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rhondafromhr · 10 months ago

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Nerds corruption au chapter 4!!

Took me awhile before I was happy with this one but it’s finally done!

Previous chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“We’re Gonna Become the Bullies” - Chapter 4: I’m The One To Wrong What’s Right

Grace starts her day the same way she always does: waking up to the shrill buzzing sound of her alarm far too early in the morning. She hates to admit it (sloth is a sin, after all), but every once in a while it would be nice to hit snooze a couple times. There’s no time for that, though. She has to do her sweep of the school bathrooms to check for graffiti. She has to make sure the side exit to the gym is safely locked so nobody can sneak out to “smoke up” during class. As hall monitor, it’s her sworn duty to keep Hatchetfield High safe from all the troublemakers trying to normalize sin and drag everyone down to hell with them. She figures it’s the least she can do to atone for the perverse thoughts she was having about Max Jägerman up until the Waylon place incident. Among other, more recent developments.

Then there’s the whole thing where she’s kind of friends with Maxwell now, along with everyone else who was involved in that prank. She brought that hatchet and the other supplies that night expecting a very different outcome (the specifics of which are between her and God now, since it never came to be. Only He can judge her), but this is intriguing, too. Being the “school snitch” only gives her so much power. Sure, she can issue a detention slip or run and tell a teacher, but she knows in the end all it does is get people to be sneakier about whatever they were doing wrong next time. Being in Max’s inner circle opens up a world of possibilities. People are scared of him and there’s not a lot they won’t do to avoid his wrath. It’s been a week and by now, everyone knows Max will absolutely fly off the handle at anyone who dares mess with the rest of the group. They’re also starting to realize that said group can be pretty intimidating in their own right and becoming more scared of them. Grace would be lying if she said the thought didn’t excite her.

She thinks back to that first Monday after the Waylon place, when Max first heard about Brad calling Peter that crass nickname. The righteous anger he exuded briefly brought that tickle back again. The next day at lunch, Max proudly recounted to the rest of the group the awesome punch Pete landed and how Brad ran away like a little bitch after and how Steph gave Brad the hardest slap with one hand while holding Pete’s in the other and wasn’t that the sweetest, most romantic thing ever. By the time he got to their stint in the principal’s office, she stopped listening, just imagining Peter and the crushing impact of his fist on Brad’s face. She thought about the slap over and over again, too: Steph raising her hand, staring down at Brad with rage burning in her eyes and bringing it down hard, leaving a red mark on his cheek. Her face, she realized with horror, was red, too, but for an entirely different reason. Oh, heck. Oh, no. Not again. But this was even more shameful than even the worst thoughts she ever had about Max. This was about two people at once, one of whom was another girl.

She tries to push away those thoughts for now and joins her parents at the breakfast table, where her usual cup of hot water is waiting for her. If they had any idea what’s really been going on with her, they’d probably send her away to live at Camp Idontwannabang with the Jerries permanently and the first time in her life, that doesn’t sound too appealing. So she’ll just have to continue acting like nothing’s wrong - essentially lying to them. Another sin to pile on top of all her others. As they say in that video game Richie likes: “gotta catch ‘em all.” Her whole life, all she’s ever wanted is to be a good, chaste, godly girl. It’s what her parents and her church friends have all come to expect from her. Not to mention God Himself. There must be something deeply wrong with her if she tries so, so hard to live up to this standard and still falls short. The feeling of being a failure is so crushing she can almost physically feel it bearing down on her.

“Gracie?” Her mother says gently, “Gracie, are you alright?” Grace realizes tears are stinging at her eyes. She strains to hold them back.

“Oh, yes, Mommy, I’m okay! It’s just allergies. I, um, stopped taking Benadryl. Even if it’s over-the-counter antihistamines, drugs are drugs! Might as well be smoking the devil’s lettuce. Oh, I should get going or I won’t be early for school!” She leaves hastily, not stopping for her usual kiss not the cheek.

“Wait!” her Mother calls after her “it’s raining cats and dogs today, you’ll catch a cold, let us drive you!” All she gets in response is the sound of the door closing.

As Grace rides her beloved pink Schwinn bike to school, she can’t hold back the tears any longer. It’s early enough that not too many people are out and about, so hopefully nobody sees. She supposes she could always use that Benadryl excuse again, it’s believable enough for her. When she pulls up in front of the school, she notices two familiar figures standing in front of the main entryway. Shoot, it’s Max and Richie! She hastily wipes her eyes and stops to park and lock up her bike before approaching them. She composes herself and goes into hall monitor mode, even if her heart isn’t in it. They’d better not be hanging out here waiting to buy reefer off of the smoke club.

“Hi, Max! Hi, Richie! What are you two doing here so early?” She says, trying to keep her tone as chipper as possible.

“Oh, we have an appointment we couldn’t possibly miss,” Max tells her. Great, so they are here to buy drugs! She can’t even save her own friends from the dark, dangerous path that starts with weed and eventually leads to them smoking much worse substances under a bridge somewhere. Maybe even in Clivesdale!

“Uh, yeah,” Richie says nervously. He rubs his fingertips together. “Chad Thompson called me a cringe-ass weeb back in seventh grade, so I guess we’re going to catch him on his way in and issue an ‘outdoor swirly’, whatever that is.”

“Oh, you’re gonna love it, Richie, it’s the best! Really subverts expectations. No one would ever think they’re about to get a swirly outside.”

“Yeah, I see your vision, but I feel like I’m really not grasping the logistics. Like, there are no toilets out here, how is it even possible?”

Grace is vaguely familiar with the term (“weeb”, that is. She’s just as confused as Richie about the outdoor swirly thing). She’s pretty sure it refers to people who are into those Japanese cartoons that Richie likes so much. She’s actually heard him refer to himself that way a few times and sometimes Ruth calls him that, too. It never feels mean when she does it - it’s obvious she loves that Richie’s a “cringe-ass weeb” and she wouldn’t have him any other way. They might be two of the most lewd, crass people she’s ever met, but she has to admit their friendship is something special.

“I don’t get it,” she says “you call yourself a ‘cringe weeb’ all the time.”

“Well, he said it like it’s a bad thing! It’s not just the words we say, but the way we say them that can have a long-lasting impact. I learned that at the anti-bullying assembly!” Oh, Max and his anti-bullying quotes. Grace would never tell him this, but she thinks flipping them to be pro-bullying is quite creative of him. Entertaining, too. Sometimes, she just has to giggle at the absurdity of it. Her mood finally starts to lift. She’s glad she ran into her friends. Her friends. She can call them that now.

“Well,” she says “I’d better go do my morning perimeter sweep. See you later, boys!”

“Later, Grace!”

“Bye, Grace, see you at lunch!” Poor Richie still looks a little terrified.

The downpour lets up and becomes a light drizzle as she starts towards the gym, fully intending to go take care of that pesky side entrance so the smoke club can’t ruin class today. Then, on an impulse, she makes a u-turn. What can she say? She’s a little curious about the logistics of Max’s new trick, too. She watches as they accost Chad. Oh, an outdoor swirly just means shoving his face into the huge rain puddle that’s formed on the ground. Max does it first. He moves slowly and intentionally, giving Richie instructions to accompany the demonstration. Appropriating the very forces of nature to enforce his rule over Hatchetfield High. It’s actually kind of poetic. She wonders what his backup plan was if it didn’t rain.

Max hands Chad off to Richie. Chad struggles, but can’t seem to get free. Richie must be stronger than he looks. His hesitation disappears and he moves with more confidence, seeming to delight in the torment just a little. He pushes Chad’s face down into the puddle, holds it there for a second, then yanks him out so they’re face to face, leaning over him menacingly.

“Who’s the cringe-ass weeb now, bitch? Trick question, it’s still me! But I bet you’ll think twice before talking shit about it next time,” he says as he shoves Chad to the ground.

“You guys are un-fuckin’-hinged! I don’t care what anyone says, I’m reporting this. You basically just tried to drown me!”

Maybe Grace can be of some assistance. “I’m the hall monitor and that’s not what I saw,” she says.

“Oh, hi Grace! I thought you left to go do your rounds,” says Max, as upbeat as ever.

“What did you see, Grace?” There’s a mischievous glint in Richie’s eyes.

“Well, Richie, I saw him shove you into that puddle. Completely unprovoked, no less. You were just standing here minding your own business. He held you down for a solid thirty seconds. I was scared he was going to drown you! I was about to go get a teacher, but then you finally broke free.”

“Fuck off, chastity belt! Who would believe that? He’s not even wet.” If Ruth were here, she’d have something to say about that phrasing.

“Well, for one, the principal would, because I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but I’m the hall monitor and I’ve never given him a reason not to trust me. Who’s he going to believe between the two of us?” As childish as she knows it is, she can’t help but stick her tongue out at him. “How could you attack poor Richie like that? What’s he ever done to you?”

“Yeah! Oh my god, Richie, are you okay? That must have been traumatic for you,” Max says dramatically. It seems like he’s having fun with this.

“I’ll- I’ll live,” replies Richie, trying to sound meek and pathetic. It’s not too much of a reach for him.

“Your life is so hard and yet you’re so brave,” Max says with feigned solemnity. Richie pauses for a second, as if he’s debating what he should do next, then theatrically throws his arms around Max and buries his face in his chest. He adds a couple fake sobs for good measure.

“It’s okay, bro. It’s okay. We’ve got you.” Max smirks as he pats his back. Richie stays in position, but raises one of his arms in order to flip Chad off.

“God, fine, whatever!” Chad storms off.

“Grace,” Max says excitedly “that was awesome! You know, I always forget you’re the hall monitor.”

“Yeah,” Richie adds “We’ve really been sleeping on the potential for abuse of power!”

There’s a thought. She’s had real power this whole time, she wasn’t leveraging it to its full potential. It’s a shame - if she’d realized this sooner, she would’ve been much more effective at keeping the hallways free of debauchery. She’ll just have to make up for lost time.

“Just doing my job,” she says, now sporting her own mischievous grin.

And if she actually had fun hamming it up with Max and Richie and she’s a little proud that she was able to help them pull off their stunt, then that’s her business.

Before Grace knows it, it’s the end of the school day and she doesn’t feel like going home and being interrogated about this morning just yet. She sends her parents a quick text claiming that there’s an “emergency abstinence club meeting” and begins to wander the hallways aimlessly until she reaches the auditorium. She knows they’re currently doing rehearsals for The Barbecue Monologues. Ruth is always complaining about the actors flubbing their lines and messing up her lighting cues. Up until now, she hasn’t had much of an interest in the show. Apparently, it contains some foul language and references to sex (in a high school production! What is this world coming to?), but she has to pick her battles and her effort to get homecoming canceled has been time-consuming enough. Curiosity gets the better of her and she slips into the auditorium. She’s not sure what she expects to see, but it certainly isn’t Ruth standing center stage absolutely belting her heart out. Her voice is angelic and she puts so much passion and raw emotion into her performance. Beholding it is an almost religious experience. Grace would know.

The number draws to a close and Grace can’t help but applaud.

“Oh, no, my anxiety! Who’s there?” Ruth cries.

“Ruth, that was beautiful! If you’re that good, why aren’t you in the show? You should be the lead!”

“What, no! I’m way too nervous to do that! Plus it’s too late, rehearsals have already started and Trevor’s the lead.”

“Well, what if he wasn’t?” Grace says with a conspiratorial grin.

“But he is,” Ruth replies, not quite sure what she’s getting at.

“Have a little faith, Ruth! Things can change.”

Oh, no, she’s snapping again.

#nerdy prudes must die #npmd #npmd corruption au #grace chasity #max jagerman #peter spankoffski #stephanie lauter #richie lipschitz #ruth fleming #hatchetfield #lautski #cw drug mention

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evita-shelby · 1 year ago

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Only joys will come

Part iii to nights on the January and Through the Window.

For @runnning-outof-time for her Tales from the Flower Garden(3k follower celebration).

Gif by @chimestims

(Also Grace is a total bitch in this one, i love writing her as a total bitch btw)

Tommy had refused her that night at the church, she had poured all her charm into him, and he spurned her.

‘Might not mean anything to the likes of you, but I don’t throw away something good for a cheap fuck.’

A cheap fuck.

He had compared her to Lizzie Stark and all those working girls who hang around the Garrison.

She, the only real lady in this pigsty!

So, she called the station and told them about the kidnapping.

The Shelbys were all in on it, as were the women ---to call them ladies would be an insult to those deserving of the word--- and their usual colorful cohorts.

And just like that, police set upon the groom like vultures on the dead.

Leaving her window too.

But it had come to naught, everything cleared up when it was explained.

And because they can’t arrest him for anything until they have proof, they let him go.

A simple misunderstanding, one that has the police laughing and joining the festivities when Thomas and his family explain the situation.

“They don’t have fun at weddings in your neck of the woods?” Polly Gray sees through her in a way she hates.

Grates her when her dark eyes focus on her as she picks her apart in seconds.

The all-knowing gaze of a witch, Ada had said with pride.

“We’re civilized people.” Grace said with a shrug.

“So are we.” Ada comes, not as the groom’s sister, but as the bride’s friend.

“How did you enjoy your kidnapping, love?” he asks as they reunited after her fake kidnapping.

Tommy wasted no time in letting you walk from the chair the womenfolk of his family had set you on for the game and instead grabbed you by the waist and kissed you as sweetly as he had done the night before.

He had paid Ada with a pair of gold earrings that were their mum’s, danced with his two nieces at Esme’s request and glared at Polly who made him sing some song beginning with the letter of your name.

If someone had told you that he and his family had nearly been arrested for supposedly wanting to abduct you last night, you wouldn’t have believed it.

You had been terrified for him, the last thing you had imagined happening at your doorstep, if truth be told.

“I can’t imagine going another day without you.” You had said as he had made his way down your window.

“Get your sleep, you aren’t getting any tomorrow, Mrs. Shelby.” He gave you a wink and you giggled like a teenage girl before seeing two coppers try to arrest him before he had even finished climbing down.

Grace had been overheard by Harry that night, reporting the Shelbys for ‘planning an abduction’ to the coppers on the telephone in the snug.

‘Who knows what else she’s told them.’ Polly had said as she looked at the mousey looking broad with suspicion and disgust.

You had assumed she was just ignorant of the traditions the Shelbys still held dear even after they stopped traveling like the other Romani Traveller families did.

Rich girls like her tend to be on the stupid side, you had said in Grace’s defense.

Tommy had disabused you of that notion when he told you about her throwing herself at him the night after Freddie’s arrest.

Always the one to see a person’s true nature, always coming to your defense when girls used you to get your brothers’ attentions.

“But we aren’t going to let her ruin our day, your big day, love. I’m going to marry you come hell or high water,” he had promised you, kissing your hands as they shook from fright even after the problem had been settled.

And he had, the two of you not giving a shit that your makeup couldn’t quite cover the circles under your eyes or that his right hand was wrapped in a bandage because he punched the coppers who tried to take him in.

No more sneaking around, no more being quiet because your mum will hear, no, all that ended when you became Mrs. Thomas Shelby in a seemingly bleak November morning.

“Only joys will come to us, love.” he says as carries you into the January where he vowed he’d be loving, kind and true the night you decided to give him a second chance.

#tommy shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x fem!reader #tales from the flower garden

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crappymixtape · 2 years ago

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something infinite • part two

SOMETHING INFINITE • PART TWO P E R F E C T O N T H E S U R F A C E

part two of something infinite – you start your summer job at the library with your aunt only to find your new coworker is someone, an annoying someone, you’ve met before | ( 2k, angst, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader – find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here )

J U N E 1 9 8 7 🎶 to be young ( is to be sad, is to be high ), ryan adams

“So its super easy, just reference the library ID numbers here on the spine with the section and author name and voila! Back on the shelf.”

Joyce was hunched over next to you as you stared at the rolling cart full of book returns.

“Okay, sure,” you nodded to yourself, turning one of the books over in your hands and looking at the little numbers printed on the label wrapped around the spine. Seemed easy enough? You’d probably find a way to mess it up though. “I’m gonna have like, a million questions,” you gave her an apologetic smile.

“Of course you will!” Joyce’s bright laugh made a few people look up in annoyance and she gave them a sheepish wave as if to say, sorry. "I’m just here at the desk if you need anything,” she half-whispered, then gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before turning back to her computer to leave you to it.

Sure, great, you sighed under your breath, fingers drumming on the stacks of books as you pushed the cart toward the non-fiction section.

The library was a lot quieter than you liked, uncomfortable and stuffy like when you used to go to church with your grandma on Sundays. Like you didn’t quite belong there. Like even just breathing annoyed the people browsing the shelves.

Glancing up to look out the long bank of windows on the other side of the aisle, you could tell it was getting hotter by the minute. It was only 9am, but the summer sun was creeping higher in the dusty blue Indiana sky, promising popsicles and turquoise water and snuck beers once your shift was over. Strange as this new place was, you were settling in surprisingly well.

Will and Jonathan had been a little shy at first, but after a few days the three of you discovered what you’d been missing out on all those years away. Duran Duran screaming at you from the speakers in Jonathan’s room as you thumbed through his vinyl, helping Will come up with new creepy crawlies for his latest campaign storyline, and El. Well. El had quickly become a fast favorite.

She was younger than you, but only by a couple of years, and while she could be odd at times she was witty as hell and after a late night up eating cold pizza and watching The Thing it was like she’d always been a part of it all.

It was painfully obvious the three of them were incredibly close. You’d been afraid to fit in, but they welcomed you with open arms, and that included everyone else too.

Everyone else.

Eddie and Robin. Nancy and Mike. Max, Lucas, and Dustin. More than just neighbors. More than friends. Their found family. Their heart. Their everything. And as every Indiana sunset painted the sky cotton candy pink and soft peachy oranges you felt more and more like this was home.

“Hey, sweetie, sorry to interrupt. Do you think you could show Steve how this works?”

Joyce’s voice brought you hurtling back to the library and you blinked a few times, not quite registering what she’d asked. “Steve?” looking over your aunt’s shoulder you saw a familiar mopey boy poking and prodding at the books on the end of the aisle.

“Yeah, Harrington. A sweet boy, really, just–” she stumbled over her words unsure of how to describe him and instead settled on a small hand wave in his direction.

Steve. Of course his name was Steve.

Your heartbeat fluttered against your neck as you tried to maintain a neutral expression, but the irritation and anger from earlier in the week licked like a flame in your chest.

Shouldn’t you apologize?

“Yeah, sure,” you tried a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes as your aunt beamed up at you.

“Wonderful! Steve, come on over, hon. It’s really easy. I’m sure you’ll catch on quick, but in case you have questions–” and she took your arm, dragging you front and center as the boy finally looked up and froze on the spot at the sight of you.

“You?” fell out of his mouth and a flush crept up his neck and across his cheeks as he realized how it had sounded.

“Oh! You know each other? That’s great! I’ll just leave you to it then. Thanks, sweetie,” Joyce gave your shoulder a squeeze and hurried back down the aisle to her desk leaving the two of you staring daggers at each other.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve muttered under his breath, huffing a laugh.

“Nope, just me,” you sniped, turning away to run your hands over your face. Unbelievable. Why in the hell did this guy have a job at the library?

“Real cute.”

When you finally felt like you could look at him without being a complete asshole you turned around to see him leaning lazily against the returns cart, fingers bumping across the book spines. Even the way he was standing irritated you. Like he owned the place. Like he no matter what you said he was going to do what he wanted.

“What are you doing here anyway?” came out and it surprised you almost as much as it did Steve, but he recovered from your words quickly and jammed his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

“None of your business. Now are you gonna show me how to–to do whatever the hell it is you do here or what?”

You scoffed, unable to do anything but stand there smiling incredulously for a minute. “Are you serious?” you finally asked, stalking forward a few steps. You wanted to be mad, wanted to shove two fingers into his chest, but you were close now. Close enough to catch spearmint gum and cedar, fresh laundry and boy. Close enough to catch his eyes all burnt caramel and warm honey and it was infuriating how your heart fluttered in your chest, like hummingbird trapped in a cage.

“Wha–yes?” he gave you a shitty look then loosed a sigh, “This is so stupid.” Pinching the bridge of his nose he shook his head and tried again, “Look, I don’t want be here, so the faster you show me how to put these dumb books away the faster I can leave.”

“Why is it always about you?” you felt heat rising in your chest, cheeks growing pink despite the air conditioner rumbling above you. Taking another step closer to him, your brows knitted together in anger, “What’s your problem?”

“My problem? You’re the one getting all bent out shape, princess,” the way he talked down to you was so casual, so practiced, and you snapped.

“Don’t call me that.”

It was Steve’s turn to take a step toward you. The toes of your shoes nearly touching.

“Oops, did I hit a nerve? Princess?”

“Okay. You can figure this shit out on your own,” your face burned as you dumped the books you'd been holding on the cart and stalked away, leaving Steve to stand stupidly between the shelves. You needed air, even if it was too hot and the Smack! your hands made on the cool metal push bar as you went out the side door was deafening against the quiet of the library.

“Hold up! Wait!”

Now he was following you? Did the boy have a death wish?

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t an invitation,” you snapped, rounding on him, hair wild and caught up in the thick, sticky summer air.

“I have to be here,” he flung his hands out at you, exasperated, the look on his face expectant, willing you to connect dots you didn’t know were there.

“To do what? Torture me?”

“God dammit,” Steve loosed a sigh, jamming his tongue into his cheek, as if talking to you was like pulling teeth.

“Why did you come out here–”

“I have to do this. The library. Community service. For…shit...that I did.”

Your anger flickered, dampened a bit, and your expression softened as you considered what he’d just said. Community service? What could Golden Boy have possibly done to get landed with community service?

“Can we please go back inside?” Steve practically begged, throwing a hand toward the door as tiny beads of sweat gathered along his forehead.

“You’re the one that followed me,” but you didn’t fight him on it and instead shouldered past him as he held the door open into the air conditioned building.

Steve grumbled something under his breath as he followed after you and you had half a mind to dig into him, but then he took your hand and everything went blank.

Something between you crackled, like fireworks on a hot July night, and your stomach flipped over. He pulled you past the bank of windows to a smaller, more private corner in the sci-fi section and when he let go of your hand your chest ached.

Clearing your throat you crossed your arms, tucking your hands away from him, and fixed him with a scowl trying your best to look peeved, “Spill.”

For a split second doubt flashed in his eyes, a chink in his armor exposed, but it was dashed away when he opened his mouth, “I tried to steal a car. Sheriff’s car. So, you know, not a great look.”

Your face did something funny to not give yourself away, all scrunched up in a muddled mixture of shock, amusement, and confusion, but Hawkins was small. Too small for more than one sheriff and the only sheriff you knew was Hop. As in Joyce and Hop. As in your aunt’s husband and a memory surfaced then of one of the first things to happen after you arrived.

Hop had been so angry and he’d moved so fast out the door he spilled his beer all over the living room carpet. You’d watched through the curtains as two boys ran from his rig for dear life into the trees behind the house, but one unlucky bastard got tackled there on the front lawn. Hop practically shoveled dirt into his mouth. It wasn’t the best angle so you couldn’t tell it'd been Steve, but he’d been tossed like a rag doll into the back of Hop’s Blazer and taken down to the station without a minute to spare.

“That was stupid,” maybe it was harsh, but it got a small grin from Steve and your stomach flipped over again.

“Yeah. Fifteen-hours-a-week-til-the-end-of-summer-stupid,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, but he kept his eyes on yours and for a minute you thought maybe you didn’t hate him.

“There you are! Is everything okay?” Joyce startled both of you as she appeared out of nowhere, apparently a skill of hers.

“Yep! So great, I was just, you know uh–”

“–showing me the different sections!” Steve finished for you and you shot him a look of thanks or surprise or maybe both.

“Wonderful, well there’s someone wanting to open a new account and I thought it’d be good for you both to see,” her expression shifted slightly as she looked between the two of you, like she knew something you didn’t, but before you could say anything she was walking back to the front of the library. “Tacos okay for dinner?” she called over her shoulder as both you and Steve hurried to catch up, “Your cousins’ favorite.”

And Steve stopped right there in the middle of the aisle, mouth dropped open in a little ‘o’ as he looked at you. “Joyce is your aunt?” he hissed.

Cheeks flushed bright pink it was your turn in the hot seat and you didn’t say anything. Instead, you half-jogged after your aunt, leaving Steve behind with the books to put the pieces together.

SOMETHING INFINITE SYNOPSIS: hawkins, indiana, 1987 – your mom is out of town for the summer on business and she sends you to live with your aunt joyce and her husband jim in hawkins while she’s gone. joyce works at the library and jim is the town sheriff – the kids, will, jonathan and el slowly warm up to you and it’s after you get in with them that you really start to feel at home, but there’s one person who just annoys you to no end. one person you’d love to just boot off a cliff – steve fucking harrington. ♥️ find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve stranger things #steve x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x gender neutral reader #steve harrington x gn!reader

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hellboundwrites · 1 year ago

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Can we have more info on the yearly ritual you mentioned in the Halloween post?

Of course ! Keep in mind that I'm going to improvise a bit for this one though ;)

TW : mentions of death and grieving

The Halloween ritual is not mandatory, or else the presence of every ghoul would be demanded.

Since the Clergy has Papa IV at its head, traditions have been a bit swept under the rug. Copia only cares about having fun, and the Clergy doesn't mind opening the church to new events. Old traditions, like the Halloween ritual, don't actually promote the Clergy. They're only destined to a close audience of members and are quite secretive. Therefore, they aren't an effective way to welcome new believers in the ranks.

The ritual being only one of many, it doesn't have to be lead by the Papa, who only directs the major events of the year - much to Copia's relief. He delegates to another, lower representative. Years ago, when he was still a Cardinal, the Halloween rituals were his responsibility, therefore he considers that he has done enough. If you ask Imperator about her son's lack of interest in traditions, she'll tell you that Terzo started it, and well, she's not entirely wrong. Terzo still had his old-fuck of a father and his devoted ghouls to keep him in line, though.

Anyways, the most faithful members of the Clergy, like older ghouls and Siblings of Sin, choose this ritual over what they consider is a futile celebration. Dressing up for Halloween might be a good public stunt to preach the Infernal Gospel, but it doesn't serve a religious purpose and doesn't honor the Lord in respectful ways.

It is believed that it is during Halloween that the walls between realms are the thinnest. But that is not entirely true. It actually extends to the entire day of November 1st to the following night on November 2nd, when the ritual ends. November 2nd is the Day of the Dead in many cultures, and the day during which a lot of people around the world pray, mourn and celebrate the deceased. What better opportunity to recharge your magic ? The high members of the Clergy, the ghouls and everyone who's able to manipulate magic will feed off this solemn and sometimes negative energy. So much pain, some much grief, so many voices calling for a God that won't respond...

In some cases, they find souls wondering the earth. Ghosts, spirits, entities that have escaped the attention of the Lord. Like magnets, they are attracted by the whirlwind of energy that floats above the abbey. They wander here by themselves, never knowing what awaits for them : eternal damnation. Some ghouls, because they have a foot in both realms, are expected to be here to catch these creatures and send them where they belong in Hell.

From the night of Halloween to the night of November 2nd, the chapel stays lit and open, with hundreds of candles decorating the walls and illuminating the dark stained glasses.

The priest or cardinal in charge will conduct a mass in the morning. You are free to come and go whenever you please during these two days, light a candle, say a prayer. But the most devoted members of the Clergy will eat, sleep and pray at the chapel without ever leaving, guarding it and welcoming others. Some are in charge of cleaning off the wax, replacing the unholy water, offering meals and warm clothes...

It is at most, a quiet and peaceful event, in opposition to some more gore or explicit rituals they're used to do. Most people find it quite boring. But some will visit for the warmth and the feeling of belonging that being around so many other believers can offer. Some others, like Omega, by duty. Alpha for example, will stay the entire ritual, both to regenerate his elements and show gratitude to the Lord.

On November 2nd, just before midnight, they'll roll Nihil's old-fuck corpse at the altar and pray for him while he watches. Unfortunately for everyone, the ritual also makes his ghost stronger and more attached to the abbey.

Of course, that's when you can find the least amount of people in the chapel.

I'll write more about my headcanons for rituals and other religious acts in future projects. Hope that my poor english wasn't too bad here.

#headcanon #the band ghost #asks #papa nihil #papa zero #alpha ghoul #omega ghoul #papa emeritus iv #ghost band #halloween #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #nameless ghouls #ghost lore #hellboundfics

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blackjackkent · 9 months ago

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OK. We got our pass to break into the counting house which means tonight, come hell or high water, we are FINDING MY BOY AND HIS HAMSTER. \o/

Guard captain at the door asked for our vault pass, and Hector tried to make casual conversation:

"I hear another group descended just before me."

"Aye. Glitterbeard brought some giant down just now. He had eyes as dark as winter's crack and twice as cold."

"He also had a vault pass."

LOL. Hector shut up and gave the pass over meekly.

Minsc though. :( Buddy. I don't like this description of you.

Question for discussion: has Boo also become an Absolutist or are he and Minsc engaged in an intense, squeaky existential debate at all times while this plot is unfolding?

After checking the pass, the guard had a very unsettling little spiel she rattled off. "Right. 'Descend and know: upon entering the vaults, you forego the protection of city and church law alike.' Which is to say - keep to your own vault, and you'll be fine."

O.O; Shoutout to CapitalOne bank, which (to my knowledge) would never authorize its customers to murder each other in cold blood.

I accidentally clicked on Karlach before going into the vault and turns out she has a dialogue line about what's going on: "Minsc is working for the cult? Damn. He must've been tadpoled, or worse. The real Minsc would never join up with the godsdamned Absolute! Maybe we can help him - the Prism, right? It should shut that tadpole up - if he doesn't kick our butts first. It's kind of his thing."

Hee.

We must get him back to buttkicking for goodness!

The vaults have a LOT of lootable goods that no one is actively watching and it would be super easy for Hector to steal them; my RPG looting instinct is warring with Hector's actual in-character behavior. For now leaving it alone though and going on deeper in.

There's some ongoing discussion from various guards as we push further into the vaults that is indicating to me that the head banker is probably in league with Minsc's Stone Lord persona in his smuggling work. Everyone seems to be describing the vaults as a weirdly lawless place.

"What can I expect below?"

"No idea. Our post is out here. Besides his chosen swords, Head Banker Glitterbeard doesn't like us asking what goes on below. For... security, I expect."

Mmhmm. Speaking of security, I think a bunch of angry Nine-Fingers thieves are going to be showing up soon so you might want to be on the lookout for that.

It feels like there's a joke I could make here but I'm not going to make it, but suffice to say Karlach snickers at this sign.

Lots of big heavy locked doors in the vault proper, no sign of Minsc. High Security Vault door with a puzzle in front of it seems like it's probably our destination.

Hm.

OK, so it appears that the puzzle involves having the four of us all stand on the correct four glyphs on the floor within a limited time (probably a turn).

Clearly one strategy here would be to go back and break into Glitterbeard's office to steal the code; however, there are two nearby notes that suggest another possible approach.

Hehehehehehe.

So this implies that, if the floor was wet, we could short out the lock.

The floor is not currently wet. But we have Shadowheart.

Perfect. Time to commit property damage.

Beautiful.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #i feel like i should ahve received a sage inspiration for this creative solution XD

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mydarllinglover · 1 year ago

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Alone || Split up

When they had got back to the church, they pushed the trolleys up the stairs and into the place.

Abraham was under the bus, fixing it up whilst Rosita helped him.

Sully ran towards Natalia, barking as his tail wagged, but he halted when he sniffed her, walking in a circle as he ran his nose along her legs, trying to work out what it was.

"What the hell happened to you?" Carol asked, looking down at her from the steps, Daryl was smoking, as he leaned against the railing.

"Oh, y'know, just a leisurely swim in walker infested water, that has been brewing for god knows how long, heh, get it, god knows." She pointed at the church. "Anyway, I got a cool jacket." Natalia shrugged, "I'm going to be fishing walker goop out of crevices for a week, and almost got killed cause of a priest, all in a days work."

"What?" Daryl asked, talking to her for the first time in a while, looking around for Gabriel.

"Got scared, shoved me out of his way as he tried to flee, totally bombed it though."

"Did you get hurt?" Carol asked, Daryl was still scanning the brunette, like he was trying to find any injuries.

"Nope, no bites, no scratches, all good."

"Are you sure?" She pressed.

"Yes, you want me to strip so you can check?" Natalia huffed, walking past the pair and heading into the church, Sully walked beside her. "I'm offended people ask me that so often, I can handle myself."

"It's okay to accept the fact that people love and care about you." Carol called after her.

Later that night, when the sun had set, The group sat around the church, enjoying their first proper meal together in a long time, chatting and laughing, enjoying each others company, feeling at peace for the first time in a long time.

Glenn and Tara had formed a game of how high can Sully catch, where they would take in turns throwing a piece of food into the air and see the furthest he could catch it from, the people around them found this pretty amusing, pitying the dog by giving him a spoonful from their own plate, he was definitely enjoying the buffet.

"I'd like to propose a toast." Abraham gathered the rooms attention, standing at the front of the room with a glass of wine in hand.

Michonne and Natalia took their seats beside each other as everyone went quiet, waiting to see what the man had to say.

"I look around this room and I see survivors." He started. "Each and everyone of you has earned that title. To the survivors."

"Survivors! Cheers!" Everyone chanted, raising their glasses.

"Is that all you want to be?" Abraham continued, Natalia knew where this was going, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep at night with two eyes open, rinse and repeat? 'Cause you can do that. I mean, you got the strength. You got the skill. Thing is, for you people, for what you can do, that's just surrender. Now, we get Eugene to Washington and he will make the dead die and the living will have this world again. And that is not a bad takeaway for a little road trip. Eugene, what's in DC?"

"Infrastructure constructed to withstand pandemics. Even of this Fubar magnitude. That means food, fuel, refuge. Restart."

"However this plays out, however long it takes for this restart button to kick in, you can be safe there. Safer than you've been since this whole thing started. Come with us. Save the world for that little one. Save it so you can take your dog on walks without fear of it ending up something's dinner. Save it for yourselves. Save it for the people out there... who don't got nothing left to do except survive."

Judith began to make noises, as she sat on her fathers lap.

"What was that?" Rick asked her as people laughed. "I think she knows what I'm about to say. She's in. If she's in, I'm in. We're in. Let's do it."

Everyone cheered and clapped for the plan, Sully let out a howl, joining in on the noise, Tara copied the dog, letting out her own howl.

After a while, people gradually went outside, getting some fresh air.

"Has anyone who's gone outside come back yet?" Natalia asked Rick, looking around.

"Sasha went out to look for Bob, said he'd been out for a while." Tyreese weighed in.

"Carol and Daryl's been gone for a while, too." Natalia hummed.

"Alright, me and Tyreese will go look for them, everyone stay here, I don't want anyone else disappearing." Rick said, standing up.

"I'll help." Natalia offered, going to stand up, but Rick stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"No, I need you here, to keep an eye on Gabriel, he does anything, I know you can handle it, we'll find them." He assured her.

"But-"

"Natalia, I need you in here." He repeated.

"Fine, take Sully, he'll be able to sniff them out from anywhere, especially Daryl." She mused, knowing full well how much fond the dog and man were of each other, even if Daryl didn't express it, but she could tell by the way he kept Sully's rabbit in his back pocket If the dog had forgotten it, or dropped it when something else caught his attention.

"We'll take care of him." Rick nodded.

"I know you will." She offered a small smile.

Natalia was sat in a pew, her eyes never left the father, watching his every move, her gun in her hand, resting in her lap.

The other people went about doing their own thing, waiting for the arrival of their family to return.

The doors opened with loud creaks, Tyreese, Rick and Sully returned with Sasha, but no Bob, Daryl or Carol.

Sasha walked towards Father Gabriel.

"Stop." She told the man in a hushed voice.

He stared at her, pausing the motion of pouring himself another glass of wine.

"What are you doing?" She asked. "What are you doing?" She repeated, much more slower, when he had yet to answer. "This is all connected. You show up, we're being watched, and now three of us are gone."

"I..." He started. "I don't... I don't have anything to do with this."

Sasha pulled out her knife, walking towards the man as he backed up.

"Wait!"

"Don't!" Rosita ordered, lunging forward, but Abraham grabbed a hold of her.

"Sasha, put it away." Tyreese told his younger sister.

"Who's out there?" Sasha asked, ignoring the other people in the room.

"I... I don't have anything to do with this." Gabriel put his hands up in surrender.

"Where are our people?"

"I don't have anything to..."

"Where are our people?" Sasha screamed at him.

"Please, I don't have anything to do with this."

Rick pulled Sasha back, taking her place.

"Why'd you bring us here?" He asked.

"I... I... please." Gabriel stuttered.

"Are you working with someone?"

"I'm alone. I'm alone. I was always alone."

"What about the woman in the food bank, Gabriel?" Rick pushed forward. "What did you do to her? "You'll burn for this." That was for you. Why? What are you going to burn for, Gabriel?"

Gabriel had yet to answer him, ticking the man off even more.

Rick grabbed him by the collar, pushing him against the table full of candles.

"What? What did you do?" He shouted, his jaw clenched. "What did you do?" He pushed the man away, taking a step back.

"I lock the doors at night. I always lock the doors at night. I always lock the doors at night." He repeated, breaking down. "I always- They started coming, my congregation. Atlanta was bombed the night before and they were scared. They were- They were looking for a safe place, a place where they felt safe. And it was so early. It was so early. And the doors were still locked. You see... it was my choice. There were so many of them and they were trying to pry the shutters and banging on the sidings, screaming at me. And so the dead came for them. Women... children. Entire families calling my name as they were torn apart, begging me for mercy. Begging me for mercy. Damning me to Hell." He sobbed. "I buried their bones. I buried it all. The lord sent you here to finally punish me." He collapsed to the ground as he continued to cry.

Natalia was feeling more angry by the second, he was the sole reason that countless of families had suffered brutally, because he couldn't be bothered to help them, to offer shelter, and he was feeling sorry for himself?

"I'm damned. I was damned before. I always lock the doors. I always lock the doors."

A whistle sounded outside the church, Sully began barking and howling at the door, Natalia headed towards him, pulling the dog away as Glenn headed for the window.

"There's something... There's someone outside lying in the grass."

Sasha had ran for the door.

"Sasha." Rick followed.

The others chased after them, running outside.

"Oh! Bob!" Sasha shouted, as everyone set their sights on the passed out Bob.

Two walkers were heading for them.

"His leg." Maggie looked in horror, Bob's left leg was missing.

"Get Bob inside. We'll take care of them." Glenn ordered, him heading for the first walker as Natalia ran to the other, her knife pushing into it's eye.

"Can you help me, please? Help me. Help me." Sasha sobbed to Tara, trying to pick her boyfriend up.

"Get inside! Go!"

More walkers were appearing, Rick had started shooting at them as Natalia and Glenn ran back to help everyone with Bob.

"Rick!" Natalia called out, staring at the big red A that was painted on their wall.

"Let's go." He told her, pushing the small woman in the building and locking the door.

Everyone gathered around Bob, he had managed to wake up.

"I was in the graveyard. Somebody knocked me out." He told, once he was able to. I woke up outside this place. It looked like a school. It was that guy, Gareth. And five other ones."

Natalia looked at Rick, they were the ones who demanded to finish it off.

"They were eating my leg, right in front of me. Like it was nothing. All proud like they had it all figured out."

"Did they have Daryl and Carol?" Rick asked in a gentle tone.

"Gareth said they drove off."

"What?" Natalia hissed. Why the hell would they drive off? Unless... that black car.

Bob tried to sit up, groaning in agony.

"He's in pain. Do we have anything?" Sasha asked Rosita.

"I think we have a few pill packets in the first aid kit." Rosita said, getting up to fetch them.

"Yeah." Sasha nodded at her.

"Save 'em." Bob called towards her.

"No."

"Really." Bob sniffled as he sat up, pulling his T-shirt down to reveal a tear of flesh.

Bob was bitten.

"It happened at the food bank." He told Sasha, who stared wide eyed at it.

"It's okay." She whispered, helping him lay back down.

"Bob?" Sasha asked, when he fell. Tara caught his head, so he didn't hit it on the floor.

"There's a sofa in my office." Gabriel offered. "I know its not much, but..."

"Thank you."

"I got him." Tyreese stood up, helping Bob into the office.

Rick and Natalia moved towards the father, seeming to have the same thought.

"Do you know the place Bob was talking about?" Rick beat her to it.

"It's an elementary school. It's close."

"How close." Natalia asked, before he even finished the word.

He hesitated.

"How close?" Rick pushed.

"It's just a 10-minute walk through the woods from here, due south of the graveyard."

Judith started to cry, so Carl carried her into the other room, in her basket.

"Does he have a fever?" Rick asked Maggie.

"He's just warm."

"Jim lasted more than two days before we left him." Glenn remembered.

"Time for a reality check." Abraham called out. "We all need to leave for DC right now."

"No way! Not when Daryl and Carol are missing." Natalia snapped.

"They're gonna be back." Rick agreed. "We're not going anywhere without them."

"I respect that, but there's a clear threat here, to Eugene. I need to extract his ass before things get any uglier. So if y'all won't come, good luck to you. We'll go our separate ways."

"Well, bye!" Natalia waved at the large man.

"You leaving on foot?" Rick asked his retreating back.

"We fixed that damn bus ourselves." Abraham turned around.

"There are a lot more of us." Rick marched towards him.

"You want to keep it that way? You should come."

"Carol saved your life. We saved your life."

"Well, I am trying to save yours! Save everyone's."

"We're not going anywhere without our people."

"Your people took off."

"They're coming back."

"To what, picked-over bones?"

"You're not taking-" Rick reached for the man.

"Do not lay your hands!" Abraham grabbed him.

Natalia took her gun off safety whilst Glenn ran over to intervene.

"Abraham!" Rosita shouted.

"Hey, hey, stop! Now!" Glenn came in the middle of the pair, creating distance. "Do you really think that you're gonna be any safer leaving right now, in the middle of the night?" Glenn asked Abraham.

"Yeah." Abraham nodded. "Yeah."

"What about tomorrow? We need each other for this. We need each other to get to DC. We can get through all of it together." Glenn expressed.

"I have an idea." Tara stepped forward. "If you stay here just one more day and help, I'll go with you to DC no matter what." Abraham seemed to think this over, when she turned to Maggie. "Okay?"

"Glenn and Maggie, too."

"No." Rick declined.

"Good luck, then. I'm not interested in breaking up what you have here. Rosita, grab your gear."

"Abraham."

"Now." He ordered. "Eugene, let's go. Eugene. Move it."

"I don't want to." Eugene stayed seated.

"Now." Abraham growled.

"Okay." The scientist whispered, getting up from the pew.

The three moved towards the door.

"You're not taking the bus." Rick told him.

"Try to stop me." He responded.

Rick waited a moment, before walking towards the redhead, who passed his gun to Rosita.

"Hey, wait, wait wait, wait, wait, wait!" Glenn ran forward, breaking them up again. "Hey, hey, hey!"

He looked between the pair before speaking again.

"You stay. You stay and help us, and we will go with you."

"No." Rick refused.

"It's not your call." He looked back to Abraham. "You stay, help us."

"Half a day." Abraham bargained. "Come high noon, we're taillights. I'm not waiting for the other damn shoe to drop."

"And we will leave with you." Maggie spoke up.

"12 hours." He declared. "Then we go." He walked towards the first pew, narrowly missing barging into Rick.

The group gathered around, as Rick hatched out the plan of action to put an end to Terminus as they loaded up guns and got ready for the fight.

"We're in here and they could be anywhere." Rick said. "But we know exactly where they are."

"Plans got stones, I'll give you that." Abraham said.

"Make our move before they do." Glenn nodded.

"That's right." Rick nodded. "They're not counting on us thinking straight"

"But what if that's their idea." Natalia thought out loud. "Draw us out to their spot and leave our vulnerable unprotected, give themselves leverage, just like how they used Carl at the train carts."

"Then we make sure we get to them first, before they get the chance." Rick said. "Tyreese."

"Yeah?"

"You up for this?" Rick asked the man, who looked to be somewhere else.

He didn't answer, their attention moved towards Sasha, who had walked out of the office.

"I'm going with you." She declared.

"You should stay with Bob." Tyreese told her.

"No, I want to be out there. I want to be apart of this."

She didn't give anyone a chance to argue, walking back into the office.

Tyreese went after her.

The group carried on, whilst the siblings spoke in the office.

Rick had took on what Natalia had suggested, Carl, Judith, Gabriel, Rosita, Eugene and Tyreese sat in the office with Bob's passed out body, Sully paced around the room, missing his owner and sensing that something was happening.

If the cannibals were to turn up, they would be ready to deal with them.

The remaining members of the group vacated the church, heading into the woods and towards the elementary school.

When they had got there, the place was empty, no one in sight, a fire was put out recently.

"I knew it!" Natalia hissed.

"Go, lets go!" Rick ordered, and they all ran back towards the church.

They had got back quickly.

Before she was given a chance to get turned down by Rick, Natalia sneaked up the steps and into the open doors, the rest were on her tail, making sure they were deadly silent.

"Are we done?" A man with a hood up asked, he was stood behind Gareth.

"We'll hit the hinges." Gareth said lowly, gesturing for the two people who were stood outside the office to do exactly that.

Before they were given the chance, Natalia shot down the man, than the woman at the door to their people.

"Put your guns on the floor." Rick had walked further into the church, the end of the building looked pitch black to the enemies, not a person was in sight.

"Rick, we'll fire into that office. So you lower your gun..." Gareth pointed at the door.

Rick took aim, shooting the mans two fingers straight off as he screamed in agony.

"Not nice when someone takes your body parts off, is it?" Natalia pouted, staying in the shadow, her gun aimed at the next potential threat.

"Ah!" Gareth whimpered, keeling over.

"Put your guns on the floor and kneel." Rick repeated, walking forwards.

"Do what he says." Gareth groaned.

Natalia put her gun away, taking out her knife as Terminus followed the order.

"Martin there's no choice here." Gareth told the only person who wasn't kneeling.

"Yeah, there is." Martin disagreed.

Abraham stepped towards him, his gun pointed at the mans head.

"Wanna bet?"

He threw his gun down, kneeling.

The group stood in front of the surrendering cannibals, Sasha and Rick had boxed Gareth in as he moved around on the floor, looking at Rick.

"No point in begging, right?" He asked.

"No." Rick breathed.

"Still, you could of killed us when you came in. There had to be a reason for that."

"We didn't want to waste the bullets." Rick shrugged.

"We used to help people. We saved people. Things changed, they came in and After that I know that you've been out there, but I can see it. You don't know what it is to be hungry. You don't have to do this. We can walk away. And we will never cross paths again. I promise you."

But you'll cross someone's path." Rick said. "You'd do this to anyone, right? Besides, I already made you a promise." Rick pulled out his red handled machete, slashing it into the man's head.

This was the signal, to attack the other terminus members.

Michonne, Sasha, Natalia and Abraham attacked them brutally as the others watched in horror.

Natalia slit one of the men's throat, blood spraying around as she kneed him in the face, letting him fall on his back as he choked on his blood, before ending his misery and stomping hard on his skull, smashing it into brain matter and goop.

The room was silent when they had dealt with every single one, blood, stained the floor of the church pooling on the wood and the carpet, as mangled bodies layed across it.

Michonne had found something among the Terminus's stuff, pulling it out, to reveal her missing sword.

"It could have been us." Rick told the group.

"They gave us a reason, we were just food to them." Natalia agreed, wiping her knife on the dead bodies shirt. "This was self defence."

"Yeah." Sasha whispered, her voice shaking as she took in what she had just done.

Gabriel stared in horror at what had happened in his holy sanctuary, Rick, Natalia, Abraham and Sasha passed him, walking into the office to check on their loved ones.

"This is the Lords house." Gabriel uttered.

"No." Maggie denied. "It's just four walls and a roof."

The sun had rose, and Bob was losing the battle against the fever, everyone gathered around the office to say their final goodbyes.

"You'll always be with us." Maggie told the man. "Part of us." She kissed his hand, smiling at him reassuringly.

"And, if It clears your conscience, I forgive you for the time you went to shoot me." Natalia teased, as they both laughed, smiling at each other.

"I'm glad I didn't." He told her.

The group went to leave the man in peace, Sasha moving towards him.

"Rick." Bob called out to their leader.

Natalia took Judith off his hands, so he could talk to Bob.

"Come here, Judy." Natalia cooed, walking outside the room, Carl beside her.

She sat on the pew, Judith on her lap, and Carl next to her, petting Sully, Judith reached out for the dog, grabbing at his ears.

Natalia wondered if he was reminded of someone else, the same person she was thinking off as she watched the baby interact with the dog, who was gentle and patient as anything, making the little girl giggle as he licked at her hands, that Natalia made sure went nowhere near her face before being cleaned.

"He's good with kids." Carl said.

"He's good with everyone." Natalia smiled. "I got really lucky with him."

"Do you think Daryl and Carols gonna come back?"

"Of course they will, something probably just came up and they had to deal with it, they wouldn't leave us." She tried to reassure him.

Soon enough, noon had come.

Sasha sat by Bob's grave, wearing his jacket as she made sure the cross was tied securely.

Abraham was bidding Rick, Michonne and Natalia goodbye.

"This is our route to DC." He said, handing Rick a map. "We'll stick to it as long as we're able. If not, well, you got our destination. Once Eugene gets to the big brains left up there, things are gonna bounce back. This group should be there for it. You should be there for it."

"They will be." Maggie assured.

"We will." Michonne nodded.

"We will." Rick repeated.

"I guess we will." Natalia joined in.

Abraham nodded, turning around and back to the bus.

"Let's go."

"You both better be safe, save the world for all of us." Natalia told Glenn and Maggie, hugging both of them.

"You better make sure everyone here is alright." Glenn told her, patting her back and stepping away, patting Sully's head.

"Keep her out of trouble." Maggie told the dog, patting his head as well as he let out a woof of agreement.

The DC group got into the bus, as the others stood on the steps of the church.

Rick and Abraham shared another nod before the redhead closed the doors of the bus, setting off on their journey.

At night, Natalia sat on the front steps of the church, keeping lookout, but also wanting to keep an eye out for Carol and Daryl, they still hadn't come back, she missed them both, and was driving herself mad, coming up with loads of different scenarios of what could of happened, if it wasn't for the fact that she had no idea where they could be, she would be out looking for them, she knew that she was being harsh and cold towards the pair, especially with Daryl, but she didn't know how to act around him, after what happened, they were equally mad at each other, how they handled the claimers, and they weren't given a chance to hash it out, but he had made it obvious that he still cared and worried about her, she just couldn't deal with it, when everything was still so fresh, and she could feel the lingering weight, the bruises and cuts on her face still stung, her back was itching as the graze was scabbing over, it was too much, she felt she was suffocating but she didn't have the time to cry for herself, to reflect on the events, Natalia had to push through, put her energy into protecting her friends.

Michonne had come outside, sitting beside her friend, her sword in her lap. Neither woman had to say anything, just sat in each others company as they battled their own thoughts.

Longer into the night, the door opened, Father Gabriel stepped out.

"I can't sleep." He announced, leaning against the wooden rail. "And now, sitting in there... Quiet."

Natalia, nor Michonne answered him.

"It isn't just what happened last night. Saying what happened before out loud, I see it all again. I hear them."

"Yeah." Michonne whispered. "That won't stop."

"But it'll get quieter." Natalia added.

"And it won't be all the time."

A rustling sound cut the conversation.

Natalia jumped up, grabbing her knife, as Michonne slowly followed, signalling to Gabriel to be quiet, who went back inside.

Natalia moved towards the sound, Michonne was right behind her, unsheathing her sword.

They walked towards the trees, where the sound had come from, but not being able to see anything.

Something was emerging from the leaves, coming towards them.

It was Daryl.

Natalia stepped towards him, hitting his chest before wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, as he put his arm around her middle, as Michonne laughed, breathing in a sigh of relief.

"Where the hell were you? Where's Carol?" She asked, looking behind him, but not seeing the woman.

Daryl stepped back from Natalia, looking over his shoulder.

"Come on out." He said.

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violetswritingg · 2 months ago

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Canary Cry

Robin/Nightwing (Dick Grayson) x OFC!

Description: Her violence was silent. Until it wasn't.

"I'm fine."

"Fine is just another word for drowning."

Rating T-M (mentions of blood, child abuse, mental health, cannon situations of violence and the like. Loss of parents, hard of hearing/deaf character, poorly written fight scenes lol)

Want to read the other chapters?

Click here

BIALYA

September 4, 00:14 EEST

Kate groaned as her eyes slowly opened, her throat burning at the noise it produced. The blonde slowly sitting up, her hands sinking into the ground around her. Looking down she saw it was sand, her eyes took in her surroundings fully, she was surrounded by the stuff. As far as the eye could see.

What the...

Kate coughed, immediately jerking as her ears rung. Her fingers finding plastic on the back side of her ears. She pulled them, or tried but another loud ring, like a high pitched church bell stopped her. Her mouth was dry as cotton, her throat protesting every little sound just like her ears were. Where am I?

Getting to her feet slowly, the dim moonlight being the only thing allowing her to see anything right now.

Making her way up a hill of sand, to hopefully see civilization off in the distance. The blonde running a hand down her face when she didn't see the familiar Star City skyline, a strange leather-like material around her eyes making her recoil and take in what she was wearing. Ripping off the offending.... Mask?

What the actual fuck? None of this was right. She tried to remember how she got here, where here was, only to receive a harsh ache behind her eyes. She ran her hands over the crop top she was wearing, over her belt and the buckle insignia before starting to mess with the tactical gloves she had on. Hitting something and yelping when blue light flooded her vision.

Once her eyes adjusted her jaw dropped at what she was seeing. This... glove-computer? She guessed, looked more sophisticated than Wayne Tech equipment. A red dot blinked on a map, was that her?

Bialya? Where even is that?

Kate cautiously zoomed in on the map. Seeing multiple other red dots, all with strange variations of letters and numbers above them. RB-01, SB-05, AR-08, AL-02, KF-03, and MM-06. And then a different blinking green dot, simply titled "Base".

Kate had no idea where she was, well, in Bialya apparently. But why the fuck was she in Bialya? How did she get here? Why was she here in the first place? What the hell was she wearing? And who the hell were the other dots on the map?

How is she gonna get home?

Base was safe right? She asked herself, feeling panic start to take over.

Kate grabbed the sides of her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Breathing in through her nose and huffing out through her mouth, her once scared, confused expression being covered by a stone wall as she hit her glove again and the map popped back up. Coming up with a plan quickly and sliding her way down the sand hill.

She knew full well that no one was going to look for her, she was a nobody foster kid who had run away more times than she could count and basically lived on the street between crashing with people she barely knew so she could use their water.

She was on her own. As usual. And she had to figure this shit out. Hopefully this "base" had answers. And a way home.

~~*~~

Kate had been following the map, slowly making her way to the "Base" while dying under the bright sun and steaming sand. She thought summer in Star was hot, but this was a whole different level and her all black outfit didn't help.

She was hungry (Which wasn't a new feeling to her) and dehydrated. Which was not good since she, according to the map, still had a way to go. So, when she came across a large rock formation protruding from the sand, she thought it would be a good idea to just take a quick break, hide in the minimal shade the rock offered. Feeling herself start to burn already for all her time out in the sun.

The sound of an engine caught her attention and she swallowed hard, about to flag down whoever it was. When, out of nowhere, gloved hands similar to her own reached out and grabbed her. Covering her mouth and locking her arms by her side, she tried to struggle but whoever had her wasn't going to let go anytime soon.

"Do you have a death wish?" The boy, Kate guessed by the voice, behind her hissed. This made her struggle even harder, instinctively throwing an elbow back and hitting their ribs. Her body seeming to know what to do on its own, turning and dropping to the ground, a leg extended and sweeping out her captors feet from under him.

Kate fell back, scrambling backwards like a crab, intaking a breath and letting out a scream. Which cut off when the girl didn't feel the pain that she associated with using her powers. Shocked and more confused than ever her fingers ghosted over her throat.

Nothing was making sense. Kate's breathing started to pick up as more and more questions ran around her brain, no answers in sight, only making her feel even less in control than she did when she woke up in this godforsaken place. The blonde pushed herself up onto her feet quickly, stumbling backwards.

"You need to breathe; you're having a panic attack." The boy cautiously said, slowly closing the distance between them, only resulting in Kate backing up even more.

Kate recognized the suit the boy was wearing; you'd have to be living under a rock to not know Robin when you saw him.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you-"

Kate opened her mouth to speak but lost control and accidently let out another scream, this one stinging the way she remembered and knocking the boy off his feet. A loud groan coming out of his mouth as he slowly got up, calling out to the blonde as she booked it in the opposite direction of the teenage vigilante.

~~*~~

When she had gotten far enough away to where she wasn't able to see Robin anymore, she stopped. Almost collapsed would be more of a correct description, her dry throat protesting as she took in the hot, dry, sand infested air of the desert.

The blonde coughed uncomfortably, her hands on her knees as exhaustion racked her body, slowly trying to pull herself together. Straightening up and bringing up the map again, seeing she had made progress... just in the opposite direction she was supposed to be going. Cursing mentally Kate huffs out a breath and lifts a hand over her eyes to block the sun.

This was going to be a long day....

After another couple hours, her solid footsteps turned into clumsy footfalls, the sand seeming to suck in her shoes at every step. Kate had to fight to stay conscious, normally fighting against hunger and dehydration was something she did daily, but it was like her body wasn't used to the constant state of malnutrition and dehydration anymore.

The blonde tripped over her own two exhausted feet, rolling down a particularly large sand dune she hadn't seen. A scream ripping itself from her throat and ringing in the silent midday air, groaning when she finally stopped rolling, trying valiantly to get back up but it seemed her body just didn't have the energy or the will.

When did she get so weak?

Her arms giving out beneath her as black encroached on her vision, hearing the sound of loud voices speaking in a language she didn't know and even louder engines.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she went in and out of consciousness, feeling hands grab onto her ankles, dragging her through hot sand, her body being picked up by multiple hands and tossed on an uncomfortable cloth surface.

Finally passing out to the roar of engines revving and voices bouncing around her head as if they were speaking right next to her.

~~*~~

"Aqualad! Goldfinch!" The group gasped after leaving M'gann's mind.

"Where are they? What happened next?" Robin demanded, kicking himself for not keeping Kate with him earlier.

"I don't know, that's all I-we remember." M'gann answered, voice downturned.

"We landed here twenty-four hours ago If Kaldur's been wandering the desert that long well that's not good for a guy with gills. And same for Kate, She wasn't even on the map as Goldfinch yet six months ago." Wally brought up what everyone was thinking.

"I ran into her earlier, I didn't know who she was back then so when she ran off I didn't try to stop her. Stupid!" Robin slapped his forehead. "But now I know to look for them..." Robin activated his wrist computer and saw Kaldur's signal. "Kaldur's close! But he's not moving."

~~*~~

"Raise to shock level four." Scientists ordered. A boy's yells being what woke Kate up, the ringing in her ears painful at the higher frequencies dancing around the space. Her eyes hazily darting around half-awake and out of it. The loud revving of something making her headache.

A hooded figure walked into the corner of Kate's vision, his back to her as he watched some sphere turn, being the culprit for the revving that Kate wished would stop. "Fascinating."

"She's awake!" Kate tired to move, only to find her wrists and ankles locked up tight in metal bands to the table she was lying on. Rough cloth gagging her, keeping her from screaming. These people knew her powers. How?!

Kate tried to fight but received shocks when she struggled against the cuffs, Her body contorting off the metal bed as much as it could as the currents flew through her system. Leaving her spasming through the after shocks, goosebumps crawling across her flesh as her chest heaved.

The hooded figure came over to her, his hood covering most of his face but she could see stark white skin, unnatural and blanched. A sickening grin on his lips that sent her heartrate skyrocketing. It was only then that Kate noticed the heart monitor she was hooked up to as it started to go off.

"Oh, calm down. You're fine. I'm not allowed to hurt you so just sit back and enjoy the show." The man walked away and Kate continued to panic, trying to scream around the cloth but it was no use. One of the doctors came up beside her with a large needle and stuck it into the line that connected her inner arm to the IV hanging up beside her next to the heart monitor.

"This will relax you."

Kate could barely hear the last word before her world was nothing but blurs and muffled noises.

"Why is she so important again?" the scientist asked, throwing away the needle he just used to sedate her.

"She just is," Simon responded watching with a sick glee as Superboy continued to get shocked and the sphere continued to react, "Don't know why, but Siren - and her benefactor - want her so we are to keep the girl here until she arrives."

"Got it." The scientist nodded and walked off.

~~*~~

"Why don't you just levitate him?" Wally asked M'gann. The Martain cradling the head of their team leader in her lap.

"I can't," M'gann maneuvered Kaldur back onto the sand, the darkness of night making it hard for everyone to see anything, "I have to go find Superboy. Six months ago he didn't even exist. He's running on pure animal impulse and instinct."

"Superboy in indestructible just ask those tanks. It's Aqualad who needs your help. Same for Goldfinch. She's out there somewhere just wandering around if she's not already been captured or worse." Wally pleaded, worried about their leader and fellow metahuman.

M'gann suddenly screamed, her hands coming to her head as she crumpled in on herself. Superboy's screams in her mind. Echoing like a scream in a cavern and slicing her brain apart.

"No! Superboy's in pain!" With that M'gann took off to the sky. Following instinct on where Superboy may be. The other calling after her, getting ignored by the alien girl.

~~*~~

Kate had decided she hated sand. And the desert. And waking up and still not knowing what the hell was going on.

It was an explosion that pushed past her drug induced state, it was being thrown while still attached to the table and IV that really made her aware. The feeling of the needle ripping itself out of it's spot in her inner elbow causing her to scream.

The table contined to roll and flip, Kate feeling like she was back on the almost broken down spin-o-tronic ride back in Star city last July. Her hotdog she had spent the money she had worked hard to pickpocket from people coming right back up on that warm summer night at the carnival night in the Glade.

Time felt like it was going in slow motion but also in fast forward, Kate's stomach rolled and her head started to pound. After rolling a couple of times the table broke, her restraints going with it as she was thrown. Her back colliding into some kind of large crate before she fell into the sand.

As if she already didn't have enough in her boots and on her burnt skin.

Kate tried to push herself up, but her arms just wouldn't listen. Causing her to crash back down, sand granules grated into her cheek. The world was still spinning in a way that made Kate feel nauseous.

She knew she was imagining the boots running toward her and the voice calling her name. She knew she was imagining the feeling of someone's arms picking her up and their warmth. When did it get so cold?

She knew it was just her brain trying to make her feel better as she died, alone and cold in the middle of a weird desert away from everyone and everything she knew and held dear. It was almost ironic to go out like this she thought, considering she came into the world alone, it only made sense.

She knew it was all in her head as she was picked up, but she liked the feeling of maybe there being someone that actually gave a shit whether she lived or died. The concern on the face above her not real but comforting as he looked down at her, mouth twisted down as it moved in words she couldn't hear over the ringing in her ears.

~~*~~

Quarc

September 5, 02:45 EEST

Robin met M'gann and Superboy outside of the Bioship, taking Kate from the clone's arms and hurrying into the bioship. Placing Kate down next to Kaldur on one of the medical platforms the ship popped up the boy worked quickly, patching up her arm and any scrapes she had collected before placing an IV in her non-injured arm to rehydrate her.

Only when she was patched up did the boy take a breath. Looking down at the girl with worry that could be seen in the way he carried his shoulders.

"She's gonna be okay, they both are." Wally came up beside the younger boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. Both now watching as Kate's eyes fluttered.

"I know." Robin sighed, shifting weight to step away, sit in his seat after a long mission but was stopped. The feeling of something caught on his cape stopping him in his tracks. Wally did his best to hide his smirk but Robin saw it and scowled at the older boy. Wally just held up his hands and went to his seat.

Kate's eyes opened, but she wasn't there. Her gaze hazy and unfocused as her irises slid across the space. Landing on him with a vague spark of recognition, her cold fingers searched past his cape and wrapped around his wrist loosely as her breathing picked up.

"It's okay. Just breathe. You're safe Kate." Robin did his best to over annunciate his words, changing her grip on his wrist. His fingers wrapping around hers in a tight grip, "We'll get you all fixed up soon okay?"

Artemis watched on in worry and also intrigue as Kate seemed to calm down, the boy wonder pushing back a tangled strand of blonde hair from Kate's face before checking the drip bag again. Their hands locked in what looked like a death grip as Kate passed out again.

Artemis chuckled at the image and did her best to hide her grin, knowing how ridiculous they both were being about their feelings. Her eyes unintentionally fading over to Wally, who sat in his chair, tossing up some bit he had found on the ship, feet propped up on the dash console.

~~*~~

#young justice #dc robin #dick grayson #kid flash #artemis #heroes #DC #aqualad #miss martian #growing up is hard #orignal character #batman #young justice fanfiction #dinah lance #black canary #green arrow #found family #angst #hurt/comfort

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copiousloverofcopia · 5 months ago

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🕯️🔥 I am BACK AGAIN with some more Papa Nihil origin story!!! 🔥🕯️

Here is the next chapter with Nihil and his Prime Mover to be Violetta. I hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for reading!!!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

Beautiful divider credit to @gothdaddyissues

Glitter Wasn’t Gold

Nihil Emeritus is the only born son of Papa Inizio Emeritus, head of the Satanic Church. When his father fails ill, it is decided that he shall ascend as Papa but only after making a promise to carry on the Emeritus bloodline.

Chapter 2: Maternal Slave

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven’t started yet? Read from the beginning HERE!

Definitely NSFW below the cut!

If there was one thing that could be said for Violetta’s commitment to the Ministry, it was that it was unwavering. All it took was a conversation with the high clergyman, explaining the importance of her role, and she agreed. Though she was loath to have to copulate with anyone, having been one of the few sisters of sin who remained celibate. The reasons of which no one had truly known.

Despite her wish to remain “untouched”, she was well sought after. Her devotion and beauty, noticed by the Ministry who had chosen her as the perfect candidate for Prime Mover. Even if it was to be with Papa Inizio’s self-important son—considered otherwise unworthy to place her in such a delicate condition. Regardless, she would do as was required and without question.

The clergy was more than pleased when only two weeks after their plans were finalized the moment, she was ripe, was upon them. Secretly worried that Nihil might be unable to sire an heir before his father’s inevitable passing. A threat that grew ever closer. The Ministry, having been carefully tracking the current Papa’s every breath and beat of his heart. Waiting for signs of the end.

During the short time that passed since Nihil and Violetta became aware of their roles, she had managed to keep her distance. Happy to have avoided his presence until the night of the Prime Mover ceremony. While she was loath to think of him inseminating her, she was happy to contribute to the church. Reminding herself that after that night she’d needn’t have much else to do with him.

She sighed as she stared at herself within the mirror. Her reflection, showing giving her back the flawless and elegant facade she held. Her features, worthy of a queen, but her emotions had left her feeling sick and miserable. Her side too, aching with the familiar tell of impending ovulation. Her true feelings, fighting hard to bubble up at the surface. No matter how well she’d been holding them in, there was a constant threat of them making themselves known.

Before she knew it, there was a knock at the door. Violetta beckoned for them to come inside and join her. Two sisters of sin, along with Cardinal Angelo, entered into the room. The sisters, carrying her gown and the cardinal, no doubt, carrying her much needed courage. Making sure she would find her way to the altar, come Hell or high water.

“Violetta, you look absolutely lovely.” he smiled, turning to face away as the two sisters in waiting got Violetta into her dress. A long lace fanback gown, in shades of the deepest black. Embellished with rubies and dripping in garnets from its bodice. Corseted up the back, the ribbon left loose enough for Nihil’s ease of access. Making her look the part of a Prime Mover, no matter how much she didn’t truly love her Papa.

Love wasn’t necessary and she knew that. Content to continue on despite her heart screaming against it. Knowing that Nihil was a disappointment to his father and to the majority of the Ministry. Him siring an heir was a last stitch effort to save the Emeritus line within the Church. Her beloved Papa Enizio, having never begotten another son.

“I don’t feel lovely.” she said in a quick whip. The hint of her true feelings, subtle but present in her voice. Still presenting as ever refined and pious. “That drink was absolutely wretched.” she continued. The concoction from the Abbey’s apothecary, to help aid in conception, still lingering on the tongue.

“Not my idea…I’m afraid it was one of Cardinal Virgil’s.” Angelo explained as the women finished lacing up Violetta’s dress. The Prime Mover to be, taking a last glance in the mirror at herself before turning around. Tapping Cardinal Angelo on the shoulder to get his attention just as the others left the room.

“Well, you can tell the cardinal that I am quite familiar with herbs and plants. That all his potions are usually only good for a stomach ache and a nasty after taste.” she assured him, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms before her.

“I’ll do that.” Angelo smirked. It was true that Violetta was quite well versed in plants and flowers. Her main focus had been as an apprentice to the previous apothecary, who had passed only a few short years prior. She knew more about every weed, flower, and vine that grew along the Abbey grounds than anyone else. A fact that she would never allow the new apothecary to live down.

“I suppose it’s time to get this over with. Do I really need to spend the whole evening with him?” she asked, wishing that she’d not be required to not only spend the ceremony beneath him, but also the night in his chambers. Ready to be spread open like some breeding cattle at a moment’s notice while in her cycle. Giving them the best possibility of conception. At this man’s beck and call for his pleasure until a child had come of it.

“You know the rules Via as do I.” Angelo said, listening to Violetta let out a huff. The Cardinal, having been the only person she could trust. The only one she felt she could attempt to be honest with. “As does he.”

“I see. Then there's nothing that can be done. Shall we head downstairs?” she asked him. Cardinal Angelo smiled at her. The smile of a man who knew, just as well as she, that there was no love in this union. Both of them, her and Nihil, would put on a show. Violetta, wearing a brave face for the masses while she succumbed to her fate.

Violetta looked down at the floor. Feeling the weight of what was to come on her shoulders. Deciding against looking back at herself once more in the mirror. Seeing for the last time the innocent girl who loved her church and her dark father. She held out her hand for Angelo to take. The Cardinal could feel the faintest hint of her nerves, evident in the slight trembling of her grip. “We shall.”

The halls of the Abbey were decorated in opulence from floor to ceiling. Covered in crimson-colored crystals and rose blossoms—red and yellow-gold. The sweet and delicate scent of them, filling the nose of every sibling, ghoul, and clergyman. Antique wool and silk tapestries from Papa Inizio’s personal collection depicting the fall of Lucifer, brought out to line the main hall leading into the chapel.

The Altar, as the crux of the ceremony, dressed in centuries old black linens. The same ones that had been used at the conception for the whole of the Emeritus line. Sitting proudly as it awaited another generation's conception, in the center of the sanctuary. Glorious gold candelabras had been aligned with all the pews. Standing tall and majestic as their candlelight flickered against the blackness of the cathedral ceiling. Its true dark navy hue, hidden in the chapel’s low light.

All of the adult clergy, siblings, and ghouls were steadily filing in. Taking their places in the pews as the commencement of the ceremony was soon to begin. Nihil was still hidden, tucked away in the sacristy as he waited for his cue. His mind, heavy with anxiety and discontent. Though it would normally please him to have bent a sister over the altar and rail her in front of all Lucifer’s creatures, tonight was different.

Tonight, Satan willing, he would conceive a child with Violetta and in doing so earn his right to the Papacy. Nihil was consumed with worry. Terrified that all the pressure might affect his ability to perform. Hoping to avoid making a fool of himself with a limp dick in front of the whole congregation. His nerves, having only become worse as the sounds of the crowd within the chapel began filling his ears.

“Welp here goes nothing.” he sighed, rising from up the stool amidst the partially used candles and incense. Ready to take his place at the altar, there was no turning back now. As he rose, Cardinal Angelo appeared in the doorway, raising a brow at him. Clearing having seen Nihil as less than adequate attempt to hide his nerves.

“Are you going to make it through the ceremony?” he asked. Nihil, coming to push past him as the two of them took their place before the altar. “You look like shit.” Angelo remarked, muffling the sound of his voice so that only Nihil could hear him.

“Heh…thanks and yes… Why don’t you worry about you, and I’ll worry about me.” Nihil snapped. Straightening out his vestments as Angelo shrugged beside him.

“If you say so.” the cardinal replied, just as the sound of the chapel doors began to open once more. Violetta standing in the entryway. Her Hell-sent body, on display as the dress hugged every single curve. The Prime Mover to be, taking in a deep breath before slowly approaching Nihil and Cardinal Angelo at the altar. All the eyes of the congregation locked on her—-in complete awe of her untouched beauty.

As she finally reached them, Nihil’s demeanor had changed. He was no longer nervous, now finding it hard to stop himself from staring at her cleavage. His cock already pressing hard enough against his robes to be obvious. Ready to hurry along the rites so he could bury himself inside her.

“In nomine sanctissimi Patris eius, a vobis petimus, ut filios vestros accipiatis et ex eis de novo condat. Da eis donum vitae et da eis puerum ut adducat gentes et expandat verbum tuum.” Angelo called out.

The congregation, replying with a resounding “Nema!” The room was full of nervous energy. Half wondering if Nihil would go through with his father’s request and the other wondering, maybe even hoping, Violetta would run full speed out the door. One thing was sure, the majority of them wanted the couple to succeed, to continue on the Emeritus line that had ruled over the Ministry for so long. Worried about a change in order—in rule.

“Rogamus te in nomine patris cali, antichristi, et spiritus sancti. Accipis ut Violetta vas tuum? Cuius uterum semine pollues, et ecclesiae nostrae futuram quis proferet?” the Cardinal asked, taking Nihil’s hand and slicing the palm open. Blood dripped along the stone floor beneath them. Violetta in disgust of the barbaric nature of the rites.

“In nomine satanae accipio.” Nihil smiled, licking his lips as he stared at her. Violetta swallowed back the knot in her throat. Trying her best to hide her utter disgust. Cardinal Angelo then took her hand and pressed the knife against it.

“Rogamus te nunc in nomine patris cali, antichristi, et spiritus sancti. Nihil amatorem accipis? Cuius radix in utero tuo erit? Fructum sanctum ferre permittentes... futurum ecclesiae nostrae?” Angelo asked, splitting open the flesh of her palm. Violetta wincing at the pain as she spoke.

“In nomine satanae accipio.” she muttered, barely getting out the words. Cardinal Angelo taking their palms and pressing them together. Hard and stinging as their blood mixed with one another as it would be hoped to in Violetta’s womb.

“Quod factum est eius, plena intentione fit. Vade et profer quod ei promisisti.” Angelo replied, his words beginning to fade into the soundlessness that rang out in Violetta’s ears. Feeling as if she had floated under water. Having recited her vows, her mind was sent into a place where time no longer existed. Where the sound was silence and her soul ached with the worry she held so close to the chest. Now there was no going back.

“It’s time.” Angelo whispered to them. Nihil and Violetta, walking together around to the back of the altar. Neither one, speaking a word until they had gotten into position. Violetta’s buttocks pressed against the stone, her back facing the crowd as Nihil looked her over.

“I’ll go easy on you.” he smiled; his words meant to set her at ease, but only proved to her how little actual love was felt between them. Her body was a means to an end and the sooner it was over the better. Nihil had only fleetingly imagined how she must be feeling. His only concern was satisfying his father’s demands and his own lascivious urges—buried deep inside his Prime Mover.

“Fuck.” Nihil hummed as he took hold of his throbbing cock. The hanging fabric of his ropes draped over his forearm as he stroked hard and fast as he watched Violetta’s breathing increase. Her chest rising and falling, not due to excitement, but sheer terror.

She remained still as Nihil undid the ties of her corset. Slipping her dress off with ease to reveal her naked body. Dropping it to the floor as his blood heated with the sight of her perfectly round, plump breasts. Her raspberry-hued nipples, tented up in the cool of the chapel.

Nihil couldn’t wait any longer, taking her bare shoulders into his grasp. Forcing her to look into his eyes. Violetta was surprised at his strength and his intensity. His gaze was hungry but soft, the sister feeling for the first time a hint of fluttering inside her heart. A fleeting moment she hoped would help her to pretend.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” he hummed as he kissed her lips. The moment between them, short lived as Violetta gently pulled away. Her shaky mouth, trembling against his. Nihil paid it no mind, continuing his kisses along her jawline and down her neck. Tracing her collarbone with his tongue before dropping to her breast. Pulling her nipple into his mouth and sucking it gently. The whole chapel, watching as he continued on taking his time with her.

Nihil lifted Violetta onto the altar, eliciting a yelp from her as her warm flesh met with the cold stone. It’s chill barely slighted by the linen. Nihil’s grin, toothy and sinister as he took hold of her legs. Slowly spreading them open and bringing himself closer to her core. His mouth watering as he peered down at her cunt.

“Gotta loosen you up a bit so I can get inside.” he hummed. The words felt hot and breathy against her neck. His fingers, quickly finding their way to her folds. Gently running up along them until he met with the small pearl at the top. Violetta’s eyes widening and her breath halting, within her chest as he rubbed her there. Slow and methodical. Clearly having down this a time or two before her. Violetta, unable to control her body that was now responding to him in a way she had ever imagined before.

Finding herself shamefully wanting more. Waiting him to touch her—to stroke her. To feel what it was like to have him spread her apart with his cock and stuff her full of him. The pleasurable sensations, clouding her emotions as she allowed them to take over.

“I—ah.” she moaned, a bit breathy and confused.

“It’s alright Violetta… let me make you feel good.” The combination of his words, spoken with such silky-smooth charisma, and the talents of his fingers had managed to relax her. Violetta’s once strong and prudish resolve, had completely crumbled as her cunt became wet with his touch. Feeling herself begin to grind against his hand without even realizing it.

“Mmm…” she moaned, noting the sigh of relief from some of the congregation. Nihil took her sounds as consent to move forward, gently bringing a finger inside her and rubbing along her walls. Pressing firmly in circles before adding another. Feeling pleased with himself at just how wet she had become for him.

At first Violetta brought her hand between them. Gripping Nihil’s wrist so she could feel as if she had some control. It was no use, she was too far gone and her mind too imprisoned by her body’s desires to stop it now. Ready to let him use her as he saw fit, relishing how good it felt for him to fuck her with his hand.

“Say you want this… Say you want me.” Nihil moaned, as he pulled his dripping fingers from her and took hold of his shaft. Stroking himself with her anticipation.

“I want you.” Violetta mewled, feeling the head of Nihil’s cock as it began nudging against her entrance. He pushed it inside her in one swoop. Sending Violetta’s head back, in both pain and pleasure as he filled her up to the hilt. Her eyes, opening a moment to take a peek at the pews. Their image upside down in her pleasure.

“I want you too.” Nihil groaned as he began to thrust deliberately inside her. Waiting until he could tell she had become accustomed to his size and rhythm before driving in harder. Violetta was already beginning to come undone. Writhing along the fabric atop the stone slab as he pressed, pushed, and pumped harder and harder. Her mind, a mix of emotions as her body became drunk with his touch. Face latticed with her hair and body shaking in her now lover’s grasp.

Nihil brought his hands along her thighs, traveling up to her hips. Taking hold of them so he could use them as a means to thrust deeper inside her. Violetta’s back went rising from the altar as he continued to fuck her. Moaning and crying out in pleasure as she began to cum. Her body bearing down on him, feeling a warm rush overwhelm her.

The would-be Papa, more than pleased to feel the rush of fluid over him. Flooding the space between them and dripping onto the altar below. His Prime Mover ready and now willing to accept his seed, Nihil buckled down. Focusing on how good she felt sliding over his cock.

“Call me Papa.” he growled as he felt her body beginning to clamp down around him. Every inch of him was gripped tightly by her insides. Every pulsation felt as their bodies worked together to achieve the same end goal.

“What?” Violetta asked, breathy and still in a passionate haze.

“I said call me Papa.” he demanded, more forcefully this time as he bucked up inside her. Violetta moaning, cries of pleasure echoing in the quiet of the chapel.

Pa–Papa!” she screamed as Nihil hit hard against her cervix. Fucking her now with wild abandon as he chased his own pleasure. Pulling out from her as he got too close. Flipping Violetta around to face the crowd as he raised her ass in the air before him.

The smug prick relishing his Prime Mover facing out to the others as he fucked her full of his cum. Pounding his pelvis hard against her ass over and over again. Driving them both absolutely mad with the sensation just before he came deep inside her pussy. Making sure not to spill one drop as he filled her. Smiling and arrogant as ever as he emptied inside her. The deed done; the ceremony complete.

Notes:

In nomine sanctissimi Patris eius, a vobis petimus, ut filios vestros accipiatis et ex eis de novo condat. Da eis donum vitae et da eis puerum ut adducat gentes et expandat verbum tuum. -In the name of his most unholy Father, we ask of you to take your children and create from them anew. Bring upon them the gift of life and grant them a child so that they might lead nations and spread your word.

Rogamus te in nomine patris cali, antichristi, et spiritus sancti. Accipis ut Violetta vas tuum? Cuius uterum semine pollues, et ecclesiae nostrae futuram quis proferet?- We ask you in the name of the dark father, the antichrist, and the holy spirit. Do you accept Violetta as your vessel? Whose womb you will pollute with your seed and who will bring forth the future of our church?

In nomine satanae accipio.- In Satan’s name I accept.

Rogamus te nunc in nomine patris cali, antichristi, et spiritus sancti. Nihil amatorem accipis? Cuius radix in utero tuo erit? Fructum sanctum ferre permittentes... futurum ecclesiae nostrae?- We ask you now in the name of the dark father, the antichrist, and the holy spirit. Do you accept Nihil as your lover? Whose seed will take root in your womb? Allowing you to bear unholy fruit...the future of our church?

What is done is his name, is done with full intention. Go and bring forth that which you have both promised him.

#Glitter Wasn't Gold #young nihil x sisters of sin #young Nihil #nihil #papa nihil #sister of sin ocs #Sister Imperator #young sister imperator #ren writes #ghost #the band ghost #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfics #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction

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outpost51 · 1 year ago

Text

— The Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself (18+)

To the web, to the flame, to the zapper.

Chapter WC: 6,974

Warning(s): bullying, mild body horror

{READ HERE ON AO3} or below the cut ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

9 months, 10 days remaining

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Ow!” Dillon hissed as she missed her next catch and the rubber ball she’d been throwing against the ceiling whacked her right in the nose. She rolled onto her side, clutching her nose to ease the eye-watering throb. A week had passed since the revelation that Daisy was dying. Again. She still hadn’t done anything about her lack of training, choosing instead to drift aimlessly around the house and her part-time night job like she was dead herself. They had time. They didn’t have time. She was being pulled back and forth between assurance and urgency, and she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Moira picked up before Dillon even realized she’d called her. “Lunch,” she barked into the phone.

“Sandwich,” came the wry response. “But I’m guessing you didn’t call to play the word association game after goin’ ghost for a week, and you’re trying to ask me to meet you like a normal human being.”

Dillon groaned into her hands. “Fuck, sorry. Can we do the team meeting thing? I guess I need to apologize to everybody for wallowing in my own bullshit so much.”

“Maxine’s?”

“Yeah.” Maxine’s Roadhouse was their usual spot for any meal; the booths were comfortable, the food was good-for-your-soul greasy, and Maxine made the coffee strong enough to blow somebody’s eyebrows off. “Can you come get me?”

“Mom got the car?”

Dillon shook her head, then quickly added a vocal negative upon remembering Moira couldn’t see her. “I just don’t want to drive.” They both knew it wasn’t the truth, and that she just didn’t want to be alone and needed her best friend, but neither would speak it into existence. Moira had some tact; as much as she called Dillon on her shit, she knew what shit needed to shovel itself, and Dillon appreciated that.

She had time to wash off the previous night’s nightmares and grab an outfit off the floor that still smelled moderately clean before the familiar jeep horn blasted an impatient cadence outside. It was about time, what the hell had taken Moira so long? She only lived ten minutes away — six, at the speed Moira usually drove. “Going to lunch!” she yelled on her way out the door. That's how they announced their comings and goings in the Monroe house. Nobody ever checked their phones, and Cheryl liked having the verbal confirmation it was really her daughters and not some impostor with their phones.

The reason for Moira’s delay was made apparent as Dillon bounded across the yard: she’d picked up the other three first. “Get in loser!” Moira shouted over her blaring stereo. “We’re rekindling our friendship!” Dillon rolled her eyes even as she dove through the open passenger side window.

“You know there’s a door, right?” Bonnie huffed.

Dillon swore while she tried to right herself with the additional challenge of loose pants and her best friend’s insistence that speed limit signs were simply a challenge. “Yeah, but I fit through the window,” she scoffed, finally seated properly and buckling in. She leaned around the back of the seat to acknowledge the group in the back. “Sorry I was an asshole.”

“I’d say you’re actually handling all this better than I would if it was Faith,” Rosie assured, Faith nodding along next to her. “We knew you would come back in your own time.”

“Personally, I thought it would take a lot longer for you to bounce back,” Bonnie added. She spat a nasty swear as Moira slammed the jeep into a parking spot. The car they’d stolen it from blasted their horn; Moira blasted hers back.

Their usual booth was occupied by a group of high schoolers. Dillon sighed, knowing what was coming next. Bonnie didn’t give a fuck where they sat, and the twins were adamant that they not cause a fuss, because they had church in the morning, and they really didn’t feel like listening to the lecture from their dad.

“And they’re just teenagers, Moira, they’re not hurting anybody,” Rosie insisted. “It’s fine, look — there’s another booth over there on the other side.”

They didn’t know Moira. “They’re not just fucking teenagers, Rosie,” she grumbled under her breath. She was right, they weren’t; they were this year’s top dogs at Oak Hills High, led by none other than Troy Lawson, Brett’s younger brother and the current heir to Charles Lawson’s equine empire. The Lawsons bred champions, both horse and human offspring, and for a Lawson to not hold the throne at their respective schools was unacceptable, so it came as no surprise.

Though it spoke volumes to their confidence in their sons to lead that they stuck them in public school with the plebeians, rather than sending them to Heritage Academy or any of the other six private schools within rich-people-transportation range.

Moira was already mid-confrontation-march by the time Dillon formed half a half-assed argument on her tongue. Oh well, I tried, she thought. Hopefully the sneer stayed in her head this time.

“Oi, Lawson, fuck off,” Moira barked. She had such an elegant way with words.

“Or what, freak? You gonna hex me?” Troy made a dismissive gesture. “Go back to your coffin, the sun’s still out.”

Dillon could almost hear the creak of Moira’s jaw as she clenched it. The pentacle necklace that never left her neck rose and fell with every angry breath, flashing a warning in the afternoon sun. Dillon stepped up behind her best friend. Her belly button barely cleared the top of the table, but she could still mean mug the shit out of them. Moira didn’t need help taking on six high schoolers, it was the thought that counted.

“Oh look, it’s the littlest Monroe, too,” Troy’s best friend, Conner Stevens, drawled. He didn’t move from his relaxed drape against the back of the booth. “What’re you gonna do, cut yourself at us?”

The bar for being the bigger person suddenly got a lot lower. Moira snarled over the table. Dillon put a gentle hand on her bicep. “No, Troy,” she chuffed. “I’m not. But you wanna know what I can do?” She hopped up on the table, jostling his drink with the jolt and wobble of the table. “You remember what happened to Brett?”

That got Troy’s attention. “What, you gonna pull a bear outta your ass? Wouldn’t surprise me, if you’re as big of a whore as your s—” His voice was suddenly cut off with a wet choke.

“Dill—”

“He brought Daisy into it, Moira,” she spat. “His ass is fair game now.” Her head hurt and her chest tightened as her emotions rose higher, but this time she was ready for it, and greeted the pain like an old friend. Passing out would so be worth making that little worm regret even thinking Daisy’s name.

Conner shook Troy’s shoulder, but it was no use. He was fully choking on a massive lump lodged firmly in his esophagus. His blond girlfriend-of-the-week pulled him into a Heimlich position — she was a lifeguard at the community pool, Dillon thought — and on the fourth violent thrust of her hands against his diaphragm, the foreign object in his throat finally dislodged itself.

A clump of daisies the size of her fist slopped wetly onto his half-finished burger.

Dillon felt something wet trickle from her nose. Worth it. “Now get the fuck away from our table before I pick something with thorns.”

As the teenagers scrambled away, and she and her friends helped the bus boy get the table cleared and cleaned, she couldn’t help the spark of hope igniting in her heart; if she could grow a ham-fisted metaphor in Troy Lawson’s throat from nothing but a morsel of food and her own spite, she could perform a ritual in a book that she’d technically already done before.

A sudden wave of dizziness washed over her and Moira barely managed to shove her in the direction of the booth so she’d have a soft place to land. Still worth it, although the seats were much less comfortable when bouncing one’s head off them at terminal velocity.

Maybe she needed a little training.

Dillon gagged at the sudden acrid tang assaulting her senses and sat up with a start. “Fuck, how long was I out?”

“Long enough for me to make Maxine think you had a killer hangover so she wouldn’t call an ambulance,” Moira replied, sounding quite proud of herself. She slid a cup of coffee in front of Dillon. “And for this to cool down to a chuggable temperature. So, fifteen minutes, give or take.”

That was acceptable. Dillon could accept fifteen minutes. She was worried it had been days; she sure as hell felt like it, anyway. She didn’t want to waste any more time. “Did anybody figure anything out while I was doing my best Aurora impression?” she asked over her coffee.

“That Moira knows entirely too much about you,” Bonnie said wryly over the rim of her own mug. “Hope you’re feeling up to the Batter's Box Special.”

Dillon slid her eyes to her best friend. “No hashbrowns?”

Grinning triumphantly, Moira nodded. “Sub grits, add Swiss and cheddar.”

Dillon could have cried. Maybe she was still emotional over her sister, or maybe the adrenaline of ruining Troy Lawson’s day was wearing off, but it tugged her heartstrings extra hard that Moira had her usual memorized.

“Arright, arright, you can propose to me later,” Moira chuffed, tossing a handful of napkins at Dillon. “We got a zombie to charge up.” Her drawn-on eyebrows lifted nearly to her hairline as she sipped her soda. “And clearly you don’t have an issue with the power part of the equation, just needs some refinement.”

“And about fifty percent less nosebleeds,” Rosie chirped.

Faith added, “Staying conscious would be a plus, too.”

Everyone looked at Bonnie. She sighed, already tapping out a message to her cousin. The reply came through almost immediately. “Eugene’s on his way.” She stretched up and shouted to Maxine for another cup of coffee and an order of fries. When she turned back, she met Moira’s raised eyebrow with an incredulous look of her own. “What? Your goth isn’t the only creature of habits around here. He’s weird, but he’s at least consistent about it.”

‘Weird’ was an understatement. They felt Damien’s — Eugene, according to Bonnie, but saying it behind his back and saying it to his face were entirely different things — arrival before they saw the pale, duster-clad stringbean bluster through the diner doors like a storm made of angst and too much patchouli.

Despite Maxine’s being one of the few restaurants in town that still allowed smoking indoors, Dillon tried not to light up indoors, on principle. She had her vape, but it was somehow more frowned upon than regular cigarettes.

But as Damien swept across the diner, stringy hair clinging to his face and floor-length leather duster billowing behind him on an unseen breeze, she popped a cigarette between her lips, flicking her lighter over the end with a resigned sigh. It was about to be a long fucking meeting, she thought, exhaling a cloud of spicy clove-scented smoke.

Bonnie slid over to make room on her side of the round bench seat, knowing damn well no one else wanted to catch whatever vibes he was giving off and be cursed to write bad poetry about unrequited love and bloody roses for the rest of eternity. Rather than sliding in like they expected, however, Damien placed his hands on the table and the back of the booth, then vaulted into a squat onto the seat.

“Your shoes better be clean,” Maxine huffed as she arrived with his coffee and everyone’s food.

“If you’re referring to the ectoplasmic residue of lost souls soaked into the leather of my boots, then no, they aren’t, but I washed them of hallowed mud last night and the soul residue won’t transfer onto polyester,” he drawled, more focused on shaking salt and dumping sugar into his coffee than carrying on the conversation further.

“Thanks, Maxine,” Moira offered with a wince. Dillon held out her pack of smokes without looking up from her plate, one cigarette sticking out in a silent offer.

Damien didn’t look up from digging in his beat-up canvas bag, but assumed the offer pertained to the whole table. “No thank you, Miss Monroe, I have my own hand-rolled blend that assists my focus, but I appreciate the generous offer.”

Moira took the fucking cigarette.

“So,” Damien said finally, dropping a heavy stack of stained notebooks on the table, “you’re the girl… who…” He squinted at Dillon, at her ravenous attack on her eggs, at the cigarette in her hand. His eyes widened like he was seeing her for the first time and he plucked the cigarette from her hand, holding it above his head like she’d lunge for it.

She did, but her arms were too short and she didn’t feel like becoming personally acquainted with whatever the fuck lurked beyond Damien’s fly when she inevitably fell face first over the table.

“What kind of establishment is this,” he hissed. “Who lets a child—”

“I’m twenty, Bela Ludouchey, give me my fucking potpourri cancer stick back,” Dillon snapped, pointedly ignoring the chorus of stifled giggles and the obnoxious snort Moira couldn’t hide behind an eighteen-wheeler.

Damien sucked his lips into a thin line in shock and delicately handed the cigarette back. “Well, then. That’s a little more feasible than a twelve year-old raising the dead with no prior training or practice.”

“I was eighteen.”

“I stand corrected, and my career offer stands.”

“I’ll think about it,” Dillon grunted, blowing smoke over his plate. Sure, she should probably be playing nice, but she deserved a little vindication for the twelve year-old comment. “I have piercings.”

Damien flipped open one of the notebooks without breaking his deadpan eye contact. “I’ve seen preteens forge signatures to apply at Fithum, Zegan, Stazor & Smith, a few facial piercings are nothing in comparison.”

Faith cocked her head, raising her hand as if they were in class. “Smith?”

“Tom’s human and he didn’t take the standard route of changing his name to something more esoteric to fit the profile our clientele is expecting when hiring a resurrectionist or other magically-inclined individual. I need to feel your energy, Miss Monroe.” He reached across the table and barely dodged Dillon’s fork. Had he not flinched, she would have stuck it right through his forearm.

“You gonna buy me dinner first, Discount Eric Draven?”

“Funny, Dillon, I see we’re not making this a professional affair,” Damien sighed. “I’m not doing anything untoward, I won’t even make direct contact. I just have to know what I’m working with before I give you any advice.”

“She made Troy Lawson choke on a garden about twenty minutes ago,” Bonnie drawled.

Damien blinked slowly. “Well, that’s an interesting development, isn’t it?” He reached for Dillon again, but at half the recommended speed for approaching a wounded wild animal, just in case she got spooked and aimed for his face next. True to his word, he didn’t touch her — not directly, at least; she felt the heat from his hands hovering an inch from both of her temples, and then a slight pressure and an icy tingle speared directly into her brain.

Oh, and she went blind temporarily. When her vision returned, she wasn’t in the diner. She and Damien were standing across from each other in a dark forest. The coppery miasma of heavy bloodshed made the air around them thick and heady. “Where… what the fuck did you do?”

“I’m looking at the last time you used your abilities to their upper limits,” Damien explained, already walking towards the faint voices.

Her stomach sank. Oh no. This was bad, nobody knew about—

“I already know about Brett, Dillon, I got here before you.” He turned, furrowing his brows. “You aren’t even supposed to be here, not like this. That alone is… unique.”

“God, don’t tell me you’re about to give me some spiel about being the Chosen One or some shit,” she groaned.

A rough snort shook his shoulders. “No, it just means you have somebody really badass perching somewhere in your family tree. It’s genetic sometimes.” He stopped just on the edge of the grizzly scene from two years prior. “Wow, Cheryl really did a number on him.”

“Yeah, she was out for blood,” Dillon remarked. It was so surreal looking at it from an outsider’s perspective, it almost didn’t seem real. “What do you mean sometimes? What is it every other time?”

He winced when her echo stomped her heel down between Brett’s legs. “I’m betting your dad’s a regular human too, but sometimes things from across the Veil canoodle with us.”

“My mom didn’t cheat on Darren,” she snapped defensively.

Damien carried on, knowing the show of teeth for what it was. “You’re not a Changeling, so that’s not the case either.”

“How do you know?”

“You’re not pureblooded Fae. They’re pretty easy to spot, and you wouldn’t just be using energy, you’d be creating it.” His hand went to his chest in an automatic reaction and it was her turn to wince; she knew exactly what had happened without looking. “I’ve seen enough to make an assessment.”

Dillon felt like she was being simultaneously ripped out of one reality and stuffed into a much smaller one, and when she blinked, they were back in the diner, and Damien was dunking his fries in mayonnaise as if he hadn’t just witnessed one of the darkest moments in her life. She, on the other hand, was shivering slightly, shaken to her core.

“What the fuck just happened?” Moira snapped. “Pugsley’s eyes went all horror movie for a couple seconds, it was really freaky, and why the hell does it smell like wet leaves now?”

Dillon lowered her brows. “How long were we gone?”

Moira gaped at her. “Gone? Gone? What the fuck did you—”

“We just took a little trip into her psyche, it’s no big deal, nothing happened.” Damien popped a few more fries into his mouth. “It was a few seconds at most, Dillon. Time passes differently when you’re in somebody’s memories. Anyway, you don’t need training.”

The twins sat forward in unison. “What do you mean?” they asked.

“That she doesn’t need training. The ability is there, but there’s a block on it, so there’s nothing to train, exactly. She just needs a Conduit to wake it up so she can strengthen it.” He tossed back a few more fries, then washed them down with his salty-sweet coffee monstrosity. “And therapy. A lot of therapy.”

“And a Conduit is…?” Dillon opted to ignore the therapy comment. She was fine. She didn’t need therapy, she needed her sister to be okay.

“Something Veilborne that will create energy you can use. They’re called Familiars a lot, but that’s an entirely different thing. You don’t need one for the usual reasons, considering how developed your abilities are already, but having the extra boost should help you figure out what that mental block is and how to get around it.” Damien dug through his bag again for more books. “Has to be Veilborne, though, not Veilmade, so you couldn’t use your mother. Angel, Fae, or demon, those are your choices and they all come with different prices.”

“We can put together a crowdfunding thing, I’m sure our mom wouldn’t mind telling the congregation your sister is sick,” Faith offered brightly. “How much do we need?”

Damien gave her a look like she’d just admitted she was from another planet and had, in fact, come to earth to steal all the women and cows. His left eye twitched. “N-no, Miss Wheeler, that’s. That’s not the kind of—” He paused to eat a few more fries for energy, then recited: “While the price of a single, one-time loan of energy might be something as trivial as a given amount of hours in servitude to a demon, or something less-so and steeped in trickery if one were dealing with Fae, or perhaps an amount of time or money given to more philanthropic causes with an angel, a long-term agreement could mean the forfeiture of one’s own soul.”

When he was met with even more confused stares, he continued, “A soul owned by another cannot be retrieved for reanimation, nor can it be reincarnated, unless the owner of that soul releases the contract or dies of natural causes. Should the owner of the soul be killed, the contract transfers to the being that killed the previous owner. Across the Veil, souls become tangible things; should one find oneself in such a predicament, one’s soul can think and feel pain just as their physical body once could, and as that soul is bound to the owner’s will, it is subject to anything the owner desires to do to it or for it to do.”

The table was silent until Moira, as usual, broke it with all the tact of a brick thrown through a window. “Did you just recite the fucking Conduit terms of service from memory?”

Damien sniffed, leveling her with an unamused glare.

“So… it’s a battery,” Dillon hazarded.

“… Yes,” Damien reluctantly agreed, dragging the word out. “It’s a battery that thinks and feels and sometimes has very dangerous ulterior motives.”

“And I need one to… wake my abilities back up?”

“More or less. It’s not just a simple repetition of the first ritual, you’ll have to channel more energy, it’s why we rarely bring someone back with the intention of keeping them alive indefinitely. It’s a lot of upkeep for even a firm of our size, and the fact you’re taking it on yourself is… admirable.” His face softened briefly, like he saw a reflection in her of someone he’d loved and lost. “Here, I have a few tomes for you,” he said, pushing a few books from the stack he’d put on the table and ignoring Moira as she dramatically mouthed tomes at Dillon. “There’s also a map of ley lines here — energy is more concentrated in those areas, so you might find it easier to channel power from these until you get stronger and can channel it on your own — and one of my notebooks detailing various alliances my colleagues and I have made over the years so you can get a feel for the cost.”

He held onto the stack as Dillon grabbed for it, adding, “Read it all carefully. I mean it. This isn’t just like calling a cousin to help you out of a bind, this can get you seriously hurt, and if something takes your soul, Mother help you, because I can’t bring you back.” He held her eyes in his gaze for a while, and that’s when she noticed his eyes were ringed with black. Stained. She wondered if the magic tainted him on such a deep level, everyone else around him could see and feel it, and if the same would happen to her.

When she nodded, he let go, gathered the rest of his things, and stood. “Good luck, Miss Monroe. Give my regards to your sister.” A sad smile flickered across his face. “She was always kind to me in school.”

“So,” Moira huffed, breaking Dillon from her trance as she watched him go, “what do we do now? Where do we go from here?”

“What about a slumber party?” Rosie suggested. “We’ve never been to one before, but they look really fun in the movies, and the good-guy girls always come up with their best plots during sleepovers.”

“Might I remind you we’re in our twenties?” Bonnie rolled her eyes. “We’re not preteens anymore, we’re perfectly capable of conducting business in a library or—” She paused at the twins’ teary, wobbly pouts. They had been homeschooled, Dillon didn’t imagine they had many opportunities to have friends stay overnight. “Or we can have a… slumber party,” she concluded, albeit reluctantly, with a grimace like the words tasted sour.

They found themselves at Sprawlmart for snacks and drinks, with the additional ulterior motive of getting Dillon out of her shifts for the rest of the week. “I’ll be right back, don’t go too crazy,” she tossed over her shoulder as she dashed off towards the back offices. Lucky for her, Arlene was still on shift, and even luckier, collided with her before she made it four steps.

“Well, damn, girl, didn’t think I’d ever see you so excited to come to work,” Arlene teased, brushing off Dillon’s shoulders and helping her straighten her clothes.

“Well, that’s actually why I’m here.” Dillon offered a sheepish smile. “There’s some stuff going on with Daisy—”

“Say no more.” Arlene held up a hand and Dillon shut her mouth, feeling oddly like it hadn’t been entirely voluntary. “I’ve got a few new hires that need the training, what do you need?”

“Rest of the week?”

“Done.”

Dillon liked Arlene. Her previous manager wasn’t particularly awful, but Travis wasn’t particularly great either. He put the schedules out last minute, was slow to respond to issues, and sometimes didn’t bother showing up for shifts. Arlene showed up out of nowhere a few months prior in her tattooed-makeup bottle-blond glory with a cigarette in one hand and no bra in sight, claiming she was sent by corporate to take over Travis’s position. Dillon didn’t know if it was the truth or if Arlene was just that charismatic, but the regional manager accepted it without so much as checking her resume. So far, the change had been nothing but good, and Dillon wasn’t about to look that gift horse in the mouth, because quite frankly, she liked being able to ask off whenever she needed to for family issues and having a manager that understood her employees were people.

As they left with two bags full of candy, popcorn, and sodas, Faith piped up, “Arlene’s Fae.”

Dillon stopped dead in her tracks, a chill running up her spine. “What?”

Faith nodded. “Her back’s hollow, I read in one of the books last week that High Fae have hollow backs if you look at them out of the corner of your eye.”

Dillon’s brows sank in confusion. “How could you tell under her uniform shirt? And what would a powerful creature like that want with a Sprawlmart? Can’t they literally make actual magic?” She wasn’t sure why she was asking Faith as if she was suddenly a Veilborne expert.

“It’s a Glamour. An illusion.” Faith shrugged. “Not sure what she wants with a Sprawlmart, but she seems really nice. Maybe you can ask her for an alliance?”

“Hard no on that one, Faith,” Dillon said quickly. “I’m not mixing work and personal life like that. Besides, I’m already beholden to Sprawlmart enough as it is — I have to cover shifts and do a bunch of extra work all the time anyway, I’m not binding myself to that company further, cool ass manager or not.”

They had one more stop to make at the Wheelers’ so the twins could pack overnight bags and let their parents know where they would be; Bonnie already had clothes in her backpack due to her paranoid nature constantly putting her on high alert for bugging out at a moment’s notice, and Moira had half her wardrobe in the back of her jeep at any given time. Dillon loved her best friend, but fuck, if her car wasn’t a rolling bachelorette pad.

Daisy wasn’t home when they arrived, and Dillon didn’t know if she was more upset she hadn’t gotten to see her sister off on her weekend trip with McKinleigh or relieved that she wouldn’t be there to overhear them discussing literally summoning an otherworldly creature to help Dillon perform the ritual. The needle on Dillon’s mood-o-meter shifted heavily towards upset when her mom trotted downstairs in full makeup and heels. “Where are you off to all tarted up?” she teased.

“I’m heading up to the pack’s hunting grounds for a few days as a bonding activity, but a few of us girls are stopping somewhere nice for dinner on the way, since it’ll be our last people-food for a while,” Cheryl explained, already opening her arms for her daughter to fling herself into the hug. “Will you girls be alright tonight without me here?”

A chorus of affirmatives went up as the group set up their sleeping bags and laid out the refreshments, but Cheryl wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Will you be okay for a few days with the house empty?” she asked Dillon, quieter. “I can ask someone to stay here, I’m sure Heather wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll be fine, Cheryl, I don’t need a babysitter.” Dillon looked up at her mom so she could see the sincerity in her eyes. Maybe it was a good thing for the house to be empty anyway, if she decided to go through with the summoning. “I promise. Just text me every day and send pictures, please,” she added, just so Cheryl wouldn’t think she wouldn’t miss her.

Her mother gave her a dubious look, but shoved a wad of cash in her hand as she pulled away. “That should be enough for pizza tonight and takeout tomorrow. Daisy will be home on Monday and I’ll be home the day after, okay?”

Dillon nodded again and Moira helped her shoo her mother out the door.

“At least we don’t have to worry about watching movies too loud, right?” Moira chuffed, punching Dillon’s bicep to intercept the tears she knew were coming. Dillon almost got a thank-you out, but her best friend had already started back to their nest on the floor, cordless phone in hand.

Once the pizza was ordered and the movies were queued up, they settled in with Dillon and Eugene’s books to study. Every so often someone would point out something important and they added it to the communal notebook they were passing around. The sun set early in the evening, as it was wont to do in the fall, and as soon as it was dark outside, Rosie pulled a spirit board out of her bag.

“Why do two little church girls have one of those?” Moira sputtered.

Faith raised an incredulous eyebrow. “In case we ever got invited to a sleepover,” she huffed, like it was common sense. “We thought we could put out a general call with it and see if there’s anything nearby. Ghosts tattle.”

“You remember what Eugene said, right? That souls are tangible in the afterlife, and I’m pretty sure ‘snitches get stitches’ doesn’t stop at—” Moira’s head shot up, her eyes suddenly going to the uncovered window.

“What is it?” Dillon rested her chin on Moira’s shoulder in an attempt to follow her eyes, but all she saw were their reflections and the darkness of night beyond the glass. “What’s wrong?”

Moira squinted as if she’d see something with a little more focus, then frowned. “I dunno, Dill,” she whispered. “I thought I felt something… there, y’know? Watching us. But I don’t see anything.”

After shaking off the shudder of that particular idea, Dillon got up and checked herself. It was her house, she was in charge in the absence of her mother and sister, so it was her duty to secure the perimeter. She braced herself for a monster to slam into the window, but just like Moira, she saw nothing outside, and slammed the curtains shut with as much force as one could muster against fabric.

Little did she know that outside, pressed against the clapboard siding so hard it pinched his wings in an effort to be as flat as possible, a demon lurked just out of view.

Freaking the fuck out.

Had Pinkie Seen him? She looked right at him, right into his eyes — two of them, anyway — and for half a second, it felt like she Saw right through his Glamour, but then the little one shut the curtains and teased him with a sliver of soft, bare flesh as her shirt lifted ever so slightly. That, at least, had distracted him enough to calm his breathing and cease both of his hearts from trying to beat right out of his chest.

She had a line of bats inked over her hip, which was the hottest thing in the room — he’d spied on a few college-aged sleepovers before, and there was at least one hundred percent more pillow fighting and fifty percent less clothing.

Not that they were dressed for his benefit; he’d just gotten his hopes up for something slightly more titillating than sweatpants, flannels, and socks, for fuck’s sake. Who the hell wore socks to bed?

Brunette did, apparently, and it was no small wonder no one had called her on it yet considering the permanent scowl on her face that very much matched his own when the little one had robbed him of the show.

Something oily slithered out of the basement and he remembered why he’d come here in the first place; the werewolf that lived in the house had a real hard-on for vigilante justice, and she’d unwittingly created a buffet of evil souls he was surprised no one else had claimed. He intended to find a seldom-used pocket of the house to nest in and reap the benefits of free meals and decent wifi. If he was lucky, they’d all have jobs outside the home around the same time frame and he could take over the television for a few hours, too.

Now he had yet another ulterior motive in the form of that soft preview he wanted to bare to the world and rub his face over like a cat.

The demon grabbed the oily thing by the head as it tried to slip past, dragging it around the perimeter of the house while he looked for a way in; he hated eating in the open, there were bugs and other Veilborne skulking about, and there was a high risk that the scent of the cursed thing would alert them to his new nest. It was no use, the whole place was sealed up tight, no one was stupid enough to leave any doors or windows unlocked, and while he could just Flash inside, there was the risk he’d get stuck in a wall again or worse, make another human explode. They made such a mess.

He tried to duck into a bush when a set of headlights turned into the drive, forgetting in his jumpy state of mind that unless the pizza delivery boy had the Sight, he was effectively invisible to him. As if things couldn’t get any better, he’d somehow tangled his tail around his ankles and the fucking soul wouldn’t stop screaming, so he was forced to rip its head off and scarf it down before it spoiled. He couldn’t even savor it.

Wait. Pizza delivery meant a door needed to be opened to complete the transaction, giving him a way inside. The wiry teen was already ringing the bell, which eliminated the possibility of possessing him, then jumping to whoever opened the door and melting out before they knew what happened, but if he was quick —

The demon sublimated into shadow, tearing across the yard, through the door, and up the stairs where he hid around another corner until the girls had once more let their guard down.

And then he was getting the fucking pizza he was owed for the spoilage of a perfectly good soul.

His hiding spot had a nice view of the goings-on in the den, and as soon as comments were made about the wind picking up and checking the floor for leaves, he felt safe enough to explore the upstairs rooms. The largest smelled strongly of werewolf and suburban-mom perfume, and the one next to it… something floral, bright, and a few notes of death. The elder daughter’s room, then, he’d seen her milling about in the yard, her soul bright and cheery as she was, but starting to peel away from its vessel.

There was a small bathroom to the other side of the mother’s room, then a room that appeared to be utilized for storage. There was extra bedding in that one, and he gladly helped himself to a comforter and a few pillows. Whether the girls downstairs knew it or not, he’d invited himself to their little slumber party, and he intended to be as comfortable as they were. He would not, however, be wearing socks like some sort of heathen.

At the far end of the hall sat a door covered in odd drawings, band stickers — the little one lived there, no doubt. Pinkie didn’t live here and she was the only other inhabitant that fit the profile of someone who would decorate their door in such a fashion. Just when he turned the knob, however, the girls started chanting something… utterly ineffective at summoning spirits. He snorted to himself. This will be fun.

The demon gathered his borrowed bedding in his arms so he wouldn’t trip again and tiptoed back to his vantage point on the stairs. Sure enough, the group was all gathered around the coffee table, pushing a planchette around a spirit board. Once he was comfortable, he placed his palm on the wall, feeling for the steady hum of energy through the veins of the house, and waited patiently for their first question ‘to the spirits.’

“Is anyone with us?” Pinkie asked, projecting her voice in case the spirits were, what, deaf?

He sent a pulse of energy through the wires. The lights flickered. The girls screamed. Jolly good fun.

They were determined little buggers, though, and kept going despite the initial scare. At their next question, he sent a gust of air through the living room to rattle the pictures on the walls and make the curtains flutter. They asked another, he moved something else.

It seemed, however, that the unflappable Brunette wasn’t quite the impenetrable tower she made herself out to be; he didn’t get the chance to mess with anything, because she gave the table a subtle little shake herself. He made the lights flicker again, unprompted, but before the others could decide themselves that they were too scared to play anymore, he watched as the planchette slid over Goodbye and she tossed her hands up, proclaiming the spirits were clearly done speaking to them.

That was no fun.

He cut the power entirely, and while utter bedlam broke out with a racket of panicking girls, he snuck down the stairs to swipe a few slices of pizza. Someone almost tripped over his tail twice, and in an effort not to get kicked out, he whisked away to the kitchen to devour his spoils, eating over the sink to catch any wayward crumbs. He didn’t want to leave evidence, and besides, he was a guest, albeit an uninvited one, and to mess up their home would just be rude.

The too-bright beam of a flashlight waved near his head. He took that as his cue to move his ass, and right when he’d just gotten comfortable on the stairs again, there came a wary chorus agreeing that maybe they should all just go to bed. Dammit. He peeled his weary bones off the ground and trudged back to the storage room to make his nest again. He was in the middle of setting his deflection ward so no one would come in before he’d returned the bedding to its proper place when the sound of light footsteps coming up the stairs gave him pause. Were they not all sleeping downstairs?

The door at the end of the hall opened and shut. Forget the fucking wards. The demon slipped quietly out of the storage room, sublimating again to slip under the little one’s door. Once more, his excitement for the evening was dashed — Pinkie and the little one were still fully clothed, the former pulling a trundle out from under the bed, and neither made any indication anything further would happen. Boring.

After an uninterrupted night’s sleep in his nest, he awoke to the smell of bacon and the sounds of bags zipping up. He couldn’t risk leaving the room until Pinkie and her cursed Sight were gone. By the time he’d made it through two episodes of a random drama he picked on a whim, he finally heard the front door shut and silence washed over the house.

He barely managed to get the storage room door shut behind him when the little one came trudging up the stairs, passing within a hair’s breadth of him, but if she felt the little shock of his power jumping to her, she didn’t react. Odd, and odder still it happened in the first place. Was she the one that raised her sister from the grave? Couldn’t be, she was so… small, soft, almost frail. He considered following her into her room again to snoop around for any confirmation of his theory, but she turned the opposite way down the hall and went into her sister’s room. Was she snooping, as younger siblings often did?

The door was open when he approached. He wished it wasn’t. The little one curled into a ball on her sister’s bed and sobbed into her pillow. He’d seen a lot in his eleven-hundred-and-change years, but for once, the voyeurism felt wrong; it was too private, too intimate, too vulnerable of a moment for a stranger to witness. The tightness in his chest compelled him to quietly wave the door shut and give her the privacy she needed. He could pester her some other time, but for now, he had a basement to explore.

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