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aratakiittoluver · 2 years

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hey would you possibly be open to doing a dj octavio x reader? it can be yandere or not either is fine take it however you like I just love the octopus dj w my whole heart and I want a crumb of content

what is that melody?

( yandere ) dj octavio x reader

desc : you are agent 3, responsible for tracking down the missing zapfish. the fate of inkopolis lies in your hands, and when faced with the task of defeating a boss, you fall in great peril.

auth . not : i didn’t specify gender, and i apologize for the length of this. to be honest, i’m pretty lost on what to do if i don’t receive a prompt <\3 i just saw gandered and my mind went crazy. last week, i was caught up in camping and only got back yesterday so i didn’t have time to publish and post this. sorry, again! (also sneaky ow reference hehe)

warnings : yandere, kidnapping (technically?), you get injured (but its okay), brainwashing

cocking your gun, you sharply breathed in the stale air that was slowly suffocating you. where you were, exactly was somewhat unknown to you, the only information that was given is that this was where dj octavio resided; leader of octolings and your main enemy at this point in time.

however, he was nowhere in sight. the only company you had was the great zapfish writhing in the ink in the middle of the stage. approaching it, you couldn’t help but keep your guard up. your goal was in sight, so close, and yet when you set a hand on the zapfish it only seemed to move more. as if it were struggling, you stumbled backwards as it disappeared into the pink ink. completely submerged, you stared at the vibrating puddle before holding your gun steady.

“what? what’s..” before you had time to complete your question, a large stage arose from the ink with the great zapfish captured inside. ground rumbling, you found your balance lost. tumbling hopelessly, you heard a deep cackle rise from above.

“inklings truly are pathetic.. leaving their lives in the hand of one agent.” looking up, you dusted off your uniform and got into a proper fighting stance. making eye contact with your culprit, bright pink and green eyes stared back at you.

“ah, agent 3–“ you heard maries voice through your headgear, crackling. “i’ll be there for backup soon!— wait — i’m losing you—“ suddenly it cut out, and you watched dj octavios machine roar to life whirring and sputtering.

“its not too late!” you exclaimed, hands clammy against the cool metal of your heroshot. “hand the zapfish back.”

“oh?” voice distorting, dj octavio pushed wasabi down onto the discs on his set. “to talk your way out of this? i guess i have no choice, now. to show all of inkopolis what their future holds.”

at once, music filled what you now realized was designed to be an arena. jumping straight into battle, you watched as one of the fists connected to the heavy machine jolted before bursting to life, flying towards your very person. jumping out of the way, you watched as the pink ink splattered around you. some landed on your clothing and you recoiled with disgust, realizing too late that you had to ink the fist. somewhat dirtied it unlatched itself from the ground, flying back to where it was shot from. whilst undistracted you inked the surrounding area, your legs throbbing from your previous stunt of jumping out of the way. however, dj octavio didn’t not seem at all tired. hearing the sound of his fist whirring up again, you readied yourself as it shot forward. spraying ink mercilessly, you watched as it was sent flying back.

“gah!” disgruntled, you watched as octavio tumbled out of the machine. rushing forward, you expected to hear words of encouragement from marie though she still didn’t seem to be present. shooting him, you super jumped back to avoid him leaping back into the ship.

“no.. i can’t let a single inkling best me.” wasabi connecting with the discs once more, you had to plug your ears as the sound of the remixed music played louder than before. “soon, you wont be able to resist my tunes.” once more in action, dj octavio wasted no time in springing forth splat bombs. leaping backwards, you stumbled out of the pink glittered ink as it began stinging against your skin.

you sunk into the ink in an attempt to fill your gauge up once more, the beeping on your back a reminder of how low it was.

rising, you had to stand still for a moment before shaking your head and coming back once more into action. your vision was obscured for that time, nothing but a fuzzy black blur. your legs were beginning to get sluggish, movements delayed. the temptation to give away was biting away at you, however you forced yourself to resist.

keep on going.. for the sake of inkopolis.

you looked to him once more to notice that the left gauntlet was charging, spinning rapidly before launching itself at you. you threw yourself away, stumbling to regain your balance. you realized that this projectile took the form of a drill. it didn’t respond to your ink either, you realized, and you were too enraptured by it to notice the fist flying towards you from the opposite direction.

“huh?” turning around, it was as if your reflexes were shortened. unable to move, you were shot backwards and set flying back into the ink, stunned and letting out a cry of pain. though your mind screamed at you to move, the music that throbbed in your ears was a repetitive melody, though loud in nature it was soothing to your body, putting it at ease. your leg, which had took most of the attack was shaking and you could see the ink trailing from the wounds you had gathered. as if your body had been numbed your eyes drooped, stinging from the ink that had been sprayed into them.

from among the music you heard a cackle, vision sleepily floating to the source of the noise.

“everyone succumbs eventually.” his voice floated and bounced through the walls of your head as you shut your eyes. “you’re okay now.”

the last thing you heard was his voice, and sound of his machine lowering to the ground. reality fading, you glued your eyes shut to hide from the all too bright light.

eyes opened, you took a moment to adjust to the fuzziness of the world surrounding you. as if your world was dimmed, you found it hard to see anything. the constant beeping of a monitor was playing repetitively in your head and from what limited information you could gather you were infact in a hospital, tucked tightly beneath the sheets of a bed. this was nothing reminiscent of your local hospital, however, and your mind was yelling at your body to move. nothing seemed to happen despite this, your person staying upright with a all too straight posture.

what?

as if you shot back to life you regained consciousness, hand raised to your face. the first thing you noticed was that your natural fingers were then tinted a bright shade of blue, your tentacles similar.

what’s going on?

your throat was dry, and your limp hand had a needle stuck close to the wrist. a green fluid was being pumped from an IV bag, and before you could take action upon it you heard the door click open.

“ah, you’re awake.” head turning, you met the eyes of a strange looking lady. she had a different styled hair to anything you had set your eyes on before, a calm smile on her face, but it eerily didn’t meet her eyes. speaking of which, her eyes were tinted a dull blue. she held a clipboard close to her chest and when she approached you heard her heels clicking against the cool floors.

“greetings, 01.” she hummed, nodding with acknowledgement. at the name your head began to buzz, eyes staring blankly back at her.

01?

that doesn’t feel right.

but if it isn’t, then who am i?

with no recollection of your past self, you couldn’t mister a response.

staring at a monitor beside your bed, she smiled.

“it seems that the conversion went well, then.” twirling a strand of her hair beside you, a pen was twisted idly in her spare hand. “well, i suppose i should get you up and running.”

whilst she began speaking, you couldn’t help but overhear the tune playing on a speaker connected to the roof. it was a tune, a symphony; so familiar that it made your body tingle yet so foreign you couldn’t recognize it.

“.. but according to this schedule, there were orders for you to be transferred directly to our supreme emperor himself.” she continued blabbering on, only then were your beginning to listen. “ah, to imagine it. to be by octavios side, isn’t it exciting?“ she grinned and looked back at you expectantly.

octavio.

now that was a name you remembered. a hero, a savior. your heart thumped against your chest as you realized your purpose, why you are here.

to serve him, to help his eternal reign.

“oh, i just can’t wait to take you there.”

suddenly looking back at her you found yourself smiling, because you couldn’t wait either.

#dj octavio x reader #octavio x reader #splatoon x reader #yandere splatoon #yandere splatoon x reader #yandere octavio x reader #yandere dj octavio #yandere octavio

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unholyhelbig · 1 year

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Ronancetober Day #9: Free Day

[A/N: This feels weird, posting in November, holy shit, how is it November? I'm determined to finish this eventually!]

Read on AO3

Summary: Robin is a late-night radio host and has continuous encounters with a mystery caller that seems to have an affinity for her.

“And that concludes my night with you,” Steve Harrington growled into the microphone, his lips barely touching the spongy cover that kept the background noise to a low. “Now, I know it’s tragic that I’m departing on this lovely January night, but this only means one thing. Miss Robin Buckley will be bringing you the best music from Midnight to four am, Eastern Standard time.”

She watched him from behind the studio's glass, and watched Dustin push the sliders every which way to make sure Steve’s voice sounded good to all the late-night travelers, the diners that were open twenty-four hours. Robin was on a different schedule than the rest of the world. She liked the quiet of being a disc jockey in the deep uncanny hours.

Steve had a strong voice, but Robin had a soothing one. While he was better for sports coverage and pop culture, she carried a show that put her psychology degree to use. She’d answer calls and solve problems in the middle of the night. She mainly spoke with travelers, or people working the graveyard shift along with her.

He pulled the headphones from his ears and let them fall to the desk before he ruffled his hair and gave Robin an excited wave. She waited until Dustin have her a thumbs-up before she opened the door to the studio. She’d get settled in, and brew a new pot of coffee. It was easy for her to work the controls on her own until her intern was there to take over an hour or so into the broadcast.

Steve quickly shoved his belongings into his backpack. “I have a fantasy football league to get to that is already peeved that I’ve taken so long to get there.”

“Go, go” She shooed him “get out of my sight.��

“Wait,”

Steve hugged his backpack to his chest, narrowing his eyes. Robin felt her heart against the inside of her ribcage. She thought she had gotten away with having the same conversation she had with Steve every single time they switched shifts. Dustin peered over the rims of his glasses, a dorky grin on his face.

She groaned before he got another word out and flopped down in the comfortable leather chair. It used to squeak before they had the budget to get a new one. The station had come a long way, yet she still had to search between songs for the right cassette tape to hook up. They had downloaded hundreds of singular songs and had a decimal system that Robin had conjured in order to run through the days unbothered.

“Caller number nine?”

“Are you telling me you don’t listen to my show, Steve?”

“I sleep through your show like half of Hawkins. Has she called?”

“No, she hasn’t. And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop meddling in my love life.”

“So, you admit you have a love life?”

She threw a rubber band ball at him. He dodged it expertly and grinned. Caller Number Nine had a beautiful voice that made Robin wish she worked at the same station she did. Instead, she had gathered that Caller Number Nine was an aspiring doctor. Caller Number Nine had clinical's at Hawkins Memorial and tuned into her show as she completed charts in the quieter part of the Hospital.

She’d first called in months ago. Her voice was raspy and alluring and she was answering a question that Robin proposed: What is the weirdest, most unbelievable thing that’s happened on the job?

Caller Number Nine was charismatic. She had explained that while she usually sticks with just listening to the show, she couldn’t hold her tongue this time. They came to the conclusion that people were weird. People stuck things where they weren’t intended to go and it was usually the clinical students that had to remove them.

Robin could talk to Caller Number Nine forever, she wanted to, but the callboard was lighting up and Max tapped on the glass with a stressed gesture. Robin had to move on. She couldn’t focus on the truck driver’s story about a deer with an extra set of ears, or the convenience store worker who claimed that some of the candy bars in the second aisle went missing due to ghostly forces.

Caller Number Nine had called back three times since then. There wasn’t a pattern, but Robin had been significantly wooed by this mysterious woman. It had been close to a month since their last encounter, and Steve had badgered her about it every day since.

“Come on, Robbie, this is exciting!” he waved his hands around erratically “use this to your advantage.”

“Out!”

She stood and shoved Steve from the studio and watched as he mouthed something through the window, making a phone with his hand and wiggling it. Dustin made sure she was set up and gave her a thumbs up before she gave a less aggressive goodbye to him.

Robin took a deep breath before the pre-set songs that Steve had scheduled faded to an end. She felt at home in the little studio, warm and comfortable as she moved close to the microphone.

“Alright, while Steve is one of my favorite sources of entertainment, it’s time to tone it down for the night. I’m Robin Buckley and I’ll be taking over your airwaves until the crack of dawn. As always, if you have anything you want to get off your chest, give us a call at 888-HAWKINS.”

Robin slipped Cemetery Gates by the Smiths onto the docket and let the beginning of the song fill her ears before she pulled the headphones around her neck and let out a smooth sigh. It was another three minutes before she got the mic again.

“It seems like a frigid one tonight, folks. Hopefully, everyone out there has someone to keep them warm on a cold night like this one. I, for one, have been frozen to the core. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have great romantic advice, remember, call 888-HAWKINS to get some free relationship therapy. Can I legally say that?”

The small red blinking light on the switchboard lit up a like a Christmas tree. It usually took a few more songs for the general public to gain enough confidence to pick up the phone. She smiled to herself, trying not to lean into the excitement for too long.

“Congratulations, you are the first caller of the night. What kind of romantic turmoil can I help you through tonight?”

There was a small laugh that made Robin’s palms moisten. “I don’t think there’s much help for me, honestly.”

“No? I think there’s redemption in every aspect of life.”

Welcome Back, Caller Number Nine.

“Not for me.” There was a sigh that moved through the receiver. “Promise not to tell a soul if I disclose this information?”

“Well…we are on air.”

“Right, right. I meant everyone not tuned in right now.”

Robin knew what she meant. Every time she got a call from Number Nine, she felt like they were the only two people in the world. She wanted nothing more than to stare into this girls eyes, to pull her close and sooth her worries. It was overwhelmingly clingy of her to have these feelings for a stranger with a raspy and tender voice.

“The floor is all yours.”

“There’s this guy, he works on my floor at the hospital. He’s a nice guy, really. But he’s not the one that I’m interested in. I’m not trying to lead him on but sometimes it’s inevitable.”

“Oh,” Robin drew in a breath, “Well, that one's easy. Just tell him you’re interested in someone else, and you’d prefer to be friends.”

“I thought of that. I’ve given it a shot, very directly, mind you. But now he wants to know who it is I’m interested in, and I can’t tell him that.”

Robin leaned forward and wrapped the headphone chord around her hand. “Is it his best friend? I have been there, trust me.”

“No, not his best friend. I just don’t know how to tell him that the person I really want to get to know is someone I’ve never seen before. Unless you count the billboard on I-80.”

Robin was quiet for a moment, letting her brain process the information. She had a billboard on I-80. One that she had hemmed and hauled about for a good three days before the studio head threatened her contract if she didn’t pose nicely next to Steve for promotional material.

“Did I lose you?” Caller Number Nine asked, timidly.

“No, I’m here.” Robin rushed “I just don’t know what to say.”

“Wow, I silenced the woman whose job it is to talk.”

“You certainly did.”

“You know where to find me.” She replied.

The line went dead, and it took Robin a few more moments to regain her composure. Part of her forgot that she was on air until Max stumbled into the production booth with wide eyes and mouthed apologies for being late. Traffic meant she had heard exactly what Robin had just said on air.

She cleared her throat. “Right, well, Caller Number Nine certainly had a lot to say tonight. We’re going to take a little break to hear some words from our sponsors. Hang tight, late-night listeners, I’ll be back to answer more questions and bring you 1986’s greatest’s hits.”

She muted herself, the start of an advertisement for a local feed store echoed in her headphones right before she removed them. She had three minutes to vomit, to cry, or to collect herself. Instead, she worked her hand through her hair and tried to calculate how long it would take her to get to Hawkins Memorial hospital after her shift.

#Ronancetober #Ronancetober Day 9 #Robin Buckley #Nancy Wheeler #Ronance #Stranger Things #Stranger things fanfiction

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sleepymarmot · 2 months

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BG3 diary: Underdark, part 1 out of ?

I am finally level 5! Leveled up after the big fight with the duergar (had to look up how to spell it) and spent a lot of time later sorting everyone's abilities and hotbars.

I am so, so broke. I spend all of my gold on filling out Gale's spellbook. I have about a thousand gold's worth of spells queued up but I have no gold to pay for them.

Clearly I'm not attuned to this game's manner of environmental storytelling, because I spent the entire Arcane Tower mildly confused and thinking "Is this going somewhere?" From the quest giver's description, I assumed that the owner of the tower had locked herself in there, but the place seems to have been abandoned for years. I had to read the wiki page about Lenore to have the story pieced together for me. I didn't realize all of the lightning equipment I'd been picking up had been made by the same person! (I'm already trying to plan how much of it is going to be worn by my lightning mage when I play as her.)

There's a bit of companion reactivity to the environment, but it doesn't feel enough:

Lae'zel has two lines when you first meet Omeluum and can explain the githyanki disc for you, but she doesn't have any further reactions to you asking an illithid for help and even drinking his dangerous potion. Does she hate all mind flayers no matter what? Does she respect him for breaking free? Does she resent him for still being nostalgic of his people?

Gale had a couple of lines about wizard towers. It didn't seem to interest him that the wizard was a cleric of Mystra.

Shadowheart was inspired by me destroying the moonstone that powered the defenses of the Selunite outposts, but didn't have a single line about anything in it.

Speaking of Omeluum: to end the quest and open the trading option, you have to accept the ring that, he says, is hiding him from the mind flayer hive mind. Does that mean we're putting him in danger? I tried to refuse the ring, but the quest just remains unfinished in that case.

The journal was clearly not programmed to account for the order in which I was doing things. I went to the Underdark via the Zhentarim hideout, did a bunch of quests there, and only then circled back and discovered the Selunite outpost. I had Lae'zel super-jump onto the wall and discover the waypoint inside, then teleported the rest of the party in. In the middle of the outpost, under the big statue, was the orange-bordered book that suggested where to look for the Nightsong next. To my surprise, there were no cutscenes or journal updates in reaction to that. Then I walked up to the far wall of the outpost, and the journal updated to say that the trail to the Nightsong went cold (when in fact the opposite just happened...) I clicked on the ladder there, and it made me climb up to the Selunite puzzle in the goblin camp which I had completely forgotten about, then updated the journal to say I found the way to the Underdark. And I couldn't exit, because the devs didn't put a lever on the inner wall. So now I am stuck in that room and can only go back down or teleport somewhere.

After that, I realized that I'll have to backtrack to the surface to do several things I've missed... I didn't do the temple puzzle; I didn't do the spider tunnels and the spider matriarch fight, and it seems like I can't get up there from the Underdark; I didn't find the mechanic for Karlach in the grove and I've no idea if he is still in there or already left with the tieflings; I now have the sussur bark for the masterwork weapon, whatever that's supposed to be. Oh, and I'll have to go to the creche eventually, but I thought I'd finish the Underdark before that.

#baldur's gate #blah blah blah

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pinerusa · 2 years

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Straight outta compton lyrics

#Straight outta compton lyrics movie

#Straight outta compton lyrics Patch

Steve Yano is the man of the moment, an East L.A. The air's an oven, the kids fired by the desire for the new. The whole place isn't much bigger than a walk-in closet, and it's hot in every way imaginable. He's got so much product that some days, days when the heat is so thick you could lean against it, the table legs sink an inch into the melting asphalt. He's got more of the same displayed on a 20-foot-wide pegboard behind him. The table is stacked high with records, LPs and those 12-inch singles that disc jockeys spin. A lanky Japanese guy, whippet-thin and wired, presides behind a homemade plywood table in the middle of the noise. Kids are lined up two, three deep along the perimeter of the stall, whooping and hollering. At the moment, the biggest crowd surrounds a little stall just inside the old arch. The place is so jammed you wonder how they ever got along without it. The first thing you notice are the people. The Roadium's arch now frames an open-air bazaar piled high with cheap Chinese toys, one-size-fits-all Sri Lankan socks, used car batteries, secondhand tool chests, last year's Barbie dolls and canned peas with last week's use-by date. With the drive-in theater gone, the stuff of dreams has been traded for just plain stuff. Street corners are outposts in a new crack economy, boulevards battle lines dividing endless variations of Bloods and Crips, usually from one another, always from themselves. The dull blur of south county towns the Roadium served-Torrance, Lawndale, Hawthorne, Gardena, Carson and Compton-are staging areas in a decade-long descent into what feels at times like a war zone and at times is. By the summer of 1985, though, the drive-in, its dreams and innocent magic are relics of a long-gone past. The Roadium was graced by a grand arched gate that, in its day, promised entry to whatever secret kingdom Hollywood could conjure.

#Straight outta compton lyrics movie

It came in the sunken heat of summer at an abandoned drive-in movie theater called the Roadium. There was no salute, no blast of trumpets or heavenly choir. The beginning of the end came unannounced.

#Straight outta compton lyrics Patch

The beginning of the end of life as we know it occurred here, on a beaten patch of asphalt out in the vast, flat no man's land of greater Los Angeles. No One Was Ready for N.W.A's 'Straight Outta Compton.' But It Sold 3 Million Records and Transformed the Music Industry.īy TERRY MCDERMOTT of the Los Angles Times It gives a full break down of the world's most dangerous group. This is an incredible article that first appeaered in the April 14th Sunday edition of the Los Angles Times. By TERRY MCDERMOTT of the LA Times 4/14/02

#Straight outta compton lyrics

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snappyssongbook · 2 years

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March Me Down To The Seven Seas: 30 Years of The Black Crowes’ The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion

“Remedy,” the first single from The Black Crowes’ mouthful of a sophomore album, The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion, was released on April 17, 1992. But, my first taste came a few days earlier when my disc jockey pal Dennis Erectus phoned me in the middle of the night and played me the song by holding up the receiver to a speaker as the promo white label spun. Holy shit, this was greasy and raw, dangerous but too charming to resist. As the title implies, it’s a jam eager to give ya what you need how you need it done.

We’d met and bonded over the Crowes in 1990 when he played “Stare It Cold” on his late night show on KOME FM in San Jose and I pulled my car over and called him on a payphone in the pouring rain to demand to know the name of the band that just lit up my rock ‘n’ roll soul. A friendship grew from that moment and we saw the Crowes together for the first time at the Cabaret in San Jose followed by the spontaneous need to see them again the next night at The Omni in Oakland. We both thought guitarist Jeff Cease was the weak link so when we heard “Remedy” we both had a feeling he’d been replaced by somebody really fucking good or Rich Robinson had done a LOT of woodshedding between albums.

The week after my telephone preview the “Remedy” video arrived, all bare bones, shuffling on a blank green canvas, a swirl of tight velvet pants, lascivious guitars, billowing hair, and abundant attitude. This was rock one could believe in.

With one song and a smartly back-to-basics video directed by band manager Pete Angelus, The Black Crowes sashayed in doing it like it used to be done, not a ghost dance chasing past glories but the real goddamn deal, lads that believed in rock’s potential as a heathen church one can pat their foot upon. They courted nothing fashionable and rolled into town like a gunslinger gang in need of a wash but not before they raised some hell.

Once I saw the video I recognized the only thing I’d liked about Burning Tree when they opened for somebody in SF, guitarist Marc Ford. My anticipation for their second album was already unreasonably high but Ford’s involvement guaranteed I’d be at Amoeba Music in Berkeley when their doors opened on May 12, 1992. The sepia tone cover photo of the band standing unsmiling in what appears to be a junkyard only added to the single’s gunslinger vibe. The blood orange colored circle on the back cover containing calligraphic song titles and a naked person laying in the grass added to the freaky feel before one heard a note. The cartoon birds of their debut LP had flown the coop.

Unwrapping the CD at home, every detail drew me in - the black & white recording session shots, the exotic and unexplained images, the handwritten lyrics, and seeing multiple tracks listed as running over 6 minutes, it was clear before one pressed play that The Black Crowes were putting distance between themselves and their sudden, enormous, MTV-fueled popularity. Then it starts, slashing electric guitar, a primally pounding beat, handclaps, and by the 30-second mark they’re off, Chris Robinson trading lines with gospel-dappled songbirds, inviting us into the valley of discovery filled with all the shiny things dirty money can buy. “Remedy” shares a feel with the upbeat Shake Your Moneymaker singles but initial offerings of eager, young men had been weathered and marked by fame, grinding touring, and unpleasant glimpses inside the mainstream recording machine.

While the opening left-right combo of “Sting Me” and “Remedy” were enough like “Twice As Hard” and “Jealous Again” to lure in existing fans, there were new layers lyrically and musically only hinted at on their debut. Both songs are reactive to a world pressing in, cries for freedom and release even if one must dance around the broken back birds. The point is to feel something even if it’s pain so one knows they’re alive.

The feedback slide into “Thorn In My Pride” gives way to ringing, clear acoustic guitar introducing the first of two mid-tempo ballads, a rock sub-genre the Crowes mastered early on and rarely bettered by any new band since. The sense one was hearing a new generation of Leon Russell’s Shelter People hinted at by the openers becomes abundantly obvious on “Thorn,” where one hears each member is pouring everything into every note, from Edddie Harsch’s jumping electric piano and crying Hammond licks to the thick low end of bassist Johnny Colt and drummer Steve Gorman which provide resilient, flexible muscle to move the front line.

As the album slides into “Bad Luck Blue Eyes” it becomes clear SHAMC is about controlled power, a tempest held in their hands, stretched and knotted, the limits of control tested, the tremendous energy built up by the sextet released knowingly, strategically. As what amounts to the A-Side of the album leans into “Sometimes Salvation” this theory is confirmed.

“Salvation” is the archetypal Black Crowes song, a vibe, style and lyrical attack others have tried to copy but never quite snag like these black birds. “Sometimes Salvation” warbles with juke joint blues rawness married to a blessedly off-kilter rhythm and a Stooges-like growl. If one wonders why no other drummer that’s played with The Black Crowes besides Gorman sounds quite right, well, the short answer is contained in “Salvation,” where Gorman exhibits the kind of drumming personality one associates with John Bonham, a mixture of heavy and delicate, swinging and pummeling, and always serving the music instead of seeking spotlights.

Sensing a halfway mark, I lit some Nag Champa incense, a scent soon associated with pre-show Crowes rituals starting with SHAMC’s “High As The Moon Tour.” I reloaded the bong, and checked into Side B opener “Hotel Illness” and immediately fell to laughter at the opening couplet, “Oh good heavens, baby, where is my medicine? I must have left it outside with my etiquette.” Robinson’s growth as a lyricist between Shake Your Moneymaker and Southern Harmony is startling. So much more is going on after two years of high living and loving. His words reflect maturity grappling with a young man’s id, wrestling with his better angels to get a little behind closed door time with devils.

The first notes of “Black Moon Creeping” made me howl, stamp my feet, and spin a Dervish dance. The sound is crossroads blues given cheap speed, the wind speaking through a talk-box as every element lashes at the listener until Harsch’s skipping piano coda in the final seconds lets one breathe. But, rest is brief as hand percussion, hard snare cracks and cymbal flurries, and increasingly turbulent guitars carry us off.

“No Speak No Slave” is mean and urgent, empowering in a vulgar, clenched fist way. As with the rest of the album, the marriage of lyrics and vocals with instrumental elements is perfection, producer George Drakoulias making sure some dirt and sweat worked their way into the tapes. The 80s/90s too-clean, too-crisp production is nowhere to be found, and while SHAMC vibes with some iconic 70s classic rock it doesn’t come off as a throwback. The sound is big and tough, capable of holding its own against the industry-tooled product being pumped out but redolent enough of gatefold vinyl sleeve, sort your stash, trip out on the artwork 1970s gold to appeal to loose-footers and left-hand smokers of all ages.

It’s these like minded freaks that are beckoned by the album’s finale, “My Morning Song,” which seizes folks of a certain stripe, barefoot bohemians looking for faith in a loveless time, good companionship, and a fine ol’ time that lifts one above the gray muck of bills, commutes, relationship fights, and the endless mundane flotsam that fills our days. “My Morning Song” is yearning made manifest, a hand outstretched inviting us into Amorica, a place we didn’t know we wanted to be but are so damn glad we’ve found. This song - from the first spin - sparked a mania in me and not a few others. It makes one aware of a hunger for real rock in our bones and bellies. No church hymn in my long Catholic upbringing had moved me in the way “My Morning Song” did and does every single time it plays. In mood, movement, and words, it’s an anthem to blow one’s haze away, an Easter Sunday revival for unwashed doubters pretty sure there’s no place for them at mass.

“Time Will Tell,” a Bob Marley cover, serves as SHAMC’s coda, a choice corny in an endearing way, a move by men anxious to weave their legacy into the good shit that came before. Besides, The Wailers toured with Bruce & The E Street Band back in ‘73 so the Rasta had more rocker in him that some recognize.

For me, this is when my own ecclesiastical devotion to The Black Crowes began - decades of tours, countless message boards discussions, hofbrau parties in Vegas, madly wonderful Europeans boogeying at my side, and eventually befriending and working with the band. It all started in earnest on that day in May 1992. While I’d followed the Grateful Dead some in the 80s, they were never MY band in the way hardcores embraced Garcia and gang. The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion struck me as a meeting with friends I didn’t yet know, a roughhewn cause I could put my back into, a circus I was eager to join, and when I did I discovered a multitude of groovy, simpatico people, all of us drawn to and inspired by this music, these men, and the rollicking oasis we entered simply by showing up with a ticket in hand.

For 139 shows across every lineup save for the latest incarnation, I attended their concerts with intention, showing up the way they showed up, ready to make it real and immediate, moments of flickering total presence snatched under colorful lights in ballrooms or beneath open skies with grass between our toes. Sparked by SHAMC, this band and its music - with most setlist spines built around Southern Harmony’s tracks for most of their career - became my favorite musical blue jeans. All I had to do was slip them on and I was riding thumb ready for the road and whatever happened out there.

It’s a gift to find music that lights us up in this way, songs and the folks that play them that call from our comfort zones into the company of strangers who quickly cease being strangers (but rarely shed their beautiful strangeness). The origin story of many Deadheads is likely similar to this one, a moment of finding YOUR band, YOUR music, YOUR tribe. The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion is a hymnal for the handshake drug generation, a song cycle for bare knuckle engagement with life, tunes worthy of being woven into our lives where the verses and melodies are inseparable from the births, deaths, divorces, and reunions soundtracked by this album. The conviction, inner fire, undeniable talent of Southern Harmony was a catalyst for many including the band themselves. It is the bar for Crowes excellence and everything that followed is always held in the light of this profoundly resonant album where a band found themselves and discovered a happy few waiting for them with open arms.

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sondepoch · 4 years

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HC: Married life with the boys!

With one chaotic human and a handful of boys too attractive for their own good, it's always been a simple matter of time before love found its way into the Devildom. And where love blooms, marriage often follows—and nothing will stop these boys from giving their human all the love in the world.

Word Count: 5.9k

*Mild NSFW themes for Beel & Diavolo ;)

Characters: All Brothers + Undateables - Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

It highkey blows everyone’s mind when the two of you get married

Because absolutely nothing changes

Lucifer still reprimands you if you do something ridiculous, he still crosses his arms and frowns when you tease him, he still sends a scowl your way when you mess around with Diavolo - if anything, the two of you are distant, and alarmingly so to everyone who gazes upon the supposedly happy couple

But that’s only because they can’t see what goes down in private

And yes - the grass is greener behind the closed door of Lucifer’s study

It was different when the two of you were simply in a relationship: Lucifer’s pride was always there. He would allow you to have your way with him, touch his hair and kiss him and hold him, but he could only reciprocate so much

But now that you’re married?

If anything, Lucifer’s pride dictates that he now has to be open with you, the single person he trusts more than anyone else in the world

Something that he can only do in private

And honestly - you savor moments when you’re alone with him because of it

For the first time, he is the one to initiate contact. The barrier of pride is broken, and in its place lingers Lucifer’s neverending desire to be wrapped in your arms

It doesn’t matter if you’re smaller than him, you are big spoon

You pamper him, giving him all the forehead kisses and tight hugs and quiet handholding he could ever desire. And in exchange, he finally becomes honest with his emotions - finally casting his pride away so that he can ask you when he wants a hug, when he wants a kiss, when he’s needy for affection and love, and he wants you to give it

It’s reached the point where he only wants to be alone with you, eternally savoring the feeling of your arms around him and pulling him closer - finally vocal about his desires

But he does feel guilty that he can only do this behind closed doors

So slowly, very slowly, he tries to sacrifice his pride and begin treating you different publicly

It starts small: a more tender voice whenever he addresses you, a secondary “are you sure?” whenever he’s worried that you’re uncomfortable, a ghost of a smile on his lips when you laugh so merrily

But soon, it morphs into small touches: fingers brushing against each other when you walk, a hand on your back when you’re next to each other, standing closer to you than everyone else

Slowly, the people around you become relieved. They start to understand that you are like any married couple, but that Lucifer was simply having a hard time adjusting to the abrupt closeness

And then, on the day when you and his brothers throw him a surprise birthday party, Lucifer is so overwhelmed by love that he kisses you then and there, right in front of everyone, pride be damned

And the process is slow going, but eventually he becomes as open with you in public as he is in private, until the two of you are so close that it seems nothing can ever keep him from holding your hand the way he wants again

Mammon

s m u g

It still blows his mind that you chose him out of everyone, that you chose him to marry and love and spend the rest of your life with

And while he is absolutely dumbfounded by this fact, it won’t stop him from rubbing it everyone else’s face at every chance

“Hey guys, wanna go to this all-inclusive resort next month?” Mammon grins, an uncharacteristically innocent smile on his face. “I’ll pay and all!”

“Oh, yes!” Asmo squeals while Beel’s ears perk up at the word all-inclusive. “I have so many cute outfits that I can’t wait to wear!”

“Oh wait, my bad!” Mammon exclaims dramatically, a silly grin on his face. “Looks like it’s only for married couples. Guess I’ll just take MC then, sorry guys!”

PDA turns up by 10000000%

Man is a touchy demon by default, so in private (now that you’re married) he finally has the courage to quietly cuddle you the way he’s always wanted to

But bring him into public?

Oh boy

You cannot get him to stop touching you. Ever.

There is always a hand on your butt, or two arms around draped around your neck, or a single arm linked with your arm, but no matter what, Mammon makes sure that you guys are touching and that you are intimate

The only time you’re in public and he might not actively touch you is if you’re the one touching him - and holy hell, when you do, this demon melts in your hands

LOVES it when you get possessive. Man wants you to be greedy with him, just like he is with you, so if you yank his attention away from other demons in a fit of jealousy, he’ll just find it hot

Tangibly, the nature of your relationship hasn’t changed much after marriage. You both still live in the House of Lamentation (though you have moved into his room) he’s still in debt (but things are better than before, and Lucifer doesn’t shout as much), and he still has an only slightly unhealthy obsession with Goldie (fixed only by the fact that you have told him that no, he should not sleep clutching his credit card like a teddy bear)

But inside, marriage means everything to this demon

Man was assertive before, but never confident, ya know? All those big, fancy words were more of a coverup for his insecurity after being made fun of for so long

But now?

His confidence is real

And because of it, being around him is actually easier. He doesn’t need to call himself The Great Mammon or remind you to come to him when you need protecting - because at last, he believes those words

Why?

Because when he falls asleep every night with his head buried in the crook of your neck, it’s to your words of praise, slowly but steadily building his confidence up

And he loves it

(Bonus:) When he proposed, he proposed with ten rings because “you’re better than everyone else so you deserve more rings than everyone else”

Leviathan

Sigh

This man really tried to talk you out of marrying him

Of course, by that time the wedding date was already final and everything ,so you shut him up with a firm whack on the back of the head, but that never stops Levi from being continually insecure

It’s not that he doesn’t want to be married to you

It’s that he’s worried you’re missing out on something by being married to him

Poor baby is so precious

And so insecure

At the beginning of your marriage, it takes hours to convince him that he’s not “unworthy” of your love

Often in the morning, you’ll be able to tell that he’s having self-deprecating thoughts just by the look in his eye, so you’ll cuddle and kiss and love him for hours until it’s almost lunchtime - and only then, after hours of you reassuring him and reminding him why you love him, does he begin to believe that he isn’t a “yucky otaku”

For the remainder of the day, Levi makes sure to repay you in full - literally showering you in love as he makes you his Player 2 for every video game, going as far as to allow you to sit in his lap while he reads manga over your shoulder

And while things often reset at night - and the next morning the demon looks equally fearful about your decision to marry him, there’s no denying that the amount of time it takes to convince him that you love and want him is growing shorter and shorter

And then, one day, when Levi wakes up, he doesn’t have that look in his eyes at all

And he just straight up kisses you

This is the story of why Levi kisses you every morning, first thing in the morning (even if it’s just a forehead kiss)

Man is eternally grateful to you for bearing with him (despite you insisting that you weren’t “bearing’ with him - you were doing it out of love) while he was so hesitant and fearful, and vows to return every ounce of love tenfold

Man will do anything for you

Of course, he still prefers to stay indoors and to marathon TSL with you

But he does stop glancing away every time you praise him, and all the instances where he might have previously insulted himself now turn into simple blushes where he wraps you in a hug to hide his warm cheeks

Man is surprisingly touchy, even when he’s not fighting with other for your attention

100% sleeps best if you’re spooning him - no questions asked

(And please don’t ask questions - he’ll get so embarrassed)

And yes, after much begging him, he does finally purchase a bed for the two of you to sleep in instead of his bathtub (which is surprisingly comfy, given that you can just lay on top of Levi and cuddle him)

But yes, sometimes he will randomly lift you up in the middle of the night and carry you to the bathtub, because while there’s no chance this man is letting go of you as you sleep, he will always prefer the bathtub

Sigh

But you love him anyway <3

Satan

No one would have thought that the Avatar of Wrath would be able to lead such a peaceful life, but the second you guys get married, that’s what things are

Peaceful

Man treats you like royalty, making sure that things are always perfect for you

Mornings are no longer spent at the dining table, but are instead spent on the small table in Satan’s bedroom, where the two of you roll out of bed every morning and lazily curl up together on the same armchair while drinking tea and coffee, chatting about whatever dreams you had

Afternoons are quiet: Satan’s nose in a book and your fingers occupied with whatever your favorite pastime is, but you guys are always right next to each other, always touching in some way

Evenings are calm - Satan will sometimes play a disc of your favorite human world band or will put on some music of his own preferred Devildom artists, and the two of you will simply talk until it’s nighttime and you both are sleepy

In essence, man mellows out after you marry him

And the reason?

He always feels so calm. It’s like you’ve quelled the eternal storm within his heart by marrying him, by promising that you’ll spend the rest of your lives together - and Satan hardly thinks he has any need for emotions like rage and anger when he always feels so blissfully happy with you

It becomes his favorite thing in the whole world to just pull you onto his lap and play with the ring around your finger, listening to the sound of your voice

He’s just so soft for you

Highkey wants to spend the rest of his life locked away inside his room with you, away from other people and other things that make him angry, but he will venture out into public with you because he knows that there’s value in exposing oneself to various social environments

In fact, now if he leaves the house at all, it’s usually with you by his side

His favorite place to visit is 100% the cat shelter, with the local, cozy bookstore taking its place as a close second

But this man will not hesitate to throw hands with anyone who disrespects you

It’s actually one of the reasons why he finds it so tedious to go outside - because no matter what, there’s always some foolish demon that treats you poorly, and then Satan’s disposition dictates that he can’t let that demon go home until the fool learns his place and apologizes

Of course, after the whole ordeal you guys 100% go somewhere to cheer each other up, and that’s the story of how you become the local ice cream store’s most valued customers

But Satan will always prefer being safe in his room with you, surrounded by his books and your things and everything that screams home

And are you guys secretly hiding a cat in your room?

Who knows?

All you can say is that when the stack of “books” eternally buried under Satan’s desk sneezes, it’s not because Satan “enchanted them” to do so

;)

Asmodeus

d e d i c a t e d

h u s b a n d o

Anyone can see the switch in Asmo when he settles down and marries you

Man changed when you guys started dating for sure. His posts on Devilgram began featuring you, he spent money he would have spent on hair products on buying you gifts, he stopped talking about himself and began focusing on complimenting you

But now that you’re married? And shit is official?? And you’ve actually legally sworn that you want to spend the rest of your life with him???

It’s the first time Asmo cries tears of joy

Man pulls a full 180 - there’s no longer any such thing as Asmo, or even MC. No, the two of you are now a package deal - and everywhere you go, it’s Asmo AND MC

And the whole Devildom knows about you two

And really, how could they not?

Ever since Asmo made that one post on Devilgram where the two of you are posing, flashing the camera your engagement rings - every single post Asmo has made is of you

In fact, some of his posts don’t even have him in it - they’re just you

Because this boi is so smitten for you

And he wants the whole world to know it

You guys start matching everything (or everything that’s fashionable. matching t-shirts are NOT the wave, honey, so put those back)

Nail polish? Matching. Jewelry? Matching. Aesthetics? Matching.

Asmo has so much love in his heart that it literally comes pouring out in every action he does

Man will miss his beauty sleep for you if you ask him for a glass of water in the middle of the night. And better yet, he won’t even complain if you keep him up late, as long as it means he gets to hold you close and shower you in kisses

And if you thought Asmo before marriage was touchy, then you have a big surprise in for you

Asmo’s touches are no longer sexual. (Or some of them are, but only when you’re ready for it ;)) He’s now more preoccupied with the closeness that accompanies touching you, and so his skin is always brushing by yours even in the briefest of touches, because it always sends such a lovely rush of warmth to his heart whenever you touch

Everything reminds him of you

Man will send you pictures of trees, birds, flowers (honestly anything beautiful) with the caption saw this today and it reminded me of you xoxo

And though he maintains the ruse of this being completely casual, that this marriage is just another wonderful thing that’s happened to him, you know that he never stops fangirling over the fact that you’ve actually chosen him to love and marry

And yes, he was an angel born to be loved: he was the jewel of the heavens and everyone who looked upon him was instantly charmed

But to him, none of that matters

The only love he cares about is yours, and now that you’ve given it to him, you’ve literally brought heaven to him because there’s nothing in the world he would trade for this

Beelzebub

Imagine being married to Superman

That.

That is what this marriage is like.

To the rest of the world, you are literally untouchable - because the moment you marry him, Beel will not allow anyone to mistreat you

Did you think he was baby? That he was precious?

Well, you were right. But now that the two of you are married, he looks at you with that same lens of protectiveness, and he wants to shield you from all the evil in the Devildom

Man is devoted in public and in private: nothing will stop him from showcasing his love for you

Expect to be offered food at all hours of the day, to be lifted up and hugged at random, and to be given forehead kisses on the daily

And listen, when Beel kisses you on the forehead in public, it’s not just a show of affection to show the world how much he loves you. It’s a silent threat to anyone who might hurt you - a silent warning that Beel has extended his protective domain over to you, and now anyone who messes with you is messing with him and will not be shown mercy

That’s only in public tho - in private, this man goes back to being the most precious thing in the world

Many

KISSES

Contrary to public expectation, Beel is just like his younger brother in that he adores lazing around with you in bed, laying kisses across your skin for hours on end while you just sigh in bliss

He just adores the intimacy of the whole situation alongside the sensation of your smaller frame being literally enveloped by his own

His favorite thing in the whole world is laying on his side with his head resting on top of yours, your back pressed against his chest while he hugs you from behind and listens to you rant about whatever. And while this is going on, he will absolutely slide his ring off his finger and absentmindedly slide it onto yours, watching as the larger band dangles so loosely off even the thickest of your fingers

It actually opens up a whole new kink realization to him: that he adores seeing you in his things and watching the way your smaller frame is nearly swallowed up by all his clothes

And while it has always been normal for you to casually wear his shirts and walk around his room in them without anything else on, the fact that the two of you are married gives him the confidence to sneak you out of his room looking like that, where you occasionally run into his brothers. And the sight of you dressed in his clothes in front of other people awakens a side of him that he never knew existed

100% tries to get you to leave the house looking like that

“Babe, I can’t wear this outside”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not wearing any underwear beneath this and if the wind blows, then—”

“You’re not wearing any underwear?”

And then Beel realized that he really had discovered a new kink

Belphegor

The marriage no one foresaw

Nah, but fr tho

It’s not that Belphie doesn’t love you - even a blind man can tell that he’s hopelessly fallen for you

It’s just that you guys were acting like a married couple so long before you guys got married that no one thought there was any point in actually sealing the deal

And honestly, things really don’t change much after you both get married

You still sleep in the same bed, you still cuddle each other at night, you still bicker back and forth

From a distance, it seems like the nature of your relationship is entirely unchanged, save for the fact that you both have matching bands around your ring fingers

B U T

That’s only because no one else can see how Belphie treats you in private

Where there would once be peaceful naps where he dozed off on your thighs to the feeling you playing with his hair, he now spends that time lost in slow conversations with you, their topics varying based on whatever has popped through his mind that day

Man realizes that, now that you’re his spouse, he wants to know everything about you

And he’s willing to spend all the time in the world learning these things

He’ll lie you down on the bed and play with your hair, asking you the most random questions

“Do you dislike mushrooms?”

“If you had a pet frog, what would you name it?”

“What do you think of stickers?”

Of course, that may be because your answers are utterly ridiculous

“Only if they stand over four inches”

“Fluffy”

“They’re only good if they smell good”

And for the longest time, you really only humor his questions with responses because, well, he’s your husband and you think that he just wants to get to know you better (albeit in a rather unorthodox method)

But then, one day, the two of you are casually walking through the Devildom market in preparation for it being Belphie’s turn to make dinner, and the demon selects the ingredients to your favorite dish without even consciously knowing what it is

And you realize that every question you answered was one Belphie took to heart, and that the reason he always wants to learn so much about you is so that he can use the information to be the best husband he can be

And when you figure it out, you nearly tackle Belphie to the ground in a hug, because you’re so touched

“You’re the best husband ever!” You murmur, wrapping your legs around his waist as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, clinging to him like a koala as you trap him in an embrace he can’t wriggle out of

“Did you really just realize why I always ask these things?” Belphie questions, sighing as if he’s disappointed

But even he can’t hide the small grin that creeps onto his face as you hug him tighter, and you know he’s just savoring the affection. And who are you to deny him any?

Solomon

cHAoTiC

Arguably the most stressful marriage, but not for either of you: for the people around you

You guys are that couple

Things were hectic enough before, when you guys would pull pranks on the demons every time you were together. But now that you’re in love? And married??? And ALWAYS together?!?!?

RIP to everyone around you

The two of you never really seem to grow old - your energy is seemingly inexhaustible and you’ve already pranked all 72 demons that Solomon has pacts with four times over (and yes, that does include Barbatos, who has now made multiple threats to break the pact)

But, again, this is one of those instances where there’s a sharp difference between how you guys act in public vs. in private

In public, things are a hot mess. You guys are always laughing, always joking, always smiling

But in the privacy of Solomon’s bedroom, without any potential targets for pranks and any demons that you guys need to keep your guard up around, things change substantially

Contrary to public expectation, you guys are almost completely silent when you’re alone - but it’s not an awkward silence, by any means. No, the silence that you and Solomon find is nothing short of comforting, and every time you guys escape to the confines of his room, you both let out a breath neither of you realized you’d been holding

Because although you guys are strong, and arguably the most powerful team of humans in the Devildom, the fact remains that you guys are human.

And you can only let your guards fully down around each other

Nights are spent in the absence of any loud laughter or obnoxious rackets, the two of you preferring to savor the sound and comfort of silence. You guys fit together like pieces to a puzzle, and no words are necessary for the two of you to change into your nightwear and snuggle up under the same blanket, soft sighs escaping your lips the moment your skin comes into contact with one another

It’s only times like now, when there’s no one else in the world around, that you both can find true peace

And on nights like these, Solomon will just hold you close to him, sometimes pressing his forehead against yours, and he’ll stroke your sides softly, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin

And of course, you’ll reciprocate in full, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the man’s jaw as he continues his ministrations, sometimes letting out a quiet hum of contentment as you pull him closer

It’s a relationship where speech isn’t necessary; you guys are so in sync with each other and so helplessly in love that words only complicate things

But still, on occasion, one of you will open your mouths to disrupt the silence, and on nights like these, there’s really only one thing either of you will even consider saying

“I love you”

And if there’s one certainty in life, it’s the fact that the other will repeat the same phrase back, punctuating it with a kiss that reminds you both why you love each other so much

And just how worth it this marriage really is

Simeon

The marriage that everyone foresaw

Nah, but fr tho

This is the relationship where everyone knew about it except for you two

Even the day Simeon proposed: it was so spontaneous - he was planning on doing it the following week - but every single person who crossed paths with him could see how helplessly in love he was with you, so it shocked no one when the two of you announced the “surprise” that you were getting married

And this is arguably one of the best decisions you have ever made

In every way

Simeon’s an angel, so marriage is probably the most important to him out of everyone. He was treating you like royalty long before you two got together, but now that the two of you are married? This man CANNOT hold back. And believe him, when he says he will get you whatever you want - he will get you whatever you want

Funny part is, most of the time, this man knows what you want before you do

You’ll be diligently taking notes at the RAD library and you won’t realize that your pencil is blunt until the words are barely legible - but when you get up to find a sharpener, you’ll see that Simeon tossed one onto your desk right before he left to grab a book

You’ll wake up at three in the morning and realize you’re thirsty - but the moment you open your eyes and sit up on the bed, Simeon will already be there with that charming smile and a glass of water in his hand

You’ll be returning from a session of painting your nails with Asmo, only to realize that there’s no way you can grab your keys from your pocket without smudging the semi-dry nail polish - and Simeon will miraculously come home at that second, kissing you on the forehead before opening the front door for you

Like seriously, it’s a gift

Of course, then there comes the day where you try to return the favor, trying to study the way his eyebrows furrow as he reads his book to determine when he’s about to stop and turn on the TV instead (only for you to triumphantly hand him the remote)

And then the affection never ends and the rest of your marriage is characterized by nonstop trying to outdo each other in thoughtfulness that everyone just looks at and sighs because it’s so wholesome

And will Luke become your and Simeon’s honorary child?

Absolutely.

And does Luke hate this in every single way?

Oh yes:

“This is ridiculous! I am two thousand years older than MC! You can’t expect me to have to listen to them every time they tell me to do something! They should be listening to me!”

“Watch your language, young man,” Simeon warns. “I won’t have you talk that way in this house.”

“It’s not even a house!” Luke screams in defiance. “And I refuse! I will say what I want, when I want, and how I want!”

“That’s enough, Luke. Go to your room and think about what you’ve said until you’re ready to apologize!”

And God help Luke the day he accidentally calls Simeon “Dad,” because nothing can break the family after that moment

Barbatos

“Teach me.”

Listen, marriage isn’t a concept that demons are familiar with

They love you, so they’ll do it for your sake - but if a demon weds a human, the demon is 100% playing it by ear and desperately hoping that they’re doing things right

But Barbatos?

Nah, this man gives everything his all, and you’re more important than everything combined. So suffice it to say that when he marries you, he is committed to being the best husbando he can possibly be

And how does he go about achieving such a thing, you ask?

Why, two simple words: “Teach me.”

He asks that you be completely upfront and honest with him about what you desire, and he does everything he can to fulfill them

Things start slow, of course

You mention to him that married couples often sleep in the same bed and share a bedroom - and then he’s requested that Diavolo provide him a new room (one which doesn’t have doors that lead to other timelines) where the two of you live together

Then you talk about how married couples usually have matching wedding rings, and the next morning you find two obscenely expensive (but beautifully artistic) rings, and a wide-eyed butler asking if they’re to your liking

You explain that married couples sometimes get closer to each other by having a family pet and (bless his heart) Barbatos takes you to an aquarium the next day and the two of you bring home a pet fish

And things are slow going with Barbatos, but progress is steady

And soon, he starts to get the hang of it

You guys don’t just sleep in the same bed, he starts to pull you closer. Casual touches turn into cuddling, and then all of a sudden he can only sleep if he’s spooning you in the process

He decides that he likes it when you wear things he buys you, so he gifts you even more woefully expensive but equally stunning jewelry, until you’re always leaving your shared room with one of Barbatos’s presents adorned on your figure

And although Barbatos is too responsible to get rid of the (immortal) pet fish he bought, the two of you have a talk and then you head down to the pet store and buy an actual pet, one which you guys can touch and hug and cuddle

And before long, Barbatos doesn’t need you to teach him how to be a good husband, he realizes that most of it is instinctive; he understands that to make you happy, he really just needs to do the things that make him happy

Of course, he still approaches many things textbook style

Every morning and every night, man will whisper that he loves you - no excuses. You guys could have a fight and he will still do this

But gradually as time moves on, he sees that marriage doesn’t have to be a big, fancy show

And he starts to just savor the sensation of being helplessly in love with you

Diavolo

POWER COUPLE

No, but literally - you guys are the most powerful couple in the world

And Diavolo is living for it

You are royalty now, and Diavolo won’t let you forget that for a single second

You want a snack? That’s fine, here’s a nine-course buffet featuring food from the human world, Celestial Realm, and Devildom

Been feeling tired and want a break? No worries, the next week has been declared a newfound Devildom holiday, so rest up for as long as you want

You don’t like this specific brand of nail polish? Oh okay, there are now four hundred samples in your room to help you find one you do like

It honestly gets to the point where you have to sit Diavolo down (*cough* sit on Diavolo’s lap *cough*) and tell him that no, when you tell him you’re considering cutting your hair, he doesn’t have to hire four professional hairstylists and a consultant to help you select the style

After much discussion he agrees to talk these things out with you

And it’s the sweetest thing in the world

“Babe, can you help me get this jar? I can’t reach it.”

“Does this mean you just want me to get you the jar? Or do you want me to make it a law that all Devildom households cannot have shelves higher than the reach of the standard human height?”

“Just the jar, hon.”

“Oh”

Will never deny you anything, ever

Actually begins putting your interests in front of his own, asking Barbatos to cook your favorite meals and desserts instead of Diavolo’s own preferences because hey, food is just food, and it makes him so happy to see your face light up when you find that dinner is your favorite dish

And listen there’s one thing you need to know about: this man’s bed

Holy shit, nothing compares

It is the most comfortable thing in the world, and you’re pretty sure that even God is missing out if he hasn’t taken a nap on Diavolo’s bed because goddamn that shit is amazing

Like you love Diavolo to death but his bed is absolutely revolutionary with how comfortable it is, and you really feel like you could spend an eternity just starfished out under the covers

And of course, since you love the bed and Diavolo loves you, the two of you can spend hours just lazing around in the morning, cuddling and giggling until it’s almost lunchtime

And mornings with Diavolo are the best

Again, though, you’re royalty, now that you’re married to him. So Diavolo isn’t going to let you be woken up like a commoner. With him, there are no alarms, no loud voices, none of that obnoxious shaking you awake or any such nonsense

No, when Diavolo wakes you up every morning, it’s truly in a way fit for royalty, in a way that only he can do - a way that you honestly prefer to all the others ways you’ve been woken

And does this include Diavolo smirking up with you every morning from between your thighs?

Absolutely.

But does that stop him from doing it every day?

Never.

5K notes · View notes

griffintail · 3 years

Text

One Last Time

Summary: (Y/N) goes to live with her Uncle Tubbo in the aftermath of their lose.

Pairings: Parental! Tommy x Teenage! F!Reader

Platonic! Ranboo, Tubbo x Teenage! F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Exile, Everyone’s just sad man.

This the second part to True One

The next part is A Normal Smile

A/N: Two different people wanted this, 🐝 anon and @samistheidiot So, here you guys go!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/N)…wished it was a nightmare, that Tommy would shake her awake like she’d done many times before for him when he’d have a nightmare.

Instead, there she stood in Snowchester, staring at her Uncle Tubbo’s house. He’d grabbed her things from…Tommy’s house and brought her back to his own home. Tubbo had found her with Sam and had broken down with her this time. She tried to deny everything Sam was telling her, what she saw on her walkie. Yet, when Tubbo pulled her in and held her close, she knew it was real this time.

He wasn’t coming back.

It took hours to finally get (Y/N) out of the hotel and into a boat with Tubbo. When she had first exhausted herself, Tubbo had a serious conversation with Sam. Tubbo knew what Tommy always wanted for his little girl. He’d been there through many steps of their lives, so he knew what Tommy would have wanted now. (Y/N) would come with him.

Sam wanted to argue that he could take care of her but…he didn’t have faith in himself anymore and agreed it was best.

Tubbo stood at the door, looking back at (Y/N), who hadn’t spoken since they left the hotel room.

“(Y/N).” He called gently, her dull gaze looking at him now, making his throat tighten. “Come inside, let’s get warm.”

She sighed, following him. She went back to the room she had been in when…

Tears welled in her eyes as she sat on the bed. He was supposed to come to get her; they were supposed to have been celebrating. She buried her face in her hands as Tubbo was putting down his things in the main room, still trying to process his own feelings.

He was in full denial.

Tommy shouldn’t have gone like that. In the prison, beaten to death…Tommy shouldn’t have gone at all. Not his best friend. Tommy just had to be alive, he just had to, just like last time! He still had a daughter to raise!

…but Tubbo knew he was wrong deep down.

“Tubbo!” Ranboo burst into his home, out of breath.

Ranboo had gotten the same message as everyone else. He had gone all the way from his base at Techno’s to see Tubbo first.

“Hey, Ranboo.” He said quietly. “I guess you saw.”

“I-I did. It’s wrong, right? There’s no way…” Ranboo tried to deny himself.

“…Sam said it’s real.” Tubbo gripped his hands along the edges of a chest. “That Dream and Tommy were fighting and then…they were actually fighting…”

“No…No that can’t be right. Sam should have…Dream wouldn’t have…”

“What do you mean Dream wouldn’t have?” (Y/N) spat as she came into the room. “Dream was a fucking psychopath! We all knew that! Yet we let my fucking father stay in the godforsaken prison cell with him! After all the shit he’s put my family through! WE LEFT TOMMY IN THERE!”

“(Y/N).” Tubbo took a step towards her.

“No, I don’t have time for this shit. It’s just like exile.” (Y/N) scoffed, putting her hands in her pockets as she walked back to her room, slamming the door.

Tubbo was frozen in his spot as tears gathered in his eyes, (Y/N)’s old words screaming in his head.

It’s your fault!

Ranboo looked at his friend before quickly following after the girl knocking on the door.

“Go away!” She shouted.

“No, I won’t. That wasn’t fair. We’ve all lost someone today.”

(Y/N) boiled in her room as she stormed to the door and threw it open, tears stuck in her eyes.

“Yeah? Well, guess what? Life isn’t really fucking fair now is it?” Her shoulders were shaking in anger. “You know what my dad was doing at my age? He was fighting in a god damn war for a country that doesn’t even exist anymore! He lost two lives to a green fucking bastard. And now, he’s lost a third because no one listens when someone screams for help.”

Ranboo stood there in shock as she stared at him.

“You can’t tell me what’s fair. I watched my dad go through trial after trial. So, I mean this in the nicest way possible, fuck off.”

She closed the door again and locked it before sliding her back down against the door as she sat on the floor, letting her tears flow again as she was in privacy. It was going to be a long day…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tubbo and Ranboo let her have her privacy. Ranboo had decided he’d stay for a while as he figured his friend would need all the help he could get as he was grieving and also now had a grieving teenager living with him. The two didn’t see (Y/N) the rest of the day and the next morning came.

(Y/N) woke up from her spot on the floor trying to clear her mind and remember what happened. She wished she hadn’t as she pulled her legs up and hugged them with one arm and her other hand lightly gripped onto her bandana. Her thoughts went wild in the early morning light.

She didn’t have anything of her father’s. His gear would all be in the prison and she refused to ever be near that place again. The more important thing was the discs; she couldn’t ever get those. They were in Tommy’s ender chest. She’d never hear them again, not that she wanted to without Tommy…

If the adults had just listened to her, let her storm that building when she had the chance…!

It was her fault too…

No, none of this was her fault, it was the adults that wouldn’t listen!...

She held her head as her thoughts were scrambled in anger at herself and anger at others. She thought she was supposed to be sad but she was just…angry. Angry at Sam, Tubbo, Ranboo, Dream.

She remembered being angry when she thought her father was originally dead. Tubbo had been the primary target of her anger because he was Uncle Tubbo but he never listened to her anymore. He did a lot to reconcile with her over after everything was said and done, Tommy helping his best friend do so, wanting his daughter and friend to see each other as a family once again.

She felt guilt now for what she said the day before. She shouldn’t have brought up exile, Tubbo regretted it every day and tried so hard to reconnect with the two of them.

“(Y/N)?” Tubbo knocked on her door.

She didn’t move.

“(Y/N), this is my house, I have a key.”

“So?” She muttered.

“Please open the door.”

“Shouldn’t you be angry?” She asked instead.

“Why?” Tubbo questioned, confused.

“…I brought that time up.”

Tubbo felt his heart pound a little harder before he took a deep breath. “Can I come in please?”

She huffed, but got up slowly and opened the door, Tubbo standing there with a plate of food and water. He came in, putting the plate and cup down on the nightstand as (Y/N) sat on the bed. Tubbo sat next to her, connecting his hands as he looked down at them.

“I know…I messed up back then. Things might have been different if I had listened to you like I was supposed to. I was supposed to take care of you for…for Tommy.” His breath shook. “I failed…in a lot of different ways with a lot of different things. I tried to make it all better after. When he got stuck in the prison, I didn’t tell you,” Tubbo looked at her with tears in his eyes, “but I went to Sam privately demanding to know why he wouldn’t let Tommy out. I was trying to make sure I did it right this time. I wouldn’t let this be exile.”

(Y/N)’s guilt piled on her as tears welled in her eyes. Tubbo put an arm around her shoulder before pulling her into a hug as he put his head on top of hers.

“I don’t know what happened in there but I promise you, I will find out,” Tubbo promised with his whole heart. “For myself, you, and Tommy, I’ll figure out what happened.”

“I’m sorry Uncle Tubbo.” She cried on him now.

“It’s alright. I’m angry at everything too.” He muttered. “But we’ll figure it out.”

He let her cry it all out on him as he let a few of his own tears drip before making sure she ate and drank.

“I’m not going to force you to do anything,” Tubbo told her as he took the half-eaten plate. “I’ll be here though if you need anything.”

“…Uncle Tubbo?”

He stopped at the door, looking at her.

“I want to make a memorial for dad.” She whispered.

His whole body softens as he thought before nodding. “Ok, we can do that. Get dressed and we’ll go work on it now.”

Tubbo went out with (Y/N), letting Ranboo know what they were doing and the hybrid let them have their moment. Tubbo built a wooden headstone as (Y/N) gathered a few flowers and paused in her work before she got a jukebox to rest next to the headstone. As the last piece of their exhausting work, they made a bench together and both hesitated.

“I’m…I got a disc, hang on.” He muttered.

He went back inside to get a disc as (Y/N) stood there, staring at the memorial they had built, cobblestone outlining the area. Tubbo came back, turning a disc in his hand.

“It’s…not one of his. But I know he’ll appreciate it where ever he is.”

He put the disc on and stepped back. He motioned to the bench as the music started to play. (Y/N) couldn’t even produce tears as she sat in the middle of the bench, Tubbo on her left. They both stared at the words Tubbo had carved into the wood before (Y/N) spoke.

“You remember that play he loved?” (Y/N) muttered.

“Yeah, Hamilton. He managed us all tickets because said he couldn’t live with a daughter who hadn’t seen it.” Tubbo laughed quietly at the memory.

“There’s a few words that keep playing in my head from one of the songs.” She looked at her hands. “And then we'll teach them how to say goodbye. …Dad never taught me how to say goodbye…”

“…Well, we’ll make this our last time with…Tommy…and we’ll learn to say goodbye together.”

(Y/N) put her head on Tubbo’s shoulder and he hugged her close as the jukebox stopped playing.

“And now it’s quiet uptown…” She mumbled.

Tubbo couldn’t help a soft smile. Tommy loved that play and (Y/N) had adopted it onto herself, learning every single song just like him. She dozed off on Tubbo’s shoulder and he sat there like that for just a little longer.

“I’ll make sure it’s not always quiet. I’ll take care of her Tommy. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days dragged on.

Tubbo and Ranboo took turns making sure (Y/N) would eat and drink. It was three days before she left her room to walk around. When she was finally walking around again and eating full plates of food, Tubbo decided to start his investigation into Tommy’s death. He promised (Y/N) he’d figure it out and he would, for his, hers, and Tommy’s sake. This shouldn’t have happened and he’ll be damned if it goes unsolved.

Ranboo was to stay with (Y/N) in Snowchester, just to be sure she’d be alright. He was waiting with breakfast in the morning, Tubbo having gone in the early, early morning, but there was no sign of the teenager after an hour of waiting. Getting up, Ranboo knocked on her door.

“(Y/N)?” He called softly.

He thought it was only fair if she was upset in her room. He was still processing the fact one of his friends was gone. There were small tracks of burn marks from when he had cried originally, his tears having run out now after the past few days. He couldn’t imagine though what (Y/N) must feel every day.

“(Y/N), can you open the door?” He reached out again.

She still gave him no answer and he sighed.

“I got to come in, so freak out.”

He opened the door and looked around the room. Instead, he was the one freaking out as he saw an empty room and an open window.

“Oh, oh god. Where is she?” He ran to the window, looking out to see slowly fading footprints from the falling snow. “Crap. Ok, I just got to find her.”

He ran to put on his warm clothes before moving quickly to not lose the tracks. They lead on and on, all the way to the edge of the snowy biome and towards the Dream SMP land.

“Where did she go?” Ranboo panicked as there was no way to track her from here.

He’d just have to work his way around the land. There was one place he could think of first, the hotel. Tubbo had told Ranboo that (Y/N) would now be the owner of the hotel according to Sam Nook once she was ok again. It was Tommy’s final project and he assumed she’d be there. So, he ran down the path towards the hotel but sputtered to stop as he saw a familiar figure sitting on a bench with a disc playing in the jukebox next to the bench.

Ranboo hesitated as they were in their own world as they stared at the rising sun, but he came over because he needed to know.

“Hey.” He said as he stopped a few steps away.

(Y/N) jumped as she looked over at him.

“Oh, hey.” She gave him a weak smile. “I…didn’t really process how late it was, you came looking for me?”

“Yeah, I did. You had me worried. Luckily, Tubbo was doing something else.” He said as he sat on her right, making her stiffen. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…dad sat there.”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” He stood up, instead sitting on her left, making her relax. “Is that why you sit in the middle?”

She hesitated before nodding. “Tubbo on my left and dad on my right…We’d sit here some days for hours and just…watch the sun go up then down. I couldn’t think of anywhere else better to go…”

Ranboo nodded, not sure why she needed to go here. Then again, as he looked behind him, of course, there was her old home. A few monuments had been constructed for Tommy.

“What did you want to do here?” He asked carefully, looking at her as she was watching the skyline again.

“…It’s stupid.” She muttered standing up.

“No, no, it’s ok. I won’t judge you. I won’t even write it in my memory book if you don’t want me to.” (Y/N) looked at him and he stood up, towering over her but he crouched a bit as he put his hands on her shoulders. “I would never want to hurt you.”

(Y/N) sighed as she looked at the bench and jukebox, finished playing the song.

“Dad…Dad told me he and Uncle Tubbo heard Wilbur, actually Wilbur. And…” She rubbed her arm, shrugging.

“You wanted to see if Tommy would come.”

She nodded, a few stray tears coming loose and burning his enderman hand as he wiped them away but he didn’t flinch. “I just…I never got to say goodbye you know? I’ve never lost anyone really. Sure, I lost Uncle Wilbur but then I got Uncle Ghostbur, who was everything I loved before Wilbur went crazy. So, I never lost him. I didn’t have to say goodbye. But with dad…there’s nothing and I just…”

Ranboo stood up and pulled her close into a hug, she hugging him back as she buried her face in his chest.

“I just wanted him back one more time so I could tell him I loved him and say goodbye.” She gripped onto his shirt.

“He knew you loved him; I know he did and he loved you so much. When I first met Tommy, he just kept going on about you and I thought you must be the happiest girl in the world to have such a loving dad like Tommy.” Ranboo muttered as she sniffled. “I wish I could say goodbye to him too…maybe we can do it a bit differently though.” She looked up at him and he gave her a sad smile. “Let’s get some flowers.”

Together, (Y/N) and he gathered white and red flowers close by and planted them right outside the door. They both stood side by side and (Y/N) looked up at Ranboo at what to do next. Ranboo took a deep breath before stepping forward.

“There’s…not much I can do so this is how I’m supposed to deal with this. I got some flowers with (Y/N) for you to make this little shrine, to help move on.” Ranboo had so many words to say, some of them cruel about the response of others in the world around them but he held his tongue to repeat them for another time when (Y/N) wasn’t beside him, looking for closure herself. “There’s not really much we can do…with you gone. I know I’m forgetful, but I won’t forget you and I wanted to save this memory of your place like this. I’m sure it won’t be here forever as many things you created…were destroyed. But, the one thing that can’t be broken, that can’t be destroyed…is what you left behind…and the people you left behind.”

Ranboo looked at (Y/N), seeing her with new tears as she lightly gripped her bandana. He looked at the allium he had in his hands before looking back at the empty house.

“Remember this? I gave you one of these and you immediately insulted me…That was the first time we interacted.” He remembered, (Y/N) giving a sad laugh. “I gave you one of these, you insulted me, and then…I helped with the thing that led you…to your demise…” It was all quiet as the pair stood there. “So, so here Tommy.” He put the flower on the ground in front of the door. “Have a flower…” They stood silent. “There’s no one there to pick it up anymore…so that means… goodbye Tommy.”

He stepped back, (Y/N) standing there before walking forward, looking at Ranboo.

He nodded encouragingly and she took a deep breath.

“I…I came to the prison after I heard what happened. I…I don’t know if you heard me…but I shouted that I loved you and that I’d make sure you get out. I promised myself that it wouldn’t be like exile. That I’d make sure someone would get you out and Sam promised he would…” She played with her hands. “I could blame a lot of people…but I can’t. All I can blame is Dream. People should have listened but it was Dream’s fault. You always told me that.

“You did so much for so many different people and people try to prove wrong but I know what you were really like because…you were my dad. You were the best. And…I’m going to miss you so much…There’s so much you didn’t get to teach me. One of them being, you never taught me how to say goodbye. But don’t worry Mr. Hamilton.” She smiled sadly at the door, tears trailing down. “I’ll figure it all out. It may be quiet right now but hopefully, I can hear everything again and remember what it was like to be happy, just for you.”

She played with her bandana, sighing quietly.

“I love you so much daddy, and I miss you. I have to say goodbye though, one last time. Till we meet again.”

She turned from the door and started walking. Ranboo put a hand on her shoulder as he walked with her, neither seeing the figure currently invisible to the human eye.

Tommy smiled sadly as he picked up a ghost of the flower left in front of him and moved past them, kicking up wind that made (Y/N) bandana dance in the wind. He knew she’d be ok…

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #tommyinnit x reader #tubbo x reader #ranboo x reader

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

Recovery? (Adrenaline Junkie Part 5)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: PTSD, sleep paralysis, hallucinations, swearing, mentions of death/injury, depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation (marked so you can skip if it’s a major trigger for you), self harm (also marked), phantom pain syndrome

Word count: 3,722

Disclaimer: I have not experienced PTSD, sleep paralysis, hallucinations, or phantom pain syndrome, so I’m sorry if they aren’t portrayed correctly

When a wild bird can’t fly, it’s defenseless. It feels trapped even if it can still walk away. It feels alone even if it’s surrounded by other birds. If a bird loses the ability to fly, a piece of it is missing. A piece of itself. Something that it values as something unique to it and only it. It loses most mental stimulation and becomes numb until it can feel freedom again.

It’s been about two months since you respawned and you honestly felt so restless. You wanted to fly through the sky again, feeling the air move freely between your feathers. You wanted to weave in and out of the clouds. You wanted to feel something other than fear. When you’re not scared, you don't feel anything. You missed skydiving. You wanted, no, you craved the feeling of adrenaline flowing along every little nook and cranny in your cardiovascular system.

You found out that you get flashbacks whenever you see someone or something hulky and covered in a dark green color. You still haven’t told your family about this, you thought that it was something silly to be afraid of. You tried your hardest to avoid Philza the most; he always wore his favorite color with pride. You still haven’t apologized for screaming death threats at him when you were going through an episode.

You only had one other major hallucinogenic episode since the first one, but it wasn’t as bad as the first one.

You woke up in the middle of the night with the moonlight beaming through your window illuminating the silhouette of The Warden standing in the corner of your room. You willed yourself to open your mouth to scream for your brothers, but you couldn’t move. You could only watch it.

The telltale glowing drool fell from the corners of its wide mouth, mixing with the blood dripping off from its long claws. Its chest rhythmically glowed as the things writhing in it managed to squeeze through the small gaps between the bony confines of its ribs. The white wisps flew around your room freely, bouncing off your walls with thuds and eventually settling to float in front of your face.

You watched with wide eyes as their permanently gaping mouths struggled to form words. Somehow, you could see desperation in their empty eye sockets. A flurry of whispers met your ears, but you couldn’t make out anything they were saying. It was too jumbled.

You heard The Warden slowly drag its feet along your carpet over to your bed. The wisps started to thrash about and scream as it reached out and scooped them all up easily with a single swipe of a hand. It shoved them into its mouth and they reappeared behind the confines of its ribcage, the screaming getting louder and more distorted as they got swallowed. Multiple voices were shrieking with agony and anguish as The Warden turned its attention towards you. It bent over and hovered its face over yours as its drool and drops of blood started to drip onto your cheeks. You felt its rancid breath fan over you. It had hints of iron and rot.

Your mind was screaming at your body to move away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t have control anymore. Your breathing picked up as you felt your heart beat out of your chest. It just hovered over you doing nothing, like it was enjoying seeing your fearful eyes. Like it enjoyed the feeling of having complete power over you.

Your breath caught in your throat as it got closer to you, its mouth getting dangerously close to engulfing your entire head. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried with all your might to move any part of your body. After a while, your head slightly moved to the side. Gradually, you worked your way up to moving your head fully to the side. You felt all your muscles activate at once as you shot up from your bed with a strangled gasp.

You frantically flattened your body against the wall, reaching a shaking hand between the wall and mattress to grab the iron dagger you hid there. Holding it defensively in front of you, you scanned the room. There was not a single thing out of place. Everything was just as you left it before you went to bed.

You covered your mouth as sobs threatened to burst from your chest like the wisps in The Warden’s. You brought your knees up to your chest and buried your head in them. You didn’t sleep for a few days after that.

Other than the major episodes, your imagination placed The Warden everywhere you looked. You saw The Warden whenever Philza walked past you. You saw glimpses of it whenever you looked into the woods at night. You saw it behind you in the mirror reaching for your other wing. Sometimes, you thought you could hear the screams of the wisps in the distance.

Your entire family was constantly hovering over you; you always had at least one of the boys with you at all times. They wouldn’t let you out of the house.

Out of all of your family, Wilbur was probably the lesser of the evils. He didn’t judge you or question you, he just let you do your own thing. He would softly pluck the strings on his guitar and sing to you while you would lay on his bed. Those moments were one of the only moments where you would fully let your guard down and relax.

Hangouts with Techno were also pleasant, but he hasn’t looked you in the eyes since he helped you during your first episode. That was the only downside to it though; he would give you some of his mythology books to read or read them to you. His voice always soothed you as a kid. Sometimes, he would give you a hug when he saw that it was a rough day for you.

Tommy’s hang outs were kept to a minimal, the family didn’t trust him much because they thought his rambunctious and extrovert personality would overwhelm you. You were alone with him only twice out of the last two months. Usually, you both would lay on his bed and just talk about his life with the jukebox running softly in the background playing the discs that you and Philza gifted him during his first birthday with the family. He tried to get you to open up to him, but you always deflected. He shouldn’t know how fucked up you were, you vowed to protect him when Philza first brought him home. You would always protect your little brother, even if it was from yourself.

Before the incident, you would’ve killed to get more alone time with your father. But now, you tried to avoid Philza at all costs. You couldn’t help but see The Warden whenever you saw his tall form, green clothes, and large wings. When you had to hang out with him however, you wouldn’t look at him. You two would usually go to chop down trees or cook dinner together.

You felt incredibly guilty that you still haven’t apologized to him for everything you’ve put him through. Whenever you brought yourself to glance at him, he was always looking at you heartbroken. You knew that the outcomes of your first death gave the entire family some form of trauma, but you saw that it hit your dad harder than the others. You did threaten to kill him in graphic ways and you did hit him in your panicked stupor. You really needed to apologize for that. You probably should tell him about your silly little fear of green. You were going to wait until he was in his pajamas to apologize; they usually didn’t have much green.

You loved your family of course, but you were always the type of person to require some alone time to function, even before the incident. You felt incredibly drained physically, mentally, and emotionally. It took you a tremendous amount of effort to get out of bed in the mornings. You didn’t see any meaning in life anymore. Everything was gray and the only thing you actually felt was fear, so you didn’t see any point in getting up. The only reason you left your bed was because your brothers would coax you out. Everyday was monotonous.

*************************SUICIDAL IDEATION/SELF HARM*****************************

Your mind was always coming up with intrusive thoughts about killing yourself. When you did the dishes, you always imagined yourself gliding blades vertically along your wrists and just letting the blood pool out and mix with the dishwater. When you cooked breakfast, you would imagine placing your hand inside the burning flame of the stove. When you were staring out of the window at night looking for The Warden, you would imagine yourself disappearing into the woods to look for a creeper to blow you up. When you passed the potion chest, you imagined chugging poison so you could feel something before you died. Whenever you used an ore during crafting, you always thought about going back to the cave so you could be put out of your misery again. It did a damn good job at killing you the first time. Who knows, maybe The Warden would be merciful this time. The most common thought was finding a tall cliff or mountain and jumping off to finally feel the wind between your feathers and the adrenaline running through you for the last time. You daydreamed about that last one a lot.

The little scrapes you got on the little tasks given to you by your family gave you a smidge of pain. A smidge of feeling other than numbness or suffocating fear. So, in a desparate attempt to feel something, you started to cut yourself You have a dagger hidden in your room that your family didn’t know about and you constantly wore a long sleeved cloak to hide your wing so you could easily hide the cuts. It would give you some light in the dark abyss that was your current mental state.

Sometimes, you would make small cuts on your wrists and thighs when everything was too overwhelming, but the relief it gave you wouldn’t last throughout the day. You were scared to cut deeper. You didn’t want to deal with infection or smuggling healing potions underneath your family’s noses. You would probably get caught and they’d take away the very little freedom and control you had in your life.

**********************SUICIDAL IDEATION/SELF HARM OVER*************************

You grunted in discomfort as you chopped some wood with Philza behind your house. It was a bad day for the phantom pains in your absent wing, you felt shooting pain and itchiness along where it was supposed to be all day long. You heard him pause his actions and walk over to you. When he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, you squeezed your eyes shut as you remembered the way he grabbed you the day you respawned.

“Are you alright hun?”

Shrugging off his hand, you continued to chop lumber. “I’m fine Dad.”

“Are you sure? You looked like you were in pain.”

You sighed, “It’s… it’s just a bad day for the pain.”

“Where does it hurt? I can go grab you a potion.”

He sounded like he always did when he talked to you, concerned. You wanted to be treated like a normal person again. You didn’t like it when your family walked on eggshells around you constantly, it made you feel like a stranger in your own home.

“My right wing hurts. And potions don’t help, I’ve tried that. There’s nothing you can do.”

He paused for a second. You imagined him furrowing his brows and tilting his head lightly to the side as he contemplated what you said. It was the first time you opened up to him about anything. “...Your wing still feels things?”

You grunted as you swung the axe down onto the log, “Yeah, it feels things sometimes. It’s mostly a shooting pain or an itching sensation where I don’t have a wing. There’s nothing I can do about it, so I’m learning to live with it.”

“How long has this been happening?”

Your mind flashed back to the conversation you two had a year ago. “Since I lost it.”

“Why don’t we turn in for the night? The sun is starting to set and we’ve got enough wood to last us a week.”

You silently nodded and bent over to pick up the logs you chopped. Grabbing as much as your arms could hold, you put the planks into the chest next to the back door. Turning around to grab more, you jumped back when your eyes met with Philza’s chest. His hand was outstretched towards you. You hugged your body as you looked away from him.

“(Y/n), you’re not okay. Please just let me help you.”

“...I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”

“You haven’t spoken to anyone about your emotions, bottling it up isn’t good hun.”

“That’s because I don’t have anything to talk about.”

He sighed, “Why don’t we get your brothers to cook dinner so we can have a little chat. Meet me in your room.”

Wordlessly, you walked back into the house and straight up to your room. Sitting on the bed, you put your head in your hands as you waited for the inevitable vulnerability. After a couple of minutes, you heard a gentle knock on your door. It opened to reveal your dad smiling at you.

Glancing back at your hands, you slipped your hand under the sleeve of your cloak to pinch the skin so you could try to ignore him when he walked over to sit next to you. You turned your head away from him.

You felt the mattress shift under his weight when he sat next to you. You felt his breath tickle the top of your head as he spoke to you, “please, talk to me.”

“I’ve already told you, there’s nothing to talk about Dad.”

“...You’ve been seeing The Warden whenever you look at me, haven’t you?” He sounded so broken. It must be hard to have your own child avoid you because you reminded them of their murderer.

You were quiet for a few moments while you battled against the tears that threatened to leak from your eyes. Swallowing thickly, you shakily said, “I’m sorry Dad, I’m so sorry. I-I see it when I see you. I see it everywhere.”

“Hey,” he gently said, “it’s alright. Nothing’s your fault, you can’t control it. Is there anything… specific that reminds you of it?”

“...Yeah, I see it vividly when I see something tall and… and dark green. I can’t help but to see it when I see you.”

He felt his heart sink. He always wore green, no matter the day. He was basically torturing his child just by being around them. God, what kind of father was he if he didn’t realize that sooner? He felt like a failure.

You spewed reassurances at him when you heard his breath hitch. “Dad, it’s not your fault, you didn’t know about it. It’s just a stupid fear and it’s my fault for not getting over it. I-I’ll do better. I can-”

“Stop. Nothing is your fault and it’s certainly not stupid. You’re traumatized, (y/n), you’re traumatized and it’s nobody’s fault except The Warden’s,” it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “Would you feel more comfortable if I changed clothes?”

“You- you don’t have to. I don’t want you to change anything because of me.”

“(Y/n), I’m your father. I’ll do anything if it means you feel better, I want to help you get better. Changing what I wear isn’t a big deal. I’ll be right back.”

“You really don’t have to, Dad.”

“Nonsense, I’m going to go change. It’s really not a big deal.”

He stood up and speed walked out your door. You felt awful, he was changing because of you. Because you were scared of a fucking color. You needed to get a grip. You were weak.

The door opened again to reveal Philza dressed in an old white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. His wardrobe was very limited when it came to colors other than green; it was strange seeing him in anything but green. You felt a little more at ease around him, but you still couldn’t look him in the eye. You still felt guilty.

Sitting next to you again, he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “It’s been a while since I’ve worn these, I uh forgot how comfy they are.”

You two sat in an awkward silence. It was obvious that he was lying to you about liking them. He was shifting his wings around uncomfortably and shifting on the mattress. With wings, it was hard to find fabric that didn’t irritate the base of the wing. The base of the wings were more sensitive than any other body part.

“You’re lying.”

“Lying? About what hun?”

“About being comfortable. They’re irritating your wings aren’t they? This is why you shouldn’t change anything about yourself for me, I just screw things up for everyone.”

“No you don’t-”

“Yes I do, Dad. Let’s be honest here, I’m a complete fuck up. I mess up everything I’m near. I messed up the family. Everything’s different because of me.”

He moved to kneel in front of you, placing both his hands firmly on your shoulders.

“Look at me, (y/n).”

When you didn’t make any move to look up from your tightly clasped hands, he gingerly moved your chin up and put his hand back on your shoulder. His face was stern and his blue eyes were blazing. Oh god, you really fucked up didn’t you? You knew you shouldn’t have told him anything.

“You are not a fuck up. Do you hear me? You. Are. Not. A. Fuck up.”

“But-”

“Ah,” he sharply chided, “I’m not done. You aren’t a fuck up. You couldn’t control what happened to you. You didn’t know that you’d die when you went into that cave. You didn’t know that you’d lose a limb. You didn’t mess up the family, you could never, ever, do that… (Y/n), change was bound to happen sooner or later. Everything changes, that’s just how life works. Even if we didn’t want change, it’s inevitable.”

He could tell from your bloodshot eyes and wobbling chin that you were about to cry, it was always your tell as a child. In that instance, he saw you as the kid that came running to him after you scraped your knee. An innocent kid that always saw the good in the world. He pulled you into his chest and gently wrapped his wings around you, humming the song he would sing to you when you had a nightmare as a child.

“It’s alright, hun, let it out.”

You finally broke, throwing your arms around him and sobbing into his chest. Your body shook with muffled sobs as you released all the pent up emotion you’ve been deprived of in the last two months. It felt nice to talk to your dad again, to be close to him again. For the first time in two months, you felt completely safe. Your dad will always protect you.

“It’s been so hard Dad,” you blubbered out. “I don’t know what to do. I’m broken, Dad. I can’t be fixed. I feel so empty.”

“Hun, no. You can be fixed, it just takes time. We’re here for you. Me, Technoblade, Wilbur, and Tommy. We’re always going to be here for you no matter what. We’ll help you.”

You fell silent as your body convulsed with silent sobs. You two sat there for what seemed like hours before you finally ran out of tears. You pulled back from him and wiped at your snotty nose.

“I never apologized for what I said to you two months ago. I-I shouldn’t have said any of those things. It hurt you in ways that I’ll probably never understand, and… I’m sorry Dad.”

“(Y/n), you don’t have to apologize. You were scared and you were trying to protect your brothers. That was really brave of you to do, I’m proud of you.”

You threw yourself at him again in a tight, one-winged hug. He chuckled as he hugged you back.

“…Thank you Dad, for everything.”

“Anything for you,” he glanced at the clock you made on your wall. “It’s almost dinner time, let’s go see if your brothers burnt down the kitchen.”

You genuinely smiled at that, remembering the last time your brother cooked together. It was a couple of years ago when you and Philza were coming back from visiting a nearby village. Philza thought it was a spectacular idea to give your brothers the task of cooking dinner. That day, you two came home to a fire engulfing the entire stove and your brothers arguing about whose fault it was. Since then, they weren’t allowed to cook together.

“That’s a good idea, remember the last time they cooked together?”

He chuckled. “Don’t remind me, I nearly pulled out all my feathers cuz of the stress it gave me. I think it even gave me a few gray hairs.”

You snorted. “Well, they’re quiet. Too quiet. We need to go down there before they burn down the house.”

He kissed your hair before you stood up and started to walk to the kitchen. He followed suit, throwing an arm over your shoulders and pulling you into his side. Surprisingly, they didn’t burn down the kitchen. Instead, they actually cooked dinner well. Some of it was burnt, but to their credit, they hadn’t cooked together in a while.

At the dinner table, you felt like you were part of the family again. You laughed with your brothers when Philza scolded them for something they said. You felt like there was a giant weight lifted off from your shoulders. Of course, you were still traumatized and had other issues you had to work out, but now you knew you had your family to help you through it. You wouldn’t ask for anything different.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws @goldenstarofthunderclan @ravennightingaleandavatempus @dirtydiavolo @yeiras-world @immadatmostthings @hee-hee-haw @jackalopedoodles @m1lkmandan @vanhakirja @im-a-depressed-gay @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @questioning-sanity @camisascam @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @kakamiissad @jayistrash @lifestylesleep @speedymaximoff @sun-shark-tooth @appetiteofapeoplepleaser @lestrangenymph @kinismanditory @dragons-lurk-here @rinzyx05 @the-wandering-pan-ace @sparkling-gayyyy @angelic-scent @shinipii @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander @izzydimensional

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thatoneao3writer · 3 years

Note

Aldofbeodbb. Valentines day shenanigans in the TT AU. The chaos.

Skeppy full on gets flowers, chocolates, love letters - the whole shabang - delivered to Bad. He obviously jus sees it as a cute friendship gift -_-

Sapnap spends the day walking past Quackity, tossing heart chocolates at his head each time but saying nothing. (Wait a sec. What's Karl in this AU? :0)

Dream is extra nice to George on that day. Bakes him somewhat edible cookies "for no reason whatsoever. Jus felt in the mood to ba- No Sapnap you can't have any"

Velvet takes Ant out for a day of prank pulling, they eat dinner on top of a building during the sunset. Except it's midday and the orange glow is all the fires they've accidentally started. Ant will put them out when he's done eating XD

Tommy gets Tubbo a box of chocolates. He opens them n there's only a piece of paper inside with a picture of Tommy's middle finger on it.

Ranboo is too shy to talk to Tubbo but webs a box of chocolates and a lil note with a smiley face to his bedroom window.

Techno sends Wilbur a wax sealed letter with "Congrats on still being single" in nice calligraphy written inside.

Awesomedude mods Ponk's arm to shoot heart shaped discs for the day. He spends the next day filling in all the heart-shaped holes in the base. No complaints because this was kinda his fault.

Puffy gets everyone flowers for their room. Even sends some to Skeppy and Sapnap because they're technically part of the family. Skeppy's has a little note with "You tried <3" on it. He expected that XD

Phil takes Kristin out to a meadow for a picnic. Tubbo's chasing Tommy around in the distance, screaming something about "you're so mean". Movie night when they get back. He gets a message partway through from Techno. Apparently Wilbur painted d*cks all over the mansion.

Schlatt emails everyone suggestive photos of grass so no one feels comfortable leaving the house for at least a week. True villain style XD

Each time I check ur blog I get so many more ideas. This is fantastic!!! You're the best! :D

AAAAAAAAAAAAA /pos CANON! EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE IS CANON!!

And for the Karl question, he is a tired college student who is friends with Alex.

Since Quackity is a shapeshifter, he really doesn’t have an identity. You won’t ever see him with the same face because he himself doesn’t know what his true face is. But whenever he’s not in the Hive base, he’s going to school as a guy named Alex (his face is cc!Quackity’s face).

Sapnap eventually found out what Quackity does during his free time and decided to tag along (he learned how to cloak with Bad’s help). The three become great friends and even went through a love triangle phase till they realized they all love each other equally.

Karl has time related powers, he can go back and forth through time whenever he wants, but he doesn’t use it for good or evil, instead he uses it to go back three minutes (or even three days) into the past/future just so he could do some pranks on his friends. He knows they’re both villains but he doesn’t say anything about it, they also don’t know he has his powers.

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lazuli-bloom · 3 years

Text

Roses and Styx

Chapter 1 - An Inconvenient Attachment

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5365

Sure life wasn’t always easy, it had it’s ups and downs, but you were doing alright for yourself. Mostly. However when you find a strange sight while on your lunch break one autumn afternoon, your life gets all the more unusual.

Archive | Next Chapter

--=--=--

The sun beat down on you, unobstructed by a single cloud in the vibrant blue sky. A pleasant breeze wafted by, chilling the heat of the sun’s kiss. Summer was in its death throes, but stayed determined to linger as long as possible. It gave an odd contrast to the scenery. The blazing warmth of a summer sun illuminating the turning leaves and tombstones on that early October afternoon.

You sat on a stone bench enjoying your lunch in the quiet peace of the graveyard. Most people avoided visits to the cemetery, not wanting to keep the company of the dead. You, however, frequented it. With few visitors and lovely Gothic inspired architecture, the cemetery made a relaxing place for lunch breaks. Plus, it was only a short walk from your job.

While there were benches throughout the graveyard, your favorite spot was one off in the corner and closest to the gate. That day, however, there had been a funeral held in that corner of the cemetery. So as not to impose, you picked a different bench to occupy. You tried to not let your gaze stay fixed on the graveside service, but the task proved to be easier said than done. The funeral repeatedly pulled your attention back to it by partly virtue of being an event you’ve rarely seen.

Many people, dressed in black, all focused on one grave. Most of the figures standing there were adults, but among the crowd were children clinging onto parents. The group was too far to get a proper look at any of the mourners, but there was one that stuck out. A man, slightly broad in build, wore a peculiar striped suit with wide vertical bars in black and white. You noted the clothing choice as strange, but tried not to judge. Perhaps he wasn’t able to get a solid black suit on short notice.

The strange pattern of the suit made it easy to pick him out against the other mourners. He didn’t stay still. He moved around, seeming to want to get other’s attention only to be ignored. The man’s bizarre actions, coupled with the indifference of the crowd, were major reasons you kept glancing back to the funeral.

You shake your head and check your phone, almost two o’clock. Time to head back to work. You grab your trash and get up with a stretch. With one last glance back to the funeral, you find the striped suit man looking back your way. You pay him no mind and check your phone once more before heading to leave.

To wring the most time and relaxation out of your lunch, you amble back to the hardware store. You turn to the next street where brick shops sat side by side. On the corner was a shop with a rounded, sun-faded green awning stretched over most of the front facade. Your eye glanced over the printed “Rose Creek Hardware” in yellow letters for what must have been the millionth time.

The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside. To your left an older mustached man stood behind the front counter. He wore a light blue button down under a green apron, both tight around his rounder stomach. He gave you a warm smile that you returned.

“Back from lunch already, Cass?”

“Yeah. It’s really nice out today, I can hardly believe it’s October already.”

“Hopefully, when I get the Halloween decorations up, it’ll give things a more autumn feel.”

“Can’t wait to see it, Mr. Turner! Oh, and is Sam still here? Or have they left already?”

“They’re still around. Sam was helping the new hire.”

You nod and make your way behind the counter to retrieve your apron. After you get the strings tied, you do a sweep of the store. You found Sam in the back corner pulling merchandise forward. They didn’t notice you straight away, so you softened your footsteps for your approach. You stayed at their back until they turned enough one way that you could slip around to their side and not get caught in Sam’s peripheral. Once close enough to the shelving yourself, you slap your hands down on a bare spot- “-Missed a spot!”

Sam seized up, grabbing the shelf for support. “Geez, dude! You trying to kill me?” A wide grin breaks across your face. You chuckle to yourself as Sam regained some composure. They took a breath, shot you a glare, and got back to work.

“Heard you were training the new guy.”

“Yeah, he left already.”

“What’s he like?”

“Eh. Kinda boring? White bread personified, if you ask me. Dude came in with a dress shirt and tie.”

You shrug and start helping pull forward items. While turning products to have labels front-facing you continue on with your conversation. “Sounds like all I’ll have left to talk to will be Mr. Turner.”

There was a pause in that moment, and a sting of sorrow poked at your heart. You do your best to smother the feeling and focus on your work. It’s better to cherish the moment. You force yourself to smile and keep your chat going.

“So, there was a funeral today-”

Sam groaned and rolled their eyes at you. “You went to that creepy graveyard again? How are you not haunted?”

“Hey! I told you, it’s close by and usually quiet. I enjoy taking my lunches there. Anyway, there was a funeral and one guy there was in a weird suit with black and white stripes. Kinda like the Hamburglar.”

“I swear. You’re a magnet for the weirdest shit. It’s all those shitty movies you watch that seep into your head. How the hell do you not get nightmares?”

You stay silent and look over the product in your hand as your mind wandered back to your most recent nightmare. Piercing blue dots masked in shadow, watching every move you made. You shake your head to dismiss the thought.

You huff out a small laugh. “Guess that stuff just doesn’t get to me.”

“Whatever. Just don’t let any of your weirdness rub off on my cat.”

You press your lips into a tight line and tap your finger against the pliers in hand. “You sure there isn’t anywhere else he can go?”

“Cassie, I already told you I checked.”

“I’m just worried. I don’t think this is a good idea. My apartment doesn’t allow pets.”

“It’s just for two weeks. I’ll pick him up on the sixteenth. Hell, that’s not even a full two weeks, just thirteen days. You’ll be fine.” Sam finished with their side of the aisle and took a step back. “When do you want me to drop him off?”

You breathe out through your nose and make a noise somewhere between a hum and a groan. “Seven should be alright. Donna’s always heads out to the bars on Saturdays, so it should be clear by then.”

“You need to lighten up and not worry so much. Maybe a cute roommate is exactly what you need.”

You don’t give a reply and go back to work. The two of you split off and start tackling other sections of the store. Time marched on, and all too soon, Sam’s last shift ended. Mr. Turner bid them a farewell with a handshake and handed Sam their last paycheck. You give them a small wave and focus back on your task. You knew full well you were going to see them later that night, so you didn’t see the point of having a drawn out goodbye right then.

Once Sam left, the rest of the day dragged on slower than a sloth on crutches. When there weren’t any customers needing help, you talked with Mr. Turner. It gave you something to do, sure, but time still crawled.

That day was one of the worst kinds you can have in retail. The kind that’s just slow enough you bored out of your mind, and peppered with enough customers that you couldn’t slack off and dick around on the store’s desktop. It’s like they coordinated to space themselves out to be the most annoying.

As grueling as it took to get there, five-thirty eventually rolled around. You and the boss took the last half hour to close the store. Sweep, wipe down the counters, count the till, all that good stuff. You were in the middle of dusting when Mr. Turner handed you an envelope. You thanked him and opened it to count the bills inside. Five whole Benjamins. With another thanks, you move the bills into your wallet and get back to dusting.

Once all finished, you headed out, followed by your boss. He locked the front door and walked with you around the side to the small parking lot. He hopped into his old pickup while you climbed into your little junker. The bucket of rust masquerading as a car was on its way out, but you planned on getting every mile out of it you could. Mr. Turner had driven off by the time you coaxed your car into starting. The car sputtered and hissed, but you got the clunker going.

The drive to your apartment complex was as mundane and silent as ever. Your only option for music was to sing it yourself, since the previous owner had beaten the hell out of the radio. CDs weren’t an option either as the owner before the last had stuffed the disc slot full of cookies. For what reason remained a mystery.

You drum your fingers on the steering wheel as you drove, watching familiar sites go by as you neared your apartment. Nicer well-kept buildings and streets slowly turned to the more rundown variety. The street grew more broken and in increasingly desperate need of repairs as you went.

Building after building, you passed by until finally it was time to turn off. You pull up to your complex’s parking lot, just as run down as the roads leading to it. Two buildings sat facing each other, both in contest for which one can be the most rundown. Your building nudged ahead of its twin with the recent addition of graffiti marring the exterior.

You park in your designated spot, managing to not bump up against the two cars encroaching on your space. You worm your way out without adding anymore dents to the black sedan, and head to the complex’s front door. Standing near the door with a cigarette between clawed yellowed fingers was a scrawny older woman with a perpetual sneer on her wrinkled face. Cold steel eyes narrowed at you as you dared to approach the harpy.

“Hi Donna. How are you?”

“Parker! Where’s the rest of your rent?”

You force a smile to mask the spike of irritation. This harpy is going to be the death of you. You clear your throat to help prevent your ire from bleeding out into your tone.

“Right here, Donna. I get my pay on Saturdays.”

“Not my problem. Rent is due in full on the first. Today is the third.”

“I tried paying you last Saturday, but you-”

“The first, you stupid child. Not Before. Not after.”

“Yes Donna, I know. I’m sorry, I needed to replace a flat tire an-.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just pay the rest of your rent and get out of my sight. You worthless leech, can’t even follow basic instructions.”

You press your lips into a tighter line to keep yourself from screaming at the horrid bat. It was best to bite your tongue and get the interaction over and done with as quick as you could. You pull out your wallet and hand over four bills. It was nice while it lasted.

Donna snatched the money from you and promptly counted it. Once satisfied, she took a long drag off her cigarette. She ordered you to leave while smoke seeped out of her mouth like a dragon.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You hurried off to your apartment, climbing the stairs to the second floor and making a beeline for your door at the end of the hall.

You shut the door, leaning against it and breathed out a deep breath. After calming yourself some, you set your keys on the counter by the door and step further into your little abode.

You make your way back to the small living room and crash on the dingy brown love-seat, tossing your phone onto the stained coffee table. You lean back and stare at the ceiling. A boring white painted over heavy popcorn texture, collecting all kinds of dust. You close your eyes and let your mind wander, wanting to squeeze some relaxation time out of the rest of the day. Too bad your phone rang.

Sam called to tell you they were on their way with the cat. You told them to be careful and not let Donna see them on the off chance that she hadn’t left for the bar yet. Sam, however, brushed aside your concerns and told you not to be so worried. You pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned at that. Sam wasn’t the one that had to deal with Donna and hopefully never will.

It wasn’t until a long while later that there was a knock at your front door. A quick check through the peephole showed you Sam was on the other side with a backpack and pet carrier. You open the door and hurry them inside. Sam stepped in, stopping in the space between the kitchen and living area, and looked over the place.

“Wow. This place is shitty.”

“Thanks, hadn’t noticed.”

Sam set the carrier down on your couch, and the cat inside growled in a low tone. Sam took off their backpack next and handed that one over to you.

“Here’s all of Rigel’s things; food, bowls, litter box, toys. I’ll be back in town to get the last of my stuff on the sixteenth, and I’ll pay you then.”

“I thought we agreed half now and half when you got back?”

“It’ll be easier to just pay you all at once.”

You drum your fingers on your thigh and let out a sigh. “Alright, fine. It will be nice to get two hundred dollars all at once.”

“See! You fuss over the smallest things.”

You change the topic by offering Sam something to drink but they declined. Sam still needed to pack up a few more boxes before the end of the night. You nod and give a small wave goodbye, only for Sam to pull you into a hug. Your muscles tense up, but you did your best to return Sam’s sudden hug.

There was a unique funk around Sam that made the hug even more challenging to bear. An overly strong lavender tried and failed to cover some mix of sweat and burnt coffee. Sam left shortly after, telling you to just call them should you need anything. You nodded and waved them off.

Once they left, you turn to Rigel stuck in his carrier. His hissing got louder the closer you got to the carrier, and was full on slashing at the front when you reached down to open it.

You recoil and let him be for the moment, choosing to set up his things in the bathroom instead. While your bathroom was on the smaller side, it seemed big enough for one cat to stay in. You pack up all the various toiletries that a bored cat might knock down and set out Rigel’s things. Litter box in the corner across from the shower stall, while his food and water were against the opposite wall between the door and the sink.

With that set up you go get the carrier. You did your best not to jostle it too much, but Rigel wasn’t pleased and let you know. He let out some of the most chilling demonic screeches as he knocked against the fabric carrier, desperate to break loose and slaughter you. You set the carrier down in the closet, closing one of the bi-fold doors so he had a dark corner to hide in. You braced yourself with a few steadying breaths before swiftly unzipping the front. Once open, you pull your hand back and leave the bathroom completely, making sure the door shut behind you.

You did your best to salvage the rest of your night, enjoying your cup of noodles while watching a movie. It was a B-Movie slasher about a supernatural being going on a killing spree in Las Vegas. And this somehow led to the being going to space in the next film. Overall, it was pretty cheesy, but got a few laughs from you.

Soon you had to wrap things up and head to bed. You sneak into the bathroom to swipe your toothbrush and clean them at the kitchen sink that night, and probably for the next two weeks. With a yawn and a stretch you change into sleepwear and crawl into your bed.

Sleep didn’t come to you easily, but it wasn’t a night full of endless tossing and turning, either. The rest you got didn’t feel like enough, as the buzzing of your alarm woke you too early for your liking.

You sat up rubbing your eyes and checked your phone for the time. The small screen on the back of the thin flip phone showed the time was seven o’ two. You heave out a sigh and pull the warm covers off.

While your body went through the motions of your morning routine, your mind wandered back to the images you saw in your dream. An island floated in the middle of a dark ocean with storm clouds rumbling high above. The cold wet sand pricked against your bare feet like needles, yet you kept on walking. You had found yourself on a rickety dock at least fifteen feet above the violent waves below. There was nothing around you, but you knew you weren’t alone. Down below, lurking beneath the water, two hungry orbs of blue glared up at you, waiting. Expecting. When you didn’t move from your perch, the beast thrashed at the pillars of the dock. You lost your footing and tumbled down to the abyss.

You shook your head, forcing your thoughts to jump back to the present. Chills ran down your spine as the nightmare crawled around in the back of your mind, clawing its way forward. You stuffed it as far back as possible and carried on with your morning.

You soon were out the door and on your way to work. You grip the toilet paper wrapped over your forearm, letting the lines of blood soak into it so it can better rest on your arm. Rigel had given you a few nasty scratches when you got him fresh water, the ungrateful bastard. At least there’s a first aid kit at work.

The bell above the door chimed as you looked at the time on your phone. The damn cat almost made you late for work. You make your way to the back room to grab your apron, only to bump into a man turning the corner. It took a second to get your bearings and notice you ran right into Mr. Turner.

“Oh shit. Sorry, sir.”

He laughed and waved you off. “Morning Cass, see you’re in a hurry.”

“Ah- no, well, kinda. I hit every red light getting here and-”

“You’re fine, don’t worry. No need to rush. Just get your apron and I’ll introduce you to the new guy.”

You nod and scurry back to grab the green apron. It hung by itself on the hooks, speckled in paint and smudges. By that point the thing was overdue to get tossed and replaced, but the same thing would end up happening to the next apron.

You throw it on and tie it behind yourself before going out to the sales floor. Mr. Turner stood next to a man younger than himself but older than you. The boss was the first to notice you and gave another wave. “There they are.”

The new guy turned and flashed you a wide smile, showing off straight white teeth in a hollow smile. Tamping down the disquiet, you force yourself to offer a smile in return. The man strode up to you and held out a hand. “Great to meet you, I’m Brandon! Mr. Turner was just telling me how great of a worker you are-” He squinted at your apron before going back to that fake smile- “Art. Interesting name.”

“Thanks,” you said, and hesitated a moment before taking his hand for a brief shake. On contact that strange buzz of discomfort shot from your palm through the rest of your arm. Once your hand was free, you fight the urge to rub off the non-existent traces of him. There wasn’t anything there, nothing real, and you knew that, but more than anything you wanted that feeling gone and the only way for it to leave was to brush it off. Why did people have to insist on handshakes, just needless physical contact with strangers? It’s stupid, and you hated it.

For the first half of your shift the boss had you go over the day-to-day tasks with Brandon. There were few customers in the store that Sunday morning, so you mostly had the guy pull forward merchandise and clean some shelves. Brandon did the tasks, but they all came with questions. Most of the questions were mundane things about the products stocked, store hours, and what times saw the most customers. The problem came when Brandon veered his questions towards you personally.

“So, is Art short for anything?”

“Artemis.”

Your answer was short and pointed. You already didn’t like that he was the type to read name tags over asking for someone’s name.

“Interesting. So you from around here?”

A shiver shot through you, and you’re quick to stop that line of questions. You ignore the question entirely, instead cutting in to tell him to finish front-facing the aisle while you go check on Mr. Turner.

The day dragged on until finally getting to your lunch break. Brandon, thankfully, caught on that you weren’t one to disclose much about yourself to a new face. However, that didn’t make the morning smooth sailing. You grab your lunch and speed off to the cemetery, eager to get a break from Brandon.

Your usual bench was free, and you took your place to enjoy lunch. Munching on your meal, you take in the sights, finding a serenity in the quiet. The sun shined brightly, causing some of the glossier headstones to reflect the rays. You hum to yourself and scan over the graveyard. To your surprise, you spotted someone in the far corner opposite you. Your brows furrowed, perplexed by the other. You watched the figure, curious of what they’re doing.

They wandered from gravestone to gravestone, kicking at the earth with hands stuffed into pockets. The build of the figure suggested a man, and one dressed in monochrome. You squint your eyes at them making sure you weren’t mistaken; but no, that was the same bizarre suit you saw a man wearing the day prior.

You keep your gaze fixed on him, wanting to figure out why he might be here a second day in a row visiting completely different graves. Did the man simply like to visit graveyards and have a limited wardrobe? If so, you didn’t want to comment on the matter out of fear of shattering the glass house.

You ate lunch with glances at the man. You wanted to piece together why he might be there. He wasn’t mourning; he moved from one grave to the next as if searching for something. The man in the weird suit went down one row of graves, heading away from you, only to hit the end and turn back for the next row.

You forced yourself to not look at him for fear of getting caught. But your curiosity burned, and you chanced a look up. He didn’t notice you, too engrossed in whatever he was doing. Embolden by that, you continue to munch away at your food and sneak glances at him. That is, until you swallowed wrong and went into a coughing fit.

You got your breathing under control a minute later and checked to see if he noticed. And oh boy, did he notice. The man was staring straight at you. It was awkward enough to get caught looking, but you noticed the man closing the gap between you two. He was still at the far end with well over two hundred feet between you, but you didn’t want to stick around and have that plummet to single digits.

Nope. You scoop up your belongings and speed-walk straight back to the store. You didn’t even chance a look behind you. Eyes forward and keep moving. You weren’t sure if he was actually still following; you didn’t hear any footsteps behind you. So that seemed like a good sign.

You blew past the door, bell violently chiming, and you made a beeline for the back. Your heart pounded against your ribs, wanting to break free and make a run for it. You take quick breaths, forcing the next to be longer than the last to get yourself to calm down. In the middle of collecting yourself, Mr. Turner walked into the back area with worry knitted on his brow.

“Cass, you alright? What’s wrong?”

“Is there a man in a striped suit in the store?”

He gave you a puzzled look, but left to do a sweep of the store. He came back half a minute later, shaking his head. “No, no one’s in the store dressed like that. What happened?”

“Nothing really. I just saw him in the cemetery and it looked like he was starting to follow me.”

He frowned. “Well, you just come to me if any creep is giving you a hard time. I’ll knock his teeth out for you.”

You manage a smile and nod. You take a few more breaths to calm down before you grab your apron. Things were going to be okay. The guy might not have even seen what store you went into. Heck, that guy probably didn’t even leave the cemetery. And even if he did, Mr. Turner was there to help you out of a tight spot. You smile a little brighter and step out onto the sales floor where you see the stripe suit guy looking at paint chips.

A strangled scream catches in your throat. You step back, dipping back into the employee’s only area of the store before he could see you. What the Hell were you going to do now? You couldn’t hide back there all day.

You push aside the fabric curtain dividing the sales floor from the back, and get a look at the man. With him much closer, you could see his green hair and the distressed look of his suit. He leaned forward, looking over the paint colors. Maybe he didn’t know you were back there. If so, you could wait in the back for a few minutes for him to just leave.

You close the curtain and slip your hands into your apron pockets. Your fingers brush over cool metal, and your thumb flicks up the slider on the side. It wasn’t much, but it was certainly better than nothing. Box cutter in hand, you look back out.

The stranger stayed put in front of the paint colors. You take a shallow breath, prepping yourself to go out. In the middle of psyching yourself up, you see Brandon wander over to the paint section. Hope bubbles up in you. The new guy can take care of him for you.

Brandon scanned over the section. He pushed down some color chips, looked over the desk before looking your way.

“Art! There you are.”

Brandon’s voice bellowed in the small store, not only earning a squeak from you but also causing the stranger to turn and look. You yank the curtain closed, hoping the man in the monochrome stripes didn’t get a good look at you.

Brandon parted the curtain a moment later and looked you over with knit brows and lips in a thin line. “Art, what are you doing back here? I don’t think it looks very professional for an employee to skulk around in the back all day.”

“The guy over at paint followed me from the cemetery.”

Brandon raised a brow at you. “There aren’t any customers in the store, and certainly not in paint, I would have seen them.” He pulled open the curtain with a flourish to reveal the man standing just on the other side. “See, no one’s there.”

Your eyes dart between the idiot holding back the curtain and the green-haired man tilting his head some with a grin plastered on his face. Thought processing came to a crawl as you tried making sense of what you were seeing. Your gaze lands on Brandon in the end.

“You don’t see anyone there?”

He rolled his eyes and looked back out to the sales floor. He then looked back at you with brows knitted further. “No, there’s no one there, Artemis. Perhaps you should stop taking your lunches in the cemetery if they’re just going to put scary thoughts in your head.”

Brandon frowned at you before stepping out onto the sales floor, going right through the man in the striped suit. He stopped to shiver, only to keep walking a second later. Once he left, your wide eyes landed on the man still standing there, still grinning and showing off sharp yellowed teeth.

“Hi there!”

Nope. Nope nope nope. You grab your box cutter and pull it out to point at the guy. And without a word you push aside the curtain more and go around the man. The man whined at your action and followed you.

“Come on babes! Don’t ignore me, I know you can see me!”

You keep walking, heading straight for Mr. Turner. He turns to you at your approach and the small smile fades from his face. “Cass? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The gravelly laugh behind you sent shivers down your spine. You did your best to shake off the feeling and forced a smile.

“I’m not feeling too good. I was hoping I could go home early today.”

His lips sink further into a frown, but he gave you a nod. “It’s fine by me. But what about that man you were talking about that followed you from the cemetery? Are you going to be okay?”

The man behind you continued to laugh. You tighten your hands into fists, the metal of the box cutter pressing hard into the flesh of your hand.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay Mr. Turner. See you tomorrow.”

He nodded, and you handed over your apron while keeping the box cutter in hand. You offer one last quick goodbye and head out the door, the bell only chiming once. You march down the sidewalk and hear the strange man continuing to talk.

“So, babes, where are we heading?”

You pause at your car door. You take a few quick breaths and finally respond to this... person. “I’m going home. I’m obviously not feeling well and seeing things that aren’t there.”

You slip into your car and promptly lock all the doors. You heave a sigh and lean against the steering wheel as your brain sorts through all this nonsense. A groan rumbles in your throat and you lean back in your seat. In your peripheral, the man in the striped suit sat in your passenger seat sporting a sharp grin. Well shit.

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #musical beetlejuice x reader #roses and styx #my writing

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biaswreckme · 2 years

Text

dancing with your ghost | sope

Summary: "I put the record on / Wait 'til I hear our song / Every night I'm dancing with your ghost"

Pairing: Yoongi/Hoseok

Member: Yoongi, Hoseok, the other boys are just mentioned in passing

Length: 1560 words

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Rating: 18+

Triggers/Warnings: major character death, depression, grief, mourning - but a hopeful ending

You can read it on: AO3

A/N: an au of ghost meets tale of the nine-tailed meets the song dancing with your ghost. thanks to my lobely beta for reviewing this sad fic T.T @kokawrites

The days are longer now. The first snow of the season has already fallen, covering every single surface in the vicinity in pure white - the same color Yoongi wore in a band around his arm that day a long time ago. Or was it just earlier today? Or yesterday? Time seems to run fast yet stand still all at once. Days blend into afternoons into evenings into nights into dawn and into days again, nature’s never ending cycle blurring his notion of how much time has passed. He is vaguely aware that it’s been quite some years, technology changing and evolving around him.

Sometimes the creatures in the forest hear his mourning cries and leave their sympathies, small offerings and tokens to try and appease the fox spirit inside of him, but it is of no use. He remembers his brothers used to ask him about a mate once each found their own. They said his day would come, that mating was an indescribable feeling and there was nothing like it. Then Yoongi found out. And then he lost it.

Hoseok came into his life on a day of first snow at their University, rushing from one class to another. He ran into Yoongi, making both of them drop their books, and upon that first look Yoongi felt the tug in his heart screaming at him to cherish, protect, and love. At first he thought he was mistaken, that his fox was mistaken. Hoseok was a human, how could that be? All of his brothers’ mates were like them, mating with a human was unheard of. But those heart-shaped lips smiled so wide Yoongi didn’t stand a chance.

He also didn’t stand a chance in saying a proper goodbye.

The first time the record didn’t want to play he felt like his heart was being scratched alongside the disc, pulled out again, left to bleed out. He needed to hear their song, needed to feel like Hoseok was still with him, was still in his arms, pulling him to dance in the middle of their one-bedroom-slash-living-room apartment. Even if he was already tired from dance practice and teaching, he still managed to tug Yoongi to share his last dance before bed. “I always want my last dance of the day to be with you,” Hoseok had said. Except for that day.

He went out to buy some new equipment that same day, trying to salvage the record, and instead he came back with a mobile phone and a new account filled with their favorite songs available with just a touch of a finger. Now he just opens the app and chooses their playlist, the same song playing over and over again on repeat without a chance of scratching now.

Hoseok had always been human, too human with his injuries, sprained ankles, and sore muscles that didn’t heal for days. Every day Yoongi was reminded of Hoseok’s fragility, of his humanity. Hoseok was kind and caring. He brought out a brighter side in Yoongi. For example, Yoongi never thought he’d like pet names. Yet there he was calling Hoseok Hobi and Hope, and Hoseok calling him Suga. Yoongi’s brothers and Hoseok’s friends - then Yoongi’s friends too - jokingly called them Sope, a portmanteau of their names expressing how attached and in love they were. Or are. His love has never gone away or diminished, it is there, just lonelier now.

Whenever Hoseok left the dance studio late at night, Yoongi waited, dinner and a bath ready. And that night he waited. And waited.

And waited.

And waits.

When he showers now he never lingers more than necessary in front of the mirror. He also tries to avoid touching the spot as much as he can, that one spot Hoseok chose for their mating ritual and bite. He feels the raised skin and his entire being hurts, aches from loneliness and the loss of his mate.

But he also tries to remember the day of the ceremony with fondness, longing, wishing he could be transported to that day again. They were so nervous, but everyone was so accepting and explained how it worked; it was the perfect moment for them. Hoseok looked so beautiful. He was so beautiful, but that particular night he looked stunning, his eyes sparkling with happiness as they stood under the moonlight with the snow falling down to bless them, the spirits of the forest alive and sharing their joy.

The mating evening they yelled at the sky in ecstasy.

Now Yoongi screams at the world in pain.

He got a call that night. There was something in the pit of his stomach that had him unsettled, and the reason came in that phone call.

Just as now his days blend into nights, the walls of the hospital seemed to blend into one another as he rushed into the emergency room, into that long and too bright corridor. He ran as fast as he could, but it was still too late.

He vaguely remembers someone holding him up. Another person said they would make the necessary arrangements. A familiar voice and scent stood by him the entire time, anchoring him, but he didn’t know which of his brothers it was, and he is too ashamed to admit it to this day. Nothing from those days, those weeks, those first months made sense to him.

People came and went, leaving him food, cleaning around him, stopping when he started shouting and the fire inside him threatened to come out if they came close enough to taint Hoseok’s remaining scent. Nine-tailed foxes - at least amongst his family - were not known to nest, but for days on end he could not leave the comfort of every piece of fabric that vaguely smelled like his mate.

He heard someone visiting saying he was going feral, giving in too much into his instincts. He just huddled under the blanket, ignoring them until they went away.

But he almost went feral when he overheard a passerby saying a human was not worth all this grieving.

Hoseok was his human. His mate. His hope of being a better person in this world. But now there is no hope in loving or trusting another person as much as he did Hoseok - or at all. Funny. No hope. He used to say Hoseok was his Hope. And now he is Hopeless.

As he gripped Hoseok’s cold hand tightly in his, the same thoughts crossed his mind in an almost infinite loop. Please be born again. I will wait forever, however many lifetimes it takes for you to find me again. Please come back to being my mate. I miss you. Please be born again. I will wait forever, however many lifetimes it takes for you to find me again. Please come back.

Please.

Yoongi felt nothing when they caught the culprit. It was just a drunk kid who crossed the wrong lane and lost control of the vehicle, going into the sidewalk.

Yoongi felt no pity for the stupid kid.

Yoongi felt no need for revenge. He honestly thought that something from his world would take Hoseok out, but he was wrong. It was something completely and stupidly human.

He felt nothing when he received the compensation from the lawsuit.

He felt nothing.

Yoongi has felt nothing but despair since that day.

Living in reclusion has been perfect for him except for that one time each month he needs to drive to the shops in the nearest town to get supplies. His truck takes some time to function whenever he needs in these cold mornings, but he is used to it. His journey into the town is always uneventful. He could drive the path with his eyes closed by now, his hands clutching the steering wheel in anxiety of having to interact with people, of strange and overwhelming scents and too loud noise.

There is medicine that can help, but it numbs him. He has tried different ones, but they all stop him from feeling what he wants - and claims he needs. Hoseok deserves to be felt.

The first snow of the season has fallen. He tries to always stop whatever he is doing and watch it fall, winter after winter, even if it hurts. But it is a pain that is also filled with the happy memory of meeting Hoseok for the first time.

With the snow coming harder, he knows it might be the last trip for supplies he manages for a while. He bundles up, picks up his scarf, the still lingering scent his sensitive nose can still faintly pick up comforting him in the task.

Before leaving the car, he opens up the scarf, making it cover more of his face so his nose is pressed against the familiar warmth of Hoseok’s perfume. He takes a deep breath and opens the car door, feeling the chill in the air, a shiver in his spine. He takes one step before he is suddenly overthrown by the stronger-than-usual scent, his scent. He turns around frantically before meeting a familiar gaze, heart almost doubling in size inside his chest, the mating bite flaming against his shoulder, tears starting to run down his face as he hears the voice he missed for so long.

“I finally found you.”

#bts angst #angst #hoseok angst #yoongi angst #sope #sope au #bts au #thebtswritersclub #bangtaninn #52hertz #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #hoseok fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts #my works

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smallp0tatoes · 3 years

Text

Affinity [chapter one]

Chapter Two

This story is something I’ve been toying with when I get burnt out on other writing projects. There are about 4 different versions, but this is the most polished. Most of this is set up, so unfortunately there’s no g/t, but I promise it’ll be worth it heheheh

Warnings: swearing, graphic violence (really, like this gets pretty intense toward the end), blood, mentions of death, alcohol

This is my first time posting my writing on tumblr, so I’d appreciate feedback!

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The dull roar inside the bar pounded against Camryn’s brain, adding to her already throbbing headache. She forced herself to focus on the drinks she was pouring, counting down the last minutes of her shift.

“Here you are,” she said over the noise, sliding the glasses across the table to a young couple so wrapped around each other that they didn’t even register her.

“Camryn!”

She glanced over at the closing bartender, who was in the middle of serving up a round of ales. “Kegs just arrived out back. Lawrence asked if you’d help before you leave.”

“Got it,” Cam called back, more than happy to leave the crowded room. She ducked through the flaps to the kitchen and the freight door that let out to the alley behind the bar. Though the sun had set, the air was still comfortably warm: this summer promised to be a hot one. The owner, Lawrence, glanced up from the paperwork he was signing for the driver. He flashed her a bearded grin. “My knight in shining armor,” he said playfully.

She rolled her eyes as she strode over to the truck. “Please. As soon as your back is healed, you’re doing this on your own.” They both knew she didn’t mean it. She’d been helping Lawrence with the kegs before he’d slipped a disc in his back, and she’d be doing it even after he recovered.

“You’re faster at it than I am,” Lawrence argued.

“True.” She stepped onto the liftgate, where the driver had lowered ten full kegs. He came around the truck just in time to see her hoist the first one effortlessly onto her shoulder and stride toward the rack where they were kept. When she returned for the next one, she found him gaping at her. “Those kegs weigh 160 pounds each,” he said.

She just shrugged, but Lawrence laughed. “You must be new. See, our girl Camryn here is secretly Wonder Woman.”

“It’s not a secret if you tell everybody,” Cam told him. Privately, she knew Lawrence was more correct than he realized.

Four months ago, she’d been walking across a crosswalk when a drunk driver struck her at 30 miles per hour. Her body, forced into a life-threatening situation, activated something dormant inside her—something she hadn’t even know existed.

Magic.

After her accident, she’d woken up in the hospital. The doctor who had tended her possessed healing magic. He’d explained to her that magic exists everywhere: for most, it exists quietly, in the form of simple talents. A person who’s a better swimmer, or perhaps even a swimming prodigy. Those who can hear a piece of music once and play it perfectly. Those who seem to always get lucky, despite the odds.

But there were also those who possessed far greater magics. More powerful, that manifested in ways one can grow and control. Some that were, put simply, sorcery. These magics were known as affinities.

Arcane affinities were the most common, and the most versatile. Individuals who could control the elements, manipulate objects, and heal wounds. But there were others as well: wild magic, which included influence over flora and fauna; spiritual magic, which involved communication with spirits; and physical magic, which enhanced the body far beyond that of a normal person.

When that truck had hit her, it had awakened the physical affinity sleeping inside her. All at once, she had obtained superhuman speed, strength, and accelerated healing ability.

She hauled the last of the kegs onto the rack. Lawrence thanked the driver, who was still staring at her in confusion and surprise, and slid the freight door shut. When he turned back to her, his grin was wider than ever.

“You never get tired of that, do you?” Cam asked.

“What do you mean? The way their eyes bug outta their head is hilarious!” He locked the door, guffawing. “Honestly, I don’t know how you’re so nonchalant about it. I mean, those kegs weigh twice as much as you do.”

“Check your math. I’m 140 pounds.”

“Well, they still weigh more,” he grunted. He glanced at the clock. “You’re out, right? Thanks for your help tonight, Cam.”

Despite her headache, she smiled. “No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Careful on your way home.”

Cam had never had a father figure, and while Lawrence was far too young for her to consider him as one, she thought she might have liked to have him as an older brother. After her accident, he’d gone above and beyond to help support her. It was for that reason she was always willing to give him a hand.

She hung up her apron and pushed open the back door of the bar. The alley crickets paused at the sound, but soon resumed their gentle chorus. Cam shuffled down the dark street, rubbing her temples in irritation. Ibuprofen and a hot shower were in her near future.

A ball of green flame the size of a softball roared past her, singing her arm. She leapt away, only for her foot to snag on a pothole. Her head clamored in protest as she landed on her side, and she looked up slowly, already knowing who she’d see.

“Damn, you weren’t even paying attention,” Theo Blackthorn laughed, tossing a second fireball in the air. Its green glow snagged in his long red hair that cascaded down his back in wavy autumn shades. He wore dark jeans, and the top three buttons of his black shirt were open with the sleeves were rolled up. As usual, a single black glove stretched up his right arm to his elbow.

“Get lost, Theo,” Cam snapped, getting to her feet. “I’m not in the mood.”

He smirked, green eyes narrowing. “Ooh, not very friendly tonight.”

Not to you, Cam thought, watching him warily as she took a step back. The fireball flared above Theo’s gloved hand. “That’s too bad,” the mage tutted. “Here I was thinking we could have a little fun.”

The doctor had told her about the battles. Mages going after other mages, for various reasons: good-natured fights to practice and perfect techniques were most common. But there were also those that attacked for power. If a mage with powerful talent defeated another—as in, killed them—they could absorb that mage’s magic. However, as someone with a physical affinity, the doctor told Cam that arcane mages would most likely leave her to her own devices. They couldn’t use or absorb physical magic.

Clearly he had never met Theo.

Only weeks after leaving the hospital, she was out hiking the trails along the lake when the redheaded prick jumped her. The attacks only increased, until she felt like she was dodging his magic every damn week—and she had no clue what he hoped to gain from it.

The second fireball shot through the air, and Cam barely jerked her head back in time to dodge it. Steeling herself against her throbbing head, she glanced around and spotted a large piece of asphalt that had broken free from the pothole she’d tripped over. Two more flames flew toward her, and she dove to the side and grabbed the chunk of gravel and tar.

As Theo summoned more fire, Cam aimed and hurled the asphalt as hard as she could. It spun through the air like a drunk frisbee, and Theo had to bend his knees to duck. Before he could recover, Cam was barreling toward him, curling her fist. The mage’s eyes widened as she bore down on him, and he swept his hand through the air.

The dumpster hit her like a bull, sending her crashing into the alley’s brick wall. Her breath whooshed out of her like a waterfall, and she struggled to regain it as Theo stood once more.

“Damn, that was close,” he laughed, stepping toward her, not even winded from moving the heavy dumpster. “What, you tapping out already?” he asked as she coughed and struggled to her knees.

“Get…lost,” she repeated. Theo stopped six feet away and stared down his nose at her, that greasy smirk plastered on his face. She’d asked him once why he was so keen on trying to kill her. He had laughed. “Kill you? Not at all. You make such a great test subject for my spells.”

“Come on. Maybe this will re-energize you.” Electricity bit into her body, making her go rigid. Theo preferred fire, but electricity was his second favorite. The voltage finally vanished, leaving only Cam’s rage. She leapt to her feet and swung at Theo. Her fist caught his shoulder and sent him flying backward. He crashed into the recycling bins, and Cam took the opportunity to run. She was tense the entire way to her apartment, expecting some other projectile to come hurtling after her, but she reached her building without added injury.

Her apartment sat above a bike shop off of Main Street. It had two bedrooms, with a balcony that faced the lake along which her town was nestled. And it was somewhere that Theo had never, ever followed her to or attacked her at. Even so, she checked her locks before dragging herself to the bathroom. She let the warm glow of electric candles be her light, since they were easier on her throbbing head, and quickly swallowed three Tylenol for good measure. Then she peeled away her work clothes and stepped into the hot, inviting shower.

If she was being honest, pitting herself against Theo was a decent workout. Though she didn’t care much about magic, he allowed her to tap into her body’s newfound potential. But god, he was such an asshole. His spells ranged from annoying to painful. One had turned her hair green; another had left her vomiting for hours. Burns and electrocution were dealt out on whims. He never seemed to care either way: it was all a game to him.

She finally emerged from the shower. As she toweled off her chin-length brown hair, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and hissed. Bruises were already forming across her ribs where the dumpster had rallied her. Despite how quickly her body healed, they’d be sore for the next couple days. She trudged toward her bed, vowing that next time she’d give that Blackthorn a bruise to match.

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Camryn bit into her burrito, groaning with satisfaction. Across from her, Oliver chuckled. “That hungry?”

She nodded and swallowed. “My affinity burns calories like crazy. Does yours not?”

The younger boy shook his head, making his turquoise curls bounce. “Spiritual magic affects my mind more than my body. At most, I’ll get a headache if I use it too much.”

Not long after getting out of the hospital, Cam had been leaving campus late one night when she heard the haunting sound of a violin drifting through the fog. Upon following it, shapes had materialized, as though stepping out of a dream and into reality. They were the statues and sculptures scattered around campus, brought to life. A carved deer with trees for antlers grazed in the flowerbeds; copper butterflies flitting through the night; a woman striding along the sidewalk, her marble-hewn dress flowing like silk. Tendrils of blue, purple and gold twined around all of them, twisting to the sound of the music. At the violin’s source, she’d found Oliver, using his spiritual affinity to appeal to the pieces of soul left behind by the artists. As long as he played, they danced and moved as though they were flesh. It was a beautiful affinity, and she and Oliver had become fast friends.

Now they sat at a table in the campus common room, grabbing lunch before class. The college was located at the mouth of the river where it ran into the lake, and she spotted several students in swimwear walking the short distance to the beach. The water was still chilly, but in the mounting heat of summer she couldn’t fault them for wanting to cool off.

“Seriously? I get hungry whether I bench press a Volvo or not. What a ripoff.”

“I would both love and hate to see you do that.” He got to his feet. “I’m gonna get napkins. Need anything?”

Camryn shook her head, mouth full of delicious burrito. He rolled his eyes and headed for the condiment counter. She was going for another bite when a familiar, velvet voice appeared to her left.

“Goodness. Watching you eat is almost as entertaining as watching you fight.”

She nearly choked and looked up.

Theo stood before her, a binder and stack of papers under his arm. If it hadn’t been for his voice, she wouldn’t have recognized him. He wore a black beanie that somehow managed to contain the entirety of his hair. Only his bangs protruded, giving the illusion that his red hair only sprouted a few inches from his head. Black square framed glasses perched on his nose, and his button-down shirt accentuated his thin build.

An embarrassing number of seconds passed before she realized her mouth was hanging open. “The hell are you doing here?” she finally managed.

He raised a brow. “I work here.”

It made sense—she just hadn’t expected such a normal answer. “Doing what?”

“I teach chemistry and physics.”

“You…” She paused as his words sank in. “You’re a professor?”

Theo held up the staff pass dangling on a lanyard around his neck. “What were you expecting my profession to be?”

She busied herself unscrewing the cap from her water bottle. “I dunno… Reading people’s fortunes, or some bullshit?”

Theo’s smirk widened. “Maybe that’s my side gig.” His eyes suddenly sparked. “Too bad you left so soon the other night. Things were just getting interesting.”

She scowled. “One of these days you’re going to get more than you bargain for.”

“I look forward to it,” he purred. With a final grin, he turned and sauntered off through the common room.

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

A few days later, Camryn made him eat those words.

She’d been enjoying a walk along the lake shore, admiring the way the sun dappled across the vibrant blue-green water. It was just outside of town, and the trail down had been blessedly quiet.

Of course, it couldn’t last.

As she squatted at the water’s edge and reached for an interesting-looking rock, a force slammed into her back and sent her sprawling face first into the lake. She jumped to her feet and whirled.

Theo stood atop a rocky outcrop of granite, hands in his pockets. He burst out laughing. “How many times am I going to catch you with your guard down?”

“I shouldn’t have to watch my back every fucking second,” she snapped, pushing her dripping hair out of her face. “Prick.”

“Ooh, name calling now, are we?” He shrugged. “I’ve heard worse.”

“I have no doubt,” she grumbled, wading out of the lake.

He jerked his gloved hand from his pocket, and fire shot from his fingers. Cam had to lunge to avoid it. “Quit it!” she snarled, trying to keep her footing on the shifting rocks.

“Do something about it,” Theo sneered. “Or is that temper just for show?”

She dodged another fireball, and it whizzed past her head and landed in the lake with a sharp hiss. She gritted her teeth and sprinted toward the rocks. Two jumps, and she was at the top.

Still grinning, Theo took a step back—only for his foot to catch on a jutting stone.

That second of unbalance was all Cam needed. She clamped down on his shoulder and dug her fingers into her palm. His green eyes widened, and she slammed her fist across that smug, pretty face.

There was a sickening crunch from his nose, and the force of Cam’s hit snapped his head to the side. He sprawled backwards and landed in a bush.

For a moment, the only sound was her panting. Then Theo hissed and sat up, hand hovering over his face. Blood dripped from his nostrils, as well as a gash across the now-crooked bridge of his nose. He blinked up at Cam with watering eyes.

She smirked. Without a word, she turned and trudged back up the hill.

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

The next day, she pushed open the door to the campus library and nearly collided with Theo. He had a coffee in one hand and a stack of books in the other. Like the other day, his hair was somehow stuffed up into a beanie.

They both stopped dead. A nasty purple bruise ringed his left eye, and there was a bandage across the bridge of his very obviously crooked nose.

Camryn couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. “Now that’s a good look for you.”

Theo’s lips split in an equally feral smile. “You’re very lucky my hands are full right now.”

She clicked her tongue. “You wouldn’t attack a student on campus, would you Professor?”

He raised an eyebrow. “This is the last week of classes. After that, your luck runs out.” He brushed past her, departing with a purr of, “Enjoy your summer.”

Even his threat couldn’t dampen her glee at the damage she’d done to his face. She flipped him off and ducked into the library.

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

It had rained earlier, and the sharp, earthy scent of the forest enveloped Camryn as she hiked along the trail. It was still cloudy, and few boats were out on the lake today. She glanced down the cliffs, where on nicer days people liked to leap into the water below. She’d done it herself: as long as you avoided the part of the cliff that sloped out at the bottom, you could easily land in deep water. Today, however, there were no such thrill seekers.

Something prickled along the back of her neck. Without pausing, she snatched up a broken branch from the ground, spun on her heel and hurtled it at the rocks above the trail.

It flipped through the air, only to slam to a halt. Theo grinned at her, gloved hand raised, and flicked his finger. The stick spun in reverse, far faster than she’d thrown it. Even so, she snatched it out of the air and grinned back at the redhead.

“If you wanted to play catch, I feel like asking would’ve been easier,” she called.

“What do you mean? You’re terrible at catch—you can’t even catch me,” he shot back, jumping down a rock and spreading his arms.

“Really? Your nose is still crooked.”

Theo’s grin turned savage, and both of his palms ignited in green flame. “You’re going to pay for that little trick.”

She sprinted across the trail, keeping her body low as she darted around the fireballs came flying at her. In a random moment of observation, she noticed the flames winked out as soon as they missed her: before they got a chance to land on the forest floor.

Shaking off the distraction, she leaned in, working her way closer. He jumped backward, gaining the high ground as she circled around him.

A green glow enveloped his arm—a spell was coming. Gritting her teeth, she willed strength into her legs and vaulted up into a tree. The green light struck the trunk where she’d just been standing, and the bark sizzled with what looked like acid.

So much for caring about the environment.

“That’s dangerous!” she snapped, leaping to the next tree.

“That’s the point!” he replied.

She leapt forward, catching a thick branch in front of her. Her abs clenched as she swung forward and let go. Gravity and momentum sent her hurtling toward Theo.

The redhead flinched and raised his hand. Then Cam was there, and her feet slammed into his stomach.

She heard his breath whoosh out of him, and he went flying backwards. Right over the…

Crap. The cliffs.

Theo floundered as he began to plummet toward the lake. Camryn had no way of knowing if he’d clear the rocks below.

She swore and ran towards the cliffs, launching into the air. Theo’s eyes widened as she crashed into him and wrapped her arms around his abdomen, letting her momentum carry them both further out over the water. For a moment they were weightless: suspended in air. Ear pressed against his chest, she heard his heart beat faster.

Then they were falling.

“What’re you… Get off!” Theo struggled against her, eyes filled with panic. She opened her mouth to tell him to quit it, when a sudden electric current seized her body. She released Theo, and the voltage vanished seconds before they hit the water.

The electricity left her body tingling all over and numb in some places. As she started to sink, she opened her eyes and looked around. Theo’s mane of red hair was nearby as he flailed his arms, trying to reach the surface.

He can’t swim. Camryn drifted there for a moment, almost in a trance, watching as the mage sank to the bottom. All that power, and he can’t even float.

She kicked her legs and seized Theo by the arms, pushing off the lake bottom.

They broke the surface, gasping and sputtering. Camryn kept one arm around Theo as she swam them toward shallow water.

“What…were you thinking?” she panted, dragging the coughing redhead up onto the beach. “Fucking electrocuting me?” She let go of him and flopped down on her back, legs tingling with numbness.

“I thought you were going to hold me under!”

“I was trying to make sure you didn’t hit the fucking rocks!”

“It’s your fault I went over the cliff in the first place!”

“You’re the one who attacked me, asshole!”

“You could’ve drowned me!”

Cam’s anger flared. She sat up and glared at him. “You wouldn’t have needed my help for that. You can’t swim, can you?”

Theo blinked, and his face reddened. His long hair was plastered to his head, and for the first time, she realized the mage was incredibly scrawny. “That’s not…!”

She jabbed a finger at him. “Idiot! Everyone should know how to swim, especially if they live near water! Figure it out!” She struggled to her feet and headed for the trail, making her way up without stopping.

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

For awhile, Theo left her alone. It was nice to be able to hike without being ambushed, but with summer in full swing work kept her busy more than she would have liked. So after a month of work and visiting friends, when she finally had a warm, beautiful day to herself, she donned her swimsuit and headed for her favorite small, secluded stretch of beach. It was hard to get to from the trail, and like today, she was usually the only person on it.

Sunlight glinted off the green ripples of the water. Atop a slab of granite peeking out of the lake, Camryn stretched, basking in the hot summer air. Taking a deep breath, she dove from the rock and plunged into the beautiful water. She let herself drift down and opened her eyes. The water was remarkably clear, and she felt her body relax as she floated through the quiet.

Finally, her lungs began to protest the lack of oxygen. It was unfortunate that she’d gotten super strength and not the ability to breathe underwater. She kicked up, ascending through the deep, and broke the surface with a satisfied gasp.

“I wondered if you’d drowned.”

She blinked water from her eyes and turned. Theo stood on the rocks, hands in his pockets. Despite the hot weather, he wore a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and the glove still covered his right arm.

She smirked at him. “Come for swimming lessons?”

The redhead bared his teeth in a grin. “So you can push me under when I least expect it? I don’t think so.”

Camryn floated on her back. “Someone’s paranoid. I had the chance to let you drown, but I didn’t.”

Theo didn’t say anything. She smiled and flipped over, diving underwater. With a few powerful strokes, she swam closer and came up for air once more. Theo was still standing there, watching her warily.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to teach you? I’ll swear by anything you like that I won’t harm you,” she offered. The warm weather and water had put her in a good mood, and despite her general irritation of Theo, she was feeling particularly generous.

He chuckled darkly, and she cocked her head. “What? You don’t think I’d keep my word?”

“Words are the things I trust least,” he replied. “Nothing would stop you from changing your mind as soon as it suited you.”

“Wow. You’re a real ray of sunshine. What do you trust?”

Theo examined his nails. “Science. Things that can be proven. And my affinity, of course.”

“Not friends?”

The redhead snorted. “You mean people to knows my weaknesses?”

Camryn stared quizzically. “…You don’t have friends? Like, anyone that you’re close to?”

He pushed a stray strand of hair out of his face. “Those who proclaim friendship and closeness simply want something. When it comes down to it, all they care about is their selfish desire.”

Cam kicked her feet, watching the mage thoughtfully. What had given him such an opinion of people?

“What?” he asked.

“I’ve never met someone who holds everyone at a distance like you do.”

“I told you…”

“Yeah, yeah. Weaknesses. But that doesn’t stop anyone else from making friends.” She propelled herself into the shallows where she could touch bottom, far enough away that Theo wouldn’t think she was trying to pull a fast one. “Aren’t you just putting yourself above everyone to feel superior?”

Theo smirked. “I am superior,” he said.

“I see. And how does it feel being all alone at the top?” she wondered. A flash of understanding went through her. “That must be why you come after people like me: you want human interaction, but without a risk or attached strings.”

Theo’s bemused expression wavered for half a second, and then he laughed. “My spellwork and experiments are my focus. I don’t have time to be concerned with friendships and the like.”

Then what are you doing here having a conversation with me? “Someday you might regret not having anyone in your corner when you need it,” she told him.

He picked a blade of grass off his knee. “I doubt it.”

She sighed. “You could at least dip your feet in the water. It feels amazing.”

Theo looked down at the water and said nothing. Cam shrugged and dove again, doing an underwater handstand. When she returned to the surface, Theo was sitting on a rock at the water’s edge, rolling up his pant legs. She resisted the urge to make a joke about his blindingly white shins and watched, bobbing a few feet away from him as he dipped his legs in the water.

“Feels good, right?” she asked.

“Hmm,” he grunted, still watching her. After a moment, he spoke.

“How’d you get that scar on your arm? I thought your physical affinity was supposed to grant you accelerated healing.”

She glanced at the pink, puckered scar across her bicep. “What’s the use in knowing?” For it was the most personal question he’d asked, and she wanted him to admit he was genuinely curious.

He smirked. “I was wondering if I’d been the one to give it to you, and if so, which of my spells was so efficient.”

Cam smiled. “I’ll have to disappoint you, then. A drunk driver hit me while I was crossing the street.”

Theo blinked. Despite the smirk he kept plastered on his face like a mask, she was beginning to learn to spot the emotions beneath it. Her words had rattled him earlier, and now she’d surprised him. But she kept her voice dismissive as she added, “If my affinity hadn’t awoken, it might’ve turned out a lot differently.”

Theo stared. “Awoken… You’re a novice?”

Cam shrugged, enjoying the slipping of his aloof façade. “I suppose so. When I woke up at the hospital, the doctor there explained magic to me.”

The redhead seemed deep in thought. Then he shrugged. “That would explain why you’re so sloppy.” With a flick of his finger, his legs were dry, and he bent down to put his socks and shoes back on.

She arched an eyebrow and decided to ignore the jab. “How long have you had yours?”

He straightened, hair cascading over his shoulder like a molten wave. “My affinity developed when I was two.”

Seriously? “Are your parents mages?” she asked.

His grin stayed firmly in place, but a muscle feathered in his jaw as he glared down at her. “What’s the use in knowing?” he asked, quoting her words back at her.

She bared her teeth back at him. “Touchy subject, then. I was starting to wonder if you had emotions at all.”

Theo flicked his finger, and she dodged the rock that hurtled through the air. It skipped across the water behind her, but she kept her eyes on the mage.

“Just because you’re a novice doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you,” he said.

“Just because you have magic doesn’t mean you’re superior,” Cam snapped back. “Your personality is still shit.”

For a moment she thought he might electrocute the water while she was in it. Instead, the redhead snorted and turned on his heel. “Not many people dare to talk to me like that. Watch your back.”

She actually laughed. “Are you for real? You just asked me about a huge scar I received from a traumatic injury, and then get upset when I ask one little yes or no question about your fam—”

The next rock was too fast to dodge. It sliced through her eyebrow and left her blinking blood and stars out of her vision. Fury surged through her, and she lunged for the rocks. “I’m gonna kick your ass, you skinny, ginger punk!”

But by the time she pulled herself ashore, the redhead had vanished. She touched a finger to her split eyebrow and clenched her fists.

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

Camryn yawned as she headed home from work. It was Summer Solstice, and the sun had only just set a couple hours ago. It was also a new moon, so the sky was darker than usual. From now on, the daylight hours would slowly but surely start to dwindle…

Something struck her—hard—and sent her rolling across the asphalt. Pain bloomed through her side, and she grit her teeth and forced herself to her feet.

Theo stood before her; hand outstretched. The manhole cover that had hit her clattered to the ground.

“What the hell?” she snapped, clutching her sore ribs. She hadn’t seen Theo since the day at the lake. Now he was smirking, but there was something glittering in his green eyes that she didn’t recognize.

Something cruel.

He took an uneven step toward her, and she realized he was drunk. “What’s wrong? A thought we could have a little fun,” he laughed darkly. There was a strange lilt to his voice she’d never heard, but before she could identify it, electricity bit into her already throbbing muscles. She staggered and leapt out of the way to avoid his next attack.

“What’s your deal?” she snapped, dodging the bolts of lightning. “Is this because I asked about your family? If it’s that personal, then I’m sorry!”

An invisible force seized her ankle, swung her through the air and slammed her into the ground. She coughed and rolled, dragging herself back to her feet as she tried to catch her breath. This was nothing like their normal bouts. He was bloodthirsty.

“Theo!” she exclaimed, standing with feet planted. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“Shut up!” he hissed. “Dinnae talk t’me like we’re friends!” Flames shot from his fingers, but his aim was sloppy. She dodged most of them, but one caught her pant leg. She patted it furiously, wincing as the fire licked her fingers, until it was out.

“Theo, stop it!” she yelled. “You’re drunk!”

“A said shut up! As if you know anything about it. Yer nothin’ but an amateur physical affinity,” he snarled. “Stop actin’ like we’re equals. Like we could be friends. Compared to my power, you’re nothing!”

A green aura enveloped his hand, and he sliced downward. Nothing happened, and Camryn gritted her teeth, ran forward, and struck him across the face. He went careening backward and landed in the bushes, out cold.

She stood there, panting. What the hell had that been about? She’d never picked Theo as the type to get wasted, but she could smell the alcohol on him. Something had definitely happened to make him attack like that. But what—

A fierce whip cracked across her back, sending her nerve endings howling. She cried out and spun around, but no one was there. Another burst of pain followed, and she stifled a shout and stumbled back, away from Theo. She ran full tilt for her house as the third lash followed, and then a fourth, and a fifth. A green flash that matched Theo’s magic accompanied each one. The skin on her back broke, and hot blood seeped into her shirt. She fumbled her keys into the lock, staggered inside, and fell to her knees as the invisible whip cut her over and over again. Blood spattered the floor, and her fingers smeared it as she dug her nails into the wood.

Just as she teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, the attack ended. She lay there for a long time, taking shuddering breaths as she felt her heart beating in time with the throbbing on her back. Tears ran down her face, mixing with the blood that speckled the floor.

She had to talk herself into getting up. Gritting her teeth hard enough to hurt, she slowly pushed herself up. The movement alone almost made her black out, but she forced herself to a sitting position. The entryway looked like a massacre. As she looked around at all the blood, a sob escaped her lips.

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

She called into work the next day. She told Lawrence that her grandfather was ill, and she had to take a leave of absence. She’d be out for at least a week.

As usual, he was completely understanding. In reality, she was sitting on the edge of her bed with a towel wrapped around her to stop the bleeding, since there was no way for her to wrap bandages around herself.

The lashes covered her back like some sort of gruesome latticework. Whatever spell Theo cast had filleted her skin like a pro chef, and even breathing brought on a surge of pain. It had torn her shirt open, which was the only way she managed to get it off, because trying to lift her arms over her head would’ve resulted in fainting.

She thought about going to the hospital. But the thought of trying to drive herself anywhere, not to mention how in the world she’d explain such terrible injuries, snuffed the idea out almost immediately. No, all she could do was hole up and let her accelerated healing do its work.

Which it did, but it felt like an eternity. She focused on eating and drinking plenty of water, and did what she’d always done when it came to pain: forced her way through it.

The fight with Theo ran through her head on repeat. Fury boiled in her veins as she recalled his drunken rant about not needing friends. Had he really maimed her because she’d tried to be friendly for a fucking change?

The first two days, she was ready to kill him. That didn’t last long: no matter how angry she was, she knew it was something she’d end up regretting. Breaking several of his bones and rendering him immobile for a few months, though, seemed incredibly practical.

The lashes slowly scabbed over. A few more days and she could gingerly put on a shirt. Two days after that and she was moving better. However, by the fifth day it became apparent that she couldn’t feel the middle of her back, where the overlap was thickest.

Lawrence noticed she was more subdued—and moving a little stiffly—when she came back to work. He asked once, and when she gave a short confirmation that she was fine, he didn’t bring it up again.

#holy shit i can't believe we're doing this lol #affinity #g/t #g/t writing #giant/tiny

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appleflavoredkitkats · 4 years

Text

dream smp war 2 updates

doing a second chain post! i thought it would be appropriate if i did since it seems like there’s a new era of wars coming our way.

(this post will keep updating by reblogged additions, so feel free to save this post somewhere or follow me to check for new updates every now and then!)

and ya’know, i thought wouldn’t be able to do this, but i realize that where else am i gonna infodump but here? so yea. here i go again.

(if you wanna check the first dream smp war post-war updates, it’s here!)

without further ado, time to explain whatever the heck just happened last stream! timeline of events might be funky because a lot of things happened, but i’ll try my best to at least mention everything that went down in the streams.

wilbur, tommy, tubbo, eret, quackity, and a confused hbomb’s stream - september 22

summary: schlatt and quackity win presidency, tommy and wilbur are exiled, some friends have become traitors, some foes have become allies, and technoblade joins the game.

the first streams that came from this honestly were very calm. legit the calm before the storm. tubbo was hanging out with niki, eret, and hbomb and eret reveals to tubbo that his first pufferfish that was stolen by fundy was actually in eret’s possession all along. eret gladly returns the beloved pufferfish to tubbo, and they rename it back to it’s original name “phukkit”.

then, everyone begins going in the server as each campaign stands on the podium waiting for the event to begin. wilbur, tommy, and tubbo first stray away from the group for a bit to watch l’manberg one last time. tubbo introduces to them his secret bunker in the lake for them to seek refuge just in case pog2020 loses. inside the bunker’s chests are some freshly brewed potions for wilbur and tommy to use in the future.

tubbo then brings tommy to the benches outside tommy’s little house and they play one more music disc together. here, tubbo gifts tommy the pufferfish he just gained earlier today, and tommy promised to treasure it dearly.

now, the event begins, and wilbur begins announcing the results. luckily, everyone is here this time. in last place is coconut2020. a funny thing about this is that fundy actually committed tax fraud and got around 100,000+ votes to be counted in the google form just from coding some bot to vote for them. in third place is schlatt, in second is quackity, and pog2020 wins the number one vote.

here’s where the plot twist happens: quackity and schlatt apparently agreed to combine their votes if pog2020 doesn’t win. therefore, quackity and schlatt got 47% of the votes as pog only got 46%, making schlatt and quackity the shared president of l’manberg. tommy protests to these decisions, but wilbur accepts it with ease, and the two merely step down the podium in shame as they watch schlatt take a speech.

schlatt went on full dictator mode-- the first decree he signed as president is to revoke wilbur and tommy’s presence in l’manberg, exiling them. tommy was confused at first before wilbur demanded him to run to the bunker. schlatt immediately conducts a search party for him, electing tubbo as his right hand man to personally hunt the two down. obviously, tubbo would do it hesitantly, and he doesn’t actually get to meet the two in the bunker at all.

a lot of the nation was quite torn from the election results. quackity and george seem to be supportive of schlatt, niki, tubbo, and eret seem to despise schlatt, and fundy and jack seem to just blindly support him as well despite being l’manbergians. punz, ponk, and hbomb were there as well, but it was quite difficult to know who they were siding with since they kinda just got pushed around by everyone at the end.

using invisibility potions, wilbur and tommy escape the bunker to go somewhere in the forest to find their new home. they find a nice hill to make a small house in, and they later name this new nation “pogtopia”. they run into some conflicts though as wilbur and tommy forget to bring an enderchest with them, and they need some of the materials in them now if they want to build up a defense.

and then, in the middle of nowhere, techno tweeted:

wilbur claims he doesn’t want to trust techno right away because he was american, but they do consider having him as an ally later on.

firstly, let’s get back to l’manberg. upon schlatt’s request, the walls of l’manberg are being torn down. i heard somewhere that this might’ve been done thanks to fundy’s suggestion, but i’m not sure. everyone complies, and wilbur and tommy visit l’manberg one last time before it gets taken apart. as they watch fundy and tubbo tear down the wall, wilbur sings the l’manbergs national anthem. (the wall also eventually gets expanded past l’manberg, but i’m not sure how far they’ve built it)

speaking of fundy, fundy’s kind of in a weird place right now. he seems to unhesitantly side with schlatt in this election, and allows his policies easily as if he didn’t care about anyone else in l’manberg. knowing this, wilbur actually disowns fundy. it wasn’t in front of him, but he does say that he is extremely hurt by him in front of techno and tommy.

before i talk about the rescue of techno, we gotta go back to quackity and schlatt for a bit. quackity actually caught tommy visiting his place to get an enderchest, but i believe he doesn’t tell schlatt about it. quackity is quite interesting because while he does believe in some of the policies schlatt believes in, he also believes that schlatt is taking this dictatorship too far. even he thought exiling tommy and wilbur was a big deal, and he aims to be the voice of reason to be able to change schlatt’s mind about his policies. moreover, he wants to discuss matters with tommy and wilbur as well to get on their side too, but wilbur doesn’t wanna talk to quackity because, fourth wall break, he believes they’re progressing far into the story too much if they do, and honestly, valid reason lmao.

do note that quackity is trying his best to tear down schlatt’s evil dictatorship. he’s secretly been advocating for niki and is helping her escape schlatt’s grasp when she needs it, and he eventually talked to schlatt near the end of the stream to be more mindful of quackity’s opinions because without him, schlatt wouldn’t have won. there’s some toxic relationship plot device being used here between schlatt and quackity, and i’m interested to see how this will all play out.

back to tommy and wilbur, they call techno and actually consider his help. tommy says he will run back to spawn and tell him when to join so that he can bring him to their secret base. eret tries to help them and supply them with goods, but tommy and wilbur refuses his help profusely. finally, when tommy reaches spawn, techno joins, and my god, all the three streams i watched just went “TECHNOBLADE????” all at once.

on schlatt’s end, he claims that techno’s arrival was part of schlatt’s plan all this time. on the other hand, techno claims he’s only here for wilbur and tommy. i fully believe techno would be with wilbur and tommy, but of course, i can never be sure. just don’t discount the possibility of a traitor!techno happening sometime soon.

even if ponk tried to kill techno and tommy as they tried to escape, tommy was able to kill ponk before techno got hurt. they eventually arrived to pogtopia, and there, wilbur declares that he will be a different man from what they know of him pre-election. i’m thinking there’s going to be more violence surrounding the war, and also some strategic planning. they want to get tubbo as a secret agent for them to tear schlatt and quackity apart, eventually leading to the downfall of the dictatorship. niki might also be someone crucial here because she and wilbur have been exchanging messages secretly, so there’s going to be some niki action too.

then, schlatt makes another announcement. after the walls have been torn down, he declares l’manberg gets a new name-- manberg. niki protests, and wilbur and tommy and rightfully disgusted, but schlatt wasn’t going to do anything about it.

everyone in pogtopia, before they can stack up on some resources, have to go back to the dream smp because they comedically have to get a visa for one day for when ninja joins the minecraft server. they were greeted peacefully (and techno steals some potatoes!!!), and it was definitely fun to see so many people in the server all at once. evetually, schlatt does grant them the visa, and they leave. they talk to tubbo one last time, and tubbo warns them about techno being allegedly “paid” by schlatt to betray tommy and wilbur. tommy regards it for now, but after that, they leave to return to pogtopia.

in pogtopia, they begin mining for resources. in the ravine they found below their base, tommy found a strip mine that leads EXACTLY BACK to his bunker. this will be used for a secret passage for them just in case they discreetly want to return to the dream smp.

this is kinda where the main plot stuff ends for wilbur and tommy’s streams, but in eret’s stream, apparently he and bad found pogtopia. they find techno silently, gifting him with potatoes, and leaving promptly after.

on quackity’s end, he’s really trying to convince schlatt to become more open-minded about this entire presidency. there’s some real tension going on between these two, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if they break it off for quackity to join pogtopia. it really seems like they’re hinting it to become that way.

now, it seems like everything’s done, but nope. on eret’s stream, fundy single handedly burned down the l’manberg flag that niki built. FUNDY BETRAYAL AND ERET REDEMPTION ARC. niki is LIVID at fundy, but she wasn’t able to talk to him as he left the server immediately. we don’t know what fundy’s true intentions are, but it’s assumed that he’s siding with schlatt for now. eret at least tells niki they’ll try to rebuild it with concrete so it can’t be destroyed.

JUST AS ALL THIS SHIT CONCLUDES, SAPNAP JOINS. he only joins so he can catch up with everything he missed. eret and niki explain everything to him, and sapnap says he will have to talk to dream about this. he then leaves afterwards.

conclusion: BE HYPED. BE HYPED FOR PLOT. SHOW YOUR APPRECIATION TO THE ENTIRETY OF THE DREAM SMP FOR THIS AMAZING PLOT. DON’T SEND THEM HATE; MAKE CONTENT FOR IT INSTEAD. these people probably worked hard improv-ing/making plots for these, so show your love and appreciation for them!!!!!

#dream smp war #dream smp #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #tubbo #fundy #nihachu #theeret #jschlatt #quackity #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #technoblade

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tmmyhug · 3 years

Text

alright this is my blog and i do what i want so we are going to break down avarice by late august right here and now (meaning i will ramble stupidly about cool drawings n colors n stuff. if that’s not your thing keep scrolling)

opening credits

oh this song has some sexy, sexy bass

and august took so much advantage of it

the poker chips building on the beat!!! increasing tension! giving the eyes somewhere to move!

there’s some faint flashy light thingy around the edges which is cool

ruh roh villain quackity

i’ll probably say this too much but my god, august kills it with the musicality. every single movement is on beat. every transition is chosen to fit the sound. such a wonderful experience

neatly done perspective going on in this weapons room

dark purple is an awesome color choice - that orange lava glowing against it? gorgeous

lava stretchy. yum. cheese.

the ROTATING SHADOW IS SO COOL!! the intrigue! the drama! the villainy! the 3D effect!

shots shots shots shots

clever lighting to create a glowing neon effect without actually including anything glowing or neon. i can hear the fluorescent bulbs buzzing.

look at the liquid moving. look at the cut during the glass sliding so we can see it go from hand to hand. hhhh

palette change! watch the bright red blood drops fly towards you when the poker chip hits the puddle

and THIS transition back into the drink glass made me scream

himbo time

difficult perspective shots when quackity turns the page. we see it from the FRONT. THAT’S SO HARD TO DRAW

cape transition for extra drama!

return of the rotating shadow. i want to make out with it

some obvious red color symbolism and whatever. look at the rotating shadow it’s so sexy

achievement unlocked: manipulate 4/4 minors

the transition of the ufo explosion is effortlessly pleasing. the way the sky goes dark -

explosion is pink for some reason. i’m not complaining it looks cool. but how did he pull off hot pink in the middle of a muted palette animatic

august can do nothing simply and i love it. THREE separate cuts during quackity tossing the poker chip to purpled so the background can change from red to purple and the red chip can contrast at the end

notice how the TNT button and the chip are both sinister red circles

fumdee

the sky in the wide shot of the tower has SUCH cool moving textures

another hard perspective shot!! why would you draw fundy from an angle AND below us??? i’m gonna cry that’s so difficult

The slime is a primordial ooze that has roamed the lands for centuries. Slimes are bouncy, cube shaped, hostile mobs that sometimes spawn in swamp biomes and, occasionally, deep undergr

august. august i love you. august what is this wing design. august you can do better. august those are not wings those are noodles

i screamed when i saw quackity turning the poker chip over his fingers the movement is so smooth im passing out as we speak

and the transition flip. it’s so shiny. are you trying to kill me

love is dead

MUSHROOM BANDANA GEORGE THICC EYEBROWS SAPNAP FLUFFY HAIR KARL

karl’s fingers... do you know how hard that angle is. do you know how hard fingers are. augh

palette change to blue george is a tad jarring but i think that was intentional. need to contrast that red poker chip of course. also nice and spicy to keep viewers’ attention 2/3s of the way through

shattering glass background mirroring the effect from the disc finale animatic

obsessed with the el rapids fire transition. obsessed.

let’s play cards

this is getting long let’s speed up

CARD SYMBOLISM HECK YEA the way that card flips up with the electric riff is captivating

at this point august starts putting characters inside previous images for a few transitions and cutting the screen in half and i love it. makes me think of animated comic book stuff

techno’s character’s lines!! long cape long hair long ears pointy crown!!

the attention to detail!!! the way the King card gets placed is animated so gently and perfectly

almost done

previously i think one of august’s weak spots has been keeping a cohesive storyline throughout an entire animatic but this one is very nicely wrapped up. beautiful improvement sir

THE POKER CHIPS TURNING INTO THE LAS NEVADAS SKYLINE BLEW MY MIND WAHHHHH

and of course i have to comment on these shots of tommy and wilbur. my beloveds. interesting that they’re both Jokers.

i still want to make out with the rotating shadow

that’s all if you read the whole thing i am handing you a sparkly seashell

#vee makes posts #vee rambles #late august

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spencersawkward · 3 years

Text

switchblade faith // spencer reid - chapter 2

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

word count: 3.5k

masterlist

Richard Slessman's bedroom looks like something straight out of a serial killer documentary. floral wallpaper taunts Morgan and I as we walk inside. a model airplane hangs above his bed; cheap medals-- the kind kids get for participation-- decorate the area above his desk, which is littered with books about forensics. there's a carousel of CDs, too.

"whoa." is my brilliant analysis.

"we should have Garcia check out this guy's laptop." Morgan starts to wander around the room, trying to piece together Slessman's head just by examining his things. a group of cops are already huddled at the table with the laptop open, and I realize too late what they're doing.

"log in password." one of them plucks a post-it off the screen, starts to type it in.

"wait, wait--" Morgan and I nearly lunge toward them, but the crackling sound of a fizzing motherboard tells me we're too late. the screen goes black.

"it's not turning back on." Genius #1 observes. Morgan sighs and squeezes his eyes shut in frustration.

"yeah, and it won't. it's a false password."

the cops stare up at us blankly.

"it triggers a complete shut down of his system." I clarify. they share a look, deservedly feeling stupid. I want to roll my eyes, but Morgan's told me that the police on these cases get defensive most of the time; they don't like us on their turf. one glance from my partner, though, and those guys flee the room without another word.

I pull out my phone and dial Garcia's number in the hopes that she can salvage whatever's left of this asshole's computer. we arrested him an hour ago and we can only hold him with probable cause because we don't have any charges yet. this house search could be our only chance to get him in custody.

"well hello, my fresh-faced beauty queen." Penelope answers on the second ring. a slight smile turns up the corners of my mouth.

"hi, Penelope." I watch Derek plugging something into the laptop, then opening another monitor next to it. "listen, Morgan's trying to set up Richard Slessman's computer and I was wondering if you'd be able to hack into it."

"oh, kitten," she sighs contentedly. "that's my bread and butter."

"great. I'm putting you on speaker." I press a button and wait for Morgan to talk. he's typing furiously until a tab pops up with the words "Deadbolt Defense" in bold above a box for a password.

"what's the six at the bottom of the screen mean?" I ask.

"remaining password attempts until it wipes the hard drive." Morgan replies. shit.

"Penelope, there might be a journal or document or something that tells us where Heather is." I inform her.

"what system are we talking?" she asks.

"Deadbolt Defense?"

"Deadbolt is the number one crack-resistant software out there, hon. you're gonna need to get inside this guy's head for the password."

my heart sinks. when my colleague double takes, it makes me think that this is a rare occurrence.

"babygirl, are you serious?" Morgan complains. my shoulders droop. Penelope has been nothing short of genius since I got here. slicing through sealed files and unfurling secret criminal records is always ridiculously easy for her.

"sorry, handsome."

"thanks anyway." I hang up and shove my phone into my back pocket. "so... what now?"

"now," Morgan takes another look around the room. "we get creative."

...

somehow, I wind up in the attic. I don't really know how this happens, seeing as I started by flipping through discs in Slessman's weird quasi-childlike bedroom, but it's certainly an interesting space. Christmas lights are strung about, along with some shawl-like material that drapes raw ceiling.

the laptop sits in front of me, password cursor blinking mockingly while I sit in the chair. my head is aching. despite having the unit go through every single one of the CDs in search of the most-played one (hoping it'll crack the password), there's been nothing.

at least there have been other successes since we got here: we know that Slessman isn't operating on his own. he's the submissive in a partnership with Timothy Vogel, a prison guard where he was incarcerated a while back. the problem is that Vogel was onto us and fled to the kidnapping site, which we can't find. I feel useless sitting here with nothing to offer.

I consider going back downstairs and perusing the room again when I hear footsteps on the stairs. Reid's head pops into the room, spinning a bent paper clip between his fingers.

"hey." I greet curiously.

"I've been thinking about the CDs." he responds, walking over to me. I rub the heels of my hands against my eyes.

"we tried it, Reid. there's nothing there," I slam my back to the cushions with an exasperated groan. "if we don't find something, this girl is dead."

instead of replying, Reid bends down next to the laptop in front of me, squinting at the DVD slot in the side. he pokes the end of his bent paper clip into the small opening.

"I think we may have missed the obvious." he murmurs, working diligently. I scowl.

"what do you--?" in response to my question, the DVD slot pops open and out slides a copy of a Metallica CD. Reid and I look at each other with wide eyes before I snatch the disc out of of the computer and stare at it. "what made you think of this?"

"it was the only empty case." he shrugs. I grin at him.

"okay, okay," we still don't have the password. I read the cover of the case he hands me. "I'm an insomniac who listens to Metallica to fall asleep. what song would make me do that?"

Spencer frowns, grabs the thing back from my hands, and scans the track list within the span of a second.

"'Enter Sandman'." he says. I watch the puzzle pieces fall into place in his brain, those lips parting with a slight smile playing at the edges. his eyes gleam with satisfaction.

"you are a national treasure." I type like the wind, unlocking the screen and immediately digging into his files. Spencer peers over my shoulder as we search for any indication of Heather's location.

"fucking bingo." I mutter when a video feed pops up. it's black-and-white, showing a crate in the corner of the room with a light hanging above it. Heather's inside, eyes duct taped and hands tied in front of her.

Spencer is already dialing Hotch's number. the blood drains from my face as I watch her trying to breathe through the gag in her mouth.

nothing in the feed is helpful in terms of finding out where she is. it's a nondescript room with wooden floors, mostly shrouded in darkness except for the light hanging overhead.

"wait a minute." I pause what I'm doing.

"hm?" Reid asks. I hit a few keys, trying something.

"I'm lining up the last twelve images." I explain as he watches me work. the photos sit in a grid on the screen, causing my heart to stop in my chest when I notice what I've been meaning to find. "look at the light."

"it's shifting positions like it's swaying," he notices. "like the earth is tilting."

"the ocean." I nod. we share another glance, both of our hearts hammering. we're so close to solving this, I can feel it in my chest. "we need to tell Hotch. find out if there are any piers or docks near here. there's no way he could get the webcam image from the middle of the ocean."

Reid nods, runs downstairs as fast as he possibly can. when he goes, I notice the board in the corner of the room: Go, mid-game. I've never learned how to play.

...

by the time I get back to my apartment that night, my limbs feel like jello. I collapse into the chair by my door and rub my eyes again. my head is still pounding now that the adrenaline rush has subsided. we ended up finding Vogel at the docks; Heather is safe. Hotch was shot in the arm, but he'll be fine. and I'm still a little in shock.

I hate the rumble of my stomach as I realize I haven't eaten since this morning. my head was too full of other thoughts to even consider food and after such a long day, I can barely fathom getting up to change into pajamas.

my phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see that Garcia texted me.

what are you up to? followed by a series of emojis that make me smile. I sink deeper into the seat before replying.

nothing why?

can I bring over takeout?

I stare at the message for a second with surprise. Garcia is fun and we've had drinks as a team, but I've never hung out with her one-on-one before. I'm curious.

sure. what genre of food should I expect?

Thai. send me your order!

that sounds so good right now, I almost order it myself. part of me is nervous about hanging out with a team member by myself, except she's been so friendly to me. Penelope was the first person to make me feel at home, aside from Prentiss.

I wait patiently for her to arrive, watching some TV and working my way through some leftover paperwork. my thoughts are everywhere right now, but when she tells me she's downstairs, I try to put it all out of my mind.

"hey!" I open the door to see Garcia with an armful of plastic bags.

"I have your curry, and I got chicken satay and spring rolls and fried rice in case you're still hungry." she beams at me. her bracelets make a pleasant clinking noise as she waves the goodies around.

"a woman after my own heart." I smile, stepping aside to let her in. we head upstairs and before long, we're settled on my couch with a full display of food on the coffee table. I heap my plate while she looks around my space.

"this place is so cute!" she says through a bite of spring roll.

"thanks. I've had it for about two years now. that window over there was really the selling point." I point to the enormous view of downtown DC, which is sparkling right now. there's another chair set in front of it, where I sometimes read or nap in my free time.

as we eat, Penelope and I gossip about work and the city and everything else. she's really easy to talk to. when I ask about her life, she doesn't seem guarded at all; unlike a lot of FBI agents I've met, she wears her experiences on her sleeve.

"how are you liking the team so far?" she asks a similar question as I received this morning. I smile to myself before answering truthfully.

"everyone is great. Hotch is kind of terrifying, but I've worked with people like him before." I shrug. he reminds me of one of my old professors: perpetually stoic to the point where he doesn't even seem like a real person. she laughs.

"he's super nice once you get to know him."

"really?" I look up.

"definitely. he's just always got that scowl on his face. don't let it put you off." she pats my hand reassuringly. I sigh, finish chewing my bite. there's been something prodding me since visiting Garcia's tech lair for the first time, when she showed me her collection of puppy calendars and fuzzy pens.

"can I ask you a question?"

"anything, my love." she smiles warmly. I hesitate, hoping I don't ruin the moment somehow.

"how did you get involved in the FBI? you just don't seem very..." my sentence trails off.

"government oriented?" she laughs. "I used to do a lot of hacking in my free time, and I got into some stuff that the government didn't like. and, um-- you know that saying, 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em'?"

I nod.

"it was like that, except they hired me. and I love it." she finishes the last spring roll. I think on this, imagining Penelope doing something so serious that the American government hired her on the spot for her skills. it's interesting.

"so you don't profile at all." I state.

"technically no, but I've picked up a couple things." she smirks.

"oh, yeah? like what?"

"well, it's obvious that you're never home, based on the lack of decoration here." she refers to the mostly blank walls of my apartment. aside from a couple photos of my friends and family, there's not much unique to me. "and you've obviously got a candle addiction." she points to the various spots around the living room, where half-burned pots of wax sit patiently awaiting their next light.

"that's definitely true." I laugh. she gets up and starts to smell the various candles.

"I like this one a lot." she sets down my chai vanilla one. I let her go through my things, despite the fact that Garcia is incredibly reserved about people touching her own little office trinkets. she picks up stray books and memorabilia, occasionally making a comment.

while she does, I finish my curry. I'm way too tired to resist her search, anyway. I'll be curling up in bed soon and praying that tomorrow is a paperwork day. eventually, she settles onto the cushions again.

"you seem tired," she says when she glimpses the dark circles beneath my eyes. "I'll get out of your hair."

"what? oh, I'm sorry." I draw myself up a little more. "this last case just took a lot out of me."

"they all do." she gives me a soft expression, then pats my knee as she stands.

"Penelope." I say as she gathers up her coat and purse.

"yes, darling?"

"thanks. for the food and for coming over." I smile gratefully at her. the tech analyst stands at my door with a look on her face that makes me think we're going to be good friends.

"anytime." she heads out, leaving me on the couch. I stare at the mess of empty takeout boxes that I told her to leave. now that I've eaten, getting up to clean the space is even more difficult. I trudge about the apartment, wash some dishes, and head off to bed.

my body is too exhausted to remember the dreams.

...

"oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I practically sprint into the conference room, swinging my bag down by my feet as I grab the last open chair. JJ is standing at the front of the room with a new case on the screen. everyone stares at me as I settle in. "my train was super delayed."

"everyone is allowed to be late," Hotch barely glances up from the case file. "once."

a chill runs down my spine and my face flushes an embarrassing red as JJ passes me the remaining file. keeping my head down, she notices my discomfort and clears her throat.

"okay, you guys are heading to Arizona today." she clicks a button. some pictures pop up for us to see. "Bradshaw College in Tempe has had six fires in seven months."

it's a video recording of a building from the outside, and two students talking about a fire inside. the camera shifts to show them in their own dorm, examining a strange wet spot leaking into their room. and then one of them catches on fire.

he burns to death on tape. it's jarring, the shrieking noises he lets out as the flames engulf his body. they travel up his legs alarmingly fast, so much so that it's obviously chemical.

"the first fire was in March, the second in May. the third didn't happen until September." JJ explains once the clip is over. "and then two weeks later, there were three that happened in one night."

"he's speeding up." Prentiss observes from her spot next to me.

"82% of arsonists are white males between seventeen and twenty-seven. female arsonists are far less common, with motives usually limited to revenge." Reid sits across the table, adjusting his watch.

I raise my eyebrows at his fact and look more at the crime scene photos. burned flesh is definitely an uncomfortable sight, one that makes my stomach churn.

"sounds like he's a student." Morgan taps his pen against his fingertip and leans back in his chair.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Hotch continues to read the document. "we don't want to rely too much on precedent."

at this, I press my knuckles to my chin and try to think of other suspects. he's obviously doing these during the school year, but that doesn't necessitate that he's a student. he could be working on campus-- a professor, even.

"there's a rapid escalation. he's gone from the damage to a building to something far more satisfying." Morgan closes the file and we all look to Hotch.

"wheels up in thirty." he says. I get up to grab my go-bag and gather some things from my desk, my cheeks burning at the memory of being late again. I've never done that before, but I don't want to start now. maybe it's best if I start coming in early, just in case my train gets delayed again. I can't risk losing this job, or being moved to a different department. it was enough of a hassle switching from sex crimes to the BAU. I really want to settle into this position, and that includes having the unit chief not hate me.

"hey." Prentiss catches my wrist just as I'm hurrying out of the room. I turn to her.

"hi."

"a little birdy told me that you and Reid pretty much single-handedly solved that case yesterday." she smiles.

"oh, no. it wasn't just us." I shake my head.

"quit being modest. nice job." she nudges my shoulder as we walk down the steps to the bullpen. "also, I brought a couple of those horticulture magazines that I told you about. we should read them on the jet."

"no way!" I pause at my desk, grinning.

"one of them has a whole section on caring for orchids."

"orchids?" Morgan overhears her from his desk. he appears deeply concerned with our discussion.

"if you have to ask, you wouldn't understand." she smirks. he turns his attention to me in hopes of a clearer answer.

"it's plant care." my explanation seems to be enough to bore him, however, because he just shrugs and returns to packing his bag up. Emily waves the stack of magazines at me before I head over to her desk.

she doesn't really seem like the type of person to be into it, but when Emily caught sight of the air plants I've got scattered on my desk my first week, we got wrapped up in a conversation about them. there's a special magazine subscription as well that has a bunch of helpful tips about where to buy and how to keep them healthy.

I'm flipping through one of the copies on the way to the elevator, my nose buried in a section about how much to water Hoyas, when Reid and JJ pop in next to me. the blonde is on the phone with someone, presumably the Tempe police. I haven't seen much of her recently-- she's been staying behind for most cases-- but she sends me a sweet smile before returning to her call.

"what are you reading?" Spencer's eyes hungrily run over the paper, as if seeing something he hasn't already absorbed in that big brain is unbearable. his hair is slicked back as usual, and his tie is sort of crooked; he's not aware of it. I hold the material between us so he can take a peek.

"a magazine about plants that Prentiss and I like."

"fascinating. can I see?" he grabs it before I can answer, although I don't think he means to. his fingertip runs down the page quickly, and then he's flipping them like mad, staring at the pictures. my eyes widen at how eager he is; I guess his curiosity is enough to override any awkwardness.

"did you know that owning indoor plants is actually correlated to overall mood improvements?" he asks me once he finishes reading, attention still focused on the back cover. the elevator door to the main level slides open.

"no, but I'm proof of it," I take back the reading material and put it in my bag. we walk out into the lobby. his long legs mean that my pace has to quicken a bit in order to keep up. "something about taking care of them is quite nice. they don't need as much attention as a pet, but they still rely on you."

"interesting." he nods.

"I like to think so."

"maybe I'll get one." he muses more to himself than anyone else. I smile at his open-mindedness, keep my eyes on the tiles we're walking over. maybe he, Prentiss, and I can have our own affinity club. he would become more knowledgeable than both of us combined within the span of a week.

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #dr. reid #criminal minds #mgg #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #friends to lovers #BAU #slow burn

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