#or at least 'thin thems out' this book is SO bark bark bark

[iouinotes]

Heroic Betrayal | Luke Castellan (part 1)

SPOILER FOR THE PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS SERIES AND THE BOOKS

pairing: Luke Castellan x female!reader

show: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

warnings: dark!character, betrayal, implied sexual content, heavy angst, kidnapping

word count: 5,8k

summary: When Luke switches to the dark side, he tries everything possible to win you for him.

a/n: so as the show comes to an end (dont cry dont cry dont cry), I thought I would finally post this :)))

read part 2 here

"I'll find you!" his voice echoes through the forest, my laughter much louder than I intend to. But that´s just how it always goes. It's our own little tradition.

Every year when the camp starts again and we meet after the holidays passed, we play hide and seek in the dangerous forest of the half-blood camp. The creatures usually don't come across our path, in recent years it has rarely happened, that we actually had to defend ourselves against them.

Once it was an angry dryad, who threw branches at me (she had a crush on Luke and wanted revenge, but since I could understand her feelings and felt sad for her, we sorted it out).

Another time we were spotted by some camp members, who made fun of us, but Luke must have said something to them later, because we haven't been bothered by these troublemakers since.

It is always the same pattern, but each time there is still something special about it. We have grown, became more mature (I think), and have more and more experience about the struggles in life.

So being able to just let go for a few moments and being completely alone with him is probably the best thing to keep myself sane (even if he drives me a little bit crazy with the love I hold for him).

But a lot has changed recently.

It all started when rumors spread, that Zeus' lightning bolt had been stolen by Poseidon's son. And then the most supportive, bravest, sassy kid in the world showed up here. Percy Jackson. Ever since I met him, even though it's not his fault, there's been war going on. The gods are angry, the monster attacks became worse and again, rumors about the oldest, most powerful titan Kronos reached the camp.

It scared and frightened many people, including me. That's why we've been training harder and stay awake, even when the stars are shining, so that we can prepare for any catastrophe. To be able to fight.

My mother is the goddess Demeter, my father a simple man. I adore them both, even though my mother isn't one of my closest contacts. But I never really held that against her, because at least she decided to acknowledge me as her daughter. After all, it's a privilege that not everyone gets. My siblings and friends at camp are important to me, but the world is changing and so is everything around it.

The only stability I have left is my boyfriend Luke.

If I had to rely on one person in the whole world (and by that I also mean the underworld), it would be him.

He's been my best friend since I arrived at this camp. We've been together through ups and downs, I know every side of him and he knows everything about me too. Many of the people here are like blank pages to me, but not him. He is like my favorite book, that lays open to me and allows me to read each letter individually. Just as I know every of his dreams, every secret, every truth and every lie. He is my protector, my hero in every dark night and every bright day. Without him, I don't even know who I am. He is a part of me and my heart wouldn't be whole without him.

I watched him grow up. From the small, thin boy whose eyes hid so much pain and sadness to the strong, soulful leader he is today.

His beauty cannot be influenced by anything, he is like my very own sun, without him I could not survive.

I wouldn't want it any other way though.

Now, I'm hiding behind a tree with my back pressed against the bark and I am able to hear the cracking and swinging of the branches.

I smile so wide, that my cheeks start to hurt, when I hear his voice calling. My heart is beating in my throat, but it's not just the adrenaline of not getting caught. It's because of my love for him, which is so strong that sometimes I'm afraid of it. But only in the moments when I realize that nothing, but him is my biggest flaw. I think I would do anything for him.

Then I concentrate again and listen to the sounds around me. But his voice has fallen silent and I don't hear his footsteps anymore.

My eyebrows furrow, confused I try to look around the tree and search for an orange t-shirt. Likely together with his slim body, biceps, beautiful face and wonderful personality.

But when I want to withdraw again, it's already too late. A branch breaks behind me and before I can move I'm pushed against the tree from behind.

I immediately feel his body against mine, hear the laughter in his voice and listen to his strained breathing. His hands wrap around my body and turn me towards him, so that we are now face to face.

He's taller than me and as I look up, I feel the familiar fluttering feeling in my chest. I am so in love with him.

He grins triumphantly at me and I lean against the tree, smiling kindly.

"Found you, princess." The light reflects in his brown eyes and some of his curls are laying wildly on his head. He looks like an angel.

"I made it easy for you." My voice teases him and when he leans in so close to me, that our lips almost touch, I forget how to think properly. A habit I can't change. He's just so captivating.

"Yeah? You think I wouldn't have found you otherwise? Funny. I remember that in the last few years, I always was the winner of our little game." His lips brush mine, I want nothing more than to kiss him. But he knows that, which is why he slowly pulls back, when I start to lean forward.

When I want to complain, he puts his hand around my waist and pulls me into his chest. My knees almost give out, I feel so intoxicated by his presence.

"I-I wanted you to find me." My voice whispers quietly.

His eyebrows rise in mock surprise.

"Then I guess, I can claim my prize without feeling bad." In the next second, his lips are on mine and I'm unable to do anything, other than kissing him back. I wrap my arms around his neck and enjoy the warmth that radiates from him. He sets my heart on fire.

While pushing me against the tree, I've completely forgotten about, he lets his hands wrap possessively around my waist. Digging his nails into my hips, to keep me grounded. Otherwise, I would probably get lost in those sensations.

Luke kisses in a way, like it's the last time he'll have the chance. (As if I would ever want to keep him from doing that).

He's passionate, my body feels like it's on fire and the heat inside me feels so good, that I want more. I can never get enough of him and he knows it. He grins against my lips, but he doesn't break the kiss. I think he secretely loves knowing how much he can mess with me, with just a few kisses.

My hands find his hair and pull him closer to me, our chests touch and his breathing mingles with mine.

It is wonderful and so precious, I would refuse any gift from the gods just to be close to him.

When he pulls away from me, our bodies are still close. My eyes open and look dreamily into his, our gazes reflect a familiarity and love that is like nothing I have ever experienced.

He smiles at me, pushes a stray strand of hair behind my ear and leans himself against me. His fingers stroke the exposed skin of my pulled-up shirt.

"I've missed you." If my heart hasn't melted before, it has now. I give him a kiss on the cheek and hug him, we stand in our embrace for a moment. Enjoying each other's closeness, the calm feeling until the next chaotic situation happens.

"Now we are together again. Only that matters." It's quiet around us and when I close my eyes for the second time, I hear his fast heartbeat. I have to supress a smile.

The wind is the only thing I hear until his voice breaks the silence.

"Something will happen soon. Something big." The peaceful atmosphere is threatened by his words and when I look at his face again, I see his worried eyes.

I sigh, but then nod to agree with him. "I thought about that too, it feels different. Like something is coming our way, that we can't control."

His fingers stroke my cheek and for a moment, his face holds an expression, that I can't understand. It resembles regret.

But before I can ask him about it, he smiles tenderly at me again.

"Nothing will separate us. The world is just a game. It's a matter of time and making the right moves." That is his motto. But I'm not always convinced of this. Even though I trust him to do the right thing.

"I'm just worried we'll get seperated, you know? Evil can be sneaky and traitors always exist. You never know who you can trust." Something I said must have really bothered him, because he looks like I just stabbed him.

This time I ask him about it.

"What's on your mind? You can tell me. Two people who worry about something are better, than one who is alone with it." I take his hand and stroke his skin, it feels cold even though we have summer.

"Nothing, just- I don't want to lose you. I couldn't be here without you. I need you. I mean...I-I love you. You know that I would do anything to keep us together, right?"

His words surprise me. I know he loves me. I can sense that, everyone probably does. But he has never worn his heart on his sleeve and the three magical words only come out of his mouth on special occasions. The fact that he's telling me now surprises me.

"Of course. I trust you. We will survive together, I know that. Are you worried because of the rumors about the Titan King?" This topic is always very critical and he usually doesn't like to talk about it, but this time I decide to address it directly.

"He will come. I just want you to be safe, when it happens." He sounds so confident it gives me goosebumps.

"Perhaps. His followers will definitely try. But love is stronger than anything else. Especially our love. We will get through it." He doesn't look convinced, so I turn his face towards mine and kiss him.

My voice sounds soft, when I speak again.

"Luke, I love you. I could never leave you. Not even the King of the Underworld will be able to keep us apart. I promised to be by your side in every moment of our lives. You are my soul and without it I am damned."

This seems to reassure him, but I feel like he's not telling me something of great importance. But I don't want to push him, I know he will tell me when the time comes.

He always does.

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

As the day comes to an end, I say goodnight to my siblings and report for my night watch duty. The situation has been a lot more worse the recent weeks. Kronos exists, my worst fear was confirmed. And he is building an army, that is so strong that it will be difficult to fight against it. But what I'm really worried about are the rumors about our people, who have also joined his cause.

Nobody knows who, the spies have been hiding ever since. I've never felt like I was paying more attention to my words than I am now. The only person I don't have to hold back to is Luke.

But even with him I notice the effects of the bad news. The circles under his eyes are darker than ever and his nerves are so frayed, that every little thing makes him want to explode. His temper is hanging by a thread, that is increasingly threatening to break. And I'm trying everything to prevent this.

No matter if I try it by making him laugh (which has become difficult), massaging his tense shoulders, trying to kiss him to the point of forgetfulness (usually it's the other way around) or when he takes out his frustration by burying himself deep inside me. With every thrust of his hips, I feel him relax, his hand so tight around my body as if I would run away, if he didn't hold me close enough.

He's changing and I'm trying my best to maintain his good sides. That he doesn't completely lose himself in his responsibilities and the pressure, that he has, because he is a member of the camp council.

Besides, I can't complain, when he fucks me until I can't breathe aynmore and I block out everything around me. When he comes, he whispers the sweetest things in my ear. Even if sometimes they sound so protective, that I could almost come from his voice alone.

When he whispers to me how good I am for him or how much he loves being able to have such a power over me like that - maybe it should scare me, but I trust him like no one else.

My mind concentrated his best for my shift, but when I finally go to bed after quiet some time, my eyes quickly close.

Looking back, I wish I had never let myself sleep that night.

Because, when I close my eyes I see waves. Hear the seagulls screaming in the sky, the fish swimming in the water and the distant cries of strangers.

It's all unusual and the bright light would blind me, if I didn't avert my gaze. And as soon as I do it, I see a ship. It's huge, rust shimmers in the sunrays, the anchor shows that it's been in the same place for a while now.

I feel something pulling me towards it, pushing and burning in my chest, leaving me with a tremor that I can feel, even in my deep sleep.

As I flit through the window like a ghost, I feel paralyzed. My blood freezes, I want to disappear immediately and in my mind I scream at myself to wake up.

But it's no use, whatever is here, someone decided that I have to see it. Only then, my wish will be fulfilled and I can wake up. So, I hide in a corner, there are scratched picture frames above me and broken glass is scattered on the floor. The monsters that loudly crush the glass ahead of me seem unstoppable.

I tremble as I look at at least seven dracaenae, several shaggy hellhounds and set my eyes on gigantes, that take up almost the entire room.

But that is nothing compared to the terror, that grips me when I see my classmates. My friends. People I trusted, who I fought alongside, for who I cared about. People I would have sacrificed myself for. They all betrayed me. And I feel close to tears. When I want to turn away, I hear a voice that almost brings me to my knees.

It's Luke.

My faithful and caring protector, my heroic love. Someone, to which I had dedicated everything. He was my life, with every single breath I took. The motivation behind my every action. The reason I wanted to survive in this cruel world. He was everything I had and everything I will ever have and in that moment it was abruptly taken from me.

I didn't have the strength to concentrate, it was as if every fiber of my body was on fire, triggered by the torment of my suffering heart. Seeing him like that, in black armor, Kronos' silver mark glittering around his neck, instead of his colorful necklace. A stoic, hostile expression on his face, his hands gripping his sword, it all hurt too much to watch.

And as I sank to the floor and covered my eyes with my hands, I was still forced to listen. I couldn't understand why he was saying such things.

"With every day he becomes stronger, with every participation in our army, we become stronger. Everything is planned, the camp is weak. Just like all of its residents. The surprise is on our side, because we will show no mercy. We will kill anyone, who does not confess to us. Do you hear me? No hostages will be taken. Only Hades population will be expanded."

The screams around me are so loud, so angry and horrific that I feel tears running down my cheeks.

I don't want to see any of that. The person infront of me is not my Luke.

A kind of fog creeps around me and I feel cold, it seems too late to forget it now. When I notice the golden coffin and Lukes hunched posture, the scar on the side of his face, I realize he is praying to him.

To the fall of Olympus. Kronos.

I want to cry, to scream, to be angry - but I just feel like every part of my heart is breaking and will never be whole again. Luke will never again be the one to heal it.

My consciousness leaves the ship until I finally wake up, but I can't move at first. I feel lost, my muscles are stiff and after a few seconds I notice that I'm shaking. But it's not because I'm cold, the summer air is wafting in the air.

Such dreams are rare, but are like the own scary predictions of the future.

And then it comes all back so me, the memories, that have just turned my whole life upside down. Traitor. The word appears in my mind, I feel like I almost can't breathe. And then there is a finger on my cheek, gently stroking the skin and my chest immediately becomes warm.

I know this gesture.

When I open my eyes, I see his loving eyes and the smile that covers his mouth makes my heart clench in sorrow.

It was just a nightmare. Luke would never betray me.

But the whispers in my head say otherwise.

As we continue to look at each other in silent, I notice his furrowed eyebrows.

"What's wrong, my love? Did you have a nightmare? You look scared. Don't be afraid, I'm here. I will always protect you." His voice is so calm, so usual loving and it makes the butterflies in my stomach fly around like crazy.

He is so beautiful.

As he briefly turns his head to tighten the blanket around me, I see his side profile and the scar. Reminders of my dream crash onto me like a lightning strike from Zeus himself.

I sat up abruptly. Luke is a servant of our enemy. How could I ignore that? I feel like I'm almost starting to hyperventilate. The thought, this nightmare, Luke's appearance, this evil feeling - it makes me sick. And I'm suddenly so afraid, more than I have ever been in my life. But I can't tell if it's the fact that I just found out he joined Cronos' army or that he broke my heart doing so.

I see him tense, my panic seems to be affecting him too.

My thoughts are so confusing, I don't know what to do, I have to tell someone. I have to-

His hands find their way to my cheeks, cupping them gently to direct his gaze towards himself. I would have preferred not to look at him, but I have no choice. His eyes search mine.

Then, as if the weight of Atlas punishment was put on his shoulders, he lowers them. His lips tremble slightly and his eyes look at me, as if I am the most valuable thing in the world and he is about to lose it.

"You know it." He doesn't have to say what he means by that. We both know.

I want to break away from him, but he won't let me. He's always been much stronger.

But everything still feels so different, light surrounds us and I can't really feel my body.

"Listen to me, please. I can explain it. Please-" The world goes silent, before he can finish his sentence.

It is too much.

I stifle a scream. I want to jump out of bed, but his hands hold me close. I only manage to fall to the ground, breathing heavily, but his arms are much stronger and I'm still weakened by my dream. He trys to hold me in a position, so that his back hugs me. His hands grab mine and one of them covers my mouth to silence me, when I want to scream for help.

With any other person, I would have known what to do. With anyone but him, I could have defended myself without any problems. But it wasn't just anyone and what he had done to me, the betrayal he had committed, was nothing I could handle.

I tried to wriggle out of his grip, to kick him, but the more I cried and the more hysterical I became, the easier it was for him to have control over me.

And for the first time, it scared me.

"Please calm down, I have to explain it to you- you have to know, that I never wanted to deceive you, please-" I notice how his voice is failing and he has to pull himself together, to not to lose his composure.

When I shake his hand away and want to yell again, he grabs my neck with such a warning force, that no sound escapes me.

I tremble in his hold. Tears stream down my cheeks and I literally feel my heart breaking.

Then he starts whispering in my ear and his grip feels like a tragic prison.

"Nobody can know. I never wanted you to find out. Not until I convinced you, that it is the right thing to join him. Because he will win, sweetheart. I want us to win by his side." His voice sounds so confident and at the same time, as if he was a completely different person.

Tears continue running down my face and he slightly let's go of me, so he can comfort me.

"If you would just listen to me, you will understand my actions. Please, just listen to me-" but the world blurs infront of my eyes and I am only able to whisper three words, before darkness surrounds me.

"You betrayed me."

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

When I wake up, my head hurts so much, that it takes me several minutes to open my eyes. When I finally do it, I almost have a heart attack.

I recognize the similarity of this room from my dream. When I stand up, I run to the round window and look out, being only able to see the blue sea. Feeling empty and alone.

When I want to step out the door, I expect it to be locked. But instead the handle turns and I step out of the room. I'm so surprised about that, that I'm acting without thinking twice.

As I walk around the next corner, the deck creaks and I see an ugly creature in front of me, that makes every instinct to escape kick in.

I run in the other direction, but every turn makes me more desperate and, without any consideration, I run into the hall, I was so afraid of.

It is filled with all kinds of ciders, and I also see the figures of my classmates, wounded and unhappy.

It's all so overwhelming, that I dont even see him standing on the podium, in the first place.

But as the monsters try to grab me, his voice echoes through the room with an affable authority.

"Nobody touches her. You hear me? Nobody. She is under my protection." I almost freeze into a stature, as he comes towards me and I have no way of avoiding him. No weapon is within my reach, his eyes notice my growing panic.

"Everyone leaves the room. Now." Nobody discusses it, even if some roll their eyes or quietly protest. His authority is unquestioned, it sends a cold shiver down my spine.

When the last doors slam shut, we stand a few meters opposite each other.

"The doors are guarded." It's the first thing he says.

When he tries to approach me, I lose my nerves and run to the corner with the broken glass, that I saw in my dream. I take them in my hands.

I see his eyes widen and he stops in his tracks.

"You- you want to fight me?" He actually sounds surprised and sad. Like I was the one who betrayed him and not the other way around.

"Don't come any closer. I may not have been able to do anything last time, but if you take one step closer then-" I don't know what to say. In no scenario did I ever think, I would have to threaten him.

But despite my warning, he comes towards me with his hands raised, the panic within me so palpable, that I can feel every muscle in my body.

I dodge, when he is only a few meters in front of me. Right into the next corner. As far away from him as possible.

"Princess, you can't keep me away forever. I've always loved that about you. You need me as much as you need to breathe."

It's supposed to sound sweet, but his words make me feel sick

"I'd rather suffocate." He didn't expect that. My words hit him so unexpectedly that he is almost speechless. Almost.

"I won't hurt you. You just have to let me get to you and I'll show you everything. You will understand, believe me." He really thinks, I'll just stay by his side and let him explain.

"Are you crazy? You're a traitor, Luke. You- you betrayed everyone. You betrayed me. How could you do this?" I suppress my tears, because that's exactly what he's waiting for. That my defense becomes weaker. I can't allow this.

"You dont understand. I always told you I would protect you. And I can only do that, if I'm on the winning side. And I am now. We are." His eyes flash with a craziness that makes me tremble. I don't recognize him.

"Why are you acting this way? You are doing the wrong thing - you give up everything. You're giving up on us." Tears leave my eyes and I see him take a few steps in my direction.

"I'm doing the right thing for us. You'll see. You just have to trust me, please. You know I always win. With the power he gives me, I will be invincible. You don't have to worry about one of us dying in this war anymore." I can't move, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have a way out now. He's too close.

"You are wrong. I would rather die in this war than join this monster and his deceitful army." The shards in my hand hurt, but I don't let them go. They're the only thing I can use to defend myself.

"You would leave me?" His eyes are staring into my soul.

"Would you fight me?" Every word is more intimidating.

"Would you stop loving me?" His words are like his own shards, leaving deep wounds in my heart.

He's standing right in front of me now, looking at me like I'm fragile.

Then he whispers "Would you kill me?"

In the next second, he suddenly has my hands in his, making me drop the glass. Be is only a few centimeters away from me now, his eyes are looking into my own.

"Would you, princess? Then show me." Suddenly he does something, I would have never expected. He takes out his sword and puts it in my hands.

His own hands go behind his back, his eyes tempting me. I feel all the blood in my body drain.

"Do it. I can't live in a world, where you don't love me anymore. In which you are no longer by my side. I am yours. That will never change, just like my love for you."

I can barely hold the sword, it's so wobbly in my hands. He stands in front of me and gives me every chance to defeat him. But I can't move.

It's quiet for a moment, then I see new hope in his eyes and when he speaks again, the tone of his voice melts my heart.

"What did you say a few months ago, you would always let me win? Let's win together this time. Please, just listen to me." His hand strokes my cheek. Wipes away the tears.

Then he drops his hand and grasps his sword, letting it fall to the ground.

He takes my hand instead.

"Follow me." He pulls me behind him, closer and closer to the golden coffin, it's like I'm in a trance, but when I finally feel the cold aura of something cruel, I'm able to think clearly again.

"No-" I don't want to be one step closer to this thing.

He turns around so quickly, that I can only slap his cheek, before he grabs me again.

"That was for kidnapping me. Let me go now!" I want to avoid his grasp. But again he does something I don't expect.

He holds me still, catches my gaze and then, kisses me so gently that the feeling alone makes me almost completely defenseless. His hands cup my cheeks, grip my hair, hold my body.

This is probably his worst trick. I've never been able to resist one of his kisses. And he knows that. He uses it against me.

Then he murmurs words against my lips, that barely reach my ears.

My heart is pounding in my throat.

"You feel this? We belong together. It is not written anywhere on which side we need to be. As long as we are together." His fingers stroke my lower lip, his figure towers over me and for a moment my surroundings fade. It's almost like always.

But he's not wearing his orange t-shirt, his expression isn't relaxed, and I don't hear any insults from the camp members in the distance.

"You're manipulating me." I am powerless against him. I thought we were on the same team, that no one had more power over the other one. But I was so wrong.

His eyebrows furrow again, and when his hands try to pull me against him, I hit his chest, without thinking, with the only piece of glass I hid in my pocket. But unlike I expected, nothing happens. The shard bounces off his skin and falls loudly to the ground. I can only stare at him in disbelief.

"How-" He just looks at me worried, no anger is visible in his eyes.

"You can't hurt me. I have the curse of Achilles upon me." I suddenly become aware of the effect the lake Styx in the underworld hast and I almost fall to the ground at the realization, my knees weaken.

"That was a test earlier. You wanted to see if I would kill you-" my voice fails.

He just looks at me sadly and smiles in regret. My heart becomes heavy.

"And I knew you wouldn't hurt me on purpose. You would never hurt someone you love. Not if you'd kill me in the process." What can I do? He knows me better than anyone, he can see right through my every thought.

"I can't do this, Luke. I-I can't be together with you, if you are like this." I'm serious, but he doesn't believe me.

"That's what you think, but it's a lie. The sooner you admit it to yourself, the more pain you avoid. Our souls are linked together, without me you are not able to live. I know, that you will continue to love me, no matter what I decide to do. That's how much you love me. You would rather die than not loving me."

I can't listen to him. I can't.

But his eyes are like all the promises in the world. He is my world. How could I ever forget that?

"Please come back with me, Luke. I-I won't tell anyone, but please. Let's go, let's forget everything, please-" I cant deal with this anymore. It's like he's draining all the energy out of me. More with every word, that leaves his lips.

"I can not do that. It will stay the way it is now. Don't fight against me, fight with me. You are so smart and loyal, you will be convinced. He will show you." His eyes now flash with something that frightens me. I see his hunger for power, something that has always been dormant within him.

"Luke, the only thing I ever really wanted was you. No power, no war, no prosperity. Only you. But I'm about to lose you. Don´t do this to me, I beg you." My hands find his face, stroke the skin and I look into his eyes. But they are no longer the same ones I fell in love with.

I never thought he would love having power more than he loves me. It breaks my heart.

"I have decided. Nothing will change about that. Not even your pleadings. I'm sorry." His eyes reflect my desperation.

"What's holding you back? All you need is me." He says it so confident, that I almost wonder, why I don´t agree with him.

But my conscience has always been my greatest strength.

"I won't betray them. I couldn't live with myself, if I did." He takes a step back.

"But you could live without me? You would rather be by Jackson's side than mine?" His words hurt me. But he speaks the truth.

"I love you Luke, more than I ever thought was possible. But just as you put power before me, I put loyalty first. And I'm not sorry about that."

Frustration finally seeps through his perfect facade. I wonder how long he's been playing with me. The thought of it makes everything inside me tighten.

"I am not letting you go. Our fate is set. You will recognize it too and when that happens, you will be on my side."

His conviction frightens me, but this time it doesn't freeze me into a statue. Now, I'm running away.

And luckely, he didn't expect that.

For a few minutes now I've noticed one of the windows, that doesn't look very stable. I just have to jump against it to open it.

"NO!" Luke's voice echoes across the room, loud and warning, but it doesn't stop me. Before he can catch up with me, I jump towards the window, my shoulder hurts, but I was right, it breaks.

But I didn't think about the height difference and I realize it might be too late to do something about it now.

As I try to hold on to the wall outside, two thoughts repeat in my mind.

Either I die or I'm trapped.

Then I hear Luke's voice. He sounds desperate and at the same time angry, like I have never heard him before.

The wall is slippery and it takes every bit of strength in me not to fall, I know it would be my death. I hold on to the broken wall.

"She is outside. Get her back, NOW!" My muscles hurt and I don't know what to do. Then I hear the loud beating of wings. Before I can see who it is, I hear Percy's quiet voice. I feel like crying.

"Drop down, I've got you." I have to trust him. So, I let myself fall without thinking.

Then I feel myself landing on something soft, I hold on to it and my knuckles turn white.

The screams and shouts of the monsters make me tremble, I just want to get out of here. Even if it means, that I perhaps will never see Luke again.

"Come on, now. They'll be here soon." As the wings of the Pegasus move towards the sky, towards freedom, I let the tears fall. The wind is beating around my ears and I can only see in the corner of my eyes that we are getting closer to the clouds.

Luke's threatening voice is the last thing I remember as I close my eyes from the grief of leaving him.

#percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #x reader #greek gods #love #betrayal #angst #percy pjo #percy series #annabeth chase #percy jackson

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Treading On Thin Ice

Word Count: 8,000+

Warnings: Some language, insanity, frightening sequences???

Summary: A little bit of peppermint bark goes a long, long way.  || Kol x reader || Here lies my Masterlist || Christmas At The Compound 2022 ||

A/N: This fic was requested on Wattpad. The books mentioned and quoted in this fic are The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson and A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. I do not own them. Thanks for reading!

☃️Story Begins Below☃️

Generosity - The spirit and action of freely and frequently giving to others.

"Y/N/N!" 

Rebekah's voice carried your name across the compound and you glanced up from wrapping garland around the railing of one of the Mikaelson's many stairwells. You knew you should have been prepared for when the blonde girl just appeared at the top of the stairs as if having teleported, yet the sight still made you jump. It wasn't your fault though, despite having been raised in the house of a witch. You were really only used to the concept of vampires - not the reality.

"Y/N/N," She repeated. "I need to ask you something."

"Hi, Bekah." You offered her a small smile to show that you were listening. The girl waved her hand dismissively.

"Yes, hello. I-" She paused, regarding the decorations you'd been working on. "Oh, darling, that's coming along splendid!"

You let go of a chuckle at her attitude. Oftentimes Rebekah would forget that she didn't have to be terse with you. "Why thank you, Bex," You said, moving into a mock bow.

"You're welcome." The girl smiled, grateful you understood her behavior. So few did. "Anyway, I wanted to ask if you intended to make any more of those thin mints by chance?" 

You raised a brow. "Are they gone already?" You wondered, amused but not surprised. "Man, I knew those were gonna be popular but I didn't know they were gonna be that popular. I should've made a bigger batch."

Rebekah's smile turned a little sheepish. "Could you make another one? Please?" She turned her pleading eyes on you and though you hadn't intended on refuting her request, you most certainly weren't going to now. You couldn't deny that girl anything. "I don't mean to be demanding, but they were so fantastic."

You snorted and turned back to your decorating with a slight shake of your head. Mass murderers or not, her family was way too good to you. "You're not being demanding, Bekah. Honestly, I don't think you guys ask enough of me, all things considered."

She frowned. "But you're-"

"Pregnant! I know. Trust me, I'm well aware." You cut her off, holding up a finger. "However, one month pregnant is not dead. I'm fine and I feel great. So as long as you guys are providing room and board for me, the least I can do is help out and cater to y’all’s raging sweet tooth's. Savvy?"

Rebekah groaned playfully. "Ugh! I suppose if you must," She huffed. 

“Oh, I must.”

The blonde original's face softened affectionately and she sighed. "Has anyone ever told you how amazing you are, Y/N?"

"No, not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?" You tossed her a wink and she rolled her eyes. "I'll get on those thin mints as soon as I'm done here," You said. "Who knows? Maybe I'll make some Chex Mix too."

The girl's expression lit up and she skipped down the stairs to pull you into a hug. "You're the best Christmas present ever!" She cheered. 

You couldn't help but laugh. Turns out, all those stories about the youngest Mikaelson were completely wrong. She wasn't outright cruel and snide, she was just cautious. She didn't like being betrayed and thus didn't trust easily. However, you had quickly worn down her defenses with your sugary confections.

You pulled away from her arms upon hearing the familiar squeal of the front gates. Elijah was back! Though you turned to greet him with a smile on your face, that excitement quickly dimmed as you caught sight of the grim expression he wore. Beside him, Josh - one of your closest friends since you'd moved in - looked equally disturbed. Something was very wrong.

"Joshua, in the basement you'll find what we need. Fetch them quickly please," Elijah said. His tone was polite as always but it carried an undercurrent that made it clear he wasn't asking. Josh nodded, quick to comply.

Worried, you cast a quick glance at Rebekah - a question evident in your eyes. The blonde just shook her head, lips pursed and brows drawn together.

"Rebekah?" Elijah called from below. Something in his voice was urgent.

"What is it, brother?" The girl demanded, pushing passed you. "What's going on?"

A scowl twisted your good friend's lips and his eyes darkened. "It's Kol."

Rebekah inhaled sharply. "What?"

"He's come back." Elijah's frown deepened. "Kol is here in the quarter and he appears to be in the midst of one of his episodes."

"Oh bloody hell." That was the first time you'd seen Rebekah look truly frightened.

"I know," Elijah sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We have to get Y/N out of here. Now."

You blinked, feeling a spike of dread slash through your chest. You-you couldn't leave. You couldn't. He was out there. He would find you. You couldn't let him get to you. You didn’t care what sort of danger you were in now, getting torn to shreds by an original vampire would be preferable to allowing that disgusting excuse for a man to ever lay his beady eyes on you again. Elijah had promised.

"It's too late for that!" Rebekah argued faster than you could open your mouth. "If he's already in the city, then he'll be watching us, brother. The second we try to send Y/N anywhere, knowing Kol, he'll probably try to eat her!"

Alright, admittedly that didn't sound like a great option.

"Then what?" The dark-haired original questioned. "What do we do with her, Rebekah? Because, by the old gods, I will not allow that girl and her child to be hurt by anyone, especially Kol."

"And I appreciate that!" You called down to them timidly. "Excuse me, just so we're on the same page, is this the super insane brother who likes to snack on people like I snack on cheese and crackers?"

"That would be the one," Rebekah huffed, frowning. She turned back to Elijah. "If we caught him, could we keep him contained until he rides it out?" She suggested.

Your friend shook his head. "I don't like the idea of Kol and Y/N under the same roof."

"I don't think we have another option," Rebekah said.

“It’s too risky,” Elijah insisted.

“I’ll take that risk,” You spoke up. Your voice shook only slightly and you clutched the railing for support but you stood your ground. You would be brave. 

Elijah sighed again - he’d always taken such good care of you and you loathed to ask him for one more favor but you had to. “Y/N, you know I respect you, but I don’t think you comprehend how dangerous my brother truly is.” 

“Maybe not,” You admitted, shrugging. “But you’ve beaten him before, haven’t you?”

“Only with the help of Niklaus, and only when we’ve managed to catch him by surprise,” He pointed out with a shake of his head. “But Niklaus is miles away, and Kol is expecting us to retaliate.”

“Expecting?” Rebekah scoffed. “He’s not expecting us to retaliate, Elijah. You make him sound passive. This is Kol! You know as well as I that he intends to force us! I’d bet he’s already dropping bodies, so either we subdue him or we lose the quarter!”

Grim realization cast a shadow over your dearest friend’s expression and he nodded his weary agreement. “It’s a trap,” He conceded. The deceptively young man raised his eyes to you again. “Now do you see why you must go?”

“If I leave, then that just plays into his hand doesn’t it?” You noted. “If his whole goal is to bait you into reacting, then-” you jabbed a finger toward your chest “- let’s not hand him extra bait!”

“You know she’s right,” Rebekah pressed softly. He clenched his jaw.

“Please don’t make me leave?” You whispered. “Please don’t break your promise.”

He held your eyes for a moment, then Elijah cursed under his breath and turned to his sister. "Fine, we do it your way," He reluctantly agreed. "Y/N, go to your room and stay there please. Don't come out unless Rebekah, Josh, or myself come to collect you. This is for your own safety, do you understand?"

You could sense the seriousness of the situation in the depths of his pine bark eyes. You decided it best not to question.

"Okay."

It wasn't as though you'd been living with the Mikaelsons for very long - no more than a few weeks really - but even in such a short time, the three siblings you were familiar with had told you plenty about their youngest brother. Horror stories, that was what you'd been told. Even Rebekah, who spoke of the wild Original with the most fondness among her family couldn't deny his thirst for mass slaughter. According to his siblings, Kol liked hurting people. 

That wasn't a concept you could really understand. While it was true that you didn't know him personally and that you had a tendency to see the best in people, you found it hard to believe that Kol could be quite as horrid as his siblings claimed. From what you had been told about their kind by your mother, the Mikaelsons themselves, and Josh, Kol sounded more like a raging addict than a raging psychotic. Though you were probably wrong. Again, your familiarity with the nature of vampires was purely theoretical.

That was why you decided to heed Elijah's orders.

All danger aside, being confined to your room for a few hours didn't bother you so much. After all, you had the entire Stormlight Archive sitting on your shelf, so it wasn't as if you could really get bored. Funnily enough, it was only after Elijah and his sister returned that you found it much harder to remain behind your locked door.

Your head shot up when the first scream tore through the air. Ear piercing, shrill, bloodcurdling, and ominous, the sound alone was enough to set your heart racing. That scream was followed by several shouts.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Get that away from him!" That voice belonged to Josh - he sounded worried, disturbed.

"No!" A different voice cried. "No, Ethan! Don't do it!"

Then that scream came again. It morphed into words. 

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" 

"Ethan, no!" Josh yelled desperately.

The scream came once more, intense and unremitting, rising to a crescendo that chilled you to your very bones. Then, all at once, the sound cut off.

You sat there on your bed, frozen. Your back ramrod straight as you clutched your book to your chest and waited. For eight beats of your pounding heart, silence permeated the compound - a shocked, absolute sort of silence. The kind that follows death like a shadow.

Then like a crack of thunder in the night, there was laughter. Sick, horrid laughter. It was rasping and manic, crazed and deranged - unfeelingly cold and slick like ice, there was a hoarse, retching quality to it, lurking just beneath the surface. It echoed off the walls and through your skull, sending a shiver down your spine. The sensation of a thousand invisible eyes descended upon you and your breathing turned harsh and frantic.

The laughing stalled.

"Oh, what fun this is!" A new voice exclaimed, you'd never heard it before and you would have been satisfied never to hear it again. "I do so love a little jaunt through an inferior mind. Perhaps you should mandate vervain intake for your lackeys, Elijah. After all, the least you could do is make it a challenge for me, eh?"

That voice… That voice! It was repulsive - downright sickening. There was no warmth in it whatsoever - no life - only stone-cold death and wretched, scathing, venom. It stole the warmth of the room you resided in. Yet, at the same time, something about the sound was so smooth, so alluring and playful, that you almost felt inclined to listen. Something in his voice nearly goaded you to relax, to trust whoever welded it like a gleaming silver blade. That voice didn't sound dangerous. 

It sounded… tempting.

Perhaps that was what made it so bloody terrifying. You had never felt more unsettled in your life. Not even when he had been shadowing your every step. That man's obsession with you was nothing compared to the stark horror now flooding your senses.

What was going on out there?

The calm timbre of Elijah's voice cut through the air soon after, but his words didn't do much to calm you.

"Why do insist on this bloodshed, brother?" He demanded, voice ragged - patience worn thin.

"Because. It's. Fun."

And that awful laughter came again, seeming to fold in on itself and multiply. Growing louder, almost gleeful, it was manic and maddening, like a pack of hyenas encircling their prey. Locked in your room, you felt trapped yet exposed. What was going on out there? You had to know.

So you did something undeniably stupid. You got up and opened your door. Stealing out into the hall, you swiftly ducked behind a pillar and peeked through the second-floor railing, taking in the courtyard below. There in the center of the compound, a ring of vampires stood around a young dark-haired man. 

He both scared and fascinated you. 

Perhaps you would have thought the boy to be beautiful had his features not been tainted with madness. His thick dark hair seemed soft and you might have liked to run a hand through it had those locks not been disheveled and flecked with blood. His lips might have distracted you had they not been twisted into a vile sneer. His teeth were perfectly white but the terrible, deadly fangs he displayed ruined the illusion. Perhaps his eyes might have been deep enough to lose yourself in, but the curse in his blood and the rage in his heart had corrupted them with a horrific blackness that seemed to overflow, fracturing his otherwise innocent features into the visage of a monster.

Two steel cuffs clad his forearms, these attached to hulking, robust chains that looked strong enough to hold the weight of an ocean liner. Those cuffs burned the skin beneath them, rendering his arms a repulsive mess of scorching red flesh and blood. He hissed and laughed, purely demented, as he tugged and tore at the chains but, positioned on either side, each holding fast to a chain, stood Rebekah and Elijah. Both of your friends had their respective chains wrapped around their arms, struggling despite their teamwork to restrain their brother.

The vampires circled around them each kept hold of their own ropes. The thick cords were wrapped around his throat, others around his arms and legs and yet, all of them together couldn't seem to bring him down. There was one rope, you noted, that had gone slack. You followed the line with your eyes and quickly stifled a scream. A bloody corpse lay sprawled on the ground with a jagged length of wood impaled through his heart - self-inflicted. 

Above you, a clap of thunder shook the sky and the heavens opened, raining down vicious hail though the day had been cloudless only minutes before. This was New Orleans - it doesn’t hail in Louisiana. You shuddered from the cold and the horror, but that disgusting, unhinged laughter only re-doubled.

"No matter what you see or hear, know that it is merely an illusion!" Elijah's voice rang through the courtyard. Bold and commanding, it rose over the unnatural icefall. "Keep him out and you will not be deceived." 

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that," The awful voice drawled, sounding so clearly from the boy at the center of it all. He merely grinned.

Within moments, a second scream - not the first you'd heard - erupted from the courtyard. Then another, seconds later. And another one again after that! One by one, shrieks permeated the atmosphere until the cries of the undead were all you could hear. Several of the surrounding vampires collapsed to their knees. There was retching and sobbing, some were choking while others gasped for breath.

Amidst the pain and the chaos, Kol lifted his face to the sky, eyes closed and mouth warping into a grin. And that monster kept on laughing. "I don't think they can help it, Elijah!" He taunted, sadistically gleeful.

"Josh?" Rebekah called over the gathering storm. "Josh, you have to fight it!"

Of all the others surrounding the siblings, Josh was the only one left standing. He screwed his eyes shut, his expression drawn with effort. 

"I-I'm trying!" He bit out between clenched teeth.

You drew in a sharp breath, wishing you could reach out and take your friend away from this insanity. "Josh…" You whispered, still crouched as you watched from your hiding place. 

The monster in the courtyard heard you. His eyes snapped open and locked onto your own. It all happened so fast. 

You had never wanted to imagine what a lobotomy might feel like, but you were certain you received a taste of one then as something - some powerful, vile force worked itself into your mind with all the delicate touch of an ice-pick driven by a sledgehammer. You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head in an attempt to wrest his consciousness away from yours but your feeble inexperience was pathetic in the face of this practiced maniac, backed by enough raw power to rival that of Klaus. An unnatural chill ran down your spine as any mental barrier you had shattered like stained glass in a storm and the last glimpse of reality you caught was that demented grin of his widening into a bleeding gash across his face. 

"Now, now, now… What do we have here?" That terrible voice whispered into your ear. A pair of hands - soft and warm though you didn't want them to be - settled on your shoulders and you froze. You didn't move. You couldn't move as his hands trailed down your arms and he knelt just behind you. Those hands slid to your wrists, thumbs pressing in to find your pulse. "Human," He hummed a second later, blunt teeth tugging gently at your earlobe, nipping almost teasingly. "How interesting." You didn't understand why you couldn't move! Your body simply refused to respond. "You know, I've torn through quite a few of your kind today…" Kol's mouth moved lower, leaving soft kisses along your throat as his hands shifted to your hips. Two sharp points scraped over your jugular. "Yet, not one of them smelled so sweet," He murmured, that insatiable hunger more than evident in his tone. "What are you going to taste like, I wonder?" 

Finally, you could react. (He let you react. He was the one in control here. Kol wanted to see you run scared.) You cried out, jabbing your elbow backward into his chest and scrambling away from him as fast as you could. The monster just watched, amused, and tilted his head. "Who are you, sweet-thing?"

"Y-you're not real," You stammered, trying to sound brave. 

"Are you sure?" His tone was playful, mocking as he grinned and stalked closer. "I think you should guess again."

He seemed real, he felt real but it was all in your head. Elijah had said so. You could always trust Elijah.

"You're not real! " You shouted, voice growing firm. "Get out of my head and leave me alone!"

His expression soured into a scowl. "Perhaps you're right," He said. Then, in a split second, Kol was behind you. "But I'm not too far away, am I?" 

Your eyes snapped open and you knew he had let you go because those haunting black abysses stared back at you with a promise.

Yet, in the moments you had grabbed Kol's attention, Josh had found his opening. He raced up from behind and jabbed a syringe directly into that monster's neck, injecting him with enough vervain to down three original vampires. Kol roared and threw his head back, clipping Josh's skull with an impact that would have killed any human instantly, but it was too late. His legs soon gave out and he fell to the ground - out cold.

Yet, you found yourself unable to truly process what had happened. You got to your feet, clinging to the railing for support but you didn’t move beyond that. Below you, the other vampires recovered from whatever attack Kol had unleashed on their sanity. 

“Take him to the basement,” Rebekah ordered, letting go of a long breath as she collapsed into a chair. The others nodded and got to work. You just watched them, seemingly unable to tear your eyes from her brother as they dragged the temporarily lifeless corpse away.

“Would you like to tell me exactly what you were thinking,” Elijah’s voice sounded from behind you, effectively shocking you from your stupor. You jumped, turning to face his displeased expression. Yeah, you were in trouble all right.

“I can honestly say I have no idea,” You replied, pressing your lips into a thin line. “It just sort of… happened.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you have any idea what my brother could have done to you if he had broken free?” 

“I don’t think I want to imagine that, thank you.” You rocked back and forth on your heels nervously as Elijah’s glare intensified. “But, hey! He’s out for the count, so it’s all fine!” He crossed his arms over his chest and you let go of a nervous chuckle. “How was he so powerful anyway, huh? I mean, that was weird,” You pointed out, gesturing to the storm overhead. Its intensity was rapidly waning.

“The dude was higher than a kite, that’s how!” Josh called up to you. He’d begun cleaning up the body of his fallen friend.

You raised a brow. “What does that have anything to do with it?”

“Kol’s been snacking his way through several states on his way here, and with our father dead, its not like he had to worry about avoiding attention,” Rebekah sighed, rubbing at her temples.

“I mean, we’re talking a kill count higher than my carrer best in Call of Duty,” Josh added. “And that’s saying a lot!”

“Is it though?” You teased.

“It is actually,” He sassed. “Anyway, running on that much death is like running on a concoction of jet fuel, monster energy, red bull, sixty three pounds of sugar, eight tablespoons of the essence of Dwane Johnson, a five hour energy, seven triple espresso shots, and gorilla testosterone… with just a dash of peppermint.”

You blinked. “Interesting metaphore,” You admitted. “Please never say that again.”

He just shrugged grinning. You turned back to Elijah. “So if your brother is that doped up, then what’s going to stop him from tearing his way outta’ this joint as soon as he wakes up?”

“We'll keep injecting him with vervain on the hour until he regains a grasp on his fragile sanity,” Rebekah answered for her brother.

“And if that fails we’ve raised a barrier spell to keep him contained,” Elijah said. His expression softened and he placed a hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze. “As long as you stay out of the basement, Kol will be unable to harm you.”

Nodding, you bit your lip. “I sure hope so.” Unwittingly you cast your eyes toward the doorway through which Kol had disappeared, and a thread of curiosity tugged on the corner of your mind. You shook it away. “I’m gonna go make those thin mints now.”

For the next week and a half, you did a rather excellent job of putting Kol out of your mind. It was no easy task, mind you, considering the occasional screams of outrage, strings of profanity, and creative death threats that rang through the compound every now and again. (That boy had quite the set of lungs on him.) The death threats especially gave you a good reason not to go wandering into the basement. It wasn't until the tenth day of administering hourly vervain injections, that Josh finally declared the guy "moderately chill". 

"Define, moderately chill?" Rebekah demanded. Elijah had forbidden her from seeing their brother - knowing their presence was only likely to rile him up. But that couldn't keep her from worrying.

Josh shrugged. "I mean, he's not trying to impale me on my own rib cage anymore."

"Wait, I thought you guys said he was restrained!" You said, a slight note of panic rising into your voice.

"Oh, he is," Josh assured you. "Doesn't stop him from trying though."

You grimaced, reminding yourself yet again why going down to see the wild Original was a less-than-intelligent idea.

But two days after that, your curiosity began to outweigh your common sense. You started to pity the guy, he must have been lonely down there all alone - not to mention bored… and hungry. As a person who was quite fond of food, you didn't want to imagine what going without it for a week would have to be like.

Thus, you decided to pay him a little visit and came up with every justification in the book as to why because morbid curiosity was an awful reason. Rebekah had told you that Kol could be really sweet when he wanted to be, so you figured that it certainly couldn't hurt to earn yourself a place in his good graces. Bringing him something to eat sounded like an excellent way to do just that. Besides, you had found a new recipe for peppermint bark and you needed a guinea pig. Elijah and Rebekah were off doing whatever it was they did to keep the peace in the French Quarter, and Josh was on a date. You wouldn't have a better chance.

So, you pushed all thoughts of self-preservation aside and ventured down into the basement, armed with a cookie sheet, a billiard cue, two blood bags, a plate of peppermint bark, and Brandon Sanderson's The Way of Kings.

There wasn't exactly a cell down there per se - just a dingy alcove behind a small archway with a cot set up in the center. Despite it being invisible, you could instantly tell where the barrier spell was. Apparently, Kol had been entertaining himself by attempting to spit past it. He clearly hadn't had much luck as there was a semi-consistent line of dried blood marring the stone floor. It reminded you of something out of Lilo and Stich. Well, you'd been right about the boredom.

Peering through the archway, you studied the boy inside. His wrists were still clasped in those shackles you'd seen before, except now those had been secured to opposite walls. The skin beneath the cuffs was still red and raw, in fact, you thought you could see smoke curling off of it. That had to be painful, though you tried very hard not to pity him. Shifting your attention to his face you were shocked at how peaceful and innocent his expression seemed. He was sprawled across the cot, fast asleep and you couldn't help but find him… cute. This boy looked nothing like the monster you had seen two weeks ago.

You sat down on the floor just beyond the magic barrier and watched him for a bit. Not in a creepy way. You just didn't want to wake him and if you did, you had no idea what to say.

Turns out, you didn't need to worry about that because Kol woke up on his own. He groaned, lifting his head and his eyes fixed on yours. 

"It's you…" His voice was dry and scratchy, though you couldn't expect much less from a person who hadn't had anything to drink in two weeks. Confusion colored his expression initially but within seconds, dark veins crawled outwards from his eyes, spilling down his cheeks and you caught a glimpse of his fangs. You froze as he stared at you longingly. Then he groaned and curled himself into a ball like a child with a stomach ache. Only then did you notice the shadows beneath his eyes and the profound lack of color in his skin. 

"Are you hungry?" What a stupid question.

"Starving," Kol growled miserably. "Come to torture me, have you?"

"No, actually I brought you a snack."

He glanced up, raising a brow. "Excuse me?"

You held up one of the blood bags and his eyes widened. In a split second, he was off the cot and straining against the chains. Their length allowed him within a mere three feet of where you sat and you jumped back. Kol hissed, his pitch-black eyes singularly focused on the bag in your hand. He struggled and thrashed, gleaming fangs on full display.

The color in your face drained away.

There was the monster you'd seen in the courtyard.

"Scared, are we?" He growled, sneering. Those teeth snapped at you with all the power of a hyena.

You didn't reply. You just backed away.

"DON'T YOU DARE TURN YOUR BACK ON ME!"

But that's exactly what you did. You turned and ran from that place as fast as you could, clamping your hands over your ears to block out his voice as Kol screamed insults at your back.

Yet, you found yourself returning two days later. Apparently, Josh's date had gone well and there was some problem across the river that Bekah and Elijah had to take care of. You knew you had absolutely no reason to extend your kindness to that monster in the basement again, especially after he'd so completely rejected it the last time; however, you were a generous person and if he wanted to be a jerk to you then that was his problem. You would keep being kind regardless of how he decided to treat you because really Kol was only hurting himself. He was growing weaker by the minute - starvation had to be excruciating and you were offering him a respite from that pain. He was sure to concede eventually.

So down the steps, you descended once again, moving to sit on the floor just beyond the barrier spell. This time, Kol was already awake. He struggled to sit up, arms shaking, and glared at you viciously. 

"Ah, she's back," He snarled, lip curling with disgust. But it wasn't entirely genuine, you could see the curiosity and surprise shining through his eyes.

"I am." You nodded, holding up the blood bag as you had done before. "And I brought you something."

Kol's eyes immediately turned black, but this time he remained carefully still. "What do you want?"

You shrugged. "I wanna give this to you."

His eyes narrowed as he forced himself to look at you - not the crimson substance in your hand. "What do you really want?" He pressed.

"I really want to give this to you! Unless you try to attack me again, in which case I'll leave and come back tomorrow and the next day and the next until you get over your ego and take the hand that's being offered to you."

Kol scoffed, rolling his eyes. "And why would you want to help me get out of here, darling? First thing I'd do is rip into that pretty little neck of yours."

"Oh, heavens no," You snorted, grinning wryly. "I don't want you out of there any more than you want to be in there."

"Then why offer?" He demanded.

You shrugged. "Well, starvation doesn't sound too pleasant. You must be feeling pretty sick by now."

The vampire's eyes darkened and he scowled. "I don't want, nor do I need your pity, bug," He spat. If looks could kill, you would have been drawn and quartered.

"Good thing this isn't pity."

"Then what is it?" He mocked.

"The fruit of generosity," You answered, “which you have long denied your fellow men.” 

“That’s Charles Dickens,” Kol hummed. “Never did like him.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. "Well, in that case, think of it as a Christmas present."

"Generosity…" Kol hummed the word, watching you appraisingly. "People will take advantage of that, you know."

You huffed a laugh but there was no humor in it. "Believe me… I know." You knew better than most. You quickly met his eyes again. "But you won't."

He seemed to find that deceleration extremely amusing. "Oh, is that what you think?" He chuckled. "Darling, with that in your hand, I could easily find my way back into your head. I could do whatever I wanted. I could drive you mad."

"You could. But I know you won't."

"Do you have faith in my humanity, sweetheart?" He teased. His grin was a sharp row of gleaming teeth.

"Nope!" You exclaimed. You held up your hand exposing a ring. It wasn't really your vervain jewelry - that was the new ankle bracelet that Elijah had bought you - but Kol didn't need to know that. "I got an upgrade. Smart bug."

He huffed a laugh, amused by your cheek. "The possession of a brain does not make you intelligent."

You just rolled your eyes. "Look, do you want this or not?" You asked, gesturing to the blood bags again. Kol's attention was once again enamored with it. You watched him try to hold back, try to retain his pride but it wasn't long before he broke.

"Fine," He bit out. His eyes flicked to meet yours. "I want it."

"Next time I'll teach you to say please." You smirked and tossed him the bag.

He caught it easily and for the briefest of moments, you thought you caught him watching you. Then that moment was gone and he tore into it, groaning voraciously as he practically inhaled its contents. As soon as he was done with it, you tossed him the next, wordlessly. He downed it without a second thought, and though he tried to keep up the spiteful, angry facade, you could see Kol's relief visible in his posture. 

"Is that better?" You asked as soon as he finished. He just glared and tossed the empty bags back at you. 

Shrugging, you scooped those up and opened the Tupperware container you'd brought with you - the one full of peppermint bark - and shook it.

He watched you for a moment, seething. "Now what?"

You grinned cheekily. "Want some? I made it just yesterday."

Kol rolled his eyes, moving to sit on the cot where he rested his arms on his knees. He watched you with narrowed eyes but took his time to reply. "What I want, darling, is to know who the hell you are."

"Me?" You raised a brow. "I'm Y/N Y/LN."

Kol huffed. "What's a bloody name mean to me?"

"Not too much, apparently," You muttered.

"Who are you? What are you? Why are you here?" The boy in the cell demanded, seeming more curious now than furious. 

"Well, I already told you my name. I'm pretty human as far as I know, and I'm here because I make poor life decisions," You said. It was no crime that you didn't want to tell Kol your life story. He didn't need to know any of it.

"Poor life decisions, eh?" He offered you a wry grin. "Would you mind elaborating on that?"

"Yes," You deadpanned. "Look, I did something stupid and Elijah brought me here. That's all you need to know."

"Why would my brother bother himself with you?" His tone was somewhat accusatory, though you couldn't comprehend why.

You shrugged. "I dunno. I guess it's because Elijah's sorta like my… cousin."

"Cousin?"

"One can never have too many cousins," You said, smirking.

Kol scoffed. "I beg to differ. One can absolutely have too much family."

"True, however, cousins are not immediate family," You countered. "They're more like friends who feel obligated to do you favors."

"Ahh…" He nodded. "I see. So you're a manipulative bitch then, eh?"

Your face soured though it was mostly theatrics because Kol was entirely right. Beneath that frown, you were smirking. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I prefer the term: opportunist. Plus, I'm not a complete leech. I help out here and there. I dust shelves, sweep floors…" You shook that container of peppermint bark again and shrugged. "I bake... I'm helping."

Kol snorted. "It's cute that you think that."

"Oh, so you admit that I'm cute?" You teased, winking at him.

He raised a brow. "Flirting are we? When you're so fond of my brother? Darling!" He shook his head reprovingly. "That'll get you onto Santa's naughty list for sure. Then again, my brother does have a thing for women who take advantage of him…"

"Elijah?" You balked. "Dude! I just said he's like my cousin… This ain't Alabama!"

Kol chuckled darkly and once again, he was in control of the conversation. The guy was quite good at gaining the upper hand. "Well, in that case, sweetheart, I'd be infinitely more worried."

"Why?" You questioned, narrowing your eyes.

"Because you won't be able to keep this little ruse of yours up forever," He reasoned. There was a sick gleam that didn't belong in such innocent eyes. "Niklaus or my sister - one of them will figure out what really drives you, then you'll be wishing you had the romantic affections of that noble stag to protect you when the claws and teeth come out. My family is not one to be manipulated."

Kol was good at intimidation, that much was true, and his inferences were logical but he needed to work on his humility. That boy had jumped the gun. 

You smirked. "Who said it's them I'm manipulating?"

He blinked, tilting his head. His eyes flicked along your frame, inspecting you again. "Clever bug." He grinned. "This isn't generosity, is it? No, not at all. You're just trying to butter me up."

"Is it working?" You hummed.

"Nah."

"Alright!" You shrugged. You didn't need it to work. Not right away. "I've got some time, want me to read to you?"

"Certainly not!" Kol said. "I want more answers."

"Then ask more questions." You shrugged, mostly indifferent. "But at least be a decent person and try the treats." You loaded up the cookie sheet with a few pieces of peppermint bark and, using the billiard cue, pushed it past the boundary spell. Kol got up, regarding you somewhat distrustfully. Despite the restraints, he managed to get close enough to hook his foot around the lip of the cookie sheet, pulling it closer to himself before bending down and picking up a shard of the treat. He inspected it carefully, then after a moment, cast his eyes back up to yours.

"It's poisoned, isn't it?" He accused. 

You scowled, taken aback. "Of course not! I'm offended, Kol. Honestly, what do you take me for? I wouldn't waste perfectly good vervain on you! Not to mention, that's a vile misuse of perfectly good peppermint bark!"

"Then why are you so desperate for me to ingest this?" He challenged with a sneer.

"Because it's a new recipe," You reasoned, tossing your hair over your shoulder with an indignant huff. "What if it turns out to be nasty? I wouldn't want to feed my friends something subpar, now would I?"

He rolled his eyes leaning back against his cot. "I thought you said Elijah was like your cousin," He said. Kol popped one of the pieces into his mouth idly. He probably wouldn't have done it had he not been so hungry - anything to at least provide the illusion of comfort, you supposed. Yet, he couldn't hide his genuinely surprised reaction when he tried the treat. 

The boy did a double take and a small, yet radiant smile overtook his face. You grinned. Though, a second later, he caught your eyes and wiped that expression away. 

It didn't bother you, however. It couldn't bother you because, though it had been for just a moment, Kol had proven you right. There was more to him than that horrid monstrosity of an exterior. There was more to him than the villain he played. Under all of that, there was a boy - scared and hungry, upset and alone. Beneath the monster, there was a person with the same desires as any other. 

Because this month was December and December is the time when all people just want the same things. Generosity and companionship are the two things everyone wants for Christmas and deep down, Kol was no different.

A few beats passed and Kol reached for another shard of peppermint bark as silence settled between you. Tilting your head, you watched him and, after a moment, you opened your mouth. 

"Bravado," You said, smiling just slightly.

Kol's head shot up. His eyes were wide and weary but not near as sharp nor as threatening as they'd been merely a moment before. He looked more like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar because you'd seen him. You'd seen past his front and he knew it.

"What?" Kol's voice was hardly more than a whisper. 

You leaned forward, settling with your elbows on your knees. 

"Bravado," You repeated, gesturing minutely to his hands which still shook, though not as severely. "Bravado is the hallmark of insecurity."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Whatever warmth you had seen in his eyes drained away in hardly an instant, his expression growing hard as obsidian as his posture closed off to you yet again. You cursed yourself. You should have known better than to push.

"Get out," Kol hissed, teeth and fists clenched tight.

"Kol I didn't-"

He spoke again, voice taught with barely constrained rage. "I. Said. Get. Out." He kicked the cookie sheet back at you with force and it skidded across the stone floor, nailing your knee hard enough to make you wince.

"Fine," You said, quietly. Then, you gathered your things and left.

Yet, Kol's ire didn't stop you from coming back. You returned, again and again, every day and though Kol continued to take the blood bags from you, he refused to engage you in conversation. This went on for days. Though it wasn't long before you grew tired of it. You had seen something in him that day, and he was trying to forget it existed but you weren't going to let him. 

The next time you descended those stairs and sat on the floor, you waited for him to down the blood bags just as you had every other time. Kol grew weaker by the day, though he was in less pain than he would have been thanks to you. He sat facing you, with his back resting against the far wall of the cellar. You knew he expected you to leave, but you didn't. You held your ground and said what he needed to hear.

"I'm not mad at you, Kol."

The boy slowly raised his head, it lolled to the side as though he hadn't the strength to keep it up. His skin was ashen and his eyes were dull, sunken into his face as though there was some black hole inside him. The breaths he took were shallow and unstable. He was falling apart, yet still, a bitter smirk spread across his face.

"Well that's a first." Somehow his voice, raw and quiet, was more unsettling than the screams you'd heard weeks ago in the courtyard. The hollow whisper worried you more than that unholy laughter had. It made you empathize with him.

"I'm not mad, because it wasn't your fault," You continued.

"Another first."

You sighed, shrugging. "Your reaction was only natural. I would have done the same thing."

"I'm sure you would have."

You took a deep breath. You were about to do the dumbest thing you would ever attempt, yet you weren't all that afraid. Getting to your feet, you approached the barrier spell - the only thing guaranteeing that Kol could not harm you - and crossed over the invisible boundary. Those deep brown eyes followed you, trailing your every step with suspicion and disbelief as you crossed his cell and knelt beside him. 

Kol, starving as he was, didn't attack you. So you offered him a gentle smile.

"It's okay, Kol. It was my fault," You said quietly. Kol froze. "I just got too close, didn't I?"

His eyes grew wide, pupils dilating as he stared at you with an uncomprehending expression. Reaching out slowly, you ran a hand through his hair. The dark locks were dirty and tangled, but soft all the same. Kol hesitated, but leaned into your touch as though he simply couldn't stop himself. 

Leaning in, you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I forgive you."

"Why?" He demanded, watching you with wonder. 

You just smirked. "Think of it as a Christmas present."

"For me?" He coughed, grimacing. "Or for Elijah?"

You sighed. "I'm not here for Elijah."

"Then why are you here?" He looked at you, desperation for understanding showing clearly through those eyes. "My brother hardly bothers with his own siblings if he deems them unworthy of his limitless time." 

"I'm in over my head," You said simply, shrugging. "I think it's what got me in so deep that maybe he saw something in."

"And what was that?"

"Generosity." You smiled - thin as a strand of hair. "I showed someone too much and he turned out to be a creep who took advantage of me. Elijah's making sure it doesn't happen again. That's all."

Kol's expression twisted with confusion, then cleared with understanding. "A-are you-" He trailed off, unsure.

"Oh come on," You said, chuckling slightly. "I know you've heard it by now."

Your baby's heart had started beating three days before.

The boy's bright grin confirmed your statement. He laughed, though the sound was tired. "You're going to make an excellent mother," He said.

You smiled. "Thanks."

Kol leaned his head back against the wall, weak but grinning, and sighed. "So, what's that book you brought with you?"

With a bubbling laugh, you stood and wandered back to the boundary spell where you'd left your stuff. 

"Wait, don't-" 

"I'm not going anywhere, Kol," You snickered, bending down to snatch the book. Then you made your way back to sit beside him. The boy leaned against your shoulder and though it made you just a tad bit nervous, you let him. Carding a hand through his hair, you opened the book and began to read aloud.

"Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king."

It wasn't long before you lost track of time. Unfortunately, reading out loud ensured that you couldn't hear the footsteps of your friends when Elijah, Rebekah, and Josh returned. If Kol had heard them, he didn't inform you.

The door to the dungeon swung open on hinges that protested rather loudly and your head shot up from your reading.

"Y/N, I'm going to have to ask you to step away from him," Elijah's cold, commanding voice sounded from the entrance.

You bit your lip. "You know, uh… I can explain this," You promised.

"Can you?" Elijah's glare was a frigid sort of rage and it was concentrated entirely on Kol.

You opened your mouth. "No. No, I cannot."

"I see," Your friend hummed. His eyes flicked to you and you thought you felt just a little of what it might be like to jump into a freezing lake. "Y/N, return to your room at once, please. I would like to speak to my brother."

"Okay." You weren't going to object, not when Elijah was providing your room and board. Though, that didn't stop you from looking back at the boy you'd finally brought to the surface. Picking up the tray off the floor, you gave him a small smile and slid the Tupperware container full of peppermint bark back toward him. Then you left without another word.

You didn't hear anything from Elijah, Rebekah, or even Josh for the rest of the day. You sat on your bed and waited, but the only sound that came from downstairs was an exasperated Elijah's indistinct yelling. Whatever discussion took place in the basement lasted for a few hours, but no matter how many times you texted Josh, all he would tell you was how reckless your actions had been.

The following day, you ventured to the kitchen. You weren't going to stay in your room the entire day. If Elijah wanted to stay put, then you would do so while being productive via baking. That day, you decided to bake thin mints. Tasting one, you hummed as the chocolate melted on your tongue. You didn't even hear the kitchen door open. 

"Might I try one of those?" 

You shrieked, jumping nearly a foot into the air. Whirling around, you were rather surprised to find Kol standing in the kitchen doorway, smiling at you - not smirking, just smiling. He looked a lot better

 "I dunno," You said, returning the expression. "I think you're gonna have to say the magic word."

Kol stepped closer, crossing the room until he stood directly in front of you. He reached out and took your hands in his own, pulling them to his chest. “Please?” He said, in the sweetest tone you’d ever heard. The puppy-dog eyes he gave you were the color of melted chocolate. You grinned.

“Here-” You held up one of the squares. “-Catch!”

Tossing the mint up in the air, you giggled as Kol threw his head back and caught it between his teeth. He winked at you, biting a piece off as he leaned against the counter.

“These are fantastic,” He said. “Thank you.”

“Ah… So he does have some manners - good to know.” You nodded to yourself sarcastically and he rolled his eyes.

“Only for you, sweetheart,” He hummed. “Only for you.”

You chuckled. “I see. Now, do you wanna tell me how you convinced Elijah to let you out on - what I’m assuming is - vampire parole?”

Kol shrugged and tried to steal a second mint but you slapped his hand away. “We made a deal,” He said simply. 

“You promised to behave?” You questioned, raising a brow. “You? Just like that?”

“You seem surprised,” He chuckled. 

“Oh. Well, then I’m not being expressive enough because I am astounded!”

Kol waved a hand dismissivly. “Eh, shouldn’t be too hard, I don’t think - not with you manipulating me and all that.”

You blushed. “Is that permission to keep making sweets?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely.” 

Snickering, you passed him another thin mint. “Well, in that case, Merry Christmas, Kol.” 

He took it. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss sweeter than chocolate to your cheek. “Merry Christmas, darling.”

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @apolloroid @thatweirdoleigh @misswe03 @eat-cake @felinegrate @trikigirl271 @cute-freak27 @fayeatheart @archangelslollipop @slaypussypop-21

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[alovesongtheywrote]

Nightmare Academia P.15 | Spencer Reid x Reader

♥ Summary: In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, a prank has unforeseen consequences. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: ghosts. also, maeve, a little bit

♥ A/N: yeah, i added a ghost subplot. why? because i wanted one

♥ Word Count: 2244

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

You knew what prank could you pull with the weight of Reid’s expectations on your shoulders.  

It was simple really- simple and perfect.  It would be subtle, but once he noticed, oh, it would be so annoying.

Book by book, you were going to steal the entirety of Spencer’s personal library and replace it with your own.  Would it take a million years?  Yes.  But fuck, it would be so worth it to see him get grumpy about this.  You would give him exactly what he’d asked for.

Something to be mad about.

Sneaking into Spencer’s office wasn’t difficult.  You knew when he would be out, and you knew how to pick a lock.  After breaking in, all you had to do was pick a book and leave one in the space left behind.

You went for a classic- Pride and Prejudice.  You slipped the book into your bag, careful not to damage the delicate thing.  In its place, you left some random romance from your shelf.  You’d read it years ago.  There was no substance, only smut, and a paper thin plot that would drive Reid up the wall if he read it.   

Once the deed was done, you bolted from Reid’s office.  If anyone asked, you would have told them you didn’t even know where it was.  That would’ve been a lie, but whatever, you were being sneaky.  

That evening, you returned to your own office.  As you slid into your chair, the lights flickered.  The lamps, the lights above you, all of them.  Making a mental note to get that checked, you stashed Reid’s copy of Pride and Prejudice away inside your desk.  There it would stay, lying in wait until all of Reid’s collection was in your possession.    

The second the book was stored away, Reid’s face appeared in your doorway- an occurrence which grew increasingly common with each passing day.

“Reid!  Hi!  What’s up, do you need something?”

“Yeah, actually.  You haven’t seen my copy of Pride and Prejudice, have you?  I can’t find it anywhere, I thought you might know.” 

The look on his face told you he already knew.

“No, Reid- whyever would you assume that I’d know where your things are?”

“Because you steal my things.  All the time.  Constantly.”

You grimaced a little bit, “Fair point.  Well, I haven’t seen it, but I’ll let you know if I do.  Should be hard to miss, right?  You’ve probably- I don’t know.  I can’t think of a book-related insult right now.  Pretend I said something horrible.” 

He rolled his eyes at you as a smirk crossed his lips, “I thought I told you to stop going easy on me.”

“You did.  This isn’t me going easy, this is me being stupid.”

He sighed, “You’re not stupid-”

“Bold assumption.”  

Spencer paused after that.  He didn’t say a word.  He just stood there for a moment, lingering in your doorway like a ghost.  

“Y’know, if you’re going to steal my books, you should at least bother to give them a read-through.”

“Hehe, a Reid-through.  Like Reid.  Because your name is- anyway.  Good night, Reid.  Good luck finding your book.  Get the hell out of my office.”

He let out a soft laugh, “Good night, (L/N).”

“Good night.  Loser.”  

You could hear his bark of laughter echo through the hallway.  

You leaned back in your chair after he was gone.  The book seemed to hum from the desk drawer.  You thought, for a second, about taking Reid’s advice.  Of course, you didn’t.  

Why would you ever do what Reid asked of you?  Exactly.  You wouldn’t.  Just like Reid said, you would never take his words to heart.  Besides, you just assumed that he’d anticipated your wicked scheme and placed plastic bugs or some other shit inside the pages for you to find.  You would not be foiled by something as simple as a plastic bug!  Not this time!

Over the next few weeks, your crime spree continued- and you had plenty of crime to commit.  Reid had an insane amount of books on criminology, philosophy, psychology, sociology, and a handful of classic works of fiction- and you were 100% sure he had fully memorized each and every one of them.  

He even had a weird amount of your personal favourites.  Books you loved, books you had written analyses on- Pride and Prejudice wasn’t the only one.  Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room, Ginsburg’s Howl, Shelly’s Frankenstein.   Of course, you nabbed them.  You took everything you could get your terrible gremlin hands on, stashing the product of your crimes away in your office.  

With every book you stole, you filled the empty spaces left behind with books of your own.   Slowly, Spencer’s collection of books became yours, and yours became his, and he didn’t even seem to notice.

Then you found The Narrative of John Smith.

The book was lying on his desk when you found it.  It was far too easy to just grab the thing and run.  You returned to your own office at the end of the day, body electric with the joy that petty theft brings.  You placed the book in a desk drawer, planning to forget about it like you forgot the rest of his collection, but something wouldn’t let you.  Something was different this time.  The book seemed to burn in your mind, begging to be taken from its hiding place.

You took Reid’s advice.  

You opened the book.  Inside was the text you expected to find- the Narrative of John Smith.  There was nothing too special inside.  No annotations- no little notes scribbled in the margins, no phrases highlighted or words circled.  There was just one quote, on the very first page inside the cover in handwriting that didn’t belong to Reid.  

"Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another." 

Thomas Merton.  It was a beautiful quote- but as you ran your fingers over the inked letters, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d stumbled onto something you weren’t supposed to.  This note felt like a secret, some hidden part of Spencer that you weren’t meant to see.  

You could feel eyes on the back of your neck.  As you shut the book’s cover, a chill ran up your spine.  Goosebumps covered your arms.  You tried to shake it off.  Surely this was just a manifestation of your guilt for finding a secret of Spencer’s- the lights flickered.  

You felt a breath against the skin of your neck.

There was no one there.  You spun around searching, but your office was empty.  You were completely, entirely alone.

You nearly threw that fucking book across the goddamn room.

You didn’t, of course, but you almost did.  You weren’t sure how Spencer managed to find a haunted copy of The Narrative of John Smith- the book itself was uncommon enough- but of course, he fucking did.

Honestly, when you thought about it, it made sense.  If you were to pick one person to have a haunted book, it would be Reid.  His eyes held a million tragedies inside of them.  The man himself looked like the ghost of a Victoriran child that died of tuberculosis.  It wasn’t surprising at all, then, that the man himself would be haunted.

You did want to return the book, though.  You could complete the rest of your prank without it.  Stealing all but one of Reid’s books would still be a good prank, you were sure of it.  Even if it wasn’t, was it worth risking a haunting for the sake of a joke?  Nope.  Nah.  Not in the fucking slightest.  You scuttled back to Reid’s office as fast as you possibly could.  

The halls were empty this time of night.  Spencer’s office was in the same condition.  The door was shut, but not locked, and the lights were off.  You slid inside as quietly as you possibly could.  Your heart pounded in your chest as you moved through the dark.  Those unseen eyes were still following you.  You placed the book down on his desk.

The moment you did, the lights in Spencer’s office flickered on.  Your heart stopped in your chest- behind you, someone cleared their throat.  Without a second thought, you picked up the book and actually threw it across the room.

It landed, with a thud, against Reid’s face.

“Ow!”

“Oh shit!” you exclaimed, covering your mouth with your hands, “Holy fuck, I’m so sorry- are you okay?”

Spencer shook off the blow relatively quickly, “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m- (Y/N), what are you doing in my office?”

“I’m uh- I was…  You have a lot of interesting books.” 

Spencer raised an eyebrow, “So you were stealing my stuff, again?”

“Maybe.  Hey, just by the way, I think your book is haunted.”

Spencer just rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.  He didn’t say anything else.  Instead, he looked down, away from you, turning his attention to the book you’d thrown in his direction.  The cover had opened exposing the first page.  The Thomas Merton quote glared at you from the page, dark ink visible even from the other side of the room.  

Spencer stayed silent for a moment.  You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear his breath hitch.

He knelt down slowly, taking the book into his hands.  His fingers wrapped around the cover carefully, like the tome was a delicate, precious thing, “Where did you find this?”

His voice was low, almost ominous- Spencer almost didn’t sound like himself.  

“It was on your desk this morning.  I just grabbed it, I didn’t- I swear I didn’t plan on throwing it across the room.”

“Good,” he got up without looking at you.  His focus was on the book, on the first page, on the quote, “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t, I promise.  I’m-”

“Don’t apologize again.  Just… don’t take this,” he walked towards you, keeping his eyes on the pages in his hands.  You backed up, pressing your body against his desk.  You gripped the edge of it tightly, nails almost biting into the wood.  

Spencer stopped just in front of you, towering over your body with every cursed inch of his height.  When he finally looked at you, when his eyes met yours, there was something uncannily close to grief in his eyes.

“I know I told you to make me mad, but- don’t do this.  You can have whatever else you want.  You can take whatever else you want.  Just… don’t take this.”

“Okay.  I’m s-”

“What did I just say about apologizing?”

“Right, right, my bad.”

He placed the book down on the desk.  He left his hand there, flat on the desk’s surface.  His arm caged you in, slightly.  You could feel your heart begin to race, and you fought a silent, internal battle to get it to stop doing that.  

“That’s a little too close to sorry for me.”

“Ah, right.  I’m… sorry, fuck.”

He shook his head,  “A PhD in English and you can’t find anything to say?”

“Leave me alone, Reid.  I’m tired and scared.”

He scoffed, turning away from you to lean against his desk, “Scared?  Of what, ghosts?”

“More or less.”  

You couldn’t see his face, but you could practically feel him rolling his eyes.

“What would a ghost want with you?  You haven’t killed anyone, right?  You aren’t someone’s unfinished business?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then you’re perfectly safe.”  

“Oh?  And when did you become a ghost expert?”

“Probably that time I died.”

You paused, eyes widening as you processed exactly what Spencer said.  Last time it was, “I’ve been shot three times.”  This time it was, “I’ve died once.”  You were suddenly sure that this man was trying to drive you insane.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said, (L/N).”

You blinked.

“Spencer?”

“Mhmm.”

“Are- are you a ghost?”

He didn’t answer you.  The two of you stood there for a minute, just listening to the buzz of the fluorescents outside.

“(L/N)?” He broke the silence.

“Yes?”

“Get the hell out of my office.”

“Right-!  That’s- I’ll go.  I’m sor- fuck.  Yeah, okay, bye.”

Reid said nothing.  He just watched you leave, not smiling until you were safely out of the room.  He reached back, then, for the book.  

It wasn’t there.

He turned to his desk, searching the top of it for the familiar cover, but he found nothing.  The book was gone.  He looked to the doorway, half-expecting you to be there with the thing clutched in your hand but the doorway was empty.  

Something hit him in the back of the head.

He stumbled forward, letting out a sharp cry.  When he turned to see what had hit him, he found what he had been looking for.  

The Narrative of John Smith.

“Reid, are you okay?” you appeared in his doorway no, but the book wasn’t in your hand.  It was on the floor, pages open to the carpet beneath it, “I heard you scream, and I-”

“I didn’t scream,” Spencer reached out, picking the book back up.

“Yeah, you did.  You made a little aaa noise.  Is everything okay?”

Spencer didn’t answer right away.  He just looked at the ink on the book’s first page.

"Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another." 

“Hey, (L/N)?  About those ghosts-”

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, @ghostatrixx, @reiding-writing, @mywellspringoflife if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, pls let me know!! if you would like to be tagged and aren't, also let me know :D

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #nightmare academia

[boliv-jenta]

Firefighter x f!reader

Not a RPF, just a fic inspired by this look.

WC: 1.3k

Warnings: None, really. Some thirty thoughts and just fluff.

Summary: A charity calendar brings you closer to the brown eyed firefighter you have a crush on.

Holding Onto a Hero

The calendar seemed like such a great idea. What better way to raise money for your community's photography club by showing off the photography skills that you had picked up at a similar club?

The community centre was located right next door to a fire station, so it was a logical choice to ask them to be the subject of it. They way the local mom's slowed down on the school run, hoping to catch a peek at the in shape firefighters, you knew you'd shift at least a few copies. Plus, you were going to sell them online. Everyone loves a hot hero just as much as they love a bad boy. That was the theme of the shoot ‘good guys gone bad’. Each guy would have a rough and ready look. Tight jeans, leather jackets. Everyone you spoke to agreed that you were on to a winner.

There was only one problem. Him. The brown eyed firefighter that haunted your dreams. The first time you met him, you literally walked right into him. The stack of boxes you carried obscured your view. You only realised that you'd hit a person, not a wall, when a large warm hand landed on your lower back. The heat of it burned through your thin t-shirt. It disappeared to take the boxes from your gasp. With the boxes out of the way, you were met with the deepest brown eyes you'd ever seen. An apology shone in them. The large hand that you could still feel at the small of your back came up to remove an earbud

“Are you okay? I'm sorry. I was distracted. My book was just getting so good.” He gestured to his earbud. 

“I'm fine. It's my bad. I couldn't see over the boxes.” Somehow, you managed to talk as your throat drier up at how handsome he was. 

The t-shirt he wore clung to every curve of his muscles. The shorts showed off a fine pair of legs. His face looked like it belonged in a movie, not on the sidewalk outside a run-down community centre. 

“Do you need a hand with them?” His voice was deep and smooth.

“No, I'm good, thank you.” Your repressed upbringing spoke for you. 

You never were good at asking for help. Looking at the way his thick hair started to curl at the edges where sweat began to pool, you wished you had said yes.

“Well, sorry again. Welcome to the neighbourhood.” With that, he was off. Leaving you to stare as his broad foam retreating. 

After that, you didn't speak to him again until you arranged the shoot. Yet you saw him most days. The tiny apartment you had over the centre gave you a perfect view. Most mornings, he jogged, followed by some body weight exercises with his teammates. The way he did a push-up kept him in your thoughts most days. When he wasn't working, you often saw him reading or tending to the small garden they had. His hands working deftly to harvest from the raised vegetable patch or to plant new flowers. His touch was so gentle as he cared for the delicate seedlings.

One of your favourites was when children stopped by. He was so good with them, chatting with them animatedly, always so patient with them, you wondered if he had children of his own. It was doubtful since he seemed to spend all his time at the firehouse. He must have been pretty important there. The way they jumped to it when he barked out orders gave you all sorts of thoughts. It was fair to say you'd developed quite a crush on him.

Said crush was now eyeing you nervously.

“I'm sure. It will look great!” You try to pour as much optimism into your voice as possible to put him at ease.

You could still see how nervous he was even though you'd been over the plan. When everyone was picking their poses, the others had no problem with doing something sexy. Some posed shirtless. Others carried heavy things to show off their hard earned muscles. One guy posed with his intimidating looking dogs who fit the theme perfectly. Until you stroked their tummies, and they became the softest dogs in the world.

“Trust me” you continue “You're so good with them. Some women find men who are good with children very sexy.” It comes out of nowhere, and thankfully, the children arriving cuts off any response as you add. “I know I do.”

The children all get ready to play in the water as you lift up your camera to take the first couple of photos of just him opening the hydrant. The children squeal in anticipation when the water begins to flow. A smile tugs at the side of his perfect lips as he watches their joy. It makes for a gorgeous shot. The children play happily and he joins in. Using those strong hands to block and redirect the flow of the water to spray them. They splash him back, wetting his short hair, and his natural curls make an appearance. Water drips down his face, running over that strong nose and pout, highlighting them beautifully. You take another shot of that. Finally, and all too quickly for you, it's time to shut off the water and send the children home. 

“Thank you. I have some really great shots. Obviously, you'll have final approval. You were my last shoot, so I'll be in touch in a couple of days.” There's an awkward energy in the air as you prepare to part ways. 

“Thank you. This wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It was actually really fun.” His genuine smile makes you want to be the reason he smiles every day.

“Well, I better…damn it.” In your haste to break the spell he has over you, you step off the sidewalk right into the water soaking your canvas shoes right through. Stepping back onto the sidewalk, you can feel the water gathering around your toes.

“May I…?” He asks, and you have no clue what he is asking, but who are you to argue with those brown eyes. 

Giving a nod, you suddenly find yourself swept up into his arms as he carries you bridal style across the street. 

Still in his arms you smile. “You know I just could have walked around.”

The smile he returns is warm and mischievous. “I know.”

Conscious of his strong arms still around you, you ask “Do you plan on putting me down?” 

The corners of his eyes crinkle adorably as he grins. “When we get there.”

“Get where?” You laugh.

“China Gardens. I see you order from there a lot.” Your heart races at the thought of him noticing you.

“You noticed that?” You turn to hide your smile.

“Yep. Along with you helping the old lady across the street with her groceries. We've asked for years, and she won't let us help. You must be special.” He eyes lock with yours to show the sincerity behind his teasing words.

“I feel it now, being carried by our community's most eligible firefighter.” You lay a hand on his leather clad chest flirtatiously.

“Stop.” His humbleness from earlier flares up.

“It's true. You must see the way the mom's look at you.” There's no way in your mind that he doesn't know how handsome he is.

“Well there's only one woman I've been looking at.” His face is closer to yours than it's ever been.

Closing the minute gap between you, your lips meet in a chaste first kiss. The kiss blooms into a smile on both of your faces.

“So are you going to put me down?” You giggle.

“No. I think I'll keep hold of you for as long as I can. If that's okay with you?” His biceps flex against you as he gathers you closer.

Your arms now loop around his kissable neck. “That's okay with me.”

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #firefighter x f!reader #more esquire photo shoot horniness

[radicalrainbow]

Miracle [COTL Oc]

I didn't talk much about him no but here he is <3

Backstory below-

TW: Abuse, circus slavery, dangerous acts, mentions of suicide

Miracle was born into a world that wasn't too keen on his existence. His mother had been excited for his arrival, but his father less so, and in the end, the man was left with a bundled-up wolf pup to care for on his own.

Miracle's father didn't care for him too much, never even bothered to give him a proper name besides barking out 'pup' and 'boy'. Miracle was not safe under that house; his father drank, hit him, and hardly spoke to him if it wasn't yelling at him for taking away his wife. In the grand scheme of things, the abuse lasted very little under that household. Instead, Miracle was tossed into a new pair of equally cruel hands.

He didn't leave much behind in that place—no toys, hardly any clothes—and yet he still cried for his father to come back as he was forcefully painted and dressed as a small clown. In the circus, he was given his stage name, the only name he ever knew, Miracle.

The Ringmaster of the circus his father had sold him to was cruel, but at least the cruelty could be avoided for some time. If Miracle brought in enough money, he would get to sleep in the hay; if he brought in enough money, he would get to eat. It wasn't fun, but he had long learned that life wasn't supposed to be. The abuse was more far and few between until he became a teenager.

Turns out the masses that came to the circus to laugh at jokes and gasp at harrowing acrobatics were much less kind to a scrawny teen. When his cute face was no longer a selling point, the ringmaster pushed him to learn tricks—simple things at first, and even then his hands shook from exhaustion, and Miracle was constantly struck. His body slowly became a myriad of scars, crossing over one another until his fur refused to fully grow back in certain places.

As he aged, all the tricks only grew in intensity. One day, he was stuck atop a tightrope, being forced to walk a thin fine line with no safety net to catch him. Miracle hated heights, and his own terrified sobs were almost enough to send him tumbling, but he survived that night. Yet his brain snapped; he had constantly wished for death, but as he was shoved out of the tent for doing a poor job in his training, he decided that this time he was finally ready to die.

Circus tents were far more flammable than he thought. Fire was quickly encroaching up the wooden posts and up the striped cloth walls. The people he only vaguely knew from performances were screaming, trying to run out, many catching against a blazing piece of rubble and perishing with the others.

Miracle was ready to accept death, and for some time, he closed his eyes and let the burning heat encase him. Yet something in him refused, and the next thing he knew, he was stumbling outside of the tent. His fur was singed, his lungs burning for air, and he could only make it a handful of more steps before he collapsed outside of the inferno. The fire flickered off the surrounding trees, and Miracle looked up at the stars so far above and was content with it being his last memory.

Miracle woke up beneath a mass of purple bed sheets.

Elegant and smooth, and the room smelled of books and yet somehow also of blood. The bishop of war sat at one edge of the bed, and Miracle was far too exhausted to do more than cough.

Shamura, the bishop of war, the eldest of the old faith. He had heard of them on the lips of passersby.

Shamura explained to him how they had been walking along in the random unnamed woods, vaguely mentioning something troubling them. Miracle had found it hard to concentrate when their voice was so soft, and the bed so warm. He was not certain he had ever slept in a proper bed, and the thought captured his thoughts until Shamura explained what they would do with him. They intended to keep him here and nurse him back to health. He said nothing to them and refused until the day he successfully managed to escape.

Though he knew of Shamura, he underestimated the Silk Cradle and its brutish nature. Miracle was quickly captured by guards and sentenced to be sacrificed to the very god he had escaped from. Death would do well by him, death, pleasant, a bad life spiraling down the drain and forgotten to the earth. No friends, no family, nothing was left for him here.

Only for Miracle to be rescued by the very last Lamb. He begged them for death, begged them to kill him, but they refused. Instead, he was brought to their cult where they've kept a close eye on him and made sure he's as comfortable as a suicidal wolf can be.

#cw: scars #cw: slave #cw: sui mention #cw violence #radicalartwork #cult of the lamb #cultofthelamb #cult of the lamb oc

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Young Love and Old Money

Summary: this series follows the story of Lewis Nixon and Josephine Wills and their trials, tribulation and love throughout WW2, including stories of their friends in between. Warnings: swearing, mentions of war, heartbreak.

Masterlist Moodboard

Holland 1944

Josie’s hands screamed out in anguish as she submerged the broken skin in steaming hot water. The blisters and cuts protested as she did her best to clean the dried blood. Josie could barely remember the last time her hands had been free from the crimson, iron substance. The water very quickly had streams of red drifting across the white porcelain bowl. She wiped her hands dry carefully before emptying the water outside into the boggy path beside the entrance to the aid station. Her lungs burned as she inhaled deeply, breathing in the first fresh air she’d had in hours. The air inside the aid station was stale, thick with the smell of blood and the cries of men in agony. There had been many casualties after Market Garden, British and American troops came pouring in in droves. Each bringing with them at least a dozen wounded men at a time.

Josie perched on one of the empty wooden crates outside, her legs groaning in relief as she took the weight off of them, stretching them out and feeling the muscles burn in anguish. She dug into her filthy apron pocket and pulled out a packet of lucky strikes, along with several pieces of paper that followed, drifting slowly to the floor before Josie could retrieve them. She lit her cigarette and began to read over the letter. The first one was from her husband. She’d been so relieved when Lewis returned from Normandy, maybe a little battered and bruised but still her Lewis. A large smile spread across his lips the second their eyes met and it was safe to say that neither of them left their bed for at least three days after his return. But their bliss was short-lived and soon Lewis was back at Littlecote in briefings, planning and training. Josie supposed it was the downside of being an Intelligence Officer but she couldn’t mind the situation because at least she knew he was safe all the time he was in meetings. Julian and George were pleased to be back in England and whenever they had passed would persuade Josie to join them on whatever escapade or trouble they were getting involved with. Despite Josie knowing what kind of chaos the pair could cause Josie willingly joined in, relishing in the feeling of the carefree nature they had as children. On one of these adventures, she met the charismatic David Webster. They had an instant connection bonding over their love of literature and whilst Julian and George were off frolicking somewhere Webster would discuss classic books and authors he enjoyed. Josie was delighted to tell him about her time and Oxford and it just so happens that Webster was going to Harvard and he planned to finish his studies after the war.

Aldbourne 1944 (pre Market Garden)

It was on one of the sunny afternoons when Webster and Josie were walking back through town, that Lewis and Dick drove past in a jeep. The jeep swerved past them, screeching on its brakes before reversing back up the road towards the pair. Josie smiled as she saw her husband approaching.

“Lewis!” She called out, waving excitedly but Lewis’ face was sour, his lips set in a thin line and his dark eyebrows scrunched together.

“WEBSTER!” He barked, “Haven’t you got latrine duty?”

“No, Sir. I think it’s Perconte, Muck and Malarkey’s turn.” David admitted, shuffling from foot to foot a little awkwardly under the Captain’s gaze.

“Run along, Webster,” Lewis glared as he watched Webster tell you goodbye before hurrying back towards the town of Aldbourne, glancing behind him as if he was afraid Lewis would try to run him down.

“Lew, what was that for,” Josie chided, climbing into the back of the jeep, placing a quick kiss on her husband’s cheek and giving Dick a quick hello. Lewis didn’t answer, instead, he chose to glare out the smeared windscreen and down the road where Webster had retreated.

“Lew?” Josie asked, placing a hand on his shoulder but withdrew when he flinched under her touch.

“How long have you known him?” Lewis demanded, turning in his seat to face her, his eyes wild and if Josie hadn’t known better she’d have thought he’d have run after Webster and beaten him to a pulp.

“A few weeks. Since you all returned from Normandy. I met him when I was out with George and Julian.” Josie replied, feeling anger build inside her at the question. What did it matter how long she had known David Webster for?

“How much time have you been spending with him?” Lewis didn't relent on his questions and Josie wasn’t prepared to stand for it.

“Not much. We’ve met up a few times. He also studied literature so we talked about books we like. What does it matter to you anyway? You’re never around anyway.”

Something in Lewis snapped and he threw his hands up in anguish, “Oh well I’m so sorry there’s a war on and I happen to be the Intelligence Officer. How stupid of me to think that you’d wait around for your husband when he’s helping with the war effort.”

Josie's blood boiled as she let rip all the pent-up feelings she’d been bottling up during her days of loneliness. “Well, you should be sorry! I understand you’re part of the war effort Lewis, I think you forget England has been fighting since 1939! Do you have any idea what it’s like to be left here alone not knowing if your husband and friends will return and when they do he doesn’t even have time for you.”

Josie could see Dick pulling at the sleeve of his uniform uncomfortably, his jaw working overtime as he ground his teeth anxiously. “Lewis, I…” but Lewis interrupted him.

“So when you’re so lonely you jump into the bed of the first man who looks at you.” Lewis retorted, his chest heaved from the effort, the brown material growing tight over his broad shoulders.

Josie gasped, her face was now bright red and scrunched as she tried to control the unshed tears building in her brown eyes. The last thing she needed was to break down in front of Lewis, it would make her look guilty in some way.

“HOW DARE YOU! You’ve got some damn nerve, Lewis Nixon. I’ll tell you this once and once only. I would never cheat on my husband. Never! I can’t believe you think so little of me. I thought you loved me,” Josie felt a strangled sob leave her lips at that last sentence and the look on Lewis’ face told her that he’d crossed the line.

“I do love you, Josie… I’m…” but Josie was already climbing back out of the jeep, hurriedly bunching her skirt into her hand and jumping down onto the pavement.

“Josie, please…” Lewis swallowed hard, blinking back the tears and began to climb out of the vehicle but she stopped him, her voice shaking and utterly broken.

“Don’t follow me.” Josie turned away from him, tears falling down her rosy cheeks and Lewis felt his heart break even more. He had never felt such a pain in his chest and had it been under any other circumstances he would have gone to Doc Roe thinking he was having a heart attack. But Lewis knew this pain all too well. It was the same pain he’d felt when he heard about Josie’s engagement to William, only this time it was his fault.

“Lew, come on we have to go. Colonel Sink is expecting us,” Dick called, his voice calm and collected as ever acting as though he hadn’t just watched the scene unfold before him.

“What have I done, Dick?” Lewis pleaded, his eyes watering and his distraught face resembling that of a puppy that had been left at home alone for the first time. “Do you think she will come back?”

“I don’t know, Lew,” Dick replied honestly because in truth he didn’t know. Josie was proud and headstrong but even she could be broken and by the looks of things Lewis had broken her. “I don’t know, Lew.”

Lewis stood on the steps to the house, a bunch of roses in his right hand and his other wrapped tightly around the door knocker. He waited, wondering if she would open the door if she’d let him inside. He’d been rehearsing what he was going to say all day. He’d paid very little attention during the meeting with Colonel Sink, much to Dick’s dismay who spent most of his time elbowing Lewis to keep him focused. A shuffling noise came from the other side of the door and Lewis waited with bated breath as it freaked open revealing Josie's tear-stained face.

“Lew?” Her voice was cracked and feebly, nothing like her normal lively tone. She sounded broken. “I hope you’re here to grovel because I have nothing else to say to you.”

“I am,” Lewis replied quickly, taking a small step forward. “I’m here to grovel so damn bad that the others would laugh at me but I don’t care. I’ll get down on my knees if I have to.”

Josie quickly grabbed his arm as Lewis went to kneel before her and for the first time in their relationship, he didn’t smell of whiskey.

“You haven’t been drinking?”

“No. Not a drop all day. I swear,” Lewis looked down at his scuffed leather boots, they were in dire need of polish, his uniform was also creased and his hair ruffled. He hasn’t shaved in several days either. “When I asked you to marry me I promised I’d be the best man for you but I haven’t been. You could do so much better than me but I promised I’d change for you and so far I’ve only broken my promise.” Josie watched as the tears began to fall down his unshaven cheeks, she wanted to reach out, to comfort him but she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt him. “I haven’t had a drink all day because I don’t want to keep breaking that promise. I had Dick clear out his footlocker. No more Vat 69 for Mrs Nixon’s baby boy.” He tried to joke but the laugh was caught in his throat.

He looked up at his wife with desperation, his hands clasped around hers. “Josie, I’m begging for your forgiveness. I’m so sorry for what I said about Webster and the accusations. I never meant them, I know you’d never do that to me.” Lewis let out a muffled cry and he knelt on the cold, concrete steps, “I’m such a mess Josie and you don’t deserve this but I need you. After my divorce, I turned to alcohol and I know I shouldn’t have but I’m weak. I’m so weak but you make me stronger, you make me better.”

Josie couldn't stand it anymore. She threw herself into Lewis’ arms, burying her head in his stubbly neck. “I love you but you're an idiot.”

“I know I am. I know I am. I love you too. More than anything else.” Josie pulled herself away from his body, cupping his cheeks in her hands.

“I love you, Lewis, please don’t break my heart again.”

“Never.” Their lips brushed softly together and as if by some higher power the heavens opened up. Rain poured in great torrents from the heavens, soaking the couple on their doorstep.

“What is it with you and your confessions in the rain?” Josie laughed, grabbing her husband's hand and dragging him inside.

Josie’s eyes scanned over Lewis' letter for what felt like the hundredth time. Each one of his loving words etched into her mind. The next letter was from David Webster. He spoke of the harsh conditions, life in their foxholes, and the casualties. His once bright light seemed to have dimmed since they had last spoken. Her next letter was frayed at the edges and severely crumpled from the times she had read it. It was from Julian and partly from George too, who had his input in the letter. It spoke mainly of their childhood, happier times in Aldbourne that brought them all joy. Josie smiled, running her fingers over Julian’s scruffy writing.

“NURSE! NURSE WE NEED SOME HELP!” One of the medics called, pulling abruptly to a halt, launching himself out of the jeep to help the wounded man in the back. Josie was quickly on her feet, discarding her cigarette and shoving the letters back into her apron pocket. Correspondence home would have to wait.

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @lieutenant-speirs @sharpshootershifty @liberteuniteegalite @msmercury84 @malarkgirlypop @mayhem24-7forever @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @merriell-allesandro-shelton @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines

#young love and old money #lewis nixon x oc #lewis nixon #band of brothers #band of brothers series

[shelbgrey]

Suspicious minds(Sodapop Curtis)

Chapter 3: we're under attack

The next day me and Pony went to see the new Paul Newman movie over at the movie theater. It wasn't all that great but Pony loved it. When we walked out of the darkness and out of the building the sun shined on us burning my eyes slightly.

"I wish I looked like Paul Newman" pony suddenly said looking at his reflection in the widow of the movie theater. I don't know why he would think that. He was handsome. "why would ya say that? Your pretty handsome yourself"

He shrugged. "I don't know, I guess my looks aren't too bad but I'm not handsome like Soda or Darry"

I started to walk backwards in front of him, facing him. "So, you have you own look and that's what makes you cute"

Before our conversation could go any further we noticed a Chevy slowly driving up to us. "hay greasers!" it was a soc. Of course it was we can never have a peaceful walk home. I sighed and moved to the other side of pony so he wasn't next to the road. "stay on this side of me Ponyboy" I whispered and pulled my switchblade out of my pocket.

"you got your Blade?" I asked pony. He shook his head no. I sighed and grabbed his hand. "when I say so start running"

As the car speed up so did we. We ran down the street almost bumbling into people but that was the least of our problems.

"run!" we raced down ally and turned a couple of corners before the car came up behind us nearly running pony over. Four jumped out the car and cornered us. "you lay one finger on him your dead" I spat pointing my blade towards two of them. They just laughed and tried to touch me but I spat in his face. That was a mistake because the two that was grabbing pony quickly shoved him into the dirt and grabbed me behind.

"I think we should teach this greasy doll some manner" one said and shoved me to the ground.

"get your hands off of her!" pony shouted and tried to pull the Soc that was startling my waist keeping me the ground. "keep him quiet"

I continued to put up a fight. Kicking my legs and thrashing my arms around before they got pined next to my head and cut up by my own switchblade.

"help! Help!" my shouted mixed with pony's in till my mouth was covered by the soc's hand and my cheek was cut by the Soc's blade. I was in a dase and I almost didn't realize the Soc was thrown off of me and and bunch of boys running around me and jumping over me as they chased the group of Soc's off.

I felt my brother gently set me up so I was setting on my butt and leaning on him. "you alright little bird?" my lip quivered and my body shook as I tried to give an answer. "y-yeah"

Soda was next to race over. He stopped in front of me almost sliding on his but. "they pull a blade on you?" he asked getting pissed. I only shook my head not wanting to look at him at the moment. I was still mad at him for last night. Soda's fingers lifted up my chin so his blue eyes locked with my brown ones.

"I won't let them hurt you again" I don't cry in front of anyone but today was different. Thin tears leaked out of the corner of my eyes as soda wrapped his handkerchief around the arm the soc's cut up.

Two-bit quickly sat up the then grabbed my had lifting me back on my feet. "you okay y/n?" Darry asked as he came up to me with pony. Thank God he didn't get beat up as much as I did. All he had was a little cut on his jaw. "I'm alright, how about you Ponyboy?"

"I'm alright, just shooken up is all"

"why were you guys walking alone in the first place?" Darry barked as the gang walked back to the house. "all we did was walk home from the movies" pony said trying to help our case. I on the other hand kept quiet. Only because I was still frightened by what just happened and I knew if I kept making excuses with pony Darry and the others would only get more annoyed.

"movies and books" Darry sighed. "The both of you. I with you guys would concentrate on something else every once in a while"

"come on Darry lay off" Steve said putting his arm around me. Soda looked over to us and jealousy washed over his eyes and expression. "you should have at least carried a blade" Darry said.

"I-I did" I whimpered almost afraid to say anything. "what happened sis?" Two-bit asked. "they took it" I simply said.

"yeah she had a blade and look were that got her" Soda butted in. "if they both had one that would have gave them the excuse to cut them up a little more"

"I don't want my kid brother to tell me want to do with my other kid brother" Darry snapped and walked into the house and Diggs ran out before the screen door could slam behind him. "why's he always have to act like that?" pony asked.

"he's just got more responsibility dumped on him since mom and dad died" Soda said softly.

"how about I become your guy's personal body gard" Two-bit joked. "that's not a good idea" pony sided.

"yeah besides little bird over here already has two body guards. Any soc's would be stupid to fuck with her if soda and Steve were near" Dally said.

"what are doing out of the cooler dal?" I asked finally calming down. "ya got out early for good behavior"

"that's a first" I joked.

"yeah what are you two doing walking by yourselves?" Steve snapped wiping his bloody nose. "none of your business" pony said back.

"we're fine Stevie" I said before Steve and Pony's fight could get worse.

"I was thinking about going to the drive in and see that new Elvis movie, anyone want to go?" Dally asked.

"me and Steve are taking evie and sandy out" soda said. Well their fight didn't last long I thought. "where ya going?" pony asked his brother.

"drag race" soda said. "yeah that means no little kids" Steve said before pony could respond.

"well me and y/n are gonna see a movie and little kids are a loud" Dally said giving steve a dirty look.

"we'll go with ya, won't we pony?" Johnny said slightly huddling up in between Pony and Jay.

"I might join you later" Two-bit Said climbing into his black car. "if I'm not drunk by then" he joked but immediately regreted it when he saw me look down. Even though he wasn't a dangerous drunk I still didn't like him getting drunk sometimes. I'm afraid he's gonna end up dead in a ditch or in jail rotating away.

"i see they gave you your rings back" I said looking at Dally. He only nodded before walking to the gate. "how's Silvia? Have you talked to her since you got back?"

He scoffed at the sound of that girl's name. "that broad was two timing me"

"oh dal I'm sorry" he shook his head before closing the gate in front of him. "it's cool... I'll see ya tomorrow y/n"

"bye Dally"

I just shook my head as Johnny and Pony gave Two-bit's car a push before he drove away leaving me and my sister with the boys. I let out a sigh as I pulled out my blue handkerchief out of my back pocket and wrapped it around my bruised and busted knuckles.

"you gonna stay here with us Johnny cake?" pony asked as I sat next to him on the steps of the front porch. Johnny thought about it before shaking his head no. Before his answer could be vocalized Darry open the screen door.

"pony you and Diggs have home work" he shut the door seconds after. I rolled my eyes at Darry's cold behavior towards his little brother. I rubbed Johnny's shoulder before standing up.

"if you get hungry or need a place to sleep come over okay" Johnny nodded before walking off towards the lot.

"let's get inside" I said opening the door for pony. When we got in the house pony grabbed his text books off the the coffee table and moved to the dinning room table were Diggs was. I closed the screen door then the front door as Soda stood up from the couch.

"birdie are you okay?" he asked. I didn't look at him just walked passed him. "like you care" is all I replied before going into the kitchen to help Darry with dinner.

<Next chapter>

#Sodapop Curtis #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop curtis imagines #ponyboy curtis x reader #ponyboy imagine #ponyboy curtis #two bit matthews x reader #two bit mathews #two bit x reader #Darry Curtis #darry curtis x reader #Darry Curtis imagines #The Outsiders #outsiders x reader #Outsiders imagines #johnny cade x reader #Johnny cade #Steve Randle #Steve Randle x reader

[kittlesandbugs]

Title: The return (AO3 Link here) Pairing: Past Chargestep Warnings: Violence, telepathic shenanigans, embracing villainy Word Count: 2533 Summary: Something wicked returns to Los Diablos.  (Steel POV)

"That's a little unusual these days, isn't it?"   Ortega gestures to the weekly stack of police reports on the conference table, twice as thick as it normally is. "It's been quiet."

"Too quiet," Argent adds. Her silver face shifts into a scowl and her fingers carve shallow scratches into the table. 

"Claws," you say sharply and she retracts them, scowl deepening. You nod to Ortega. "It is definitely unusual."

He leans in close. Both of them are too eager for a fight. "So what's going on?"

You peel the first folder off the pile and flip it open, textured fingertips catching the thin paper easily. You're pleased the fine motor control is almost what it was since you lost your arm. "Grand theft auto.  A string of car hijackings from Reno to Los Diablos."

The car engine gives one last dying shudder as it comes to a halt. Loud swears sound off to no one. Not a lack of fuel this time, the gauge reads half full. Smoke trickling from the engine.  Sand probably. Someone didn't keep up on maintenance. Swear again. Nothing to do but wait. Can't cross this desert on foot.

It isn't as long as expected before another car crests the horizon. Reach out, mental tendrils seeking, prying, slipping in through the barest defenses. The driver has no intention of stopping. Been a victim of bandits before. A low chuckle. It's funny he thinks he has a choice in the matter as control is ripped away and he's forced to stop beside the dead car and get out.

This car is his problem now.

"Someone coming into town?" Argent asks.

"Looks that way." You make a low noncommittal grunt as you continue reading into a strange twist that explains why the police are stumped.

"What is it? I know that look." Ortega gets up and comes around behind you to read as well. "Well, that's just weird."

"What?" Argent perks up.

"The owners were all found with the previous car in the chain, left dead on the side of the road."

"The car was dead, not the owner," Ortega clarifies quickly. "Either dead engine or out of gas. No memory of who took their car or how they ended up sleeping inside a different one."

"Drugs?"

"Maybe," you say, but you aren't convinced that's the case. It's too neat. At least one of them should have remembered something. Or someone.

"Traffic cams catch anything?" Argent asks.

"No, all the cars were found on smaller roads. They took a much longer route, small back roads. No where they could have been recorded." 

She wilts at that. Either it was due to lack of money and expensive privately maintained road tolls, or not wanting to be seen. Probably the latter.

"All cars are on their way back to their original owners. No injuries reported."

She slumps further and rests her chin in her hand. "Sounds like the problem is already resolved. Need more than that to find someone."

Ortega takes his seat again. "What's next?"

You put the carjacking file aside and open the second one. "Thefts at hotels."

"Hotels?  Stealing the towels?"

"Less physical, more service theft. Disputed bookings. Businessmen charging an extra room while swearing they did not.  The hotels have records and recordings saying they're legitimate charges."

"Sounds like they got caught with a 'companion' and are trying to cover it up." His mouth widens into a salacious grin, and you roll your eyes at his wink.

"When shown the evidence, they claimed they have no memory of it. They only remember going to their rooms after checking in and heading straight to bed."

Wipe the bile and stand on shaky legs. Smiling despite the dizziness, a bark of a laugh slips out. The Farm will regret what it did. So much stronger now. They have no idea what they've created. Not really. They only got a taste during the escape.

Can't wait to turn it back on them in force. Show them. Never be at their mercy again. They won't get any either. No one will. If there's no mercy for abominations, there's even less for their creators. For those that enabled them.

Walk in through the service entrance. Nothing to be seen by people. Nothing to be identified by camera. The door card is right where he left it in the lock. A good night's sleep in a clean bed. Be gone before morning. Takes a few days to get set up with a new apartment. But there's no shortage of hotels in this city. No shortage of weak-minded assholes to take advantage of.

They all deserve it for what they've done. What they haven't done. What they've forgotten about.

What's to come will be unforgettable.

Argent taps her chin in thought. "No memory? Like the carjacking victims?"

"Seems that way."  She's quick. Not that you ever doubted it with her recommendation from Ashfall, but there's much more in there than just the brutal fighter she shows. "I don't think it's drugs. In either case." You meet Ortega's gaze, and he nods warily.

"Sounds a lot like Overlord, doesn't it?" He lets out a stiff breath. "Isn't he still in prison?"

"As far as I'm aware, he is. It may be someone new."

"Shame we don't still have your little telepathic friend around to untangle some brains," Argent says with a flippant wave of her hand.

Ortega flinches, but you are pleased to note he doesn't linger on it.  Not outwardly, at least. "Any patterns in the reports that could give us some clues?"

"All the victims were businessmen from out of town. According to the hotel reports, all of them said they needed to book an extra room adjoined to theirs for a 'friend.'  Then they fought the additional charge in the morning when they received the bill."

"And no one knows what this companion looks like. Cameras?" Argent asks.

You pull a set of photographs from the file and spread them out on the table. "No identifying features. Oversized clothes, hood drawn, full-face mask. No prints, the room was wiped clean, and they wore gloves.  Used the service entrance in and out."

"Rather meticulous of them." Ortega's eyes roam across the photos, and Chen can almost see the gears in his head turning. "When and where was the last one?"

"Fairfax, three days ago."

He lets out an impressed whistle, brows rising up. "Fancy.  How long has this been going on?"

"Just over a week. Apparently it's taken a while for the pattern to emerge between the different precincts. Same for the cars."

"They need to get their shit together faster if they want us to get to the bottom of this," Argent growls, fingers digging into the wood once again, and this time you can't bring yourself to scold her because you'd almost like to do the same.

The split between the Rangers and LDPD isn't lost on any of you. You could do so much more for the city without these petty rivalries. You sigh and put the file to the side with the carjacking one. "Maybe the next one will have a new clue for us."

Ortega leans in. "What's going on there?"

"Assaults. Muggings."

"Seriously?" he asks, brows quirked, and you know he's thinking that's too small a fish.

Not wrong normally, but… "Mysterious circumstances."

"Mysterious in that they have no memory of who attacked them, right?" Sarcasm practically drips from Argent's words as she rolls her mercurial eyes. 

"No. Mysterious in that everyone described a different perpetrator."

Fist connects with the asshole's face, making the most satisfying crunch heard in years. Missed this. Needed this. The adrenaline, the rush that only comes from fighting another person. Can fight. Want to fight. Feels more real, the undeniable connection of fist to flesh.

Just gone out for a drink, really. Not at fault these assholes looked and judged. Beneath them.  Nothing. A too familiar feeling.  Salt in unhealed, unseen wounds. It itched and crawled under the skin and inside the hindbrain like trapped angry ants, searching for any way out.  Any release. Maybe it was infectious. Maybe they felt it too, felt the burning need to start something. 

End it. Show them all who's nothing.

His friend comes from behind with a pipe. Duck under his swing like there's eyes in the back of the head. Grab his wrist, twist around, snap his elbow over the shoulder. He sinks to his knees, screaming; silence him with a kick to the head.

Pick the cash from their wallets. Money talks in this city. Don't want to hotel hop forever. Sidestep had compunctions against robbing people, even drug dealing assholes, unless absolutely necessary. But Sidestep is dead, and her morals splattered with her across the pavement four years ago.

Reach into their minds, pliable unconscious clay in proverbial hands, and alter the image of who they fought. Leaving the alley, project the image of someone else entirely.

No one left to see the truth. Or find it.

Ortega frowns and rocks his chair up onto two legs and balances as he thinks. "Like a different instigator at each incident?"

"No. A witness at the bar saw an Asian man leave with the victims. The victims described a young white redheaded man. Another witness saw a bleach-blonde woman leave the alley where they were found.  Similar statements in the other incident reports. No two descriptions are the same."

"You think it's the same person as the other ones?" he asks.

"Could be. Possible memory alterations like the others, but this is the first time anyone's seen a perpetrator."

"Maybe the first one wasn't actually telepathic?  No one even saw a hint of them."

"What, invisibility?" You don't even want to begin to entertain that thought. They would have to know what this criminal wants for certain to set a trap. And so far you can't even begin to figure out what they're after with all of this. If it's even all the same person, but your gut says yes.

People have done weirder things in your tenure as a Ranger.

"Maybe the third one is the odd one out." Argent's claws click a staccato on the table. "Wasn't there a shapeshifter in Los Diablos a few years back? I remember hearing about it on the news."

"Mierda, that one was a nightmare to hunt down and bring in." Ortega drags a hand down his face. "Riley was the only one who could find them because they couldn't change their thoughts."

"Really?"

"Yeah, we kept that part out of the official reports." Ortega lets out a pained little chuckle. "She always insisted on staying out of the spotlight."

"Maybe we can bring in Locus," you muse as you thumb through the pages. Young, but possibly stronger than Sidestep was. Slightly different skill set. "She might be able to unravel whatever's been done to these people."

"If there's anything left to unravel." Ortega's chair finally thuds back down onto all four legs and you suppress the wince. Have to break that habit before you move into the new HQ after construction. "The carjacker and hotel 'friend' weren't even seen by the victims."

"They are very different from the assaults," you admit, "but none of us have the skills to try and unravel any kind of mental manipulations."

Argent grimaces and looks away, out the window. "I hate telepaths."

"Why?" Not that you disagree, not at all. You'll never forget what they're capable of. How they can just dig into your mind and… You shake your head. Not the time to think about that particular nightmare.

"I just do," she says with all the finality of a closed book.

Something to look into later. No chance before between recruiting her and your rehab, but now with things going slowing down a bit… There's a reason her tests were spotless. No one comes back that clean. Not with her reputation in San Francisco.

Again, not the time. You shrug. "We're going to have to bring someone in, regardless of how we feel, if we want to get to the bottom of this."

"Where were the attacks?" Ortega asks.

"Same neighborhoods as the hotels, but not every night. Last one was three days ago, near Fairfax."

"Any motive you can see?"

"Money, apparently. That was the only thing that was taken."

"Well that's… mundane.  All this for money?"

"Maybe if we map out all the activity, we can find a pattern."

"It's as good a plan as any."

"You do that." Argent stands from the table. "I'm going to see if I can find anything in the field."

"Fairfax?" Ortega asks, eyebrow cocked in disbelief. "What are you going to find that the police haven't? Three days cold?"

"I have my methods," she says sharply, tone brooking no further questions.

You don't entirely like it, especially the attitude, but nod regardless. "It's not a bad plan, you'll be faster to react if something else is called in. But report back before you go after anyone. I don't want whoever this is slipping through the net."

She gives a curt nod and shuts the door behind her, hard enough to rattle the frame.

Ortega is already up, a folder balanced open in the crook of one arm, pinning a thumbtack path to the large FEZ map mounted on the wall. You pick up the hotel reports and begin to do the same.

"A potentially telepathic menace arriving from the north…" you muse quietly as you pin in your own points.

He gives you a pained smile. "Takes us back, huh?"

"At least this one isn't killing anyone. Yet."

"Yeah. And they haven't settled into a location."

You take a step back from the map to see if a pattern reveals itself. Something to give you some kind of clue. There's a feeling in your gut, a leadlike dread settling in the pit of your stomach. Whatever, whoever this is, even if they have been quiet for three days, you don't think they're gone.

This could be the start of something. Something big.

Slap the light switch. Cracked plaster, worn carpet, scuffed floors. Windows. A bed. A table. Kitchenette. Not the best. Not the worst. Fine for now. A temporary safehouse. Just until things have settled. More permanent quarters arranged.

The bag hits the carpet with a dull thud. Step in, slide the deadbolt, latch, lock. Manual locks are better than security systems. More solid, at least. Physical and untamperable.  A weight lifts as the last clicks into place.

Pad over to the window and rip the curtain back. The sunset paints the smoggy air acid orange. Shields lower inside and out, taking it in, the fury and furor of a city. Raucous. Raw. Rending. It's almost painful, tearing and clawing the edge of the psyche.

The smile in the window is too sharp. Throw it open. Inhale the stench of oil and asphalt and too many people crammed into too small an area. Familiar. So much better than that static sterile nothingness.

Exhale. Leave the window open. Tamp down the shields.

This is only the beginning. You have work to do.

#kitbug writes things #fhr #chargestep #wei chen #ricardo ortega #lady argent #sidestep #riley owens #not me slowly knocking out shit i've been chewing on almost an entire goddamn year #riley mellowed considerably between farm escape and rebirth lol #it's a good thing she didn't see ric right after she got back #anyway enjoy lol

[rjalker]

I made a diagram to show how Flatlanders use grafting for surgery.

If you ignore the part where they're definitely getting the grafting material from unwilling donors Under The Current Regime™, it's not as horrible as it sounds as a technique. Especially once they get a non-fashist government.

I imagine they're kinda like plants, where their exoskeletons will just latch onto anything even remotely similar, so they've got a 99% success rate with grafting exoskeletons.

And how I imagine them at least, their blood is thick like jelly, not like human blood where it's thin, so their blood helps to hold all of the important internal things in place. It does a lot of the work maintaining their shape to begin with.

[ID: Six simple diagrams of an isosceles triangle with a grey out layer and a purple inner layer, first saying, I'm almost an Equilateral! I have zero fucking rights!!!" with extra exclamation marks. In the second, the triangle is laughing, "hehehe", with a swirl near their head, labeled, "Has been given laughing gas or some other kind of anesthetic". There is now a green smudge on their base, marked, "disinfectant + numbing stuff". The third diagram shows the triangle "fully unconscious now", with floating Zs to show snoring. A small red line marks the base where the green smudge was, with a scribble hand with a knife labled, "pretend this looks like a scalpel", and the further label, "exoskeleton is carefully cut". The next diagram says, "sides are carefully pulled to the sides", with arrows showing the movement of the sides outward a bit. Above this is the note, "The blood is thick like jelly, and helps hold everything in place!". At the base where the side has been pulled apart to create a gap, a darker grey square of exoskeleton is below the gap with an arrow pointing up, labled, "the grafting material is inserted into the new gap". The next shows the triangle's two sides now inside a black Y shaped device labled, "medical clamp", with the information, "sides are compressed and clamped into place", with two arrows pointing inward followed by three lines to indicate continuous pressure, like putting a stack of books on a paper. Another green smudge has been placed on the base over where the new exoskeleton has been placed, labled, "scarring hormone applied". The last diagram is labled, "A Little While Later…" in the font from the transition cards from Spongebob, with the triangle saying, "Yay!! I'm 60 degrees!! I have basic human rights now!!!". Their base is now whole, with only a slightly darker section marked, "Fully healed scar" to show that the surgery happened. End ID.]

If you didn't know, cloning plants, and grafting different plants together, is super easy as long as they're related species, because their bark just goes, "Oh!!! You're part of me!!! Get over here have some nutrients!!!" and heals the cuts until it's all one thing.

#body horror #? ask to tag #Rjalker reads Flatland A Romance of Many Dimensions #Flatland #Flatland technology #Flatland surgery #Flatlander anatomy #ish

[simplifiedemotions]

Ignorance Is Bliss

“This office was assigned to me, Granger—”

“You’re wrong! It was clearly assigned to me—”

“Tell her Potter—”

“Tell him Harry—”

This was said in unison with such force that Harry’s spectacles moved down his nose.

Harry sighed. Trust him to have to deal with these two. He just wanted some lunch. He wondered if there would be any of those sweet buns left in the canteen. Maybe if he left now, he could make it…

“Harry!”

“Potter!”

Harry started into motion, scowling at them. Tipping his glasses back up his nose and massaging the bridge between his brows, he considered the best possible solution that would cause the least amount of collateral damage.

“You’re going to have to share, I’m afraid, until Matilda down the hall retires next month.”

“A month?” Hermione rounded on him, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at him. Harry backed away, knowing her ire all too well.

“Potter, if you think I’m going to share my office with the biggest swot this side of—”

“Your office?” Hermione scoffed, turning her wrath on Malfoy and pressing a finger to his chest. “Funny you should say that, considering it’s mine.”

Harry was already backing away, hoping they would at least silence the door before they destroyed the room. He never understood their squabbles, even more so how they seemed to forget anyone else was in the room once one of their familiar rows had started.

He was surprised to find the room more-or-less fully intact the next day when he went to visit them—though not so surprised to find himself party to a screaming match as soon as he opened the door.

“I told you not to put your files there. It makes a mess of everything,” Hermione shouted, glaring daggers at her office-mate.

“Considering how many plants you’ve already put everywhere, I think I’m entitled to one bloody space to put my notes,” Draco barked in return, his normally neatly coiffed hair hanging loose, probably from how vexed he currently looked.

“Actually, you don’t, because this is supposed to be my office.”

They noticed Harry at the same time.

“Harry tell him!”

“Potter tell her!”

It went on much the same over the course of the month. At first, their fights were about petty things: how many books were allowed to take up the shelves (Hermione insisted she should be allowed more space, and what right really did Malfoy have to read as much as she did), or who had the comfiest chair (Hermione insisted Malfoy had been charming it to raise itself incrementally throughout the day, but no matter how many time she cast finite incantatem, she wasn’t able to reverse it).

Then came fights about things Harry had no clue about.

“If you add lacewing fly to the brew, then it will reverse the effects of the potion,” Hermione said as she braced her hands over Malfoy’s desk, glaring at him with such fire Harry idly wondered how Malfoy wasn't already burnt to a crisp.

Malfoy had his hands behind his head, his expression full of something Harry had no idea how to decipher. “You’re wrong, Granger. That’s only if you use a full lace-wing fly. If we thin the wing, however, and /then/ dice it, it will have the reverse effect.”

If Harry had been paying more attention, he would have noticed his best friend’s curious gaze towards Malfoy.

If Harry had been paying more attention, he would’ve noticed the hesitant smile Malfoy sent Hermione’s way when he thought she wasn’t looking.

If Harry had been paying more attention, he would have been less surprised at what came next.

It was the most recent visit to their shared office that had permanently traumatised him for life (apologies, Riddle). He entered their office with his usual tired sigh, hoping today’s battle was short enough that he could make it home in time for dinner for once.

He stopped short at the sight before him, choking on air as he took in Hermione and Malfoy laying across Hermione’s desk, their mouths and bodies... engaged in a way that should have been outright illegal.

“Oh my god, Harry GET OUT!”

“Potter, I swear—”

Harry had slapped a hand over his eyes, running away from the horror scene with an agility he hadn’t known since he was a teenager.

“Ginny, wait till you hear what I’ve just seen,” Harry said as he exited the Floo to Grimmauld place.

“Was it Hermione and the ferret snogging?”

Harry stopped short. “You already knew?”

“Oh, husband,” Ginny said, reaching up and tapping his cheek affectionately. “You always notice things after everyone else does.”

“I resent that,” he said, reaching over and tucking a stray red hair behind his wife's ear.

“Would you resent it if we had sex right now?” she said with a cheeky grin aimed his way, already reaching for the buttons of his work robes. She was still dressed in her Harpy’s uniform.

And just like that, the attention of the boy who lived was diverted once more.

#dramione #Dramione fanfic #dhr fanfiction #Hermione Granger #Draco Malfoy

[choices-binglebonkus]

Because I’m in a daring mood today, here’s something that may or may not be a hot take: just because a twist is predictable doesn’t inherently mean it’s bad. Similarly, just because a twist was unpredictable and totally surprising doesn’t make it good.

Sooooo…spoilers below for very obvious reasons.

Examples of good but predictable twists (in my humble opinion):

-Justin being Anton Severus in TRR. I personally didn’t predict this at all but pretty much everyone else on the face of the earth did. They had Justin/Anton in the story just enough that he sort of slipped under the radar while also not completely disappearing and cropping up out of nowhere. As a writer, this is a really difficult balance to reach when you’re springing a twist villain on someone.

-Redfield not being truly defeated after the ritual. Let’s face it. Everyone knew Redfield was coming back. Your mom knew it, your dog knew it, the random person down the street who’s never even heard of Choices knew it. But Cora stumbling into homecoming on the verge of death using her dying breath to warn us that Redfield was coming, then the desperate, terrified escape, rescue mission, and final showdown with Redfield were all an impeccable buildup to the climax and eventual end of the book. When the monsters stormed homecoming, that’s when shit got real.

-Jane Marshall being Redfield in ILITW. This is another one I didn’t predict (yeah I know, I’m kind of oblivious 😭) but a lot of other people did. Looking back on it, it was really obvious, but at the time? That reveal actually made me shout out loud when I first read the book.

-Bloodbound MC being a descendent of Rheya. I remember people somehow predicted this one all the way back when book two was still being released, and yet…it just felt so strangely right. Obviously the MC had to get her psychic abilities from somewhere, she didn’t just randomly develop them when she started hanging out with the vampires. And yeah it’s cheesy as hell, but I thought the whole “blood rests in the sacred chalice” prophecy was cool as shit even though I wasn’t the hugest Bloodbound fan at the time.

-The It Lives Within MC being a Power-created human. At least, this one was predictable to me. Everyone else seemed to be totally caught off guard. I pretty much knew for most of the book that the MC was the Power. I mean, the uncontrollable surges of Power, the psychic dreams and nightmares, their whole family being killed by monsters of the Power? Not to mention the title of the book, It Lives Within. I actually thought it had already been stated that we are the Power and was surprised that people were caught off guard. Nonetheless, this was a HUGE power move (no pun intended) and a really, really well-done twist. Especially for a fan game!

Aaaand examples of unpredictable but not very good twists (also in my humble opinion):

-Any instance of some character turning out to be alive the whole time. PB is notorious for pulling deceased characters out of thin air and turning them into some kind of adversary for whatever reason. At best, they’re a minor nuisance. At worst, they’re a Big Bad. I think the three worst instances of this twist were Barthelemy Beaumont, Harry Foredale, and our sister from WTD all coming back from the dead. In our sister’s case, literally.

-Eirik. Just Eirik. Throughout TRH, he had given absolutely zero indication of any malice, cunning, or evil ambition. I truly don’t think anyone saw it coming when he revealed himself to be part of the Via Imperii in the final chapter of TRH, book 3. But frankly, the reveal was…eh. Him turning out to be evil in a secret society ended up not being that great because the Via Imperii was all bark and no bite.

-The Endless Summer MC being the missing piece of Vaanu. There were hints dropped here and there throughout book 2 and they got a little more frequent in book 3, but I think the real reason this one was pretty unpredictable was because they threw book 3 together really fast (including all three endings) and we figured it out at the tail end of the book. As much as I loved Endless Summer, this twist felt like a cop out.

-The MC being pregnant with twins in BaBu. This one really came out of left field and was pretty surprising, and yet it didn’t add anything to the story. In fact, BaBu would’ve been the exact same if she only had one baby. There’s not much else to say about this twist other than it was supposed to shock us as it was revealed at the very end of book one, but it did nothing.

-Xenocrates being the head of the Order in Bloodbound. This one was pretty unpredictable, but it unfortunately had little impact on the people who didn’t buy all the tapestry fragments. Even worse, he was barely present enough in the story to make players really feel his influence.

#long post #spoilers #ilw spoilers #choices stories you play #playchoices #choices stories we play #pixelberry #pixelberry studios #playchoices fandom #choices stories you play fandom #choices stories we play fandom

[rusame]

Static Snow

I’m sorry idk why I didnt post it..? Great fics as always, thanks!!

@reposhillo submitted :

((This is a draft of the fic. It’s not yet complete as I still need to add Ivan in but it’s getting there.))

Alfred runs, securing what he and his troops had been sent behind enemy lines to protect over his shoulder even as the sound of the alarm blares in the background. His boots make a crunching noise over the thin layer of snow beneath him for every step he takes, the distinct chill that resides in the air settling deeply in his bones. He barely takes notice, generating minimal heat as he keeps his body moving, his gait somewhat quicker than a jog as he takes a quick glance back to count his remaining soldiers.

Eighteen. Eighteen men is what he had left tailing behind him, yelling as the enemy was about to open fire. He had started this mission to retrieve stolen American technology from a small Military fort on the Russian countryside with thirty, some of them veterans, others fresh recruits. He gave a quick prayer to them and the fallen few as he tightened his hold on the briefcase he was holding over his shoulder as the sight of a forest soon came into view. He yelled for his men to take cover in it as gunshots started echoing through the air, the sound of body’s crashing to the snow only fueling the remaining to get them moving quicker. Alfred gave a grunt of aggravation as he grabbed a hold of the withered bark on the nearest tree. He used his momentum to swing himself around and grabbed the soldier who had managed to keep up with him this whole time as the others soon joined, spreading out their ranks among the shelter the dead trees gave. 

“Sir?” The soldier quipped, his helmet nearly obscuring the fern green eyes blinking at him in confusion, but they had a determined shine to them. He was young, way too young to be in this kind of situation.

 Alfred moved quickly, snapping open the briefcase as he dropped his cargo back on the ground, yanking it open and spilling out its contents, one of which looked like a Russian made radio. He made careful work of grabbing the item of question from the briefcase and transferring it to his bag, while he dropped the radio into the briefcase. He closed it with his foot, and then handed his bag to the soldier. “Take this. Run and don’t dare look back. You know where this needs to go, get it there. Now move.” He ordered, giving the man a shove. The man nodded, taking off and disappearing amongst the many trees. Alfred watched him go for as long as he could, at least until he heard the advancing footsteps of the Russians. He gave a slight huff of air as he grabbed the briefcase and slung it back over his shoulder, hooking it across the harness so that he could use both of his hands freely.

He crouched, pressing his back against the tree as he dug out his handgun from his belt. He heard gunfire off in the distance, in some deeper part of the forest. He paid it little mind as a large black coat came into view, and Alfred took aim.

Bang.

One down. He could hear shouts and footsteps colliding with the snow, and Alfred knew he needed to move. He stood and ran, stopping every once while to hide behind a tree before moving on. He was making good progress, managing to avoid two or three of the bastards as they passed by. He slid his left foot back, unaware of the raised root from the tree behind him as he prepared to book it again. He turned, his boot getting caught underneath it as the sudden force that paused his momentum threw him off balance, tripping him and twisting his leg at a odd angle as he fell. 

His face was met with snow, the powder sticking to his face briefly before it melted away under his heated flesh as he cursed, turning on his side as he attempted to wrestle his foot free. It hurt, a sort of searing pain that spread along his ankle, and Alfred cursed himself for not paying more attention. He slid his foot out from under the thick root, putting pressure on the area to gauge the damage.

Voices.

The voices from earlier were returning, and Alfred wandered if God was having a good laugh at him. He grit out a rough “Fuck.” as he dragged his body along with his arms, crawling towards the next tree. Upon reaching it, he was surprised when the ground gave way and he tumbled down into a ravine, his upper body meeting the ground below before his lower did.

“Sonuvabitch.” He growled, picking himself off the ground as the voices came closer. He wouldn’t be able to climb out with his foot injured like it was, not without being caught. He weighed his options, and chose to press his body up against the ravine wall, the small gorge offering a temporary hiding place as the tree over top loomed over him.

“Нашли что-нибудь?”

“Нет, сэр!”

“a затем перейти на восток, мы найдем эти американские свиней , так или иначе “ .

Alfred listened with bated breath, his handgun clenched tightly in his palms as the voices wavered, traveling along the ravine. They must have been just up ahead, and Alfred prayed to God that they wouldn’t take the time to search the current area thoroughly.

‘But even if they did…’ He thought, a faint smirk pulling at his lips as he felt the weight of the briefcase weighing down his shoulders. ‘It’d be a lost cause for them. Losers.’ 

It seemed God had answered his prayers, as Alfred could no longer hear their voices or footsteps any more. Alfred let out an exasperated sigh, leaning his head back against the dirt wall of the ravine, his helmet making a dull thud against it. Sky blue eyes closed for a moment, breathing in the cold hair that stung his lungs. Reaching a gloved hand up to grab at the strap under his chin, he unhooked his helmet strap and let it tumble off his head, feeling it was too constricting.He ran a hand though his disheveled, wheat colored locks as he opened his eyes to look towards the darkening sky. It would be night soon, and Alfred didn’t think he’d have the strength to make the journey through the forest when the evening chill would descend upon the forest. ‘I’m either gonna be found out by those bastards or freeze to death at this rate. This sucks…’

He gave a throaty chuckle at his predicament as he tossed the decoy briefcase off his shoulders, letting it rest beside him. He then finally took notice that his glasses were cracked, the glass shattered near the corner. He slid them off with a huff, folding them and placing them in his coat pocket. He then holstered his pistol, his hand brushing the briefcase in the process. He paused, staring at it for a moment before he snapped it open, revealing the radio inside.

He stared at it for a moment, reaching out to run a hand along the Russian radio. “That’s’ right….This was ‘your’ gift to me even though you never answer me.” He mused out loud, grabbing it and dragging it into his lap. It was hefty, and Alfred wondered why he had brought it with them for the mission, more than likely being the reason he had been so weighed down. He then chuckled at the thought. “More like held down eh? Just like you used to do.” 

A memory flashed to life before his eyes.

“Ivan dude, I have to get up and get dressed. I’m going to be late and I’d like to not get bitched at by my boss for once.” Alfred groaned, attempting to wrestle his way out of his lover’s hold.

“ Неt, я хочу , чтобы держать вас до сих пор..Five more minutes…” His larger lover whined, arms bringing the American closer to him.

“Jeez you sound like a brat. Let go of me you ass!” Alfred grunted, grabbing Ivan’s arms and trying to untangle himself from them.

“Make me little American.” Ivan’s Russian accented voice breathed into his ear, before he felt Ivan press a kiss to the side of his head, a soft smile crossing his features.

Alfred smirked, flipping the machine on. It whirred to life with a buzz of static, vibrating in his lap as he fiddled with the dials. He set it to a certain station, one his former lover had revealed to him so that he could talk in secret when they were away from one another. The static died down to a low hum, and Alfred took the chance to clear his throat.

“Uh hey. It’s me you asshole. It’s been a while since I tried this out, even though I know you’ll never answer me anymore.” His only response was the soft hum of static.

“Hey just to let you know you won’t get away with this. Like any hero I came to get what you stole and succeeded, so looks like you lose.” He gave a rough lap, shifting the radio so that it wasn’t as uncomfortable sitting on his lap. “Anyway I’m only doing this as closure for me, because we really never had a final talk or goodbye or anything cheesy like that.” The American soldier frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was so sudden you know. You just came in looking super fucking serious and said it was done. And then you left. And then the next day I figured out what was going on. That was years ago though, but it still bugs me.” With a belated sigh, Alfred looked back to the sky, searching for any appearing stars. “I’ve had time to get over it, I mean it still kind of hurts but that’s life. It taught me a pretty good lesson. Russians are assholes.”

Alfred laughed at his joke, eyes blinking sleepily as he counted the stars visible to him. “I mean really. You made promises you’d never keep. You said we’d be together til the ends of our days. Your words exact. You said we’d finish our duties and buy a nice house together, with a room with a glass ceiling so we could watch the stars. You said you’d be there whenever I need you…But they were all lies weren’t they? Were you really just a spy for a mission? Did all of those years together mean nothing for you? You seemed so content in those days. But I learned my lesson, really. But I’ll tell you I was honest, I was really happy being with you. Guess you couldn’t say the same.”

Alfred felt warmth gather at the corners of his eyes, and he reached up and dug his palms into his eyes, pressing away the tears that had attempted to spill forth. He was done crying over him.

“Did you ever think about going to space when you were younger?” Alfred asked, nuzzling into his lover’s warm chest as the two sat outside. He was seated in between the Russian’s legs, his back pressed to his chest with Ivan’s arms wrapped around him.

“Hmm sometimes. I always adored looking up at the night sky back in my hometown, how the great black of night was so different from the constant sheets of snow my home was buried in.” Ivan admitted, resting his chin on top of Alfred’s head. “I thought how wide and great it must be, unexplored. Somewhere one could escape to.”

“Yeah. When I was little I actually thought it was kind of scary, how it seemed so endless. But you know, even if it’s endless and a bit scary, it’s big enough to go wherever you want.” Alfred laughed, resting his hand on top of Ivan’s.

“Hey, think when you get back we can start looking at houses. I want one where we can see the sky!”

“We shall see. Perhaps one with a glass ceiling? There was a building at my hometown where the study had a completely glass archway.”

“That sounds so cool!”

“Indeed.”

Alfred shivered, using his free hand to rub his arm, the cold settling over him like a blanket, seeping in beneath his skin and freezing his bones in place. His limbs felt stiff and heavy, the stinging pain of the frost now ebbing away to numbness. “It’s so cold here Ivan. I think I kind of understand what you were always telling me about Russia now. It’s not just the cold, its the feeling of loneliness it brings with it. Is this how it always was for you?” A bitter smile painted his feature as his eyelids fluttered close. He felt numb, and so, so tired. “I’m tired now Ivan. Really tired. See you on the other side…” Eyes that reflected the sky and ocean that the Russian told him he so loved eased themselves closed.

#hetalia #aph #rusame #amerus #fics #reposhillo #trl #submission #01

[russilton]

i reread the post a second time and i am absolutely barking at your george characterization. it's george in a different font but it still feels like him, and the way he reacts to everything just feels so real and human— although i am also in pain thanks 😭😭 /lh

but agh. him getting that merc contract feels CATHARTIC. i can't wait to see how it gets announced and publicized and how george is gonna rub it in redbull's faces. my god if this was real i swear the entirety of the internet would EXPLODEEE - @ruszhou

*through welling tears* thanks bro

It… God it means so much to me to hear he’s still in character. Writing George and Lewis for that AU is such a mixed experience. They’re sharper, meaner, they don’t hold back, and while it’s so fun it’s also weird as hell! It’s all fun and games saying they hate fuck till you have to write the hate… but like it’s a very weird kinda hate too, it’s skin deep, George doesn’t ever hate lewis he just wants his attention. Lewis doesn’t hate George either, he’s honestly deeply impressed by his driving skill, he just wishes george would be skilled somewhere out of his way sometimes. They are the personification of “the line between love and hate is paper thin”

Redbull George au spoilers below the cut

I was actually trying to plot all that out last night on my au timeline (I know, it’s painfully nerdy, but it helps develop the fic lmao) and George is going to sign just before Brazil for the sheer “fuck you” power it gives Lewis over Red bull that weekend, but his signing won’t be announced till WELL after the season ends. They don’t want to risk George getting possibly physically retaliated against by RB before the season is over. Lewis has to impress upon George how important it is he still fight Lewis on track, they all need to play the part. George humourlessly points out that Red bull have been deliberately using his car as a test car since Hungary, so he couldn’t fight Lewis if he tried. Lewis restrains all his angry sad feels about that.

I haven’t started on my points spreadsheet yet so I can’t say how George effects the WDC standings fully, but I still intend for them to go into AD on equal points, but George DOES assist Lewis ever so slightly by not fighting him as hard as Perez did, allowing Lewis to build a better lead gap. It’ll probably go that when his car craps out he drags it round to the pits so he doesn’t risk causing Lewis a safety car. Red bull can’t accuse him of anything, they’re the one that nerfed his car after all. Latifi does what George did in irl AD and limps his car to the pits too, there’s no safety car, Lewis wins and George finally feels like he can breathe.

He can’t celebrate with Merc even though he wants to, he just has to watch from afar. Red bull can’t know till he wants them to, but he does let Lewis catch his eye and grin at him.

George doesn’t really want to go back to the Red bull booked hotel that night, they all still hate him and they’re sulking. He and max cross paths once as final speeches are given, and max shoulder checks him hard. George is used to it but he’s so fucking tired, bruised, he wants to sleep this all off. As George is leaving the paddock Lewis greets him with a PR level driver handshake and back slap, but he presses a hotel keycard into George’s hand before leaving.

It’s a clear message, or at least George thinks it is. He and Lewis haven’t slept together since around silverstone bc of what Redbull were doing to George, but George figures this is a signal. He’s not sure he really wants to have sex, he just wants to sleep, but he doesn’t want to be alone surrounded my people who are mad at him. He heads to lewis’ hotel room without even going back to his own.

Lewis of course surprises him by rocking up with champagne and something horribly unhealthy they can’t eat during the on season, tells George he figures George needs something to celebrate getting 3rd and his new seat since his team won’t do it. It’s painfully tender and domestic in a way George doesn’t really understand, he keeps looking for signals of something from Lewis, but Lewis just talks to him. When George asks why he isn’t out celebrating with his team, Lewis shrugs and says it gets old after the 6th championship. George knows he’s lying but he can’t call him on it, so he just lets himself get tipsy on hotel champagne and finally let the weight of RB off his chest.

They share a bed, it’s some king size monster bc of course it is, Lewis doesn’t have to scrimp on size or cost in his bookings. They both sleep in their underwear on opposite sides of the bed, George knows he could go back to his hotel alone but he doesn’t want to. He’ll stay here till morning, grab his stuff and get on his flight back to London. It’s fine.

They wake up tangled together because of course they do, Lewis spooned up behind George, strong and steady, holding him tight. They end up having tender, slow morning sex, face to face and embarrassingly vulnerable. A polar opposite to their last angry rough fuck, here Lewis winds a hand with his and presses slow, soft kisses into his jaw while he takes George apart. Lewis praises him for all he’s gone through and George comes so hard he might pass out. He’ll be embarrassed by it all later but right now he just tucks his head into Lewis collar and rocks lazily with his thrusts.

They don’t announce Georges move immediately. They all head back to England, and wait. They don’t want People to think George manipulated redbulls end results, or jumped ship, they want to wait until he’s ready, but then around dec 16th or so redbull tell George they want to sign his AT contract, since he kept in line for the end of the season. They think they’re being so gracious and kind for it. George says sure sure Monday? I’m needed at some family events this weekend. Christian and Marko agree bc sure, they don’t think George has anything else going on. Mercedes announce they’ll be holding a press conference on their new driver line up on Sunday, one week out of AD. Christian even ends up on camera bc itv or something want to interview him for the end of the season and to react to the Merc press news. Nobody knew who Merc would be using to replace Val, it’s been completely silent behind the scenes.

So imagine of course, Christian’s sucked lemon face caught in 4k as Toto announces Lewis and George, who walk out in their contrast matching Merc shirts. Lewis looks like the cat who caught the canary. George looks like he’s terrified but trying to grin through it when Lewis gently bumps his shoulder in support. Toto sing’s George’s praises and announces how excited they are to welcome him to the team. When asked George will say he’s excited to work with a team that puts their drivers first. Christian has to grit his teeth as the itv hosts quiz him on it.

#britcedes #gewis #4463 #mark’s fic tag #asks #george russell #lewis hamilton #hoecedes #redbull george au #ruszhou

[slimegirlsoda]

Behold!!!! A list of all my known forms!

Slimegirl!:

I just wanna be gooey and melty and drench people when I hug them! Blowing bubbles in myself Also having some loose form shifting abilities. I would be bubbly like soda and taste like lime! But have a light red/pinkish color, or amybe a creamsicle orange? Blue is also good,, maybe a gradient?

Goblin:

yessss yesyeysyes, small ankle biting motherfucker! And big ass ears oooh that flutter when I get excited. Even better if we're talking about goblins with more animalistic traits, like little claws and long tails, sharp teeth are a MUST. I just wanna be small, but also fearsome!! And a Creature

(Yordles get an honorable mention here for being the one good thing about LoL)

Imp/demon:

like, succubus stuff right? But also I would be chill as hell like at least a little evil too but chilllll. Also I want horns, and a thin lil tail, and the knowledge that like, people are gonna expect me to be evil cause demon but like that's Completely up to me. A lotta scorpion like chitan would be cool too? And I wouldn't mind hooves if we're going the full mile

Demons get a lot of point for being tall and imposing but,,, imp obviously wins because of the previous post. Like the best of both worlds!!! Do me you wanna be small AND a lil morally dubious? Like yes please I'll be the most mischievous fuck on the planet! Sitting atop the fourth wall like damn look at these goons, I would also love the ability to Bamf, blame DeadEndParanormalPark for making Courtney the most me character known to man

Robots!!!!:

I, just, need to be, artificial, AND, customizable. Being a MegaMan fan has changed me Forever. Sometimes! You are a girl! With enough firepower in your arm to level a building! And you also switch out your boob size! I'm not gonna lie I'm greedy as fuck cause I would install every device known to man in myself like a real TeenageRobot situation, but thats part of it! Not to mention the romantic implications of letting someone fix me up like duejsjsjaokakwks okay. But really I would like to turn my hand into a cannon, or a sword, or maybe I just wanna de-atach it for funsies. Also customizing it no less humanoid forms would be such a fun experiment, Robot also has a lotta cool stuff to do with my neurodivergent shit like sorry guys I know I'm not processing optimally but I'm just Built like that, also, having a TV for a head would set me for LIFE

Catgirl:

y'know like, nya? But fr this one just feels natural. Purring, hissing, all shit I already do, before I even connected the dots with this one. My ears lying flat when I'm annoyed, my furr prickling in uncomfy situations, God it feels Just like that. All and all I'm already a cat person, and just having such an element of grace when I'm already a Lazy Sunbeam bitch would fit so well. Claws! Sharp teeth! Always a plus, in all forms Also!!! I want pets!!! And to nuzzle! Your hand! Yes! You! Specifically!

Doggirl:

gah see there are two girls in me, one is cat and one is dog. I think I'm much more cat than dog but damn! Damn am I a good girl!!!! There's some wolf in there too but I wont lie I'm domesticated as hell, I just want pets and my tail wags so! Often! Pretty much any time I'm excited, it's the only way to describe that it's like The Stim Ever! Also barking, so fucking good, sometimes I just wanna bark nonstop the noise just feels good to make

Dragon:

best creature ever, so much envy. Scales so pretty like armor, tail so long and thick like big lizard, amazing wings! Sharp claws, talons, breath of fire!? Hhhh yes please, I almost don't feel cool enough to be a dragon but we can't all be cool, read Wings of Fire btw it's a great book,

Witch:

not exactly a gender more like a Class? But i put it here cause I just wanna be the most Homey magic user. I would like to brew my magic, it just feels so tangible, black cat's and brooms the whole shebang, though I'd probably modernize myself, but it just seems like such a Life y'know? Maybe I should learn actual witchcraft

Magical girl:

now this may SEEM like it contradicts the last one, and maybe it DOES but hear me out! I WANT! to transform! Like I could be my normal self, prolly boymodding just a hoodie and no dopamine. But then trouble? I whip out my sword with a fuckin star on the hilt that can also turn into a bow, wave that shit around and now I'm the flashiest motherfucker this side of the cosmos! Would need some big ass boots! Skirt but also armor! Bracers with the fingerless gloves, ohhh the ultimate drip. It also doesn't help that I wanna be op as fuck, like I'm the bitch that chooses adaptability or power copying as a power, like I want it all, all the elements, the versatility, the range, gladly would be a jack of all trades master of none, speed, strength, or range fighter? all of the above please, I am not min-maxing a balanced build all the way.

Angel:

this one's kinda lower on this list but it's still there. Kinda like how I wanna be a demon who's still human and good in very ways, I wanna be an angel that's just a Lil fucked up. Like, corrupt me Please, this cute lil halo and perfect robes are a ficade I just wanna have fun!! Also wings are always cool, big wings to exstends when Flutters, but also small lil P wings are maybe my go to, idk why but I like em

also we all want the half angel half demon thing cause it's cool as fuck but I'm not strong enough to admit it yet

General monster/shadow gender stuff:

this is like the weird gender goo left at the bottom but there's something here,, like its mostly cause I wanna be Creature unknowable Thing, some kinda chimera? Claws, tail, and a lotta sharp Danger zones. Shadow is in her two because I'm definitely a night time kinda creature, perching on shit and looking down. All kinds of shape shifting is here too but that's not its own category cause that's kinda the theme of the whole list

Another honorable mention goes to a Lot of Pokemon I don't feel like listing. They are all either adorable or little monsters. half of my favorite Pokemons belong here cause I have to separate my list by do I like them in the I think they're neat way or in the I wanna be them way?

I may add more to this later if I remember any more

Also this is me holding back i could talk about any of these at much greater length. Please DM me I am Normal and care about this topic a Normal Amount, and want to talk about it to other people and hear their forms an Even Normaler Amount

[isfjmel-phleg]

Unfinished Delclis and Elystan flashback?

This may end up being Delclis's birthday story this year, if I can figure out what to do with it. It started off as an attempt to give myself something fun and light-hearted to work on, but it turns out that that is equally or more stressful for some reason?

I wanted a piece that gives us some context for Delclis and Elystan's relationship. They're at odds for most of the series proper, but they grew up together and were usually each other's only non-adult company. As detached as Delclis tends to be, and as obnoxious as Elystan is, they're still (half-)brothers, and they had to have had some pleasant times together. And acknowledging those times is going to give greater emotional impact to how estranged they become after Delclis does the thing that incurs Elystan's hatred between Books 2 and 3.

So the idea is that eleven-year-old Delclis gets dragged in to entertain seven-year-old Elystan, who is sick in bed yet again and bored. Delclis really doesn't want to be there, but something (???) will happen to get him invested in whatever his brother is playing, and it ends with the two of them building a blanket fort and, once Elystan falls asleep leaning on him, Delclis picking his plant book back up and enjoying the peace and quiet.

Or at least it would if I had actually written most of it. I've posted the first part of it here, and below is the rest so far, which is very drafty and unedited and full of placeholders (yes yes it looks ridiculous but it won't be in a final draft).

(I don't write a lot of fluff and I will take all the pointers I can for pulling it off, if anyone has any.)

Delclis considered simply walking out and never coming back, but a rustle in the bed at the far end of the room froze him with his hand to the doorknob. A white face with huge eyes peered out at him from beneath a heap of bedclothes.

“Delclis!” shrieked a thin voice.

And he was trapped.

Elystan flung the covers aside and bounced in place on the mattress. “Mara said you probably wouldn’t come, but you did! I knew you would!”

“Actually, I was just leaving,” said Delclis. It was worth a try. “Wrong door. Sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You’re in my wing. So you’re here to see me.” Elystan punctuated this display of logic with a barking cough.

“Well, I suppose I might as well read to you.” Clutching his book close to his waistcoat, Delclis shuffled across the carpet, stealing glances around the room as he progressed. As little as he enjoyed forced calls on his half-brother, he was fascinated by Elystan’s bedroom, with its ceiling murals of fantastical scenes, marble statues on either side of the fireplace that held up the mantelpiece, and intricately carved furniture. Despite the rain visible through the colored glass of the windows, the reds of the walls, rugs, and tapestries gave the impression of warmth and comfort. If he could have stayed in the room alone, he wouldn’t have minded coming.

Beside Elystan’s bed, Delclis pulled up a footstool, sat on it cross-legged, and opened his book to a particularly riveting passage about [TREES], when Elystan reached out and stabbed him in the chest.

“Ow,” said Delclis flatly. The [OBJECT] never did any actual damage, but it poked hard.

“I have slayed the [MADE-UP WORD],” announced Elystan hoarsely.

“That’s nice. Now, about [STARTS TO READ]--”

Elystan stared at him incredulously. “[M-U W] don’t read when they’ve been slayed. They do like this.” He collapsed in a dramatic heap on the pillows with his jaw slack and limbs flung everywhere, drawing a raspy last breath.

“I’m not doing that,” said Delclis. 

“You have to. You’re the [M-U W].”

“No, I’m not. I don’t even know what that is.”

“A [M-U W]. It’s half dragon, half crocodile, and half bear.”

“That’s three halves. That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. There can only be two halves.”

“Well, he has three halves because he’s so big. He’s enormous. And I slayed him.”

“All right, now that that’s out of the way, we’re going to read. You’re going to learn about trees of Central Western Corege.”

“I can’t learn about trees,” said Elystan, bouncing on the mattress again. “I’m at sea. No trees anywhere.”

#asks #brown-little-robin #thank you! #The Blackberry Bushes short stories #my writing #Delclis Phemister #Elystan Liddick

[higureryu]

FFXIV Prompt 2: Bolt

1: to move suddenly or nervously

2: to move or proceed rapidly

3: to break away from control or a set course; to dart off or away 

4: to break away from or oppose one's previous affiliation

5: to produce seed prematurely Before the Calamity.

Munkhtsetseg paused, tail stiff as she scanned the room. The other children in the workhouse had their heads down, focusing on their tasks. She carefully set the half-finished quilted haubrek down, and eased off the stool. No one payed attention to the small auri child as she snuck towards the door. ".....blackie. If they catch you, they'll take dinner from you again." The voice was soft, and the young raen boy didn't look up from his needle and thread. Munkhtsetseg shrugged. "Not first time. Old man promised show herb." "Alright." She grinned, front teeth missing, and bolted out the door. Once clear of the workroom, she ran as fast as she could towards the ramshackle building on the edge of village that passed as the medicus's office. The bamboo screen of the door should have been replaced the last rainy season, but the imperials hadn't allowed the old man the time to do it. So it stuck. And stuck hard. She groaned as she leaned her shoulder into the door, finally getting it to slide open enough to allow her thin frame to pass. The room was an odd mix of modern magitek and archaic yanxian tools. Piles of dried herbs lay side by side with beakers and crucibles. The smell of stale sake wafted from a pile of bark bound books to create a heady mix. Munkhtsetseg frowned as she shook her head. "Master. Drunk sleep....in books bad." A shaky hand rose from the pile, waving her off. "Oh hush blackie. Help me clean up and pack." "...pack? Promised herbs." "....I did didn't I? Sorry, but plans have changed. I need to move to a new village. They want me reassigned."

Munkhtsetseg wilted, tail drooping. ".....oh. No...no herbs?" "No." The old man paused as he sat up, robes falling loosely around his aging frame. "....actually. Want to travel with me? I can probably talk them letting me adopt you as an apprentice."

The drooping tail went bolt upright as her head came up as well, eyes sparkling. ".....promise?" With a chuckle, the old man got up. He dusted himself off and nodded. "I think they owe me at least that much. Alright then. Help me pack and we can get out of here."

#FFxivWrite2022 #FFxivWrite #FFxivWrite2022 prompt list #ffxiv writing prompt #ffxiv writing challenge