#guess who just got back from lisa frankenstein for the second time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crashdevlin · 7 years ago

Text

Keeper of the Stars-2: Fated

Author’s Note: A multi-part sequel to Some of This Isn’t Bad

Summary: Y/n was a fan of the Supernatural book series who wrote fanfics and attended the conventions. After meeting the boys through Becky, she stopped being a fan and became a hunter. When she shows up at a hunter wake, she doesn’t expect the Winchesters to remember her, and doesn’t expect the argument that breaks out between her and Dean.

Pairing(s): Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4255

Story Warnings: 18+ HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!, fingering, oral (male and fem rec), protected sex

Chapter Warnings: none

You gasped as you stepped through the heavy iron door into the bunker. "Wow."

"Welcome to the Batcave." Dean said, smirking as he pulled the door closed.

"It's weird, but... this is exactly what I imagined when you told me about it."

"Really?" Dean leaned against the railing next to you.

"Yeah. Down to the ancient computer banks lining the wall, there." You pointed down to a set of old beige-colored computers. "Imagined 'em bigger, though."

"That's just part of it. The main computer's in a separate room with a special cooling system."

You smiled. "Well, that sounds about right."

"Come on. I'll give you the penny tour." Dean said, heading down the spiral staircase. You followed him. "This is the big nerd's favorite room." He said, gesturing around the library. You looked around the room, eyes flitting over the spines.

"Oh, my god. Is that an actual Malleus Maleficarum?"

"Yeah. We got some real cool shit in the fiction section, too." He gestured to another shelf of books. "First editions, all of 'em. Dickens, Pope, Jane Austen, Emerson, Thoreau."

"Why's The Wizard of Oz on the Nonfiction shelf?" You asked.

"'Cause Oz is real." You turned to him with a completely disbelieving look and he laughed. "Got a lot to fill you in on."

"Oz... munchkins, Wicked Witches... Wonderful Wizard of-"

"Yeah. The, uh, Wizard was evil, by the way. Well, bad. The Wizard was all the bad shit out of this sweet old Men of Letters legacy. Dorothy and her dad were Men of Letters, too."

"Dorothy was- This is weird. Like, I've had my share of weird over the last few years, but come on. Oz is real? How do you guys stumble into shit like that?"

"Wish we hadn't. Come on, let me show you my second favorite room in this place." He said, nodding toward a hallway.

You smirked as you followed him. "Let me guess... the kitchen? This place must have a huge kitchen."

"Well, it's not huge, but it's bigger than any kitchen that I've ever had. The kitchen I had with Lisa was nice, but it was pretty small and, honestly, Lisa thought I was gonna poison her and Ben so she never let me cook." He chuckled, pushing his hands in his pockets. "There was this one weekend she went on this yoga retreat. She left money for us to order pizza, but I made stuffed sliders one night and meatloaf the second. Ben loved them." He turned right into a doorway and stepped down into an industrial kitchen. He looked around, proudly. "My second favorite room. What do you think?"

"I think it's pretty great. I... haven't had a kitchen in years. I do most of my cooking on hotplates." You moved toward the fridge. "A real refrigerator. I forgot they came in sizes bigger than 3.4 cubic feet."

"Uh, don't open that. It hasn't been cleaned out in, like, a month, so..."

"It can't be that bad." You said, pulling the door open. You immediately gagged at a foul smell and pushed the door closed. "Oh, God, I stand corrected."

He chuckled and grabbed a can of soda from the counter. "It's warm, but do you want one?"

"No. I'm good, thanks." You said, sitting at the little wooden table and looking up at him. "You gonna sit down and talk to me, or what?"

"What, you don't wanna finish the tour?"

You laughed. "I have a feeling that the tour ends in your favorite room, Dean: your bedroom. I'm not here for that."

"Your loss. My bedroom is badass." He sat across from you and popped the tab on the soda can. "So, where should I start? I've given it a bit of thought, you know, but you're in control here, sweetheart."

"Amazon. Go."

"Had a nice time with a... fairly attractive woman, who immediately got pregnant and had a small girl who... Amazons come out quick, grow up fast, and kill their fathers." He bit his bottom lip and sipped the soda. "My daughter was a pretty little blond monster named Emma. Sam killed her... 'cause I couldn't."

You looked down. "That sucks. That'd definitely make me wary of random encounters."

"Yeah. Haven't had many of those... well, when I was a demon, I was... kinda insatiable, honestly. Refractory period on a demon is something I miss. Anyway. Uh, so filling in stuff you missed out on, Sam was doing those Trials to shut the Gates of Hell and it almost killed him. He was gonna let it kill him. He was ready to die and-"

"You refused to let him." You finished for him.

"Exactly. Anyway, the angel that I let in him, he got turned by Metatron. Metatron made him kill- wait, do you know about Metatron and the angels falling?"

You chuckled. "The angels were kicked out of Heaven by Metatron. Metatron: the voice of God. He transcribed the word of God into the tablets that the prophets can read. He decided to try to be God. You tried to stop him. He killed you. I don't know what happened to him after that, but someone must've neutralized him."

"Yeah. Heaven did. He was in jail for a while. Jail in Heaven, doesn't that just make so much sense? Anyway, he tricked Cas and escaped." He tapped his fingernail against the tab of his can. "There was this... this girl named Charlie. She helped us with the Leviathans and this thing at a ren fair and... we told her to forget about us, forget about the monsters. She was a lot like you, though. She couldn't go back to reading her sci-fi/fantasy books when she knew that there was a real world full of monsters and magic. Against our protests, she became a hunter. One of the most... amazing hunters I..." His voice broke, so he cleared his throat. "Sam roped her into a plot to get the Mark of Cain off of me and she... cracked the code to the spell and, uh, it was in this book and..."

Tears popped up in his eyes so you reached across the table and took his free hand in yours. He gave you a tight smile, then nodded. "She died. Killed by the Frankensteins... for the book... She was a good woman, great hunter." He cleared his throat again. "Anyway, she's the one who went to Oz." He adjusted your hands so that his thumb was running along the back of your hand. "There's a witch named Rowena, she used Charlie's code-breaker to figure out the spell to get the Mark off of me. Turns out, the Mark of Cain was... pretty much the lock on the Darkness' cage. As soon as it was off, out she came."

"Wait, how did you guys convince the Queen-Mother of Hell to do a spell for you?"

"Oh, you know that Rowena's Crowley's mom?" Dean asked, smiling slightly.

"I figured it out. When I was possessed, I had access to some of Yala's knowledge. Crowley does not have a good relationship with that woman."

"Crowley doesn't have a good relationship with anybody. Uh, anyway... Sam got Rowena to do the spell by promising to kill Crowley... which he failed at, so then he chained her up in an abandoned distillery and forced her to do it. He was kinda desperate to save me from the Mark. Neither of us could really stand me that way. He went for magic and the Book of the Damned... I went for a meeting with Death."

"Death? The Horseman?" You asked, pulling your hand back in surprise. He nodded, before looking down at his hand. He clenched it, then moved it off of the table. "Really? You were calling me out on my reckless choices?"

"Death wasn't that bad. He was actually really easy to talk to. He helped us with Cas when he went crazy with Leviathan power a few years ago and he helped me get Sammy's soul back. I knew he could help with the Mark. Except... his solution, because he knew that relieving me of the Mark would let out the Darkness, was to send me away. To freakin' Jupiter or something, you know? Somewhere where I couldn't kill anybody, or hurt the people I care about. But he wouldn't do it for free. I was supposed to kill Sammy because Sammy had been willing to die after the Trials and I had prevented that. I couldn't do it. I killed Death."

"You what?"

"Yeah. Apparently, that's totally a thing we could do the whole time. Kinda sucked, 'cause like I said, Death was cool, but it was him or Sammy... so I stuck his scythe in his chest and he died."

"You... so what Crowley tried to get you to do in 'Two Minutes to Midnight'-" You rolled your eyes at yourself. "When Crowley gave you the scythe and sent you into the pizzeria in Chicago, that could have worked?"

"Yeah. I guess. Shit, I forgot all about that." He laughed. "Wow, there's still some fan in you, after all. Uh, so I killed Death, Sam got Rowena to pull the Mark off of me and that let Amara out. Amara took it as me letting her out, because I was the last to bear the Mark, and we had this... connection. A scary connection. I couldn't hurt her. I tried. Somethin' about the Mark..." He took a drink then ran his hand through his hair. "She was pissed at God because he locked her away and abandoned her. I get it, you know, but she was eating peoples' souls and destroying shit, so we had to put an end to her. I couldn't. Like I said, we had a connection that was overwhelming. So, it was up to Sam and Sam started having visions and he was convinced that they were from God, but it turns out they were coming from Lucifer's Cage. He figured that if he got Sam to meet with him that he could convince him to say 'yes' again."

Dean flashed a proud smile. "Sammy stuck to his guns, told Lucifer 'no'." His face fell as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. "But Lucifer broke Cas with promises to put down Amara. Cas said 'yes' and Lucifer was let out. Lucifer didn't let on, not for a couple months, but he quietly took back Hell from Crowley and started plotting to take Heaven. Then, we... we track down Metatron to get info on Amara and it turns out that The Darkness is the sister of the Light." He gave you a look, and your eyes widened.

"Wait. God has a sister?"

"Yeah." He smirked. "And, uh, we met God."

You felt your jaw go slack and your eyes widened more. "You..."

"Oh, it gets better." He stood, walking to a metal rack near the fridge to grab a bottle of whiskey. "You've met God, too." He said, grabbing two glasses.

"What?"

He set the glasses on the table and pulled the cork out of the bottle. "The day we met, I noticed you had a signed copy of 'Home' in your purse. It seemed... well-loved. You get that signed in person?"

Your eyes lit up at the mention of the book. "Oh! Yeah. There's actually a neat story with that book. I was at the bookstore with-"

"Then, you've met God." Dean poured whiskey into a cup and pushed it toward you before pouring the second glass.

"What?"

"Chuck. Chuck was God."

"No. What? No, you said Chuck was a prophet." You said, picking up the glass and gulping down two swallows.

"That's what he told us... or rather, Cas told us. Chuck went undercover or something. He wanted to be close to the action instead of just writing it." Dean dropped into the seat across from you again and slid the bottle toward you so that you could refresh your drink. "Guess you and God got something in common."

You picked up the bottle and put it to your lips, forgoing the glass. You set the bottle on the table and looked over at Dean. "I can't believe..."

"Yeah. We, uh, didn't believe it, at first, either. But it's true. Chuck was God and he and Amara jumped ship to go rekindle their sibling relationship. So... Earth is Godless."

"Okay." You said, shaking your head. Your hand shook as you poured the whiskey into your glass, a little past half-full. "Okay. Chuck was God. Did he bring back your mom?"

"No. That was Amara, actually. I went in, ready to suicide bomb her with soul-power, got talking and made her realize that she wanted to fix her relationship with Chuck. As reward, I guess, she gave me my mom back. Kinda. Mom's not quite... she's, uh, out of her element. We're working on it. Baby steps."

"What happened to Lucifer?"

"Oh. He's still out and about, somewhere. Rowena sent him to the bottom of the ocean, but it's Lucifer so he's definitely still around. Cas and Crowley are running him down."

You stood, quickly. "There a bathroom around here?"

Dean looked up at you, a bit confused at your sudden movement. "Yeah. Down the hall, second door on the right."

You gave a tight smile and rushed for the bathroom. You splashed water on your face and took a deep breath. This was big. All of this was big. Lucifer is out and about, Death is dead, Chuck was God. Chuck is God. God handed you the book that started you on the path to meet Dean and told you, flat-out, that it was going to change your life. What an understatement. Why would God have- Why did He want you to be a hunter? A memory hit you and you gasped. You wiped at your face, then opened the bathroom door. Dean was leaning against the wall on the other side of the hall. "You okay? Was it too much at once?"

"Chuck wanted me to be a hunter."

"What?"

You cleared your throat. "That book. The copy of 'Home' that I used to keep in my... in my purse, Chuck gave me that. I was at the bookstore in my hometown. I used to spend all of my free time there. I was lonely and depressed and I used books and-and fanfiction as an escape. I was looking for a new series. I'd just finished reading The Dark Tower series and I needed something else. Chuck walked up and handed me that copy of 'Home' and said... 'This book will change your life', and then he walked away. It was fairly cheap, had an interesting summary, so I bought it. And then I went back and bought the rest. I found the online community, the Supernatural Family, and it did change my life. The friends I made on the internet chatrooms, they saved me from myself, an-and then the conventions... There was this big thing when they put together the first convention and I... I didn't have time to stay the whole night, just long enough to get my book signed. When I saw that... Carver Edlund was the one who gave me the book... I made a joke about him hanging out in bookstores to get his sales up. He said that I was the only one who he'd ever done that for." You took a deep breath. "We talked about you. He signed my book and didn't give it back, immediately. He asked what I thought your character needed in a woman. If you were going to settle down, what would you look for in a wife?"

"Chuck wanted you to... what, help set me up with someone?"

"I said 'Lisa'. You had such a good rapport with Ben and she could handle you if you weren't actively being a hunter." You shook your head. "That wasn't the answer he wanted. He pushed for characteristics, not an already-formed character. I said the woman would need to be funny, a bit damaged but not completely fucked up, that she'd need to be sexual but not a whore... she'd need to recognize your value because you don't recognize it, yourself. She would have to be smart to keep up with you and Sam, strong and capable of taking care of herself but not too strong to accept help when it's required. She'd need to be a hunter, because you'll never not be a hunter." You ran your hand through your hair and looked at the floor in the hallway. "He wrote down everything I said on a pad of paper, then handed the book back. I didn't think anything of it. But... soon after that, I... wrote my first erotic fanfiction. I'd been writing for years, but never... thought of doing anything overtly sexual."

"What are you saying?" Dean pushed off from the wall.

You sighed. "I think I gave... God the blueprint for the woman I am now."

"You think Chuck... wanted us together?"

"It sounds stupid, but..."

"No, it doesn't." Dean smiled down at you. "The day we met, I was drawn to you. It was like you were tailor-made for me. I... shit, I told you the truth about the world for no reason. If that wasn't Chuck interfering, I don't know why I did it." He chuckled. "I'll tell ya, Chuck does know how to play the long game, doesn't he? Gave you that book, set you up to... be what I need, what '06?" You nodded. "Got your input on who you thought my perfect woman would be (spot-on, by the way) in 2010, and three years later has Becky force us to meet at the con."

"And then... you didn't answer the phone for... years."

"So, you became a hunter." He leaned forward, pushing your hair off of your shoulder. "A badass hunter who knows how to ask for help."

"Dean..." You bit your lip and looked up at him. "I didn't come here to-"

"Who are you to deny what God had in mind for you?" He asked, amused.

"A badass hunter who's been burned by you before."

"Okay. Fine. We'll ignore the fact that we were set up on our first date by God. Why don't we set ourselves up a second date? A hunting date. I know you've done Wendigos, but have you ever done a skinwalker?" You shook your head. "Great. Sam's on a skinwalker in Minnesota. Either that or a really angry dog that disappears after it kills. I was planning to go meet with him after you left, but... you could come with."

You bit the inside of your lip and thought it through. If you were right, if God chose you and set your life on the path to be with Dean, maybe you should let it happen. You were not, however, going to fall in bed with him again. "Fine. But I'm getting my own motel room when we get where we're going."

"All right. Sammy's got the Impala so we'll take your Chevelle. And you can tell me some more of your hunting stories."

"None of mine are really note-worthy, Dean. I've never started or stopped the end of the world. I'm just... a hunter, you know?" You pulled your keys out and headed toward the bunker entrance.

"Lemme grab my bag, and you can tell me about your very first hunt when we get in the car."

You sighed and headed for your car, starting it and turning in the stereo. You switched from the radio to the CD changer and moved from your Zeppelin disk to your Taylor Swift 1989 disc. You were certain Dean was going to hate it, but you kinda wanted him to. He dropped his bag in the trunk and pulled open the passenger side door. His nose crinkled as he slid into the passenger seat. "What the hell is this?"

You put your car in reverse and headed for the interstate. "Don't bitch about the music, Dean. House rules. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

His eyebrows came together. "Wait. Did you just quote me... to me?"

"Damn near verbatim from the first book."

"Sammy was bitchin' about my cassettes on the way to Jericho. Man, that seems like forever ago." He made a noise of disbelief, then shook his head. "Turn down the T-swift and tell me about your first hunt."

You snickered at 'T-swift' and turned down the volume. "Well, the first time I decided to check out a case was the last one I called you about. The pretzel guy in Enid, Oklahoma. That's how I knew you showed up. I saw you there, hanging out the window of the Impala like a dog. I bounced after that, but I knew you were ignoring me then so I thought... I figured I already knew the basics of hunting and the rest, well I could figure that out as I went along. First case that I did start to finish was a haunting. A little girl in an old TB hospital in New York. The Ghostfacers went there, but they couldn't find the remains, 'cause most of the bodies were burned when they died because tuberculosis is way contagious. There was a doll, buried on the grounds because they didn't have a body to bury. I found a diary that gave me a roundabout idea of where to start looking. What I found was..."

You shook your head. "It was a mass grave of personal belongings. Dolls and books and eyeglasses and pocket watches and... all of these people's last important things. I burned it all. Several of them... thanked me." You shrugged. "I expected a fight. You and Sam are always getting beat up when you try to burn remains, but they didn't try to stop me. They wanted it to be over."

"That must've struck a cord. I mean, you stuck with hauntings for a while after that."

"Yeah. First non-haunt I did was a demon possession Asa took me on. I was scared out of my mind, thought I was going to be possessed, even though I had my tattoo." You bit your lip. "We tracked it, trapped it and sent it home without a single issue. The vessel even survived. I've never had a hunt go so well, before or since."

"Then Asa took you to bed to celebrate." Dean guessed, twirling the air freshener tree that was hanging from the rearview mirror.

"Don't. Don't do this."

"I'm just curious, okay, because I was under the impression that you didn't do a lot of the one-night stand thing."

"It wasn't like that, Dean. It's not like I go trolling the bars, looking for guys like you who won't care that I won't even be in town next week. It was... With Asa, it was two people who understood each other taking comfort in each other a couple times a year. That's all."

"I wasn't trying to say you were like me. I'm a slut. You aren't." He smiled. "So, you and Asa were a couple times a year. Any other... non-boyfriends?"

"Nah. No boyfriends, no benefits. I had Asa and the gig and that was it."

"I'm sorry, then, that I chased you out of the wake early."

"Eh, it's okay. I got to go get some lonely drinking done and totally didn't have to deal with Jael. It's a plus, in my book."

"Yeah. He was a dick. Took Jody and tried to get us to kill Mom."

"Yeah, and he taunted you all about Asa, right? See, Jody and I, we have a very specific dynamic. We both knew we were both fuckin' him, but as long as neither of us said anything, we were both fine."

"Yeah, how'd you meet Jody, by the way?"

"She caught me trespassing." You laughed. "I was poking around the blown-to-shit remains of Singer Salvage and she caught me. Noticed immediately that my Marshall's badge was fake, took me down for questioning. Which was just a trip to the diner for a cup of coffee and some stories about Bobby. She could tell I was green, suggested I find other hunters to hunt with, but I told her that I was fine. So, she gave me her card, wrote her cell number on the back and said to call if I ever needed anything... Even just to talk."

"Ah, that's why she was the only one at the wake who knew that you met us before."

"I didn't exactly advertise how I got into the business, Dean. Everybody else has dead family members or mutilated friends, I've got a stack of books in a storage locker and a one-night stand. Jody only found out because I got drunk and slipped up."

"A stack of books written by God."

"Yeah, well, I didn't know that 3 years ago, did I? And frankly, it still sounds like a joke to hear it out loud."

"Yeah, that never goes away." He smirked as he looked over at you from the passenger side.

"Stop looking at me like that." You demanded, softly.

"Like what?"

"Like you're imagining me naked."

"I don't need to imagine. I've got a great memory. 'Course, you got a bunch of new hunter muscles I'd like to see up close. I mean, your right hook is..." You rolled your eyes and reached forward, turning up the music.

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme

SUPERNATURAL TAGS @letsby

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@adoptdontshoppets @spnskinnyballs

#cassie writes stuff #spn #spn fanfic #dean/reader #reader-insert

148 notes · View notes

lpdwillwrite4coffee · 5 years ago

Text

CHILDREN OF LILITH CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Amsterdam flipped the pages of his notes, rereading a section and then glancing up at the group sprawled around his apartment. Boz had found his way onto the sofa, laptop balanced on his knees and Cleopatra curled up under his left elbow. She occasionally swatted at him with a dainty paw and he’d hiss in irritation, but still give into her desire to be petted. She always had a knack for finding the pushovers.

Lisa was pressed up against the doorway into the kitchen, stirring her coffee. She seemed to be unaware it had gone tepid, as her attention was drawn to the other two nearby. And with good reason.

The pressurized atmosphere in the apartment hadn’t eased since Griffin and Nikki had stepped over the threshold. While Amsterdam had exchanged pleasantries with the others, Griffin had put himself a noticeable distance away from the group, practically adhering himself to the window. He glared out at the street, jaw set so firmly Amsterdam was concerned about his teeth cracking.

Nikki had taken to pacing. At first it was a light amble through the rooms, first to the kitchen for a drink, then to the bookshelves, and back to the dining table in some semblance of a lap. And while Griffin so adamantly ignored her, Nikki was having trouble reciprocating his attitude. Every other glance was in his direction, but they weren’t of longing or concern. The heat in her stare could fracture glass.

John just hoped she could hold off on causing any structural damage.

“Ah, what was I saying?” He said, looking over to Lisa.

“Something about a diary you read?” She answered, taking a sip of her coffee and scowling into the mug.

“Right, yes.” He reached across the table and picked up the small book. “It isn’t exactly award winning literature, but there was one mention of something I believe might be important.” Lifting his gaze to Nikki, he caught her eye. “Would you mind recounting your conversation with Doctor Oliver again? I know it must be difficult but-”

“No, that’s alright,” Nikki said. Slowing her gait, she retold the sequence of events. She explained everything about the medicine Doctor Oliver had given her, and his association with both Nicholas Bradley and Alexander Rex. She described how he’d spoken to her, how scarily intense he’d been, and what he’d called her.

“I’m sorry,” John stopped her, pen scribbling across the page of his notes. “Could you repeat that?”

Nikki paused mid-stride. “He called me a Luminari,” she said. “And he said something about a fire or a blaze… Something like that.”

Underlining a portion of his notes, John nodded. The little girl had almost gotten the name right, she had just misheard the other Hunters. They hadn’t called the man Luminous, they had called him by his proper title- a Luminari.

“I see. Thank you, please continue,” he urged.

Nikki finished by telling him about going back to the office and Doctor Oliver finding her there.

“Is that when you were cut?” John asked, nodding to her bandaged hand.

If he had thought the tension in the room had been uncomfortable before, now it was almost unbearable. Griffin, who had been silent and unmoving throughout the exchange, tilted his head, casting a sharp glance at Nikki. Sensing the stare, Nikki’s shoulders stiffened but for once she didn’t look his way. Instead she ran her thumb over the white gauze and shook her head.

“No, that… That happened later,” she murmured.

Hazel eyes shifting between the two, Amsterdam gave a final duck of his head. “Oh.”

Nikki cleared her throat and started to pace again. “Um, but right after Doctor Oliver called me a Luminari, and said all those things, he uh… he shot himself. He was rambling about his Master- Rex, I think. He said he had failed him, which is why he killed himself… At least, that’s how it seemed.”

“This Rex guy sounds like a cult leader,” Boz interjected, gaze never leaving his computer screen.

“Many Alphas have that kind of influence over their Familiars,” John said. “They call it ‘Breaking them in.’” He curled his lip at the phrase.

Boz halted his keystrokes. “That is sufficiently disgusting.”

“Agreed,” John said. “It’s sadistic, but unfortunately it still has the desired effects, which is why they still do it.”

“Effects, like?” Nikki asked.

“Unyielding loyalty and devotion, an overwhelming desire to serve and be praised, and complete disregard for their own lives. It’s codependency amplified to a thousand.”

Nikki turned, starting another lap past the dinette bar. “And people just sign up for this brainwashing willingly?”

“Not exactly,” John said. “Most of the time it starts as a simple relationship, romantic or platonic. Then it progresses into a more complicated donor and receiver scenario, and from there Familiar and Master. But the emotional and psychological bonds that are made are strong, not because of mutual trust and affection, but because of the hyper vigilance that comes from the fear of wronging your Master- a Vampire with the power to hurt you or anyone else you ever loved. It’s abuse.”

Nikki slowed again, frowning. “So they’d rather do everything their Master asks of them than leave,” she said. “That’s why Oliver killed himself. He was terrified of what Rex would do if he found out he’d said too much.”

John nodded. “Exactly.”

Over Nikki’s shoulder, Amsterdam noticed Griffin shift his weight and tighten his arms across his chest. It was the second crack in his statuesque façade, and John wondered if he might be nearing the end of his stamina for a standoff.

Cutting her pacing short, Nikki strode over to the table and lowered herself in the nearest chair. “You know, despite what Doctor Oliver did… I think I actually feel…” She blinked down at her wounded palm. “Sympathy, I guess. Rex manipulated him until he was a husk of a man. I don’t condone his actions, but I think I understand why he did it.”

“Don’t give him too much credit,” Griffin said, voice rough, still gazing out the window. “Familiars always get something out of it. Money, status, sex… They get as much as they give.”

Nikki jutted her chin up. “I’m not giving him a free pass,” she said tersely. “But I can’t blame one human for what Rex and Bradley set into motion. He was just following through-”

“With plans to kill you,” Griffin cut in. “Sure, Rex was a manipulative bastard, but Doctor Oliver didn’t go into it blind either. He knew what he was doing.”

“Yeah, but you saw him. You saw what he was like the moment we started interrogating him. He was about to crack any second, we just happened to be the ones to apply the pressure.”

“And I also saw the demented joy in his eyes when he saw how scared you were,” Griffin said, turning to face her. “He got his rocks off playing Igor to Rex’s Frankenstein, he wasn’t a helpless victim.” Something more than anger flashed in Griffin’s eyes before he added, “Not everyone is worth bleeding for Nikki.”

Twisting in her seat, Nikki stared at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

Griffin gestured to her hand. “It means you shouldn’t take on the world with a fucking box cutter.”

Nikki scoffed bitterly. “That’s what this is about? Jesus, you’re acting like I used the damn thing on you.”

“You can’t go around acting like everyone’s worth saving,” he snapped, shoving away from the window. “Doctor Oliver was a twisted man who wanted nothing more than to see you suffer, but you’re sitting here sympathizing with him.”

“Okay, fine, so my opinion of one person is misguided. But that doesn’t explain the scorpion that crawled up your ass.”

Griffin’s brows furrowed as he pulled up short. “Excuse me?”

“I’m talking about the attitude you’ve had since we left Doctor Oliver’s office,” Nikki retorted. “I’m sorry your male ego was bruised by having a girl come to help you, but do me a favor and get over it.”

“That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“No, I don’t,” she exclaimed. “I don’t know anything because you’ve refused to talk to me all day. I came back for you-”

“Nobody asked you to Nikki,” Griffin shouted, taking several strides forward. “Nobody told you to slice open your hand like a freakin’ martyr.”

“There were too many of them,” Nikki yelled. “You needed help.”

Griffin’s huge frame towered over her as he came closer. “I told you to run.”

Launching out of her seat, Nikki countered, “I wasn’t going to abandon you there.”

“That’s exactly what you should have done,” he bellowed. “I told you to leave, but you couldn’t listen, could you? You’re so stubborn you couldn’t let someone else tell you what to do, even if it was to save your life.”

“I knew what I was doing, I knew the risks-”

“No you didn’t, otherwise you would have done what I’d told you.”

“You could have died,” she shouted. “It was my decision to come back. It was my choice.”

“And your idiotic choice led to this.” Griffin crowded her, gripping her arm and holding up her injured hand. “What are you gonna do Nikki? Sacrifice your whole hand next? Your arm? Are you gonna bleed out on the floor next time? Where does it end?”

Nikki wrenched her arm out of his grasp. “You’re not gonna get me to say I’m sorry,” she snapped. “I’m not. I’m not sorry for coming back for you.”

Griffin sneered. “Then I guess I overestimated your IQ.”

Blue irises flashed light gold, and Griffin felt the heat from her glare blast over his skin.

“You’re an ass,” Nikki said, voice sharp with disdain.

Leaning down, Griffin held her gaze. “Happy you came back for me now?”

Confusion flicked across her stare before it was washed out in another wave of fury. Pulling herself up to her full height, Nikki stepped forward, nearly putting herself chest to chest with him.

“How dare you,” she snarled. “How dare you try to twist this around? I have two Alphas blocking me into a corner, ticking off my list of choices one by one, and you’re gonna try to make me feel shitty for exercising what little free will I have left? I don’t care what the hell kind of motives you have, you will not stand there and degrade the choices I make, just because they piss you off.”

A muscle ticked in Griffin’s jaw as he glowered in silence. Nikki could feel the small puffs of air as he exhaled, and her skin grew taut from the heat radiating off of him. Her heart slammed against her ribs in an uncomfortable rhythm.

For only half a moment something broke in Griffin’s stare, exposing a deep sorrow that Nikki barely had a chance to register before it was hidden beneath renewed derision. He smirked, and the cold mockery of it stung her.

“If you’re waiting for an apology, you’ll be waiting there all night,” he said.

This wasn’t him. This wasn’t the Griffin she knew.

But that didn’t make his words hurt any less.

“Go to hell,” she snapped, shoving past him.

Nikki caught the bewildered expression on Boz’s face as she planted herself on the opposite side of the room next to the window. He had stopped typing, and now could only frown at the back of his friend’s head.

Pressing her shoulder into the cold glass, Nikki glanced back at Griffin. He stood rigid, still planted where they’d been arguing. She saw the muscles of his back work underneath his shirt as he took a very deep breath and as he released it his shoulders slumped.

Amsterdam’s gaze narrowed on Griffin’s face, and a similar look of bewilderment as Boz’s etched his features.

Straightening, Griffin headed towards the entryway closet. “I need some air,” he muttered, yanking his coat off the peg. “I’m going for a walk.”

Nikki flinched when the door shut behind him, even though he hadn’t slammed it. She was hyper aware of everything every sound, every movement.

Every absence.

Hugging her arms around her abdomen, she turned to look out at the gray oppressive sky hanging over the city. In her peripheral vision she noticed the growing halo of condensation on the window around her shoulder.

And then the lights flickered.

* * *

Griffin shoved through the building’s exit and strode out onto the sidewalk at full speed. He sucked down each breath like a drowning man. Immense pressure constricted around him. His chest was seconds away from concaving, it had to be. There was no way his ribcage could support that kind of weight.

He did it. Like making a child afraid of fire so they’d never play near the stove, he had shown Nikki the consequences of risking everything for someone like him.

And now he was left with a pack of howling dogs trapped in his head and impending suffocation.

Serena’s voice curled around him like smoke. Good job lover. You chucked her off your sinking ship real fast. Too bad there’s no room on the life raft for you…

Blinking away the sting of tears, he started to cross the street when he heard his name called out from behind him.

“Griffin!” Boz shouted over the noise of the traffic.

“I don’t want to talk, Boz,” he answered, refusing to look at his friend.

“Griffin, stop.” Boz had caught up to him, grabbing him by the shoulder. “You need to come back-”

“No, Boz.”

“Griffin,” Boz yelled, pulling him around by his coat. “Nikki fainted again.” He gave a final tug before darting back towards the building. “C’mon!”

And then the crushing weight around him was replaced with flames. He ran after Boz, careening up the stairs and back into Amsterdam’s apartment.

John was knelt at Nikki’s head, checking her pulse, while Lisa brought him his medical bag.

“What happened?” Griffin gasped, throwing his coat off and crouching next to Nikki’s limp body.

“One second she was fine, and the next she was going tim-ber,” Boz explained, waving a hand out.

“She was fevered a moment ago, now she’s ice cold,” John said, cupping his palm under Nikki’s chin. He closed his eyes, focusing on her breathing. “There’s something wrong with her respiratory system. I think she’s hyperventilating.”

Griffin scowled. “What?”

“Do you hear that?” John asked, glancing up at him. “She’s inhaling too rapidly.”

Nikki’s chest rose and fell like she was keeping double time on a bass drum and each exhale came out as a small whimper. Inching closer, Griffin took her left hand and winced at the frigid temperature.

“Nik, can you hear me?” He gently rubbed her fingers between his palms to warm them. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s alright, you’re gonna be fine.”

“We should move her to the couch,” John said, looking to Griffin.

He nodded and wound his arms under her knees and behind her head. “I’ve got her,” he said, standing with ease.

Lisa ducked around them, stacking several throw pillows at one end of the sofa. “Here,” she said, directing him.

Laying her down with care, Griffin cradled Nikki’s head, adjusting her position so her neck wasn’t at an uncomfortable angle.

From behind hem Boz asked, “Shouldn’t we take her to the hospital?”

“They wouldn’t know what to do,” John told him. “Most doctors aren’t schooled in Blooded Hunter physiology.”

“But neither are we.” Boz motioned to Nikki and frowned. “I mean, not in her case at least. This is something none of us have ever seen.”

“But at least here there aren’t civilian doctors who will get suspicious,” Lisa said to him as she passed.

“I should check her vitals again,” John said to Griffin. “Her breathing changed.”

“Again?” Boz asked, moving to stand at Griffin’s shoulder.

“And she feels feverish,” John added as he pulled a stethoscope from his bag.

Griffin frowned. “This didn’t happen last time,” he told him.

John shifted the end of the instrument over Nikki’s chest. “Her condition is worsening.”

Boz narrowed his stare on him. “Condition?”

John faltered and shook his head. “Ah, just whatever it is that’s causing this.”

“Is it her gift?” Lisa asked from several paces back.

“I’m not sure.” John pulled a penlight from the bag and lifted Nikki’s right eyelid, checking the dilation of her pupils. “She doesn’t appear to have a concussion, but…” He paused, with his thumb still holding open her eye. “Something neurological is definitely going on.”

Griffin’s face went momentarily slack as he stared. John was right. Nikki’s natural sapphire blue irises had been replaced with an iridescent pale gold. But what made Griffin’s skin prick with goosebumps was the preternatural swirling of gold, green, and white around her pupil like a whirlpool.

“Whoa,” Boz breathed, leaning down to witness it for himself. “That’s… so not normal.”

“I would have to agree with you,” John said.

“Alright, so what do we do?” Griffin asked, staying knelt by Nikki’s side.

John held his gaze for a moment. “We wait.”

“That’s it?” Griffin felt an angry knot twist low in his gut. “There’s nothing else?”

“She’s unconscious because of supernatural reasons, Griffin,” John said patiently. “There are no smelling salts for this kind of thing.”

Clenching his teeth, Griffin looked away, locking his eyes on the corner of the sofa’s arm rest.

John began slowly packing his medical bag. “You couldn’t have known,” he whispered. “Feeling guilty won’t do you any favors.”

Griffin couldn’t meet the man’s gaze. Guilt wasn’t the only addition to his list of self-loathing.

“I’ll be right back,” John said, standing up.

Shifting to sit on the edge of the couch, Griffin angled himself to give Nikki as much room as he could. With trembling fingers he reached out, gingerly lifting Nikki’s hand to cradle it in his. The room grew quiet, but he was still aware of the eyes on him. He didn’t care.

Boz lowered himself onto the corner of the coffee table, leaning forward to press his elbows into the tops of his thighs. He wrung his hands in silence for a long time before he finally spoke.

“What was that back there?” He asked with a hushed voice.

Griffin’s shoulders went rigid. “What?”

“The two forces of nature colliding in Amsterdam’s living room,” Boz said, gesturing. “Buddy, that argument was…” He shook his head. “What were you doing, man?”

Griffin’s jaw worked like he was chewing on words, deciding if he should spit them out.

Huffing out an irritated sigh, Boz straightened a fraction. “Alright,” he muttered. “We don’t have to talk, that’s fine. But if anybody in this room deserves an explanation-” He pointed to Nikki. “It’s her.”

Scrubbing his palms on his knees, Boz stood up and went to the table where he’d moved his laptop and settled in amongst Amsterdam’s books and papers.

A glass of water appeared on the table a moment later and he glanced up to see Lisa staring at him.

Arching a dark brow, she motioned to the glass and said, “That’s not for you.”

Jerk was implied in her warning glare before she walked back into the kitchen, leaving him relatively alone. His thumb swept over the back of Nikki’s hand as he watched her eyes dance behind her lids.

It felt wrong, being the one to offer her comfort in her state of unconsciousness. Griffin thought about leaving again. The tension his presence created was like shrink wrap clinging to every edge and surface in the apartment. He wanted to explain, wanted to tell them in broken syllables of declaration why he’d acted so horribly.

No-no, you don’t understand. I love her. I love her but she needs better. I can’t- I can’t be with her. She deserves more-

Nikki’s hand clamped down around his fingers, her nails digging into his skin. Shaky breaths passed over pale lips, brows furrowing in response to subconscious signals.

In a nearly inaudible whisper, Griffin said, “You’re alright, Nik. You’re-”

Her grip tightened, cutting off the circulation to his fingertips. He winced but didn’t pull back.

“Nikki, it’s okay. You’re safe,” he murmured. “I’m here. I came back. I’m not leaving.”

The words tumbled out in a flurry without consent. A flush crept up his neck, but he couldn’t sense anyone was staring at him, so if they had heard, they were at least giving him the courtesy of pretending they hadn’t.

Nikki’s hold on him loosened but her nails were still blunt against the back of his hand.

Frowning at her reaction, Griffin whispered, “I won’t leave… If you don’t want me to.”

She exhaled and it sounded like a sigh.

A relieved sigh.

Oh fuck, he thought, staring down at her. I’m in this now, aren’t I?

Griffin looked down at the red crescent shapes along his knuckles, something unidentifiable swelling in his chest.

I’m in deep.

#Children of Lilith #free novels for pandemic times #free novels #my work #my writing

0 notes

evnoweb · 6 years ago

Text

Who said that? Teacher’s Edition

Earlier this week, I had written a post and pulled a number of comments from this blog. It was fun to look through and grab them. I never figured that I’d write this post so I didn’t formally keep track of who said what when I copy/pasted them although I think I know. I do have someone who is only happy to correct anything I do so I went back and made sure that I got things right. Where the commenter had a website or blog listed beside them, I’ve included a link back if their comment inspires you to read their blogging.

Some folks recognized their writing and responded but there was a request for the answers. So, here goes.

Looking back at 2018, I smile at some of the wonderful comments that have appeared on this blog in response to some of my posts.

Do you see yourself in there? Do you see others?

1 I had forgotten about that commercial! Thanks for the umm… blast from the past, Doug! I was surprised that it did have a “violent” part. That part didn’t stick in my memory, but the “blue” light did! Sorry to hear of your incident! Here’s to more uneventful walks with the dog.. I had a good smile with Andrew’s comment too. I have searched youtube to confirm quotes and lines from TV shows and movies as well… just to be sure A recent attempt was: “It’s cold enough out there to freeze your Winnebago!” Like Aviva, I have always wondered about how graphic a message needs to be to stick. I worry that it goes too far at times, especially in consideration of young children. I guess there might be individual differences in regards to what will “hit home”, but…

Sheila Stewart – sheilaspeaking.wordpress.com

2 Oh, going to have to try this one out – looks like a lot of fun! (and I will suggest it to some people I know, since I don’t have a classroom to play in right now). Thanks, as ever!

Lisa Noble – madamenoble.wordpress.com

3 Thanks for including me Doug. Still fighting that bug, but class back up to 65%! Listened to the show (twioe) last night…awesome as always. Got a chuckle over Stephen’s mention of “the Good Room” and all the banter between you, as always. Keep on keeping on!

Ramona Meharg –mymonkeysmycircussite.wordpress.com

4 Love the post. It made me think about what my role is. Probably a lot more Bluesman than thought leader I guess. But really I started to think that is just important to do what I can do and let other people think about labels. I’m just a teacher with opinions and a blog. That’s good enough for me I think.

Alfred Thompson –http://blog.acthompson.net

5 Hi Doug, and all:) Here is my addition – if I ever hear the word Wheelhouse again it will be too soon. Also I will probably get in trouble for this but I don’t like all the Like a Pirate business. For heaven’s sake. Pirates are real. They steal and murder people. I am working on another blog post, a more thoughtful consideration of the word “modern” – which really has an existing definition and has been co-opted more recently to mean “contemporary.” I know, I am so fussy:)

Anne Shillolo

6 I like Broadway http://fontsgeek.com/fonts/Broadway-Regular, but I have a weakness for art deco fonts. It’s too decorative to read though, but good for posters and titles. For reading I usually go for arial but recently have been preferring Trebuchet https://www.myfonts.com/fonts/microsoft/trebuchet/?gclid=Cj0KCQiAiKrUBRD6ARIsADS2OLn1B3-UN6EjbTMRsPmw2xTQWIwFrCXNtyTxAmFoh7p_XYxWjXX_lzYaAlJVEALw_wcBit’s nice and clean. Oddly, if I’m going for a computer styled font I use something like Courier which is a web friendly way to imitate those old fixed width fonts https://www.myfonts.com/fonts/microsoft/courier-new/?gclid=Cj0KCQiAiKrUBRD6ARIsADS2OLnfMx1LblHmfXsmRm32zv_x9kHDMf5_ySTNErPWQ_7GmrGvY-qQCsMaApnbEALw_wcB If you’ve never messed around with fonts, you’re missing something.

Tim King-plus.google.com/+TimothyKing

7 My teaching partner and I used to do ‘a theme’, back when themes were a thing in kindergarten, around EGGS at Easter time. We did different experiments with eggs each day – how many books can we stack on a raw egg before it breaks, what happens when you soak an egg in vinegar, sinking and floating eggs, spinning eggs (raw eggs wobble, hard cooked eggs spin) and so on. We read lots of books about animals that hatch from eggs. My favourite was always “Chickens aren’t the only ones” by Ruth Heller. Like you, many of our children didn’t celebrate Easter but they were seeing eggs and bunnies everywhere in stores and on TV.

Lisa Cranston – educationandinspirationblog.com

8 Thank you for capturing two days of amazing learning and connecting for us Doug. It was a pleasure to finally have some conversation time with you and I am glad Steven Hurley didn’t beam us up with his modern day transcorder. Appreciate the power that comes in building bridges in this business and you sir are a bridge builder. Looking forward to our next conversation. W

Will Gourley –escheweducationalist.wordpress.com

9 Our mornings begin with the fragrance of espresso filling the air. Milk is heated, the espresso is added to the hot milk and voilà, the magic potion is ready. When we go out, we seldom stop to buy coffee anywhere. We caddy thermos cups of our home brew. If we run out of the elixir…tea it is. When we have friends join us for a formal meal, we usually end the meal with a demitasse of espresso…except for the tea drinkers. We like it that espresso has a lower caffeine content than drip coffee: https://recipes.howstuffworks.com/question645.htm Of course, current science might draw different conclusions.

Noeline Laccetti – nlaccetti.wordpress.comx

10 … that look of betrayal on my wife’s face when I mentioned that I am trying to quit with coffee. She, up to several years ago, hated the stuff. Hated the smell, the taste, the satisfied look on my face as relaxed through my second or third cup in the morning. I guess it was my fault. Someway somehow, she now can’t start her day without it. My attempt at scaling back my caffeine consumption has put my life is in danger. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I shouldn’t have even written this post. If my blog goes dark for a while its because I am in hiding. Tell my wife, I was wrong … oh so wrong …

Chris Cluff

11 Hi Doug, thanks for sharing your learning from the Ontario Summit. To add to this already great resource, here is a link to all of the presenter’s resources from the weekend: https://edtech.team/OntarioResources18 – Lots more goodies there!

Emily Fitzpatrick

12 I saw this presentation at SIGCSE and left with mixed feelings. The session was pitched as ML for CS teachers with little CS knowledge. The pizza app is cool but I left thinking that there was a big missing piece which was the actual under the hood ML. It looks great as a tool where the teacher is already knowledgeable but I don’t know how much serious mileage a class will get out of it beyond being a cool demo if the teacher doesn’t already know the subject.

Mike Zemansky – https://cestlaz.github.io

13 I love to sew, but hardly have the time. I go by feel when choosing fabric for any project or any “already made” clothes. I don’t care what it’s called – I only care about how it feels and how well it will wash. I do not remember the fabric you’re talking about, though I feel as if I should. My mom used to see for me, so I likely had many things made from it.

Lisa Corbett –alotalot.wordpress.comx

14 Morning Doug, this brought to mind attendance tracking of students and how if they are going to leave or walk out consequnces mean nothing. The reason you give them to stay is far more powerful. I think folks need to understand the purpose but more importantly if you leave the impression, regardless of this is it’s purpose that people’s whereabouts are what we are starting with and not the culture of a welcoming, inclusive and non intrusive learning environment, the same thing will happen as it does in a secondary school…they opt out as it is no longer about the them but the system they exist within.

Kelly @thebeastedu

15 Good morning Doug! (and Jamie) I’m glad you guys keep your eyes open when you’re out for your walks. There’s no doubt that keeping an eye out for other vehicles, cyclists, and pedestrians (and dogs) is a critical responsibility for motor vehicle drivers. I was pleased to read your “exit, stage left“ quote, And even happier when I saw that you had included a picture of SnagglePuss. You are smarter than the average bear.

Andrew Forgrave

16 I don’t remember exactly when Chrome came out, but I do for Gmail. I went straight to eBay and bought an invitation so I could join. It cost me $5. The invitation also included another new Google service. Do you remember what it was?

Peter Beens –beens.org

17 I noticed this too when watching cartoons with my nephews. There also seemed to be a whole lot of yelling. Okay now I’m sounding like the old guy who just wants the kids to get off his lawn. I loved the old Hanna-Barbara cartoons from the mid-60’s. Space Ghost, Frankenstein Jr. and The Impossibles, the original Scooby-Doo, Dastardly and Muttley in Their Flying Machines, The Herculoids, The Banana Splits Adventure Hour – that one was pretty weird, but I did teach some of my grade 6’s the theme song, Jonny Quest and the Jetsons. I kind of thought we’d be living like the Jetsons by now. At least I thought they would have finished repairing all the roads.

Colin Harris –plus.google.com/+ColinHarrisdigitalnative

18 Hey Doug, As always your posts seem so timely. Today on my way home from church I noticed a few trees in the neighbourhood who have started to show your beautiful fall colors. I couldn’t help but recall several projects that I had to complete as a child where we would go out into the neighbourhood and find several fall leaves. We then needed to place the leaves in between two pieces of wax paper and iron them . To be honest, I don’t recall what the intended learning outcome was… But what I do remember was that it was a project that my mom and I needed to do together (hot irons and safety) . Sometimes it is those unintended outcomes (special time with a parent) which are just as meaningful as the curriculum outcomes.

Sue Bruyns –susanbruyns.com

19 I have never heard of Qwant until you mentioned it. I also gave it a try and I must admit that it is a very impressive search engine. I used the Brave web browser in the past; I had no issues with it. In my case, I utilise the Google Chrome web browser, because I use certain extensions. The Brave web browser loads quickly.

Renard Moreau –renardsworld.wordpress.com

20 Hey! This is the fourth time visiting now and I personally just wanted to say I truley enjoy reading your blog site. I’ve decided to bookmark it at reddit.com with the title: %BLOGTITLE% and your Web address: %BLOGURL%. I hope this is alright with you, I’m trying to give your great blog a bit more coverage. Be back shortly.

superstar femme orange (Trick question – this is from spam caught and someone who doesn’t know how to use their software – notice the spam format of the message. I won’t share the URL that they claim to be from)

21 Do you worry about free services going away after a while? = Sometimes. I’m still wounded about the closing of Bitstrips for Schools (which I liked waaaaaay better than Pixton – sorry, Pixton). It went so fast that I couldn’t collect all the old comics I wanted to archive (so Jacob, if you are reading this, please let us grab our files for a quick, one week period, please!) What is your contingency plans in case that happens? = Wish I had one! Do you backup your online presence in case it goes away? = I print my blogs as a birthday gift to myself once a year. I did a Twournal for the first part of my tweeting, but I’d love to back up all my Tweets in a print format. Now you’ve got me paranoid Doug!

Diana Maliszewski –mondaymollymusings.blogspot.ca

Thanks to those who took time to share a comment throughout 2018. I hope that I can write on topics that will continue the efforts in 2019.

So, how many did you get right the first time?

Who said that? Teacher’s Edition published first on https://medium.com/@DigitalDLCourse

0 notes