#you heard it here first... ash is writing spooky things

[lightseoul]

hi! please could you do number 7 with the mc having a ghost-related quirk??

decided to quickly write this one just in time for halloween! i hope y'all enjoy this little piece amidst the boop war we all find ourselves in right now lol. thank you for playing n have a nice day <3

(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)

7. "THE GHOSTS WOULD DISAGREE WITH YOU." (1.3k)

“you’re a fucking weirdo, you know that?”

you don’t even look up from the churro you’re munching on, opting to ignore the ash-blonde sitting right next to your left.

“what,” he continues, and if you didn’t know any better, he’s starting to sound a little annoyed. “you’re not even gonna defend yourself?”

what you’re not about to do is tell him you’ve heard that taunt over and over again growing up, lest you end up seeming pitiful, which you aren’t.

so you merely shrug. “i don’t see the point. i know it’s not true.”

at that, you finally glance at the man, who’s looking nothing short of speechless under the dim light of the lounge that’s decked out with ‘spooky’ embellishments.

cute is the first thing that comes to mind.

he just fucking insulted you is the next.

still, you can’t help the smile that takes over your features. “you’re the weird one, anyway. why would you say that to your date?”

bakugou promptly breaks eye contact, choosing to stare at the human skeleton that’s conveniently parked at the corner of the room. you follow his line of vision, and you have to stop yourself from snorting at the sight.

the people manning this haunted house-themed attraction sure took budget decorating to the next level.

beside you, the pro-hero huffs. “i’m only saying that because this is your idea of a good first date,” he gestures vaguely to your surroundings, an incredulous expression on his face as he tosses you a pointed look. “a horror escape room? really?”

“what?” you say, trying to sound the slightest bit defensive for the sake of it. “it gives us plenty of excuses to get closer.”

whatever bakugou expected you to say in response, it surely wasn’t that.

the man only splutters, quickly diverting his gaze and plopping back against his seat with his muscled arms folded across his broad chest like a petulant child.

he then mutters something that you wouldn’t have caught for the life of you if it weren’t for the thing.

you grin.

“you wanted me to latch onto you for safety? you could’ve just said so.”

almost instantaneously, bakugou whips to stare at you, an absolutely horrified expression etched all over his face.

“what the fuck?”

you flash him the most innocent look you can muster. “what?”

he’s now glaring at you, but there’s no missing the redness that has crept up the high planes of his cheeks. he opens his mouth as if to say something but hesitates. he tries again, gaze fixated on you for a couple more seconds until he shakes his head in disbelief.

“…there’s no fucking way.”

you shrug again, but bakugou only stares at you, eyes squinting in suspicion. “unless…”

and, in a blink of an eye you almost could’ve missed it if you weren’t staring at him yourself, you see profound realization dawn on his features.

you gulp despite yourself.

“you have a fucking quirk?”

the truth must have been written all over your exterior, because the man leans back in slow motion like the way one would when faced with a relatively shocking revelation.

you rub at the back of your neck, suddenly feeling too self-conscious. this was the part that always made you feel uncomfortable, no matter what the context.

but especially during a first date.

“i never said i was quirkless…”

“yeah, no shit,” he retorts, not missing a single bit. “what is it, superior hearing or something?”

you shake your head slowly, “no, but it does make me privy to things that i don’t perceive with my own senses.”

bakugou’s eyebrows furrow in what you think is confusion. “what else?”

“uh—” you pause, eyes drifting down to your fiddling fingers, “—i can also levitate, be invisible, and permeate through things.”

when he doesn’t say anything for a moment, you finally chance a glance at the man, and he’s looking honest-to-god gagged.

pro-hero dynamight is fucking gagged and it’s because of you.

before he can get a word in, though, you quickly follow it up with: “but they make me so nauseous that i can barely pull them off. they’re useless, really.”

when you’re met with nothing but silence, you continue.

“i know,” you chuckle, although it comes out awkward and stilted. “it’s weird. you’re right, after all. i was just messing with you.”

more silence.

not knowing what else to do or say, you take a huge bite of your pastry, although you’re far from hungry, stomach now churning in embarrassment.

you’re in the middle of chewing the remnants of your last bite when bakugou finally speaks up.

now, you’ve heard about how the #9 pro-hero, despite his aggression and temper and generally unpleasant personality, is exceptionally intelligent, perceptive, and intuitive, but you never really thought much about it.

not even when you found out a few hours earlier that the blind date your friends set you up with was your distant superior dynamight himself.

and while you always had a thing for capable men, you didn’t want to fall early and hard lest you hurt yourself in the process. so you merely pushed back against the prejudices and expectations you had of him, and decided to just observe the person who was actually in front of you for the rest of your date.

but when he says the next thing, everything you’ve heard about him suddenly makes sense.

“…so it’s a ghost quirk.”

you don’t even get the opportunity to choke on your churro or gape at him because bakugou shakes his head so fervently, before: “that’s such a fucking waste.”

“e-excuse me?”

at your query, he locks eyes with you. “you have a strong-ass quirk, yet you’re working in admin for us. you could be doing more.”

a thousand questions fight to escape your lips, but what manages to emerge victorious is: “how’d you know i’m working admin for ground riot?”

bakugou scowls at you, but again, there’s that scarlet on his cheeks. he doesn’t answer your question, though, instead going for: “that’s your fucking takeaway?”

you shrug, not knowing what else to say. “i know my quirk is strong. but i was always made to feel like i was weird and creepy for it growing up—and until now, actually, which is why i don’t really talk about it—so i just learned not to use it.”

“well, most of it,” you add, and bakugou cocks his head to the side in question.

you take a shaky inhale.

“…ghosts still choose to talk to me.”

“that how you pick up on things beyond your five senses?”

you try not to gawk at him and at how fast he put two and two together. “…yeah.”

neither of you says anything for a few moments before bakugou finally shifts in his seat, rolling his shoulders back.

as he does so, he pipes up with: “well, i guess they’re not always accurate, though.”

you frown. although you rarely use your quirk, you still pride yourself in your capacity. “what do you mean?”

at that, bakugou turns to regard you, an unidentifiable expression on his face. “i did not want you to latch onto me.”

this time, you really can’t help it. you snort, and that grants you a glower from the pro-hero. you take it in stride, though, waving him off.

“sure, big guy.”

“don’t—” he sits up, “fucking—i’m serious—”

“yeah, but the ghosts—” he throws you a punch, which you dodge, “would disagree—” you dodge another, “ with you—” he barely misses you, “—though,” you finally finish.

and really, you don’t even need your trusty ghosts to know that—the blush that’s taken over the entirety of his face is all the proof you need.

[mareenavee]

WIP Whenever!

O but it still counts as Wednesday for a few more moments.

I was tagged by the unsurpassable @thequeenofthewinter, @dirty-bosmer and @ladytanithia!

I tag in turn the invincible @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @kookaburra1701, @gilgamish, @elfinismsarts, @miraakulous-cloud-district, @nuwanders, @saltymaplesyrup, @archangelsunited, and @polypolymorph!! AND YOU. If you've not been tagged, consider yourself tagged now. I've tagged you. (:

I have had a lot of chaos this week and did a bunch more editing than writing, but some words did go on the page.

Without further ado here is a very WIP slice of chapter 29 of The World on Our Shoulders. Some of you have seen some of this already (:

(Minor amounts of spooky contained herein.)

When Teldryn slept, it was with the same unease that had settled over the entirety of Tel Mithryn since his return with Nyenna. He wasn’t sure, most of the time, if the shadows he was seeing were real or imagined. In one instance, as he lay on his bedroll in the main room of the tower, figures seemed to inch through the darkness toward him, like Dremora or goblins or something worse. He heard them haunting, stalking — heard the rattling breaths of hunched over forms, faceless when they turned to the light. Saw a gleam of gold, perhaps, or the flutter of crimson fabric, tattered by untold ages. Felt clawed hands reaching out for his neck, the gale of blighted winds, laced with sulfur and ash, burning as he’d breathe in. He’d been paralyzed, powerless to stop it as they advanced. He couldn’t quite see them, but they were there. They were real. And not. As was the memory of a keening wail, Nyenna’s, from before she woke from her condition. As was the deep, rumbling laugh and the beating of an unnatural heart. He’d tried to escape, to end the nightmare, but he could not move. And so he’d let the shadows take him as he’d always done. As he’d still do. He knew, deep down, they’d be back. They always would.

He did finally wake, terror past, but still too close. He wasn’t sure of the time, but even Neloth had wandered somewhere else — likely the tower with his precious library. He glanced back, and found Nyenna to be gone. There was a moment of panic before he remembered, then a sinking feeling of dread as he closed his eyes. The echo overwhelmed at first until the sound of it became less foreign. Light like threads of gold trailed off in the darkness until they formed a whole person in the distance. Nyenna was up on the dock where the silt strider traders stopped, off the west tower. For a moment, he felt nauseous knowing this as clearly as he did. It was almost like reading someone’s mind. Intrusive, in its own way.

Teldryn stood and stretched. Nyenna’s things were scattered over the chairs and nightstand; he hadn’t noticed it all before. Her cloak was gone, as was her mask. But the rest remained. He sighed and took a moment to put everything back, then hefted both of their bags over his shoulder.

The plan was to catch the traders and barter for passage back to Raven Rock. Neloth insisted she not make the journey on foot, and this was the best compromise. She refused to take another Teleportation spell cast by his hand, though the rejection had been in her usual gentle tone. Teldryn knew Neloth had been thoroughly put in his place by the events of the last two weeks, but he had not found it in himself to apologize to her directly. It’d be years of working through it before he’d say anything, if he could manage at all. But the offer was a good first step. He couldn’t blame her, though, for not trusting him. Not after everything. As often as not, he did make it rather impossible.

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

scary scenario - locked in a doomsday bunker (actual doomsday or not, up to you)

Oh my goodness, I have truly enjoyed writing this one out, first of all. Second of all, I’m so so so so sorry that it’s not posted until now! I’ve been sick and then I just took a lot of time to recharge because it drained me being sick I guess? Anyway, yeah... I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing this.

Spoiler alert, this will have a second part. Because someone else sent me something interesting for Roman Reigns with a similar theme, so I just kinda tied them together, I hope that’s okay??

Anyway, let’s get to it.

Warnings:

Uhh.. mentions of a severe injury? Mentions of a zombie apocalypse... Uhh... ya’ll this one is actually pg-13. Idk how the second part will fare in comparison yet, because I have to figure out just how much time has passed between this part and that one.. But I hope to have it posted soon! Kids can stay for now.

Tagging:

@kyleoreillysknee

@missjenniferb

@rampagewriting

@writertoo18

@thatnerdwriter

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@waywardwrestlewritingwaif

@sassymox

@hungmanhorsecarriage

@wardl0w

@ryantaylorgirl

@wrestlingthot

@MAFIADADDYPAULHEYMAN

@UNABASHEDWRESTLEFICS

@aewhore

@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch

@hotyeehawman

@gabbynorth98

@bec0m

Other Stuff:

[ masterlist - about page - tag doc ] FROM NOW ON... if you’re not on the tag doc and you haven’t reached out to me to be tagged, you will not be tagged. So.. Be sure to add yourself if you think you might want to be tagged in future things.

I’ve forgotten the last time I felt sunlight or a cool breeze against my skin. This bunker is so well protected that honestly, I can’t remember the last time I’ve even felt affected by the world outside of it. 

And honestly?

I could go on without ever going up top. But, my supplies are dwindling and I’ve done all I can to make each thing stretch. 

I sighed and started to don all my protective gear, finishing with the gas mask. Given that I don’t know what’s going on up there, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

I’d just grabbed my machete and I was strapping it to my leg when the light by the door went red and my alarms started to go off. In a panic, I froze. Seconds felt like hours. I could feel each shaky breath as it left my body, but I stood there, still frozen, still staring at the door.

Then the knocking started. Followed by a man’s firm commands.

“Open up.”

,, yeah, how about fuck you, nope.” I thought to myself. I didn’t say anything, though. I think I thought that if I stayed silent, my intruder might go away. My silence only seemed to make the man more persistent.

“I know someone’s in there. I’ve seen you comin and goin. Now I’m gonna count to 3…” something about the firmness in his voice had me tensing slightly. I reached down, unstrapping the machete from my thigh and I took a few more shaky breaths.

He tried another tac.

“C’mon, open the door. I swear I’m not going to hurt you, okay?”

,, No, you’ll just nom on my brains. If this new breed of zombies weren’t nearly functional…” the thought that maybe I’d trust him more if the zombies up there were your stereotypical grunting dumb fuckers went unfinished. 

The heavy metal handle on the door began rattling and the door was shaking a little. It had me tensing up even more and now, it wasn’t just because of the man’s smooth and calming, yet totally firm voice.

“Okay! Alright! Goddamn.” I shouted out when the alarm and the door being beaten on and nearly rattled right off it’s hinges finally got to me to a point where I simply couldn’t take it anymore. I waited until I was sure if he heard me or not. The rattling stopped but the alarm continued to wail.

With my heart about to pound right out of my chest, I took the three short steps to the door and reached for the handle.

After keying in the code to unlock, I opened the door, just a sliver, thrusting my machete’s tip out of the crack. “One wrong move, fucko and I’ll slice through you like hot butter.”

The giant of a man on the other side stepped away from the door almost instantly, his hands raised and a bit of an amused and curious gleam in gorgeous gray eyes. I bit my lip and opened the door just a bit wider.

“Who the fuck are you and how the fuck did you find the hatch to get into the tunnel and get down here, huh?”

The man stepped closer, a chuckle rising with a rumble from deep within his chest as he raised a hand, dragging thick digits slowly through long jet black hair that looked like something straight out of a shampoo commercial -or, my mind finished, my wildest sex dreams… I shook away the pesky thought and tensed my body, making myself stand at least a half an inch taller.

The machete stayed at a comfortable height the entire time. All I could do was stare at the damn guy and tap my foot, waiting on his answer.

Finally, after allowing his eyes to roam over me almost as if he were assessing whether I was the threat here, which made me laugh quietly to myself at the thought, he answered my question.

“What, baby girl? You think you’re the only one in the end of days with any brains? Me and my family are actually two doors down. In that next panic room. My name is Roman and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t absolutely need your help…”

I eyed him warily, pointing at myself. “Me? You need my help?”

“And from the looks of it, baby girl, you could use mine.”

My jaw dropped. Maybe it was the endless amount of time I’d been down here. Maybe it was loneliness. But almost by default, when he said the last thing he’d said, my mind went automatically down all the wrong tracks.

I mean, not that I’d kick this Roman guy out of bed or whatever, but was he seriously down here… Propositioning me… For a booty call? In the end times?

The thought had me doubled over in laughter and Roman stood there, thick arms folded over his chest, an unamused look on his face. “The fuck is so funny, huh?”

Through my laughter, I barely managed to get the words out. “You’re seriously down here bothering me for sex?”

He eyed me and scoffed, rolling his eyes and smirking. “Interesting.”

“What?” I held his gaze.

“I come down here to see if you actually were a doctor because I need your help getting meds for my group and you automatically think I wanna fuck.”Roman explained patiently, biting his lips as his eyes met mine.

I raised a brow.

“How’d you know I was a doctor?”

“Heard you talkin to that little old lady about three rooms up. You go up about once a month, right? To get supplies and food and medicine for yourself and some of the others?” Roman asked me to clarify. I nodded and my hand settled on my hip as I met his gaze. “Yeah? What of it?”

“Well, my cousin got hurt real bad earlier and we need a doctor to look at the injury… And I got not one fuckin idea what I need to do, let alone what I need to make sure the guy doesn’t lose a limb…”

“Whoa, whoa… First off, was he bit?”

“If he was bit, family or not, I’d have put him down. He is bleeding real bad and right now, we got his twin brother down there, holding pressure.”

“What the fuck happened?”

“Scavengers up above, man… It’s gettin real bad up there. That’s why I thought I’d come down here and see if maybe you’d come help us… Then maybe we could go up… Together. Now, I’m thinkin… It’s been a while since you went up. And you don’t need to do it alone, baby girl.”

“First of all, I have a name.”

“Do you think that matters anymore? Nothin matters anymore. Will you help us or not? Because either way, I gotta get goin.”

I could tell now that I was actually getting a closer look at the guy that the guy was in a panic, even though to his credit, he was doing a fair job at not showing that. I thought it over and took a deep breath. Reaching for my assault rifle, I turned to him. He eyed the rifle and I insisted, “You guys want my help? You’re gonna deal with me bringing protection. How do I know you’re not one of these scavengers up above you’re talkin about, huh?”

“Okay, fine. Just c’mon… Please?”

“Lead the way, Roman…” I grumbled as I waited on Roman to start the trek down the underground tunnels, to his own area.

And the entire time, I found myself wondering if maybe this weren’t some kind of trap...

[bruhlsbees]

the haunting of heike zemo || helmut zemo x heike zemo

summary: helmut sees his dead wife

pairing: baron helmut zemo x heike zemo

warnings: scary??, ghosts, mentions of death, graphic depiction of ghost, angry ghost

word count: 2,097

a/n: i've lit been in a ghost town all weekend i couldn't just not write something spooky related - this is also lowkey sad tho so i'm sorry in advanced

Helmut woke up in the middle of the night shivering in bed. His body curling into a ball under the thick blankets, trying to get as small as possible to collect as much body heat. It came to a surprise when his teeth began to chatter, he didn’t know why he felt so cold suddenly...it was the middle of June.

His eyes were shut tight, arms wrapped around his body as he shivered under the blankets, groaning after a few moments when he didn’t seem to warm up. It became painfully frustrating and his patience ran thin, exhausted and just wanting to fall back asleep. And before he could force his brain to ignore the cold, it hit him so suddenly - the smell.

He gagged at first, feeling nauseous as the smell of death filled the room. His fingers came to pinch his nose shut, but even through the lack of airflow through his nose, he could still smell it. Did he leave the window open? Was it something out on the streets? Helmut didn’t care to know to be quite frank - he just wanted it to get out of his room quickly.

While the smell of death didn’t go away, another scent filled the air, something sweeter and all too familiar. It was her perfume...Heike, his wife. His dead wife. It didn’t take him long to recognize the smell before his chest felt tight. It was now too confusing for him - what was going on?

The whimper is what finally prompted him to jump out from under the covers, tossing his blankets forward as he sat straight up, staring ahead of him at the foot of his bed, towards the window where he saw her. Heike.

Her hair was down, her fragile frame wrapped in the robe she enjoyed wearing around the house. She was staring out the window, her arms wrapped around herself, as if she were attempting to keep herself warm. Helmut knew he must’ve been dreaming at this point - having a very real dream that he would forget all about in the morning. But still, it felt too real for him to process what he was smelling, what he was seeing.

When he went to say her name, the words seemed to get stuck in throat - like he was cut off from speaking. Slowly, he swung his legs off the bed and stood, eyebrows furrowed as she stared straight ahead. His hands bunched his sweatshirt sleeves into his hand, nervously palming the fabric to attempt to wake him up - but it never came, that jolt from the dream.

This, this was real.

“Helmut? Did I wake you?” Her voice sounded weak, quiet as if she were trying to keep quiet. He hadn’t heard her voice in so long, too long in fact. His mouth gaped open, taking a hesitant step closer to her. Still, he couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up. I know you don’t get much sleep anymore.” Her back was still to him, looking out the window longingly. When he finally reached her, he shook his head, extending a shaky hand towards her shoulder. As his hand connected with her shoulder, he felt the instant rush of cold, like he had sunk his hand into a bucket of ice. It was the same cold feeling he initially woke up to.

“Don’t apologize, Heike, it’s alright.” He finally mustered to say, squeezing down on her shoulder, although not too hard - not wanting to hurt her.

Helmut waited for her to say something, letting the silence fill the room. He knew he should have said something, it being the first time he has seen her in years, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around what was going on. His wife was here, in his room. His dead wife.

As she began to turn around, Helmut’s hand slowly slid down her arm, taking her hand as he waited to see her beautiful face. He could feel his heart racing, the same feeling he had when the two of them got married all those years ago - when he stood at the end of the aisle for her to enter.

But this wasn’t his Heike - it was, but it wasn’t the one he remembered.

When she finally faced him, Helmut couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him, his whole body jolting back at the sight of her. From the back she appeared to be the same as she looked alive, but the front of her was an entirely different story.

“Why are you frightened, Helmut? That makes me sad...do you not find me to be beautiful?” Her voice seemed to be louder, more tight and burning in his ears, like a razor cut.

Her face was grey, covered in the ash from the debris of the building that collapsed down onto her, killing her. Her hair was now matted and thinner than he pictured from the back. It was her face though, the finer details of it that sent a shiver down his spine.

The beautiful eyes he remembered her to have were clouded over, as if someone took her real ones and replaced them with poorly made fake ones. Her face was sunken in, giving her a ghastly look. Her nose was crooked to the side, like it had broken during impact. But it was her lips that made him sick. It looked like they had been melted away, showing more teeth and decaying gums than anything.

“Tell me I’m pretty, Helmut. It is me, your wife. Husbands are supposed to tell their wives that they are pretty.” When she took a step forward, Helmut took two back. He didn’t want to be close to her - this wasn’t Heike, this wasn’t his darling little wife that he doted on.

Gaping, Helmut’s mouth fell open before snapping shut again, watching as her face contorted into something sinister, growing angrier at his silence.

“I’ve come all this way to see you! I get here and you can’t even tell me that I’m beautiful?” The sobs that raked over her body sounded like someone had turned the music up way too high in the car and fighting to speak over it. It was a sensory overload for Helmut.

“Heike, my sweetling, you are beautiful.” He finally managed to choke out.

It seemed to give her the satisfaction to calm down, her sobs turning into faint whimpers. She looked up at him and it took everything inside of him to not look away. He could feel his eyes burning into her, now too sunk in to be able to pull away.

“I’ve missed you, Helmut. It’s been so lonely since you left. Won’t you give me a kiss?”

Helmut loved to kiss his wife. To pepper her face in sweet kisses, teasing her jaw and neck before finally capturing her soft lips in his. But the idea now of kissing her made him only want to hurl.

She must have been able to tell what he was thinking, because she took another step forward, her hands reaching out to grab the front of his sweatshirt, attempting to force him to kiss her.

“Kiss me, Helmut! Why won’t you kiss me? I’m your wife!” She cried out, fighting with him as he desperately tried to push her away from him.

“You did this to me! You did! It’s not my fault I look like this! Why won’t you kiss me?” She sobbed, reaching for his face now as her cold fingers skimmed over his cheeks.

Helmut hissed at the contact, feeling her cold fingertips on his face, practically freezing in the spot. He shook his head, tears now rolling down his cheeks as he continued to push her back and away from him.

“No, Heike. This isn’t you. You aren’t my wife. My Heike wouldn’t say these things to me.”

“I AM Heike! Please Helmut, just one kiss! Please!” The pathetic look that she gave him slowed Helmut’s movements to a stop, frowning as he stared ahead at her, watching and waiting for her next move. He expected her to lunge at him, to force herself on him and steal a kiss, but she never did. Even the violent ghost of his deceased wife became stuffed with guilt.

The whimpering is what toyed with him. Watching as she turned and looked away from him, her shoulders shaking as she began to cry. He knew that she was hurting, Hell, he was hurting too. But he couldn’t imagine being in her shoes - dying and being away from her and when he finally returned, she was terrified of him.

Helmut knew it was crazy, but it was Heike - his beautiful wife. It wasn’t all of her, and as a spirit she was vengeful and violent, but he could still see the bits of her that he fell in love with. So when he turned her back around and stared down at her, he was only half surprised with himself when he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her teeth.

It was painful, perhaps the worst thing he had done. But he did it, and he knew it made her feel better. Helmut didn’t want it to last too long though, only being able to force himself to get through for a couple of seconds. However, when he went to pull away, he felt her hands grab him, roughly pulling him back towards her.

“Why are you trying to run? Do you not like my kisses anymore?”

He couldn’t win with her. He just couldn’t. Shaking his head, Helmut jerked his arms back to try and free his wrists from her grasp, but she only tightened them, squeezing down hard until he hissed out in pain.

“Heike, you’re hurting me-”

“Good! Now you can feel what I’ve felt. What I’ve been feeling since you left us to die!”

The outburst sent Helmut back, looking at her in such disbelief that his own anger began to rise. How could she blame him directly for her death? Though it took a long time to stop blaming himself, he knew that it wasn’t.

“That’s not fair, Heike. I wasn’t the one who killed you. It was the Aveng-”

“You left!” She cried, shoving him back now. Although instead of going after him, she stayed by the window, in the original spot that he saw her first at. “You left and I called you and you never answered. I died alone with Carl in my arms weeping for his father to come save him. Why didn’t you come back-”

“You know why I couldn’t come back, Heike.” It was Helmut’s turn to cut off his wife, standing his ground as he straightened up beside the middle of his bed. “I was in the middle of defending Sokovia when those bombs dropped. I searched for days to find you and Carl. I was the one who buried you, who mourned, who was left alone. But do I blame you for any of that? No, no of course not. How could I? That wouldn’t be fair on you.”

The ghost of Heike fell silent, watching him as he huffed, chest rising and falling as he stood up to her. “It’s easy to blame others for the pain we are suffering, but if you continue to blame those who did nothing, you truly will end up alone.”

What he said to her, this time more gentle, seemed to sit with her. He didn’t know if she truly agreed with what he had said, but it was enough for him to feel the room grow less cold, the energy around him feeling less angry, and more hurting. It wasn’t good either way, but hurting was better than being angry.

Heike didn’t say anything else. In her robe, she turned, the long material gliding against the wooden floor before she looked back out the window, returning in the same position she first stood in. Instead of approaching her again, Helmut crawled back into bed after a moment of waiting, waiting to see what she would do next. But it was like she had given up, not speaking and not acting out. Just standing at the window, looking out into the town.

Helmut wanted to say the rest of his night went better, but he just couldn’t sleep. While under the covers once again, curled in a ball to keep warm as his teeth began to chatter, he lulled into a half-sleep state, listening to the sounds of Heike’s whimpers.

[ndconceptarchive]

Interview with Nik Blahunka and Cathy Roiter

I don't have much to comment on here, just that I found an interesting interview with the respective writer and designer of these games circa (and I believe post) 2011. There were some images on the same page, but they're not visible as of now. (Or even on the WaybackMachine).

This was posted on the Dare to Play blog on March 9th, 2011 here:

We interviewed our game designer Cathy, and writer Nik!

Her Interactive: How do you come up with the game ideas?

Cathy: "We look at the recent games for the types of mysteries, characters, and locations used in them and then start to brainstorm ideas that would be a nice contrast or haven’t been done before. We also try to alternate spooky/adventure/mystery among titles, so if the last one was spooky, we don’t tend to pick a spooky one again. Then we’ll pick our crime and start building from there."

Nik: "We have a lot of material to draw from, and so many great ideas floating around the office that it’s less “Oh no, quick we need an idea!” and more “Which one should we do next?” At any given time we know what the next few games are going to be, and I can tell you honestly that I am really excited about the next couple of games, and I think you will be too. But for now, they’re totally top secret, my lips are sealed. I wouldn’t tell anyone, not even if he or she were to send a large box of chocolate addressed to “writer” to our offices. Not even then."

Her Interactive: As writer, what all do you write? (Characters, script, written assets, anything we wouldn’t expect?)

Nik: "As the writer, I write all of the dialogue and many of the written assets (the notes and letters you find while playing the game). The overall story of the game is a collaborative process. I bring my knowledge of how stories work, Cathy brings her game design experience and together we hash out the overall game. Throughout the entire process, we look to the office for input. If anyone has a good idea, it goes in!"

Her Interactive: How do you prepare in creating a new game? What are the early steps from inspiration?

Cathy: "Once we have our basic plot and rough character guidelines, my first step is always research. I’ll start online to get general ideas, then head to the library for more in-depth reference material. During this time, I’ll come across lots of great ideas and inspiration, both written and visual, that help build the world and the mystery. Those elements are then used as building blocks for the mystery to keep things real. For example, in ASH the gas chromatograph was a direct result of researching arson investigation techniques. I’d never heard of such a technique before then. And, fun fact, kept mispronouncing it for ages since I didn’t realize chromatograph and chromatography aren’t said the same way (turns out they’re like photograph and photography)."

Her Interactive: What are the steps in the design process? For the story?

Cathy: "We start with the high-level concept (eg. Nancy’s framed for arson) and rough characters. We’ll then start adding major plot points and choose our villain. The design and story are then further fleshed out with the minor steps needed to reach those milestone moments. Once the main outline is complete, puzzles start getting implemented and shortly thereafter script begins. To complete design, all the elements are combined in a logic document that maps out the entire gameplay."

Nik: "We usually start with a location, a theme, and one or two Nancy Drew books. Then we talk. And talk. And talk. And argue. And talk. And take hack breaks. And talk some more. Before we begin to flesh out the game, I like to spend a few weeks researching. Sometimes the research involves watching movies that have a similar feel to what we’re aiming for, sometimes I raid the giant stack of books on Cathy’s desk. Research can be the most fun part of the job, and it’s when I learn the most. For SAW, I spent a lot of time watching, Japanese horror movies since we wanted to have that same type of atmospheric scary feel in the game. But, since the game wasn’t just about the scare, the research didn’t stop there. I went to see a tea ceremony, read a ton about traditional arts in Japan, and got the chance to meet with a cultural consultant.

Once I’ve got all of the raw material for the story, it’s time to write. I know from peeking at the message boards from time to time, that many of our players love to write too, so I won’t go too far into something that most of you are very familiar with. In a nutshell, the process is best summarized as failing forward. The first draft is terrible and wrong. The second draft is hopefully less terrible, and less wrong. I keep this up until I end up with a draft that feels good. Writing is a lot like dying Easter eggs, if you quit after the first dunk, no one is going to respect your ugly egg. You’ve got to keep dunking and dunking until you’ve got a nice, richly colored egg that would be exciting to find hidden away on a bookshelf. This metaphor is not topical… okay, writing is like carving a pumpkin… it… umm, you put a candle… never mind, let’s just use that egg thing. I redraft often, and love getting feedback from around the office."

Her Interactive: What is your favorite step in the writing process or another task?

Nik: "Recording. The script isn’t done until it is recorded. The recording session is like a live, final polish on the script. We get to hear if the jokes work, and see if the story beats carry any emotional weight. When they don’t, we prod and poke at the material until it’s just right. We’re lucky to work with a pool of extraordinarily talented actors who are able to really make the lines come alive in ways that I sometimes don’t even expect. Recording Nancy is always a blast, as well. Lani, who plays Nancy, is hilarious and always full of great suggestions and Nancy-isms."

Her Interactive: What do you do when you hit a snag/error in the design?

Cathy: "First I have to identify the type of problem (missing object, infinite logic loop, story plot hole, motivation, etc.), then decide if it’s a small or large fix. The small ones are easy, but the larger ones have occasionally resulted in massive redesigns. In the end, it’s all about identifying the issue and finding the best solution for everyone involved, including our players’ experience."

Her Interactive: Have there been any characters that you found difficult to bring to life? Is there a character you would like to bring back?

Nik: "Yes. Every game has one character that I end up rewriting again and again. Miwako, Lukas, and Alexei frustrated me to no end when I was writing the drafts, but now they’re my favorites.

I don’t know about bringing characters back, I’m more interested with discovering new villains and pranksters and scientists and deranged librarians and mad scientists and robots and agoraphobic house painters… That being said, my favorite reoccurring character is Bess. (Spoiler alert – she’s coming back. Often 😀 )"

Her Interactive: What has been your most favorite puzzle to design? Which was the hardest to design?

Cathy: "My favorite was Bento. I love creating logic puzzles and Bento needed multiple levels using a really fun design. Plus, I got to look at a lot of amazing real-world animal bento while looking for reference images.

The hardest would be Raid. Not only did it have a computer opponent that needed the AI rules designed for how it played, but it was also supposed to be inspired by German board games/card games, which I’d never played before. Top that off with a deck of cards, and their balanced against each other power rankings, that also affected three other puzzles, and it meant one minor change to any element caused major trickle-down problems. But it was a great learning experience and I was quite pleased with the end result."

Her Interactive: Do you have a favorite written in-game asset you have done? Second Chance note?

Nik: "One of my favorite non-dialogue writing assignments was actually Yumi’s blog. At first, the idea of keeping up a blog for a fictional Japanese girl seemed like it was going to be a nightmare, it certainly was not something I’d ever imagined myself doing. But after a few entries, I started to have a lot of fun. I spent the month the blog was running keeping a camera ready in case I saw anything in the Seattle area that might pass for something you might see in Kyoto, I made bento in my kitchen (it was gross, but it looked… it looked gross, let’s face it.) By the time the blog ended, I was sad to wrap it up. My absolute favorite part of the blog was interacting with the fans. I was really surprised and excited that so many readers were willing to play along. Each day I found comments that showcased what a clever, fun-loving, and interesting group of fans we have."

Her Interactive: Have you read any Nancy Drew books? If so, do you have a favorite title or theme?

Cathy: "Yes. I’ll read the book that each game is based on and I read the Mystery Files when I was younger, along with the occasional old yellow back when I could find one. I liked the older books for their prevalent use of the supernatural and gothic, but they often felt rather dated, which is another reason I read the Mystery Files more frequently instead."

Thanks Nik and Cathy for taking the time to answer these questions and for giving us insight into the making of the games!

If anyone is curious, the old posts from Yumi's blog are still up on blogspot/blogger. Also, here's a related promotional post on the Amateur Sleuth blog that I found while looking for other behind-the-scenes things.

[uhhhhyandere]

halloween special!

hi everyone!!!! 

for halloween this year, inspiration struck and i decided to craft this halloween special demon/angel light au! i had so so much fun writing this and hope yall enjoy it!!!

no matter where you are in the world, if you celebrate halloween or not, i hope you all are doing amazing and know that you are so so loved (by me) and thank you all for the love and support you give! i love every single one of y’all and let’s finish out the year the best we can!!!! 

word count: 7.2k 

And He will bring hell with him. 

The grass will gray, and the trees will blanket with ash as all life is left withered, limp, and colorless in his wake. He takes, and takes, and takes with the full red moon on his back and the stars glittering on his lips in golden lies. Should his, Kira's eyes, red with ire from his unattained vision, seek you out, you are bound to the pits of hell itself for eternity. 

"Well, that's what the tale says," Misa said. "If you believe in that kinda stuff." She flipped the book over to display the illustrations. You leaned over to get a closer look. "They really have to make evil people this beautiful, huh?" You looked at her incredulously. "What? You're thinking the same thing! I just said it…" Her eyes trailed down to the pages again. 

"He was a mortal once?" Misa nodded her head and adjusted herself on the sofa for you to scootch closer. Her red manicured nails slipped the page over to the next. 

"Who tried to be a god." You squinted down at the new page and pointed. 

"She kinda looks like you." She laughed. 

"Just wait," Misa replied. "Anyway, he was young, a few years below us, when he came across the power to make him a god. He was not chosen nor special. The power was left to be picked up by any traveler. It just so handed to be dropped outside of his family's farm, and he just so happened to be who he was. An ambitious genius with the same hunger for power the poor have for food. He used this power to rise above all others and to kill any who dared step in his way." Tragic art painted the pages as Misa continued to flip through them. 

"How?" Misa shook her head. 

"They don't know. We don't know. A creature crueler than Kira. A bored god looking to stir trouble. A blessing that was used as a curse. Perhaps all. Perhaps none." She giggled. "Exciting, isn't it?" You scoffed. 

"Yeah, yeah. Keep going." 

"But he had enemies. No mortal man should wield what Kira wielded. Those who wanted to strip him of his power and deliver justice to those he had ridden of, not grasp the power, the golden throne, he sought. They played games with one another. Cruel, cunning games of who would outsmart the other. He who was supposed to condemn his power and he who had it used the same means to win.

"Us. Regular people used and thrown away to further their game. There was one," she pointed at the girl who resembled herself, "who picked up the same power as he. It was her who tried to love him, that bent at his word, that carried out his will." Misa swallowed, "but he had lost his ability to love, or that's what was thought until..." Misa cut herself off. 

"Kira and his nemesis continued to use, to manipulate the very ground the other walked on. All until he finally stood at the foot of the throne of the world he thirsted for. Pristine and shining, it stood above the clouds themselves. This is where he was slain, where his blood stained the stone, the rug, the throne, infecting and cursing them. The throne cracked, contorted, twisted, and fell. Down, down it fell until he and the now blackened throne were in hell. 

"One day, when the full moon shines on the bleeding night, he will rise, and he will bring hell with him. He will claim what he has lost to reign over the world of men. The grass will gray, and the trees will blanket with ash as all life is left withered, limp, and—,"

"I know that much," you interrupted, "but I'm confused. Did you leave a part out? Where you cut yourself off, I mean." White teeth dragged across her lip. 

"After," she started to rapidly flip the pages, "after he was banished to hell, they found…" Her flipping stopped at the very last page, "this." 

On the page was a cage with gnarled black metal and a large gash across the bars. A human whose arms crosses on their chest in an 'X.' Their feet were bound together and tied with rope to the middle's central support pole. Blood trickled down their face, torso, and legs. Beautiful, broken, ripped wings crumpled at their back. "He had stolen an angel. Broken them. Claimed them. Upon their back, scars from where he had failed to rip them off their back." She hummed. "Kinda looks like you." 

You laughed nervously then scoffed, trying to get the haunted picture out of your brain. "Should his eyes, red with ire from his unattained vision, seek you out, you are bound to the pits of hell itself for eternity because you are who he has lost, and he will not fail again.

"But that's just how it goes!" Misa laughed good-naturedly and shut the book harshly. "Pretty scary, right?" You shook your head.

"Absolutely not. First, it's actually pretty disturbing. Secondly, it's so vague! No details on how he died, if the other guy killed him. You'd think after eons of repetition, they'd make stuff up." Misa shook her head. 

"Yeah, if you ask a bard, but do you really want to hear a romanticization of it in a song where they talk about how he loved whom he locked away and claimed? They do not sing about the reality, for it is far too gruesome for even documentation, much less for song. At least, that's what Rem told me. Being vague is the only option to make it tolerable, but I think she actually knows the truth and won't spill." You laughed and rose from the library's sofa. "So? It's my favorite story." 

"That's because that girl looks like you." 

"And?" You clicked your tongue. 

"I dunno. I did say it was disturbing, but you don't really believe in this kinda stuff, right?" You scratched the back of your head. 

"Of course, I do!" She giggled. "Ever since Rem took me in and taught me to read, it's been my favorite book." How could you forget what an oddball Misa was? You sighed. 

"Alright, believe what you want. Halloween is the day after tomorrow, after all. Be as spooky as you want." Misa rose and slipped the leather-bound book back into her bag. "Are you stealing that?" You harshly whispered. She shook her head. 

"Nope! It's Rem's." Oh, gee.

"I'd rather steal from the library—which has free books—a concept I just remembered for some reason than Rem. Do you have a death wish? Nevermind, don't answer that. Why did you make me come to the library again?" 

"Isn't this where people read?

"...You're right. I got nothing. Come on. I need to get back to the market. I promised my parents I would pick up the pumpkins Mello grew and carved. Apparently, people are putting lights in them to make the faces glow at night."  

Your village was reasonably large, set on the misty hillside of the mountain. Though the nearest city where the Earl of the region lived was a few miles down the path and knights on horses frequented here on their patrols, your village felt world's away from society. It was also relatively famous for the chapel, so travelers often stopped to visit, especially with the holiday season. 

It rested closest to where the cliff dropped into nothingness. Flowers surrounded it, and moss grew up its stone walls. Vivid glass windows decorated all sides and around the wooden doors. A tower ascended from the front to where a millennial old bell sat still for just as long, for it was only to ring when the world was set to end.

Within, pews lined the plush red rug. The rug ran straight to the golden altar, where a large statue stood behind. The stained glass filtered color light upon its flawless, stone complexion. Water poured from the few holes in the body down into the small pond around it. 

"Are we going to meet on Halloween?" Misa asked. "You know it's my favorite holiday! Everyone will be on the square dancing and dressed up!" You smiled. 

"Of course. You know my parents would not miss a party. We can meet on my porch since it's closer?" She nodded enthusiastically,

"Yes! That sounds perfect! See you then!" The blonde blew you a kiss and skipped in the direction of her house. You smiled before turning on your heel and approaching the square. 

Of course, the market would be busy with both locals and travelers. It was mid-day, and each stand had its unique, limited-time holiday goods. You had to squeeze your way to make it to Mello's stand. The blonde grimaced as you approached. Ah. He's in a good mood! 

"Afternoon, Mello." 

"Y/N," he regarded you. "You're really going to buy a pumpkin with a scary face? Would it really go with your garden?" You scoffed. 

"It's my parents, actually, and yes! I can be scary and festive! Not as good as you, Mello. I heard that you carved lots of pumpkins for the village." He hummed and motioned to those on the wooden stand. 

"Not for the village," he replied. "You still have to pay, got it?" You rose your hands. 

"Of course, of course." You began to browse the selection. "Will you be attending the festivities night of?" He scoffed. 

"No. Now pick your poison or leave." You smiled and reached for one with a broad crooked smile. "Terrible taste." You furrowed your brows. 

"...But you're the one who made it?" Mello's eyes widened for a second before narrowing once more. 

"It's one of my worse ones. I guess it'll go well with you, then." You laughed and rubbed the carved circle around the stem with your hand. 

"Yep! Sounds good, Mello." You reached into your pockets and dropped a few coins in front of him. "Keep the change. Happy Halloween!" Mello snatched the coins from the table and shooed you off. You morphed back into the crowd, maneuvering your way through the group back to your house.

An abrupt, intense headache wracked your skull, causing you to suddenly stop amid the crowd and wince, nearly dropping the pumpkin under your arm. With your free hand, you grasped your forehead, but the pain only escalated and pulsed down your body. Two particularly intense strands of pain erupted on your back.

Peeking up, the crowd blurred around you, but your eyes on a figure at the corner of the inn. He was too far to make out the intimate details besides his lithe frame and brown hair. For moments you locked eyes before he disappeared behind the inn. 

The pain stopped as if it was an illusion. You snapped back into reality, chest heaving in relief. A few eyes looked at you in concern, but no one stopped to ask. Thankfully so. You wouldn't know what to tell them if they asked what happened. 

Shaking your head, you safely made it to your small house hidden behind a large oak tree. 

"Oh! You got the pumpkin! How was Mello?" 

"Charming as ever, of course. I was just with Misa at the library before that. She told me the story about Kira and his fall to hell." Your mom nodded her head and took the pumpkin from your arm. 

"Ah, that's an old one. I guess she's always been the type to be into that stuff. It freaks me out, personally." You followed your mom to the kitchen. 

"Yeah, me too. I try to remind myself it's not real, but there's also the small tick in the back of my brain that tells me it may be, you know?" She nodded again. 

"Oh, I like this carving! Nice choice, Y/N, but yes, I do that too. Especially since Halloween, this year, is on the full blood moon. An ill omen in all tales. Luckily the town's party rids my mind of such horrors, as should yours. Anything else happen today?" You paused.

"N-no. Nothing comes to mind. I think I'm going to go find father then wash up before dinner. Is he still in the forest?" Your mom nodded. 

"Yep. He's been hunting that same deer for weeks now. Apparently, it has a rack of the like he has never seen before. Something of beauty. I think he doesn't even want to kill it as much as he wants to see it again." Your dad was somewhat of a conundrum. As much as he awed and loved nature, he was a hunter who made income on the sale of its pelts and horns. "I'm sure he hasn't found it yet. Maybe you can help."

Unlikely, but you liked to explore the misty pines surrounding your village. They were too safe and had a few secret spots where hollowed logs led to hidden clear ponds. Wishing your mom farewell, you entered the pines and inhaled their thick scent. 

Your dad's job was handy in that you knew the backwoods like the back of your hand. He taught you the ways to track and navigate through the seemingly identical trunks. 

He also unknowingly taught you to sense when something was off with the forest. After ten minutes of traversing, you finally had the feeling of dread. The mist was inches too low, the grass droplets too wet, and the temperature degrees too low. You held your breath and glanced at your surroundings. 

A silhouette. A deer's head with a rack so vertically high you thought your eyesight was failing you. Except, as you stepped closer, this deer had the body of a man standing upon his two legs. Large hollow eyes oozed mist. 

"..." something was whispered into the air. You continued to hold your breath. "...—/N." The deer-man gave no indication of moving, and you could not bring your feet to even wiggle the frost from your toes. "Y/N."

Your name. Crystal clear. Your breath hitched. His hand with long, natural claws extended forwards towards you. "Y/N," it repeated. "You mus—....—ere. No t—." You could not make out his words. 

"Y/N!" Another yell. This time you recognized it as your father. Eyes blown open, you wretched your eyes from the deer-man and sprinted towards the voice of your father. 

"I'm...sorry." 

…

"You're not telling us everything." Your father accused. After you ran head-first into your father, petrified and stumbling over every word, he urged you home and waited for you to take the bath you begged them to allow you to have before sitting you in the sitting room, the fire roaring under the holiday wreath behind you. 

'It just scared me. I've never seen a bear of its size." Why are you lying? You had no idea. As soon as your mom asked the first questions, lies flowed out of your mouth like the truth. Stories you naturally never could have conjured on the spot. Stories you would never because you did not lie, which is why your parents, despite their dubious expressions, did believe you. "I swear. I just got freaked out. I think it's because of the story Misa told me today."

"That girl," your dad muttered. 

"She told them the story of the man who fell to hell. Kira." Your dad nodded and rubbed his chin with his hand. 

"Ah, I see. That would do it. Y/N, I know the full blood moon is coming, but there's no need to fret. Stories are just stories, alright? Leave your candlelight on tonight should you be scared of the dark, alright? Me and your mom are in the room over, alright?" You nodded. "Good. Now, what's for dinner?"

…

You lit the candle that night. In your nightwear, you sat on the edge of the bed. Muffled moonlight streamed through the frosted window and reflected off the full-length mirror in the corner. You inhaled deeply through your nose and exhaled through your mouth.

"They're just stories. Just stories." Like a mantra, you repeated this under your breath as you ducked under the covers. Opening your eyes, though, you were met with a flash of shadow in the mirror. You jumped and stared at it with eyes open enough to feel the cold air. You waited for something in the still room to move, for it to flash again, but nothing did. Thankfully.

Still, you threw the blanket off of yourself and approached to assure yourself that yes, it was nothing, and yes, there was nothing: just your reflection and the room behind you.

Until you blinked. 

For a second, blood poured down your body and wetted down your clothes against your figure—wings broken and limp behind your back. 

You screamed and smashed the mirror with your fist on impulse. Along with the shards, your body fell to the ground, and actual bloodied hands kept you from collapsing entirely. However, the features in the fragments were not yours. The man, the one from the square, stared back, but at this closer view, you can see his eyes. 

Red. 

You threw yourself back against the wall and screamed. Your door busted open, and your parents barged in. Your mother ran to your side and took your hand in hers while your father took in the big picture around him. 

"I-I thought I saw something in the mirror. Misa told me once the m-mirror is the passage to the other world. I-I know it's stupid for me to react like this, but I just… I don't know. Do you think it's the blood moon?" Your parents were quiet. 

'It could be," your mother said. "The blood moon is supposed to come with magic. It enables beings to crossover from other worlds, from other planes. It is the ill omen, but crossing over is all they can do. They can't touch you or hurt you. That, I promise." You nodded. 

Your parents stayed with you, and, for the first time since you were literally a toddler, you slept in their room, blankets wrapped around you on their floor. Relief flooded your system when sunlight broke through the window. Though your sleep was haunted by vague images and muddled whispers, you slept through the night after the incident. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Your dad asked. "You can skip your daily chores if you don't want to do them. Tomorrow too. Aren't I generous?" You laughed but shook your head no. 

"That's alright. I think if I stay home, I'll just keep thinking about it. I need to get my mind off of it. Doing chores will put my mind at ease. Some normalcy, I think." Your dad nodded, though you can tell your parents weren't eager to just forget the events of last night.

You knew someone, though, that would be eager to learn about them. 

"Misa, can you keep a secret?" She bit into an apple. 

"No," she replied simply. "I tell Rem everything, but that's it. I don't really talk to many other people here besides you and her, so no one else to tell, but I know Rem will mind her business. She talks to fewer people than I do." That was true. You could count the number of times you talked to Rem on a single hand, and Misa said she liked you. 

"Okay, don't freak out, but…" 

She freaked out.

"And they were red?" You nodded. 

"Glowing. A sinister smirk on his face. His hands in the reflection, touching my own through the glass. It was the same as the one I saw in the square right after we met." Misa's eyes widened in enthusiasm and jubilation.

"It's him! It has to be! Kira!" You shook your head. 

"No, my mom explained it to me. It's a spirit from the other plane playing a joke on me. She told me that after I stopped crying and fled to their room before I passed out. That story isn't real. It… can't be." Misa shook her head and leaned forward. 

"It is! It's not that you don't believe it's real; it's that you don't want to believe it's real! Y/N, you have to believe me." You grimaced and backed away to create some breathing room.

"Why would I want it to be real?" You whispered solemnly. "Why would I want that to happen to me? I can't believe it's real. It can't be real. I'm terrified if it is real, okay? If my parents think it's real because I do, they'll tell the church, and if the church finds out? You know how they deal with spiritual trespassers and those they possess. I'd basically be dead. My soul stripped from my being to ensure I do not bring harm to anyone else. I would be a hollow body, Misa! Don't you get that!?" You inhaled a ragged breath. 

"...Has anything happened today?" You shook your head. "It's already almost sunset, so that's a good sign, at least. Sorry, I got too excited. Your feelings and safety are important. Okay, I promise I won't tell a soul about this." You breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Thank you. I just… don't know what to do." 

"Have you gone to the chapel? The water from the statue is supposed to cure any possession." You shook your head. "Okay! I think I know your next steps, then. Come on!" She stood abruptly from the bench and held out her hands. "Let's go!" 

She dragged you across the diameter of town until your footsteps echoed across the chamber. A few holy people greeted you as they did their duties. Some travelers prayed at the pews for good luck and well-being. A single man stood next to the pond where the statue stood. 

"Greetings," he welcomed. "I recognize you two from town, but I don't believe we've met. My name is Soichiro. Are you here to drink from the spring?" Misa nudged you forward. 

"Y-yes. Oh, I'm Y/N." He nodded. 

"I see. Does the blood moon have you nervous? Don't worry. Lots of people come to do the same before a blood moon. Come and cup your hands and drink the water. Any disease in your soul shall be healed." You lowered yourself down to your knees and cupped the crisp water between your palms. You lowered yourself to sip, and you swallowed. 

But it would not go down. 

You began to cough, and your body convulsed with coughs. Liquid did come from your mouth, but the drops upon the ground were not clear, but a vicious red. Soichiro yelled for the other holy people as your body shook and twisted. Ropes bound your wrists, and hands steadied your head—arms wrapped around your waist to keep you as still as possible. A man placed his palm on your forehead and whispered incomprehensible words. When he finished, he ripped his hand away, and your breath was restored. You were unable to fall with the tight grip they still had on you. 

"W-what happened?" You asked, feeling the tears on your cheeks continuing to inch down and the blood drying on your chin. "I-I don't know. I'm sorry." 

"Take them to the purification chamber."

"No! Please, no! Help me! Someone, please help!" It was a joint effort between numerous holy people to lift your struggling form from the ground. "Misa! Mom! Dad!" you called out for, yet, in the chapel, none of them were there. However, your screaming did not stop for them until you were placed on a large chair and gagged. Your legs were bound to the bottom of the chair, and arms rebound to the arms. Holy people circled around you. 

The chair you were in was much less a chair and more so a throne. Pure white metal was attached directly to the ground. Red cushioning provided comfort to your rear and back. With ragged breaths, you looked waited until one of them spoke or did anything besides watch you. It was the man who sentenced you here that approached. 

"Soichiro," someone called, but he ignored them and angled his head down towards you.

"I am going to undo your gag. Do not scream. I just want you to tell us the truth if you know anything. Sometimes… they do things without signaling a mortal." Large calloused hands undid the gag, and you inhaled greedily. "Now, tell us."

"A-are you going to take my soul?" 

"Speak first. I cannot make promises I do not know if I can keep." You swallowed and explained what you could to them. Your eyes were focused on the ground. The terror you would feel if his reaction was bad was too grand for you to meet his eyes. The silence after you ended your experience was deafening. "I see." He looked to a holy person nearby. "We need twenty-four-hours to prepare for the ritual. It leaves us with little room before the blood moon rises. If we do not store their soul… go now. It is much worse than any of us could have imagined." Your heart plummeted. 

"W-what? No! Please! Tell me what's going on! D-don't take my soul, please! I-I want to live! I'll run away! You'll never see me again!" Soichiro stared at you with what you hoped was empathy. The bags under his eyes spoke of his wisdom and his exhaustion. He motioned for the rest of the holy people to leave, so it was just him standing over you. 

"I'm sorry, child." He spoke softly, knuckles wiping the tears flowing down your face. "No matter how far you run, no matter how fast, no matter how well you hide, no matter how you continue on: alive or dead, he will come for you. The moment you locked eyes in the mirror, you were bound to him, just as you always have been." You shook your head, vehemently. 

"It's not true, is it? Kira... is he…?" Soichiro smiled sadly. "It can't be… it can't be me. It's impossible." You sobbed. "How? Please, at least tell me before… before…" You couldn't even make the words out. 

"My son," he began, "was always destined for greatness, but then greatness found him, and he became too great. The power he found was a single, black notebook. Write someone's name, and they would pass. It originally is from a Shinigami, a god of death, that possessed him while he owned it, but… there are forces more potent than Shinigami in the universe. He and his opponent, the one who sought to bring the mysterious killer Kira, my son, that plagued the land to justice, who we called L, always were at a battle of wits, of plans, but, in the end, my son won.

"But this victory angered others. It was they who killed him at the throne of the world. It was they who watched him plummet to hell. It was they who built the statue in this chapel and sealed him in hell so he could never return, but they have long passed. Their magic fading in time. I could do nothing in all this time except pray to angels to keep my son at bay." He paused and looked up solemnly. "You must be wondering how I am alive," He looked down at his pale hands. 

"The notebook is gone now. The Shinigami that dropped it fled back to his world when Lig- Kira, was cast down to hell. I, too, touched the notebook. A scheme my son created to get ahead. The curse of it never went away, and I am now stuck to live eternity until my son ends it." He clenched his fist. "I did not know you were so close. I did not know it was you. If I did… I would have taken your soul long before you could have known life without it." You shook your head. 

"I don't understand. What is my part? The book… the book only showed a cage with… someone in it. The story has no word of them. Just the girl… the weapon that served him." Soichiro sighed. 

"Back then, the plane between the mortal realm and other words was thinner when angels and spirits would roam mortal lands. You were an angel. A new one. Young. Wide-eyed and drawing silver linings wherever you walked. Someone he set to ruin. Someone with a soul so pure that he can take and twist to his own liking. No one should see you except him, so he locked you away and bound his soul to yours and your soul to his. As long as he lived, whether here or hell, you would too. 

"But just your soul. Unlike me, whose mortal body is stuck, it is solely your soul that has been recycled for eons. His part, the part of his soul within you, could only be awakened should your eyes meet his. Then, with his entire soul active and with the power of the red blood moon, he will be able to break the barrier that seals him tomorrow night. We must lock away part of his power, so he cannot walk this land again. 

"Should he, then he will seek to claim all that was taken from him. The mortal world will fall as we know it. Those he inevitably tricked in hell to follow him will breakthrough behind him. What the world deserves for not seeing him as the god he sees himself as." Tears pooled in Soichiro's eyes. "I still love my son. The bright-eyed boy, but he cannot love. What he feels for you is something far darker, something twisted. I do not know what he will do if he finds you. You will be better off soulless." You sobbed. 

"B-but the deer-man in the woods. Do you - I mean…" He furrowed his brows and shook his head. 

"I don't know, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry my son came upon you. No one deserves this fate." You wretched in your bindings, ragged breaths, and eery whines escaping your mouth. "Some will be around to feed you later, and someone… someone will explain everything to your parents. 

"Let me see them!" You yelled out. "Please! One last time! They don't know anything! I just want to… please, I… I get it. Why you have to do this, but please let me say goodbye. Please. I just," you bit your bottom lip to prevent another wail, "please." Soichiro shook his head. The man could no longer maintain eye contact with you.

"I can't. We cannot risk you talking to anyone lest risk his jealousy. As far as we are concerned, you are not you. You are his." You pulled against the ropes once more. "I'm… so sorry. It is best for everyone that he does not see you with others while he is powerful enough to watch this world. I hope you never forgive me." Crestfallen, he turned his back and approached the door. 

"No! Come back! Please! Don't leave me alone here! P-please! S-Soichiro!" Only the slam and locking of the door met your calls. 

You don't know how long you howled and wailed, how many times it echoed back in the circular chamber to your ear. There came the point where your body could make no more tears, so you were left with pathetic dry heaves. It was then that a voice whispered in your head. 

"Y/N…" It was different than the voice in the woods. It was sinister, deep, evil. You focused on anything, the floor's intricate patterns, the ceiling, the running water behind the chair, the plants around the circumference of the room, anything to not acknowledge it. "Oh, aren't you a gift wrapped up for me? Clearly my father's work. Don't ignore me, Y/N. I know your every move. I know you can hear my every word" 

"F-fuck you!" You cried, and he laughed. Then, he clicked his tongue.

"Such dirty words. You're not the angel I remember, fresh out of the clouds. Ah, but there wasn't much angel left, from what I can recall. Do you feel it, Y/N? It shouldn't be long now…" For a long time, nothing happened, then, like two knives down your back, you screamed. "Ah, there it is. Those screams, I do remember. I don't care if it hurts." Blood soaked the cushion behind you and flowed down to your rear. "You brought this on yourself. This is what you deserve." 

"I didn't do anything!" You writhed. 

"Is that what my father told you? Is that what the story says? Oh, they couldn't be more wrong, love. You denied me what I deserve. You could have fallen to hell right with me, where you can be where you belong, but you stayed. I couldn't have you running back to the angels to live your days without me. I wouldn't allow it. If I hadn't had Mikami lock you in that cage, if I hadn't bound our souls, your grave would be in the flower fields above the clouds, but you got conceited. 

"Let me remind you of something, love. You are mine. Your body, your mind, your heart, your soul, what's between your legs, it's all mine. We are bound for eternity, Y/N. There is nothing you can do about it." He got quiet just as the immediate pain receded, leaving you with intense throbs. 

"You… won't get the chance," you spoke through tears. "Big talk for someone who isn't even going to breach this plane." A flash of pain sparked in your skull. He chuckled. 

"Oh, Y/N. Perhaps you are just as green as you were when we met. I can't wait to feel you again. To have you watch me burn the world." Silence. 

Despite your exhaustion, you could not sleep. You might as well have melted into the chair in how your body did not move a single inch, too scared to bother your wounds, and have the pain come back that is still aching. You did not want to spend your last hours unconscious. No one came to feed you.

"They're coming," he said. "They'd better be quick, then. The moon is almost up out there, after all." He groaned, and you jolted at the feeling of a cold hand on your neck. 

Soichiro and a train of holy people entered the room and surrounded you. He approached your limp body and undid your bounds. You did not miss him tense, and his eyes widen at the pool of blood in the seat from your back. 

'We must hurry. Any minute he will come through." Soichiro enlisted others to help him carry you back up the stairs to the altar. "Twenty four hours in the chamber has amplified their soul. It explains the marks on their back from their past life. Quick, on the altar!" The cloth was smooth against your skin as they placed you. 

Movement flurried around you as different scents were sprayed, various objects were placed on the ground and on the altar around you, and foreign words were spoken around you. Fatigue racked your body. There was not a single inch of your body that you could to move. 

Soichiro stood over your body. Your eyes, dead and clouded, stared up at him. In his hand was a singular, transparent, glass object. Quickly, he lifted his hand, ready to plunge it down. 

A loud bang resounded in the chapel, and the glass fell with a splatter of blood. You rolled your head to the side and watched two bodies approach from the entrance. All of the holy people around you were blown limply against the walls around you. It was only when they were right above you that you recognize it was Misa and Rem. 

"Rem, can you carry them? Do you still have your strength?" 

"Do not worry, Misa," she replied. Long arms lifted you while Misa skipped ahead and smiled reassuringly back at you. Music filled the crisp air. Lights hanging from the trees and other ornaments swept by your visual field. You groaned and lulled your head to face Misa. 

"M-Misa, no." You groaned. "He's coming." She giggled and turned around. Skipping backward, her smile widened. Behind her, the crowd gathered in the village square. Their vivid garments stuck out under the lights. 

"Of course I know, silly! Rem is a Shinigami just as the one who gave Kira his power. Just like he had a notebook, I had Rem's, but it was destroyed eons ago. Still, it binds me to live eternally, just like Soichiro. Luckily, Rem's cloaking magic covered me when I've met him, or he would have spoiled it all for us!

"When I saw you, I knew it was you. No matter how you may physically change, your heart and soul are always the same. Now, he's going to return to us. He's going to spearhead the new world." She twirled her hair around her finger. "Isn't that exciting?" 

You had no strength to fight in Rem's hold. Even if you did, you were unsure if you would be able to beat a Shinigami. 

Eyes were drawn to you as your bloodied and weak form was carried by an almost unidentifiable figure. Gasps echoed across the crowd, the music stopping as you presumably reached the square. 

"They watch helplessly," he spoke. "They know you are not theirs to touch. Soon, they will all know my power. They will all know who you belong to. Keep your eyes open, love."  

"Y/N! Y/N! Move! That's our child! Move! Y/N! The desperate calls of your parents broke through the crowd, but Rem presumably pushed them far back just the holy people, scaring the public to still and part for your funeral march. You heard the sick smack of bodies against a surface. Misa hummed to herself in front of you. Your head rolling back, you met Mello's wide and helpless eyes as he stood in the crowd. 

Misa led you away from the crowd and stopped at the flagpole at the village's entrance gates with the group following. Rem retied you to the base of the flagpole; your arms crossed over your chest in a familiar 'X,' legs and waist bound to the pole. Misa's settled herself next to you.

"All!" She called. "Watch as the blood moon rises behind the chapel! He who fell to hell is rising again to take what is rightfully his!" She pointed to the moon as it brilliantly glowed crimson above the chapel. Murmurs rose from the crowd, suspicious and fearful. "Watch as our god returns to the mortal realm!" 

The church bell rang. Its deathly reverberations echoing in your ear. The crowd fell to silence. 

"Have you missed me, love?" He spoke. "Because I have missed you." 

A red beam of light erupted from the chapel, followed quickly by multiple explosions. The statue, the roof, the infrastructure all crumbling by the expanding beam of light that touched the sky, screams erupted from the crowd, and they began to scramble. You pulled with what little strength you had left, but the pole against your back seized you in pain to cease your movements.

A silhouette could be made out of the beam. Large black wings spread from his back, sharp and jagged. Hands rose above his head before he dropped down in front of the chapel submerged in flames. His shadow enraptured you, and though his shadow was mostly unclear from a distance, you could make out his eyes even from here. Slowly, he took his first step forwards. 

Every needle and leaf in the trees around him fell. The grass withered all around him. Ash from the sky and littered the ground. With each step, the radius expanded until more and more life died around him. Your eyes trailed to the unconscious bodies of your parents against a tree. His zone of death stretched farther than them. 

"Eyes on me." 

"You're going to kill them!" You screeched. "Stop this madness at once!" You shook in your bonds. Misa was frozen next to you, eyes wide in anticipation as he approached. 

"Ordering me around? Perhaps you still are conceited. I think killing them will remind you of your place, hm?" Unfortunate humans were reduced to ash in his radius. The wind blew the ashes all around him, gently lifting his brown tufts of hair. "These mortals are nothing compared to you and I. Accept me as your mate. Accept the part of your soul that is my own, and the pain will all go away. You'll be dragged down to hell, and I'll bring you right back up." 

Your parent's ashes were a different color than the rest. 

"You know, it's been an eternity since I've heard you call my name. Do you even remember it?" You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut. The thick scent of smoke, of ash, of death, permeated the air. "Eyes on me." He was almost here. Arms extended to the side, he approached from the other side of the square now. 

"Misa, we need to leave." 

"No! He's here! He's finally here, Rem!" 

"His aura will kill you, Misa." 

"No, I won't! He won't!" Rem, at lightning speed, grabbed Misa and flew in the other direction. "No! Put me down! I'll never forgive you! Stop!" Her voice echoed until it was out of range. Your head lashed back and forth, looking for any sign of life, but there was none: just ash, dying grass, and gnarled, graying trees. 

Dressed in all black, eyes blazing, teeth sharp, wings stretched, he now stood before you with the moon on his back. You pushed yourself against the pole despite the shock of pain. The grass around you died, the bugs vanishing, but you remained fine. You stared at his feet. 

"Oh, love," soft fingers reached down and tilted your head up. "You're as beautiful as I remember." Black wings encircled you, so you could only see him. "Do you remember my name?" You shook your head, and he gripped your chin harder. "Do not lie to me. Say my name, Y/N. Sew the wounds of your forsaken wings and accept your place with me." His voice resounded in you. "You feel it. I know you do. I feel your pain. Your fear. I've felt every emotion your reincarnations have ever felt. Say my name." He leaned in close.

"Kira." He clicked his tongue. 

"Stop resisting," he hissed. "Say my name, Y/N." His breath glided against your cheek. His hand moved to cup your jaw, and the other trailed down your waist.

"Light." It came off your lips quickly, easily, and he smiled, eyes widening with pleasure. Immediately, relief filled your physical body, your back's pain dissolving. Your head tilted back in bliss. 

"Y/N," he whispered against your neck. "Finally." He inhaled your scent deeply, hand tilting your head to give him more access. He placed a small kiss against your skin. His kisses trailed upwards, along your jaw, frantic against your cheeks, nose, until he captured your lips and stole your breath. 

"Oh, Y/N," he whispered against your lips. "I love you."  

[elles-writing]

Love Potion - Kili x fem!reader  - Day 1/13

Love potion

Pairing: Kili x reader

Warnings/triggers: Kili’s puppy eyes, mentions of Fili’s and Kili’s cooking/baking

Genre: fluff

Word: Potion - Day 1/13

Word count: 2066

A/N: First piece to 13 days of spooky writing event by @dumbassunderthemountain !! I lately felt unconfident about my writing, so I’ve decided to put on some up-beat music, different attitude and some schedule and this event came really handy! I hope this will make you feel cozy like it made me while I was writing it!

Tags: @dumbassunderthemountain @moony-artnstuff​ @artsywaterlily @trxblemaker @luna-xial

Message me if you want to be added/removed to taglist!

Celebrating Durin’s Day was always an event. Not just an event – through every celebration in Erebor was a huge thing so far – but it was the event of the year. The dwarves spended months of preparations just for this celebration, but they didn’t seemed to be too bothered by it. No. They were excited. Excited to celebrate, especially when The Lonely Mountain was reclaimed back and the Durin’s line survived the battle of five armies.

Thorin was a great king, there was no doubt about it. It was a two years of time since Erebor was reclaimed back, and even if nobody from the Company didn’t insisted you to stay, you deep down knew they did it just so you wouldn’t feel pressured and were ovejoyed when you said you’ll stay with them. Why would you say no, anyways? They became a close family to you through the quest.

After the battle, when a part of dwarves arrived, Fili and Kili got a stunning idea – that you’d meet their mother, Dis. You’ve heard about her from stories they told you and you were nervous that she won’t like you, but oh boy, you were proved wrong! You two became a good friends, you were even something like a daughter to her.

Especially when Fili or Kili (or both of them) would prank you, she was unstoppable. In those moments you realized that they didn’t lied when talked that she made sure they’d apologize. Properly.

It was a two days until Durin’s Day and you were in the kitchens. It was late afternoon and the cooks got their work quickly done, thanks to some cooks from Dale, who helped them out. Now, you were making an apple pie, chatting with Dis and wondering when will Fili and Kili show up. They didn’t got too many duties today, thanks to Thorin, who was busy by some last details about the celebration, so they were free by noon.

Soft golden light was creeping inside, and if you would look out from the windows, you’d see trees with leaves coloured in many different shades from yellow, orange and red, to brown. The whole Erebor now smelled like old leaves, warm spices, tea, apples and pears, in addition to usual smell that has been there. It created nice mix and it made you to feel warm and safe.

You huffed and placed your flour-covered hands on your hips, frowning down on the pie. Dis noticed your intense stare and followed your gaze.

„It looks very nice, dear. Don’t feel discouraged, I’m sure it will be much better than last year.“ You both giggled.

Last year was Bombur and Bilbo teaching you and the Durin’s brothers to bake pies and pasteries with apples, because there was a lot of them. Also as a punishment, when they wanted to prank Bofur and didn’t counted on Thorin and Dain walking right into it, instead of Bofur. You didn’t did it with them, of course, you just wanted to learn how to bake.

Long story short, it was the last time everyone have seen Kili and Fili to cook, as far as you knew. To bake, too. Because as much as they could fight and throw pranks, that much they couldn’t cook, and accidently, their and your pie ended up as a pile of ashes.

But now, neither of them were here.

And despite that cooking lesson, you were getting worried.

You looked at your pie again and sighed.

„Alright, I’ll let it be like this. Let’s hope it won’t end up burned.“ You both chuckled again.

Once the pie was baking, you sat down to Dis and started sipping on your cold tea. But it didn’t took too long, when you’ve heard familiar pair of steps and voices in quiet argument.

When they entered the kitchen, you’ve took a look who it was. Fili and Thorin, Thorin nodding at his sister and you and then walking away. Fili just sighed and sat down to you.

„Bilbo haven’t arrived yet and it’s making Thorin worried,“ Fili said and you nodded. You knew that Bilbo had a special place in everybody’s, especially Thorin’s heart. They usually wrote letters to each other. Bilbo has always made it in time to be there for Durin’s Day, and you didn’t doubted the halfling was alright. This year was more rainy than the year before and you truly believed he just needed more stops and wait until the rain didn’t stopped, so he could continue his path here.

You reached out and patted his shoulder.

„I believe that Bilbo is okay. He will come, I’m sure of it.“ You smiled at him and he nodded.

„You’re perhaps right, Y/N. Wait,“ He frowned and looked at you properly, from head to toe. Then, his face brightened.

„You were baking?“ You scoffed and rolled your eyes with a smile.

„Yes, I did. I’ve got a sweet tooth for something before the celebration.“ You’ve seen Fili’s eyes to sparkle in mischieve. But it wasn’t Fili who spoke up.

„Really? I believe you’re already sweeter than honey, sweetheart. Do I smell a pie?“ You turned to him and noticed his sparkling eyes. He winked at you and your cheeks reddened like autumn apples.

„And I believe I’m smelling and seeing a mud.“ Dis said, looking at her son. It was actually true – Kili’s hair was a mess, there were leaves of many different colours and twiggs in it, his clothes were wrinkled and he had dirt and mud on his clothes and in his hair, too. It was a miracle his face was almost clean.

„What you were doing, Kee?“ You asked him. He usually wasn’t this dirty. He grinned.

„I was showing some children from Dale around the fruit garden.“ Dis raised an eyebrow.

„Okay, I was playing with them here, too. But it was fun!“ You and Fili were chuckling. You knew that Kili would do it anyways – it was usually you three who would be jumping to piles of leaves, climbing up the trees and having a fight with mud, but today you spended in library and here in the kitchens.

Dis shot Kili a look and he sighed and rose his hands in defeat.

„What? It was fun! And besides,“ he grinned,

„nobody was injured.“ You all knew this counted. Before anyone could get Dis‘ reaction, a servant came in and said that Thorin sended for her. You thought that maybe Bilbo arrived.

When Dis left, you got up to check on the pie. Kili started picking leaves from his hair. Fili was looking from you to his brother, seeing how painfully obvious it was by the glances you threw each other when the other wasn’t looking, since the beginning of the quest, that you‘ve fancied each other.

For the last two years, Kili was flirting with you more and calling you only by nice and sweet nicknames, but you knew Kili was flirty like this, so it wasn’t anything too unusual. He looked like a flustrated puppy with pouting face, whenever you shook it off and wasn’t looking.

„It’s done,“ You said and took the pie out.

„It’s great you can bake,“ Fili said, looking down at the pie.

„It’s not that hard. You just need to follow the instructions.“ You three chuckled, knowing damn well that Fili and Kili and instructions or rules weren’t really too friendly.

„I’m hungry, can I take a bite, sweetie?“ Kili’s pleading chocolate eyes were set on you, looking like a puppy. Your heart melted, but you knew the pie was too hot to be eaten.

You placed your hands on your hips, looking at the brothers, mischievous smile spreading on your face.

„I’ll give you a piece, but you will have to wash yourself first.“ Kili pouted and bitten his lip slightly.

„It’s not fair that Fili will get the first one.“ You smirked.

„Who said Fili’s gonna get the first piece?“

„Hey!“ You all chuckled.

„I mean it, go wash yourself, Kee. Besides, it’s still too hot, it needs to cool down.“ Kili’s puppy eyes looked deep into your e/c  eyes again, only to realize you truly meant it. So when he stood between the doors, he winked at you.

„It’s not hot in comparison with you, my dear.“ And he left. Your yaw fell down and he let your cheeks flushed. Fili have seen the whole scene and smirked.

„It almost looks like he drank some love potion back in Bag-End and so did you, doesn’t it?“ You looked down to your feet, smiling to yourself.

„I think the red wine did it.“

„Aye, of course lass.“

When Kili came back with wet hair and clean clothes, you chuckled and pointed to his piece of pie.

„There you go,“ You said with a smirk to cover your nervousness. Fili almost rolled his eyes. Into a different dimension.

„Just say it already!“ He said, flustrated. You looked at Kili, who paled a bit, but then his face flushed.

„Oh yeah, I, uhm like you a lot, sweetheart.“ He looked like a flustrated puppy, and soft giggle escaped to your mouth. His own lips spreaded into cheeky smirk, like he usually worn.

„I-will you to court me?“ He looked at you with wide, nervous eyes. You held your breath and could not believe his words. He was asking you if you wanted to court him.

When you realized he was waiting for your response, you quickly nodded.

„Y-yes, o-of course I want to court you, Kili.“ You smiled and his eyes lighted up.

„Mahal, she said yes! Fili, did you heard that?! She said yes!“ And in a second, he was kissing your whole face. You were giggling when his hair touched your face.

„Kili, it tickles,“

„Fili, Kili, what’s all this about-“ Thorin came in. You three turned to him, seeing there was also Bilbo and rest of the Company, plus Dis. Bilbo seemed uncomfortable for a second, but then he smiled, as well as most of the Company. Dis‘ smile was the proudest, but it was hard to say. They were all happy and proud that you two stopped dancing around each other

„U-uncle,“ Kili looked at him.

„Well, I would like to announce, that me and Y/N are courting.“ He looked at you and you nodded. Dis placed her hands on her hips.

„When did you planned on telling us, you two?“ You looked at Fili and Kili.

„Well, it’s been just a while since we’re courting.“ Dis peeked to her second son, and Fili only grinned.

„Aye, but what does it matter? They’re the most perfect couple in the whole Middle-Earth!“ The rest of the dwarves cheered and Thorin’s face had warm smile, that one you’ve been seeing for past two years much more, since Erebor was reclaimed.

You noticed a tall figure and when you’ve seen a long grey robe, you were sure who it was.

„Gandalf! You arrived, too!“ He smiled at you and Kili.

„Indeed, I arrived with Bilbo. And as I can see, it was in time.“ you smiled.

„Oh yes, indeed.“ You looked at Kili. Then you rembered.

„Actually, I baked an apple pie today, can I offer you a piece?“  You offered to him and he nodded.

„It’s nice from you, miss Y/N.“

„Wait, you baked a pie, lass?“ Bofur came to take a look.

„It’s not a pile of ashes?“ Dwalin said and shot a look to Kili and Fili. You laughed.

„No, now sit down, or I’m not going to give you anything! I mean all of you!“

You didn’t noticed Bilbo was making a tea. You realized that when he handed you a cup and whispered.

„It’s called Love Potion, but it’s actually a mix of warm spices and some sweet fruits. I also know about that wine you and Kili tasted in Bag-End,“ He gave you a bit mischievous smile and shook your head.

„I believe that Fili told you, if I’m not mistaken?“

„Well, yes. He also told me to bring this mix for you as a gift for your birthday, when I was there only last year.“ he said. You smiled and looked over at Kili.

„You sure it was just a wine, Bilbo?“ He raised a brow.

„What else would it be? I’m not a wizard.“

„But surely you know one.“ He smiled.

„Fair enough.“

[greekowl87]

Fic: Watching in the Shadows

A/N: I’ve had difficulty bringing myself to write anything since October. I had some personal issues to work through regarding my anxiety and life. I’m still trying to work through it right now but I managed to cobble this together over the past month. This isn’t my best work and I’ve probably done something like this before (another fic that was a post-ep of FTF), but I at least managed to write something. Sorry. If you've gotten this far, thanks again for taking the time to look it over.

Also, no beta. Is AO3 more your thing, you can read this here

Tagging @today-in-fic @improlificinsarcasm @suitablyaggrieved @baronessblixen

The nightmares had started shortly after Mulder’s one-in-a-million successful rescue and their daring seascape from Antarctica. Somehow, they had made it with some minor scrapes, bruising, and some frostbite. They came back to D.C. and it was questionable whether they still had jobs or not. The x-files had been burnt in a flash of lost hopes and dreams. Only the ashes were left, smeared by the boots of the notorious Them.

After their latest jaunt in Arizona chasing more would be aliens exploding from human chests and poor Gibson Praise, Scully wondered if God was trying to take a cue from James Cameron. That ended roughly too. In addition to the nightmares she refused to acknowledge, the added insecurity of Diana Fowley was like a harbinger of the future.

Scully twisted in bed, her cotton sheets coiling around her like a python. It was suffocating. She was in that weird twilight of waking and still traipsing through a dream. Those that said you didn’t dream of color were wrong. She remembered flashes of being locked in that tube with that thing shoved down her throat. The cold that had eaten into her bones and down to her core, making her feel brittle. She remembered seeing those gelatinous bodies in Texas and remembered her fear. That would be her. That would be her fate.

Of course, she wouldn’t tell Mulder. Why would he believe her anyway? His thoughts were up in the clouds trying to get their work back. Scully finally woke up gasping. Her hand clutched her chest to feel her racing heart, mentally calming herself that nothing had exploded out of her chest. Her fingers touched the tiny gold cross and she squeezed it so hard so it would be indented in her finger pads.

“I’m alive,” she whispered to the shadows in the room. “I’m alive.”

The fragments of memory were still there, just like something you couldn’t see out from the corner of your eye but you knew it was there. She glanced at the alarm clock. 4:01 am. It was a Saturday so she would not have gone to work. She could afford to sleep. But was she going to?

During the past six years, she did not get nightmares. Not normally anyway. There were a few after Pfaster and then with her cancer. Without ignoring the science...damn her own words. She turned out the bedside lamp and got out of bed. Without really thinking (it was still night in her opinion), she went to her kitchen and filled her teapot. As she tried to decide what tea to drink, she heard a light knocking on her door.

There would only be one person who would knock on her door this early (or late).

Scully opened it without ceremony, replying, “The last time you came to my door, you were drunk and dragged me across the country. It’s Saturday and I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked tired, worse than usual. The bags under his eyes indicated something much worse. He read her unspoken question. “I haven’t slept in over 24 hours, Scully. I’m not planning on anything. I just didn’t know where else to go.”

He knew what just to say to pull at her heartstrings. She took his hand and pulled him into her apartment, locking the door behind her. “I can’t either.”

“Nightmares?”

The word was effortless, showing just how well he knew her. “Something like that. I was about to make tea. Do you want some?”

“Do you have anything stronger?”

“How about we settle in the middle? A hot toddy? You can stay here in the meantime.”

“What? You’re not going to kick out self-deprecating and self-pitying Spooky Mulder?”

“Of course not,” she said. “Is that even a question?”

She selected two bags of Chai tea with two mugs. She went to another cupboard and stood on her tiptoes, trying to reach a rarely used bottle. In three easy strides, Mulder was behind her. “The rum?”

She nodded and felt him press behind her, easily getting the bottle. “Grog?”

She chuckled. “Not quite. Hot toddy. I think it might be better for helping get us back to sleep.”

“A sleepover?”

“A sleepover,” she chuckled. This is how she liked her Mulder and she felt those insecure thoughts replaced with a warmth that she had come to know. “Maybe I’ll let you even play twister.”

“Scully,” he chuckled.

“Go make yourself comfortable. I’ll be there in a second.”

She heard him kick off his shoes and take off his leather jacket, indicating he had no plans to leave anytime soon. Scully was fine with this. He flipped on her television, keeping the volume low. She laughed when she saw James Cameron’s ‘Alien’ come on and Mulder looked at her funny. “What?”

“I...it’ll sound stupid…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Tell me,” he encouraged.

“I’ve had trouble sleeping since Antarctica.” She nodded towards the television. “My nightmares. I wonder if James Cameron is playing a role. I keep seeing myself back on that ship. And after...the face-hugger.” She motioned to her chest. “Bursting out in all the bloody glory.”

“But it didn’t, Scully. It didn’t.”

“Still doesn’t stop the nightmares.” She first added generous amounts of the spiced rum and then the Chai tea. “I was awake and aware when I was in that tube. Not all the time but I was awake. I remember. I remember the coldness...” She shook her head and her voice faded.

Mulder nodded gently. “I get the impression that you don’t want me to talk about the subject.”

“I don’t want to fight, Mulder. I don’t want to fight about the report, the work, or Fowley right now. I’m tired.” She rubbed her eyes. “Nor do I want to scold you on what happened in the Bermuda Triangle. We both know how stupid that was.”

Mulder was quiet. “I do trust your judgment, I do trust you. Without you...I probably would have been stuck in 1939 with no way home.”

“Mulder.”

“I do trust you,” he repeated, with more certainty. “More than anything.”

Scully nodded, satisfied with his response. She took the two mugs and walked them over. “So,” she said, “you had to pick Alien after I told you God is consulting with James Cameron?”

“Run of the luck. Do you want me to change it?”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

Mulder sipped the hot toddy, his eyebrows arching in surprise. “You didn’t go light.”

“No, but it works well together. Don’t you agree?”

“Very good.”

“So, Scully, since we’re having a sleepover, wanna play truth or dare?”

“Excuse me?”

“Truth or dare?” He smirked.

She was tired. Maybe her brain wasn’t working correctly. Maybe the lack of sleep had something to do with it. She decided to indulge him this time. “Truth.”

“Okay,” he paused. “What was your nightmare about?”

“Very smooth and not at all obvious.” He shrugged, sipped the hot beverage, and watched her. She sighed. “What could have been if you had not gotten to me in time when they took me.” She recognized that look and she hated it. “Stop profiling me.”

“I’m not.” He looked almost insulted. “I was just hoping to hear more. But it’s your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth. Ask your question, Scully so we both can get it over it.”

The sharpness in his voice took her off guard. “What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I asked you first.”

“Truth. No. Fact. I do love you.”

“I…” She felt panic rise in her chest. No. No, no, no. “Mulder…” He held his hand up and she grabbed it, shooing it away. This was getting out of hand. “Not like this. Quit messing with me, Mulder.”

She got up quickly and downed the scalding liquid. She winced. “I’m not.”

“It’s not funny,” she said again in warning. “Stop messing with me. This entire game is stupid. Why did I even let you talk me into this?”

Scully remembered how her mom used to force Melissa to include Scully in her sleepovers. Even though there were only two years between her and Missy, Scully always felt like the odd one out. Nerdy Dana who always had her nose buried in a science book. Why don’t you marry Einstein they would tease. As much as she loved her sister, that game left nothing but bitter memories for her.

Mulder frowned, surprised by her sudden reaction. He didn’t know why the words fumbled out of his mouth the way they did. But now that it had happened, he couldn’t see a reason why not. He watched her set the forgotten drink on the kitchen table and pace.

“Scully.”

“Why did you come here? Why did you come here, Mulder?” She wrapped her arms around herself. Maybe she was caught in the throes of another nightmare. “Answer me!”

“Do you want me to leave, Scully?” He asked. “If that’s what you want, I have no problem doing that.”

“I didn’t say that. Stop twisting my words.”

“Then come back here and sit down.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she bit her lip and nodded. She sat at the opposite end of the couch. Mulder suddenly felt the dynamic shift between them and it was like a game of chess. “For the record, I do not feel comfortable about this.”

“Noted. Now, what did you dream about?”

“The first time I was abducted, there was some trauma there. Bits and pieces. But this time was different. I dream that I die. You don’t come. That thing explodes out of me like those crime scene photos. I performed the autopsy on that body and saw what happened. That was going to become me.

“And I die to expect during all this, I am alive and I feel every sensation. I don’t know what is worse: knowing that I almost died from the virus or the chip in my neck.” Scully found herself confessing fears that she had managed to repress for the past year. “Ruskin Dam. Skyline Mountain. The cancer. And now this same Earth-based virus that we also found in Gibson Praise. What do you think it means, Mulder? It terrifies me.”

Mulder fumbled over her words in his mind. Where does he even begin? “I came here because I didn’t know where else to go. The bar…” He snorted with displeasure. “After what happened in Dallas, I was devastated. After almost losing you, well, let’s just say I got my priorities straight.”

“Priorities.”

What the hell was going on between them? “What are we doing here, Mulder?”

“What do you mean?”

“This. You come over at 4 am. Make me confess my soul.”

“It is Saturday so it’s not like we have to work.”

“We may not even have jobs.”

He held up a finger. “Prohibition period, remember? We do have jobs. We just to get to do background checks and chase shit around the country.”

“I don’t see what’s so great about it.”

“I have you. You’re still here with me. She wasn’t.”

“She?”

“Diana.”

Scully frowned at the mere mention of the name. “I still don’t see why you trust her or what you see.”

“She was there when I found the x-files. But who is here now, where she could still have a promising career in medicine despite the fact most of her patients are dead?”

“Except for one.”

Mulder smiled. “You’re still here. After all this, after all that we’ve been through. You’re the one I trust the most.” He sighed and sipped the hot toddy. “I still trust her because how could I not, Scully? But she’s not the one I went to at four am.”

She remembered going to him at the reflection pool at twilight, taking his hand, a wordless promise to each other. “Touché.” She relaxed. “Look, I’m sure you didn’t mean that…”

“I did.”

Shit. “Let’s put a pin in that thought,” she said quickly. Mulder sat his mug on her coffee table. “Coaster.”

He grabbed two and slid them across her oak coffee table. “Why is it so hard to wrap your mind around it?”

“Well,” she began, struggling to find her voice. “There’s different types of love. You love me like a friend, a sister, a comrade…”

“And then are is also the type between…”

He said this as she was trying to put her mug on the table but, uncharacteristically, the mug fumbled, spilling all over the table. “Shit.” The hot tea burned her hands and Mulder was already rushing back into her kitchen, grabbing towels and the ice pack. “Mulder…”

“I got it.”

He quickly cleaned up the mess and Scully took the extra towels. She wiped the mess off her hands and frowned at the red swelling starting on her knuckles. Mulder wrapped the ice pack in another towel and took her hands. “Mulder.”

“I gotcha, Scully.”

“Mulder, I’m fine.”

“Will you just let me?” The sharpness of his voice silenced her as he took her hands gently and held the ice pack against it. “I know you want to be this badass FBI agent…”

“Want to?”

“I know you are a big, badass FBI agent. Just let me for once?”

“Fine.”

They sat in silence as Mulder held the ice pack over the top of her hands. She cleared her throat. “I meant what I said, Scully. I do love you.”

She scoffed. “I’m sure.”

“You aren’t a replacement.”

Scully shook her head, refusing to believe him. “You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Twist words.” She tried to pull her hands away from him without success. “Mulder, let me go.”

She felt Mulder squeeze her fingers tighter. “No.” He was staring at her. Those goddamn— “Look at me, Scully.”

Why did she feel tears in her eyes? Her eyes did feel dry from lack of sleep. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m sick of the lies.” She rested her chin on her chest. “I’m tired of the smoke and shadows. For once, I just want someone to tell me the truth and mean it.”

Mulder sighed. She winced hearing it. “What do you want me to do, Scully?”

“Tell me the truth.” She looked

“I am.” He removed the ice pack and kissed her knuckles. “I love you. You aren’t a replacement. Nothing could replace you.”

“Then what am I to you?”

“You’re Scully.” He looked at her as if that was even a question. “When it came to Samantha, I was able to live with it. I have for 27 years. But when I lost you on Skyline mountain…” Mulder put the ice pack back on her knuckles. “I couldn’t...I didn’t know what to do. I was filled with such rage. I almost killed Duane Barry. The months during your absence, I didn’t do so well.”

Scully watched him. “You rarely talk about it.”

“Because there isn’t too much to say. I took a couple of profiling cases. Coming back to the basement office—it didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t the same.” He nodded to the small gold cross on her neck. “I wore your cross when you were gone.”

She remained quiet.

He snorted derision and looked down at their hands. “It’s stupid. There was a point, right after you came back, that X wanted me to just take a plane ticket and leave you and forget everything. You. The x-files. The shadowy men without names. Everything.” He adjusted the ice pack. “And maybe, at one time I would, but not when it came to you.”

“Do you know why seeing run off with Agent Fowley hurt me?”

“Why?”

“It’s our work,” she specified, emphasizing the word ‘our.’ “She comes out of the woodwork and, all of the sudden, I take the backseat on this. I thought it was my science that kept you honest, Mulder.”

“Your science does,” he quickly caught himself, “quit twisting my words.”

“I’m not. My hands are fine, Mulder.”

“I guess they are.” He pulled back the ice and Scully flexed her numb hands. “Do you want another cup of tea?”

“Yes, please.”

“I left you with Gibson because I know he would be safer with you rather than Diana.”

“Yet, I still lost him.”

“No. He was at the nuclear facility. I have a hunch he is safe.” Mulder looked over his shoulder. “How generous, Special Agent Doctor?”

“Shut up. Make it a generous one.”

Mulder smiled and called, “Did you know I was a bartender for a couple of months in Oxford?” Scully’s mind was trying to reel with everything that was happening. But she forced her insecurities into the backseat and let Mulder take the lead. He frowned “If I were just here for something else, we’d be halfway across the country right now.”

“I don’t know if that is a good or bad thing, Mulder.” Scully watched the tv, flinching at a particularly gory scene with a face hugger. “Do you have nightmares?”

“Hm?” Mulder shrugged with his back to her. “Sometimes. That’s one of the reasons why I don’t sleep.”

Scully was quiet as Mulder returned to her with a new mug of hot Chai tea. She took it and sipped the mug. “Good. Thank you.”

“And for the record, Scully, the nightmares aren’t just of Samantha. It’s you too.”

She closed her eyes, annoyed with this vein of conversation. “Is that why you decided to profess your undying love?”

“I thought it was a good moment. But that’s not all of it.” Mulder rejoined her on the couch. “Are you ready to talk about that?”

“I still think you’re full of shit.”

He laughed and sipped his hot toddy. “That’s why my eyes are brown.”

“Hazel.”

“I’m only half full of shit then.”

Scully snorted into her drink. “I honestly don’t know what to believe.”

“I want to believe,” Mulder teased in a fake E.T. voice. She snickered playfully and slapped his thighs. “See? Made you smile. Careful. It might stay that way, Scully.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” he said. He checked his watch. “It is almost 4:30 am, Agent Scully. Your guest is intoxicated. What are you going to do?”

“I thought we were having a sleepover?”

“Did I say that?”

“You’re words, not mine.”

“At least take off your shoes.”

She heard Mulder kick them off and he grabbed the remote. He changed the tv to the Sports Channel. After seeing raise a questioning eyebrow, he shrugged. “So, do you watch Sports Center or a movie to fall asleep to?”

“What happened to Truth or Dare?”

“Okay, truth, or dare?”

“Dare,” she said.

“I dare you to have a sleepover on your couch.” That eyebrow. “Just...whatever we are, Scully.”

After a few moments of hesitation, she nodded. Scully felt him squeeze her hands and smile. She stood still like a painting. He smiled at her and she forced herself to return it. Mulder unwound her like a knotted piece of string and lounged himself. Despite their height differences and oppositeness, they still were made for each other. Scully found herself curling up next to him as he grabbed the remote and changing it to a 4 am playing of ‘Mystery Science Theatre 3000.’ Mulder grabbed a knitted, over large Afghan from the back of her couch to tuck around them.

“What does this say to you, Agent Mulder?”

“I love you,” he whispered. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And I tell you without hesitation.”

Scully was quiet. “Why did you come here again?”

“There’s nowhere else where I would rather be.”

“Good enough for now.”

Scully quickly ran through possible scenarios. What did she have to lose? Everything. “This won’t change anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to lose us,” she replied cautiously.

“This will change nothing. If not, only for the better.”

She wisely chose not to say anything. She tried to relax but she shook her head. She pushed away towards the other end of the couch. There was a visible look of hurt on his face. “It’s not you,” she replied quickly.

“Yeah, I’ve heard it before. It’s me.”

“For once, it’s is me, Mulder. I can’t...I can’t get past my insecurities.”

“What insecurities?”

She ghosted him a smile. “The hallway? Either we have really bad timing or bees don’t like us.”

“Or?”

“You mentioned it earlier. I don’t want to be a replacement for Samantha or her…”

“Her?” It took a moment for Mulder to recognize what she was telling him. “Why do you say that?”

“I overheard what you said to Arizona. She’s staying on the x-files because it’s the best way to represent your interests. Before that, when we still had the office, I caught you all holding hands. She seemed so excited about something. That is when I called you. I told you I was driving back. I was just sitting in the car in the garage outside.”

“Watching in the shadows?” Mulder sighed. “Scully…”

“I feel like I’ve been on the outside a lot lately.” She sipped her hot toddy, the alcohol burning in the back of her throat. “So I can’t help but feel somewhat insecure. Just talking about it…” She snorted into her mug of tea. “It’s taking a lot.”

“I can understand that.”

“Do you?”

He hesitated. “I...like to think so.” Mulder leaned forward. “I know things have been tough. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re still here.”

She titled her head in question. “What do you mean?”

“I thought that you have left. Maybe try to go back to Quantico or quit the FBI all together.”

“I almost did that night when they told me Salt Lake City. But you’re my partner, Mulder. It’s as simple as that.”

He took her free hand and entwined their fingers. “And for that, I am grateful for that of every moment of every day. Do you want to know the difference between you and her?”

“Our heights?”

Mulder snorted in muted laughter. “I guess, physically, but where it counts, you tower above her.”

She arched a skeptical eyebrow.

“She left me. No warning or note. Just up and left. I haven’t been in contact with her since she left. She wouldn’t have chased me like you have or been thrown in contempt of Congress for lying to save my ass.” Scully smiled as she looked down. “She wouldn’t have thrown everything out the window to deal with her crazy partner. You are so much more than she was, or is, Scully.” He brushed her hair out of her face. “And I have never loved anyone more than I love you. Truth. I meant what I said in that hospital. I love you.”

“You really overcomplicate things.”

Mulder shrugged and grinned. “So, Scully, where does this leave us?”

The insecurities raged inside her and she averted her gaze. “I’ve had nightmares about this too,” she said softly.

“Why does it always feel like we are watching from the shadows?” He asked her softly. “Especially in our nightmares? We feel like we don’t have control?”

“I don’t know. I thought you were supposed to be the psychologist?”

“It was rhetorical.”

“I know.” She sighed and looked at the tv for a distraction. “After all we’ve been through, Mulder…”

“What about it?”

“I do love you.” She said as quickly exhaled so it came out in a jumble of words. Scully doubted he had heard her. But his playful grin suggested otherwise. “You heard it?”

“Ears like a fox.”

Mulder bent forward again to kiss her again, forgoing all shyness. She felt him bring her closer, snaking his arms around her. He sighed audibly before she returned it with much gusto. Senses alight for both of them, Scully managed to be the level headed one between them both. “Mulder,” she breathed. “I hardly think this is the place?”

He pulled back and blinked in confusion. His senses were drunk off her that it was heard from him to make sense. “What?”

“I don’t think the couch Is the best place for this.”

“Why?”

He was only now capable of single-word answers and questions. She smiled. She felt lighter. The nightmares that had plagued the back of her mind for months now seemed like a distant memory. “Just because.”

It seemed like she was incapable of speaking too. She pushed the Afgan aside and got to her feet. The cups were forgotten and Mulder clicked off the television. Words failed them but their unspoken communication did otherwise. He took her hand and squeezed. “Are you certain?”

“No,” she admitted truthfully, “but I know what I feel. I’ve learned to trust my instincts.”

Mulder smiled. She led him to her bedroom. She kept the lamp near her bed on and he looked at her tossed sheets. He exhaled, letting out a heavy sigh. “I wish you would have told me sooner.”

“What would you have done, Mulder?”

“Acted sooner.”

“Well, you’re here now, right?”

“Of course. You haven’t kicked me out yet.”

“I’m not planning to.”

Scully took his hands and pulled him closer. She felt emboldened and the room felt hotter than it was. He smiled. “So…” She grabbed him by the scruff of his t-shirt and pulled him downwards. Mulder’s spine protested but he didn’t care. Let Scully take the lead. His arms reached downwards to bring her closer. Suddenly, she felt frozen. Just a second ago she had felt so confident. Now, she was unsure. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you certain about this?” Her voice was soft but the lingering hesitation could be heard. “About this thing between us?”

“Yes, I’m more certain than anything else.”

“Okay.” There was another pause. “So...how do we do this?”

“We just do,” he laughed.

She shook her head and said, “Isn’t this better than a stakeout, watching in the shadows for some would-be informant, and then finding out it was a waste of time.”

“Scully, are you proposing role-playing?”

“No. It’s just…” She laughed despite herself. “I never imagined this.”

“Are you certain you want to go through with this? You don’t have to if you’re…”

“No, I want this.”

Mulder kissed her softly at first but deepened it. He walked her backward to her bed until she bumped up against it. Mulder smiled as pushed her to sit down. “It’s, uh, been a while.”

“Same.”

He sat next to her and laughed. “I expected this to be different.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going to do this, aren’t we? I expected it to be a bit more...fevered? And look at us, like two scared virgins.”

Scully laughed. “So, Mulder, do you want me to take the lead?”

He rolled his eyes. “Or we can just go back to watching TV. I’m sorry. I guess it’s the sleep deprivation talking.”

“We aren’t watching TV. I thought we were having a sleepover. At some point, we do have to sleep.” She got to her knees and pushed him onto his back. “Besides, Mulder, we’ve come this far. When have we ever done anything halfway?”

“What have you done with Dana Scully?”

“Invasion of the body snatchers?”

Scully felt her courage return. She swung her leg over his hip and straddled him. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t remember this being a part of a sleepover.”

“Well, it’s a thing between partners, right?”

She slid lower, squeezing her thighs in the process. He grunted in response. “Right. I’m not complaining by the way. I was just stating.”

She hummed. She was alight was all new sensations. Mulder let his hands drop to her waist. “I like those pajamas by the way. It’s not silk for once.”

“Cotton.”

“Huh.”

“My mom says…”

He couldn’t take it anymore. “I don’t care what your mother said.”

His long arms twisted around her and pulled her down. She braced herself, sticking her hands out on either side of his head to brace the impact. She collided into an Earth-shattering kiss. Stranger thing how time and physics worked. She sighed happily as her tongue delved into his mouth. This was good. “This is wonderful,” she whispered between breaths.

“Do you know what makes this better?”

“What?”

“Give me some control?” She paused. “Do you trust me, Scully?

“Yes.”

He smiled. “You know that you’re the only one I trust, right?”

“Do you?”

Instead of answering her, he skillfully changed their positions so she was laying on her back and he was laying on her side. His left hand carefully undid the button down her pajama top. She breathed sharply at the first contact of his fingertips caressing the swell of her breast. “I do.” He watched her thoughtfully. “You see, before you...I had a few partners. They came and went. It was like they wanted nothing to do with me. But you...you challenged me, you made me better. I can’t place the exact moment but it may have been laughing with you in that graveyard in Oregon at five o’clock in the morning.”

She hissed at his touches. “That was nearly six years ago.”

“So, I like a slow burn. I have never felt this way about anyone except you.” She laughed but she bit her lips to keep herself from crying out. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Do your nightmares involve this, Scully?”

“I don’t let myself indulge in such fantasies.”

“Why not?”

He was growing bolder with his explorations. She sighed and closed her eyes. “Lately, with everything, I don’t know.”

“What do you say we change that?”

He bent down to kiss her again and pushed up on her top. He wasn’t rushing nor did she mean his slow advances. Soon, she found herself growing restless. “Mulder?”

“Hmmm?”

“Enough of this. Let’s finish this.”

This is not how neither one of them imagined things. Scully had it imagined it fast and quick after the turmoil from a case. Mulder, on the other hand, imagined it slow after one night of verbally sparing with one another. Who needed guidance when you had your better half?

The lamp remained on. There was no hiding from this. Six years of tension resolved.

The clothes were peeled artfully like it was nothing new. She laughed between their kisses. “At least I don’t have to save you this time.”

He suckled her hungrily. “You already did. A long time ago.”

Mulder reached to turn out the light on her nightstand and Scully grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “No, leave it on.”

The first time was always awkward. They both remembered being told that my friends when they were teenagers. “I expected this to be different,” he admitted.

“Mulder, shut up.”

“This has got to be a sleepover for the record books.”

At the clock turned 5:00 and the red numbers faded against the lamplight, Mulder continued. Clothes were shed, and they crawled beneath the covers. The fire ignited and fears were extinguished. Gone was the cold that plagued the nightmares and shadows that kept them in hiding. Their bodies entwined, just as their souls had been for years.

Their ecstasy came to a crescendo as Scully felt her last orgasm leave her and Mulder followed soon after. He was laughing as he rolled off to the side and she grinned like a fool. He started to laugh too and any tension that remained fade as she came down from her high.

“Well, I certainly don’t remember sleepovers being like that,” he remarked.

Scully could hear the fatigue in his voice, finally evident from someone who had not slept in over 24 hours. She smiled goofily and nodded toward the window. “The sun is coming up.”

“How can you tell?”

“It’s summer and during that time, the sun comes through the window sometimes. It’s been so long. I can’t remember the last time I stayed in bed this late.”

“We haven’t been here that late.” He yawned and pulled her closer. “Where are you going?”

“Give me a sec.”

She reached to turn out the light and moved to get out of bed. “Where do you think you’re going? And why did you turn out the light?”

“Because, Mulder, this is supposed to be a sleepover,” she said, “and we need to sleep.”

“And based on what scientific evidence?”

“I’m a doctor.”

He watched her jog nude across the bedroom in the dark shadows to open up the blinds slightly to let in the morning light. She rushed back to bed. “Oh, your cold,” he complained.

“Knock it off.”

Scully reclaimed her spot next to him. They both turned beneath the covers to face the newly opened blinds as the early morning light began to shine through. “No more shadows, Scully.”

“No more shadows.”

[cajunquandary]

Whispers of the Desert

Pairing | Reader, Sam, Dean

Summary | When the reader takes time for herself in the mountainous desert of far-west Texas, the last thing she expected was to have to fight for her life.

W/C | 6100

Warnings | Canon-level violence, blood, drowning and nightmares. It’s angsty.

A/N | Several years ago, I took a trip to Big Bend State Park, which is the setting for this tale. While there, my better half shared some folklore from his heritage. This was written in part for @supernatural-jackles​ SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge. Prompt is in bold. Happy spooky-season, y’all.

The can of beans bubbled gently over the open fire. You stirred them carefully, as not to spill the contents or allow them to burn on the bottom. Little else is worse than burned beans. Using a well-worn cotton kerchief, you reach quickly to remove the can from the flames, cussing to yourself as the smoldering metal burns straight through the thin cloth to your fingers. The can lands next to you on the ground in a whap, a few rebellious beans jumping overboard as the can tipped and wiggled to a stop. You place the burned digits in your mouth one at a time in an attempt to suck the zinging pain away quickly then give up, wiping them on your dusty jeans with a sigh of resignation.  

The sleepy spotted hound to the left of you continued to snore, exhausted from the heat of the day and the journey thus far. You’d been hunting for months straight without so much as a full night of rest and decided to take a weekend to yourself, far away from humans and monsters. You smile at the dog, glad to have such a loyal companion. Training him had been surprisingly easy, you reminisced while blowing on a spoonful of dinner-in-a-can to cool it.

You don’t quite remember when you stopped being a “normal” kid, if ever you were, and became a hunter. There was no dramatic intro, no amazing story—only a few ghosts and some salt. You sniggered at the thought, recalling how you’d been hooked on the Supernatural books as a kid, reading well beyond your grade level. So, when the time came that you actually confronted the supernatural in real life, you already had the answers. It was easy. You still weren’t sure about all the larger plots, like apocalypses and the Winchester boys, but the basic lore was solid.

Just a few years ago, you remembered being so lonely that it was throwing you off your game. Even though you craved human contact, you could never give more than a one-night stand on occasion. Loving me is a death sentence, you replayed over and over in your mind.

After a not-so-great hunt, you limped into a shelter, asking for the dog least likely to ever find a home. A puppy was unceremoniously thrown into your arms, the staff begging you to take it and go, as they were already struggling and couldn’t afford to keep a dog like this for long. Walking back to your old blue truck, you looked down at the small, fragile thing. Spotted all over, ears floppy and forlorn eyes that broke your heart. “A mutt,” they’d called it. One that just wouldn’t be wanted in that town. A runt and only surviving pup in a litter from a mix of a large, skinny hound dog and an even bigger, meaner pit bull.

As he’d grown, you trained him to hunt as well, bringing home bits of monster so he could learn the different scents and be able to tell you what may be approaching before you were caught off guard. The mutt grew up strong and confident with a huge loving heart.

On the rare occasion you make a public appearance in a town—any town—young children would come running to him, pulling on his ears and shoving their hands down his throat. He loved the attention. You couldn’t help but to smile, thinking that he would have been the perfect family dog, then sink into heart ache, realizing that the life you led would never allow for such a thing… that the two of you would likely both perish bloody at the hands of beasts.

You were scraping the bottom of the can now, grateful for the nourishment, when a shadow crept closer, curious of this new thing in its home.

Mutt sensed you stiffen and slowly turn your head to the midnight intruder. His hackles raised as he sniffed the air, a low, nearly inaudible rumble beginning deep in his chest as a warning. The waning light of the fire cast short, fleeting glimpses of the visitor. You dropped your shoulders and relaxed. It was only a coyote. Most people would be frightened by the animals if confronted in such a way, but you were familiar with them and with their mannerisms. You gently laid a hand on Mutt to reassure him that all was well. He trusted you fully, hackles lowering slightly, standing down.

The coyote lowered his head, sniffing towards your discarded can. You locked eyes with the scavenger, mirroring its movements. Its jowls drew back slightly, revealing short, sharp teeth in a smiling sneer. You drew back yours as well, baring your teeth and adjusting your features until your brows furrowed and eyes dared it to move closer. After a moment, the wild dog went back to a resting face, blowing from its nose and licking the air in peace. On swift, silent paws, it turned and trotted away in defeat, using the light of the Milky Way to guide it to its next meal.

You smiled and shook your head. Though during the day, the mountainsides and valleys looked barren and empty except for cactus and an occasional pile of wild grasses, the nights were always vibrant and teeming with life. Off in the distance, a chorus of howls echoed off of the cliffs and across the canyon below, rising and falling, sounding off in one direction, then another, then both. Cool winds of night lifted the solemn song through the air, carrying it for miles as if it were a raptor weightlessly gliding over the terrain.

Mutt released a tired huff, a bit of caliche dust stirring in a small curling puff in front of his nose. You killed the now flameless glowing embers with a swift kick of dust and your boot, smooshing it until the ash was cool. You climbed into the front seat of the truck, Mutt right on your heels. He laid next to you on the faded carpet as you sprawled across the bench seat and kicked off your boots. Folding your arm under your head, it was merely seconds before your mind fell to black.

 The largest owl you’ve ever seen haunted your dreams. It was persistent and aggressively following you, swooping and diving towards your head. As if being shrouded in a spell, where you could only move sluggishly as if in water and your mouth could fall open but emit no sound, was terrifying enough, the owls face would morph continuously between that of the animal and of a young woman whose face twisted in unnatural ways. More than anything, you were angry—angry at the being, angry at yourself. Frustration pushed at the seams of your sanity as your mind and body fought each other when they should have been unified and fighting against the feathered behemoth. The shape-shifting head seemed to whisper a steady string of words you couldn’t understand.

The more you labored, the heavier your limbs grew and a thick fog began creeping at the edges of your brain, poisoning every thought and emotion until there was almost nothing left. Nothing but absolute, bone-chilling, illogical fear. Quick, panicked breaths drew fire-hot air into your lungs, but you could not longer even writhe in the pain with your body completely paralyzed—suspended high above the black silhouette of desert. Every cell in your being began to swell and pull, tearing apart. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you felt it being ripped from your body.

Your soul.

With the last bit of strength left within you, you forced your eyes open.

Mutt whined as you came to, suddenly upright and back in the safety of your truck. The first rays of sunrise were creeping up over the horizon. You looked down, feeling coming back to your body in waves of numb tingles. You were soaked in sweat and nausea overcame you. Barely opening the door in time, you leaned out over the step and released your stomach violently, heaving for some time until there was nothing left. Right then and there, you swore off canned beans for the foreseeable future. Mutt laid his head on your shoulder, licking the beads of perspirant off your temple in concern.

When the retching and trembling stopped, the stars had been all but chased away and replaced by the soft, subtle rainbow hues of morning. You groaned and rolled over, staring at the cab roof and planning your recovery quickly. Starting a day out here already dehydrated and weak could be a death sentence.

The wind kicked up, blasting a sweet relief of fresh air into your lungs. Whistles and other unexpected noises on the breeze were fairly normal, especially during daylight exchange, but you could swear you heard the distant hoots of an owl. Mutt didn’t seem to hear anything, so you shrugged the spooky feeling off and put the keys in the ignition, ready to head into the nearest truck stop for a shower and a sports drink.

 About an hour later, you pulled your sputtering, rattling truck into the stop and parked next to a shiny black car. With windows rolled down for Mutt, you stepped out and around to get a better view of the old beauty. It was an Impala, probably a ’67 if you were to guess. You loved old cars, always wanting an El Camino for yourself one day. Even your truck was old—a faded and mildly rusty baby blue Ford. Your eyes traced and admired the curves of the car, the shine of the chrome and the matching leather interior. Everything was in perfect condition, as if it just come off of a show truck. You knelt down until you were on hands and knees, peeking up under the front of the car, taking note of the lack of rust underneath and original suspension. In all, you were impressed.

You straightened back up on your feet, adjusting your wide-brimmed hat back in its place. You went rigid, suddenly feeling a presence too close behind you for comfort. You spun on your heels, feet spaced and ready to defend yourself. It wasn’t often you had to, but once in a while, a particularly ignorant man would try to get a little too fresh with you—the small woman travelling alone.  

You weren’t prepared for this.

Only inches away, a very tall, very handsome man in flannel stood cockily, a bag of donuts in one hand, beer and jerky in the other. You slowly lifted your gaze from his chest up to his face. Shaded green eyes caught yours like a spider would a fly—you were ensnared and unable to focus on anything else around you. The rest of the world fell away bit by bit as you performed in this staring contest. He slowly popped a little donut in his mouth, the pastry filling his cheeks and dusting his lips and collar with white powder. He chewed slowly with a poker face.

“Nice car,” you managed to choke out.

The tension between the two of you was palpable now. The freckle-dusted man continued to chew, responding with a throaty, mumbled “Mhmmph.”

The door to the building opened with a ring-ding, startling you from the awkward competition. You took a step back, breaking the stare and following the alert towards an even larger man walking towards you, face buried deep in a local map. “Hey, Dean, get this—”

His eyes snapped up, assessing the standoff before him, and he shook the hair out of his face. His eyes were nothing like the other man’s—they were softer, drawn together inquisitively, the sun highlighting the different shades of green, blue and brown folded and swirled around black pupils. He stopped next to the passenger door and cocked his head to the side. “Uh, Dean. Everything alright?”

Without so much as wavering his intense regard, Dean answered the taller man. “Yeah, Sammy. She’s just admiring the car.”

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed. “Dean, we don’t have time for this. Let’s go.” He waved amicably in your direction and settled into the Impala. You crossed your arms and turned back towards Dean after shooting a smile at Sam.

A little more confident now, you returned back to your game of glares. “Can’t take a compliment, Dean?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Yeah, it’s my baby. I put a lot of work into her. Thanks.”

The man continued to stand there, looking you up and down and eyeing you warily as if you were about to explode. You shrugged off the strange encounter and turned away, throwing a “have a good day” his way before you entered the welcome air conditioning of the store.

As you pre-paid for your shower and sports drink with the clerk, you could still see the man standing there out of the corner of your eye, watching you cautiously through the window.

You took the key and headed off towards the back of the building, ready to wash away the night terrors and bizarre encounter.

When you reached your private bathroom suite, you closed and locked the door then set down your backpack and turned on the hot water in the clean, sand-colored tiled shower. Steam started to fog the mirror, but you glimpsed yourself before it went completely white. Horrified, you wiped at the mirror. Your eyes were bloodshot and there was dried blood, almost black, that had trickled down your nose. Your veins were prominent and unnaturally blue, spiderwebbing across the thinner areas of skin. Your pupils were blown wide. You reached up to touch your face, confused, but your hand wandered to an itch under your ear. You leaned in closer and angled your head to see that blood had seeped from your ears as well.

You hastily stepped into the drumming water and tried to scrub away the knowledge that the nightmare may have been more than just that.

 Back at the Impala, Dean watched you through the window, unmoved from the spot he’d caught you sneaking around the Impala. When you were out of sight, he slipped into the driver’s seat, hinges protesting with a squeak.

“You okay, dude?” Sam asked.

Dean set his snacks down between them. “No, Sam. Did you see her face? I found her creeping around the car. I didn’t see any hex-bags, but I think she’s a witch.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “Dean, she just looked like she had a few too many last night and maybe got in a fight.”

Dean shrugged, not willing to argue with his brother. One of his favorite things about Sam was also the worst—he always saw the good in people and, all too often, was blinded by it.

He turned up the music and peeled away from the truck stop, ready to put some distance between them and you.

 You walked back to your truck, fully refreshed and looking much more like your normal self. Mutt stood up in the front seat, tail wagging and you couldn’t help but grin back at him. As you popped up next to him, you pulled out your phone to search for the nearest library. It was time to figure out what the hell happened last night.

 The library wasn’t too far—another town over about a half hour away. It was a relatively small place, with only two computers and a few rooms. What it lacked for in size, it certainly made up for in quality and quantity for the research you required. Mutt walked silently by your side through the long, narrow passages between bookcases. Just before you reached the end, one book caught your eye.

Folklore of West Texas

You pulled it from the shelf, a familiar green eye arresting yours once more where there should have been another book on the opposite shelf. Startled, you took a stumbling step back, spine crashing into the full bookshelves behind you and digging in uncomfortably. Mutt stood at attention then, low growl emanating from bared teeth towards the stranger on the other side. You dropped your free hand to him, knowing that if he made a ruckus, you’d both be kicked out. He quieted, but still leaned into you, rigid and on high alert.

Dean rounded the corner quickly, looking down at the hackled dog and drawing his hands up quickly, as if mildly scared. “Mind calling off the attack dog?”

“Only if you tell me why you’re following me.”

“Following you—what? You’re following us!” He hissed, barely above a whisper.

Sam trotted up behind you, footfalls heavy on the old hardwood floor.

He looked from you to Dean to Mutt then to the book you were holding. Ignoring his brother’s strange demeanor, Sam asked kindly, “Hey, uh, mind if we borrow that book from you? The librarian pointed us towards it. It for research—important research.”

You gripped it tighter, suddenly feeling quite cramped in the small space and wanting to run the other direction, away from these crazy people. “Sorry, uh… Sam, is it?”

He nodded, small, thin, friendly smile coasting his lips.

“Sorry, Sam, I need it urgently. I uh… I have a paper for my college class due in like four hours and I haven’t even started. Maybe come get it tomorrow?” You hoped they would accept your lie and let you be.

Sam sighed. “Maybe we can share? There’s seating over by the computers. You can write and when you’re not using the book, maybe we can?”

You had to hand it to him, he was thoughtful and it would have been a good compromise. Unable to think of another excuse, you nodded in agreement.

 After a few hours of searching through the book and the internet, through the library computer, you found a promising lead. Something called a Lechuza bruja, a type of witch or spirit well-known around the Texas-Mexico border.

The whole time, you could feel the eyes of the men as they bore into you, watching your every move.

You stood quickly, numb legs stretching and ready to carry you away from the situation. You smiled and tipped your brim at the men and quickly walked back through the maze of shelves and to your truck. The afternoon heat hit the parts of your face not shadowed by the black hat. Once in the vehicle, you opened the cooler to check your provisions. Hmm, running low. Next stop—the market.

 Sam and Dean whispered with each other, huddled so close that their heads were nearly touching.

“A lechuga?”

Sam huffed. “No Dean, a Lechu-ZA. We aren’t fighting lettuce.”

Dean hung his head in his hands, dragging them across his hair and back down, rubbing his temples. “Frickin’ witches man,” he mumbled. At least for Dean, lettuce and witches were held in the same regard—both revolting.

 You were glad to be back out in the wide-open human-less landscape. You cracked open a cold beer from the cooler and let the fizz glide down your throat, both cooling and warming you in delightful ways. Sunset was fast approaching and painting wildfires through the sky. Atop your plateau, you could look down and see Texas to the North and East, Mexico to the South and West, and the Rio Grande snaking between them, forming an oasis along its banks. You were close enough to hear the constant, deep rumble of water. You closed your eyes, imagining people from a thousand years ago listening to the same sound.

Letting the peaceful daydream fade away, you set the beer on the hood and went to rifle through the tool box in the bed of the truck. You pushed aside the smaller items of necessity and heaved a large bag of salt over your shoulder with a grunt. You painstakingly dug a shallow trench with your heel all the way around the vehicle, filling it with an unbroken line of salt along the way.

After you prepped the truck for a sleepless night potentially fighting away ghosts and witches, you climbed into the bed of the truck with the cooler and opened a bag of jerky. Mutt enjoyed his kibble and curled up next to you, happy and relaxed, innocent of the danger that would likely find you tonight.

As the temperature dropped and the familiar refrains of coyotes filled the air with music, your eyes grew heavy. You curled into yourself, pulling the rough blanket over your shoulders. You looked up at the stars, trying to tally the larger ones to keep yourself awake. There were so many that the dark sky was not truly black anywhere—everywhere you looked there were more. Every time your eyes adjusted and focused on a dark spot, you could count even more of them as they appeared.

 Everything was true black and silent, as if you’d gone blind and deaf. This was not the desert you knew. You turned and felt the ground with your feet, trusting that your tall boots would block any cactus or unfriendly critters. You shuffled forward and tried to call out to Mutt, but the words caught in your throat. It began to constrict, as if something had you in a vice grip, crushing your windpipe from the inside out. You reflexively tried to breathe deeply, but fell to your knees, scratching at your throat, panic rising. Your eyes bugged and strained, desperate for any miniscule bit of light. You blinked hard, just to verify that your eyes were indeed open. Gasping for breath, your lungs burned and you fell onto your side, convulsing as if drowning. As numbness creeped its dark tendrils through your body, and you began to sense gravity fall away.

You continued to struggle, allowing fear to set in. Off in the distance, a light appeared. Like a shooting star destined to destroy worlds, it hurtled towards you. In mere seconds, the bright, glowing owl was there, once again sporting the glitching face of a woman contorted in sickening ways.  The owl dwarfed you, calmly flapping its wings and whispering those strange incantations that drew such agony from your breaking body.

It floated closer to you, and in the light, you could see your hair suspended as if you were fully submerged under water. When the monstrosity got within arms reach with open beak, you reeled back and punched it right in the eye.

 You woke with a start, Mutt pawing at you and barking violently. Urgently.

Shaking off the nightmare, you could taste blood in your mouth. Tears had run down your face at some point, and you hurriedly wiped them away.

The blinding light of the full moon revealed otherwise—blood. You were bleeding tears?

You withdrew a kerchief from your flannel pocket and wiped your face as you scanned the salt line. The wind had blown away several areas. You looked up at the sky and tried to calm Mutt, who was trembling for the first time since he was a small pup. The full moon snatched the breath from you, and your chest heaved. It looked exactly like the eye you’d just punched in your dream.

The night was far colder than you’d expected, the chill reaching down to your bones. That was it.

It was time to leave. This was not something you could fight on your own. You jumped from the bed of the truck and Mutt joined you in the cab. You tried to start the truck, but the engine just sputtered. You tried a few more times, then nothing—as if the battery had died.

“No no no no no,” you cursed, hitting the steering wheel with both fists.

Time seemed to slow to a stop, Mutt frozen mid-bark and facing the windshield.

A large gray owl landed on the hood and its striking yellow eyes sent shockwaves through you—overwhelming pulses of anguish. You screamed, mouth falling open and eyes shutting against the spell, trying to break its hold. A vision of a small child drowning in the river filled your mind. It was screaming, choking, begging for help.

When your eyes opened, the screams of the child urged your feet forward faster, now running full speed through the desert.

You were not in control of your body anymore, but merely a hapless passenger. Your feet betrayed you and you went tumbling down the side of the cliff, catching every sharp rock and thorn on the way down. If you had your wits, you wouldn’t have been able to move, too broken to continue. The rush of the water nearby caused your veins and arteries to constrict and pulse at a dangerously high rate. Adrenaline coursed along with your blood and you rolled and stumbled towards the river once more. In a kicking leap, you crashed into the frigid waters searching for the screaming child. The shrieks were so loud that they rattled your brain and hurt your ears, threatening to consume you. You thrashed against the strong current.

The owl screeched and swooped down, tearing at your drenched hair. The freezing black water helped ground you enough to realize that there was no child—only the horrid cries of the bird.

The Lechuza, you reminded yourself. Just as you reached for the vial of salt in your pocket, the witch-owl dove into the water, catching the back of your collar in its sharp beak, dragging you to the depths with it. Its eyes glowed, the only visible thing in the dark waters.

 Dean pulled the Impala slowly up to your truck, eyes locked on the salt circle. “Shit!” He shouted as he threw Baby into park. He bounded from the car towards the abandoned vehicle. He whipped back around towards Sam.

Sam picked up the blood-soaked kerchief in the bed of the truck and gave it to Dean. “I think we’re too late,” Sam noted, his voice faltering with the worry rising in his throat.

“I didn’t know she was a hunter! How did we not know?! The signs were all there!” Dean cursed and kicked the tire violently, throwing firsts in the air as he gripped the soiled kerchief. Of course, he blamed himself. In fact, the only reason they were out there was to gank you. Until this moment, they’d had no idea that you were another victim and not the bruja herself.

Mutt whined and cried a high pitched imperative. Dean ran back to the Impala with a long string of creative curses, retrieving two shotguns and extra witch-killing bullets. Sam opened the truck door and Mutt spilled out.

“Here boy, here,” Sam called to the frantic dog. “Take her to us. Go get her!”

Mutt seemed to understand and took off towards the southwest, nose close to the ground and paws practically levitating across the rough earth. Dean tossed the extra gun to Sam and they raced off, following the dog’s brays. They carefully descended the cliffside, sliding partway down and narrowly missing a large crevasse. The men watched in horror just as the large owl drug you beneath the waves.

 You thrashed violently against the authority of the currents and the essence of pure evil leeching into you through osmosis. Once you were fully saturated in the foul concentrate, the Lechuza Bruja reared its ugly head back, screeching at a decibel that whales would envy, resounding through your entire being and threatening to shred you to pieces. Whether it was the spell or hypothermia kicking in, your limbs grew stiff and immovable. Your lungs screamed for air until you couldn’t fight it anymore.

In that moment, you felt your very soul being stripped away, and in the void, water filled your lungs. The pain only lasted a moment more before you started to sink towards the rocky bottom, bits of freshwater weeds outstretching soft, welcoming arms. You blinked slowly one last time, looking up at the disappearing monster above you as it emerged forcefully from the opaque waters. With the fading light, you closed your eyes, ready to greet your reaper. Your limp body fell to rest with a soft thud into the bed of river grass.

 Sam dove into the water immediately, shoes and shirt flying off in a frenzy along the way. Just as he submerged, Dean angled the shotgun full of salt pellets and hit the fleeing bruja like a game of skeet. The nasty beast crumpled at his feet but did not stay still long. Dean dropped the shotgun and withdrew his pearl-handled pistol. The man-sized owl stood and flared its wings, beak agape in a blood curdling scream. Without hesitation, Dean aimed carefully and shot it center mass twice then between the eyes once in rapid succession.

The creature exploded in a ferocious affair, leaving only dust and feathers behind. Dean held his arm up, coughing into the crook of his sleeve. When the particles settled, he rushed towards where Mutt dug at the bank, barking and whining, careful not to touch the water.

“C’mon Sam,” he prayed, pacing impatiently. Just as he thrust off his own shirt and shoes to rescue both of you, Sam broke the shallow waves with a loud gasp. He held you in one arm, treading towards shore with the other. With a waterlogged body, you were more than a typical deadweight. Dean grabbed onto you when he was close enough, about waist deep in the river, feet sliding on the slippery stones. He traded a glance with Sam to make sure he was okay. Sam nodded between coughing fits.

He would be alright, but he couldn’t say the same for you. Your eyes were half open and far away, likely lost on this plane. Dean set you down on a sandy patch devoid of sharp protrusions and slammed fists on your chest. You were cold and blue.

“No no no, shit! Come on!” He yawped into the waning night. He started CPR. In desperation, he rolled you on your side and slapped your upper back hard. Your lungs rejected the water, projecting it up to a few feet away. Shallow, agonal breaths shook you furiously, your limbs going into straight, fixed positions. He sighed a minor breath of relief then picked you up and slung you over his shoulder, hoping more water would drain that way. The boys scrambled back up to the plateau where they reached the Impala in record time. Your body still racked and spasmed, trying hard to intake oxygen but still unable to expel all the water on its own. Dean handed you to Sam and jumped in the driver’s seat, breaking his “no dogs in the car EVER” rule as Mutt joined him in the front. Sam slid into the back, still pumping your chest when needed.

Dean grimaced as he flew as fast as he could down the winding, bumpy excuse for a road through Big Bend. He checked his phone, waiting anxiously for a bar of service since the nearest hospital was almost three hours away by car. “Sam, is she—?”

“Drive faster, Dean.”

The car gained air a few times, until at last Dean slammed the breaks to a sliding halt, atop a peak near the park exit. He dialed 911, pleading with the operator to send a helicopter to them like yesterday.

Minutes passed.

Dean paced outside the car, searching the sky and spinning in circles, the first rays of morning shining in his eyes. Sam pulled you from the car to the ground when you stopped breathing again. This time, he started CPR and you didn’t react.

Ten minutes.

Sam sang the Bee Gees under his breath, struggling to hold tempo and arms shaking in exhaustion. Mutt lay by your side, eyes closed and whining softly.

Dean kicked and punched at the world around him, screaming curses into the sky and towards himself, tears coming freely now as he felt the full weight of his guilt. He’d allowed another hunter to die because he couldn’t see past his own pig-headedness.

Fifteen.

Sam collapsed, arms shaking with exhaustion. Dean picked up where his brother left off with torturous thoughts raging rampant through his mind.

The long-awaited sounds of a helicopter in the distance graced their hungry ears. Sam jumped to his feet, waving wildly. He helped guide the crew to a clearing just a few yards away. Dean shielded you from the flying debris.

Two medics quickly wrapped you and continued CPR. In seconds, the helicopter was pulling away towards the rising sun.

Dean’s hands were clasped together atop his head, but internally, he was imploding.

 Your eyes opened slowly, blurred vision confusing your already muddled mind with distorted images. You winced against the cool, damp cloth brushing against your temple. You groaned as your body woke in stages, each one more painful than the last.

A solid, warm hand wrapped around your forearm. You clenched your fist in response, a sharp sting in the top of your hand. “Shhh, shh shh. You’re okay. You’re at the hospital,” the soft yet gravelly voice whispered reassuringly.

Bringing your other hand to your eyes, you roughly wiped and rubbed until you could see more clearly. You started to gag and heave at the tubes connecting your lungs to a breathing machine. You pulled and flailed, panic striking fight or flight into you once again. Nurses rushed in and your eyes followed them wide open and wild. They carefully withdrew the apparatus and strapped your limbs down, replacing it with a much gentler nasal cannula, and lastly lifting the bed so that you were sitting up slightly.

You tried to choke out questions, but the more you tried, the more it hurt. You gave in to frustrated silence and took in your surroundings. Dean was there, hovering closely, tears at the corners of his red-rimmed eyes and an apology already spilling from his mouth.

You shook your head, confused, and motioned for something to write with. He handed you a small whiteboard and expo marker.

Who are you?

“Dean Winchester.”

You looked at him, unbelieving that it could be that Winchester—the one from the Supernatural books. It was only a story, right? Yet it was all right there—the character description, the car, and even Sam. Erasing your last question, you sloppily wrote a new one.

‘The’ Dean W.? SPN Legend?

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah, that one.”

You took in the view of your body—wrapped nearly head to toe in bandages, some of them still bloody.

What happened?

“You don’t remember?”

You shook your head no.

He recounted his version of the night, looking over his shoulder to make sure there were no prying ears.

You could tell it aggrieved him—the whole thing. You didn’t blame him of course; you’d almost wondered the same about him and Sam, suspecting that they may have been the evil bewitched spirit.

Sometimes, hunters die.

He placed his palm over the scribbled words, eyes cast down. “No. Not like that, not when we can stop it.” You squeezed his hand then shoved it away lightly.

I forgive you.

The words brought the large hunter to his knees. When he found the strength to lock eyes with you once more, you gave him a thin, strained smile. Looking at the band on your wrist, it was obvious he’d guessed your name and age. You jotted the correct information down and showed it to him. He smiled back.

“Nice to formally meet you, Y/N.”

You, too. What now?

Making sure the room was still clear, he leaned in. “Now, we get you out of here. Sam has your dog back at the motel. You owe me a deep clean for my car, by the way,” he quipped.

Teaming up with the Winchesters wouldn’t be the worst thing, you considered. It sure as hell beat living this empty, lonely life.

Mutt could finally have a family.

As Dean expertly snuck you out of the hospital, you weighed the pros and cons of associating with the two most wanted men on the planet. Your decision came when the Impala pulled up to the door of the first-floor room where Sam stood out front, Mutt by his feet looking happy and well fed.

Through everything, we found each other. That’s all that matters.

Come Heaven, Hell, or Beyond. You owed them your life.

FOREVERS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @manawhaat​ @supernatural-jackles​ @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch​ @bummblebeeblue​ @nothin-after-79-blog​ @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction​ @inmysparetime0​ @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @impala-dreamer​ @arryn-nyxx​ @idk-life01​ @attorneyl​ @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby​

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278​ @will-winchester​

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[lions-arch-chronicle]

Issue 14! Special thank you to everyone who came to our impromptu meet up for a photo!

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Title: EXCLUSIVE! Interview with the Mad King Thorn

Story: Courica: First of all I’d like to thank you for taking the time out of your very busy fall schedule to speak with us King Thorn.

King Thorn: Well of course, what better way to let all of my wonderful subjects know that their beloved king has returned than an utterly exclusive interview.

Courica: Now, I don’t know that you’ve heard but in your year of absence you have gained a new form of popularity thanks to a certain well known author.

King Thorn: Oh really? Do tell.

Courica: You and your romantic past have become the subject of a new novel by the critically acclaimed and critically panned author Snargle Goldclaw.

King Thorn: Romance? Hardly interesting wouldn’t you think? A history on my glorious and permanent reign would have been more fitting? (laughs)

Courica: We have a copy on hand here if you’d like to take a look?

King Thorn: Ohhh don’t BIND if I do. Get it? Bind? Laugh or this interview is over and I’ll feed you to the spiders.

Courica: (extremely nervous laughter)

King Thorn: “The viscount purred.” He Purred? That bastard has never informed me that he’s capable of purring... Rotten corn cob has been holding out on me.

Courica: Wait are you confirming there are accuracies within this story and that it’s not entirely fictional? 

King Thorn: Aw now where’s the fun in spoiling the end of the story, now if you excuse me I believe it’s about time to acquire a new charr rug.

Title:  Kuritata’s fashion reviews: SCARY SHINY?!

Story: Oh oh oh, it’s time for the friends to wear the spooky outfits! This one comes with shinies! The shiny gloves look like they should be hot and would burn skritt if she touched them. Do they hurt? Is the shiny worth the ouchies from the gloves? Very grabby grabby looking  must come in handy for grabing onto shinies. Friend also has big scarf! Skritt is proud that friend is wearing weather appropriate clothing since it’s getting cold out. Very functional and it has spooky colors too! You look like a very soft and friendly looking pumpkin to  skritt. Speaking of pumpkin friend has pumpkin face! Sharp teeth and shiny glowy eyes! Skritt thinks that she could look into your shiny eyes for days . Skritt would also like to request, to borrow, your weapon, forever. It is very shiny and would be good to hold and appreciate for its shinyness. Overall a very soft looking shiny spooky holiday friend 13/10 but only if skritt can keep your sword.

Want to have your outfit reviewed?Submit your fashion photos to us! https://lions-arch-chronicle.tumblr.com/submit

Title: You have all this candy corn now what?

Story: We were originally going to provide our beloved readers with some various recipes and helpful guides on what to do with the excess amounts of candy corn obtained over the holiday season but in our research, we realized that candy corn can barely be considered food and advising any sort of consumption of it or the use of it as an ingredient would not be in the best interests of our readers. Rather we have decided to recommend a simple yet effective solution to all excess candy corn.

1. Prepare a double boiler pot of your choice and bring the water inside up to boiling temperatures.

2. Insert leftover candy corn and let it melt until it becomes soft and malleable.

3. Remove the candy corn from the heat and begin to shape into your weapon of choice.

4. Let cool and enjoy your free candy corn-based weapon.

Title: The Boasting Hall: Quaggan wants to make a new afterlife for quaggan.

Story: Coo Quaggan has something to ask of the people of Lion’s Arch. Quaggan thinks that he should be given another chance for a good afterlife. Now, foo on quaggan’s previous mistakes from his lifetime. Quaggan only needs a few more pieces of candy corn to start a good life. Consider finding me in Lion’s Arch during the festival and donating at least 100 candy corn to a poor ghostly quaggan in need ooooo. Yoooou won’t regret helping quaggan. Quaggan has made a series of questionable afterlife choices but would like to make up for it by offering my wares as well to kind people who would like to shop from quaggan. I only have the finest Prickly Spider Legs and Globs of Globby Gloop available, but later. Quaggan will need to restock so gifts of candy corn will do for now coo.

Title:  How to fully commit to your costume this year 

Story: If you’re anything like me, you might be struggling to find a costume that feels right for this year’s festivities. After all, how is one to improve on perfection? When you look this good year round, it can be hard to find something that looks better than what you wear everyday! Halloween is a time to go above and beyond, even if all you do is kick your feet up and read the paper. We all know the classics, devils, jesters, witches, royals, assassins, all that jazz. But have those tried and true options really achieved true perfection? Of course not, I say! If you’re looking for a costume, take something that’s been done before, and do it to the MAXIMUM! Jester? Learn to juggle! Learn to juggle KNIVES! Why not? Have you ever tried? Royalty? Go all out. Start writing flirtatious letters to members of the monarch’s line. Marry into a noble family. Wait a couple years. No one can tell you you’re not really a princess NOW, can they? We’ve all tried our hand at magic once or twice, but do you really need it to be a witch? NO! Move to the swamp! Say ominous and dreadful things to strangers! Eat strange grasses! Wear rags and scowl! I, personally, am going as a Charr, and while the Blood Legion sent my resume back unopened, I am still waiting to hear from Ash. This is the season to be whatever you want, but why must that only be a month? Become what you wish to be! Who’s going to stop you?

[sweetwritertanya]

Little Girl In A Pink Dress

Summary: Things around your house start getting strange right after a disastrous fire that happened and you don’t believe it is just your imagination.

Warnings: None, this is just soft HORROR. Nothing violent or graphic in any way, just a spooky tale I always wanted to write. If you read it, thank you so much in advance. I really appreciate it!

Word Count: 1299

It is strange, how suddenly houses can get haunted by the unseen spirits. A normal house, with no background of anything unusual happening before, can become a beacon for the paranormal overnight.

In your house’s case, it happened after a massive fire. An electrical issue made your home catch on fire during a summer night and you had to watch as the firefighters put out the flames and, later on, how the constructers rebuild from the ashes.

You thought it was just an unfortunate event, that it was over now and that you could be at peace once more in your newly rebuilt house, where you had lived for over ten years now. But after you moved back in, strange things started to occur.

It started simple, like your keys not being where you remembered putting them. Or a glass of water on the counter that you don’t remember being there when you left the kitchen. The creak of wood, as if a footstep when you lived alone.

Even so, these were all things you could look past, turn a blind eye on. Explainable, in one way or another. You were getting older, so maybe your memory wasn’t as reliable. Maybe you’re still stressed about the fire and your brain got a bit unfocused while doing mundane things. Maybe you were just imagining things.

A dog appeared in your backyard one afternoon. It was a big golden retriever, with kind chocolate eyes and a clean fur, so you doubted it was a stray dog. He looked at you with a curious stare and never wondered off your lawn, so you decided to just keep feeding it until it either ran away again or someone came and found him. He never allowed you to pet him though, which meant that maybe his previous owner wasn’t caring enough to look for him in the first place.

Turns out he became a much-needed distraction for when things got weird. But even he couldn’t help you when things got positively worse. You would be walking down your hallway in silent until you noticed the faint voices in the background, whispers like a conversation in another room. Of course, no one was there. Occasionally, you would open up a door or a cabinet and hear like a gasp or squeak.

One day, you were trying to sleep early in bed when the TV on your living room turned on by itself. Frustrated about all of this, you raged out of your bed, screaming to whatever was in the house to knock it off and turned off the screen. Only to in response hear screams mixing with the autumn wind outside. The dog barked alarmingly loud, a mix of scared and protective. Whatever it was, it did not like being challenged like that and you got a bad feeling.

Your house became like a prison. You started to question your every move, if anything would upset the entity residing with you. The town’s church was unwilling to help you, ignoring all your stories and refusing to acknowledge your situation. So, you had started to do research on it yourself. You started investigating, trying to figure out if this was just a ghost, a poltergeist or worst… a demon.

During a sunny afternoon in the midst of October, while you were at your computer trying to do some research, you looked out the window with the expectation of finding the golden retriever playing alone, like he usually did and you always found it funny to watch. But today he was not alone. There was a little girl in a pink dress playing with him.

Shocked, you stood up from your chair and run downstairs to your backyard, wondering where this little girl just came from.

“H-Hello?” you call to the little girl when you step into the lawn, going in the direction she and the dog were sitting at.

She looks up with bright vivid green eyes, a pale freckled skin and caramel blonde hair falling to her shoulders. The girl was a small infant, no older than four or five years old. Your maternal instinct kicked in and you looked around to see who she was with. But you saw no one.

“I’m playing with Chester” she says in a sweet voice.

“Oh? And who is that?” you ask, squatting down to her height next to her.

“Chester the cat” she responds, with a pat on the golden retriever’s head.

“You mean him?” You chuckle despite your worry and the smile stays as you speak. “He is not a cat, he is a dog. They’re very different.”

“Oh.” The kid simply says, almost indifferent as she keeps petting him. “My mom don’t want pets. But my uncle has a… a dog!” she giggles innocently as the dog licks her tiny hand.

“That’s nice. So… where is your mom?” you try and gather information.

“She has work today. So I stay with my aunt.”

“I see. And, can you tell me where your aunt is? I can take you to her, if you want” you offer, already looking around the street again and not seeing anyone.

“My aunt and uncle don’t like you much” she states with frowned eyebrows.

“Oh? Do I know them?” you get confused.

“I don’t know. They know you, but my aunt don’t like you.”

Something doesn’t feel right. Your heart starts pounding and you feel like the rug is slowly being pulled from under your feet. With a dry mouth, you keep questioning the young girl.

“Why? I’m a nice person, I think” you say, hesitant. “My name is Y/N, by the way. What’s your name?”

Instead of an answer from her, you hear a faint voice call out. The same faint voice you heard sometimes in whispers around the house, a female voice searching for someone and you can almost figure out what she was saying. When the girl gets up to her feet and runs towards your house, the dog following suit, you stand up and see it at last.

A young woman coming out of your house. Dark hair but light eyes, dressed casually and picking up the girl in her arms.

“Amy! What are you doing here? Playing with Chester?” she asks, her voice now crystal-clear in your ears. You feel like throwing up.

“Yes, aunty! And her!”

The kid points her index finger to your paralyzed form. You watch the woman’s eyes glance up your way with no recognition whatsoever behind them. They just look right past you.

“Who, baby?”

“The nice lady. Her name is Y/N, aunty. Why don’t you like her?”

The woman gets visibly shaken and shifts the conversation completely as she goes back into the house. Your house.

Your feet start moving even though your brain is still unable to work. You look at the dog, Chester it seems, and he looks at you just fine. Like he always did. The kid from inside waves at you before the woman puts her in a feeding chair.

Walking in, you follow the woman to the corridor as she takes her phone from her back pocket and makes a call, feet restless as she paces left and right. She is biting her nail before the person on the other side answer.

“Phil? Phil, hey, I think we need to move out.” A pause as the man speaks on the other side. “No, no, you don’t get it. Your niece just said she spoke to her. She even said her name, Phil! How could she know her name, we never spoke of it!”

Another pause. The world around you feels like its crumbling and the next line from this woman shatters it completely.

“Yes, Y/N. The woman who died in that fire a year ago.”

[wolfgangisdead]

dancing with the bones

chapter one | chapter two |

fandom original content

rating teen

warning maybe some morbidity, a lot of dead, lot of pop culture references

notes I’m not good with accents :|

-

Perseus was surprisingly calm when we entered the cemetery, as if we weren’t in the one place that zombies would appear first. Not like I believed zombies would pop out and eat my brains, but it was Halloween, the one night a year where the spooky and deceased are said to return to the living. Never said if it was in their old bodies or as spirits, or even both! I’m not about to mess with that. 

I was not Perseus. I was not completely unafraid and fascinated by the death that surrounded us because, really, I don’t mix with the dead. It’s like trying to put a coin on top of Mercury, like in that NileRed video. It won’t work. 

There wasn’t anything off with the cemetery, it didn’t feel like someone was watching us anymore, but I didn’t want to turn my back and suddenly Jason Voorhees has stabbed me in the back. 

Silence followed us until we reached a specific area, a rather barren hill that held exactly one mausoleum and nothing else. Exactly nothing else. No grass, no trees, nothing. Just dirt.

“Sae, what ‘er we lookin’ at?”

When I say I screamed, I mean that I let out the loudest, most fear filled scream that Satan himself could hear in the deepest sanctum of Hell. Behind us stood a tall man adorned in slightly baggy black clothes that definitely were not from this time period and were covered in cobwebs and dust as well as a belled top hat. I wasn’t quite sure what it was that had been coating his jacket and pants, and his hat, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know to begin with.

His skin was as black as night, not in the natural skin tone sense, but literally like the color of ash and soot. His face was painted white, like a skull, so I figured that was his costume, but it was a bit strange how we hadn’t had heard him walk up. 

“Sorry there, wee lassie, didn’t mean to spook ye!”

Percy looked at me, a grin on there face as they looked at the stranger, as if saying “would you look at that, he’s Scottish!” This was more or less not a moment to be excited about that as now we were in a cemetery with a stranger and separated from the others. 

“I - I.... Y - You’re Scottish....” I pointed a shaky finger at him, as if stating the obvious would make this encounter any less terrifying and unnerving.

“Aye, I am!” He responded proudly, tipping his hat to us. “A cemetery isnae a place for ye, wee lassie. Ye shouldn’t be here, aye?” 

“I’m sorry, what?” I didn’t want to sound rude, but my ability to understand accents wasn’t that great and he was not making much sense, but why would he? We did just meet him in a cemetery and he’s adorned in things that make me feel like he just rose from the dead. 

“He’s saying a cemetery isn’t a place for us and that we shouldn’t be here.” Percy looked at me, then back to the skeleton man, eyes squinted. “Who’re you?”

“Bones, at yer service!” He swopped his hat from his head, stumbling a little as he bowed. He had slightly unruly hair that was kept back by a bandana of some sort, but he was quick to return his hat to his head. “And ye?”

“I’m Perseus, or Percy, and that’s Nef.” Percy wasted no time in introducing us, but I wished they had at least had half the mind to wonder if this... Bones was here to kill us.

I was silent at first, squinting at him. “Can I call you Bojangles? You seem like a Bojangles.” 

“Nay!” He huffed, turning his full attention to me. “It’s Halloween, aye?”

I bit back a sarcastic response, nodding slowly. “It is, why? You got somewhere to be? Late for a very important date?”

“Hm, it’s time tae wake th’ others.” He turned away from us, skittering away like a nervous mouse looking for food while also remaining hesitant to the sneaky cats that may be lying around. 

Percy looked at me and nodded, telling me all that I needed to know and I responded with a slow, warning shake of my head. They did not listen. Instead, they followed Bones, looking around and acting as if they understood exactly what Bones was talking about. With a heavy sigh, I followed after them, silent. 

“It's time tae wake up ye wee heathens! hallows eve is upon us!” He shouted into the cemetery, as if expecting a response from the dead. His accent thickened the louder he had gotten, it was a bit amusing but I had no idea what he was saying. 

Percy and I traded glances before looking back at Bones. 

“I said wake up ye wee bastards, it’s time tae go!” He grabbed a stick and threw it right into an old, withered headstone, thankfully not knocking a piece off.

Was this man okay?

I didn’t have time to ask because then a few, much odder beings emerged from the dirt. There was a florescent spirit, a literal man of bones and not Bones himself, and a witch? I couldn’t tell you honestly even if I wanted to. 

I was seconds away from screaming when a hand clamped over my mouth, I responded with a curt punch to whatever had touched me and hoped to any deity out there listening that it wasn’t a zombie.

It was a werewolf. 

“Goodness me, wee miss, 'at was quite a Scottish jimmy!” Bones patted my back as if we were friends, acting as if he didn’t scare the living daylights out of me mere moments before. He was amused at least which might’ve meant he would not be murdering two people tonight. “She can flin' a scottish jimmy, isnae 'at brammer?”

What. What was that even supposed to mean? Even Percy couldn’t offer me much help on translating. I squinted at Bones, as if asking him what he meant.

“You’re confusing the poor girl, Bones. Why don’t you go off and handle something else while we get them more comfortable, yes?” The skeleton waved at Bones dismissively, as if he was any better of an option here. 

The skeleton wore a suit, definitely note of this era, but that didn’t matter. He had a suit and a monocle on as well as a top hat, similar to Bones’. How does it even fit on him? How? 

“Not to be rude or anything here but you’re a skeleton, that person’s a ghost, and that’s a werewolf and I am terrified out of my mind.” I looked between them all, putting Percy between us. They were too busy being fascinated by the ghost to really bother with anything, and had this been any other situation, I would’ve been too. 

“Oh, nonsense, we’re just as human as you are. I’m Harold.” He held out a boney hand towards me after giving Perseus a simple pat to the head. “Lovely to meet you. These are my friends, Bartholomew the Werewolf and Ibis the Ghost.”

I shook his hand, but the feel of bone against my skin was not one I particularly enjoyed. “There isn’t enough therapy in the world that can ever repair the nightmares I will be having from this night onwards. I’m Nef, that’s Percy.”

“We’ve got work tae dae, we cannae - cannot stay.” Bones’ voice did something a bit weird, as if he were trying to talk in a way that I could understand. I’m not sure if that’s what he was doing, but I still appreciated it. I still wasn’t sure what he meant earlier, though. 

“Can we come?” Percy looked between them, as if practically begging them. “It beats being with Katrina, right, Nef?”

“Katrina? Who’s ‘at?” Bones looked between us, brows raised in amusement as he scratched and smudged the paint on his face, but what was peculiar was that only the white smudged, as if the ashen color was actually his skin. But that would be impossible, right? I refused to believe anything else.

Harold and Bones, as well as the others, had all traded each other looks before Bones cleared his throat.

“You’re welcome tae come, but stay close tae us, aye?” He squinted at us, but whatever they had planned didn’t seem like it was all that safe. 

Percy didn’t seem to mind much, it was more like the gears in their head were forming some sort of questionnaire to ask the strange beings when the time came strictly for writing purposes. 

I wasn’t sure what to think, though. I mean, a Scottish... being that doesn’t seem to belong in this world just woke up a whole bunch of beings that should not be awake and moving. Sure, Bones was nice and all, but a skeleton just shook my hand. A skeleton. Therapy cannot help me now. 

[welcometothepenumbra]

JUNO STEEL AND THE MAN OF THE FUTURE (PART ONE)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

The junction lies ahead, so if you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

We are now passing through Newtown.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

Our next stop?

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES.

Juno Steel and the Man of the Future.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

VOICE 1 (FROM TV): (FADING IN) Only forty-eight hours remain until the gates to Oldtown open, and town hall remains completely silent on this issue. Though some protestors have called for city officials to remove Mayor O’Flaherty from office completely, no such motions have been put into effect.

RAMSES O’FLAHERTY: (OVER THE BELOW) Time, time; just give me time. This will work. (SIGHS)

VOICE 1 [REPORTER] (FROM TV): (OVER THE ABOVE) Victories in the mayoral race by as large a margin as between O’Flaherty and former Mayor Pereyra are extremely rare, and it’s likely that a removal from office so soon would lead to rioting in the streets.

RAMSES: It has to.

REPORTER (FROM TV): The whereabouts of Pilot Pereyra remain unknown. The HCPD’s investigation into their disappearance continues—

SOUND: ELECTRONIC CHIME.

—but with funding to law enforcement cut so radic—

SOUND: TV CLICKS OFF.

THEIA (FROM SPEAKER): Mayor O’Flaherty. You have an appointment. With the citizen known as:

JUNO (FROM SPEAKER): —ey, get your metal-claw-gun-things off her, you lousy—

RITA (FROM SPEAKER): Mista Steeeeeeeeee—

THEIA (FROM SPEAKER): Would you like me to send them in?

RAMSES: Just Juno. Thank you, Theia.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC CHIME.

(SIGHS, GRUMBLES) A difficult conversation… an important conversation. But you’ve had those before, Ramses. And you have the most important advantage: you’re right.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS. STUMBLING FOOTSTEPS.

RITA: HEY you give me back my Mista Steel right now you nasty old robot or I swear I’m gonna fill you with so many viruses you’ll—

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

JUNO: (PANTING) Rita!

SOUND: DOORKNOB RATTLES, BANGING.

RAMSES: The door is locked, Juno.

JUNO: (PANTING)

RAMSES: She’ll be perfectly unharmed. I hope you know that. My goal is not to hurt either of you, and… whatever you think of me now, I hope you still know that good is what I’m after. I couldn’t possibly lie about that. Not to you. And it was always my plan, my honest intention, for you and I to work together in making that good; if you hadn’t run off like that I would have explained. You would understand.

(AFTER A PAUSE) Are you just going to stand there and stare at me, Juno? Say something!

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I can’t take any credit for how well my silence was riling O’Flaherty up, because… honestly, I was shouting the same thing at myself. Say something, Steel; say… anything.

I had plenty to say – the whole way here, dragged by a huge spider-legged enforcer bot that called itself the Theia Peace, I’d dredged up a few thousand things I wanted to throw in Ramses-O’Flaherty-slash-Jack-Takano’s face. And now, standing in front of him… I couldn’t get a single one of them to come out.

My name’s Juno Steel. I’m thirty-nine years old, and, I don’t know how the hell that happened; because I still feel like a scared little kid who needs his heroes to keep sane in a galaxy that doesn’t give a damn.

That’s why I couldn’t speak. Ramses O’Flaherty was still my hero, and, at the same time I wanted him to drop dead, and the two incompatible thoughts were crowding out my one small brain and I just couldn’t. Move.

But I’d spent months by then doing things I just couldn’t do, and the secret was this: you just do ‘em anyway.

RAMSES: Juno…?

JUNO: So.

“Newtown,” huh?

RAMSES: (CHUCKLES) You make that dramatic an entrance, and you want to criticize my branding?

MUSIC: ENDS.

(LAUGHING) Oh, it is good to hear that wit again, Juno. It’s good to see you well.

JUNO: What’s goin’ on here, Ramses?

RAMSES: Going on? You and I are just talking. A reunion. I’ve found my partner in good again, and Juno… I can’t tell you how much of a relief it is. I can’t tell you how worried—

JUNO: You know what I mean. Newtown. Those giant… Theia-things outside. The closed borders, you, all of it, what in the hell is going on?

RAMSES: We’ll… get to that, I promise you. I have a lot to catch you up on, but first… let an old man be sentimental, won’t you? Because there’s, um… something I have to tell you… about our– well– …our acquaintance. How I found you… eh, well, uhm… although, it is a fact that—

JUNO: I can count on Jack.

RAMSES: What?

JUNO: (SIGHS) I know, Ramses. I know a lotta things now, and I suspect even more. For example: I know who you really are, and I suspect that’s why you hired me in the first place. Must have been spooky, setting up a big real estate con like that and then finding out the thorn in your side is the kid you screwed over thirty years ago? Must have been real spooky.

RAMSES: You… know.

Of course. You figured it out. Nobody else has, but, if it was going to be anyone, it– it would be you, wouldn’t it?

JUNO: Don’t think that’s why I came here to talk to you.

RAMSES: Ah that’s why you left.

I can’t possibly tell you how sorry I am, Juno. Everything that happened to your mother—

JUNO: Listen to me.

RAMSES: You have to understand that I had it all planned out. Her deterioration, Benzaiten, neither of them was supposed to happen. I didn’t want to steal from her; I just wanted to help the company, the people who worked there. And I was always going to send her the profits from Andromeda, every cred, but she never accepted a single payment—

JUNO: I said listen!

This is not about us. You messed up. Bad. And I’m never going to forgive you for it, no matter what you say, so don’t bother. I’m not here to talk to Jack. I’m here to talk to Mayor O’Flaherty about what he built, so drop it. Now.

RAMSES: (SIGHS) Fine, then. We’ll just talk business.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I realized I needed a drink worse than I had in decades. My throat was begging for the cold knife of it, the burning embers left behind, and… I knew Ramses probably had one of my favorites in those desk drawers – a bottle of Crater Moonshine, maybe Europa Black.

But I wouldn’t ask for it. I knew and feared and respected Ramses O’Flaherty, and– I knew it was gonna take every neuron I had to keep up with him. We weren’t shooting or brawling: we were talking. That meant I was fighting in his element.

RAMSES: You’re a citizen of this city. I’m your mayor. If you have complaints, say them.

JUNO: You shouldn’t have built all this. You shouldn’t have destroyed Oldtown.

RAMSES: Why?

JUNO: Because you kicked people outta their homes!

RAMSES: And gave them all new ones. Homes that don’t leak. Homes that run on government electricity, electricity which costs a fraction of what they paid the monopolies in the rest of the city. Homes with security.

JUNO: Security! It-it’s a police state out there, Ramses!

RAMSES: It isn’t.

JUNO: It is. I had my head out of the sewer for two seconds before a Theia stuck a cannon up my goddamn nose.

RAMSES: Because I knew you were coming to me through the sewers – a fact that the Theia Orders told you directly. There are not guards on every street corner. Only where I knew you would need an escort.

JUNO: An escort!

RAMSES: And besides, it was not a cannon. It was a stun blaster. Large, so that it cannot be concealed, but less forceful, even, than the stun lasers on your own gun.

JUNO: Like I believe that.

RAMSES: You don’t have to. I can show you, in hard numbers, the force of those bots’ firepower. The voltscanners we’ll use to do it were confiscated from the police office we closed – terribly corrupt. The very office responsible for the multiple robberies perpetrated upon your childhood home, which led Sarah to—

JUNO: Stop it.

I mean it. I’m not here to talk about her, or you, or us. I’m here to talk about my city.

RAMSES: Our city.

JUNO: You can’t just buy a town, you lousy—

RAMSES: So go ahead. What complaints do you have with Newtown? All ten minutes you’ve seen of it.

JUNO: (AFTER A PAUSE, GROWLS)

RAMSES: You’re on quite the roll, Juno, but may I interject a question into this litany of complaints?

JUNO: Fine.

RAMSES: What is wrong with Newtown?

(AFTER A PAUSE) I asked, “what is wrong with Newtown?”

JUNO: I heard you.

RAMSES: Let’s grant, for a moment, your assertion that I should not have evicted people from old, broken-down, dangerous buildings. That I should not have wiped the slate clean in Oldtown, the sector of this city with the most armed crime, the most murder, the most fatal drug use, the lowest graduation rates, the most egregious police corruption, the least access to clean water and healthy food. Though I find the assertion absurd, let’s grant that I should not have done that.

What now?

JUNO: What do you mean, what now?

RAMSES: ‘Shouldn’t have’ is useful for determining long-term policy and strategy. If you and I decide that my actions were at fault, I will write into action a slate of laws that ensure they never happen again. But no matter how many laws I write, Juno, none of them will reassemble Oldtown from its ashes. Oldtown is gone.

So what would you have me do now?

JUNO: “What would you have me do now?” “You and I decide?” I know when I’m being taken for a ride, O’Flaherty.

RAMSES: I said I wanted you as my partner in good, Juno. Discussions like this were always my final step. I trust your ability and your moral compass more than any other person, including myself.

JUNO: (SNORTS) Funny way of showing it. If you trusted me more than you, Ramses, the puppet and puppetmaster would’ve been switched.

RAMSES: You’re talking about the Theia Spectrum.

JUNO: You’re damn right I’m talking about the Theia Spectrum. You picked me up and tossed me around like a doll, O’Flaherty—you used me. You used me to kill Pilot—

RAMSES: You did not kill Pilot.

JUNO: And your Piranha-faced goon—

RAMSES: The Theia controlled you to avoid exactly that end, Juno, but you insisted—

JUNO: And who cares what else! I don’t give a damn about your excuses, O’Flaherty, because the fact is: you reached down and plucked my mind and muscles like a goddamn harp. You used me. You used me just like you used me when I was a kid, just like you used my mother—

RAMSES: Your mother—

JUNO: Sarah Steel! You used her—

RAMSES: Well then. Juno, is this conversation personal, or isn’t it?

JUNO: You goddamn—!

(BREATHES) Fine. It’s not about us. I’ll drop it.

But your point is still bunk, Ramses. If you trust my moral compass better than yours, why the hell aren’t you listening to me?

RAMSES: Because you’ve yet to make a single coherent statement for me to listen to, Juno. Not one.

I return again to my question. Oldtown is gone. So: what is the good thing to do now? Give them new homes? I’ve done that, and better ones. Treat them well, give them freedom to build the lives they wish, reimburse them for their pains? All these things, done, and many of them out of my own pocket so that the city still has plenty left for everyone else. What would you have me do now?

JUNO: Let them all go. They aren’t free; you have them locked up in here.

RAMSES: They will be let go, in forty-eight hours, when it’s safe to go—

JUNO: Safe! So you’re saying it’s dangerous! You’re putting them in danger!

RAMSES: If you wish to know what’s happening in Newtown, do not interrupt me.

It isn’t dangerous for the residents here. They are safe. But you can’t just drop a new neighborhood, a new way of life, into a pre-existing city and expect the transition to be flawless. We allow individuals across the border first; anyone may leave, but only Newtown residents and select guests can enter until the city adjusts to our idea.

JUNO: What idea? You keep saying that, but what—

RAMSES: The idea that a place can solve the big problems for us. The myth for too long has been that if we all just behave ourselves, paradise can be ours. But our surroundings have never allowed that. Now they do. In Newtown, there is no more crime, no more suffering. These things only happen when people want what they can’t have, and that does not happen here. The city itself solves it.

JUNO: That’s… come on, Ramses, that can’t be true.

RAMSES: You see? Even you are reluctant to believe it. What’s the rest of the city going to do to Newtown if we don’t acclimate them first?

JUNO: I don’t know, Ramses, but, it’s hell out there. People are scared. Really scared.

RAMSES: Well. What should I do about it?

JUNO: And the sewers – the rabbits, really? You had to kill them?

RAMSES: We… tried letting the rabbits up here. It… didn’t work. They just can’t understand. Yet.

(CLEARS THROAT) It’s, uh… horrible. I asked for them to be relocated, but with our remaining resources… so much had been put into Newtown itself, and projecting costs to the rest of the city—

JUNO: It’s awful, Ramses.

RAMSES: I know. But the human good is so massive, Juno. What would you have me do?

JUNO: Just… f-fix it!

RAMSES: Fix it! And what would that entail?

JUNO: I don’t know! That’s not my job!

RAMSES: You’re right. It’s mine. And yet you seem intent on not listening—

JUNO: Give up the job. Alright? That’s what I want you to do. You’ve only made people miserable with it, so step down and let somebody else pick this place up.

RAMSES: Like who? Is there anyone you trust with that, Juno? Is there even anyone you trust to choose someone like that?

JUNO: Y’know, O’Flaherty, you keep saying that you trust my opinions then tossing ‘em out when I give ‘em. If you’re gonna drag me in here to advise you I don’t know why the hell you’re treating me like a goddamn misbehaving kid!

RAMSES: Because I’m disappointed, Juno! You ask for everything and you don’t care if you contradict yourself and you don’t care if what you’re asking for is possible. You are acting like a child!

No, worse than that. When you were a child, you understood that a small, harmful act was acceptable if it led to greater good in the future. You understood that lying to your mother meant saving your brother, meant saving every job at Northstar! Do you think they’d still have jobs if Sarah—

JUNO: Saving my brother?! My mom?! They’re dead, Ramses, and it all started that day!

RAMSES: Because she wouldn’t just take the damned money! It all would have been fine if she just took the money I gave her!

Instead, she obsessed over what I should not have done for years, until it turned to rot inside her. Until she killed her son. When all the while, the opportunity for a better life was begging to be taken.

Don’t make the same mistake, Juno. Please.

JUNO: I’m not Sarah Steel.

RAMSES: You are certainly not.

JUNO: I make my own mistakes.

If you think they look like hers, that’s on you, but I’m a different person, in a different time, with… a different life, talking to a person she never met named Ramses O’Flaherty.

And I’ll admit it; I don’t know what’s wrong with this city, but I don’t know what’s right with it, either, ‘cause… here’s the thing, Ramses: I can’t talk about what’s going on in Newtown because you haven’t said a goddamn thing about it.

RAMSES: Hah. If I told you now, you’d accept every detail you liked, and accuse me of lying for the rest. That’s what happens when you go in with your conclusion already determined.

JUNO: You’re dodging the question. What is Newtown, Ramses?

RAMSES: This is a waste of my time.

JUNO: It’s not a hard question. No crime, no want, no suffering – how are you doing it?

RAMSES: If you want to know so badly then go out there and find out!

Yes. Yes, I think that may be the answer after all.

JUNO: What is?

RAMSES: I concede to your point, Juno. You’re right. It was unfair of me to engage you in a debate on a topic you knew nothing about. I cannot create good merely because I want it; it must exist without me. And Newtown is built to do just that. I am certain of it.

This is what we’ll do. With the time we have.

JUNO: I’m listening.

RAMSES: You assert that Newtown hurts people. That there’s something nefarious at work here. I assert that everyone in Newtown is happy, healthy, safe. Therefore: I will give you twenty-four hours to roam Newtown to your heart’s content. And if you find a single person suffering within these walls – even one person – I will call an end to this. I will resign as Mayor of Hyperion City. I will donate everything I have left to whatever causes you choose.

JUNO: Twenty-four hours isn’t a very long time.

RAMSES: I know. Believe me, Juno, I know. But Newtown opens in forty-eight hours, and there are… processes I must follow in order to close it.

JUNO: You could delay it.

RAMSES: And keep all those people at the gates without their families for how long? Another day, week, decade? It is agony to hurt them even this long. No. I cannot delay it.

JUNO: You talk a big game about givin’ me a fair shot, Ramses, but when I tell you what one looks like you got a lot of excuses.

RAMSES: You want what I can’t give. It’s no more complicated than that. (SIGHS) What do you want? What can I give you to help this investigation, Juno? A direction? Suggestions?

JUNO: Sorry, nope. Don’t take leads from the enemy.

RAMSES: You are the only one of us who sees it that way.

JUNO: Yeah, well. You have a census or anything like that? List of names, addresses, comms coordinates?

RAMSES: I do.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEP, SCROLLING, BEEP.

I’ll send it to your comms immediately. Is there anything else?

JUNO: Not yet. But I’ll keep in touch.

SOUND: THUD.

The hell?

RAMSES: Your associate, I believe. I tried calling her several minutes ago, but, by now I’d imagine she has my Theia wrapped around her little finger.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

THEIA: The door is open. Yippee.

RITA: HA! Mista Steel, I saved you! Rita’s here—

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

—and she ain’t leavin’ until we get what we—

JUNO: I’m done. Come on, Rita, let’s… get the hell out of here.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS SLOW TO A WALK.

RITA: …Oh.

And you! Don’t you ever bother Mista Steel ever again, you…! You…!

(BLOWS RASPBERRY)

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

RAMSES: Try not to break my town, will you?

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

(SIGHS)

JUNO (NARRATOR): I expected Ramses to excise, or– conveniently forget the name I was looking for on that census, but, there he was: name, address, everything.

I didn’t want to call his comms ahead of time because I didn’t want anyone to know where we were heading. On the way there I tried to keep track of what parts of Oldtown we were passing through, but… with no recognizable landmarks it was pointless. This was a new city on old land.

The place was on the fourteenth floor of a new skyrise. We passed a crowd of people leaving the building as we entered, not a single stitch of fear or hunger in their faces—

SOUND: DISTANT CROWD LAUGHTER.

—they seemed… content.

I felt sick watching them; and it just got worse when I felt how clean and clear the air was, and… when I realized I hadn’t heard a single shout or threat or slur since we got here. Sick like Ramses might’ve been right; sick like I was standing in the way of his progress. I tried to slow down. Desperation was just gonna make me jump to conclusions. If Ramses wanted a fight, I had to be better than this.

RITA: This is the address, boss.

JUNO: Seems like it.

SOUND: DOORBELL RINGS.

RITA: D’you think everything’s okay?

JUNO: Not sure yet.

SOUND: TWO DOORBELL RINGS.

MICK MERCURY: (THROUGH THE DOOR) Uh, just a second! I-I’m coming! I’m—

SOUND: MUFFLED CLATTERING.

Whoa! Oh! Oof!

JUNO: (SIGHS) Yeah, it sounds like everything’s… as okay as it ever gets with Mercury.

MICK: (THROUGH THE DOOR) Ah, just a minute! I just gotta… clean up, I guess…

JUNO: Yyyyep. Typical.

SOUND: MUFFLED CLANKS.

MICK: (THROUGH THE DOOR, OVER THE BELOW) Owww!!! Ah, c’mon, stupid…! (GRUNTS) Ahh!

JUNO: (OVER THE ABOVE) Listen… we don’t know what kind of trouble Mick’s in, alright? Even if he’s actin’ weird, we can’t ask why; we—

MICK: (THROUGH THE DOOR, OVER THE BELOW) Yeow!! Ow! Ow ow ow! (SIGHS)

JUNO: (OVER THE ABOVE) —we don’t know who might be listening and it could just put him in more danger. Alright?

RITA: Yeah, yeah, I know, boss, I been with you on a few cases now, I get it. I get the pictcha—

SOUND: MUFFLED HAMMERING.

—the pictcha is mine—

MICK: (THROUGH THE DOOR, OVER THE BELOW) There! That’s more- yeow!

RITA: (OVER THE ABOVE) —I own it the pictcha now. So give it a rest already, willya?

JUNO: …Okay.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

MICK: Sorry, sorry! I was just uh, doing some, uh, jazz redecorating and I…

Jayjay!

SOUND: THUD.

JUNO: Oof! …Mercury.

MICK: Oh man, it’s you, I can’t believe it’s really—

RITA: So what kinda trouble you in, Mista Mercury? Are you bein’ watched? Listened to? Smelled at?

MICK: Whuh?

JUNO: Rita…

RITA: How many bad guys you got hidden in there, huh? How many? Four or five in the closet, sixteen all balled up under the sink? Spill, Mercury!

JUNO: Or don’t, please.

MICK: I– is this what this is all about, you guys? You think I’m in trouble or something?

JUNO: (SIGHING) To be fair, Mercury, you’re usually in trouble.

MICK: Well! Yeah, I used to be. But not anymore!

JUNO: And you usually sa—

MICK: I know what I usually say, but not anymore to that too, alright? This is real, Jay, this is the real deal!

JUNO: What is?

MICK: Newtown, buddy! It’s amazing here! I’m back on my feet in a big way, and I got a great apartment, and a bunch of friends, and, my life hasn’t been in serious danger since the last time I saw you! Which, y’know, is maybe cause for alarm for me right now, but I’m willin’ to let bygones be bygones.

JUNO: Bygones?!

MICK: And I’m gettin’ cultured, Jay. I’ve got culture like they write about. I’m so full’a culture that if you squeezed my stomach fine wine would spray—

JUNO: Y’know, maybe don’t finish that thought, ‘cause I feel like it’s just gonna hurt your point, actually.

MICK: Then here, look, I’ll prove it to ya. (CLEARS THROAT) Would either of you ladies like… some tea?

RITA: Not really—

JUNO: Yes. Yes, we both want tea, just… so bad.

RITA: (WHISPERING) But boss, you don’t even like—

JUNO: (WHISPERING) Maybe not, but– I have to see him try to make some. I just… it’s been a rough couple of days; I need this.

RITA: (WHISPERING) That’s kinda mean, Mista St—

MICK: Alright! That’s two teas for Club Whispers over here. Now why don’t you two come inside and have a seat on my furniture. Ha!

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

(WHISTLES)

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

RITA: He’s got a nice place, Mista Steel.

SOUND: DISTANT DOOR OPENS, CLOSES.

Slidin’ door out onto the balcony. Soft sofas. It even smells nice, like… like… well, not like Mista Mercury, is I guess what I’m sayin’.

JUNO: Yyyep. Real nice.

So the question is who the hell Ramses must be screwin’ over in order to afford to keep up such expensive apartments for everyone.

RITA: Huh? They ain’t expensive, boss. Probably cost less than yours, and yours is a real dump, which don’t make any sense ‘cause y’know, as your financial advisor, I’ve been meanin’ ta tell you ta start spendin’ some of the money comin’ in ‘cause it ain’t like you’re usin—

JUNO: Not expensive? How?

RITA: Oh, um, I mean, they’re all mass-produced, Mista Steel. Like an assembly line. Except, if all the parts of the assembly line were bots with that same creepy lady’s voice.

JUNO: You mean this place was built by Theias? The ones with cannons for arms?

RITA: Nah, but they know how to. The ones I hacked into so far know how to do everything, Mista Steel, or at least everything any of the other ones know how to do. It’s weird ‘cause they ain’t got no security—it’s like they all got copies of the same one mind, y’see, except it ain’t a real mind, not an AI or nothin’, just a pretty simple cause-and-effect pipeline that knows how to put the solutions to formulas into new formulas, but it ain’t like it can learn or make new formulas from scratch or– OH! Maybe that’s somethin’ kinda weird an’ interestin’!

JUNO: Uhhh, yeah. I think so.

(MUTTERING) If only I knew what the hell it meant.

SOUND: DISTANT DOOR OPENS.

MICK: Here he comes, with some tea for his houseguests.

SOUND: CHINA RATTLING.

And he only burned himself twice.

RITA: Uhh… maybe, Mista Mercury, but that burn on your neck looks pretty bad…

JUNO: Burned his neck. (SNICKERS)

MICK: Hey, I’m still gettin’ used to this place, alright? Never had a toaster oven before.

Anyway, anyway, enough about me! Sit down, come on, make yourselves comfortable. You like couches? ‘Cause that couch over there is made from one hundred percent…

…couch.

JUNO: Sure, we’ll s– we’ll sit, Mick, but… you’re actually who we’re here to talk about. You and… Newtown.

MICK: Me and…? Oh, what, did I already do something wrong? Ohhh, I knew I shouldn’t’ve switched those two chairs when I moved in! They said this place was gonna be fit to my specifications exactly, and then I came in and saw the chairs and I went, “hey, maybe they’ll look better this way,” and then they didn’t! And now they’re gonna kick me out of Newtown, aren’t they?

RITA: No, Mista Mercury. We ain’t gonna kick you out. An’, we can help you move the chairs back if you really want.

MICK: (SOBBING) I already diiiiiiiiiid!

JUNO: So… h-hang on a second. This is exactly what we’re looking for!

RITA & MICK: (IN UNISON) It is?

JUNO: Yeah, it is! I– I knew there would be a catch. So, Mick, you’re saying that Newtown has these weird, inscrutable rules, right? And if you don’t follow them they kick you out?

MICK: Well, no, I didn’t—

JUNO: Ha! So much for a brand new world order, O’Flaherty; that’s got Fascist Renaissance written all over it!

MICK: Hey, Jay, listen—

JUNO: Fascist Renaissance, Fascist Renaissance…

SOUND: SNAPS FINGERS.

Torture devices! Executions! That must be what the carnival in the town square is all about—they open the doors… then public executions, to show Hyperion he means business.

MICK: Jay, quit it! There aren’t torture devices or whatever in the square, okay? I helped build some’a those. It’s just candy stands, and hologram light shows, and– I don’t know, just fun stuff!

RITA: That really does sound like fun stuff, Mista Steel!

JUNO: But– you were so worried about getting kicked out of Newtown. That must mean… y’know, that you’re scared here, right?

MICK: No way, man, this place is just great, and I don’t want to lose it. I’ve been waiting for the catch for a while now, but I can’t find it! This place is catch-free!

JUNO: You mean besides the whole completely-sealed-off-from-the-rest-of-society thing?

MICK: Well, they gotta do that for now, don’t they? I mean it’s competitive housing for now, sure, but, once they open this up and start expanding it, I mean, everybody gets a place like this. And it’s huge, Jay! And built just for us! People who can’t do heights get the first floor and—

JUNO: So where’s the liquor?

MICK: And… and… and… and… and…

RITA: Uh… Mista Mercury?

MICK: Uhhhhh, wh-what?

JUNO: You want to stay awake for like two seconds, Mercury? This is serious: the booze. If you got a place based on what you’re interested in—

MICK: I just, uh… I haven’t felt like drinking lately, I guess.

JUNO: You? Really?

RITA: That’s not such a bad thing, boss. Healthy, actually.

JUNO: What about your hovercycle? I didn’t see it coming in.

MICK: Who needs it? The buses here—

JUNO: I didn’t ask about need, Mick.

RITA: Mista Steel…

JUNO: You love that bike, Mick. Where is it?

MICK: It was busted. Dangerous, like… ughhh!

JUNO: Dangerous like what, Mick?

MICK: I mean… ughhh!

RITA: Mista Mercury… are you okay?

MICK: Yeah, I just… feel a little outta sorts. Headache or somethin’…

(CLEARS THROAT) I’m gonna get some more tea. That’s supposed to help you feel better, right? You just drink so much tea you feel like you’re gonna barf?

JUNO: Think that one through. Then you tell me.

MICK: Maybe I’ll think about it after I drink it… gotta take somethin’ for this headache…

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

RITA: Feel better, Mista Mercury!

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

Mista Steel, how come you’re bein’ so mean to your second-best friend!

JUNO: Because he’s a chump, Rita. I always knew he was a chump but it’s still disappointing to find out just how true that is.

RITA: Oh, come on, boss—

JUNO: You ‘oh come on!’ (GROWLS) Sorry, I’m just… disappointed. I really thought that he’d have the answer, or at least that… Ramses wouldn’t sucker him, too. Like he did me.

RITA: Aw, boss…

JUNO: Either way, I don’t think Mercury’s gonna help us with this one. And, we only have… twenty-one hours left. We gotta keep movin’.

RITA: But first…?

JUNO: But first nothing! All of Oldtown, hell, all– probably all of Hyperion’s on the line, and you want to ‘but first’ about my loser friend? No. Hell no.

Yeah, wow, that sounded pretty bad, huh?

RITA: Mmmmm-hm.

JUNO: I should probably just… apologize.

Fine. But, then we go.

RITA: Okay, Mista Steel.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: Hey, Mick… Rita and I’ve got to go in a second, but I just wanted to say I’m…

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

Sorry…

Uh… uh… Mick? Where’d you go?

RITA: (DISTANT) Maybe he’s in the bathroom or somethin’?

JUNO: There aren’t any other doors back here. Just an… open window…

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

What the—

RITA: What the what, Mista—

JUNO: Rita, duck!

MICK: (YELLS)

RITA: (YELPS)

SOUND: BIG CLUNK.

RITA: M– Mista– Mista Steel, what was that?!

JUNO: That was… Mick?! Rita, get over here. Quickly.

RITA: O- okay!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

MICK: What the…

Hey, my couch is upside-down!

SOUND: HEAVY SCRAPING.

Are you guys havin’ a party in here without me?

JUNO: Hands up, Mick.

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

MICK: Wh-whoa, there, buddy, be careful where you point that thing, alright? Rough-housing’s one thing, but—

JUNO: I said hands up!

MICK: (NERVOUS LAUGH) I think I mighta twisted my ankle, Juno. Can you help me up?

JUNO: Rita, don’t go any closer.

RITA: But why, boss?

MICK: Yeah. Why?

JUNO: This. Your voice. What you just did. This whole creepy apartment, it’s all wrong, Mercury, it’s all—

MICK: Me finally having my act together is wrong to you?

JUNO: That’s– not what I said.

MICK: After all we’ve been through? That hurts, Jay. That really hurts.

JUNO: What the hell is in your hand, Mercury!

MICK & THEIA: (IN UNISON) What happened, Juno? I thought we were buddies.

JUNO: When you jumped at Rita you had something in your hand! Tell me what it was right! Now!

SOUND: POWERING UP, THEIA BEEP.

Mercury!

RITA: M-m-mista…

SOUND: GRUNT & THUD; RUNNING FOOTSTEPS; BLASTER SHOT; GRUNT; TWO BLASTER SHOTS; GRUNT.

Steel…?

JUNO (NARRATOR): It… (SIGHS) It all just happened so fast. At the time I thought it felt like that because I wasn’t expecting it. Because I never thought– I-I mean… it never actually seemed possible that he would—

(SIGHS) First he jumped clean over the couch.

SOUND: GRUNT, THUD.

Then he started to run at me.

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

Fast. It was faster than I’d ever seen him or… anybody else run. Ever. And in his eyes, I swear, in his eyes, I saw… absolutely nothing. So I fired.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT.

It should’ve been enough to take him down. A stun blast in the shoulder from that close could’ve taken down anyone, it had taken down goons twice as big as Mick and three times as angry, but– he kept running. All it did was push him off-balance a bit, just enough… for him to miss when he swung at me.

MICK: (GRUNTS)

JUNO (NARRATOR): It wasn’t a punch. It looked like a slap, but there was something small and metal glinting in his palm. I panicked. I— (SIGHS) I wasn’t thinking. He didn’t feel like Mick Mercury anymore; just some… monster, and that’s why… I shot him again.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT.

And again.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT.

Which all went this fast:

RITA: M-m-mista…

SOUND: GRUNT & THUD; RUNNING FOOTSTEPS; BLASTER SHOT; GRUNT; TWO BLASTER SHOTS; GRUNT.

Steel…?

JUNO (NARRATOR): …and ended with Mick, on the floor, motionless as a doll.

No, I noticed. Stiller than a doll.

Dead still.

And that’s when I realized what I’d done.

JUNO: Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh n…

SOUND: RUSTLING.

RITA: Is… is Mista Mercury okay?

JUNO: Get over here, Rita. Please. He-help me find his pulse.

RITA: His pulse?!

JUNO: It’s supposed to be a billion-to-one chance, Rita. A-and it gets worse with more stuns but still, I didn’t think it would ever– but-but I stunned him like three times, Rita, and I can’t find his pulse. Rita, goddamn it, I can’t find Mick’s pulse!

RITA: His heart?

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

I’m comin’, boss!

SOUND: RUSTLING.

I– I can’t find his pulse either!

JUNO: I gotta… uh, I-I gotta try CPR or something. But– but I barely remember, it’s been since the Academy, and… (BREATHES) Th-this is a nightmare, a billion to one chance, oh god damn it, this is a nightmare!

RITA: I can do CPR, Mista Steel. You just tell me when he’s breathin’, okay?

JUNO: You know– r-really?

RITA: ‘Course I do! Rita knows a lot of stuff. Just gotta find the right spot on his chest…

SOUND: RUSTLING. ELECTRIC SPARK.

JUNO: There! His heartbeat! I can feel his heartbeat again!

RITA: What? But I ain’t even start—

SOUND: SPARKS.

Ahhh!

JUNO: What happened?

RITA: It’s hot, Mista Steel! He’s got somethin’ on his chest and it’s really really burnin’ hot!

JUNO: He has… oh, no. Oh, hell no.

SOUND: FABRIC RIPS. RUSTLING.

RITA: Mista Steel you can’t just rip your friend’s shirt without askin’ unless this is just a thing for you two– oh my god what is that?!

SOUND: PULSING BUZZ.

JUNO (NARRATOR): It looked like a… computer chip. It looked like a little computer chip, with metal brackets rooted into Mercury’s chest. I could see it had something written on it but I couldn’t make it out: it was so hot, it was burning red, the skin around it was sizzling, and blistering, and cracking.

And then Mick’s hand moved. Just a twitch in the knuckles, but… enough that I knew we were almost outta time.

JUNO: Rita… we have to tie Mick up. Now.

RITA: Tie him up? But just a minute ago we wer—

JUNO: We don’t have time for this, Rita. Look at his hand!

RITA: Computer chips! Like the one on his chest!

JUNO: And he was trying to stick them on us.

MUSIC: STARTS.

(SIGHS) They say Theia on ‘em, don’t they?

RITA: I’m not sure, boss. I can’t—

SOUND: THEIA BEEP.

MICK & THEIA: (IN UNISON) The Theia Soul is now online.

RITA: Ooooooooh!

JUNO: It’s too late to tie him up. Hide, Rita!

RITA: Where?!

MICK & THEIA: (IN UNISON) Jay! Rita! You’re leavin’ already?

JUNO: The balcony! Get out on the balcony and we’ll see if we can find a fire escape or somethin’.

RITA: But boss—

JUNO: No time!

MICK & THEIA: (IN UNISON) Stay there.

JUNO: Come on!

RITA: (MOANS)

SOUND: PANTING, RUNNING FOOTSTEPS. DOOR OPENS.

RITA: He’s still comin’!

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES. WIND HOWLING.

JUNO: Hand me that chair, quickly!

MICK & THEIA: (IN UNISON) Give up.

SOUND: SCRAPING, CLINKS.

MICK: (CALLING, THROUGH THE DOOR) Juno! Rita! Come on, guys! You really gonna lock me out of my own balcony?

JUNO (NARRATOR): I tried to get a read on our surroundings, but it didn’t look good. No fire escape; the apartments were big, and– that meant the balconies were far apart. Nowhere to go, and, even if we managed to get out of here, it’s not like we had anywhere to hide—we were trapped here. Trapped in Ramses’s City of the Future, and Newtown liked it that way.

MICK: Come on, I don’t think this game is super fun. Why don’t you just give it up?

THEIA: (OVERLAPPING WITH ABOVE) Give up.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Was this really supposed to be O’Flaherty’s ‘good’? I didn’t know how to make sense of it. I didn’t know how to make sense of the fact that the chip that had turned my best friend into a monster had probably just saved his life, too. Ramses had decided that what we were all missing was a soul – and, I didn’t know how to make sense of the fact that so far… his plan seemed like it was working.

RITA: Mista Steel, what do we do?

JUNO: I… I don’t know, Rita. I don’t know.

MICK: Hey, I’ve got an idea! Why don’t you just give up.

THEIA: (OVERLAPPING WITH ABOVE) Give up.

RITA: (WHIMPERS)

MICK & THEIA: (IN UNISON) Give up control to the Theia Soul.

MUSIC: ENDS.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you’ll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actors Joshua Ilon, Kate Jones, and Stefano Perti:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

STEFANO: …totally flip-flopped the script on me, one time a dentist called me trying to set an appointment. And, for like laser– free laser whitening. I was like ‘oh. Well hey, I’ll trade ya appointment for appointment.’ And the woman said ‘I dunno if we can do that.’ And then I said, ‘why don’t you put me on the phone with whoever can?’ And then she, uh, clearly faked putting her manager on the phone, and I said ‘hello?’ And then she just kinda got all befuddled and hung up. And s…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Minchowski, Camille Blanton, Garrett M, Atha Lang, Kim Zeugin, Jaimie Gunter, Fiona Parker, Jay Iannuzzelli, Ko, Canteloupe, Christine Kim, Regan, Charlie Spiegel, Karin Z-H, Ota Arcana, Rowan Collins, and Demi for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

Did you know that The Penumbra has merchandise for sale? It’s true! The Penumbra has partnered with DFTBA to bring you the posters, shirts, and pins your heart desires. Just go to dftba.com and search for The Penumbra Podcast.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Man of the Future, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Matthew Zahnzinger as Ramses O’Flaherty, Kate Jones as Rita, Stefano Perti as Mick Mercury, and Sophie Kaner as the Theia.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert. If you wish to know more about our ever-expanding, infinitely-creative team of artists, musicians, editors, designers, and managers, you can read about them in the show notes of this episode.

I’m afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

[glowrioustrash]

Don’t Go Out There

Prompt: 53: “Don’t go out there. Especially once the sun goes down.” “Why not?” “You don’t wanna know.” and 80: “I just found out my best friend and love of my life isn’t human and you’re criticizing me for being shocked?!” from this list, specifically with Vampire Seth. Requested by anon.

Pairing: Vampire!Seth Rollins x unnamed OC

Word Count: 2400+

Warnings: Light swearing. I think that’s

Author’s Note: No sparkling in the sunlight here folks. I combined a few different styles/lore into what creates vamps in this world, so I didn’t stick strictly to one pre-existing rule. It was fun to write in AU and I enjoyed the spooky bits. They were a challenge, but I’m happy with them for my first attempt. Edit: omg so I just saw where it was mislabeled from when I copied everything over. Everything should be fine now. Embarassing lol

Tagging: @castielscamander / @therealfivefeetoffuckingfury

               My girlfriends had warned me, but I didn’t want to listen. They said that eventually the rose-tinted honeymoon glasses of my relationship would come off, but I didn’t believe them. It had been over two years with Seth and the giddy, “new relationship” excitement hadn’t faded yet, so I had doubted it ever could. They said eventually something would shatter the illusion I held of him and there would be no turning back. Maybe I needed more positive friends, but maybe they were right.

               I had moved in with Seth almost a month ago, which had been the catalyst for even more pessimistic remarks from my girls over brunch but I shrugged them all off. If they had men like my Seth, they would understand. We lived in different parts of the same city, but his little suburb was so small and secluded, I didn’t even know it existed before I met him. It was like a little gem of a hamlet trapped inside the city. I was excited to call it home.

                “I want you to do something for me.” Seth had whispered as we lay in bed together on the first night, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside the window.

               “Again? Already?” I giggled? We were both sticky, sweaty and satiated after celebrating taking this next step in our relationship.

               “Not like that.” He grinned, nuzzling my neck.

               “What then?” I squirmed, his beard tickling me.

               “Don’t go out there. Especially once the sun goes down.” He murmured against my skin.

              “Why not?”

              “You don’t wanna know.”

              “Seth, I can handle myself…” I started to protest but he shook his head.

              “I know you think this is a beautiful neighbourhood, but things get weird at night. Just don’t do it. For me?” He turned his gorgeous brown eyes on me and I couldn’t resist.

              I had forgotten the promise I’d made him that night. I remembered watching as my mugs took up counter space beside his or how his eyebrows wiggled as he opened a box to find it full of underwear. I remembered the way it felt when he wrapped his arms around me and said “Welcome home” and how he welcomed me well into the morning. That tiny conversation just slipped through the cracks.

              As I walked the few blocks home from the store, I couldn’t help but gaze around the suburb. If at all possible, it looked even more beautiful at night. I had seen it after dark before, but always with Seth by my side. Never had the dimly lit neighbourhood held my undivided attention. I took my usual route to and from the store, cutting across a few alleys and crossing a park. I had walked this path enough during the day that I didn’t need to think about where I was going.

              A shuffling noise behind me brought me out of my thoughts. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see someone else on the street, but no one was there. Come to think of it, the cashier had been the only person I had seen all night. I hadn’t passed anyone walking to the store and there was no one else shopping. Just goes to show how removed our little neighbourhood is from the hustle and bustle.

              The shuffling happened again, interrupting my thoughts. It had sounded closer this time, but as I looked around there was still nothing there. I tried to change how I was moving, checking if it was a noise my jacket was making as I walked but that didn’t seem to be it. I picked up my pace a little.

              The breeze picked up as I got closer to home making me shiver. I’d only grabbed a very light jacket and it wasn’t helping much against the cool wind. I was already a little on edge, the soft howl of the wind and the noises of leaves rustling making me scan the street continuously. A gust of wind blew my hair over my neck, making me shiver.

              The next time I heard the shuffling noise, I swear I heard laughter along with it. I stopped walking and spun around, looking for the source of the noises I’d been hearing.

              “Is someone there?” I called into the alley. I was met by silence but couldn’t shake the feeling of not being alone. One weird noise in the night is a coincidence, these repeated noises were too much to handle.

              I turned, ready to speed walk the rest of the way home, but jumped as I saw the silhouette of a man standing at the end of the alley. He hadn’t been there a second ago. He wasn’t walking or moving, just standing. The alley was narrow enough that I would have to pass him to continue home. I was too scared to move, and he didn’t seem to be moving soon either.

              “No.” A voice growled from directly behind me, making me scream and drop my shopping bag. I whirled around, ready to attack with every ounce of my being. I didn’t know how to fight, but I could claw, scratch, kick and bite.

              I almost sobbed in relief when I saw that it was Seth behind me. I collapsed against him, burying my head into his shoulder.

              “Just a little taste.” The man drawled.

              “I said no.” Seth’s voice was like nothing I’d ever heard come out of him before. I whimpered, clinging to him tighter. I could feel how tense he was under his shirt, his entire body seemed ready to strike.

              The man chuckled darkly before his footsteps echoed down the alley, fading into the distance. The tension left Seth’s body as the footsteps got farther and farther away.

              “I told you not to go out alone at night.” He whispered into my ear, his arms wrapping around me.

              “I-I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.” I promised. I moved to pull away but Seth just held me tighter.

              “Wait.” He ordered. I looked up at him but could was too close to see his face, his chin taking up most of my view.

              “What’s wrong?”

              “Just wait.” Was all he said.

              “Seth, I’m already scared to death and you’re making it worse. Can we please just go home?” I asked, trying to push away. He looked down at me and I gasped. In the dimly lit alley, I could see his eyes were tinted red. Were they glowing? Why were they-

              “Seth… w-what…” I could barely form any words, shaking in his arms as I tried to push away.

              “Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.” He tried to soothe, but that only made me panic.

              “Seth, let me go.” I cried, trying to wiggle free. He loosened his arms, letting me slip free. I took several quick steps back, almost tripping as I stared at him.

              “It’s okay, it’s just me.” He followed as I moved away, arms raised like he was approaching a scared animal.

              “Seth, what’s going on? Why are your eyes-“ I shook my head. I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I felt my chest getting tighter and tighter.

              “Let’s just go home and I’ll explain everything.” He offered, still advancing on me. He stepped into a beam of light from the street, the light glinting off his long, pointed teeth. Pointed teeth?!

              “Y-your teeth.” I stuttered, tripping over a crack in the pavement and falling backwards.

              “Shit.” He hissed, turning away and covering his mouth. I jumped at the distraction, scrambling up and sprinting to the entrance of the alley as fast as I could. Seth called after me but I didn’t stop.

              I collided with something as I turned the corner, screaming as I felt arms reach out to steady me. Looking up, I couldn’t believe I was looking at Seth.

              “How did you-“ I panted, staring up at him in fear. “You were-“ I couldn’t do anything as my vision grew dark and I felt myself fall limp in his arms.

----

              I woke slowly, laying in a comfortable bed. My nose told me it was mine and Seth’s bed as I snuggled deeper into the pillow. My head hurt and I felt exhausted. I whined quietly under my breath at the feeling.

              “You’re awake.”  Seth’s voice was rough and I could tell there was something wrong. I slowly opened my eyes, turning to look in his direction. He was sitting on a chair he’d pulled into the room. The covers on his side of the bed were untouched. “How are you feeling?”

              “Tired.” I mumbled, looking him over. His hair was a mess and he was wearing the same clothes as last night. Had he not slept- last night. I sat up in bed, watching him with wide eyes as I remembered.

              “Sweetheart, please calm down. I don’t want you passing out again.” He begged, but didn’t move from the chair. His fingers twitched against the armrests, but he was still otherwise. I watched him, my body shaking and muscles tight, ready to jump out of the bed and run.

              “W-What was that?” I finally stuttered. “Last night?”

              “I should have told you this sooner.” Seth sighed and bent his head, his hair falling forward and shielding his face from me. I glanced at the bedroom door, knowing that I’d never get there before Seth did. He was faster than I was, always had been, and that was before I had seen him last night. It was like he appeared around that corner by magic. “I’m not who- I’m not what you think I am.”

              “What are you?” I whispered, scared my voice would crack if I spoke much louder.

              “The short answer?” He chuckled bitterly. “Vampire.”

              A silence engulfed the room as I processed what Seth had said. Vampire. Vampires don’t exist. They’re made up for horror movies and Halloween costumes. Besides, I had seen Seth eat food, not blood. He’d been out during the day and didn’t explode into a pike of ash. I’d never seen him bite into a clove of garlic but I don’t remember him going out of his way to avoid garlic either.

              Seth’s chuckle startled me out of my thoughts.

              “Myths. Those are all myths.” He spoke, confusing me. Now what was he talking about?

              “Sunlight, garlic.” He explained. “We’re weaker in the sun, but it doesn’t kill us instantly. I have no idea where the garlic comes from. Probably some garlic farmer trying to make a quick buck off of paranoia.”

              …How did he know that was what I had been thinking?

              “I can read minds.” He answered, looking up at me hesitantly. “I also have incredible speed and strength – at least I do when I’m not in sunlight. The way it was explained to me is that it makes us weak. If we stay in it too long it might kill us, but it would be like slowly wasting away. I wouldn’t burst into flames.”

              “That’s why you hate the beach?” I asked. I knew it was a dumb question, but it felt like my brain was shutting down. Between the head ache I’d woken up with and the shock of information I was getting, I couldn’t think straight.

              “That’s what you’re hung up on?” Seth laughed.

              “I just found out my best friend and love of my life isn’t human and you’re criticizing me for being shocked?!” I snapped, a gasp leaving my mouth immediately afterwards. Saying it myself made it so much more real. I threw the covers back on the bed and climbed out the opposite side from where Seth was sitting.

              “Please, don’t go!” He begged, standing as I did. “Please. I’ll answer anything you want. Everything. I still eat normal food but I drink blood, a pint every few days or so. I don’t drink human blood, only animal blood. There are vampires who drink human blood and those are the ones you need to be scared of, not me. Never me.” He ranted, trying to supply the answers to the questions she wasn’t even asking yet.

              “It’s still me. I’m still Seth Rollins, the Seth Rollins that loves you with all his heart and that you love back… just a little less human than you originally thought.”

              “Why should I believe you?” I breathed. “I… I know what you are,” I thought back on last night. The eyes, the teeth, the speed. I had no doubt in my mind he was telling the truth about what he is.

              “Have I hurt you yet?” He answered. “If I was looking for some random person to drink from or play with, don’t you think that would have happened by now? Why would I be telling you all of this after being together for over two years? I should have told you sooner, but I was so scared. I couldn’t handle the thought of you leaving me. Please don’t leave me.”

              I watched the emotion plain as day on his face. The vampires shown in classic movies always look so stoic, not like Seth did in this moment. He looked like he might collapse at any moment. I’m sure if I took a single step toward that door, he would break.

              Two years I’ve loved this man, and I’d known him long before I loved him. I knew him- I thought I knew him inside and out. Could I just… walk away?

              The silence stretched between us. If Seth was reading my mind, he didn’t show it. He didn’t comment as the war in my head waged, weighing out either side. Do I stay with the man I love or leave this… vampire?

              I took a shaky breath as I sat back down on the bed. Relief flashed through Seth’s eyes as he mirrored me, sitting on the opposite edge.

              “I… I still have a lot of questions.” I told him.

              “I know.” He gave a nod before correcting himself. “Not- I haven’t been- This is your decision to make and I wanted to give you the privacy to make it. I meant it figuratively. I don’t literally know what you’re thinking. At least not right now.”

              I couldn’t help but grin, a soft laugh escaping my lips. One of Seth’s nervous habits was rambling. It didn’t come out often, only when he was incredibly nervous. He’d rambled on our first few dates. He rambled the first morning we woke up together. He rambled when he asked me to move in. Maybe he was still my Seth.

              I reached out towards the middle of the bed, my hand upturned. Seth took it in his own without hesitation, lacing our fingers together with a soft squeeze. Seth was the first one to break the silence.

              “Where do you want to start?”

[evergreenreviews]

Top 20 Songs of 2017

Spotify Playlist

Long post under the cut

20. ‘Laps Around A Picture Frame’ - Broadside

In my AOTY post, and throughout this year, I commended Broadside on their ability to write fun, upbeat songs, so it surprised me that ‘Laps Around A Picture Frame’, one of the album’s darker tracks, ended up making this list. This song is more interesting - both musically and lyrically - than a lot of Broadside’s other work, and it still really stands out to me as a fantastic piece of songwriting.

19. ‘There’s Nothing Holdin’ Me Back’ - Shawn Mendes

If I had any sort of shame whatsoever, Shawn Mendes would be my guilty pleasure. As it stands, I unabashedly love his music, particularly this song. It’s considerably less depressing than pretty much everything else he’s ever written, and it’s an unbelievably fun and catchy song. I dare you to listen to ‘There’s Nothing Holdin’ Me Back’ without at least tapping your foot.

18. ‘Guilty Melody’ - ROAM

ROAM has got to be one of my favourite current pop punk bands, and I remained loyal to them despite the disaster that was Backbone. That loyalty paid off because their second LP, Great Heights and Nosedives, is full to the brim with great jams, none more so than ‘Guilty Melody’. Although the two singles that came out before this one were also really good, this track was the one that restored my faith in ROAM. It’s pretty much a perfect pop punk song, with an unerringly catchy tune, solid lyricism, and a vast improvement in singing ability from both vocalists.

17. ‘The Line’ - Foo Fighters

Although Concrete and Gold was generally a disappointment, ‘The Line’ is an absolutely fantastic soft rock song. It’s super laidback and chill, the melody is simple, which to me (as someone who knows nothing about rock instrumentation) seems to complement the slightly more intricate instrumental parts, and it sounds more like Foo Fighters than anything else off this record.

16. ‘The Last Of The Real Ones’ - Fall Out Boy

While I will readily admit that I’m not the biggest fan of Fall Out Boy’s new sound, this song is brilliant. It’s a great electro-rock anthem while remaining a recognisably Fall Out Boy song. The keyboard part works perfectly under the melody, which is simultaneously very simple but also quite interesting. I also love the contrast between the anthemic chorus and comparatively relaxed verses.

15. ‘One Foot’ - Walk The Moon

After being absent for a year or so, Walk The Moon returned in September with this indie pop bop. ‘One Foot’ has all the hallmarks of a classic WTM song - it’s super upbeat and very catchy with a solid melody and instrumental and synth parts that work perfectly underneath the vocal line. While it may not be the next ‘Shut Up And Dance’, it’s a fantastic pop song and the perfect tune for Walk The Moon to return with.

14. ‘All My Friends (feat. State Champs)’ - Hoodie Allen

It may surprise you to see a hip-hop song on this list - I feel the same way - but this song is just too good not to include. While ‘All My Friends’ may not be Hoodie’s best song, the way he and State Champs manage to blend their very different sounds is incredible and works surprisingly well. From the hip-hop beat during the verses to the almost breakdown in the bridge and the build-up to the explosive last chorus, every aspect of this song ties in wonderfully with the others and creates a very interesting and very fun song.

13. ‘Scatter My Ashes Along The Coast Or Don’t’ - Seaway 

While I’d be hard pressed to pick a favourite song off Vacation, ‘Scatter My Ashes...’ would definitely be in the top three. It’s a ridiculously fun song, with some not so fun lyrics hidden under the upbeat melody and catchy riffs. It also features Caleb Shomo of Beartooth on a fantastic guest vocals spot. His voice works so well on this song and complements the Seaway boys’ perfectly, and it really just gives the track that extra boost.

12. ‘The Man’ - The Killers

I’ve never really listened to The Killers that much, and I think I only listened to this song in the first place because of Brandon Flower’s bicep in the thumbnail for the music video on YouTube. But thank god for that because ‘The Man’ very rapidly became one of my favourite songs. It’s got a lyrical theme that I’ve never seen before, as the band explores what it means to be a “man”, and it’s all laid over a funky 70s-esque disco beat with a fantastic melody.

11. ‘Hearts Don’t Break Around Here’ - Ed Sheeran 

This may be a slightly sappy choice, but I’ll admit that I love a good romantic ballad, and by God if ‘Hearts Don’t Break Around Here’ isn’t exactly that. I feel like this song didn’t get the credit it deserved and was kind of brushed aside in favour of ‘Perfect’ but from day one this was my favourite track off Divide. It’s a perfect relaxed, stripped back, typical Ed Sheeran love song with very simple instrumentation and a gorgeous vocal melody that I can’t help but sing along to.

10. ‘Bad Behavior’ - The Maine

Lovely Little Lonely is made up of wall to wall jams, and none more so than lead single ‘Bad Behavior’. It’s an irresistibly fun song, that you can’t help but dance along to, and it’s impossible not to smile when you’re listening to it. It’s an incredible pop rock song, with that alternative edge that The Maine do so well. You might worry that after 10 years they would’ve stagnated, but this song is proof that The Maine are better than they’ve ever been.

9. ‘On My Own’ - Niall Horan

On an album full of beautiful ballads and acoustic slow jams, ‘On My Own’ stands out as the most upbeat song of the lot. It’s an Irish folk influenced anthem for the happily single, about having fun by yourself when you’re young. It may not be Niall’s strongest vocal performance on Flicker, but it shows the diversity in his writing and provides a welcome interlude from all the slower songs on the album. It’s another song that you just can’t help but nod along to, and perfectly blends the style of pop rock on One Direction’s later albums and the folk and country influences of Niall’s solo work.

8. ‘Soap’ - As It Is 

This is arguably one of the most musically diverse and interesting pop punk songs of the decade. ‘Soap’ is a spooky, sinister, slightly aggressive track which is totally unexpected of As It Is. It probably wouldn’t sound out of place on a gothic horror movie soundtrack and is a fascinating take on the genre. The vocal performances from both singers are fantastic, with Patty effortlessly transitioning from the subdued verses to the almost screamed choruses. The guitars in the intro perfectly set the tone for the rest of the song, and the rumbling bass sounds incredible under everything else. ‘Soap’ is, without a doubt, the standout track from January’s okay. and possibly As It Is’ discography in general.

7. ‘Drowned In Gold’ - Boston Manor

This is a very late addition to this list, seeing as it only came out earlier this month, but in the space of 24 hours it had already pushed its way up to this position. I reviewed ‘Drowned In Gold’ when it was released, and all of the sentiments in that post still ring true today. The “choose life” lyrical structure of the verses is still one of the most interesting writing techniques I’ve heard in a while and I really can’t get over the creepy sound Boston Manor manages to create with the instruments in this track, and the musical progress they’ve made in the past year.

6. ‘Hurt’ - Trophy Eyes

This is probably the most depressing song on this list, and easily one of the most emotionally evocative. ‘Hurt’ is Trophy Eyes’ first release since their album Chemical Miracle last year, and you can tell they’ve put that year to good use with immense improvements across the board. The most noticeable improvement is John’s vocals. As far as I can remember (correct me if I’m wrong), this is the first song on which he’s only done clean vocals, and he sounds better than I ever imagined he could. ‘Hurt’ almost has a kind of stadium rock type vibe to it, and I, for one, love it.

5. ‘Praying’ - Kesha

‘Praying’ is the eagerly anticipated comeback track from beleaguered pop icon Kesha, and the perfect song to show not only how she’s progressed as an artist, but also the struggles she’s faced the past few years. The song alludes to her legal battle with her producer, but it is mostly a song about personal growth and overcoming your struggles. It’s a beautiful stripped back, piano-laden ballad which really lets Kesha’s immense vocal talent take the spotlight. ‘Praying’ is an incredibly powerful song, which has the ability to draw a huge amount of emotion from its listeners - if you haven’t cried listening to this song, you’re probably not human.

4. ‘Gone’ - Knuckle Puck 

I don’t think it’s any secret that I love Knuckle Puck, but if you’ve been following this blog for a while and read my review of Shapeshifter, it’s also no secret that I wasn’t its biggest fan. However, I absolutely adore ‘Gone’. It may just be because it was the first thing to follow the hugely disappointing Calendar Days/Indecisive release earlier this year, or it may be because it’s a brilliant song. It has attitude and a certain aggressiveness that I love. It’s got the lyricism we’ve come to know and love from KP, and it’s unbelievably catchy. The duel vocalism works amazingly on this track and the slightly dotted rhythm in the guitar riff provides another interesting layer to the instrumentation.

3. ‘Atlantic’ - Grayscale 

I can honestly say that this song has been the soundtrack to my 2017. Grayscale very quickly became one of my favourite bands this year, and their album Adornment was even my Album of the Year. ‘Atlantic’ is definitely what one could refer to as an anthem, with a powerful chorus that contrasts perfectly with the relatively chill verses and bridge. It’s a very mature sounding song, showcasing a writing ability far beyond what one would expect of such a young band, although there are a couple of very minor issues in the vocal line. But overall, this song is a brilliant piece of writing that I can imagine aging very well.

2. ‘Out Of It’ - The Story So Far

The excitement that I felt when this song dropped truly cannot be expressed in words. I still feel the same excitement every time 'Out Of It’ comes on, and I don’t think I’ve skipped it once since adding it to my playlist. It doesn’t stray too far from the classic TSSF sound, and probably wouldn’t sound out of place on The Story So Far. I love the change in rhythm between the verses and choruses, which isn’t something I’ve really seen that much in this type of music, and the punchy tune is just perfect for the attitude of the song. It’s just a shame Parker Cannon still can’t annunciate his words properly.

1. ‘In Bloom’ - Neck Deep

From the day ‘In Bloom’ was released I knew it would be in competition for my favourite song of this year. After listening to it maybe 4 or 5 times in a row, it was promptly named my favourite Neck Deep song and I stand by that decision. It’s the most musically interesting song they have released, and it’s so unique from the rest of their work. It showcases so well the improvement Ben has made in his vocal performance over the past couple of years - did anyone see that high note coming? - as well as the progress that the band has made as a whole in terms of their songwriting ability.

[theoddcatlady]

The Fire That Won’t Go Out

The first fires started on Monday and by Saturday we were all evacuated from our homes, told to grab only essentials. And although it was never directly said to us, it’s implied we’re never going back. I’m writing this from my parent’s house in Michigan, far away from the hellscape that was once my home.

My boyfriend Ike, a volunteer firefighter, got called about the first house fire. Typically he doesn’t get called on for this sort of thing but apparently it was a rager. So with a kiss to my cheek and a cheeky reminder to let the cat in tonight, he took off. Meanwhile I settled in for a day off of work, I don’t get them often enough and I wanted to relax.

About noon Ike called me. I was dancing around my room to the Hamilton soundtrack while eating Pringles when the phone went off. I turned off the music and answered.

“Hey babe.”

“You won’t believe this- it’s the McGowan house.”

I nearly choked on Pringle dust. “No shit- the one we used to dare each other to sneak into?” I asked.

“Bingo. It’s a lost cause, we’re just trying to contain it now. I’m telling you, this is nuts. There must’ve been something in the walls to make it burn this hot. Just telling you to be careful.”

I rolled my eyes and popped another Pringle in my mouth. “I’m staying inside today. You should be the careful one,” I said. Perhaps I said it in a joking manner, but I had a point. He was off fighting fires while I was safe inside, nice and cozy with the air conditioning going.

I heard Ike chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. I’ll be coming home for dinner, they won’t keep me long. They know I got a lovely lady to come back to.”

I laughed and was about to respond with something cheeky when I heard the scream.

It wasn’t Ike. It was something else, something high pitched and shrill. It grew so loud I ended up dropping the phone and covering my ears, I could hear Ike swearing up a storm. I almost hung up the phone with my toe out of sheer distress from the sharp sound when it suddenly cut off. All I could hear was the loud shouts of the firemen and Ike asking if I was still there.

I picked up the phone. “Yeah, I’m here babe, I’m here. What the fuck was that?”

“I… I don’t know. It came from the house, kinda? I think it must’ve been water or something, Jesus, the shapes the smoke made- I gotta go! It’s getting worse! Love you!”

He hung up before I had a chance to say it back.

Ike didn’t come home for dinner that night. His steak remained cold on his plate while I picked at mine. I knew he was one of the guys who always stuck around to make sure the coals were fully out before he headed home. But I still worried.

I went to bed figuring I’d be waking up the next morning to Ike back in bed with me, the cat curled by our feet.

The next morning, my bed was empty.

And my phone was ringing.

Ike sounded exhausted.

“Alex, holy shit, the fire still isn’t out.”

I had to ask him to repeat himself twice. How the hell was the fire still not out? It should’ve long been contained, old houses like that went up like tissue paper. But the McGowan house was still burning.

“There’s foundation left. But the flames are still reaching the sky. Holy shit.” I heard Ike groan, and I imagined him running a hand down his likely soot stained and sweaty face. “We’re calling in back up from surrounding fire houses, we’re all beat and there’s no reason this damn place should still be going up. Chief thinks it might be some sort of chemical that’s burning off. I’m just worried about it spreading to one of the other houses, ya know?”

“I know.” I got out of bed. “I’ll run to the store and pick you up some Gatorade. Blue or red?”

“Both. God, I love you.”

He didn’t even take a sip of either one before he collapsed in bed and slept for the entire day. I ended up taking a vacation day, I faked being sick.

I wouldn’t have needed to anyway. At three PM, another fire started. This wasn’t at some abandoned spooky house though.

It was at my work.

I got a call from one of my coworkers. They’d just opened a window, the air conditioning was being a bitch, a few sparks flew inside and suddenly the whole place was a furnace. No one died, thank god. But my boss had gone back in to make sure everyone got out safely and collapsed due to smoke inhalation, and now had serious burns over half her body.

I felt guilty for every time I called her a frigid bitch and sent her flowers.

I knew I was out of a job, but that was least of my concerns.

See. The fire didn’t go out at the firm. It blazed hot and raged through the night and showed no sign of stopping by morning. And that was just the beginning.

The air reeked of smoke. I’d keep the news on to see where the fire was spreading. Houses. Work places. The fucking school. Nothing was safe.

The school must’ve been the worst. Ike was there. He was running into the building and carrying out children screaming in terror. There hadn’t even been time for the fire alarms to go off before classrooms were filled with fire.

And the fire had continued to get stronger.

I was watching the news live from the school, the reporter constantly looking behind himself at the inferno. “As far as we know, there are no more students in the school, however three members of the staff are unaccounted for. And the fire seems to be like the rest raging through our town, there is just no sign of stopping. Several students are in critical condition from their burns, and some may not make it through the-“

A piece of smoldering ash landed on the shoulder of his jacket. Instinctively the man attempted to brush it off, and whether it was the friction of his hand that ignited it or what, I don’t know… but he went up like a Roman Candle. His scream will haunt my nightmares, along with the twisted expression of pain on his face before the feed was cut to a commercial.

I don’t know if he survived, or if he would be better off dead. No one can fully recover from burns like that.

Friday I was packing up our things. I knew I had to get out of here. There were firefighters from across the state trying to come up with something to stem the tide. I didn’t know what else to do. Hundreds of families were displaced, and many more were already leaving. I had to bribe S’mores with tuna cans to get him in his carrying case.

I called Ike, ready to tell him to come home so we could get the hell out of there.

The moment I heard Ike’s voice I knew he was in trouble.

“Alex… I went back to the McGowan House… and I don’t think I’ll be coming out.”

I felt my stomach clench as my world came crumbling down around me. I could hear the crackling of flames in the background, but unlike the other times when I called Ike, it was much louder. “Ohgod- Ike I’m coming to get you.” I grabbed my keys.

“Don’t!” I never heard Ike scared before. Not ever while fighting a fire. Not even this week. “Don’t… don’t come here! I don’t know how long my phone’s gonna last in this heat, so I love you. I love you so much, Alex. The ring’s in my dresser, please don’t be mad that I was too scared to ask.”

I sunk to the floor, my legs too shaky to support me. “Ike, why did you go?”

“… I wanted to see what started this. All of this. I found it, I found it Alex. Get out of here, don’t ever come back. This is like Greek Fire, it’ll never go out. I love you so much.”

The line went dead before I could say it back.

I didn’t leave that night. I waited for Ike to come home. The morning there was a man in uniform knocking on my door, telling me to get my things and get out.

I didn’t take the ring with me.

The Greek Fire took my soul mate. It can take the memories of what we could had have too.