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lyssaterald · 2 months

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Take Flight, Part ?: Avoidance

Or, what happens in the aftermath of Belphie's attack and the fallout of broken relationships.

Content Warning: General spoilers for the main story. Minors and ageless accounts do not interact! First person writing, named character, and slight mentions of character’s past and history which are expanded upon as they are important to this chapter. Weirdly, I switch between past and present tense. Sorry, not sorry. Unbeta read.

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I had never been so grateful to be a dragon in my entire life than when Diavolo tried to corner me to "talk" about the incident with Belphie. Every single summons, text, and call from him had been left unanswered. Lucifer's attempts to play peacemaker had resulted in hostility and put a strain on our own relationship. All the presents he sent were returned or charred upon delivery depending on how furious I was that day or hour.

So...

That's why he had waited until I was attending my lectures again, specifically my Politics of Heaven and Hell, the one lecture where none of the brothers or the other exchange students attended with me. So, it was quite a surprise to enter the classroom and find him standing behind the professors desk instead of our usual teacher.

Fucking fantastic.

If I ran away, everyone would get suspicious since we were supposed to be acting like everything was normal. If I didn't run away, though, it gave him the chance he wanted to corner me into "talking." But...my eyes scanned the room...there was an option in case he did. Golden eyes lingered on me as I slowly made my way to the far back row and sat as far away from him as I could.

His lecture was actually a pretty decent one about how the Celestial War had come about in the first place and the changes that it had wrought for the Devildom (aside from the acquisition of their current Avatars). It was easy to ignore his gaze while I scribbled out my notes and listened to his smooth, velvety voice. It made an ache rise in my chest and when the bell rang, I had everything snatched off the desk and was halfway out the door when I heard my name called.

"A moment, Lyssa," he said and I froze.

Several other students giggled and snickered at me. "Ohhh, Lyssa's in trouble," one girl taunted. "You're in for it now."

I spun and snarled at her. The color drained from her face and she dropped her bag, spilling her books and pencil case everywhere. The others fled at the murderous intent they suddenly felt flowing over them. With shaking hands, the girl scrambled to collect her things and bolt as fast as she could, which left me and Diavolo.

Stubbornly, I remained in the threshold of the classroom, clutching the strap of my bag. He caught my look and sighed. "Come inside and close the door, please." There were still too many people around in the halls to simply bolt. He saw me weighing the actions and consequences and waved a hand. The door closed on my back and the lock clicked. "You've been making this harder than it has to be, Lys."

"Don't call me that," I said, striding into the room and depositing my bag onto one of the tables.

"Lys," he said, softer. "Please just give me a chance to talk to you. It's been a week since I last saw you." He left the professors desk and tried to approach me, but I hadn't stopped by my bag and had continued on my path. "How are you?"

When one has wings, every window is a legitimate emergency exit no matter how high up that window is. Diavolo was keeping his approach slow and even, like I was a frightened animal instead of a wounded predator. I leaned a hip against the windowsill and placed a casual hand on the window glass as I looked at him.

"How am I?" I repeated and he hesitated, nodding. "Still beyond livid." The glass fractured under the heat of my fire and then shattered under my weight when I threw myself out it. Diavolo's shout was lost behind me.

Glass sparkled around me in every color as I plummeted. The wind screamed in my face and the ground was rushing up, but with practiced ease, my wings unVeiled and I swooped up and away from the ground at the last second. There were screams of surprise and pain as students scrambled out of my way as I swooped back towards the sky.

I caught a glimpse of Diavolo's stricken expression as I climbed in elevation. If he wanted, he could chase after me and would likely catch me, but there were too many witnesses and our relationship had been a secret. For once, I let the coldness of flight seep into my bones and heart, numbing me against the pain.

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A couple of hours later, Lucifer was waiting for me at HoLs front door with his arms crossed over his chest and a severe frown creasing his lips. He or one of his brothers must have seen me land at the gates. His crimson gaze tracks down my drenched form and then back up.

"You're soaked," he said.

"I went swimming," I returned shortly, trying to skitter around him. His hand flashed out and caught my arm. I stared at his gloved fingers instead of meeting his gaze. "It helps with the pain, Luci. Let it go."

His frown softened with worry as he tugged me around to fully face him. "Pain? You weren't seriously injured when..." he stumbled on that one and I cocked my head at him "...during the incident."

"Incident?" I repeated in a flat voice. "You mean when the other Lyssa was murdered by your psycho of a youngest brother, who then proceeded to get his ass handed to him by me and was then comatose for three days with nightmares so severe he's still unable to come near me. That incident?"

Lucifer winced at my blunt recounting of the night Belphegor escaped his prison. "Yes, that incident," he agreed. "You weren't seriously injured. Did you injure yourself jumping out the window?"

"No." The word is flat and my tone uninviting, but it doesn't deter him. He tries to tug me towards the stairs and I dig my heels in to resist, which is rendered useless when he sleeps me up into his arms. Struggling against him proves ineffective even as I shriek, "Put me down!"

Lucifer just tuts at that and strides past the curious heads that have poked out of their rooms. "Stop being a child. Unlike my idiot brothers, you do not hold a pact with me and, thus, cannot escape me." I snarled at him but ultimately went limp and pressed my head to his shoulder.

The rest of the walk was in silence until we reached his rooms and he set me on my feet. He reached to lock the door and then swore when I bolted for the bathroom. I got five steps before Lucifer yanked me against his chest and hauled me to the bed. We grappled for a few seconds but his larger size and strength allowed him to pin my legs with his and get my wrists in one hand. He used his free hand to grab my face and force me to look at him.

"Why are you being like this?!" he asked with exasperation. "I am not letting you up until you explain, in detail, why you are behaving like a child! We care about you, so let us help you."

It was right then that the pain throbbed through me, making me arch and clench my teeth against the scream. A thousand severed nerves all pulsing at the same time, trying to connect to what was no longer there and yet still there. Black started to creep into my vision and Lucifer's face swam above me. His lips moved in words but all I heard was a loud ringing. Gradually, the pain was pulled through my twelve strongest bonds and dispersed until I could take a breath.

Slowly, I relaxed beneath Lucifer. He released my wrists and I grabbed his jacket while he cupped my face. "What was that? Your magic surged and then receded."

"I am not a child, Lucifer," I gritted out. "And that was a magical backlash from the other Lyssa's death." He was about to get up when I tugged him back to me. "I don't need help, because it's already being taken care of."

His brow furrowed. "How? You bear no new magic or spells of any sort. More so, who? Solomon would have told us and neither Simeon or Luke have the abilities or blessings that would help you in this situation."

"It's a dragon thing," I said, trying to pull at his hands.

"That isn't a good enough explanation, Lys," he told me. I finally pulled back and turned my eyes from his. His next words were a soft plea. "Will you please trust me so that I can help you?"

My hands clench in his jacket so hard my knuckles turn white and I press my forehead into his neck. What he's asking is for me to give up the secrets of my dame's species. Even if most outside my clan scorned me, it was hard to shake a lifetime of loyalty. Not when...

"You watched me die, Lucifer," I said quietly. "Just because I love you doesn't mean that I can tell you everything. It's like you with Diavolo. There are some things we will just never be able to share."

He rolled us onto our sides and pulled me into a tight hug, tucking my head under his chin. "I...I hesitated...and then it was too late. You will never know how grateful I was to see you come charging at my brother," he murmured into my hair. "If this backlash...gets worse, will you allow me to help?"

To that, I can't bring myself to face him. "You can't. Only Mammon, Levi, Asmo, Satan, and Beel could help."

His arms stiffened around me. "You must hold a pact in order for us to help you?"

"It's not a trap, Luci, it's just how my magic is. There's a certain give and take that I can use the pacts for, aside from summoning and orders," I explained carefully. "The backlash can be absorbed and dispersed across my pactmates." Too much information and Lucifer would put together that dragons could form something like a pact with each other as well.

"I see," he said after a long moment and maybe he did.

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The next morning, I am contemplating the food left that Beel didn't eat during his midnight food raid. It's my turn for cooking breakfast, but I'm having a hard time putting something edible out of a dozen Hell jalapenos, milk, sugar, and three Poison Apples. I'm considering just abandoning the other six boys and making something for Luci and myself when a certain scent finally registered.

Earth, smoke, and charcoal. The attic always smelled that way whenever I visited Belphegor. I spin and, sure enough, there he was in the doorway with a cow pillow clutched to his chest.

My body moves reflexively as I hop into the counter in a crouch and flare my wings at him with a warning hiss. Fangs, claws, and a trail of scales finish unVeiling as he gasps and took a quick step back...right onto the hem of his pajamas...and sent himself crashing to the floor.

Beel peers around the doorway at me and gives me a puzzled look as he helps his twin up. "Is that a new cooking technique? Or are you going to try using some of your scales as a new ingredient? That might be tasty."

"Uh," I stammered. So, Belphegor wasn't here to finish me? "No, Beel. Belphegor startled me. I just...uh...

"Well, you startled me. And who does that?" Belphegor demanded, waving a hand at my position.

"The don't sneak up on people you've killed!" I snarled back.

"I didn't kill you! It was a different you!"

"Dragons are interlinked on a conscious and unconscious level, so you killed part of me when you choked the life out of her! I felt it!" I hurled back at a near shriek.

Silence met my statement and I realized how much I had given away. Fuck. Six months spent protecting our secrets and I give away one of the most important ones. Belphegor is staring at me in shock and horror and Beel just looks like he wants to cry...again.

"I-" Belphegor starts.

"As entertaining as this scene is, I would ask you get off the counter, Lyssa," Luci says coolly. "It's hardly sanitary. Beel? What are you and Belphie doing here? You know he isn't supposed to be around Lyssa yet."

I hop down and Veil my draconic features in the same move. Beel is looking between his twin and I and I'm just holding a staring contest with said twin. Suddenly overcome with exhaustion, I turn to the fridge and grab the Poison Apples, the milk, and a knife. I move for the sugar next and yank it down as Beel says, "I just...I just wanted a snack. No one is ever up this early. I...I didn't mean... didn't think anyone..."

"It's fine, Beel," I say and slide around Belphegor, whose nostrils flare as I do so. "We live in the same house. This is bound to happen." Lucifer is still staring at his youngest brother with a mixture of emotions I can't entirely decipher. Holding the items with one arm, I tug at his sleeve with my other hand. "Luci?" Half his attention shifts to me. "We need to get more groceries. I'll order take out for everyone else and head into RAD early if you want to join me?"

Belphegor's eyes are flickering rapidly between us. "That sounds fine, my love," he replies and kisses me on the forehead. "Beel, take more care going forward."

Belphegor looks like a fish when Lucifer takes my hand and gently tugs me after him. Beel and I share a look of misery before he vanishes from my sight.

When we reach his study, he tugs me in and locks the door behind us. Then he leans against me and traps me against between the door and his body. "Please don't be so reckless, my heart," he says, gently stroking my cheek. "I cannot bear to lose you again."

The plea in his voice almost breaks my heart. "I'm sorry, love, I'll do better going forward," I return.

His kiss then is both gentle and desperate, his hands still gentle on my face. When we break apart, I am flushed and he is smirking. "So, what did you manage to scavenge?"

And like that, we slip into our usual morning routine. He works on his paperwork and I chatter about recent things that have happened with his brothers and RAD (we very carefully avoid mention of Diavolo or Barbatos or Belphegor). I skin and slice the apples as he works and apply the sugar and hunt out some cups for the milk. It's not the perfect breakfast, but we're both laughing by the end when he is trying to feed me his last bite of Poison Apples and I'm insisting that he eat it.

When we head to RAD, the others are just waking up and the first round of food has arrived...and Beel has already eaten half of it. The sounds of the normal chaos makes me smile, but that dies when I see Belphegor waiting for us by the entrance.

My smile is stiff as I direct it at him and lean into Lucifer's arm. "Belphegor. You received the first round of food, then."

"Yes...thank you. Beel... appreciates the thought." He lingered in such a way that blocked us from leaving and I felt Luci's muscles shift under my hand. "You two...are...together?"

"Yeah, very." Luci gave me an amused look and then flicked his dark face to his brother as I leaned into his arm. "Have been for a while, now."

"You...never said..."

"So?"

He was speechless with that. "Did you want something, Belphie?" Lucifer asks softly. "You are directly violating the rules that were laid down."

"I'm sorry," he blurts.

I lean sharply into Lucifer and hiss. "Sorry doesn't undo your actions. Go back to Beel, Belphegor." He flees.

Lucifer watches me darkly for a moment before he's tugging me after him. The walk to his RAD office is silent and I release his arm when we get to the grounds but follow after him into his office. He pauses on the threshold and studies me instead of making his way to his desk.

I'm selecting a book when I realize he's broken our pattern. "Will you talk to me about what's going on, Lys?" he asks and the quiet plea in his voice breaks my heart. "Please."

Playing with the book in my hands, I can't look at him. "You heard what I said this morning," I say and lean into him when he puts his arms around my waist.

"That part of you also died," he returns quietly. He plucks the book out of my hand and reshelves it. His hands gently turn me to face him and a finger under my chin tilts my chin up to meet his dark gaze. "Is that what the backlash is from?"

"No." His frown deepens as he studies me and I sigh. "When the other Lyssa was killed, she was coming to find me because we were aware of each other from the second that Barbatos and Diavolo sent me back. Dragons are connected on a conscious and unconscious level by magical bonds that we form with each other across our lifetimes. We can exchange thoughts, feelings, even borrow magic, or even take on wounds for each other. Currently, my family is dealing with the backlash when it flares up and my dame is working to fix the fractured bonds that ripped when the other Lyssa died, because her bonds and mine were tangled and doubled."

Lucifer's face is oddly pale in the light of his office. "And your pacts?"

"Also tangled, but-with the way I keep them tightly shut-none of your brothers felt the punch of her death. I've already gone to each of them and fixed the rips." His shoulders relaxed fractionally.

"Will you explain what you mean by 'felt the punch of her death?'" he asks, stroking gloved fingers through my hair.

"It's the downside of being so interconnected. We feel when one of us dies, when we're injured, unless the bonds are tightly closed. It's like part of our soul gets ripped out of us while getting punched in the gut. It's..." I search his dark gaze for the right words and settle on "...a breathless moment of agony beyond anything that you've ever felt until you lose someone again." His expression fractured, likely thinking of Lilith.

"And pacts are like bonds," he states.

I lift one shoulder and drop it. "For me, they are, except to sense or exchange thoughts. Solomon doesn't seem to be able to do what I can with my pactmates, even with Asmo."

"That's...good to know." He moves us from the bookshelf to the couch and I let him pull me into his lap with an arm looped around his neck. I nuzzle into him, enjoying his scent. Cinnamon and wood smoke had never been so comforting before I met him.

"Who commands who with bonds?" he asks and I know he's fishing for information but I've already gone this far.

"Neither, unless the words used in forming the bonds are very specific. Right now, the only one who can command anything is my dame and she's the ruler of our species." I mull it over for a second and add, "I suppose our Clan Heads could give commands to their clans as well, but my dame is the head of ours, so it could be different."

"And the magical backlash comes from the severing of ties that still technically exist even though you died." It's a question in the form of a statement and I give him an amused look.

"Our magic wasn't sure what to do with two sets of bonds that were identical. It was building to do... something...when she died and took her bonds with her. Me, being the living person where they should have died, was hurt in the backlash of that magic."

"What about identical twins?"

"We have fraternal and identical twins in our dame's brood, but their bonds are all unique. It is the personality and experiences the people have gone through that make them who they are. It doesn't matter if the DNA is the same, they are two separate people who feel different things. As far as I can tell, that Lyssa and I went through the same life and experiences with you lot."

As far as I understood it, Barbatos had merged the two timelines and the memories of everyone else had also merged. It wasn't something that I was going to dwell on without a reason. This Lucifer was the one I had fallen in love with and that was what mattered.

Lucifer questioned me a little further about specifics, but ultimately we had to let the subject drop. He returned to his paperwork and I selected a book that I would read as he worked. The fireplace crackled merrily in the background until Diavolo burst through the door...

...and out the window I went, with their shouts following me.

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It became our strange kind of normal over the next few weeks. Diavolo would try and corner me places after my classes or would try and summon me. His summons would go unanswered and I made sure to mark all the windows in the school and memorize every exit. Lucifer tried to talk to me a few times about my avoiding Diavolo, but it ended with harsh words and an almost fight each time.

Gifts continued to be sent and returned or burnt. The messengers grew wary of me and started refusing to take the gifts to me until it was just one individual that would literally go out of his way to drop the gifts off in a place where I would find them but he didn't have to interact with me.

Slowly, things returned to normal with the brothers and more and more they would find me in Lucifer's bed or study with him. Sometimes my pactmates would spend an evening with us, but more often they would steal me for their schemes and antics.

Beel and Belphegor kept their distance but even they began to integrate themselves into my life. I couldn't have Beel without Belphegor and I wanted Beel to be a part of my life. Beel and I started with cooking something together while Belphegor hung out in the kitchen.

Then...

Diavolo switched tactics on me.

It was another of my Politics of Heaven and Hell lectures that he took over and asked me to stay behind. Except that Lucifer was stationed in front of the window and had no intention of letting me leave. Diavolo stood by the door as the other students nervously withdrew and left us to our devices.

I stayed rooted at my desk on the opposite side of the room. As the last of the students flitted out, scarlet and golden gazes settled on me. The door shut and locked and I was trapped with them.

"Congratulations," I tell them bitterly and sit back in my chair as Diavolo starts towards me. "You've managed to corner me."

He changes his course when I get up and head for Lucifer. Luci moves subtly to stand in front of the window, but dons a shocked expression when I simply lean into him. He puts a hand in the small of my back and shares a look with Diavolo.

"Lys. Sweetling," Diavolo says, sliding his hands onto my shoulders.

"Don't call me that."

"You haven't officially broken up with me. I'll stop calling you that if you truly wish to break up. Do you?"

It's something that I had considered over the last few weeks, but had ultimately put off in favor of not thinking about him at all.

"I don't know," I mutter. Hope seems to spark in him as he pushes himself into my back. The heat of his body is familiar and has me turning my head to look at him. His expression is bright as I accept his hesitant kiss.

Letting him kiss me, I tune into my pacts and bonds for a moment, just to feel the fractures in their once flawless texture. Frustration wells up inside me and the bonds spark at the negative emotions in me, reaching out with curiosity and concern-from my family-and more concern from Luci's brothers. Its Satan's rage that I touch and awaken my own, calling it to me as a shield and sharpening my temper.

Diavolo seems to notice the shift in my body as I kiss him back, pushing away from Lucifer and turning to face our lover. Because he is still our lover. I can't... won't...lose him over this rage, but he is the one that had made the decision leading to the other Lyssa's murder and my love wasn't free anymore, not to the Devildom's prince.

I step into him until our chests are pressed together and he has to look down at me. His expression is still hopeful and it irritates me all the more. Did he think forcing me to confront him would earn my forgiveness?

"You lied to me," I said gently and softly.

His expression showed just a hint of uncertainty then, like he was trying to wrack his memories of our time together. It was satisfying to watch the hope drain out of his face as he continued to stare at me and know I wasn't softening towards him.

"W-what?" he asked after struggling for a long minute.

"You said you always keep your promise and never lie. You said that at our first meeting and then you forgot what you promised me."

"Lys," Lucifer said, voice low and urgent.

"No, Luci. You don't get to soften this. Or have you forgotten our fights from the last few weeks?" I glanced lazily at Lucifer and the demon flinched. "He's forced this confrontation and I'm not done being livid."

Diavolo's hands clutched my waist then and I turned my eyes back to his sudden desperation. "Lys, sweetling. I'm sorry."

"I am not your sweetling right now, princeling," I drawled at him and he flinched at the name. I hadn't called him that since my first month here. Then, he'd found it cute. Now, it was a reference and reminder of when I hadn't trusted him. "And I do not accept your apology." He flinched again. "Step back when I step forward, princeling." The words were soft again.

I couldn't force him to do anything, but if he wanted to keep me he would do it. And he did. Six steps back from the window, a turn of my hips, and a shove of my hands had him in the professor's chair. I stared down at him, feeling my expression turn to scorn.

"You should have asked Barbaros for information if you were going to force this," I said casually and he paled. "You know, I've never understood how my dame chose me over her Soulmarked mate over me. Not until today." I placed my fingers on his throat and felt gratification at how trusting he was of me and lifted his chin so readily. His pulse throbbed under my palm. "Did you know she hates him and loves him, still? Despite the children he gave her from his affair." His pulse sped up under my palm. "I love you still but I hate what you did to my family. I hate that you lied to me, princeling, and that my dame pays the price every day."

"W-what?" Diavolo asked.

I took my time fitting myself into his lap, brushing and grinding his erection, making sure to drive his eyes up into his sockets. "S-sweetling, please."

"No."

His hands tightened on my waist as he rutted into me. My fingers slide along his chest, rucking his shirt up until I could feel the heat of his skin and quieted the roiling emotions spilling through the bonds and pacts. Quietly, gently, I closed the connections off and let them fade into my blood and bones again, leaving only the rage I held with him. "Are you so desperate, princeling, that your fist wasn't enough this week?" I asked as I slide my fingers over his abs.

"L-Lys," he gasped and I pulled back.

I gave him a minute to collect himself under me and felt Lucifer's hands slide onto my shoulders. A quick glance at him revealed still red eyes and I knew he was gauging the situation.

"Would you like me to tell you how you lied to me?" I asked, leaning into Diavolo again and letting my breath feather across his ear. Gently, I bite the expanse of skin under his ear. His pulse is erratic under my palm as I squeeze his throat a little and he groans.

He's not used to me teasing him and leans forward to press his face into my neck, breathing hard when blunt teeth shift to fangs and my bite becomes hard. "Lys...I wanted to...talk," he says and his voice is strangled.

I hum at him and begin to undo the buttons on his vest and tug the already rucked shirt aside. "So talk, princeling," I say, swiping a thumb across his nipple and enjoying his shiver. "I'm going to keep touching you. I've missed your body." His cock throbs beneath me and I grind down against him. "What is it, princeling?"

"I...I love you, Lys. Can we...start over?" he asks and I sink my teeth into his throat. He moans under the bite and widens his legs to spread mine so he can rut up into me. "We should...s-save this...for the castle, s-sweetling."

A growl vibrates in my throat as I suck a bruise into his skin, or try. Gloved fingers wrap into my hair and tug me into Lucifer's chest. "No marks, my love," Lucifer says softly and then releases me.

Giving Diavolo a considering look, I take in his disheveled appearance and heated, golden gaze. Dropping a swift kiss on his lips, I smile and sweetly ask, "Do you really want to?"

A blush dusts his cheeks as he slowly shakes his head. "I've missed you," he admits. "You've sent back all of the gifts or burned them. I don't want to miss this chance."

He readily submits to the kiss that I give him and let's me tangle our tongues without trying to take control. My hands slide down his chest to his belt and make quick work of it to ease his cock out of his boxers. With quick, practiced movements, I have him moaning freely into my mouth and thrusting into my fist. His moans turn into strangled whimpers when I halt my movements and pinch my fingers around the base of his cock to prevent his orgasm.

I sit back in his lap and lean into Luci's chest. Lucifer's hands drift along my sides, stroking and offering comfort. His erection brushes against my ass but he kept the touch brief, like he didn't want to distract me. Diavolo tries to wrap a hand around mine but pulls away when I don't react to his touch.

"If I asked you to bend over this desk and let Luci fuck you, would you?" I ask and Luci inhales sharply.

Diavolo's darkening gaze flicks to Lucifer and then back to me. "Would you...Can I...keep holding you?" he asks breathlessly.

"What was the promise you made me?" I return.

"That...that we...wouldn't use...or discard you," he groans.

"You, princeling," I remind him, dropping my hands from his body. "You promised me that neither my kith nor blood kin would be hurt for my stay here in hell with you and yours." Understanding and memory flashed in his eyes, finally connecting.

"I...did," he says cautiously. "And...you died." Almost instantly, his erection is flagging.

"And in that dying, you ripped the magic that binds me to my kith and blood kin." The rage flickers in my heart and leaves me feeling tired and on the brink of the tears I have been suppressing. Regret and guilt flicker across his face as he leans forward to cup my cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Lys," he says, thumbs brushing at the tears that finally spill, blurring the world and his form. Lucifer's arms circle my waist and hug me tightly to his chest. "I'm so sorry."

It's so easy to let him wrap me into his embrace, to wrap my arms around his neck and lean into him with the memory of betrayal. Her death, my death, had been horrible but easy. Feeling the shattering of my bonds even when they were left intact had left me in breathless, screaming agony as pain and horror and fear had bled over and washed through my bond mates.

The sobs that wrack my body are painful and deep, reaching into the magic that binds me to my family and awakening that memory. Pain flares through me, a thousand nerves on fire and I can only cling between my lovers and gasp as the world fades.

I'd never been more alone than I had been in that moment.

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#obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #afab reader #diavolo x mc #lucifer x mc #dialuci #diavolo #lucifer x diavolo #lucifer x mc x diavolo

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generalluxun · 9 months

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You say that 'Strong Female Characters' are rarely allowed to struggle. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? How much can a person struggle and still be called a “strong character”? Is the common standard in mainstream fiction different between men and women? Is Felix a strong character? Is Gabriel a strong character? What about Andre Bourgeois? I’ve got a feeling Astruc considers Andre a strong character.

Felix is not a strong character. He is a Wiley powerbroker, but we saw the moment things didn't go his way he folded like a deck of cards in front of Adrien and Kagami in Emotion and had a breakdown.

Andre is a sack of meat and little more.

Gabriel is... strong in a sense? the show is very inconsistent on this front. It has taken time, planning, willpower, and determination to preserve his wife and become hawkmoth in the first place. Facing setback after setback and continuing on, also takes strength. S5 kind of goes all over with him in a messy way though so in the end it's. 🤷‍♀️

Marinette is supposed to be the 'Strong Female Character' in the show. She has all the earmarks of the old stereotype. She is good at all things, she plows through and always ends up winning. Her mistakes are trivialized and her victories amplified. This is a shame because honestly, a Marinette who struggled a little more would be a heck of a lot more compelling(seen in the movie and in lots of fanfiction)

But wait! you say, she struggles a lot! Her struggles are all self-inflicted, and while self inflicted struggles are valid, they can't be the *only* struggles someone faces. No one was ever a serious 'threat' to her love story with Adrien. Kagami was allowed to get in the way for one whole episode (and this after Marinette herself had Luka waiting in the wings) Adienette was just waiting for the train to arrive at the station. On the super side there was some build up of tension early on, but when the main char's power is 'Win the battle with this thing' it's hard to heap too much tension. Not only that S5 very quickly turned losing all the Miraculous into just the status quo of one akuma at a time. *They were fighting Monarch with paintball guns and winning* No stakes.

Before Emotion/Pretension I would have said Kagami qualifies as a strong character. She struggles in love and friendship, but she works and tries to find a path through. Her greatest enemy in love is also one of her first friends. How's that for a challenge? Watching how she interacted with the adrienette dynamic from day 1 up to Protection was great. THEN she got foisted off onto Felix as a prize and sold out Ladybug. Girl deserved better.

There are plenty of strong female characters (which is different than 'Strong female character') in other media though. Adora, Luz, Willow just to name a couple off the top of my head.

The problem with finding them in ML is that the plot tends to jerk them around randomly. Like, I would like to say Ms. Bustier, because she holds to an ideal and does work to keep to it until the end. But she also ignored one of her students doing zero work in her class for multiple years. That's... not good. That is what makes you think the strength might be vapid apathy instead. See how hard this is?

Oh hey! Duh, Alya! Alya is definitely a strong character. I mean, she's the one who gets Marinette on her feet. She threads this path of upholding her morals while tempering them with reality. She doesn't hide behind 'identity rules' to avoid tough decisions. She *trusts* people, though it can be a risk. She helps those around her whenever she can. Yes she's stuck holding the idiot ball for plot purposes now and then, but it's so blatant when it happens I can't count it against her.

#miraculous ladybug #ask #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #felix fathom #kagami tsurugi #andre bourgeois #gabriel agreste #caline bustier

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thedevilofblackbrook · 1 year

Text

{ DEMO TBA }-{ CHARACTERS }-{ MAIN BLOG }-{ PLAYLIST }

the barn leaned over, the vultures dried their wings

the moon climbed up an empty sky

the sun sank down behind the tree on the hill

there's a killer and he's coming through the rye

but maybe he's the father of that lost little girl

it's hard to tell in this light

and i want to know the same thing

everyone wants to know

how's it going to end?

--- TOM WAITS, "HOW'S IT GONNA END?"

after the death of your mysterious and secluded great-aunt, you receive a letter from her lawyer saying that she's left you all her earthly belongings: her house, her money, and her secrets.

in order to claim your inheritance, you travel to blackbrook, a small town in the south, to clean out her old and dilapidated house. the town itself is even stranger than the situation you've found yourself in; your house is far on the edge of town, the townsfolk all but avoid you, and you feel like your being watched at all times.

the shadows around your new home seem darker every day. death now permeates everything around you, and the fate of the town is up to you: save those around you or let them burn?

set in a fictional town somewhere between the late 1890s and early 1900s, the devil of blackbrook is a southern gothic 18+ interactive novel with horror elements.

customize your character's name, gender identity, pronouns, physical appearance, personality, and more.

solve the mystery plauging this town with the help of a strange group of townsfolk and outsiders.

romance any of eight characters, all of which have fixed genders but are available to romance by all mcs.

your actions have consequences: "true evil is, above all things, seductive. [...] like a siren, beckoning you to ruinous shore." -- the creature, penny dreadful; evil is as evil does, your choices may help your foes and alienate you from your friends (or maybe you've decided the roles are reversed? who am i to judge?)

THE DEVIL: ???

the white eyes. the darkness that creeps into town. the shadow around every corner. makes you feel as if air is being sucked out of your lungs. when will it stop? please god let it stop.

THE SHERIFF: abraham beauregard.

he's been doing this for far too many years. duty. authority. he needs to be in power because without it he is nothing. if the town finds that his station is no longer useful, his life will crumble and fall apart. he knows there's evil. but pretending it's explainable is much easier than accepting he can't do anything to stop it.

THE HOLY MAN: pastor moses kelly.

wake up, preach, bless the folks that are scared (even though he knows it won't do anything), barely eat, barely sleep, wake again. the church is old and it's bones are brittle and he thinks he can't stand the image of the crucifixion any longer. when the devil calls, how can he prove the might of god when the sky seems so empty?

THE CAMBION: samson graves.

he never asked to be here, never asked for this body, for this inherent evil carved into his tendons and bones. his mother was good, but she's long gone now, his home a charred grave behind him. violence and death follows him wherever he walks. maybe killing the devil will bring him peace... even if he doesn't know what that feels like.

THE OUTLAW: stranger wyatt.

stranger... strange man... rider upon a pale horse. he claims the outlaw life brought him freedom but... he longs to settle. plant roots and watch a life grow. but his hands have done so much wrong and he thinks that he doesn't deserve anything good. maybe the only thing that could save his cursed soul is sacrifice. will he give until there is nothing left?

THE REVENANT: francis.

they don't know who they are. what they are. they crawled out of the earth coughing up dirt with nothing but a ring and sheer terror. they remember love, happiness, sadness, and warmth but all that's left is fear and cold and anger and a deep sense that something is very, very wrong. the house is familiar, but will it remember them?

THE BRIDE: mrs. ethel de loughrey.

she misses her home. her mother. her baby brother. her father was loud and terrible but she would trade anything to be out of this loveless marriage and quiet (too quiet) house. she resigns herself to baking and sewing but she longs for so much more. her husband isn't mean or rough but he wishes she was someone else and she wishes she was anywhere but here.

THE PROPHETESS: constance abernathy.

she sees too much. knowledge is a terrible thing when cursed with too much of it. everyone she meets she sees how they end: jealous husband, robbed and killed by outlaws, a mistress who wishes to be more. the worst ones are those filled with darkness and terror and eyes. those fucking eyes. she doesn't know what it is but she knows its not of this world. but no one beliefs the woman with the strange visions.

THE ARTIST: rosalyn goodwin.

the people of the town whisper about her behind her back about her "unwomanly" proclivities, but she couldn't care less. she keeps herself busy in front of a canvas and she wouldn't have it any other way. her hands are stained with paint and she fills canvas after canvas with beautiful pieces. this town does not accept women who live outside of their expectations, but perhaps somewhere in the west will provide a more welcoming place for her art.

#the devil of blackbrook #interactive fiction #horror #southern gothic

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supergirlarchives · 2 years

Text

Action Comics #254

Cover Date: July 1959 | Written by Otto Binder | Art by Jim Mooney

Read in Supergirl - the Silver Age vol. 1 | NOTE: These commentaries are going to be very spoiler heavy.

When last we saw Linda she had just helped her friend Timmy get adopted and comment a few times in the issue that she’s not ready to be adopted because her cousin, Superman, told her that she needed to wait until she mastered her powers. I wonder what adventure awaits her this issue!

...Oh.

“Supergirl’s Foster Parents!” is our story this time, and as our splash panel informs us that she’s been adopted by Mom and Dad Dale.

Hmm. Dale. that certainly isn’t “Danvers”. Even if I didn’t already know that Linda eventually gets adopted by the Danvers family, and that she is definitely still an orphan a few issues later, both the intro blurb and Supergirl’s thought bubble already make this set-up sound sketchy as hell!

We start our story with some random child at the orphanage approaching Linda to tell her that she’s got a faraway look in her eyes, somethings that I think the fellow children of Midvale Orphanage would quickly get used to seeing. Linda tries to play it off like she was daydreaming, but the truth is that she was using her telescopic vision to view an army rocket that’s falling from the sky after a botched launch.

So Linda finds a secluded place and changes into her Supergirl outfit and flies to stop the rocket from falling. She grabs it and swings the rocket upward so that it can finish its mission of establishing a satellite in orbit.

It’s kind of odd that the rocket would be able to carry on and do its job after nearly falling out of the sky. But somehow it seems to work out.

Once back at the orphanage, the kids are listening to a newscast about the rocket. The news anchor calls the event a miracle, while Linda thinks to herself about how the scientists will never know how it happens and winks at the reader.

I’m not kidding.

The very next panel transitions to later in the day where Linda and some of the other girls are helping in the kitchen when the Dales arrive at the orphanage.

Side note before we get into this main story. The boat that Supergirl is towing in the splash panel and the rocket that she just saved never come up again. They were completely throwaway events in the issue presumably to just show off Kara’s strength and pad out the page count.

I’ve started to notice this about the stories from this time period, they often have just random events occur that have nothing to do with the main story and doesn’t really give us much insight (like this time, we already know Supergirl is strong).

Just a random thought I’ve had while reading. It’s funny that back then they needed to add in random, non-sequitur events to pad out books that were already two to three stories long, and now lots of time we can’t complete one story in just one issue.

Changing times, indeed. Anyway, back to the Dales!

The couple immediately take a keen interest in Linda, so to combat that she uses her x-ray vision to burn the roast that she was baking, hoping that “they won’t want a careless girl who spoils food!”, according to Linda.

Which, deciding you wouldn’t want a kid just because she can’t cook is awful. But, DIFFERENT ERAS. Just like I talked about last time, our expectations as a society have shifted greatly over the years.

Plus, Linda’s plan doesn’t even work because apparently Mr. Dale likes a roast charred. You do you, buddy.

The Dales absolutely love Linda and decide to adopt her. Linda feels she has to accept as turning the opportunity down would raise suspicions. According to Miss Hart, the orphanage’s headmistress, there’s a thirty day trial period which honestly, just by her bringing it up tells you how things are going to go.

Even while they’re still in the car, they begin lavishing Linda with presents, which makes Linda hopeful that they’ll be nice parents.

They finally get home to the Dales’ residence: a traveling circus.

It seems that the Dales run the sideshow for a traveling circus and they want Linda to be their new Strong Girl act, using rigged props to make people think that Linda’s actually very strong (yes Linda notes the irony in this).

Father Dale shows off his “Colonel Dale” outfit for the sideshow, which is just a hat and a handlebar mustache that makes him look sinister as hell.

Linda is impressed by the clever props and thinks it’s going to be fun for her. She also makes it a point to state that running a sideshow isn’t a dishonest way to make a living, despite no one questioning it up until that point, which (a) sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than anyone, and (b) is obvious foreshadowing.

And the very next panel after this one shows Mom Dale putting up a sign for “POWER TONIC! SECRET FORMULA OF MEDICINE MEN! ONLY $10 A BOTTLE!”

Quick side note: $10 by 1959 standards is $101.78 BY 2022 STANDARDS!

This is an obvious scam, even if Mom Dale didn’t actively admit in the panel that it was by thinking to herself “The yokels will be fooled by her fake ‘strong girl’ act and the fake tonic we’re selling!”. But she did think that to the audience, and any pretenses that we were supposed to like these people are officially out the window.

They set the sign up in a place that Linda won’t see it, and she seems to have a pretty fun day doing these fake feats of strength, some of which are pretty elaborate.

Another side note: yeah the whole “tug of war” she has with the elephant feels pretty cruel by today’s standards. Yes, I know elephants actually like to play, but I doubt they’re a fan of being in captivity and I really doubt that they’re being treated well by this sideshow run by con artists. But if we’ve established that we didn’t value kids back in 1959 as much as we do now, we sure as hell didn’t value animals as much as we do now.

But once again, the only thing we can really do sixty-three years after the fact is acknowledge that unpleasantness and continue on.

After Linda’s finished her show, Mom Dale tries to quickly usher her away from the sideshow under the guise of showing her the rest of the circus.

Linda finds Mom’s behavior suspicious and uses her telescopic vision to see what’s happening at the sideshow tent, and sure enough, she sees Dad Dale hawking the Power Tonic.

Realizing that her foster parents are con people and that they only adopted her to help swindle customers breaks Linda’s little heart.

Look at that sad face. :(

Linda decides that it’s her job to put a stop to this, she just has to figure out how. Which involves her basically spying on her parents all evening. Later that night while she’s in bed she sees her father getting a shipment of the latest “Power Tonic” form a chemist that they apparently deal with. I wonder what the chemist’s cut is?

It’s also stated that Power Tonic is just sugar and ginger flavored water, which makes me wonder why they needed a chemist to come up with this. Kind of just feels like they’re paying an extra person they don’t have to. But that’s just me, I am no master con person.

Linda vows to put a stop to them, but first! Another non-sequitur action scene!

Apparently the landing lights at a nearby airport went out, leaving a plane to make its landing in the dark.

Supergirl rushes into action, grabbing a pole from a local junkyard and scrapping it across the ground of the runway fast enough to create enough sparks to light up the runways, allowing the plane to land safely, with the pilot assuming that they simply got the lights back up and running in time.

No, of course this doesn’t have any bearing on the main plot, and it never gets mentioned again. Neat little act of heroism though. Can you imagine how fast she must be traveling in order to make sparks kicked up from a pipe along concrete actually look like a fully lit up runway?

The following day the Dales (Linda included) are walking the elephant to the sideshow for Linda’s Strong Girl act, and the poor elephant stumbles after tripping in a ditch. The elephant’s about to tumble into the Dales, but Linda saves them, grabbing the elephant and lifting it high over her head. She had a thought bubble about how she didn’t have enough time to save them discreetly, and as she’s holding this elephant over her head she’s terrified that she’s going to have to confess that she’s Supergirl.

But, Linda has an idea on the fly and proclaims that she’s just as shocked by this turn of events as they are, and adds in that she drank a gingery drink earlier.

This causes Dad Dale to jump to the conclusion that somehow this new batch of Power Tonic actually works as advertised. He runs and guzzles a bottle down himself.

Linda didn’t plan for that but thankfully all Dad did in an attempt to test his power is to pry some bars apart, which Linda aids by using her x-ray vision to soften the metal... I’m not sure that’s how that works, but I’m no expert.

We jump to the Dales driving, father proclaiming that the Power Tonic wore off quickly, but he’s convinced that it works and is on his way to buy the formula from the chemist.

At the same time, Supergirl is racing above to reach the chemist first.

In the next panel we see Mom and Dad Dale buying the tonic formula from the chemist, who seems pretty chill with selling it.

And in the very next panel, we see the Dales leaving and also that the chemist is actually a puppet being controlled by Supergirl through a skylight in the roof. According to her thought bubble she was able to put this puppet together before the Dales got there. And she lured the real chemist away with a fake phone call. And she was able to convince the Dales with her super-ventriloquism, which is something I didn’t realize Supergirl could do.

But none of that accounts for how Supergirl got the mouth to move. IF she did. I assume she did because otherwise the Dales just didn’t notice that the person they were talking to didn’t have a moving mouth despite talking!

AND ANOTHER THING, HOW DID THEY NOT SEE THE WIRES? LIKE, THEY STOOD IN FRONT OF THIS PUPPET BEING HELD UP BY STRING AND SOMEHOW DIDN’T NOTICE???

This whole bit is so random and makes no sense!

Anyway.

Supergirl also tells us that the Dales used all the money that they had made from selling the fake Power Tonic to buy the recipe. A little later she uses her telescopic vision to check in on the Dales and father Dale is distraught because this new Power Tonic isn’t working, and he realizes that he can’t tell the cops that the chemist cheated him because the chemist could always just out the Dales as frauds themselves.

That evening Supergirl flies around returning all the stolen money to its rightful owners. How did she know who to give it to you ask? Why, with her super-memory. With it she was able to memorize the face of every person that bought the fake stuff. She uses her super-breath to blow the money in through the window, letting the person think that somehow money just randomly floated into their house.

Linda then reports back to the orphanage and tells them that the Dales no longer have the funds to support her. Upon hearing this Miss Hart tears up their adoption papers on the spot, which I just find amusing.

Linda then thinks about how she’s an orphan again, and hopes that she’ll find an honest family someday, then sighs.

Poor Kara, alone again at the orphanage. I know this is going to be her status quo for a while, but it’s still sad.

As you can see, the previous five paragraphs of description happened over the course of four panels. Which is crazy pacing. Considering how much time they devoted to action scenes that had absolutely nothing to do with the plot, I can’t help but wonder if maybe they should have taken some of those scenes out to at least give the climax of the story a few more panels. But, pacing and flow in silver-age comics were all over the place.

Besides wanting to read Supergirl comics specifically, going back and reading old silver-age comics is so much fun. They were so different from the current ones. The pacing, how panels were laid out, how the action in those panels flowed. It’s so much fun learning about the history of the comic medium.

And it’s so much fun learning more and more about my favorite Kryptonian!

#supergirl #1950s supergirl #kara zor el #kara zor-el #linda lee #linda lee danvers #silver age comics #silver age supergirl #silver age dc #dc comics #dc #earth one kara zor-el #earth one supergirl #action comics #action comics 254

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kravchikfreak · 2 years

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🦚 - Are there any queer books/shows/etc. that you would suggest? 🏳️‍🌈 - Do you enjoy the colors of your preferred flag? Do you incorporate it into your outfits, decor, etc.? 🏳️‍⚧️ - What Flag do you think has the best color scheme? Sorry if it’s too much

nah there isn't such a thing as too much when it comes to asks. i love them! thank you!

🦚 - Are there any queer books/shows/etc. that you would suggest?

man or man you discoverd a black hole. i just cannot, when i do recommendations, stop at one, two or three max shows i absolutely want people to watch. so prepare yourselves for a long list

ah, was i supposed to specify what "queer show" means? i'm not sure i know exactly, so i'll just list titles that i like with open queer characters

i'll do the ones, that has canonical bisexuals (cause i feel like we could use some bi visibility)

1. stumptown. it's a show about the true bi-saster, dex parios. did i mention she also has ptsd? did i mention whe also has autistic brother? didi mention she's played by cobie smulders? and she's also badass! i have a crush on her. show's funny and other characters aee great as well. be aware tho, the show was canceled after the first season. sadge

2. everything sucks! the show was also canceled. sadge. and also it's about a lesbian. but there's a bi character in it, and the story is great, also atmosphere is so nice, and overall anly positive feelings

3. atypical. it's okay, i guess. i fucking hate it tho. i shipped these two bi girls so hard tho. i fucjing hate how the show handled it all tho. can anyone ask me why i hate cazzie so much? i'll gladly answer! untill then, the show is nice, humor is excellent, and the main char is autistic as well, and there are TWO bi character, how cool is that? i hate it tho. so fucking much (and i haven't seen the 4th season, btw. i should)

4. harley quinn. ???? if you okay with violence, it's a great show!

5.the bisexual. i guess i wouldn't fully recomend it, i feel like it's not everyones cup of tea, but i just think more people should know it existed. it's about a bi woman who her whole life pretended to be a lesbian and now trying to reunderstand herself

6. the owl house. almost forgot about the owl house. did you know luz is bi? i cannot wait for the show to admit it (writing fanfiction about herself and fictional men doesn't count, lesbian amity did it as well)

7. dead to me. i wouldvery much recommend it to everyone! tho there isn't that much queerness, buti promise you, it's all worthit!

8. arcane. i don't care, vi is bi, and so is cait. i don't care.

i guess that's it. the list isn't as long as i would want it to be((((((( there are so little good things with canon bi's as you see...

as for the books, i've stopped reading them before i stopped being homopgobe so i don't have any recomendation on this regard

anyway, the peice of media that made me stop being homophobe - the game life is strange. the main char is also bi how cool is that!

🏳️‍🌈 - Do you enjoy the colors of your preferred flag? Do you incorporate it into your outfits, decor, etc.?

at first i didn't really care for the colors of bi flag, but when time went past it grew on me, and i genuinely think it's the best flag ever. i don't it anywhere really, partly cuse i'm closed irl, partly cause i don't really like the ideaofusing flags' color schemes in anything otger than flags or tge images of flags, and partly cause i'm bad at colors, like my favourite color is violet and i have approximately 0 (zero) pieces of clothing in violet, so...

🏳️‍⚧️ - What Flag do you think has the best color scheme?

yeah, bi flag, for sure for sure

and again, thanks for the asks!

#this is the tag for asks

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

this deleted itself but the req was for an ill reader who likes to try and carry on even if they feeling shit and tom noticing I think?!?

Summary: you take start to feel a bit shit at toms family barbecue and get caught out and taken care of

///////////

It should've be lovely, an evening in the rare but much appreciated British summer sun in Dom and Nikki’s garden. Everyone was there; all the Holland boys; both sets of Tom’s grandparents; Haz and his long time girlfriend Lucie. It was a reunion of sorts, although no one had been away working, you’d somehow all timed your individual holidays simultaneously. You and Tom to Australia; Sam and Harry to south-east Asia; Paddy, Dom and Nikki to Sweden. Having all returned in the space of a week, everyone was catching up, involving great British barbecues (which are always a little disappointing) and a fair amount of booze.

You were sat on the garden furniture with Tessa (Tom’s grandma), Nikki and Lucie. Very much a ‘girl power’ meeting if ever there was - which in a family full of boys was often needed just to keep the peace. Everything about the evening was lovely… except perhaps your body. God knows why, because you rarely got ill - having not had a day off work in two years. As much as you’d been trying to push away the slow creeping feeling for a couple of hours - it was now getting impossible to ignore. The slightly unsettled feeling in your stomach had you fidgeting in the wooden chair constantly, trying to ease it by shifting positions... to no avail.

“Y/n… Y/n?” Looking up to see three pairs of beady eyes trained on you, you faked a smile, looking over to Nikki who had been calling your name. “Tess was asking how long the flight back was?” “Oh sorry, was miles away!” You tried to cover, shifting once again, this time pressing a hand to your lower abdomen in the hope that’d distract you as you turned slightly to make eye contact with Tessa. “And I think 11 hours ish.” The girls all pulled a grimacing face in sympathy, to which you chuckled at. “No no honestly cos Tom spoiled me completely so we were in the fancy seats, I honestly was spark out of it the whole time!”

It was enough of a response for the girls to all nod, carrying on the conversation as you, now not the main focus, rubbed your pulsing temple with your other hand - in the hope to relieve some of the building pressure. Clearly, though, you weren’t a subtle as you thought - since Lucie got your attention by bumping your shoulder and leaning in closely. “Come to the loo with me?” It sounded like a question, though it very much wasn’t - the stern look in her eye enough to scare you into agreeing. With a word to Nikki and Tess, you both stood up and made your way to the inside, not stopping until you were locked into the thankfully spacious downstairs loo - the brunette eyeing you intently. “You look like shit.” “Thanks Luc, that’s exactly what I needed to hear right now.” You sighed, sitting on top of the closed lidded loo heavily. “What’s up?” Her tone was harsh and to the point, but secretly there was a look of worry in her eyes. She was one of your best mates but sometimes could also scare you shitless. “I think I’m just tired, it’s my stomach and my head, I’ll be fine.”

Lucie didn't really seem to believe you, but respected your stubbornness and after providing you with two paracetamol capsules from her bag, she let you off - both going back into the garden, where, by now Sam was plating up the slightly charred burgers.

Naturally, you’d sat next to Tom, who had pulled your chairs right next to each other - so that his leg was pressed up against yours, his arm pulled around your shoulder. That was just Tom, away from the prying eyes of the public and media, he really was an affectionate person. He just liked to feel you there. God knows how long you all sat in those same positions, but it was long enough for the sun to set. In fact, you most definitely weren’t the person to ask, because at some point, unbeknownst to you, you’d zoned out. Nobody had noticed, under the cover of the low sunset light, until Tom felt your head briefly fall against his shoulder before it shot up once again - your eyes blinking heavily.

He frowned at the sight, seeing you huddle your arms across your body, which was bizarre due to the unbelievable hot weather in London. Yes, it might have shifted into nighttime, but it was still at least 24 degrees. So as his Dad had the entire table captivated recounting some long and complex tale of his touring days, Tom took the opportunity to squeeze your shoulder - grabbing your attention.

“You alright love?” In response you just hummed, eyes shifting up to him after a little delay - similar to how your reflexes became stunted with alcohol, though Tom suddenly realised you’d barely had more than half the glass of beer he’d poured you when you’d both arrived. “ I’said are you okay?” “Yeh… yeh I’m fine.” You forced a small tight lipped smile, whilst Tom took his arm that was round his shoulder to rest on the crown of your head before slowly stroking down your hair. “Sure? You seem a little out of it?” He pushed, still in a whisper so as not to draw attention to the two of you. “Maybe just tired.” Flat out lying, you shifted back into the backrest of the chair a little more making his hand accidentally land on your forehead rather than your hairline. He didn't move it though, instead sitting and swivelling in his chair, pressing the other side of his hand to the skin as well. “You’re burning up Y/n/n” he spoke a little louder - eyes full of concern as he looked you up and down. “No I’m a bit cold if anythin-“

That was when Nikki, from across the other side of the table got involved. She’d obviously been silently observing the two of you, now feeling the need to send you both home. “Oh, we forgot dessert! Tom, Y/n would you mind helping me bring it out?” Thank god for Nikki, for finding a cover story and stopping everyone's eyes on you. Because for someone dating, three years deep, an A-lister - you hated any sort of attention, even from those closest to you. Especially sympathy, you had absolutely no time at all for that.

Leading you into the kitchen with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, Tom waited till the door was shut before turning to you.- claiming you were boiling and looked not so great. “I’m just a bit cold if I can borrow one of sam’s jumpers then-“ “Love, please go home.” Nikki interrupted as she wormed past Tom to put her own hand on your forehead too. “You’ve got the chills and you’ve not been normal all day. Am I right or am I right?” She was the worst to argue against. That was completely due to the fact she was always right. With a defeated nod from you, she clicked her tongue, pushing you to sit down on one of the barstools. “Tom go get a jumper from Sam’s room and order a taxi, I would drive but we’ve all been drinking.” “I can just go back by myself T, you don’t get to see your grandparents a lot and -“ “I love you but please please shut up.” Having rounded the back of your chair he pressed his lips to your temples as confirmation before scurrying off to the back of the house.

“You know he doesn’t mind at all? My son never was at my beckon call like he is with you.” There was a little smile teasing the corner of her lips as Nikki placed a glass of water in front of you, as though instructing you to take small sips. “I just feel bad, he’s always telling me how he regrets not spending more time with all of you and… well I’ve had him to myself for the fortnight in South Africa.” “Your just as much a part of the family as me or his grandparents are okay? Now when you get home..”

Nikki switched the tone to then list off all manners of ways that you needed to look after yourself once back, which she then repeated as soon as Tom returned with a black hoodie that you gratefully pulled over your head.

//////////////

By the time you got home, you were feeling so incredibly shit you weren’t even considering keeping up your brave face. Tom had wordlessly led you up the path to your shared home, unlocking the door and telling you to go straight to bed.

Perhaps he was so concerned because in the whole three years together he’d never ever seen you ill. Yes, the odd headache or whatever, as well as the occasional morning after the night before when you’d opted for a ‘tactical chunder’ to try and protect your modesty. But other than that, you were always the one being sympathetic to him. When he was tired, both emotionally and mentally from work; when he hurt his knee and was on forced bed rest for a couple of days ( which turns out to be the hardest time for you too, dealing with the whiny and fidgety boy man).

He came up a couple of minutes later, by which point you’d already pulled joggers on and wrapped yourself as tightly in the duvet as physically possible. If felt so bloody cold your teeth were actually chattering as you curled up into the smallest ball possible. In his hands was a small tray, carrying a steaming mug; a collection of all the different pill packets you kept in the medicine cabinet (as Tom himself had no idea which one was right so decided to use them all); a hot water bottle and what looked like a damp towel, all scrunched up.

No matter how shitty you felt you had a smile at how sweet and doting Tom was being... and as much as you hated the sympathy - if it was always given by a ripped and beautiful brunette with the sharpest jawline you’d ever seen… well just maybe you could get used to it. After snatching the hotwater bottle up immediately, then letting Tom fuss over you in every which way he wanted you gave in, losing the ability to entertain his puppy energy.

“Can we just go to sleep please?” You whined, which Tom nodded to - quickly getting changed and ready before joining you in bed.

As soon as he felt the way the bed was practically vibrating with the chills you were suffering from, he pulled you up into his chest. Now you had both your own personal heater and a hot water bottle to try and warm you up. “You wake me up if you need anything kay?”

Pressing a kiss into the crown of your head, which was nestled between his shoulder and neck. “Promise me ‘kay?” Him needing the reinforcement caused you to arch back up, looking deep into his brown eyes with the warm glow of his bedside table lamp. “You’re too good to me Tommy.” He tutted at that, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

“Oh no” He whispered exclaimed, making you immediately ask him what in response. “I think this fever is making you go all delusional love.” You quirked your head, causing him to continue with a cheeky grin. “Well for one, nothing would be too good for you darling and two…. When the hell have you ever called me ‘Tommy’” With him chuckling at his own joke, you rolled your eyes at his cheekiness, firmly planting your head back on his shoulder as if to shut him up. “Alright, I’ll let you off just this once cos your all feverish… get some sleep love.” “Thankyou Tommy.” “Shh love.”

And that’s how you fell asleep, finally finding a bit of warmth in Tom’s arms.

Safe to say he very much didn’t sleep so well. Yes, you felt cold - but Tom was bloody boiling. Still he didn't move because if you were comfortable, his discomfort didn’t matter. It was also a physical impossibility for him to relax until he felt (yes, technically not the most scientific way) your fever coming down. Every five minutes or so he’d gently press the back of his hand to your forehead. This boy was so whipped for you... but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~feedback is really really appreciated~~~~

taglist for tom: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @Elishi03 @arctic-monkcys @Ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8

#tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagines #tomholland #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland angst

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asterekmess · 3 years

Note

Been seeing you getting hate mail and while I absolutely can't understand why anyone would go to all the trouble to make some one else feel bad... I also kinda really love the discourse on Scott? Like YOUR RANTS oh man. On point. Always. Tbh I tried giving Scott a chance... He is the main char after all... But I was like??? Wtf? That dude does nothing but refute others and does whatever he wants. And this was when I didn't particularly like Stiles either (first time watching Teen Wolf). But then I got to know more of him and like Tony he went asshole to lovable asshole—seriously, Stiles might not be the ‘nicest’ but he tries and his heart is in good place—while Scott is just... self-righteous. Someone pointed out that he sees people as possessions and that irks me too that I can actually see it being true. The dude has literally nothing going on except for being the one that gets bitten. And the Romeo-and-Juliet-esque romance he has.

Okay, okay, where was I going with this?? Right. LOVE YOUR RANTS. People need to understand that Scott not being liked isn't because of his race or anything trivial like it—he just happens to be—but because of his actions. Or inactions, as it were. *remembers the pool scene and Scott saying he's busy and resists the urge to chuck a shoe at him*

Basically, love you, love your work, and love your words! ❤️

I've talked with some friends about it, and our number one issue sort of...boiled down to the hypocrisy of the show? I....sort of rant a lot here, and I would add a Read More, but I can't find the option anymore?? I fucking hate Tumblr. EDIT: I found a post that told me how to do it!

So, since he's the character I focus on the most, let's talk about Stiles' morality. Because, you're right. Stiles is an asshole. He does some fucking awful shit in the first season, and even if he had a Reason to do it, it was still bad. And I still don't like it. But I understand it.

Stiles' lack of shits about what is 'lawful' is literally established in the first ten seconds of the show. He's a sheriff's son who sneaks onto people's roofs in the middle of the night bc they aren't answering his calls, who listens in on his dad's work conversations and is willing to fuck up a crime scene because he's so excited about getting to see a dead body. He doesn't care about laws. He doesn't even care about most basic manners (invasion of privacy much, with having Scott sniff Lydia to see if she liked him?). He's a dickhead, even to the people he cares about sometimes. But personality and morality aren't the same. Stiles' entire actual morality system is based around whatever he needs to do to keep the people he loves safe and happy. Lying to his dad so he doesn't get murdered by hunters? Totally fine. Telling Scott that it was "Jackson's own fault" that Scott attacked him with superstrength and dislocated his shoulder, so Scott doesn't feel like an asshole? That's just best friend duties! He will lie, steal, cheat, and he will kill to keep his loved ones safe (let's not forget this boy threw molotovs at Peter, knowing damn well what they would do to him). We can headcanon all we want about all the different people who are in this group of loved ones, but the list is canonically very short: Scott, his dad, and Lydia. Later on, like, past s3B? It includes Derek. Canonically. Stiles puts his life and the lives of others he cares about on the line while he lies to the matriarch of the Calavera hunter clan, to save Derek Hale. Derek is just canonically a part of that group now, and he fucking knows it bc Stiles is his anchor (that's canon too bb). End of Story, Sterek or no Sterek. It's why we get that insane number of lookbacks when Derek is dying before his evolution. Because Stiles is being forced to choose between two people who are BOTH in his ride-or-die group. He Cannot Pick between Scott and Derek, until Derek begs him to leave.

SO, yes, Stiles does fuckface things, and I don't always agree with what he does, but it is ACCURATE TO HIS CHARACTER. He is morally grey. He NEVER CLAIMS to be pure or good or just or righteous. Stiles knows who he is, and he stays true to himself. And I love him for that.

The same goes for a bunch of other characters! For Peter, who is strikingly similar to Stiles, in that family goes above literally everything. Screw the idea that he was following Derek around waiting for the chance to steal back the Alpha spark. That man put his life on the line (his second life, no less) to get the shit beaten out of him until Derek let him help save Derek's life Again and Again. Family Comes First.

Scott's morality is...confusing as fuck. I thought at first he was similar to Stiles, in that family came first, but...while he's protective of his mother, he also does a lot of stuff that puts her at risk without seeming to care/worry (like leaving Peter alone with her once Stiles hits their car, so he can chase Jackson) (or asking her to come to the high school when he's convinced there's a bomber in it)? Seriously, he's more protective over Allison, than his mother. It's very black and white the rest of the time. Very "this bad" "this good." And if you do "bad" then you are bad forever, while if you do "good" you are only good until you do "bad." The Betas were "good" until they asked for the bite, and then they were "Bad." Derek was "bad" when Scott met him and scared him, so after that, no matter how much "good" he did, he remained "bad." But only when it suits him. Allison is good even when she does bad, because he wants her to be good. Chris is good even though he's done mountains of bad, because of the minuscule amount of good that Scott has seen him do, because Scott wants him to be good. Even DEUCALION is good, despite the crazy CRAZY amount of bad he's done and despite having seen him do NO GOOD, just because Scott wants him to be good. Lying to those closest to you is bad, unless Scott is doing it, and then it's good, because he knows HE is good. Killing people is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Letting villains go is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Biting people is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Protecting family is good even if it requires killing or lying, unless it's not Scott doing it. Revenge for past slights is good, unless it's not SCOTT doing it. And you try to understand it! You try to say, okay, then he's morally grey, got it. He plays with the rules to suit his own morality, whatever. Except that Scott, the other characters, and THE SHOW ITSELF, are all telling you otherwise! They all say that Scott is morally pure. That he is good and righteous and lawful. That he always does the "right" thing, and that when he does "bad" things, it's justified and he had to. THE HEAVENS THEMSELVES say Scott is somehow better or more righteous than the other characters by MAKING HIM AN ALPHA OUT OF NOWHERE. (I'm talking abt canon here, not going into deaton conspiracy theories) It's like....Like in the hate mail response I did, where I pointed out that Every Single Thing people get angry at Derek for doing, Scott did too. Lying, killing (or at least attempting it), attacking innocents, losing his temper, keeping secrets, refusing to work with someone who could help, etc etc etc. Everything Derek has done that is morally "wrong," Scott has also done. And that's okay! Doing a bad thing doesn't make you a bad person, and even if it did, Scott is ALLOWED to be bad! GO FOR IT.

Except that he is sinless. It isn't that he learns from the bad things he does, it's that they aren't treated like bad things in the first place. Because Scott did it, and Scott always does the right thing.

Derek's behavior is reprehensible at times, but the show ADMITS that and frames it as bad. Frames it as him doing a bad thing when he scares Isaac or throws Peter or tells Erica who to date. And that's fine, because Derek is established as not being morally pure.

But SCOTT IS. And because they were so desperate to make him continue being "Pure" they didn't frame the things he did as wrong, or if they did, they absolved him of it immediately, using the exact same reasoning that works for Derek's situations, but this time Actually Accepting it.

He scares Stiles, well it's because he's scared. He throws Isaac, it's because he's upset. He attacks Jackson well it's because Jackson was being a dick. He orders Allison to date Matt, well he had a goal to accomplish. Every reason is treated like a fucking doctor's note that erases the bad things he does.

Being scared, or angry, or retaliating to someone being an asshole, or trying to protect himself, was NEVER a good enough reason for Derek to do ANYTHING "Bad." It was never an acceptable excuse.

IF IT WERE: If the show were making a statement about how fallable people are, how they do bad things, but they do them for a REASON. How people will do wild and terrible things out of fear, and how that doesn't make it less bad, but it makes it understandable, so don't demonize them out of nowhere. If that were the case, I would HAVE BEEN FINE WITH IT.

Scott is held to COMPLETELY different standards than everyone else in the show! And I DON'T mean that people held him to higher ones. They dropped that bar so fucking low. Anything was allowed, and any excuse was good enough.

He made out with a girl who was dating someone else, who his best friend was in love with? It's just the full moon, he's angsty about losing Allison. He ducttapes Liam to a bathtub and starts throwing random phrases at him that he hated Derek for saying to him? He's freaked out! He doesn't know what to do with a bitten wolf! It was an accident! He works with a mass murderer behind people's backs without telling them the whole story? Am I talking about Gerard or Deucalion? Who fucking knows. Either way, it's okay, because he was protecting his family. He plots to murder a cancer patient slowly and painfully by replacing meds that likely included painkillers with mountain ash, and the uses someone else's body to deliver the killing blow, and it's okay because he was just being smart! He was just working ten steps ahead! He was saving his mom and the whole town! Who cares if it DIDN"T WORK?

He walks into his ex-girlfriend's hotel room and scares the SHIT out of her while she's naked and alone in the shower? It was the wolfsbane. It doesn't matter that no one else's impulses included HARASSING someone. He lies to his girlfriend's face about her own life because he doesn't think it's important enough for her to know (who am I talking about, come on, take a guess, which one is it? Allison or Kira? Trick question: it's both). He was just being kind! He didn't want to worry her! He didn't want to make her feel bad! She didn't need to know!

I'm so far off track it's not even funny. My point was that Everything the other characters in the show are demonized for or framed as evil or bad or wrong for doing, Scott is shown to do and it's treated like at minimum a comedy, if not a Perfect Brilliant Strategic Move.

God, fucking hell. I mean, the PARALLELS you see in this show, between Scott and others. The scene of Alexander Argent going to the hotel after being bit? That bit where he pulls his shirt up in the mirror? It's a near PERFECT replica of Scott looking at his bite at Deaton's. They paralleled SCOTT MCCALL with AN ARGENT. Deaton has this whole line in S2 where he's bitching at Derek about "the person you should trust the most doesn't trust you at all" And then seasons later, we have Scott look his best friend in the eye and refuse to trust him, only to get upset later because Stiles doesn't want to work with him anymore and he "lost them." Scott goes running into Derek's house in S1 to accuse him of killing the bus driver, and when he can't get a real response, he EGGS HIM ON by accusing him of Murdering his SISTER, just to get Derek to react. Which is the EXACT same thing Kate did when she showed up and wanted Derek to lose his temper. Scott is CONSTANTLY paralleled with villains and assholes, and constantly does the things that others are persecuted for. But instead of feeling regret or learning something from it, instead of growing AT ALL. Those actions are treated as good. We are told they are righteous. And clever. That they are what heroes do. AND YES: There are parallels between Derek and Stiles' behaviors and villains/morally grey characters! Of course there are!

BUT THEY AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THE TRUE ALPHA MAIN CHARACTER. SCOTT IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE GOOD GUY. HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO MIMIC/EMULATE THE VILLAINS, AND HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE REWARDED WHEN HE DOES IT ANYWAY.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again; I understand the urge to think that the Teen Wolf writers did all of this on purpose. That they built Scott up as an unreliable narrator, so that we're forced to come to terms with a protagonist who isn't good, and we watch them fall into a villainous role while thinking all the while they are a hero. That all these parallels are intentional and the writers just couldn't Tell us what was going on bc they didn't have enough power.

And sometimes I play into it. I will lie to myself about Scott being the 'narrator' of the entire show, and that we're seeing it all through his eyes so of course things are biased and conflicting, just so I can actually Enjoy watching it.

But I think it's absolute bullshit that this was done on purpose. It wasn't. The parallels appeared because they Wanted Scott to do the badass things that they had all the villains doing, throwing people and being sneaky and clever, and stopping the bad guy, and they didn't want to deal with the fact that they were having him do bad things. So they just pretended he wasn't and refused to acknowledge that they'd already punished other people for doing the same exact shit, but somehow Scott was getting rewarded. They wanted Scott to be the hero, so they made him the hero, and screw everybody else.

#personal #anti-Scott McCall #go for it #love mail #meta ramblings #rant #long post #WHERE IS THE READ MORE BUTTON HALP

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cinnamonrusts · 3 years

Text

i’ll see you in the village -- 2

parts: 1

This village is nothing that you thought it was going to be. You interact with some locals and Chris does some homework to find where you are when he cannot contact you. (chris redfield x f!reader) (a/n: it’s a long one, bois. thank you for all the love)

✧.* ✧.*

As the terrifying sounds echoed through the dilapidated village grew closer to where you stood, your blood ran cold and you reached for your gun but stopped; because, you knew that if you opened fire you might blow your cover. However, whatever created these noises did not sound like a friendly neighborhood pet. Person? Dog? Creature? Whatever it was, it sounded dangerous.

“Come out!” you yell as your head whipped side to side, desperate to get a glance at what it was that was playing this game with you. “Come out!” you scream again, but are only answered with a sharp arrow which hurdled through the air and embedded itself in the wooden fence beside your head. You curse loudly, your life almost ended, and you probably wouldn’t have realized it if it did.

Before you popped off any rounds in retaliation, a strong arm pulled you back from behind. Their rough, dirty palm was pressed firmly against your mouth and they shushed you quietly. The person pulled you into a darkened home and quickly closed the front door that was opened just enough for the two of you to slink through. Your mouth opened to speak once you felt relatively safe from whatever horror lurked in the shadows of the night. “Quiet, girl,” your savior spoke. With the faint moonlight that shined through the boarded up window, you could make out the face of an elderly man and to his right was presumably his wife - who was armed with a double-barreled shotgun and the nose of it pointed at a small hole in the door.

They didn’t explain anything besides telling you that being quiet is the correct thing to do. The same blood-curdling screeches grew closer and thuds on the roof caused you to jump. “Do you have a gun?” he asks and you nod as you place your hand on your hip where it was concealed under your clothing. Sounds of snapping wood from above draw the attention of the wife and she proceeded to pump shells in the general direction of the intruders. One of her shots hit whatever it was and it scurried away. Screams of pain were the last of its noise before the thuds stopped and sounds of it tearing through the front yard verified it was gone.

✧.*

A brief amount of time passed before the two locals spoke. “You’re an outsider,” the woman said as she leaned her firearm on the wall beside the door. “Yes, that is true, but I’m nothing but a traveler from a town far East of here,” you lifted your long skirt to curtsey for the couple, “I’ve come here to spread my fortune telling for all to enjoy.” The man scoffed and shook his head before he took a drink from a dirty mug. “Mother Miranda does not cater well to outsiders,” he burped, “--Especially those with talks of necromancy and fortune telling.” Mother Miranda? Score.

“I promise I have no ill well to you, the locals, or this Mother Miranda that you speak of.” The man scoffed once more but his wife shushed him, “You’re welcome here, dear.” she placed a hand on your shoulder and grinned a gummy smile. “Thank you,” you say and the three of you exchange backstory to your lives, until you try to push for some information about Miranda. “Who is this Mother Miranda?” you ask finally and hope that the tape recorder that is hidden in your waistband had begun to record once you bumped it with your wrist. A glimmer of light sparked in her dark eyes and she walked over to the main wall across the way. She pushed herself onto her toes and reached for a dusty painting of a woman that hung crooked above her head.

“This -- this is our wonderful, Mother Miranda.” she placed it in your palms and you brushed away a thick layer of dust with your thumb. The painting was faded but you could still make out what this woman looked like, and it was identical to the photo that the BSAA showed. Another spot marked off on the mission bingo sheet. “She keeps us safe and has for longer than we have been around.” she continued to praise the blonde. “She does? What about whatever is out there!? Does she keep you safe from that?” Your insult hit a nerve because the man stood from his seat, “How dare you insult our Mother in our home! You will feel her wrath!” he continued to yell, despite hiding away from the thing just outside the door. He proceeded to kick you out of their home and closed the door behind you, then locked it so you couldn’t get back in.

You knocked several times and attempted to apologize, but the same shotgun used to save your life was now pointed at your forehead. When you could feel the sensation of the firearm aimed for you, your hands raised instinctually in the air and you backed away slowly, your eyes never moved from the barrels. Never again would you see this couple.

✧.*

Once again, you found yourself alone in the dark village. Maybe the large castle that loomed over would be a good place to investigate next? You wandered toward the center of the crossroads and your thoughts drifted from subject to subject before being interrupted by the sound of a horse’s gallop. Another villager?! Hopefully they’d be nicer than the last pair. You turned to wait for the horse to approach but were horrified at the site that soon was before you. On the animal’s back was no man or woman, but a grey skinned creature who wielded a burning stake with a charred human remain pierced through the middle. It looked like one of the drawings you found in the old fairytale book your mother read to you when you were a small.

There was no time to scream but just enough to pull your pistol off your hip and shoot into its face. Unlike any human but just like the BOWs you’ve dealt with previously, it took the bullets like a sponge. Instead of wasting any more ammo, you decided on your best bet, and that was to run - run fast. The terrain was unknown but you did your best to go in any direction that was not the same way as your assailant.

The creature slashed the burning spike around in the air as it tried to hit you with it but you managed to duck and dive each time he did it. Soon, you saw a hope of escape, a line of trees. You continued down your path and once you reached the wooded area, you threw yourself down the only option you could see -- a steep hill and then tumbled down. The horse cried in fear and bucked upward, it wouldn’t allow the hostile creature to chase you any longer.

Your hands covered your head as you bounced off the hard, icy ground. Each hit, bump, and scrape burned through your body but you hoped that at the bottom you’d be safe. When you reached the bottom, you rolled out onto a dirt path and narrowly missed being trampled by a horse drawn carriage. The stallion that carried the wooden neighed loudly as it’s hooves dug into the ground. Your vision was blurred from your trip down the hill and you could barely make out a rather obese face of a man who peeked his head out from behind the curtain of his carriage.

“My word, I nearly flattened you into a pancake!” he cried as he pulled the fabric back completely. Your breaths were heavy and short as you remained silent, eyes fixated on the Caucasian friendly face. The man encouraged you to enter his wagon and you hesitated to accept but did once you pushed yourself up from the ground. “Unlike those bewitching women who lurk in that castle... I don’t bite!” he giggled. The gentleman introduced himself as “The Duke” and gave you a short tale about his travels in this village. Duke explained that it wasn’t always this way and it was once full of rich life and light, but it’s all different now... “What about you, my lady? What is it that brought our paths to cross one another?” he asked before he blew out a puff of cigar smoke. You coughed several times and waved your arm in the air in an attempt to waft the smoke from the small room. “Well...” you started and then proceeded to tell the imaginary tale that you told the couple previously.

✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

“Dammit!” Chris yelled and slammed the dashboard of the vehicle he was passenger in with his fist. The truck that was to transport Ethan and his deceased wife had been taken off the road and the infant, Rose, was most likely gone or dead. He began to bark orders at his squad in frustration before he came to his senses and took a deep breath. Miranda must’ve been behind all of this... and took Rose. “There,” he pointed at a rugged map of the local area that was taped onto the truck’s wall and turned to Umber Eyes, “Miranda’s village is there, and I bet so is Rose.”

A female interrupted from the back of the caravan, “Alpha, that information you requested came in.” she brought over a laptop and set it in Chris’s palms. The bright screen in the dark caused Chris to squint as he read through the document. Your BSAA photo was the largest thing on the page and beneath it was the detailed report of your newest mission, the one that brought you to Europe. He gritted his teeth - thoughts of the BSAA sending you on what could be a death mission crossed his mind. Chris reached into the breast pocket of his black overcoat and pulled out his phone, then held down the 1 key to speed dial your cell. It rang several times before informing that there was no voicemail set up. He huffed before he tried several more times. Each call ended the same way and Chris felt anxious.

“Lobo, ping on [Y/N]’s phone and find her location!” he ordered, his voice cracked just the slightest as his anxiety peaked. Lobo nodded, gave his superior a thumbs up and typed away on his laptop. Chris not only was concerned for Ethan and baby Rose, but now your whereabouts plagued his mind. He was confident in your capabilities but he knew how dangerous Miranda and her subordinates could be.

Chris sat in silence with his thoughts as the vehicle turned around and headed in the direction of Miranda’s village. He reached into the same pocket as earlier and pulled out a wrinkled photograph of the two of you. It was from your first mission that the two of you ever went on together. It wasn’t too long ago, maybe three or four years but it felt like a lifetime now. His calloused thumb ran over your smiling face and he hoped that you were okay...

The moment of silence ended, “Alpha, her phone pinged in the same location as Miranda’s village.” Lobo informed as he turned the screen to Chris. A brief moment of relief washed over him but if your phone was there, then where were you? And why weren’t you answering?

Little known to you or Chris -- the cellphone laid in the middle of the dirt road, left behind as you road off in the carriage with the Duke. The screen lit up brightly in the dark air and the generic tune jingled in the stillness of the night. It continued to do this several times as Chris continued to call and worked on pinpointing the pings. On the final ring, a feminine hand reached down from above and picked the phone up. The screen flashed, “CHRIS” over and over. The call was ended by the person, they took the phone firmly in their palm and crushed it with their strength.

Now, there was no way for Chris to communicate with you and someone was now on your tail...

#resident evil #resident evil x reader #chris redfield x reader #reader x chris redfield #chris redfield/reader #chris redfield #resident evil 8 #resident evil village

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mamabearcat · 3 years

Note

9: a missing moment from canon 💜

Okay. Sorry in advance. This ended up a lot angstier than I'd planned.

The thing is, Kagome is a modern girl in a very violent and unforgiving time period, and I'm sure she saw a lot of things that she wasn't emotionally prepared for. And she's such an empathic character, she would take those situations to heart, and they would affect her a lot.

I'm going to put this under a read more. Contains a death (not main character) and canon level violence. I'm going to put it in my AO3 one-shot collections as well.

“Kagome? Can I get the kettle out of your backpack?”

Kagome startled at the sound of Sango’s voice so close to her, and the soft touch of a hand on her shoulder. Suddenly she realised that everyone had been setting up the camp around her while she’d been sitting on a tree root, silently staring into space.

“Oh Sango-chan, I’m sorry, let me help!”

Sango smiled at her wanly, her lips barely turning up at the corners, squeezing Kagome’s shoulder gently.

“It’s fine Kagome-chan. Just rest here a moment.”

“O-okay.”

And she was left alone with her thoughts again. Swirling thoughts she didn’t really want. Thoughts she wished she could bleach out of her mind, like Mama did with the stains on white tablecloths. Soak her whole self in a bucket of bleach to be hung out on the line, and go back to being sunny carefree Kagome, who’s main worry of the week was if she managed to remember the quadratic equation for that math quiz. Not the Kagome who had just seen that village. That hut. Not the Kagome who had held that boy. Not the Kagome who… killed.

“Here, there’s someone alive over here!” Shippou called out frantically, his tiny paws incapable of pulling aside the ruins of the toppled and still smouldering hut. In a flash Inuyasha was there, lifting heavy boards, kicking aside matting and broken furniture until he could make his way inside.

“Inuyasha!”

Kagome followed him into the partially collapsed hut, medical kit in hand, but Inuyasha turned to block her view.

“Don’t go in Kagome, you can’t do no good in there.”

There was a faint, gurgling cry, and Kagome slipped under his outstretched arm to glance around the room. There had been fire. There were arrows. There was blood. There was a woman, her eyes open but no longer seeing, her torn clothing no longer protecting either her modesty or the horrific end she had come to. And there was a boy.

He was young, probably around Souta’s age. But the gash across his throat and horrific burns covering half his face and chest made him look monstrous, and Kagome had to clench her teeth hard against the bile forcing it’s way up her throat. The smell was horrific, and she panted for a moment as she knelt next to the boy, trying to get herself under control. His one eye focused on her face.

“Ma…” he gurgled. Kagome glanced aside to the woman on the floor and then back to the boy, concentrating her gaze on the unmarked side of his face, smoothing the blood soaked hair off his forehead as she gathered her courage, then forced herself to take stock of his injuries for a moment. She blinked quickly, fighting back tears. Even if she tried to treat those burns, the amount of blood he’d lost from where his throat was cut, the actual cut itself – she had no way to fix this. Even a modern hospital would have trouble fixing this. She took a deep breath.

“I’m Kagome, and I’m going to give you something to take the pain away”, she said softly.

She reached into her medical kit and took out the tiny dark bottle that Kaede had given her. The one that came with extremely strict instructions and should only be used in very specific circumstances. There was no way she could save this boy. Left for dead by samurai soldiers and then horrifically burnt by the hut they’d set alight. The hut that had once been his home, his safe place. They had arrived too late to help, long after the samurai had left. She couldn’t do anything to take those violent memories away for him. But at least she could take his pain away.

Being as gentle as she could she dribbled the mixture into the child’s mouth, humming softly to him and stroking back his hair as she waited for the medicine to take effect. Gradually the ragged breathing slowed and his eye rolled back as a great sigh, and then another left his body.

Her trembling hand slid down his face to close his eye as the silent tears came. Tears for a little boy she would never know, a boy from a different time, but who in essence was probably very similar to the little brother she loved.

Inuyasha stood behind her silently, waiting for her to be ready to move aside. For a while, he’d sat in the hut with Kagome and the boy, listening to her quiet hum and the gasping breaths of the boy, watching the movement of the gentle hand. But in the end, he hadn’t been able to sit still any longer, his fingers twitching helplessly, and had gone outside to dig the graves. At least with that he was useful.

When Kagome finally wobbled to her feet, he picked up the little boy, barely a weight in his arms, and carried him outside to place in the grave. When he came back for the mother, Kagome had found a charred blanket to wrap her in, and had closed her eyes.

When the graves for all the villagers had been filled and Miroku had chanted the sutras, with Sango laying some wildflowers she’d managed to find not far away, Kagome had leaned on Inuyasha bonelessly, holding Shippou in her arms. It felt like she should still be crying, but her tears had dried up to be replaced by a feeling of emptiness. A hollow rage that had no where to go.

And that rage still filled her. The unfairness of it. There had been no reason for the people in that small village to have died. There had been barely twenty of them. It had obviously been a small farming community, a poor one, with nothing worth stealing. The only thing stolen had been their lives, their dignity, by men who had no compassion or soul.

“Kagome?”

Little Shippou was standing there in front of her, holding out a plate. Plain rice, with fish cooked over the fire.

But one look at the blackened blistered skin that she usually loved to eat had her bolting into the darkness as far from the camp as she could manage before she collapsed over a large tree root, hurling the meagre contents of her stomach onto the forest floor. The dry sobs came then as she gripped the bark under her fingernails, feeling them bend and crack as she put all her strength into it.

“Hey.”

Inuyasha was there, holding back her hair, his hand warm on her back.

“It’s not fair”, she gasped. “They didn’t deserve that. It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not fair”, he said, his usually gruff voice gentle.

“And I know what you’re going to say. And I know it too. I need to be tougher, harder. I need to get used to seeing things like that. I need to be stronger.”

The hand on her back rubbed gently.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything of the sort.”

He sighed then, and she felt herself being pulled backwards into his arms as he picked her up and moved away from the meagre pile of vomit, sitting down against a tree closer to the campsite, holding her tightly against him, kissing her forehead.

“You are a good person Kagome. Kaede woulda done the same.”

“I’m not a good person”, she whispered. “I killed him Inuyasha. That little boy.”

“No you didn’t.” He ignored her shaking head. “He woulda died anyway, all alone. You gave him peace, and you were there for him when he needed someone the most.”

Kagome shut her eyes, and he turned her face to his.

“Look at me. Kagome look at me.”

His eyes were the most earnest she’d ever seen them, and she couldn’t help the small sob that escaped her.

“You don’t need to be hard. You don’t!”

He stroked her hair gently as she pressed her face into his chest, tears streaming.

“Your heart, your… softness. It’s one of the things I like about ya the most. Because that soft heart a yours looked at a shitty hanyou like me and decided I was okay.”

She snorted at him through her tears, pushing at his chest with a weak fist.

“You’re better than okay, dummy!”

“Better than okay”, he chuckled. “I’ll take that. But I'm be'in serious here, you don’t gotta change, alright? Not one bit a you. You stay the same Kagome. I could never have sat beside that kid like you did. You keep be’in you, and I’ll be here to look after you.”

“O-okay…”

They sat silently for a while in the darkness, the only sounds the crackling of the nearby campfire and the wind in the leaves.

“Do ya think you could eat a little, or do ya need to go to sleep.”

“Maybe… just… not the fish.”

“Fair enough. Can ya walk?”

“Yeah.”

When they got back to the campsite, Shippou was crying in Sango’s arms as she murmured soft words to him, and Kagome’s heart lurched. Letting go of Inuyasha’s hand she held out her arms.

“Shippou, I’m okay", she said, trying to make her tone light and encouraging. "You didn’t do anything wrong, I was just sad. But I bet if you gave me a hug, I’d feel much better?”

Seeing her, Shippou bounded over to her and into her arms, hugging her tight, sobbing out his apologies for making her ill, and she hummed to him, stroking his soft hair away from his forehead. Here was a little boy who needed her right now, who she could help. And that made the rage lessen a little.

But she would never forget.

#mamabearcat fanfics #i'm sorry #inukag snippet #inukag writing ask

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forasecondtherewedwon · 2 years

Photo

You Know Dasher and Dancer (And Charlie and Jesse and Ted and Victoria)

Fandom: Nancy Drew Pairing: George x Nick Rating: T Word Count: 2039

Summary: George invites Nick to Christmas dinner and her family is just... They’re a lot.

“What the hell is that?” George demanded as the smoke cleared. Her eyes were stinging, but that was also thanks to losing sleep last night thinking about today and all the ways it could go wrong. Not that she’d happened to predict this one.

“It’s obviously a rotisserie chicken,” her mom told her, leaning unconcernedly against the counter. “Use your eyes.”

As George peered into the oven, there wasn’t anything obvious about it. Alright, a vaguely meaty smell, but that was mostly obscured by the scent that seasoned most of her mom’s cooking: char.

“Should I even bother asking how or should I just ask why?” George grumbled.

She was tired, she was testy. What she hadn’t been was hungry… until she’d stared down the thing that should’ve been their Christmas dinner’s main course and determined it would be inedible. Now her stomach was gurgling.

“Why what?” Victoria asked.

“Why a chicken on Christmas? Why put something in the oven that’s already been cooked? Wanna answer either of those? It’s your pick!”

George stood, banging the oven door shut. It was off now, the finicky thing losing most of its heat in the mushroom cloud she’d released upon opening the door. Might as well let that stupid chicken sit in its shame. People were really into smoked meat, weren’t they? She could persuade her little sisters into thinking it tasted like that because it was actually gourmet. Of course, they’d see straight through her bullshit, but that was how they worked. Victoria came up short, George stretched the truth to cover it like a too-small sheet of clingwrap over a dish of disappointing leftovers, and then her sisters gave her a look that said they wondered why she’d bothered, while also acknowledging that they knew why. Really, the Fans did a lot of wordless communicating for a family that often didn’t know when to stop talking.

“I was just trying to warm it up a little,” Victoria said defensively, guilty, and they both crouched to squint through the glass at the pointy, blackened tips of the chicken’s wings. George sighed.

“Mission technically accomplished.”

“I’ll order something. What do you want? Pizza? Does Nick like pizza?”

Her mom was trying to appease her for another screwup, George knew, just like she knew the pizza money came from her own wages at the Claw, but she forced her shoulders to drop and her expression to communicate something more like I am grateful for your suggestion and less like You’re lucky you know more about ghosts than I do because I really want to murder you sometimes.

“Everybody likes pizza,” George said. She rose and, on her way out of the kitchen, added under her breath, “Just not normally on Christmas.”

She stomped into the living room, unavoidably fanning in the smell of smoke. Charlie’s head jerked up from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor opposite Nick. Though her nose twitched, she kept her mouth shut. Good girl. Discretion was an important trait in a human smoke detector. (Fuuuck, George seriously needed to replace their broken one in case Victoria was ever again overcome by the urge to cook. Or to reheat grocery-store poultry.)

Nick turned his head from the game of tic-tac-toe they were playing, but George held up a finger for him to wait. She snatched the nearest pillow off the couch and buried her face in it. Once she felt like she had a good seal around her mouth, she bellowed.

“Hey!” Jesse complained. “I made that in Home Ec!”

George shouted until she ran out of air, then centered herself, inhaling the scent of fabric that had been kept in a high school cupboard, probably between hot glue gun refills and a monster dust bunny, from what her nose was detecting. She pulled back. Fluffed the pillow and admired the design Jesse had sewn onto the front. An abstract night sky with a beam of light slicing across the scene. If George hadn’t been so stressed, she would’ve smiled—Jesse had give Horseshoe Bay the Van Gogh treatment.

She tossed it back to her disgruntled sister.

“It’s a nice pillow,” she said sincerely.

Jesse sulked, hugging the pillow to her stomach and turning back to watch the tic-tac-toe match. George rolled her eyes. Fantastic, now she’d annoyed her right-hand Fan.

“Hey,” George said softly, then repeated, “Hey,” until Jesse twisted to glare at her.

“What?”

“Could you give Mom a hand in the kitchen?”

“What does she need?” Jesse asked, but she was already rising. George exhaled some more of her tension.

“It’s more the chicken who’s in need of assistance. An exorcism or a burial are the likeliest outcomes. He’s already kinda half-cremated.”

“Ugh,” Jesse groaned. “Don’t give it pronouns! I don’t want to get attached to something I’m going to eat.”

“Oh, I doubt any of us will be eating it.”

Once she was out of the room, Nick glanced back to look at George.

“I only caught part of that. Who’s half-cremated?”

Honestly, the largely non-joking tone of his voice was warranted. They’d seen a hollowed-out corpse reanimate, for fuck’s sake. A half-cremated entity would be right in their wheelhouse, especially if it was cursed, or demonic, or French. The crispy fowl sitting in the oven was none of those, unless Victoria had failed to mention that she’d tried to prepare chicken cordon bleu before popping it in there.

George went to tug at her hair and was reminded of exactly why she’d braided it this morning—there was nothing to dig her hands into and yank in frustration. Her hands fell in fists. The temporary relief of screaming into Jesse’s pillow was fading and here were her youngest sisters, innocently playing tic-tac-toe with the boyfriend she’d brought into their home for, what? The second time ever? Jesse must have drawn and coloured the paper pieces because the Xs were starfish and the Os were plump little octopi.

“Did you know starfish can grow back their arms?” Ted asked Nick, trying to win his attention back from George.

Nick huffed a laugh and looked at George’s little sister long enough to say, “Actually, I did know that, thank you, Ted.”

Their vignette was sweet, it was so sweet, and George wanted to make Christmas perfect for each of them, and for both of them, for everyone in this apartment, collectively. She wanted to handle it so that no one had to worry, but it was so hard, feeling like the only adult all the time. Nick was here in the capacity of guest and George was reluctant to drag him into the trenches.

His question hung there like the strand of lights Charlie had used to festoon the bunkbeds, and then it seemed to sag, also like the strand of lights, because Charlie hadn’t used enough tape. George’s posture slumped and she felt herself walking through the room instead of joining the people she loved. In the narrow hallway that led to their cluttered bathroom, she slouched against the wall and smacked it with the back of her head. She couldn’t even do that effectively—her perfect boxer braids absorbed the impact.

Seconds later, Nick was stepping out into the hallway, wearing a gentle smile above his holiday sweater. It wasn’t a tacky sweater, it was a nice one, a deep, plummy purple-red that made him look sexy and put-together and better than what Christmas with the Fans had to offer him. George tried to smile. All that happened was her forehead creasing in a look of pained pleading. Probably how the chicken had looked when it’d heard someone on the farm say, ‘Rotisserie,’ and point in its direction.

“You wanna hug or a mitt to sock into?” Nick asked. He raised a cupped palm, knocking his opposite fist into it in demonstration, and it drew a half-smile from George. Regardless, she pushed his hand aside.

“First one,” she said, and embraced him, arms folded behind his neck as she let him take her weight.

One of his arms circled her waist, holding her securely against him, while his other hand smoothed up her back. He massaged the nape of her neck between his fingers and thumb until she moaned and melted deeper into the hug. Mechanic’s hands. Strong and sure and incredible at finding the stiffest parts of her and working out the strain.

“We should’ve flown to Florida,” George mumbled, tucking her face into Nick’s neck.

“Well, there’s always New Year’s Eve,” Nick joked lightly. He ran a soothing hand down her back. “I like spending time with your family. What’s goin’ on, George? I’m sure it’s gonna be alright.”

“Nobody cleaned up like I told them to. Nothing’s ready. Victoria’s putting the ‘holiday’ in ‘functional alcoholic.’”

“YOU’RE MISSING A D!” Ted shrieked from the other room. “AND A Y!”

George unlooped her arms from Nick’s neck and leaned around him to call back to her sister, “I forgot you’re as good at eavesdropping as you are at spelling!”

Nick chuckled and ran a hand along her arm. George straightened and faced him. It was surprisingly hard, not because there was any judgement in his expression, but because, as soon as she really looked at her boyfriend, she had to recognized that he would’ve helped her from the start.

“I think you’re doing just fine,” he said in his calm, steady voice.

“Maybe by Fan standards,” George groused, hanging on to her self-pity by her fingertips.

“By any normal family’s standards. If we’d flown down to be with my family, it’d be exactly the same.” He cracked a smile. “Different kitchen disasters, but the same. People getting on each other’s nerves, realizing that stuff that was supposed to get done before company came didn’t get done. We can go next year and you’ll see. I don’t care. The only thing I couldn’t live without this Christmas is this right here.”

Nick took her by the waist and George shook her head at how cheesy he was. His hold didn’t falter.

“You’ve been really great with my sisters,” she said. “In case I forget to tell you later how much I appreciate that.”

Nick grinned.

“I love hanging out with them.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t feel too much like babysitting.”

“Not for a second.”

George frowned thoughtfully and said, “I wish I could get a babysitter for my mom. Maybe we could summon Aunt Mei again. Or even just Ace. I wonder if he’d wear the glasses and pretend.”

Nick laughed.

“I bet Ace would be happy to come as a regular guest, and not to badger your mom about the pitfalls of reheating rotisserie chicken in the oven.”

George raised her eyebrows.

“Ah. So you did hear that.”

He shrugged, smiling, and explained, “I was trying to be polite. But, on short notice, I’ll be the buffer between you and your mom, ok?”

“I think Jesse’s filled that position already, but thanks.”

“Anything you need then,” her boyfriend pressed, holding her eyes. “I’m here for you, George.”

Tearing up—it was the smoke finally filtering towards the rear of the apartment, definitely the smoke—she blinked fast and slipped her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She felt Nick’s gaze on her as she did a quick image search. She couldn’t totally suppress her smile over her own corniness (equal to Nick’s, but she’d deny it if ever accused) as she held her phone above their heads, dangling between them.

His eyes shot up to the screen and he let out a laugh at the picture of mistletoe that filled it.

“That’s an easy one,” Nick said.

He cupped George’s face and kissed her softly, and she relaxed, then firmly, and she knew she’d never have to endure another holiday without him. Finally, he kissed her with an intensity she wasn’t expecting, the eagerness of the kiss leaving her breathless and confident that they were Nick and George, and one Fan Family Christmas was not going to break them.

“One more thing,” George said, smiling when they drew apart. She clapped her hands to her boyfriend’s shoulders and asked him very seriously, “What do you want on your pizza?”

#my writing #Nancy Drew #George Fan #Ned Nickerson #George x Nick #Victoria Fan #Ted Fan #Jesse Fan #Charlie Fan #Christmas fic #Nancy Drew fic #Nancy Drew fanfiction

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lady-of-the-lotus · 3 years

Text

The Undershirt

The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty - Suitang - 2k - G - first kiss fluff - AO3!

..............

“Hand it over,” orders Sui Zhou.

Tang Fan pouts, a pout somewhere in between his “I’m hungry, feed me” face and “Dinner was an hour late, I almost died” face.

“I ran out of clean ones,” he says when Sui Zhou holds out his hand, “and I had to pack in a hurry—”

“I had only three rules. Rule one: Don’t mess up my house again—”

“Alright, alright,” Tang Fan says before Sui Zhou can lecture him. Leave it to Sui Zhou to take an inventory of his clothes as soon as he got home, all because Tang Fan had left his things just the tiniest bit mussed! “Take your stupid undershirt back; it’s too big on me anyway.”

Sui Zhou turns back to his cooking as Tang Fan slips halfway out of his robe, making a face as he removes the undershirt. Missing Sui Zhou, Tang Fan had pilfered the distinctive draped-neck garment from his things after he’d left on his ill-fated “business trip.” “Happy now, Sui-baihu?”

Sui Zhou glances up briefly from the soup, eyes flickering over Tang Fan. Sui Zhou’s handsome features are soft in the warm yellow candlelight and the orange glow of the stove. “Better.”

Tang Fan stands there with his robes draped around his waist, chest exposed, shyly holding the undershirt in front of him, watching Sui Zhou’s strong, sure hands as they slice vegetables and meat and then, once dinner is cooking, assemble the dessert, grinding the sesame seeds and working the delicate mixture.

A swell of fondness fills Tang Fan’s chest as Sui Zhou puts the finishing touches on the little sesame cakes, decorating each with a pink circle of honeyed flower petals.

"Aren't you going to put the undershirt back on?” Tang Fan asks as Sui Zhou puts the last petal in place. Most of the shyness has worn off as Sui Zhou tells him about how he developed the recipe, his deep voice low and soothing as it fills the cozy little kitchen.

"Later." Sui Zhou glances up, eyes flickering once again over Tang Fan's bare chest before returning to his work. Perhaps it's the warm glow of the candle, but Tang Fan imagines there's a hint of color in Sui Zhou's cheeks.

Too late it occurs to him that he should have at least put his robes back up over his arms and chest. Jiejie had driven it through his head that to wear robes without an undershirt was uncouth and a sure way to get the robes dirty, but…

"Do you still have your prison clothes? That was a good look." The question escapes Tang Fan before he can censor himself. "I mean—your uniform is good too—I mean, your normal undershirt is better than that prison one.” He dangles the undershirt from his fingertips, as if this question was just an extension of him returning Sui Zhou's undershirt. “I mean...”

Sui Zhou cranes his neck away slightly, as if trying to avoid looking at Tang Fan but probably only checking to make sure Dong'er isn't nearby to see Tang Fan in this state of undress. "Be careful with that. You're going to set the kitchen on fire again."

Grinning, and more at ease now that the conversation is back in familiar teasing territory, Tang Fan sidles closer to Sui Zhou, waving his shirt near where the mutton soup is bubbling on the fire. "Oh, that was on purpose. You know, to get you to free Dong'er—"

Sui Zhou gives him that look of his, the one that appears completely expressionless but in fact contains a half dozen emotions from all corners of the spectrum. "You set fire to my house on purpose?"

"Well—"

"What about the time you fell asleep with the candle beside your bed, and the time you tripped and fell holding the lamp—"

"Fine, it wasn't on purpose. But the bad food was! I can cook, if I wanted to—”

"You can't cook."

Tang Fan inches closer. He's not quite sure why. "You could teach me."

Sui Zhou frowns slightly. "You step foot in my kitchen without me here, and you sleep outside with the sheep."

Tang Fan wrinkles his nose. "The sheep has a name ."

"Li Qing?"

Tang Fan almost drops the undershirt on the stove. "How did you—”

Sui Zhou turns away again as if to hide a grin. Li Qing is the main character of Tang Fan's magnum opus, My Sexy Lady .

"You didn't read it!" Tang Fan leans forward in consternation. He's not sure why he's so thrown. It's a brilliantly-written work, like all of his books, but somehow to have Sui Zhou privy to—to all that — "Wang Zhi told you or something—wait till I get my hands on him!"

Sui Zhou is definitely holding back a grin. "I liked the part where the ‘sexy lady’ sets fire to Shi Yang's house after she thinks he stole her necklace."

"That never happened! She never did anything half so crazy!”

Sui Zhou is no longer holding back his smile. "Maybe in the sequel, My Sexy Wife."

Tang Fan laughs out loud. People who don't know Sui Zhou think he's stiff and cold and completely humorless, but Tang Fan knows better. It's subtle, but Sui Zhou's sense of humor and appreciation of the outlandish is definitely there. If it weren't, Tang Fan doesn't think he would get along with him as well as he does.

Which, when he stops to think of it, is rather odd. His getting along with him so well, not the sense of humor. Despite having lived in the capital for years, and having many acquaintances, Tang Fan has few close friends. As he knows he’s a delight to be around, never complaining and generously standing people meals, he can only assume it’s a failing in other people.

A failing that Sui Zhou evidently doesn’t have, to appreciate Tang Fan’s virtues, both hidden and overt.

It’s not that Tang Fan annoys people. That can’t possibly be it, no matter what Jiejie says. But he can’t deny that not everyone appreciates him, and that hurts, sometimes.

A sudden thought, and Tang Fan abruptly stops laughing. Why did Sui Zhou pick that example? Surely it was just a joke after what they'd been talking about—he knows it is—but of all characters to pick—

Tang Fan had based a lot of Li Qing on himself. Like him, she's a beautiful genius often put-upon by those who fail to appreciate her properly, driven to do the right thing at whatever costs, someone who appreciates fine food and faces the world with a smile no matter how she's feeling.

No. Sui Zhou is just teasing him, as usual. That's it. He probably hadn't even finished the book...

He wants to ask Sui Zhou if he liked the book, but despite it being his best-selling work, he’s hesitant to ask. Sui Zhou is nothing if not honest, and what if he didn’t truly like it?

Tang Fan resolves to start work on a sequel that night. Perhaps Shi Yang could enter the imperial guards and, together with Li Qing, solve a series of increasingly exciting mysteries that pit them against the world. Back to back, they’ll chase justice and stand strong against the winds of—

“Here.” Sui Zhou slides the plate of sesame cakes towards him. “For coming to get me.”

Tang Fan grins. “You mean rescuing you.”

Sui Zhou turns back to the soup. "Just eat them."

Tang Fan inches even closer, more to annoy Sui Zhou than anything else, he thinks. "Go on, say it. I rescued you."

"Keep this up, and you're getting kicked out of my kitchen."

" Your kitchen? Why is it—oh, right. It's your house." Tang Fan looks down at the sesame cakes. It's almost a shame to eat them, they’re so beautifully decorated. "Am I allowed to eat them before dinner, or are you going to get all sulky?"

Sui Zhou gives Tang Fan a look as if to say, I'm not the childish one here, and reaches for a sesame cake just as Tang Fan does. Their fingers brush, and tingling current runs up Tang Fan's arm. Startled, he jerks away, dropping Sui Zhou's undershirt on the stove.

Spattered in mutton grease, it erupts in a column of flame.

"Augh!" Panicking, Tang Fan drops the shirt in the soup. “Put it out! Put it out!”

Sui Zhou snatches the shirt out of the soup and drops it in a pot of water. "What did I just tell you about setting my house on fire?"

Smiling weakly, Tang Fan begins sidling in the opposite direction as Sui Zhou comes closer. "You startled me! You grabbed at me just as I was trying to eat, I haven't eaten all day, I was hungry, you forced me to take a cake—"

He bumps up against the wall. Sui Zou leans over him, one arm framing him, his face a mix of exasperation and—and fondness, Tang Fan wants to believe, though it’s hard to when there's a charred, soup-soaked undershirt not five feet away.

"It wasn't my fault I burned your shirt!" Tang Fan continues bravely. Whining has always worked on Old Pei and Jiejie, though he still hasn’t quite learned the exact point Jiejie’s indulgence tips over into slapping-him-across-the-face territory, hence all the slapping. "Tired after weeks of traveling, traveling across half the empire to rescue you, if you recall, weeks of seasickness and danger and unpadded saddles and not being able to finish my rice noodles in the one good restaurant between here and I thought you were dead at one point, and that was almost as bad as the noo—"

Sui Zhou bends forward and kisses him.

Tang Fan goes rigid.

Did—did Sui Zhou just—

Sui Zhou kisses him again, as if to clear up any doubts.

"Well, that's one way to stop you from talking," he says.

Tang Fan's heart is beating like a war drum, but strangely enough it's not from nerves. There's a smile on Sui Zhou's lips (rather full lips, he notices. Until now he's been too distracted by his arms and shoulders and—well—all the rest of him, most likely), and there's definite fondness in his eyes.

"I once talked through an acupuncture session for a sore tooth," Tang Fan says boastingly, more to calm his nerves than anything else.

He’s never been kissed before. Or rather, being a man, perhaps it was more appropriate to say he’d never kissed anyone before.

He’d always changed the subject when Old Pei brought it up. The local girls had never interested him, and he’d never though there were other— options—

"You can ask him at dinner,” he blusters on, pulse fluttering. “I was probably able to give him some good tips and pointers, I once read a book on acupuncture that—"

Sui Zhou shuts him up again, cupping his face in his hand. It smells of honey and spice, the callused palm somehow soft against Tang Fan's cheek, his long fingers curling around the back of his neck as he kisses him.

Tang Fan is suddenly very aware that he's half-naked, but it's somehow nice being around Sui Zhou like that, not uncomfortable as he's sometimes felt in the past around others. Natural, despite his first-time nerves.

He suddenly realizes that Sui Zhou is looking down at him as if waiting for him to say or do something.

"Am I allowed to speak again?" Tang Fan asks.

Sui Zhou half-smiles. "Nothing could stop you from talking for very long."

"I want another one of your undershirts, but a black one this time. I saw one tucked away in the chest, but Dong'er said it wouldn’t match my robes, though what does she know? I want the black undershirt, and—"

"Black to hide any future char?"

"This was an accident! You startled me!"

"The one you were wearing today is mostly black now, after you set it on fi—"

Tang Fan kisses him.

"You're right," he says, grinning at Sui Zhou, who seems to have forgotten how to speak. "That does work."

AO3

#suitang #the sleuth of the ming dynasty #tsomd #tang fan #sui zhou #tangzhou #katie sleuth of the ming dynasty lotus

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rwby-oscar-blog · 3 years

Text

Mistral, the land of prosperity, and known to have the highest amount of minerals in the soil for farming, known to have the best crops of food throughout all of remment. But unfortunately two orphans were now homeless, lien-less and with nothing to their names, except for the clothes on their back, a hunting rifle from their father and two hand guns from their mother and whatever they got after the fire happened. Destroying their home and the field that they had a good number of crops growing, but now it's just a burnt field and the charred skeletal remains of a home left.

This wasn't a home anymore, so Ocsar and his twin sister Olivia both left the homestead, to look for another place to live and to call home.

Throughout their travels, they were able to stay in a tent that they also had among their stuff after the fire, which consumed their home and killed their parents. Nobody in either villages or small town's would take them in at all. The only way they kept themselves alive was through sheer determination and practice of hunting animals for food. This wasn't what they wanted to do, but it was a better way to get some food and a bit of lien, after selling the fur or anything of the origin to medical doctors in the towns or villages. Olivia was starting to develop into a beautiful woman, but Oscar didn't want her to start selling herself like a cheap prostitute or even being a prostitute at all. So hunting was the only thing to do, or find small easy jobs that they could do.

But for sleeping, it was only in the tent off of the main route in a field or among the bushes, near the main road or path towards the towns and villages. It was something at least. Until they made it to the forest.

It was a mighty thick and luscious forest, that had many of remment's tallest trees in the entire world. "This is a perfect place" Olivia looked at her twin confused of what he ment "wait what, what do you mean this is perfect?" "I'm saying Olivia is that, this place will be our new home" looking around the entire forest, there was barely any room for a tent, let alone a cabin to build. So Olivia crossed her arms above her breasts, looking at Oscar "okay Mr survivalist, where in the hell are we going to build a home, in the middle of a thick forest, there is barely any room on the ground" course Oscar pointed up at the sky or among the tree's.

She looked up at the top of one of the tallest trees, then shook her head "noo way, no i don't like, yo..you do know i hate highests, right?.. Oscar, why?" He shrugged at her "why not?, it's perfect, we will be off the ground. The animals will not be able to step on us, or hunt us down, anyways it's perfect" sighing again at the childest idea from her own twin, shaking her head again. "Okay Mr.toughman how are you, let alone us going to get up the tree and make a treehouse, or a base for the tree house?" Oscar just lifted up both arms, took one big 360 turn around the forest, pointing at the wood that was surrounding them.

Olivia smacked her forehead, she was being sarcastic, she knew about the huge numerous trees around the entire place. Placing her hands on her tight short shorts, sighed "you do know i was being sarcastic right?" He just nodded to her "oh yeah, i know" facepalming herself, he placed his bag on the ground getting some tools out, like axe he took from home "well, no time like the present now, let's get started already and finish the base before sunset" Olivia sigh once again and just went with it, for now.

Oscar got to chop down some trees that looked like they could be useful, checking a tree to see if it was coming down or sick, he chopped it down. It was a slow process, but with Olivia's help, it made the journey of building a home easier, but building steps were first. The temporary wooden stairs were constructed without hassle, they got to a height where it was enough to be invisible but visible to them. They got started on the platform.

Time flew past them as they worked throughout the rest of the day into early to late evening, once it got dark out they stopped working. Luckily they just finished working on the main base, or platform to build their home. But left it bare, with a lamp lighting the area above the tree, they set up their tent and had their dinner. As they ate, Olivia would take a glance at her brother's shirtless chest, he was getting chiseled slowly. Seeing those muscles, she turned red looking away 'damn it he is getting hot, wait' she shook her head 'no he is my brother, i'm not falling for him no way' she sighed once again, Oscar heard that sigh " is everything okay Olivia?" Asking his sister about it, she turned even more red, blankly looking at him.

"No no no I'm fine just my mind went off somewhere" laughing it off, she continued to eat her dinner, shrugging it off was the only thing he could've done for now.

Sleeping was even more of a hellish task, still awake Olivia's heart was beating fast and her breathing was irregularly picking up fast, when she saw Oscar. A few times she caught herself, with her hand on her unzipped short shorts, lightly touching her crotch, softly rubbing herself, she also felt her nipples get hard in her small top, at this point it could be called a tank top. Olivia stops dead in her tracks giving herself a good smack across the face, painful, but effective. So she got up grabbing a towel, headed to the pound that they found just a little ways from the forest. She removed her clothing and jumped into the very cold water, letting out a yell, she shivered and shaked. Quickly she got out of the pound and gave herself a quick dry off and put her warmish clothes back on.

Olivia felt better, for the most part. But who said her mind wouldn't run wild, in her dreams. Getting back to the platform was easy enough, just reaching the last step. She heard a click, knowing that sound, she again stopped in her tracks. It was dark still, but she saw a small little spark of a light coming from Oscar, she gave a sigh. "Who goes there?" He demanded an answer "it's just me Oscar, Olivia your sister" lighting up the lamp, he pointed it at Olivia seeing her there, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank the brothers you are safe" then it hit him "wait where in the hell were you" "i was using the little girls room Osc really" he sighed again, putting the pistol back into the holdster, he just looked at her. "Well next time just say something" "how can i? When you are still sleeping ?" "Just give me a shake and tell me" this was going over his head.

Saying that she was using the "bathroom" was her own business, not Oscars business at all, even if he did the same, he wouldn't even tell anyone about that either. Still she shook her head "let's get back to sleep and talk about this in the morning" laying back down, in their tent. Oscar was already asleep, but Olivia was still awake, for a bit. Though she did cool down with a drip in the cold pond, she still felt a little itch deep in her core, so getting to sleep wasn't much of a problem.

The morning came within about 7 hours later, Oscar didn't waste any time at all and continued to build up their new home in the tree. Olivia woke up later after Oscar and joined in with the help to finish or start on the wall of the tree house.

After 6 hours of work on the treehouse, they managed to get the main house built with a half of the roof already built, but also managed to get three additional rooms made, one was a bathroom completed, the last two were full bedrooms for Oscar and Olivia to use. So with it being lunchtime and a nice break for the both of them, Olivia had caught a good number of fishes to eat for lunch. Sitting around the campfire, eating their lunch Oscar was proud of his and Olivia's hard work on the new home they were building together, being shirtless was very hard on Olivia again, the sweat coming off of his forehead and all over his chest was driving Olivia crazy and awakening her hormones in her again. She was blushing like crazy, giving her head a real good shake to get her mind out of the gutter. "So very close, we are nearly done with this home of ours, but what are we going to put in it?" Olivia heard her twin asking that, but her mind was stripping Oscar down to nothing, yet she doesn't know how big he was or if had a small member.

Oscar looked at Olivia, seeing that her mind was not here, it was just elsewhere. Waving his hand around in front of her face, he called her name " hey Olivia, hello are you there, remnant to Olivia, it's your twin brother Oscar calling want to answer" finally coming back to reality and seeing him standing there, waving his hand around "oh hey Oscar" "finally, welcome back to remnant space cadet, enjoy your trip" she blushed red "oh sh..shut up you" Oscar laughed at her when she told him to shut up like that "take it easy sis, i was only kidding" again he laughed and Olivia just blushed again even more red "so what were you asking me?" Sighing "I was asking what we would need for the house, we don't have any electricity running through this place, as of yet. But we will soon or not" sitting back down by the campfire, finishing up his lunch fish.

Olivia rubbed her arm thinking a bit, but her mind was still processing if her brother was packing or not, shaking her head from the indecent idea of not knowing her brother's Anatomy. " Well we do need a decent kitchen set up and windows, a fireplace can be good, if we can find clay or something" Oscar nods to those ideas that would make it more of a home and a place they can be truly happy. Nodding to that, he finished his lunch and he went back to work to finish the roof.

After a couple of hours of working on the roof it was at least now finished, both standing back and checking out their handy work. "Well i do believe we are done now" Olivia smiled at her brother "yep we did, do you think mom and dad would like this" that hit him hard as well as her, when she heard herself repeated to herself in her head, just looking at him with an apologetic eyes as she just looked at him "I'm im.." She felt his hand touch her head and gave her hair and head a rub "Don't worry about it Olivia, mom and dad would be very proud of our hard work on the house we made" he just smiled as Olivia looked sad.

It was hard on them both since their parents had died, and it was hard on both to realize that they were now gone.

As Olivia was making some improvements in the new house, Oscar looked at the sun. Seeing it was getting dark and it was nearly time for dinner. "Hey Olivia i will head out to hunt for some food" she looked at her brother, as he went to get the weapons. "Wait, what is wrong with fish?" "Fish is okay, but I do want something more than just fish." Olivia nodded in agreement to that statement "and I can see if anyone had left anything we can use outside of town" that would be another idea. The village sometimes throws away anything that they are not using or can't be fixed at all. Oscar took his father's 70 lever action rifle and is taking the matching pistol's ivory, leaving Ebony with Olivia.

Handing her ebony, she took the pistol and held it "keep this with you, only use this if it's really necessary okay." Olivia nods to her brother "i will be back soon" "be careful Oscar you're the only family i have left" giving her a smile he rubbed her head "i know same with you dear sister, but i do promise i will be back" both smiling at each other, Oscar left the treehouse to hunt for food, as he got off the last step, he lifted up the stairs up concealing the stairs from anyone or anything, that might come their way. Getting his gun ready he walked towards an empty field to find food. Olivia sits there in the silent room, no tv, no radio, nothing but just the pure silence of the evening.

She laid on the bench that Oscar made from the remaining wood, to give at least a bit of furniture in the house. She laid there looking up at the ceiling, slowly closing her eyes, she remembered him being shirtless and getting sweaty from the hard work he did, to build this new home for the both of them. Olivia's hands went from her sides upwards towards the hem of her tight short shorts, unbuttoning the single button, she slowly unzipped her zipper. Exposing her white panties, she slipped off the shorts, moving her right hand up her stomach, moving underneath her shirt and bra, groping herself. She imagined again, how Oscar looked so built and his muscles were developing, so well. She breathed in a sharp breath, as her left hand moved above her panties and between her legs, she started to move her fingers between her pussy lips.

Moving her finger slowly between her pussy lips,she still imagine him shirtless, but instead, he pinned her to the ground, kissing her neck and groping her d cup breasts in both hand's of his, she softly moaned, while her right hand grope her breast, rubbing it and her nipple in a circle, while her left hand and trigger finger, moved a bit fast up and down, making a wet spot appear. Olivia softly moaned, rubbing her pussy bit more, picking up the pace, in her imagination, oscar was sucking on her neck, rubbing her breast and moving his two fingers around her pussy, she moaned a bit loud, moving her panties to the side, she rub her clit in a circle slowly at first, but picked up pace and speed, then she inserted her fingers into her pussy, moving them in and out of herself.

Moaning loudly now, in her micro dream, Oscar removed all of her clothing and was licking her pussy and sucking on her clit, Olivia naked and on her knees, bending over was plunging her fingers deeper into her pussy and rubbing her clit faster, moaning Oscars name "ohh...Oscar...oh.Oscar". In her micro dream, he plunged his cock into her pussy fucking her like a dog, she plunged her fingers faster, hard and deeper into her pussy, rubbing her G-spot manytimes over and over again. Moaning loudly, Olivia was reaching her limits. With the last few pumps of her fingers in her pussy, she screamed as she squirted all over the bench and half of the floor too. Panting like crazy just after she had an Orgasm for the first time really drained, she looked at her fingers, seeing how sticky they were. Olivia blushed very red, but she heard the stairs being brought down.

With her ears picking up the sound, she quickly got dressed again and cleaned up the mess before he or someone else came up the stairs. So she grabbed the gun ready to shoot the gun, cocking the hammer back till it locked in place, she waited and watched. Then the figure got to the door, opening it she saw it was Oscar, she let out a good sigh of relief. "Welcome back Oscar" "Thanks Olivia, got dinner" showing her the kills he had gotten, she took them from him "okay let me get them cleaned and skinned, then we can eat" "sounds good sister, i will get the fire started" Olivia nods, watching her brother leave the house again.

After a delicious dinner, they had planned to stay outside to enjoy a late night campfire, just sitting around remembering the good old days with their parents. But a sudden spit of rain started to come down upon them both, rushing into the house getting soaked with each step they took, trying to get into the house. Getting in, Olivia started to shiver a bit, so Oscar held her close for a bit keeping her warm for a bit. "Let's get you out of those clothes and into something warm" Olivia blushed like a tomato, being close to her brother like this. They split to their own room, she started to strip down to her underwear, as she got to take off her bra, Olivia felt her heart beat fast. She can still feel his warmth against her body, finishing stripping down, and giving herself a good dry off with a towel.

Still raining outside and shivering a bit, she couldn't handle it, she needed the warmth of another to keep warm. She walked over to her brother's room, giving a knock she waited for a bit. The door opened, Oscar still awake looking at his sister. "Hey Olivia, you need something?" She nods to her brother, when he asked that "can we cuddle for a bit, im feeling cold" Oscar nods a bit " might as well sleep here since we don't have blankets as of yet" Olivia like the idea, she walked into his room, closing his door as she walked in, would be the last time, they see each other as siblings.

Laying on the ground together, they spooned together. Holding each other close, Olivia was able to close her eyes to sleep, but something hard was poking between her ass cheeks, she then looked behind her, seeing her brother blushed a bit "Olivia its not" she didn't let him finish his sentence, she grinded her ass up against his cock underneath his pants, she blushed as well, but she had a sly of a smile on her face as she grinded more "Olivia" he moaned a bit, looking at him "you like this huh your twin sister's ass grinding you huh" getting turned on more, she was egging her brother on. Hesitant at first, yet feeling this ass grinding up against his cock, he gave in, unleashing his cock from his boxers, he grabbed her ass and really went to town on her ass. Both moaned softly, while she lifted up her shirt, giving her breasts both a rub. She smiled at him

"Sit on the floor back to the wall" stopping midway through grinding his cock between her ass, he nods. Both getting up from laying on the floor, Oscar crawled up to the wall, putting his back up against it, Olivia crawled as well, seeing how big his cock was, she licked her lips, taking it into her hands, she stroked his cock in her hand. She heard her brother moaning as she stroked his cock more. Then she took the whole thing into her mouth, sucking and licking the shaft, she bobbed her head up and down, taking it all into her mouth. Oscar wanted to grab something, so he put his hand on her cheek watching her suck on his cock, Olivia felt his cock throbbed feeling like it was going to explode. "I'm cumming" he said but too late, he held her head as he shot all of his cum from his cock and balls, drained everything into her mouth and down her throat. Pulling Away Olivia coughed after tasting his cum "im sorry sis" he apologized right away "its okay Osc" she stood up seeing his cock rise back up from the dead, hard girthy, but very thick. Already wet she removed her panties, throwing it at Oscar.

Catching it in his hand, he looked up seeing her wet pussy dripping, she put her hands on his shoulders, Olivia slowly squatted down towards his cock, teasing the head of his cock, she slipped it into her pussy. Finding it hard to get it in, he grabbed her hips and slammed it in, she yelled in pain as he broke her hymen, making her bleed all over his cock "Olivia you were" giving her a nod, she slowly moved her hips up and down on his cock, the pain was slowly going away, being replaced with pleasure, she and Oscar moaned together. Kissing each other and he grabbed her hips still plunging deeper into her pussy more, so she moved up a bit with just the tip inside, she shoved her breasts on to his face, motorboating his sister. But he sucks on them both, sending his whole cock back into her pussy again.

Both moaning still, Oscar felt his cock throbbing again as he slowly tried to remove his cock from her pussy, but she slammed hard and kept bouncing a little bit of a time " Olivia i'm about….to...cum..let me pull out" " no cum in me give me your seed plow my field" Oscar got harder hearing her say that, both hugged each other, he finally shots his hot, sticky, thick cum into her pussy and womb. Panting and heaving, both laid on the ground together, kissing each other and holding each other in their own embrace, falling a sleep together

THE END

#rwby smut #oscar pine #Olivia pine

32 notes · View notes

bibbawrites · 3 years

Text

Made Your Mark On Me, a Golden Tattoo - Single Dad!Charlie x Owen

THIS IS PART 10 OF THE SINGLE DAD!CHARLIE SERIES, YOU CAN FIND THE OTHER PARTS HERE

Request: none

Word Count: 3760 words

Summary: Part 10 of Single Dad!Charlie, Owen comes to LA to stay with Charlie, Margaux and Meghan, and the boys go on their first date

Warnings: swearing, sexual references, implied sexual content pretty sure everyone knows at this point but this does include romantic chowen, remember this is fictional, if you dont like that just dont read :)

A/N: another day another part lol, i have far too much written for this series considering there is no demand for it but i’m enjoying it so i’m gonna keep writing purely just for @happinessinthedarkesttimes and myself lol also! a new nickname for margaux has been unlocked haha she has far too many cause every person keeps giving her their own nickname and ive lost count of how many there are... anyways, enjoy!

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes @molinaroberts @joynersgoatblog @courageous-she @littlemissaddict @gloomybrieyxb @itsyagorlemmalyn @jatpxmultifan @moneybagmgk @emeliii1 @mybradforddream (the strike through means it wont let me tag you)

Char sent a message to OPJ

Char owweeeennnnnnnnnnn

Char come to la

OPJ why?

Char i miss you

Char wanna kiss your pretty face

Char and your pretty lips

Char and your pretty 🍆

OPJ charlieeeeeee

Char what? i did nothing wrong

OPJ you just said you wanna suck my dick

Char i never said such a thing

Char read the messages, i only said i would like to kiss your pretty face and your pretty lips and your pretty 🍆

OPJ and we all know what that emoji means

Char get your head out of the gutter honestly

Char maybe i just love eggplant

OPJ ugh whatever

Char so will you?

OPJ will i what?

Char come to la

Char we’ve been officially boyfriends for almost three months and we haven’t even had our first date yet

OPJ when do you want me

Char right now

OPJ that’s not possible bub

Char bub?

OPJ trying something, yes or no?

Char meh i don’t hate it

OPJ i’ll keep looking then

Char anyways, i booked you a flight...

OPJ char you didn’t have to

Char i know i’m just so desperate to see you

OPJ what time and day?

Char ...

Char today 3pm...

OPJ it’s 11am now

Char you better get packing

OPJ already am

Char oh i know you are ;)

OPJ i didnt mean it like that and you know it

OPJ you’re gonna be the death of me Gillespie

Char i know ❤️

The second Charlie spotted Owen exiting the gate he was jumping into the blond’s arms, glad that they both had masks on to prevent him from kissing Owen senseless with hundreds of people around.

“God I missed you.” He muttered, face pressed into Owen’s neck.

“I missed you more.” Owen replied, pulling back slightly. “Where’s Maggie?”

“With Meghan. She’s visiting for a little bit so she offered to look after her while I came to get you.” Charlie explained, grabbing Owen’s carry on as they headed through the airport to baggage claim.

“Is she staying with you?” Owen asked.

“She is, but I may or may not have booked the four of us into a hotel for a few days. She leaves on Thursday so if you wanna stay after that we’ll just go back to my place.” Charlie said.

“We’re staying in a hotel?” Owen grinned, coming to a stop at the baggage carousel, his eyes focused on looking for his suitcase.

“Yeah! Mags is pumped, she loves hotels, especially high rise ones. We’re going back to mine to collect the two of them then we’ll head there.” Charlie said

“Does Meghan know about...” Owen trailed off, glancing over at Charlie who shook his head.

“I didn’t tell her, I wanted to find out what you wanted to do first.” Charlie replied. Owen smiled.

“I’m okay with telling her.” He said.

“Or maybe we just act like a couple around her and see how long it takes her to notice.” Charlie suggested and Owen shook his head.

“You’re evil.” He spotted his bag, leaving Charlie’s side for a few moments before coming back over, his suitcase trailing behind him.

“Don’t think it will take long, cause the second that front door shuts behind us I’m gonna be all over you.” Charlie grinned, taking Owen’s free hand once the younger boy was back by his side, leading him out of the airport. Owen blushed slightly.

“Can’t wait.”

True to his word, the second that the door was shut Charlie was shoving Owen against the wall and kissing him with so much force that he thought his lips might bleed.

“Fuck, missed you so much.” Charlie mumbled against Owen’s lips, groaning when Owen’s fingers dug into his hips.

“Char...” Owen gasped out and Charlie just kissed him harder, wanting to make up for lost time.

“When you’re done trying to swallow each other, we’re in the kitchen.” Meghan’s voice called and Charlie groaned, stepping back from Owen. He didn’t want to stop, but he knew if they kept going they wouldn’t be able to.

“We should go to them.” He said, and Owen nodded, still slightly stunned from the aggression of the kiss.

“Probably.” He agreed, but neither of them made any attempt to move, so Charlie nuzzled his face into Owen’s neck, just taking in the familiar scent of his boyfriend.

“This hotel, how is the room situation going?” Owen asked, his hand trailing through Charlie’s hair. Charlie lifted his head up.

“I booked a two bedroom suite. Margaux and Meghan can share one room and we’ll take the other.” He said. Owen smiled.

“Okay good.” He replied. Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“Why?” He asked.

“Remember your texts?” Owen smirked, and Charlie’s eyes widened at the realisation.

“Don’t be so horny.” He muttered, hitting at Owen’s arm. Owen grinned.

“Says the guy who just had me pressed up against a wall.” He retaliated.

“We can hear you, you know that right?” Meghan called, and both Charlie and Owen froze.

“We did not.” Charlie called back, and both boys decided that was their cue to head into the kitchen, where Meghan and Margaux were waiting.

“Papa!” Margaux exclaimed the second they entered the room, jumping down off her chair and rushing over to Owen, jumping into his arms. Meghan gave Charlie a look, eyebrows raised.

“So, finally got your shit together then?” She questioned. Charlie glanced towards Owen and Margaux, a smile appearing on his face when he saw the way the four year old was clinging to the blond boy.

This was how things were supposed to be.

Less than an hour later the family of four had checked into their home for the next few days and travelled up to the fourteenth floor to find their room.

Once they found it Charlie tapped the keycard against the door and pushed on the handle when the light changed to green. Margaux pushed past him, running into the room and heading straight towards the door to the balcony, pressing her face into the glass.

“Woah!” She exclaimed, standing on her toes to try to see the road below.

“Good view?” Charlie asked, placing the bags he was carrying down on the couch, before opening the door and letting Margaux out onto the balcony, trailing closely behind her as Margaux rushed over to the railing.

“Look Daddy.” She grinned as Charlie squatted down behind her, placing a hand on her back gently.

“Wow look how tiny those people are.” Charlie said, and Margaux giggled.

“They’re ants!” She replied, leaning back into Charlie.

“For someone who travels as much as she does you’d think she’d be used to it by now.” Meghan joked quietly to Owen as the two of them stood and watched the interaction.

“Especially since we lived in an apartment building in Vancouver while we filmed.” Owen replied.

“Kids.” Meghan shook her head in amusement.

“You wanna see your room baby?” Charlie questioned, and Margaux nodded excitedly.

“Okay let’s figure it out.” Charlie stood back up, taking Margaux’s hand and leading her back into the main room.

“Am I gonna stay with you Daddy?” Margaux asked, and Charlie shook his head.

“No you’re gonna stay with Meggy.” He said, motioning towards his younger sister.

“It’s gonna be like a sleepover.” Meghan grinned. Margaux pouted.

“But I wanna stay with Daddy.” She whined.

“You’ll be with Daddy until you have to go to sleep, okay?” Charlie told her, pushing open the door, revealing the room with the two double beds.

“And look at this nice big bed you get to stay in all by yourself. You can fit all of your toys around you.” He added, and Margaux frowned but didn’t protest.

“Which bed do you want Mini? The window one?” Meghan questioned.

Margaux glanced at the beds before nodding. Charlie placed her bag onto the bed, unzipping it to reveal the several stuffed toys and dolls they had packed.

“Look, we’ll put all your friends on your bed.” He said as he placed the toys out onto the bed, pulling out Margaux’s blanket last. “And your blankie, and look how nice this looks. You’ll have so much fun sleeping here.”

“And we can even sing with each other at night, or gossip about secret girl stuff.” Meghan added, sitting on the edge of her own bed.

“What girl stuff?” Margaux questioned, climbing up next to her aunt and snuggling into her arms.

“Butterflies and glitter.” Charlie joked, and Owen rolled his eyes at the reference, turning and leaving the room as a response.

“We’ll stay up all night talking about boys.” Meghan grinned and Charlie’s smile instantly turned into a frown.

“Hey! No.” He reprimanded.

“I’m joking Charlie, don’t be a party pooper.” Meghan rolled her eyes.

“You joke, but we had a full conversation a month ago about how someone wants a boyfriend.” Charlie said, and Margaux looked up.

“I want a boyfriend.” She chimed in. Meghan laughed.

“You’re four, why do you need a boyfriend?” She asked. Margaux frowned.

“Daddy has a boyfriend.” She stated. Meghan smirked, looking up at Charlie.

“Does he now?” She teased.

“Shut the fuck up, you knew that. You literally just asked if I had gotten my shit together.” Charlie said, and Meghan rolled her eyes at him.

“You didn’t confirm it.” She retorted. Charlie shook his head.

“Hey Meghan, Owen’s my boyfriend.” He stated, ignoring the flutter in his chest at those words.

“Wow! Thank you so much for telling me, that’s so nice of you!” Meghan replied, her tone thick with sarcasm.

“Don’t be sarcastic.” Charlie retaliated.

“What’s that Taylor Swift lyric? The one about looking at him like the stars, that’s you and him. It’s honestly about time that you got your shit together.” Meghan said, flopping backwards onto her bed, giggling when Margaux climbed on top of her.

“Tay’s my boyfriend.” The tiny blonde stated and Charlie sighed.

“Who?” Meghan shot him a confused look.

“Taylor Kare. Who played the young version of Bobby in the show. For some reason she’s decided she wants him to be her boyfriend.” Charlie explained. Meghan grinned.

“I don’t blame her, he’s cute.” She said. Charlie shot her a look and she rolled her eyes before sitting up, Margaux clinging to her like a koala.

“Hey Mini, why don’t we go get some food and bring it back while your Daddy unpacks all of your stuff.” Meghan suggested. Margaux smiled.

“Yeah! Can we get KFC?” She asked.

“Of course we can.” Meghan grinned, before turning to Charlie. “Want anything?”

“Just get one of those big buckets of chicken and we’ll figure it out.” He said as Meghan stood up, grabbing her mask.

“Okay. I’m stealing your wallet.” She told him.

“Of course you are.” Charlie rolled his eyes, but handed his wallet over to his younger sister nonetheless, before leaning in to kiss Margaux gently on the side of her head.

“Bye baby, have fun and be good for Meggy, okay?” He said. Margaux nodded.

“Bye Daddy, love you.” She replied.

“Love you too.” Charlie smiled.

Meghan and Margaux left, the four year old chattering away in her aunty’s arms about something she had seen in Bluey, and Charlie waited until he couldn’t hear their voices anymore to move.

“Owen?” He called, starting to head across the suite to the room he and Owen were sharing.

“Yeah?” Owen called back. Charlie pushed open the door, finding a much larger room with a large king size bed in the middle of the room, and a flat screen tv hung on the wall. Owen was unpacking his bag, hanging clothes in the wardrobe, when Charlie entered.

“Meg and Mags went to get food.” Charlie told him.

“Okay cool.” Owen replied, looking up after a few moments and frowning when he saw the look on Charlie’s face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Remember the texts?” Charlie raised an eyebrow and Owen’s eyes lit up.

“Come here.” He said, but Charlie didn’t move.

“We’ve gotta be quick.” Charlie informed him and Owen nodded.

“Got it.”

And with that Charlie rushed over to Owen, kicking the door shut behind him.

They were a naked mess of sweaty bodies and tangled limbs when Charlie decided to bring up their plans for the night.

“Oh by the way, I have our date planned.” He said as Owen played with his hair.

“Am I allowed to know what it is? Or when?” Owen questioned. Charlie nodded slightly.

“Tonight. At 10:30pm.” He informed the blonde. “And it’s a surprise.”

“10:30?” Owen repeated. Charlie hummed in response. Owen sighed.

“That’s all I’m getting?”

“Yep.” Charlie murmured.

“We’re back!” Meghan’s voice called through the suite and both Charlie and Owen jumped up in fear.

“Fuck, get dressed.” Charlie instructed, tossing clothes towards Owen, before calling back to Meghan. “Coming!”

In record time they were both dressed and came out of the bedroom, trying to look as casual as possible as they walked over to the table where Meghan had placed all the food.

“Daddy, you didn’t unpack my stuff.” Margaux pouted, and Charlie placed a soft kiss on the top of her head as an apology.

“Sorry baby, Daddy got distracted.” He told her as he grabbed some food for her and put it on one of the plates Owen had brought over to the table.

“Oh gross, you didn’t.” Meghan groaned, glancing between Charlie and Owen, who had turned a bright red in embarrassment. Charlie just shrugged, a guilty smile on his face. Meghan fake gagged.

“That’s disgusting Char.” She reprimanded. Charlie shook his head.

“It’s natural.” He retaliated. Meghan hit him.

“Shut up, I don’t want to know anything else.” She said. The table fell silent for a moment, before Margaux decided to speak up.

“Daddy we saw a puppy when we were walking.” She grinned, and Charlie pulled a shocked face.

“Oh my gosh, really? Tell me all about it.” He replied, and for the entire meal Margaux rambled, telling them story after story.

Just before 10:30, Charlie and Owen arrived at their date destination. Owen looked up at the sign, frowning slightly when he saw it.

“A tattoo parlour?” He questioned. Charlie smiled, despite the fact that Owen couldn’t see it through his mask.

“You’ve been talking about getting a new tattoo, so I figured we could get a new one together.” He suggested. Owen’s frown melted, a soft look replacing it.

“Why is that oddly sweet?” He teased, leaning his head into Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie grinned.

“Cause I’m oddly sweet?” He replied. Owen laughed.

“That you are.”

“Do you have any ideas of what you wanna get?” Charlie questioned as he held the door open. Owen gave him a small smile, walking through the door as he answered.

“I have a couple of ideas.” He said. “Things that I think would look cool.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Charlie’s eyes lit up with curiosity. Owen shook his head.

“Secret. Want it to be a surprise.” He grinned. Charlie chuckled.

“Fair enough.”

After going through the basics and signing some paperwork, it was time for them to get their tattoos. The tattoo artist led them through to the backroom and for the whole time they were there Charlie and Owen didn’t once let go of each other’s hands.

The two boys left the tattoo parlour a few hours later, hand in hand and new tattoos covered in a protective cling film.

“Do you wanna head back?” Charlie questioned, swinging their hands between them. Owen sighed.

“Not really, but we probably should. It’s late.” He answered. Charlie nodded in agreement.

“True. Plus the date doesn’t have to end just because we go back to the hotel... There’s a nice comfy bed and some red wine with our names on it.” He raised an eyebrow and Owen smiled.

“Fancy.”

“Only the best for you.” Charlie grinned, and Owen pulled him close, pulling down their masks so that their lips could meet in a rough kiss.

And if it took them almost an hour to make the 15 minute walk back to the hotel then that was just between them.

Charlie unlocked the door to the hotel room and pushed it open, frowning when he spotted Margaux sat on the ground, staring out the window at the city lights.

“Why are you still awake Mags?” He asked as he pulled off his mask, drawing the four year old’s attention to them.

“Missed you.” She said softly, her voice wobbling.

“Oh baby, come here.” Charlie squatted down and the four year old ran into his arms, burying her face in his neck. Owen nodded towards their bedroom and Charlie gave him a small smile to let the younger boy know he understood.

“You were gone but you said you wouldn’t go.” Margaux mumbled.

“You knew I was gonna go out with Papa for a little bit, remember? It’s okay, I’m back, and I promise I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” He tangled his hand through her curls and the four year old hummed in response.

“Okay.” She agreed, her voice no louder than a whisper. Thinking quickly, Charlie decided the best course of action would be distraction.

“Hey, you wanna see Daddy’s new tattoos?” He asked, and Margaux nodded, moving back slightly. Charlie smiled at her.

“First I got this one here.” He lifted his arm to show her the heart tattoo on his ribcage, the plastic mostly obscuring it.

“And I got this one here for my favourite person in the whole entire world.” He finished, showing her the tiny cursive M inked into his wrist.

“An M for Margaux, so I always have you with me.” He said, and she peered at the tiny ink on his wrist, a small smile appearing on her face.

“I like it.” She told him. “Can I have one?” Charlie laughed.

“When you’re all grown up, okay?” He replied, ruffling her hair.

“Okay.” She agreed. They fell silent, and Charlie was just about to suggest that it was time for Margaux to hop into her bed when she spoke up again.

“Daddy?” Her voice sounded small.

“Yeah baby?” Charlie replied.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Margaux questioned, already leaning back into his arms.

“Of course baby. You got Mr Penguin?” He asked.

She held the penguin up and Charlie grinned.

“Great, let’s go.”

He stood up, taking her spare hand to lead her towards the bedroom, pushing the door open to where Owen was sat, already in bed with Netflix loaded on the TV.

“Papa! I’m gonna sleep here with you.” Margaux exclaimed, diving onto the bed as Owen raised an eyebrow, looking towards Charlie with a knowing look.

“Oh really? What about your bed?” He asked.

“She was sad.” Charlie pouted, and Owen just shook his head.

“Come on baby, in you get.” Charlie said, letting the four year old climb into the bed before climbing in after her, grinning when she settled into his arms, her head on his chest.

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, and once she did, Owen spoke up, his voice soft.

“You know one day you gotta stop letting her climb into bed with you.” He whispered. Charlie made a noise in response, his eyes never once leaving Margaux.

“One day... just not today.” He replied.

“The longer you give in the harder it’s gonna be for you. Cause I know it’s as much you as it is her.” Owen said, and Charlie sighed, his fingers tangled through Margaux’s curls as the four year old slept peacefully in his arms.

“I know.” He started. “I just...”

Owen reached out, linking his hand through one of Charlie’s and giving it a light squeeze.

“It’s stupid.” Charlie mumbled. Owen moved slightly, placing a kiss on the side of Charlie’s head.

“I’m sure it’s not.” He assured the older boy. Charlie was silent for a moment before talking.

“She’s just always been with me and has always needed me to do everything for her, and now she’s getting older and she can do all of these things on her own, and I just get worried that she’s not gonna need me any more, or she’ll decide that she doesn’t want these nights where she asks to sleep with me.” He rambled.

“You’re her dad. She’s always gonna need you Char.” Owen assured him. Charlie hummed in response, and Owen took that as a sign to change the topic, a small smile appearing on his face.

“So I’m guessing no post date make out session or red wine.” He joked, and Charlie sighed.

“Sorry.” He muttered. Owen rolled his eyes, snuggling as close to Charlie as he could get without disturbing Margaux.

“I was joking Char.” He said, and Charlie moved to place a soft kiss on Owen’s lips.

“I had a really good time tonight.” Owen whispered against Charlie’s lips and Charlie smiled.

“Me too.” He agreed.

“Do we have any plans tomorrow?” Owen inquired, and Charlie paused for a moment.

“Not that I know of. Why? Have something in mind?” He moved back slightly so that he could look at Owen’s face.

“I thought maybe the four of us could go play mini golf or something like that?” Owen suggested. Charlie smiled.

“That sounds like a lot of fun.” He answered. They fell into a comfortable silence, both boys closing their eyes, but there was something that Charlie knew he had to say. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking.

“Hey Owen?” He whispered. Owen opened his eyes, focusing on Charlie instantly.

“Yeah?” He questioned. Charlie smiled.

“I love you.” He murmured. Owen smiled, rubbing his nose against Charlie’s.

“Love you too Char.” He replied. Charlie shook his head.

“No... I’m in love with you.” He clarified. Owen’s jaw dropped slightly, but he recovered quickly.

“I’m in love with you too.” He returned, and Charlie lent in to kiss him gently.

“It scares me.” Owen whispered once they pulled apart. “How much I love you.”

“Honestly, me too. But we’re in this together. And I love you as much as you love me, so don’t overthink it, okay?” Charlie replied.

“Okay.” Owen agreed.

“We should get some sleep.” Charlie said after a moment and Owen nodded, placing once last kiss to Charlie’s lips.

“Sounds good. I love you.” He whispered, and Charlie could already feel himself drifting off as he whispered a response.

“I love you too Owen.”

#single dad!charlie #single dad!charlie series #single dad!charlie x owen #charlie gillespie #owen patrick joyner #margaux

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gay-otlc · 3 years

Text

To Love Unafraid (With An Ugly, Poisonous Heart)

Summary: Fintan was silent for a long time. Then he nodded and said, "The life of a pyrokinetic is a lonely one. It's hard to get close to people. When you do, it's too easy to hurt them. It's best to just isolate yourself from the good parts of society. If the council doesn't lock you up, you lock yourself up. I'm sorry you had to manifest this curse. I'm sorry you're turning into a monster like me."

(Or, Marella has OCD, and her intrusive thoughts feature hurting Biana.)

Word count: 3374

Content warnings: Wow, this is gonna be a long list. Um. Intrusive thoughts and depictions of OCD is the main one. Severe guilt and self loathing. Cursing. Fire and (imagined) death/murder. Mentions of suicidal thoughts and self harm. Generally disturbing. And yes, I did warn you that this would be fucked up.

Written for Marelliana week. Would probably fit under day two (nightmares) but also a free day. Whatever. It's all Marelliana. @marelliana-week

Read on AO3

Every time Marella looked into Biana's eyes a little too long, she thought she would catch on fire.

It wasn't her fault Biana was so... Biana. Were there really any words for how wonderful ae was? Beautiful, one could say, but that would barely cover it. Yes, Biana was so fucking beautiful, so beautiful it was unfair, with mahogany skin and a wide smile and stiff, dark hair with streaks of lavender. Marella had never been especially poetic, but she wanted to color Biana with adjectives and metaphors until the page reflected even a tenth of aer beauty.

She couldn't write that beautifully, though. She could only watch aer and think that if she could freeze time right then, she would be happy forever.

"You're staring again," Biana said, a hint of a laugh in aer voice.

"Sorry! You're just... you're just really pretty."

Ae looked down, cheeks turning pink. Sheepishly, ae scratched the back of aer neck. "Aww. Thanks. You're the sweetest."

Biana's lips are the sweetest. They'd only kissed a few times, and before then, Marella had thought nothing could taste better challah. She'd been proven wrong. At the thought, she noticed she'd been staring specifically at Biana's pink lips. She blushed harder, looking away. Until warm skin touched her hand, and wrapped fingers around hers. Marella looked back, surprised. Biana chuckled quietly, the prettiest smile on aer face. Marella brushed her thumb over aer knuckles, wondering how the hell she'd gotten so lucky as to date the princaess next to her.

And then the princaess burst into flames. Ae was a girl on fire, stunning. Ae looked like a phoenix, a mythical creature even for the elves. But aer face didn't look triumphant or majestic or beautiful. Just scared. And sad. Aer skin turned charred, angry red burns blistering across aer face. The girl Marella loved crumpled into ashes.

She blinked. Biana was back, alive, not on fire, beautiful as ever. But Marella couldn't appreciate aer beauty nearly as much, because the image of Biana burning was seared into her mind.

Do it. Do it. Burn aer. You know you want to.

Marella ripped her hand out of Biana's.

"Love? You alright?"

Deep breaths forced their way out of Marella's lungs. She clenched her fists so hard her nails painfully dug into her palms. "Yeah," she choked. "Don't feel well."

"Oh." Biana gave her a sympathetic look, and she squeezed her fists tighter. She didn't deserve Biana's sympathy. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

Let aer stay. Talk to aer. Don't push aer away.

"No," she replied forcefully; half a scream, half a sob. Hurt flashed across Biana's face, and Marella somehow felt even guiltier. If she could snap at aer like that, what would stopping her from getting just angry enough to really snap and... well... see the scared, sad, girl on fire once again. She took a deep breath, feeling tears rise to her eyes. She looked away. "No, I think I'm just going to lie down. Thanks, though."

"Okay." Biana still looked worried. If she could have, she would have comforted aer. But she didn't know exactly how to explain I'm not sick, I don't have some life threatening disease, I'm just getting horrible visions of murdering you and I'd prefer not to let those visions become reality, because I couldn't stand to lose you, and I don't think I could be responsible for that without burning away my ugly heart and soul as well.

Once Biana tore aer gaze away from the mess that ae had the misfortune to love, and light leaped away, Marella let herself crumble. She didn't even wait to get up to her room and hide under her blankets. Just let her knees collapse as she sank to the grassy yard in front of her house. Her shoulders shook with sobs. It felt like she would explode with anger and guilt and fear, and if she wasn't careful, the fire that exploded out of her would burn everything else in her life as well. All the things she cared about.

(Biana Vacker.)

She'd had thoughts like this before. Attacking people she was close to. Usually physically, but sometimes verbally. Still, that was all before she manifested. The worst she had ever thought about doing to anyone would have left a few bruises. Not like this.

Not a pile of ashes where a girl used to be.

When she was a kid, she'd been confident that her mother's accident was her fault, that she was the one to push Caprise Redek. She needed constant reassurance that she had been in a completely different room of the house at the time, that she couldn't possibly be responsible. Her dad thought it was a grief response, the guilt, the nightmares with false memories.

It could have been, if it was just a one off. But lately, Marella had begun to think there was some sort of monster living in her brain, whispering these horrible thoughts. Trying to convince her to carry out its wicked instructions. She would beat her head trying to force it out.

That didn't work, of course. And ever since Marella manifested, it felt like the monster was on fire. Bigger. More powerful. The monster was just an entity of flames, wanting to burn anything and everything that had the misfortune to be in Marella's path.

Sometimes Marella thought she was the monster.

And monsters didn't deserve to collapse on the front lawn crying, mourning the girl she used to be, who wasn't a danger to everyone around her. The girl she could have been, if she was just a little less twisted.

Glaring, jaw clenched, she stood up and swiped an arm across her face. She screamed as loudly as she could, trying to force the monster and the fire and all the poison out of her. Then she took a deep breath. She needed to talk to someone about this, because the secret, or the monster, or both, would eat her from the inside if she didn't let some of it out. Obviously, she couldn't tell Biana. Nor her dad- he didn't need to be more worried about her than he already was. Nor any of her friends, they had a hard enough time trusting her already.

Marella needed advice from someone who was just as dark and twisted as she was, so she could escape all the judgement. Someone who knew about monsters. And fire.

She needed advice from Fintan.

Reluctantly, she took out the leaping crystal that directed her to her much-dreaded training sessions with Fintan. Once the world materialized around her, she shivered. I'm never going to get used to the cold here.

Maybe it'll freeze out the monster.

Don't be ridiculous. The monster will never leave. The monster is you. The monster won't die unless you die.

Then maybe it would be best if-

"Marella?" Fintan's raspy voice said, interrupting Marella's spiral of thoughts swirling down the drain, slowly disappearing just like any goodness, or sanity, she had. "What are you doing here?"

"I-" Marella swallowed. "I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"What about your girlfriend's house?" Fintan asked, smirking a little. Marella really hadn't done a very good job of hiding that.

"I can't go to her. I'm too dangerous to be around her. If she's too close to me, she'll get hurt."

"Because you're a pyrokinetic?"

"Because I'm a monster."

"Please. If you were a 'monster', you wouldn't resist every time I suggested you join the Neverseen. You're disgustingly concerned with morals."

The words spilled out before Marella could stop them. "I'm also disgustingly obsessed with burning the love of my life to a pile of ashes!" Fintan stayed silent, and for a heartbeat, Marella thought, This is it. She was such a monster she even horrified Fintan. But her mouth kept talking, and her heart kept bleeding. "There's a monster in my head, that tells me to do really horrible things, like- like kill Biana, set her on fire until she can't survive me, and the more it goes on, the more I realize I'm the monster, it's my own actions. The monster tells me I want to do those things, and why would I think it if I didn't want to carry it out?"

"Do you want to hurt Biana?" Fintan asked, his voice calm and collected as ever. What a dickhead.

"I don't know!" Marella screamed, spinning around to punch the wall. Her knuckles split apart, droplets of blood appearing on them. "Part of me, part of me loves her more than anything else, can't stand to see her in even the least bit of pain. And the other part wants her to burn. And I don't know which part is real, or how to stop the second part. All I know is I can't be around her. I'm too dangerous."

Fintan was silent for a long time. Then he nodded and said, "The life of a pyrokinetic is a lonely one. It's hard to get close to people. When you do, it's too easy to hurt them. It's best to just isolate yourself from the good parts of society. If the council doesn't lock you up, you lock yourself up. I'm sorry you had to manifest this curse. I'm sorry you're turning into a monster like me."

"I'm sorry too," said Marella, not quite knowing what she was apologizing for. And then she ran.

Where was she running to? She didn't know that. Just... away.

When she finally had to take a breath to catch her breath, calves burning and lungs aching, it finally occurred to her. Where the pyrokinetic monsters had to go. The only place in the world that the world could possibly be safe from her. She'd considered the Forbidden Cities, midway through her run, so she wouldn't hurt anyone she knew and cared about... but she could kill humans, and that was still monstrous. Same with any cities for the other intelligent species. If she was around people- any people- they'd be in danger.

Exile. She had to go to Exile. A place meant to keep the rest of the world safe from her.

But how the fuck do I get there?

Marella screamed. No one was allowed to hear her. She screamed, because she was so damn close to keeping everyone she loved safe, and at this last step she couldn't make it. How the fuck did she get to Exile? Did she turn herself in to the Council, have a tribunal? Would they lock her up? They fucking should. The Council had thrown innocent elves into Exile, they wouldn't mind banishing a Pyrokinetic with a fucked up brain.

To Eternalia, she supposed, since she didn't have many other options.

She leaped there, starting heading towards the Councillor's castle, barely able to focus on anything around her other than the screaming in her head and the thunderous beating of her ugly, poisoned heart. Which is how she didn't notice that there was a person right in her path... and how she managed to bump into them.

Aer.

Biana.

"Hey, watch where- Marella? Love? Are you alright?"

Just her luck, the person she needed to stay away from. "What are you doing here?" Marella blurted, before she could really think about it. It sounded harsh, and she saw the hurt flash across Biana's face.

Ae recovered quickly. "I was getting some work done for Team Valiant, since we weren't together; it's too hard to do it around you, your pretty face always distracts me." Under aer breath, ae mumbled something that sounded like Biana, you disastaer queer.

Normally, Marella was happy to laugh about being a disaster queer- a concept she was well acquainted with, but that was drowned out by the fact that Biana was still affectionate with her. Still found her pretty, wanted to date her, just as in love as ae was before. Why wouldn't ae be? Ae didn't know. But ae needed to know- it wasn't fair to keep lying to Biana, manipulate aer into thinking aer girlfriend was a good person.

"We need to break up," said the words spilling out of Marella's mouth. In horror, she watched as Biana's face fell, looking like slow motion. She could see the heartbreak dawn on aer, moment by moment.

Aer brown eyes filling with tears, ae whispered "Marella?"

"I- you can't- we- I need to go to Exile," Marella said. "We can't date if I'm in Exile."

"Why the fuck would you need to go to Exile? The fuck did you do?"

"Nothing yet. I'd like to keep it that way. Which is why I can't see you again."

"You're not making any sense, Marella!" The tears spilled onto aer cheeks, and whatever was left of Marella's ugly heart broke.

She didn't want to tell Biana. She really, really didn't want to look Biana in the eye and explain that she fantasized about killing aer. She would rather be anywhere else- preferably Exile- but Biana had a right to know why Marella was breaking up with aer. So she swallowed. "I... I get these thoughts," she started, not quite knowing how to verbalize this secret she'd kept so close to her forever. "About... hurting people. Hurting you. Earlier today, right before I left, I thought about killing you. Burning you. It was really vivid... I could see you on fire, looking so scared of me, before you turned to ashes and smoke. And then my brain whispered..."

Marella broke off into a sob, not daring to look at Biana's face. Ae probably hated her now. Ae hated herself too.

"It whispered, 'Do it. Burn aer. I know you want to.' I'm so fucked up, Biana, I'm too dangerous to be around you. Please just leave before you get hurt. I don't want to hurt you, but this monster that lives in my head wants me to. Or maybe the monster is me, it's all so fucked up, but I don't want to let the monster win, whatever it is. Protect yourself. Don't let it win."

"Marella..."

"Biana, please don't let it win! It would kill me to see you die, know it was all my fault... my heart's full of poison and seeing you die would still break it. I love you, I love you more than anything, which is why I have to keep you safe. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She turned away, almost crying too hard to speak. "I'm sorry. I'll just... I'll go."

Cold fingers wrapped around her wrist. "Not a chance in hell," snapped Biana, whirling Marella back around. "Don't you dare push me away. I am your girlfriend, and I call the shots on whether or not you're too dangerous to be around me. And the only danger you pose is trying to make my head explode from gay panic."

"Hello!? And also burning you!" Why the fuck couldn't ae understand? Ae needed to get away.

"I'll carry around a damn fire extinguisher, I don't care. I'm perfectly capable of handling myself in life or death situations. I've survived the Neverseen a million times over, I can survive the off chance that you lose control and set me on fire. I'll take precautions and I'll be ready to defend myself if I need to, but I don't think I'm going to need to."

"You don't know that! You don't know how horrible I am!" Marella couldn't stop screaming. She wasn't angry at Biana. Just angry at herself. Angry at the monster. Just... angry. She needed to stop before she set anything on fire. Monster.

"No, I don't know for sure that you'll never hurt me. But I know that I love you. I'm not going to stop loving you just because you're a flawed package. It's not like I'm little miss perfect or anything. We can be fucked up together."

"You're not perfect, but you're damn well closer than I am! Even Fintan thought I was fucked up. Fintan. I love you, Biana, I do, but my heart's too ugly and poisonous to be in love like we are. I just need to cut our ties and hope the pain from missing you goes away eventually."

"I love you, you fucking idiot!" Biana shouted. "I love you, because you're Marella fucking Redek, and you make me want to freeze time and be happy with you forever. I love you so much that it feels like burning any time I think of life without you in it. I love you so much that it feels like my world is a little bit off-kilter and then I kiss you and that's the only time everything feels right. I love you because you've been with me through all the shit in my life and made me smile through it all, so now it's my turn to help you with your shit. I love you so, so much, and I love everything about you. Even the flaws. Even the monster. I wish I could tell the monster to stay away from my Marella, but I can't, so I'm going to tell Marella to stop being so hard on my Marella. I love her, and she's not as bad as she thinks she is. She's not bad at all. I love everything about you, Marella, but I can't love you the way I want to if you keep pushing me away. So we'll be in love, and then we'll also have my scars and your monster and all our history with the Neverseen, but we'll love each other through it all. I need you to understand that I love you, you fucking idiot." Biana's eyes were wild with desperation. Ae exhaled heavily, giving Marella a pleading look.

"I love you," whispered Marella. It was all she could say before collapsing into a hug, crying. "I love you. I'm so sorry I tried to leave. You're the best. I love you."

"I want you to love yourself almost as much as I love you. You deserve it."

Maybe Marella would believe that, eventually. Maybe she'd get there.

She was still broken; how could she not be, with a monster living in her head? A little bit burnt, a little damaged, a little horrible. But she kept living. (Biana stayed alive and un-burnt too, to Marella's delighted surprise.) Her ugly, poisonous heart kept beating.

Elwin gave her a little pill to help keep the monster quiet, help keep her from freaking out so much every time the monster reared its fiery head. She eventually got to a point where she could make little fires with her hand and not spiral into a panic. Biana held her other hand as Marella lit the Hanukkah candles herself, and she was a bit scared, but it melted away with the laughter and latkes and warm lighting. It was hard not to push aer away; hard to keep herself from running away.

But Marella did it, because she loved Biana. And she loved herself, just a little bit. And she tolerated the monster. So she kept going, and she allowed herself to love Biana. To love unafraid, with an ugly, poisonous heart.

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rexisnotyourwriter · 3 years

Photo

by @rexalexander and @postcardsanddaydreaming

After the Atlanta child murders, the Behavioral Science Unit is as busy as ever. With a new team member by their side, they take on what feels like a growing number of active serial killers as well as continue their interviews of already incarcerated subjects. Bill tries to track down Nancy and Brian with the hopes of repairing his marriage, while Wendy tries to take on a more active role in their research with an eager budding protégé at her side.

Read on AO3

*If you enjoy this, please like/reblog on tumblr and/or leave kudos/comments on AO3. Your feedback helps keep fic writers writing.*

Notes: As always, thanks to my beta fish @hardythehermitcrab

Chapter 1: The Restless Summer Air

The girl watched the toast pop up from the mint green Burlington toaster mere seconds after emitting the smell of the now charred breakfast. The toaster almost perfectly matched the vinyl covering on the kitchen chairs and the geometric pattern on the off-white linoleum flooring. The whole house, in fact, looked like it came straight out of a magazine, which, in all honesty, it had. Her mother had dog-eared the pages of the latest styles before they even bought the house. The kitchen, as noted, was mint and off-white themed. Clean and crisp. The living room, which flowed out from the kitchen, featured wood flooring adorned with a large ornate rug with a velvet baby pink couch and loveseat. The one piece that didn’t quite match the room was her father’s green-ish recliner. It was the sore thumb of the room that he refused to part with. The fireplace was surrounded by a brick mantle, on top of which was a wooden clock that ticked loudly. It was very nearly time for her to be on her way to school.

She sat in her usual seat at one end of the table watching her mother, who looked at the slightly charred toast with little regard and tossed it onto a plate. She watched as her mother haphazardly slathered it with strawberry jam. She was doing it wrong, again.

Across from the girl’s place at the kitchen table was a full breakfast plate - two fried eggs, two pieces of (unburnt) toast, buttered, and three sausage links - next to a cup of coffee. The sun shining in from the living room illuminated the steam willowing out from the top of the mug like smoke from a chimney. It curved and swirled upwards, slithering almost, until it disappeared.

“Ed!” her mother called, for the fourth time, more shrill than the previous three.

She plopped the plate of toast in front of her daughter before grabbing her “secret” pack of cigarettes from the kitchen drawer. When the girl heard the back door open and the strike of a match, she got up from her seat to grab the jar of jam and knife that were still on the counter. She dipped the knife gingerly into the jar and spread jam into the forgotten corners of the toast, but not so near the crust that her fingers would get sticky when she ate it. Then, she cut the toast diagonally.

“Morning,” her father smiled at his daughter as he entered the kitchen. She smiled back, but her mouth was too full of toast to return his greeting. He was in one of his nicer suits today, the dark blue one, with a silk paisley tie. His coat was already swung over his arm, his hand clutching his briefcase beneath it. He blew quickly and gently on his coffee a few times before gulping some down, wincing. Still too hot. He gave up on it, and turned to leave. The girl’s smile dropped.

“What are you doing?” her mother’s voice came from behind her.

“Going to work, dear, like I do every morning,” he replied cheekily.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He paused, annoyed by the delay. His eye spied the full plate of food at his spot.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t have time to eat.”

He moved to leave.

“You’re supposed to bring her to school today.”

“Hun, I’ve got a meeting first thing. I really gotta go.”

“I have a hair appointment-”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Kat-”

“Ed, you promised that you-”

“I hardly think your hair is-”

“That’s not the point-”

“Don’t forget who pays for your hair to look like that.”

“Here we go.”

“I’m not doing this now, end of discussion.”

He grabbed a piece of toast from his plate and shoved it into his mouth before leaving out the front door.

Her mother slammed the back door shut. She hastily untied her apron and threw it on the counter, then rushed off to the powder room to fix her hair and put on some make up.

The girl finished her toast in almost complete silence, but for the steady ticking of the clock.

--------------------------------------------------------

The Academy basement was almost always dark when Gregg got in. Today was no exception. He enjoyed being the first one there. The more work he got done sooner, the better change he had of making it home for dinner. Granted, he didn’t always make it, but he made the effort, and that was enough for his wife. Plus, the mornings were quiet. He could get settled, organized. It was a different kind of quiet from the late nights. The morning quiet felt promising, hopeful in a way. The evening quiet was a slow drag, your thoughts muddled with too much information that had accumulated over the course of the day into a tangled ball of yarn.

They had a coffee maker now, and an electric kettle. Some of the perks of the increased funding and attention the Behavioral Science Unit had received. Gregg would make a strong pot, stronger than he liked it. He was the odd one out in the team who preferred weaker coffee, so he would make it strong for their sake and add hot water to his mug until it was tempered to his liking.

On this particular morning, Wendy was the next to arrive. She and Gregg exchanged silent greetings as she hung up her coat before retiring to her office. A stack of files was waiting for her on her desk, but it was only a partial set. The remaining files were in her briefcase, having been read the night before. She took them out and placed them in their own pile on her already busy desk. The “done” pile. Though not “done” as in finished with; “done” as in read and flagged with numerous Post-it Notes.

The interviews had been behind ever since the Atlanta case, even though that was closed over a month ago. The phone had been ringing almost constantly with police from every county thinking every slightly disturbing murder was the work of a deranged psychopath. Poor Gregg was getting the brunt of the phone duty, which sucked up his time on more important work. They did get an answering machine, but between checking the tapes and the stacks of unsolicited faxes that would come through, it was becoming a full time job to sift through it all.

Wendy heard the main door open and wondered if it was Bill. She got up from her desk to check. She needed coffee, anyways.

It was Holden. A few weeks ago, he would’ve asked her if Bill was in yet, but his late arrival was a regular occurrence by now. They exchanged their usual good morning head nod as Wendy exited to obtain her caffeine fix.

Some papers floated off the edge of the fax machine tray, which was still spitting out pages.

“How long has this been going on?”

Gregg, fully immersed in a recording, didn’t hear Holden.

“Gregg,” he said louder.

Gregg paused the tape and removed his headphones.

“When did this start?” Holden asked, picking up the pages from the floor and stacking them, along with the rest, next to the fax machine.

“I’m not sure. It was empty when I got in this morning.”

Holden sighed as he gave a few of the pages a cursory glance. Nothing excited him.

Wendy returned armed with two cups of coffee. She gave the coat rack a scan for Bill’s coat, but it was still absent.

“Hey,” Holden said, making his way over to Wendy. “Do you think we should’ve told him yesterday?”

“He had already gone home.”

Holden looked at the second coffee cup in Wendy’s hand, waiting for her to offer it to him.

“Yeah, I know. But should we have called him?”

Wendy shook her head.

“He doesn’t need to be dealing with work when he’s at home.”

The hypocrisy of her advice isn’t lost on either of them. Holden’s not exactly innocent either.

“I just don’t know what to do.”

“There’s not much we can do.”

Holden looked at the coffee again. This time Wendy noticed.

They’re interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the hall. Moments later, Bill walked in, without a coat, looking slightly worse for wear than usual, with a manic glint in his eye.

“Morning, Bill,” Wendy said.

“Morning,” he responded reactively, not bothering to look in her direction.

He stood at the coat rack for a moment before realizing he didn’t need to be there, then headed to his office.

Holden and Wendy shared a look. She’s got this. Wendy followed Bill, both cups of coffee still in her hand, leaving Holden to fend for himself.

Wendy leaned against the doorway of Bill’s office while he settled himself. She half expected the inside of his briefcase to be a slough of loose files, but he pulled out a single tidy, albeit thick, folder.

Wendy said nothing.

Bill sighed and finally looked up at her.

“Look, I appreciate the concern.”

“Bill-”

“I do. But what I really need right now is to not be treated like I’m a…a bird with a broken wing, or a child.”

He paused.

“Or some other helpless thing, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I know I look like shit.”

“I’ve seen worse.”

He almost smiled.

“While Holden and I share some…concerns,” she continued. “That’s not entirely why I’m here.”

Wendy stepped inside his office, closing the door behind her, and took a seat, placing one of the coffee cups in front of Bill.

“Gunn came down here yesterday, after you left-”

“Shit.”

“He knows there’s something going on, more than whatever it is you’re telling him.”

Bill leaned his forehead into this hand, rubbing his temples.

“He really likes playing us off each other, doesn’t he.”

“It’s actually rather smart, if you think about it,” Wendy responded wryly. “He knows by now that we talk to each other about this kind of stuff, and that Holden and I have a better chance of getting through to you than he does.”

Bill finally took note of the coffee in front of him and gulped some down.

“What did you tell Gunn?” he asked.

“Nothing. I said I wasn’t specifically sure what was going on outside of work and assured him that we were catching up from time lost during the Atlanta case.”

“Is that true?”

“Marginally.”

He scoffed.

“But that’s not your fault,” she added.

They sat in the silence of a mutual understanding that nothing either of them could say would change the reality of the situation.

Wendy shifted in her seat, about to stand up, when Bill interrupted her.

“Brian answered the phone this morning.”

She opened her mouth, but no words formed.

Every day since Nancy left with Brian, Bill had been calling her parents in Connecticut. There was nowhere else she could’ve gone to. She had no siblings, and had too much pride to confide in any of their friends.

“I called this morning, expecting to leave another voice-mail, but after two rings it stops. I hear breathing. Background noise from the kitchen. Bacon sizzling.”

Each word is harder for Bill to say out loud, but he keeps his composure. Wendy can feel it, though.

“And then I hear Nancy freak out, telling Brian to hang up the phone. Then…”

He imitated a dial-tone.

“I don’t know what to do, Wendy.”

She exhaled softly. She wasn’t sure either.

“I’m sorry, Bill.”

“Thanks for the coffee.”

That was her cue to leave. She paused in the doorway, and turned back around.

“You don’t have to tell Gunn everything. Just, something with a grain of truth. Enough that he feels you’re being honest with him and will give you some leeway.”

“I will.”

“Sooner rather than later.”

Bill nodded.

“He’s out today, yeah?” She nodded back. “I’ll tell him next week. Promise.”

Wendy left him with a sympathetic smile.

Holden was finally settled at his desk when Gregg interrupted him.

“I’ve got an Arthur Osborn on the line. Alaska State Trooper. He’s got a case that I think it worth looking into.”

Don’t they all.

“And he asked for me specifically?”

“You or Bill, but I figured…”

“Yeah, sure, put him through.”

A moment later, Holden’s phone rang.

“Special Agent Holden Ford.”

“Agent Ford, thanks for taking my call.” Osborn’s voice was deep and had a midwest lilt. Definitely not a native Alaskan.

“How can I help?”

“We’ve had four young women found dead in less than two years. All of them under 21. The youngest,” his voice cracked, “was eleven.”

Holden waited for him to compose himself.

“They were noted as missing before the bodies were found,” Osborn continued. “Two months ago, Lori King, 18, was reported missing. We think it was the same guy. We want to find him before she ends up like the others.”

“Of course. What condition were the bodies in when they were found?”

Osborn took a deep breath. “There was significant decomp by the time we found them.”

“Anything notable in how they were staged?”

“Staged?”

“Yes. Positioned. When you found them, were they sitting up, lying down, what were their arms and legs doing…”

“Nothing particular, really, I don’t think. We have photos.”

“Good. It’s possible this is the same unsub, but I’ll need to look at everything you’ve got on it.”

“Yes, Agent Ford.”

“Did you already fax us the files?” Holden was already dreading having to dig the related pages out of the stacks.

“What? No, no. We thought we better call first.”

“Good thinking. Send them through when you get a chance. We’ll take a look.”

“Thank you.”

Less than thirty minutes later, the fax machine started printing.

Later that afternoon, Holden gathered the rest of the team in the war room to review the Fairbanks case files. It turned out Osborn was right in his suspicion that this could be the work of the same unsub.

“Our first victim is Glinda Sodemann, 19. Newly wed and a new mother. She went missing from her home in North Pole on August 29, 1979.”

Holden pinned a photo of Glinda onto the board.

“Her husband came home to the baby asleep in the crib and Glinda gone. There were no signs of foul play, and no indication that she would have had a reason to run away. Two months later, her decomposing body was found near Moose Creek, just over twenty miles south of Fairbanks, in a gravel pit near the highway.”

Next to the smiling black and white yearbook photo of Glinda, Holden pinned the photo from the dump site.

“She was shot in the face with a .38 caliber. The pistol cartridge was found next to the body. There were no signs of sexual assault.”

“Did they look into the husband,” Bill interjected.

Holden nodded.

“He was their prime suspect for a while. Even failed a polygraph. But there was no evidence.”

The next photo Holden put up was of an even younger girl.

“Almost a year after Glinda disappeared, 11-year-old Doris Oehring goes missing from North Pole. Her and her older brother were riding their bikes on June 11. She had ridden ahead of him, and when he caught up to her he saw her talking to a man with a blue car. The hood was popped open as if he had engine trouble. As soon as her brother got closer, the man slammed the hood, got back in his car, and sped off. Two days later, Doris disappeared.”

“Were they able to get a description from the brother?” Gregg asked.

“They got a rough sketch,” Holden answered, adding said sketch to the board. “The brother said he thought the man was wearing a blue shirt that looked like a uniform.”

“Military?” Wendy suggested.

“Air Force.”

“There’s a base in Fairbanks,” Bill added.

“They found Doris’ bike hidden in the bushes near her home. A witness said they saw a blue car near that area around the time of her disappearance. The driver appeared to be struggling with someone or something in the seat next to him.”

“Fuck,” Bill muttered under his breath.

“They also said it looked like he had a military haircut. Now, based on all of the descriptions of the perpetrator, the state troopers got a list of every single blue car that was registered to drive on the Eielson Air Base. Anyone want to guess how many names are on that list?”

They looked around at one another.

“One hundred?” Gregg suggested.

“550,” Holden responded. “They questioned Glinda’s husband again. This time the polygraph was inconclusive.”

The team collectively rolled their eyes at that cursed word.

“They brought a polygraph expert in after that to question him again. They said that he had an irregular heartbeat that made it impossible for him to pass a polygraph. It would always show either as failed or inconclusive. Due to lack of alternative evidence, they had to remove him as a suspect, at least for Doris’ disappearance.”

They fell silent, processing the implications of this information. How many people failed a polygraph because of a heart condition?

“The third disappearance happened January 31,” Holden continued. “Marlene Peters, the oldest victim so far at age 20. She was last seen hitchhiking from Fairbanks to Anchorage to visit her sick father. Now, initially, there wasn’t enough reason to think that her disappearance was connected to the others. Five weeks later, Wendy Wilson, 16, goes missing. She was also last seen hitchhiking, and a witness saw her get into a white pickup in Moose Creek. They found her body three days later, over thirty miles south of Fairbanks. She had been strangled and then shot in the face. Two months later, Marlene’s body was found in similar condition, not far from where Wendy’s had been. Which also happened to be very close to -”

“Eielson Air Base,” Bill finished.

“Bingo. The latest disappearance occurred a couple days after they found Marlene’s body. Lori King, 19.” Holden puts Lori’s photo on the board. “She was last seen walking alone in Fairbanks.”

“Did they ever find Doris Oehring?” Wendy asked.

“No. They’ve searched near the air base and all the areas where the other bodies were found, but no sign of Doris, or Lori.”

Holden took a step away from the board, indicating his descent into theorizing.

“He’s single. Lives alone. Definitely has issues with women.” The team all nodded in agreement. “Probably has a hard time holding a job. He has a history with the military, but I don’t think he’s part of the Air Base.”

“Even though it’s close to the dump site of the victims,” Gregg inquired.

“It’s more notable that the bodies were dumped off the highway. It doesn’t feel like it’s about the proximity to the Air Base,” Holden replied. “So, why does he shoot them in the face?”

“To hide their identity?” Gregg suggested.

Wendy shook her head.

“It’s more than that,” she said. “It’s a relatively tight knit community. People know that these women are missing, and identifying them wouldn’t be that difficult, even after their faces had been shot. It’s more about substitution. He’s taking them and killing them in place of the person - woman - that his aggression is actually directed at. Once they’re dead, he sees that they didn’t fulfill the fantasy in the way that he wanted, so he disfigures their face to erase their identity in order to satisfy his illusion.”

Gregg nodded.

“I disagree about the military aspect, however,” she continued. “I think it’s highly likely he does work at the Air Base in some capacity.”

“Because of the haircut and the blue car?” Holden responded.

“And the uniform. The location of the bodies. The evidence we’ve accumulated from other cases. He likely has disciplinary issues, maybe even a history of abusive behavior towards women.”

“Okay.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he also had a history of institutionalization,” Bill added. “He feels tangibly unhinged.”

“Okay,” Holden repeated. “I think we’ve got a good basis for a profile.”

Holden faced the team, hands on his hips.

“Hey, we should grab a drink later. It’s been a while.”

“I got to get home to the family,” Gregg replied.

Holden gave him an understanding smile as Gregg grabbed his notebook and left the war room. He turned and looked expectantly at Bill and Wendy, his real targets.

“Come on, it’s a Friday. We’ll go to The Fern.”

“I don’t think so, Holden,” Wendy declined.

“Yeah, I’m not really feeling it tonight,” Bill added.

Holden shot Wendy a look. For Bill’s sake.

She contemplated, and gave in.

“Alright,” she conceded. “Come on, Bill. I’ll go if you do.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

“My other condition,” Wendy added, “is that we find a new place.”

“What happened? I thought you liked going to The Fern?”

She shrugged.

“It wasn’t as great as I thought it was.”

Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May” was playing upon their arrival at The Velvet Arrow. It was not as full, or as dive-y, as The Fern, but it was certainly more bizarre in its decor. The walls were covered in a mix of Native American art and 1950s advertisements. The bar stools, true to the name, were covered in red velvet (and stains) that reminded one of movie theater seats. Thankfully, the booths where they chose to sit were vinyl.

“I’ve got the first round,” Holden offered. “Bill?”

“Bourbon.”

Holden turned to Wendy.

“White wine. Thanks.”

When Holden was safely out of earshot, Wendy leaned in towards Bill.

“Did you tell him about this morning?”

Bill shook his head.

“Okay.”

It was understood that the phone call with Brian stayed between them. They both agreed that Holden needs to know enough of what’s going on to not be a dick, but not so much that he gets too involved.

“It really feels like we’re his parents sometimes,” Wendy noted.

Bill exhaled loudly through his nose.

“That kid, I tell ya.”

They shared a small laugh as Holden returned with their drinks.

“What’s so funny?”

“Wendy just told a great joke,” Bill replied.

She cut him a glare, tempered with a smirk.

“Wendy told a joke?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” she replied, more defensively than intended.

“No, I mean -” Holden flustered. “You’re…funny.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Why do I feel like I was the joke,” he added.

“Couldn’t tell ya,” Bill grinned.

Wendy sipped her wine. At least it was better than whatever they had at The Fern, not that The Velvet Arrow’s was in any way exceptional. She scanned the rest of the bar. It was mostly men, military looking men at that. A few of them were here with what appear to be girlfriends, or at least hopefuls.

Her heart stopped. A woman at the bar, a customer, back turned. Her slight frame and long straight brown hair were familiar. No. It couldn’t be.

She gulped down more of her wine, unable to turn her eyes away, just in case the woman turned her head to get confirmation or denial.

“How about it, Wendy?” Holden asked.

She turned to look at him.

“What?”

“Darts. Wanna play?”

“Um...”

“Come on,” Bill coaxed.

“Fine.”

While the men got up, Wendy stole a glance back at the woman. Her profile was in full view now, and it was a face she didn’t recognize. She let out a small sigh of relief.

“You coming?” Holden asked.

“Hmm? Yes.”

She anticipated how poorly she’d do. Bill and Holden assuredly had low expectations.

“Ladies first,” Bill said, handing Wendy a dart.

She slowly shook her head at him, a slight smile on her face, and took the dart. It was heavier than she expected. It was just like archery, right? She did that once, at a summer camp. Poorly.

Wendy stared down the dartboard.

Square up. Shoulders to the pins.

Kay’s voice came into her head. She positioned herself.

Now, put your weight on your left foot.

She did.

Take a deep breath and just do it.

Wendy fired the dart.

It stuck two inches from the center.

Bill and Holden didn't bother to hide their surprise, nor their delight.

“40 points,” Holden exclaimed.

“Nicely done, Dr. Carr,” Bill beamed.

“Looks like we’ve got to step it up, Bill,” Holden added.

The game ended with Bill winning both rounds; Wendy and Holden earned a second and a third place ranking each. The trio walked out to the parking lot in the warm summer air. It still smelled like smoke, but it was fresher than inside the bar at least.

“See you Monday, then,” Holden said.

They waved their goodbyes and entered their respective vehicles. Wendy was about to pull out when she heard an engine struggling.

It was Holden’s.

She looked around and saw that Bill had already driven off. Holden looked at Wendy from across the parking lot. Their eyes met. There was no escaping now.

She got out of her car and walked over.

“Need a jump?”

Holden sighed. “I think so. Bill’s gone already?” She nodded. “Do you have cables?”

“I can check.”

Wendy looked in the back of her car and the trunk, but no luck. She returned to Holden empty handed.

“I’ll call a tow truck,” he concluded.

“At this hour?”

Holden shrugged.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” she offered. “You can deal with it in the morning.”

Holden willingly agreed.

Wendy turned on the radio, hoping it would keep Holden’s small talk at bay.

“So how do you think Bill’s doing? Like, really?” he asked.

She thought about it.

“I think he’s handling it as well as he knows how. I mean, how is someone even supposed to cope with your wife leaving with your child while you’re gone, with no contact whatsoever?”

“I offered him one of my Valiums the other day,” Holden said casually.

“You did what?”

“You know, just to maybe help take the edge off.” Wendy shook her head. “He declined, by the way.”

“You really shouldn’t be offering prescription drugs to people.” As if it needed saying.

“Well, when you phrase it like that,” he smirked. “Left up here, then I’m on the right.”

Wendy turned and pulled up to Holden’s building. He took off his seatbelt, but didn’t get out of the car.

“Thanks for the ride, Wendy.”

She smiled politely. He smiled back, still not making any move to leave.

“Do you want to come in?” he offered. “For a cup of coffee, or something?”

“Uh, no. Thank you.”

Holden wasn’t phased by the rejection, which only made Wendy more convinced he would keep trying.

“Okay.” He opened the door to leave. “Drive safe.”

She nodded. He closed the car door behind him.

Wendy saw him in her mirror standing outside, watching her drive away, before disappearing inside.

#op*#mindhunter #mindhunteredit #mindhunter fic #a tide in a city #wendy carr #bill tench #holden ford #gregg smith #ted gunn #it has been 84 years since i posted a fic

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