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sporesgalaxy · 1 year

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good morning on this fine friday at 5am my time! circe clawthorne jumpscare.

I truly think this is very very close to final, moreso than usual lol. I'm quite happy with this

I really can't tell if it would be more difficult for me to try and convert this into proper paragraphs or make it a comic...

well here it is. but wait there will be more!

•••

?: [distantly] Philip?

?: [closer] Philip!

?: Philip Wittebane!!!

P: [weirded out cuz hes in the middle of the woods] What in the–

C: [running up to him excitedly] Philip!!! It’s SO good to see you again!!!

P: [backing away] See me again? Do we know each other, Miss?

C: !

C: Come on, Philip!

C: Surely the King of the Witch Hunters can recognize the Dread Witch Beezelbella when he sees her!

—

P: …

C: [smile falters nervously] ...

[Philip bolts]

C: Wh- Philip!

[He sprints through the woods as fast as he can, but weaving between the trees slows him down.]

[Circe suddenly cuts Philip off, riding on her staff]

P: [flinches away from her so violently that he falls on his ass] GAH!!

C: What are you running away for?!

P: [shielding his face, peeking at her erratically, as if afraid to look directly at her for too long] You’re not real!! You’re some cruel illusion!!

P: Sent to– to torment me, or tempt me to forfeit my soul to the devil!

P: Well it WON’T WORK!! So– gh– [flails his hands in her general direction] BEGONE!

–

C: No no no no! No tricks, I promise!

C: [REALIZES SHE IS LEVITATING] Ah!!! Er…

[she jumps off the staff and holds it behind her conspicuously, too frantic to remember to store it as a palisman]

C: [smiling nervously] I meant to save that for later!

P: [STARING]

C: Here. :) [holds out her free hand to help him up]

P: [looks somewhere btwn angry and scandalized]

[Philip pushes himself further away from her before standing up on his own. He struggles a little because he now seems reluctant to take his eyes off her. Circe looks saddened but not entirely surprised.]

C: Really, I--

[tries to gesture, but is still holding the staff in one hand, and ends up accidentally swinging it towards Philip.]

[Philip flinches again, and stares at it like it might explode.]

[Circe quickly reduces the staff to just a bird and pockets the palisman in her cloak]

C: [smiling apologetically, holding up palms to show she’s unarmed] I’d never dream of hurting you!!

C: [looking at him and still smiling but with pleading, sad eyes] You know that, don't you Philip? No matter how we've changed, I...I'll always love you.

P: [mentally recalculating] …I...see.

C: [beams] Yes!! I pinky promise! [holds out pinky for a second, but quickly drops it]

P: [less defensive body language, but still clearly a little wary] Hm…

–

C: [a bit nervier] Ah-- before we go any further, I need to re-introduce myself!!

P: [skeptical] Re-introduce?

C: [trying to stay chipper but looking more stressed] I know I look different, but it’s…it’s still me!! [she pulls her hair back into a ponytail, looking a bit uncomfortable] See?

P: The…Dread Witch Beezelbella.

C: [frustrated] Your sis– your sibling!!! You know, the one who raised you?? Who spent all those years putting gruel on the table??

P: [frowning] The one who died seven years ago.

C: Er– well– I had to...go away for a while. But I’m here now!!

C: [trying to bulldoze through it] And really hardly anything has changed!

C: I've simply learned I’m much happier being your sister! That’s not too complicated, is it? You understand, don’t you??

P: I…suppose–

C: [bulldozing again] Spectacular!!!!

C: So, you’ll call me Ci– [seems to realize something] Er…just C.C. is fine for now! [nervy smile]

[Philip gives her a perplexed look]

C: Probably easier and, er…good for an Adjustment Period! [nods to herself]

P: [mostly just baffled] …C.C.

C: [nodding more] You've got it!! Same person, new gender! None of the old name and no man words, pretty please!

P: --

C: [before Philip can reply] Great!!!

C: Now, with all THAT out of the way: It’s YOUR turn! [stepping closer to him, as though she wants to hold his hands] Tell me everything! How are you?! What’s happened while I was gone? What have you been up to??

–

P: [leaning away] Oh. Er…

P: I’m…doing very well. I… [“thinks”, bringing a finger to his chin a little too theatrically]

P: …Goodness, so much has changed, I’m not even sure where to start!

P: Really, you ought to just visit the house with me and see what’s changed for yourself. [grabs her arm and gently tugs]

C: [Withdraws, very nervous] Oh, no no no, I can't go into town.

C: You and I of all people should know how–!

C: --!

C: [Squints]

P: …Is something the matter?

C: [Squints harder]

C: ...Do NOT Witch-hunt me, Philip!!!!

P: I have no idea what you’re talking about. I'm only trying to show you--

C: Oh for goodness' sake, NO!!!! I will NOT set foot in that town EVER again!!

P: ...Then you should wait here for just a moment, and I'll return shortly– [beginning to walk away]

C: [Grabs his arm to stop him leaving] [exasperated] I am not an idiot, Philip!!!

C: [sighs] Look, I know this is going to be difficult for you to accept, but magic didn't turn me evil! I'm still just ME!

P: [MAIDENLESS STARE]

–

[Circe continues holding Philip’s arm to keep him there, and for now, he lets her.]

C: As it turns out, you DON’T have to sell your soul for magic! We were completely wrong about it!

P: [EXTREMELY skeptical] Is that so?

C: [frustrated] It’s true! I could prove it to you!

C: ...Well, I guess I can’t PROVE that I still have a soul. Not that I know of. [to herself] I wonder if there’s a spell for that…

P: [extremely sarcastic] Perhaps we ought to enlighten the entire town to the existence of this fascinating *benign sorcery*.

C: [annoyed] Really, Philip?

P: Well, why not?? Since you can *prove* that it’s harmless, let's go prove it to everybody! It would make our lives *so* much easier…

C: Stop it.

—

P: Why, no one would have to do chores ever again!

C: Philip!

P: Maybe we could all be in one big witch’s coven together--

C: ENOUGH!!

C: You've been clear enough already!!!! You still don't like magic, and you don't trust me!!!

C: [takes a deep breath] ...

[Gently, Circe lets go of Philip's arm, which she had been gripping rather tightly.]

[She watches as though expecting Philip to bolt again, but he doesn't.]

[She fidgets with her sleeve as she continues.]

C: Philip, please. Just...just listen to me for a moment.

P: [Opens mouth, looking indignant]

C: [cutting Philip off] You don't have to believe me! I know that you...probably won't. I had hoped--

C: [doesnt finish that thought, looking bitterly sad]

C: ...There's something I need to tell you, but I want to know you'll listen.

P: [scoffs] Why bother if you know I won't fall for it?

C: Because...! Because I have to do something!

C: ...Philip--

[She reaches toward him, and he shrinks back.]

P: You've been gone for nearly a decade.

C: ... [confirmingly guilty face]

P: It took you that long to-- to bother telling me anything?!

P: Why in the hell would I want to believe that?!

—–

P: How could I?!

P: How could I possibly believe that you’d *vanish without a trace,*

P: and then– *reappear out of thin air,* just because-- what, the whim finally struck you???

C: No--! It-- it wasn't a whim, Philip, I would never--!

P: [pulling at his hair] AGH!! Then where have you *been??!!!* Why come back *now??!*

C: I-- it's difficult to explain--

P: I spent YEARS trying to hunt down that *witch*–!

[Circe grimacing/wincing rxn shot]

P: [gesticulating wildly] YEARS hopelessly wondering what might’ve become of you!!!!!

P: I WASTED my LIFE searching for answers!!!!

P: Of course I don't want to believe this!! That you could have come back this whole time, but-- [voice breaking]

P: ...But you chose not to.

–

C: 😟

P: [still angry, but quieter now] And what a cruel joke it would be, for you to finally be here.

P: [hand gravitating towards knife on belt] After I’d finally managed to give *up* on you.

[Circe wants to hug him. She wishes he were still small enough that she could pick him up and squeeze him with all her might. But she thinks better of it. No matter how much she loved Philip, she couldn't afford to trust him right now.]

[Philip's hand is hovering over the spot where Circe knows his knife sheath to be. She feels her heart break a little more.]

[She steadily meets his eyes and keeps her hands at her sides, ready to pull out her staff if necessary. She won't be able to hurt him the way he's apparently resolved to hurt her, but she could run away.]

[She had desperately hoped that Gravesfield's claws wouldn't be sunken so deeply into him, but she knew what it took to survive there. And he had been forced to survive it even longer than her.]

C: ...I’m sorry, Philip.

P: ...

C: I'm sorry for leaving you in Gravesfield alone.

C: I didn't think I had a choice.

[Circe shifts her weight uncomfortably. It feels wrong, measuring how she speaks to Philip, her brother, the person who knew her better than anyone not too long ago. But he isn't the only one she's protecting anymore.]

C: ...truthfully, I…

[It feels loathesome to admit after so many years of spending so much of her energy hiding it.]

C: …I thought you would be better off without me.

—

P: [genuine confusion] ...What?

C: You're a genius, Philip. I knew you could do anything you put your mind to. Make a real future for yourself.

C: But I-- I could barely even keep us fed until we--

C: [looking terribly guilty] ...started working together.

C: I thought that once you could take care of yourself...

C: You could have a normal, happy life. Without me.

P: [pissed] And how do you know that you couldn't be a part of it!? You ran away before you even tried!!

C: I tried for years!! All my trying ever did was put targets on our backs!!!

C: [bitterly] Because I couldn't hold down any job but the most dangerous in Gravesfield.

---

P: What targets?! We were heroes!

P: If you had just stayed, if you had never listened to that witch, we still would be!!

P: Did she say I'd be better off without you?! Is that how she convinced you to leave?!

C: [low, serious] No.

C: I... [ashamed] ...I made up my mind before I met Evelyn.

C: I had already decided you were better off without me.

C: [intense] She's the reason I'm still here to discuss it with you.

P: [shocked, unsettled, doesn't want to process that]

P: That...that can't be true! Everything was fine until she came along!! This was all her fault!!

P: You'd still be normal if it weren't for her!!!

C: [angry on Evelyn's behalf] No!!! I was never normal!!!!

C: And you were the only person who couldn't seem to tell!!!

C: [tearing up] It was going to get us both killed, sooner or later!!!

C: *I* was going to get us killed, because I'm like this!! Because *I* can't live a normal life!!

C: I wanted to protect you. To make your life easier than mine had been, but--

P: You were protecting me just fine before you ran away!!!

P: And what's this nonsense about us getting killed?! We were heroes! We saved the whole town from evil!

C: We were never heroes! We weren't saving anyone!

C: We punished people who didn't fit in!

P: Didn't "fit in??"

P: We punished monsters!! Demons who tortured our neighbors!!

P: Any one of those witches would have sacrificed all of Gravesfield to the Devil had we not stopped them!!

C: And what about us, Philip?!

C: Is there anyone in Gravesfield we wouldn't have sacrificed, had the court willed it?!!

C: [crying] We were such hypocrites!

C: The suspicion, the accusations-- it was exactly the way they used to treat us!! We were outsiders, too!!

P: [falters. that kinda gets to him but he wants to pretend it didnt]

C: [miserable] I justified so many awful things to myself. To you.

C: All because I was too scared to see the truth.

C: And once I finally did...I was too gutless to ask you to face it.

C: We were never any better than anyone else.

C: All of it...

C: It was just murder.

P: [not as much conviction] Don't be ridiculous--!

C: Don't be naive!!

P: ...

C: ...

C: ...I am truly sorry, Philip.

C: I'm sorry that I got us into this mess.

C: I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you like I was supposed to.

C: I was rash. And stupid. But I only ever wanted to keep you safe.

C: ...I still want you to be safe. I'd hoped you could understand, but...

C: [difficult for her to give up on him] ...if you refuse to listen...there's nothing that I can do.

P: [trying to not want it to be real] ...

[Philip looks conflicted, frustrated, trying to find his anger and righteousness again]

P: I-- rrgh!! You're impossible!!!

[He begins to walk in one direction, pulling at his hair, then suddenly turns on his heel and walks the other way again]

P: [exasperated, tring to convince himself] Literally! This is-- this is all impossible...!

[He buries his face in his hands and plops down on a log with an angry grunt]

[Circe watches him, wondering what he’s thinking now.]

[After he just sits there with his face in his hands for a moment, she slowly approaches and sits carefully next to him.]

P: [he is resting his elbows on his legs. He clasps his hands, uncovering his face, forehead against his intertwined fists.]

P: ...

[shot of Circe looking at him sadly]

–

C: …Are you happy in Gravesfield?

P: [Hands still clasped, his eyes open, looking into the woods] …

C: Philip?

P: [flatly] That doesn’t matter.

C: [Leaning forward, trying to look in his eyes] …It matters to *me*…

[Philip unclasps his hands but remains hunched over. He instead holds his elbows, which still rest on his legs. Does not look at Circe.]

P: [cold] So you say.

[Circe shrinks back]

[the two sit in silence for a moment. Birds chirp, and the bare tree branches sway in the breeze above them.]

–

C: [quietly] …are the trials as bad as they used to be?

P: …

P: [even tone] Less frequent.

C: [hopeful] That’s good.

P: … [furrows his eyebrows]

C: Do you still–

P: Yes.

C: [saddened] …

P: I am protecting people.

P: I’ve prevented what happened to you from happening again a dozen times over.

[Circe pales. Philip still is not looking at her.]

P: [clearly bitter about something] I’m *careful.* [seeming more vexed than proud] I’ve done more research than *anyone.*

C: [examining his face] …Research?

P: …

C: [dawning ] Do they *understand* that’s what your doing?

P: [intensely, looking only at the ground] It doesn’t matter. I can prove it.

C: [scared] Philip, are you in danger?

P: [breaks a twig off a branch on the fallen log with his left hand] [curtly] *No.*

P: [looks annoyed at the stick momentarily. passes it to his right hand] Because *I* am not a witch.

P: [slightly hesitant] …obviously.

—-

[Philip starts doodling in the dirt with the twig]

C: [losing patience with his stubborness] Do you honestly still believe that only real witches get accused? Get *punished?*

P: [stops drawing. gives her an angry sideways glance. then glares at the dirt again] …

P: …*Yes.*

P: As long as you do it *correctly.*

C: [furrows eyebrows] ……

[Philip resumes, scratching the dirt more forcefully.]

C: But–

P: Witches die because they are born doomed.

[as he says “doomed,” Philip finishes drawing The Belos Mask with a final, forceful scratch]

C: That’s what we were *told*. That doesn’t mean it’s true.

[Circe looks at Philip, expression somewhere between grim and pleading, but he won’t look up from his sketch]

——

P: [darkly] What does that mean for you, then?

[Circe is taken off-guard]

P: Do your witch-friends know what you used to do?

P: Or are you lying to them, too?

C: I–!

C: …

C: [quieter] …Not all of them know.

P: [snidely] Hmph.

C: [with a bit more conviction] But the ones that *do* know…

C: They know that I was scared. And trying to keep us safe.

C: There are people who understand that I truly thought I was doing the right thing.

C: [guilt] That I would give anything to undo it now…

C: [focusing on Philip again] They trust me, and love me, even though I’ve made…terrible mistakes. Even though I’ll *always* make mistakes.

C: [trying REALLY hard to get through to Philip] *Gravesfield isn’t all there is.*

P: …

[Philip scratches out the doodle forcefully.]

P: [unhappily] Good for you.

—-

[a prolonged beat of silence, save Philip’s stick scraping against the ground as he scribbles slowly, randomly on the spot where the doodle used to be]

C: ...If you want–

[suddenly, Philip throws his stick to the ground and turns to Circe]

P: [frustrated noise] Would you just get this over with already?!

C: [taken aback] What?

P: For Christ's sake, I don’t care what you want anymore!! Just take it!!!

P: You win! Enough with this awful vision!!

C: [baffled] Wha–! I-I’m not–! You still don’t believe that I’m real?!

——-

P: You *can’t* be!

P: [breaking a little] I only *want* you to be real!

P: I *want* you to be *alive*!

P: I don’t *want* to be *alone* any longer!!

P: But you insist on dragging out this awful charade!!

P: [becoming more desperate than angry] Why can’t you just lie to me?!

P: Tell me that you never wanted to leave at all!! That you're back for good! That nothing’s changed!!

P: *Something*– *anything* that’s actually easy to go along with!!! Isn't that what you're supposed to do?!

[Circe looks hurt]

P: Don't I even get to die thinking that I could be reunited with– with you?!

P: [losing steam] …What could you possibly want that you haven’t had the chance to take from me already…?

[a beat. Circe’s expression has closed off considerably. Philip rubs his face for a moment, then looks up again.]

P: Please. Get it over with. Kill me, or whatever it is you came here to do.

P: Or for God’s sake leave me be.

[wide shot of them sitting in unhappy silence]

——

C: [very quietly] …Alright.

[Circe stands, brushes her skirt off. Philip remains sitting, not looking at her]

C: I suppose I’ve done all that I can, then.

P: …

C: I won’t disturb you again.

P: …….

C: I’m still thankful that I could see you one last time.

P: ………..

C: [trying to keep composed] Please…stay safe. Take care of yourself.

P: ……………..

—

C: I love you.

P: …………… … …

C: [offscreen] Goodbye, Philip.

[she walks away]

[a beat passes]

[Philips resolve breaks. As he looks up–]

P: Ca– C.C., I–

[–he realizes he is alone again.]

P: ….

P: [slowly, he stands. brushes his jacket off. walks away.]

#circe clawthorne #toh #suicide mention #<- still just implicative but closer to explicitly referenced now #ohhh they both have so many problems. yippee!!!!

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xsapphirescrollsx · 1 year

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Touch

Written: 2020-04-28

Bucky Barnes x Black female reader

Bucky Barnes thinks he doesn’t deserve you.

That he was unworthy of this very moment too.

Rain fell in sheets swelling the air around you in scents of dark soil and juniper. He sniffed the moist air again and breathed in deep, it smelled a touch like honey too. Bucky huddled in further next to you, hair wet, the droplets fell to your cheeks and he discovered the sweet smell was coming from you.

A pavillion of sorts, but it was a small and broken pile of wood to the point a stream of spring rain came pouring in from the roof, on to the base of the floor and down the side like a waterfall.

Bucky groaned inside, What are you doing here? Why did you follow him?

You slid down the column running through the center of the junky gazebo with a frazzled but excited gaze.

“Just a little rain,” you said in a chipper tone.

He was not sure whether to sit or to continue to stand. Bucky glanced from your bare legs, to your flip flop barely on one foot, to your hands gently wiping off the rain from your thighs. Not entirely comfortable with how smooth he found your skin to be, he quickly looked away to the rain that was still coming down hard.

“Aren’t you going to sit?” You loudly asked over the roar of the downpour.

The apple of his cheeks were still pink when he nodded stiffly, refused to look you in the eyes and sat down next to you.

“Afraid of me?” you asked playfully and bumped his shoulder with yours.

Bucky brought a knee up and rested his metal arm on it and didn’t speak.

He shook his head and kept his eyes panned on the rain. In the past, he had women, some of those moments he had become hopelessly devoted too, though to his detriment for only just one thing. But now, his eyes fell to your hands cupping and rubbing the bottom of your foot.

Bucky imagined your hands, the soft pads of your fingers tracing along his face, his lips. The little movement of your thumb messaging the pinch in your hell was enough to send his heart hammering into his chest.

“It was a pretty day,” you said offhandedly.

You rocked forward on your hands and knees, pushed closer to the cascade of rain and rinsed your hands.

Tilting your head back over your shoulder a small smile met his. Blood rushed to his head again and Bucky looked away.

It was still a pretty day, he thought.

Bucky concentrated on a blade of grass being pelted. “You got stuck out here with me. Why’d you follow me in the first place?” He asked.

“You looked upset after the reaming from Fury.”

You scooted closer, folded your legs underneath you letting your knee touch his shin.

“So?”

Bucky’s eyes fell to the place the two of you were connected up to your eyes.

You shrugged gently, he could see the confidence melt a bit and the shyness take over.

“I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Tender, with merciful care you laid the tips of your fingers on his calf.

The rain let up a bit. “Why would you care if I was alone?” he asked quietly.

“Same reason you cared when I didn’t show up for the briefing a few weeks ago.”

He remembered. He found you in your room, unbathed, the assertiveness in your eyes had vanished and you just wanted to be alone.

And he remembered in that moment he wanted to touch you then, like he wanted to now.

“I just want you to be okay,” You said and your eyes moved to his stubbly cheek. Smoothly your fingers left his calve and with the tips of your fingers you caressed his jaw.

He felt his inside skip and stuttered, his skin flushed to a deeper pink. Bucky’s jaw tightened, his heart thumped quicker as your palm was joined by your fingers.

Your touch was like light, raw and pure it cut through the dark muddling his mind and he shut his eyes. Bucky unclenched his jaw as the back of your other hand swept up his neck. The warmth of your body fell over him, through him and he breathed in the sweet silkiness of your rain soaked skin.

A sob racked from his chest. It scared him, he hadn’t expected to feel this unfiltered joy. You hesitated, and Bucky opened his eyes and gazed at you.

“Don’t stop,” he said softly.

You brushed a few wet strands away from his forehand.

“Never,” you whispered.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #black female reader #x black reader #x black!reader

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billyssillywilly · 2 years

Text

Vampire Eddie Oneshot

18+ MINORS BEGONE, completely SATIRE smut

Warnings: drug mention, swearing, bats, multiple orgasms, really stupid and obscure smutty sequences that make no sense

Enjoy!

Ever since the demobats, Eddie hasn’t been the same. he’s gone absolutely feral, wanting to be inside of your moist sticky pussy every second of the day. You hear the crunch of the gravel of your driveway and practically came on the spot, he was finally home after a long day of bullying children and selling crack cocaine to cheerleaders. The jingle of his keys send you into your first orgasm, the anticipation was enough to send you over the edge.At the Speed of light, he races on all fours toward your spot on the couch and proceeds to tear your clothes to shreds like an extremely horny wood chipper. “I’m going to ruin your easy bake oven pussy Y/N” he whispers moistly into your ear, sending you into another orgasm. As if possessed by a malfunctioning lawn sprinkler, you twitch and squirt all over the couch. Eddie begins suckling on your left earlobe, making your nipples twist with excitement. “Babe, stick it in my glazed krispy cream donut” you plead, fisting his hair as if you could control him ratatouille style to fuck you. Eddie roughly takes you by the toes and growled “I’m taking my time baby, don’t rush me” and proceeds to suck each one individually. Hes caring that way, making sure each toe gets the attention it deserved. He makes his way back up to your firm mammaries and took each in his hands, giving them a good shake. Still gorilla gripping your breasts, he moves to your throbbing abyss. Using your knockers as handles, he begins to eat you out like a watermelon, slurping and sucking so loudly it’s possible he broke he sound barrier. His tongue climbs up your pussy and into your uterus, causing you to orgasm again, this time squirting into his mouth. He proceeds to gargle your cum and swallow, “I could drink that shit every day like Starbucks” he says as he smacks his lips. As you go through the final few waves of your orgasm, he grabs your face and attacks your lips. He begins swirling your tongue like a washing machine set on heavy duty, practically scrubbing your taste buds clean. His tongue slithers down your throat to play with your uvula, making you gag in response. It continues to snake its way down your throat, strumming your vocal cords like his guitar, causing you to involuntarily moan. His unnaturally long tongue was one of the many blessings that was gifted to him from Vecna when he was transformed into a vampire. You run your hands up his stomach and over his chest, feeling the scars from the very incident that had led to his transformation. “You like those?” He asks, you nod in response. Suddenly, Eddie sat up and whispers “Bat mode activated”. You sit in confusion as His eyes turn red and he screeches as if hes attempting echolocation. Bats flood the room and begin circling you and eddie as he lines himself up with your deep sea cavern. He roughly pounds into you amidst the screeching bats. Suddenly, he began levitating, Rising up and taking you with him. You both turned upside down and begin raw doggin it on the ceiling, still being orbited by thousands of bats. You orgasm from the sheer shock of the situation. Who knew fucking on the ceiling could be so sexy. Eddie quickens the pace, eyes still red as he twisted your uterus into a pretzel with his cock, you can tell he was close. “I’m gonna cum in your wet little Pringle’s can” he says, voice unnaturally deep and husky. His red eyes roll back in his head as he shoots scolding hot streams of cum into your pussy. You both begin spinning as You orgasm again and you both shower your living room with cum like fire sprinklers. His eyes slowly return back to normal as you both sink back into the couch and the bats begin to flutter out of the windows and doors. You both lay with each other on the cum soaked couch enjoying the post nut clarity. Suddenly, Steve, robin, argyle, Nancy, hopper, joyce, Mrs wheeler, Mike, el, will, Dustin, Lucas, Erica, Suzy, Murray, Dr. Brenner, and Keith from family video walk in and collectively yell WHAT THE FUCK. Jonathan runs in last minute with his camera and says “I got it on camera!

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie munson smut #satire

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batsarebetterthanpeople · 1 year

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Sadly I think Stede might be here to stay? Sorry.

Yeah I know. Do I need to tell my villain origin story about Stede again to remind everyone why I'm Like This?

So in late 2020 I met this guy on grindr, he was blond, goofy, exactly my type (emo and skinny and self destructive)(I have sex with all types of men but this is the only type of guy I've ever fallen in love with, I'm doing great thanks for asking)

We went out on a couple dates and I fell in love with him far too fast. He lived out of town so he would always come to visit me but he had a better job than I did making gas money less of a concern and I hate driving so I didn't see that as a red flag. You already know where this is going. We made it official

Motherfucker ghosted me on the day after fucking Christmas. I had a pair of earplugs (like for gauges) I had gotten him. I waited all fucking day for him to show up because I had blocked this out. He never came he wasn't answering his phone.

Cut to twoish months later and I get a text from him. I call him, we have a long phone convo but the TL;DR? Wife and 2 kids. This whole time. And I need you guys to know I was fully ready to marry this man when he ghosted.

Anyway exactly a month after that phone call I watched a television show on HBO Max called Our Flag Means Death and I was an Ed kinnie from Episode 4 on I was like "this is the new hes just like me for real character he's my fav hey his ex even kinda looks like the guy i have sex with in exchange for drugs haha thats awesome" however it did not even occur to me to project my 130lb soaking wet, formerly meth addicted, emo, cheating ass most recent boyfriend onto Stede, because why the fuck would it, until Ed sat on that dock and waited for him all fucking night and he never showed up and then it hit me like a truck and in those minutes I went from thinking Stede was a funny little protag to mentally running him through a wood chipper and I will continue to do so until he wins me back (which to be clear Stede winning me back has always been part of the escapism of this show for me.)

#personal #batsarebetterthanpeople villain origin story #drug mention

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pinkhairandpokemon · 11 months

Text

———

[Video: Blake can be seen jumping off Reshiram’s back with their Zoroark, Nox, before they make a frantic run for a small wooden cottage up ahead together.

“Alder- Alder!” They cry out, rushing past the dirt battlefield out in the front yard before stumbling almost face-first into the front door. They pant, straightening themself up again before pounding their fist against the wood. “Alder, I’m here, let me in-!”

“It’s unlocked! Come on in!” A far more chipper voice can be heard inside. Without hesitation, Blake turns the knob, almost tripping over their own feet and Nox’s paws as they both squirm their way through at the same time. Once they fumble inside, though, they stop- their expression of panic quickly shifting to one of bewilderment.

The first noticeable thing is the huge, paper banner hanging from the ceiling- with the words “Welcome back, hero!” written in bold, colorful letters, decorated with some Unova Pokémon themed stickers. Gathered underneath it are several people stood side by side- Professor Juniper, her father, Alder, Cheren, and Bianca, and a pair of two kids Blake doesn’t recognize.

“Surprise!” They all cheer in unison the moment Blake steps through the doorway.

Blake blinks a few times, looking over the single room house around them- There’s balloons, assortments of food plated on small folding tables, and a small blue cooler filled with sodas and water bottles off in the corner. Nox seems just as perplexed as they are.

“Wh-wha?” They mumble, still a bit out of breath from their frantic escape earlier.

“Welcome home, Blakey!” Bianca squeals, running up to envelop them in a tight bearhug. “Well- back to Unova, anyway!”

“Glad to see you again,” Cheren muses, a relaxed smile on his face as he places a hand on their shoulder.

“What…” Blake looks around again, still rather dazed. “What is this…?”

“The minute we heard you were in Unova, we knew we had to welcome you back properly- it’s the least we can do for the region’s hero, right?” Prof. Juniper explains, walking over to playfully ruffle the young trainer’s hair. “The surprise party was Bianca’s idea. It’s nothing much, just what we were able to throw together before you arrived, but I’d say it turned out pretty good. Whaddya think?”

“It’s… it’s great,” Blake stammers, looking to Alder. “But what about-”

“The texts I sent you?” Alder chortles, slapping them on the back with a beaming grin. “Ahah, that was just to make sure you got here as fast as possible! Sorry if I startled you!”

While everyone continues to chatter on around them, Blake’s gaze falls to the floor, uneasiness brewing behind their eyes as they start to zone out. They look at the dust stains covering the sleeves of their jacket, the ones they’d received trying to fight off Team Plasma’s sneak attack hardly even an hour prior.

Bianca places a hand on their arm, snapping them out of it. “Hey, you alright?” she asks, tilting her head a little in concern. “You look tired. Why don’t you sit down and have something to eat and drink? We’ve got two whole years to catch up with each other on!

She begins to gently tug them towards the nearest seat, beckoning Cheren over as well. Blake seems to hesitate, though, looking back towards the entrance- they notice Nox gazing firmly at the door, like he’s waiting for something to come barging through, still high on alert from the prior attack.

“But those grunts…” They mumbled underneath their breath.

“Hm?” Cheren hummed, raising a confused brow at them. “Sorry, did you say something?”

They hold their gaze on the door and their Zoroark a few seconds longer, before turning back to their group of friends and shaking their head. “N-nevermind. It’s nothing. Let’s go eat.”]

———

#interlude arc #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #pokeblog rp #pokemon #pokemon oc #pokemon rp #trainer blake #pokeirl #pkmn irl #pkmn rp

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theajaheira · 1 year

Note

is it jenny/xander?

i will DEFINITELY keep answering incorrect guesses because i think they're super funny.

that said, i would actually rather run into a wood chipper than even entertain jenny/xander after all of the incredibly bad male power fantasy "xander and jenny bond over how much they both hate angel and are right to hate angel" fics i have read in my quest to Read Everything Jenny Related On The Internet. actually this ask has given me so many flashbacks. i have seen things no man should see. i truly cannot have a coherent take on jenny/xander outside of "kill it with fire" after Going Through It in those fic trenches. i am SURE fic COULD exist that could make me believe in this dynamic, because that is, i think, what the art of fanfiction is for, but y'all have no idea how much jenny/xander fic is already out there and how bad it is. jenny/xander my worst nightmare. never ever jenny/xander

#asks #REALLY the fic just falls victim to the No One Knows How To Write Xander disease #but i truly cannot overemphasize how bad 99 percent of it is #that said: i read a wishverse fic once where xander and jenny are like the last survivors #and xander's in love with jenny #jenny's feelings are left incredibly ambiguous but she tolerates xander's affection #THAT dynamic made me unwell and insane. but that's the ONLY one that will be allowed in my house.

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winchesterszvonecek · 5 days

Text

I See Red 18+

Chapter 5 - Wendigo: 1 - Cat Winchester: 0

Word Count: 9326

Warnings: attempted sexual assault

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Most commonly known as the longest hiking trail in the world, the Appalachian Trail is home to all kinds of life. From racoons to bears. Bobcats to coyotes. Even Bigfoot, if you believe the tales, which if you’re a hunter, you don’t, as every hunter worth their salt knows Bigfoot is a hoax.

But besides all that, the trail is said to be home to a lot more than simple wildlife that would run off at first glance of a human. Going back decades there’s been theories of more dark and evil beings living within the woods of that trail. The Bell Witch. Moon Eyed People. Wampus Beasts.

There’s tons of theories and stories out there about what lurks within those trees and snatches people away but in reality, most of the disappearances are chalked up to one creature and one creature only.

A Wendigo.

“Man, I hate Wendigo’s.” Dean grumbled exasperatedly, setting his coffee mug onto the table with a gentle clatter. “They’re too fast. They stink. And they’re always hauled up in some dark, damp place in the middle of nowhere.”

“Wouldn’t you be if you looked like that?” Selina raised her eyebrow, Dean’s lips pursing a little as he nodded in response.

Fair enough, she made a valid point, he thought to himself. But it didn’t make him anymore excited to catch a case involving one.

“God, we haven’t gone after a Wendigo since Black Water Ridge.” Sam exhaled, shuffling through the case file Selina had scattered over the table when she came bounding into the kitchen a few minutes ago. All excited and happy which wasn’t at all like her.

“So does that mean you’re in?” Selina asked, glancing between her brothers and their angel as she all but shook with excitement over finding a case, as for the past week or so it seemed like everything monster related had dried up.

“I guess.” Dean shrugged, picking up the map that was covered in Selina’s scrawley writing. “We’ll have to stock up on flares though. Or…” He dragged out, his tone a lot more chipper than it had been a few seconds ago. “…we could forget about those and use the flamethrower instead.”

“No.” Selina, Sam and Castiel said in unison, making Dean sulk like a petulant child as he grumbled.

“What’s the point in having it, if you won’t let me use it?”

“Dean, if you use that thing in the middle of the woods you’ll end up starting a forest fire.” Selina pointed out as she began gathering up her notes, even though it pained her to as she was desperate to use the flamethrower as well.

“Okay, Smokey the Bear.” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes and hearing the faint chuckle that left Sam’s lips in response.

“Who’s Smokey the Bear?” Castiel asked, his brow deeply furrowed as he glanced between the three siblings, who simply stared at him with nothing but deadpan expressions.

They really needed to sit down and teach him about human things otherwise this living situation would become exhausting.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Selina shook her head, brushing off the angel's question as she turned to her brothers, her eyes a little widened in question. “So are we going or what?”

“I’m up for it.” Sam replied, knowing better than most to disagree when she looked at them like that. “Might be nice to get out of the bunker for a while.”

“Yeah, why not.” Dean agreed, throwing a piece of bacon into his mouth as he was outnumbered. Not that he’d have said no anyway, but still. “I’m always game for lighting monster asses on fire.”

“You got the last Wendigo, this one is mine.” Selina hissed, squinting at him as she was still bitter he beat her to the last cannibalistic monster they faced.

“Yeah, well we’ll see.” Dean muttered, sliding his plate aside just in time as Selina had been about to steal the bacon off it, her fingertips hitting the tabletop with a soft thud instead. “Nice try, Cat, but your sneaky ways don’t always work on me.”

“Is that so?” Selina chuckled, to Dean’s surprise and he glanced to his side, just in time to see her pull a familiar looking wallet out of her pocket, holding it between her fingers with a smug look on her face. “I took this from your pocket when I first sat down but it’s nice to know you're so much more vigilant about your bacon than you are about your money.”

“Give me that.” Dean spat annoyedly, snatching the wallet from her grasp and quickly checking to make sure all his cash was still there. And luckily for Selina, it was. He tucked it back into his pocket, the one furthest away from his sticky fingered sister before he shoved her lightly. “Just go get dressed. Unless you’re planning to hunt Wendigo’s in your pyjamas.”

“Oh, if only I could.” Selina exhaled, standing up and bringing her case file with her, tucking it under her arm and downing the last of her lukewarm coffee. “Don’t take too long, I could do with getting out of this bunker for a while. I’m starting to get cabin fever.”

“Yeah, we can tell.” Dean muttered, feeling the glare Selina fired his way before she spun on her heels and left the kitchen, heading towards her bedroom.

The bedroom she was now getting sick of seeing so much as ever since she’d gotten back from her ‘was it a date or was it not a date’ trip to Paris with Crowley, she’d practically been stuck inside of it. And not because her brothers had found out about her co-mingling with the King of Hell and locked her up, but because there’d been radio silence on hunter fm for the past week and a half which meant she had no reason to leave the confines of the bunker.

But it wasn’t all bad, as ever since that spontaneous little trip Selina hadn’t been as lonely as she might have been. Not that her brothers and Castiel weren’t good company, but sometimes it was nice to talk to someone different for a change.

In this case that someone different just so happened to be Crowley, who Selina had been texting non-stop since the morning she woke up after Paris. It started with a thank you text, as she couldn’t remember if she’d actually thanked him after they’d gotten back as she had still been wrapping her head around the whole ordeal.

After that it just kept going. They’d talk about all manner of things, from Selina asking how Hell was, not that she cared but what else would she ask him? To Crowley asking what she’d been up to since he last saw her, which unfortunately for her all she could say was nothing as she wasn’t about to tell him she’d been thinking about him.

As she had been thinking about him. She’d been thinking about him a lot and not all of it had been safe for work if you catch her drift. She really needed to focus her attention on something else and hopefully this case would help with that.

Only as she sat in the backseat of the Impala on their way to the trail, Selina wasn’t exactly doing her best to try and get Crowley off her mind as she just so happened to be texting him. But he had texted her first, so what else could she do? Leave him on read?

Crowley: Heading anywhere exciting today or are you still moping around in that super secret hideout of yours?

Selina: I do not mope thank you very much

Crowley: My mistake, I’ll just ignore all those messages you sent about being so bored you wished the apocalypse would start up again then shall I?

Selina decided to ignore that message as well, she couldn't exactly deny it.

Crowley: That’s what I thought… So, are we off anywhere fun today?

Selina: As a matter of fact we are. We’re on our way to The Appalachian Trail

Crowley: You're going hiking? Goodness, you really must be bored

Selina: Not hiking, you idiot🙄 Hunting, you know, my job?

Crowley: And what a fun job you have

Selina: Better than running Hell

Crowley: Darling, anything’s better than running Hell

“Who are you texting that has you smiling like that?” Dean called back, glancing towards Selina through the rearview mirror as she lifted her head from where it had been buried in her phone.

Had she been smiling? Probably. And probably like a smitten idiot too as she never could stop herself from feeling all flustered anytime Crowley called her darling. She may have hated it in the past but now it was practically intoxicating for her and if he ever said it to her again, face to face, well she wouldn’t be held responsible for what may happen afterwards, that much she knew for sure.

“None of your business.” Selina fired back, holding her phone tight against her chest as Castiel had not been subtle in trying to peek at the screen.

“Oh-ho, got yourself a secret boyfriend huh?” Dean teased, wiggling his eyebrows as he glanced over his shoulder, being met with a frown from his obviously annoyed sister. “Girlfriend?”

“Keep your eyes on the road, Dean.” Selina muttered, rolling her own as she shook her head. “And get your mind out of the gutter. It’s bad enough in there.”

It was Dean’s turn to frown, twisting himself properly in his seat as Selina repositioned herself, making sure no one could see her screen as they didn’t need to know who she was texting. It really was none of their business after all and she knew they wouldn’t like it, but she’d be damned if she stopped as with each message she and Crowley exchanged, the more hooked on each other they both seemed to get.

Crowley: So, what big bad creature are we hunting this time?

Selina: Signs are pointing to a Wendigo, but we’ll know more when we get there

Crowley: Well, be careful and all that. Wouldn’t want you ending up as Wendigo dinner and what have you

Selina: What’s this? Concern? For me?

Crowley: Not at all. Just wouldn’t want to lose my texting buddy as who else would I complain to about Hell?

Selina: Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that. We both know I’m growing on you😌

Crowley: Not a chance

Selina: ☹️

There weren’t many more texts exchanged throughout the entire duration of the car ride to Appalachia, and there wouldn’t be once then got there either as the second they piled out of the car, Selina’s phone was hit with no signal.

“Do we even have a satellite phone?” Selina asked, the four of them gathering around the trunk of the car in preparation to head out into the wilderness.

“We have an angel.” Dean replied, gesturing to Castiel who didn’t look dressed for hiking in his suit and trench coat. “We don’t need a satellite phone. Or a GPS.”

“Dean’s right.” Castiel nodded, gaining everyone’s attention. “I do have an excellent sense of direction.”

“Alright.” Selina said reluctantly, still not liking the idea of being stuck out in the woods with no means of contact to the outside world. She lifted the interior flap of the trunk, propping it up with a shotgun and immediately slapping Dean’s hand when it went for the flamethrower, pointing at him sternly. “Don’t even think about it.”

“God, you’re no fun.” Dean grumbled, moving towards the less exciting flare guns instead. He grabbed four of them, all of which were already loaded with one flare, but he passed out a few extras too. Just in case as Wendigo’s were extremely fast and they didn’t want to risk missing it.

Moonlight cascaded over the dense forest as the four of them began their descent into the trees, having split into teams of two in order to cover more ground and have a better chance of finding the creature before it killed anyone else.

Dean and Castiel paired off together and headed east, leaving Sam and Selina to go west. And it only took roughly a minute and a half of walking for Sam to break the eerie silence with a question he’d been dying to ask since the moment he first saw his sister smiling all lovestruck down at her phone.

“So are you gonna tell me who you’ve been texting so much lately?” Sam glanced over his shoulder towards Selina, his faith in whether she’d tell him extremely lacking as he knew her better than anyone. But still, it couldn’t hurt to ask.

“No.” Selina replied bluntly, following him over the fallen tree trunk that blocked their path and mumbling annoyedly to herself when her foot landed in a puddle on the other side of the trunk, splattering mud up her freshly washed jeans. “For God sake.”

“Come on, it’s me. You know you can tell me anything.” Sam replied, ignoring Selina’s rambles about stains and hating the bunker’s laundry room because it smelt funky. He slowed down to fall in line with her, nudging her gently with his shoulder as he taunted her. “Do you have a crush?”

“A crush?” Selina laughed out, her heart beginning to beat about a thousand miles per hour as she replied with nothing but sarcasm as per her usual attitude. “What are we? Schoolgirls at a slumber party? Would you like me to braid your hair after we finish talking about boys?”

All Sam did was frown at her, his eyes rolling just a little as okay, maybe that question had been childish but still, it would explain his sisters odd behaviour. And by the way she was currently avoiding his gaze, he was fairly certain he’d hit the nail on the head with the conversational topic.

“Do you?” Sam asked again, this time more brotherly and less teasingly.

“Maybe.” Selina mumbled under her breath, feeling embarrassed for even talking about this. “But it doesn’t matter… Nothing can ever happen between us anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m me and he’s him… We’re too… Different.” For lack of a better word, Selina thought to herself. “It would only end in disaster.”

“Is he a hunter?” Sam asked curiously. “Or does he at least know about what’s out there?”

“He’s not a hunter but he does know.” Selina replied, pulling a leaf off a nearby bush and beginning to rip at it anxiously.

“Then why not give it a shot? I mean, how many chances do we get to be with someone who knows about the life?”

“Because look at our track records, Sam. You’ve seen how our relationships go, even with people who know about it.” Selina pointed out, opening her palm and allowing the pieces of the ripped up leaf to fall to the ground. “They don’t end well. I mean, look at what happened with Dean and Lisa. People with the surname Winchester? They don’t get to have happy endings.”

“But things are different now. More relaxed. Less… apocalyptic.” Sam said, finding that word to be the best one to describe the past few years. “So why not give it a go? Don’t you think you deserve a chance to be happy after everything you’ve been through? After…”

“Shut up.” Selina breathed out, squinting into the darkness surrounding them as she could have sworn she heard something.

“What? I'm just…”

“I'm serious, do you hear that?” Selina whispered, coming to a sudden stop and halting Sam with her by grabbing onto his arm.

The shrubbery around them rustled, the sound of twigs cracking echoing throughout the crisp air as the two of them spun on their heels, catching sight of a dark, shapely figure lurking amongst shadows of the trees.

“It’s watching us.” Selina said quietly, her mouth barely moving as she slowly wrapped one arm around her torso to grab her flare gun from the back of her waistband. “Let’s flank it. You go left. I’ll go right.”

“Cat, wait!” Sam half-whispered, not caring if he was too loud as the Wendigo had already spotted them. But it was no use being loud as Selina was already jogging the opposite direction and nothing short of a leash around her neck would drag her back.

Slowly, Selina rounded a rather large tree, doubling back on herself in attempts to sneak up behind the creature. Only, it was a lot faster than she was and had already moved, which was evident by the faint snapping of twigs off in the distance behind her, making her spin on her heels with the gun held out in front of her.

A fast moving shadow ran throughout the trees next to her, having her rotate ninety degrees to try and catch it. But it was gone in the blink of an eye, hidden by the darkness and partly making her wish she’d stayed with Sam. She sucked in a breath, continuing forward with her guard higher than ever as she pushed through some shrubbery.

A dismembered hand on the ground caught her eye, dropping them in front of her where it lay amongst the leaves. A satellite phone was still held tightly between its fingers, the screen broken and covered in blood and dirt. Selina crouched down, using the barrel of her gun to flip the hand over, the small diamond shaped tattoo by the thumb confirming that it was one of the missing hikers that had flagged this area as suspicious in the first place.

As Selina straightened, about to turn around to go and find Sam, she was struck in the back of the head by what felt like a rock, blurring her vision and sending her tumbling to the ground. She groaned lightly, lifting herself up onto her elbow as her hand roamed around to feel at the base of her skull, the slight warmth she felt coating her fingers telling her she was bleeding.

Seconds later she was grabbed by the ankles, thin, boney fingers digging hard into her flesh as it began to drag her across the forest floor. Selina’s hands shot out, trying to grab whatever she could to stop herself from moving, but it was no use, the Wendigo was stronger than her and she was practically grasping at straws.

“Sam!” Selina cried out, her hands fumbling for anything they could find to try and fight back against the creature carrying her away. “Sam!”

“Selina!” Sam’s distant voice called back, not instilling her with confidence he’d get to her in time.

“Sam!” Selina cried out again, her hands slipping from around a thin tree as the Wendigo tugged her hard and began to pick up the pace. And after one, rather sharp, left hand turn towards what looked like a cave entrance, her head collided with a large rock and everything went dark.

Selina awoke, after God knows how long, in complete darkness. She couldn’t see anything bar a sliver of light shining through a crack in the rocks surrounding her. Nothing but the faint dripping of water filling the silence around her and her wrists were bound above her currently throbbing head, her body hanging limp and sore in the air.

Great, she thought to herself. Strung up like a piece of meat waiting to be eaten by what was once a cannibalistic human. Just how she wanted to go out.

Fighting against the restraints holding her in place, and making a hell of a noise as they appeared to be chains, Selina’s ears were soon met with a deep, yet low, growl. One that sent a chill shooting down her spine and her breathing quickened as she came to realise she wasn’t alone.

Out of the darkness in front of her came the Wendigo, that faint crack of light from earlier illuminating its horrific features. Standing at over six feet tall with the thinnest, most stick-like legs Selina had ever seen, it began to stalk towards her, inciting a small touch of worry beneath her chest as she was completely vulnerable right now.

The closer it got the more she could see. How its ribs protruded out from beneath its pallid and wrinkly skin. How its ears pointed upwards, its eyes pushed back deep into its head and its mouth… The teeth that lay beyond those lips were unlike anything Selina had ever seen, as she hadn’t exactly seen a Wendigo this up close before, and for once, she was scared.

The creature's long, razor-like claws began to trace lightly across the skin of her neck, making her tremble beneath its touch and the second she did, it pushed down. The tip of its nail dug into her flesh, breaking the skin and allowing her to feel the warm trickle of blood drip down her chest as she winced softly to herself.

Eyes stinging, Selina sucked in the biggest breath she possibly could, attempting to get some courage back into her as she was not about to end up eaten by a Wendigo. Not today. And not ever. She swung her leg out in front of her, kicking the creature hard in the stomach and it stumbled back away from her.

It cried out, a guttural, almost blood curdling cry that had Selina fill with instant regret as what had she been thinking? Like a kick was going to do anything other than make it mad. And it did make it mad. Mad enough that it swung at her, it’s sharpened claws slashing her chest in three, deep, parallel cuts.

Crying out in pain, Selina blinked hard, attempting to fight back at the tears that riddled her eyes. Her chest began to throb, her wound stinging fiercely and she was fairly certain she was done for. But the Wendigo didn’t touch her again after that, instead it stepped back into the darkness and disappeared, leaving her alone to stew in the smell of her own blood and God knows what else that was surrounding her.

Selina didn’t know how long she hung there, doing nothing but having to feel her blood drip down her chest and completely soak her now ruined t-shirt. And this had been one of her favourites which only made her that much more pissed off. Why hadn’t she listened to Sam when he called after her? Maybe then she wouldn’t be strung up like a damsel in distress in some dank, smelly place in the middle of the forest.

Soft footsteps soon lifted her head from where it had fallen, her heartbeat quickening as she couldn’t help but think it was coming back to finish her off. But as they got closer, what sounded like one pair turning into three, relief quickly washed over Selina’s aching body when the beam of a flashlight cascaded over her bloody form.

“Selina!” Sam called out, dropping the flashlight to the ground and rushing over to her, followed swiftly behind by Dean and Castiel.

“Sam.” Selina exhaled, a shaky, trembling breath leaving her lips.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now.” Sam said softly, catching Selina as she fell free of her shackles, which Castiel had popped open with one quick flick of his hand.

“Where… Where is it?” Selina asked, breathlessly as it took her a second to find her feet, leaning against Sam until she was sure she wasn’t about to fall over.

“Dead.” Dean replied, anger riddling his voice and it only got worse when he shone his light over Selina and caught sight of her wound. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.” Selina protested, pushing Dean’s hands away from her as she didn’t need him poking at her. “Just get me the hell out of here.”

One blink later and the four of them were standing by the car, not needing to be geniuses to figure out they’d just flown thanks to Castiel. Something that didn’t bother Selina as much as it normally would given her desperation to get as far away from these mountains as humanly possible.

“Thanks.” Selina whispered, slumping against the car and bringing her hand to her chest, pressing down hard on her wound to try and stop the bleeding. “Fuck, this hurts.”

“Here, let me.” Castiel said, stepping towards her with two fingers raised out in front of him, making Selina duck before he could place them on her forehead.

“No, no.” Selina shook her head, holding out her free hand to keep him at arm's length. “It’s bad enough that we just flew here, okay, I don’t need you healing me too.”

“Right.” Castiel nodded, clenching his fist and dropping it to his side. “I forgot. You don’t like me healing you unless it’s life threatening.”

“You know, I don’t get that.” Dean interrupted, his brow a little furrowed as he always had wondered about his sister's insane rule about never allowing Castiel to fix her. “I mean… Why?”

“Because I don’t like it, that’s why.” Selina replied, accepting the piece of cloth Sam handed to her and swapping her hand out for something a little cleaner. “It makes me feel… weird, I don’t know. It’s just not natural, okay? Get off my case.”

“Alright, relax. I’m only asking.” Dean exhaled, holding his hands up in surrender before he tilted his head a little and pointed out. “It’s gonna ruin your ink, though.”

“Yeah, but it’ll leave a kickass scar instead.” Selina replied, almost gladly as she always did like having scars to show off.

Not to mention they made her feel like she’d lived more which couldn’t be said for anytime she was healed as to her it felt like she’d been born again. And given that she had been healed angelically after the trials, she wasn’t eager to feel like a newborn again so soon so she’d happily deal with the aftermath of her Wendigo wound.

So long as it didn’t turn her into one, as she was not living in a cave for the rest of her life.

A quick trip to the emergency room and over a dozen stitches later, Selina soon found herself occupying a stool in a nearby bar. She’d needed a drink badly after today's little adventure and since they were in town for one more night, they figured they’d check out the local watering hole before heading back to the bunker.

Selina sat by herself as Castiel had flown off to check in on Kevin and his mom, and her brothers were across the room playing a game of pool with some bikers. No hustling though, just a good honest game which came as quite a surprise. And for once she didn’t mind sitting alone at the bar as it meant she had some privacy to text Crowley, letting him know the case was over as he had asked that she do that.

Which she couldn’t help but find strangely… sweet? But she didn’t think much of it other than him being curious. And she was more than happy to oblige to his request if it meant talking to him. Leaving out the whole ‘almost getting eaten by a Wendigo’ part of her day, of course.

Selina: Wendigo: 0, Cat Winchester: 1

More like Wendigo: 1, Cat Winchester: 0, but she wasn’t about to admit that. She had a reputation to keep after all.

Crowley : Hunt went well, I take it?

Selina : Of course it did. It is me you’re talking to after all😌

Crowley : Uh-huh… So nothing happened then? No plans went awry? Everything went as you expected it to?

Selina : Exactly as expected

“Somehow…” The very voice of the demon she’d been actively texting sent a fierce shiver down Selina’s spine the moment it reached her ears, her eyes soon catching sight of him approaching the bar next to her. “I don’t quite believe that.”

“You should.” Selina exhaled, feeling hot all of a sudden as she downed the entirety of her glass before spinning to greet him, nothing but innocence clouding her face. “It’s the truth.”

“Really?” Crowley said sceptically, running his tongue over his lip as his eyes flicked briefly down to her chest, where he could not only smell the blood that lingered there, but he could see the white of the bandage that covered skin.

He stepped closer to her, unaware of the flutter he sent throughout her twisting stomach as he raised one finger, hooking it around her jacket and opening it a touch more to reveal her hidden wound.

“Then what's that?”

“An unfortunate workplace incident.” Selina replied with minor sarcasm, swatting his hand away and pulling her jacket closed as the mere closeness of his finger to her skin made her shiver in all the best ways.

“Well I do hope you’re seeking compensation.” Crowley said in retort, hearing a faint chuckle leave Selina’s lips as he hopped onto the stool next to her and motioned towards the bartender. “Two of whatever she’s having.”

“Joining me for a drink?” Selina questioned playfully, glancing briefly over Crowley’s shoulder to where her brothers currently resided. “Dangerous game considering Dean’s actively wanting to murder you.”

“I’ll take the risk, darling.” Crowley replied quietly, not picking up on the faint breath that left Selina’s lips over her new favourite nickname to be called. “Besides, I was merely curious as to whether you were telling the truth about your little venture into the wilderness and clearly you weren’t.”

“I’d be careful, Crowley.” Selina began, leaning forward a little to whisper, her mouth dangerously close to his skin. “Otherwise people might start to think that you were worried about me.”

“Worried?” Crowley scoffed, clearly forced as he wouldn’t lie… He had been worried about her. “Please. I’m a demon, Selina. We don’t get worried.”

“Right.” Selina mumbled, drawing back from him with obvious disappointment. “How could I forget?” She added, downing her drink in one large mouthful as of course he’d have to bring that up and ruin the moment.

Obviously she was well aware of what Crowley was, and always would be now that the trials were forgotten about. But it didn’t mean she liked being reminded of it as each time she was, it just crushed her soul a teeny bit more over the thought that they’d never be anything more than… Co-workers?

Was that the right word to describe their weird relationship or was it something else? Honestly, Selina didn’t know and she didn’t overly care either as she was too busy thinking of what might have been had Crowley not been who he was. She really hated this crush she was fast developing on him as it was making her a lot less like herself and a lot more… Sappy. And quite frankly, miserable.

“Cat Winchester, as I live and breathe!” A familiar voice, yet one Selina hadn’t heard in a very long time was quick to pull her from her thoughts, her body shifting absently around to meet the face of her old friend.

“Lee?” Selina chuckled out, her eyes wide as she’d never have expected to see him here. Or if ever. She slid off the stool, surprising Crowley greatly when she allowed Lee to pull her into a hug, one that lifted her from her feet.

“Damn girl, how long’s it been?” Lee breathed out, releasing Selina from his tight grasp yet keeping one hand firmly on her shoulder, much to Crowley’s rather obvious disliking.

“Too long… What brings you here?”

“Well, I own this place.” Lee replied, his hand leaving her shoulder, thankfully Crowley thought to himself, as he gestured to the bar around him. “What are you doing here?”

“We just finished a hunt, up in Appalachia.” Selina told him, leaning her elbows back against her stool. “Figured we’d check out the town before we headed home.”

“Oh yeah, anything exciting?” Lee asked, his eyes glancing to Selina’s side, brow furrowing a touch over the rather ominous glare he was getting from Crowley.

“Not particularly, just a Wendigo.” Selina exhaled, clearing her throat as she followed Lee’s eye line to her side, biting at her tongue a little as this would not end well if he found out exactly who her drinking buddy was.

Or worse, what he was.

“Damn, haven’t hunted a Wendigo in years.” Lee scratched absently at his chin, using it to point briefly in Crowley’s direction. “This your new hunting buddy who’s giving me the death stare?”

“Not exactly.” Selina replied around a nervous chuckle, sidestepping in front of Crowley to hopefully keep him on his stool. “He’s just a friend… I still hunt with my brothers, who are around here somewhere.”

“Well I’ll be damned, the whole Winchester clan rolling into my bar. What are the odds?” Lee said humorously, his eyes leaving Crowley to land upon Selina again. “Hey, you remember that last hunt we did together? The Chupacabra?”

“How could I forget?” Selina scoffed lightly, tugging subtly at her collar as trust Lee to bring up that hunt when she had clear memory of how it ended.

Here’s hoping her face wasn’t as red as she thought it was otherwise she’d never hear the end of it from Crowley.

“I gotta say, that was a fun night.” Lee said, the slight twinkle in his obvious eyes making Crowkey have to bite his tongue.

And hard too as he did not like the way Lee was looking at Selina, as though he was about to pounce on her in the middle of the bar. And to make matters worse, Selina’s reply didn’t exactly help him feel less… Jealous? Was that it? Was he jealous of Lee? Surely not?

“Yeah, uh… It was.” Selina nodded briefly, clearing her throat as you could literally cut the tension with a knife it was so strong.

“Well, I’m gonna leave you to it.” Lee began, sensing the slight awkwardness begin to form in the air. “Better go see these brothers of yours and make sure they ain’t causing trouble.”

“Probably for the best.” Selina chuckled, remaining with her back to Crowley as Lee walked away, hoping the heat on her face would die down before she had to turn around and face him again.

“Old flame?” Crowley asked, trying his best to seem humorous but instead he sounded bitter. At least to himself as Selina only got redder the second the words reached her ears.

“Why?” She cleared her throat, swallowing down her fluster as she returned to her usual and witty self, hopping back onto her stool. “You jealous?”

Crowley did nothing but scoff lightly into his glass before taking a rather large mouthful, in an attempt to cover up the fact that he was, indeed, a little jealous. But he wouldn’t admit that aloud now would he?

“Do you have a death wish?” Dean’s slightly angered voice pulled Crowley from his thoughts, but caused only Selina to spin instantly on her stool to see him, along with Sam and Lee, storming towards them, making her stomach drop in one quick second.

Oh boy, she thought to herself, this wouldn’t end well.

“Depends on the day really.” Crowley replied with a sigh, mimicking, the now somewhat concerned for his well-being, Selina’s motion to face Dean, whose hand was beneath his jacket where he no doubt gripped the handle of his beloved demon blade.

“Why are you here?” Dean asked, or more so demanded as he all but went red in the face.

“I was passing by, thought I’d stop in for a drink.” Crowley answered, his usual witty personality shielding what he truly felt, which, at this point, he had no clue as to what it was.

Worry maybe? But not over Dean’s clear want to kill him, but more over the idea that he and Selina were about to be forbidden from seeing each other as with the way Dean’s nostrils were flaring, it was plainly obvious that’s what he was thinking.

Not that Dean’s say so could easily sway Selina. But family came first with the Winchesters and if it meant keeping herself in her brother’s good books, Crowley was fairly certain she’d cut him off if need be.

“Right… And it just so happened to be a coincidence that you chose this bar.” Dean muttered sarcastically.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“With you involved?” Dean scoffed, his eyes widened as was Crowley serious right now? Like they hadn’t known him long enough to know that when he was concerned, nothing was ever a coincidence. “Yeah, I’d say it was.”

“So he… isn’t a friend?” Lee interrupted, his brow a little furrowed.

“Far from it.” Sam muttered, unable to stop the chuckle riddled scoff from escaping the back of his throat.

“Oh Moose, you break my heart.” Crowley said playfully, holding one hand over his chest as he mimicked offence.

Which appeared to have touched a nerve with Dean, who stepped forward instantly and was about to draw his knife from beneath his jacket before Selina pushed him back. Rather hard too and had he not had quick reflexes and a good balance, he’d have ended up on his ass.

“Enough! All of you!” Selina warned, her voice loud enough that she gained a few turned heads from the bar's other patrons. She took a breath, biting at the inside of her lip as she really hadn’t meant to yell at them.

But forgive her for being a bit touchy when only hours ago she’d been strung up in a Wendigo’s lair. Which seemed like paradise compared to now.

“Look, I know this may come as a shock to you both.” She began, glancing between both of her, equally as intrigued as the other, brothers. “But Crowley and I are friends.”

“Besties, actually.”

“Shut it.” Selina gritted, firing a warning glare towards the aforementioned demon as she didn’t need him making things worse.

“Friends?” Dean repeated, disgust riddling his voice. “Are you kidding me right now? He’s a demon, Cat… Demons aren’t friends!”

“You brought a demon into my bar?”

“Need I remind you…” Selina replied, choosing to ignore Lee’s question as she didn’t need another person jumping on the bandwagon of hate. “That there is a werewolf and a vampire out there that we all consider friends?”

“That’s different. And you know it.” Dean said through clenched teeth, unable to believe they were even having this conversation. “Garth is Garth and Benny? He got us out of Purgatory, Selina, we owed him for that… But this is Crowley we’re talking about here. Have you forgotten what he’s done to us? What he’s done to Kevin?”

“Of course not, Dean.” Selina exhaled, running her hand through her hair as she glanced to her side, catching the way Crowley was looking at her and with the regret that lingered behind his eyes over what Dean was referencing, she knew for certain that he was different. “But we’ve all done things we’re not proud of.”

“And what makes you think that he ain’t proud of them?” Dean asked with genuine curiosity.

“Because I told her so, that’s why.” Crowley spoke up, and for once his usual witty tone was long gone. He slid from his stool, coming to stand next to Selina who stepped forward just a little, as though acting as his shield.

“Right and you just expect her to believe that?” Dean said distastefully, adjusting his grip around the knife he’d slowly taken out from underneath his jacket.

“I do believe it, Dean.” Selina replied, crossing her arms over her chest as she stood her ground. She really did believe it, as she’d seen it for herself that night in Paris, which is why she wasn’t so scared to admit that to her brothers as on any other given day, she’d have never defended Crowley in front of them.

“Yeah? Well I don’t.” Dean spat, his lips twitching out of obvious anger as his attention fell back upon the demon, the tip of his blade pointing threateningly in his direction. “So you had best keep your distance from her otherwise today is gonna be the day your death wish comes true.”

“What’s that? Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?” Crowley asked, his eyes narrowing but he couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s cute, Dean, but we all know you don’t have the guts to kill me otherwise you’d have slit my throat the first chance you got.”

“Yeah well there’s always tonight.”

“And what makes you think that you have any say in who your sister keeps in her rather delightful company?” Crowley carried on, only adding fuel to the fire that was quickly growing inside Dean. “Last I checked she’s a grown woman, is she not? Perfectly capable of choosing who she wishes to surround herself with.”

“And you think that’s you?”

“It is.” Selina said firmly, having heard enough from both of them.

“Wait… You’re being serious?” Sam asked, brow dipped deeply over his brooding eyes. “You actually enjoy Crowley’s company?”

“Yes.” Selina replied, and it was as though her brothers were both hit by a truck of betrayal. “You know why? Because he doesn’t treat me like I’m still twelve years old.”

“That’s how you think we treat you?” Sam questioned his voice a little low as he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“Well you don’t treat me like a grown up so what else am I supposed to think?” Selina responded, her voice slightly shaky and this wasn’t exactly the place she wanted to have this conversation but if she didn’t say it now she might never. “I mean, after everything I have done over the years you still treat me like I’m that scared little girl who slept with the light on until she was eleven.

“But guess what? I’m not her anymore… I haven’t been for a long time. I mean… I spent six months by myself in Purgatory, fighting tooth and nail for survival until Dean and Cas found me. Then barely a year after we got out I walked straight into Hell. I walked willingly into the one place that scares me more than anything in order to get Bobby out of there and I’m still here. But even despite all that… You both keep treating me like a kid.”

“Selina, we never…” Sam began, a breathy sigh leaving his lips as he honestly didn’t know what to say. “We didn’t think…”

“And that’s the problem, Sam.” Selina cut him off, becoming fully aware that both Crowley and Lee had heard her pour out her fragile soul. But she didn’t care. “You don’t think… Neither of you. At least not about me, anyway.”

Selina didn’t allow much chance for a response before she turned on her heels and left the building, the door swinging shut behind her as the four men simply stood there with their eyes glued to the space she once occupied, none of them knowing quite what to say to any of that.

Although Crowley would admit, not aloud obviously, that he was rather proud of her for getting that off her chest. He had read the books after all and they made it blatantly obvious that everything Selina said about her brothers was true. They did treat her like a child. They always had.

The boys never could grasp that Selina wasn’t the weak damsel John had made her out to be when he dumped her at Bobby’s day in and day out. No matter what she did to prove herself they couldn’t seem to understand that, not even after Purgatory. And not even after the trials as Crowley was well aware they’d searched for months for another hellhound to kill after she killed the first one. Before they eventually gave up and agreed to let Selina go through with them.

It was about damn time they stopped underestimating her abilities otherwise they’d end up losing her forever, and not in the way they’d feared.

Although perhaps Selina might have over estimated her abilities as she’d barely been outside the bar for ten minutes before she needed rescuing again. She hadn’t even noticed him following her down the alleyway, too busy deep inside her own mind as she couldn’t believe she’d just spouted all that after months, maybe even years, of repressing it.

It was like her guard had fallen so far beneath the earth that his footsteps went unheard as he stalked closer to her, and it wasn’t until his hand gripped Selina’s hair tightly and she was thrust up against the wall did she even know what was happening.

As if she had, this dirtbag would be on the ground with a bullet in him rather than pushed up behind her with his hands roaming her body.

“I’ve been watching you all night.” The man whispered into her ear, inhaling deeply as he took in the scent of her freshly washed hair. He lifted Selina’s arms, spinning her around and pinning them above her head as he pressed her back firmly against the wall.

Selina’s heart began to hammer beneath her chest as she suddenly became overwhelmed with fear. And regret for even leaving the bar in the first place. Why hadn’t she just gone to the bathroom instead? Or better yet, made Crowley leave the second he showed up as maybe none of this godforsaken night would have happened.

“Let me go.” Selina tried to warn, but her voice just came out shaky and foreboding rather than stern and threatening like she’d hoped.

“Why? So you can go back to those guys you were with and let them have all the fun?” The man chuckled, brushing the knuckles of his free hand down the side of Selina’s face, making her tremble beneath his touch. “I don’t think so sweetheart. See you and I? We’re about to have some fun of our own.”

Dropping his hand from her face, the man began to graze it down her body, running it slowly across her rapidly rising chest and over her twisting stomach. And the second it reached her waistband, where it popped open her jeans in one quick motion, Selina’s eyes began to water.

She sucked in a breath, preparing herself for what she was about to do as she didn’t know what would happen afterwards. But she had to try. She wasn’t about to go and let this pig ruin her life worse than anything supernatural related ever could. And that included walking into Hell.

So, with every ounce of strength she had in her, Selina thrusted her knee up quickly, hitting him between the legs and causing his hold on her hands to falter. She pulled them from within his grasp, punching him quickly in the face which had him stumble backwards a little.

“You bitch.” The guy mumbled, spitting blood from his mouth before lunging for her again. He took her by surprise, forcing her back against the wall just as she reached for her gun, causing her to end up firing a shot which ricocheted off the ground and pinged a nearby dumpster before the gun slipped from her grasp. “The more you fight back. The worse this is gonna be for you.”

“I think the only one who’s gonna have it worse, is you.” Selina chuckled, having never been more grateful to see who was now standing in the darkness behind them.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that sweetheart?”

“Because the King of Hell is behind you.” Selina whispered, the man’s brows dipping before he was suddenly thrown against the dumpster behind him, at such force that his body dented the metal a lot more than it should have and she was surprised he hadn’t stuck in it.

Slumping down the wall a little in relief, Selina let out a deep, shaky breath as she quickly buttoned her jeans back up. Crowley hurried towards her in a flash of black and she was met with his worry filled eyes the second she looked back up, her own filled with tears that were glistening in the faint moonlight.

But neither of them got to say a word to each other before the overlap of heavy footsteps came running down the alley in the shape of Sam, Dean and Lee, all of whom had their guns raised in front of them.

“We heard a gunshot.” Sam called out as be approached, the first thing he saw being the groaning man on the ground rather than his sister and the demon she clung to, her fingers gripping Crowley’s sleeves so tight they were almost transparent.

However Dean saw something else first, something he misinterpreted big time. Selina’s tears. And given that Crowley was in front of her and her face was bruising, things seemed to add up to him being responsible. Only he couldn’t have been more wrong, which he soon found out when he pulled his knife out and swung for the demon.

“Dean, don’t!” Sam shouted, grabbing Dean’s arm just before he could slash at Crowley, who wouldn’t even have had time to zap himself away, things happened so fast. “I think Crowley might have… saved Selina.”

“What?” Dean exhaled, that having snapped him out of his demon fueled rage.

“He did.” Selina whispered, clearing her croaky throat and taking a step towards her brothers, and away from Crowley as she finally, yet reluctantly, let go of him. “I almost… That guy he almost…” She shook her head, swallowing thickly as she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Crowley stopped him.”

Dean’s brow dipped softly, his eyes scanning the area surrounding them. That’s when he saw him. The guy lying in a puddle, twitching from pain and the dent above him in the dumpster was far too deep to have been caused by Selina herself. He began to calm down a little, at least as much as he could given what almost happened to his sister.

But at least Crowley hadn’t been responsible otherwise he might not have been able to stop himself from killing him on the spot.

“Come here.” Dean whispered, taking Selina gently by the shoulder and pulling her in for a hug. He held her tightly, feeling the way she shook beneath his hold and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing towards Crowley.

For once he didn’t feel overcome with hatred towards the demon, as he had saved his sister from a trauma worse than anything he faced in Hell. And that counted for something at least.

“…Thank you.” Dean muttered hesitantly, his words barely audible but they were loud enough for those surrounding him to hear.

All Crowley did was nod once in acknowledgment, his eyes simply flicking down to Selina who had slowly begun to pull away from her brother’s chest. And no one even mentioned, or paid any attention for that matter, to the damp spot on Dean’s shirt. Or the obvious redness to Selina’s eyes as she wiped them subtly with her sleeve.

“What should we do with him?” Sam asked as he gestured towards the dirtbag still writhing on the ground, his finger twitching out of eagerness to put a bullet in his skull for laying a hand on his sister.

“I believe there’s a lovely little spot in Hell with his name on it.” Crowley replied, rather happily as torturing this piece of crap was at the top of his to do list. And was well worth actually going down to Hell for.

“You’re gonna… Torture him?” Lee asked, his eyes widened.

“Good.” Dean said bluntly, to nobody’s surprise except Lee’s as he wasn’t fully up to speed on the changes in the Winchester’s lives. Clearly. “Make it hurt.”

“Oh believe me, I will.” Crowley promised, clicking his fingers and the attacker disappeared right before their very eyes. Sent down to the second deepest layer of Hell, the one above that which housed Lucifer himself and where the truly evil people spent eternity. “He won’t be seeing the light of… Anything. Ever again.”

“Good.” Selina said gladly, wiping at her eyes again as she bent over to pick up her gun. As she straightened she came to lock eyes with Crowley, wishing there was some way she could thank him other than simple words. But there wasn’t. Not really.

Although there was one more thing she could ask of him whilst she had the chance.

“You’ve probably had your fill of helping us out lately.” Selina began, scratching lightly at her chest and thanking anyone but God that her stitches hadn't bust open. “But there is one more thing you could do for me.”

“Name it.” Crowley said immediately, as he never would get tired of helping her. And given that she’d saved his life, he figured he was forever in her debt.

But even if she hadn’t, part of him reckoned he’d still do whatever she asked of him.

“Take me home.” Selina exhaled, exhaustion overwhelming her almost instantly at the thought of getting to curl up in the safety of her own bed. “I don’t want to have to be in this town any longer than necessary.”

“Wait.” Dean interrupted, causing Selina to sigh as she turned towards him. “What you said earlier…”

“Don’t.” Selina cut him off, shaking her head. “I don’t want to talk about that right now, okay? I just want to go home.”

“Alright.” Dean said softly, the slight cracking to Selina’s voice telling him she was serious. “We’ll see you when we get back.”

“Yeah.” Selina murmured, flashing her brothers, and Lee, a thin lipped smile before she disappeared.

The world around her began to shift, and in one slow blink she was standing back outside the bunker they called home. The one place she knew no harm could ever come to her. Not from a monster and definitely not from a human.

“Talk about a rough day.” Selina huffed out the second her mind stopped spinning as she never would get used to teleporting.

How Crowley and Castiel did that all the time she’d never understand.

“Are you okay?” Crowley asked, a touch of concern riddling his voice as Selina pulled her arm from around his, turning herself to face him properly and by the look in her eyes he didn’t need her words to answer that question.

“I gotta be, right?” Selina exhaled, on the verge of tears that she was really struggling to keep inside until she was alone.

“No.” Crowley said softly, his hand twitching a little as he would give anything to be able to reach out and cup her face. “It’s okay to not be okay, Selina. You are human after all.”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” Selina mumbled, a deep sigh escaping her lips as her eyes fell to the gravel beneath them. “You’re lucky, you know. Being a demon and not having to be saddled with human emotions. Feelings. Must be nice.”

Crowley said nothing in response. Nothing but a forced huff of what could barely be described as a chuckle left the back of his throat as he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. Not to her face anyway as he didn’t exactly have that luxury of not feeling things anymore.

No thanks to Selina herself, but he’d never blame her for that. She had had every reason to do what she did back in that church and he’d never fault her for it.

In fact he was rather glad of it as had it not happened. Had they not shared whatever it was that they shared together that day, he might never have gotten to know what it felt like to experience human emotions again.

And even if they were seen as a burden for demons, it wasn’t all bad. He had Selina because of them, to a certain degree of course, and there really wasn’t anything more he could ever want other than her.

Chapter 6 ->

#supernatural #crowley #crowley x original character #crowley x oc #supernatural fanfic series

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weiwithwords · 1 month

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The chain that set them free

Walking into the thrash-spun whirlpool had been the easy part. Now tze had to get them out.

Tzer exit from the ornithopter was sloppy. Tze was more accustomed to dealing with the dynamic sway of branches than the mechanical beating of a machine's wings. These big flapping airfoils vitiated tzer sense of balance, disrupted the rhythm of the waves.

Kanter's scream snapped tzer back to tzer senses. The dense tangle of the thrash grew visibly before tzer, weaving a snare of bark and boughs. Tze drew Haptic Force from its sheathe with relish. Time to earn tzer keep.

From the cockpit, Tzaze was less visible as form than motion. Mango and Zenia caught glimpses of wavestrider jacket and leviathan bone-blade -- even a flash of vivid orange, a curlicue on Tzaze's wing brightening as tze worked -- but what was far more notable was the mothryn-sized shear line in the tangle, a slash in reality itself. Crezzerin-gorged branches extended towards it, closer, closer -- but as soon as they hit that shear line they were instantly shredded into sprays of plant viscera like shavings from a wood chipper.

They had encountered the hacker in motion. They were the trail being blazed.

All tunnels end. A moonbeam broke through the tangle at last, revealing Fellrym scrambling aboard Squeeze Box's decks, clearly out of faer depth. The distance between their two vessels was closing, but not quickly enough.

Tzaze made the decision in an instant. No time for hesitation on the waves. Tze front flipped from the ornithopter's bow, globs of sap flying from tzer jacket, weightless for half a heartbeat before catching a pontoon strut with one hand. Gravity reasserted itself ruthlessly. Tzaze felt tzer shoulder nearly wrenched from its socket from the drop. Tze was already coiling the precious metal of tzer grappling chain around tzer free hand, leaving just enough slack to twirl the chain around tzer head, once, twice, three times, gathering momentum for the throw --

It caught. The grapple's hooks found purchase on a starboard bannister just as the Squeeze Box lurched the other direction. The grappling chain instantly snapped taut. Tzaze screamed in pain, antennae shuddering, wings hanging limp and useless. The pull was excruciating. Every joint and ligament in Tzaze's body was stretched to breaking point. Every muscle flexed in agony, causing tzer exoskeleton to unnaturally distend. Tzaze imagined it cracking, splitting open. The chain was slicing through tzer jacket sleeve, through the carapace, into flesh.

A firefly in the distance saw three silhouettes in the moonlight. The first: a ghost-oak vessel twisting atop the branches. The second: a smaller, firefly-shaped vessel, sputtering airborne, fighting to break free from the thrash. The third: the thinnest, most fragile line between the first two shapes, a delicate strand that seemed to connect the smaller to the larger. How could such a delicate thing hold those two massive objects together?

Pain speared Tzaze across the torso, fingertip to fingertip. It was excruciating; tze couldn't bear it but bore it anywei, knowing tze was the only one keeping Mango and Kanter and Zenia and Rancor from falling beneath the waves. Maybe, with tzer effort, they would make it. But tze would be snapped soon, just another twig scattered into the wildsea. It was fitting. Tze tzerself had snapped so many.

As Tzaze hung suspended, gravity wrenching out tzer right arm, Squeeze Box dismembering tzer left, an impossible thought flitted through tzer mind: it's getting easier. Every neuron in tzer brain was occupied processing the agony running through tzer nerve endings. Tze could not see Zenia sitting in the cockpit flicking switches, pulling levers, regaining control. And Kanter's roar had been drowned out by -- become synonymous with -- the roaring of ornithopter engines.

And so, though tze did not know why, relief came. Tze experienced it in the left arm first. Tzer grappling chain, that all-familiar tool that had delivered tzer from countless deaths, that had transformed into pain incarnate coiled around tzer forearm, went slack.

It was like a pat of sweet tarnana buttercream absorbing the capsaicin of a fiery blistercrunch mango, or the silken fabrics of Raprampilica after a needlestorm. Sweet, soft release. They were safe. The orange curlicues on tzer wingscales dimmed back to dullness.

Tze tumbled to the decks with a front roll moments later, readying tzer formal apology for Rancor's escape. Tze was unaccustomed to Mango's quick forgiveness -- until a memory from a past pupation bubbled up, a self that had lived with gentler folk. The memory drifted in like steam rising from a strong cup of tea, warm and wispy, and was gone.

"You were amazing!" Fellrym said, vivacious in faer praise.

Tzaze shrugged. Just another day at work.

#wildsea #short fiction #ttrpg #stories

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veganmikehanlon · 6 months

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The Past Has Claws

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It has been one whole hour of blissful quiet from both girls. Stan has been able to listen to NPR without any loud complaints from the girls about how boring it is and it’s... Amazing. He should have gotten some time this morning but the girls woke up very chipper and hyper and they didn’t conk back out until an hour on the road.

They’re getting close to Derry and Stanley is getting nervous. It’s been nothing but woods and fields for the last two hours, civilization seemingly getting farther and farther away. He stopped to get gas and drove 30 minutes down one road with nothing on either side before reaching it and getting back on the highway was another 30 minutes. What if Derry is exactly the same? Is he really going to raise his Black Jewish daughters in a place where you have to drive an hour to the nearest Walmart and even farther for a mall? There’s going to be so many white people.

Okay, he can’t go into this thinking negatively. Maybe he’s being too harsh, the house is very nice and the downtown is charming. But nothing is perfect and he turned out fine enough, maybe Derry isn’t all that bad. Patty did have a few worries she shared over the phone when she first arrived, like the Walmart and the mall thing. And the white goyim thing.

Stan glances back at his girls. They might stick out with their light brown skin, tightly coiled curls, and being Jewish, but so help anyone that tries to bully them for any of those things. Kids can be cruel and he has no shame in holding them and their parents accountable. They didn’t have many problems in Georgia, there were plenty of little black kids running around that bullying was generic, not race-based.

But Patty hasn’t mentioned anything of the like in the last week they’ve been apart. And their talk last night she was so excited about the house and the move, and Stan trusts her. It still doesn’t make him feel any better about all the farmland.

“Horsie,” a small tired voice pops up from the backseat. Stan chuckles and glances back. Isabelle is sitting with her head resting on a pillow against the window, her hair a wild mess around her face, gazing serenely at the passing scenery.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Stan says softly so as not to wake Michelle. Isabelle yawns and stretches her legs out.

“Where are we?” She asks.

Stan glances at his phone and is surprised to see how close they really are. He checks the speedometer but he isn’t going any faster than the speed limit. “We’re a half-hour from Derry,” he tells her. A shiver goes through him and he admonishes himself for being scared. Nervousness seems like a more appropriate response to the situation, but with the knowledge that he’s about to be back in Derry, the small town he grew up and away from, the only feeling he can describe is fear.

“Can we take a bathroom break?” ‘Belle asks, snapping Stan out of his thoughts. He looks at his phone to see if there’s anything nearby but there’s nothing. Just a lot of land.

“Can you wait? Derry is the closest thing around, or you can go outside?” He suggests and she immediately looks scandalized.

“Outside?” She gasps, “I can’t go outside !” She says with righteousness that makes Stan laugh.

“Careful, if you wake your sister up you know she won’t have any problem going potty outside.” He warns and Isabelle casts a disgusted look at Michelle’s sleeping form in the relaxed bucket seat.

“I can wait.” She says softly and decisively before leaning back against the window to watch the scenery. Stan chuckles quietly to himself, g-d he loves that girl. The car turns quiet again and Stan’s eyes wander back to his phone and the rapidly approaching town line.

His nerves spike again and he turns his eyes fiercely on the road, waiting to see the sign he knows he’s dreamed of recently. When it appears Stan sees a bunch of red balloons tied to it like the town was waiting for them to greet them.

“Oooh, balloons!” Another sleepy voice pipes up and Stanley looks back to see Michelle sitting up and pointing excitedly at the balloons. “Hello, town!” She greets excitedly as they trumble past the sign.

Stan ignores the uncomfortable tightening in his chest, determined to only look forward. He can’t seem to help looking back in his rearview mirror though, and the sight that greets him is confusing. It looks like a clown, blurred behind the bunch of red balloons. It waves. Stan has to look back at the road to make sure he’s not drifting off the road, and when he looks back there’s no one there.

He shakes the imaginary clown out of his mind, he already has to see his parents today. The most important thing though is that he will be reunited with his wife! He’s missed her terribly for three weeks and now he just has to find their new house and he’ll have her in his arms again.

“Are we there yet?” Isabelle groans.

“Just about,” Stan answers as his phone starts speaking for the first time since they’ve been on that long, long road. He makes a left, sits at a stoplight, turns right and a block later the houses change from small family homes to suburban mini-mansions.

“Whoahhhhh,” The kids say in tandem and Stanley finds himself agreeing.

“Which one’s ours!” Michelle asks excitedly, pulling the back of her seat up so fast Stan winces, worried she whipped her neck in her excitement. The worry passes as she continues to talk. “Is it that one? Ohhh I like that one is it that one? Are we there yet?”

“Almost,” Stan answers distractedly as he squints at the house numbers, searching for theirs. In the end, he didn’t need to look so hard.

“MOMMY!” The girls both shout and there she is, standing at the end of the driveway, waving excitedly.

“Keep your seatbelts on,” Stan warns, already knowing they were reaching to unbuckle. They bounce around with excitement in their seats and Stan chuckles at the excitement two little bodies can emanate. As they pull into the driveway he sees his parents on their beautiful, dream house wrap-around porch.

As soon as he puts the SUV in park the girls are flinging themselves out the car doors. Stan exits a moment later, watching with a swelling heart as Patty wraps her arms around their little girls, her smile lighting up her face.

“I missed my little birds so much!” Patty says, kissing each of their heads. “Why don’t you go say hi to your Bubbeh and Zaydeh,” She suggests and the two girls run to the porch and up the steps.

His heart starts racing when she turns that smile on him, her perfect white teeth gleaming against her smooth brown skin. “Babylove,” he sighs as he finally wraps his arms around his wife.

“I missed you so much,” Patty says fiercely into his neck.

Stan laughs and picks her up in his arms, twirling around once, twice, as Patty shrieks with laughter. He sets her down lightly on her feet, “I missed you too, babylove.” He says before drawing her into a kiss. Now he’s home.

“Hey lovebirds!” His dad’s rough voice calls and Stanley withdraws from Patty sadly. “Come say hello to your Mother.” He commands and Stan immediately side-eyes his wife who is already looking back. They both burst out laughing, giddy now that they’re back together. They interlock their fingers, and Patty pulls Stan to the porch, their laughter still dying down.

Their house is beautiful, a soft robin egg blue with white shutters. The large wrap-around porch that they already have a porch swing picked out for. Stone steps lead up the porch to the doorway, comfortably solid beneath Stan’s feet. And he knows the inside is beautiful too, with a large foyer, 4 bedrooms, 2 ½ bathrooms, and an updated kitchen. Stan doesn’t think the girls are old enough to understand what a house is like from pictures, so their first look should be fun to witness.

“Oh, my Stanley!” His mother cries, pulling him into her arms and the foot down to hug him around his neck.

“Hey, Ma.” He greets with a laugh.

“Oh, my baby is home!” His mom all but sobs, her hug getting tighter and tighter around his neck.

“Okay, Ma, come on,” He wheezes.

“Oh! My dear, here you go,” She says letting him go. He kisses her cheek and turns to his dad. They clap hands and his dad pulls him into a brusque hug, patting him on the back a couple of times before letting go.

“Good to have you home, son.” He says gruffly. Stan claps him on the shoulder and looks at Patty, who has Isabelle cuddled on her lap while Michelle paces around them babbling excitedly.

“Good to be home,” Stan replies warmly, and with a shared smile with his dad, he approaches his family. “Should we go see the inside?” He suggests and the girls are a flurry of excited shouting, Isabelle jumping out of her mom’s lap and chasing Michelle to the door.

“I call the bigger room!” Isabelle yells, making the adults laugh.

Stan turns to his wife, “Shall we?” He asks and she turns that blinding smile at him again.

“We shall,” she responds with a laugh, and with that Stan lifts her bridal style and carries her over the threshold. She laughs into his shoulder, “Stan stop! You’re going to throw out your back!”

“Oh come on, I’m not that old!” Stan laughs, but he sets her down as soon as they’re through the door, not for any reason, because he’s not old. She kisses him on the cheek and kicks off her sparkly slides. Stan toes his sneakers off and sets them next to her shoes on the shoe rack. He loves that Patty knows all the little things that make him feel at home. The girls didn’t take their shoes off, must have been too excited calling dibs on their rooms. The funny thing is that the rooms are the same size, he wonders how that will go over.

The foyer has a high ceiling with a chandelier and opens into the living room, where their black sectional sits in an L shape. His and Patty’s favorite chairs are sat next to each other and Stan is already imagining sitting next to her and watching reruns of Family Feud.

“Ready?” Patty asks, holding a hand out to him. He grabs her hand and lets her lead him past the foyer. They turn right to the kitchen and pass the dining room area with their dark wood table, four chairs, and one bench on each side of the table.

“Woah,” Stan can’t help but say when he sees the kitchen. It looked great in the pictures but in real life, it’s something else. There are granite counters, a gas stove with a griddle in the middle, a big farmhouse type two-compartment sink, and high ceilings. He runs his hand over the counter as he walks to the fridge. There’s the picture of them at the Eiffel Tower, Isabelle and Michelle’s latest school photos, a family picture at the beach, and their mismatch of magnets they’ve gotten throughout the years. He straightens the picture of him and Patty and smiles.

She comes up behind him and wraps her arms around his middle. He relaxes into her hold, “I love it.” He sighs.

“Wait until you see the backyard, just enough room for a trampoline.” She says. Stan turns in her arms, confused.

“A trampoline? Where did you get that idea?” He asks.

Patty laughs, “From your dad. He wants to get it for Michelle’s birthday.”

Stan groans, of course his dad wants to get them a trampoline, then he’ll be the best Bubbeh and pull ahead in the competition with Patty’s parents. Patty runs her thumb over his eyebrow, smoothing it out, and cups his face. Her soft smile is so full of love that Stan forgets to be frustrated with his parents.

“Want to show me our room, Babylove?” He asks softly, a coy smile playing on his lips.

“Stanley!” She gasps like she’s scandalized, but her smile is too wide to pull it off.

Stan laughs and tickles her side, making her laugh harder. “Later, then.” He mumbles into her hair and they take a moment to wrap each other up tight in their arms.

“MOM!” Michelle screams from the balcony upstairs and the two reluctantly pull apart. They split and head for the stairs and to their daughters.

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echantedtoon · 10 months

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Allison Chapter One

Allison Gale is newly turned twenty two fresh out of college and just learnt her grandmother had sadly passed away and had left everything to Allison. Well, she doesn't have any place else to go so why not move out of state? But unluckily for her, she's about to get dragged down the rabbit hole by a crazy but familiar old face.

(A story based on the concept art of Vivziepop's old project Allison. I do not own any of the characters, I just wanted to make a story of it based off my own headcannons. The coverart tho is mine. If you don't know what it is please go look it up. It was made by the same person who made Hazbin Hotel.)

It was a beautiful day.

The sun rays shone down upon the world as the calm quiet woods sounded with the life of birds and insects happy the sun warmed them from up above. The light shone through the tree leaves as their branches leaned over the road and blocked most of the sunlight, casting long shadows to dance on the old dirt road that only lead deeper and deeper into the forbidden woods- Well almost forbidden. The yellow blur of the taxi as it kicked up dirt was the only thing interrupting the silence of the silent woods as it sped down the dust path. Shining light went inside the cab and caught on the dark reddish-brown eyes attached to the sweet strawberry blonde haired lady as she stared out of the window watching the green world go by. It's was almost like a dream to come back all these years to the place she used to play and live as a small little girl. Running through the woods, climbing trees, swimming in the giant pond, playing with her blue furred imaginary and her granny coming out to find her and dragging her back in again. She almost smiled remembering the thoughts, or she would have if another thought didn't hit her. What would her granny say if she saw her no? Washed up without a job and dropped out of college at twenty two. A great way to start off life, am I right? A small bump sent her jostling and reaching a hand over to grab the large suitcase in the set next to her and the smaller gym bag on top of that, scrambling to not them fall on the bed of the car as another bump threatened to send them over again...When no more bumps can after a few moments she slowly let go and sighed when they didn't fall over and leaned back into her seat.

"You ok back there?," the cab driver bluntly asked not even taking his eyes off the road. His tone was just bored instead of that chipper happy tone from when she got rides back in her own town.

She pushed some of that strawberry blonde hair out of her face and taking a breath. "Y-Yeah. I-I'm ok. Thanks." He didn't answer her back and she sighed, looking back out the windows at all the pine trees and other nature scenes. "This forest sure is big."

"It's the Oceanic Forest. Our world is one half water and these woods make up a big chunk of it what land we have left." She jumped slightly and blinked back at him. He muttered something else under his breath she didn't quite catch, his black eyes seemed almost nervous gazing out at the woods like he was expecting some kind of monster to pop out in front of him and glance back up at her with a almost stern look. "....Some folks say this place is cursed. Cursed for thousands of years."

"I-I know, but it all sounds rather silly." She shook her head and looked back out the window with a small smile. "Fairies and strange powers that doom anyone who harms the forests. Heard it over and over before. Curse thee those who's hearts are easily closed minded." She gave a chuckle to it all trying to lighten the mood but stopped once her eyes looked over and caught him giving her a stern look through the rear view mirror.

"These aren't things that should be joked about young lady. If I had it my way, I'd turn around right here and now and drive back as fast as I could to the safety of the sidewalks and man made houses." His eyes darted back to the brightly lit dirt road and even though it was daytime he acted like it was night time and something would jump out at them at any given second. "B-But lucky for you my boss would have my hide if I turned down any job. I've seen things. Strange things. That no one could explain in these very woods."

Her eyes scrunched up in curiousity and perhaps mild fear at why he was acting so weird. "Like what exactly?"

"Shadows! If you look out right now and look around you may or may not see one!" He stated matter of factly and looked around quickly again at the peaceful woods. "It doesn't matter if it's day or night for them. They'll always move around waiting for their victims, but as long as you stay out they'll leave you alone. Oh, nono. They'll creep to the very EDGE of the last tree that begins the forest line and reach out for you I heard. Snatch you if you get too close. But they'll never fully leave the safety of their vast woods. Just never go into the woods and stay away, and you will always b-be safe." His voice trembled as his grip on the steering wheel increased. "May god have mercy on the poor souls who don't heed the warnings and travel to places they don't belong."

Another moment of silence passed and she temporarily gazed out the window. She didn't know why but she squinted her eyes out the window at the forest surrounding them and especially the shadows. There wasn't anyway she was superspicious but looking never- She jumped seeing something move behind a tree, but quickly relaxed when her brain registered it as a deer. The poor thing ran off probably from the car speeding through it's home and she smiled. Fairies and shadow ghost and curses. And she supposed Santa Clause and the Sand Man were right around the corner too. Her small smile returned as she looked over to the driver again.

"And I don't suppose there's a legend behind these woods too is there?" She couldn't help but sound a little amused which still made him irritated.

"This isn't funny! People say these woods were cursed by demons and witches thousands of years ago. Making this place a literal hell on earth!"

"Well. I grew up in these woods. And nothing ever bad happened to me or my granny when she was alive," she said smiling back out into the beautiful woods, "I played in the woods all the time as a kid, and I never saw any scary shadows or anything."

...."Then you're really lucky young lady." He seemed to almost shudder with his next warning. "If I were you I'd handle up whatever business I had with this dead grandma's place and get out of here."

...This time she scowled. "I can't! She left it to me, a-and I don't have anywhere else to go." Her face glanced off to the floor of the cab as her faced turned sour. Remembering the faces of the landlord who happily evicted her for bills she couldn't pay anymore, the cousin who conveniently didn't have any room for her to stay, or the teacher who wouldn't let her go back to school when she couldn't afford the college anymore. Working the dead end job at the local pizza place wasn't enough money and she only had a highschool degree. God she really did mess up huh?

"Mark my words. Nothing good could ever come from this place. Just don't say I didn't warn you, Kid."

The rest of the trip there was rather peaceful except for the man staring at the woods around them with a scared matter, until she saw it. Pale white paint chipping off the old looking brown wood giving the small house an old abandoned look. It was-...Not lot she remembered. And it only made it more apparent when they got closer. The old metal fence was barely hanging into it's place in the ground and wild vines were all plastered over it, making the tall grass and weeds look even more eerily. It...It looked like the place had been abandoned for years as it rolled closer and eventually loomed over them with a shadow once they came to a stop right in front of it. She just...stared at it. This wasn't the same white house and neat yard she remembered from when she was little-

"That's no house, that's termites holding hands...No offense."

"...I-It's ok. Nothing a lawnmower and paint can't fix."

He hummed. "Well my job's done. Grab your stuff and get out so I can leave."

She looked to him and blinked. "You're not going to help me?"

He looked around to her with a stern face and gripped the steering wheel tighter, "Lady! I ain't getting out of this cab and getting snatched up!"

She scowled but didn't argue when she pushed her door open and got out, turning around and grabbing her bags, pulling the heavy suitcase and bag out and hitting the ground with a thud, she scowled and mumbled to herself before slamming the door shut and dragging them a few feet away from the- SCREEE!! A cloud of blinding dust and screeching tires suddenly hit her and filled her lungs. Those hands went up to cover her mouth and wave at the air in a futile attempt to swat away the dirt stinging her eyes and making her eyes sting. Reddish-brown eyes blinked and through the settling dust and saw the faint sight of a blurry yellow taxi speeding away with a dust trail kicking up behind it. A growl escaped her throat and she scowled at the fading menace.

"HEY!! YOU JERK!!", She yelled back. Not that it would do her any good now or ever.

She groaned loudly and with a grunt, she leaned back down to grab the two giant and heavy bags filled with personal belongings and began to pull and tug them towards the house. That took a while with her small form heaving the objects through the tall weeds and grass towards the front door of the old home the shadow of the old place looking over her swallowing her whole and blocking out the sunlight, once she got to the porch she stopped though. Looking over the steps with a scowl before sighing, and continuing, the luggage thumping and jarring being pulled past each step. It always seemed like it was harder bringing things up stairs than down don't you think? One back breaking pull later, they were redropped onto the hard old porch and she sighed. Hands going to her back as she stretched it out with a pop and brown-red eyes looked around the front door and everything around it. ...Where did the lawyer say the key was again? OH!! RIGHT!! She quickly looked to her feet and smiled at the old welcome mat under her, stepping off and leaning down to grab and lift it, underneath was a small golden key that looked to match the doorknob. With a smile she stoof back up and went to insert it into the keyhole, with a twist and click, it opened. She just stood there as the door very loudly opened revealing the inside of the house and it-......It looked exactly as she remembered. The large living room opened up to her was littered in old worn furniture, a small shelf lined with her grandmother's old glass figurine collection still stood there as small shiny glass statues ranging from a small cat to a couple kissing each other stood proudly. She remembered sitting by the fireplace right next to it staring at the figurines and making up stories about those figurines. How the couple was a secret runaway princess and her lover. How the ballerina next to them was the greatest dancer in the world with many admires, how the cat was a glass version of her imaginary friend. She giggled remembering the funny things they would get into when she was younger. Everything looked the exact same. It was almost like-...she never left. As if she turned her head- Her eyes turned to glance at the old rocking chair by the fireplace- her granny would still be right there. Rocking back and forth, knitting her whatever new sweater or clothes she needed. Like she said when she was a little girl:

"You don't need distractions like television and all that nonsense. The woods and imagination take you places other's can't even dream about-"

"Go play. Create fantasies a bundle." She slowly muttered to herself. She still stared at the rocking chair, a light breeze blowing in through the open door, blowing her hair around and the rocking chair moved just slightly in the wind. ....She sadly smiled and turned back around. Discarding the key into her pocket and turning back to the luggage still sitting behind her on the porch with a sigh. She still had a lot of work to do. So that's why five minutes later she was pulling both bags across the floor one giant tug at a time, she would go one bag at a time but she just wanted to get this over with. It was when she encountered the stairs leading up to the second floor of the building when she wished she had superpowers of flight or teleportation or strength. It'd make things very easier, but alas magic didn't exist. While going up the stairs she passed by different picture frames hung on the walls, some really old black and white photos, others looking a bit more modern but still older. An old black n white photo of her young grandparents on their wedding day, a new one of her granny as a young lady, another of her holding a younger version of her- She stopped and stared at the picture of herself...A younger her. She remembered the day this was taken. Mother's day when she was just six years old, she made her and her granny matching flower crowns and she took the photo...She smiled a bit at the fond memories of giggling and sweet scented flowers. Before she grunted and started pulling again. The heavy bags hitting each step making a giant thump sound that vibrated through the empty house. She passed the mirror hanging against the wall as well and if she would've taken a look at it she might've seen the pink and yellow strange mitchmatched eyes blinking at her from the fan on the ceiling as she continued to grunt and pull the heavy thing up the stairs away from the mirror, but those eyes remained glued on her as the small blue person just blinked and turned as she reached the top of the stairs. She gave a sigh...before grunting and starting to pull the thing towards the old bedroom she used to stay in. The pink door to the far right. The small blue figure on the ceiling fan tilted his head at the obvious struggling before she just dropped them with a growl to the floor. Looking at them for a long moment before giving them a kick of frustration and turning to the pink door. She hesitated....before pushing it wide open and walking in. The small blue figure tilted his head to the right before blinking, arching his body and shaking lightly before hopping down off the fan and landing to the floor with the softest thud. He crept over to the doorway and poked their head in to watch her. She looked all around the small room. Faded beige walls with flower wall paper stared back at her, a regular sized bed, dresser, and desk lined the left wall and a small shelf with old toys and books leaned against the other side. A smile came to her face seeing the old pictures still tacked onto the wall. One of a crudely drawn grandma and child holding hands and another next to them a small blue crudely drawn kitty wearing some kind of white shirt and red bowtie. Unconciously she raised a hand and touched the picture with a smile at the memories. Oh the adventures she had as a child. She missed the small blue head (that looked oddly like a better version of the blue cat in the drawing) when she turned back to the door and went over to regrab at the heavy things, grunting as she pulled them in and laid them in the middle of the floor and sighed. Before unzipping the first bag on top and reaching inside to pull out a pair of clothes. These things wouldn't put themselves away, and she had a lot of work to do later fixing up the place and cleaning all the dust up.

The small figure that hid from before peeked out from the top of the doorway upside down and kept quickly ducking whenever she turned her head in that direction. Always missing the figure as she worked to unpack and definitely didn't see the wide fanged grin. Or hear the mischevious giggles. Or even hear the playful voice.

"Welcome back, Allison."

#allison #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #zoophobia #timber

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the-haunted-walkman · 11 months

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ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Ichoriel

𝔸𝕝𝕓𝕦𝕞 - My Oc ! Definitely not from Minecraft

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↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

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"I am waking up now",Ichoriel told himself, his wide smile on his face. Big eyes blinking in the half lit room like a kid opening his eyes on his birthday to a surprise he'd already overheard the secret of. Like the feeling of delight in a good surprise, one already known.

His boney hands pressed into the easily giving mattress under him, the blanket he slept on top of shuffling against his coarse wings' skin and the thin layer of ash that covered everything; it sifted to the side with the movements.

He was awake now, or, that's what he told himself.

Because Proper People wake up, because Proper People had been asleep. And Ichoriel was nothing if not a Proper People type of person, the thought making his thin boney tail swish a little with happiness, the star shaped barbs on the end cutting through the air.

Ichorial stretched, his gangly limbs above his head and arching back a bit in a curve, always messy ivory hair sticking out everywhere like a sleepy angels halo and brushing his soft cold skin. His bones popped satisfyingly, like a gentle pinch under his slightly gray and purple skin. His spine deep in him resounded like a dozen tiny church bells echoing through the empty ceiling that was his hollow chest, his ribs clacking together a bit where they rested over his tunic like birds waking up in the rafters and taking off in a cacophony, and his wings and tail straight out like weathervanes and lighting poles. Ichoriel gave a laugh that didn't sound like clicks or chattering at all, Proper People laughed like hearty wind instruments rapidly played. Ichorial was a Proper People type of person, not an old church building, and so the thought made him laugh, just like the wood wind laughs he knew.

Ichorial smiled as he stood up on long legs covered in a tan tunic he had found.

Because Proper People stand up, Proper People stand and walk and sit and run, Proper People dream of floating and flying cause they cannot, and as a Proper People type person, neither can Ichoriel.

"I am going outside!" Ichorial said happily, voice chipper and not at all chirpy. Bugs chirp, Proper People do not. Snagging his long almost cloak-like scarf off its fire darkened hook by the door that creaked under its own, fragile and charred straining, Ichoriel's tail swished a bit out of the way so that the sharp almost barb like hooks at the boney end don't hook on the fabric like a fishing lure and tear it. The tattered holes at the end of Ichoriel's cloak tell of what happens in those situations.

It is a foggy evening, the dampness sticking to the air like a sweet sap on bread. Ichorial purrs- HUMS at the thought, remembering the sweet sticky treat he'd have on a good morning way back when.

The memory is foggy tho, like curling smoke, all the ones from before everything smelled like burnt wood and charred fibers are that way.

Ichorial still smiled, that was a good smell, tho. That smelled like home!

Ichorial walked down his steps, as proper people do, and started his 'morning' stroll through town. It is quiet, save for the friendly greeting chirps of bugs, the great rumbling croaks of the frogs and toads, and the cautious shifting of an animal testing the perimeters of the forestry town. Ichorials' steps treaded a little , , ,lighter, maybe just above the ground, so as to not scare off the wildlife. It had been awhile since they ventured into these parts, at least the larger creatures, that is, the fuzzy skittish ones and the big rude behemoths. They smelt very well, Ichorial thought, and for some reason, they did not like the smell of Home the same way Ichoriel did.

A shame really.

Home was so nice! Always calm and peaceful, lively and excited when Ichorial wanted it to be. Ichorial's home was really whatever he wanted it to be.

Change came easily when you were the only factor, Ichoriel thought to himself with an easy smile as he strode on the oaths between the stunted jutting poles that had long ago stopped smoking or holding up anything.

The ash on the ground had shifted and changed, Ichorial liked to think that the shifting of the wind is why he never could track his footsteps. Because proper people leave footprints, proper people walk on the ground. So of course the occasional weak forest breeze, that would disturb the familiar scent of ash with its earthy wetness, changing Ichoriel little world without his permission, would sift over his footprints and cover them back up before dying down to the regular charred scent. Ichoriel nodded once to himself, assuredly with an easy smile, bright eyes taking in the sight of a yellow frog atop the charred storage chest in a nearby house's shell, smiling at his guest.

Ichorial took his 'walk' through the town at a leisurely pace, slowly winding through the small charred rib cages of old houses. Sometimes he'd guess at what an old blackened lump of wood used to do, or what a melted glob of metal had kept closed. He distantly recognized the same thing he always did, they all had been made mostly of wood.

Wood likes to be bright, to shine and be bright in the way that goirges itself ferociously and loudly and hungrily, eating up everything in its path. Wood really liked that kind of light. What a silly thing to make a home from, Ichorial thought, to make it out of something so hungry to be eaten. Ichoriels' home was not like that, it was cold and hard stone. Maybe a bit burnt along the outside, but Ichoriel thought that it would be hard not to be. It had been in the center after all, an important building if the tall tower was anything to judge by, tho Ichoriel had nothing to compare it to. It was the only one standing after all. Stone was reliable like that.

It was his favorite house in his entire Home, Ichorial's house was. Not to say he hadn't tried the others, he definitely has, Ichoriel was a very fair person. Not all Proper People are, but all ought to, Ichoriel thought with a decided nod, and so he tried all of the houses before he settled on which one would be his home inside of his Home.

Ichoriel had come to the conclusion he just liked stone things better in most cases. The stone home was his favorite, and the stone paths, the stone well and the stone support beams.

Stone stayed the same, not as starved to eat and be eaten by brightness, like wood. No, stone may reflect brightness occasionally, but it had its fill of Brightness' hunger.

Ichorial could relate to that. Brightness and Ichoriel did not get along, the tender spots on his wings, his back and his arms reminded him of that old grudge. Ichoriel thought that the brightness was too hungry, and it got greedy when it came to what it could feast and gorge its burning center with, what it could feed on, often taking what was not its. A bandit of sorts.

Ichoriel hadn't met a bandit in his Home, but he had a pretty good idea of them, and what they did. In fact, he knew quite a lot about bandits and what they did, details and tricks and necessary capabilities.

Ichoriel told himself he must just be very clever to notice these things. Ichoriel was not like the brightness, he was no bandit, and he did not take what was not his. Not very difficult though, as everything in Home was his. In fact he'd be more hard pressed to find someone else to take things from!

Not that Ichoriel planned to leave. No, Ichoriel was content to stay here, amongst the charred exposed ribs of Home that always smelt like what was left of the Brightness' hunger. Ichoriel thinks his home is like him, in a lot of ways. His exposed ribs click as he walks a bit, a familiar soundtrack to his movements.

Proper People make sounds as they move, don't they? Ichoriel wonders absentmindedly, his tail flickering back and forth behind him.

Nevermind that tho, Ichoriel was coming to the edge of his little town, and this is where his trail ended. Two stoney structures stood on either side of the opening, like kids guarding a clubhouse. Ichoriel smiled and strode up to either, waving in a friendly way at the two stone structures.

"It is a good morning, Hedge and Wedge! The rain walks with me, all foggy on the ground as it is !" Ichoriel greets the two stone guardians cheerily, big eyes bright like stars. Neither answer, though that was to be expected, Ichoriel smiled anyway. Ichoriel flitted up, as best he could on his boney half webbed wings, to sit lightly on top of Hedges head, crossing his twiggy legs and his tail curling up into his lap. It swished there, never staying still.

Hedge and Wedge are made of stone, Ichoriel thinks as he sits quietly, tail unfurling after a moment to swish behind him, reaching to the ground below. It is good they are made of stone, Hedge and Wedge that is, Ichoriel also bemused, because Ichoriel likes having friends, even if they are quiet, and stone stays. And since Ichoriel's friends are stone, they will stay as Ichoriel's silent cold friends.

Ichoriel's tail catches on something on the ground as it swishes. Ichoriel blinks, and does not let out a curious chirp as he curls it up to check what was stuck in its star shaped barbs. The star shaped barbs caught things rather easily.

What had caught on his tail was bright and it was red. Red on his sharp barbed tail that he held in his fist, familiar. Like a dagger.

And it made Ichoriel freeze cold and still. Like his favorite stones.

It was sharp, and red, like a dagger in his hand.

Sharp and red in his hands. Sharp and red. Sharp and red. Sharp and red. Sharp and red, sharp and red and sharp and red and sharp-

It was a poppy flower. The perky happy flowers that surrounded the base of either of the paths' silent stone guardians in a delicate carpet of color and forgotten please for remembrance. Ichorial plucked it off of his tail, and let it flutter to the ground, torn up and lying among its still growing kin. Ichoriel's tail hung behind him like a strip of cloth torn and dangling from a dress. It did not move. It was clean and not red and not in his hand. Proper People keep themselves tidy.

They do not have red on their hands or anything in their hands. So Ichoriel will not have red on his hands, Ichoriel is a Proper People type of, , ,person after all.

Ichoriel carefully climbs off the head of his stone friend Hedge. It's a difficult descent due to the sharp and square stones edges but Ichoriel manages, Proper People have to climb after all, they can't just flit up and down off of things. Proper People don't have wings after all.

Ichoriel doesn't look as he steps through the red red flowers. Instead he looks up. The canopy of trees around him has a hole in it, charred and long dead branches around its perimeter like a gothic picture frame one could buy at a Hollow-Day Fest celebration in the fall.

The stars shine above Ichoriel making him smile.

Ichoriel liked stars.

They were like the Brightness, but they did not burn. At least, not in that hungry consuming way that the Brightness did. No, stars were like stones. They hardly would change where they hung in the air, where cold and did not hunger with that harsh appetite of the Brightness, they shine cold and unmoving, only fading when the Brightness returned cruelly. Ichoriel liked stars.

Ichoriel thinks that he used to like the Brightness. Before everything smelt like Home and before he was here. Ichoriel used to burn like the Brightness did, hungry and fast and chasing whatever would fuel him, hissing popping raucous and bright, setting other things alight with little Brightness' too, to serve a purpose in satisfying his hunger or to let others burn like him.

Ichoriel thinks he got too greedy though. Greedy as is the nature of that Brightness. He got too close to something he wanted, too close to the Brightness, and it taught him a truth colder and more still and silent than Ichoriel could hardly believe it capable of. The Brightness' voracious consumption is only fun when you are the one consuming. Being consumed that is something else, something cold and silent and dark and everything that is NOT the Brightness.

Ichoriel likes the stars and the stones and the smell of Home. Home smelt like what happens when The Brightness leaves, and the stones are cold and unmoving, and the stars shine to keep away the Not Brightness and yet are not The Brightness.

Ichoriel likes Home, and he doesn't wish to change it.

No matter what the embers in his chest say in its flickering way of speach.

#my ocs <3 #Ichoriel you dumb ded silly #ghostly wails #minecraft oc

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faolonfiendrender · 1 year

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Monster slayer's guide (Formerly Mage slayer's guide)

First off, I'd like to retract my former statements about vampires. Apparently "hurr durr move their coffin while they sleep" does not work. On a side note, the spell to regrow your limbs is a handy one if you choose to fight a vampire, whatever gods may be bless the bastard who made it so that it works when you have no limbs. Anyways, what distinguishes monsters from Mages is simply a matter of toughness, for the most part mages (at least those who haven't figured out the level of BS they can do with simple powers) are still mostly human, and go down pretty quickly once your attack lands. Some types of monsters are known to actively block attacks with their head to avoid damaging their clothing. Suffice it to say, a .44 hand gun won't cut it. For general advice, do your research almost all monsters have an exploitable weakness, fire, running water, native iron, and silver are all pretty common things that work. Also, if you can't find a weakness bring absurd firepower, not much will stand up to rocket launcher or being fed through a wood chipper. The common ones are vampires, werewolves, and revenants. Generally speaking, revenants are the easiest to deal with from afar, just figure out why they got back out of their pine boxes and fix it. Barring that, burning their body or nailing it into the coffin works pretty well. Of course, some revenants are incorporeal, I suspect it's an age thing. For them, there ain't much to burn or nail, and the thing to fix is probably not findable, so you basically either ignore them, or try to talk to them, make them understand that it is done, and even if they didn't win nothing will happen, and hope the trauma healing that takes lifetimes expedites itself. Werewolves are nasty motherfuckers to fight. They are tough enough to take a 16 inch shell to the gut and keep going, strong enough to manhandle whatever shot the shell, and fast enough to run down the vehicles that brought the shell and gun. But, if you are lucky, the guy underneath is still in some sort of control, and you can get him to stop murdering. If you are unlucky, the guy underneath actively wants you dead to the point where even his human form might keep coming after getting hit by a cannon. The uncontrolled ones tend to be weaker, less conditioning, less tactical prowess, less able to exist as wolves without the full moon. It should go without saying that you should not engage werewolves. If you must, try to use silver slugs, and do not engage in hand to hand. Vampires are interesting, their strength varies from basically human martial artist to able to fight gods. Simply put, they are unpredictable. However, they do need to return to their coffin every morning, and they do die when exposed to sun, as well as a handful of other ways depending on the vampire. It turns out that they can wake from their slumber after at most 3 hours of coffin time (probably less) They do all weigh the same as humans, so an angry mob can be effective.

#mage slayer's guide #unproofread at 2 am; probably not good

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listening-to-thunder · 2 years

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You don't have to think something is good to love it.

#hi my guardian feels #and how it makes me entirely befuddled to see the drama defended from loving mocking and legit criticism both #by those claiming it's good through and through #it's...not that #and it's okay!#it's GREAT at making people have feelings and it has some amazing concepts to play with in fic #and nobody could have asked for better lead actors #(better dubbing of the supporting cast would've helped but they all really tired at least?)#also this is my space so i can say i hate the ending and wish most things past ep 38 had gone differently‚ not just for feels reasons #but because it takes the central themes of dixingren are the same as haixingren and deserve better #and shen wei should know he is more than a weapon #and runs those through a wood chipper #let's separate dixing and haixing forever!#and shen wei has to literally blow himself up to stop the brother he was trying to save #wtf #no thank you #no thank you so much #that is not a good ending #tag rant over

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

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Guys I’m having another Bakugo brainrot

Tw: bullying, noncon, nonconsensual peeping, manipulation

Remember that one episode of MHA where the class goes to the sauna and M*neta tries to check da girls out over the wall?

Imagine the same scenario, but years later when they’re all older

The class wanted a reunion, just to relax and blow off some steam

You’re with the girls, and you all lay back in the hot water reminiscing about the older days when everyone was still getting the hang of their own quirks

Mina brings up this exact same scene but years ago.

“Ohmigosh, do you guys remember the last time we came in our first year here and Mineta totally tried to get a peek at us?”

“Ugh, I hope Iida is keeping a good hold on him right now,” Ochacko giggles, kicking her feet up to rest on a rock

You hum in agreement, tilting your head back to rest against the wooden wall separating you and the boys.

As it was, Uraraka was almost spot on with her hopes. Except, Iida and Tokoyami were out getting refreshments for the rest of the boys, leaving the remaining group to their own plot.

Which was lead by Mineta, of course, who had the brilliant idea to spy on the girls, just like they almost did years back.

“Guys, come on, please they’re right there!” He practically salivates, wildly gesturing to the tall wooden wall in front of them.

Most of them shift uncomfortably and groan about him being a creep as usual, but the rest stay silent.

Mineta takes their lack of outright refusal as fuel to keep blabbering.

“Look, we almost got away with it back then-“

“-You mean you got away with it, we didn’t do shit. And you didn’t exactly get off scot-free, Kota completely demolished your attempts and you landed ass down on Four-Eyes’ face,” Bakugo drawls, leaning his head backwards and looking up at the obsidian sky. The boys laugh, remembering the ridiculous event.

The night is cool, the stars littering the inky atmosphere take the pressure off of Bakugo’s lungs. For weeks now they’ve been training like dogs, battling each other and even minor villains for extra practice of their quirks. This trip was supposed to be a leisure getaway, not a free porno.

But the grape-headed perv is insistent, scoffing and waving the blond’s quip off like some annoying fly.

“You know, there’s something in it for you too, Bakugo. I’ve seen the way you look at Y/N.”

This causes a murmur and a couple of light beers towards the blond, who in turn snarls and ignites his hand to quell the commotion. All of them had an inkling that Katsuki Bakugo had finally set his sights on some poor girl, and that was you. It was such a rare sight to see his face flush slightly when you walked past him, the way he stuttered over his words a bit when you two would be conversing amongst the same group, and best of all, when they would see how he would excuse himself to the bathroom or locker room occasionally when your hero suit would tear in certain places after battles.

“Shut the fuck up 3’2, unlike you I don’t need to ogle at those brain dead bimbos.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize you thought of Y/N as a ‘brain dead bimbo’, Bakugo, I’ll be sure to let her know how you feel” Mineta grinned maliciously, and the boys ‘oooo’ed at the jab.

Bakugo’s voice caught in his throat.

“You wouldn’t,” he growled, rising slightly out of the water.

“I already know you’ll kill me afterwards, but I’m prepared for the repercussions if you don’t help...cooperate here,” Grapehead inspected a cuticle and feigned a yawn.

“Come on Bakugo, it’s not like it’s gonna hurt anyone! Well keep this to ourselves,” Denki chimed in a little too eagerly.

“Yeah, I mean, we’re only asking for your and everyone’s support so that we can focus better on training y’know? A little fun never killed anyone.” Sero threw his arm over Kirishima’s shoulder, who blushed at the whole ordeal but kept silent all the while.

Katsuki looked around. Slowly, others were starting to really listen in and look interested at the outcome of Mineta’s plan. Surely a little peeping wouldn’t be too bad would it? And plus, it was only a one time thing.

Shoto was faring the same way as Kirishima, quiet and maybe embarrassed at what they were planning on doing, but no outright refusal. Even Deku had a weird longing glint in his eye, the same kind he would get when he used to fawn over All Might.

He thought about it for a minute more, a chance to see you, naked, honest, and pure, splashing around with your friends as you let your femininity dangle as it pleased.

“Do whatever the hell you want. I’m not taking blame if the bird and glasses come back, though.”

Hushed cheers and excited murmurs erupt from around the spring, and they huddle together to form a plan.

A couple minutes later, the boys were grouping around the wooden panels. Todoroki had burned a hole into the soft wood, and sero had used his transparent tape to cover it up so that the girls couldn’t see it from their side.

And there they were, completely bare, hair flowing, curves showing, voices mature and high pitched giggles emanating from around the water and bank.

Bakugo seeks you out immediately after the hole is made, shoving his way through the crowded bodies much to the amusement of others. But he doesn’t care, all he wants at the moment is to see you in your most honest element.

He doesn’t have to look long, because you’re right there, you’re right in front of them, only a few meters away. Your back is facing them, but the sight of your smooth, naked back and the round curve of your ass squishing against the rocks underneath you is enough to make Bakugo’s cock bob painfully above the water. It’s not too hard to hide his erection since the boys’s attention is elsewhere at the moment.

Your hair is open, and he wants nothing more than to feel it in his hands, run his fingers though your scalp and pull so hard that your neck is snapped back, he wants to know what kind of noises you’ll make for him, would you sound shrill and high pitched or would you wail and bellow for him to let go?

They can hear the girls talking amongst themselves, the hole in the wall makes their voices more audible and clear.

“Quit playing coy, Jirou, we know you’ve got your eye on someone,” Hagakure’s body is nowhere to be found as usual, but her chipper voice rings out from the middle of the hot spring.

Jirou is a few feet away from where you sit, her body also being shown for everyone to see. Bakugo glances at Kaminari to confirm his suspicion, but gags and quickly looks away when he gets an eyeful of his friends’ erect cock.

Not that Bakugo himself has room to talk, though.

“I mean, not really, it’s not a big deal.” The ravenette shifts and hides her head from the rest of girls’ cooing.

“Uh huh, sure. You’re not fooling anyone Kiyoka, I’ve seen the way you look at Denki. You two can’t keep your eyes off each other, it’s cute,” you purr, and Bakugo holds himself back from shoving the other guys out of the way just so that he can hear your voice the best.

Squeals and sounds of splashing fill the air, and Sero and Kirishima whisper excitedly and clap their red-faced friend on the back. Denki can’t keep the 50K watt smile off his face, and even Bakugo grunts and knocks shoulders with him, letting him know that he was happy for the human charger.

But then Jirou claps back with her own snarky observation, and the boys fall hush at the new revelation.

“Alright, you wanna talk about ogling Y/N? Then tell me, how’s Deku doing?”

“Or Bakugo, too,” Mina adds slyly, and now all the girls’ attention, as well as the boys’, is on you.

Bakugo felt like he had whiplash. He would’ve been elated, on Cloud 9 even to hear that maybe you had something for him too, had shitty Deku’s name not have been thrown in there too.

And he looks around wildly for the green haired freak, the freckles dusted across the expanse of his face even more prominent from the deep blush quickly forming, his scarred hands holding the sides of his face shaking in awe and gleeful shock.

But the rest of the boys aren’t as oblivious to how Bakugo seethes at his rival’s joy, from the way the water gets hotter from his quirk sparking underneath the rippling waves. Kirishima scoots closer to his friend and gently lays a hand on his shoulder as if to say, calm down, man. Not right now.

And so the hothead leaves it for the time being, opting to hear your response.

“I-it’s really nothing, they’re both just good classmates like the rest of the guys,” and although your back is turned to them, it doesn’t take a genius to know that you’re embarrassed too, your leg skittishly bouncing in front of you is making your ass jiggle from the back, much to the delight of the salivating boys.

Bakugo wants to spill blood when he suddenly realizes your body is being shown for the rest of these dogs to see

The girls start teasing you, your splutters being drowned out by their playful accusations.

“Come on L/N, whose cuter?”

“Dont act all coy now, I know how nervous you get when you’re all close to Bakugo. I mean I don’t blame you, have you seen his muscles? He could crush someone’s head with those things!”

“Yeah, but have you seen the way she giggles when Deku starts his mumbling tangents? That’s a classic crush right there.”

Bakugo is getting desperate to hear your answer now, some of the boys have left, feeling like they had their full of excitement for the night. They saw some tits and ass, heard some gossip, end of story.

The only ones remaining were Bakugo and his gang, as well as IcyHot and Shitty Deku.

Shitty Deku, who seemed equally eager to hear your response.

It pissed him off that he wasn’t getting the message to fuck off, even after all the growling and death stares he was receiving from his childhood friend.

But he guesses after a lifetime of dealing with it, it doesn’t scare Deku as much as it does anymore.

Maybe he’ll have to amp it up, later

“W-well I mean both of them have their own respective...flaws and strengths I guess..sometimes Deku can be kinda hard to talk to ‘cuz he’s so shy, but Bakugo can be a real jerk at times, too.”

You trail off, and Bakugo scoffs to himself. Him? Flaws? Those two words didn’t go well in one sentence together, but nonetheless he continues to listen. He wouldn’t refute the notion of him being an asshole, he wasnt that delusional.

“And yeah, I mean Bakugo definitely intimidates me sometimes with how aggressive he can be, but Deku is definitely getting up there in terms of physical prowess. But in terms of who I like, I’d have to say-“

“Midoriya! Bakugo! What are you two doing over there?”

Iidas voice booms across the water, and all 6 of the boys jump back, startled at the intrusion.

“No, wait-“ Bakugo hisses, clawing his way towards the hole to hear the rest of what you had to say, but Sero and Todoroki shove him back and patch the hole up with fire and tape, shutting off your confession.

Deku waves his arms around wildly, stammering some excuse of dropping his towel in the spot where they all were sheepishly gathered. They eventually waded their way over to where Tokoyami had set the drinks down, but the blond was shaking with hot rage despite the cool refreshment that was shoved into his hand by a wary Kirishima.

“Don’t sweat it dude, it’s not like her and Midoriya are gonna da-“

“Finish that sentence and I’ll blast both your and his head off,” he glowers at the redhead, shorting a dark look to where an all-too-happy Deku was chatting with Todoroki, as if they hadn’t been drooling over their naked classmates merely a couple minutes ago.

Kirishima backs off with raised hands in surrender, leaving Katsuki to mull over the situation by himself.

You couldn’t seriously be interested in that green haired freak, right? I mean he could barely talk to a girl without tripping over his own damn tongue, for fucks sake.

Not that he was any better himself. He failed to acknowledge the times where you had merely asked him for an extra pencil, when he snapped at you for being such a fuckin’ dumbass that you couldn’t even remember to bring your own shit. He had done that out of pure impulse, but he regretted it the moment he saw your face fall, his heart clenching at the sight

He’d have to show you that he was the better option, regardless of if you wanted it or not.

And so when they had all gotten out of the water and gotten ready for food, Bakugo already knew what he had to do.

You were all eating outside in the camp pavilion, each at their own separate tables. He was sitting with the boys, all of them joking around and throwing food at each other while he was staring you down.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. How could you expect him to, after he had seen half of you bare already? It was sinful almost, the way you were completely in the dark about what he had seen and heard, while he himself was fantasizing about what you looked like and felt like on the front.

So when Deku came by your table, no doubt also having the same conversation of the springs in mind, wanting to get closer to you, Bakugo felt his sanity snap.

The fork he held in his hand started melting in his ignited hand, steam curling from his palm. He watched as the green-eyed fuck made successful shitty attempts to make you laugh, his eyes trained on where you gently laid a hand on his shoulder after something he said that made you throw your head back and howl with glee.

“Hey man, your fork-!” Kaminari yelped, pointing at the disfigured mess of metal in his friend’s steaming hand.

“Huh?” Bakugo was pulled out of his irate daze, and he quickly dropped the fork when he saw what he unconsciously did.

They all looked at him for an uneasy minute after noticing the expression on his face, no doubt understanding he was furious about being compared to Deku once again in front of you.

“Look, Bakugo, don’t really take what Y/N said to heart. We don’t know who she actually likes, and Midoriya’s just her friend...” but Sero trails off hesitantly after glancing in your direction, seeing Deku’s dreamy expression as your hand still continues to rest on his shoulder.

“Just let her come to you, yeah? You don’t wanna force anything on her, that’ll make her really uncomfortable-“

-“Shut the fuck up Shitty Hair, and mind your own damn business,” Bakugo interjects, abruptly unscrewing his drink and standing up, unable to lose you to some broccoli- headed bug-eyed fuck.

He stiffly walks across the pavilion to where you two sit, and feigns a swig from his bottle. Your focus is still on Deku, so you don’t notice him approach until he comes up behind you two and ‘trip’s, falling forward and strategically spilling the liquid all over Deku’s back and your front.

You squeal as your blouse is drenched, and Deku shoots up from his seat to grab some napkins while searching for the perpetrator.

“What the- Kacchan?”

“Oops.”

Bewildered, you look at the two while dabbing the wet splotches on your shirt, Mina and Tsu jumping into action to help you.

The boys exchange a weird look, and although Bakugo gave his version of an apology, he doesn’t look very sorry. In fact, if you saw it right he looked almost...smug? With a bit of anger?

Deku wasn’t any easier to understand either. His voice was lilted as usual while he grabbed napkins, but his gaze never left his childhood friends’ and his eyes weren’t exactly the big doe-eyes you had grown fond of.

They were darkened, and narrowed as they bored into Bakugo’s eyes. Neither one of them was looking away from each other, and there was a weird tension in the air that everyone could sense.

But you couldn’t focus on that right now, you had to go and wash up.

“I gotta change and maybe take a shower, I can feel it sticking to my skin,” you scrunch your nose in disgust and tell Mina as you stand to leave. Deku offers to walk you, but you wave him off kindly.

As you pass by Bakugo, you can feel his eyes rove up and down your body, very obviously staring at the way your white shirt clings to your chest from the liquid, sending chills up your spine.

But he doesn’t come after you, not yet.

It’s only after everyone has finished up from their dinner and headed off to bed almost 20 minutes later that the showers finally, finally warm up enough for you to dip a hesitant toe in.

Curse the old pipes.

*******

He watches you from the dark, the only light you’re provided with is the dim emergency light from the rusty bulb, the camp counselors having been shut the facility’s lights off merely a half hour ago. But you were stubborn in waiting for the water to warm up so you were left alone in the showers, shifting uncomfortably in your sticky wet clothes.

And then miraculously you get up for the umpteenth time to check the temperature of the water, and it’s finally deemed appropriate for you when you sigh in relief and start taking your shoes off.

He hides in the door partition, his cock hardening slowly as he thinks of you alone with just him and his mercy. You were going to pay for almost breaking his heart and prancing around with stupid fucking Deku instead.

But asides from his rage, he still liked you, a lot. He wanted you to want him as much as he wanted you, so he decided to try and attempt to make your first time with him as gentle and as special as he could in the dirty cabin showers.

Bakugo waits with bated breath for the right moment, and the second your hands grip the end of your shirt to pull it up, he slowly emerges from the dark.

“You know, I’m glad you came here alone, at night. It’s almost like you wanted this.”

You jump violently at the low voice coming from seemingly nowhere, and you wildly look around for the source until you see him...coming at you slow from the inky abyss of the room, like a predator stalking his prey.

His figure seems to loom even larger than he actually is, the shadows of his tall body bouncing off the walls and grazing over the top of your head. He seems to be in no rush, taking his time with his hands in his pockets, eyes flashing dangerously at you as he stalks forward until he’s backed you up against the deteriorating wall, chest to chest with you.

“W-what the hell, Bakugo,” you stammer nervously. “This is the girls room, you can’t be here-“

And the hand you raise to push him away is caught in his calloused ones, your other wrist is quickly seized as well and slammed above your head. You cry out in pain and try kicking out, but he wedges a bulky knee in between your thigh and shoves his face mere millimeters away from yours, a mean leer adorning his normally-attractive face.

“What, I can’t be here? And here I was thinking that you almost liked me. But oh, I forgot, Deku’s your favorite, right?” The grip on your wrist tigthens and his leg flexes from in between your thighs.

You squirm and sob, about to ask what the hell he was talking about-

Oh.

Oh no.

He sees the understanding pass over your face, and he laughs cruelly at the horror that comes with it.

“You heard me? How?”

“Not just heard. I saw you, too.”

He lets his eyes drop from your neck, to your chest, and then to the juncture between your legs which was being massaged by his knee.

Tears well up in your eyes as you realize he was watching you this entire evening in the springs. How he got away with it, you didn’t want to even know.

“I saw your hair open for the first time, and not in that stupid hairdo you always do for school.”

He trails his hand softly up the sides of your body and up your neck until he reaches his big hand into your scalp. You whimper and gasp as he laces his fingers through your locks, seeming to caress you but then harshly yanking your head back so you had no choice but to look at him head on.

“I saw your ass pressed up against the rocks, and I wished it was up against my cock instead.”

He removes his hand from your hair and snakes it down to your bottom, kneading and slapping it lightly. You writhe even harder now, too scared to make a noise in case he hurts you even worse, just wanting him to get the hell off of you.

“But I didn’t see the front of you. I imagined what you would look like with tears streaming down your face while I was stuffing you full of me”

He plays with the edge of your shirt, a dark look in his eye as he plays with you. You try to budge your hands but to now avail, only serving in annoying him and shoving his knee up further into your crotch. The pressure on your clit is immense, and your legs start shaking as you’re forced to be suspended almost midair on his knee.

“Take this off,” he says softly, the rasp catching in his voice.

“Bakugo, please. You don’t have to do this, I swear I won’t tell anyone-“

“You think I’m worried about if you’ll tell anyone? Hah! I already know you won’t, wanna know why?”

He leans in, inhaling the scent of your hair and grazing his nose along the side of your neck. You force yourself to breath in and out, feeling an impending heart attack.

“‘Cause if you do, I’ll make sure to fuck you in front of everyone, especially on Deku’s broken body.”

And then you can’t stop them, the tears fall from your body shaking in pure fear at his threat.

You knew he wouldn’t actually do something like that, but hearing it snarled in your ear so softly made you believe it all the same, the power he held while you were fucked, literally and metaphorically.

“Now I’m not gonna ask you again. Take this shit off before I burn it, bitch.”

You don’t want to piss him off further, so with trembling hands you lift the edge of your sticky uniform and start to pull it off, but he stops you with a frustrated grunt.

“Slowly. I wanna savor this while no ones here.”

You bite your lip and suppress a scream as you do what he says.

And oh, does he ever savor it. The shirt clings deliciously to your breasts, and he licks his lips as it ruffles up and over your head. Your skin is perspiring from the humid air, a sheen of sweat lightly decorating your collarbones. Bakugo can’t hold himself back any longer, and you yelp when he comes at you suddenly.

He lunges at your face and pins your arms down by your side again as his lips mesh against yours, his kiss filled with clacking teeth and a thrashing tongue against your lips. The knee you’re straddling is bouncing lightly up and down, jostling you on it and causing your cunt to pulsate with heat.

You let out a distressed moan, and he swallows it greedily, using the advantage of your open mouth to delve deeper into your wet cavern. You open bleary eyes and flinch when you find his already wide open, staring back into unforgiving vermillion orbs.

He pulls back slightly, panting. “I bet Deku didn’t get this kind of treatment, huh? It’s all for me right?”

You don’t know if he’s genuinely asking you or just being insane, so you don’t answer him. Fortunately and unfortunately for you, he doesn’t care for your response, rather more focusing on dragging you by your neck towards the hot showers.

You slip and stumble as he shoves you in a stall, gaining your balance only too late when he turns and locks the door.

“Look, I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, just forget you saw or heard anything at the springs, it was just girl talk, stupid stuff that didn’t mean anything-“

“-even if it didn’t mean anything to you I’ll make sure you believe what you’ll feel after I fuck you senseless.”

And with that, he tugs off his clothes and licks his lips at the sight of you cowering against the wall, naked and oh so vulnerable.

He slowly shifts towards you, pressing his body flush against your trembling one. You can feel the outline of his erection on your thigh, and you swallow at how big it is.

“I don’t wanna have to close your mouth or restrain you when I’m balls deep in that tight cunt. So don’t do anything stupid and this’ll be a whole lot easier for you.”

He reaches a hand down and lightly strokes your labia, relishing in how you whimper and jerk against him, but don’t dare try to stop his hand.

Smart girl

Another hand finds its way to your tits, tugging and pulling at your hardened nipples. You gasp and arch into his touch, slowly coming undone from his ministrations. He humps against your leg like a teenage kid, grunting while he does so.

His mouth is attacking yours once again, but now you’re too tired from the constant surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins to even move your head. You just let him play with your body, your heart, your soul.

“I think the princess is wet enough for me now,” he leers at you when he pulls his fingers away, scissoring his digits to show the strings of wetness he pulled from your pussy.

You squeal and grab onto his chiseled arms as he suddenly hikes his hands underneath your upper thighs and picks you up, forcing your legs to wrap around his middle for support.

He slams you against the wall, the water cascading down your head is making your hair stick to your face, and in a strange and sudden show of intimacy Bakugo softly moves your locks away from your eyes. Your gazes lock, yours desperate and tear filled while his scarlet hues show no signs of mercy, but rather a strange predatory hunger.

Your arms scrabble behind his head and on his shoulders for balance as he slowly sinks you down on his length. You hiss and throw your head back at the sensation of being filled, and he eats it up.

He watches the way your mouth opens, your eyes widen, as every sinful sound your body can make escapes you.

As if he needed more of an ego boost

You wail as the last inches are sucked into your dripping hole, and he lets out a mean breathy laugh.

“Fuck, you really were ready huh? I should’ve taken you weeks ago, little slut.”

Your brows furrow and you try to turn your face away but he snatches your chin in a hardened grip.

“Uh-uh, none of that shit. You were doing so well, don’t turn away from me now.”

He slowly starts to roll his hips minutely into yours, not exactly thrusting but enough movement to make your cunt flutter and throb.

“What do you want me to say? You got what you wanted!” You whisper to him, more tears falling down freely down your cheeks.

He can’t help himself, he groans and surges forward to lick the salty rivers up, gripping your ass tightly when you flinch.

“Tell me you love me. Tell me how much you want me, how much better I am than that green-haired bastard and I won’t shove it up your ass.”

You can feel his abdomen clench and shake from the effort he’s making not to completely batter your cervix so you give in quickly, afraid of what he’s like when his thin strands of self restraint snap.

“I...I love you Bakugo. I really want y-ooh!”

The last bit of your sentence is choked off as he lifts you up all the way to his tip and slams your hips down his length. You gasp and weave your hands through his hair for support, your legs violently shaking at the pain.

He grunts and starts really giving it to you, setting a fast pace as he bounces you on his cock. Your head is bobbing around, you’re fairly certain there’s drool coming down your lips but you can’t find it in you to care as he fucks you into oblivion.

After a couple of more painful thrusts he pushes you against the wall and removes your hands from his hair, holding them above your head against the wall. You’re trapped with your upper half plastered against the dingy tile while your lower half is wrapped his dick.

Your cunt swallowing him down is the only leverage you have, so your whole body weight presses down on his shaft. He moans loudly at the pressure on his tip, your gooey hot walls clamping around him from every angle and you yourself can’t help it when your eyes roll back at the sensation.

He rocks his hips up, and up you go as well, whining and clawing at the wall behind you, desperately grappling onto your sanity as well. Your tits bounce with each thrust, and his glinting eyes take perverse joy in their obscene movements.

Bakugo starts moving in earnst now, deeming the slow strokes enough prep for you. He batters your womb, reaching places not even your fingers could access, making you go cross eyed.

He sees this and snickers at your pathetic state.

“Fuck yeah you little whore. You’re gonna learn no one else can satisfy this slutty pussy like I can.”

You give him nothing but a choked gasp in response. You head moves like a bobblehead, you can’t even see clearly from the water cascading into your eyes. He’s just a towering blob of ashy blond hair and large muscles.

His hips start stuttering in their rhythm, drawing to a close from his contrasting pounding minutes earlier. Your nails rake over his forearms, holding on for dear life as he pants and groans into your ear like an animal. His dick spasms inside you for a second or two, and then Bakugo suddenly holds you tight against him, wet bodies pressed against each other as he cums.

He lets out a loud moan as you whine into his shoulder at the sensation of his hot seed filling you up. You’re held against his heaving chest for a moment of two, the both of you catching your breath until he slowly backs up and lets you slip to the ground.

It’s suddenly very quiet, the sound of the shower is drowned out by the ringing in your head. You’re shaking, shock overcoming your abused body as you refuse to look at him.

But he won’t have any of that. He steps forward, and you flinch yet again, scrambling backwards to put very necessary space between him and you.

“You got what you wanted. Please leave, I won’t say anything to anyone.” You breath out shakily.

He’s silent for a moment before you hear him chuckle. His low chuckles grow louder and more derisive, he’s booming with sinister laughter and you snap your head up in horror at him.

“You think this is done?”

He crouches to your level suddenly, elbows on his knees as he cocks his head at you, eyeing your naked body that he so recently claimed as his. His gaze travels down to where his cum seeps from between your legs, and you quickly cross your limbs over to prevent him from seeing the lewd sight.

“You’re mine now, Y/N. I already told you, you’re not gonna be talking to Deku, or any other guy apart from me. You think they’ll even want you when they find out how you loved being fucked in the dirty showers? Everyone’s gonna call you a slut, nothing else.”

“No, that’s not true you-“

He crawls to you, and it’s so mesmerizingly terrifying to see a man of his build crawl to you like some deranged humanoid that you shut up, words caught in your throat.

“Shut the fuck up.” He says softly. “You’re my bitch now, and you’ll do whatever the fuck I say, when I say it.”

Bakugo might’ve felt a little bad to see the girl he liked so scared of him all because of his doing, but the way you trembled and crossed your legs like the stupid, helpless little girl that you were erased every hesitancy from his mind.

He grabbed your cheeks and smushed them together, paying no mind to the pleas and whimpers you let out in retaliation.

Licking a long stripe up your neck, you shivered when he growled, “now clean up and be outside in 10 minutes, you’re sleeping in my bunk tonight. The guys are all asleep so we’ll just take an empty room in the cabin.”

He released you and stood back up, grabbing a towel for himself along the way. Drying his hair off, his back was turned to you as he started picking his clothes up too.

You just sat there in a daze, wondering what the hell just happened.

“Oh, and Y/N?” He was dressed, and he was at the door now.

“If you think about doing anything stupid or take longer than 10 minutes, I’ll come back in and get you personally. And I’ll make sure that we stay here for the rest of the night, just in case you like your little time alone that I’m giving you too much.”

#tw: noncon #bakugo smut #yandere bakugo katsuki #bakugo x you #bakugo mha #bakugo bnha #yandere bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #mha yandere #yandere Bakugo #bnha yandere #bnha smut #mha smut

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 3 years

Text

Chaconne (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: You are an aspiring concert violinist who attends an audition for the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra, under the new direction of famous conductor Agatha Harkness

Word Count: 4.2K

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBNquKkKcF4

A/N: Hello! This is an AU fic heavily inspired by one of my favorite tv shows Mozart In The Jungle. This is going to be at least 3 more chapters, and I already have the second part done so it should be uploaded by the weekend. Also, I added a link to the piece that is heavily mentioned throughout this fic. It’s not necessary to listen to it before reading (or at all haha), I just thought I’d add it in for anyone curious :) Hope y’all enjoy! Please let me know what you think, and my inbox is always open for any questions. Also: I do not own Mozart In The Jungle...Jeff Bezos please do not sue me.

You rushed through the bustling streets of Manhattan, silently cursing yourself for not getting a cab. Not that it would’ve made much of a difference; rush hour in the city was horrendous no matter what form of transportation you chose. But at least you would have been sitting in an air conditioned car and not running through the crowded streets. You tightened your grip on your violin case as you hurried across the street, destination clear in your mind.

You had been finishing up your final private lesson of the day when you received a call from one of your old college friends. They informed you to drop everything you were doing, not literally because that would include your very expensive and very fragile violin, and hurry down to symphony hall because one of the first violinists in the Manhattan Symphony had sprained her wrist and they were holding open auditions.

A part of you knew the odds of being selected from hundreds of the best violinists in one of the most affluent cities for music was slim to none, but you also knew you had to take this chance. It’s what you had been working so hard towards during undergrad and grad school, and it would be nice to have a more...stable job. The Manhattan Symphony Orchestra was one of the greatest and well respected orchestras in the world, and you would kill to earn a chair.

You ran faster than you had in months, and made a mental note to add more cardio to your basically nonexistent workout regime because wow, you were out of shape. Rounding the corner, you quickly dodged running into other pedestrians and could see symphony hall a block away. Despite the burning in your lungs begging you to stop running like a mad woman, you picked up the pace and sprinted to the building.

Ever since you started playing the violin you swore to anyone who would listen that you would play in the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra. Your siblings would always ask for concert tickets to see their favorite band, or sporting tickets, but you always begged your parents to take you to the symphony. While your siblings hated it and complained how long and boring it was (and the outrage that they weren’t allowed to bring food inside), you were enraptured by the entire experience.

You fell in love with the sounds of Dvorak, Beethoven, Brahms, and Tchaikovsky. Sitting in the concert hall you waited in anticipation to watch the musicians who had spent their entire lives preparing for that moment; to pour every ounce of their soul into their instruments. Ever since the moment you stepped inside your first concert hall at the young age of five, you knew this is where you wanted to spend the rest of your life.

Shaking those thoughts aside you hurried through the building to where the blind auditions were being held. You silently thanked whatever genius came up with the idea of a blind audition, because you were a mess after running over twelve blocks from your apartment. Following the signs on the walls, you found the warm up room, but was surprised to find everyone packing up.

There were over a dozen people of various ages, and you noticed one of them crying. A woman around your age noticed your disheveled appearance and sighed. “If you’re here for the blind auditions, they were cancelled.”

You felt your heart drop. “What? Did they already find someone?”

“No, because the new conductor is a total psycho,” Someone else said angrily. “She kept yelling about how we’re all wasting her time and she’d rather have her pet rabbit play New World Symphony.” He motioned to the girl who was sobbing. “And she told Megan her tone was so bad that she would personally throw her violin into a wood chipper so no one would have to suffer through her performing again.”

The new conductor he was referring to was one of your favorites. Agatha Harkness. She was beloved throughout the music community and had many fans, but you had heard rumors of her hard work ethic and ability to make people cry in under a minute. You thought back to your undergrad violin lessons where one of your professors told you that your tone while playing Mendelssohn sounded like a dying donkey. Musicians were often times very blunt.

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“A bit?” The guy rolled his eyes. “This job isn’t worth it. I’m going to audition for the second violin chair in Iowa. It might not be as great of an orchestra but at least their conductor isn’t the devil incarnate.”

As the others continued to pack up, you still felt your gut twisting at what could have been. Feeling rejected, you left the room and saw the back entrance to the stage open. From a quick glance around it appeared the hallway was deserted, so you quickly ran through the door, violin case still in hand.

Time came to a stand still as you walked on stage and stared into the seemingly empty concert hall. You dreamt about this moment more times than you cared to admit. There was something so peaceful about being on stage. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and pictured a scene you had spent years dreaming about. Realizing the opportunity to play in this hall wouldn’t likely come again, you made the split decision to open your violin case.

Staring at your violin, you briefly wondered if this was a good idea. But, you silently argued that no one else was around, and besides, you did run half a mile to get here. It would be a waste to not play and appreciate the gorgeous acoustics. Plus you could feel your fingers aching to play something, anything, to let out the feelings of disappointment from missing the auditions.

Gently pulling out your bow, you applied a generous amount of rosin before grabbing your violin. You took a few minutes to tune, and the moment your bow hit the strings you felt a shiver at how the sound bounced off the walls. You went through a condensed version of your normal warm up and played a few different scales before debating on what piece to play.

Although your friend had briefly explained the audition would be sight reading and then playing excerpts from Dvorak’s New World Symphony, the auditions were over and you wanted to play something else. It wasn’t the flashiest piece, or one of the better known violin concertos, but it felt right. Vitali’s Chaconne arranged by Charlier. You had originally learned the gorgeous piece during your junior year of undergrad for a concerto competition and it had quickly become a favorite.

Clearing your mind of everything but the music, you closed your eyes and began to play. Your bow swept across the string, producing the opening g-minor chord. The melodic sound rang through the empty hall and you felt your heart ache at how good this felt. It had been a while since you had the time to play this piece, but it was like it had been no time at all. Your fingers danced across the strings and you felt all the uneasiness leave your body.

While this wasn’t the most complex piece you had ever played, it required your full attention. The chaconne was structured as a simple sixteen bar phrase that was rephrased and dallied up with different techniques and melodies which made it easy enough to memorize, but hard enough that you needed to focus on the pattern your fingers made.

With every movement of your bow, every run you made up and down the fingerboard, you were letting out the pain and sadness you felt radiating through your body. It was hard to put into words how playing the violin made you feel, but the best explanation you had come up with was that it was your salvation. There was no sweeter medicine than performing. No matter how out of control life was, how bad things got, your solution was turning to music. It saved you.

As you neared the end of the piece, you felt your bow arm gently ache and you knew you had to have complete focus if you were going to hit the upcoming octave slides that led to the double stops of doom. Octaves were never a violinist’s favorite technique, and they were your own personal kryptonite. You had rather tiny hands, which made the stretch from your index to your pinky rather difficult on a good day. You changed the position of your hand to make the reach to hit the upper octave, but briefly winced when you realized you had fallen flat on the lower note.

You ended with a flourish of your bow on the final g-minor chord and let out the breath you had been holding in. You stood there for a moment, soaking in the afterglow of your performance and enjoying the quiet that radiated throughout the spacious room. Just as you went to clean off your violin and leave before you got kicked out, you heard the sound of slow clapping from within the hall. The hall was dimmed and you saw a figure sitting far up in the upper rows. The mystery figure continued clapping and they stood up and walked down the steps towards the stage. There in all her glory stood Agatha Harkness, the newest conductor of the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra.

“Not bad, but your octave slides could use some touching up,” Agatha offered as she stood at the bottom of the stage. “You tend to go flat on the lower notes.”

You felt your breath hitch as you saw the famous, and apparently very scary, conductor staring at you. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still here.”

“Ah so you aren’t here for the auditions?” Agatha questioned, arching an eyebrow up at you. “What are you doing here then, breaking and entering? I’d hate to have to call security on you.”

“What? No, no I’m not...” You stammered, feeling your cheeks turn red. “I came for the auditions but I was told they were cancelled.”

Agatha laughed, and you noticed how it was more of a cackle. “They were. But believe me dear, I’m sure you would have done the same if you were in my shoes.”

“One of them said you threatened to throw their violin in a wood chipper. Isn’t that a little mean?” You pointed out.

“You did not have to listen to that imbecile butcher the opening of Mendelssohn,” Agatha argued, folding her hands across her chest. “Throwing her violin in a wood chipper would be the least I could do to ensure no one else suffers hearing that disgrace of a sound ever again.”

You stifled a giggle that threatened to escape. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

Agatha waved her hand in the air. “Maybe. But you,” she pointed a finger at you, intrigue colored her features. “You were good. Vitali’s Chaconne is a personal favorite of mine. Everyone always chooses to play Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D Major, or Mendelssohn, or Brahms, or something big and flashy. I’ve always preferred a more subdued piece like Vitali. Violinists don’t take enough time to appreciate the beauty of a chaconne.”

You stared at her in disbelief. Almost no one had even heard of Vitali’s Chaconne, but she did and it was her favorite. “Thank you, Miss Harkness. I-“

“Ah ah ah,” Agatha waved a finger to silence you. “I’m not finished. You were good, but not great. Your octave slides were flat. Your bow hold is giving me a headache, you need to relax more. Your vibrato is too fast, we need to work on slowing it down. Didn’t your teacher ever tell you that? And don’t even get me started on your opening chord.” She eyed the younger woman before continuing. “But despite all that, you have promise.”

You were speechless. She wasn’t yelling at you? “You think I have promise?”

Agatha nodded. “Which is why I’m offering you a job.”

“I got the position?” You smiled. “I can’t believe it.”

Agatha’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous. You’re not ready to play with the Manhattan Symphony.”

“But you said you were offering me a job,” you repeated the words of the older woman.

“And I am. As my personal assistant,” Agatha explained as if it was the most obvious answer.

“You want me to be your assistant?” You said in disbelief. “Miss Harkness I’m not so sure if I’m qualified-“

Agatha cut you off again. “If you’re serious about being a violinist, especially being a violinist in my orchestra, we need to work on your technique. Natural talent only gets you so far my dear.” She shrugged. “And I may have just fired my newest assistant for being entirely incompetent.”

“I don’t know what to say,” You admitted. This certainly isn’t how you expected your day to go.

“I’m not going to force you to work for me, dear,” Agatha drawled out. “You can walk right out that door and continue on with your presumably simple and boring life.”

“And if I stay?” You prompted, already knowing what you were going to choose.

Agatha slowly walked up the steps of the stage and approached you. “Well then I’ll have my work cut out for me. As will you, darling. I’ll be working you quite hard.” You blushed at her suggestive tone and she smirked at your reaction. “Blushing already? I’ve barely even started.”

You cleared you throat before nodding. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

“Then let’s get started.” Agatha smirked. “This is going to be fun. Now, let’s take it from the top.”

Working for Agatha was interesting. She was very hard to read, and you could never tell if she was mad at you or if she was just in a mood. You had spent the past few weeks helping her prepare for the first symphony rehearsal of the season. Granted you weren’t doing much to help, all she was asking you to do was make copies of parts and to organize folders for each section.

Today was different. You entered the mostly empty building with a drink holder containing two cups of coffee in one hand and your violin case in the other when the sound of Agatha’s heels came click-clacking down the hallway. From the moment she rounded the corner, you could tell she was in a foul mood.

She was mumbling something incoherent but she stopped when she spotted you. “You’re late.”

You chose to not comment on the fact you were an hour early and instead carefully set down your violin case to hand her one of the cups of coffee. “Bad morning?”

“Hayward is an asshole,” Agatha seethed. “I had the entire season planned out but he thinks I’m not appealing to our investors.”

Well that explained it. Tyler Hayward was CFO of the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra and was a Grade-A asshole. You only had a few interactions with the man but they had all been quite unpleasant. He was less than pleased to discover Agatha had fired the assistant he hired and chose to hire you without consulting him. Luckily Agatha had all but kicked him out of her office and told you to come to her if he gave you a hard time.

“How is Dvorak’s Symphony No. 9 not appealing to investors?” You asked in confusion. “Everyone loves The New World Symphony.”

“That’s not the problem. He thinks I’m playing it too safe with the soloists,” Agatha explained and you thought of the soloists selected thus far. You could see how they would be safe options, but who doesn’t love Joshua Bell?

“But it’s too late to get out of those contracts without losing money,” You pointed out. “Does Hayward not know that?”

“Oh believe me, Hayward always gets his way,” Agatha spat out, and you noticed she appeared to be growing angrier. “He’s still mad I was voted in as music director by the board instead of his choice for the position, so he’s punishing me. And now I have to deal with Maximoff.”

You made a mental note to address the first part about Hayward later when Agatha wasn’t as grumpy, but grinned at the mention of the famous pianist. “Maximoff as in the Wanda Maximoff? She’s-“

“A wild card and not the soloist I envisioned having,” Agatha finished for you, glaring at the mere thought of the woman as you both walked towards her office.

“But she’s an amazing pianist,” You argued, remembering the one time you had the opportunity to watch her perform live with the Royal Philharmonic. “The way she plays is beautiful, and magical, and-“

Agatha growled and glared at you, picking up the speed she was walking at. “And she has no control. She doesn’t listen to direction and thinks she’s always right. Her ego is her downfall.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Wow, that sounds absolutely nothing like you.”

Agatha let out a laugh but still sent you another glare. “Don’t push it, darling,” Agatha warned you as she unlocked the door to her office. “I am nothing like Wanda Maximoff.”

You rolled your eyes after she turned around. “Right. So I’ll take the Beethoven parts out to make room for Wanda’s piece?”

Agatha sighed and combed her fingers through her wildly curly hair. “Well I’d rather just tell the little Sokovian princess she’s not allowed anywhere near my orchestra. But since that would be frowned upon, yes put the Beethoven back. Her agent should be emailing us the parts later today.”

You set off to prepare the dreadful task of reorganizing each folder while Agatha studied different scores. She had her baton out and was mindlessly conducting as she went through the fourth movement of the Dvorak. Over the past few weeks you had started to fall in love with watching her conduct. There was something so mesmerizing by the way she could bring different pieces to life with the mere movement of her hands. You watched her right hand lightly grip the baton and noticed the position of her fingers lightly grasping the silver object while her blue eyes scanned the score.

She felt your staring and smirked as she continued conducting. “See something you like, dear?”

Blushing furiously you went back to your task of sorting music, but every once in a while you allowed yourself to take a break to watch Agatha conduct, and although she smirked whenever she noticed, she didn’t make any more comments. Eventually you finished the work and put the folders away while filing the Beethoven in the cabinet.

“Good, you’re done,” Agatha said as she stood up. “Now it’s time for my favorite part of the day.”

You internally groaned and realized what she wanted. “Where you make one of the interns cry and go get lunch?”

“Close, dear. But no.” She motioned to your violin case. “Come.”

This was your least favorite part of the day. Now, you were used to receiving constructive criticism, and even just good old fashioned criticism. Over the years you had less than kind violin teachers, and you shuddered at the memory of Stefan throwing a chair across the room when you only had three pages of Mendelssohn fully memorized two months before your recital preview. He kept yelling in Russian that he would not be the first faculty member to have a student fail a preview. Or the time Jacqueline caused you to have a panic attack right before your sophomore year concerto competition because she didn’t ‘like your stage presence’ and went on some insane rant, and then yelled at you more while you were sobbing. Ah, the fond memories you had of college.

But there was something so intensely nerve wracking about performing in front of Agatha that it made all of those encounters seem like fun and games. You weren’t sure what it was about the woman, but there was just something about her presence that constantly had you on edge. What made it ten times worse was that Agatha seemed to be aware of the effect she had on you, and did whatever she could to make you blush.

You took a few moments to tune your violin and roll your shoulders back while Agatha made herself comfortable in the audience, but you both knew she wouldn’t stay out there for long.

“Now darling,” Agatha called out from her seat. “I want you to remember what we’ve been working on. The first impression you set when your bow hits the string needs to be dominating. I want to feel like you’re pinning me down on the stage. Make me want it.”

You stared at her incredulously and shook your head, trying not to visualize what she just said to you. “Right...pinning...dominating,” You murmured as you straightened your stance and took a deep breath. Setting your bow on the string, you made sure it was positioned at the frog.

“I can see you tensing from all the way out here,” Agatha said in a mocking tone. “Do I need to come up there and help you relax?”

You knew her coming anywhere near you would do the opposite to relax you. “Nope. Just stay where you are!”

“Oh, are you the one giving orders now, my dear?” Agatha teased as she slowly got out of her seat and made her way towards the stage. “I’m just trying to help. You need to relax your shoulders, otherwise you’re going to end up with a hunchback.”

“I like the Hunchback of Notre Dame,” You offered weakly as you watched her stalk her way up the stairs, her heels clicking up each step.

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.” She closed the distance between you and put her hands on your shoulders. “You need to relax.” She examined you closer and arched an eyebrow. “And breathe, my dear. Unless you want to fall in my arms.” You had taken to staring at the floor of the stage until you felt her hand gently cup your chin, forcing you to gaze at her. “Am I that hideous to look at that?”

“Ha, you’re so funny,” You managed to get out before taking a deep breath, and once again tried to relax your shoulders.

Despite your best efforts, you still felt tense, and Agatha noticed it as well. Letting out a gentle huff she moved behind you and began to rub your upper back. “Jeez, have you ever had a massage? It seems like you need one.”

“That’s a bit above my current pay check,” You quipped and blushed when you heard her responding chuckle.

“If you’re asking for a raise, you’re going to have to do better than that,” Agatha replied, her breath tickling your ear and sending delightful shivers down your spine. “You need to let go, darling. This much tension in your shoulders will do too much damage to your posture.”

She hit a particularly hard knot and you couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. You thought you heard Agatha mumble something under her breath but you were so lost in the sensation you didn’t ask her what she said. Agatha continued rubbing your shoulders and you slowly felt yourself relax into her touch.

“That’s it,” Agatha murmured. “Good girl.” Your eyes shot open at the praise and you heard her lightly chuckle. “Relax, dear. I could do this all day.”

Your shoulders eventually loosened up and you couldn’t help but groan when Agatha took a step away from you. “Quit your whining and play that chord,” Agatha demanded as she turned away from you, clapping her hands loudly. “I want to be wowed.”

Taking a deep breath, you fixed your stance before setting your bow back on the string. You were hesitating, and Agatha knew it too.

“Any day now. It’s not like I have anything else to do,” Agatha’s words were sharp but you knew she meant it as encouragement.

You let go of any fears you had of what would come next as you positioned your fingers on the string and rolled your bow to produce the g-minor chord. Your left wrist was loose enough to slow down your vibrato and you went through the first section without any interruptions from Agatha. As you began the next phrase you remembered what Agatha had told you about making it bigger and better than before.

“Always leave them wanting more,” Agatha had instructed her. “Make each phrase slightly different. No one wants to suffer through ten minutes of the same few notes.”

You added more vibrato for this phrase and changed the dynamics so you were growing in sound until you heard her calling for you to stop.

“Stop! Stop, that’s enough,” Agatha yelled as she walked back towards you. “That was...better.”

“Dare I say you sound surprised?” You joked causing her to glare at you.

“Fishing for compliments, are we?” She questioned, but eventually relented. “You’re getting better.”

You grinned wildly at her praise. “That was the nicest thing you’ve said to me so far today.”

“Keeping score?” Agatha mused, a smile threatening to tug at her lips at your enthusiasm. “Like I said, you’re getting better, but there’s a lot of work to do. I want to hear those octave slides and not feel like my ears are bleeding from your intonation. Chop chop.”

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