard than anything and he scoffed with mild frustration. “Alright, one thing at a time.” He held his hands out as though to indicate to slow down. “So you can’t… grow horns because you’re horny, that’s not how it works. Also what the hell, you have horns just grafted onto you? Was it a surgical thing, like when those people pay thousands of dollars to look like snakes?” He was drawing a lot of attention to the horns, almost as though trying to avoid having to unpack what Beau said about sleeping with him and he didn’t want to think about the last time he offered to have a one-night stand with someone.

He reached forward again, his head tilting with curiosity and Gael gently tapped on one of them again. It… FELT real. Beau didn’t seem like the type to lie to him. They had to have been an aesthetic choice, right? “Also you don’t want to sleep with me. I’m… not great.” He said lamely though how untruthful it was was anyone’s guess, at least for right now. _______________________

“One thing at a time?” Beau questioned. “So we are going to sleep together after this conversation?” Excitement. Fairy tale romances were true, and they were happening right now to the most deserving fairy - fae -in all the realm. “Then why bother going to the science museum at all? We can just stay here.” Beau reopened his door, one foot flopping outside the car until he remembered that there was supposed to be another conversation coming first. The one about his horns. Gael, silly beautiful handsome Gael, wanted to know about his horns. As if Gael wasn’t some sort of supernatural denialist. The man didn’t even believe in werewolves when he was one. 

“You’re right, that’s not how it works. I was born with horns. They are part of who I am. I’m a fae.” Beau reached into his pockets and pulled out a handful of glitter confetti he’d been keeping in his pocket and threw it at Gael. Ever since Gael had asked him if he’d glittered him, Beau had gotten the idea. Keep a handful of glitter in your pockets and you’d always have it for the moments you needed it. Could he use his illusions? Probably, but to be honest he sucked at using his illusions. The magic was slippery and it often eluded him. Tangible confetti in his pockets, now that was something he could work with. “One of the fair folk. Can’t you tell by how charming I am?” Beau leaned forward again, a smile and a wink just for Gael. “People may have to pay for these things, but not me. In fact, this isn’t even what I really look like. I have this thing called a glamour.” A glamour was something Beau wasn’t good at. Which is why his tattoos and horns never disappeared while trying to present as human. 

As Gael touched his horns and told him about how this wasn’t something Beau would want, Beau reached a hand up and grasped it in his. “You’re shy. I get that. Listen, I don’t care how good you are. I can be good enough for the both of us.” It was as if ash coated his tongue, a bitter taste punishing him for the words. It took everything in Beau not to dry heave out the lie. “All that matters is that the two of us would be together. Wouldn’t that be beautiful.”  _______________________

There was already a list of questions that had been forming in Gael’s mind when Beau unceremoniously introduced himself as a fae, the second one Gael had been notified of in as many weeks and they had barely started the conversation. Keeping one of his hands hovering near the supposed fae, he opened his mouth as though to ask one of them when the other man reached into his pocket. “Don’t–”

It was too late. A split second later that took all the time in the world, slowing down before Gael’s very eyes, he was frozen in place with one hand accessible to Beau, the other clenched instinctively as though coiled like a punching glove shoved into a prank box and a look on his face that only could’ve been described as ‘tranquil fury’ as he sat there, in his car opposite the BMV worker, covered in godforsaken glitter once more. From Beau’s pocket. That he just… kept loosely there. His mouth was closed, he didn’t dare move and he pushed every neuron in his brain, every synapse that told him to lean across the seat divider and strangle the man or fae or leprechaun or WHATEVER he was until he saw the light leave his eyes, seeing him off to the afterworld or wherever imps returned when they died. Hell?

He felt like he was in hell. So instead, those synapses and neurons strained and pumped themselves to pay attention to the words coming out of Beau’s mouth. One of the ‘fair folk’. Charming. A glamour. That last one seemed familiar and Gael wondered if that was what Ren showed him that afternoon. Each word Beau said made it increasingly obvious that with the exception of the last part, which held no logical value to him and he just assumed that he’d been poisoned by glitter just now, he was lying. He wasn’t charming, Gael could see how he interacted with other people. He wasn’t fair, he was a short, pseudo-handsome, terrible, fiendish gremlin who just covered the man and the interior of his car in glitter.

Remaining motionless, though he couldn’t keep himself from a small but sharp inhale (bad idea) as Beau dared to clasp Gael’s hand in his, the latter addressed his throwaway comment about– His eyes started to water and he used his other hand to very slowly and carefully open his door. “Can you… excuse me for a moment?” He asked in a murmur, as though afraid that even talking too loud would cause the infestation of sparkles to spread further into the recesses of his vehicle. _______________________

There was a scene in movies when the two love interests meet each other's eyes. Time slows down between the two of them as the outside world becomes a blur of nothing as the two stare at each other, brown eyes meeting hazel eyes. In this movie, glitter caressed the air as lovingly as Beau wanted to caress Gael's face. A vein was popping in Gael's forehead, his throat constricting around words that surely he didn't want to burst out. Perhaps, I love you? Because who wouldn't learn of Beau's faeness and want to profess an undying love for him? Beau blinked his eyes up at Gael as he waited for any reaction from Gael. 

Gael was shocked. Beau couldn't blame him. He knew Gael was a supernatural denier coming into this. But could he be excused? From his own car? Where was he going to go? "Sure." Beau let go of Gael's hand without a problem. Then he had an idea. His own little brain blast. Looking away as if he was a coy and demure court lady sitting next to the high king, Beau tucked his hair behind his ear and said. "Before you go, I want you to see the real me." 

It had been a while since Beau let his glamour fall. Even in the safety of his own home, he didn't see the point in taking it off. Now all his "humanity" dripped off of him leaving behind a spriggan. Grey bark-like skin replaced the flesh tones, making the swirls of his green tattoos look like patches of moss growing over his body in decorative tattoos. His limbs, while not changing in length, became gangly and knotted instead of round and fleshy. His ears elongated out into points, as his face distorted into something sharp and mischievous.

Beau looked back at Gael, waiting to see whatever reaction the wolf would have toward him. Again with the coyness, he offered a hesitant smile, revealing rows of dagger-sharp teeth, all the better to eat you with, and all that jazz. "Would you paint me like one of your Frenchgirls?" He asked, blinking in a manner that he hoped was seductive. What he didn't consider was to an unfamiliar eye, the kind that didn't expect to see a gremlin man sitting across from them, may only see a creature from hell with sharp teeth waiting to eat them, and long fingers ready to grab them. The horns were no help in the matter, a trademark of the devil himself in human culture. What he didn't consider, was while beauty was in the eye of the beholder, there was nothing conventionally beautiful about this spriggan. Devilishly handsome only if you got rid of the word handsome. Devishly.  _______________________

His hand being released, Gael wasn’t going to mention that he was literally just going to get some of the excess glitter off himself outside and come back to punch the other guy in the face (okay that part wasn’t true… yet) and he started to slowly turn when Beau spoke up about wanting the other man to see his ‘real me’. The chemist rolled his red-rimmed eyes, the reason behind their watering clearly not tied behind any deeper emotion that he felt for this utter menace that sat in the passenger seat and he did everything in his power not to give a huffy exhale while he was at it. The professor’s bemused look of inherent irritation, however, slowly slid off his face as the glamour fell from Beau, replacing a human who looked shockingly like Charlie Day (was that the actor? Gael never was strong with actors) to… what he could only describe with cosmic horror as the Devil’s version of Pinocchio. He tensed up, feeling a fresh wave of adrenaline pulse through him, smothering the previous one to smother Beau, and for a moment he simply stared at the plantlike abomination that sat in the seat where Beau the annoying human sat before. And it was a miracle that he couldn't think to actually move until “Beau” smiled, revealing the sharp teeth; no sooner had the “fae” spoke, quoting… Titanic or something (Gael wasn’t paying that much attention to be frank) that quickly, fluidly and with zero words Gael opened his door, started to get out of the car where he accidentally clotheslined himself on his seatbelt, fumbled with the seatbelt, got OUT of the car and shut the door behind him, all the while the damned glitter sprinkling and swirling around like this was something magical and wondrous. _______________________ Now he was outside the car, where he wanted to be five minutes ago. Instead of doing what he was gonna do before ‘the reveal’ however, Gael just stood there, leaning against the ice-blue mini-cooper convertible, his hands pressed to the glass as he coughed out glitter that he inhaled during his completely controlled not-freak out. Okay, he could rationalize this. He didn’t… need the car. He had a book of matches in his pocket, glitter was flammable and if the demon in his car’s biological makeup was how he looked, then he was certainly flammable too. Just… Walk away, covered in glitter, leaving the burning car and creature inside in the otherwise peaceful neighborhood evening. Okay, that wasn’t logical at all. Think Gael, you’re a science professor. He pulled away from the car and started to regain control of his thoughts, the situation, the solutions. He spoke and Beau still sounded like Beau - this was the case with Ren too though while Ren looked like a cute little bug (and Gael actually held fondness for her) Beau looked like a tree spawn with sharp teeth and the impish behavior to match. Glamours, fae deals, promises, the things he recalled Ren telling him about - was that what happened? He had literally given Beau his name at the BMV. Or… there was something in the glitter. The more he thought about that, the more sense it made. Beau didn’t ‘unglamour’ until after throwing shit into his face. And for that matter… Another, smaller thought went through Gael’s head. He was finally losing his mind, wasn’t he. With a sniff, he closed his eyes and held his breath before furiously shaking his clothes free of excess glitter. Afterwards, he approached the car once more and muscled past the horror of seeing so much of it in his seat still but it was fine, whatever, priorities. He opened the door and sat in the seat with a huff, not looking at Beau, instead just staring straight ahead. “You work at the BMV because you take people’s names, don’t you.” He started simple. _______________________

Where were Gael's manners? There was Beau, laying it all bare for the man, revealing his truest self, practically standing naked in front of him and he was trying to get away? Was the shock of his beauty simply too much to bear in the car? Beau watched Gael struggle against the seat belt until he was outside of the car and just standing there. Beau strained his neck trying to see what he was up to. Maybe he was just overwhelmed with emotion that he didn't know how to react. Maybe he just needed a breather? Oh, perhaps he thought Beau was so handsome that he needed to take a breather before he got too excited. Beau laughed to himself. If only he knew what a potent effect his true form would have on Gael. He might have shown it to him on their first date. 

Beau remained patient, sitting in the car. Gael sure was taking a bit of time to get himself together. Beau started rustling through the glove box, and then the side. A tidy car. Well, not tidy anymore. Not with all this glitter everywhere. Beau liked it better covered in glitter. A sparkle to the world. Sure, Beau was a spriggan that mostly dealt in hoarding words. Namely names. But just like every other spriggan out there, he had an affinity for the sparkly things in life. Those shiny things that could be collected and put on display. His own home boasted too many useless baubles. None of which he was super emotionally attached to, but still if anything happened to any of his collections he would... Well. It wasn't something he wanted to think about. Not since his names were taken. 

Beau started to kick his feet in boredom, waiting until Gael slid back into the driver's seat. As soon as the man entered the car he moved back into a still position. The man didn't look at him. Beau noted that with a little glee. As if looking at him would again make him need to leave the car and take a breather. Beau could understand that, he could also respect that. What Beau didn't like was how quickly Gael came to the right conclusion about why Beau loved his job so much. Beau tilted his head back and forth as he tried to think of the most diplomatic way to answer this. "I can tell you more." Beau began carefully. "But you." He reached a slender, knobby hand out and placed it on Gael's shoulder. "I need you to promise to not tell anyone else about me. There are people in this world who want me dead." There was one specific hunter that was tracking him down. One that he really didn't want to think about.  

"Please promise me, give me your word, anything that everything I say now stays between the two of us."  _______________________

There was the kicker, the play on words, the dance of deception that Gael wanted to push out of his mind whenever he thought nowadays on ‘fae’ or anything thereof. He recalled that day at the BMV, when Beau asked if he could have his name and Gael had to trade information for it back. He wondered if Beau ever figured out that the whole ‘werewolf’ thing was completely made up. Gael glanced over slowly when Beau’s twiggy, branchlike hand landed on his shoulder and he couldn’t answer immediately either to confirm or deny that request, his brain buzzing as it seemed to threaten to fall into a spiral of where the manipulation would end, how far it would go. EVERYTHING from Beau from that point on, even if they left the car? Or maybe especially after they left the car? That seemed like an excellent way to make sure Gael sounded insane and hell, maybe he was as he sat there like an idiot covered in glitter talking to a sharp-toothed twig demon after making sure he didn’t get stood up on his anonymous date. How should he respond first? Gael wanted to ask for clarification and after a considerable moment of silence between the two, the professor opened his mouth as though to say something, anything when instead, his breath caught in his throat and he turned his head away sharply, pinching his nose shut as he stifled a sneeze from the goddamn GLITTER. The combined actions only helped in swirling the unsure thoughts around in his head but while he didn’t feel any better, he used it as a jumping-off point to actually say something this time. “People want you dead, huh?” He murmured, knuckling his septum. “Can’t imagine why.” He added this under his breath in Spanish, hoping Beau either didn’t know the language or couldn’t decipher what he said well enough to know what he said. “Okay, I have questions.” Gael began, turning to face Beau once more though he felt the action a little challenging. “The first of which is ‘can you put the, uh… glamour back on? Or whatever it’s called?” He asked first. “You’re… creeping me out. That’ll be the first thing - if you don’t take the glamour off around me anymore, I promise I won’t tell anyone else about… this.” He gestured to Beau’s general form, carefully taking the latter’s hand off his shoulder and treating it as though he were picking up something fragile from off the ground. “I mean ‘this’ as in “I won’t tell anyone about your ‘true form’.” His eyes danced for a moment, making sure he didn’t slip up anywhere along the way in his sentence structure. _______________________

As Gael exclaimed that he couldn’t imagine why people wanted Beau dead, Beau felt warmth spread over his chest. His hand pressed against the other man’s arm, as he tilted his head. A smitten smile spreading across his fae features. “I know,” he exclaimed. “It’s beyond me why anyone would want me dead. I’ve done my absolute best to make sure the human world is a beautiful place full of love, life, and happiness.” His own personal love, life, and happiness. Who cared his humans felt any of those things if he was happy. “I knew you would understand the tragedy of it all.”

Then the werewolf who didn’t know he was a werewolf was asking Beau to hide his true self again. Beau let his hand drop down. All that previous warmth vanished as fast as it had come. That kind of outright rejection took him right back to his childhood. Back to the words of his parents, whatever their names had been, telling him that he would never amount to anything. That no one could ever look at an annoying piece of shit like him and think he could be anything other than an annoyance.

Beau worked hard to maintain his composure, forcing his face to stay in its mandatory smile. “Right. Of course.” Beau shifted away from Gael, an action he never thought he would take before. In his mind he was parsing through the statement the other man had made. If he returned to normal, and never revealed himself again, he would never tell anyone about this again. “I will never reveal my fae self to you again,” Beau agreed. “But I need you to say the exact words that you will never tell anyone that I am fae.” The kind of wording Gael had supplied so far left enough loophole room for the other man to claim he could talk about Beau being fae, he just couldn’t describe what he looked like.

There was a moment of realization, as Beau concluded that he should have seen this coming. That man was willing to give away his werewolf secret, of course he didn’t want to know about fae. Beau’s mind searched for all the information he had on Gael, his address and phone number, his job. Oh right. A chemistry professor. He was a man of science. “I don’t think you’re enjoying this.” Beau’s voice was quiet, a lot quieter than it normally was. “I can put my glamour back up and get out of this car and take your memories of this night with me, if you give them to me. All you have to do is say the word.” The ball was in his court.  _______________________

…Oops, the gremlin understood Spanish. That honestly hadn’t crossed Gael’s mind as he spoke under his breath but then again, he wondered why he was surprised about that tidbit. What surprised him even more was how Beau seemed to deflate, moving away from him for the first time since the two had interacted, at least in his memory. As Beau told him what he wanted him to say specifically, Gael’s expression softened for just a moment; who was he to tell someone else what they could or couldn’t look like, who they were? Gael himself was unusual and had been very fortunate to not have encountered anyone he’s told about his disorder treat him like he was lesser or a freak. He glanced down at his shimmery clothes, the fine mist of glitter that Beau unceremoniously threw at him. His eyes drifted to the floor of his car, where the stuff probably wasn’t ever going to come out. Gael exhaled as softly as he could, feeling like he’d made a mistake. And he did; he shouldn’t have told Beau that he was creepy or that he wanted him to hide his true form, no matter how irritated he got. Then the fae spoke again, at a level unlike anything before and he might’ve asked Beau to repeat himself if his sharp hearing wasn’t part of who he was now. “I will never tell anyone that you’re a fae.” Gael looked at Beau, his brow furrowed slightly as he felt a small wave of guilt wash over his mind. “I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean to say that you were creepy. I’m just…” He faltered, tilting his head back on the headrest and inhaling in a sigh. “I did want to end this night with you taking all of this information.” He admitted. “I still want to know; I’m still curious, but I feel like I’m losing my mind.” He left out the part where he felt like Beau had put something in the glitter. “You’re not creepy. You’re Beau. And I shouldn’t have said that.” _______________________

There were things in life that broke that could not be mended. Things that shattered into pieces so tiny that finding them and repairing the item was a herculean task that a simple Beau could not accomplish. Gael was already apologizing. Gael was already saying those sweet words that every lonely man wanted to hear, but it was too late. His heart had already been shattered. To this man, this gorgeous man, he was a creepy little freak. Beau took a deep breath. One. Two. Three. His smile tugged at his lips, pulling tight across his features. “It’s all gouda. Haha. Like the cheese, because I’m cheesed to be here.” Because the cheese puns meant the prickling behind his eyes didn’t mean anything.

“I think we can call this night done.” The glamour started building itself up. Threads of fae magic weaving over his body and containing him back into the form that everyone knew and loved. Beau slid out of the seat, standing next to the car, hand on the roof as he looked in. “Okay. Say the words. Say you give me your memories of this night.” Beau ignored the last part, the part that he wasn’t creepy. Because he had to tell himself he didn’t care. He had to keep telling himself that he was the perfect male specimen. That it wasn’t his fault he kept losing everything. Everyone else was in the wrong, not him. “Then you can keep your mind, and it’ll all go back to normal.” There was a nice satisfaction in knowing that it would never go back to normal. He’d always be the werewolf that never knew what he was. A sweet taste of revenge for the stabbing feeling in his heart.  _______________________

Before Gael knew it or could fully process like he had with Ren, Beau was returning back to the version he recognized, the version that laughed at him at the BMV and didn’t have a concept of personal space. The version that threw glitter in his face. Though he still felt the sting of guilt, perhaps the feeling was a little lessened as he considered the positives that had come from their relationship compared to the negatives. This wasn’t healthy. Gael knew that. And while Beau told him what to say, the literally magical string of words that would supposedly fix this though he didn’t know how, the professor knew in his mind that ‘going back to normal’ wasn’t in the cards for this town. Sure, whatever happened tonight would be forgotten, or at least that’s what Beau seemed to tell him and he believed the man, but he still had the injury, he would still sleepwalk. The man with the horns was now outside his car, as he had been for the past minute at least and Gael leaned forward to regard him. Doubt tugged at his mind. Was this the right choice? “I… give you my memories of tonight from the moment you entered my car to now.” As soon as he said the words, Gael furrowed his brow and he shook his head. He looked around, saw that he was covered in glitter and he groaned to himself before seeing that Beau was outside his car. “What’s wrong, Beau? Are you getting in?” _______________________

The moment the words were said, the magic took effect. The threads of life that fae magic worked in twisted. The thread one of their shared memories of tonight snapped. A ravine created between them. A stolen conquest that Beau had never wanted, weaving itself into the make up of his being. “You’re always so silly, my little Gaerlic clove. That’s what I like about you.” Beau leaned in once more, tapping the man’s nose with his index finger. “We just had the loveliest night I could imagine, just look at all this glitter. As abundant as the fun we had.” Pain seared over him, punishing him for his lie. Beau’s smile strained as he fought through it. “I can’t wait for the next time you come and whisk me off my feet. I hope its just as magical as the night we shared.”

Beau took in the moment. He let himself memorize the face of this Gael to cover the memory of the Gael he’d been moments before. He wanted this face, the face that was interested in spending time with him. The face that didn’t hold tension in his jaw and didn’t ask him to cover his true self up. The same innocent face that didn’t think he was a creepy little freak to sneer at. One that he could have imagined more at. Anger broiled within him. Anger at Gael for not accepting him as he was. Angry that he let himself pretend for a moment that maybe, just maybe, there was an actual connection between the both of them. Something they could both share and enjoy. Anger at himself for not being better, different, acceptable.

“Drive safe.” Beau slammed the door closed, tapped the hood twice and walked back into his home. Later, he would put on a public show. He would pretend to be heart broken and sad that Gael was breaking up with him. He would block the man in and make him believe that it had been all his fault and that he hadn’t been completely blind sided by their online conversation. But the truth was always, after this night, he’d seen it coming. Gael was just another disappointment in a line of them. Another disgusting attempt at connection that had taken from Beau something he didn’t want to give. With Jedidiah it had been his collection of prized names. With Gael it had been his hope that even he could be someone worth caring for.

Beau hated Gael for that. Beau would always hate Gael for that.

[lauriescages]

That Kind of Night || Self-Writing

Location: Grit Pit Content Warning: References to violence

Laurie cussed quietly to himself as he listened to the baukbear scream as the lamina  held it down under the light. As dingy as this place could be sometimes, Laurie knew they’d only had it on to try and make it a fair fight. But he’d only just gotten the lighting to his liking around the baukbear cage. What? Was he just supposed to go out and find another one? Not fucking likely. If his bosses wanted a new one when that one had died so quickly, they could send somebody else. 

Turning away from the fight, Laurie grabbed a rag to wipe his hands with before heading down toward the cages. That fight had been shorter than anticipated, so they’d probably try to squeeze in another. He needed to check the feeding schedule and figure out what would be smart to send. Technically that wasn’t his job either, but Laurie liked to be ready for the occasions where he did get asked.

“Hedge hound versus hellhound?” he got asked as he was flipping through his paperwork.

Laurie didn’t even look up. “Come on, Jack. Would anyone even bet on the hedge hound in that?” he asked. “No way the hedge hound can strangle fast enough to avoid being burned?”

“Well, maybe that’s the angle,” Jack mused. “Can the hedge hound kill the hellhound before it’s forced to regenerate? We make the odds stay with no, give ‘em a chance to bet on the longshot. Make a little money on a last minute fight.” He shrugged and patted Laurie on the back. “Good thinking. Get them ready.”

Laurie grumbled to himself as he headed toward the hedge hound cage. He kept grumbling as a few others stepped in to help get the beasts upstairs and into cages on either side of the pit ring. Once the bell rang and the cages were opened, Laurie leaned against the wall, barely caring enough to watch. As predicted, the hellhound burned hot and ended things rather quickly. But at least that meant both were going back to the cages. One less thing he’d have to hear about later.

The action continued in the ring, but since it was two part-timers against each other, neither was anything Laurie needed to care about. He went about his nightly routine, heading down the hall over and over with buckets of fresh meat, rotting meat, specialty plants, and anything else needed in the night’s food schedule. He had his beasts’ cage locations memorized by this point, and Laurie could let his mind wander some while working. He occasionally risked putting in earbuds, but not being able to hear the beasts always put him on edge. 

“Easy night?” Jack asked, leaning against the wall in Laurie’s resource room as things upstairs must have wrapped up.

“Go fuck yourself,” Laurie responded without any heat. “Explain to me why that light was close enough to sunshine to actually kill my baukbear?”

“Your baukbear?” Jack repeated instead of answering the question.

Laurie rolled his eyes and filled another bucket of grains to finish out tonight’s feed list. “I’m the one who had to do all that work to get ready for it, so yeah. Mine. All this work to keep these beasts alive, and what thanks do I get? Certainly none from them, and then you let your prize fighter kill something that should be hard to kill in this setting.”

Jack shrugged. “Not my prize fighter any more than your baukbear. Neither of us gets paid enough for those claims.”

Laurie snorted and raised the bucket in a sort of toast. “All right, fine. I’ll give you that.”

[wonder-in-wings]

Splash and Slash

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Darkling Lake PARTIES: Parker and Teagan SUMMARY: While out searching for specimens, Parker finds an unglamoured Teagan at Darkling Lake. He decides her tail is a worthy addition to his collection. CONTENT WARNINGS: Drug manipulation [sedatives], medical blood, parental death [mentioned]

The sun was gone for the day, the moon having since taken its place; the perfect time as Parker went on one of his patrols. He covered a minimal amount of space every week, or so he tried to - when he wasn’t busy interacting with the fools of the town or entertaining the questions of children and bored patrons of the museum, he was either in his familiar bunker, at his flat or in the Pines. The Pines had become one of his favored spots as a whole even though it somewhat surprised him seeing as how there was a swamp that was more reminiscent of the bayous Parker grew up in. The Pines, as he noticed relatively soon in his arrival to Wicked’s Rest, wasn’t just a place for the shapeshifters to frequent; he’d met more than one nymph in those woods and had been gifted with some more additions to his collection. This evening, after intensely studying one of the maps he’d picked up some time ago, he noticed there was a lake. Darkling Lake, as it was formally called and for some bizarre reason Parker opted to visit it again that night. It was a large body of water, larger than he had time for in one night so after setting the layout on a graph to make it easier for him, he carefully made his way to one of the farther-reaching corners. The main reason why he went was because when he’d been there before, he saw something out of his peripheral vision and though he was too far away to be able to discern what it was for sure, he knew that it wasn’t a human. Tonight, as he approached the edge of the lake, he kept close to the brush and he dropped to a crouch as his blue eyes carefully scanned the environment, trying to catch another glimpse of the non-human creature he saw before. Parker was prepared for an altercation this time, as well - around his waist was a hardy utility belt with a few pouches and a line of thin straps that looked almost like a bandolier but instead of holding bullets, his waist was lined with several long, thin daggers, no more than a few inches in length and with the sharpness of a needle. Indeed, the handles were peculiar too, seeming to have thumb rests on the ends, also reminiscent of a hypodermic needle. Or a turkey baster, as his brother would call his creations. 

Whatever. He crouched, watching the lake, feeling the comfort of his spiked knuckles clasped to a belt loop and hanging casually from his jeans as he waited for something. Anything. _______

The water lapped against the shore in rhythm, the lake making its own music as the day passed on. Like a ticking clock, the beat was insistent and precise, something Teagan found comfort in whenever she waded idly in Darkling. She hummed to herself, her tail swishing back and forth as she laid on her back to stare at the night sky. The stars’ light danced, and Teagan liked to imagine they liked the way the moon moved the waves. Like it was creating a song they could bear witness to every night.

“Hmm…” Vala snorted, trying to get the nymph’s attention. “What is it, beaut? I’m relaxing a bit. Don’t mess with a good time and get me tampin’,” Teagan teased the kelpie, rolling onto her stomach and swimming toward her friend. The creature dropped a severed arm, sending Teagan into giggles and chortles. “Nice one! I’ll add it to the collection.” Vala replied with a snort, disappearing into the distance a moment later. 

Teagan made quick work of the limb, placing it neatly next to several skeletons of those who dared dirty the lake. Disrespectful lot, they were. No matter. They were taken care of and Teagan resurfaced with a grin. All was quiet, which meant she’d get to head out soon to see Arden. They were supposed to watch some movie about a lost fish in the sea. It sounded strange for a fish to be lost, but if Arden liked it, then Teagan had no issue being a tad confused. _______   Nothing seemed abnormal. Perhaps he needed to shift his perspective slightly. Slowly, quietly, Parker altered his trajectory, remaining as quiet as he could in the underbrush even though he was more suited for the marshy mud of the swamp - forests weren’t his strong suit, all things considered. And normally he would’ve opted to simply explore elsewhere but he had a strange intuition about this location that night. And there it was, the sign Parker had been looking for as he switched locations. After an indeterminate amount of time, he caught movement, the surface breaking ever-so-slightly and he turned his head sharply where his eyes fell upon the creature. It was amphibious in nature, pale as it waded through the water with an unnatural smoothness, not unlike a jaguar in the rivers of the Amazon. It didn’t appear to be a shifter, or if it was, then it was unknown to him but the longer his eyes remained fixated on it, the more he could feel something rippling under his skin. Perhaps it was psychosomatic. Regardless, his eyes slowly swept over the creature before they settled on an object of his instant fascination: the long, beautiful tail that the creature possessed. While Parker was instantly drawn to fae wings of any kind, he realized over the recent months that he could appreciate beauty in other forms, whether it was a chunk of pyrite from an oread or even the horns of an unruly spriggan. He was still unaccustomed to obtaining these magnificent, unusual wonders. He had to have that tail. His brain honed in on it, watching it with enamored obsession. Parker stood and carefully, very slowly walked out onto the lakeshore, approaching the creature wordlessly at first. The closer he got, the more the rippling feeling pulsed under his skin and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a nix and he inhaled sharply through his nose with the sensation. “Lovely night for a swim.” He called to the fae. _______

The crushing of wet earth perked Teagan’s ears. She tensed, hands twitching with the urge to attack without much more prompting. Her body trembled under the tension, and she turned slowly to face the man who spoke. Eyes were wide, and despite having claws that could easily tear, Teagan hovered her hand over the blade in her thigh holster.

“Yes.” The nix offered a curt nod, not bothering to glamour herself in case the man was a warden. No use in giving away her disguise. “I wouldn’t come in if I were you, though. I like to swim alone.” Teagan began to wade backwards, giving herself some distance in case the man had other plans. There was a look in his eyes that unsettled her. It was far worse than a look of murderous intention. She couldn’t place exactly what it was, but her body screamed at her to run or tear, and she had sworn to try to be better.

“Please go now, lad. I’m trying to enjoy my time.” _______ The presumed nymph called back, dissuading the Warden from joining her. Non-aggressive but reminiscent of an animal that should’ve been left alone. But he couldn’t. The switch was turned on in his head and Parker’s mind was consumed with little else. His brain was already buzzing with thoughts on how he could artfully arrange the tail, how to turn and model and shape it to look as aesthetically pleasing as possible. “I know better than to get into the water with you, nix.” He said carefully but not shyly as he took a few more rather confident steps towards her. “I want your tail.” All these years later and he never knew how to ask in a more effective, gentle way. He’d tried asking gently before, a long while ago, but it never proved effective; for some reason, all the fae whose wings he’d added to his collection seemed attached to them, even if they didn’t actually do anything. They were vestigial and only a couple of them could hover for a few seconds and even then it didn’t look satisfying. A tail wasn’t vestigial though, Parker thought to himself. He inhaled softly, reached down to pull his feet out of his shoes though he kept his blue eyes on the nymph studiously. “I can make it quick and painless but unfortunately I can’t leave without it.” His voice took a different tone to it and indeed, his expression changed slightly as he looked at her. “The way you move in the water, the way it sways behind you. It’s beautiful, it’s graceful and perfect in form and function.” He took a few more steps, closing the gap between them but staying on the shore. “It’s mesmerizing. I need to immortalize it.” _______

This man was no regular hunter. He had something far worse than a murder in mind, and the cold fear of what that entailed made Teagan’s throat constrict. She felt her body tremble at the look in his eye, her palms growing clammy. She could feel the sensation despite being engulfed in water. 

“No.” There was no room for anything else, and Teagan wouldn’t allow there to be. She sank her body further, until only her eyes were above the water. Danger was in front of her, granting her to toss whatever notion of trying to the wind. She wasn’t looking for a fight that time. Instead, it found her.

“Stay back.” A hiss as she faked out a lunge. Her eyes were full of fire and her teeth were bared for the man to take as a warning. They gleamed in the moonlight reflecting off the water, and Teagan forced her jaw not to tremble under the weight of her terror. Of the way it unsettled her to be seen as an object to maim and preserve. “What right you got, eh? It’s my body, boyo. I’ll cut you apart if you try it.” _______

The nymph lunged and Parker’s quick reflexes, the ones he’d been trained arduously in for over four decades, allowed him to respond quickly by taking a deft step back though it didn’t scare him off. He was light on his feet, he had to be when he lived in the bayou. In fact, he was reminded of his days going after gators in the swamp, treading lightly, maintaining eye contact as they hissed and stood their ground. They were efficient training, though they hit their ceiling in that they didn’t have the luxuries that fae did with their thumbs, long limbs and ability to run. …though gators could be plenty fast in their own right on land. “Fae are so pretentious.” Parker responded, passion not leaving his tone but instead taking a backseat to his clinical delivery. “You live these long lives and care about so little while you enjoy your passions, your deals, promises. Manipulating others with the way you speak.” He didn’t dare turn his back to the nymph, taking careful side steps as one of his hands went to the utility belt that glittered with the metals that hung off it. Even after everything Fae had done to him, to his family, to innocent people, Parker still had his own personal values. “I don’t want to fight.” He said, not dishonestly. “You have so many other things.” This was potentially a lie; Parker knew that fae had proclivities for forming collections of their own, whether it was names, secrets, or physical trinkets. They didn’t ask for most of the stuff they acquired and they hoarded it selfishly. He honestly didn’t know if this nix did but unlike fae, he could afford to lie. “I won’t ask again.” As he spoke now, he inched forward and he hadn’t realized that not once had he blinked since starting his counterpoint argument. “But I’m not leaving without it. I’d prefer for it to be an easy transaction.” He also completely failed to acknowledge that this wasn’t what people did, fae or no. He didn’t have the ability to say that he could leave her in peace, walking away empty-handed. _______

Terror began to mount over with every sway of the water, heart leaping harshly into the fae’s throat as the man pressed on with his speech. Teagan was weighed down by dread, try as she might to force herself to don her confidence once more. She was more than capable of protecting herself, having killed plenty of hunters in the past. Hunter or not, her tail would remain where it belonged.

“We’re pretentious?” Teagan scoffed, rolling her eyes and chuckling at the way she made the man take a step back. She was getting a feel for his reaction time. It was a little too good. She’d have to improvise. But first, Teagan wanted to bite back with her words. “You’re the one putting us on this pedestal, mun. Glorifying us. Immortalizing us. If we’re pretentious, then you’re a lowly peasant trying to get a taste of what true magnificence is. ‘Sides. You didn’t even ask.” Lying was so damned human. 

Teagan glared at the stranger, fear beginning to wane as anger quickly replaced it. He was in for a rude awakening, of that she could promise. “You gonny come in and try to get it then?” A taunt, a knowing smirk tugging Teagan’s lips as she waded even further into the lake. “Think you’ll find that it ain’t so easy. Ever heard of my body, my choice? Or are ya just like every other man?” Her smirk turned devious. “Looks like you’re gonna leave without it, cythrauluffer.” _______ The fear that Parker could almost feel emanating from the nix was dissipating, as it usually did around this part of the altercation. It was almost rhythmic at this point - he would ask without asking, usually get either a swift or gradual rebuttal, then as they talked and he made multiple attempts to get out of this with minimal damage to either of them, they got emboldened and made the first move. Then Parker was prompted to act in self-defense. It was a gambit of sorts, an explanation that he had come up with over the years to warrant being able to tell the truth as he explained the curiosities and treasures he’d accumulated. She accused him of not asking, which he indeed hadn’t and at this point in his life, he was unsure if he could even ask - of course they were going to say ‘no’ anyway so he long since abandoned that line of literal questioning. There was the occasional fae who didn’t know the rules and he was able to manipulate them to get what he wanted the way he wanted… But most of them reacted the way the nymph before him did. She went further out into the water and while Parker rather fearlessly approached her to the point that his socks were starting to get wet as the shore lapped the rocks and dirt, he stopped shortly. He was a strong swimmer, he wasn’t going to deny it but he also knew that no matter how good he was, he wouldn’t have been able to overpower her in her literal element. However, he just couldn’t keep his eyes off the tail. It was an addiction. He never realized it and still didn’t even now; the pull of obtaining something he’d never seen before, something he could already visualize its form and positioning, seeing it on his table as he carefully worked with it and around it. “Not a preferable outcome.” Parker sighed and he sounded almost disappointed as he finally tore his eyes from her figure and he addressed the numerous things on his belt. He wished he could’ve caught her outside the lake but he had to be improvisational. Unfortunately, he wasn’t equipped to his fullest loadout as Parker recalled the wrist-mounted crossbow that sat on his desk at home, half-assembled as he attempted to customize it for further utility. Perhaps he’d have to meet her in the water, anyway. He just needed to get one of his specialized daggers into her before the tide would turn in his favor. Sighing and still standing next to the lake, he started to take off his socks and roll his pants up. _______

Whether the man was a hunter or not was still unknown, but if he was, he was a little too callous and reckless. For Teagan to think that about a hunter? Now that was saying something. Any respectable warden, (and the nix didn’t, ever) would’ve known better than to charge into a fae’s natural habitat. Being quite literally in their element could and would prove fatal. 

A mistake he would not be able to make again because he’d be dead. 

“You takin’ what’s mine isn’t preferable either, mun.” Wading in a circle, Teagan taunted the man with her tail, whipping it back and forth above the surface. Like a hypnotist lulling their target into a headspace of their choosing. For Teagan, it was heedless and rash, and by the looks of how he perused his belt, she wasn’t sure what route he’d take. There was no way in hell she was going to risk much more than time, and there wasn’t much left.

Teagan had a ravenous look in her eye, arms widening open to beckon the lake to work in her favor. It roared to life, a large wave rising just over eight feet. The water slammed into the nymph’s opponent, her miscalculation sending her in a swirl toward him. “Iesu mawr!” Teagan hissed as she was thrown straight into the man. On split-second whim, she took a deep breath and urged the water to continue to thrash, sending them both tumbling into the lake.  _______

Perhaps Parker shouldn’t have been so forward with his request, as she now seemed to use the knowledge to her advantage as she moved her tail, taunting him, pulling him in and for a moment, it seemed to work as the neurons in his brain were stroked by the beauty of its movement. How he longed to gather it in his hands, to sculpt it into something mesmerizing for himself. Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on how one perceived it), Parker was already closer to the water than he should’ve been by the time the nymph utilized her resonance with her element and he was rapidly greeted with a massive wave that crashed into him… along with her. Their bodies collided though not for long enough and the churning water sucked him in, pushing him under the surface. As he was being turned around in the undertow and having taken a quick, but deep improvisational breath himself, Parker curled his legs into him, turning himself into a temporary protective ball as he pulled one of his specialized knives out. The lakewater was impenetrably dark and he was effectively blind as he was rolled in the water. However, his step of pulling one of his daggers from its spot carefully to avoid losing anything else under the waves had been successfully completed and in another stroke of luck he could see just enough of her in his field of view that he lurched his arm forward, plunging the dagger into… some part of her body, he couldn’t tell what. His other hand moved as quickly as it could, pressing down on the end of the hilt and injecting the body with a special tranquilizer. Of course, it wasn’t a perfected art - every body was different - but he released the dagger, now abandoning that goal in favor of trying to surface. _______

The way the man’s eyes glazed over with desire made the nymph’s stomach twist with disgust. She was appalled by his menacing expression, his greed mounting over into something desperate and chaotic. It was brief and he quickly became calculated again, but watching it happen in real-time practically gave Teagan whiplash. 

Back off!

Teagan’s mind screamed, her mouth opening and closing to relay the message. There was no sound, not to whoever that man was. He was only met with bubbling water and thrashing limbs. When Teagan finally managed to get her fins in place, she whipped around, at the ready.

Unlike her opponent, the nix could move easily and see clearly in the lake. It was her element, after all. 

With a smile, she bolted forward, claws prepared to sink into flesh. Teagan didn’t mind if it would burn her, she welcomed it like it was family. In a way, it was. At the very least, it had been the most consistent thing in her life; good or bad. So when she didn’t quite make purchase onto the man’s skin, and was instead met with a sensation she was all too familiar with. Iron. She gasped to herself, realizing something was off. Her limbs began to almost immediately grow too heavy to use, not a sensation she was accustomed to. 

Panic began to stretch Teagan’s chest tightly, her instinct to kick herself away and remove the…needle? Dagger? She wasn’t quite sure. Did it still have liquid in the—oh no. The edges of Teagan’s vision rippled with black, eyes growing too heavy to keep open. She felt cold and prickly, textured in a way that left her feeling unsettled and terrified. But that didn’t last very long. In a matter of seconds, Teagan was consumed with darkness.  _______ Fully prepared for something to make contact with him as he attempted to surface, Parker tried to manipulate his blood to turn him into a last-ditch effort weapon against whatever she would do to him but he couldn’t push it; he was already doing too many things at once and that would’ve sent him into exhaustion quickly. Contrary to his initial belief, however, he had remained unscathed and indeed, his dagger seemed to have hit its mark because the water, no longer controlled by a vehement force of nature like the nix, eased around him. Parker surfaced briefly, looking around to see where he was in relation to the shore. Not too terribly far and he took in another deep breath before he dived. Now that the water was calmer, it allowed him to utilize his own skill in swimming and while he still knew he would never be able to keep up with a creature like a nix or a nereid, his human abilities were still impressive by their standards, or so he liked to think. He couldn’t see effectively so he used broad movements with his arms, searching blindly in the murky depths until they felt a limb. Instinctively grabbing it firmly but not violently, he gathered her in one of his arms and hauled the two of them up where they breached the surface. Breathing deeply and more steadily now, using the techniques he’d learned from those decades in the bayou, Parker pulled her to the shore. He needed to work quickly; the tranquilizers were effective but ephemeral - his longer-lasting tranquilizers were soaked through now, useless as they sat in his pouches. It was fine, it had to be fine unless he could dose her again with another dagger but he only had three more left and he was too far from the Bunker; he’d need to do this now. First, he placed the nix on her side, very gently laying her tail out behind her and almost wasting time with how he looked over it fondly before he left her as she was, going over to his boots for a moment. Secondly, Parker checked his utility belt where he was relieved to learn that his spiked knuckles remained on the clasp in the midst of the roiling water, as did the rest of his daggers and– Perfect. He pulled a new knife from a holster that was on one of his legs, looking similar to an enlarged scalpel in design. Notably, this one wasn’t iron; he wanted the things he collected to be intact, not mottled more than necessary for a single individual performing an impromptu amputation in the middle of nowhere. This was a learning opportunity on multiple fronts. Parker would need to be better prepared in the future but for now he went back over to the nymph, dropped to a crouch and carefully turned the tail over before he made a rather precise incision at the base of her lower back. _______

There were no images, no chorus of noise that welcomed a person so heavy into unconsciousness. There was only a void, thoughts too diluted and muffled to truly reach. Teagan was no longer able to struggle or fight back, body limp and useless against whatever had been injected into her. Even worse, she was useless against the blade that began to slice into her. 

By the time Teagan had seen a hint of a light, it felt like it had been hours, but that couldn’t be the case. She could hear the dull sounds of strain behind her. Oh Fates. Her eyes attempted to shoot open, lids working against the fuzzy and heavy weight that enveloped them. “Mm…G-g…!” Teagan had attempted to say ‘Get off,’ but nothing was quite obeying her yet. She couldn’t even feel the way her skin had been cleanly cut, which was a horror in itself. 

How far had he gotten?

There was no use thinking about the possibilities. He’d had to have been taking his time considering the care he gave to not injure the nix horribly. Lest he ruin what he had his eyes set on, the fae supposed. It was disgusting and the way he had looked at her like a specimen meant for display made Teagan nauseous. He was worse than a hunter. He was a collector. She had to stop him, even if it was just for that night.

Using what little control she had, the nix twisted and dug her claws into the man’s shoulder. She latched on briefly, the rather large scalpel he had a grip on jolting upwards and slicing Teagan on her middle back. Whatever, she thought, continuing to slash. She just needed to get away and live to see another day. This man would be back, and Teagan would be ready next time. There were things to live for now. She couldn’t risk herself by succumbing to her rage, falling into old habits. No matter how her mind screamed to pursue vengeance. Her anger wasn’t worth her life. Or her tail. 

Teagan stood on wobbly legs, the man’s blood burning her hand as it dripped from her claws. “D-don’t come any closer.” She hissed, backing away with her claws tensed and ready as she took an offensive stance. Her visage was tired but captured with rage, the evils of Teagan’s past glimmering in her eyes while her head was tilted down from the weight. She was glowering, no longer willing to be the victim. _______

He was moving slower than he’d have liked, than he needed to to get results. In fact, Parker was moving so slowly that he was still creating an incision wide enough to insert his traditional iron blade to cauterize the wound, intending to separate it from the tail when she stirred back into lucidity. In a fluid motion, her claws punctured his shoulder. He exhaled sharply from the pain and the surge that shot down his arm made him lose control as it tensed up, sending the scalpel smoothly up the nymph’s back. Though he couldn’t control his arm at that juncture, he could manipulate his blood as it rippled beneath the skin, the iron moving in on where her claws were embedded in his flesh - his last-ditch weapon. She didn’t let go and he dropped the scalpel, wrenching his arm from her as he got to his feet. The motion was with strength but it was careless as Parker’s blood sprayed the wet earth beneath them. First, he pressed his other hand against the fresh wound, his nostrils flaring as he felt the lasting sting of her claws in his flesh. His blue eyes looked into hers, his expression narrowed and seeing her emotions dancing in them like an animal. Then they flickered to her stance, her frame, noting the way her legs shook as she was still affected by the tranquilizers. Then they rested on what he could see of her tail, the way it carelessly oozed blood and a flash of anger overcame his features. …No, he went up; he didn’t cut her tail, he lacerated her back. Parker wasn’t even using iron, so she could recover anyway. The anger on his face, while dissipating and making way for more of the narrow-eyed fascination and obsession, was still present somewhat, however. And he could use fluid motions, too. Removing his hand from the injured shoulder, it went down and brushed against his soaking jeans, fingers looping around the spiked iron knuckles that swayed to his side. He yanked a clenched fist back up and there was a snap as the clasp was disconnected. “You don’t control me, nix.” Then it was his turn to lunge and he rushed towards her, drawing his bloody fist back, aiming for the same shoulder she had. The clavicle, ideally to make a break in the bone. Parker wasn’t the type to turn to violence but as the pulse in his other arm reminded him, he didn’t start this.  _______

There was a deranged look in the man’s eye, his desire flowing straight into crazed anger at what he was denied. He’d done this countless times, so much so that he believed he had every right. That was the most terrifying part of the whole thing. How many had he hurt before he fixated on the nix before him? Teagan’s stomach twisted with nausea like a knife, and her heart soon followed suit. He had to be stopped. 

“Fuck you!” She screamed, grief for her cousins that fell victim to that evil man consuming her chest. The woman Teagan had been trying to leave behind washed over her, ignoring the way pain continued to pulse on her skin. “You don’t control me, and you cannot have any part of me!” Rushing forward as the man did, the two of them clashed in a ferocious flurry of fury. 

The way he’d gone straight for her clavicle felt a little like he was attempting balance, an eye for an eye. Teagan couldn’t help but notice that, having revered Fate and balance her whole life. This stranger could never work as Fate did. She was unbiased, not caring about setting things right or wrong, only ensuring all was as it should be. 

It wasn’t this. It wasn’t white-hot pain flaring from what felt like a break to her collarbone. Teagan screamed, her strength waning as the agony from holding her opponent away from her caused something akin to a crunch. The fight had to end or she’d be finding herself dead or…mutilated. Or both. 

Fates, she wanted Arden. 

In a last ditch effort, Teagan brought her knees to her chest, digging her feet into the man’s stomach as she sank her claws in a final time. She dragged her hands down, hoping to leave her mark just before she sent her opponent flying with a kick. Rising to her feet and holding her shoulder, Teagan hissed, “Looks like you get nothing, boyo.” With a final glower, she retreated into the lake, going too far for him to reach her again.  _______ How similar they were sometimes. How both of them assumed control, how they both loved to hoard their treasures and use words to their advantage. And how Parker would never admit any of this, the thoughts not even going through his head as his eyes simultaneously seemed to illuminate with keen observation yet darken with malintent as he lunged forward.

She met him halfway, which was perfect all things considered - her rushing to him meant that Parker didn’t have to attempt to go through any limbs that would be raised in self-defense. Her body hit his own and he advanced on her. While she might’ve been stronger in the water, she wasn’t in the water, as well as coming off the effects of his custom sedatives and he was taller than her. She pushed him, he pushed back but most importantly, his arm that was wound back was faster as it shot out like a bullet for her shoulder

The sound of her bone breaking in the otherwise-still night air was enough of an indicator for Parker that the spiked knuckles hit their target and while he felt one of his eyes twitch as she pressed against the fresh holes in his shoulder but he knew it wasn’t going to last for long so he endured it; he could, he would and he always will. He kept the blood spinning in his veins, pushing it to the surface just under his skin in case.

He pulled back his fist and part of Parker wanted to get another jab in, a show of dominance, control, and for a moment the nymph’s visage was replaced by the one that murdered his father and critically injured his brother. However, one blink later and that fae was gone, one into another and he didn’t have time to react when he gasped as she brought her feet up, her talons piercing his abdomen, her claws in his skin once more and for another moment they were frozen in place. His eyes widened with surprise and yet, he didn’t didn’t yell but before he knew it, she had kicked him back and he was propelled back, flying some odd feet in the air before hitting the ground and sliding back.

Coughing out an exhale as he collided roughly with the ground, Parker scrambled to face her once more but the nix was already partially in the water, holding her shoulder and shooting him a venomous glare before she submerged herself into the lake and leaving him with the remnants of what she said echoing in his aching skull.

He got nothing. He lost.

Or so she said. Now that she was gone his breathing got more shaky as Parker furrowed his brow, gritting his teeth tightly to deal with the pain of her rending his flesh. He got to his feet slowly, pulling his hand away from his abdomen as his blood shined in the moonlight. Nothing he couldn’t recover from. He gingerly walked over to his boots and gathered them up along with the rest of his materials that weren’t lost to the lake before casting one more intense blue-eyed gaze to the rippling surface of the lake before disappearing into the thick trees once more.

She said he got nothing but he left with the one thing more important than her tail.

He knew what she was and where she lived.

[lauriescage]

That Kind of Night || Self-Writing

Location: Grit Pit

Content warning: References to violence

Laurie cussed quietly to himself as he listened to the baukbear scream as the lamina  held it down under the light. As dingy as this place could be sometimes, Laurie knew they’d only had it on to try and make it a fair fight. But he’d only just gotten the lighting to his liking around the baukbear cage. What? Was he just supposed to go out and find another one? Not fucking likely. If his bosses wanted a new one when that one had died so quickly, they could send somebody else. 

Turning away from the fight, Laurie grabbed a rag to wipe his hands with before heading down toward the cages. That fight had been shorter than anticipated, so they’d probably try to squeeze in another. He needed to check the feeding schedule and figure out what would be smart to send. Technically that wasn’t his job either, but Laurie liked to be ready for the occasions where he did get asked.

“Hedge hound versus hellhound?” he got asked as he was flipping through his paperwork.

Laurie didn’t even look up. “Come on, Jack. Would anyone even bet on the hedge hound in that?” he asked. “No way the hedge hound can strangle fast enough to avoid being burned?”

“Well, maybe that’s the angle,” Jack mused. “Can the hedge hound kill the hellhound before it’s forced to regenerate? We make the odds stay with no, give ‘em a chance to bet on the longshot. Make a little money on a last minute fight.” He shrugged and patted Laurie on the back. “Good thinking. Get them ready.”

Laurie grumbled to himself as he headed toward the hedge hound cage. He kept grumbling as a few others stepped in to help get the beasts upstairs and into cages on either side of the pit ring. Once the bell rang and the cages were opened, Laurie leaned against the wall, barely caring enough to watch. As predicted, the hellhound burned hot and ended things rather quickly. But at least that meant both were going back to the cages. One less thing he’d have to hear about later.

The action continued in the ring, but since it was two part-timers against each other, neither was anything Laurie needed to care about. He went about his nightly routine, heading down the hall over and over with buckets of fresh meat, rotting meat, specialty plants, and anything else needed in the night’s food schedule. He had his beasts’ cage locations memorized by this point, and Laurie could let his mind wander some while working. He occasionally risked putting in earbuds, but not being able to hear the beasts always put him on edge. 

“Easy night?” Jack asked, leaning against the wall in Laurie’s resource room as things upstairs must have wrapped up.

“Go fuck yourself,” Laurie responded without any heat. “Explain to me why that light was close enough to sunshine to actually kill my baukbear?”

“Your baukbear?” Jack repeated instead of answering the question.

Laurie rolled his eyes and filled another bucket of grains to finish out tonight’s feed list. “I’m the one who had to do all that work to get ready for it, so yeah. Mine. All this work to keep these beasts alive, and what thanks do I get? Certainly none from them, and then you let your prize fighter kill something that should be hard to kill in this setting.”

Jack shrugged. “Not my prize fighter any more than your baukbear. Neither of us gets paid enough for those claims.”

Laurie snorted and raised the bucket in a sort of toast. “All right, fine. I’ll give you that.”

[rottiens]

i believe the first time you let (virgin) kakashi play with your pussy, it comes accompanied in an unusual way of talking on his part. it's almost like he takes notes to himself, almost like he doesn't talk to you. the tired gaze is set between your sticky thighs, watching carefully how your folds stretch as he puts his finger in and pulls it out, you exhale. 

"oh, here?" he slowly bends it and pushes, you cry out. "too much?" 

he doesn't even look at you as you gaze at him in raw adoration. you don't even know what expression he has because he refused to take off his mask. 

"you're squeezing so tight." his eyebrows draw together for a second before returning to his usual expression. with the thumb of his free hand he squeezes and strokes the bundle of nerves. "so wet." kakashi pushes deep, faster this time and your legs tremble, you call out to him and he ignores you with a hoarse throaty purr. "here. i like that sound." 

wet clicks fill the office. kakashi fucks your pussy with one finger and then adds another with perspicacity, careful of every step he makes next. 

"I think it's gonna cum for me." your looks become one, unbreakable as he massages you like someone with experience and makes you wet his knuckles, juices dripping down his fingers and wetting his gloves. you scream his name clinging to that intangible, rushing to hold on to his thick white strands pulling him further into you. 

kakashi do it, he's guided by your fingers leading him further in; to take a glimpse of how you open up for him, how you tremble, how you squeeze. "does it always get so swollen?" he asks, and you know once again he's not talking to you. he leans in and the tip of his nose brushes the lovely sore nub back and forth almost as if he's teasing, then he takes a deep, shameless inhale, and you forget to breathe. "cute. you can cum now, I have to try again to see your reaction one more time."

[diaphene]

sfw / angst

. .

you two were just talking

& somehow ended on the discussion of his immortality

you told him it would be pretty cool to be immortal. you get to learn every language, read every book in existence, travel to every possible destination, see the evolution of the world with your own eyes ... and even take it as far as space?

what you wouldn't give to see that

you then joked and teased on how he is going to have many loves in his life after you. his eyes fell and his face faltered. he heavily debated if he should tell you or not, knowing you and how you would react

his plan, after he can no longer be with you, was to be frozen again. he didn't see the point in being here anymore. he didn't have the same enthusiasm on immortality as you did. you were it for him

he wasn't excited on having to be ... forever. stuck in time ... unable to move on

you noticed his expression changed, and called his name, wondering if you had said something wrong

he looked at you and forced a smile, kissing you on the forehead, deciding it is better to not say anything and to just enjoy every possible second he has with you

keeping his plans to himself

. .

.

[novlr]

“One word after another. That’s the only way that novels get written.” — Neil Gaiman

[author-a-holmes]

Hello there!

Sorry for the random ask, but. I just saw the post you reblogged about NaNo going with AI. I tried to delete my account (breaks my heart, but here we are), but it won't let me? I just wanted to ask, have you managed to do it? Because if so, its a technical issue somewhere, if not, two's a pattern.

I hope you have a great day and don't let this BS get you down.

Internet rando greetings!

~hojetsala

Hello hun! Random asks are always welcome, no worries <3

I haven't deleted my Nano account YET, because I'm trying to save all my historical data/transfer it into a spreadsheet. (And there is a lot of it. I have projects going back to 2011, with multiple tracking data sessions within each project)

However, I have dug up a "how to" post someone else made, to make sure you're not missing a step. (From what I can see they send a confirmation email, and some people aren't getting them? But don't quote me on that) The post I dug up is HERE, all credit to OP.

If you're looking for a new spot to track your writing, I've previously used Pacemaker.press and Mywriteclub. And it looks like there's already a replacement Writing Month Event being created with a website they're in the process of coding into creation right now.

So although the Nanowrimo Organization has let us down, the writing community still has our backs. Which is as it should be ^_^

[raisareigns]

TIMING: End of December SETTING: Leaving the Frost Bites Festival! SUMMARY: Emilio (@mortemoppetere) and Raisa thought the excitement was over leaving the festival. The snowpire who found them would beg to differ. WARNINGS: None

Raisa had heard some stories around town of things not being quite right lately, but this was Wicked’s Rest. Things were never quite right. She’d chalked them up to typical levels of magic and superstition. Perhaps some fae illusions even. Regardless, Raisa had assumed it would be safe to go for a walk. The evening air was crisp but not as close as she could remember some years being. She just needed a chance to clear her head and enjoy the snow.

Unfortunately as Raisa stepped back and nearly slammed straight into a stranger’s chest. She couldn’t be bothered to apologize, though, not when her eyes stayed fixed on the snowy figure prowling alongside the path ahead. 

“That’s not a normal snowman,” Raisa nearly whispered as she tried to keep from drawing its attention.

This town. This fucking town. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Emilio was learning that Wicked’s Rest rarely allowed the chaos to calm, even temporarily. There was always something. There were gems that turned people into strange, rock-like monsters. There was goo that swallowed apartment buildings and made statues of anyone who touched it. And there were fucking lumps of snow that moved all on their own.

Unsurprisingly, Emilio wasn’t entirely familiar with the concept of snowmen to begin with. The area where he’d grown up had had very little snow, and it wasn’t as if he’d grown up watching movies that explained the tradition. To someone who had no context for it, it was an impossibly strange sight. He stared, so enthralled by it that he didn’t notice the woman in front of him reacting until she’d slammed into his chest.

“How… do you know it is a man?” He asked, keeping his voice low to mimic hers.

Raisa’s face jerked away from the creature to take in the stranger, not bothering to hide the incredulousness that crossed her features. Quickly she let her eyes dart back to the snowy figure shifting slowly closer to the path. “What? That’s not… You call them snowmen. It’s probably not always the most correct, but are we really going to argue that right now?”

The figure’s head swiveled in their direction. Raisa sucked in her breath and took a step, then another. She didn’t hide behind the other person exactly, but Raisa didn’t want to be a shield herself if things went pear-shaped. Judging from the thing’s steady gaze, they would. And how could it gaze at them anyway? It was snow. It was just snow. The magic in this town was a lovely thing, but sometimes Raisa couldn’t stand it.

“What do we do?” Raisa asked. She didn’t want to draw more attention, but without a different distraction, she didn’t see how it mattered.

“No I don’t. I don’t call them anything.” Emilio wasn’t really sure what to do with the conversation, or the situation as a whole. There was a pile of snow with some kind of makeshift face on it stalking towards him. He was barely even familiar with snow alone. This was an entirely new thing to him. Even in all his training as a slayer, no one had ever warned him about… sentient snow? Was that what this was? Christ, he missed Mexico.

The thing seemed to be moving towards them, and the stranger who’d pointed it out was stepping behind him in a way that wasn’t quite the same as shoving Emilio forward, but felt kind of similar all the same. He wasn’t offended by it. As a hunter, after all, it was sort of his job to handle things like this. Even if he had no idea what a ‘thing like this’ actually was. 

Hesitating, he reached into his jacket pocket. His hand returned with a knife; one of many that he carried on his person. He squared his shoulders, glared at the snow. “I am going to get its head off,” he announced. “That usually kills things.”

As the stranger seemed to pause for a moment, Raisa tensed. Would he run? Leave her to fend for herself? Did he have some kind of connection to the creature? That seemed insane, but this was Wicked’s Rest. Insane things happened as innately here as walking a dog or mowing the lawn did in a suburb. 

Thankfully he pulled a knife from his pocket, and she forced herself to relax a little. He seemed to be in agreement that the creature was their priority. Though… part of her couldn’t help glancing at the metal of the knife. Surely it wasn’t iron, right? She couldn’t focus on that right now.

“Will it kill things made of snow?” Raisa asked. That seemed a bit different than killing something with blood and flesh. Perhaps heat would be helpful here, but since she didn’t exactly carry a hairdryer in her purse, Raisa didn’t have any thoughts for that one. Perhaps she shouldn’t have quit smoking in the 90s. At least then she’d have a lighter on her person. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never killed anything made of snow.” Removing the head was the sure-fire way to kill most things, he’d been taught; when you weren’t sure what something was, when you didn’t know how to take it down, your best bets were decapitation or immolation. Which… Huh. Emilio paused, looking over the snow creature thoughtfully. 

Reaching the hand not holding the knife into his pocket, he retrieved a lighter. “Maybe this works better,” he offered. He tossed it to the stranger, then pulled a second from his pocket. Another thing he carried plenty of, half to light his cigarettes and half for situations like this one. He only wished he could carry a flamethrower inconspicuously. “You want to help?”

Raisa tensed as he reached into another pocket, but she immediately snatched the lighter from the air as he tossed it to her. “Not the biggest flamethrower, but it should hopefully do the trick,” she murmured. It would hopefully keep the thing away at least. After a second to think about it, she took her eyes off the snow creature long enough to fully take in her new companion. “I’m Raisa, by the way. Seems like knowledge we should each have before we do this.”

The thing moved forward with a few heavy steps, and Raisa held up the lighter on instinct. “Don’t come this way,” she muttered, glaring at it. “We don’t have anything you want.”

The thing opened its mouth, and somehow a sharp set of teeth glinted in the low light.

Raisa swallowed hard. “Or maybe we do. Think it’s hungry? Think it wants us?”

“Sorry I don’t carry a full-sized flamethrower in my pocket,” Emilio replied dryly. In all honesty, if they made a flamethrower small enough, he would have gladly carried it with him everywhere he went. Few things could be more useful than that, couldn’t they? Most things could be killed with fire. Snow, especially so. “Emilio,” he replied flatly. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but nothing about this feels very nice, I think.”

The snow creature took another step, and then another. It didn’t seem to care much about Raisa’s warning, moving forward as if no words had been spoken at all. Then, it opened its mouth, and —

Fangs. Familiar fangs. Sharp, vampiric. What the hell? 

Theory building in his mind, Emilio reached up to the cross hanging around his neck and held it forward, taking a step towards the mound of snow. It let out a strange hiss and stepped backwards. “What the fuck,” Emilio murmured, brow furrowing. 

Raisa rolled her eyes. She hadn’t been trying to critique his lack of preparedness, but honestly in a place like Wicked’s Rest, such things could be considered standard preparation. If anything, not having a lighter or knife on her right now was a flaw of Raisa’s. She should have known better than to go to a public event without anything useful. 

“No,” Raisa agreed. “It’s not particularly nice.”

Emilio even had a cross? Raisa took back even her joking comment. He’d clearly come prepared for much more than she had and lived every day a little more prepared in a place like this.

“Not just teeth then,” she observed. Raisa swallowed hard. “Well, hopefully that’s a sign decapitation will be an option.” She looked around, eyes scanning wildly. When it seemed like the only option, she snatched a stick up off the ground. “It’s not a stake, not really, but maybe it’ll work in a pinch.”

At least they were in agreement there… though Emilio suspected it would be hard not to be. If she’d said she were enjoying herself with the killer pile of snow and all, he might have just left her there. (He wouldn’t have. His goddamn sense of duty was always going to win out above his irritation.)

Said irritation was high now, rivaled only by his confusion. What the hell was this thing? It acted like a vampire, backing down from the cross and all, but it was definitely made of fucking snow. He wasn’t imagining that — Raisa had commented on it, too. So it was real and it was snow and it was a vampire.

Fuck this town.

Emilio glanced back to Raisa, quirking a brow at the stick in her hand. Shifting his grip so that he held knife, lighter, and cross all in one hand, he reached the other into his jacket and pulled out a stake, offering it to her. “This will work better,” he said flatly. “Not sure it will work, though. I think — I think fire. I think that’s the best way. Works on vampires. Works on snow.”

Raisa could have kissed him just then, stranger or not, as he handed her a proper stake. Some kind of hunter maybe? That was the only thing that made sense to have this many things on hand. Perhaps she’d have to be wary of him in the future, but for right now, they were on the same side. She just needed to make sure he didn’t figure out anything to the contrary. Besides, Raisa liked humans; she couldn’t survive without them.

Dropping the stick and taking the stake from his hand, Raisa nodded her head to him. “Regular old Boyscout, aren’t you?” She held the fire up a little higher than the stake. His logic was sound. “I’ll distract it. You burn?”

Clearing her throat, Raisa spoke up and directed it at the snow vampire. “Surely you can find a better meal somewhere else. Somewhere without fire.”

It opened its mouth again and made a noise not unlike a hiss, but it also reminded Raisa of a spray of water hitting cold snow. Interesting that. She took a few steps away from Emilio–not far enough to put herself on her own but far enough that the creature would have to make a choice if it lunged.

She seemed grateful for the stake, and that was a good thing. He was working under the assumption that she was human — he usually did, if he couldn’t sense anything to the contrary — but if she weren’t, there was always a chance that the arsenal of weaponry stored in his jacket pockets would give him away as a hunter. This could be a dangerous thing, he knew; there were plenty of supernatural people who’d jump at the chance to take out a hunter, regardless of what code they followed or what they were hunting. 

Better still, this stranger seemed okay with the idea of helping him instead of allowing him to serve as a distraction to aid her escape. Emilio wouldn’t have minded if she’d opted to use him to get away; after all, hunters were designed to be cannon fodder, to fall on the sword so that other people could get away. Emilio probably could have handled the snowy vampire on his own… but it was kind of nice to have a helping hand all the same.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “sounds good.” He stood off to the side as she spoke to the thing, observing the creature. It seemed to look between the two of them, and he wondered if it was capable of any kind of logic or if it was a tossup. Regardless, it seemed to settle on Raisa as the tastier target after a moment, and it leaped towards her. Emilio used the distraction to get behind the thing, lighter at the ready as he moved forward.

The creature had moved slowly so far, but as it leapt toward her, Raisa really hoped that she hadn’t misjudged Emilio and his intentions in this fight. She dodged to the side, swinging out with the stake but unsurprised when her arm met nothing but air. The goal hadn’t been a hit, though. The goal had been to stall, and that’s what Raisa was doing.

“Shouldn’t you be looking for a popsicle or something?” she asked to taunt it. “Our blood hardly seems like it would be good for a snowy diet.” Raisa made a face as she wondered what exactly would happen inside that thing if it bit into one of them. Where would it go? Would the blood seep out through the snow? Would chunks of their flesh sit inside it like little frozen chunks floating in an icy river? Disgusting. 

As the thing shuffled forward, Raisa tried not to look over its shoulder at Emilio. Trust. She was trying to trust him.

He traded his knife for his flask. This wasn’t what he usually used it for, of course. He much preferred to drink the cheap whiskey sloshing around inside the container, but it tasted enough like lighter fluid that he knew it would probably burn like it, too. He unscrewed the top, the smell of it hitting the air all at once. Emilio had no reaction, of course; he was pretty accustomed to the stench of cheap whiskey. It hung off just about every item of clothing he owned. 

Moving towards the mound of snow, he sloshed the liquid onto it as Raisa provided her distraction. He wasn’t sure how much the creature felt; it didn’t turn towards him, but that may have been because it was so determined to get to Raisa. Flicking the lighter on, he held the flame against the snow and lit it up. With the alcoholic accelerant, it burned hot. The creature let out a high screech, already drooping as it turned towards Emilio and lashed out with a twiggy arm. The slayer darted backwards, moving a little too quickly for his bad leg in a way that resulted in more of a stumble than a graceful jump. He scowled. 

“The stake!” He called to Raisa. “Stick it in the back with the stake. Avoid the fire. We see if this works at all, yes?”

Raisa took another step back, flinching herself as Emilio flung something toward the creature. Liquid? Alcohol? She tried not to look at him, but she thought from her periphery vision that he held up a flask of some sort. Typical, she thought. If he was a hunter, this was one more sign. They all seemed to have their vices in plentiful supply. 

As the creature screamed, Raisa stumbled away from it, ready to let the fire run its core and take the thing down. When Emilio yelled for her to stake it, momentarily she froze. Get near it while it was on fire? Risk that kind of exposure herself? But she forced herself to ignore that impulse. He’d started this. Now Raisa needed to finish it.

The thing had started shifting, from melting but not fast enough to actually cause destruction. “Here goes,” Raisa muttered, more to steal up her courage than anything else. She lunged, stake held up at the ready. 

As the stake plunged into the center of its icy back, the snow creature screamed. Raisa had already jumped back again, which was good since it immediately tried to swing back around on her. It didn’t make it. The creature fell to the ground in a heap as the snow melted, suddenly much faster than before. 

Raisa took a deep breath as she stared down at the remains. “Now that it’s over,” she said with a wild hope that it was in fact over, “what the fuck was that?”

Asking her to stake the creature was… half ‘quicker solution,’ half curiosity. The fire would melt it eventually, but there was always a chance it put itself out, or set something else on fire in the meantime. If there was a faster way around things, Emilio figured the smart road was to take it. And part of him really did want to know if staking this would have the same effect as staking a normal vampire. It would be handy for future endeavors, wouldn’t it? If he ever came across something like this again, he wanted to know how to take care of it quickly, and with less fumbling. 

Raisa, stake in hand, seemed willing enough to indulge him. She was hesitant at first — fine, fair, it was on fire — but she recovered quickly enough, lunging forward with that stake in hand. Emilio watched it sink into the snowy surface of the creature’s back, took a step forward just in case it didn’t do anything and the snow made a move towards Raisa. 

But it wasn’t necessary. The creature, with a scream that sounded almost human, fell in a heap. Snow became water instead of dust, and Emilio tilted his head a little as the sound abruptly cut off into heavy silence. He stared at it for a moment, brow furrowed, until Raisa spoke.

Looking back to her, he shrugged. “Vampire, I guess,” he replied. “But not normal. Wasn’t undead.” He would have felt it otherwise, but he wouldn’t add that. If she didn’t already know he was a slayer, he wouldn’t hand her the information on a silver platter. “But… don’t know if it was alive, either? Never seen anything like it. You?”

Raisa just stared at him for a moment. “You guess?” she repeated. She could have told him it wasn’t normal, regardless of what it was. Only after did she realize she should have probably sounded more confused by the idea of a vampire. Then again, even humans surely had to acknowledge what was right in front of them some of the time. They couldn’t always be in denial, could they?

Still, she snorted as he said it wasn’t undead but might not have been alive. “Seemed plenty alive to me,” Raisa quipped. “Certainly moved like it was.” Whether that was because of an active life or some form of magic seemed less certain, but probably best not to acknowledge how much consideration she had along those lines. The more unknowing she seemed, the better off she would probably be.

Raisa stared down at the puddle of water in front of them. Tentatively she reached out with her foot and nudged the water with the toe of her boot. Maybe she was asking for possession. Thankfully nothing happened. “Me? I’ve never seen anything like this.” She shook her head and sighed. “I’m sure some people would be naive enough to say they’d seen it all now, but… not in this town.”

After a moment, Raisa realized she should give him his things back and held them out. “Thanks for all this. I don’t know how I would have handled that if you hadn’t come by.”

“Well, I don’t think I can say for sure.” There were a lot of different things it could have been; in Wicked’s Rest, there were more options than there might have been elsewhere. This town attracted strange; that was why Emilio had come here to begin with. Maybe that was why Raisa wasn’t particularly surprised by the existence of vampires. If she’d lived in Wicked’s Rest a while, Emilio doubted this was the first supernatural thing she’d seen here.

Raising a brow, he looked down at the puddle that had been chasing them moments before. “Living things have hearts that beat,” he pointed out. “Blood, bones, organs. Moving does not make something alive.” Not by his definition, at least. Vampires weren’t alive; neither were zombies, neither were mares, or ghouls or spawn. And even beyond the undead, inanimate things could become animate, but that didn’t make them alive. “Maybe there was a ghost.” He’d never heard of one possessing a mound of snow, but… Stranger things had happened.

He watched as she poked at what remained of the snow with her foot, tensing a little as if expecting it to rise back up and attack. But it didn’t. Whatever it was seemed to be well and truly gone now. “I don’t think anyone will ever see it all.” There’d been a time when he’d thought he had, but… She was right. Not in this town.

Taking his things as she held them out, Emilio shrugged. “Wasn’t very fast. Probably could have just run from it.”

“I suppose,” Raisa agreed. Far too many beings existed in that weird in-between, and she wasn’t particularly a fan of it. “Didn’t seem like a ghost unless it was one that had a particularly strong sense of hunger? Can vampires have ghosts?” She knew there were some that didn’t quite keep their humanity. The idea of a vampire ghost was an odd one, and the pure hunger of it didn’t track with the kind of being that had enough humanity left to become a ghost. 

“They never will,” she echoed. Raisa glanced up at him, shoving her hands back in her pockets as she looked across the road at the emptiness around them. “We could have, but I do have to admit that leaving such problems for someone else isn’t usually the best option.” She did appreciate when it was an option, but Raisa also knew she couldn’t avoid every problem in life.

She took a deep breath and nodded more to herself than him. “Well,” Raisa said, “I guess that’s handled.” Raisa looked up at Emilio. “Weirdest evening ever, but nice to meet you, I think.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a shrug. “Ghosts aren’t my thing.” Maybe he’d ask one of the Ballards about it, find some answers. It would be helpful to know more on the off chance that something like this happened again, after all. Emilio preferred being overprepared to underprepared. If nothing else, he could give Lil and Jonas a word of warning. If this was something that might happen again, the two of them deserved to be in the know about it.

He agreed with Raisa, though; he wasn’t one to leave dangerous problems for other people to clean up. Nonthreatening problems, sure — he often left the aftermath of his cases at Axis for the police to worry about, and he’d called the morgue more than once to let Kavanagh deal with corpses he’d found in investigations that weren’t related to the case — but things like this? Things that could hurt people? “I’m not much of a runner, either.” Though he wouldn’t have faulted her if she’d taken off.

Quietly, he huffed a laugh. “Had weirder,” he admitted. “Nice to meet you, too, though.”

Raisa shifted her hands into her pockets with a rueful smile. Situations like this were always interesting. The two of them had been thrown together by the creature, but there wasn’t anything further to connect them now that it was over. Yes, she’d met someone knew, but now that she didn’t have to, Raisa wasn’t in the mood to stick around. 

“See you around, Emilio,” she said as she took a step in the direction she’d intended to go. Mentally she made a note to keep an eye out if she saw him around.

[oceansrevenge]

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @eldritchaccident & @oceansrevenge SUMMARY: Coming across Teds destroying a ship, Marina mistakes them for their father. A tense interaction ensues. CONTENT: Mentions of child death

After so many years locked away in an artificial recreation of the ocean, Marina found it hard to pull herself away from the waters for long. There were things that needed to be attended to on land, yes, but every fiber of her being craved the sway of the waves, the feeling of life encompassing her. The waters here felt her rage and welcomed her as their protector. She dove into the feeling of chaos that passed through every current in this area. She loved the thrum of it going through her, there was simply never a dull day in the waters of Wicked’s Rest, yet they still offered her peace. Given, she found contentment in the violence the ocean possessed, but there were little hidden alcoves all her own, too. 

Marina dived deeper into the ocean, spinning as she swam around a small octopus. Delighted in the way the gesture seemed to be returned, the sense of whimsy it gave her, but then she felt it. From her depth, the change in the current was slight, but for her to feel it all, that meant something big was happening above. Whatever it was, she was not about to miss it. “You stay safe, mikros,” she murmured to the octopus before swimming away at a full speed. 

As she neared the source of the change, Marina felt a growing feel of warmth. Leviathan. Its form looked a bit different this time. The dark scales were familiar, but they had a different hue to them. More of a purple than the seafoam accents it had before. What were the odds there could be two such beautiful creatures in the same waters? Was it Leviathan or kin of it? She swam closer, happy to help speed up its destruction of the human vessel it was currently terrorizing. There were strange crystals on it that reminded her of the ones she’d seen in the fissures around town. Had something happened to it? Had the humans' careless disregard for the earth somehow harmed this beautiful being?

“Leviathan,” her voice questioned, deep and reverberating in the currents around them, “Is that you?” The feel of thrashing overhead caused her to instinctively dart a tentacle upwards to grab the struggling human. They kicked and clawed at her grip, but she cared little. Her focus remained on the demon.

—

Nighttime came and went like a hazy memory. Each and every one the same. The sun sank below the horizon, and deep deep below the leviathan’s ward somehow knew. Something in Teddy’s body rose, ripped through the skin carefully reconstructed each night and slipped into that more monstrous visage. Nor baring the monstrosity moniker a bit more literally. Attacking with abandon, no clever plots, no meaning behind the senseless destruction left in their wake. 

Occasionally they would drag some poor soul down to the mines. Sometimes they’d be alive. Sometimes they wouldn’t be. Thankfully, the demon came back to their senses long before ever piling corpses around the kids that acted like the place was a clubhouse. It made sense with Nora. She was afflicted too, but Cass? Aside from a lovely little encounter where the girl professed how much she loved Big Finn, Ted didn’t know much about her. Enough to know she probably wouldn’t like fresh meat in the same way a little demonling might. Probably. You never really know, right? Stranger things had happened over and over again in Wicked’s Rest. 

While the demon slumbered, the beast lumbered. Their body, its mind. And that night it was on the prowl for blood, rather than new companions for the mine. The ship was large, but no match for claws that rendered hardened steel as soft as paper. It wasn’t long before it began to sink, and the feast aboard became a panicked mess. Gills flashed and fluttered under the waves as something else drew near. As a voice called out beneath the depths. Uttering their father’s name. One of many.

“Who calls for the Leviathan?” 

—

While it had the same destructive tendencies and looked similar to the Leviathan, something didn’t seem quite right. Even when Leviathan had shifted from one large form into something even more massive, its glowing accents had remained the same beautiful shade of seafoam. Marina wondered if it had something to do with crystals that seemed to be stuck to its body. They looked… painful and not in a way that could be considered pleasurable. The voice that reached her soon answered her questions. It was not Leviathan, she would remember its voice anywhere. The way it had thrummed through her, it was more a feeling, but she would know its voice anywhere all the same. This was not Leviathan, but it knew Leviathan. 

“I am Marina,” she answered the creature, who she suspected bore some relation to the demon she had grown fond of, “You are not Leviathan, but you look… similar.” Who was this? After their more violent endeavors, it was not as if there had been much in the way of talking.  The resemblance was far too uncanny for her to not assume some sort of relation and its tone seemed knowing. 

There was thrashing in the water from some of the overthrown humans, but they were of little concern to Marina at the moment. If this creature let her join it, she would gladly pull a few under the surface. She always did love the feel of them fighting to break free from her grasp. Her focus remained on the creature behind the wreckage. “I am a friend of it. A new friend,” she recalled their meeting fondly, “We enjoyed quite similar recreational activities together.” She gestured towards the pieces of ship floating in the water. 

—

Many eyes rolled about until they focuesed entirely on the cephaline creature before it. Teddy’s mind was not entirely their own right then. A bit more animalistic than the usual candor the sea beast took upon. They’d been doing this since they were just out of adolescence. Just not the same way. Normally  (save for a few life saving moments) it was Ted’s choice to change. However ill advised it might be, considering the weight it put on their joints when they returned to ‘normal’. This was not. 

This was torn flesh, viscera coating the cave floor. This was dreamlike delusions driving destructive direction. A dragon of sea and crystal. Somewhat suspiciously it eyed the octopus. Settling slightly as she went on to describe the way she knew its father. Something of a toothy grin spread across its maw. The crystalline coated tendrils that stuck out from Teddy’s face flexed. Frilled outward and rippled in the water around them. 

“Any friend of my father is a friend of mine.” Ted’s voice was pushed outward, into Marina’s mind rather than through the liquid between them. In the same way Leviathan communicated, the way they’d learned over the years. Distracted, however. Sounding just a bit far away, like this conversation was not the forefront of its mind. Unfortunately. 

Had they been present, Teddy would have loved this. Would have been swimming circles around this bathypelagic queen. Would’ve soaked up every inch of her, and been just flowing with compliments. For now, they were cautious. 

“Care to join me for dinner then?” 

—

Father. Was it her surprise or had its words really sounded distant while inside her own mind? Admittedly, there had not been much in the way of conversation during their first meeting. Marina of course wanted to learn more about the demon, but their chance meeting had been far too wonderful to sully with topics that could add an air of sadness to the day. Because surely a mention of its child would lead to sharing that she had been a mother and there would be strain in her voice in the use of those words in the past tense. She hadn’t been a mother for decades and no longer being one would never not ache. The love she possessed for her daughter never diminished just because Eula was no longer there to receive it. That protective instinct didn’t just fade. It was alive and well now as she examined the crystals protruding from it. This was Leviathan’s kin and the connection she shared with its father had been so instantaneous, so natural, that concern for the safety of the demon’s child was just as instinctive. 

“A new friend,” Marina answered thickly, “But a good one. It had a similar meal when we met. Enjoyed how the propellers tickled its maw.” Something in the creature seemed guarded in a way that Leviathan hadn’t, which only furthered her sense that something with these crystals was not right. Even if her intentions had been ill, Leviathan and its child both could easily dispose of her. Not even her pull on the water could counteract their massive size. “What are you called,” she asked. 

While humans were not a meal for her as much as they were play things, Marina would join for its meal. The iron in their blood made them painful to digest, but drowning them was always great fun as was watching their vessels sink. That didn’t take away the sense of unease she felt. There was much she could protect in the sea, but these crystals seemed too large a problem to simply drag to the ocean floor. “I would love to join you,” she told it, “But…” 

She trailed off and refrained from reaching out to touch the young demon. “Are you alright? These rocks, they look painful.”

—

The sea beast’s head tilted. Its gills flushed and flattened as it eyed the octopus. Watched it partake in the destruction, listened to her honeyed words. It wrestled with a decision, to trust or to take? She’d be a lovely addition, the crystal chorus sang. Just get her close enough to the mines. Get her to touch the crystals. Join. She should join them. The obsession wasn’t as strong in Teddy as it might have been in Nora, but it was still there. Growing stronger each night. Each shift. A small part of the demon’s mind may have known this was an outside influence. That all of this was wrong somehow but every day down in the mines had soothed these thoughts into smooth fabric running over their eyes. Blinding them to reality. To what was really happening. 

This was the best they had ever felt. 

When the crystal's melodious tune rang throughout their body, the aches went away. Thoughts that should pry and hurt and winnow at the demon’s spirit were a thing of the past. There was only the song. Only the union. It had brought them a small family, and all of them could stay. No one would ever leave. No one would ever have to move again. Teddy wanted to share this joy, wanted to rush around the neired and welcome her home until– Until…

‘Those rocks, they look painful.’ 

In an instant a defensive wall shot up. She wanted to take this away. Wanted to pull the stones from its beautiful carapace and leave it dead on the ocean floor. 

The smaller creature encroached on Teddy’s space, and they should have been enthralled. Should have enjoyed the close contact, reveled in it. Instead its mind reeled. Paranoia tinging every thought with delusions of deception. Ideas flitted through, casting doubt on the word friend. The crystals accusing this Marina of nefarious dealings. Had she hurt Leviathan somehow? Was she lying? Just barely below the surface, the choir thrummed. They sang so much louder in this form. Pulled the creature like a puppet on strings. Easier, perhaps, because it was much more a beast than a person like this. Because they were too wrapped up in a panicked wave that they didn’t stop to think about the fact that fae couldn’t lie. 

“This is just my new form.” Teddy snapped in her mind while a low growl pushed out of its gullet. Jaws clacking shut just inches from Marina’s closest tentacle. It swam back, leaning more on the boat until it sank further. Trying its best to divert attention away from itself. “They have helped, if anything. The crystals. There is no pain here. Not when I am like this.” 

—

The greeting from the Leviathan’s kin had already been lukewarm at best and Marina had clearly said something to insult it. The gems were just a bit curious— a bit concerning. It was evident it was not something she should push as the creature approached her aggressively, its maw stopping just shy of a tentacle. Whereas with Leviathan, she would have found thrill in the move, the show of dominance— she didn’t have the same trust for its kin. Almost immediately, she had the sense its father would do her no harm, but the same could not be said of the child. 

“My apologies, agapité machití, I did not mean any offense,” Marina spoke gently, careful to not push the creature further, “Forgive me, I was a mother. You are the Leviathan’s child. Being protective is somewhat of an instinct. I know you do not need my protection.” A tentacle carefully gestured at its size, “But I hope you can at least tentatively accept my interest in your well-being.” 

Marina didn’t dare move from her place. One wrong move could be a lost appendage or worse. She tried to keep her tentacles close to her body, give herself the illusion of being smaller to assure the creature she was no threat to it. “The gems are beautiful,” she spoke lowly. It wasn’t a lie, but some crucial details were left out. “Almost reminds me of an oread,” she added as soothingly as she could, “I did not mean to imply you were anything but a beautiful creature.” 

—

Something deep inside raged, fighting a losing war against the paranoid mind that had been woven around it. Teddy was still in there but so many layers of abstraction turned worries about letting their father know of their condition turned into malice at the person who could divulge the secret. In Teddy's mind, it was going to get fixed. It had to be fixed. Leviathan did not need to know. Just like it did not need to know about the pains and aches that plagued the young demon. In Ted's mind it was a weakness that would eventually be purged. They just had to slog through the present until the skies cleared up. 

Same with this mess. 

Emilio was working on it. The man might have the world's most piss poor self image but Teddy had seen. He was a damn good detective. And he clearly cared a LOT for Nora. He'd do anything to fix her, they could tell. Teds was just a bonus. 

All of this, however, twisted like the demon's skin. Wrapped up in delusions and obsessions. The sea beast grumbled. Seeing the octopus' words for an attempt at self preservation. Not actual care. "This is boring me. I do not need this care. You are right about that." Any other day Teddy would have preened like a vain little bird at the compliments. "They are and I am." It responded, coldly. 

Every instinct provided by the crystals simply bid the creature to end it. That nothing could possibly get back to the Leviathan if this nymph had no mouth to speak with. Only a fighting spark kept the beast from attacking. A glimmer of their true personality, one that hated the idea of violence against one so beautiful as Marina. One that truly meant that any friend of their dad's was welcome around them. They'd be embarrassed about all this later, surely. But there had to be a later for that to happen. 

The creature growled, eyed her closely and ignored the impulse to rend flesh apart. Instead of snapping again it simply adjusted its trajectory. Acting as if it were to get a better angle on the boat. Instead it waited until it was out of sight, then dashed downward. Crafting a torrent of bubbles and viscera as it fled. Dragging down bodies and broken parts of the ship alongside the massive frame. Hoping it was enough to deter her. Hoping it was enough to get away. 

[letsbenditlikebennett]

TIMING: Before the July full moon PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: As a late birthday surprise, Alex attempts to make lasagna for Kaden. He happens to get home early in the bit of a cooking mayhem and the two bond. CONTENT: Parental death mentions

While the pie she made to surprise Kaden wasn’t exactly the prettiest thing in the world, it was passable. Alex was thankful that her new cooking buddy was able to help her salvage the crust enough for it to look presentable, but something told her Kaden wasn’t exactly a pie for dinner kind of guy. A can of ravioli wasn’t going to do, mostly since her cousin seemed shocked that she and Andy ate so much food straight from cans. Lasagna seemed like it should be easy enough and she’d nicked some extra ingredients while she was shopping just in case she messed it up. 

In truth, she was hoping Andy would have been home by now. While Alex never fully learned how to cook and was too busy throwing herself into her studies as if it’d somehow make her less of a monster, Andy had worked several restaurant jobs to keep them afloat in the past and worked in a bakery now. She’d even managed some pretty banging cakes for birthdays though they still always shared packaged snack cakes on top of it for the sake of their own little tradition. But Andy must have been caught up at work which meant she had to rely on her own cooking prowess without supervision from someone who knew what they were doing which led to her completely overcooking the noodles for the lasagna. Good thing she’d taken a few extra boxes, but now the shoddy smoke detector was going off and the water she was preparing for the next batch of noodles was boiling over the pot. 

Alex frantically waved a kitchen towel around the smoke detector to no avail and the sound was quickly becoming overwhelming. Tears threatened to spill over as she opened up a window and went for the door, only to open it to see Kaden about to open it. Her eyes widened, something akin to a deer in the headlights or a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. At least the fucking fire alarm finally stopped, but now she was standing in the doorway looking like a complete idiot who couldn’t even put together an apparently “easy” recipe. “I thought Andy would be home before you,” she blurted out before she fully realized that sounded like she didn’t want him here. “That’s not what I–,” she moved out of the way to let him in, “I wanted to surprise you since we missed your birthday.” 

Kaden rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm as he stepped out of his truck. Between chasing a dog around the Common and trying to explain to Marge why they shouldn’t put a jackalope up for adoption, he was ready to sink into the couch and relax for a few min–

The smoke alarm blared, buzzing so loudly he heard it from outside the door. He didn’t think, just ran, nearly bursting down the door. In hindsight, maybe not the smartest idea to run into a potentially burning building, but if Alex or Andy were inside and the place was on fire, he had to get them out. He had to be sure that they were safe. Kaden saw small puffs of smoke escaping from under the kitchen door. He put his arm up to his face to cover his mouth and nose and reached for the doorknob with his free hand, ready to face whatever was on the other–

The door swung open and there was Alex, the clouds of smoke wisping away at her feet as if they’d never been there. “Oh.” It was all he could manage to say as he dropped his arm away from his face, feeling a little silly that he’d overreacted. None of the words she said fully registered yet; Kaden was still stuck standing in place, trying to rectify what he’d imagined was happening and what was actually going on.

She was in the kitchen. The smoke alarm had gone off. Something smelled like it was burning and there was a pot on the stove. A pot that was boiling over. “Putain,” he mumbled as he darted past Alex to the stovetop, flipping the dial all the way down and doing his best to try and contain the bubbles spilling over by waving his hands and blowing at the angry pot. Only once it had settled did he manage to process what Alex had told him. “My shift ended on time for once.” Also he hadn’t stayed late at the shelter helping out well past the point that he’d clocked out. And that was only because Marge practically shoved him out the door. 

“Wait,” he said, brow furrowing as he registered the last part of what his cousin had said. “For my birthday?” Kaden blinked, looking around the mess of a kitchen. This was for him? She wanted to do something for him? He… wasn’t sure what to make of that. Some mixture of confusion and warmth swirled around inside him. “I didn’t expect anything or– I mean, you didn’t have to. Not that…” He sighed and reached to rub the back of his neck. “Thanks. But I’m… So this is all for me?”

This wasn’t how the evening was supposed to turn out, but surprising no one, even when it came to stuff in the kitchen, Kaden and Andy both had her beat. It made Alex feel like a kid all over again– trying and trying only to fall short at every turn. The fact this was something as basic as cooking only furthered the embarrassment she felt as her cousin rushed to the stove and turned it down to an appropriate temperature so that the water stopped bubbling and overflowing all over the place. The way he waved away the steam seemed practiced, came effortlessly, and just once, she wished anything had come that simply for her. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and nodded. “That’s good, uh…,” she trailed off as she figured out what to see, “The getting off on time and all. I think. Right?” 

Without Andy to fall back on, Alex felt exposed. Somehow her sister always knew just what to say to lighten the mood and she desperately wished some of that energy was present now. She was embarrassed for starters about the mess in the kitchen, but something about the gesture made her feel just as vulnerable. The whole point was for Kaden to know he had people who gave a shit about him, but being the lone person in the room, it said that she was the one who cared and that left room for disappointment, room for Kaden to realize he didn’t need his monster of a cousin around. 

Alex still shifted on her feet, but managed to fight the nervous lilt in her voice. “Yeah, your birthday,” she answered, “I know it’s late, but figured belated is better than never?” At least he seemed about as comfortable with the situation outwardly as she was inwardly. A fact she forced herself to not think too deeply about. “Oh, I know I didn’t, but…” She looked to the mess in the kitchen and fidgeted with the hem of the apron she was wearing, “I don’t know,  family and all.” 

The part that he was a part of her family that didn’t seemingly immediately reject her went unsaid. Alex couldn’t help but feel like that could change at any moment despite the fact Kaden had given her no such indication. So she smiled, wide and with enough of a playful arch in her brow that it masked the world of insecurities it was meant to hide. “The pie I made in a cooking class, so that’s already done and edible. Lasagna is giving me a bit of a tough time though,” she picked up a towel to soak up some of the boiled over water, “I’m not opposed to pie for dinner, but do you think we can salvage the lasagna? I have more noodles. If not, I can just pick up a pizza or something. Know you just got off work and all.” The rambling probably counteracted the fake smile, but it was a bit late to take the words back. 

“It’s good for you,” Kaden said with a smirk. “Otherwise you might have caught the cabin on fire.” The tension lingered like the smoke in the room. It was pretty clear she was embarrassed and hadn’t expected him. And he had run in to save the day only to charge in on some crimes against cooking. Once the water had simmered down, Kaden turned to lean against the counter next to the stove, crossing his arms in front of his chest

As she spoke, the confusion shifted into a smile, though he did his best to hold it back. It was stupid to feel whatever it was he was feeling about his dumb birthday of all things. That had passed a while ago. And he was thirty-three, not three, birthdays didn’t mean a whole lot anymore. Still, the warm, fuzzy feelings didn’t just dissipate because he thought it was ridiculous for him to care this much about a small celebration for him. Then again, maybe it wasn’t about the birthday or him but more about who was doing it. “Yeah, family,” he said, still trying to keep the smile from getting goofy. 

He felt a little more secure about his place there after speaking with Andy the other day but he wasn’t completely sure where he stood with Alex. When they had last known each other, she was so young. Everything was completely different in so many ways. “A cooking class, huh?” he asked, raising one brow. “You sure you need me? What did they teach you, then?” He reached over to give her a small nudge. 

A jolt ran through him, starting at his fingertips. He spent so much time with his hunter senses screaming at him while he was in the cabin that it had gotten easier to ignore. He could almost forget. Almost. Apparently his body wouldn’t let him forget what it was made to do. His stomach lurched at the thought. Kaden shook it off and glanced over at the state of the lasagna, if it could be called that. “I think we can manage. Shouldn’t have to resort to the pizza just yet.” He flashed her a smile before he grabbed a towel, taking the pot by the handles and dumping the water and the murdered noodles into the sink. “We’ll rinse these out and just fill them up less than you did last time. What’d you plan to do for sauce?”

Something in the teasing slowed the frenzy of thoughts that had been threatening to boil over just like the pot of noodles had only moments ago. It was still hard for Alex to wrap her head around, that Kaden could be so seemingly okay with what she was and seem to hold genuine affection for her despite it. The more time they spent together, the more his consistent care seemed to chip away at the idea that she was something to be disgusted with. 

“Haha,” she retorted sarcastically, “That’s obviously what renter’s insurance is for.” Not that Alex and Andy had renter’s insurance. From a young age, she had so intently trained herself to be in tune with others' mannerisms that the faint outline of a smile on Kaden’s face didn’t go unnoticed. It was a habit born of desperation in order to fake the senses she had so hopelessly wanted, but somewhere along the line, it became an armor that allowed herself to see and remove herself from situations before she could be discarded. But at that moment? It felt like a silk scarf– soft yet strong enough to shield herself from the chill the wind of her own thoughts always threatened to carry with it. More than anything, she wanted to wrap herself in that feeling, but the questions that lived at the tip of her tongue made her hesitant. 

“Yeah,” she smiled, “A cooking class. It was only the one and I only learned how to make the pie. But figured pie isn’t exactly ‘dinner’ or whatever.” She watched as he refilled the pot, this time with less water which Alex made note of. “So mostly how to make the crust and filling,” she added. 

With his questions about the sauce, Alex scurried over to the little array of paper bowls filled with various ingredients and started explaining the recipe almost verbatim to what it was on the website she’d gotten it from. “I’ve got 25 oz of onions roughly chopped here and then this bowl has the salt and pepper flakes already measured. Supposed to put the saucepan on medium high heat with a quarter cup of olive oil,” she grabbed the pot and brought it to the stove, “Then we have to caramelize the onions before throwing in the garlic I chopped. Once that starts to become ‘aromatic’ we’re supposed to throw in the sugar.” Her hands moved quickly, pointing out every ingredient she listed as she spoke. “Have the water measured already since the sugar step is supposed to be short so it doesn’t all burn. Pour in the water I already measured and the herb mix. Recipe stresses making sure caramelized onions and garlic are fully scraped from the bottom. Then once it comes to a boil, add the tomato paste and emulsion blend.” 

There was a hint of pride in how accurately she was able to repeat the recipe. It almost made her feel a little less stupid for burning the first batch of noodles. Almost. And maybe those were just a sticking point, but Alex wasn’t sure she could do uncertainty anymore. She shifted on her feet as she watched the oil, willing it to heat up faster so she could quickly brush past the thoughts of the questions she had about why Kaden was here and why he was okay to live with a werewolf. If she never asked, she’d never have to hear the answer that would inevitably crush any growing hope that lived inside her. The lie that he could love and care for her despite the fact she was a monster was a pretty one— one she wanted to be able to cling to, but doubt left her hands far too slippery to get a proper grip. Against her better judgments, the ones screaming at her to drop it, she blurted out, “Can I ask you something?” 

Kaden was almost blown back by how succinctly she rattled off the ingredients and instructions for the sauce. For as much as he cooked, he wasn’t sure he could list each step quite that fast. “I see someone memorized the recipe,” he said, flashing her a smile. “We should be able to do a lot of it to taste, thankfully.” Which is what he planned to do, for the most part. He grabbed the saucepan and some olive oil and began to get to work on the onions and garlic. It would take a little while, no doubt, but it should be worth it. “Remember when you put the pasta in to do it carefully. One at a time,” he told her as she started to get the water going for their second try.

His eyes were trained on the onions in the pan, pushing them back and forth as needed, watching the process of the heat changing their shape and color. For as simple as it seemed, he had a feeling a lot of complex shit was happening scientifically speaking. It was almost funny that a basic part of cooking, an almost obvious first step, had so much happening at a more granular level. Then again, he was learning that most things were more complicated than they appeared to be at first glance. Like the entire scenario in that kitchen. At first glance, it was just cousins cooking together, but under the surface… No, Kaden didn’t care about that. The hunter and werewolf of it all didn’t matter. This was just normal. Family. Nothing more. 

His eyes shot up to meet Alex’s at her question. He could only guess was she was going to ask – there were too many things unanswered for him to narrow it down. Kaden wasn’t even sure he had anything to hide or run away from, but he was going to find out here and now, trapped in the kitchen of the cabin. “Sure, ask away.”

In an effort to make sure everything turned out perfectly, Alex had in fact memorized the recipe. She studied it repeatedly until she could remember each step by heart, but Kaden moved in the kitchen in a way that was practiced. Something almost natural about it and some bitter voice in the back of her mind reminded her she’d never been a natural at anything, all she ever did was try. But he was smiling and seemed more amused by the previous kitchen fiasco she found herself in. Despite searching for it, she didn’t find the hint of annoyance or disappointment etched in the furrow of his brow or clenching of his jaw. Just an easy smile, like there was no place else he’d rather be. “You caught me,” she smiled, almost fully feeling it, “You can expect my thesis on your… coffee table by 8am tomorrow.” Her eyes trailed over to the surprisingly organized coffee table. There were little signs of Kaden everywhere in the shared spaces now and despite the lack of space in the cabin itself, all of it seemed to flow together. 

All of the evidence pointed to Kaden wanting to be there— wanting to be part of her life. If she wanted to let herself fall into that feeling, let someone besides Andy become woven into the mismatched tapestry that was her life, she had to hear it from him. His being receptive to answering her questions somehow calmed her and scared her at the same time. Now that she had his permission to ask, her voice found itself lodged in her throat as if trying to cling to the suspension between either her best or worst thoughts of the situation both being true. Schrodinger’s cat, she thought. Until she opened the stupid box, which in this case happened to be her damn mouth, Kaden both loved her and was disgusted with her. Damn paradoxes. 

“Why did you come here,” she finally asked as she dropped the first noodle into the pot, “Why now?” Because what better place to start than, well, the start. 

Kaden huffed a laugh at her comment. “I would say I have a desk at work but, uh, well, not really. Usually at the shelter or in my truck and I don’t have a desk at either.” It was funny how easily he’d managed to slot himself into their lives. He was careful not to overstep, of course, doing his best to weave out of the way when he could and offer a helping hand as often as possible. So much of him assumed he didn’t deserve the kindness, that they were just being polite rather than actually wanting him around. After he talked with Andy, though, it had changed. At least a little. He felt like his presence was actually wanted, at least a little. Which was more than he could have asked for. 

Still, he wasn’t ready for what came next. He’d told Andy why he was here though he hadn’t planned to tell her like that. Telling her was one thing. Telling Alex was another. He felt the air slowly leaving the room as he sat the spatula down on the counter and took a step away from the stove. It should be a simple question with a simple answer. Why did he come here? And why now?

And yet, not one damn thing about it was simple. Kaden did his best to hold the oxygen he could grasp in his lungs for as long as they would let him, finding a spot on the counter to lean against, to keep himself steady. The scene that plagued his nightmares played over in his head for the thousandth time. Knife. Damien. Keira. Blood. How did he tell this to Alex without burdening her? And without breaking down himself? 

Breathe. He had to fucking breathe. Why was it so damn hard to do that at the moment? “I had to…” he started, but drifted off before he could find the next words. It didn’t feel right. “I couldn’t stay there.” He tried again, but it still seemed wrong. He went to look at his cousin but thought better of it; he couldn’t meet Alex’s eyes, not now. He knew he’d only see Damien’s there, somehow reflecting back at him. ‘Keira, she—“ He swallowed, trying to pull in air, enough that he could finish a damn sentence. He didn’t want to get into this, any of this. But Alex deserved to know. He knew she did. He’d barged into her life mostly uninvited and she didn’t know why there was a ranger living with her now. “Keira killed someone I cared about.” His voice was a low whisper, barely audible over the sizzling onions and garlic on the stove. 

All Kaden could do was watch them shrivel up and simmer on the pan. There were a dozen other things he wanted to say, thoughts running though his mind, but his eyes stayed fixed on the onions and his mouth stayed shut.

The silence enveloped the small kitchen and Alex could feel the tension rolling off Kaden in waves. It was as if those waves were crashing right into her as the ranger carefully chose his words while she stood there assuming and preparing for the worst. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, but the young werewolf could acutely see how the counter seemed to be the only thing keeping him upright– see how his knuckles whitened as he fought an internal battle Alex knew nothing about. If she’d known, she might have felt less like the proverbial other shoe was about to drop. The first words he spoke, only left her more confused. He had to leave? What did that even mean? She barely cared about the American legal system, so she wasn’t quite sure what the state of the French legal system was. 

“You had to,” she repeated in a whisper as she tried to digest the myriad of different possibilities behind that phrase. There was pain in his voice and it broke something in Alex. Even if whatever his reason for leaving was a reason she shouldn’t trust him or believe that he could ever actually care, she didn’t want Kaden to hurt. He could leave her to the other hunters and she’d still hope for him to find peace. But then he spoke again, and though he didn’t say much, Alex could fill in the blanks. Keira killed someone he cared about– the only reason Keira would kill someone is if they also weren’t human. From her fuzzy memories of summers in France and the few training camps Andy and herself had been at with Keira, she had always been intense. Competitive to a fault, often kicking Andy’s ass in the process. Even when practicing with Alex who was a good decade younger than her, she didn’t hold back and reminded her that a monster would never take it easy on her. There was probably some sense of familial duty there, but Alex had always preferred Kaden because of it. Even with the haze of young memories, she could remember the feeling of Kaden being more helpful and patient with her gaping lack of skill. 

And Alex felt her heart break for him. For everything else they’d gone through in life, Alex and Andy always had each other. Even when she was wrong, she knew she could count on Andy to support her and she hoped her sister knew that was something that went both ways. And someone was dead, someone Kaden was clearly still grieving. She could see in the ways he couldn’t take his eyes away from the onions crackling in the oil, in the way his shoulders seemed to slump as if the weight of it all threatened to crush him at any given moment. Any sense of doubt she possessed before about whether or not she could let her guard down with Kaden was quickly slipping away. 

Words were just as hard for her to find, so instead, she closed the distance between them and took the place by his side, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Alex couldn’t remember if they’d ever hugged before. The Durands and Langleys weren’t exactly known for their affectionate family dynamic, but whatever image of the perfect hunter family they had in mind could burn for all she cared in that moment. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, squeezing him tighter for a moment before letting him go, “You don’t have to– The math’s mathing.” 

Her own words felt far away from her because Alex knew there were no words that made loss or betrayal hurt any less. In comparison, her insecurities seemed miniscule. Part of her still had to know for sure, though. “You cared about someone like me,” she offered plainly, “Which…” She stepped away, not entirely understanding it— caring for a monster. “Kind of answers my other question. You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want to.” 

Kaden didn’t notice her move, didn’t notice her hands wrapping around him until he felt the jolt of his hunter senses combined with the pressure of the hug. It was unfamiliar. Not just the hunter senses, either. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged anyone, not really. Sure, Damien, maybe but… His mind drifted to a memory of his sister, clinging to him when they’d learned about their father, before so many things changed. This was different and not, all at the same time. He was frozen for a second, unsure of how to respond initially to such a foreign concept, but then his arms found their place around her, too. 

For all the talk of family and its importance between his mother and sister, there was always something missing. A chink in the armor that he could never find and didn’t know how to patch up. Whatever it was, he felt it there in Maine with his cousins. The missing piece. Maybe it was acceptance. He couldn’t say. But he could feel it all the same. Somehow the word family had a different meaning in the cabin. One he liked a lot more. Even if things were still new – everyone still finding their footing after years apart. 

Looking down at her standing across from him, he couldn’t help but smile. She was smart. Which he already knew but she’d put the pieces together without him saying damn near anything. He felt something prick at the corner of his eyes, but he didn’t want to dive too much into those emotions. Not again. “Not sure what mat has to do with it but I did, yeah,” he said, reaching out to ruffle her hair. The scent of the onions hit his nose. Merde. He reached over to push them around the pan quickly before turning his attention back to Alex. “See, you’re not that special, pipsqueak.” Of course he was only teasing. She was definitely special. Her and Andy both were. “But I can tell you more. If you want to know.” She deserved that much. 

Something had been solidified when Kaden embraced her in return. There was still so much time to make up for, but even in the sadness she felt for her cousin, Alex could feel the previously weak family ties strengthening in the moment of affection. And she could feel that sense of family becoming thoroughly woven into place, like a warm quilt wrapping around all her doubts and comforting each one.

“Only if you’re sure,” she paused, stirring the pot of noodles that seemed to be turning out okay this go round, “Would you mind telling me about them? What they were like, how you were able to get to know them.” See them as not a monster. 

She wasn’t sure if she was asking for Kaden or for herself. On the one hand, talking about the people you lost and keeping their memories alive could make the weight feel less heavy. Her own memories of her parents had been difficult to sort through. Sometimes, she was able to at least question if she really deserved the treatment they doled out to her as a child, but it was too muddied in grief. Andy never actively discouraged her bringing up their parents, but she was intuitive enough to pick up that her sister did not enjoy speaking of them. So, Alex tried to stay quiet. Her sister had done far too much for her already.  

On the other, something about this other werewolf had to have been special. So much so that Kaden had been able to look past everything that had been instilled in them both from the moment they were born. Presumably, he had seen something good and worth caring for in someone he was supposed to hate– and she desperately wanted to know what that was, if it was something that she could embody too. No matter how much Andy encouraged and uplifted her, Alex couldn’t see it in herself. 

“If it’s too soon,” she reassured gently, “or too hard to talk about. That’s okay, too. I’d still… like to know one day. Maybe honor their memory with you.” Mentally, she was already carving space in one of the little nooks in her garden to make that happen. Give him the memorial and space for remembrance she doubted was granted when he fled Lyon.

Kaden nodded and took a deep breath before focusing his attention back on the onions. He wanted to answer her question, but he knew he had to keep his focus elsewhere to even consider tapping into that part of his memory. He did his best to keep it all locked up, key tucked away safe and sound. He didn’t think he would be unlocking it so soon. The longer he looked at the onions, turning brown and sweet, the harder it was to reach in and pull out the memories. She was right. It was a good idea to remember him. For more than the last time he saw him, too.

“He wasn’t a werewolf when I met him,” he started, pushing the onions around with the spatula, making sure none of them stuck to the pan. “Damien. His name was Damien.” He sort of wished the onions were fresher, still just chopped. Maybe then he could use that as an excuse for the stinging in his eyes. “He, uh, he was my best friend.” That was what he’d always said, at least. It was the narrative he’d held onto. Even though there were moments where he wondered if— No, he really couldn’t reach into that part of it all. Wondering if there was more there. There probably had been. At least on his side. Not that any of that mattered now. 

“I, uh, I had gone on a hunting trip and when I came back, I could sense him.” He caught sight of Alex out of the corner of his eye. “You know. Like…” Like how he could sense her all the time. He shrugged. “And I… I never said anything.” The onions were done. Which was unfortunate. His distraction was gone. He reached over to turn off the burner and then removed the pan, placing it on the back burner. “About any of it. What he was. What I was.” He took another deep breath, trying to steady himself. He pinched his eyes closed, rejecting the memory that resurfaced over and over again, while he was awake, while he was asleep, too many times to count. He wanted to hold on to something else. Anything else. 

Grief heavily coated the air of the little kitchen they stood in. Alex could feel and hear the strain in his voice— could feel a small portion of the weight that had been saddling Kaden down likely since before he fled Lyon. She wished she could carry the weight in its entirety, take it off Kaden’s shoulders and make it her own so that he could know peace. It took someone special to be able to see a monster and love them anyway; it was a kindness Andy possessed that had always perplexed her, but she clung to the love and care her sister gave her anyway. And it felt wrong to think of Damien as a monster. It challenged her view of herself, which was comforting and terrifying in the same breath. Worse yet, her hope felt selfish and made her feel more like the monster she couldn’t bring herself to see Damien as. 

“Damien,” she said softly, “What was he like?” It was difficult for Alex to picture Kaden’s life in France outside of the small view she had gotten of it during trips with their family, all of which was laced in duty and pride rather than anything else. Even if she spent years wishing she was like the rest of her family, that she hadn’t been the defective kid with no ranger abilities, it was nice to think of Kaden’s life over there as having moments that were softer than all of that. When he smiled, it carried a certain amount of warmth that she never wanted to see ice over. Even in the throes of grief and likely a lot of his entire world being shifted around, there was a certain softness to him— a harsh contrast from the knives they were apparently born to wield. 

Alex removed the noodles from the stove and dumped them in the colander that she had placed in the sink earlier. Steam rose from the sink behind her as she turned to face Kaden again. There were a lot of blanks, a lot of smaller details that she searched his features for if only to save him the pain of poking at a still fresh wound. If he hadn’t told Damien about everything before Keira had killed him, it must have been recent. Kaden never even had the chance to fully dissect how he was feeling about the situation before the metaphorical rug had been pulled out from underneath him. She placed a hand on his back, not quite high enough to reach his shoulder, but close enough that she knew the intent was there. Comfort. “It’s not your fault,” she assured, “You know that, right? It was an impossible situation. There was no winning there and that’s not your fault.” 

Kaden put his hands on the edge of the counter. He was pretty sure that was the only thing keeping him from crumbling, from letting the tides of sorrow carry him away. Still, he wanted to share with Alex, wanted to leave her with something positive and not just throw his own baggage onto her. That was his weight to carry. She was too young to have to worry about his bullshit. 

Damien. Kaden could feel the air filling his lungs as he breathed in and tried to ground himself. How to describe someone with words who seemed more like a feeling in his memories. He tried to think, his focus going fuzzy as he tried to move past the worst memories onto the good. “He was funny,” he said with a small smile as he reminisced. “A little goofy, but not in that way that drew attention to himself or anything. More like he made sure things were inviting I guess.” Of course, Kaden could hardly take his eyes off him half the time regardless. 

“Generous. Warm. Calm. Sometimes frustratingly so. Nothing bothered him. He cared about things, don’t get me wrong. Deeply. Just didn’t let anxiety eat at him or anything. Could always steer things in a better direction.”He looked over and watched her deal with noodles, which looked much better than the previous attempt. They might even have a meal after all this. Right, there was more to deal with for the sauce. He should actually get started on that. 

“I don’t know, I met him at a bar when aa Olympique Lyonnais match was on and it felt like I’d known him for years after a few minutes.” Kaden kept his hands busy, grabbing the rest of the ingredients for the sauce and getting to work, moving without thinking. “He was yelling at one of the ref’s calls or something, I don’t know, but he was animated. He wasn’t that loud or anything, but some old man told him to quiet down and instead of getting angry, he just started to apologize to the guy in a whisper. The guy couldn’t hear him and after a few times of trying to make it out he asked him to be louder.” Kaden laughed at the memory. “So he yelled back that he was sorry and the guy got angry all over again. Damien bought him a beer and turned to me and asked if I wanted to get out of there and find a better bar.” A smile spread across his face, remembering how many nights they had like that, simple and stupid and moments he’d give anything to relive one last time. “We did, talked all night, closed out the second bar.”

Kaden shifted his focus entirely on the last steps of the sauce, afraid that allowing himself to live in the memories any longer would split open a seam that he couldn’t patch back together. Her hand on his back nearly made him jump, but he managed to not send any of the sauce flying. He looked at her, head tilting at her words. The smile that had faltered earlier slowly found its way back to his face. “You sound just like your sister, you know.” He set the spoon down and reached over to ruffle her hair. “She told me the exact same thing.” 

Everything was still raw and Alex could tell by the way he leaned most of his weight into his hands on the countertop. Loss was tricky, tough to navigate, but sometimes remembering the better moments made it easier, especially when the death was under such presumably violent circumstances. She shook away the blurry images of her parents being torn from limb to limb while Andy dragged her away. Because that wasn’t how you wanted to remember someone. What Kaden had told her of Damien though? Those were the kind of memories worth keeping alive and holding close. 

“He sounds like an amazing guy,” Alex said softly, “And I’m sure he was really happy to have a friend in you.” Because Damien did sound amazing and not at all like a monster, which made it harder for her to justify the use of the word for all werewolves, herself included. The story of how they met had been a funny one– warm, even. All of those things about Damien hadn’t magically shifted away when he became a werewolf. Maybe that meant the good in her wasn’t gone either, but it was hard to figure out what good there had even been in her before the bite.

Alex started to lay out the bottom row of noodles in the pan and tried to picture Damien in her mind. Something about the story of how they met almost sounded like a meet-cute you’d read about in some romance novel and she couldn’t help but wonder if there were deeper feelings there. She wasn’t going to press on that though. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet him,” she finally said. And she was. She wanted to know Damien, wanted to find comfort in the presence of another werewolf and well… if Kaden loved him, maybe she could have felt at peace in his company, too. 

The hand ruffling her hair took her by surprise and Alex let out a quiet gasp before a smile took its place. It was weird being compared to her sister in a positive way. When they were kids, her parents had always drilled in her how far Andy had been ahead of her at her age. To hear that she sounded like Andy, who she had always looked up to and who had been the benchmark kid of the family, felt good. “Huh,” she laughed, “Guess wisdom runs in the family.” She gave him a playful nudge. “Well, at least on our side.” 

“He is. Was.” Kaden corrected himself. It had been a while since he had to do that, even in his mind. It was hard for him to believe that Damien was lucky for knowing him, though. If they’d never met, maybe he’d still be alive. Then again, maybe it would have been worse and he would have died at Kaden’s own hand on a full moon. Either way, it wasn’t worth wandering into the what ifs. “I’m sorry, too,” he said, offering her a smile. “He’d have liked you. For sure. I can already see you two getting into trouble. Or at least giving me grief.” The thought of his two lives overlapping had never occurred to him – it seemed impossible for them to coexist. But now that it had, his heart ached at what could have been. He exhaled and tried to push it from his mind – it could never happen. Not anymore. 

It was easy enough to stay in the present when he saw Alex’s shock at her hair being messed up. As much as he would give anything to have his friend back, it would have been a shame if he never found himself in Wicked’s Rest, if he’d missed out on reconnecting with his cousins. “Yeah probably,” he said, nudging her back. “But I think the cooking ability runs in my side.” He grabbed the sauce pan and started to help her build up the layers of sauce and cheese on top of the noodles. “You make a good sous chef, though, pipsqueak. You know, when you’re not setting the place on fire.” The chill down his spine signaling his hunter senses had faded into the background by this point, almost like a faint humming in the background. It was the same strange feeling of comfort he’d felt when he’d spent time around Damien in the last few months. He knew it was meant to be a reminder of the presence of danger, a warning signal, but there in the cabin, it felt like warmth, home, family – a reminder of Alex’s presence, that she was there. And it was hard to hate that feeling. “Alright, let’s get this into the oven so we’re not just having that pie for dinner.” 

[canis-or-cannotis-lycaon]

TIMING: A Few weeks ago LOCATION: About the Town PARTIES: Alan @alan-duarte & Gael @lithium-argon-wo-l-f SUMMARY: Gael and Alan chance into each other at a bookstore and they explore what similarities they have that connect them. CONTENT WARNINGS: cheating mentions, drugs mentions

“I just … It never quite looks realistic enough. You have no idea how much supplies I have thrown away out of sheer disappointment,” the clerk didn’t seem to know a whole lot about modelism and Alan was submerged with regrets while the other attempted to come up with a solution Alan already had tried. The answer, unsurprisingly, didn't come from that guy, but from a voice behind. “Anyway…” He didn’t like when people were so nosy they interrupted someone’s personal conversation. He frankly hated that. Turning toward the intruder, the realtor frowned, and the more he thought about it, the more his eyebrows furrowed. That could work, actually. 

“That’s… smart,” a bit more technical than what he was used to coming up with, quite frankly. “Are you also into dioramas and model making ?”  ______________ Why were all these books derivative? Gael was looking for a hobby, not a lullaby, which was all most of these books had to offer him. He rolled his eyes, already having wasted too much time in one area when he could be anywhere else actually reading and just picked one up - it seemed to be about crocheting, of all things. Whatever, maybe he could donate it to the school library. He made his way to wherever the line was and as he approached, he found a man in an active, if one-sided discussion with the beleaguered clerk, though Gael’s unusual hearing could pick up the conversation before he saw them. From what he gathered, there was an attempt to make a simulated fire for a… model or something, he was just guessing and he had half a mind to leave himself out of it but he felt for the clueless employee and he gave a noncommittal shrug, speaking loudly enough to make himself heard behind the duo. “I, uh… recommend a silicon bi-pin lamp with a dominant wavelength of 605nm,” He suggested, leaning slightly and keeping his dark eyes on the back of the stranger who at first seemed to shrug him off before acknowledging what he said. Gael straightened back up as the man turned and asked him about the subject material - so he was right. “I hadn’t really thought about it before,” He admitted casually. “I constructed a model RBMK-1000 Reactor for a presentation on Chernobyl once but I don’t know if that would qualify.” ______________

“Oh you just came up with a solution on the spot then,” there wouldn’t be any awards held for being incredibly responsive, Alan hoped the other was aware of that. His gratitude and respect were, however, worth more than an Oscar. They were rare. “Haven’t meddled with electricity in a bit, though I suppose I’ll have to bring the soldering iron out of the closet again,” the clerk was standing right next to them, and Alan could tell from the held up, weak index , that he was wishing he could vanish or be just anywhere else. “I think I’m good, thank you so much,” for nothing. With a warm smile, he watched the younger man walk off. The werewolf wondered what this guy specialized in, before deciding he didn’t really care. Some people just were useless from start to finish.

“So you do know a thing or two about model making,” this man, however, seemed to know things. That was a lot more valuable. “It wouldn’t be my first pick, but you know, to each their own, right?” A nuclear reactor really wasn’t his idea of a good subject, but the same could have been said about the many planes he had sitting on shelves in his basement. He started out with those, but they were now all in cardboard boxes, getting forgotten. “You said a lamp with… That wavelength, is it a color thing, or …” High school was far away, but he remembered a thing or two from his physics classes. You had to be good at it to be in the air force, although mechanical sciences were more deeply anchored than optical ones. “I’ll need it to flicker. Maybe a transistor could do the job, what do you think?” A pause. “I don’t want to hoard your time, of course. If you have better things to do…” He trailed off. “Yeah, I really don’t want to hold your leg man, you’ve already done your good deed,” he smiled, yet something about his eyes seemed to carry hope and was silently begging him to have no life outside of helping him out.  ______________ The stranger was blunt in his response and opinionated to boot but he hadn’t dismissed Gael yet so the latter figured he must’ve done something right. Or at least not wrong. “A transistor might work but I think you’d be better with, like, a diode to give it that flicker effect,” He replied, setting the book down and placing his hands in his pockets and keeping his gaze on the model-maker. He quirked an eyebrow as the other man seemed to give him an impression of wanting to continue this conversation - either that or Gael had gotten worse at reading people. Either way, he got some hint (though whether or not it was the right one was to be determined) and he gave another small half-shrug. “I literally have nothing better to do,” He removed a hand and gestured to the crochet book he picked up out of boredom. “Gael, by the way,” That same hand reached out in an initiation for a handshake from the stranger.  ______________ “Mmm, maybe,” crossing his arms over his chest, Alan reflected on his options. There wasn’t much he could do now other than try it out now. His gaze went toward the book in the other man’s hands. Crocheting. Not the most common hobby, but who was he to judge? “Crocheting and electronics isn’t a combo you often see,” he commented with a light smile. Holding out his hand to shake, Alan introduced himself as well. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Alan.” 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” not that he knew everyone, but having been born here, raised here, and having lived here most of his life gave him the sizable advantage when it came to knowing folks : 6 degrees of separation and whatnot. “Anyhow, I’m… have you played Dark Souls?” He paused, “I’m doing the campfire, hence the need for a flickering fire,” he explained. “I haven’t played in ages, I probably couldn’t beat the first boss these days,” he scoffed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Anyhow, you wanna help me find that diode ? That clerk seemed a bit lost…”  ______________ Alan. Gael wondered as he ran the name through in his head a few times if he knew who this guy was in passing but ultimately concluded that he most likely hadn’t, at least not consciously. “Oh yeah, I moved here a few months ago at the start of the semester,” He explained, putting his hand back in his pocket. There was a pause as the model-maker named Alan asked him about Dark Souls and he had to rack his brain for a moment. “I have not played Dark Souls,” He admitted. “BUT I can help you find that diode; that shouldn’t be a problem.” Regardless of the reason, he wasn’t one to turn down a challenge. “You haven’t, like, checked online for it, though, right? There’s a lot of kits that might have what you’re looking for without the hassle of running around trying to find it.” He suggested.  ______________ “Semester?” Only two categories of people spoke in semesters: professors and students. If people could go back to college at any moment of their life, he doubted this guy was a student. “You teach at the University? I did a conference there last semester,” a pause. “For the business students. I’m a local business owner,” Alan scratched a spot behind his ear absent-mindedly, feigning humility. He had none, but that was apparently unbecoming. 

“Aw, you’re missing out. It’s hard, I’m not gonna lie, but…” He trailed off. He used to play those games with his first husband, though Rafael was always a lot better at them than Alan ever was.

“You’re in electronics? Engineering?” He tried to guess, as he tagged along down the aisle. “I suppose so. I’m not huge on Amazon, but there’s also the hardware store if…” He trailed off. “Yeah, Whitlocks might have it. It’s a 5 minute walk though,” he pursed his lips. “I can offer payment in drinks at the bar, or guided tours of the town,” both would be an introvert’s nightmare, he supposed, but there was a chance the guy was sociable enough if he had the nerve to interrupt a conversation to offer help.  ______________ “Oh, yeah. I teach chemistry.” Gael replied, keeping his gaze on Alan with a sense of curiosity in his tired, yet energetic eyes. He put a pin in the part where the other man said that he owned a business; he was sure to mention it later. “And I do suppose there’s no better teacher of business than someone who owns one,” he added. He paused, noting that Alan trailed off and he wondered if the latter had some memory that kept him from finishing what apparently made Dark Souls so great because if they were going off that brief explanation, Gael wasn’t really sold on “you’re missing out, this game is hard”. As far as he was concerned though, it was small talk that sprung from the model thing so he didn’t think too much about it. “I’ll pass on the game and take your word for it but I certainly won’t say no to a drink,” He agreed. “I’m guessing you’re from around here if you’re willing to offer a tour in exchange for a diode.” ______________ A chemistry teacher at UMWC named Gael. Monty’s words echoed in Alan’s memory then. It couldn’t possibly have been anyone else but this guy. He had promised he’d be discreet about it, and Alan liked to think that he was good with people, when he wanted to be. “Pardon me, but I think I might have heard of you through a common friend,” he pointed out. He lowered his voice. “The man from the farm?” It wasn’t the most comfortable conversation to have. Alan had been through this too, and he didn’t like it then. He sure didn’t like it now. 

“I’m from around here, yeah,” he nodded along, motioning the other to tag along. “My family has been in the region for three generations already, so I suppose you can say I know the area like the back of my hand,” mostly the real estate market, mostly the woods. He avoided certain areas religiously. Yeah, you could say he knew the town well. “Since you won’t say no, I’ll take this as a yes.” ______________ Alan motioned for Gael to follow so he did, but not before his brain seemed to bounce the words the other man had said around in his head longer than he’d have liked. Common friend, ‘man from the farm’? His mind put two and two together rather quickly; this must’ve been the aforementioned princesa that Monty told him about, the snooty friend who Monty spoke fondly of! His mind buzzed with questions but he didn’t want to make it seem like he wasn’t listening to the rest of what Alan had said. So, he instead brought up the second part of the new conversation first. “Three generations?” Gael repeated. “So you’re part of the old blood of the town.” He wondered why he’d never heard the name before but then again, he didn’t know Alan’s last name so for all he knew he might’ve, just in passing. “That means you have insider knowledge on where to get the best coffee and you won’t take me somewhere soul-crushingly disappointing.” He laughed as the duo walked though it didn’t last long and it tapered into Gael turning his head to look curiously, if a little mournfully, at Alan. “You’re… the one Monty told me about, aren’t you?” It was Gael’s turn to lower his voice. “The uh… the other one who sleepwalks.” The professor knew that sleepwalking wasn’t a new concept but he hadn’t had anyone to talk to about it before aside from Monty, and even then, he couldn’t help but get the idea that Monty had something possibly even worse than him. Possibly. His wasn’t–  ______________

“Oh, I suppose you could say that,” there were a lot of families who had been here longer, but the Duartes could pride themselves on being true locals, if that was even something to be proud of. They should have prided themselves on having no one in the family disappear mysteriously, after living in this town for a whole century now. Alan would have been the first to fall this way, he realized. Somehow, he survived. Perhaps he shouldn’t have. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to. “Oh you bet, I won’t be taking you to Starbucks, that’s for sure,” he assured him with a pat on his back. 

“Well, yes,” he set his hand back in his pocket, offering the other a slight smile at the mention of sleepwalking. Yeah, he had once thought about that too. It made a lot more sense than oh, maybe I turn into a wolf at night and wander off into the forest to meet my people. “I’ve been sleepwalking for about ten years now,” his smile grew, and his expression changed. There was no need to get sappy about this. Alan knew, however, that the wolf attack needed to be mentioned. “It started after I got into the woods, one evening. I was heading back home, figured it would be shorter…” He trailed off. This was, all things considered, quite the intimate thing to share, but maybe it would make things easier in the long term. And maybe he’d make friends with another member of his species too? It had been a while, and he missed having someone around who could properly relate. “Anyhow, I couldn’t see much of a thing, but a wolf attacked me that night,” he paused. “Call it trauma, or… I don’t know,” lycanthropy, “but I’ve had those sleepwalking issues ever since…” ______________ Gael listened intently, keeping his eyes on the businessman as the latter spoke about his experience. He found himself comparing what Alan was saying to his own memories or lack thereof… the night, the woods, the attack, the hospital. The way the other man spoke made it seem like– well, he had been dealing with it for ten years so surely he had a much better grasp on what it was, right? A wolf attacked Alan, but Gael couldn’t remember what had happened to him; he just assumed he was mauled by a bear that night in the woods - the scar that screwed up some of the nerves in his lower back was certainly big enough to feel like a bear. “That’s… interesting,” Gael said slowly, keeping his voice from becoming mournful as Alan didn’t speak of it as something he was still… well, not struggling but it was something he was dealing with. He had a few questions he wanted to ask, suddenly feeling as though maybe he didn’t sound quite so ridiculous to someone who had similar sleepwalking issues and Alan was surely a master of coping mechanisms by now, right? He didn’t seem so alone, and yet… The thoughts got mixed up in the chemist’s head and he frowned to himself for a moment. “Ten years?” He repeated softly. “Have you ever, I don’t know, gone to see someone about it?” He hastily added “Not that there’s anything wrong with– I mean that–” He stuttered and cleared his throat, suddenly gripped by some unfamiliar emotion. “Sorry, I didn’t think… I didn’t mean to be nosey,” He concluded awkwardly. “Uhm… Monty told me about you though,” Gael smothered the unfamiliar emotion with a grin; he wasn’t sure if this was what Alan wanted but then again, he also wasn’t sure if Alan wanted to discuss their shared condition. He wanted to ask about the blood, the bodies, the nightmares but he also didn’t want to turn their pleasant conversation into one of either discomfort or begrudging formalities. Or something. Maybe if Alan wanted to discuss it further, he could bring it up on his own terms, in his own time. But until then… “He speaks highly of you.” ______________

“Is it?” Alan’s eyebrows raised in inquiry. It was uncommon, for certain. People didn’t usually have surviving a wolf attack crossed out on their bucket list. He would have rather it never happened. His life was better when he didn’t know about all this, and yet… Would he have walked this road, met these people, if he hadn’t crossed paths with a werewolf? “Nah,” he shook his head. He had, once, but there wasn’t much the therapist could do other than try to rationalize what happened, and ask Alan all sorts of questions he wasn’t willing to tackle. 

Part of him wondered whether the therapist knew. Not once was PTSD mentioned as a cause for his blackouts, and that always seemed weird to him. He didn’t particularly want to find out if the guy knew though. He didn’t want to delve back into that part of his life. This was why he had been hesitant to help Gael out, when Monty asked him, but now that the man stood before him, Alan wondered how he could possibly do anything but that. Still, he didn’t care to elaborate about this, not now. 

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Alan’s eyebrows raised. He knew Monty had spoken to Gael about him, and he didn’t really mind it, considering the circumstances. “You’ve barely asked me any questions,” he pointed out. This much was not entirely true, but Alan figured that this was how he would get the other to ask all his questions. “C’mon, you must have questions that need answering, more important than whether I saw someone to cope with it,” he pointed out with a sympathetic smile. It was easier, pushing the attention away from oneself, in vulnerable times, but Alan was one to do that too, and he could easily spot it. 

“Monty? Of course he does, and I’ll speak highly of him too,” as it usually did at the mention of the zombie, his face lit up. “He’s a great man, and I doubt you’ll meet someone more selfless than him around town,” he affirmed. He hadn’t met everyone, but he’d stand by that statement either way.  ______________ “Yeah, he’s… there’s something about him for sure,” Gael agreed first, his expression softening as he remembered that morning. “He’s…” The man fell silent and simply caught the expression on Alan’s face - the latter, until recently, had this look that wasn’t stern but it was professional but when he brought up the cowboy, sure enough he could tell that the man was affectionate towards Monty. He was starting to wonder who wouldn’t be. Gael also wondered what questions Alan could’ve been referring to. “About… the sleepwalking,” He muttered, glancing down for a moment before his eyes regarded the businessman once more. “I think the questions I have aren’t… I don’t know, it’s–” What, hard to explain? If there was one person he could maybe explain it to, it would be Alan, another man who was found in the woods with nothing but a sleeping bag to protect his manhood. “I guess the biggest one I have is ‘how do I fix it’,” He surmised. “Though I suppose the biggest one should be ‘what’s wrong with me’.” His eyes danced on nothing in particular, as though he were reading something but it was in his head. “But that’s… I don’t know, sometimes people just sleepwalk.” He shrugged. “I got mauled by a bear one night; I remember NONE of it but I assume it just jostled something in my brain.” He glanced down again. “I’m sure I’m just overreacting. I’ve been known to do that,” Gael cast his gaze back to Alan. “You ever think that? That maybe it’s really not a big deal but something in your mind makes you think it might be?” ______________

“How do you fix it?” Yeah, that was precisely why he didn’t want to do this in the first place. He had been there, in denial, trying to figure out what was making him wake up far from his bed, exhausted and lost, wishing it to fucking stop. “You need to learn to control it, those moments where your mind slips,” he eyed him. It was all Alan could do about this : help Gael control it. This was perhaps how he’d make him aware of what he was. What’s wrong with me was a trickier question, somehow. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t be a lie to some extent. “Same thing that’s wrong with me. We got attacked by a wild animal and it changed us,” that wasn’t really the full truth, but it was all he could do right then. 

“A bear heh?” That didn’t track. It didn’t track with what Monty told him. “You remember being attacked by a bear though, I assume?” Another day, he would have to show him his scar, and perhaps that would help Gael with coming to terms with it all, but that wouldn’t be today. Alan was unable to do that today. He wasn’t sure he would be able to do that at all, and just thinking about it made his expression tarnish.

“I think it’s as big a deal as you want it to be, like everything,” you could care or choose not to give a shit, but the reality would catch up on you and bite you in the ass. “I think you should deal with it sooner than later. You don’t want someone catching you wandering around like that, huh? Not everyone’s going to react like Monty,” no, someone would try to put a bullet in him. “If you want, I can help you with that, but it’s not going to be easy,” a tiny part of him hoped he would refuse, but the guy seemed like a good man, and with werewolves being a rarity, Alan could have used someone extra to share his struggles with.  ______________ Gael paused for a long moment, listening intently to everything Alan was saying though the more he spoke, the more something started to knot up in his throat, making it hard to swallow, literally. He didn’t remember being attacked by a bear - how could he? People told him it was a dog but he wasn’t about to consider that it was a dog. What had to have happened is that the way he and Alan were attacked just… created some neurological damage to them. Short-circuiting in their brain, a psychotic defect that caused them to sleepwalk and kill things in that state. Animals, right? Just animals. He thought he liked it better before this topic of conversation came up. Control it. Control what, the parts where he falls asleep, has terrible nightmares where he prowls through the woods as some… demon, then wakes up God-knew-where, in pain, with no idea where he was. “Those are just dreams,” Gael muttered to himself. Maybe they weren’t as alike as they thought, which was fine but the thought that whatever was happening was something that he could change, something that affected him so deeply, it writhed around inside him like snakes. And then there was the part about someone else finding him and Gael realized that… Monty was the only one who had so far. Every other time this defect flared up, he’d woken up lost, hurt, as though he got pulled apart and put back together but he had also been alone. There HADN’T been a Monty or someone else. The professor, uncharacteristically, remained silent during most of this and he pulled his arms close to his stomach, folding them over each other in thought as his brow knitted. Alan offered to help but he found the connection between the help and what it was for nonexistent. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” was what Gael said first, now avoiding eye contact with the other man. “And it– it sounds like how to fix it is that I check myself into a mental ward.” He added before he could stop himself. “Alan, the way you’re talking makes it seem like we’re… I don’t know, werewolves or something.” He scoffed though he said the word itself almost completely silently. “I can’t tell you how to think or what to feel but this sounds like an issue I need medication for.” He clenched his jaw for a moment before glancing back up at Alan, his expression softening. “Sorry, I’m– sorry. I didn’t mean to… I appreciate the offer for help but…” He faltered. ______________

Alan fell silent. He didn’t really have that sort of patience in him, the sort that would allow him to just smile, shake his head gently and explain once again what he meant. He was terrible at this. Talking people into buying or selling was effortless, but things that directly concerned him? Heh. Pass. 

The realtor looked away, hands in his pockets. His gaze fell to the floor. “Just dreams, yeah.” He scoffed. This was fucked up. 

How was he supposed to let this guy know that he was never going to have a normal life ever again, that he’d never be normal? How was he supposed to tell someone that they’d been bit by a supernatural creature, and that they were now one too. 

He’d been through this before, all by himself, and he remembered just how unpleasant it had all been. Alan would force himself to shift until he could begin to control it, even if that meant forcing his bones to grow and shrink, his guts to shift in his stomach in a matter of seconds. At the same time, because he worried himself to death, wondering if one day he’d not accidentally end up mauling his husband, he’d grown further and further away from him. He’d disappear around full moons on business trips, reappear a few days later, feeling tired, filled with guilt, one that Rafael, all too human, could only associate with the worst kind of treason. 

Alan felt like crying. Though he tried not to let it show, and fought the urge to let it pour down, his lip quivered, and as he nibbled on it, he had no other choice but to look away. It was a damn good thing Gael was too damn embarrassed to even look at him. “You’re right,” he snapped. “Maybe we’re both fucking mental,” if his words came from a place of hurt, it certainly didn’t make them fair. “I’m not a damn psychiatrist. I don’t know why Monty thought I’d be able to help you with that.” This was no longer about his failed marriage then, but this creeping feeling that had been steadily rotting inside of him : how much of him had died that night? Was he the same person as before or pretending, like a kid playing house ? He was a monster now, this, he knew for a fact. He could try and save face, claim that nature didn’t build monsters, that nature didn’t care for good or bad, he didn’t feel much like a good person. “But you think I’m batshit for suggesting you could learn to live with it. Maybe you’re right.”  ______________ The two were silent, Gael trying to find the right words to smoothly transition out of whatever was happening right now to more pleasant things - ‘how is that game?’ ‘what kind of coffee do you like?’ and ‘what do you do aside from make models’ were all questions that absently floated in his brain space. However, he wasn’t anticipating when Alan suddenly reacted the way he did. Almost immediately, surprise painted Gael’s face, shortly followed by a cocktail of emotions, mixing being taken aback, a measure of anxiety and more guilt than he wanted - he had a feeling that by saying what he said, he was risking implying that Alan was the same, even if Gael didn’t think they were. “N-no, that’s not what I meant,” Gael tried to explain, his tone shifting. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that– I just…” He sighed, his pride taking a backseat. “I’m sorry. Of course you’re not mental. You’ve been dealing with this a hell of a lot longer than I have and it was wrong of me to think or assume that…” He fell silent again before giving a tired shrug. “That I would know anything about anything.” He had to think about what the best course of action would be going forward - Gael had unintentionally created a minefield, he felt, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin this potential connection with Alan or possibly even Monty for insinuating that he was wrong. “I… I don’t understand,” He said slowly, his eyes dancing on his hands that were clenching and unclenching in front of him, trying to work out the stress that suddenly accumulated inside him - a fight or flight response to the animal knowledge that he WOULD be left alone with whatever this was that Alan said. “But…” Lie. “I believe you.” Lie. “I’d like to take you on that offer for help.” He gulped. “I trust your insight.” His gaze rose and he looked at Alan, searching for that connection, the wires he unintentionally frayed in an attempt to gather them back up to salvage this. ______________ “Eleven years. I’ve been dealing with this bullshit, this fucking insane bullshit for eleven years,” he might have not been in his other form then, Alan’s eyes glimmered with a light, with a wrath akin to a dog’s. “But sure, go to the doctor, see what they have to say,” he fell quiet then. Rubbing at his face, if only to rid himself, to wash himself of his annoyance, Alan strode a few steps ahead of Gael. He wouldn’t have faulted him for walking the other way while he could. Most people didn’t particularly stand for this sort of behavior, and they were right not to. 

He walked past a bench. He turned around and went to sit there. Where was he even going, striding like that. “I wanted it to go away,” he knew the other could hear him. They had good ears, their kind. Even if he stood meters away now, of course he could hear him. “I thought it would go away, but it won’t go away,” though his words still were spoiled with angered notes, his shoulders no longer seemed so tense, and his eyes didn’t seem to be filled with thunder anymore. “You don’t believe me,” who knew? Maybe he did believe Alan. The wolf sighed, still he turned around to look Gael straight in the eye. “You will have to trust the process. It won’t be an immediate answer to your problems,” but perhaps he’d manage, and maybe through helping Gael how to get a hold of his other self, Alan would finally learn not to detest a whole side of him. ______________ Alan spoke and Gael’s gaze filled with sympathy, knitting in the middle. Eleven years. Gael hadn’t even reached one yet and he didn’t want to anymore but eleven years was sitting on the surface of his mind, simmering, taking its time to sink in and he wasn’t sure when or even if it would. Maybe they were different, maybe Alan really was a… werewolf or whatever but maybe Gael’s problem was something else…? When the other man stormed past him and went to sit on a bench, Gael turned and his gaze followed him though he himself didn’t move at first. Would it be better for him to just… leave? Leave Alan without having to entertain the chemist’s foolish notions anymore? Walk away, tell Monty that he made a mistake, that Alan wasn’t what he needed. Eleven years of sleepwalking, waking up alone, lost, wounded. Was that going to be Gael’s fate? What could Gael possibly do about this, about Alan, about anything? He should turn and walk off as Alan did, return the resentment and the bitterness. Maybe they couldn’t connect. And yet… ‘I wanted it to go away.’ More words in his head. ‘I thought it would go away.’ Alan spoke as though Gael was beside him and yet the other man remained where he was, able to hear him as though they were sitting across from each other at a table. ‘You will have to learn to trust the process’. He clenched one of his fists again, looking down at it. He noted earlier that when Alan spoke about the length of time that he’d suffered, there was this look in his eye, something that reminded Gael of himself. He exhaled and slowly, letting his shoulders droop slightly to make himself seem a little smaller, he made his way to Alan where he turned on the spot once before sitting down next to him, next to the man he didn’t know aside from the things that he felt other people didn’t know. A diode was two parts, sending the flow of energy in the same direction. “Okay.” Gael breathed, somehow knowing that at his lowest that Alan could probably hear him too. Just another side effect of the brain damage, he assumed. “Okay.” He repeated. “If you’re willing to help me then I’m with you.”  ______________ There was silence for a moment, and Alan figured Gael was going to do the only sensible thing then and leave his side. He’d tell Monty things didn’t work out, that perhaps Gael wasn’t ready yet. But the professor seemed like a genuinely good guy, and he felt bad, letting him leave without warning him about what could happen if he didn’t manage to get some sort of self control. He wasn’t sure what it was that convinced the other to trust him. Perhaps it was best not to know. 

He didn’t look at him, still he nodded. “I think it would be good for you,” a pause. “I think it might do me good too,” having someone like him to talk to would be nice, and it would give him a purpose a bit more noble than what he did for his job (not that he saw himself doing anything else). At last, he tilted his head toward Gael, and though he still bore the traces of his outburst of anger, Alan’s face seemed to have softened, and he uttered an apology he knew the other would be able to hear. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so bad at this,”  ______________ Alan chose to look at him again and Gael saw a new, if somewhat hidden, emotion under the latent anger that creased his features. While the aspect of it benefiting the chemist seemed to lighten part of the weight he felt on his shoulders nowadays, he wasn’t going to admit that the thought that it would help Alan made him much more accepting of the idea; he truly found it easier to do things for other people and as far as he was concerned, this was an issue that Alan had for much longer and it didn’t seem like he had anyone to really talk to these problems about. Then again, maybe the professor was just projecting. “You don’t need to apologize,” Gael assured just as quietly. “I shouldn’t have just… sprang any of this on you, especially when you were just out and about looking for a diode for your model.” He couldn’t help but give a half-laugh that came out as a scoff, as though highlighting the ridiculousness of how they got to be talking about what they were talking about. He cleared his throat. “But, uhm… I really appreciate your willingness to help.” ______________ “You’re still helping me out with that diode,” he gave the other a small smile, unlike his usual near-arrogant one. “No copping out,” with a scoff to match Gael’s, Alan gave the other werewolf a pat on the shoulder as he stood back up. “C’mon, let’s go get that drink, then we can figure out when to start working on that sleep walking nonsense,” he’d never been one for beating around the bush, he didn’t have the patience for that. In the end, all that mattered was that Gael agreed to get some help. Alan was both excited and anxious with the perspective of helping him find out what he was. It would be nice to have someone like him to be around, it would be devastating to see Gael lose his mind as he realized what his life would now be like now. Alan could only hope the latter would never come to be, but in the end, it was yet another aspect of life that he would have no grasp on. 

[nana-mizu-shiki]

I'm thinking about writing a DPxDC fic, this is a pic from page five, so I'm just asking if you think,

"Soul-selling, cracked-core, sewage-smelling, contract whore."

Would be a fitting insult Danny would give to Constantine.