#he could smell you from a 5 mile radius and track you down just to bite the hell out of your ankles

[offbrandomega]

comparing my old spamton vs my new spamton

left is old, right is new

#my old spam looks like he would be an ankle biter #he could smell you from a 5 mile radius and track you down just to bite the hell out of your ankles #deltarune #spamton #spamton g spamton #deltarune chapter two #silas shenanigans

[aderiex]

Aaron Hotchner x Reader (Jealousy)

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, oral, coarse language.

Summary: The team goes to DC for a case but Hotch can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. After an incident at a bar, he gets jealous and realizes he wants you. 

Everyone all sat on the plane to D.C. They were working a case of younger women abducted from clubs and bars. The Unsub was torturing and killing his victims. Washington PD said the abductions go back a few weeks, 8 bodies had just showed up, half buried in the ground. You sat next to Dr. Reid like you normally do; you two had become close when you had first joined the Bureau and you have become inseparable ever since. He was sitting with the file propped open in his lap and you were leaning over his shoulder to get a better look at the crime scene photos. “So, we have 8 dead women in 3 weeks. The coroner said they had all been dead about a week when they found the bodies.” JJ explained, “So he was keeping them for a while.” Morgan concluded.  Emily sighed and looked over to you, it was hard for the women to do cases like this knowing the victimology, they were within the killer’s preference. Reid put a supportive hand on your back and offered you a warm smile, you smiled back and tuned in to what Hotch was saying. He was talking about what our next moves were when you landed. “JJ and Reid, I need you in the precinct, looking over all the evidence, get our team somewhere to set up. Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi will interview the families of the victims.” You watched his hesitated eyes looking around the plane when they finally met yours, his gaze softened a bit. “Me and y/n are going to go have a look at the crime scene.” He finished. Everyone agreed and the pilot’s voice came over the speakers, telling the team they were coming in for landing.

As soon as you were on the ground, you were being transported into SUV’s and on your separate paths to do the assigned jobs. It was just you and Hotch in the car, he was driving, and you rode shotgun, with a map splayed out on your lap with all the last known locations of the girls and then the dumpsite. Hotch tried to make some small talk, but it was mostly silent for the duration of the car ride. You pulled up to the dumpsite to see state police around, police tape up to keep civilians out. You put on your rubber gloves, and stepped out of the car, joining up on Hotch’s side as you both approached the scene. The state police chief came up to you and shook both of your hands, introducing himself. He explained basic knowledge of the crimes, which you had already read about, but still listened intently to his words. You and Hotch walked over and inspected the dead bodes. Him checking their pockets and looking at how they were placed, you still looking through the files, trying to identify each girl.

After a few hours spent at the crime scene, you and Hotch decided to rejoin the rest of the team back at the precinct. The drive back less quiet, mostly just filled with work discussion and quick phone calls to Reid and Garcia, but still something. Back at the precinct, Reid and JJ had all the crime scene photos laid out on the big conference table, along with all the evidence. You and Hotch joined them at the table, Reid joining up on your side. Looking down, at the file in your hands and matching it with the last known location of the girls. “They were all last seen at a bar or club…” Morgan mused, “Hey babygirl,” He said, getting on the phone with Garcia. “I need a list of all the bars and clubs that are in a 10-mile radius of the dump site.” Garcia chuckled, “Already on it big boy, I’m sending them over to you right now.” The list popped up, about 7 bars and clubs. “2 of them closed due to renovations and aren’t due to open for the next month.” Garcia added, “Ok so that makes 5. We should split up and hit the bars tonight. Morgan, you take the one uptown on 5th. Reid, I want you and Prentiss in the one on Main. Rossi and JJ will take the one on the far side of town. Me and y/n will take the one on 22nd.” Hotch gave everyone roles, “That leaves one, the one on 33rd.” JJ brought up, Hotch nodded and turned to the state police chief, “I want you and a partner there tonight.” Hotch said, in a serious tone. The man nodded and everyone went to get changed into more casual clothing, as to not seem too suspicious to the unsub. You all were told to tuck your guns behind your waistband, and you kept your badge and cuffs on a belt loop you kept hidden underneath your shirt.

You and Hotch headed for the bar, this was the one time he wasn’t dressed formally, he wore a simple grey button up and jeans, he looked good. You both sat in the car, driving in the dark, the quiet was comforting. Hotch looked over to you multiple times during the drive, just quick glances, not long enough for you to make eye contact with him. You pulled up to the bar, it looked busy, the parking lot was full and there was a steady stream of people going in and out. Hotch looked over to you and sent you a small nod as you both got out of the car and walked in together. It was even busier inside, people were packed in, standing almost shoulder to shoulder. You and Hotch headed immediately to the bar, you found two open spots and sat down, the bartender walked up to you guys. “Busy night?” Hotch asked, the bartender nodded, exasperatedly. “It’s like this almost every night. Popular spot.” He laughed out, “So you probably don’t remember many of the people that come through here?” you asked, the bartender thought about it for a second, “Not really, unless its one of my regulars or they are quite memorable.” He shrugged. You pulled a picture out of your pocket of the girls, “Do any of these girls look familiar?” You asked, the bartender inspected the photos, he shook his head, “Sorry, like I said we have a lot of people that come through here.” You nodded, “What about a man? He would have been quite reserved, sat near the back, didn’t talk to anyone, seemed to just watch?” Hotch cut in, the bartender paused, “Yeah I think I know who you’re talking about, he comes here sometimes, orders a beer and sits in the back. He leaves pretty discreetly.” The man said, “Is he here tonight?” You asked, the man looked around, “Not yet, he normally shows up later in the night.” You nodded and turned to Hotch, “Guess we play the waiting game.” He said.

You and Hotch sat at a table in the back, just talking. Hotch had ordered a beer, as to blend in, you were taking sips of a virgin drink the bartender had recommended. A man approached your table and sat next to you without warning, you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Hey pretty lady.” He slurred, intoxicated. You forced a smile and looked to Hotch, who was sending the man a death stare. “Are you single?” he asked, paying no attention to Hotch. He didn’t even let you answer, “Let’s get out of here babe. I’ll show you a great time.” He shot you a dirty smile. You were getting visibly uncomfortable, “Get off of her.” Hotch spoke up, you both looked over to him and he was getting serious. “Hey man calm down, I’m just picking up your leftovers.” He snickered, Hotch was up in a second, grabbing the intoxicated man by his collar and pulling him out of the booth. “I wasn’t asking.” He practically spat at the man. The fear in the man’s eyes was prominent as Hotch let him go and he drunkenly stumbled away from our table. “Thank you.” You spoke up, giving Hotch a warm smile. Hotch returned the smile which made your face heat up and you averted your eyes.

The night was long but by the time the bar had closed, there was no sign of this man. You and Hotch packed up and left the bar, getting into his SUV and heading for the hotel. The drive home felt different, the silence wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable. You couldn’t help but steal glances over to him. You pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and Hotch helped you out of the car, “About what happened back there...” He trailed off, you smiled “Hey, don’t worry about it. I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me.” You smiled, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. You felt the heat rush to his face under your hand. You stayed there for a moment, staring into his eyes, watching them try to read you. His brow furrowed, his eyes scanning your face. You pulled away, breaking the trance “We should probably go… go to bed.” You laughed nervously, he said nothing but a brief nod and you both headed into the hotel. Checking into your respective rooms.

It was the next day, you and Hotch were both extremely tired and showed up to the precinct late because of the late closing time of the bar. Everyone watched you two walk in, JJ raised her eyebrows suggestively and you blushed slightly but shook your head, “It’s not what it looks like, the bar was open until 1am.” You said, yawning.

The day was very long, but you eventually caught up with the killer, he had made a mistake in covering his tracks and you had been able to find his tab at the bar. Garcia had tracked his card and given you all an address. The whole team pulled up to the man’s house, you hopped out of the SUV gun in hand, approaching the house with the rest of the team. Morgan kicked down the door and everyone surged into the house.

The next events went by in almost slow motion, you turned a corner, the first thing you heard was the shot. You didn’t know where it had come from until you felt a breathtaking force on your vest, knocking you back into the wall, Morgan was right behind you, putting a bullet through the man’s shoulder. You stumbled back and slid down the wall, clawing at your vest, trying to get it off. Hotch ran in and dropped to his knees in front of you, “Y/n! Y/n can you hear me?” He cried out, your ears were ringing but you nodded, and reached out to grab his hand. He practically tore your vest off, looking for any signs of bleeding, but the vest had done its job. He helped you up, his arm around your waist as you caught your breath before guiding you out of the house. Morgan was shoving the unsub into the cop car, as Hotch helped you to the SUV. “I’ll take y/n back to the hotel for some rest. I need you guys to go back and pack up things at the precinct.” Hotch said, everyone nodded.

You were breathing shallowly in the passenger seat as Hotch drove you both back to the hotel. He wouldn’t even let you walk in by yourself, instead he hoisted you up in his arms and carried you through the hotel to your room. He walked you over to your bed and gently laid you down, sitting down on the bed beside you. You drifted peacefully, grabbing out for his hand as you slept.

When you woke up Hotch was still there, holding your hand. He had laid down and was sleeping peacefully. You checked the clock; it was around 3 in the morning. You shifted slightly and you heard his wake up, stretching his arms above his head. “Y/n how are you feeling?” he asked, sitting up. You smiled “I’m feeling better, good as new.” He stood up and you stood with him. As you came to your feet, he was a lot closer than you had expected. You were centimeters apart. You felt his breath on your face, making you shiver. His eyes were scanning you again, looking for some kind of clue as to what you were thinking. “I was worried about you…” He said quietly. You smiled and reached up for his face again, he grabbed your hand and spun you around, walking you back into the wall. Your back was against the wall, he was pressing his body against you, keeping you still. Fear flashed through his eyes as he started to step away. “I-I’m so sorry-” you cut him off, pulling him back in by the collar and pressing your lips to his. He kissed back immediately. His lips were so soft, felt so right on yours. His hands immediately found your hips, pulling you even closer as your hands played with the hair on the back of his neck. He pulled away, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He admitted, “That guy at the bar…” he paused, you kissed him again to shut him up. “I know” You mumbled against his lips. His kisses got hungrier, his hands going over your body, as if he were memorizing all the curves of your hips. He squeezed at your waist, making you moan quietly. That drove him crazy, his grip immediately tightened, kissing you harder. You reached your hand down and rubbed him through his pants, causing him to groan against your lips. You smirked and felt him almost come undone in front of you. Your shirt was the first to go, he took your breast in his hand making you throw your head back in pleasure, giving him access to kiss at your neck. Biting and sucking at your neck leaving bright red and purple marks, you moaned lightly, your hands tangling in his hair. One hand going to your waistband, the other coming up to grab your throat. He scanned your eyes, making sure it was okay. You gave him a confirming look, he squeezed your throat and whispered in your ear. “That was dangerous y/n.” He said before pushing his fingers past your waistband, making you gasp. “Going in there alone like that?” he was still whispering in your ear as his finger circled your clit, making your grab his biceps. Moaning quietly, “You could have gotten hurt.” He growled, continuing with his fingers. You whimpered, not able to form any eligible words.

You were getting closer to your release, Hotch knew it too and pulled away. Leaving a lingering kiss on your lips before pulling his own shirt over his head. He was toned, strong, you couldn’t help but stare. Seeing him in this vulnerable state, this way, you forever wanted this image of him in your mind. He smiled at you and pulled you back in, “You should have stayed with me.” He said, his voice deep in your ear, making you shiver. His hand going right back into your pants, circling your entrance before pushing a finger inside of you. Your breath hitched, and you opened your mouth as if to let out a moan. “Ah ah. Quiet now.” He growled, you whimpered quietly but nodded. He went back to his fingers, slowly pushing one in and out, watching your face twist with pleasure. Soon you felt him add another one, he curled them inside of you and you felt the tip of his finger graze your pleasure point. You moaned out, he smiled, knowing he had found it and kept going, hitting it with every pump. You dropped your head to rest on his shoulder and bit down on your lip to try and stay quiet. “So wet for me already?” He groaned out, you nodded as best you could while trying to hold in the moans of pleasure. He pulled his fingers out and grabbed you up by your thighs, carrying you over to the bed, placing you down lightly and starting to unbutton your pants. He pulled them off your legs with ease, leaving you in nothing but your bra and underwear, his pants were next. He crawled on top of you in his boxers, you felt his bulge through his boxers rub against you, causing you to moan lightly in his ear. “Fuck Aaron.”

He started kissing down your stomach, all the way down to your thighs, you felt his breath on your inner thighs, causing you to arch you back. He circled your clit through your underwear, making you shudder. He pushed your underwear to the side and licked a flat line up your entrance. You couldn’t keep the moan in that time, it wasn’t that loud, but he heard it. Making him lick you again. You grabbed his hair as he went down on you, you threw your head back as your body was overwhelmed with pleasure. While he was still licking you, he stuck a finger in again. You tightened your grip on his hair and he kept going harder. You couldn’t keep the moans in anymore, grinding down on his fingers, chasing your release. “Not yet y/n.” He whispered. Pulling away. Before he could do anything else you flipped him over, so he was on his back. You trailed down his body, teasing your fingers around his waistband before pulling down his boxers. His member coming up and hitting against his stomach. He groaned at the sudden stimulation, you look his entire length in your mouth making him gasp and throw his head back on the pillow. You bobbed your head and swirled your tongue around him, making him groan and grab your hair. You could feel his tip hitting the back of your throat as you went, amazing moans escaping his lips.

Before he finished, he pulled your hair, letting his member fall out of your mouth. “On your back.” He growled, you obliged and laid down on the bed, you watched him slip your underwear off your legs and throw it behind him as you unhooked your bra and tossed it onto the floor. He leaned down, kissing you and his hands pleasuring you again before you felt his tip slowly push into you. Your nails dug into his skin as you winced. He stopped and looked down at you, you nodded and reached down to push his member farther into you. He groaned and hung his head in pleasure as he bottomed out in you, you moaned as his member hit your pleasure spot. He moved slowly, small thrusts until he was able to slide in and out easily. He held your leg up above his shoulder and continued to thrust. You felt the friction and pain dissipate as it was replaced with pleasure. His groans in your ear, turning you on even more. Your moans were heard all around the room. He leaned it, still going, “You feel so good.” He groaned, you whimpered and ran your nails up and down his back, leaving bright red scratch marks. He moaned at the feeling of this and went harder. He put one hand around your throat and used the other to pin your hands above your head. He was hitting your pleasure spot with every thrust, making you almost scream. You were getting close and Hotch was too, “I-I’m going to-” you didn’t even finish before you released on him, moaning loudly. He was groaning with the feeling of it before pulling out and finishing over your stomach, gasping as he rode out his release.

Later that day, you and Hotch sat on the plane back to Quantico, Reid and Emily were playing chess together. No one knows why she still tries, Reid has yet to lose since Gideon. JJ was finishing her report and Rossi was laying asleep. Hotch sat across form you, his professional face back on, looking over to you and shooting you a smile every once in a while. The flight back is always shorter than the flight out, Reid explained why is physically was, but it felt faster mentally too. As soon as the team landed, there were SUVs outside waiting to take you back to the bullpen. You, Hotch and Reid all sat in one SUV, Reid was forced into the back. The drive was silent other than Reid spouting random facts, you found yourself staring at Hotch while he drove for long periods of time before he would meet your gaze and break you out of the trance.

Everyone was sitting at their respective desks, filling out all the reports quietly. Hotch stepped out of his office, “Y/n. My office.” He said, a shiver went down your spine and you stood. Everyone’s eyes were on you as you walked up the steps and into Hotch’s office. As soon as you got into the office, you closed the door behind you, he closed the blinds and turns towards you “Lock it.” He said, your heart rate picked up and you nodded before turning around and locking the door behind you. You turned around and Hotch was immediately in front of you, grabbing your waist and pinning you against the door. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” He growled in your ear; your knees quivered. He didn’t waste time kissing you, pulling you closer to his body. Holding you up. You immediately reached down to rub him through his pants, but he stopped you “We’re going to have to be quiet.” He murmured. You nodded and he let our wrist go, letting you slip your hand into his pants and slowly stroke him, making him throw his head back and breathe heavily. “Desk, now.” He demanded, you giggled and sat on the edge of his desk. He walked over to you, taking off his blazer and undoing his tie. He came right up and stood between your legs, craning his head down to kiss you, stroking your hair and one hand on your thigh. He pushed you back lightly, letting you come to rest on your elbows, he unzipped his pants and pulled his boxers down enough to pull his hard member out. You bit your lip as he slid into you, his face showing pure pleasure as you contracted and moved around his member. He started slow, until the pain was gone again, the thrusts become easier, and he started going harder. You threw your head back, biting your lip hard as you avoid moaning. “Shhh, good girl.” Hotch praised you, that caused a slight whimper, but it wasn’t too loud. He gave you a warning glance and you nodded desperately. He grabbed his tie and shoved the fabric in your mouth. “Quiet babygirl.” He cooed. You bit down on the tie and let it muffle your moans.

He was getting close; you were coming up on your release as well. You sat up and grabbed his collar, “Cum in me.” You whimpered in his ear. He gave you a confirming look and you nodded. He nodded and as you released on his member, he let himself finish inside of you. You felt his hot release fill you up and you threw your head back. “F-Fuck.” You moaned out. He held you there as you both rode out your orgasm. As he stood back up, putting his clothes back on, kissing your forehead. You felt his warm release running down your leg as you stood, your legs shaking. He gave you his spare shirt to clean up with, “Clean yourself up love.” He said softly. You smiled and he pulled you in for a handful of light kisses. On your lips, your cheeks, and your forehead.

You walked out of the office, slightly stumbling down the stairs and sitting back down, across from Spencer. “What did he want?” He asked you. “Just a second opinion.” You answered, going back to your work as if nothing had happened. Spencer didn’t question it. But Morgan saw the messed-up hair and swollen lips. But he didn’t say any    thing.

Word count: 4k

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch smut

[bewarethewolfarmy]

Cinnamon, Old Books, Chamomile

(Look I got a new obsession XD

Edit: Now with a sequel Sunlit Songs and Masterlist

Here have a fanfiction)

The bookstore was nothing special outside of the fact that it was the only place in a fifty mile radius that a) stocked 15th century literature in acceptable conditions for his needs, and b) was open at 5 in the morning. In actuality based on how many times Spencer Reid had gone there, at all hours of the day, only to find its door unlocked and business open, he was not entirely sure it was ever closed but he did not plan on complaining. He liked being able to get a book at a seconds notice and the owner never seemed to much mind obliging.

That night, morning, time he very much felt the need for a book, though this was sort of just an excuse. He wanted something else but he was trying to convince himself to make use of the soothing aspects of reading instead. The case had been difficult and draining, physically, emotionally; rest honestly might have been a better choice but he found himself instead drawn towards the little store tucked away in the silent, lonely depths of the city, his hand pushing open the door, a tiny ringing signaling his arrival.

The place always smelled of cinnamon and old pages, the soft dim lighting giving it a warm atmosphere that normally felt welcoming. He took a deep breath and glanced about, at stacks of old books, shelves filled with the same, a counter covered in paper and a old fashion register. This too set it apart from other places he supposed; most gave into the need for more advanced equipment. In this place though at least, the world was still simple and smelled of the pleasant scent of old books. It reminded him of good things and bad too but he didn't mind right in the moment.

"Welcome to...oh its you Doctor Reid." The voice was familiar and soft, causing his head to turn towards where a staircase lead to a second floor. A woman walked down it, long black hair tied back in a messy braid, glasses slightly askew; he had decided long enough that she was the type who worked hard and didn't bother much to care for her appearance, often getting ink on her clothes and face when doing book restorations upstairs. He suspected she also baked up there, hence the cinnamon scent, and normally there were muffins or something set on the counter. A normal person would have worried about having food near so many old and valuable books but he got the sense she was not the type to tolerate anyone who might damage the books anyway so they were in no danger. Spencer had tried not to profile her, not the first time he accidentally found the place, nor the seventh time he'd visited and he'd ended up helping her deal with a belligerent customer. He'd lost count of how many times he'd gone there by now but still he resisted the urge to let his mind start to look too much into her; give him one pure thing at least.

He forced a smile and waved in his awkward wave, watching her reach the bottom of the stairs. "Hey Tsuki, sorry I'm in so late, I just figured..."

"No worries, you know my door is always open," she said waving off his apology; he noted she was holding a book under one arm that she set on the counter before tucking back some of her own hair behind her ear, "Though I must say it certainly is later than normal for you. Long day at work I suppose?"

"Yeah you could say that." The unsub had been difficult, hard to track, hard to capture, and when they did get them, the unsub had been one of the most irritating he'd ever seen. The whole team had been happy to see it over with and get back home to Quantico. Admittedly he wasn't home, he was there, in a bookstore, in the early hours of the morning...

He didn't realize that both of them had fallen quiet but the sound of rain starting to fall outside caught his attention and he turned to look; despite making it all the way there, despite everything else, this movement seemed too much and Spencer lost his balance, stumbling. He started to caught himself but felt his arm be grabbed at the same time and his body pulled back and back to equilibrium. The man blinked then looked over at where Tsuki stood, still holding onto him. She looked concern; he couldn't really be certain why.

"Are you alright?" She asked him.

"Y-yeah," he said and forced another smile, pulling himself free of her; he ran his hand over his bag, absentedly smoothing it down, "I'm fine, just a bit tired I suppose."

"You should get some rest then. As much as I like to see you, its more important that you get rest when you can," she said, furrowing her brow.

He supposed she was right but as far as he was concerned getting rest wasn't an option. If he left without a book he would just be walking into a situation where his self control would be in danger and he was trying not to give into the things a part of him did indeed want.

"No, no I'll be...I'll be fine. Don't worry about me, I came to see if you might have anything in stock of interest; have you gotten in any new stock?"

She raised an eyebrow, not saying anything at first. He didn't think she'd throw him out, he had worked relatively hard to build a good rapport with her and be a good customer; based on what he noticed, she was the type who appreciated considerate customers and didn't tolerate bad ones. Thus Spencer always did his best to treat the books with kindness and respect, talk to her about what he liked and what she liked. It had been interesting to find out they shared many interests and he honestly liked it there; it was calming and comforting and nice and warm. There wasn't murderers there or victims or fear or the pressure to do something. It was just...there and he didn't honestly want to leave.

He wobbled and again she seemed to realize this quickly and kept him from falling. The concern in her face grew but getting so close he noticed she too smelled of old pages and cinnamon, and something else; it too was strangely comforting to him and he dared to close his eyes for a second.

"Doctor Reid?" She said his name with some confusion, "Doctor Reid, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine " he said and it was strange how heavy he felt now, "I just...want to stay here a bit."

"Alright then," Tsuki answered and he smiled, even just to himself.

He felt appreciative but he knew he'd need to actually look for a book. After all it was a bookstore, they sold books, he needed to buy a book if he was gonna be there. Spencer opened his eyes and tried to prepare himself to do more but she took him by surprise; before he could, she had grabbed his hand in hers, pulling him towards the stairs. He did not expect this, he didn't know what to do or what to make of it. And his hesitation gave her enough leeway to drag him up to an area he'd never been before.

For a while he'd suspected she lived above the store; it was the only way the store being open like it was was possible. The living space upstairs though looked very similar to the store below, full of books and shelves but with a few additions. A couch and coffee table against one wall, a open air kitchen filled with all the necessary things to cook, a door that he highly suspected either led to her bedroom or her workroom for restorations. Or maybe both. But this place felt much like the area he already knew and he was too busy trying not to take in everything so as not to profile the bookstore owner. She led him to the couch and forced him down; his bag landed beside him and he stared up at her.

"I'm going to go make you a cup of chamomile; you set your bag down and relax." She brokered no response, she turned to walk away and Spencer sat there, confused, uncertain, but didn't immediately get up.

"Chamomile, the apigenin chemicals in it have been found to induce sleepiness as well as act as a herbal anti-anxiety medication similar to benzodiazepines," he muttered, more to himself than anything else.

"Exactly," she answered him anyway and after putting a teapot to boil, passed by him again, "Put your bag on the floor, I'm gonna go get you a blanket and pillow."

"I don't understand what you're trying to do." She never struck him as the dangerous type and as a profiler he was pretty good at noticing dangerous people. But at the same time this was odd; outside the rain was coming down hard, pounding against the window behind him.

"You're tired, you need to rest, you don't want to leave so I'm letting you take a nap on my couch," she told him and went through the door from before: bedroom then.

"I," he started but she wasn't wrong. He was tired, he did need rest, he did say he didn't want to leave immediately. Still how that led to him sitting on her couch while she made him tea still felt a bit...confusing.

He ended up profiling her anyway. The room showed her to be a quiet individual, large family who lived elsewhere, one pet which was obviously the large chocolate Maine Coon that entered the room, looked at him and gave a meow before trotting off. She seemed to seriously love books, and there was a large variation in genres; he noted a first edition of the first book of Paradise Lost on the table before him and picked it up, looking it over better; it obviously had been restored, expertly at that, and the book was being well cared for now. A small bookmark, a pressed flower, was stuck between pages and he turned to there, starting to read.

He was engrossed and thus didn't notice the teapot whistle nor Tsuki setting the blanket and pillow down beside him and going to pour the tea. He barely noted her returning and setting the tea down before chuckling, only then drawing his attention. "That one is one of my favorites as well."

"This is from the first editions of the poem, before the reorganization and revisions," he stated looking at her, "Not many read that version."

She shrugged. "Not many have access to a complete, minimally damaged copy."

"You restored this I presume? It matches your work on the Dante and Dunbar I recently received from you."

"Restoration work is a must I think for any person who deals in antique books."

"It's good, very well done."

She smiled and gestured to the tea. "Come on now, if we start on talking about books neither of us will sleep. Here."

Spencer was hesitant, because he still didn't understand this situation, because he very much wanted to talk about books. But he picked up the cup anyway, taking a sip. It was warm and filled him from head to toe in it's gentle taste. He did not so much feel sleepy as he did relaxed; he took another sip and his wandering eye caught her sipping from her own cup. Maybe she too needed sleep; he was reminded again it was 5 in the morning and if she was already up he wondered if that meant she hadn't slept at all yet. Her hours seemed even stranger than his honestly.

"Thank you," he said finally, finishing his cup and handing it to her.

Tsuki took it with a smile, "No worries. Now again, set your bag down and try and get some rest."

"You don't often have strangers sleep on your couch," he said, making the mistake of making that a statement and not a question. He already knew though, he could tell by her room, her demeanor, the markers that told him what kind of person she was. Kind maybe but introverted, did socializing well on the outside but didn't really interact with others outside of work; she was someone who loved books and didn't feel comfortable around strangers.

She chuckled and headed to the kitchen. "You're not a stranger, Doctor Reid, you're one of my best customers."

"You don't treat all customers like this."

"Not all my customers come into my store, looking ready to collapse under their own body weight, with eyes pleading to be given sanctuary." Spencer did not know how to respond to that. She could be a capable profiler if she tried.

He took off his bag and set on the ground by the couch; pulling the blanket over him, he tried to maneuver his body to be comfortable on the couch as he laid down. It wasn't all that hard, the couch was strangely comfy. He set his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, trying to let himself sleep. The lights went out, he was sure that was her, but that didn't startle him. Nor did it startle him hearing footsteps and feeling long thin fingers brush hair out of his face. There again was that scent, that strange calming thing that he knew was coming from her. He knew deep down he should be on alert but he just felt calm. Cinnamon, old books, chamomile, something else.

He drifted off before he knew it and the rain continued to fall outside.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #not quite though #their relationship is only starting #but also #the queen #because it's tsuki of course #fanfiction #fanfic #cross posted between here ao3 and ffnet

[writefandoms]

Hide and Seek

Neither of you ever initiated the game. Where’s the fun in that? The game starts on its own, naturally.

The woods that surround the Hellsing estate are your playground. Not yours actually, his. You are simply the mouse in this game, and your vampiric lover is the cat.

The restraints that bind him to the Hellsing bloodline only allow him to go so far. So you keep that in mind as you run through the woods, away from the manor.

You don’t see him anywhere as you whip your head to peek behind you. And you shouldn’t. He always allows you a few seconds head start, he’s such a gentleman...

The first few times you two played, you made sure to countdown so you knew when he was approaching. Now you know that you don’t need to. The air would go still for a moment, the woods seem to hold its breath as he began to roam the terrain. You felt his presence enter the woods, almost like a rabbit in the eyes of a hawk. Except this hawk didn’t have talons, no his sharp fangs glistened in the night. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was smiling proudly.

The rules of the game were simple. You run and hide, and he has to find you a tag you. If you can evade his grasp for five minutes, you win. The rules weren’t the hard part, it was winning that was damn near impossible. When running away from a vampire in the dead of night, the odds aren’t totally stacked in your favor. But you still try, with a look of determination you run as fast as you can into the woods.

The vampire in question: Alucard, can only roam a mile radius around the Hellsing estate before the magic seal beckons him back to his master. So your plan is to run as far as you can, and once he begins roam you’ll simply try your best to hide. Luckily for you, usually Alucard searches through the manor for you before making his way outside, so that gives you a few extra seconds to run.

You flinch at the sound of crows screeching loudly before flying out to the night sky; he’s coming. There’s no doubt about it once you here a deep laughter in the distance. His powers allow him to expand his presence over a great distance, so you don’t have much time until he finds you.

‘Just a little further,” you thought. Your legs still moving quickly with the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Now what your little vampire friend doesn’t know is that you’ve been preparing for this little game. You see, there’s several trees marked in mile ring around the Hellsing estate. So once you pass one of them, Alucard won’t be able to touch you. All you’ll need to do is wait him out for a few minutes and you win. That may be considered cheating, but so what? He always uses his vampire powers, so why can’t you use your human wits?

You feel a rush of air push against your back, leaving chills running down your spine.

“Resorted to running, have you given up already?” A deep voice spoke evenly into your left ear. You yelped and turned staring right into a pair of glowing red eyes as Alucard seemingly levitating next to you. If you thought you were running before, you’re fucking bookin’ it now. You’re high school PE teacher would be proud.

You hear a dark chuckle as he allows you to create some distance between you two. Even though you know he could easily grab you right then and there, he doesn’t. Alucard likes to draw these things out, playing with his prey. Giving a small sliver of hope, only to rip it away last second. You can imagine how fun he is in bed.

The muscles in your thighs are on fire but you still push forward. You haven’t been keeping track of the time, but you know it has to have been at least two minutes. He usually doesn’t let his presence be known until about half way into the game.

You turn to look over your shoulder, checking where he is, only to find him not there. As nervous as you were from running from a vampire in the dead of night, not being able to see said vampire only made your heart pound even more.

“Such a lovely evening, isn’t it?” Alucard voiced asked from in front of you. He stood proudly a few yards in front of you, making you skid to a halt nearly falling flat on your face in the process. Now you stood nearly chest to chest in front of your doom.

“How the hell?” You asked completely out of breath.

“Now now, you know better than to challenge a vampire in the middle of the night.” Alucard took a small step forward, making you take a step back. This continued for a few more steps, until you finally broke the cycle by side stepping and running around him.

“Time to end this, my little mouse” he chuckled as he turned and leisurely walked towards you, as you ran for your life.

Out of the corner of your eye your see him right there, he’s on close you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. You see his arms reach out to grab the back of your shirt. You close your eyes and try to will you legs to go faster. Your legs seem to hear the opposite though as you start to slow down, the exhaustion taking over.

Already smelling your defeat in the horizon, you stop trying to run from your fate. If you’re going to lose, you’ll lose while looking him in his eyes. You slowly come to a halt and straighten your back, patiently awaiting his rough hand against your back. But it never came.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you turn around and see him standing still a couple feet behind you. Now as dramatic as Alucard is, he has never tried this tactic before; just standing still. You got to admit it’s working, you’re completely freaked out.

“Stop being a drama king and just end the game already”, honestly you’d rather not delay your defeat any longer.

He didn’t move an inch, simply stared at you. But you did notice a shift, a slight twitch in his lips. His usually grin tilted slightly down into a frown, as a look of confusion painted his face. He turned his head to something next to him. Following his eyeline you found what he was looking at: a bright red ‘X’ that was painted on a tree in front of him.

‘That’s one of the mile marks I drew!’ You mentally cheered, patting yourself on the back. You peered down at your watch and saw only twenty seconds left until the game was over. Now it was your time to gloat.

“Oh how the tables have turned, my dear vampire king” you sang, crossing your arms. He looked back at you, and his frustration slowly turned into amusement.

“Clever one aren’t you? So that’s what you were planning.”

“Yep. And you fell for it, like a rabbit in a trap.” You gloated, sticking your tongue out slightly. Glancing back at your watch you counted down the last five seconds until your victory.

“5...4...3...2...1...and I win!” He didn’t look too pleased as you pranced around doing a victory dance. “A deals a deal, Alucard. Time to pay up.” You put your hands on your hips and waited.

“Very well” he chuckled and his black shadows wrapped around him. Leaves and dirt flew up into your face making you such your eyes.

“Don’t have a tantrum because you lost now.” You rubbed your irritated eyes, hoping there wasn’t anything still in them.

When you opened them, a stranger stood before you. Instead there was a short girl, with long straight black hair, and an all white outfit on. You almost didn’t recognize who it was until you met the girls gaze. A pair of eyes like the sunset, starting of as a soft orange, and morphing into a deep red. Say what you will about Alucard, you can’t deny how breathtaking his eyes were.

“Are you enjoying your victory”, Alucard’s deep baritone voice cut through the air, making you jump. That was not a voice you expected from such a cute girl.

“I was. Does your voice really not change with your form or are you just being fickle?”

“Yes.” Was the only response he gave, “If we are done here I’d like to go to bed.” He was already turning away from you before you could respond.

“Hey! It’s not even four yet! Don’t get all pissy because you lost!” You yelled after him, jogging to try and catch up. He simply walked faster away from you towards the manner.

“Fine, go to sleep. I know you’re just trying to sleep until the deal is over, but you cant sleep for two whole days without getting called by Sir Integra!” You stopped running after him and yelled. Your words made him stop for a moment, then before you knew it his black shadows came out and he moved swiftly back to the manor.

“See you later, cutie” you laughed at him as his mass vanished into the night. Not hearing the soft growl that left the vampires mouth.

(a.n. Okayy this was more on the long side, but I kind of got caught up in writing it... Hope you enjoy <3)

#x reader #alucard #alucard x reader #hellsing #hellsing scenario

[ya-like-space]

Snowstorms and Cocoa

Snow is cold. Snow is really freaking cold, which is something that Souji finds out after moving to Inaba. In the city, he never really had to deal with it. But now that he's in the country, it’s now so much bigger of a problem. He’s had to shovel snow three separate times this week alone. That’s too many times! Also, did he mention how cold it is? Because it's so cold .

The bright side was that he got to see Yosuke in winter clothes. Which is how he ended up here, walking aimlessly around town with Yosuke in a goddamn snowstorm. Normally, he’d be holed up in his bedroom, or underneath the new kotatsu he and Nanako had picked out. Nevertheless, when Yosuke had shown up at his door, asking if he wanted to go on a walk, he didn’t have in his heart to turn him down.

They only been out for 15 minutes, and Souji was freezing, and he was sure everyone within a 15 mile radius would be able to hear his teeth chattering. He was just so cold. But when he looked at Yosuke, it didn’t even seem like he was bothered at all.

“Yosuke? Aren’t you cold?”

Yosuke turned to look back at him. Shaking his head, he continued on.

“Of course not partner! Are you?”

“Yes! I’m freezing!”

Suddenly, Yosuke stops in his tracks. He moves back to stand near Souji, and grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers. Souji and him’s relationship was still pretty new, and Yosuke doesn’t really know how to do the whole “PDA” thing. So whenever he tries to do things like these, he always ends up chickening out. But not this time. Blush spreading across his face, Yosuke looks away from him. Even so, he can sense the smile on Souji’s face.

“Better?”

Souji grips his hand tighter, shifting even closer to him.

“Mm. Definitely.”

The snow continues to fall around them, covering the streets and sidewalks in a soft white blanket. They were the only ones outside, the world calm and motionless around them. It felt like walking around in a dream. There was something about it that made them feel serene. Souji no longer felt cold. The warmth surrounding his hand was making him feel content. Being close to Yosuke like this, in such a peaceful state, was wonderful.

They slowly start making their way back to the Dojima household, as the snow starts  falling harder and harder, till they’re walking in a full on snowstorm. By the time they reach the house, it’s reached blinding levels of snowfall.

It wouldn’t be safe for Yosuke to walk home in this, so Souji insists on him staying over. He calls his parents to let them know what happened, and console a crying Teddie, who’s upset that he doesn’t get to see Sensei. It takes 5 minutes to convince Ted that he can’t come over right now, only managing to persuade him after promising to buy him a box of topsicles.

When Yosuke finally hangs up, Souji’s moving around in the kitchen, and that’s when he gets an idea.

He waits until Souji turns around before quietly making his way inside, his face softening as he watches Souji moving around the kitchen with a happy little smile as he hummed quietly to himself, stirring a small pot on the stove.

Seeing Souji like that wasn’t going to stop Yosuke from being a massive shit and messing with him.

Taking advantage of the fact that Souji’s guard was down, Yosuke snuck up behind him, making sure that he wasn’t holding anything dangerous that would accidentally hurt either of them before leaning forward and putting his hands on Souji’s shoulders.

Souji let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeal,  and Yosuke was almost entirely convinced that Souji was in some part a cat, from how he practically hit the ceiling when he jumped.

Yosuke was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, and it was so unbelievably worth it.

“Yosuke!”

Souji turns around and Yosuke traps him in his arms, preventing him from moving.

“Hey partner.”

Unfortunately, he didn’t manage to trap Souji’s arms, and ended up getting bopped on the head.

“What did you scare me for?”

“You were an easy target! It was the only logical thing to do.”

Souji smirked.

“Of course of course. And I assume you don’t want any of the hot chocolate I’m making?”

Yosuke would never  turn down anything made by Souji, least of all his fantastic hot chocolate. One of the best things Yosuke’s ever had. He lets Souji go back to what he was doing, leaving the room to go and sit under the kotatsu.

He watches Souji in the kitchen, standing over the stove, making the hot chocolate from scratch because he doesn’t use hot chocolate mix. Of course he doesn’t. That would be blasphemy. Subconsciously, Yosuke walks back into the kitchen and wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, resting his head on Souji’s shoulder. He cranes his neck to sniff at the pot on the stove.

“Mmmm. Smells delicious.”

Souji turns to nuzzle his cheek, setting down the wooden spoon he was holding. “Good. Could you get some mugs?”

They walk into the living room hand in hand, carrying their cocoa, and cuddle up on the couch under a blanket. Yosuke takes a long sip of his drink, leaning back into Souji’s chest. It really is delicious. He never understood how Souji can be so good at cooking, even with simple things like this. Honestly, it only makes Yosuke love him more.

After they’d finished their drinks, Souji had flicked on the TV, putting on old Featherman R reruns. Yosuke flipped over to lie on Souji’s chest.

"I like this."

Souji chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that Yosuke felt resonate against his chest.

"I'm glad you do, Partner ," he said, moving his hands up to tangle themselves in Yosuke’s hair

Yosuke felt himself heat up at the rare use of his own nickname back at him.

"You ass," his words muffled against Souji’s shirt. "Quit making me feel all embarrassed."

"Payback for scaring me in the kitchen"

Yosuke groaned, burying his face further into Souji’s chest. "I hate you."

"Nahhhh, you love me."

Now even more embarrassed, Yosuke pulls himself closer to Souji, intertwining their bodies completely, nudging his head into Souji’s neck.

“Mm. Yeah. Yeah I do.”

“I love you too, partner,” Souji replied softly, drifting closer and closer to sleep.

Moments later, Yosuke felt Souji move against him, and he shifted to look up at him. He had fallen asleep entirely now, and was breathing softly, with a gentle smile on his face. He looked so peaceful, lying there, and Yosuke couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he curled himself around Souji. Yosuke fell asleep soon after, to the beat of Souji's heart, his breathing, and the sounds of gentle snowfall outside the window.

@souyoweek2020​ Day 5 | snowstorm

Day 5!! For this one i had like, 2 other ideas for this, but i ended up picking this one. This one combined the other two ideas i had, one was gonna just be the snowstorm, the other was the hot chocolate. I did kinda give Souji my views on snow. it really cold. I also looked up a goddamn snow calendar for this thing. which is something that exists. in 2011 in japan it snowed for like 2-3 months straight apparently. which is neat. i imagine this takes place like late december early january.

#souyoweek2020 #souyo #souji x yosuke #yu x yosuke #souji seta #yu narukami #persona 4 protagonist #yosuke hanamura #persona 4 #p4 #i really dont like snow #tho it is pretty

[teratoscope]

Enluss

The little shaggy guys started turning up at the camp perimeter the night after you cleared out the den of cunningbears that were sabotaging the mass drivers two klicks out west. You’re pretty sure they’re some kind of mutant. You get lots of those out in the green zones, and the brass gives you hell if you break protocol for indigenes, so for the time being you’ve let them be beyond reading them the packaged non-aggression pact speech. Not like they knew what you were saying. They kept so quiet that most of the crew was pretty sure they don’t talk. They’d shown up right at the edge of camp for two weeks straight, just watching with those big dark eyes that shine when you fix ‘em in the light. Then Tae got shitfaced last night and tried to punt one. They dogpiled him, jabbed him in the neck with this fuckoff huge needle, and vanished into the buffalo grass. Tae’s drinking buddies ran him to the field hospital and strapped him down so he wouldn’t break his own spine from the convulsions. Tae died sometime later that night. That’s what you’re hoping, anyway. That’s the story you’re telling everyone else. You were the one that got tapped for observation duty, and the one who sterilized the area when you realized he was starting to sporulate.

HD 1 MV 120’ AC 12 AT by weapon Special assimilator, virotech

assimilator—Enluss don’t have immune systems so much as they have re-education camps for foreign contaminants. They always have advantage to resist poison, infection, and toxic environments, and once they’ve made a successful save they never have to roll to resist it again.

virotech—nearly all Enluss technology is the product of powerful retroviral agents that directly alter the user’s phenotype. An Enluss can typically maintain one virotech infection per HD listed for an individual specimen. Virotech is contagious; any living thing that makes fluid-to-membrane contact with an Enluss has a 1 in 6 chance of contracting a system. Virotech is keyed to the user’s precise biochemical register, and the transition to a new host is messy at best. The infected must make a Constitution check; if they fail, they lose 1d3 points of Constitution permanently and the infection manifests immediately. If they succeed, their Constitution score is set to the raw result of the check and recovers by 1 point/day; the infection manifests when the infected’s Constitution score returns to normal.

1d10 Virotech Infections

1.     Bombardier Pox. Horny conical growths on chest, shoulders, and back spray caustic fluid on command. 1d6 acid damage in a 15’ radius centered on the user, Dex check for half.

2.     Gecko Palms. Subject gains a climb speed equal to ½ their MV.

3.     Froglung. Subject becomes amphibious, but only swims as well as they ordinarily would.

4.     Komodo Mouth. On a successful bite attack, subject’s victim makes a Constitution save after every full rest. On failure their max hp drops by 1d3. Effect ends after victim receives advanced medical care, dies, or manages three successful saves in a row.

5.     Kevlar Rash. Skin bunches and hardens when struck with a strong blow. Subject gains 1 damage reduction vs. kinetic attacks the first time they’re damaged each round; this effect dissipates after a full round without being hit. At DR 3, halve MV; at DR 6, reduce it to 1/3. Effect caps at 6.

6.     Accelerator Fever. Subject can move at double their base MV and act at the top of initiative on command at the cost of 1d3 hp/round.

7.     Vorpal Osteogenesis. Subject’s hand (determine which one randomly) becomes powerfully muscular to compensate for liquified bones, which erupt from fingertips reconfigured into inch-long talons. Subject gains a claw attack for 1d6+1 damage; this attack scores a critical on a 17-20. Hand is miserably clumsy for all other purposes.

8.     Transponder Blisters. Subject develops a cluster of antennae and subcutaneous resonators running from the base of the neck to the jawbone that allow them to tap and gauge distance and direction on radio signals within a 20 mile radius. Actively seeking a band to scan requires a Wisdom check and an exploration turn.

9.     Alzabo Syndrome. Subject’s tongue becomes extendable and develops a thorny, hollow tip designed to bore into spinal columns. Subject can take an exploration turn to hull and drain a recently-killed or restrained life form; for the next eight hours they gain access to all of the eaten party’s memories ranging from the moment of death to the last time they slept.

10.  Alcubierre Organ. Subject develops a faintly glowing growth just above the sacrum that makes the bearer passably spaceworthy and allows subtle massaging of space-time. Subject gains an EVA speed of 90’ and can teleport to any location they have a clear mental image of but will need to messily devour a full-grown person’s worth of calories within an exploration turn of arrival. Failure to satiate the hungers of warp-debt inflicts their own hit dice in damage each round.

1d6 Enluss Weapons

1.     Pherogun. 600’ range. Cast ceramic single-shot air rifle. Takes a full round to load. Deals no damage, but specially brewed ammunition vaporizes on hit and binds to the skin, making the target smell overwhelmingly confrontational/appetizing to most organisms. Wilderness encounters happen twice as often, and reaction rolls with wild creatures are made twice, taking the least favorable outcome. Counterscent is usually carried on the wielder’s person, rarely more than a single dose. Effect wears off after a month or if the victim is set on fire for at least 6 points of damage (cumulative).

2.     Babel Spore. 60’ cone. Sickly-sweet grayish haze deployed via back-mounted sprayer. Targets within cone make a Wisdom check each round; on failure they can neither use nor comprehend spoken or written language. Pantomime and evocative groans still work. Victims get followup checks to purge the spores after every full rest.

3.     Tracker Spear. As normal spear, but on a hit that beats AC by 4 or more, a section of the head breaks off in the resulting wound and puts down taproots. The head requires 2d6 days of dedicated care from a competent surgeon to remove, and so long as it has blood to feed on it will broadcast its pre-assigned radio signature. A target marked this way will never surprise a party of Enluss and attempts to cover tracks or shake off pursuers always fail if the pursuers are Enluss or know their encryptions.

4.     Slingbears. Like underfed, shaved, eyeless infant koalas. 30’ range, 1d6 damage on impact. Take a Strength check at disadvantage to dislodge, deal 1d6+1 at the end of each subsequent round attached as they savage with tooth and claw. You can try to kill them while attached; they have 1 HD, AC equal to their victim’s +2 if you’re trying not to hit your friend or yourself, and if you hit but don’t kill they deal maximum damage this round. Utterly helpless once dislodged; they have no notion of how to function without something to latch onto and maul.

5.     Starter Grenade. Fragile clay jar with an airtight seal, containing a voracious, quick-growing yeast culture. 30’ initial area of effect, can be hucked up to 60’ by hand or 120’ with a sling. Anything in the area of effect must make a Strength check to pull free of the sticky morass; otherwise they are immobilized until somebody else extracts them and their microbiome is savaged by the yeast’s rapacious hunger, granting an immediate extra Constitution check against any diseases they may be suffering from and disadvantage on all checks vs. disease in the future, barring three days of probiotic treatment. On the second round, the yeast mass grows another 60’, plus 30’ for each target it already trapped. On the third round, the mass solidifies into a huge, misshapen lump of hardtack. Starter Grenades are ineffective in sterile environments.

6.     Hornet Claw. Set of four pheromone-bound, heavily armored descendants of V. M. Japonica. Bred for obedience, venom potency, and stinger size. Each latches to a finger stinger-out, forming a sort of living bagh naka. On a bare-handed melee hit, the wielder deals 1d3 Constitution damage. A full rest and a successful Con check or healing check recovers 1d3 of this damage.

Enluss is not a species. It is a movement.

Enluss is the alternative to death. It is the struggle to create, regenerate, and sustain in a world that does not want you.

If you could see the kind of future that would come to pass without us, you would have no choice but to become us. Without us there would be no war, because there would be no world to fight over. You and me and everyone else here would have choked to death on the poisoned air many, many years ago, and nothing would grow here, and the waters would fall silent and still.

It has happened before, in another time.

If we had begun sooner, even a generation sooner, if we had been brave instead of desperate, we would never have needed to leave. We would have reclaimed our world from the worst part of ourselves with time left over to heal it. Instead we had time enough to run away and try again here.

We have seen your mistakes before. We made them. You possess the same craven attachment to false comforts and poisonous ideologies that nearly killed us. You live at war with your own bodies, which you refuse to meaningfully change. You weigh your actions based on outcomes that become irrelevant in spans of time shorter than a single life-cycle. You cling to a notion of self that treasures its worst features and diminishes all that makes you meaningful.

And until you see this and understand, the parts of this world that live and grow will be your enemy. So it was before we came, and so it will be long after we are gone. All we have done is given you a fighting chance.

When we are done, you will either finally deserve this world, or you will feed something that does.

#frp #frpg #trpg #ttrpg #rpg #D&D #Dungeons and Dragons #monster #monster design #ruleslight #statblock #homebrew #game design #fantasy #bestiary #worldbuilding #sf #scifi #sci-fi #science fiction #postapoc #post-apocalyptic #postapocalyptic #alien #mutant #genetic engineering #humanoid #weapons #bioweapon #equipment

[stormy-boy]

Many of the racing world often forgot that McQueen followed after his mentor when it came to racing. While the veteran racer was spectacular on the asphalt of the major league tracks, he was downright legendary on dirt in this day and age. Or he would be if he showcased those abilities, but it seems his home had curbed his showoff tendencies, if only a little. But that was McQueen, and he was Jackson, who most certainly wasn't suited for dirt in preference or skill. It only made him feel filthy.

So I guess we’re skipping ahead to after Jackson accepts Lightning’s proposal to become his mentee?

“No.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

“I told you McQueen—I am NOT going to ruin my carefully applied finish just so I can have a little fun in the dirt.

Lightning and Storm had been at Willy’s Butte for what seemed like hours. All the while, Lightning had been trying to convince Storm to simply set tread on the dirt track, but it seemed that the grey racer had been manufactured with a specific aversion to the thing.

Storm was unimpressed. “Why race here when I can just race on the clean, quiet simulator?”

Lightning rolled his eyes.“‘Cause it’s not the same! You don’t get to feel the wind in your face, the dirt shifting under your tires, the smell of soil and fresh air— ”

“—and the bugs in your grille.” Storm grimaced. “Sounds terrible to me.”

Lightning gave him a look, like he wasn’t ready to back down. “Come on, how about if I show you?” He rolled down the valley onto the track, with Storm still waiting. Watching.

Lightning revved his engine, warranting an eye-roll from Storm. The clear, rich tone of his V8 engine echoed off the sides of the canyon. Even after over 11 years of wear, it still sounded just as good as the day he rolled off the manufacture line.

Lightning zipped off down the track, clouds of dirt billowing out from beneath his wheels. As he made his way around Willy’s Butte, he rose and fell with the ground beautifully—like a marble rolling off the inner side of a bowl. And then came turn three.

He drifted around the bend with near-perfect precision, evidenced by having made the turn a million times before. He coasted through the clouds of dust in what seemed like slow-motion—looking like an angel emerging from the heavens, with the sunlight bathing him in an ethereal glow. And then it all came rushing back to him. The countless days of practice he had spent with Doc, making this exact turn. Doc not too far behind him, smiling whenever Lightning passed.

Lightning blinked back what he thought was dust in his eyes as he settled over the finish line. Why now? He had made that turn plenty of times after Doc had passed, and he wouldn’t be reminded of his late crew chief… most of the time. But for some reason, those memories of the times he had spent with his mentor had found their way back to him at this moment. Lightning shook his hood in order to recompose himself. He couldn’t let Storm see him emotional like this.   

Lightning made his way back up the canyon to rejoin Storm, trying his best not to pant too hard, lest the grey racer would crack yet another joke about his age.

“Bravo, you drove around an enormous rock formation in the ground.” Storm said when he approached, his eyes lidded in disinterest. “Can we practice somewhere else?”

Lightning ignored this remark. “Okay, now you try.”

“Did you not hear me the first time?” He smirked. “You should get that checked out.”

Lightning should have expected as much. Luckily, he had a secret arsenal up his fender. “Hmm, well I guess the great Jackson Storm’s too scared to try it.”

Storm narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Lightning carried on with a light tone. “Well, you’ve never raced on dirt before, so you’re probably just embarrassed that you won’t nail it the first time you meet that curve.”

Storm glowered at him in silence before finally driving down the side of the canyon onto the dirt track. Lightning watched him go in amused satisfaction.

“Try not to turn too hard right, or you’ll end up in the tulips!” he called, a grin on his face.

Storm started off almost immediately—ready to finish this as quickly as possible. He didn’t have nearly enough grace as Lightning as he rode around Willy’s Butte, but it was decent enough. But then came the turn.

Lightning watched in a kind of eager anticipation. He mentally chastised himself for not calling Mater over for this. Oh well. Storm could handle wallowing in a ditch in embarrassment for 5 minutes.

But much to Lightning’s surprise, Storm didn’t go flying off the edge of the track. He turned right to go left, meaning that he must have paid at least a little attention to Lightning’s demonstration. Even so, what he did wasn’t exactly the prime definition of drifting. It looked more like he was a snake, wriggling back and forth in the dirt, trying to not to lose his grip. But at the very least, he didn’t end up in the cacti.

Storm rode up back to meet Lightning, an unpleasant expression on his face, like he was covered in slime but it was really only a little dust.

“Good enough for you?” Storm asked, just as bored as before. He wasn’t tired from the effort at all.

McQueen squinted in disbelief. He side-eyed the ground, only half trying to hide his disappointment. “Oh, yeahhh. Yeah, that's… that’s great.”

Darn… he should have just let him try it blind.

Storm shuddered, the movement causing some dust to shower down from his body. “Ugh, I need a car wash.” He moved past Lightning back toward Radiator Springs. “Please tell me there’s a car wash somewhere within a 5-mile radius of this hillbilly hell.”

Lightning smiled, following after him. Storm may not have fallen into the cacti like he was expecting, but he was just as distressed over the sullied condition of his complexion. And something about that was familiar enough to bring a smile on Lightning’s face.

I’ve already read fics/scenarios that portray Jackson falling into the cacti so I wanted to give this a different twist!

#asks #jackson storm #lightning mcqueen #pixar cars #my fics #lightning mentors

[bethofbells]

I Can’t Find My Bluebird - Ch2

Reach Ch 1 on Ao3

(p.s. this is a jopper fic, i promise, but Joyce isn’t in this chapter :O sorry, it’s mostly about El and Hopper)

New rules. That’s what they’d agreed on. Her friends could come over a couple times a week. On pretty days she could go outside and enjoy the sun, the sky, the air brushing up against her skin. But there was a border she mustn’t cross, a nearly invisible line of wire strung between trees in a mile radius all around the cabin. And she had to listen. Listen close to the sounds around her, listen for the familiar growl of a vehicle, the crunch of tires on the gravel of the dirt road. She also listened for the silence. The eerie calm when something not-right was going on. The animals always knew, somehow, and they always got real quiet.

The air inside the cabin was always still, close, too warm. Sometimes it felt like she was breathing her own breath and it made her feel trapped. Hopper said when she felt like that, no matter the weather, no matter the time, she could go out on the porch and breath in the cool sharpness of winter. He told her about his house on the lake, and how when he felt the black hole creeping up on him he would always go and just stare out across the water, the little wavelets lapping at the shoreline easing something tight in his chest. He said they’d go there someday soon, and she knew he was telling the truth, and that soon meant probably six months or so.

Today her fingers were numb as she stood on the porch, breathing in the cool damp of a foggy winter evening. She should have put on the hat Hopper had bought her, but the thing was too big and dropped down over her eyes if she shifted even slightly. Instead her hair ruffled as a cold gust of wind hit her. It whipped away all the warmth still clinging to her clothes from the inside of the cabin.

Twilight. A new word she’d learned only a couple days earlier. That time right after sunset when the light was gone but somehow it wasn’t dark anymore. Everything looked a little silvery. She liked it, the way it muted all the colors around her, the way the sun seemed like a memory glowing over the horizon. She was sad she couldn’t see it this evening. The fog was so thick, it looked like a blanket easing down over everything.

The sound of leaves crunching made her breath catch in her chest, instinctively hushing the sound of her own body so she could listen closely. It didn’t sound like a man, not like the heavy clomping of hiking boots stomping through the woods. Hopper had told her sometimes hunters might pass through, and that she needed to hide immediately if that were the case, but this wasn’t that. This was the soft rustle rustle rustle of a four legged creature starting and stopping as it stumbled through the woods toward her.

She moved toward the sound, gently traversing the trail leading out to the main road. Halfway to the road, she veered away from the path, listening hard, holding her breath. The sound stopped, as she got closer to it, then started again, this time a frantic scrabbling noise, as if the creature was trying to run away, a loud thump as it collapsed onto the ground.

Finally, she saw it, struggling in a pile of leaves at the base of a tree. It was a small deer. She recognized it from the dusty paintings hanging on the walls of the cabin. She’d asked Hopper once why there were so many paintings of animals, and he’d told her it was his grandfather’s hunting cabin. And then he’d told her what hunting was, and it had made her cold and sad at the same time. She made him promise not to do it.

The deer looked up at her, eyes lolling in its head with fear. She could smell the rusty tang of blood, something she was unfortunately too familiar with. There was a trail of it on the ground leading up to the animal’s final resting place, quarter size pools of glistening red liquid, turning a darker hue as the final light begin to melt away.

Her throat closed up, the overwhelming urge to cry crashing over her as she cautiously approached the animal. It wasn’t a baby, not like Bambi in the cartoon she’d watched. There were no flecks of white in the animal’s fur. It was nearly gray, not tawny like the cartoon. But it’s eyes were soft brown, gentle even though they were glassy with fear. Weak, it tried to get up again as she got closer, but only took two steps before collapsing on the cold ground.

This time the urge to cry overpowered her, and she felt hot tears splashing against her cheeks, despair coiling in her limbs. It wasn’t fair. Animals were so… good. They didn’t go out of their way to hurt anyone, they didn’t do experiments on their fellow animals, they didn’t kill one another just because. The worst part about living in the woods for that month before Hopper had found her was killing animals to eat. Every time she did it, it felt like someone was stabbing her in the heart, but the twisting paint in her stomach, the lightheaded feeling she got when she didn’t eat… it had been a necessity.

The ground dipped away, her ankle giving as she stepped into a hole hidden by leaves. A flash of hot pain shot through the joint, and she rolled down beside the dying deer. The animal was too weak to feint away from her, the light in its eyes slowing fading away. On her knees, she crawled toward it, reaching out to touch the velvet ears. They were still warm.

There were things about her powers she didn’t understand. She traipsed through nothingness to find other people, their inner thoughts, their souls. She could move objects with her mind. It took effort, like lifting weights, like trying to throw a baseball across a field. It wasn’t easy, but she knew what parts of her mind to stretch and pull to make things happen. But there was one thing she couldn’t do. She couldn’t fix things that were broken. She couldn’t stitch together torn skin or ragged blood vessels. When someone died… they were gone forever.

It didn’t stop her from trying, from taking the bubble of feeling that hovered just around her body and begging it to stretch out and encompass the deer, from sinking every bit of her strength into healing the thing. There was always a tearing sensation when she used her powers, like something was being ripped away from her. It burned in her brain, squeezed at her heart. But she always felt the final satisfaction, the relief, of accomplishing the thing she was putting her mind to. It was like drawing back and arrow and listening to it sing through the air.

It wasn’t the case this time. She tried and tried, the effort making her dizzy, blood pouring out of her nose and down onto her sweater, until finally everything around her went black, her head dropping down into the pile of leaves beside her.

-

He didn’t know how to be a parent. That’s all Jim Hopper could think as he raced along the dirt road, one hand on the gear stick, the other gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. He was late. He’d tried radioing ahead, but had gotten no response, a curl of worry unfurling in his chest. He’d been stuck responding to a domestic disturbance, talking Jenny Waldorf into finally press charges against her scumbag husband so Hop could throw him in jail for more than a night. By the time he’d slammed the door of his truck and tossed his hat into the passenger seat the clock had already said 5:45.

It was the one thing he tried not to do, leave her hanging. And here he was, his tires slipping against the gravel as he sped home, excuses ready on the tip of his tongue, the sour taste of an apology already on his lips. It was hard to undo three years of not giving a shit about anyone, not even himself. He’d fallen into patterns, his job the only thing on the planet that mattered, eating like shit, getting home at ungodly hours, dragging himself out of bed at the last possible minute to chain smoke three cigarettes and fly back to work again.

He rolled up to the cabin, grinding the gears as he downshifted and bounded out of the vehicle. He was half way up to the front steps when he noticed the door was standing wide open. His heart stopped, all the air going out of his lungs.

“El!” He yelled her name, quickly looking through all the rooms. No response. Flashlight in hand he went back outside, desperately scanning the area around the cabin for any sign of her. His heart was beating hard, too hard. “Jane! El! Where are you!”

He stopped, willing himself to be calm. Surely she hadn’t run away again. All of her stuff was still scattered around her room, nothing was out of place. Except… her coat wasn’t hanging on the peg by the door where it normally stayed, her scuffed up sneakers were gone too. He tried to calm himself, swinging the beam of his flashlight against the ground in front of the cabin.

There was no real way to track her at this point, if she’d taken off on her own, and lord he prayed that’s what happened. It was January, the leaves lying all over the place had been there since late fall, both of their feet shuffling them around for the past few months until they were a mess. He felt the panic rising in him again, an acidic bile coming up the back of his throat. But then he heard it, a thin keening noise coming from the woods in front of the cabin.

He dashed down the trail, yelling her name. It echoed in the darkness, no response. The keening sound had stopped. He felt sick when he saw blood spattered on the leaves beside the trail, turning to follow the the source of the sound. The blood on the leaves was tacky, not quite dry, not quite wet. It smelled like death when he picked up one of the leaves to examine it. His stomach twisted up, anger and fear roiling through him at the idea of someone hurting her.

The beam of his flashlight caught a flash of soft blue, the puffy stitched down of her winter coat. She was prostrate, one hand swung across something he couldn’t see. The keening noise started up again, this time sounding like the heartbroken cries of a child. He dashed towards her, only to be thrown back on the ground by some invisible barrier. It was like running into a glass door. He grunted with the force of it, trying to catch his breath.

“El! Honey, please.” He didn’t know what to say. There was no explanation for the strange forcefield, it had to be her.

She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice, gasping out a ragged sob when she saw him. She sat up, arms out reaching for him, the alarming sight of blood smeared across her pale face. This time he was a little more cautious, hands out like blind man navigating a strange place. The barrier was gone, and he had El scooped up in his arms in a matter of seconds. Belatedly, he realized she’d been curled up next to a dead deer.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her face against his chest to let more tears fall. “I couldn’t save her. She’s gone.”

“I know, shh, I know.”

Quietly, he carried her back to the cabin. She was light in his arms, a reminder that she was just a child, even when she tried like hell to act like an adult. Quiet, she didn’t protest when Hopper set her on the kitchen counter, sitting stock still as he moved to clean up her face. There was so much blood, more than he’d ever seen as a result of her using her powers. It worried the hell out of him. She never acted like it hurt her, but something had to be happening in there, blood vessels bursting, tearing, something bad. Suddenly his heart began to race again, just like it did when he thought El had been taken, only this time he’s thinking about Sara, and the mysterious bruises that started popping up, the nosebleeds and unexplained exhaustion. Fear trills through him. They're going to have to sit down and have a serious talk about her powers… hell… he may even have to call Owens.

“It hurt.”

The short sentence, so quietly spoken, yanked him violently from his thoughts. “What hurt?”

“My ankle.”

He looked down as she tugged at her pant leg. Rolling back the cuff made him feel like an oaf, big and clumsy hands probing the angry purple swelling. “You think you broke anything?”

She shook her head.

He didn’t know how to broach the subject of what the hell she was doing out in the woods. The aftershocks of fear still vibrated through him and he was afraid he would start yelling. El wasn’t the only person in the Hopper household who needed to learn to train their body’s reaction to fear. The relief when he’d found her made him feel weak, like he could have collapsed on the ground right there beside her, finally letting out the breath he’d been holding. He swallowed the emotion, finally. “What were you doing out there?”

She looked up at him, eyes impossibly huge. Shit. That was one way to soften him. He’d have to watch that. “There was a deer.”

He nodded. “I saw.”

“And… she was hurt.”

Again, he nodded, just waiting for her to get it all out.

“I could feel it.”

His brows drew together in confusion. “Feel what?”

El’s face crumpled and she buried it in her hands, her slender shoulders shaking as she cried. “I could feel her dying, and I couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard I tried.”

He looked down at the washcloth in his hands, at the streaks of blood staining it. “Is that what caused this?”

She nodded, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I couldn’t--” The words stopped, cut off by her emotions. “And it hurt so bad, like... like...” She struggled to find the words, always difficult when emotions were high, but particularly for her. “... like there was a fire inside of my head.” She looked up at him. “Are you mad?”

Soft eyes, again. His heart ached for her. “Of course not, hon. I’m…” Now he was the one struggling to find the right thing to say. “I’m scared when you disappear, and I don’t like that you hurt yourself.” Gently, he drew her into a hug. “Just… can you stop using your powers until we know more about them? This shit is going to give me a heart attack.”

“Heart attack?”

Mentally he cursed himself. “It’s, um, a thing… I was worried a lot, okay?”

Quiet for a moment, she finally answered. “I know what a heart attack is, Dustin says it’s bad food that will give you a heart attack. You shouldn’t eat bad food, like… donuts.”

Softly, he chuckled against her hair. “Okay, okay… no more donuts for me, and no more powers for you until we can see someone about it, deal?”

“Deal.”

#jopper #jim hopper #joyce byers #jane hopper #stranger things #eleven #pls let me know what you think #i had issues posting ch 1 and it not showing up in the tags #so i couldn't gauge the reaction to it properly #and that's a big part of writing for me for better or worse

[neural-novella]

The Marked 5

Author’s Note To Self: Don’t Trust Tumblr’s Draft System!

My eyes open to the familiar purple-blue city. The sound of thousands of Mage’s debating, squabbling and practicing their techniques engulf my senses. Unfortunately I am too late as my brother is already stood in front of me, He has been waiting for me to turn up. Have I become so predictable? I’ll have to make sure I teleport to random points in the city from now on. He doesn’t look happy as he glances at me with disdain. “Do you know what you have done?” he states.

“I didn’t do anything!” I rebuke. 

“I can’t prove you warned them somehow. They knew we were coming, they scouted us miles before we got to the outskirts. Even if I can’t prove you had something to do with this I just witnessed that you disobeyed me! You left the city after strict instructions not to do so!”

My brother looks away, fire burning in the palm of his hand. He’s always been the one to look after me, to stand up for me in school and life. Ultimately his will to protect is what lead him to becoming a Hunter, and I have never helped matters since. I have always driven a wedge between his duty as a Hunter and his duty as a Brother. I make decisions or get into situations that he must decide if he reports on as a Hunter or brushes under the carpet as my brother. It’s been really hard on him... but this time I doubt he can forgive me. He’ll have no choice but to report to the Council that the Marked has evacuated, that he had failed to do what was required of him.

“This is the last time brother,” He begins “the last time I can ever help you. I wont report to the Council that you have been out of the city, but I cannot hide the fact that someone here must have warned them and the Council will find out who. I suggest you lay low for a while, hopefully they won’t find you. Next time you do something like this, I’ll be sent to kill you understand?”

I nod in weary agreement. I wish there was more I could do for him. His rank plays on his heart, he has always been tested. Asked to do things he believes are wrong but he must carry out the Council’s orders. That’s why several years ago I got in between him and a Marked he was sent to kill. An innocent, we both knew she was innocent but just because she was Marked the Council wanted her dead. I did it to save a part of my brother but lost the piece of him that cared for me. He’s finally decided now, rank over blood. And that’s fair, his rank supports his family, his future. I’ve always gotten in the way of that.

Over the course of the next week, I spend a lot of time either brushing up on certain magical skills or drinking in whatever bar takes my fancy within the city. Word on the street is that my brother’s on course to be demoted after the failure of The Society attack. He’s been given a task to investigate who warned them, which if he fails I’m sure will result in him no longer being a Hunter. Meanwhile, I remain laying low and keeping out of trouble. I contacted the telepath that had assisted me in contacting Lee and Grimmal and told her she should probably do the same or get out of the city. She seemed quite content in continuing her life, any change being seen as suspicious and the fact she can pick up the mind of anyone who wishes to harm her before they even enter the same building.

Another week passes and still no news. I haven’t seen or heard from my brother. I want to contact Lee but I know it’d be a huge risk for us both. The Council are probably focusing on anyone using the type of magic signature that a long range telepathic message gives off. My mind wanders to how this all started. about 100 years ago there was a massive human war. Some Mages felt it was their duty to take part either as medics or as soldiers on the battlefield. One Mage in particular towards the latter end of the war, saw a way of turning the tide of battle. He created a series of spells, a ritual, a way of bestowing magical abilities to humans via specially crafted weaponry. However humans being humans, they decided that no one else could have such power and ended up using the weapons against their creator. It was a huge mess the Council barely managed to cover up, killing thousands of mages and humans alike in order to make sure no one had any evidence of the mistake to share. As it turns out, about 20 years later another war broke out and a german science division happened upon research into the same magical weaponry and devised a way to imbue a human body with such abilities in order to create a super soldier. His experiments failed one after the other, until he caught himself a mage. He experimented on the mage trying to figure out where is research was going wrong. When he finally figured it out, he attempted to create a super solider again but things went horribly wrong. There was a massive magical explosion and everyone within a 2 mile radius was killed. Oddly enough though, shortly after the war there were reports of children developing the same distinctive mark on their skin. After years of bloodlines now there are thousands of Marked in the world most of them with no idea how to control their abilities and some with no interest in them at all. The Council has been paying for their mistakes this entire time.

After a month passes by, I decide its time to leave the city. No one has come for me yet and there’s no sign or reports of anyone even being close to asking me questions. I need to speak to Lee and Grimmal. I travel by foot to the furthest outreach of the city, doing my best to be as far from the Magus Council as possible. When ready I take a deep breath and begin to cast a teleportation spell again. As my body is engulfed in a blue cloud I suddenly realize I have no idea where to go; I dismiss the spell for the moment. I contemplate visiting the telepath again to see if she can track either one but again the risk this poses is too great, there’s no way she’d do it. After a few moments of thought I concoct a plan and recast the spell, focusing on the rooftop that Lee last threw me off of.

I open my eyes to a human city, the noise of busy people on the streets and cars having close calls fills my ears. The smell of decay, smog and food fills the air. I walk over to the edge of the building and blink into the alleyway once I have it in sight. A homeless guy gets startled by the angelic vision of someone randomly bursting into existence via a shower of white sparks. I smile at him and continue to the metal door of the Marked Safe House, there’s no need to wipe his memory who’s really going to believe a homeless guy ranting and raving about angels anyways. The door is locked, damn! I imagine the interior I only visited once, the dark walls and dirt floor. I blink once more within the safe house.

It’s empty, I should have expected as much. The Marked have moved on which is exactly what they needed to do, I don’t really know why this place being empty surprised me so much. Rodents scurry up and down the perimeter, running away from the bright flash I would have emitted upon entering. I sit on the ground and meditate. Contemplating how I find anyone. Then an image hits me, Sable standing there telling me about how this was my fault. I focus on her features, her dark hair, slim face. I take a deep breath and extend my right hand into the air, extending out my fingertips as I cast silver threads from each one. A type of scrying spell used to track one’s magical signature. Good for Mage’s who can never truly stop passively emitting magic into the air around them, difficult for Marked who can. I focus more on Sable’s character, her whispering voice, her average height. As I exhale I simultaneously open my eyes and clench my right hand into a fight. The threads at my finger tips transform into a single long silvery thread that I now clasp in my hand. I was just barely able to manifest it, she hasn’t been here in so long. I close my eyes again and use my magic to trace the thread, following Sable wherever she has been. At the end of the thread I finally see her and Grimmal, sharing what appears to be a cheap apartment on the other side of town. I smile, this kind of magic was never natural to me. It always took me a while to get somewhere, and to do this after she had not been here for so long is quite the feat. I let go of the thread and it vaporizes out of existence. I stand up and blink back into the alleyway, after the amount of magic I’ve just expelled in order to get to this city, into the safehouse and track Sable I am at my limits. To use any more to get to Sable would be irresponsible as a Mage, I would lack the ability to defend myself when I got there. 

“So I guess walking it is, the good ol’ fashioned way” I tell myself as I turn out of the alleyway and join the stream of people walking in different directions on the street.

#novella #short story #author

[staticdecay-blog]

Post 8 - One Night In Chiraq

The red line train was speeding to its next stop, bringing me closer to my destination. Wiggling the toes of my left foot which was already soaked and freezing from the rains that rinsed the city combining with the hole in my Chuck Taylor shoe. Back to the city lights from underground to approach Cermak-Chinatown. 2 more stops.

It is around 1 in the morning, December 27th but it is still the day after Christmas to me. The Garfield Boulevard stop came and I step back in to the cold and windy city with a few other people and head out to the street. The desolation is already apparent here, and I met with looks and faces that read both “Why the fuck are you here?” and total absence or lack of care.

I cannot explain why, but these are the only types of places that I find peace. It is a dark irony because I know that in a split second I could get robbed, fucked up, or killed by a stray bullet. On this night I find myself in Chicago’s Englewood neighborhood, which is by most accounts, including numerically, the deadliest place in Chicago. This is Chiraq. In these few city blocks that make up this neighborhood, in this year alone there have been 38 homicides and another 296 people wounded by gunshots. That is a staggering total of 334 people affected by gun violence in a few square mile radius.

I know about Chiraq and I know the rap songs do not lie. I have experienced it a bit in some of my other adventures. Even still, I find a type of peace, a clarity in these types of places. My mind, heart, emotions, and being are just as wartorn and desolate as the landscape.

I exit the station among a lot of people rushing to get to the bus that waits right outside. I turn left with the crowd and I keep going passed the bus. Garfield Blvd. is a main street, full of gas stations, fast food joints and the like. Even still, it only took about 50 yards before walking passed some type of domestic squabble involving a woman and a man. One of them standing outside of the van in the rain, the other inside screaming.

Keep walking under a bridge where the Metra rail rests and I decide to cut up and off of Garfield. It is too busy. My senses go in to full alert as I wander up S. Perry Street. Not a threatened feeling but just knowing exactly where I am, and that now there are no witnesses, there is not even an illusion of safety.

Houses are either boarded up, or have been leveled all together, leaving empty lots, looking even more menacing with the barren trees reaching up and in to the crimson sky. The buzz of the high voltage wires is crisp and apparent. Walk a very long block and get to 57th Street. In the middle of all the despair, the abandonment and desolation, in the middle of all of the violence that rips this hood to pieces, leaving blood on street corners, is a huge community garden. This is beyond a garden, and more like a small farm. It is huge, and it bing there warmed my heart to the point I no longer felt the cold in my soaked left foot. It stands defiant, like so many of the people in this area, and others like it, refusing to leave, refusing to give in to whats happening around it. This is their home and they will fight for it and try to contribute to ending the turmoil, rather than abandon it. I am reminded of the motto “If not you, who? If not now, when?”

I try to get a picture of it but there is no way to get a decent one since it is dark and I have nothing to rest the camera on.

Keep walking up Perry Street, another very long block that ends at 59th, which is a somewhat busy street. Turn right and work my way, along with 2 other people slightly ahead of me, through a bunch of construction that has the sidewalk closed underneath the Metra bridge.

My hands are stiff and cold, they feel the sting of the wind and cold rain but I refuse to keep them in my pockets. Every few feet is another alley, another place for somebody to get the jump on you, and this place is full of predators. I keep my vision wandering, scanning, refusing to look down at the ground, refusing to get tunnel vision.

I am nearing the overpass to cross back over the freeways, my intent is to cross and work up to the 63rd street station. An alleyway on my right giving access to the back of many boarded up houses, an abandoned garage or gas station, a few active house ones, and some garbage filled lots. Across the street is an abandoned lot with a raised train track dissecting it. There are cars parked there, there are some people, and there is an alleyway. Traffic is stopped at the red light, including a cop.

It is 2:15 in the morning when the sound rings out. It is like a lot of those whipper snappers that we all used as kids…..Its so fast but time slows down, and I see one of the bodies in the lot across the street drop to the ground fast and hard. Another person ducks for cover behind the wheel well of a car. Taking cue I run down the alley to a nearby tree and take cover.

Gunshots. There were at least five, and by the rate of fire it was from an automatic or semi-automatic. The smell of firearm discharge catches on the wind as car horns start blaring. I have no idea where the shots came or are coming from, but I see a car with lights in the alley across the street.

The light must have turned green because traffic starts to move. The horns continue and I see a few people looking toward the cop, trying to get their attention, screaming, and the cop drives away.

This is the reality of Chiraq. It hits full force, harder than it ever did. Harder than it can ever hit just by seeing the abandoned areas, hearing the stories, and seeing the statistics. This was a crowded intersection, people around, zero warning. There was no heated exchange, no screaming, just somebody driving up and opening fire and leaving.

I cut up the alleyway, constantly looking over my shoulder to see if anything is coming up that alley, ready to cut through the houses in full sprint if I must. I make my way back to 57th street and am able to cross over the freeway. By this time flashing blue lights are seen where it went down, at least 3 cars at this point. I start cutting up another street that parallels the I-90, and get back on track trying to get to 63rd street station.

Police start showing up on the streets, cars weaving up and down the streets and alleys, looking for somebody involved, looking for the possible reciprocity killing because all too often one shooting here leads to another only minutes later and blocks away. I snap a quick picture from across the bridge of the scene that now has 2 ambulances, and 5 police cars.

Cutting up another alleyway, trying to avoid being seen by police, on top of trying to avoid anything else. I take note that my hands or feet are no longer cold even though they are completely soaked. Alleyway leads to empty streets, empty park, boarded up houses, and a corner boy on the next block. Headlights turn on to the street and I cut left at an abandoned house and up on to some train tracks. I notice one of the side doors has its plywood kicked in, no doubt somebody has been in there, or IS in there right now. The headlights turn out to be police and they have not seen me.

I snap a picture of the train tracks, and try to get one of the neighborhood before I climb back down to the street. The corner boy is gone and I continue up the street, passed the park, and turn left on 63rd street. The ambulance comes through, seemingly on its way to the hospital that can be seen the opposite way on 63rd.

This is just another night for the people that live here. The gas station has people coming in and out, there is somebody standing in the concrete island, and 200 yards away somebody lies dead on cold wet ground. It is trained reaction that when the pop is heard you hit the ground, run, or find cover.

Death can come for anybody and we have no idea when or where or how it will happen to us. Life can end in a second and witnessing this in the South side of Chicago makes that staggeringly clear. Hardened faces, a beggar, are what I fnd in the 63rd street station as I begin to process everything. The cold begins to make itself known to me again, aching my left foot.

Within 40 minutes I go from being the only white face, to a place where people really do not worry about the type of shit I just saw. Walking around this neighborhood, most people get sketched by the homeless under the bridge. I go and get a rootbeer and some snacks and begin walking back to where I am staying, stopping for a couple of minutes to talk with one of the homeless men under the bridge.

Different worlds…a world that exists that a lot of people never know. I can’t help but think about the end of the film “Boyz N Tha Hood” when Doughboy talks at the end about how he was watching TV right after his brother was killed. He mentions how the TV talks about all these foreign wars, but there was no mention of his brother, or what was happening in the hood.

It is still the same. I found out when I got back that the shooting I saw left a 29 year old male dead, and a 28 year old female wounded. 15 minutes later a 68 year old man and 34 year old woman were wounded in another hood. At 4:20am another 25 year old male was dropped in the same Englewood neighborhood where I saw what I saw.