#only for everything to come crashing down when she goes to kill the monster who killed her friend

[athousandcowboys]

the new rez dogs episode was so gutting and emotionally resonant i literally cannot stop thinking about it

#i love revenge arcs they’re one of my favorite tropes in fiction #and rez dogs did it in such a fascinating way #the emotional depth of deer lady and how she’s probably killed countless people by now #she seems so put together and in control #only for everything to come crashing down when she goes to kill the monster who killed her friend #after all these years it’s still hard. a part of her never stopped being afraid #never stopped fearing him and everything he represents #why would she? #idk im notnrly coherent just #wow

[kiraman]

Killing Strangers PART III.

PART I & PART II.

JOHN WICK AU. death/grief/sex/gore/ extreme violence cw / Mizu x female oc

wordcount: 13,394 / soundtrack 1 & 2

disclaimer & a spoiler to put minds at ease about everything that is about to go down in this story, skip if you don't care to know, click here & for author notes if you want to know (you should. related to her romantic interest in the story)

“I who would love and be loved am hated loathed despised; I am the wound and the gun, the bullet and the slaughter; the monster and the bed; the blood in your mouth, the bitter, and the lonely, the body in your bed; i bring the Death and the Life, the ecstasy and the ruin. I am the victim and the guilty; the savage and the trapped. I am the bitter and the howling, the angry and the mouth that screams its rage between your legs. You ask me to look under your bed for the thing that haunts you, fills your throat with soundless cries; you fear it, you fear it; I do not want to but I do; for you I look; when I do, I find myself looking back at me, the hideous monster preying in the shadows. The atrocious loneliness of the monster.

Let my hands be filled with blood; give me the strength to kill them - or let me die and as I die I would find a better way for existing and ceasing to exist. I would find a better way to take and give and fill my empty body with fury; release me now from my soul-binding cage wherein I touch but never hold, find but never stay, join but never belong.”

Afterwards, it is all a blur, her blood pumping violently, a raging torrent that streams over her and pulls her down down down, drowns her in its dark depths; it's blood on her mouth and smoke in their lungs; it's the neon lights spluttering, the C of the Cabinet tearing off the signboard and crashing onto the street as the flames burst through the windows, glass shattering, and metal crumpling, all in less than a second, raining glass and splinters of wood, something metallic over their heads.

Afterwards, it's all a deep, violent silence that descends upon her, dark and inescapable, like a flood, filling every empty space inside of her with its fury; she can't see past the itch that rashes at her throat, the urgency, the flurry of smoke that swallows Geraldine, Geraldine, sank on her knees and screaming; she has never heard anyone scream like this, she thinks, and all her blood rushes to her throat, turns to ice, feeling the time, that small window of opportunity to crawl through and away from this and what is coming, ticking by; in the distance, a siren goes off, pulling her back to the reality of the moment, warning bells ringing. Somewhere near them, the sky explodes with fireworks and Mizu, suspended between the now and the end of the line that she can see in her mind, that perfect, frantic urgency that calls to her to fucking move, get away, do something, what must be done; through the shock that blurs her senses, she moves, grabs at Geraldine's shoulders, and drags her to the car, more senses than registers the sudden downpour that comes pouring over the city, fills the gutters and drains as Mizu drives furiously away; not looking back for those who come for them; those who will come; her mind goes blank, goes empty; she only sees what must be done; that clear, bright line that she follows through the blackness that swarms her vision, blood pounding, death on her hands and ashes in her mouth; she only sees the end of it— getting away and to safety.

Geraldine is numb in her hands when she swerves the car around and drives down to the port, parks the car on the docks and gets out, gets both of them out, tosses their phones into the ocean; she is a dark shadow blotting out the light around her as she gathers her in her arms, shakes her into the moment, her hands rough on her shoulders, but Geraldine does not react, she does not see her and Mizu spits out a fuck under her breath, forcibly drags her away, down to an underground garage. When she enters, the man behind the parking booth looks up at her and stiffens, his lower lip twitching, nods stiffly; she nods back, hurriedly making her way to her bike, does not stop to speak to anyone, not even Taigen who emerges from the office in the back, but she can feel their eyes on her; she does not give a fuck; they know who she is but here, no one would dare touch them; not now; not Smoke; Mizu pulls her jacket off and throws it over Geraldine's shoulders, then swiftly pulls on her helmet, puts one on Geraldine, too, with sharp, swift, measured movements, fastens the straps beneath her chin; presses a finger against the soft skin of her jaw, tipping her head towards her. A kind of signal-flare: I am here. I mean you no harm.

“Hey,” Mizu says. “Hey! You with me?”

“I’m here,” she breathes, and Mizu thinks she’s imagining the little hitch in her voice, like she realized halfway through she is. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Mizu straddles her motorbike, holding Geraldine in the front, her thighs over hers, not trusting her to hold on. Like a bullet through a stomach, she hits the highway.

Her sight clears enough to see how Geraldine keeps her hands curled in tight fists all the way down the stairs and through the hallway that leads to her flat (more of a bunker, buried underground, all still, lifeless air and shadows). She watches her try to loosen them once, standing at her back as Mizu punches in the password to enter—but they’re shaking badly and she immediately curls her fingers back in, burying her nails in her palms. Lifts her chin, sets her mouth. Her expression is smooth and cold as durasteel when she catches Mizu looking.

Mizu looks away, wordlessly pushes the door open and hits a switch. The long row of acrylic led light bars overhead sputters to life, dousing them in cold half-light.

It's dark inside her flat— dark and cold and metallic, walls empty, white, too white, the static light reflecting off of them casting strange shadows.

Geraldine does not look around her; Mizu watches her as she staggers her way to the bed in the corner and lays her body down slowly, blinking at the world around her through the unshed tears that blur her vision, at the only painting on the blank wall across the bed, the coils of a monstrous snake, swallowing its tail. She blinks strangely at it, and Mizu wonders what she might be thinking, then lets her eyes roll up to the ceiling, blindly, like a ragdoll.

Unsure what to do— what she's supposed to say, she stands stiffly in the middle of the room, watches her pull the blanket up to her chest rigidly, not looking back at her when Mizu says you good? and immediately regrets the question—because how could she be; but Mizu has never had to do this, has never had to think of death as anything other than a necessity; this loss of hers should somehow strike a nerve - raw, naked, pulsing in her chest - but she can't feel anything past the pounding of her blood at her temples; can't let herself feel it, that pain, that ache that gnaws you to the bone, strips you clean; she doesn't know what's wrong with her but something must be. Involuntarily, her fingers twitch into a fist at her side, and she watches her roll over in her bed, turning her back to her.

Geraldine doesn't answer her, anyway.

She falls into a fitful slumber- and Mizu stands there numbly and watches the way her shoulders remain stiff and tight, even in her sleep. Then, she tears herself away and staggers into the bathroom, groaning, feeling the blood soaking her side as she stiffly removes her shirt, feels another thread in her stitches tear. She lets the blood flow, stands numbly before the mirror, lifts her eyes to her reflection. A ripple of shock floods through her but she does not visibly react to whoever's looking back at her through the glass; she does not recognize her face in the mirror; her face, a death’s mask of horror, and faint blood, streaked across her skin; it looks unnervingly... at peace. As though something inside of it has been fed; had stopped, only for one moment, to scream and howl for what it's been taken from it. Her hands are twitching when she curls her fingers on the edge of the sink, holding on as she stares at her eyes into the mirror, feeling that thing that lives inside of her, that soft dead thing that's been sliced open and bled out, rotting, pulse and tremble; her blood is pounding, pounding, and she inhales hard through her nose, feels her shoulders stiffen. Feels her body fill up with something bitter that she swallows back violently, she won't let it flood her blood; she can't, she won't; it's done. Something's changed, shifted; like something's being kicked into life, some thread long tight-knotted and tangled unspooling, unfolding. Something's begun.

Violet's dead. That's all that matters. He's dead, by her hand. She lifts it in front of her, looks at all the blood, black and dried up, coating her fingers.

She blinks at her face in the mirror, the cold, stoic, emptiness of it, feels her blood flow, feels that dark, half-choked whisper in her ear, screaming, like static humming in her head; tearing herself away, she grabs a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the shelf, unscrewing the cap. She is furious; exhilarated, angry; she is bitter and triumphant and enraged; dead and full and empty and thrumming with life- he's dead; she shuts her eyes as her fingers touch her side, sees him, there, sat at his desk, his head jerking back, splashing the wall with his blood; she growls, tearing the gauze off of the wound in her side, and she thinks of Geraldine on her knees in her room sewing it closed, thinks of her in her bed, her father hanging from the signboard; she flinches, buries the thought, and dumps half the bottle onto the open wound, half of it over her face, the tiny cuts from the shards of glass shattering all over her, the split in her cheek, gritting her teeth, a hiss spilling through them.

Mechanically, she starts the shower and steps into the spray of cold water, does not wait for it to warm, washes the blood off, watching as it swirls, thick and scarlet around her feet, watching the water sluice it away into the drain with the last of whatever dark guilt claws at that soft, dead thing rotting inside her.

Abstractedly, Mizu grabs a medical kit from the shelf and pads back into the room, water spilling off her wet hair, unbound, sticking to the back of her neck, her bare shoulders.

She hisses when the needle tears through her skin, cursing through her teeth. She patches herself up sloppily, tosses the bloodied gauzes out and then heats up some water, watches it, numbly, detachedly come to a boil, sits with her tea on the couch, sets the cup on the table before her. She kills the lights and sits back as though laying in wait for something. There are tables and monitors blinking in the open space to her left, casting her in strange light. She sets her hands upon her thighs and for the first time that night, breathes.

The phone on the table lights up, rings once and she swiftly grabs it, answers the call; she does not speak; Ringo speaks first, says, "You are alive!" as though surprised, a strange, bright under-current of relief in his voice; Mizu grunts in agreement. Indeed. Alive.

Silence. A clock ticking. Geraldine stirs in her bed, under her sheets.

"and him?" a breathless question,

"what do you think?"

"I knew it! I knew that you would—"

"Goodbye, Ringo—" she cuts him off, and he protests, desperately scrabbles for her attention; she says, "I'll call you later... I'll have to..." and the way she says it must sound strange to him because he gasps, but whatever comes next, she does not hear, ending the call.

Hours go by; the tea in her cup goes cold; she dozes off, numbly on the couch; the back of her neck aches, stiff and rigid, slumped over the back of the sofa; the wound in her side is throbbing; she flits in and out of sleep for hours; does not know how long she lays there. She must have lost more blood than she thought she had; when she jerks herself upright, blinking through the darkness that engulfs the room, she feels her bones shatter under her own weight and groans, touches her hand to her wound in her side, cursing. The stitches have not torn, but it feels like white-hot knives are piercing every inch of her skin. Her mouth is dry. Instinctively, her eyes sweep over to the girl in her bed, her face now turned towards her, soft in the half-light pouring over from the low led lights flickering in the kitchen. Her throat tightens up at the sudden memory that rips through her; the flames and the fire; her father hanging in the air, dead and gone. Mother screaming her name; the bathtub slick with blood. Geraldine on her knees, her hands on her wound, her fingers crimson with her blood.

She gasps, a short of a shallow, sharp gulp for air.

She does not know how but somehow she falls back into sleep. When she awakes again, the hurt in her side has escalated from a dull throb to burning, glaring pain – faster than a lightning bolt. She groans, blindy reaching for her phone but it's out of reach and she does not want to move.

She stares at the wall, looks at the snake in that painting, coiling darkly, swallowing its own tail.

She feels eyes on her, her eyes, dark, carnelian, hungered, gleaming in the darkness, all that fire, snuffed out; when she darts her gaze askance, there is Geraldine laying awake in her bed, staring at her. Something shifts deep inside of her, something she does not have a name for, but she does not shatter under her gaze; she stares back, a silent, fevered apology for something she can't feel sorry for in her gaze (her eyes, too, gleam; like shards of glass; like the glint of a knife; cold, unforgivable) she wonders how long she's been awake for; if she's been watching her sleep, and the thought makes that something growl, makes her look away. Lets her watch her as Mizu falls back into sleep.

Mizu jerks herself awake with a groan, hissing as she moves, her side burning. There's a strip of light pouring in through the small window in the kitchen, it must be day again. How long have they been out for? With sudden realization, she looks for Geraldine and sees her bed empty.

Confused, she sits upright, looks around for signs of her, her own jacket, coated with dried blood on the floor before the bed, her purse on a chair; she sighs, through her nose, feeling her bones creak and ache as she moves, mutters a fuck, under her breath. She reaches for the shirt tossed to her side, clean, white, and shrugs it on, but doesn't button it up, leaves it open. She forces herself on her feet, and walks to the kitchen, sees Geraldine stood at the small window, her face blank. She spares a fleeting, cool glance toward her, then looks away wordlessly, and Mizu stands at the door stiffly, a little out of her waters, a little annoyed, a little confused, irritated, in pain, and to her shock, a lot troubled, worried, concerned—for her— stares at Geraldine's back, her dark hair, gathered up off her neck, the way the light spills over the nape of it, soft, delicate. (She was still wearing it long, in those days, a cascade of black curls around her small shoulders.) Her own hair, she realizes, a little too late, a little too disinterestedly, can't bring herself to give a fuck or think that she does, is still unbound.

You okay? Mizu hears herself ask, you need something? glass of water?

She thinks she sees the very corner of Geraldine's mouth twitch.

She does not answer for a while, then, as Mizu reaches for the bottle of Vicodin on the counter, swallows two pills dry, Geraldine comes back from wherever she has lost herself in, turns around, says I don't need anything, and looks at Mizu for a moment, stares through her, wordlessly, an ache behind her eyes that will not go, even when Mizu nods, fills a glass of water for her anyway. She looks so tired; fragile, like the slightest touch could shatter her into a million pieces. Her hair is so long, the thought, strange as it is, suddenly cuts through the static filling her mind; so dark against her skin; her lower lip is split, she must have bitten it open while she dragged her from the fire, screaming for her father.

She watches her drink the water, then feels her shoulder as she brushes past her and back to her bed.

Mizu stands at the sink numbly, thinks about last night; the fire; Violet.

Fowler.

Sudden, piercing fury rises to her throat; she must do something, there are people after her, after them both; there's a bounty over her head, the world on her back, dogging her every step; but she's so tired, she feels as though she's burning, still burning, her blood fire under her skin. She should call Ringo, should find Madame, track them down- should go after him; should find a way; should... should. Time's ticking away, but she is achingly tired; sick with it; she can't think clearly. Irritated, she refills the glass and gulps the water down, takes another pill, tosses the glass in the sink. It cracks.

She will; soon.

She sits down on the couch heavily and sighs, sinks her face into her hands. She will. Always does. For now, she sleeps.

This time, she does not sleep the day away.

She wakes up at her phone going off on the table and rubs at her eyes, blinks the fatigue away.

It's Ringo, and before she can answer it, her phone dies. She gets up and plugs it in, then calmly, methodically, as though already on autopilot, getting things done, reaches for her laptop.

She goes back to her couch and tries to work soundlessly, lets Geraldine sleep.

Sometimes she murmurs something under her sheets, and Mizu will look her way over the monitor; sometimes she will look a little too long, look at the slope of her neck, so very fragile, as she gasps for breath in her sleep- she must be dreaming, must be having a nightmare; she puts her glasses on, and gathers her hair up in a bun the way she usually wears it. The wound in her side is still throbbing, but she must know, must see what's going on out there while they hide away. She reaches for the phone and calls Ringo, who's sighing in relief again the moment he realizes she's okay, in that stunted, strangely too bright, too warm way he's got about him, cuts him off when he asks too many questions ( of course he knows; he knows she would have had something to do with the fire, with Skeffington's death- he does not know she's got his daughter, shattered to pieces but alive in her bed) says I need the Madame. Find Kaji.

He understands.

A little after 8 in the evening, she finds herself dozing off, slipping in and out of it, but she's waiting for him to call again, waiting for him to find her, so she forces herself to stay awake, gets up and feels the wound in her side throb violently, tearing a groan from the back of her throat. Annoyed, she sits back down and peels the gauze back to look at he wound, wheezing as the ache biting into her side flares up. It looks a bit too swollen, the thread biting into the torn skin. She's half-botched it, she thinks, annoyed, and reaches for the med kit again, splashes more antiseptic onto it, hissing at the sting.

She covers it again, and haphazardly tosses the empty bottle of disinfectant aside, sits back and buttons her shirt up.

She blinks, startled to see Geraldine come to stand at her side, wakeful and clear eyed, a frown lining her face. She must have been in the kitchen, getting water. She sets the glass down on the table.

She looks down at Mizu, asks, bluntly, "why were you making those noises?"

and Mizu says, shrugging her concerns off, "It's nothing. You awake?"

"No, I'm still sleeping." she shoots back in that familiar way she has that is both full of exasperation and something achingly tender at the same time, and, "sure sounded like something... come on. let me take a look. last I remember you were bleeding in the back of the car"

"well, Im not." Mizu reaches for her phone, but Geraldine does not give up, reaches for the medical kit thrown onto the floor at Mizu's feet, and comes to stand near her, looking down at her with something strange and burning in her eyes, like the flare of a match struck lit, flickering.

"Let me help."

"You wanna help, you go back to bed until you're better." Mizu says, and she flares up at it, as though she's being insane, unreasonable, as though she's been slapped across the face.

"I don't think I'm the one that needs to get better." she says, and there is nothing wrong with me; I am here; I'm here— I am me— awake, alive; I lost a father not my mind— goes unsaid, dies in her throat, and, indignant, annoyed by her callousness, her coldness, how she dismisses her like she can't bother to look her in the eye, the way she puts on that mask as though it's not been cracked beyond repair, reaches for Mizu, anyway, reaches for her shirt, wanting to see, make it right, make something right, but Mizu shoves her hand away, says, coldly, too coldly,

"You don't fucking know what you are doing." shrugs her off.

Geraldine blinks, taken aback by the sharpness of it, and all that light in those eyes gets snuffed out, again, but something else lights up inside her, something furious, with teeth; Mizu does not see it, but she can hear it when something else inside her shatters, when she pulls away, taking the air with her.

She walks off in a swirl of anger and regret, but before she can go Mizu wordlessly reaches for her hand, curls her fingers around her wrist and pulls her back. She does not say anything, but slowly looks up at her; Geraldine's eyes are cold, empty, the edge of a blade held to her throat; she's breathing faster now, her cheeks red with anger, and Mizu somehow manages to say, "I didn't mean that. " To the point. Her voice staccato, low. Her hand rough on her wrist.

Geraldine shrugs her off, tries to pull her hand away, but Mizu firmly holds her in place, clutches at her hand tighter, pulls her closer, her wrist swallowed up by her hand. " I didn't."

In the moment that follows their eyes lock and something shifts in the air.

The light pouring over Geraldine from the ceiling is low, flickers, on and off, on and off—the world around her seems sort of blurry, darker around the edges. But it’s enough to see when she steps towards her, and it’s enough to know where to put her hands, when Geraldine presses herself against her.

This would be an easier story to tell if she had been drunk. If they’d stumbled together in the frantic aftermath of the night, hungered for something, anything that could make them feel alive, untouched by all the death swarming their world, take that edge off. It would have been easy, too much fury in her blood, too much fire, and a beautiful girl she doesn’t deserve, flushed and wanting, looking at her, at her; one night of pretending she was worthy of her. Pretending she was worthy of touch and want and desire, of her soft, soft mouth on her throat, the kiss, the wild, savage delight of it. That she can want her; want, and take and not feel sick for it.

When she kisses her it’s violent, all teeth, sloppy in trying to forget too much in her mouth. Mizu lets her — and her mouth is very soft and warm and slack, startled— lets her push her back against the back of the couch, lets her crawl onto her lap, keeps her hands chastely at her waist; Geraldine's are shaking where they touch her, curling into her clothes, her hair, down the column of her neck as though scrabbling for purchase, something to anchor herself to.

( Mizu's never been anything but a comet, an object in constant motion, but if there’s anyone she wanted to drag through space with her— )

She is warm in her arms, grinding down into Mizu's thigh desperately, making those little breathless mewling sounds that fan her blood to fire, and that’s dangerous; the slick, perfect cant of her hips, the way she’s looking at her. Like Mizu's something that can be owned. That can be held. Used for more than a fuck or a quick job, like she can keep her there all to herself, between those thighs, with a quick hot press of her mouth, and god— maybe she can.

She does not know if it's the fever, the fatigue, that dark, senseless, aching emptiness that howls to be filled, but Mizu’s already delirious with her; she’s gone, her pulse shattered in her throat. She cradles the back of her head and kisses her right back, sinks into the slick heat of her mouth, her tongue joining the prowl of teeth and lips as she chases after her lips, licks her mouth open, and it's agony then, it's desperation, it's Geraldine's moans filling the air between them, and furious, frantic kisses, pulling her closer, growling at the feeling of her, slick and wet and hot, rubbing against the apex of her thigh. The sensation is overwhelming, sending what feels like shock waves through her body. She lets herself be greedy, her hands wandering down her shoulders and brushing the sides of her breasts through the silk of her dress. Her fingers curl around her waist, trying to pull her even closer, trapping her between her arms, pressed flush to her chest and holding her there, feeling the slick glide of her cunt against her thigh, filling her mouth with those frantic keening sobs of pleasure that tremble in Geraldine's throat.

And although it's Geraldine that's come to her with a hunger, it is Mizu who takes control of the helm of the beast. With her mouth pouring against her neck, she lets her teeth rake across the now-raised flesh of her throat and down, until she is coveting the hard line of her collarbone. Geraldine turns her head to the side as though she’s trying to find something to mask the noise that pours from her lips.  It’s a trembling sigh, punctuated by a moan that’s more breathlessness than sound, a sobbing cry of pure, violent pleasure as Mizu sinks her teeth into the swell of her breasts, mouthing at the skin, a low breathless moan in her throat.

Her hips feel small and round in her hands, spanned by her fingers. She’s trembling, Mizu can feel it against every place they touch.

She kisses her, again, palms her stomach, feeling it swell and flatten with every furious breath. She’s so fucking warm; warm and wet, especially when her hand slips down, past the folds of her black dress that's ridden far past up her thighs, and into her panties, properly.

Geraldine jerks forward when she touches her, a howl caught in her throat. “god—,” she snaps, enough that Mizu feels the press of her teeth against the shell of her ear. “god please, please—" she is frantic, desperate, pouring her mouth all over Mizu now, kissing her everywhere, her lips, her nose, her throat, her neck as Mizu growls helplessly, the ache in her pussy unbearable as she sinks her fingers into that heat, feels her pulse around her finger, feels her tremble above her.

She's terrified by the smallness of her, how much of her throat fits in her palms, her wrists waiting to be swallowed up by her hands. She makes a little noise when Mizu digs her thumb into her clit, and Mizu almost misses it, that’s how loud her own pulse is in her ears, matched by her half-sobs and ragged breathing. Everything feels outsized; her and this girl, with her being cold and sharp like a knife and horrible, needing the press of her skin even if it’s wrong in her fever, and her so fragile, fine. A feral, wild creature handling china, except the china is breathing, and hot, and when she drops her head and sucks at her throat she makes the sweetest noise Mizu’s ever heard, something high and sharp and needing, without knowing how or why.

(I could fall in love with you, Mizu thinks, and is horrified by it, tucks it away quick in some place in her head she never ventures, where she keeps the tragedy and trauma, and this too, how much she wants this, craves its softness, its affection, but even the mere thought of someone caring, wanting this- with her - wanting her, makes her stomach turn.)

“I want you to fuck me,” she mumbles against Mizu's jaw, and the air leaves Mizu's lungs like she’s been shot.

It’s wrong, it’s all wrong, those words out of her kiss-bruised mouth, sounding so small, so fragile, like glass— delicate, powerless in her hands. Mizu's imagined this a hundred times, dreamed of it even in her cold, perpetual denial, but it had always been her, burning and laughing and sure. Not whatever this is, whoever she’s trying to be instead of scared and aching, with bruises at her throat and death on her hands.

“—No... Stop.” she gasps, gathers her hands in hers and pulls them away, very gently, firmly, trying for 'we cant, we mustn't , not now, like this— ' in fewer words.

She freezes, feels the slick press of Geraldine's mouth under her ear, her sweet breath tickling her skin. “yes...yes. I want you. ” she whispers in her ear, and Mizu slips in and out of that pulsing, hot heat of them together, how she wants wants wants this; rips her hand away and stiffens, says, desperate, because this is wrong; it's all wrong; Geraldine does not know her; she knows Smoke, she knows Ghost, the Onryo- she thinks she's him, something else.

"I don't think you know what you are saying."

“Mizu...” she gasps, "It's okay. I know... I know." she whispers, pulls back only an inch to look at her, meaningfully slipping her hand between Mizu's legs, pressing her palm against her. "I don't care. God — I want you." and Mizu gasps, then with a flood of understanding, blinks at her, all of her blood rushing, and she can feel again the violent thumping inside of her, the rushing, burning blood, Geraldine's mouth slick, hot on her throat, her hand trembling between her legs. She feels her mouth on her neck, feels her dark curls stream over her skin as she unbuttons her shirt, licking a fiery path down the swell of one breast, the sudden, violent savagery of her want, pulsing, throbbing.

She gasps, her blood thickened, her eyes blind, her ears filled with humming,

"No... this isn't right..." she protests between kisses, and her voice comes out breathless and shattered, a soft moan, her mouth slack and wanting- god, she wants her; she has to tear her mouth away, has to crawl her way out of that heat, the shuddering delight of it that she wants but can't have, won't have; they can't... she can't, must not, she shouldn't.

her hands shoot out and gather Geraldine's wrists in them, rips them off her burning skin, says, stop. you are out of it.

and when she won't pull away, it's like she can't even see her past whatever unhinged, ravenous, violent, aching need has sunk her in its darkness, Mizu has to push her back, make her look her in the eye, faint, scarlet lipstick stains slick on her neck, between her breasts, her jaw,

"your father fucking died and you wanna fuck? - what's wrong with you?"

and it's cold and cruel and careless, and yes- this is who she is; this is who I am, she thinks through the fever in her blood, see me; have me; bitter and resentful and detached, untouchable and heartless, smoke, smoke, smoke.

All of a sudden, death is fully present in the room with them, settling darkly between the two of them and can't be ignored any longer. 

Geraldine does not flinch away from her, does not fall apart at her callousness, but her hands slip from her grip and she sits back in her lap, blinks at Mizu, startled, her eyes gleaming darkly, sharpened knives.

"he did not die. My father did not die. " she snaps. that is not the word for it, goes unsaid but hangs in the air between them- to die is to die in your bed, in your sleep, in a hospital bed, cleanly; to die takes just a little while and then it's out of sight- done, gone, ended. What happened to him had been something else; and Mizu thinks she can hear the accusation tremble in her voice, and her body goes rigid under her, stiff, violent with her fury, her breaths coming out heavy as she snaps back, "well he did", half anger and half whatever else is between them.

"this is not on me! I do not need this-" her eyes flit across Geraldine, and her voice is still breathless, but it's colder now, that low, dark growl, "I did not ask for your help, you gave it to me. I would have found him either way." matter of fact, sharp, clean-cut. ( I did not need you; I did not need this; there's no room for hesitation, guilt or weakness and I will not explain or regret this- you do not know what I have done to find him; what it means... What it means. )

Geraldine freezes, looks up, expressionless. Her eyes are pale. She stares at her blindly for far too long, long enough that Mizu wants to hide from it, that empty, pained expression; she would have taken fury over this a hundred times over, wishes she would explode at her, hit her, anything but whatever this is. This... this she does not know what to do with, but kill between her hands with a snap of her wrist. So she does. “I did not blame you, Mizu.” she drawls back horribly, evenly, trying to control the tremor in her voice. It’s not angry or cold, just wounded, shattered, something hard and bitter, pained.

Every action has consequences. But sometimes you have to make a choice. "I made a choice...not you. I made a choice and have to live with it, and I will. You don't have a monopoly on making bad calls."

Mizu stiffens, stares right through her, not knowing what she's supposed to say. Consequences.

She doesn't say it.

"Consequences." Geraldine more laughs that says the word, instead, and it's dark and wet and terrible, but she does not crack, does not shatter under the weight of it, although her eyes are dark and wet. When she moves to pull herself off Mizu, Mizu's hands fall to her waist, momentarily tighten, but she does not hold her, does not pull her back. When she stands, she takes all the warmth away with her, stripping her naked, leaving only that empty, hard cold shell of her, sat numbly on the couch.

Geraldine picks up the med kit off the floor again, says, let me look at it, and Mizu does not know what else to do so she does, she unbuttons her shirt and lets it spill down her shoulders, hisses when she feels her hands on her wound, scowls cooly, when Geraldine says you've messed it up, and nothing more, watches her calmly, too calmly use her lighter to heat up the gauze and clean the wound, peel off the stitches and sew it up again, slowly, tenderly, as though she somehow deserves this softness, the careful press of her fingers, wet with her blood. She dresses the wound wordlessly, and there is no meaness in her hands, no anger. It's only in her eyes, the coldness, and it feels like the sun is pulling away from her, drowning her in its shadow as it does. There. All new. Geraldine says curtly and gathers the used needle and gauzes and threads, tossing them out, does not even wash her hands before she sits on the edge of Mizu's bed and fishes a pack of cigs from her purse, lights one up. Mizu, grunts a thanks, as she does so, reaches for the Vicodin, something for her fever. She watches as plumes of white smoke swirl around Geraldine, watches her exhale, staring at the snake in the painting on the blank wall. It'll kill you, she reminds her, and that last one earns her a baldly unimpressed look and a yeah, okay... shut up.

Geraldine puts her cigarette out, anyway, says "I need something clean to wear. I wanna shower, and maybe something to eat. Won't be all up in your business for too long, I just-" and Mizu cuts her off sharply, says, "don't be stupid. I didn't say you gotta go." not now, like this.

She does not answer her, just gets up when Mizu does, and trails after her, does not say thanks when Mizu hands her over a pair of her jeans and a black top, takes them in her hands expressionlessly and walks away.

Mizu sits on her bed as she showers, and stares at the snake, too, its dark mouth swallowing itself.

When she gets out of the shower, wet and dripping water over the floorboards, Mizu stands up, too quickly, says, "I'll... leave you to it."

"You do that."

Later, they will argue over the bed; Mizu won't take it, insists that she sleeps in it, she is still in grief, lonely, in pain, she does not say that, not to her face, does not even think it, it's primal, needing to offer this... some sort of comfort.

In the end Geraldine wins (she will not back down, doesn't want scraps of sympathy, which makes Mizu roll her eyes, does not want sheets that smell like gunpowder, she'll be fine- fine...) she takes the couch, and Mizu the bed, and when she awakes in the middle of the night from a nightmare to her sobbing quietly in her sleep, under the sheets, does not say anything, spares her the pain of having to talk about it.

In the morning, before she disappears, Mizu leaves a glass of water near her for her to wake up to.

You come here thinking there is a way out of this world for you. There is not.

Primal, feral obsession sinks its teeth in every last part of her; Mizu can't think about anything but Fowler; his voice on the other end of the line, the cruel, bitter laughter in it, taunting, threatening her. It makes her anger swell and explode, throws her in this violent vortex of vengeful rage; she loses herself in it; shrugs her jacket on every morning and rides down to the Continental, laying in wait for Kaji, or any sign that could lead her to her or to Fowler's men and past them, to him.

She's got Ringo working his magic, but there's been no sign of her anywhere for days now; weeks, even, long before Violet's death.

She grows impatient and bitter, and when she comes back home empty handed, it's dark, way past midnight but she does not stop, does not know how, pops Vicodin dry and chugs black, bitter coffee all night, runs through databases, in spite of Ringo being hot on their digital trail; she must do something with her hands, must keep going, keep looking, find something or she'll lose it.

It's a dark, black blur, the world around her in the days that follow.

Geraldine does not speak to her much most days; she holds a dark brow aloft at her once, watching her toss one of the monitors off the desk in her rage, her frustration at her lack of any real lead that could show her that line, that bright, sharp point she must follow but can't, not if she can't see it.

Geraldine smokes, and she wears her jeans, and blinks at her blankly once when she catches her chugging coffee straight out of a bowl because she's broken most of her glasses and can't be bothered to replace them; asks her for a phone, to find her people, she says, and no more. Mizu wakes up to her screaming in her sleep most nights; leaves glasses of water on the table for her. She's half a ghost, plumes of smoke and that sharp, dark glint of her eyes, watching her when she shrugs on her leather jacket, tucks her gun into her jeans, says they're after you. you are being reckless going back out there so soon. you'll get caught and Mizu says I won't.

Their shoulders touch sometimes as they brush their teeth side by side in her bathroom, and Geraldine shoves her away with her elbow, complains, you're hogging the mirror, and Mizu says, annoyed, incredulous, you've got to watch yourself brush your teeth? and yes, I have to.

but it’s easy to stay here, some nights, with her, when her grief is not a gun held to their throat, and her presence not a threat, a constant reminder that she's let herself be weak, keeping her here, close, (she chose to help her: Geraldine did; she made this happen, her choices, her stubbornness, her self-indulgent delusions; it's not her responsibility to keep her safe, there is no room for distraction...but she does-she's here, and it's what it is; she's real, with her, like the way she takes way too much sugar in her tea, is real, or how she sets the edge of a curl on fire smoking a cigarette,  over breakfast and Mizu snorts on her tea ) but it's easy, when she softens, smokes her cigarettes, lazing in the low light of her room and teasing Mizu scathingly, mercilessly for how serious she looks, bent over her laptop as though she'll find her enemies in there. I wouldn't like to earn your anger, she scoffs, pretends to shudder in fear. Geraldine sits, facing away, trying to track down her own contacts. Occasionally, she reaches for something on the desk; instinctively, because she always looks up when she can’t find it, shakes her head as though chasing away a thought.

Mizu wonders what used to sit on her desk in her room under the Cabinet. She wonders if she can ask, or if that’s impolite, reminding a girl her life is gone.

Really she just likes watching her, the graceful economy of her hands, the way she touches her mouth sometimes, checking on her lip. (Her little wound—she’d worried at her lower lip all through that night, bitten it as she watched her father burn, torn it open. She wonders if it would bleed if she smiled.) She’d tell her she’s beautiful, but she gets the sense that she’s heard it before, though maybe not quite the way she means it. She imagines someone like her gets called ‘beautiful’ like paintings or a shard of diamond, something sharp and hot and alluring, not ‘beautiful’ like women, like her, like the nape of her neck and her lip, bleeding.

She looks up from the laptop on her knee one night, and watches that nape, how she gathers her hair off it, pulls them up in a ponytail.

“Stop looking at me like that, Smoke,” she says then, like she can hear Mizu thinking it.

Mizu makes a sound, a huff, a snort, letting her head fall against the back of the couch.

“And how exactly am I looking at you?”

She doesn’t think she’s heard her laugh in such a long time, it startles the breath in her throat. She should do that more often.

“You’re funny, Mizu.”

“I am breathlessly hilarious. you haven’t answered my question.”

She scoffs. “I wasn’t raised in a covent. I know what that look means.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Oh, suck my dick.”

The laugh is startled out of Mizu, and she can’t help looking—she’s smiling too, or as good as, her eyes warm and on Mizu. Mizu swallows. “I’m impressed... that was almost a real curse.”

“Almost?” Geraldine protests.

“Yeah, almost. Now…” she makes a show of considering their options. “‘. Go fuck yourself.’ That would have been a real curse.”

She lifts her chin imperiously, and it’s dangerous, how much Mizu likes it when she does that, the way her eyes go hooded. “Okay. Go fuck yourself. ” she says, slowly and carefully.

There’s got to be at least a yard between them—her behind the desk, Mizu on the couch, maybe a yard and a half—and there’s something new and trembling in that space, warm in the air. Mizu's a little worried to mess with it or even look at it straight.

She does not have to worry too long; Geraldine forces herself to look away, but she can see her hand fumble a little when she reaches for her smokes.

"Seriously? Again?"

"Addiction is tricky." Geraldine drawls as she lights up a cig, takes long drags of it as though it might cure some disease growing inside of her. Her lips (soft and sweet with her lipstick) purse around the flute, and she inhales, closes her eyes for a moment. They are burning when they meet Mizu's again, and her mouth dips up. “I only smoke when I’m nervous.” she tells her, shrugging. “It’s a terrible habit.” Mizu says back, and Geraldine bites her lip, thoughtful to her, seductive to Mizu.

“you are a terrible habit.” she says it like it's something normal to say; the casual, soft drawl of her voice running through her like a knife.

Startled, Mizu blinks, does not react to it.

"Come here." Geraldine moves to sit on the edge of the bed, crosses one leg over the other, and as she does so, Mizu's eyes darken, follow her skirt as it rides up her thigh. "I'll show you," and Mizu stares back at her.

She can't deny her, and why not? it's late, fuck, she doesn't know how long she's been awake for, and she's been watching her play with her hair for too long. Suddenly, she wants her close. A beat, and then she gets up and sits next to her on the bed, says "show me what?"

"Magic tricks," Geraldine taunts, brushes Mizu's hair back from her eyes absently, that little curly strand.

"What bad habits do to you — Lean in, relax. God knows you need it." she adds then, sucks in the smoke and holds it, watches Mizu lean in close, her blue eyes dark, her nose brushing hers, a strange smirk on her lips as understanding sets in — she presses her mouth to hers and blows the smoke out slowly, and Mizu takes it, feels the heat of it drip in her lungs and sputters a little, coughs, which makes Geraldine laugh at her, a quiet, breathless sound; come on. it gets easier. she sucks in the smoke from her cig (mint and something strange, bitter, like overripe plums) touches her lips to Mizu's; they pass the smoke between each other’s open mouths, like this, and Mizu feels her blood turn to fire under her skin. Mizu holds her throat in her left hand chastely, sweet, mint smoke sprawling out of half-open lips. She's silk beneath her hands, Mizu thinks dizzily, her mouth tastes like sugar and liquorice, and she sucks the smoke from it hungrily, feels her tongue brush against her lower lip— she's the pulse in her throat, this girl, the hitch of her breath, that languid, that sinuous, that electric, that girl.  

Enveloped in smoke, Geraldine draws back, slack-jawed and soft, her lips wet where she's licked them, curled in a coy smile, and Mizu, cold, stoic, unyielding Mizu who has been distant and cold and detached, chases after that mouth, that heat, cradles the back of her head in her hands and forces her back close to her, presses her forehead to hers, as though unsure of what she wants, traces the fleshly curve of her lower lip, like it's the sweetest thing she's ever touched, not like she's waiting for something else, like her hands beneath her shirt or her skirt or tangled up in her bra straps. She dips her fingers into her swollen mouth, inhales her sigh.

When she crawls on top of her and crowds her back against the mattress, Geraldine gasps, says her name in that breathless, rapt way she's got about her, asks what are you doing? Mizu does not answer, does not know how to make words for this. She straddles her hips and pins her down, licks her mouth open with hers, and her jaw is as sharp as cut glass, her eyes ocean depth, dark and ravenous; the cigarette burns a hole in her sheets, sizzles out; she swallows the soft, desperate moans that spill from Geraldine's mouth, feels her body shudder under the weight of her, grinding up against her, already half shattered with how much she wants this, wants her, and it's all heat then, sweet smoke and tongues and frantic, spit-slick kisses. Her thumb in her mouth, her nails on Mizu's back, that right there, that fire, that want, that starvation is what she wants. Mizu scrapes her teeth across her neck, feels the pulse point in her throat throb against her tongue as she licks her neck, buries her hands under her t-shirt (one of her own, loose around her shoulders and black.) She is breathless and unhinged, her body hot to the touch with every nerve firing off a spark of sensation, but still, she pulls back an inch with a dark smirk on her lips, asks, no bra? and Geraldine gasps at the sensation of her hands roaming over her chest under her shirt, says "mine are in the wash, and yours are tiny."

Tiny?

"Fucking brat." her eyes flash, and her hips jerk against Geraldine's, hard and slow, teeth snagging her own bottom lip as she struggles against the growing tension between her thighs. Everything is white-hot and pulsing, prickling her skin with a sheen, light sweat. Her fingers curl beneath the hem of Geraldine's shirt to peel it deftly up and off of her to let it fall to the side, and Geraldine is pulling her furiously back down to her, shifting until she can wrap her legs around her, kisses her mouth hot and slick and furious. While the ache between her legs is unbearable, and her skirt has ridden up far past her upper thighs, she doesn’t break the kiss when Mizu slips a finger into her panties, strokes her slow, taunting, toying with her. Her teeth, instead, become involved when she’s breathless, nipping at her lower lip in an act of hungry desperation. "fuck..." Mizu moans into the kiss, and Geraldine says yes, sucks at her throat, sending a shock of sensation through her skin that escalates to every vein and artery strung throughout her body.  Mizu's lips part with a hiss, her tongue melding against Geraldine's in a teasing opposition. She holds her wrists above her head, pins her down, says I want you, clasps both hands in her palm as her other hand furiously delves into her panties again, slipping her middle finger inside her. She buries her face into the curve of her neck as she fucks her with only one of her fingers, feels her warm breath tickling her ear as Geraldine sucks sweet, deep kisses over the curve of it, quivering through a series of thrusts, each deeper, each tearing a little more at her drenched heat until her finger's as deep inside her as it could ever be, and Geraldine thinks she will surely die, she'll fucking die, biting into the muscled peak of Mizu's shoulder, trying not to scream; her body is crying out for completion, it is starvation, agony, and she tries to speak through her shallow gasps, to beg her for more, but it comes out a sobbing whimper, and she whispers her name in a slurring, wet drawl, her delicate hips rocking in time with her muffled moans as Mizu quickens her pace, and she would have given her more, she would have bitten and licked and fucked her every way she would have let her, but a furious pounding on the door stills every last muscle in her body to complete motionlessness, gasping in her open mouth as their foreheads press together. Geraldine breathlessly reaches for her, says, no, don't stop, pulls her back.

But Mizu's automatically reaching for the gun under her bed, cocking it, already on edge, blood pounding. Her movements are precise, perfect, controlled. She gestures for her to keep quiet as she lifts herself off the bed.

She does not get too far.

Ringo's voice comes through the door, saying, I found her and something very akin to shock rips right through Mizu, and her eyes must have hardened, her attention violently snagged away from the heat of the moment, because she's moving to the door and prying it open to let him in and Geraldine is left scrabbling at the bed for her shirt, tugging her skirt down over her thighs.

Ringo comes in like a typhoon, stands under the cold, harsh led lights, and is about to say something when his attention is caught by the girl in Mizu's bed, and his jaw slackens in confusion.

You are not alone! he sounds surprised, and Mizu has to shove him in the shoulder to get him to look at her again, snap her fingers in his face.

"You were saying you found her?"

Ringo blinks, and his eyes grow wide, startled by her stepping between him and the bed, demanding answers.

"uh... yeah. I did. Told you I would!"

A beat. Silence. Sheets rustling as Geraldine reaches for the cig on the floor and re-lights it.

"—and?" her patience is running thin, but then again so is time.

"She's home now... She's back home."

The Continental. A muscle in Mizu's cheek spasms.

"And where has she been?"

Ringo shrugs. His voice changes a little, drops.

"I don't think she ever left it."

Huh.

Mizu does not physically react to any of it, but already, she's gone, her mind racing; she's the only one that might be able to tell her where Fowler is; the only one that would.

She shrugs her leather jacket on, and pulls her loose hair up in its usual bun, and Geraldine, who's been watching them blankly, leaning against the wall, blows out the smoke, says,

"where are you going?"

"If she's heard what's happened, she'll be waiting for me."

Geraldine blinks, then, with a flash of understanding, "Kaji? The Madame?"

Mizu just looks at her, reaches into a drawer, finds a snub- nosed .38, and checks the chamber for bullets, metal clicking, slick, cold in her hand - tucks it in the back of her jeans.

"You know every-fucking-one out there wants you dead right? Must have something to do with ten million dollars hanging over your pretty little head or, I don't know! The fact you went all fucking gung go insane on Violet." Geraldine snaps, horrified at the idea of Mizu meeting with Kaji.

"Relax. It's the Continental. No one will do shit. I'm not going to my death."

"Let me come with you, then," Geraldine says and her voice is breathless, cold, frustrated, her hand shaking in anger as she snubs out her cig.

"No." Mizu rasps, tosses her keys to Ringo,

"Both of you stay here, out of my way and let me do what I have to." she pulls her boots on and tucks a knife in one of them.

"You know his daughter's dead, too, right? And his wife." Ringo's voice cuts through the air like a bullet, and Mizu's hand stills for a moment over the zipper of one boot, but she does not say anything.

Geraldine looks absolutely murderous, hands on her hips and head thrown back as she turns around, willing herself not to scream. fuck- is all she says, fuck fuck... and it's a panicked sound in her throat; because fuck- this is bigger than Mizu, bigger than her and Violet and whatever other storm she's got raging under her skin. They are viscerally, bitterly, and thoroughly fucked.

Ringo just stares between them, the metal of his prosthetic hands clinking as he taps a finger against a wrist, nervous, worried,

Mizu glares over at him and he stops.

"Doesn't matter. Her dad's dead. Her home's gone. I've got hundreds- "

"thousands," Geraldine bitterly cuts in,

"thousands of people on my back because someone's afraid I'm coming for them next, and it's not Fowler, and it's not Kaji or Violet or his fucking daughter."

"They say Fowler had Harkan cut Skeffington's throat open. They say the Adjudicator said he hired you to kill him and The Father." Ringo offers, unsure of what it means,

"The Father?" Mizu mutters, frowning

"I don't know, Mizu... But they said it like it meant something to them..." he says, and Geraldine steps in, says, "Harkan? That fucking pig?"

and "Mizu, I've got to talk to him. I've got to know."

"Know what? You betrayed their trust and they know you or your father did because you were the only ones outside his little clique who knew where to find him. The only reason you are not dead's because you were with me and not with your Father that night." Mizu drawls coolly, not sparing her the cold, hard facts of the reality they're facing.

This isn't a game, and she can't let anything go wrong because she let her guard down, let her walls be cracked open, enough for her to somehow slip through and under her skin...

Like a twig snapping, Geraldine goes still; her eyes hard, and her mouth thinned, pinched and white. Her nostrils flare when she breathes.

"So what." she demands,

and Mizu exhales through her nose, not angrily, touches her chin, gently, like it's something fragile— precious to her. It's only scraps of attention, Geraldine thinks, something to keep her from exploding; Mizu's already gone.

"so nothing. stay here. You're safe here." out of my way where I don't have to be dragged down to keep you safe. goes unuttered.

She does.

When Mizu steps outside, Ringo turns to her, blinking blankly, his mouth slack, a strange smile flitting over his face.

Geraldine measures him with a piercing stare, grits her death against the flood of anger that threatens to upend her, says. Okay.

Okay.

Mizu enters the room through a pair of velvet drapes, the overhead lighting haloing her head, gleaming and pooling over the leather of her jacket.

She's Smoke here, everybody knows him, and as she makes her way through the room between the tables, everyone turns to look at her, offers a handshake, or a simple sharp glance.

On the stage sprawling along one side of the room, the singer sways behind the microphone, singing an old jazz standard, her voice strong, tender, like the wind. Her eyes grow wide at the sight of Mizu, but she never wavers from her tune. In the corner, swathed in silks and velvet, a crimson kimono tied tightly around her slender waist, sits Kaji, the Madame, the manager of the Continental and knower of all; lean, well- dressed, glasses, tailored, precise- she sits with a worn, paperback copy of The Great Gatsby in one hand and a dry sherry in the other. Mizu does not wait for her to invite her to her table, sits down across from her, says, "Kaji."

She lowers the book, and glances across at her with a blank -yet warm- look, the corner of her mouth tucking into a faint half-smile.

"Ghost," she says it in japanese, she always does; then, "my, oh my- will wonders never cease!" and then, sharper, meaningfully, " I'm glad to see you with your head between your shoulders still. it's been a while. "

Mizu's mouth twitches. "That, it has."

a beat, then, she pours herself another drink, calls for another glass with no more than a flick of her wrist and before Mizu can blink, it's there on the table, the waiter walking away as she pours sweet dry sherry for Mizu too. I don't drink, Mizu says plainly, but she pays her no mind says, her voice a low whisper, "what have you done?"

"that's not what I am here for."

"I am not asking you why you are here and frankly, Mizu, I do not wish to know. You highly miscalculate the heights of my position or how much I am willing to risk in the name of my affection for you. "

In Japanese, her voice, is somehow darker, still, but soft, like a girl drowning; a woman held underwater, screaming. "Neither will I try to calculate it. I'm hardly far gone enough to try my hand at your arithmetic. You owe me." she reminds Kaji, calmly, coldly, and Madame stiffens, smiles, that smoky, sharp smile of hers, lips exceedingly narrow, thin, lupine. When she smiles, her teeth gleam like blades.

"You know where he is, I know you do. he's been here three times, crawling like a worm under my nose while I hunted down Violet—”

"lower your voice." Kaji warns, looking around, and Mizu goes on, does not falter, says "you know where he is and you will tell me where he goes when I can't see him."

Kaji sits back, exhales. Under the light sluicing over her, she looks like a statue, cut out of porcelain, immaculately pristine.

"I see... " she does not ask her why she wants him; she straightens the cloth on the table and smooths her dress. She brushes a nonexistent speck from her velvet sleeve. She straightens the ruby necklace on her throat, says, her tongue sharp around the vowels, "you have murder in your eyes," and Mizu sits back, stoic, unaffected, bright blue eyes glinting like shards of ice melting under the candlelight. “he deserves to die.” her voice thickens in her throat, a menacing growl.

Kaji smiles, but it is hollow. She readjusts the bottle on the table, brings her glass to her thin lips, swallows, elegantly, softly.

"Very well," she rises, silks rustling, "Keep your ears pricked and your eyes open, Ghost."

"Done," Mizu drawls back, tips her glass, still filled to the brim with sherry, towards the Madame in salutation before she joins her in her drinking.

"there are eyes on you...from here to the ends of the world, everyone knows what it means: getting their hands on the Ghost." Kaji warns, a meaningful toss of her dark, black eyes towards the bar, and Mizu pretends to smile, as though she's told her something worth a smile, her eyes unerringly stealing a glance at the half empty bar. He's got her back on her but Mizu instantly recognizes him. Vlad. The pig's driver; Harkan's right hand.

"Come, I'll walk with you to your car..." Kaji offers, and as she moves her slim hand, the silks of her kimono flutter, catch the light,

Mizu hesitates, but only for a second; and then, something's snapping inside her, like a vein torn, gushing; she can't walk away from here with him still breathing, and the thought tears through her like a knife, hungered for blood, blood, blood.

"My bike." Mizu corrects her, tosses her head back and slams back the drink, swallowed in a single gulp. "And I am not leaving yet."

Kaji watches her as she stands up and walks to the bar, sits at the very edge of it, not sparing the world around her a second glance.

Something inside of her, too, snaps, and when she walks up to the lobby of the hotel, Kaji whispers to her concierge to keep an eye on the ghost that haunts their bar. "Keep an eye on him;" what she does not say is keep him safe; from himself; from what he might do. He understands, anyway.

Mizu drinks in silence for a long, dark, brooding time, grunting when the bartender tries to make small talk; the silent, stoic mask of her face, almost unsettling. She slips a gold coin to her, leaning over the bar and whispering into her ear, her mouth tickling her cheek when she pulls away, and to the world around her it seems like Smoke's found a girl he likes enough to keep him company for an hour or two; not that she has asked her to keep refilling her glass with water and juice and not a drop of alcohol.

She can feel his eyes on her, Vlad's and his man's, whoever the fuck he is, like tiny teeth pinching her side, like wasps snapping at her fingers, begging to be crushed; after midnight, she drags herself to her feet and staggers to the bathroom. They lift their glasses in salutation to Smoke as she passes, grin, and it's grotesque, how their teeth shimmer, how their mouths slant, ugly-bright things, that make her sick. Mizu pretends to stagger sloppily towards them, loops her arms around their necks and hugs her close to her, laughing darkly. "Smoke," one of them chuckles, says, "it's been a while, prizrak. Good to see you showin' your face 'round here."

"Yeah." Mizu rasps, "you must have missed me something terrible, mm?" she asks, squeezes their necks tightly, more a threat than a hug. "Tell you what..." she slurs, and it comes out like a warning, a dark growl, the words tumbling from her mouth in a rush, "next round's on me." she staggers back a step or two, and without a warning, slams her fist so hard against their table, their drinks spill over, sloshing vodka all over both of them, glass shattering. She uncurls her first and places two gold coins on the table, neatly atop the shards of glass. "Enjoy." she says, and her voice is pulsing, cold, numb, like static humming. She doesn't look back as she walks away, but out of sight, she hastens her steps, tears the door of the bathroom open and pours into one of the stalls, unzips her jeans, and with a hiss of pure frustration, she removes the pistol from her back pocket and slips it between her legs, tucking it in her underwear. They'll never look for it there.

Exhaling through her nose, she ambles back to the bar and dons her jacket, pretends to struggle with the zipper, tosses a coin to the bartender. Goodnight, she slurs, leaning over to pinch her cheek. She pretends to forget her phone on the bar, takes three steps and comes back for it, laughing hotly, rum soaked and loose. She nods towards Vlad, then turns around and makes her way to the lobby and out into the cold night air.

Mizu, purposefully ducks into an alley, the opposite way from where she's supposed to be going, walks down towards the port.

It does not take long for them to come for her.

A car slows down near her, and Vlad rolls the window down, says, "Hey, Smoke. Come on, man. It's late. We'll give you a ride."

Mizu's step falters, and she blinks at them slowly, turns to leave, but hesitates.

"Don't bother, I'm good. I'm okay." she waves them away, but just like she's expected, the bait lures the prey, they insist.

"Come on! you bought us vodka, brat. we give you a ride. Only fair." Vlad howls in laughter, his accent made thicker and rougher with the drink.

"I'm walking." Mizu slurs, and quickens her step, hears one of them say, Pull over here.

They kill the engine and step out of the car, spit something in russian through their teeth and follow her.

"What you doing, walking? Come on, let us take you home. It's colder than my dick in cunt made of ice out here. Get in the car. "

Mizu keeps on walking, pretends she does not sense it when Vlad's hand shoots out, grabs her shoulder and spins her around, laughing, splashes of spittle in her face; she shoves him off, eyes darkening, and he lifts his hands up in the air, says, "Okay, easy; easy..." as they grab her shoulders, pat her down, looking for her gun. "We're gonna have you home in no time, blyat."

Check his boots, Vlad growls in Russian and Mizu pretends to sway in her feet, pretends to flare up in anger when they dig out her knife, sneer about him being unarmed.

"That's mine." she growls, and Vlad says she doesn't want him slicing a vein open now huh, brother? Come on.

She comes on.

She follows them to the car, lets them pour her into the back sit, arms stiff at her sides.

The drive is slow, there's traffic, and Mizu pretends to doze off; they hand her a beer, and she takes a sip, laughs at their jokes, the forced, hollow familiarity. Some russian song is playing on the radio and the beer is sweating in her hand, she can feel the wetness of it trickling down her wrist.

One of the russians asks her incredulously if he's got a woman stashed away somewhere; you smell like pussy, he grins, sniffing the air like a dog, Geraldine's perfume still clinging to her.

''probably in a freezer...'' Vladmir, comments, laughing.

Mizu does not answer. She does not smile. Apathetically she slowly pulls her leather jacket on, unzips her jeans.

He makes a left and shifts gears, turns the car toward the Red Circle; he must be at the club, then, Mizu thinks; they must operate right out of that shithole. The Red Circle. Right under her nose.

We getting him to Harkan? one of them mutters, confirming her suspicion, and the other says, in russian, where else?

The bounty? the first asks,

fuck the bounty. They park the car in a dark alley behind the Circle, and Mizu groans, her head rolling to the side. She hears the low beeping of a phone, static filling the car.

Help me get him out of the car.

From the half open window in the front, she can hear a car driving into the lot, rear wheels smoking as they struggle to grip the road.

She swallows; her new understanding tells her there are too many swiftly compressed decisions in this fight hanging in the air before her, for any clear channel ahead to show itself. She must move. So she does.

Hey, she slurs, and as she sways forward in her seat, the russian looks back at her snaps, what? just as she shoves her gun into Vlad's head and fires a shot right through his skull, splashing him with his blood, and he screams, eyes wide with horror, scrabbles for the door, but Mizu's rage incarnate, she's angry, blood pounding in a blind fury, and both hands going with every ounce of power she can muster; she's on him within seconds, grabs his hair and pulls back his head, shoving the mouth of her gun directly beneath his right eye, growls, "where's Harkan?"

"You'll never find him." he spits through his teeth in Russian. Mizu answers by slamming his head against the dashboard , breaking his nose, and he howls, blood streaming down his face, into his mouth. Unflinchingly, she lowers the gun and grabs at his arm, twisting so viciously that her throat vibrates with her howl; she's angry; she breaks his shoulder clean off the bone, breaking his arm with a dry snap and he's roaring in pain, choking back howls, but she keeps holding his arm painfully in place, growls, "where the fuck is he?"

Outside, she can hear boots on gravel, another car ripping through the lot, wheels skimming violently as it comes to a stop.

"you are out of time, Mr Ghost," he howls in russian, "tik-tok, tik-tok," wet, shallow gasps, and Mizu's trembling in rage, eyes unblinking; she grabs his head and slams it into Vlad's crushed skull, shattering his face into the torn bones that stick from his skull, over and over again, until her hands are crimson with blood and he slumps over, limp and heavy in the passenger seat. Grabbing her knife from his pocket, she swings the door open and shoves Vlad's dead body out of the car, blind with fury; she can only see that line again; that bright, straight line that leads from A to B, from here, to then. Perched behind the wheel, she shifts gears, and furiously slams her foot down onto the gas, hitting a long patch of gravel, shifting, spinning the wheel, and skidding -while remaining in full control- as the wheels skim over the earth.

The gunmen pouring out of the second car react to the sound of the engine's roar, the wheels smoking, the two nearest it's approach dropping to a knee, aiming, and firing. Bullets crash into the windshield -a round slashing into the headrest, clipping her ear- and Mizu slams her foot down harder, barreling down towards them; she is angry; furious; she feels another bullet slam into the car, half shattering the engine block before the front left tire blows. She loses control of the jeep, which fishtails wildly, but she regains it, growling, shifting, slamming into a sedan, crushing two gunmen before it cartwheels through their midst, killing three more before coming to a violent stop on its side.

Groaning, she fishes around for her gun and drags herself out of the car through the shattered window, feels the stitches in her side throb. Mizu growls; she is furious.

She is on her feet and on them within seconds, shooting anything that moves, spilling blood, furious, enraged, screaming; each target receives two well-placed bullets to ensure incapacitation. She never slows, never misses, and will not stop; she is furious. The men scatter in a panic, fleeing towards the club - a number of whom are shot in the back- while those choosing to shoot back are cut down in a blink. Once emptied, Mizu drops the clip of her pistol, kneels, sweeps a fallen gun , levels, fires, again and again, always moving;

and then she sees him, Harkan, skin blotched and jaw scraped raw, cut open, he must have been in one of the cars, his suit is scarlet with blood; and she can't see past him, the terribly grin of that mouth, teeth yellow, glinting; Geraldine on her knees, screaming (she's never heard anyone scream like this.) The distance between them grows smaller, the passengers of two of the sedans parked around him emerge with semi-automatic weapons but before either of them can fire, Mizu fires off four shots, killing them each with a pair of bullets before firing until empty, teeth snarling, she's blind with rage, screaming Harkan's name, wanting him to know, she's coming for him, killing two drivers, and one passenger, leaving one driver barrelling towards her, covered in his passenger's blood, eyes wide with horror as the car crashes into a wall and explodes into flames.

Screams fill the night, and she watches as more of his men pour out of the club, as he disappears into a car, and Mizu's cocking her gun and running after it, firing shot after shot into every part of it that she can reach, shattering its windows; but they drive away, and she's left trembling in silent rage, blood frothing at her mouth, her lip torn from a shard of glass. Gun empty, she tosses it aside, lunges for one of the rifles laying on the ground, snatches it up, points the hot end at the back of the car furiously driving away, and empties it into the backseat, blindly, unflinchingly.

Bullets easily punch through the doors and windows, riddling the dash. Blood spatters the seats but she can't tell who's dead, and she is hissing, panting, tossing the gun aside and running for the car at her left, the lot's swarming with Harkan's men now, and she is diving behind the wheel within the blink of an eye, unerring, unstoppable, turns the key, revs the engine, slams her foot down on the gas and crashes through the parking lot gate of the building, tires squealing as the jeep pulls a one-eighty, righting itself before leaping out onto the street, furiously gaining momentum, as a trio of heavily-modified skylines appear and take chase. Collected, focused, Mizu glances into the rearview mirror, takes the pistol in her left hand, shifts, and viciously spins the wheel turning to face the oncoming vehicles. She cocks the gun and shifts again, crushes the gas pedal underfoot, rear wheels smoking as they struggle to grip the road and she empties the gun into the cars ripping down the street towards her; one bullet, two, three, four shots through the windshield and a skull, a throat, tearing a chest open. She groans, exhales through her nose, shifts gear and as she swerves the car around with one hand, she fires a shot right through the skull of the last driver that comes crashing into the side of her car.

She revs the engine and violently shifts the car around, comes to a screeching halt before she hops out of it, runs down a dark alley on her left. She zips up her jacket and makes her way down to the other side of the street, shoves her way into a taxi, growls out an address.

When morning comes, no one's sure who's ripped through the Red Circle.

When morning comes The Pig's dead, his throat shattered, torn open by a bullet. His car washes up on the banks of the river; his driver dead.

Something tells the world that it was him, anyway.

When she comes back, her flat is dark and empty, the bed made. She calls out for Geraldine, but she does not answer.

In the bathroom, she finds her hair, fistfuls of her black curls in the trash, cuttings of it into a Ziploc, and a used up dye bottle and gloves, smatterings of red dye, ruby fire, carnelian, like a flame; the scissors on the sink.

In the kitchen, a bowl of ramen gone cold, the ones she silently watched her make right out of a package from 7/11 one sleepless night, and somehow burning those too. She had not laughed to her face, but afterwards Mizu had heard her snort to herself when she stepped out of the kitchen in cool, composed frustration at her failure.

Next to her bed, on the night table, a glass of water and a note sticking to it. It's got a lipstick stain on it, a parting kiss, rouge and pink and velvet like her.

It reads,

Consequences.

The snake on her wall is gone.

#IM IN TOO DEEP TO STOP NOW #blue eye samurai mizu #blue eye samurai #mizu #bes mizu #john wick tag. #killing strangers. #I AM DONE. im insane about this story UNFORTUNATELY but if i have to look at this in my drafts one more time i will scream and delete it #writing tag.

[polarspaz]

More Steve. Ya got SCP Steve, Bloodborne Steve, bruised/missing eye Steve, sassy cat Steve, and then......Ember the Charizard from the Pokemon AU lol.

The upper left Steve is from a Silent Hill AU. Where Steve is forced to go on a vacation with his parents to Silent Hill. Everything seems normal until they get close to town and wind up in a car crash. Steve wakes up in the fog world and starts looking for his parents.

While Steve has his own baggage to deal with, he’s also encountering monsters  created from his mother and father’s issues as well. While Steve is able to face his demons, his parents are unable to do the same and by the time Steve meets them again it’s too late.

When Steve’s mother breaks, the town consumes her spirit. She refuses to see herself for what she really is, someone who is willing to let other’s suffer for her own sins and pleasure. The last time sees her is moments before she is taken.

Steve’s father on the other hand is a WAY bigger problem. Induced into a hysterical rage, Steve’s dad ends up stalking him throughout the town, trying to kill him. As time goes on his form becomes more twisted and hideous, and by the time Steve escapes the town he barely looks human.

It’s only Steve that comes back to Hawkins, cold and hollow after everything. Looks like Hawkins isn’t the only town with a shitty Upside down kinda thing.

#steve harrington #silent hill #my art #bloodborne #stranger things #charizard #SCPSteve AU

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Skeleton is in the street, minding his own business, when suddenly a car slows down next to him, and speeds to roll over him. Reaction?

Undertale Sans - He was already suspicious when the car slowed down next to him, but as soon as he hears the engine roars, he's out of here. Sans crashes in his room, his soul beating so fast it might explode. He got really scared and is slowly realising a random human attempted to kill him. After he's done with his panic attack, he calls Undyne to report what happened. He knows there's a low chance she finds anything, but if it can avoid any monster to go through what he just went through, it's better she knows.

Undertale Papyrus - Papyrus knows he can't avoid the car. He lifts a bone barrier between him and the car to try to slow it down to lower the damages. It kinda worked as the car, instead of passing over him, just hit him straight in the pelvis, throwing him a few meters away, and stopped. The car is fucked up too, stuck in the bones. The man tries to run away, but Papyrus locks his door with another bone, before calling Undyne. He explains her what happened, and then casually asked her for an ambulance because his pelvis is broken. Undyne is losing it, screaming that should have been the first thing he said, but, well, Papyrus is Papyrus.

Underswap Sans - Blue quickly takes cover in a shop, but the car was already launched and crashed in the window. Blue managed to get everyone to safety before it happened, thank god, but he's still shaken. At least the assaulter passed out in the attack and the police can easily arrest him. The man will realise waking up that the monster he tried to kill is a police officer and that he's really, really in trouble.

Underswap Papyrus - He is frozen in fear and weakly covered his head as the car hits him at full speed. He wished he died instead of waking up in an agonizing pain, numerous bones broken. When his brother and Alphys arrive with the police, they are both horrified to find him there. Blue quickly runs to him and tries to calm him down as Honey is crying in agony, waiting for the ambulance. Once he is taken away and stabilised, Blue and Alphys go to hunt the coward who did this. The man didn't stop and left the scene, but a witness got his car number. Blue is not going to be nice to the guy.

Underfell Sans - He teleports slightly to the right, startled, and watch in awe as the car speeds right through a wall. Welp. He's out of here. He doesn't want to be there when the police comes. He simply teleports back home, leaving his assaulter for dead. Karma, bitch.

Underfell Papyrus - The man managed to hit Edge, but didn't expect the skeleton to stand up straight after, a leg clearly broken, but still coming for him. The man, scared, tries to start the car, but two strong arms grab him from his seat and throws him on the floor. Edge makes a huge bone and knocks him hard. He doesn't care if he's dead. He then limps away to go back home, only to meet his brother home who is in shock when he sees him walk with a leg barely attached to him. Red takes him to the hospital.

Horrortale Sans - His magic is too weak. He tries to teleport, but got hit before. The teleportation still worked after he got hit and he came back home, in a terrible state, right at Willow's feet who lets go everything he was holding to run to him. Oak got out of this with only a broken arm and some cracked ribs, but the psychological damages are important as he's now scared to go outside by himself.

Horrortale Papyrus - He tries to protect his back the best he can, but he knows it's stupid. The car passes over him once, then backed to end him. Willow passed out somewhere between the two. He wakes up two months later at the hospital, with Oak and Toriel watching over him, with no idea what happened except the fact he can't move his legs anymore. Willow lost his legs forever, but it doesn't mean he will stay like this. Once the man got captured, he goes to confront him, then met him again at the tribunal, when the man got sentenced to a good 10 years of prison and has to pay him a lot of money. He hopes his case will be an example for all those who think they can hurt monsters without consequences so it never happens again.

Swapfell Sans - He teleports inside the car before the man can touch him and proceed to beat the shit out of him until he is passing out. Do not attack the general of the royal guard if you're not overconfident you can actually win against him, it's not that hard.

Swapfell Papyrus - He teleports out of here straight to Mc Donald's and proceeds to stress-eat chicken mc nuggets all afternoon to forget that he was this close to never eat one ever again. He got the scare of his life.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He creates a huge bone barrier last second. The car crashes into it then flies above it, crashing a few meters away in a loud bang. The car then explodes. Wine tsks, annoyed, puts his sun glasses on to protect his eye sockets and resumes his walk. He doesn't give a shit. Everyone is looking at him leave in shock.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Coffee panicked so much he teleported the car home with him and still got hit. Coffee screams in pain on the floor. The man realises he's not where he should be, but that the screaming skeleton might alert everyone to he got down to end him. Only to find a second skeleton in front of Coffee, with a very disturbing smile. "YOU DID THIS TO MY LITTLE BROTHER?" "What if I did? He's just some monster." Wine's smiles tightens. "YOU'RE DEAD, RACIST FUCKER." The man lets go a "Uh?" before two dozens blasters kills him in seconds. Wine then turns to Coffee and comforts him, before going to the hospital. Coffee only has a few broken ribs by chance and will quickly get better.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

[simplynotcapable]

aaahhhh, sapphires and steel!! and also, virtuous sinners!! love a snippet or something else about them!! (actually all your originals sound so tempting but i think asking about all of them would be weird, right?)

(but if you could give a hint as to what they are...)

sapphires and steel isn’t final but it is my favorite so far of what i’ve come up with!!

i’ve never shared anything from original works before so this is kind of exciting for me. i'm putting brief descriptions (as we all know, i'm bad at these) and the first line of the stories below the cut :)

rotten magic: magic's return requires a blood price, which it chooses to take by killing most men and reanimating them as living corpses that only hunger for human flesh; the now-magical women who survived the sickness are very exasperated by the poor planning

I found out the world was ending because I set Covey Duncan's bed on fire, which sounds much worse than it actually was.

dead men walking: a king kidnaps a witch and sires four bastards, who grow up in his palace alongside his trueborn children as their mother grooms them to slaughter the entirety of the royal family.

The court's children whisper that his mother is a whore and a demon, that she ensnared the king on the eve of his wedding with spells and potions and the bloody sacrifice of virgin maids in white gowns.

down to the marrow: grumpy, middle-aged, magical cannibal and his five feral children attempt to remain undetected by the fantasy equivalent of the Catholic church after they are trapped in the walls of their country's capital

Bellamy's father gave her the corpses of children the way other fathers gave their daughters dresses and jewelry and pretty glass trinkets, but she thought Alistair might just be the strangest--he was the only one who woke up laughing.

shadows bright and blinding: stolen from their families when they were children, Delilah and the other Shadows are forced to use their magic in service to the king who murdered their parents--as did all the Shadows who came before them, until they were culled to strengthen the magic in the next generation. now, though, the king is dying, and his younger son thinks himself in love with Delilah. she thinks by making him king in place of his brother, she may be able to save herself and her fellow Shadows from the culling.

Delilah couldn't remember the name her parents gave her, but she knew it was the last thing her mother ever said.

virtuous sinners: monsters are real, and five families have taken on the responsibility of killing them all because, as the story goes, God granted the mission to their ancestors. the next generation of family Heads grew up together before being scattered to the winds--one disowned, one desperate to escape, two trapped in lives they never asked for, and one perfectly happy with how everything is going, actually. the simultaneous suicides of all five of their fathers throws them back together again with a mystery to solve, a monster to hunt, a past to face, and a future none of them are ready for.

Everett's first thought when the shrill screaming of his ringtone woke him at four in the morning was Adam crashed the car and died; his second thought, upon hearing his fiancé's loud groan of displeasure from the other side of the bed and remembering that they did not, in fact, have a car to crash, was the fuck?

#my writing #original writing #ao3 author #author #writers #writers on tumblr

[forthedancingandthethriving]

(TW: Panic attack)

Realistically.. after Abyssal's snap, many of the Adminspace Admins will be very wary of her, and some may not even want her back. While the main Admins, who know her better, know full that whatever happened with Abyssal was not her fault. That outburst was a result of pent of negative emotions and something else.

(They're inclined to believe it had something to do with that strange black and substance that shot its way to her after it was attacked by Antivirus and Crash.)

Unsurprisingly, it's Cursor who brings it up. She brings it up just a bit after Umbra finally wakes up, commenting on why she doesn't understand why the others are looking for her. "She's a monster," the blue Admin would say. "I don't understand why everyone is still looking for her when she nearly killed all the Avatars and us."

And Umbra.. I feel like he would just lose it. He just starts shouting. How dare Cursor call his little sister a monster? How dare she insinuate that Abyssal intentionally tried to kill them? How fucking dare Cursor think for a moment that she even knows Abyssal?

Because everything's falling into place for Umbra, and it just breaks him. Because even if Abyssal and him don't even have the same code, God damn it, Abyssal is his little sister, and so what if she didn't ever tell him this jarring truth? So what? What matters to him right now is that they find her!

But Cursor only makes it worse, despite Buffer and Vitality's pleas for her to shut up. Cursor insinuates that, maybe, they should kill Abyssal if they do find her. That way, they won't have to deal with a threat like that again.

Umbra loses his mind.

He lunges at Cursor before being held back by someone. (Their scheme is red, and they're holding him back easily, so it's probably Antivirus. But he can't tell. He's too angry, too upset.)

It's absolute chaos. Everyone's shouting, there's accusations, voices growing louder. (Umbra's clawing at the arms of whoever is holding him, but they're only telling him to calm down. He can't. He can't calm down. His little sister-!)

Then there's a sharp crack, like someone slapping another. Everything falls silent, save for the voice that's tearing into Cursor. Umbra doesn't know who it is, but whoever it is, it's shocking enough for everyone to be quiet. (His vision is blurry from the tears, his head is pounding, his hearing his ringing.)

There's someone asking if he's okay. If he can hear them. Umbra can, but he feels sick. His body aches, his stomach hurts. (Some attention returns to him as he's hastily handed off to someone red and white. He's becoming too aware of his frantic breathing and how his stomach is breathing in pain. He can feel the steam coming from his mouth, he feels like he's in an infernor.)

Umbra can't hear anything. It's ringing too loudly. He can't see anything. It's too blurry. He can't hear the voices asking him if "he's okay, to focus, to respond," "something, kid, please!"

But he can't.

Because Umbra's little sister is gone, no one wants her back.. and everything goes black.

#admin: cursor #admin: umbra #tw panic attack #unveiled secrets arc #!posts! #yall can speculate about who slapped cursor #tbh I left it vague because I didnt know who would be the most shocking #so ya'll can decide hehe!

[ihni]

Billy is as good as dead, they keep him alive with machines to find out whatever they can about the creature before he really dies. They have someone, a girl with a special power, but her power killed everyone they ever tried it on. But Billy is already dying and 30 other people died and so they try - and it works. His consciousness travels back in time to that day at the pool with Karen Wheeler, where everything began. And now Billy knows what’s about to happen, so he does what any normal person would do: he runs. Takes the Camaro and just drives in the opposite direction of that road where it all happened. 

It’s bad. Half of the town dies and no one stops that thing that has been inside his head. Max dies and her little girl friend dies, too. Billy can’t take the guilt and manages to find the girl with the special power so she can send him back again. He tells her everything and she sends him back to the day at the pool again. It works, again.

Billy has no idea what to do, who would believe him? Does Max know about the monster? Who is her friend? Max had brought her to Heather’s, but the monster had already been too strong, he only remembers her name. El. Max gets angry when he asks about “El” and the monster manages to get someone and start it all over again. Billy doesn’t know who it is, who he needs to stop and he can’t do it alone. He has a fight with Neil and gets locked in his room. Max dies again. El dies again. Half the town dies. Again. People come and get Billy and he recognizes them as the ones with the special girl. They work for some kind of secret lab. At first they don’t believe him but he manages to convince them, tells them about the monster, how it hates the heat so they manage to slow it down. The girl with the special powers is there again and the lab people agree to give her power another try, curious if Billy will survive. He does, again. 

Then he remembers the very first time this happened, remembers Wheeler and Byers and how the monster had tried to force him to run them over. But he has no idea where they are over the summer. But he knows where Harrington is. Harrington had been with the kids in November, he was still friends with Wheeler and Byers. He crashed his car into Billy’s to stop him. And Billy knows where Harrington works, because he had seen him in that stupid sailor outfit. Harrington believes him, gets the kids to help even, but the monster took other people again and made itself a giant body out of their melted flesh again. Billy learns there is a secret russian lab underneath the mall, with a gate to another dimension where the monster comes from and they need to close it to save everyone. He learns that Chief Hopper knows about all those things and Mrs. Byers, too. And all the kids. But they are not strong enough, the monster manages to take most of them and they don’t manage to close the gate. 

Billy wakes up in the lab again, still possessed. Everyone died, again. He despairs, doesn’t know what to do anymore. He wants to give in to the monster, to die. But the girl with the powers is there again. They experiment on him, on the monster until he has enough control that he can tell them everything he knows. They find the lab, they find the russians. They believe him. They send him back one last time.

Billy knows, what he has to do. He goes to the warehouse and lets the monster possess him and tries to find those lab people as long as he has enough control left. But the lab is empty, no one comes to get him. It’s his last chance. He drives to the station, goes to Hopper. Tells him everything he knows, begs him to just put him in a cell, to go look for that lab, to tell his daughter the monster is back and on the hunt for her. Hopper doesn't really believe him, but he puts him in a cell. Then Hopper leaves and only on the run from a crazy russian he starts to believe Billy.

Anon. I LOVE this. I was reading it, riveted, and while it only took a couple of minutes i feel like I've just read a long fic! That said, this is an amazing idea and I would gladly read 70k more of it.

Also, i have to know - how does it end???

This was such a wonderful thing to receive. Fic straight into my inbox! <3

#anon #billy hargrove ficlet #ask

[aspenmissing]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝙿𝚝 𝟸)

Y/N swings her axe around her body, before throwing it up into the air and catching it, pointing the head towards Helbram, a shadow casting across her face as her eyes grow dark, glaring at the man.

"A little fairy told me, that YOU hurt King. And are PLANNING to hurt my other friends. Now, what makes you think, that I would let you do that? And get away with it." Y/N says, stepping forwards.

"Because I can, you lot are nothing but criminals, meant to be killed and disposed of, which I'm planning to do, starting with you!" Helbram shoots forwards and as does Y/N, holding out her axe, to protect her from Helbram's weapon. However, before the two could collide, suddenly Y/N is behind the man.

"We aren't criminals! We never did anything wrong!" She says as she brings her axe down, to which Helbram counteracts by holding up his sword, which clashed with Y/N's axe. The two come back to face with each other, staring into each other's eyes as they push back at each other's swords.

"That's where you are wrong, you and that Meliodas are the worst out of the bunch! Meliodas destroyed an entire kingdom! And you slaughter an entire Village! There we're children in that village! Innocent lives, and you just killed them!" Y/N hesitates slightly, knowing he's talking about Danafor and Vroncaster.

"I-he, we- How do you know about that! It was years ag-" She's cut of by Helbram using her hesitation to kick her back, but she's quick to land on her feet, keeping her head down.

"You may have forgot about that, but we will never! They were innocent! You are nothing but a monster, a beast! You deserve death!"

"You will never understand! I did everything for them! I helped them! And they repaid me by throwing me out!" Y/N tightens her grasp on her axe and runs towards the man.

"I will repay all those you killed by killing you myself!" Helbram shouts, and he stands his ground. Once again she disappears, and Helbram turns around, expecting to see her, only for a fist to uppercut him, and he lands away from the girl.

"No one can kill me, not even myself. Believe me, I've tried." Y/N says before she walks away from the man and back over to Diane, who she looks to and nods her head at. Diane nods back to her.

"You must withdraw right away!" Hendricksen warns him again as if sensing Diane's and Y/N's plan.

"Yes sir!" Helbram says, knowing they have the upper hand. He goes to fly away. However Diane beings down her Gideon, Y/N standing on top. The Gideon slams onto the ground just as Y/N smashes her axe down onto the Gideon, the two shouting.

"Mother Earth Catastrophe!"

"Crushing Momentum!"

Diane's power combined with Y/N's created a giant earthquake across the ground. Diane's ability was already strong but adding Y/Ns ability just made it even stronger to go against Helbram. The earth beneath their feet suddenly breaks open, causing a large rubble to surround them

"It's upon us." Helbram says, landing near Jericho and Gulia, who are unconscious. Two stingrays? Fly past them and he grabs a whole of the two women before jumping onto one of them, before the blast could hit them. "We go away at top speed!" Another way, Ban and Hawk are running from the same blast, all while Ban is carrying Elizabeth and an unconscious King under his arm.

"What the hell! What the hell!" Hawk yells.

"Quite yapping and start moving those pig feet of yours!" Ban orders and they run faster. Helbram's stingray? However gets hit by the rubble and he lands on the ground, Jericho and Gulia not in sight.

"So this is a sacred treasure's power when combined?!" Helbram says, looking up at the massive island like rock in the sky. "Or rather the full power of two peeved off sins"

"Keep running" Ban orders. "Don't you let up master!" Hawk looks back seeing the large boulder floating in the sky, with Diane and Y/N at the top of it. Diane raises her Gideon and crashed it on the boulder, bringing it back down to the ground.

A little later, Ban, Elizabeth and Hawk all stare at the massive boulder, King remaining unconcise besides them.

"See it's messed up, huh." Ban states.

"Yup" Hawk agreeing.

"Hey! Guys!" Diane shouts as she walks over, Y/N resting on her shoulder, who waves at the group.

"Diane! Y/N!" Elizabeth says as they run over to the two. Y/N jumps down from Diane's shoulder, landing in front of Elizabeth.

"I'm glad to see you're alright Prince-" She's cut of by Elizabeth hugging her tightly.

"I thought you died! I, the blast! I thought it killed you!" Elizabeth cries out, looking up at the woman, who smiles at her.

"Nonsense, it takes a lot more than that to kill me!" She says, laughing. Diana kneels down to the ground and opens her hand, showing Meliodas back to normal. He waves at them, smiling.

"Hey~" He says, only for Diane to stuff her face close to his, giggling, before placing him on the floor. Elizabeth turns from Y/N and looks to him, tears in her eyes.

"Sir Meli-" She's cut off by Meliodas suddenly getting punched back into a rock.

"That ought do it." Ban says. "Had to pay you back for before." Meliodas just smiles at him.

"Yeah, that's cool."

"I was so worried!" Elizabeth says, running over to him.

"Sorry." She helps Meliodas up and the two stare at each other, before Elizabeth gives him a big hug too. "What's that for?"

"Sir Meliodas, don't scare me like that!"

"Hey, can I tell you something?" Meliodas asks, smiling.

"Yes!"

"You should put on some panties." He says, squeezing Elizabeth's cheeks.

"Quite it Captain!"

"Yeah knock it off!" Y/N looks over to King, seeing him up and now conscious. She walks over to him, looking down at his wound.

"Are you doing okay? Are your wounds bothering you?" Y/N questions. King just looks to her, giving her a closed eye smile.

"Not really, I mean maybe a little."

"Don't make a big deal over some scratches alright." Ban says, clasping King on his shoulder, where his wound it, causing him to let out a large scream.

"Hey! Watch his wounds ass!" Y/N says, hitting Ban on the back of the head, pulling King away from the man.

"Sorry sorry, I just couldn't help it!" Suddenly rocks collapse off to the side, causing everyone to look over to them.

"What the hell?" Hawk says. Elizabeth goes running over to it, spotting Griamore holding Veronica, who still has Y/N's coat wrapped around her.

"Griamore! I'm glad your alright!" Elizabeth says. Griamore however looks down to Veronica, tears down his face.

"I'm unqualified to be a Holy Knight." He says "I couldn't even protect you. That was Princess Veronica's final order for me. And I ended up disobeying her. But...But I..."

"Thank you, I know how much you cared for her." Elizabeth says, causing Griamore to look at her in shock. "Please bury her on the shore of Pienes Lake, that's all I ask of you. I can still remember how much fun the three of us used to have there, she loved it so much." Elizabeth begins walking away, "I'm going to stop the holy knights, no matter what. I will...I swear!"

"Princess, how is it you've become so strong now?" Griamore questions. The Sins stare at the interaction. Griamore then gets up and stares at the group once more, catching the eyes of Y/N, who nods at the man, and he nods back, showing his respect to him before he walks off, Veronica in his arms.

Ban pokes at King, causing him to jerk away in fear of him touching his wound. Y/N stares at the two, hitting Ban on the head once again.

"Hey guys. Do you think he'll go back to the kingdom?" Hawk asks, as they stare after him.

"Beats me, it seems the Holy Knights aren't as united as we thought they were." Meliodas says.

"Look forget about all that Captain, where's your sword?" Ban questions, as they all look to Meliodas.

"Huh? Oh, I guess it was stolen." Meliodas says, seeming unbothered. Y/N just facepalms.

"Seriously Meli, that's your reaction!"

"That's it?"

"Isn't that sword important to you? Is it really okay?" Elizabeth asks

"No, it's not at all. This situation's serious." He says, causing Elizabeth to frown. "But I'm glad your alright, cause that's what really matters to me." Elizabeth begins blushing, while Y/N rolls her eyes at the man.

"Tch, don't go soft again."

"Are you saying you don't care if I'm okay?" Diane says, picking Meliodas up, pouting at him.

"What are you talking about? I can see from here that you're doing just fine."

"Well I'm a freaking mess." Hawk says, King floats down besides him, resting on his pillow.

"Your pretty tough if you ask me." He says.

"Just needs to be tenderized." Y/N says, sniffing Hawk and smiling. "Oh man, I'm so hungry!"

"Ha! Very funny!" Hawk says, but looks to King. "Please get your crazy girlfriend away from me!"

"Ah! We-we aren't together! What are you talking about!" King says, blushing and stuttering. Y/N looks to the pig.

"You better shut that mouth piggy, before I put an apple in it." Elizabeth just laughs at the three, as Ban begins his teasing.

"Aww, you should have seen her King, she was so worried over you! She held you so close and nearly cried!"

"Did not! I was just worried, as I would be if it was you or Meliodas!"

"Lied!"

"I'm not lying!"

"Are to!"

"Are not!" The two continues their bickering while the group just laughs at them, and King blushes into his pillow.

Somewhere not far from the group, Helbram is standing near the big boulder, to which the wind blows his cape, which drops Jericho and Gulia out, still unconscious. Helbram leans against the boulder, breathing heavily in relief.

"A moment later and I would have been in trouble back there." He says "Still, I have my spoils so I'll consider it a victory." Helbram holds up Meliodas's sword, ripping the blade off, leaving just the dragon handle. "One of the keys to reviving the demon race. A fragment of the Coffin of eternal darkness."

"The day that terror will return to Britannia is near"

Later that night the Sins, Hawk and Elizabeth are all back at the Boar Hat, asleep in their beds. Y/N however is sat at the bar, a new coat around her shoulders, drinking a bottle of ale all while fiddling with the wooden carving of the bear.  She looks down at the carving with teary eyes.

"I'm sorry, Tyran. I didn't mean to forget, I-I just couldn't..." She leans her head forwards, allowing the tears to fall. She feels a hand on her shoulder and is quick to grab it, turning around only to see it as Meliodas. He spots the bear and smiles.

"Hey! You found it!" He says. She looks to him then back down at the carving, she lets go of his hand.

"The little bastard was hiding in the closet, found it when we went to the Necropolis." Meliodas sits down besides her, grabbing his own bottle of ale. She sniffs, wiping away her tears. Meliodas's eyes change from happiness to  sympathetic.

"It's about that dream you had, right?" She looks to him in confusion. "When you were passed out, you dreamt of that day didn't you?" She looks to him in slight shock before nodding, taking a big gulp of her ale. "Just because I was like...that, doesn't mean I couldn't feel your pain."

"I-I just remembered that moment...holding him in my arms, carrying him up to that hill...He always loved the sunset...I just hope he got to see it one more time before he di-" Her voice breaks, as she clutches onto the bear. "It's my fault he died, I didn't catch him like I promise I always would, I-I didn't- I couldn't..."

"He never blamed you, he wouldn't even if he wanted to. You gave him what he wanted, someone to love him, just as much as his grandma did."

"𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕒 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣, 𝕒 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕥! 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙!" She thinks back to what Helbram said, shaking her head.

"Are we monsters, Meli? I mean think back to Danafor, a-and Vroncaster. All those people we got killed...Are we truly the good guys here?"

"Whatever is done for love always occurs beyond good and evil. We did what we did for the people we loved. For them. Don't let it eat you up." Meliodas says, resting his hand on top of Y/N's, which is still holding onto the carving of the bear. He opens her hand and holds the bear to his face, back to his goofy mood.

"So why did his grandma make a bear, out of everything?"

"He told me it was because Bears represent protection, so his grandma carved it for him so that he will always be protected whenever he had it."

"Or maybe, she was rooting for you and King the entire time to, even she knew." Meliodas jokes, Y/N shoves the boy, laughing lightly.

"Shut up you ass, now is not the time to be making jokes. I'm releasing  trauma to you right now."

"I know." He says, playing with the carving. "But I just want to show you that even thought things may be bad, there's always gonna be a smile at the end of it." He says, smiling at the woman. She looks to him, eyes wide as she's quick to hug him.

"Thank you Meli, thank you for being your goofy ass self." He does nothing but smiles at her, hugging her back.

"Of course, you're my second in command, gotta make sure you're in tip top shape." Meliodas finishes his ale and stands up, handing the bear back to Y/N. "Welp, I'm going to get some more sleep, and gotta try and tie myself back up to Hawk thinks I was tied up the whole time, but you should to, got a long day tomorrow." Y/N nods.

"Okay, I will let it slide this one night, just no touching her Meli. I mean it." She says, playfully glaring. He nods, holding his hands up.

"Fine fine. Nighty fluff ball." He says, walking up the stairs.

"Night Captain." She too finishes of her ale, looking down at the carving of the bear.

"So your not scared of me because you...?"

"ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ɪᴛꜱ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴍʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ"

Y/N walks out the boar hat, quietly making her way to the roof as to not wake the sleeping giant and rests her head against her arms and she stares up at the sky.

"ɪ'ᴍ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ɢᴏɴᴇ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ʟᴇꜰᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴍᴀᴍᴀ!"

"You'll forever be with me, and a stupid ghost world like this will not change that!"

She takes the bear carving back out of her jacket, and holds it up to the sky, smiling as she closer her eyes, holding it close to her chest.

"I will see you again. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow or for years. But we will be together again. That I can promise."

"ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇꜱɪᴅᴇꜱ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ ᴍᴀᴍᴀ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ…ʀɪɢʜᴛ?"

#Seven Deadly Sins #king x reader #reader insert #Seven Deadly Sins Fandom #Fanfiction #SDS #Seven Deadly Sins Fanfiction

[mayhemproduces]

Heist Finale (continued)

A panic fills the room as all the lights shut off, the moment freezing in time, where that oh so familiar voice rings out…

“CARRY ON MY WAYWARD, SON-”

Everyone jumps to their feet as the multicolor flashing lights light up the venue, The Elite standing at the top of the ramp! They’ve followed the House all the way from AEW, and they’ve seen more than enough! The Elite pose on the top of the stage, the House gritting their teeth at the mere sight of them. Sardonyx and Buddy slide out of the ring, trying to stop them from even getting into the squared circle, but they’re both taken out by a pair of Superkicks! Omega slides into the ring and points at Brody before NAILING him with a downright wicked V Trigger, nearly taking his head off! He slips behind Brody, grabs both arms, and brings him down with a snap Dragon suplex! Omega brings the big man crashing down, while Black has fight off Matt Jackson with a boot, only to turn right into a V Trigger from Kenny! Nick gets up on the apron, Matt holding Malakai up for the Tombstone, wanting to put him down with the Indy Taker, when Sardonyx boots Nick off the apron.

She pulls the ropes down, causing Omega to roll over them and spill to the outside. Malakai slips behind Matt, holding him by the waist as Sardonyx runs the ropes, wiping out Omega and Nick Jackson with a Barrel Roll Tope! She takes a nasty spill doing so, and Malakai nearly knocks Matt unconscious with a discus knee strike! Matt snaps to the mat, possibly out, and Malakai is fuming at the interruption. Everything was working perfectly, and The Elite might’ve just ruined everything - when Black gets blasted by a Pump Kick from Bishop! Malakai’s on his hands and knees as Bishop runs the ropes, crushing the back of Malakai’s head with a disastrous sliding forearm! Malakai is out on his feet as Bishop lifts him up, quickly picking him off the mat, and throws himt through the table they set up earlier with a Bishop Bomb! The table explodes under Malakai, and Bishop folds him up! Get him outta here!

1… 2… 3!

“Malakai Black has been eliminated!”

To say Punk was confused about what just happened was an understatement, he had heard the opening lyrics and had hoped for Winchesters and not Bucks. Punk would worry about that later, he had something much bigger to worry about in front of him.

Another chance at Abigail was right in front of Bishop and all that stood in his way was a one-legged old man. Joshua had given Punk his first loss, he was a shark who if he smelled blood in the water he’d go for it, which is why Punk’s ankle was taped and braced. Bishop goes hog wild now, charging Punk but he sees it coming and side steps, wincing in pain as his ankle is killing him. It has too right?

At this point everyone is expecting Bishop to make quick work of Punk and for him to punch his ticket to another match with Abigail and he probably had the most realistic odds at beating her and ending this reign of terror, the crowd was divided between the two of them.

Punch grabbing Bishops arm brings in into the turnbuckle keeping him there before backing up and running into him with a high knee. Punk tries it again but Bishop grabs him like he’s nothing, walking forward with Punk in his arms before dropping him down with a thud. Cleary Bishop wasn’t going to forget the strategy that Punk had used last time. And realistically Punk had him until the ankle gave out. Bishop forcing Punk up, he’s going to use his muscle to finish this. But Punk manages to duck the incoming arm before rearing up and kicking Bishop right in the face.

Bishop is down, and Punk is climbing the ropes he’s looking for the elbow. He’s going to drive it right through the heart of the monster, Punk drilling him right in the chest as he hooks the leg for a pin.

1..2…

But Bishop is back on his feet this seems to have done more damage to Punk, as he reaches out to Punk capturing him and drilling into him with hard strikes he’s got Punk in his clutches as he stands up but Punk rolls through grabbing the arm Bishop and hyper extending it, again he’s going for the arm, taking out the arm so Bishop’s arsenal goes way down.

Arm still in control Punk stands wrenching his arm and pulls Bishop up and over his shoulder. Everyone knows what should be coming next, Punk doesn’t even need to motion for it we all know and in that moment the crowd is firmly behind Punk. Up and over Punk brings his knee to Bishops face.

GO TO SLEEP! The GTS hits Bishop flush but Punk drops to his knees he can’t capitalize and Bishop bounces off the ropes dazed, he’s doesn’t know where he is as he lands draped over Punk’s back and Punk he’s hurt and he’s fighting with his head and his heart. Is this fucking worth it, but yes it is it is so worth it. He powers through, though standing with Bishop on his shoulders. Again firemen’s carry as Punk yells, hulking up, and hits Bishop again!

ANOTHER GO TO SLEEP! This time Punk can follow through, hooking Bishop’s leg.

1…2…3….

CM PUNK HAS DONE IT! HE IS GOING ON TO FACE ABIGAIL.

The bell rings and Cult of Personality plays, Punk on his knees raises his foot no longer his concern as he celebrates, the camera catches Punk, “Abby I’m coming from you, I’m going to destroy everything you’ve made here, because I am the DEVIL himself.” There was all sorts of loaded statements though.

What Punk doesn’t see is that Joshua Bishop is back on his feet standing behind Punk who nearly walks right into him. Punk looking him up and down, ready for there to be a trouble, but no Joshua and Punk are exchanging words, “You better beat her ass and Syn’s ass too.”

Punk nodding his head, a smirk coming over his face, “I plan on it Big Man”, he says offering his hand to Bishop, who takes it before raising Punk’s hand up the air.  It will CM Punk vs Sister Abigail in a Battle for MPW’s grandest prize, and it’s soul. 

#match

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ash can I maybe have some soft vampire chris, or soft early chris? Pleeease? :3 -theo-

Not sure if this counts as soft, @boxboysandotherwhump, but...

CW: Vampire whumpee turned caretaker, blood drinking, bad guy death, caretaker turned whumpee,

The duct tape across his mouth feels like a fucking insult more than a gag, and Jake glares at the asshole pressing it in over his lips. The guy meets his gaze with a cockeyed grin.

"Oh, don't look so put out, you're the one who had to come downstairs and interrupt us. Just stay right there, still and quiet, and we'll be in and out before you know it, bud."

He gets a pat on the head, and Jake jerks away from it, his mouth trying to curse without being able to open. The tape pulls painfully and he holds back his wince.

He kicks out, but the guy dodges it easily. His hands are taped behind his back, wrapped again and again with the damn duct tape until it feels like they're cutting off his fucking circulation.

He'd come downstairs for a glass of water, that was all. Just a drink to help himself get ready for bed after finishing up an essay at 1:30 in the morning, and he'd found out people had broken in only when he more or less walked in on them taking the TV right out the front door.

A gun to his back had gotten him on the couch, and now he felt a little bit like the whole roasting chickens you buy at the store all tied up with twine.

"In and out," A second guy agrees, taking Jake's game consoles from the entertainment center right in front of him. "No need to be all fussy about it, man. Not like you aren't insured, right?"

"Cutie like you shouldn't worry about anything." The first guy ruffles his hair.

Jake kicks out again, and this time it lands.

He feels the pain of kicking with bare feet and doesn't care, what matters is the expression of almost comical surprise on the robber's face as he connects with his knee and sends the guy crashing to the ground.

"God damn it!" The guy rubs at his knees, glaring up at Jake before he pushes himself up, pulling the gun out of the back of his pants where he'd kept, swinging his arm to hit Jake across the face with the butt of the pistol.

The pain cracks bright and white in his mind, behind his eyes, and he groans, muffled by the tape.

"Have some fucking manners!" The man snaps, and hits him again, the other side of his face. Pain, again. Stronger than the ache in his cheekbone, though, is Jake's anger.

How dare these assholes? How dare they? Nat is just trying to help people, and here they're walking around robbing her, and she's a better person than she should be, than anyone should be, and how. fucking. dare. they?

He kicks again, connects but the guy stays up this time. He just starts hitting Jake, over and over, with the butt of the pistol.

Again and again.

On the final blow across his forehead, something feels like it snaps, and Jake's thoughts scatter apart, replaced by a dizzy sickness as the world spins crazily. He slumps to the side, dropping onto the soft couch cushion. He's bleeding from his head, now, he thinks.

Head wounds always bleed so fucking much.

At least he can tell the ER doctors the truth about how he got this one.

There's a soft hissing sound that starts up, and Jake can't place it. He blinks once, twice, but he's having trouble focusing. He has a moment of wild incomprehensible worry about if the kettle is about to whistle, if the water is boiling for tea. The two men, though, glance to the side, towards the entryway to the house, where the stairs are, in confusion.

The house is dark. It's 2 in the morning by now, and everything is mostly silent in the world, just the soft buzz of the streetlights by the sidewalk, the occasional rumble of a passing car, and... a strange, nearby hissing.

"What the fuck? Do these idiots have a cat?" Guy 1 grabs a flashlight hanging off some kind of weirdass toolbelt he wears and shines it towards the stairs.

There's a sudden scuffle near the stairs, and the hissing ramps up in volume, becomes a wild, shrieking, inhuman scream.

Jake can't see that far, but he dimly hears Guy 2 exclaim, "Jesus Christ, what is that?!"

"Oh, my God!"

Movement.

The scream seems to echo, to hang in the air, the sound of an animal who feels only fury.

The flashlight drops, shining pointlessly into the corner of the living room, on nothing at all.

Jake stares into the darkness, struggling to see, as one of the men, the one who pistol-whipped him, falls backwards as if pushed, knocked onto his back onto the floor, and... something lands on top of him.

It occurs to Jake that it's Chris just as the little vampire drops his head to the man's neck and then quickly tears to the side, slitting his throat as easily as Jake might cut through butter with a warm knife.

There's a spray of blood, and Jake flinches as some of it lands on his own face, on the couch, spreads across the floor.

Chris raises his head, his eyes reflecting in the dim light, glowing like a cat's with pupils slit with focus, his bloodied mouth open in a snarl.

His fangs seem longer than they were last night.

The man beneath him struggles, weakly, already dying. It takes moments before he goes still.

Chris raises his eyes, and the soft hissing starts up again as he turns to see the other man just as he moves to run.

Jake watches the guy make it to the door before Chris lands on his back, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him back inside, slamming the door. He jerks the man's head back, forcing his spine to arch, baring his neck for the fangs that bury there.

The man stumbles backwards with Chris hanging off his back. He makes it one step, two steps, three, and then drops onto his ass on the floor, clawing at Chris, at his hair, his face his shoulders.

His mouth is open in a scream, but the sound seems so far away, like it can't fight the volume of Chris's shrieking battle-cry from before, the wild call of a hunt.

The vampire locks on, and as the venom takes hold the man's fight suddenly ceases. He slumps, seated on the ground, chin dropping to his chest.

For a second, the only sound is the sickening liquid noise of Chris swallowing, again and again. Then he purrs, the rumble loud enough to echo through the room as he drinks, soft satisfied little hums making their way out of his throat. His hands knead of the man's shoulders where he holds him, like a cat kneading its paws into a blanket. It lasts a few seconds. Less than a minute.

It feels like forever.

When he finishes, he pulls away, stands up, and lets the man's body drop onto its back on the ground, the slack, wide-eyed expression lit by the beam of the flashlight still lying on the floor.

Chris turns to look at Jake, and his mouth and his shirt are drenched in blood. It's everywhere, and he looks every inch the monster vampires are said to be. Bloodthirsty and thoughtless, except that he doesn't look like he's still hungry or hunting.

He looks worried, and a little bit scared.

And so, so very young.

So... human.

"Jake?" His voice is slightly thick, and Jake tries not to think about why it sounds that way. "Are, are, are you okay?"

Now how in Christ's name does he answer that question?

He just shakes his head - pauses - and then nods.

It takes a couple of minutes for Chris to get a washcloth, wetting down the edges of the tape, pulling it free of Jake's mouth and then wetting again, bit by bit. It hurts less than it would otherwise. All Jake can smell is blood, and he gags, but at least he doesn't throw up. He's got that going for him, right?

His head throbs, until Chris leans over and licks the wound torn open across his forehead. The wet cool tongue is slightly rough, and Jake shudders in disgust and then...

Then, the pain in his head is simply gone.

"Wh-what-"

"Ssshhhh," Chris says, softly, pressing at his cheek, watching him wince. "I, I, I can't heal the, um, the, the bruises. Those are underneath. Does-... does, does anything, is anywhere else hurt?"

Jake blinks, and slowly shakes his head. "Chris, have you-... have you killed people before?"

Chris meets his eyes, and gives a very small smile.

"Yes."

"When?"

"Before, um. Before... you."

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @whumpfigure @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband

#vampire au #chris the strawberry blond romantic #whump #vampire whump #vampire whumpee #whumpee turned caretaker #caretaker and whumpee #beaten #pistol whipped #pistol whipping #deaths tw #death tw #blood tw #blood drinking #slit throat #whumper death #magical healing #vampire #vampire fiction #original fiction #dangerous whumpee #defensive whumpee #whumpee defends caretaker

[strawberryspence]

when death knocks on your door

Angst/Fluff [18+] | Spencer Reid x FEM! BAU! Reader

Summary: Some trauma tears people apart, while some brings people together. SSA Doctor Spencer Reid and SSA Doctor Y/N Y/L/N is brought together by the death of SSA Emily Prentiss.

Word Count: 3,13k 

Warnings: based on the Ian Doyle/Emily Prentiss character arc so some spoilers for s6-s7. talks about death (a lot of it), mention of drug use, allusions to depression, attempted suicide (nothing graphic), mention of cancer & car crash, a few curse words, description of smut, its very vague (one part only), mentions of therapy, HAPPY ENDING (i am not a monster)

Writer's Note: Hello! A bit of a heavier topic on today's fic! I picked apart the whole Emily arc and this is written basically in the reader's perspective. I love writing angst but I can never end it with sad endings. So I hope you enjoy this, I am very proud of how it turned out! 💛

GIF is made by yours truly. Its surprisingly hard to find "purple shirt + sweater vest spencer reid" gifs.

Death.

Death.

Death comes in different shapes and forms.

For Spencer, he has seen it up close with Haley and Hotch, but never with someone in his family or close group of friends. He sees death in the form of abandonment, in ways when people leave him and a part of him goes with them.

For you, you were familiar with death. Death looms over you. You’re father dying when you were younger and then you’re mother in your teens. 

Death comes when your father was killed in a car accident involving a drunk driver. It was fast, in a blink, death sweeps him and takes him. All her father’s life and dreams gone in a second, with a crash.

Death comes when your mother was diagnosed with cancer. Cancer, the fucking bitch, takes her time. It was slow, like it was enjoying the pain. It takes and it takes till its taken everything and the last thing it has taken is your mother.

And death comes when it takes Emily Prentiss. This was your best friend, partner in crime and roommate. Her death wasn’t fast, it wasn’t slow, its painstakingly in the middle while you try to get her blood off your hands while sobbing in the SUV as Derek drives way past the legal speed to get to the hospital.

In her death, you find yourself being swallowed by something that you were not. Something bigger, something you can’t describe. The team sees this weeks after she has been buried. You were the same person, and you were a different person, all at once.

One night, when death was about to knock on your door as you hold a knife to your wrist, ready to meet Death, ready to tell him off, it is then when chance knocks on your apartment door.

Spencer is at your door, a sobbing mess with three bottles of dilaudid clenched in his hands. He stumbles in your new apartment avoiding the piles of boxes unopened. You just moved, not being able to sleep in the apartment you and Emily shared.

“I am sorry. I-I am sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know where to go. JJ was... busy and I am so close... so close.” Your heart softens at how desperate he looks, Spencer doesn’t know how strong he is to you, being able to ask for help when you were just about to end it all.

You take the bottles from him, setting it on the counter as you guide him to your couch. He clings to you as you both sit on the couch, crying and sobbing.

“Death is among us. Avoiding him is what makes us stronger." You whisper to him and he cries harder.

Something is so bitterly comforting when someone shares the same pain you are suffering. It hurts, but in a funny way, it hurts less when some shares it with you.

So you cling to Spencer as he does to you and you let it all go. You cry as much as he does as he holds you and as you hold him.

You both wake up the next day, with a full 8 hours of sleep, something you both have not had in weeks.

“Thank you.” Spencer whispers and you smile, stroking his hair, “Thank you.” You say it back at him.

You were sure that Emily is laughing at her grave. I had to die for you to finally make a move on your crush. You shake her voice off your head. Now is not the time for silly crushes.

It becomes a routine, finding comfort and safety in each others presence, Spencer almost lives in your apartment. His toothbrush sits on the cup besides yours in the bathroom counter, his clothes takes up half of your closet, his books scattered on the shelfs and his cups on the kitchen counter.

You tell yourself its platonic. Spencer tells himself its platonic. The team doesn’t say anything, only thankful that you were reverting back to your old self and Spencer is getting better.

You want more. It was hard to admit to yourself. But you wanted more with Spencer. Your little crush now growing into something bigger than yourself. You wanted futures full of him and what you have right now is not right. Shared trauma is not love.

Three months into the set up of him basically living in your apartment, you suggest therapy for both of you. You are a Doctor of Psychology and you know the percussions of what you’re doing.

Spencer is shocked but he understands. This was your territory, Spencer knows that this was the right thing to do so he agrees. You lay out all the options to Spencer, all the therapy and how both of you should change your routines more often.

It works. He stops sleeping on your bed every night (he still comes tho, just on the harder nights where he needs to hold you to remind himself that death has yet to take you).

You have breakfast together every morning, using it to comfort each other rather than sleeping together every night. It works.

The therapy helps you both as you both move on from Emily’s death. That is until seven months later.

-

Declan was missing. You’ve let the Emily case go but Derek has not, you know this and you let him. Every time you want to do something to help Derek catch Doyle, your doctorate that hangs above your couch stares back at you, like it was taunting you. You studied this, moving on was the better choice and you know it. No amount of killing Doyle would bring back Emily, no amount of it would make you feel better.

That is until Hotch gathers the team on the conference room.

“Everybody have a seat.” Hotch instructs. You all look at each other. Spencer looks at you as if asking if you knew what’s up but you only shake your head.

“Why?” Morgan asks, looking around.

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her—“

“What?” You squeak out. Hotch holds his hands up, asking you to hear him out first.

“She was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.”

Spencer can see how your face pales. He reaches for your hand under the table and gives it a tight squeeze. You return the squeeze, finding comfort in his touch.

“She’s alive?” Penelope asks, tears now forming in her eyes.

“But... we buried her.” Spencer says, like its a fact. Like its the solid truth. Your hand clamps down harder on his.

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone had any issues, they should be directed to me.” Hotch says and all you can do is look at him, not able to believe anything he is saying.

“Any issues? Yeah, I got issues!” Derek’s loud voice now looming over the room.

“Oh my god.” Penelope squeaks making the whole room turn around. You turn around and you see Emily walking to the room. Your hold unto Spencer tightens, as if checking if he is real, you want any sign that this is not a dream, that this is real.

“I am so sorry. I really am. Not a day went by that I didn’t want to...” Emily explains.

Death comes and it takes, and it takes, and it takes but never has Death give someone back to you.

Emily was standing in front of you. The woman whose blood stained your hands for days, the woman you buried, the woman who’s grave you cried on for god knows how long that Derek had to physically carry you away from her grave and here she was breathing and hugging the team.

She comes in front of you and you still haven’t let go of Spencer’s hand.

“Y/N?” She says, it comes as a whisper. A whisper, coming from the ghost that has been haunting you for months. She opens her arms for a hug and you let go of Spencer to hug her.

She was real, she was solid and she’s hugging you back. So why, in the mountain of emotions you are feeling, why is happiness in the bottom of the pit? Why is anger the one screaming in your heart?

You pull away, and she hugs Spencer but as soon as she lets go, Spencer captures your hands again. Emily sees this and smiles, but doesn’t say anything.

“There’s so much I want to tell you guys, and I will. I promise. But right now I really need to know what’s going on with Declan.” The team continued to discuss Declan and Spencer holds unto your hand like its his life line. You only break apart when the team has to work again.

He gives you one look as he separates away from you, “I got you.” He says, kissing your temple before leaving to go to the interrogation room.

That was enough to calm you down.

-

The team gets Declan back safely and after all the trials, you finally had a moment to breathe.

“Hey, you doing good?” Spencer asks. You nod. He looks good, he looks like home in a purple shirt and sweater vest.

“Do you want to go home?” He asks you. You want to shout but you’re my home! You nod and he takes your scarf from your desk and wraps it around you.

“Let’s go?” You smile at him as he wraps it around you. It felt so domestic, so familiar.

You walk together to the elevator, leaving the BAU and all the piles of emotions that you’ve been through this past few days. As you both stand in the silver tin box, you see your reflection with him standing beside you, his arm around your waist and your head on his shoulder.

You wanted to scream how much you love him. But the voice in your head screams back, he doesn’t love you! It’s shared trauma! You shake your head and Spencer sees this.

“You okay? How are you feeling?” You smile up at him, as he looks at you with all the worries that a person can hold for another one.

“Yes, I am good, Spence. How about you?” He smiles and kisses the top of your head. “I am good. I just need time to process some of the things that has happened.”

Spencer drives you both home. Spencer doesn’t take the word hate lightly but Spencer hates driving. He still drives tho, for you. Holding your hand while he drives with the other, while you were staring out of the window, just watching the places blur by.

Death waits on your door and when the right time comes, it will knock. When it does, you can’t turn it away or send it away. When it knocks, it sweeps you off your feet, leaving no time for goodbyes or regrets. Ironically, Spencer walks you to your door, opening it for you and even taking your scarf off for you.

Your heart almost grows twice its size and you can feel yourself bursting in its seams. You find yourself closing the door, as if trying to block Death away from him. He smiles at you and something bursts inside of you.

“I love you, Spence.”

He drops your keys on the bowl on your hallway and he smiles, teasingly. “I love you, too, Dr. Y/L/N.” You smile but you shake your head.

“No Spence, I love you. With my whole heart... I mean, of what’s left of it. W-we need to stop, if this is only a shared trauma for you. I can’t be that... because... I love you and I want futures with you. Any kind of it, as long as you are there, every morning with a cup of hot coffee for me. If that’s not possible, we need to stop. Because my heart...” You hold unto the edge of the table for strength.

“My heart... is not strong enough to lose you and love you at the same time.” Spencer stares at you, confused with a certain spark in his eyes.

“W-why are you saying this now?”

“Because death is at everyone’s door. Emily is lucky. But what if it takes me tonight, or tomorrow? I don’t want to die without telling you that I love you.” You say, bracing yourself for the impact of the rejection.

Spencer walks to you, holding your waist to steady you.

“I love you, more than anything in this world. I have love you even before Emily died. This isn’t shared trauma, it’s been love way before that. If it's anything, it made my love for you grow deeper. You... helped me heal. You pushed me to go to therapy. You made me stronger, Y/N.” Spencer holds your face and brings you into his arms and you clung unto him as he hugs you.

“I love you... I love you so much.” You whisper to him and he hugs you as close as humanly possible.

Spencer lets go of you but cups your face to lift it closer to his face. Spencer kisses you like it was the last time you can ever kiss him. It felt like a fever dream you once had. The fire of the kiss fills in the cracks in your heart, slowly but surely healing it all at once.

Life, the direct opposite of death, has always been hard to describe. Death was easy to describe for you but Life? it was a struggle. But with Spencer kissing you, as he holds your hand and your face, so tenderly like you were going to break, you finally realize what life is supposed to be. It felt good being alive, it felt good to be breathing.

You and Spencer sleep together for the first time that night. It is in one word, unbelievable. It was as if the universe has planned it all along to teach you what it felt to be alive, as he pushes himself inside you, whispering nothing but sweet praises and promises of futures together in your ear. You wake up, hours after making love, tangled with him and the bed sheets, with you in his arms.

“I love you.” You whisper to him, brushing through his hair as he sighs to your touch, snuggling more to the crook of your neck.

-

The morning comes in a breathe. Easy and fast. You wake up earlier than Spencer, untangling yourself from him to make him his daily morning coffee.

A knock comes and it almost makes you drop his mug. Looking up at the clock, it was only 7 in the morning. The thought disappears as another knock comes. You open the door and today life offers you Emily Prentiss.

“Hey, good morning.” She says with a smile, you give it back, still not used to seeing her, alive.

“Hey.” You smile looking at her as you let her enter.

“Pen said you had my boxes.” She looks around on the apartment. “Its not here. Its on the garage downstairs. Do you want it right now?” She nods. “Oh. Uhm, the team actually helped me move it there, its a little heavy...”

“Okay... I’ll get the team to help me later.” You nod but don’t say anything and the silence is so loud, it’s deafening.

“Can we talk?” Emily asks, in a gentle voice. Almost like she’s talking to a toddler. You shake your head. “We can, but not today... I need to process some things first and I need help with it. We can talk this weekend, after my therapy.”

“Therapy?” She repeats. You nod. “Therapy.” She bites down her lips, you know Emily enough to know that she feels bad about it.

“I know it’s not your fault, Em. I understand, but I just... need time. I... buried you. I cried on your grave and for months, I had to accept the fact that you were... dead.” Emily nods, opens her arms for a hug and you gladly accept it.

“I’ll give you as much time as you need. You are my bestfriend and I love you.” You nod and hug her tightly, reminding yourself that she was alive, and that was what’s important.

The hug was cut short when Spencer comes out of your bedroom half naked.

“Spencer?!” Emily almost screams as she pulls away from the hug.

“O-oh... I-I didn’t know you were here...” He says as he slowly backs up the door and picks up a shirt to wear.

“When did this happened!?” Emily is definitely losing her mind now.

“Uh... Last night?” You said, not exactly sure as to when it started. Emily’s mouth drops in surprise and Spencer can only smile at her offering her a cup. “Coffee?” Spencer says with a smile and a shrug that makes both you and Emily laugh.

Emily doesn’t stay long after that, opting to leave the two of you to spend some time together. Spencer and you end up in the couch, huddled together in a huge blanket you both knitted together with cups of coffee in hands.

“So... Are you officially moving in with me?” Spencer looks down at you. The steam of the coffee colouring your cheeks a bright pink colour.

“Do you want me to?” He asks, smiling at you. Spencer loves you, in ways he didn’t know he possibly can and he’d give you anything you want. You could ask for the stars and Spencer would build a rocket just to get a few to give to you (even if he knows it was impossible because, well, stars are made of gas.)

“I want you everywhere. You... are my home.” You say softly, as your hands caress his cheeks.

“Then, I am moving here, love.” He says as he kisses your forehead and you lean unto him as you wrap the blanket tighter around each other.

“I love you.” He says as you lay your head on his chest and he brings you closer to him. You smile and whisper it back. “I love you more.”

Most people say that time heals pain. It, truthfully, does not. Love does, love in the corniest way possible, mends your soul in ways that are not physically possible.

When Death knocks on your door it will be in different shapes and forms, but so will love and for you, love came in the shape and form of Spencer Reid.

-

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #mgg fanfiction #mgg fic #mgg x reader #mgg x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x you #spencer x reader #mgg blurb #mgg oneshot #mgg angst #spencer reid angst #spencer reid and reader #spencer x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer imagine #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid fandom

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

It's a bit angsty, but I love angst too much. The skeletons brothers are walking in the street when a car willingly charged them and hit one of them. It's a guy that hate monsters who is driving. What are the other brothers doing? For who you want.

Undertale Sans and Papyrus - He tried to teleport both Papyrus and him out of the way but wasn't fast enough, so Papyrus pushed him out of the way and got hit instead. Sans is stunned on the sidewalk, but quickly gets up, screaming his brother's name. The car is already far away, and Papyrus is lying on the ground, already circled with passer-by who already call for rescue. Papyrus is in pain, but he's still conscious and tries to comfort his brother despite everything as Sans is slowly panicking. The ambulance take the both of them, Sans needs to calm down and he's not feeling well at all. Papyrus will be fine. He's strong and managed to go out of this with only a broken arm. Undyne is already looking for the culprit, and she is pissed.

Underswap Sans and Papyrus - Blue runs out of the way the second he realised what's happening, but Honey just stays frozen in fear and Blue could only scream when he flew on several meters like a ragdoll. Blue lets random people run to his brother and he's going for the antimonster guy. He rips the car door off and throws him on the ground with his blue magic, trembling with anger. It takes five police officers to convince to let go and not kill him. Blue calms down eventually and goes to his brother, who is badly hurt, but thankfully a strong monster healer was close and managed to rise his HP.

Underfell Sans and Papyrus - Thanks to Edge reflexs, Red only scrapes his back a little as Edge throw him against the wall. Though, the guy made a terrible mistake as both of them can still walk. Edge is in a terrible mood and won't hesitate to throw their assaulter against a wall and beat them up until they can't stand up. Red is cheering behind him.

Horrortale Sans and Papyrus - Both of them got hit actually, not fast enough. Willow hugged his brother just before the impact, which managed to save his life. They are both hurt, but Oak's injuries are superficial. Willow, though, can't feel his legs anymore. Oak is panicking, trying to help him standing up but his brother is just screaming in pain and he's in distress. Thank god, Toriel was actually about to meet them and comes quickly to help them. She takes Oak out of here so the rescuers can help his brother, and uses her magic to sedatate the skeleton, who's about to attack the rescuers. Willow ends paralyzed and very sour, but he's alive, and he's happy his brother is fine at least. Oak doesn't feel the same though. He thinks he's terrible and useless, as he didn't do anything to avoid this.

Swapfell Sans and Papyrus - Nox used magic on his brother and throw him against a wall, and got hit instead. As he's whining in pain on the ground, he can see the car slowly getting back on track, then speed to end the job. Rus comes out of nowhere and creates a shield. The car flips in the air, crashes somewhere behind them and explodes. Rus takes his brother in his arms and teleports to the hospital. Nox is in bad shape, but he had worst. He'll be fine eventually. He's impressed with his brother though.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

[sylverstorms]

Miranda x Mia---- Eternal

A Ko-Fi commission I wrote for the wonderful @saltwatereulogies. Thank you so very much for the support and I hope you enjoy the fic!

Drip. Splatter.

The first sound you’re aware of is that of the occasional waterdrop crashing onto the same humid, uneven floor you’re lying on.

The second is the sound of her voice.

“Rise and shine.” she says, somewhere off to the side. You are still too disoriented to pinpoint exactly where.

You’re not dizzy enough, though, to not immediately realize you’re trapped. The way the light behind your captor shines makes it all the more obvious, casting large shadows in the shape of your prison bars across your small, moldy cell.

“Y-you…” you struggle to talk. Your throat is too dry and your temples pound like a war drum. It feels like you’ve collided with a truck. And yet her voice commanding you to sleep is the last thing you remember.

“I haven’t formally introduced myself. Though I’m sure your friend has told you about me.”

You blink to make your vision focus yet it’s hopeless. She is but a dark blur to you –am I hallucinating or are those wings?

“My name is Miranda.”

Suddenly, that name snaps everything into focus so sharply you could get whiplash. You’re on your knees the next second, just about ready to leap at her. She’s the one. The one Chris warned you about. She may look like an angel but she is a devil.

“I don’t care who the hell you are! What do you want from me?!” you demand.

“Your cooperation in my experiments, for starters.” she says it calmly, but she is no fool to believe you’ll just agree to that, you can see it in her crystal-blue eyes.

“Ha! As if!” you retort.

“Well. That answer will change when I have Rose.” The name of your daughter makes every nerve ending in your body kick at once.

“What. Like Ethan will just hand her over to the likes of you?”

“Actually.”

A slow smirk crosses her full lips. Then their shape changes to match yours. All of her does, until you are left looking at a perfect mirror of yourself. Only, there’s no way you look quite that good inside of this shitty cell.

“He’ll hand her over to you.”

When she laughs, it is your own voice haunting your ears.

-

-

She has your daughter. She has your everything in her hands. So, she has your cooperation, as well.

Miranda doesn’t really talk when she comes to collect blood samples for whatever experiments she needs them. Your initial cries and questions were muted the second she told you the more helpful and less annoying you are, the more inclined she’ll feel to bring Rose to you for a while.

In the end, you do let yourself be her docile little lab rat.

Until you literally can’t take the silence anymore.

“Was it really… that easy?” ‘To enter my home and take my daughter’ you want to add but you can’t even get the words past your throat.

She seems to understand, though. “Effortless.” she isn’t being cocky as she says it. In fact, she seems almost surprised herself. At least, from the angle you get of her face, while she’s studying a strange rock-like substance under a microscope.

“How the hell did Ethan not figure out you aren’t me?!” That moron. He just gave your daughter to her. That clueless moron!

For a split second, you see her lip twitch in what could, perhaps, be a withheld smile. “I was there for a day, so. Seems like your husband doesn’t know you quite that well.”

Is it really fair to blame him for not knowing you, though? With the secrets you’ve kept from him? The distance? The trauma from the shared nightmare you experienced coming back to you every time you even looked at him?

God, Rose really is the only thing that kept you together, isn’t she…

It’s easy to hate the accursedly beautiful bitch outside your cell. It’s easy to blame Ethan for not even suspecting something was amiss with you for a whole damn day.

It is not so easy to blame yourself as much as you do them.

-

-

Miranda replies when you ask her things, so you ask her about herself. To your surprise, she does not shroud her motives from you.

She has lost her daughter, she tells you, and the only way to get her back is through yours. For the first time since you met her, you see emotion clearly expressed in her eyes and voice. You recognize how she longs to be with her child again.

You can understand the never-ending grief of a mother losing her offspring. You know if anything happened to Rose you would rather fling yourself off a cliff than live a life without her.

And apparently, that is what she tried to do, too. She tried to die –and discovered life instead. That is what she calls it, anyway. All you can hear as she explains is that she found –and founded— the Mold. The same one that ruined your husband and you.

One more reason to hate the psycho witch.

And yet.

When you try to reach for the rage you previously held for her, you find that it’s gone. You’re bitter, you’re exhausted, you want to cry and above everything you want to see Rose again. But you don’t loathe her as you should.

“What do you mean… the only way to get Eva back is through Rose?” you dare ask after several minutes of silence.

She turns to look at you, eyes as piercing as they are blue. “Technically, the trade is simple.” Maybe you’re losing it from the stress and lack of sleep, but you think she almost hesitates for a second. “…a life for a life.”

As soon as she speaks and the meaning of her words registers in your mind, you’re gripping at the rusty iron bars with all your might, rattling them, shouting profanities at her. You are back to hating her all over again. It’s much simpler this way.

Until… she walks over and grabs your hand over the metal. Her touch is oddly warm for such a glacial heart. You cannot tell what she does to you, but it feels like an aura flowing through your system that silences you. Calms you. You do not want to be calm.

“I wasn’t finished.” she speaks. “That is where the experiments with you come in. By running tests on your blood and Rose’s and using my DNA as a medium, during the ritual I can trick the Megamycete into giving me what I want through a form of mitosis. Essentially, cell duplication that will not override the existing vessel.”

To be honest… you lost her midway through the very first sentence. You were quite good with biology back in the day but right now, in the state you’re in, science is going right over your head.

“...Is there an English version of that.” you ask.

Her mouth curves into that almost-smile again. It would be quite gorgeous, actually, if she hadn’t kidnapped you, infiltrated your home as you and abducted your daughter.

“If the tests succeed, you get your daughter back, I get mine from cloned DNA and Mold cells.” There’s a hint of pride in her voice as she says it.

And now, assuming she’s telling the truth, you want those tests to succeed more than you want to get out of here. Her hand leaves yours and the weird calm she blasted into you dissipates with it.

“Wait. So…” Realization strikes you like a thunderclap. “So these tests are for me?”

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say thank you, you crazy b—blonde.” You rattle the iron bars again, a tad weaker than before. She does smirk over the microscope, this time. “How likely are the tests to succeed?” you ask impatiently.

“Quite.” she replies, flat once again.

“…And if they don’t?” you hate how your voice shakes there, at the end.

She looks at you, dead in the eyes, as she answers: “I am getting my daughter back either way, Mia.”

You can’t believe it. You cannot believe you’re thinking this, but you hope the crazy bitch knows what she’s doing.

-

-

Miranda is… despicable, but she is a woman of her word.

She brings you Rose for hours at a time and in exchange you help her outside of your cell. You thought your daughter would be in a worse condition, considering who keeps her, yet she’s healthy as ever, well-fed and clean. The worst part is, she laughs every time Miranda comes close and she even reaches out for her.

“No, my darling, don’t do that.” you tell her, tucking her tighter in your arms, before the woman behind you notices what’s happening.

Except it’s too late. “Ah, I see.” Miranda speaks, coming up to you from behind. She’s tall enough to lean over your shoulder and wave at Rose, who moves both hands towards her. “A lady of taste.” the woman praises and the lightness to her voice almost makes her sound like someone else. Someone normal.

“Stop it.” You turn your child away from her. “She’s just confused because you’re lit up like a Christmas tree.” You motion with your chin at her getup.

Miranda chuckles. “What. She senses our bond. Rose feels safe with me.”

Safe with the monster who wants to sacrifice her to get her own child back. You cannot swallow that thought down. “But she’s not, is she?!” you snap.

“She is.” Miranda reverts to her cool facade, glancing down at your daughter. “I will never let anything hurt her. And when she gives me Eva back, I will make sure she grows up bathed in luxury.”

It’s the Mold, you’re sure of it.

It’s the Mold’s fault that you believe her.

-

-

You were supposed to see Rose today. Instead, Miranda comes into the cave alone, looking irritated. You start to worry. Nothing phases her without a good reason. What if—

“Where’s my daughter?!” you demand, eyes wide.

“We have a problem.” she tells you. Your blood goes cold in your veins. “A problem named Ethan Winters.”

“Ethan?” you gasp.

“He is trying to get Rose back and according to reports from the Lords under me, he cannot be killed. His hand got cut off and he just reattached it. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” she’s certain that you know. You can see it in her steely eyes.

“I— why would I—”

“Before you think to lie to me, hear something else. I bear good news, as well.” Miranda says. “I have succeeded in my experiments. During the ritual, I can guarantee Rose will remain unharmed and unchanged.” the edge of her lip curls up as she delivers the news. You almost cry from the sheer relief.

You almost leap forward and hug her, yet you remember who she is and that she caused this mess in the first place.

“But my conditions have changed.” her voice is a sword that cuts off your happiness just like that. You knew it was too good to be true. “For me to save Rose, you will tell me how to permanently get rid of Ethan Winters.”

…What?

She wants you to… trade your daughter for your husband? How the hell can I do that?!

“He has ruined too much for me to let him walk away happily now.” Her jaw is tight enough to sprout new lines on her flawless face. She wants him dead and she always gets what she wants. “He has killed colleagues of mine. Spat in the face of a damn-near god. I will have his head.”

The corners of your eyes sting with welling tears. Your body is far more honest than you in making a decision. Nobody is too important to sacrifice when it comes to your daughter. Not yourself. Not Ethan. And Miranda knows this better than anybody else. You loathe how she knows.

“Give him to me, Mia. And in a few days this whole thing will be over.” she continues in a significantly softer tone, getting closer to you. Her wings shift, the very edge of black feathers brushing your arms.

“You want me to aid in killing the father of my child?!” you sob, grabbing at her clothes. You’d expect her to shove you away, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t even blink.

“You have been so cooperative and so brave.” she soothes, gold-taloned fingers coming underneath your chin. “Make one last sacrifice for me. Help me murder Ethan so Rose can live. Help me and I vow to be her eternal guardian angel. Hers and yours.”

She could just force the answer out of you. She’s touching you and you know she has that power. But she doesn’t do it and it’s far worse this way. She wants it to be your choice.

You look away from Miranda’s icy eyes and her promises of everything.

And you tell her.

-

-

You do not ask about Ethan. All that’s in your mind is the ceremony.

For the entire morning, you cannot breathe. You trace notes in her lab and pace around until you literally feel like you’ll explode—

And then Miranda comes in. She is radiant, smiling from ear to ear, glowing with pure joy. She looks every part the goddess she pretends to be. The golden circle usually adorning her back is gone, her long blonde hair is left free to flow like fine strands of silk past her square shoulders.

“It is done!” she tells you, a hand extended for you to take. “Come. I’ll take you to Rose and you will be the first to meet Eva.”

Her hand is warm when it closes around yours. Black wings shroud you both. There is a gravitational pull around you that’s so intense you shut your eyes and grab onto her biceps for dear life.

“You can look, now.” she speaks once the world is stable again. Your gut is churning, yet every bit of exhaustion and discomfort vanish the second you see Rose. She is safe within the first of the two golden cribs in front of you, bathed by the soft sunlight that disperses across the luxurious, dark-tiled chamber you’re in.

You run towards her, lifting your daughter in your arms and kissing her forehead over and over. She laughs at you, blue eyes crinkled. My love. My everything, you think. Everything was worth it for this moment. And you would do it all again, to ensure her safety.

Miranda’s steps, regal and authoritative, come to a stop near the other crib. You lean closer, take a look… to see another little angel there, sleeping peacefully. She resembles Rose, yet she resembles Miranda, too.

“Oh my God.” you breathe. “You really did it.”

“I did it and you and Rose made it possible, Mia.” she says. Your child extends a tiny hand towards her. She removes one of her claws and lets her finger be taken in your baby’s grip. “You don’t have to leave. She loves me already.” A proud smile curves her lips.

You hate how it looks like a sunrise.

You hate it even more that you understand why Rose is so charmed.

“Her mom can grow to love me, too.” Crystal eyes look into your own. “There is no place safer than by my side. Stay and we will raise them together. You won’t have to fear disease or death with me. You and Rose will have every little thing you could ever want. Forever.”

You don’t want your child to be co-patented by this selfish megalomaniac, who is the killer of her father. But. Then you stop to consider what you have been through until now. Nightmare after nightmare; this vicious cycle does not look like it will be broken. One thing or another will haunt you and hunt you wherever you go. You don’t want that life for Rose.

You won’t accept that life for Rose.

“…we will stay. But you can forget that part about me growing any fonder of you than I am now.”

Miranda nods, but something in her expression is so damn cocky you want to smack her. “Oh, what’s that, Rose? You can tell your mother is lying, too? My genius girl.”

Your jaw drops. She is my genius girl!

Miranda then touches your chin and tilts it up. You don’t want to be any closer to the gorgeous fucking witch, but when she stops there, hovering just over your mouth for a skipped heartbeat, looking down at you with those crystalline eyes of hers, you’re paralyzed.

Her lips slide over your own for just one slick, hot second. When she pulls back, she caresses Rose’s cheek and winks at you.

“I hate you.” you say, yet it holds no real bite. God, you’re exhausted.

“That’s alright. We have all the time in the world to change that.”

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #mother miranda #mia winters #mother miranda x mia #fanfiction #rosemary winters #rose winters #ethan winters #comission #writing #Where Miranda wins and takes everything and more #hail winged hottie goddess

[kaypeace21]

Crash-course for all the evidence of Will creating the mindflayer/upsidedown

* Honestly I’ve talked about this stuff in my did theories- where I explained how the upsidedown/mf/ the lab subjects/ and russians all connect back to Will creating them. But since so may people assume that Will got his powers from the upsidedown/mf rather than Will creating it all subconsciously (with his powers). Thought i’d do a short analysis of just that connection (without boggling it down with those other plot lines that are interconnected) . *So I’m not mentioning the lights -because it interconnects with the numbers/lab.I’m just going to list every example in short succession from every season for brevity’s sake (so it won’t be structured as eloquently as prior analyses). 

refresher of how Will influences the mf/upsidedown ...

S1) 

Will ( in s1e1) says to Dustin if he could have any comic it would be the xmen. Dustin later  says "do you think - el was born with her powers like the xmen? " Will plays a d&d game saying the demogorgan got him -so it does irl. Will writes stories where bad guys weakness are fire so the mf/ demogorgans are lit on fire in s1-3 (and it's their weakness). Will watches poltergeist so Will is forced to be the child character in that film- who was trapped in a alternative dimension and could only speak to their mother through tech. The demogrgan is said to resemble a shark by nancy-mathcing Will’s Jaws movie poster in his room. in s1 Mr clarke describes the vale of shadows (later the upsidedown) as being created by “necrotic” (’dead’-zombie boy) and “shadow” (shadow monster/mf) “magic”. In d&d the Vale of Shadows, is  as a lush valley hidden in the mountains that holds a sacred pool with the power to make dreams reality. In d&d the demogorgan is literally called the "deep father" in d&d Nancy also says the demogorgan is like a “lion” the meaning of the name Lonnie- is literally “lion”. We see it attack Will when using lonnie's gun (in lonnie's shed). And it knocks the bat out of Jonathan's hand too. (Baseball/hunting were taught by their dad lonnie). The demogorgan also hurts a deer- mirroring Jonathan's story about how Lonnie forced him to kill a rabbit and how this upset him as he was a fan of the rabbit character from the film bambi.. El when she first sees the demogorgan also sees it eating it’s own eggs-aka symbolically the father hurting his own children.  Will's password for cb is rhadagast a wizard who protects Wildlife (the opposite of Hunter-lonnie/the demogorgan). 

Duffers cited as inspo the silent hill videogames): And in s1 Hopper named dropped the character Alessa’s last name. “The bad guys faked Alessa’s death. Kaufmann prepared a substitute body of alessa;  and performed the fake autopsy (like Will) . Alessa had precognition (future/intuition-like will the wise is said to have in s3) and pyrokinesis (firepowers mentioned  Will the wise has in s1).  Alessa’s latent psychic abilities are triggered and she shrouds Silent Hill in fog and an altered reality to prevent her ab*sive parent’s schemes from advancing. Many of the drastic changes that befall the town in the game, such as the horrific creatures that come to inhabit it, are conjured from her imagination and delusions. “ 

Will also says in s1ep1 he wants xmen 134-about the dark phoenix saga. ‘dark phoenix’  - has pyrokinesis ( fire powers-like Will the wise). And the dark phoenix also  “was able to warp reality on a universal scale”. One of the phoenix’s host was even the god Thor (god of lightning-an element Will is associated with a lot in s2)

(in s1 Will also spit up a slug- in d&d putting a slug in a humanoid can create/turn that humanoid into a mf. foreshadowing Will being posessed/becoming the mf in s2. ).

S2)

 Will plays digdug (a videogame about underground tunnels) so the mf creates tunnels. Will's dog dies so demogogans become demo-dogs. He also watches Ghostbusters- where a character is possessed by the ‘gate keeper’ and can control demon dogs. So this happens to Will too -similar to s1 with poltergeist .In s1 , Hopper even mentions the book Cujo about a violent dog, who is replaced by a new dog named ‘Willie’ (to allude to this).In s1 we see  Mike holding a drawing of Will’s- where Will's wizard has lightning powers (coming from his hand). everytime Will uses tech in s1, the phones explode and lighting appears out of them- hopper makes a BBQ joke about the burned phones.later in s2 the mf has these same lightning abilities and the lab technician makes the same BBQ joke.Joyce even describes the tunnels of the mf/ that Will’s draws as “like lightning.”  We also see the russians eviserated by lightning next season too.

A lab tech calls Will a wizard-and they monitor his brain waves, record him on video, just like they did to El .(when the mf first appears at Will’s house- the lab techs even notice ). The drawing of the mf is next to a baseball (Lonnie ref) and Will says it was a drawing for a story he wrote. In s2 Nancy describes the mindflayer (but she’s actually describing Will).“So this thing is like a brain that’s controlling everything.”Because it’s not the mindflayers’ brain - it’s Will’s brain controlling everything. ( a “hive mind” aka the mf/WILL share a brain ). Owens in s2e1 (BEFORE the mf possession) says Will's ‘anniversary affect’ would make him remember “tra*matic memories” and “OPEN the neurological flood GATES” (aka Will’s neurological GATES are the gates between the real world and upsidedown - which are connected to the mf).  

 Owens in s2e1 (after mentioning the “gates”) even says Will's ‘anniversary affect’ /  “tr*umatic memories” would  cause temporary “personality changes”for Will (the later mf possession) . I mean... Owens wasn’t entirely wrong was he? Will even feels the back of his neck in s2 and says it has to do with “memories” ...and in s3 feeling the back of his neck meant Will was sensing  the mf. Similarly, before his possession-mr clarke  mentions phineus gage who after an accident had a “complete change to his personality” (and the shot pans to Will).

Nancy even calls the mind flayer the “mind-flamer”- hinting at it’s connection to Will the wise who has fire powers). And Dustin says the mf “takes over minds with it’s highly developed psyionic abilities “ And to “summon an undead army... cause the mindflayer loves brains ” ( and in s3 the mf creates a undead army by taking over people’s brains). Hopper  even says “So how do we kill this thing shoot it with fireballs ?” (which destroys the flesh-monster in s3) ”

S3) 

Will (the “zombie boy”) writes a story about juju zombies after watching a film about zombies at starcourt in s3 - then the mf creates a undead army -which was also foreshadowed in s2 (and similar to Will’s  s3 d&d story).  We also see Will wrote this d&d story in front of "the thing" poster. So the mf creates a flesh monster resembling the creature in that film too.  We also see someone get bit (el) like in Will's story and when his friends retcon his ending to be about “sacrificing themselves via explosion (Hopper).” Will just says “fine you win” (so it ends that way).Also, the shadow monster is now called the Mindflayer - and mimics the mf from d&d (both can control rats with their powers in the show/game).  

Will in s2-3 grabs the back of his neck and he attributed it to “memories”, “dreams”, and sensing the mf. Will created castle byers after his dad left and he grabs the bat in cb which was next to the Will the wise drawing (similar to how the baseball was next to the mf drawing in s2) and destroys cb with said bat . Then Will touches his neck and admits the mf has returned.  EVERY moment Will senses the mf can be loosely connected to Lonnie. Lonnie used to call him h*mophobic sl*rs so anytime he subconsciously thinks of his feelings towards Mike the mf appears-1st time it’s on one of their ‘movie dates’, 2nd time when Mike and El walk off together down the hill to make-out, 3rd time right after he smashed castle byers after Mike says “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls”, 4th time (after the fight with Mike) when Billy is yelling to open the door (a trigger) and confides in Mike, 5th time when Mike asks him to go away so he can talk to El in the hospital waiting area, and 6th time when Mike says he loves El. The 7th time is when Jonathan is fixing up a car -something Lonnie used to do.Lonnie fixes up cars as a hobby-showing his remodeled car to Jonathan in s1 . Will then senses the mf and grabs his neck-which he said are connected to old “memories”.  max and Mike are silent until Jonathan says  says “got it (the distributor)”. Then Mike screams for his older sibling. We also see in s1 Jonathan checked to see if Lonnie threw Will in his trunk- something the mf does to some of his victims in s3.

Dustin and susie sing “never ending story”- which is literally about a seemingly normal boy  named Sebastian with a bowl cut (from a single parent home) subconsciously making a fantasy world being invaded by a dark force (representing the loss of hope/dreams) that only his imagination powers can fix . “make believe i’m everywhere ... what you dream will be...Rhymes that keep their secrets Will unfold behind the clouds.And there upon a rainbow Is the answer to a never ending story” . Cough-Will’s rainbow ship he CREATED.Both times the  lyric plays  “Rhymes that keep their secrets WILL “ ( it pans to Will). 

The film also follows a false chosen one who everyone says is supposed to save fantasia- named Atreyu (el). Specifically, for that plotwist that Sebastian (Will) has to be the one to do so , not Atreyu (who sebastian subconsciously created). In the novel/film-Atreyu ( the child who was deemed the ‘chosen one) is knocked from Falkor’s back, and into the sea of possibilities. There he wakes on the shore of abandoned ruins. 

“There Gmork (The Mindflayer) reveals himself, having been lying in wait.And then latches his jaws onto Atreyu’s leg.”

-Before the duet, Susie tells dusin she’s reading “ a wizard of earthsea” and says ged is about to save his world. The book is about a boy-wizard  named Ged (Will) who casts a powerful spell, but the spell goes awry and instead he releases a shadow creature! The new Archmage, Gensher, describes the shadow as an ancient evil that wishes to possess Ged. But the ‘shadow’ turns out  to be a representation of the darkest aspects of his personality. And the only way for the world to be saved is for the 2 to merge and for Ged to accept himself . 

-Will says he’s a wizard ( writing on a music tape in s3 “will the wise-wizard mix’ and having his password for castle byers be ‘rhadaghast’- a lotr wizard). The way they describe d&d Wizards matches Will/mindflayer perfectly “Wizards are adepts and magicians who combine according to the type of their spells. Relying on the subtle weaves of magic that permeate the universe, wizards are able to create spells of explosive fire, sparking lightning, subtle deception, and gross mind control. Their magic summons monsters from other planes of existence, predicts the future, and turns defeated enemies into zombies. Their most powerful spells can transform one substance into another, summon meteors from the sky, and open portals to other worlds” (all these powers Will the wise/mf are implied to have)

- Stranger things d&d comic (published post s3) : Will creating a illusion army of monsters -as Will the wizard.

- stranger writers twitter reffed several movies which discuss artist/writer WILLiam Blake who helped make the art exhibit “worlds turned upsidedown” 

possible reason for the flayed eating  chemicals& fertilizer (in s3)

full link/credits here.  Lonnie’s gf has a biker shirt from Harley davidson- with the eagle logo and their saying “live to ride’. Which would imply lonnie is also in such biker circles. Harley davidson in the 80s had dr*g gangs too (primarily m*th).

 One reason m*th is so prevalent in rural areas is that it can be formulated, or “cooked,” by small producers and one of the ingredients is readily found on most farms – anhydrous AMMONIA fertilizer. Both farmers and chemical suppliers have experienced thefts of anhydrous particularly in the Midwest.“

WHICH REMINDS ME OF the FLAYED EATING FERTILIZER AND CHEMICALS IN S3 . Nancy even says farmers/chem suppliers  are having fertilizer stolen! And she later thinks flayed tom was on drugs- “A mysterious  case of the missing fertilizer- a Nancy Drew Mystery”. This is also in the same season one character (who looks a bit like Lonnie) is a biker is corrupting the town.

Will creating /basing the supernatural from suppressed memories -means it’s from a very young child’s perspective . young Will would equate people eating chemicals, ammonia fertilizer, and ammonia... to using those SAME chemicals to create m*th and then physically consuming them . Why we see mrs driscoll eating fertilizer & Billy drinking ammonia.

The reason the flayed started behaving differently is probably because in s2 Will was forcibly injected with a needle & woken up with ammonia by Hopper-jogging some of those old memories. 

EVEN Nancy’s proof Tom is on dr*gs is a symptom of m*th use or withdrawl from it-excessive sweating (like all the flayed in s2-3). M*th causes hyperthermia (body is at a higher temp than usual)-so they like it cold!!!!! Even clammy hands that she mentioned is a symptom of m*th use. in children it can even cause seizures- like Will :(

And when m*th is made via fertilizer it first is made into a highly corrosive liquid which is sometimes green-like the Russian lab.“six pounds of toxic waste is created for every pound of m*th manufactured. The waste is often dumped on farms, in rivers and and is harmful to the environment.” Like all the chemical leaks relating to Hawkins lab/mf that affected the crops in s2/this pic of water in s3.

m*th was even called ‘bathroom crank’-which is sketchy given the bathtub is what mf fears and how the sensory deprivation tank is also called a ‘tub’ by el . Becky even said Brenner would get terry high and throw her in the tank/tub.

It also does take some chemisty knowledge to COVERT various substances (including fertilizer and other chemicals) to make m*th- which reminds me of the kids saying they can convert one substance into another (when explaining why the possessed are eating chemicals)- they say they’re making a new chemical “in themselves”

other hints

Will’s b day is march 22 . Which is when “fire burns most brightly” and his ‘birthday number is number 7′ (”it was a 7 the demogorgan it got me′) . The number 7  is specifically associated with  “wisdom and psychic abilities”.  His b day even adds up to 7 (3+2+2).His horoscope is also influenced by the shadow god-ketu (who is also associated with wisdom and psychic abilities too). 

* There’s way more details/depth/ other st inspirations in my DID analyses -specifically pt 2. (where i discuss how the mf/upsidedown connects to the numbers/russians- and also specifially Will).But this is just a crash course about the flayed/upsideown/it’s creatures connect to Will.

People will dismiss all of this as just the Duffers liking to reference random things they like/ and foreshadow via d&d without any in universe reason.  but I really think that’s a disappointing explanation/outcome. Especially the predictable cliche theory that the mf is just experiment #1. Not only is it boring, cliche, and predictable af- but it doesn’t line up as well with the mental health themes mentioned in ever season.Will created everything via tr*uma cause of his dad- and overcomes this: is not only a “twist” that will make rewatching more enjoyable given all the hints- it’s more narratively sound given how much the series touches on themes such as overcoming tra*ma, mental health, and problematic fathers. The #1/ex experiment=mf theory doesn’t explain why they made the supernatural connect to Will in this way . And with such a boring cliche ending it would quickly be forgotten like other big sci-fi/fantasy shows that quickly lost relevancy after being popular: like heros, g.o.t, etc.One makes the show cliche another makes it remembered for decades (ex: jacob’s ladder).

#will byers #stranger things #byler #byeler #stranger things theory #did theory

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 6

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence, and a line that hints at past physical abuse (depending on how you choose to interpret it) Warnings: Mild TW for implied/referenced abuse Notes: Okay so this was supposed to be somewhat therapeutic? But it ended up taking longer to get to that part than I intended, so... Don't worry though, next chapter will be fluffy and also involve more, like, actual Daniela scenes. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2 Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco

Chapter 6: Elegy

(Elegy: A piece of music in the form of a lament)

When you dream, you do not dream of being locked in a tower, awaiting a kindly knight to come save you. When you dream… you dream of your old home, infested with monsters, nearly unrecognizable. Of being forced to flee, leaving everything you loved behind. Of escaping to a remote, quaint little village, only to end up trapped once again, as friendly faces morph into gaping maws and fangs dripping red. When you dream, it is less a nightmare, more memories retouched, covered in a fresh coat of paint.

Waking up is but a brief source of comfort. One hand goes to your head, rubbing gently, as if you could wipe away all traces of your past. A quick glance around your shared room leaves you confused, but serves as a welcome distraction. Though there are six beds in the room, yours is the only occupied one, the others having all been vacated and made presentable. The only explanation that fit with what you knew was that everyone had gotten up, and gotten to work, without waking you. Panic filled you as you connected the dots, knowing that missing work was a death sentence.

Rushing, you rise to your feet, throwing your dresser open to search for fresh clothes. While the castle’s staff was almost entirely female, the Dimitrescu family didn’t enforce traditional gender presentation, allowing maidens to choose whether to wear a dress or a button-up and trousers. Remembering the wound on your neck, you pause, glancing in the dorm’s singular mirror to inspect your injury. Most of the blood had rubbed off in your sleep (and would likely be a nightmare to clean from the sheets). There were, however, a few spots where dried blood mingled with the protective scab. Considering how late you already were, you didn’t believe you would have time to clean up.

As much as you hated the thought, the best you could do was go for a button-up, hoping the collar would hide the worst of your disastrous appearance. Your hair was another matter entirely, far messier than it normally was, and you struggled to brush/comb it enough to be mildly presentable. Good thing Daniela won’t see me today, you think, remembering her insistence on skipping today’s lesson.

Then you remember the rest of your conversation with her; the yelling, being dragged to your feet, and the pain in her eyes. For a moment you feel woozy, pausing in the middle of buttoning your shirt. Your eyes focus on a spot on the now-closed dresser… and suddenly you wish you had paid more attention when you first woke up. There’s a note stuck to the furniture, clearly addressed to you.

Heard you had some trouble yesterday. We’re just glad you’re alive! A certain someone has been a lot nicer since you started playing the piano, and we’re grateful. To show that, we decided to split your morning duties among ourselves, so you can sleep in. If you’re reading this, then it’s still before 4 AM. Feel free to just relax for a while, or even get some more sleep! We’ll be by to make sure you’re up eventually.

Sincerely,

Daphne, Rosalia, Ygritte, Alexandra, Juniper, and Riley

“I… have… freetime?” You mumbled, still a little drowsy, but now also shocked. This was a complete first for you. Maybe even a first among the servants! Sure, you had been given breaks before, but having a couple hours to do whatever you wanted? No one had ever pulled strings like this for you before. It made your chest feel warm, and you just about forgot the whole mess with Daniela. “I’ll have to find a way to pay them back, even if they think they’re paying me back.” With that said you relaxed a little, no longer rushing getting dressed, though still leaving your neck the way it was. You figured you’d stop by one of the maidens’ restrooms before you officially started your shift.

In the meantime, you knew exactly what you’d be using this time for: finding those damn piano books you had been promised!

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

“Let’s see… dust, more dust, a dead spider, even more dust, and- oh shit, the spider is not dead,” you said, barely holding in a yelp as the arachnid scurries away from you. If you had known the attic would be so unclean, you might not have bothered to come up here. So far your targets had alluded you without giving so much as a hint towards their location. The library had seemed a likely location, but you had heard Daniela’s voice within, and anxiety had sent you dashing away. Up here, in an area clearly used for storage above all else, was the next best guess, as far as you were concerned. Still, you hadn’t seen anything worth your time yet.

Just insects, really. Not even terribly interesting ones. Well, there had been a shiny beetle of some sort, but it had crawled into a crack in the wall mere seconds after you saw it. Other than that, though, nothing but creepy crawlies. Creepy flyers?... Both, for sure. One fly in particular kept buzzing around you, weirdly interested in what you were doing.

Somehow you didn’t understand what that meant until a firm hand had wrapped itself around your neck. The grip was tight, putting more than enough pressure to make your vision blur. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, the culprit didn’t intend to just choke you out. Instead they lift you and toss you aside- casually, at that. You hit the wall with a terrible crashing sound, certain to leave bruises, and narrowly avoid toppling into a stack of heavy crates. So much for enjoying some free time, you think. Stunned for several seconds, you find yourself left helpless as your attacker approaches.

“You’re not allowed to be up here,” a voice snarled, familiar enough to leave you terrified. Of course you had to run into the most violent of the Dimitrescu sisters. “Looking for a way out, hmm? Or are you stupid enough to think we’d leave a weapon where a wretched thing like you could find it?” Cassandra asked, pausing only to send a swift kick your way. A grunt escapes you, leaves you coughing, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as hitting the wall. Despite wanting to curl up and give in, you tried to drag yourself to your feet. Surprisingly, Cassandra makes no move to stop you, perhaps enjoying the sight of you struggling.

“Lady… Daniela… gave me permission,” you said between painful breaths. By the time you’re back on your feet, the vampire before you is watching you with narrowed, albeit curious, eyes. Normally it would take a lot of courage to face her. But you’re exhausted, in pain, and you’ve taken nearly as much hurt from someone who called themselves your lover. It’s not brave to stare down Cassandra, it’s foolhardy. It’s idiotic, really, and yet you find yourself unable to care. “I’m just looking for a couple piano books I’ve been told about, so I can use them to help teach Lady Daniela.”

“Oh? You’re her instructor?” Cassandra asked, a strange smile overtaking her expression. Something in the atmosphere has shifted, dangerously, but you can’t figure out why. Clueless to your self-betrayal, you nod in response. Instantly Cassandra’s smile turns into an open-lipped snarl, and she reaches out to grab you by the shirt, this time slamming you into the wall with her own hands. “Then you’re the reason she kept me up yesterday, crying non stop! I’m going to rip you apart, you vermin.”

The look in her eyes is, most definitely, the scariest thing you had ever seen. It’s feral, inhuman, and unstoppably determined. But when tears fall from your eyes, it’s not because you know you’re about to die. No, it’s because the last thing you think you’ll ever hear is the news that your partner had been sobbing for hours… and that you were the reason why. Your heart aches, both physically and emotionally, as you brace yourself for the bloody end.

Instead, the grip on your clothes loosens. You don’t dare open your eyes to see why.

“What the fuck do you want, sis?” Cassandra asked, sounding like she had turned her head away from you. Before you know it you’ve been let go, and you slide to the ground, too surprised to hold yourself steady. When you look up, you see an irritated Bela pulling Cassandra away from you, whispering something you can’t quite hear. They argue for a minute, under their breath, keen on keeping you out of the loop. Eventually the younger of the two storms away, but not before making a dent in the wall with her fist.

“What a child,” Bela said, rolling her eyes at the display. Then she’s walking back towards you, extending a hand in an offer of assistance (one you gladly accept). “That girl has the foresight of a magic eight ball, I swear. If she had actually killed you… ugh, I can hardly stand to imagine how inconsolable Daniela would become. Then I’d have two insufferable sisters. Regardless, do tell me why you thought it would be a good idea to come up here unaccompanied? It is normally off limits for servants, after all.”

“I-I, well… I mean, firstly thank you for saving me, I had no idea-” Bela holds a finger up in a ‘shut up’ motion, then puts it away as soon as you pause- “right, you don’t care. Look, I was just trying to find the piano books that Lady Dimitrescu mentioned, but I’ve looked all over and I can’t find them, so I should really just go,” you explain, eager to get out of the attic. To your surprise, Bela gives you an odd look before turning away. Then she takes no more than five steps, shifts to the side, and opens an old cabinet. Inside you can see a dozen books of sheet music, notably from several different decades, all worn but still in decent condition. “How did-?... I thought I checked there.”

“Well, you must have been distracted. Nonetheless, you know where they are now, and you owe me twice over. With that in mind… come with me. We have things to discuss,” Bela commanded, walking away before you could protest. All you can do is grab the sheet music, tuck it under one arm, and follow her to who-knows-where.

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

“I’ll have to have you make my tea more often,” Bela mused, letting the mug keep her hands warm. The two of you were sitting in some sort of study, a room that you had never been inside before. From what you could tell it belonged solely to the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. Inside were several shelves, each filled with well bookmarked collections, a desk next to a massive window, a couple simple chairs, and a few instrument cases. All in all it was an aesthetically pleasing room, organized but not exactly neat. You could certainly imagine Bela spending entire days in this chamber. “Now, why do you think I brought you here?” Her voice brings your focus back into the present moment, as well as sends a spike of anxiety through you.

“Based on what nearly got me killed earlier… Does it have to do with Daniela crying?” You asked, doing your best to indicate just how bad you felt about the subject. No matter how cruel she could be, you did honestly care about Daniela, and even wanted a real, healthy relationship with her. Desire, or willingness, wasn’t the root of the problem by any means. Something told you that Bela understood this, maybe even respected you for it.

“Guess there’s more in that pretty head of yours than air and symphonies, hmm?” Bela replied, laughing a little as she did. It was a far nicer sound than Cassandra’s maniacal giggling, for sure. “Now, I don’t know all the details about what happened- just that there was an argument, clearly a bad one, and Daniela barely made it through dinner before locking herself in her room. Luckily for you, our mother doesn’t seem to know about your little ‘fight’. She’s not sure what upset Dani, and I doubt my sister would tell her, so your secret is safe. Assuming that I blackmailed Cassandra well enough, that is. Anyway, I can’t help you, and by extension my sister, if I don’t know the full story. In case it wasn’t clear, that’s your cue to start talking.”

You’re surprised, admittedly, by a number of things. But Bela seems impatient, so you go over the details of the previous night with her, occasionally pausing to let her ask questions. The whole time her focus is on you, unwavering. There’s also a noticeable lack of judgement in her expression, even when you voice your regret about how you handled the situation, and what is there seems directed more towards Daniela than yourself. Once you finish, Bela releases a deep sigh. One of her hands goes to rub her forehead as if warding off a migraine.

“Well, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised, as much as I wish I could. Daniela’s always had her head in the clouds, and it’s left her tripping over her own feet more than once. Still, this is certainly one of her bigger messes…” Bela said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m going to have to talk to her about this, aren’t I? There’s no way she’s going to process this correctly on her own.” This time she seemed to be talking to herself, gaze locked on her tea as if it might suddenly offer to speak to Daniela in her place. When the tea stayed silent, understandably, she returned her focus to you. “You seemed upset, earlier, about this ridiculous situation. I am going to assume, from that, you are genuinely interested in my dear sister. Normally, this would be the part where I drain you of all blood, and possibly keep your skull as a memento... mori. Yours would look lovely on a window sill, I think.”

She pauses, head tilting a little to the side, clearly evaluating your artistic value.

“However, Daniela appears to care about you, far more than her usual fleeting infatuations. So, for now, I have decided not to eviscerate you, you’re welcome,” Bela cooed, teasingly, enjoying the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Still, you were glad that you would apparently be surviving the day. “So I’m going to give you some advice, which you will take, and you won’t even owe me anything extra for this. Daniela is in love with the mere concept of love- and she has been for as long as I can remember. Romance novels are practically the only books she reads. It’s… embarrassing, truly. More than that, I get the impression that she couldn’t even begin to describe what love actually feels like. She’s digested so much of that written drivel that it warped her senses. Of course, the, ahem, situation we find ourselves in, here at the castle, has undoubtedly added to this effect.

“To get to the point, Daniela’s terribly, hopelessly clueless when it comes to things like what she wants from you. And so I take it upon myself, as her older sibling, to ensure that you understand. Moreso, that you are not dissuaded. If this is an actual chance for her to experience real romance, then it could make her happier than I’ve ever seen her,” Bela explained. The look in her eyes was incredibly soft, to the point where it made you realize just how much this odd little family cared for each other. “Don’t give up, don’t let her occasional infuriating antics push you away. Given enough time… I think the two of you could, I suppose, compliment each other quite nicely. But if you break her heart? I will pull yours from your chest and eat it raw. Understood?” Gulping, you nodded quickly, ignoring the feeling of heat rushing to your cheeks. It was one thing for Bela to want her sister to be happy, but another thing entirely for her to acknowledge your “suitability” for the position. “Good. Now return to whatever it is you maidens normally do. I have a sister to talk sense into.”

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

Hours later, you stand alone in a display room, dusting various relics from bygone times. A trophy here, a bizarre art piece there, strange, unlabeled tools you can’t quite imagine are for wine-making. It’s a fascinating collection, really. But your mind is focused on other, far softer things. All you can think about is what Bela had told you, about how Daniela really is interested in you, and how she thought the two of you could make it work. After the chaos earlier in the day, this was exactly what you needed. Just some time to yourself, working quietly, thoughts all to yourself. Even your bruises bother you less, the pain fading out into the background. Considering where you are, though, it is not at all surprising that your peace cannot last. As soon as you finish your task you move towards the exit.

The door swings open, outwards, at your touch, only to reveal a familiar figure reaching for the doorknob. Both of you gasp, taken by surprise, before your gazes meet. Of course it’s Daniela. Who else would you bump into right now?

“I thought about what you said,” she blurts, suddenly, eyes wide and hands shaking. “We need to talk, yeah?”

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #cliff hanger oops #had fun writing this one

[arashikitten]

Dark Danny Should’ve Come Back at Least Once

I think most of the Phandom can agree that The Ultimate Enemy was one of the best Danny Phantom episodes ever made, and for good reason. It was incredibly dark of a kid’s cartoon, especially one made by Bitch Hartman, and on top of that, it provided some very interesting lore and characters. We get to see Danny pushed to his absolute emotional limit in a way that I don’t think the show ever did before, save maybe for My Brother’s Keeper in season 1, and we get our first glimpse at Clockwork, who thanks to @five-rivers fanfic Mortified, has become one of my favorite DP characters. And of course, we get to see Dark Danny, or Dan.

But there’s one little thing about this episode that’s always bothered me: the very ending.

Because at the very end of TUE, we get a shot of the Fenton thermos that Dan is sealed away in rocking back and forth, before Dan’s face forms a massive dent in the side, his laughter echoing as the screen fades to the end credits.

You would think, with an ending like that, that Dan would come back in a later episode. That he would return in the series finale is this last big bad, this final demon for Danny to confront once and for all. 

But that’s not what happens. And it kinda pisses me off.

Dan should’ve come back. We should have gotten at least one more episode with this guy, exploring more of his character, more of his side of the story, anything at all. And you know what would be a great way to do this?

Vlad.

Imagine this, if you will.

Dan makes his escape from Clockwork’s lair, dead set on finishing what he started. Eventually, he discovers Vlad’s portal (let’s say that Vlad decided to rebuild his here) and, upon coming face to face with the man who made him like this in the first place, freaks out. Dan makes an attempt on Vlad’s life, and Vlad just barely manages to escape.

Once Vlad is sure this strange new ghost won’t find him so easily, he realizes that this new ghost had Danny’s insignia on his chest, and puts it together that Danny must be involved in this somehow. 

So Vlad makes his way to Amity Park to confront Danny about this new ghost. Danny assumes that Vlad is there to try to kill Jack or whatever, the two get into a massive fistfight, before Vlad finally tells Danny that he’s only here because a strange new ghost wearing Danny’s insignia popped out of his portal this morning attempting to kill him a second time.

And Danny freezes. He goes from snarky and flippant to sheer, raw terror that has Vlad actually worried. Danny demands to know what this new ghost looks like, and Vlad’s concern turns to fear when Danny’s face goes white with horror because this is the same kid who went up against Pariah Dark without a second thought, who has faced countless ghosts who’s powers could be considered godly with a fearless smile on his face, and Vlad may not have much respect for Danny but he knows what the kid lacks in intelligence he more than makes up for in bravery. 

Meaning that whoever this new ghost is must be incredibly powerful, incredibly horrific, and incredibly dangerous.

Danny tells Vlad to go to Danny’s house and tell them to put the ghost shields surrounding the town up, to not try anything funny, and don’t. Leave. The Shields. No matter what.

For once, Vlad decides to take Danny’s lead. He appears on the Fenton’s doorstep, Armani suit ruffled and hair disheveled, telling them that there is a very powerful ghost making it’s way toward Amity Park and they need to put the ghost shields up now, or risk a Pariah Dark-level threat again. 

Then Vlad makes his way toward the edge of town, because he still hasn’t gotten an answer from Danny as to who exactly that ghost was, and he’ll be damned if he can’t get an answer.

Meanwhile, Danny is just outside the ghost shields, waiting for Dan to arrive. He’s absolutely terrified, because what if Danny isn’t strong enough this time? What if he fails again, like he almost did before Clockwork turned back time? Would Clockwork do that for him again? Would he have to watch his future burn down this present that he’s taken so long to keep up?

Then Dan arrives. Right as Vlad makes it to the edge of the shield. 

And Vlad watches with awe as the two fight. He watches as Danny holds his own against this ghost that had almost decimated Vlad barely 2 hours prior, watches as Danny outmaneuvers, outsmarts this menace, watches as Danny fights tooth and nail in a way that Vlad is sure he’s never seen before, and he realizes that Danny has been holding back. Maybe not at first, maybe not during those first few months, but definitely for a while now, because Danny is holding his own now when Vlad couldn’t.

But then that leaves the question as to why? Why is Danny going all out now? Why was he so scared of this new ghost? More importantly, when did Danny encounter this guy? 

Because he had to have fought this ghost at least once before, to have had that reaction to Vlad’s description. 

And then, he hears the other ghost’s voice, one that sounds like a strange mixture of his and Danny’s, and he hears him say “It doesn’t matter what you do, Danny. You might’ve stopped that explosion, but there are still so many other things that lead to me. A car crash, an unlucky ghost attack, the ecto-filtrator, Vlad getting lucky, all of them could still happen. Your friends, your family, all gone, and you still turn into me.”

And suddenly, everything makes sense. That ghost that Danny’s fighting, that ghost that attacked Vlad, that is Danny, or it was, before something twisted him into an unrecognizable monster, and Vlad has a creeping suspicion that it has something to do with him.  And he realizes that Danny is so much more than he ever gave him credit for. He sees Danny, fighting his own future with a hope that Vlad would call naive if not for the fact that Danny had already thwarted whatever horrible future lead to this at least once before, and he understands that he was wrong about Danny.

Because this? Fighting against the personification of all the worst parts of yourself not once, but at least twice? It would require a maturity, a strength of will that Vlad knows he himself lacks, and he comes to the stunning realization that for all the childish quips and petty pranks, Danny is far more mature than Vlad ever was, far stronger than Vlad ever was.

And then, Danny does the ghostly wail.

And if Vlad was surprised before, then he's absolutely terrified now. That’s enough power to destroy an entire city, that single wail, and the sound is a bone-chilling scream that rubs the older halfa wrong in every way possible because that sound should not come from someone as young as Danny.

And now Vlad is caught between two realizations: that Danny is so much stronger than Vlad could ever be in every sense of the word, and that the only reason Danny is that strong is because he has to be, because he’s a child being forced to go against all manner of ghostly and cosmic horror all on his own, and Vlad suddenly feels intensely guilty because he should’ve been helping Danny, and instead he’s done nothing but make his life harder.

At that point, Jack and Maddie arrive. They freak out because Vlad is so close to Phantom and this other extremely powerful ghost, what the hell is he thinking!? And Vlad is trying desperately to get them to leave, because Danny looks exhausted and Vlad might be an ass, but he’s starting his redemption arc now and that means making sure Danny’s secret, and by extension Danny himself, is safe from his parents. Vlad knows what it’s like to be on an examination table, knows how terrifying it is to have doctors looming over you with knives and bright lights while you have no idea what’s going on, and he’ll be damned if he lets Danny (who he again reminds himself is very much still a child) go through that with his own parents.

But it’s too late. Danny detransforms right there on the street, in full view of Jack and Maddie and everyone else who’s gathered there (Dan’s been sucked back in the thermos at this point).

Danny turns around, covered in scratches and burns and bruises, blood in his mouth from where Dan punched him in the lip, left arm hanging in an unnatural angle, and he sees everyone: He sees Vlad, icy blue eyes so similar to Danny’s own filled with uncharacteristic worry.

He sees Sam and Tucker, both with wide, scared eyes, and he can just barely see the faint shimmer of tears gathering in their eyes.

He sees Jazz, face pale and her knuckles white as she grips the Fenton peeler with all her strength.

He sees Valerie, her helmet down and exposing a flurry of emotions ranging from shock to anger to horror to pain.

He sees his mom and dad, clinging to each other as they stare at Danny, at their son, and come to the realization that their son is dead, their son is a ghost and he has been for a while now and how did they never notice? How could they not notice that they had been shooting at their own son for at least a year now, that their boy had been putting his afterlife on the line for them while also trying to keep up with school, and evade capture by the GIW, all at the same time?

And Danny is scared, he’s so scared, because his parents look horrified of him and they think he’s a monster, and they hate him, because why else would they be looking at him like that?

He feels his fathers arms wrapping around him and he’s sure, he’s so sure that they’re about to haul him off to their lab to be pinned down and dissected by his own parents, because they saw Dan, they saw what he would become, they saw what he is now, they know now. But then his mom and dad start apologizing, because they never noticed, and they should’ve, they should’ve seen that Danny’s low grades and missed curfews and skipped classes were because he was putting his life on the line for everyone in this town over and over and over again. They apologize for not making him feel safe in his own house, because how many times did they rant about dissecting their own son right in front of him? How many times had Jack and Maddie shown Danny a dissected blob ghost and effectively told him that he was the next one on the list? How much hell did their own son have to go through on his own, because his own parents couldn’t see what was right there?

And Danny finally realizes that no, he’s not going to end up on a dissection table, that his parents do accept him as he is now. 

But there’s still this lingering fear because they don’t know. They don’t know what Danny might turn into, and he can’t keep that from them anymore, because Dan is a secret he can’t keep anymore.

Jack and Maddie are confused when their son pulls away, and for a moment they’re worried that Danny’s upset with them, that he’s angry at them, because why wouldn’t he be?

Then they see this nervousness, they see how he’s shaking and tense, and they might not always be able to read the room that well but they can tell that there’s something else going on here that Danny wants to tell them, even if he’s scared to.

So Jack and Maddie ask Danny if he wants to talk about whatever it is back at the house, and Danny says yes, but Vlad, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz should also be there, because Danny needs some level of support and he knows that Vlad won’t stop pestering him about Dan until he tells him.

Valerie steps in at this point, finally getting over her shock to demand to know what the hells going on, was Danny Phantom the whole time? Who was that other ghost? Why did that other ghost say that Danny would turn into him?

Sam and Tucker, who have been through the emotional wringer watching their best friend fight his evil future self, then reveal his identity to his parents, are kinda pissed at Valerie, because Danny’s already stressed out enough as is, she doesn’t need to be adding on to it. A fight almost breaks out between the three of them, which only stopped when Vlad of all people, steps in saying that while Valerie does have a right to know what’s going on, all of this yelling will do nothing but cause problems.

The three simmer down, and they all head over to the Fenton’s house, where Danny tells them everything: the portal, Pariah Dark (Vlad suddenly finds a particularly interesting spot on the floor), and Dan. He tells them about how Jack, Maddie, Jazz, Sam, and Tucker died in an explosion in that timeline, how that timeline’s Danny turned to Vlad to take him in, how Alt!Danny asked Vlad to remove his human half so he wouldn’t feel that pain anymore. How Alt!Phantom had been driven insane by the separation (he leaves out the part where Phantom fuses with Vlad’s ghost half: he’s not sure Vlad wants him to tell them about his halfa status), killing his human half before destroying most of humanity. How Danny had been forced to fight Dan a year ago, when he had attempted to blow up his friends in family in this timeline to ensure Dan’s recreation here.

When he’s finally done, about an hour and a half later, Danny looks around the room: at Valerie, at Vlad, at his best friends, at his sister, at his parents, and he sees not only acceptance, but respect. Pride. Because they saw that Danny was willing to look his fate in the eye, and say that he would change it no matter what. They saw him fight tooth and nail to protect them, they saw him defend them from his own demons with a bravery most grown adults don’t have, much less a 14 year old boy.

And they accept him.

#Danny Phantom #long post #how I think the finale shouldve gone #Dan Phantom #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #jazz fenton #jack and maddie fenton #sam manson #Tucker Foley #valerie gray #angst #Dan shouldve been the series finale villian and I will fight anyone who says otherwise #Vlad could’ve gotten a redemption arc where he realizes that Danny is technically a kid and is so much stronger than Vlad gives him credit #like yeah I made a post on how Vlad is both an incel and a boomer not two days ago #but like #his character could’ve been so much better? #Danny could’ve gotten a mentor dammit! #BAMF Danny