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kalims · 1 month

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pop !

giving them a balloon with a confession in it and running away,

premise. out of confession ideas? sick of the pile of stupid papers crumpled up on the leg of your desk? or perhaps you're just in the 'you only live life once' mindset. since the school year is ending, why not get rid of the annoying feeling of him tingling your mind? (in the form of a balloon, you never said you were gonna stick around!)

characters. all sorted by dorm

content. mc runs away after giving it, based on a tiktok I stumbled across approximately a year ago... mentions of marriage (one sign and some were speeding through the future)

note. savanaclaws part hmmm yummy

heartslabyul

unsurprisingly, riddle gets a lot of bizarre things from students and professors alike. confessions are one thing but having one in this... circular, red, full of helium balloon is certainly a surprise. creative, he'll give them that. if anything he's just confused with it in his arms as you just sort of, shove it in his arms and run away. he recognizes you easily but once cater plucks it out of his grip and shows him the message he just turns red.

trey is the type of guy to accept whatever you give him, honestly. it doesn't matter if you give him the most random of items, he'll take it without a single word of query (unless it's really questionable.) you could hand him a bottle of mustard in class, trey'll just blink and hold onto it patiently. a pair of batteries? thanks he guesses. a red, inflated balloon? he spares you a questioning glance but you're already collecting dust with how fast you ran away so he turns it and resists a smile. clearly spotting the bold letters.

the opposite of clover, cater just doesn't take anything from you unless it piques his interest or is just a casual 'hold onto this for a few' like water or something. things bordering past unusual is what he'd hesitate to take, though less given he trusts you. sometimes he doesn't take it all together simply cause he doesn't feel like it. caters probably updated on everything so when you shove the balloon in his arms and beeline he's pulling out his phone ready to scream his ass off in his dump account. (also gotta magicam this, duh.)

will most likely just dump it on the ground without another thought. or hand it back to you. ace does not care about balloons, he might even pop it in your face. that is, if you stayed for more than a second. he feels more inclined to peer further cause you ran away so fast. you looked embarrassed, and he finds out quickly why you'd proceed to never show up to his face for the following week when he spots it. stares at it dumbly for like, a minute before taking off after you... be scared ig.

added to the top ten best moments of his life note on his phone. deuce silently highlights your name on it with the same angry, red bump on his forehead because he accidentally ran into a pole midst trying to find you around the campus. he had the same idea as ace (twins) which is finding you immediately except once he read the confession he promptly lost all his braincells in the process. so he's very excited, slash embarrassed, slash shy? and can't conjure any logic cause it's just your face.

savanaclaw

jokes on you. you think he's gonna make an effort to catch your stupid balloon? leona just watches it drop to the floor. the effort is only exerted when he's absolutely sure you've run away on your slow legs, he's not bashful—not at all. maybe that's just denial speaking though. he takes one look at the balloon, and pops it with a single dig of his nail. the stare is so brief that you'd doubt if he ever read it at all, when the evidence of your apparent love is now non-existent in the physical world, very much still lingering inside him. leona comes to the predicament that he can't seem to sleep days after.

ruggie is all too familiar with the lack of appreciation some folks hold towards cheaper material gifts. like a luxury jewel, a big, shiny lil' thing ultimately rotting in the closet of some soul cause its the 'price' that counts. he spots the words easily, discerning the black ink. not entirely formed with straight lines, the keen eyes of his spots the wriggles some hold. as though whoever wrote was nervous and he bores an impish grin. (and some back corner of his closet holds no big, pricey jewel, but the deflated balloon is worth all the more to him.)

more likely to leave it on accident. after falling victim to the annoying pranks his other first year 'friends' like to do, with him as the victim apparently. he's more suspicious of it than anything, jack does not want a face full of whipped cream once again. he stares at it like it's an alien and only goes for the initiative to take it into his hands when it rolls and showcases the very bold text, highlighted and straight to the point. jack inevitably ends up accidentally popping it due to the fear that some other person probably saw it, he did not mean to wreck it. atleast not with a messy chain of thoughts, but hey. atleast he got the message...

octavinelle

well versed in catching you in a gentle manner, if you ever slipped (he definitely did not practice.) so azul's reflexes respond quick enough to capture the red little thing with ease. he recognizes it as one of your antics, and he rarely doesn't humor them since it was harmless ones that don't really get under his skin, unlike that of the tweels... the curiosity of looking forward to whatever you had far outweighed any annoyance, and great sevens he might actually combust. ("JADE PREPARE THE LOUNGE—") <- absolutely ready to initiate the plans he had detailed through a script ages ago if this were to ever happen, with a red face. ha, ha.

either clueless, or already got an idea based entirely on the adorably stiff look on your face. jade easily puts two and two together, it's quite funny because he picks it up and doesn't spare a single look. stalking off to find you immediately, and only then does he take a peek as to whatever made the balloon special, right in front of you cause apparently he's gotta witness your raw embarrassment in the flesh?

floyd is likely not interested in the ball in the first place, he thinks you want to play catch so he runs after you with a laugh that... makes you a lot more concerned. he flings it uselessly to the face of some poor soul before he sprint after you, probably traumatizing them when they spot the 'I like you' on it, and when they realize they got it from the resident terrorist whose definition of 'I like you' is 'you're entertaining, I'm gonna keep on playing with you'. (only blinks when you tell him about it, seeing as he isn't close to releasing you anytime soon from his arms.) caught you!

scarabia

sparkles, around the sun... too bright... kalim's blinding everyone else with his obvious joy. almost immediately turns it and it's clear he saw something he really liked cause he has one of those grins, really wide, showing off his teeth and his face scrunches up to the point where you could barely spot the red irises of his eyes. his lips are wobbly too! and he thought the notion was simply too cute... (so much he just had to send it back, so you could feel what he felt too!) except it comes in a hundred times balloons inside your home.

really confused. is this supposed to be a new form of comfort in the era that he hasn't caught up with yet? jamil does nothing much to stop you from running away, yeah. that's your choice but it did strike an inkling of suspicion in him. with the way you aggressively shoved the balloon in his arms before you ran away makes him think it's contents are supposed to be for him only. seeing as you collected dust with that sprint, so he brings it home. and damn, thank god he did because seven forbid if anyone else actually saw the flicker of bashfullness in his expression, hopefully not his warming ears either.

pomefiore

you try to fool him by not rushing up to him, shoving it and then speeding away for once. but instead calmly placing it in his arms and then walking away like it might be the last time yall have a friendship haha (👀) vil sees right through you either way. dare I say he thinks the whole execution is strange, he means, you could literally just walk up to him and say the exact same thing written on the balloon and he would've loved it either way but eh, atleast you got it out!

don't walk into his room cause you will probably the very prominent place the balloon has in his room. rook surprisingly did not put it on a pedestal which is tame for his nature, but it does have a place in the corner of stuff he absolutely adores. you'd think you'd spared yourself from the embarrassment of seeing his reaction cause c'mon, that was a confession. it's nerve-wracking! but NO cause you spy him outside the window of your class and suffer a heart attack (3rd floor btw)

wherever he read that, epel's jaw drops. people would mistake him as someone who escaped from a mental asylum from the way he's gaping at a balloon like he just got told vil schoenheit got canceled on magicam for some controversy (he in fact, did not.) spends so much time staring at it, and the following where he's managed to snap out of it is spent also staring off into the distance *wedding bells ringing*

ignihyde

uuuuhhhhh... either send it to him digitally or shove it inside his room and dip?? if we're going with the latter, idia doesn't even notice until like, a day after cause he's been playing for. and it isn't even him who notices!! it's ortho!!! even if he did find it he would've ignored it, but behold, ortho, who reads the text in a hilariously flat tone. idia thought his brother was professing his love until the boy reveals it was from you. (nearly falls off the chair, then actually falls when he realizes it's been a day. imagine getting ghosted irl haha)

ortho could be the delivery boy if you're too embarrassed lmao. will help you in constructing a more poetic way with words but honestly the "YOU'RE CUTE LETS DATE" gets it done. boy probably doesn't understand why you don't wanna do it yourself, and records the entire thing, reaction of the person? forwarded to you until he leaves. but now you're suffering through wanting to watch, and not because you're too pussy to actually do it.

diasomnia

what... malleus is the equivalent of '???' like he's seen a few of these unique, forms but he never got the purpose of them. so he assumes it's like, some nice gift of human traditions question mark. so he appreciates it either way, he looks content honestly which is funny cause the terrifying wizard looks kinda silly holding that balloon like it's a child. actually you should've just gave him a blank balloon cause once he spots the confession, oh honey. are you fine with early marriage?

if you can't find lilia might as well yeet the balloon in the ceiling. chances are, he's there and he's gonna catch it. there's already a cheeky smile quirking up the ends of his lips, usually he'd have some sort of retaliation on the personal attack you inflicted on his heart but oh dear, it's strangely blank. he's humming, the round thing upside down as he rubs his chin in contemplation. everyone's just scared at the echoing giggles of the already dark hallway.

an attack? AN ATTACK! unlike lilia who knows how to use the figurative words youth joke about all the time, sebek is... hilariously serious about most things, if not so much that it strikes just a teeny tiny concern in your mind. honestly you didn't take much into account, not the fact that he might consider it as an assault or something because you're already speeding away. apparently not having gotten too far cause he catches up easily and holds you up by the back of your collar like a cat. (you'd most likely have to mention the words cause all he registered was the apparent attack, when he does check he goes redder in the face and accidentally drops you. nows your chance to run!!)

*angelic voice singing* silver, my boo boo, I mean what...? felt something soft being squeezed into his arms, he knew it was you but assumed it was a pillow so he just?? used it as a pillow?? under his head now?? most folks would be confused at the sight of the sleepy guy laying on a balloon cause, one, it might pop and startle everyone in vicinity, two, there's words scribbled on it. although cut off since his head is blocking the way, but the 'LIKE YOU' is really obvious. so he wakes up, glances at it and goes back to sleep, except he couldn't cause the balloon actually popped comically the same time he absorbed it in.

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jewelpit · 3 months

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Intro

Hi everyone! I've been here for a while, but I only just now switched my account from my pseudonymous username to my actual name*, because I want to be able to post and talk about the tabletop roleplaying games that I've been working on.

I've been playing TTRPGs for about 2/3rds of my life now, and self-publishing them for nearly 1/3rd. I'm about as small-time as it gets (thanks ADHD and a giant discomfort with talking about myself online), but I'm just happy to know that people could stumble across my stuff and maybe find something that clicks with them.

My Itch URL is https://jewelpit.itch.io, and every game there is PWYW. I only accept money for them in order to offset the cost of art, so if you wanna check out a game but don't wanna pay, that's totally cool. I make games because I wanna play them, so even if no one ever downloaded them, I'd keep on making them!

* I chose to migrate my main blog over instead of creating a sideblog because I wanted to be able to receive asks, and I chose to migrate over creating a new account because I still have eight months of ad-free paid for haha

Updated Feb 6, 2024

#blog intro #ttrpg #indie ttrpg #ttrpg community #cloudtender

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thgfanfictionlibrary · 4 months

Note

how do you decide what fics/authors to put on the lists?

Hello Anon! Great question!

All the fics currently on this blog are ones I have read/bookmarked to read, with a few that have been submitted via google form or ask. Most of the authors in the “library” currently are ones that I have read/bookmarked a work from. I have an “additional authors” page where I used a list from jhutchmyanchor and updated it with new links, and details, and removed deleted accounts AND newer authors I stumbled across or have been submitted via the Google form. If there is an author/fic you know of that hasn't been on a list, please send it my way either by messaging, asking, or submitting via google form. I'll make sure it gets added to the appropriate list! If you are submitting a fic, you can also submit the tags you'd like the fic to be featured on such as "1st pov-katniss, getting together, friends to lovers, follower favorite" and I'd make sure it was included on those masterlists in the future as well as the masterlist associated with the rating.

I always appreciate asks and questions! Any suggestions are appreciated! If you know of any author that I don’t have please feel free to let me know! I am always happy to add them!

(The links may be better viewed on desktop or in desktop view on a phone, not in the app)

#ask #anon ask #admin:e #thg #thg fanfiction

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triscribeaucollection · 2 years

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Drumroll Please

I have recently come to the decision to share more of my fan fiction on Tumblr, hence this shiny new sideblog to collect all assorted snippets, first chapters, new ideas, so on and so forth. First order of business will be laying out all the fandoms I post for over on my AO3, and putting together a Masterlist with links to each “what if” series. My other blogs here include @triscribe for Shenanigans, @birdsandbatsofgotham for all the DC art/writings I stumble across, and @storiesfromthescribe where I only talk about my original projects.

Featured tags here will henceforth include:

-pjo (new as of 2024, I finally watched the new series and guys. GUYS. I love it so much. And I love even more that it’s inspired me to write more in a week than the past two months) The Trade AU

-star wars (originals, prequels, sometimes sequels, plus a wide swath of cartoon show characters and occasionally a reference to the live action ones too) Main Series: What-If AUs and Vod’e An and Visions

-marvel (I am first and foremost a Spidey fan, so he’s usually the one getting tossed into shenanigans with a healthy dose of GotG on the side) Avengers Nonsense Starring Spider-Man and Guardians Shenanigans

-dc (listen. LISTEN. I haven’t touched any comic to have come out in the last decade, but I would never have become a fandom person if not for the Bats, so I will make new AUs based off of their familial nonsense until the day I die) Canon? What Canon? Batfam Stories and YJ AU Assortment

-hogwarts (for all things Harry Potter, because She Who Shall Not Be Named created a great sandbox that I still love to grab and run with, usually down a road called Total Disregard of the Author) Main Series: Alternate Living Arrangements

-transformers (I’ve got knowledge from half a dozen different continuities and I am not afraid to assemble my favorite pieces into a whole new amalgamation of adventure) (catch-all series to be determined) Cliff and the Kid

-alta (I can remember blowing off a friend’s slumber party to watch The Boy in The Iceberg when it premiered, okay? My fan fic ideas for this show are not a recent development, but actually writing the dang things down and posting them is new and comes in fits and spurts) Avatar AUs

-bnha (My Hero Academia was a bit of an accidental fandom, honestly, but for a year or so it was just about the only thing I wrote for, and there’s a heap of fic on my AO3 account to reflect that) Wild Cards and Something Strange Hit Me and my Doubles AU

-misc (the catch-all, the extraneous, the fandoms I really only dabble with, hence adding an extra tag to keep them all bunched together for quicker identification) Featuring: Back Again (Merlin) and Smallest, Smartest, Youngest (Voltron) and Got to Be Joking (Ranger’s Apprentice)

-originals (which won’t appear here all that often, but since I *do* have a few pieces of my own worldbuilding creations available to read...) Scribe Sampler and The Understudy Project

Alrighty, last couple of links to other websites: Tri on Instagram, where I occasionally post my art of various fandom and canon characters Ko-fi, where one could commission a speedier update to one of my fan fiction stories they particularly love or purchase a signed copy of my self-published novel And as of March 2023, I’ve also got a brand new Patreon account, where the first pieces of big WIPs go up, and you can read the first chapter of my book Wolfen’s Rage for free.

Now then. Who’s ready to read?

#writblr #fan fiction #ao3 #triscribe #intro post #hogwarts #star wars #marvel #dc #transformers #atla #bnha #misc #tag dump #originals #ko-fi #patreon

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mysteryman-17 · 2 years

Audio

* HE-HE LLO THERE KID. * I [[See]] THAT YOU DESIRE A [[Fight me old man!!]]. * ...WELL, I SUPPOSE THERE'S [[Nothing better to do?]] ANYWAY! * WE'LL [[DIE]] UNTIL THE [[Stars came out]]!! * AND WHO [[Nose]]? MAYBE IT'LL DISTRACT M3 FROM MY [[PAIN]]!!

Time’s End is an AHIT/Undertale crossover AU of sorts, taking place in the aftermath of a timeline where you lose the final boss fight against Mustache Girl. You can find the write-up here! In addition, you can find the write-ups for the Neutral Endings and TimeWarp Route Requirements on Google Drive! The logo for Time's End was designed by @bittybattybunny. She's an incredible artist, be sure to check out their work here on Tumblr and over on Twitter!!

Moonjumper replaces Gaster. They used to be great friends with Badge Seller... until one fateful day. MJ was always looking for power, but on that day, they went too far: they smashed the giant Time Piece in Subcon Forest in an attempt to rewrite time to their advantage. As a safety measure after this, Badge Seller trapped them in the Horizon, a prison just outside of time and space, to prevent them from ever having a prominent grasp on the world ever again. MJ did, of course, manage to get out... sort of. They're just barely holding on to their existence. Glitchy as anything, their form phasing in and out of view, distorted speech... the works. MJ desires to finally get a proper foothold in this world once more, but needs Bow Kid’s help... help that they'll never get on the Pacifist and Neutral routes, as it requires Bow to do things that she'd normally never do.

Motifs:

Oh It's You + Your Contract Has Expired (modified)

The Badge Seller

"You're not supposed to be in the game!" (6:20 - 6:28)

That's right, folks. The Moonjumper tracks have FINALLY all been updated and will be properly ported over to the OST account!! Decided I didn't like the primary "hook dialogue" - for lack of a better word - that got established in the (now-renamed) BIG SHOT replacement, so I scoured YT and Tumblr for good potential Moonjumper memes to sample in its place. And what should I stumble across that works, but an old AHIT mod showcase video from Doodrun! The moment I heard the snippet I did, I knew immediately that it would work wonders, and with a double meaning to boot, given Moonjumper's origins in AHIT's development!! (Tho I did use mvsep.com to remove the background music for the purposes of splicing and mixing.) In addition to the obvious vocal changes, I finally modified and incorporated the proper main melody in here from the BIG SHOT, and also made some slight mixing alterations. Am very happy with how this turned out, and I hope you guys enjoy! :) (Also just as a refresher, seeing as it’s been a while since I talked about ol’ string bean here: I styled them after Spamton cause I could. I axed the Betrayed Undyne ending from Time's End due it not making much sense with Empress, and I figured that since this AU will never have a Deltarune counterpart, adding a lil smth based from it as the BU ending replacement would be fun to mess around with. So uhhhhhh ye there's your answer lmao.)

You can also listen to this track in high quality on the AU’s SoundCloud here!

#a hat in time au #ahit au #ahit moonjumper #moonjumper #deltarune #undertale #undertale au #ahit time's end au #time's end au #AHIT:TE!AU #a hat in time music #ahit music #music #audio #Gaster's Theme

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stevensaus · 9 months

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Peeking At The News Through Content Warnings On Mastodon

My views on content warnings -- like those about trigger warnings -- have evolved. Which is a fancy way of saying "I was wrong when I whined about content warnings." True, it was the before-times, back before COVID revealed exactly how awful a sadly large number of people can be. Back before I recognized that I had my own trauma triggers, and how much time and energy I spent dealing with them when they went off when I was unprepared. Before we all spent time in Maslow's basement, only in time to emerge into a species-wide existential crisis. Remember those times you got startled or shook by stumbling across some crappy news that just ruined your day? Maybe it doesn't happen all the time to you -- but I bet it has happened. And for some folks -- and perhaps you, in the not-too-distant future -- that might be most news stories. So... yeah. I get it now. I'm sorry. I now use content warnings pretty extensively when I post, particularly when it's a semi-automated one. But if you boost someone else's post, you can't add a content warning to it without copying it and making it a post of your own. This becomes particularly problematic with, say, news stories. So I decided to smack together something to solve the problem. I adapted a version of my agaetr program to be able to do two things: - Take multiple publicly available RSS feeds from news sites and push them to a Mastodon account, with each programatically content-warninged toot having the published date, source, headline, (depending on length) short article summary, and direct link back to the original news website - Create a programatically CW'd mirror of an existing Mastodon account with links back to the original toot. There's a number of informational bot accounts (or semi-bot accounts) that rarely or never use CW's. Which is fine, but if I want to boost them, I need the CW added. Hence this tool. I'm fine-tuning the second item's functionality (and checking with the accounts I'm intending to mirror if they're cool with it) before I push out the code or point you toward those accounts; that will probably come with an update of agaetr later this month. However, the first goal -- providing a stream of news posts with content warnings that I can merrily boost -- seems to be working pretty well. You can see it at https://faithcollapsing.com/@CWNews or follow the bot at @[email protected] from your own instance. Every post from that account should at least have a content warning of "news," and when it can pick up a keyword for an additional content warning, it will add that too. As a side note, it uses url shortening through a self-hosted YOURLs instance, which I solely use simply to have a known length for the links to make the formatting easier. While it does the content warnings programatically, it's just simple keyword matching, hence why everything gets the "news" content warning in case it misses something. And take my advice: if you're on a social network that allows content warnings and the like, go ahead and use content warnings. Even if there's not a space for them, make an effort to put it at the top of the post. Even if you think it's somewhat of an over-reaction. Especially if you think they're an over-reaction. That way you won't have to go and publicly admit how wrong you were, like me. Featured Photo by Ashley Anthony on Unsplash Read the full article

#contentwarning #mastodon #news #triggerwarning

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spaciousreasoning · 2 years

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Faces Galore

I have been updating my Flickr account in anticipation of beginning a new project which I stumbled across not long ago. Titled “100 Strangers,” the project was initiated in 2007 and involves taking 100 portraits of people you don't know and finding out a little bit about their lives and backgrounds. Dozens of photographers have taken part in the project and there are scores of wonderful pictures.

Approaching strangers is not one of my strong suits. In fact, I took my camera along with me to an event a few weeks back, thinking it would be a good time to begin my participation, but I pretty much chickened out.

I have taken lots of pictures of people over the years. Some of them are friends, some are family, and some were done as a service. There are also quite a few taken at public events where it was possible to take pictures without directly interacting with the subjects. A number of these pictures have been added to my Flickr and have taken over the front page space normally occupied by images from our adventures around Southern Arizona or pictures of the roses from our back patio.

On Saturday are a couple of events at which I hope to finally dip my toes into the “100 Strangers” water. The first is a memorial service for the wife of a friend. That might not sound like the best time for getting up close and personal for a non-related project, but I’ll give it a try.

The other is the return of the Pride Festival, after a time-out for the pandemic, and this is where there will certainly be plenty of opportunities to kick off my participation, though I will also simply take pictures of the activities for personal enjoyment.

There is no rush to get the 100 pictures done. It’s a learning experience for those wishing to improve both the social and technical skills needed for taking portraits of strangers and telling their stories. Plus, the group is moderated and submitted photos have to wait for approval before appearing in the group pool.

I will follow up with a report on the results of my attempts to do this project, and you one way or the other you can check my Flickr account to see what I’m doing with my camera.

#photography

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author-a-holmes · 2 years

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Writeblr Introduction 2023

Updated: 29th of January 2024

First of all, let's get the 'hello's' out of the way! My name is Ari! I'm a fiction writer in her thirties based in the South-East of England.

I live with my mother and my cat, and spend my days wandering through the fantasy worlds that I've created, and drinking copious amounts of coffee.

While Tumblr is my primary social media platform I'm also on Instagram, Facebook, and Tiktok amongst others. If you'd like to follow me on any of those platforms, you can find links to my profiles via my website; www.aristaholmes.weebly.com

I also have a newsletter you can subscribe to! I send out bi-monthly updates, one around the 15th-17th of the month, including sneak peeks or behind the scenes snippets of my projects, and a second newsletter around the end of the month containing an exclusive piece of Flash Fiction.

If you'd like to be the first to know about ARC opportunities, see my cover reveals, or hear about sale prices on my books, then signing up to my newsletter is the way to go.

For the moment, my newsletter is also the only place you can get your hands on "Whatever Happened to Madeline Hail?" the short prequel to my Fey Touched Trilogy.

To sign up for my Newsletter, please click HERE.

My current list of projects can be found below the cut. If you'd like to be added to my general tag list just comment on this post, if you're interested in a specific project the best way to be kept up to date is to follow the dedicated side-blog.

Each of the dedicated side blogs will contain all project specific content, either posted there directly or reblogged there from here. Dedicated side blogs will contain world building notes, prompt fills, tag games containing project content, and/or snippet shares.

General Tag List:

@/faelanvance @/noirepersonal @/queen-kass-the-writer @/athenswrites @/thelaughingstag @/authorminamoroz @/bardic-tales @/outpost51

@/talesfromaurea (No gore or torture)

Tags: #wipnook #Laughingstag

Fey Touched Trilogy;

Prequel - Whatever Happened To Madeline Hail? (Exclusive to my Newsletter Subscribers)

Book One - Changeling (Available for Purchase Now)

Book Two - Darkling (Due for Release 2024)

Book Three - Fey Touched

Seasonal Special - Once Upon A Fey Touched Holiday

The Fey Touched Trilogy is a New Adult Portal/Contemporary Fantasy and my debut series. Book One, Changeling, was published on March 16th 2023 as a birthday present to my mum, and the second book, Darkling, is expected to be published in 2024.

Tag List: @/jezifster @/ettawritesnstudies

Changeling Blurb

Fey go missing in the mortal realm. Everyone knows that. When Lizzy's mother is the next to vanish she is expected to grieve and move on. Instead Lizzy wants to find out what happened, but the answers she seeks can't be found in the fey realm of Arbaon. With the help of her best friend, Booker Reed, Lizzy is determined to retrace her mother's final steps, straight through an illegal portal and into the mortal realm. Whatever leads she expected to find, it wasn't an academy of vampires, and a world stalked by their rabid cousins, the kavians. Forced to rely on the vampires for protection, and secluded away behind the high walls of Speculo School, it quickly becomes clear that not everyone is pleased with Lizzy and Booker's investigation. With danger building the further they dig, the two fey need to decide if the answers they seek are worth risking their lives for. The longer they remain with the vampires, the more Lizzy begins to suspect that her answers instead lie amongst the deadly kavians.

A stand alone novel, 'Faith of the Grim' is an Urban Fantasy that will follow the story of Krysis, a grim reaper who seeks an end to the monotony of her eternal life.

When she stumbled across a paramedic who can catch the souls of his patients and revive them from the brink of death, her curiosity over finding something new and interesting could lead her to stumble into more trouble than she can handle.

Anticipated release date;

Tag List: Empty

2025 Project

Stolen Stories;

Prequel - The Lost Mosswolf

Book One - Stolen

Book Two - Takeover

Book Three - Origin

Book Four - Loyalty

Book Five - Unnamed

Book Six - Unnamed

Stolen is the project of my heart. Book one's first draft is currently complete and sitting at around 140k words and I anticipate the subsequent books to be of equal size.

Stolen is a Romantic Fantasy series that follows the main character, Stella Korazon, as she fights to find her place in the ever turbulent world of Moryann.

Anticipated Release; 20276-2029, two books a year.

Tag List:

@/josephinegerardywriter , @/strangerays , @/whispersintheparchment ,

Stolen Book One Blurb

It had been a long couple of weeks for Stella Korazon.

When a simple pickpocket job goes horribly wrong and sends her entire life spinning into chaos, Stella must figure out how to navigate the treacherous world of Moryann alone.

Finding herself in the City of Antillune Stella is quickly pulled into the middle of a brewing war between two thieves guilds when a recruiter for the guild known as Vine coerces her into stealing from their rival, Guild Master Mosswolf.

Surrounded on all side by rogues, liars, spies and betrayal, it's a constant struggle to know who she should trust, but standing in the heart of it all, can she find somewhere, or someone, to call home?

2027-2029 Project

*UNDER CONSTRUCTION:* I'm still in the worldbuilding phase for this project.

Chronicles of Verald Stories;

Prequel

Book One

Book Two

Book Three

Book Four

Book Five

Book Six

Book Seven

Book Eight

Book Nine

Potentially Book Ten (?) Dependant on Outline Completion.

2029 Project

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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By the king’s hand 🐍 VI

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, oral, violence, degradation)

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The king proves to be mercurial and you prove to be foolish.

Note: Masterlist update coming today @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor. Updates might be sporadic from here on out because despite the world being utter shit, Black Friday still exists.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The air was fragrant as you sat on the low bench, wrapped in only a robe, and stared out the window. On the other side of the room, Loki dressed with the help of the young boy, Hal. The steam of his bath still dissipated in the air as he grumbled now and then, often drinking deeply from his glass and pouring another slosh of water from the pitcher.

It was as if you weren’t there. How easily the king forgot about all but himself. He dressed in dark blue that day, trimmed in an ivory cape and boots. He swatted Hal away and touched his temple as the sunlight made him squint. He sighed and brushed his fingers through the ends of his dark locks.

“Today will be the riding events. I did excuse myself from those lists.” He spoke, almost as if to himself. “Tomorrow I will be in better condition to win at the blade.”

You were quiet as you drew your legs up onto the bench. You slouched over your knees and rested your chin on your crossed arms.

“I will be gone much of the day but I expect you ready upon my return,” he neared and his shadow loomed over you, “You will undoubtedly be eager for it… From what I recall of last evening, you might even be begging for it.”

You glowered up at him as he smirked and winced then tapped his forehead.

“What am I to do? I have nothing but to walk the boards and stare out at the grass. I will be mad by the time you return.” You muttered as you turned your head away.

“All the better,” he slithered. He lifted his toe and swiveled his heel. He exhaled deeply. “Well, what should you like to do?”

“Besides the obvious?” You sneered.

“Perhaps, if you behave, I will see you to a stroll among the corridors when all are retired, but for now I cannot offer much more.” He sniffed, “So, what is it you peasants occupy your time with?”

You blinked and rubbed your cheek as you thought. You hadn’t much besides your work and your occasional adventures with Gilla. Neither would be viable now.

“I might try to sketch?” You looked up at last.

He considered you with a wrinkle in his brow and nodded. “I will grant you the favour upon the promise of one in kind,” he said, “...upon my return.”

You bit down. You expected as much but it still irked you. You turned to the window again.

“As you wish, your majesty.” You stared out at the green leaves that crested the branches of the palace yards. You felt him watch you a moment longer before he retreated.

“Hal, you will fetch her paper and some charcoal,” his soft soles approached the door, “Tend to her meals as you will and draw her a bath. She is starting to smell a bit… common.”

“Your majesty,” Hal chirped and followed the king through to the receiving chambers.

You listened as the doors opened and closed and you dropped your legs over the edge of the bench as you leaned against the wall. You grunted in frustration and hit the bench with your fist. It was exactly what Loki wanted; you at his mercy. Those small requests would grow to desperate pleas. His ploy was working but you could do little to keep him from controlling you entirely.

🐍

You weren’t very good at drawing but you managed a sloppy image of the scene through the window. The trees were slightly crooked and the gate uneven but it kept you busy for a time. You turned to a blank sheet but couldn’t focus enough to draw as you could hear the distant audience from the other side of the glass.

The common folk didn’t often attend these events. If they were present, they were selling wares to those lords and ladies who gathered for the pageantry. Still, trapped in the endless monotony, you longed to join the festivity. Anything but to sit within those walls and wait until your tormentor returned. Even if he could make you feel splendid, the king was little more than your warden.

As the sun reached its peak, Hal appeared to draw your bath with several attendants. You washed alone and dressed in one of the gowns provided by the king. You hate how the satin clung to your torso even with its boning and how the skirts tickled your legs as they swished.

You ate a little. Your tedium turned to impatience turned to agitation. The day faded from yellow to a calm blue and slowly dimmed beyond the stone walls. The din quieted as the sun descended. The king’s presence loomed in your mind.

You attempted a sketch of a lion statuette and relinquished the charcoal in frustration. Hal appeared with two covered plates on a tray and set them on the table. He placed a bottle of wine and some goblets alongside them and left you without a word. The boy seemed nervous since your prior conversation.

The king entered without fanfare. You looked up at him as you were distracted from the trance that had you staring into the unlit hearth. He glanced over at you and frowned. He tutted and removed his cape.

“I am aware your etiquette is unrefined but you will rise and pay your obeisance to me upon my arrival,” he uttered, “Do not think I grow negligent in my expectation of you, little mouse.”

You stood stiffly and bowed. He sat at the table and huffed.

“Well, get over here,” he pointed to the other chair, “Pour some wine.”

You crossed to the table and filled a goblet for him. Your own, you only filled to the half point. You sat and uncovered your plate as he did the same. He poked at the food. He was annoyed already.

“Are you not hungry?” He asked as he twirled his fork. “I am informed your plates are left barely touched as late.”

“I am,” you scooped up a potato, “I will eat.”

He tilted his head and considered you. He dropped his fork and leaned back in his seat. “Do not force yourself on my account,” he said, “If you do not appreciate the fare, then you may forego your supper.”

“Your majesty, I will--”

“No, no, as I recall, you owe me,” he glanced at the paper on the edge of the table and the sticks of charcoal, “And as I do anticipate an early morning on account of the competition, I would rather we sort this out sooner.”

He dropped a hand down and picked at the laces of his trousers, “Come, under the table,” he bid, “If you will not eat then you may use your mouth for other means.”

You glared at him, mortified. You brought your fork to your lips and he was quick to rise and bat it away. The top of his pants drooped as you dropped the silver and you blanched at him. He dropped back into his chair.

“I do not issue requests, I give orders. Now on your knees or I will have you even quicker on your back.”

“Then do it already,” you snarled, “I tire of your boasting.”

He stood once more, this time so abrubtly that his chair toppled behind him. He was upon you in a moment, his hands around your head as he forced you to your feet. His eyes flared down at you as you grabbed onto his arms and wrestled with him. You stumbled as he dragged you around the chamber he angled you toward the settee.

He shoved you down and slipped a hand down to your throat as he straddled you beneath him. He slid his hand down the front of his open trousers and pulled out his hard member. He lifted his knees and moved up to pin down your shoulders. He squeezed your throat tightly as he bent over you and guided his cock to your lips.

“You bite me and I will have your teeth on the floor,” he threatened, “Now open for your king.”

You clenched your lips but as your breath dwindled, you gasped and he quickly slipped inside your mouth. He sank down your throat as he brought his hand up above your head and thrust his hips roughly. You choked and kicked out. You slapped his thighs as you struggled to breathe.

He groaned as his hips slammed down harder and harder. You gagged and your eyes lolled back as your vision swam with tears.

“You do push me when I am already… inflamed,” he grunted, “When my temper has already been stoked by incompetents.”

He fucked your face without relent as you were trapped beneath him. His fingers stretched over your head and he sped up once more. He panted as he chased his end and when it rose, he flooded your throat without warning. He continued to rock into you until you swallowed around him. He shivered at the sensation and sat back as he slowly drew himself from your mouth.

His cock glistened as he rested his weight on your chest and steadied himself. He swallowed and hung his head back. Without looking, he poked two fingers into your mouth. Without thinking, you gnashed his digits between your teeth. You were met quickly with a strike across your cheek.

He wiggled his fingers, further pained by the slap, and growled.

“Must you insist on difficulty,” he pushed himself off of you and tucked away his cock. He grabbed your arm and wrenched you onto the floor. “There you are.” He jabbed you with his toe. “You can spend your night there.”

He shoved you back with his boot and spun away from you. He went to the table and took the heel of bread from his plate and the entire bottle of wine. “No supper for you. If I see that you’ve so much as stolen a crumb, I will whip you myself.”

He stomped to the bedroom doors and looked back at you one last time. “And leave the boy alone. He is not your friend.”

🐍

You stayed on the floor but didn’t sleep much. Little hazes but nothing more. Loki stirred in the next room and you turned to face the wall. You didn’t move as a knock sounded shortly after. The young boy seemed to always sense when he was required. He entered and hesitated as he passed you before the settee. He carried on and you let out the air in your lungs.

You heard the king’s voice and the activity that followed his awakening. When he emerged, you remained as you were. He ordered Hal around as he sat to tie his boots. He scoffed as he rose and swept towards the door.

“I know you are awake, mouse,” he said, “Let’s not make deception a habit.”

You refused to respond and he huffed. The door opened and he paused in the doorway. “See to her meals, boy.” His voice shifted direction, “Sir, you will watch the door.”

A grumble came in response to the orders as the door snapped shut. You rolled onto your back and sat up. The morning light made your head pulse and your eyelids drooped heavily. You pulled yourself up onto the settee and buried your face in the cushion. You hadn’t the energy to stay mad, you only needed sleep. It wasn’t long before it came.

When you woke, you were groggy. A plate awaited you on the table and the same buzz floated from outside the walls. Another day of sport and you were, as ever, pent up inside on the king’s whim. You slunk over to the table and ate without tasting. Your stomach ached until it was satisfied.

You stood and paced. You stopped at the window as you tried to get a glimpse of the tents erected around the tourney grounds but the silk offered little sign of what was unfolding. You hated that you had to wait, it was all you did. The king had chosen your punishment well. This purgatory was worse than any dungeon.

You marched back and forth. Your anger began to bubble over. Well, if he should have you do nothing, you will find something to keep yourself occupied. Perhaps you might tear down the drapes or dismantle the framed pictures of his smug ancestors. What worse could he do that he did not intend already?

You kicked the door as you passed it and your toe throbbed. Your slippers offered little padding and you swore. Further enraged by your pain, you punched the door. You stopped and listened through the wood. You could hear the drafty emptiness of the halls. Cautiously, you rested your hand on the handle and pressed until the lever lifted.

You pulled the door an inch inward and waited for it to be forced back into place. But you met no resistance and poked your head into the corridor. There was no guard, no passing resident, no spy you could see. You retreated and steadied your nerves. Was it a trick? A trap? Either way, it was too much to deny.

You went to the wardrobe and took down the grey cloak hung within. You tied it at your throat and peered back into the halls. Still, no keeper to stop you from your escape. Well, it would only be a brief sojourn. You only wanted to see the games. To know what made the crowd so raucous.

You hesitated. If the king discovered your flight, you would be in dire trouble. Yet, he was competing himself and wouldn’t even know. So long as you were back before your guard. Where was that lug anyhow?

You put your foot down lightly. You slowly leaned your weight on it and stepped out into the hall, testing its vacancy. Still, you were alone. You pulled up your hood and closed the door behind you. You weren’t certain which way to go in the immense palace.

You lost yourself several times over before you found the stairs. You scurried down the steps and hid your face as well as you could as you passed by servants in their aprons and caps. You felt as if they all knew, as if any would accost you and report your offense back to the king.

But they didn’t and you kept on until you stumbled in disbelief onto the green. You followed the scent of roasting beef and the wall of voices to the cluster of tents along the sporting field. There were benches set on platforms to house the observers; the ladies waving their handkerchiefs and the older lords cheering on their favourites.

You stood before the steps of the stands and glanced around. Surely you were being followed. You couldn’t have just walked out onto the green so easily. It felt too simple. It felt a snare but yet you kept going.

You climbed up and pushed down your hood as no other wore theirs. You needed to blend in with the crowd. You walked behind a row of ladies as they stood and called out to the field. You stopped behind them and stood on tiptoes to see past them. Two contestants in armor charged at each other with blunted blades. The tourneys had long since traded real steel for training weapons. The forgers often complained of the flimsy designs.

You edged past the line of ladies and upon a closer look, you recognised the fighters. The prince, Thor, fought in red armor with a lion on its helm, and his brother, the king, faced him with serpents across his breast plate. As you heard it, the custom was to allow the monarch a victory.

Still, the audience held its breath as the swords crashed together once more. The much larger royal barely missed his brother with a fearsome strike. Loki was quick and kicked out Thor’s leg. The elder slipped but recovered easily as he batted away the next swing. The two danced around each other; Loki, graceful and light, Thor, lumbering but effective.

As Thor struck down with both hands, Loki deflected him but found the dull blade snapped by the force. He stumbled back and dodged his brother’s next attack. The king was fast but defenseless. He ducked and dove all around but at last found himself cornered by his burly brother. You saw the desperation and the realisation in his posture.

He made an attempt to disarm his brother only to be thrown back. He landed with a thud on his back and the crowd went silent. Thor sheathed his sword and offered his hand to his brother. There was a moment before the gesture was accepted and the king was hauled onto his feet. The men clapped each others’ shoulders politely but all knew there was little comradery between them. Only the prince would dare best the king. And he had dared.

The king waved to the crowd and the competitors were led from the field. The king reached to remove his helm as he walked towards the stall and looked out into the crowd. His jaw was tense and even at a distance you could see his spite. And, you swore, he could see you.

You carefully took a step back and hid behind the figure next to you. You let out a shuddery breath. He could know, now from so far away. You were just another body in the crowd. Well, you had come and seen the fuss. You would have to go before your absence was discovered and the alarm sent up.

You retraced your steps and staggered onto the grass. After such a loss, the king would be even angrier. He did not lie when he said his brother provoked him like no other. A dark foreboding stabbed you.

You already regretted your mistake. A moment of impulsivity had taken you too far. But he hadn’t seen you. He couldn’t have. You were just paranoid.

You ducked your head down and raced up the palace steps and followed a servant until you found the stairs. You were lost again as you reached the top. The corridors seemed to only lead into each other in circles but at last, you caught your bearings.

You turned the corner that led to the king’s chambers but were suddenly jerked back as a painful grip closed around your arm. Magnus sneered down at you as his hand threatened to crush your bones. He slammed you against the wall and you gasped.

“The king will not be happy with you, wench,” he snarled, “Oh, I think he might just toss you back where you belong.”

“Let go of me,” you rasped, “Ow!”

He shook you with a sharp hiss.

“Shut your fucking mouth. You know what he will do when I reveal to him what you’ve done?” He taunted.

You gulped down air and croaked out as squirmed helplessly. “And what… about you? What will he think of the guard who let me free?” You trembled as his grey eyes bore into you, “When he learns that your absence allowed for my escape?”

His nostrils flared and he squeezed your arms. His jaw ticked as he stared you down then all at once, his hands dropped. He shoved you away from the wall.

“You keep quiet and go back,” he stomped behind you, “And I won’t snap your neck and tell him you asked for it.”

You went to the door and he was close behind. He reached past you and opened the door so that it hit the wall. He grabbed the back of your neck and dragged you inside. He kicked the back of your legs so that they collapsed and he forced you down to the ground as bent over you.

“I know why the king keeps you, whore,” he spat, “He will tire of you soon and I will delight in throwing you back to the dungeons.” He pushed until your face met the floor. “When he is done, he might just let me finish breaking you.”

He pushed away from you and flipped you with his foot. He clutched his pommel and sneered down at you as he circled you. His chest puffed out and he stopped sharply on his heel.

“A little rat like you will be back to the gutter soon enough,” he backed away as he seemed tempted to draw his blade. “I’ll make sure of it the next time you stray.”

He slammed the door behind him and it shook in his stead. You laid on the floor, paralysed with adrenaline. You blinked up at the ceiling and breathed at last. You were truly out of your depth.

#loki #loki x reader #dark loki #dark!loki #medieval #by the king's hand #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #medieval au #medieval!au #king!loki #mcu #marvel #thor #au

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olivinesea · 3 years

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Space Is Only Noise If You Can See

a/n: I don’t know why I’m doing this. Maybe it’s because I handle change & uncertainty extremely poorly and that is all my life is rn. Maybe I just need to find out the extent of my evil powers. Regardless, you’re about to experience something unpleasant. TW major character death, suicide mentions, guns, violence, you name it, it’s happening. Only positive is I actually outlined the whole thing first this time so I know where we’re going (it’s not good). ~2.8k

Mr. Scratch surrendered. Or did he? Discuss.

It was always the smell that got to him. The sickly sweet scent of decaying flowers. He wondered who had made the decision to flood all funerals with the same noxious lilies. Didn’t that smell make anyone else feel ill? It lingered in the back of his throat, fogging his vision. He scowled at the offending arrangements—ostentatious wreathes shaped like hearts with hollow messages in a stock cursive font. He had been to so many funerals at this point he was reluctant to admit he sometimes got confused about where he was, who he was mourning. He tried to focus on the portrait of the deceased, but the outline kept shifting.

He blinked hard to settle his contacts, tears always had a detrimental effect on their usefulness. He needed to remember to wear his glasses to the next funeral. A twisted laugh threatened to slip, gallows humor at its finest. No matter how hard he tried, there would always be a next funeral. He wondered how many more before it was his turn, before he no longer had to be the one staying strong for everyone else, pretending the smell didn’t make him choke. He looked again, determined to figure out when he was before he was required to do anything, before he let on that he wasn’t fully present.

The coffin, shiny and black, occupied center stage. Where he thought he’d seen people solemnly walking up the aisle to say goodbye, there was only empty space. He realized he was unnervingly alone. Yet the coffin was not, it was flanked on either side by identical shapes, the light reflecting from their polished surfaces dazzling his vision. He stumbled to his feet, gripping tightly to the smooth wood of the pew in front of him. He rubbed his fingers against it, distracted by the grain, worn down by decades of touch. He looked again and there were six coffins, the once open space crowded and bent to accommodate so much loss.

He swayed, confused, it must be the damn flowers. The whole room seemed to tilt and he fell into the aisle, landing hard on his knees. He looked up just in time to see the coffins, doubled, tripled in size, rolling toward him, shuddering as they picked up speed.

Hotch gasped as he woke up on the jet, gripping the armrest tightly as he scanned the area around him. No one noticed the slight disruption, he knew well how to stay still, how to disappear in response to distress. Everyone was dozing or lost in their thoughts, drained from long days on the road. He counted their heads to check that everyone was accounted for. They were coming back from another case, he wasn’t quite sure from where. His hands shook from holding the seat too tightly so he put them in his lap, absently running his thumb across his other fingers.

He pulled out his phone to check the time and, more importantly, to check the date. He’d been struggling ever since the Scratch case to keep the details of time in order. It was embarrassing and he did his best to hide these lapses in awareness. The disorientation was always worse after one of these dreams. Though he was too practiced to show he was having nightmares, this one was starting to get to him. It had been coming back again and again since that night when he watched his team die. One right after the other, unable to stop it, unable to even be sure it wasn’t himself pulling the trigger. Though they were safe, were still alive at least, he couldn’t shake the fear. It had been so real. And it had been his fault.

He tried to tell himself to let it go, that it was only a hallucination brought on by a chemical attack from a psychopath. A man who was now in prison, successfully captured by his very alive teammates while he sat uselessly on the floor, afraid to trust his senses. However, he couldn’t quite escape the nagging fear that Scratch didn’t surrender, that in the mess of it all he had gotten away. When he let himself think about it, it never made sense that a man so calculated, so many moves ahead of them, would simply give in. He couldn’t be sure that the surrender wasn’t one of the false memories.

There was no way to distinguish between them, the real and the nightmare. He could only convince himself that his team was alive by watching carefully as they breathed whenever they weren’t looking. By their heated bickering over who would ride where. Lately he had even relinquished the driver’s seat, worried that his loosely tethered mind might sweep them all off the road. He fixated on their little habits, certain that these were things his mind couldn’t make up, proof that his family was really there in front of him. The orange fingerprints on case files and every single coffee mug disappeared from the kitchenette, lost wherever Reid set them down before forgetting, caught up in some exciting train of thought. Things that might have frustrated him before became lifelines to reality, the reality he hoped with all his heart was true.

In the immediate days after the attack, he would ask Dave, quietly, for assurance that Peter Lewis was locked up, unable to harm his team. Dave was understanding, remembering how he had been that night, eyes full of loss. But the looks he gave Hotch grew longer and more worried with each repetition of the question. Now, again unsure, he was too ashamed to ask.

It had been so hard to keep things straight in his mind. For awhile he had been writing himself notes: “Peter Lewis is in prison.” Except he would find them again later, letters added, message changed, unable to tell if it was still his handwriting. It didn’t make sense for it to be someone else, fuck he kept these notes in his pockets, in his desk drawer, in his medicine cabinet. He couldn’t remember changing them though. Maybe that was what he had written in the first place. The confusion of the notes started making him feel worse so he stopped writing them. Every time he found another one, he tore it into tiny pieces, all the while trying to convince himself nothing was wrong with his behavior, nothing was wrong with his mind.

On Saturday, rare in its lack of crisis, Hotch was sitting on the couch, finally free to read a book while waiting for Jack to get home. He had been invited to a movie with some school friends. He started thinking about how relieved he was that Jack had friends to do normal things with and lost track of the story. As he scanned back, a little surprised how far he’d read without absorbing any information, his phone rang. His lungs constricted. Fear was always the first reaction to the phone ringing. He leaned forward to pick it up from the coffee table, brushing away his irrational feelings. It was Spencer. That was a little odd but not unheard of. Sometimes Spencer learned a new fact that only Hotch would appreciate and couldn’t wait until they got back to the office to share it. He smiled as he answered, anticipating an excited rush of speech. Instead there was silence.

“Hello?”

Nothing. He listened hard, not sure if he could hear breathing. There was some rustling, muffled and indistinct. Maybe Spencer dialed him by accident. He hung up and tried calling back. It rang without answer. He tried one more time but got the same result, the voicemail picking up quicker the second time. He told himself there was a mundane explanation but anxiety crawled like a spider up his neck. He was about to make another call, was trying to decide who was most likely to be helpful. Penelope? Derek? But then Jack walked in the door, hyped on candy and popcorn and wanting to repeat every joke from the movie. He let it go, if it was important Spencer would call back.

Monday morning and Spencer wasn’t in the office. Hotch had been there since 6 am, buried in paperwork, perpetually stuck in a state of catching up. He didn’t notice the absence until JJ came to ask him if he had any update from Spencer.

“Hmm? No, I haven’t heard from him. Update on what exactly?”

“Oh well he was supposed to come over for game night on Saturday but he said he wasn’t feeling well.” She assumed he was still sick, that he had called out. It was very unlike him to skip out on work, though perhaps he was just very unwell. Images of Spencer, pale and shaky, in the depths of his addiction, flashed through both of their memories and they exchanged looks. It had been so many years, and he did such a good job of pretending it never even happened, but they still remembered. It always came back whenever some uncertainty with Reid popped up.

“Have you tried calling him?” He tried to be logical, not everything needed to be the end of the world.

“Just goes to voicemail.” She raised her eyebrows at him, the silent question—what do we do boss?

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked at the files covering his desk, he’d already put in several hours today, he could use a break.

“I’ll go check on him.”

She started to offer to go with him but he waved her off. If Reid was sick there was no reason for both of them to be exposed. If it was something else, well, it was probably better if Hotch was alone for that too. Just as he got to the elevator, Derek caught up with him.

“I hear you’re going to check on pretty boy,” he was trying to sound light-hearted.

Hotch made a noise in response.

“I’m coming with you.”

Hotch looked over at him and saw the steel behind the statement. He wasn’t asking. Neither one needed to say aloud the worry laying just beneath the surface. That dreaded what if that swam around in the back of all their minds. He gestured for Morgan to get in the elevator ahead of him.

They got to Spencer’s apartment with still no word from him. He didn’t answer when they knocked on the door and though neither wanted to admit it, they were starting to panic.

“He better be passed out on cough syrup,” Morgan muttered as he flipped through his keys to find Reid’s spare, still trying to mask his fear. When they got the door open the apartment was cold and empty. The blinds were closed and the room was dark. Once they flipped the lights on everything seemed normal though unoccupied. The apartment was relatively neat, stacks of books and papers operating as some kind of decor.

“Reid?” they called even though they could tell he wasn’t there. They wandered through the small apartment, checking for signs of their friend.

“Hotch!”

Hotch caught the edge of the door with his shoulder and swore as he hurried out of the bedroom to respond to Morgan’s distressed call. He was standing in the small kitchen, looking at the counter. On it were Reid’s keys, phone and wallet. They could have been tossed there upon his arrival. But wouldn’t he have taken them if he had gone somewhere?

“Where is he?” Morgan’s voice was tight.

Hotch shook his head, this didn’t make sense. He picked up the phone and saw the list of missed calls from the office, from JJ, from him. He unlocked it and checked, heart sinking as his fear was confirmed. The last call was to his own phone on Saturday evening.

“Call Garcia,” he said, checking Reid’s messages.

“What’s going on Hotch?” Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off Reid’s phone, the frantic way Hotch was scrolling through it.

He stopped and looked up. “I…I don’t know.” The images from his dream, his nightmare were threatening to envelop him. Reid crumpled on the ground, a gunshot still ringing, dark wood with rounded edges cradling his lifeless body. The phone screen blurred when he looked at it again and he dropped it on the counter, using his hands to hold himself up.

“Hey man, are you ok?” Derek started to move closer but Hotch turned away, effectively closing himself off.

“Call Garcia, we need to start a search.” And I need to get a grip, he thought as the world around him shifted disturbingly. If something was as wrong as it seemed, they would all be looking to him to solve it. He certainly couldn’t do that if he wasn’t even sure if he was clinging to the counter or the floor.

It was hours later when they finally got a lead. It was not the lead that they wanted. There was a report of a body matching his description at a morgue one town over. It had been pulled out of the river in the early hours on Sunday, spotted by a couple of unhappy fishermen. There had been no wallet, no ID, no way to figure out who he belonged to. They had put him down as a John Doe, a presumed suicide and he was being held until they could get around to trying to match dental records. Garcia teared up as she relayed the information to the rest of the team.

“That can’t be him! Are you sure?” Morgan spoke more harshly than he meant to, nerves frayed by hours of fending off worst case scenarios.

Garcia hesitated, holding a folder. “They sent pictures but…I can’t look. I’m sorry.” She started crying in earnest now.

“Oh baby girl,” Morgan put a hand gently on her shoulder and pulled the file away. He was reluctant to open it as well. Hotch saw this and quickly took the folder and walked to the other side of the table where he flipped it open. His mouth formed a grim line and he didn’t have to say anything for them to know. He was glad he took it, happy to spare them the sight of waxy pale skin, the only color a deep purple beneath his closed eyes and his startlingly blue lips. It looked like he was wearing make up, like this was just another Halloween look Spencer was testing out. Hotch stared at the picture a moment too long. This is real, he told himself.

“Aaron?” Dave tried to pull his attention back to the room of anxious agents. Even though they knew, there was still the tortured hope that if he didn’t say it out loud, it wasn’t true.

He sighed, “It’s Spencer.”

Garcia let out a sob and turned into the hug that Morgan wrapped around her. JJ, sitting at the table stared into the distance.

He tried to organize the facts, solidify them in his mind by repeating them silently to himself. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he normally suppressed to avoid having it sticking out wildly.

“I’ll go formally identify the…” He couldn’t call Spencer a body. “I’ll go see when we can get him transferred to us.”

“I can come with you,” Dave offered but Hotch declined. Looking at the others he felt like they needed someone to stay with them that would ward off anything too impulsive. They were all stunned at the moment but the feeling in the room was unsettled.

“You’re wrong.” JJ spoke without looking at him, her gaze still fixed at a spot on the far end of the table. “Spence wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.”

He realized she was crying and felt a weight start to crush his chest. With effort he moved to where she sat, unable to find anything to say. He touched her hand but she jerked away, suddenly standing and glaring at him.

“You’re wrong,” she repeated before leaving quickly.

There was a hand at his elbow, squeezing gently. “I’ll go talk to her in a little bit. You should get going, it’s already late.”

He tried not to pull away too quickly as he nodded his thanks at Dave, who looked at him curiously.

“Are you sure you don’t want someone to come with you?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I can do it.” He hoped Dave would ignore the shake in his voice. He was fine, he could do this, he didn’t have a choice. He walked to his office to get his things, stopping for a moment to pull out Reid’s phone again. He needed to check the calls one more time, to confirm what he thought he remembered. Sure enough, his number remained the last outgoing call. He didn’t know if it was better or worse that it was real.

~Part 2~

#Criminal Minds #tw major character death #tw suicide mention #tw guns #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jj jareau #spencer reid #david rossi #dont hate me

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thero0ks · 3 years

Text

Fanfics & Coffee Shops <Mike Zacharias>

Mike see's the reader writing at a coffee shop. Levi decides to be a wingman, but fangirls instead.

Slight NSFW featuring Erwin Smith ahead. Please don't read if you're under 18.

The aroma of coffee beans engulfed her when she entered the small coffee shop. The barista smiled at her presence, “the usual?”

Y/N nodded, swiping her debit card, before throwing some cash in the tip jar. She eagerly made her way to the small table in front of a large window pain. The leather seat squished as she sat down.

Reaching for her bag she pulled out the small tablet before attaching the keyboard. Turning her attention to the window the drizzling rain brought a smile to her lips. Rainy days were her favorite for writing. Work had been hectic this week, and she just wanted to escape in her favorite fandoms. Another reader-insert to share with others who shared the same love for her favorite characters. Pulling up Tumblr and AO3 to check for any updates, she settled into a blank Google Doc page.

She thanked the barista when she sat the drink down, and went to work typing while her coffee cooled to a drinkable temperature.

* **

Mike hadn’t expected to ever return to this coffee shop when he originally walked through the door. The coffee was great, but the shop was out of his way. A lone figure in the corner typing away caught his attention. He took a seat observing her. It was cute when she’d stumble over a word, and pause briefly to push her glasses up before carrying on. There were other times when she’d have her cheek pressed against her hand trying to overcome the dreaded writer’s block. He especially found the changing facial expressions adorable, or the way she’d occasionally bob her head to the music she was playing through her head phones.

When he returned to the coffee shop the next Saturday around the same time he was pleasantly surprised to find her occupying the same seat, typing away. Mike’s curiosity ran wild. Perhaps she was an aspiring author, or maybe she ran a blog? The dedication to her craft was admirable.

So it continued on. For weeks he would watch her write, and she seemed mostly oblivious to his presence.

His friends eventually took notice when he always came up with excuses as to why he was busy every Saturday morning. Levi was determined to find out his secret. After much convincing Mike finally allowed him to tag along.

They walked into the coffee shop around ten that morning, and Mike’s heart raced at the sight of her. Levi eyed his taller friend suspiciously before they stepped forward to order.

“So what? You just watch her type?” Levi inquired, pouring a cup of black tea.

“Not exactly, I read too.” Mike raised his hands defensively.

Levi snorted, “you’re such a creep.”

Mike’s face turned red at his friend’s statement, “I just enjoy observing her.” He mumbled, “she’s just existing in her own world, she doesn’t want some random guy hitting on her.” Mike said, running his fingers through his golden locks.

Levi observed the little habits that Mike seemed to adore. “I wonder what she’s writing?”

Mike shrugged, “no clue. That’s all part of the mystery.” He said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Whatever it is, she’s certainly dedicated.” He added, “she shows up every week without fail.”

Levi stood up. He heard Mike hiss a ‘what are you doing?’ Before waving him off. He made his way over to her table. She was too wrapped up in typing that she hadn’t noticed him hovering over her shoulder, peering at the screen.

* **

“He sat her on the desk, and her back shivered as it hit the cold mahogany. Papers and ink scattered as he leaned over her. Erwin’s pupils were blown wide, a black hole devouring every inch of her flesh.

Her body let out an involuntary shudder at his predatory gaze. “Do you want me to fuck you cadet?” He growled, low in her ear. Awakening something primal inside her.”

Backspace.

“Awakening something primal in her bones.

‘Please Commander! I want you to fuck me.’

“Get on your knees cadet.” He ordered, as Y/N slunk to the floor.”

* **

Levi’s eyes flickered to the open internet tabs. The AO3 logo was in the left hand corner along with her username. “Wait, you’re (username)?” The statement fell from Levi’s lips before he could stop it, causing her to jump.

Panic flooded through her as she quickly closed her internet browser. “How long have you been standing there?” She inquired, as a blush painted her cheeks. Her ears felt hot at the embarrassment coursing through her.

“Was that the next chapter in My Biggest Gamble?” Levi inquired, taking a seat across from her.

“You read my work?” She inquired, pulling her headphones down.

It was Levi’s turn to blush, “I have it bookmarked.” He admitted, his eye catching Mike’s who mouth “what the fuck?”

“Well I’m happy you enjoy it.” She said, offering him a bashful smile.

“The real reason I came over is because my idiot friend has been pining over you for weeks.” He said, gesturing to Mike.

“I’ve noticed him.” She admitted, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been looking at him too.”

Levi smirked, “tell you what. I’ll introduce you two If you turn this situation into an Erwin oneshot.”

“Deal.” She said shaking his hand.

Following him over to the table Mike abruptly stood up. “This is Mike.” Levi said, gesturing at the towering man. “Mike this is (AO3 Username).”

Mike shot Levi a confused look, “it’s Y/N.” She said, offering him a small wave. “Did you maybe want to…” she trailed off.

“Get dinner sometime?” Mike offered, eagerly his heart warming at the soft blush that dusted her cheeks.

She nodded, handing him her phone, “if you want to exchange numbers…”

He quickly unlocked his phone handing it to her. He glanced down at her wallpaper. A sketch of a blond haired man gripping a glass of whiskey. Mike quickly opened up her contacts and imputed his information. Exchanging phones once again she shouldered her bag. “Text me, or call me.” She said with a smile. “That chapter will be out tomorrow.” She said pointedly to Levi.

“I look forward to it.”

She gave them both a wave before disappearing out the door.

“Did you ever figure out what she was writing?” Mike inquired.

“Tch. She writes fanfic.”

Mike furrowed his brows, “fanfic?”

Levi laughed motioning for his phone. Reluctantly Mike handed it over. Levi made quick work pulling up AO3, and finding her account. “I recommend reading anything marked NSFW.”

“Wait, did she write all this?” Mike said with wonder scrolling through the various oneshots.

“Those stories labeled NSFW will give you a pretty good idea of what her kinks are.” Levi said, pouring himself another cup of tea.

Mike clicked on the first story he saw with a NSFW warning. Levi smirked behind his teacup, enjoying Mike’s shock as he kept scrolling.

“Wait her phone wallpaper….is she writing about that guy?” Mike asked, glancing up.

Levi shook with laughter as he nodded. “You’re going to have to share her with several fictional men.”

#mike zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x y/n #mike zacharias one shot #mike zacharias #erwin smith #levi ackerman

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calicorn · 4 years

Text

My experience with WeLoveFine/ForFansByFans as an artist.

This in regards to the Act 6/7 Tarot Project, which occurred from 2017 to 2018. I also want to thank @aryll for the chance to participate in such a project, and thank you for doing what you could with the group and what occurred. I realize this is a few years late, however, but it’s been bothering me ever since it occurred, and I only chose to speak my mind about it. But to summarize, the project started out as unofficial, however we were approached by FFBF in February of 2018. They were willing to sell the deck as official merchandise on their store. I have my own opinions on the company, as it’s known they underpay artists severely for their work despite selling most items for extremely high prices. A similar payment issue occurred with the Official Homestuck Zine, and one of the artists of the Tarot Project posted this in the comments: “Can relate OP. I did work for the new tarot deck (using my throwaway account for that reason lol) but we aren’t being paid at all. No money. The only compensation we are getting is a free deck and an exclusive enamel pin which is pennies compared to what they’ll be making off us. One might argue that the project wasn’t supposed to be printed so I should be grateful it’s even happening but I expected a big company like WLF to y’know, pay artists... The only reason I agreed to letting them use my art was to get a free deck. I also honestly dislike WLF’s artist compensation policy. My art has been selected from the Fan Forge before and the idea of being able to sell my HS art was so appealing, but the execution is so poor. They don’t pay us until we sell $100 worth of shirts, but that is so difficult in a market that is so oversaturated. I wish they like, cycled designs in and out. Instead, they just keep adding more and more designs, drowning out old ones and just flooding the entire market. Plus, they get to withhold money from artists until every hundred-dollar mark. I can’t imagine how much they’ve made off of small time artists that get their design accepted and sell maybe 3 shirts since it happens so often.” So. What exactly happened? I’ll explain under the cut given there’s a decent amount to go through. Though to summarize; WeLoveFine/ForFansByFans is an extremely egregious company that does not value their artists whatsoever and will do what they can to pay them as little as possible. Please support said artists on sites that actually do give them fair pay, or support them via commissions.

There were a few bumps during the tarot project, though overall it went extremely smoothly and we released our art to the Tumblr blog. FFBF approached us during this time, and we were all given the option to agree to continue working or the project or decline. However, this is what was an important piece to the initial email sent out by the Tarot Project team; • Each participating artist will get a full finalized copy of the deck, COMPLETELY free. This includes packaging and free shipping of the deck. • Each participating artist will get an enamel pin commemorating the project, EXCLUSIVE to the artists of this project only, with a custom design as chosen/designed by us. What will most likely occur is that everyone who wishes to submit a design for the pin can do so, and as a group, we will vote on which one we would like to submit as our final design choice! • Each participating artist will receive FULL COMMISSION on any further usage of their artwork by What Pumpkin or For Fans By Fans. For example, if they release a mini-print, wallet, etc. with your design on it, you will be paid in commission for the usage of your work. (If you have ANY questions about how this would work, please don’t hesitate to ask and I will hook you up ASAP with a For fans By Fans representative who can go over the details with you further.) • Each participating artist will have a window in which they will be able to make updates or revisions to their illustration(s) before the project is released. This means that if something is bugging you about your work, or you feel that it does not reflect your current level of skill, you will be allowed to resubmit a new version before the project officially goes up as merchandise! So, the majority of us agreed to continue forward with the project and retouch our cards. From there, things continued, and we were emailed by a FFBF representative on occasion to discuss how the process went, as well as various other things that required discussion, plus asked to assist in the promotion of the 4/13/18 celebration on their website. This is where the issues began and would continue through the entire project, with it still being seen post-release of the cards. We were sent an email in April of 2018 requiring information to be provided in the accompanying booklet of the deck, as well as being asked to answer various interview questions that would be posted to FFBF’s Tumblr, and most importantly; the Commission Agreement form. So what did it entail? This was the form I was sent. My interview was never posted. I have looked multiple times and never seen evidence it ever was, either. And this was also included in the email; • We are going to be hosting a pre-order bonus promotion surrounding the new tarot set, starting 413. Anyone who pre-orders the set will be entered into a drawing to win a commissioned art piece from a random artist who worked on the tarot. You will be paid by us, FFBF, for this commission work in the amount of $50. So we had to draw more art with a very close deadline date to obtain a payment for art we had already created, both of which should have easily been worth more than $50 total. I signed without thinking, which looking back on, was incredibly idiotic, despite my own worries over the fact that even at the time, $50 did not seem like a lot. Progress continued. An exclusive pin was designed and created for the artists, though the production and delivery dates would be delayed to September of 2018. During this time, we were also invited to join FFBF’s Discord server as well, which I am still in, though am not active in. And eventually, we were provided a Commission Schedule. I do not know if I’m missing an email between the enamel pin shipment and this schedule post, however I cannot find any trace of it. This is the Commission Schedule email, and what it consists of. Of course I found it strange, because looking at the schedule, I could never find any sign of myself having been added. Obviously I should have replied then and there due to that, but I didn’t, and that is my own fault. But that rolled into October of 2018, when I did finally email back and asked about why I hadn’t been added. I was sent back this; “Hi Calicorn! I’m sorry I misinterpreted your response as not wanting to proceed:“3) I am completely willing to sign up for being one of the artists for the commission raffle event, though I must say $50 would be underpaying considering most artists’ base prices for commissions tend to be $50 or more.” Then I sent “If you do not want to be part of the give-away, that’s totally ok. We are offering $50 for these commissions but if that price is not within your comfort, there’s no pressure!” You never came back with anything so I didn’t want to proceed since it seemed like you were uncomfortable with the amount we were offering – I’m really sorry if I misunderstood! The giveaway is actually over I’m sorry to say but I appreciate you following up about this. I wonder why the message went into spam.. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do for you Thanks!” And one of the most glaring issues popped up in October as well. When we finally received our decks in the mail, our project’s Discord group began to discuss the fact that our emails had been printed in the pamphlet without our permission. Mind you, this was also a project that included minors in it, and our emails had now been given away without our knowledge. Another issue with the pamphlets is the fact that FFBF had reused the same text from the Homestuck Kickstarter Tarot Deck, as seen on the New Booklet/Old Booklet, and here/here. FFBF then decided to remove the booklet from every outgoing tarot that gets ordered, with customers receiving a corrected digital PDF that was coordinated in its creation by Aryll. And apparently previous customers would receive this PDF via emails, as well as a link to download it on the product page. Thankfully FFBF seemed to have at least posted the PDF on the product page, however this seems extremely lazy compared to simply including the newly reprinted booklet. Though this may not be the last of issues, as I stumbled across the Amazon product page for our tarot deck earlier before typing this all up. To say the least, it is extremely infuriating, especially given the quality of the cards and how many people of complained about them on both Amazon and FFBF’s websites. Of course we, the artists, were never alerted to this development, nor were we paid for such.

But overall, we were hardly paid for our time and effort during this project, which is a massive disappointment, but perhaps that much should have been expected from WeloveFine/ForFansByFans, who are notorious for underpaying artists and overpricing products. Their actions are inexcusable, and I am still both disappointed and furious with this company as a whole. But thank you for reading, and please spread the word, as I do not want FFBF’s actions to go unnoticed.

#homestuck #welovefine #forfansbyfans #act6tarotproject

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hotdogjones44 · 3 years

Text

11-14-21

A lot has gone down, and I finally have time to sit and write it all out.

I purchased my first black arts spirit on 11-11-21. I have been drawn to adding a demonic force into my keep.

Now before you all go "what the hell is wrong with you?!" I can explain. I will start from the beginning.

I had troubles with my best friend. After us fighting on and off about her ignoring me and only wanting me around when she either wants attention, or has no one else, I got sick of being treated that way. I could go on about this, but I won't. I had to draw a line for my own happiness.

She and I both are into spirit keeping and it started to feel like a competition between us. She wanted the biggest and baddest so she could be impressive, and it upset me that it wasn't being taken seriously. I also hated the way it made me feel, spirit keeping is not a competition. These are spirits, not pokemon.

She wanted a demon so bad, but she didn't do any research on them at all. And the owner of a shop that we both frequent, told her she wouldn't conjure any black arts spirits. (To my relief).

I soon after that began being pulled towards the Goetia books. They just kept coming my way in various forms. Being advertised, being talked about on things I watch, I had never been so drawn in before.

I kept seeing 11's. All day, every day. My receipt totals would either be 11's or 6.66. It didn't feel threatening, it felt like something needed my attention. So I downloaded the lesser key of solomon by A. Crowley to my phone kindle, and ordered the physical copy (they have differences). Shortly after that, a recommended listing on etsy popped up to see which demonic entity wants to work with you. For about $4 I decided it was worth humoring.

The seller messaged me and said "Gusion the 11th demon in the Goetia is wanting to work with you" and it shocked me.

This is a screen shot I took immediately after getting that reading. My kindle book was open to that page. There he was, staring me in the face. With all of the issues I've been having with my friend, and me being pulled into this direction, it was just a sign that I could not ignore. All the 11's, and now this. Too many coincidences.

I stumbled across a Facebook group weeks ago, and had asked to join. Now all of a sudden I get accepted?? I go take a peek and it's a spirit shop/group that I had been interested in. The woman who runs it is SO NICE. I asked questions and she answered them and assured me I wasn't bothering her, and sent me a link to her website for customs (I had asked). I wanted a demonic force custom conjure so badly. But unfortunately I would have to wait until pay day.

11-11-21 hits and I check my bank account to see if I have $3 to buy a drink from the vending machine at work. I got paid a day early!!!! And I had extra on that check!

There was no denying it, I had to place my order that day. On 11-11.

Things have been all clicking together for me lately as well. Things make sense now, that seemed so confusing before. The research I've been doing for my book has just come together so well, my happiness has improved so greatly, my luck has turned around as well.

I'm still waiting to hear back from the shop owner, but a wait was expected. I'm just excited.

I don't know where to go from here, but I definitely feel as though I'm on the right path. And demons are mostly categorized at black arts, but I do not believe they are all "evil". The books I've stumbled upon have opened my eyes to how blind that stereotype is.

The only other update I have for you all is that I was walking my dogs in the middle of the night (tiny dogs, tiny bladders) and I saw a huge black mass of what looked like a giant black dog sitting against the fence. My dogs saw it too because they wanted to go over and see it. I kept my eyes wide and stared, I was afraid it would disappear if I blinked. And without blinking, it vanished right in front of me. My dogs sniffed the area it was in, and that's the only thing that makes me believe I wasn't imagining it. It did not have a threatening feel to it at all.

I will be back again soon with more updates hopefully.

#spirits #divination #spirit companion #spirit work #spirit shop #demon #demonic #goetia #11

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pocket-monsters-precure · 3 years

Text

Chapter 20: A Lesson in Friendship! Sparking Kala’Au!

“Dys is starving…how dare you all deprive him.”

“We’re sorry, sir…” Entropy, Bedlam and Ataxia chorused as they knelt before Tumult’s shrouded form.

“It is not just your forces on this so-called ‘Unity Island,’” Tumult continued, “But the forces I have stationed across this accursed world. The Precure are growing in number, and they’re reinvigorating the masses. This will severely hamper the production of nega-energy to feed Dys.”

“But what more can we do?” Ataxia asked. “Using the nega-ring to nega-evolve humans causes the ring to break, though humans make much more powerful nega-evolutions…”

“And while we get the people and creatures around the target to panic, generating more nega-energy,” Entropy went on, “Precure show up almost instantly.”

“They’ve garnered a lot of support from those who lack their powers,” Bedlam added, “And it’s slowing down any sort of production of nega-energy. People believe in the Precure.”

“Yes…they are symbols of protection for their people.” Tumult seemed to ponder this for a moment.

“…sir.” Bedlam spoke again.

“What is it, Bedlam?”

“Allow me a chance to conduct an experiment. These Precure are almost all young ladies—they must have an adult supervising or guiding them. I want to track them down and see if I can nega-evolve them. But, I’d like to try it with two nega-rings.”

“Two!?” Ataxia gawked. “You’ve got a lot of nerve even asking for one of those! You’ve already proven you can’t handle the responsibility!”

“I have never granted two nega-rings to a soldier before,” Tumult mused. “And they, as they say, ‘do not grow on trees.’ However…”

Tumult’s ethereal form leaned forward, seeming to gaze deep into Bedlam’s eyes. Mist surrounded Bedlam’s wrists, as the nega-rings formed around them.

“I will allow this experiment. Just once. Locate and turn their support…and we have the chance to trample the Precure.”

===

Mewtwo glided slowly across the room, a tablet floating at eye-level in front of him. Precure, nega-evolutions, nega-energy…so much to update himself on; now that he had allied himself with Doctor Pierce and the Precure under her supervision, he had access to information he lacked previously from merely skimming the minds of the populace. It was a temporary truce, but a beneficial one.

…except for the matter of fascinated children like Kailani, who was watching him with stars in her eyes and a grin from cheek to cheek.

“Kailani…” Naomi sat at the table nearby, doing homework and looking very unimpressed. “Stop staring. You’re being all kinds of rude right now.”

Kailani shook her head a bit, and turned to face Naomi. “I’m sorry, it’s just that…well, a highly-intelligent, super-powerful legendary pokemon is right in front of us! And it’s reading a tablet!”

“He, not it. Male designation, remember? And calm down. Stop treating him like some kinda sideshow attraction; I’m sure he doesn’t appreciate it.”

“I don’t mean to be offensive…” Kailani glanced over her shoulder at Mewtwo as he raised a paw and swiped at the screen, changing the information displayed. “But…this is a chance to make an amazing ally and friend. In Alola, our culture emphasizes working alongside pokemon, and considering his intelligence is on par with a human’s, this could be a whole new kind of bond!” Kailani took a breath. “I’m…I’m gonna try and make friends with him!”

“….uh-huh.” Naomi looked back to her homework. “Just don’t get yourself horribly maimed.”

Kailani turned and went to approach Mewtwo. “Hey!”

Mewtwo glanced up. Kailani made an arch with her hands.

“A-loooo-la!” She gave him a toothy grin.

…beg pardon?

“The traditional Alola greeting! You try!”

I’d rather not. I’m busy. Mewtwo focused back on the tablet.

“Come on…I feel we’d be much stronger allies if you’d just open yourself up a bit more to us. We could be great friends—“

I have no interest in friendship with any of you. I merely agree with your efforts to solve this nega-evolution epidemic and am offering my strength in exchange for information.

“But…”

“Kailani, try not to press him too much,” Dr. Pierce walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder, “This is a huge step out of his comfort zone, and we’re all still strangers to him. He’s lived his life not trusting humans at all.”

“I know, but…” Kailani’s shoulders dropped a bit. Dr. Pierce noticed the tablet floating back to her; she took it in her hands as Mewtwo teleported out.

“Come to think of it,” Naomi spoke up, “Where do you think he goes when he leaves here?”

“I’m sure he’s doing his own investigation…” Dr. Pierce mused.

“Maybe we can help with that! We’ll investigate, too!” Kailani piped up, “I mean, all we’ve really done is just fight the nega-evolutions; we should do more!”

“Like what?” Naomi asked, not looking up from her homework.

“Let’s ask around town! Get all the information we can get from firsthand accounts!” Kailani grabbed Naomi’s arm. “Come on, let’s get started!”

“Wh—hey! I’m doing homework!” Naomi complained as Kailani pulled her out of her seat and out the door. Dr. Pierce sighed as she closed the door after them.

Getting an idea and immediately heading out the door, she thought, Reminds me of my brother.

===

“It’s like mega-evolution, kinda,” a shopkeeper was saying to a customer, “But….evil, I guess, is the word?”

“Y’know, it’s kinda like that dynamaxing thing that’s goin’ on in Galar?” one shopping girl said to another.

“It’s worrisome,” one nosy old lady sighed, “What if the Precure are the cause of the problem in the first place? Humans shouldn’t be fighting pokemon…”

“It’s no use…” Kailani sighed as she sat on a bench with Naomi. “It’s either info we already know, or speculation!”

“Why are we trying to help out a psychic who can just pick up information from scanning brains, again?” Naomi bit into a cookie she had bought during their search.

“I mean, he can’t scan every brain all at once, right? I just…” she sighed.

“Look, I get it. Where you’re from, working alongside pokemon is a huge cultural thing, right? But you can’t help people who don’t want help, Kailani.”

“He didn’t say he didn’t want it!”

“That’s not my point…” Naomi put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, we tried, and we got nothing. Let’s just call it a day.”

“I guess…” Kailani slumped a bit.

“How about we get some ice cream?”

“…did you not just eat a cookie?”

“It wasn’t that big a cookie; don’t judge me.”

The pair began to walk toward the ice cream parlor in town, Kailani still hemming and hawing the entire time.

“Look, if you wanna try and make friends with the guy, don’t get up in his face,” Naomi continued, “Maybe…small, subtle gestures are what work with him? Baby steps.”

“Baby steps, huh…?” Kailani mumbled, staring at the ground, only to become distracted as she noticed Naomi had stopped walking. “What is it?”

“Check out the ice cream parlor…!”

Kailani followed Naomi’s gaze, seeing the ice cream parlor in question was completely coated in ice. “Whoah! Did the blast freezer go haywire!?”

“That’s no haywire blast freezer…”

“Everyone, stay back!” A police officer declared, trying to keep the gathering crowd under control.

“There’s people still inside!” A bystander declared.

“We better call for the others,” Naomi said as she looked to Kailani.

“Call for ‘em, but we gotta get in there and help.”

“The ice is spreading!” A woman shrieked, as people began to flee; true to her word, the ice was spreading out, seeming to be trying to enclose the people outside.

“It’s full of typos, but a panicked, misspelled text should get them coming,” Naomi hurriedly put away her phone, grabbing Kailani’s hand and heading toward the chaos, against the flow of fleeing bystanders.

“Neeeeeegaaaaaaa…..” a loud, low voice rumbled. The pair looked to each other.

“And, here we go,” the pair said in unison, not sounding thrilled in the least. A wall of ice shot up behind them, and the two slowly turned to see a sinister, but distinct, trio of faces within the ice leering at them.

“NEGA-VANIIIIILUXE!” It bellowed. The girls let out a surprised yelp, scrambling back in surprise before pulling out their Cure Compacts.

“Precure! I! Choose! You!”

Sunrise and Starlight stood before the icy wall, as a massive spike of ice shot toward them. Quickly, Sunrise grabbed onto the end of the spike.

“Wake-up Shock!” she cried, as electricity surged up the spike and struck the three massive faces, but to no effect. “What!?”

“It might not be the real monster!” Starlight theorized. “It’s gotta be nearby, though!”

“Right…! Let’s get into the parlor!”

As the pair started to run, however, they immediately slipped on the ice, toppling atop one another.

“Forgot about that,” Starlight muttered sheepishly, “Whoops.”

“Come on..!” Sunrise scrambled to her feet with some trouble, helping Starlight up and heading toward the parlor. Though the door was frozen over, the pair teamed up with a powerful kick to break the ice and force it open. As they rushed through the door, they were struck by a full-body rush of cold air.

“…I don’t remember the ice cream parlor being this big,” Starlight spoke.

Before the two girls was a frozen wasteland; icy cliffs surrounded them, as the bitter cold chilled them to the bone.

“Wh-what happened to the ice cream parlor!?” Sunrise wailed.

“This is no ordinary nega-evolution,” Starlight muttered, deeply concerned. “And they said people were still inside!”

“There’s a cave over there!” Sunrise pointed to a hole in the cliff side, grabbing Starlight by the arm and, after testing her footing, running toward it, stumbling a few times from the harsh wind.

“Aaaand GO!” Starlight threw her weight forward, pulling herself and Sunrise into the cave as they landed in a pile. “Oof—!”

“P-Pretty Cure…!” A voice gasped. The girls looked up to see the parlor owner, as well as a few customers, all huddled together to stay warm.

“Is everyone alright?” Sunrise asked.

“C-Cold, but safe,” the parlor owner frowned. “What has happened to my poor little shop? And my Vanilluxe?”

“Hold on, that’s your Vanilluxe that got nega-evolved?” Starlight asked incredulously.

“Well, only as of recent,” he replied, “I received it in a trade with a dear friend—I hoped we would become good friends, but….it hasn’t taken to me very well.”

“That sounds like a recipe for nega-evolution, alright,” Sunrise muttered to Starlight, before looking back at the parlor owner, “What do you mean by ‘hasn’t taken to you?’”

“I’ve tried everything—making snacks for it, talking to it a lot, spending lots of time with it…but I feel like every time I tried to get closer to it, I just pushed it away.”

“I kinda get that,” Starlight reasoned.

“What…?” He blinked in surprise. Sunrise even looked to Starlight, confused.

“Think about it,” Starlight responded, “The Vanilluxe was in a new environment with a new trainer, who instantly acted like they were best friends. It’s basically like expecting a wild pokemon to love you right away.”

Sunrise stared back at her, her stomach twinging as she connected the dots. “So it was stressed and scared in a new place…making it right for nega-evolution.”

“Now you’re gettin’ it,” Starlight nodded. “Well, now we know what caused the problem, but now we have to solve it.”

Sunrise frowned, deep in thought. “Well, we need to find Nega-Vanilluxe and fight it, but it turned the ice cream parlor into a snowy wasteland! How do we find it?”

“Well, we’re Precure, and it’ll wanna fight us…I’m sure we won’t have to look for long. In the meantime, we should try and help the people here warm up. Do you have a fire-type on you? I admit I only have my Absol with me today…”

Sunrise clapped her hands together. “Yes! I had pulled my Torkoal from my PC for a class today!”

Not much later, the Torkoal was now standing in the center of the parlor, venting heat from its shell as the guests gathered around it, praising and thanking it. The two Cures shared a grin, before nodding to one another and running outside.

“Come on out, Nega-Vanilluxe!” Starlight shouted, the pair taking offensive stances opposite each other. To their surprise, what appeared to be eight vanilluxes appeared around them, giving off sinister auras.

“Shadowlings!” Sunrise exclaimed; the pair were caught by surprise as each unleashed a burst of Powder Snow.

“No you don’t!” Starlight attempted to throw a Comet Burst, only to miss completely as she was blinded by the snow.

“Wake-up Shock!” Sunrise clapped her hands together, unleashing a thunderclap that startled the Shadowling Vanilluxes into stopping their attack. “We’re here for the Nega-Vanilluxe! Stand down!”

“They’re not legitimate pokemon, Sunrise,” Starlight frowned, “Just imitation puppets. They’re not gonna listen!”

Suddenly, a snowball struck one of the Shadowlings, prompting it to look over. Some of the customers had come out of the parlor and were now chucking snowballs at the Shadowlings to distract them, all while Torkoal toddled out and putted out bits of fire to keep the Shadowlings back from the innocent civilians.

“Do your best, Precure!” A child customer cheered, “Find the bad pokemon!”

“Stay safe, guys!” Starlight said with a wave, the pair of Precure running through the group of Shadowlings to continue their search.

“Okay, have a look around,” Sunrise suggested, “I know it’s a wasteland, but there has to be SOMETHING of note here—“

“The mountain,” Starlight had stopped running and turned around, staring up. Sunrise soon followed her gaze—and she saw it. The three sinister faces peering out of the mountain’s three peaks as it loomed over the wasteland.

“How did we not notice that when we got in here!?” Starlight squawked.

“NEGAAAA!” Nega-Vanilluxe roared, shooting a storm of ice spikes at them; the pair opted to jump up, vaulting over and bounding off of the soaring spikes to get closer to the main “head” of the beast. As they successfully struck the creature’s face and bounced back, the leftmost head blew them away with icy wind, causing them to go sailing, screaming in alarm.

“Gotcha!” A pair of voices shouted; Wish and Willow had arrived and caught the pair, landing safely on the ground.

“Just in time!” Sunrise sighed in relief.

“Sorry, we had trouble getting through the wall of ice,” Wish admitted, “What are we up against?” She squinted at the Nega-Vanilluxe through the wind and snow.

“Recently-traded pokemon stressed and overwhelmed by everything,” Starlight replied. “I kinda don’t blame it—the new trainer just instantly started treating it like a best friend without getting to know it, apparently.”

Sunrise had fallen silent, thinking this over. She couldn’t help but draw parallels. Then, she nodded. “Well, we can talk to the trainer about it, but first we need to turn the poor Vanilluxe back to normal!”

“Look out!” Wish threw up a Full Moon Aegis to block another barrage of ice spikes. “First we need a way to get close to it safely!”

“I bet I can do something! Cure Ball!” Willow held out her hand, as a pastel-colored pokeball formed in it. “I’ll use a Cure Aura attack with my Cyndaquil!”

As Cyndaquil was released from the ball, Willow nodded to Wish, who dropped the barrier. As yet another wave of spikes was launched at them, Willow attacked.

“Type: Fire!” She shared a warm aura with her Cyndaquil, which jumped onto her back and clung to her shoulder. “Precure Passionate Inferno!”

The oncoming spikes were met with a wall of flame launched back at them, while the remaining three Cures ran underneath the chaos to get close to Nega-Vanilluxe.

“Wish Whimsy Pop!” Wish sent an attack at Nega-Vanilluxe; the balls of light exploded against the base of the mountain-shaped monster, prompting it to roar in anger. Mounds of snow began to rise up around them, taking the form of shadowling Vanillishes and Vanillites.

“We just made it angry…great.” Starlight threw a Comet Burst; she snapped her fingers and the ball split into five, striking five targets. Sunrise, meanwhile, was now jumping from ledge to ledge up the steep beast. “Sunrise!”

“I have an idea!” She called back, then yelped as spikes began to shoot out of the icy walls, narrowly dodging them and using them to jump and climb higher. “Keep fighting!”

“Keep fighting, she says,” Starlight muttered, releasing Absol from a Cure Ball to help keep the number of Shadowlings down.

It’s scared, it’s frustrated, it’s confused… Starlight thought, I wonder if…maybe it can hear me, like Mewtwo could hear Wish…

With one last spring upward, she found herself staring face-to-face with the main head of Nega-Vanilluxe.

“Listen to me!” She called, “We’re here to help you! We know the real you is locked inside this body, inside this mountain!”

“Negaaaa….”

“I know your story!” She landed on a spike that shot out. “I know you were overwhelmed with your new home and new trainer! He didn’t mean to upset you! He just wanted to make you feel welcome and overdid it!”

The creature stared back at her, a low rumble emitting from it.

“I promise…I won’t give up on you!” She declared, “None of us will! And things will get better!”

Nega-Vanilluxe rumbled and trembled, before unleashing a vicious roar, shaking the very air. Sunrise remained firm.

“Don’t shut us out!” She shouted, thrusting her arms out. It was then that she felt a warm sensation running down her arms, as two long, thin rods began to form in front of her palms. She grasped at them, as they took form into white sticks, orange gemstone lightning bolts running up their sides and small, winglike details emerging from the top of each one. As she stared at them, their name came to her.

“…Sparking Kala’au….” She whispered. Indeed, they resembled kala’au, a traditional instrument from Alola. She struck the sticks together, the lightning bolts beginning to light up from the bottom.

“Let’s go!” She struck them again, the light rising up the bolts with each strike. Lighting surged around her, and she felt the tempo come to her as she fluidly continued to strike the sticks together.

“Precure! Festive Ho’olaule’a!”

Sparks shot down from the sky like confetti, striking Shadowlings and chipping away at Nega-Vanilluxe’s defenses, as it seemed paralyzed from the numerous small shocks.

“Now!” She jumped back, landing in a crouch with her teammates down below.

“Precure Quartet Refresh!”

===

“I’m sorry for rushing you into things, Vanilluxe….” the parlor owner frowned, offering a pokepuff to the restored pokemon. “I’ll give you the space you need, but don’t hesitate to come to me if you need something, okay?”

“…Vaniiii….” Vanilluxe hesitantly ate the snack, then started to smile.

“Looks like things will be okay here,” Willow remarked with a smile as the group stood a ways away.

“Yep,” Starlight looked to Sunrise, “Shame we couldn’t find out any new information for Mewtwo like you wanted, though.”

“It’s okay,” Sunrise replied, “….I think I learned something, myself.”

“What is it?” Wish asked.

“I shouldn’t be rushing to try and get on Mewtwo’s good side,” she replied, “He’s got a history that makes it hard for him to trust people, right? So…baby steps.”

“Just like I told you,” Starlight pat her back. “C’mon, let’s head out.”

===

The next day, the girls were gathered at Dr. Pierce’s house again, doing homework, when Kailani arrived.

“I brought malasadas!” She declared with a big grin, “I made them in class! They’re a native Alolan treat!”

“Oh, I’ve had them before; they’re so good!” Fae beamed as she set down the plate of treats.

“Thank you, Kailani,” Dr. Pierce added, taking one for herself. Kailani grinned back, then noticed Mewtwo floating in a far corner of the room, again reading the tablet floating in front of him. She took a breath, then walked over, setting down a malasada on the nearby end table.

“Here. There’s one for you if you want it,” she said with a smile, before tipping her head and turning to go sit with her friends. Mewtwo briefly glanced up, watching her leave before looking to the snack on the end table. As the girls engaged in conversation, he went back to the tablet. But moments later, the malasada floated up to him. Kailani snuck a peek over her shoulder, grinning a bit before turning back to her friends.

The group was unaware that outside, Bedlam was seated in a tree, leaning against its trunk with a scowl.

“So, they do have someone acting as a guide….” He looked to his nega-ring. “I won’t fail Dys..I’ll destroy the Precure piece by piece, starting with their most ardent supporters.”

#pocket monsters precure #pocket monsters pretty cure #pokemon precure #pokemon pretty cure #precure #pretty cure #fanseries #precure fanseries #pretty cure fanseries #fancure #fanfic #magical girl #pokemon #chapter 20

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 4 years

Text

Decryption_Error: “Angela”

Summary: The cyberattacks haven’t stopped, and Y/N is struggling to make sense of them as she worries for her father, for herself, and for the future of the company; however, it’s nearly Halloween, and Angela has invited Elliot, Y/N, and Darlene to a costume party. For the first time, Y/N wonders if she’s really the only woman Elliot wants.

A/N: I needed some time to process the end of Mr. Robot before this story would let me continue. I finally feel reenergized and ready to update regularly, MUCH in thanks to @alottanothing for prodding me along. This chapter wouldn’t exist without her, so thank you, my friend!

Story Summary, “The Server Room, Part I”, “The Server Room, Part II” “The Long Weekend, Part I”, “The Long Weekend, Part II”, “The Aftermath”, “Undecided”, **“Decided”, “Spooked”, **“Fourth of July, Part I”, *”Fourth of July, Part II”, *“Darlene”

Word Count: 5000

Tags: @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @teamwolf2411 @limabein @txmel @alottanothing @ouatlovr @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @moon-stars-soul @free-rami @ramimedley @hopplessdreamer @sweet-charmie @polarcrystall

If you want added, removed, or if I’ve missed your request, let me know : )

Warnings: Mild sexual content/language, description of a panic attack, let me know if I missed something!

GIF: @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r

I couldn’t breathe.

I was too hot, way too hot.

Too hot. Too hot. Too hot.

My eyes shot open in the dark, and I clutched my chest as I felt the thudding of my heart against my fingertips. With a gasp, all traces of sleep were gone as I flung the covers off me with such force Elliot jumped awake.

I was already in the bathroom, pacing, my hand resting on my chest as I chanted the same thing in the same song-like cadence every time I had a panic attack.

“It’s alright, it’s okay, it’s alright, it’s okay—”

Elliot opened the door slowly, his eyes vigilant as he worked to figure out what was happening.

I took a few noisy breaths, in through my nose, out through my mouth, as my lips continued to recite that it was alright, it was okay.

Elliot approached me and when I didn’t bolt, he reached out to place his hand over mine. I knew he could feel the pounding of my heart, and I felt ashamed he was watching me fall apart.

“You’re okay,” he said, his voice still raspy with sleep. “You’re okay.”

I couldn’t do anything other than stare at him, the hammering in my chest continuing as I took up my mantra again. Elliot’s lips moved along with the words, his eyes so focused on mine I couldn’t have diverted my gaze even if I wanted to.

“It’s alright,” Elliot said gently. “It’s okay.”

This time, I was able to nod. The thudding of my heart was subsiding, and my breathing was slowing, steadying in the now too-bright light of the bathroom while Elliot’s too-intense eyes bored into mine.

After a few more minutes, I found my voice.

“I’m okay—really, El. I’m sorry you had to see that.” I stepped back, embarrassment taking the place of panic.

But Elliot didn’t let me retreat; instead, he pulled me into his arms, his hand twisting into my messy hair as he held me tightly against his body.

I sighed and let him hug me as the last waves of panic subsided.

I shifted, still embarrassed, and Elliot relinquished his hold.

I glanced at his face and saw that it was filled with concern, but I needed to get out of the light and out from under his gaze.

“Back to bed,” I muttered, and Elliot followed me out of the bathroom, flicking off the light.

We settled into bed, and I pulled the comforter up to my neck as I faced away from him. I did back up enough to be touching him, just needing to feel he was there, but when I shivered, cold now that my body was returning to normal, he rolled onto his side so he could press against me and wrap his arm around my waist.

“Please don’t feel ashamed,” Elliot whispered as he slid his arm up and over my chest, pulling me close. “You’ve seen me. . .”

Elliot’s pause hung in the air and I didn’t say anything, afraid I’d start to cry.

“You’re still the strongest, best person I know.”

Well, that did it.

Hot tears fell down my cheek and across the bridge of my nose as I tried not to violently sob in the dark.

Elliot stayed quiet, his fingers twitching lightly over the skin on my chest as he held me.

“It’s the attacks,” I began, frustration mounting as I swiped at my face with the comforter. “If it had just been Colin, I think I would’ve made my peace with it and moved on. But it was Bill Baxstone and then Kurt Landley. I feel like someone close to us is trying to hurt my father—or me.”

“They were all bad people, Y/N. Don’t you think they deserved to be found out?”

“But who decided they were bad people?” I said, moving away from Elliot and rolling onto my back, swiping at the last of my tears. “Bill Baxstone raised millions of dollars to help during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina—he took me with him when his church went down to clean up. He held my hand, hugged me, when I stumbled across the month-old body of a little boy. Who decided money laundering was bad enough to erase every good deed he had ever done? I feel like someone’s playing god with other people’s lives—someone’s taking the grey and coloring it black. I—I can’t make sense of it.”

Elliot was silent for a long time as I continued to blink into the darkness, a sense of hopelessness settling over my chest and threatening to overwhelm me.

“What if Dad’s next? What if I’mnext?”

“You’re good people,” Elliot said softly.

My laughter was a bitter bark in the dark. “Sure—to you! Who knows how the hackers see us. Bill was a good person who did something stupid. If he’d been given the chance, I know he would’ve made reparations. He just did something really fuckingstupid. His entire family is devastated, horrified—once the media gets through with Bill, they’ll have to change their names.”

Elliot was quiet.

“I didn’t know you knew him so well.”

“Yeah, well, memories can’t be hacked. I’m sure the people that did this only saw what they wanted to see.”

“You have nothing to worry about. You work, every day, to protect your dad’s company, and by protecting his company, you’re protecting allthe people who work for him, especially the hardworking, average people who are just trying to survive.”

I looked over at Elliot in the dark, the outline of his face just visible thanks to the slight peek of the city lights that filtered in through a space in the blinds.

“I’m just another rich bitch who’s had life too easy. How long before they stop caring about anything other than people’s bank accounts? How long before they stop offering justification and just start fucking with anyone they want to fuck with?”

“They won’t—I mean, that’s not what drives black hats. You know that.”

“Why can’t you find them, Elliot?” I sighed, turning my eyes back to the ceiling. “If anyone could find them, it’s you.”

“They don’t want to be found. Hackers leave a mark, something for attention because that’s what they all crave. This one—doesn’t leave anything.”

“I’ve checked myself. Again and again. Nothing.”

“Nothing,” Elliot repeated.

* * * * *

Halloween was fast approaching; it had been a warm October, and until today, the chill of fall had evaded the city. Walking into CIStech, I pulled my coat tighter as a gust of wind swept through the streets. I smiled as I thought about picking out some pumpkins and talking Elliot into carving them, maybe bribing him with the promise of sugar cookies.

I felt normal, happy again for the first time since the latest hacks. It had been quiet for well over a month, and I became convinced the hackers moved on. Analytically, I knew most black hats had short attention spans; the quicker they moved and the wider variety of targets they chose, the less likely they were to get caught by forming a predictable pattern.

Black hats, like the ones who tried to hack Dad’s company on the Fourth, were easy to catch. The perpetrators of the individual attacks were in an entirely different league and all I could hope was they lost interest.

My morning was filled with meetings, so when I finally had a minute to check my phone, I was happy to see Elliot had texted.

E: Angela is having a Halloween party. She wants to meet you. I’m sure we have Darlene to thank.

Y/N: Costumes?

E: Probably.

Y/N: Could be fun—What if I let you pick my outfit?

E: Ok

E: : )

I laughed, knowing that was about as flirty as Elliot got over text. I was intrigued, though. Between Darlene and Elliot, I heard enough about Angela to feel like I knew her.

Elliot and I mostly hung out with my friends and Darlene. I asked him once about his hesitancy when it came to spending time with Angela, but he never gave me a straight answer. I suspected it was because he didn’t like her boyfriend, and Darlene felt that was it, too.

I figured I’d find out soon enough, so my thoughts quickly returned to wondering about the costume Elliot would choose.

Never, even in my wildest imaginings, could I have guessed.

* * * * *

I adjusted my long, honey blonde wig, happy with how it fit so naturally. I spent far more than I should have on it, but I think it was due to the shock of Elliot’s request.

“I still can’t believe this is what you find sexy,” I said eyeing my bright red dress and adjusting the sleeves.

Elliot only hummed in response as he wrapped his arms around my waist and looked at us in the mirror over my shoulder. We both watched as his hands splayed across my stomach, flexing as they played with the silky fabric before moving up to cup my breasts.

I leaned into his body, smiling as I watched his black-clothed head turn toward my neck. He kissed the skin of my collar bone and made his way up my neck, slowly with torturous, tiny licks and nips.

My eyes slipped shut and I sighed, relaxing into his kisses. When Elliot’s name fell from my lips, that pulled a grin from his.

“Sexy,” he breathed, his mouth so close to my ear his voice made me shiver.

“Elliot. Stop teasing.”

“It won’t be teasing if we skip the party.”

Elliot’s teeth had captured my earlobe so I ground my ass into his crotch, delighted to feel his cock pressing into my backside.

“Definitely skipping,” Elliot mumbled just as the buzzer sounded.

“Darlene’s here,” I said taking a step forward and detangling myself from Elliot. “I’ll let her in while you—deflate.”

Elliot narrowed his eyes at me as I laughed, “You started it! Don’t look at me like that, farm boy.”

“As you wish,” Elliot quietly replied, a small smile on his face.

I shook my head, knowing my grin was bordering on ridiculous as I walked out to buzz in Darlene, but who could have ever guessed Elliot Alderson considered The Princess Brideto be the perfect romantic film?

After Darlene knocked lightly on my door, I laughed with delight as I took in her costume. She was a dead ringer for Stevie Nicks.

“You look exactly like the goddess herself!”

“Too bad I can’t sing worth a shit.”

“You’d be too powerful, Dar. The universe just can’t allow it.”

Darlene fixed me with one of her wide smiles, and I offered to make her a drink before we set out.

“Oh, hell yes. Whatcha got, Buttercup?”

“Did you know this would be your brother’s idea of a sexy Halloween costume?” I asked over my shoulder as I pulled down a bottle of rum from the cupboard.

“I had a general idea, yeah,” she said with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes and plopped ice into her glass and mine. Just as I was cracking open a can of Coke, Elliot came into the kitchen.

“Hey, Zorro,” Darlene deadpanned.

“Stevie Nicks?” Elliot replied with a quirk of his brow. “Predictable.”

“At least I’m not one half of a lame couple’s costume—no offense, Y/N.”

I chuckled and shrugged my shoulders as I finished pouring the soda before sliding Darlene’s drink across the counter.

“I’m amazed myself,” I replied as I moved to Elliot’s side and placed a kiss on the edge of his jaw near his ear. “But how sexy does he look as the Dread Pirate Roberts?”

“All black—huge leap for Elliot,” Darlene said, her eyes dancing over the rim of her glass as she took a long drink.

“Got some cocaine in your boot, Stevie?” Elliot shot back at his sister. “No suspension of disbelief required for you either.”

“Fight nice, children,” I said as I finished my drink much quicker than Darlene, suddenly realizing I was quite nervous to meet Angela.

“So where is this party?”

“Angela just moved into a place with her boyfriend. Gramercy Park, I think. Do you have the address, El?”

Elliot dug his phone out of his pocket and nodded after he scrolled through a few messages.

“Well, shall we?” I asked, watching as Darlene downed the last of her Rum and Coke.

“Let’s,” she said, adjusting her top hat.

I took a deep breath, and Elliot, sensing my nervousness reached out to take my hand.

“You have everything?” he asked, his eyes examining my face like they always did. Sometimes, I felt like he was reading me, scanning me like a barcode.

“Yup—did you remember your mask?”

“I put it in your bag,” Elliot said as he handed it to me.

I smiled and moved to shrug into my backpack, but Elliot stopped me, his voice low as he said, “We really don’t have to go.”

“I want to,” I said earnestly. “I’m just a little nervous. Probably how you felt before meeting my friends. Plus, I’d never let this ‘lame’ couple’s costume go to waste.”

Elliot gave me a half-smile, “Darlene’s such a witch.”

“I heard that,” she called over her shoulder, causing me to laugh as I shut the door to my apartment.

* * * * *

Darlene was kind of right—I did feel a little lame with my modest costume as we walked up with a few people I assumed were also party guests. We were following a bouncy Playboy bunny and a rather risqué bee as we ascended the stairs, so when we were greeted by a very sexy angel who turned out to be the hostess, I wasn’t surprised.

“I should’ve known you’d eventually rope someone into playing the Buttercup to your Westley,” Angela said as she smiled and introduced herself.

“I’m Y/N,” I said with a wave, again wondering why I felt so damn nervous. I was confident, successful, attractive woman. What was it about Angela that made me feel—

“Heyyyy, Elli-man! It’s great to see you again, bro!” interrupted a boisterous devil who I assumed was the other half of Angela’s costume.

I cringed as Angela’s boyfriend thumped Elliot on the back and attempted to shake his hand. I watched, as if it were in slow motion, as Elliot took a full step back and almost knocked the bouncy Playboy bunny into the wall.

“Shit, dude. Forgot about that whole no-touching thing.”

Angela looked mortified, and yanked Ollie back, his beer sloshing over the side of the bottle.

“Ollie, this is Y/N. Elliot’s girlfriend.”

“I kinda thought you were a myth,” Ollie said, his grin reaching buffoon-like proportions. “Do you do the whole no-touching thing, too? Cuz I’m sure that would make for a—”

As my mouth dropped open, Angela interrupted who I could now definitely call her idiot boyfriend for the second time.

“Let’s get you some drinks,” she said, ushering us inside and leaving Ollie to greet the next batch of people.

“He’s pretty drunk,” Angela said by way of an apology as she glanced at me from under her long lashes.

I said nothing. I wasn’t about to make this easy on her since she just let her idiot boyfriend accost Elliot. Angela, of all people, should’ve made sure that hadn’t happened. All it took was one conversation with my family to make sure they didn’t make Elliot uncomfortable.

Angela weaved through her party guests and I glanced to see if Darlene was following, but she was long gone. Come to think of it, she ducked inside the apartment as soon as we arrived, completely avoiding Ollie.

Smart witch, I thought.

I felt Elliot’s light touch on my lower back as we reached the kitchen. He seemed to be on high alert, and my gut told me it had more to do with Angela than with the throngs of people in her apartment.

“Beer’s iced in the sink. Mixers and liquor are on the counter. What can I get you guys to start?”

“Beer’s fine for me,” I said, and Elliot nodded.

Angela dipped through two girls, a slender black cat and a vibrant peacock, and returned with two, cold bottles.

“Thanks,” I said with a tentative smile. “Nice place!”

“It feels small with all the people, but it’s like a palace after my studio. Where do you live?”

“15 Cliff—in the Financial District,” I said.

“Well, I hope you spend more time there than Elliot’s place.”

“My place is a lot closer to CIStech, but El’s apartment is cozy.”

“CIStech. My boss, Gideon, who I love, talks about you guys from time to time. He’s really down with the business within a business model, but he’s also trying to make it independently. He’s got some great ideas—we just need to land a big fish.”

Elliot must have read something into what Angela said because he stepped closer and asked her who they had in mind.

“I’m not sure I should say,” she said with a quirk of her brow and a glance in my direction.

“I’ll let you two catch up,” I said, taking the hint and feeling relieved I could walk away.

“I’m glad you got him to come out,” Angela said, a genuine smile turning up the corners of her lips.

I glanced at Elliot, who, in a move that shocked both Angela and me, leaned over to press a soft kiss to my lips.

“She’s good for me,” he said, his voice just audible over the din of the party.

I gave his hand a squeeze before I shuffled out of the kitchen in search of Darlene.

I ended up bumping into a guy I knew from school and while we chatted about the smallness of the world, I glanced around for a hint of stark white next to a void of black.

Elliot and Angela had moved out of the kitchen and were talking in a recess of the narrow hallway. Elliot’s back was to me, but I could tell from the way Angela looked at him that their conversation was intense. After a few minutes, she rolled her eyes and took Elliot’s wrist, yanking him farther down the hallway and out of my line of sight.

“So, seriously—what’s it like dating Elliot?”

Ollie’s obnoxious voice yanked my attention away from the spot Elliot and Angela had just been occupying as effectively as if he had reached out and taken my wrist, too.

Fuck me, I thought as I took in his bleary eyes.

As I fielded his questions and realized that Ollie talked far more than he listened, I focused on the feeling in my gut that had been preoccupying me all day. I wasn’t the jealous type—I always figured if I was with someone who wanted someone else then they weren’t worth my time.

Elliot was so complicated I just assumed I’d never have to worry. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would thrive off of juggling more than one girl at a time; in fact, I assumed his anxiety would eat him into an early grave if he ever got himself into a situation like that.

You know what they say about people who assume! my own anxiety cheerfully reminded me.

I returned my attention back to Ollie who was still talking about a party from his sophomore year of college and interrupted him.

“Have you seen Angela?”

“Huh? Oh, I haven’t in a while,” he said, his brow furrowing as he glanced around the room.

“She and Elliot must have gone off somewhere,” I suggested.

“Those two are kinda weird. Every time she’d hang with him, she’d come back all sad and mopey. I was glad when you came into the picture because they don’t talk as much.”

I looked at Ollie and the expression on my face must have prompted him to realize he’d said yet another stupid thing.

“Listen—I know how important Elliot is to her, childhood mom and dad death shit and whatever, but sometimes the past needs to just, like die, ya know?”

I figured my paranoia had gotten the best of me because what Angela’s idiot boyfriend said actually made sense.

“I think I do know what you mean, Ollie.”

“Cheers, babe! Let’s get you a refill,” Ollie said as he thunked his empty bottle against my own before leading me into the kitchen.

Four beers and a shot later, I was standing with Darlene, listening to her verbally eviscerate a cute guy who had made the mistake of saying that Flame was the best rootkit written in the past five years, when Elliot found us.

“Are we taking bets on when she makes this guy cry?” Elliot whispered, his breath disturbing the strands of my wig that hung around my ear.

I smiled and turned into Elliot’s body, leaning in to quietly reply, “I think he’s getting off on it.”

Elliot chuckled and joined the conversation, playing devil’s advocate until Darlene grew frustrated and snarled, “Who asked you anyway? Come on—let’s get me a drink,” she said as she pushed the cute guy toward the kitchen.

“Ready to go?” Elliot asked, his features schooled into a practiced indifference.

“Are you? You’re wearing that face I can’t read.”

Elliot’s lips quirked into a nanosecond smirk.

“Let’s go.”

“That’s better,” I said. “I should say goodbye to Angela and thank her for the invite.”

“She’s in the hall. We’ll catch her on the way out.”

Angela was preoccupied with a few people Elliot said were from Allsafe, the company she worked for, so we said a quick goodbye and made our way out to the street.

I took a deep breath and my body practically vibrated from the feel of having space to stretch without bumping into a body and from the chilly, fresh night-air.

“There’s nothing like space and cool air after escaping from a crowd,” I said as Elliot looked at me, his eyes filled with a happiness that only came when someone understood something that you thought only you understood.

Elliot waved for a taxi after he assured me for the third time that Darlene would be fine. I sent her a text, just to be sure, and she replied immediately.

D: I’m fine MOM. Go home and bone DAD so he learns to have some fucking chill and not be such a dick when I’m working my mojo.

Y/N: You two have very different ways of flirting lol—be safe! Text me in the am.

D: : )

As we slid into the taxi, I smiled at my phone thinking how alike and how very different Darlene and Elliot were.

“Where to?” the driver asked, his voice curt as he wondered just how drunk Elliot and I were considering our costumes.

I answered with Elliot’s address and the driver relaxed as he realized we weren’t shitfaced.

I quietly said to Elliot, “Figured you’d need to go home to your space after all of . . . that.”

“Thank you,” he answered just as quietly as he gave my knee a quick squeeze.

The rest of the cab ride was silent, which gave me time to consider how and where Elliot had spent most of the party. I did tell the driver to take us to Elliot’s because I knew he’d want to go home, but I also had an ulterior motive. I wanted him to be in his most secure place in the hopes he would be comfortable enough to answer the questions I had about Angela. Watching them interact and my conversation with Ollie did nothing but heighten that feeling in my gut.

As soon as we stopped in front of Elliot’s building, I slid out of the cab and let him pay the driver. I waited at the top of the stoop before following Elliot up to his apartment.

As soon as the door shut and I dropped my backpack onto the kitchen table, I spoke up.

“So . . . you and Angela?”

Elliot turned to look at me, his mouth dropping open a bit as he decided whether to reply or to wait for me to go on.

“You have history. That’s evident. I’m just curious about how much history you have . . . and if any of that history is not so . . . past tense.”

I couldn’t look at him when I said it, dropping my eyes and feeling ashamed for even implying he still had feelings for her. But I had to know.

God I didn’t want to know.

“Forget it,” I said quickly, opening Elliot’s drawer to yank out a t-shirt before I went into the bathroom and shut the door.

I pulled off my wig and relished in the feeling of shaking out my hair after it had been confined inside the wig cap.

I undressed, leaving my costume in a rumpled pool on the floor, and got ready for bed, slowly, hoping Elliot would be asleep or pretending to be asleep by the time I finished.

I pulled my hair into a messy bun, unable to meet my own gaze in the bathroom mirror. My stomach was still clenched in a weighted ball of anxiety as I opened the bathroom door and sent one more prayer to the powers that be that he would be in bed.

No such luck.

Elliot was on his computer when I came out of the bathroom, and as soon as he heard the door open, he swung around and said, “Come here.”

He stood up and waited for me to find my feet. I took a deep breath and crossed the room, slowly sitting down in his computer chair. I turned to face the screen, wondering what it was he wanted to show me.

Elliot opened a file and a sweet picture of Darlene, Elliot, and Angela popped up. Elliot and Darlene were grinning widely as they each had just clearly smashed a piece of cake against Angela’s cheeks, her blonde hair clinging to her face in sticky strands, the smile on her face priceless. Despite my dread, I found myself smiling at little Elliot.

Elliot’s arms were around me on either side, one hand resting on the desk while the other clicked the mouse as he showed me more pictures. I watched the three of them age until there were just a series of pictures of Elliot and Angela that stopped on the day of their high school graduation.

“She’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember,” Elliot said quietly, his face next to mine, his eyes locked on the image in front of us.

“You love her,” I stated.

“I thought we’d never be separated, but she went to college in the city and I didn’t. She wanted to get out of Washington Township even more than I did.”

“Is that why you broke up?”

“Angela and I were never really together like that—like weare,” Elliot said as he closed out of the pictures and turned his monitor off.

He turned and faced his bed, leaning on the computer desk as I swung the chair around so I could look at him.

“You never dated?”

“Not . . . exactly.”

“You’re not making this very easy to understand.”

“I’m sorry—it’s hard to put a label on it. I don’t think I can.”

“Try.”

“We had sex, but it was more because I trusted her. And she trusted me. You get to a certain age. Everyone’s talking about it, so you just do it. And I thought, maybe that was all there was to it. That Angela and I would get married someday. That I could have a life with my best friend.”

“But?”

“Angela has a flaw. She never loves anyone who loves her. I knew that, and when I was young, I accepted that. I figured I could still be happy even if she never really loved me back—loved me like that, I mean.”

“What changed your mind?”

Elliot ran his hands through his flattened hair as he struggled to say something he knew was too heavy, too much of a burden to place on someone else.

“You did,” he said, still looking at his unmade bed.

The weight of Elliot’s statement settled over me, the silence in his apartment feeling oppressive as I waited for him to continue.

“You loved me first. And after you knew me, after you knew my . . . abnormalities. I never thought anyone would love me first.”

Months ago, I had known Elliot would never be the one to admit his feelings first, but now I knew why—he had already been in love with me, but he didn’t want me to love him like Angela, to love him only because he loved me first.

He wanted—needed—to know I loved him all on my own, without obligation.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, determined not to cry as a desperate, emotional ache filled my chest.

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Elliot. Anyone who could see your heart, would love you.”

“I don’t exactly make it easy.”

“True,” I said, finally drawing his eyes to meet mine as I smirked.

“I love you, Y/N,” Elliot said with such straightforwardness that the smile fell from my face. “Please don’t ever doubt that.”

“I won’t,” I answered softly, rising from the chair to stand in front of him.

Elliot’s hands came to rest on my hips as I cupped his face, my thumbs lightly sliding over his cheekbones as we looked into each other’s eyes, both of our vulnerabilities laid bare.

A frantic, daunting thought flashed through my mind as I leaned in to kiss him and I wondered—no—somehow I knew the same thought flashed through Elliot’s:

Please don’t break my heart.

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