#anyway i'm going to run through you in a manner that will haunt you for the rest of your life

[lesbiancolumbo]

exchanges that will make you go crazy if you think about them a little too hard!!!

[lis-likes-fics]

Dramatic

Pairing: Spencer Reid x adhd!bau!Reader Word Count: 2.9k words Warnings: Social anxiety, character with ADHD, crying, emotional hurt/comfort... A/N: I embarrassed myself a little bit and that day will haunt me forever. Enjoy!

Spencer slows as he comes up on your desk. He furrows his brows and looks around, noting your absence with a confused look on his face. Closing his book in his hand, he shifts it under his arm and turns to Emily opposite your empty seat.

Before he can even finish his inhale, she's already speaking. “Last time I saw her, she had to go print something out.”

“When was that?”

Emily looks away from the bright light of her screen in favor of checking her watch. “About fifteen minutes ago?” She shrugs, “I assume she got caught up with something.”

She spins around in her chair in a rather dramatic manner, turning to face JJ in the desk behind her. “You seen my desk buddy anywhere?”

“Printer.” She doesn't even look up.

“That's what I said.”

JJ hums a little. “She probably just got distracted.” She looks over her shoulder at Spencer for the first time, though not for long. “I'd check the printer.”

With a spark of genius, Emily's brows lift as she turns back to her screen. “If she's not there, she could be with Garcia.”

JJ just points her finger over at Emily and hums, still lounging back in her chair as her focus glares at whatever she's filling out at her computer.

“Thanks, guys.” Spencer sets his book down on your desk, turning on his heel to find the printing room where you have supposedly been hanging out for the past fifteen minutes.

He doesn't know what would keep you that long. You're not social enough to have gotten caught up talking, and your distractions are so easy as to keep you from returning to your desk (especially not when Emily is there to keep you company).

Plus, you hate the printing room. The printers are practically always running, and there's this weird clacking noise from one of the machines that unnerves you every time you have the misfortune of having to listen to it.

As he expects, you're not there. There's one guy standing in front of one of the printers, beating his hand on the side to get it to work. Other than that, however, you're nowhere to be found and Spencer is starting to worry.

Realistically, he knows that he shouldn't. You're in a building surrounded by FBI agents, and you're smart enough to know exactly how to tip someone off if you're in trouble. You're so smart, you'd realize there was danger long before it actually hit (because you pay too much attention to little details and sometimes forget about the more obvious things in front of you). He's lucky enough that any UnSub striking the FBI is likely too intelligent not to be meticulous.

But anyway, it doesn't matter because you're not in danger, and maybe you're just with Penelope or using the bathroom or (not in the break room, he already checked) or even–

Shoot.

“Hi.”

Penelope’s door was open, so he let himself in with a gentle knock on the door. Derek is there. He's leaning against one of her desks as she works. They're talking about something Spencer suspects to be too suggestive for his interest.

“Oh!” Penelope turns around in her seat with so much enthusiasm. She almost seems amazed as she looks upon him. “Spencer Reid, coming to visit me. Hello! How are you, my little knick knack?”

Derek chuckles, gesturing for him to join the two with a charming smile.

“I'm good,” he says. He asks about you.

Penelope’s brows join together as she shakes her head. “Oh, I don't know,” she answers matter-of-factly. “I have not seen her. Why? Is she okay?” Her worry creates a crease at her brows that deepens with every second that her question is unanswered.

“You lost your girl, pretty boy?” Derek gently nudges Spencer's shoulder.

“Not lost, just…” he shrugs, “misplaced.”

He hums. “She hasn't come by, no. Last time I saw her was early in the break room with you.”

Spencer scratches the back of his neck. Sorting through his mind about all the places you could be. If you left the building, you would've told someone, so you're definitely still here. You don't have any meetings either, so he's genuinely confused as to where you could possibly be hiding.

“I was hoping I'd find her here.”

Penelope raises a suggestive hand. “Well, I can look on the cameras, if you want.” She wheels around in her chair. She's already tapping away on her keyboard with a loud clickity-clack. “I'm sure we can find her somewhere in here.”

“When did you last see her?” Derek asks.

“I saw her at her desk twenty one minutes and thirty-seven seconds ago, but Emily said she went to the printing room about fifteen minutes ago.”

Penelope mutters to herself as she types in her perimeters. “Okay. Printers, fifteen minutes. And…” She clicks her tongue. “There she is!”

Spencer feels a wave of relief at seeing you standing by one of the machines. You're popping your knuckles, staring dutifully at the printer like you're determined to grab them and go.

“Okay, waiting on papers. Let's fast forward a bit, and then…” Penelope’s as fast as the cameras as she watches you leave the room with your stack clutched to your chest. Your gaze is following your feet, which are taking you down the halls and in the wrong direction of your desk.

When you turn into a room, all of them are a little confused. Derek most of all. “My office?” He turns to Spencer with a furrowed brow. “What's she doin’ in my office?”

“Cameras don't show her leaving. She should still be in there right now.” Penelope adjusts her glasses on her nose, turning back around.

“That’s odd,” he mumbles. “Thank you, Garcia.”

Spencer's already locked into his task when he turns around without another word. Derek calls him, interrupting his alertness.

“Whatever you do,” he tilts his head like he's warning him, his eyes narrowed playfully as he smirks, “keep it PG in my office, okay?”

Spencer almost blushes at the notion. Penelope smacks him square in his chest, looking up like he's scolding Derek for his behavior. But he only raises his hands high in surrender. “Hey! Mama, I'm just jokin’,” he laughs, his face split into one of his charming smiles. “I'm playin’!”

Spencer purses his lips in that dorky way that you always say you love. He excuses himself in favor of finding you. The path to Derek's office is an easy and familiar path. He ends up opening the door not long after.

He doesn't see you.

Spencer's eyes sweep the office once more and find Derek's chair further away from his desk than it's meant to be—that is, if he pushed it in properly to begin with.

With a gentle sigh, he takes slow, quiet steps to round the large desk. He kneels when he gets to the other side, feeling the worry dissolve and take another shape all within the same second.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is so soft, this quiet little whisper that doesn't stir you too much.

You have your arms wrapped around your knees, your face buried away within them. You don't move, and you don't seem to be crying, so at least that isn't an issue. Your voice is muffled by your arms.

“Hi.” You don't look up. “How’d you find me?” you mutter, still not moving from your position.

“Penelope.”

You sigh, finally lifting your head. “Penny.” He almost laughs at the way you say it, like you're accusing her of a crime.

“Can I join you?” he asks gently.

You nod without a word. Spencer moves to sit across from you. He's so long, it takes quite a bit of maneuvering to fit himself into the small space. He's slouched over like some real life origami. His legs have no choice but to reach all the way over into your space and box you in with him. You don't mind much.

He lets you both sit in silence for a while. You seem to really need it. He doesn't decide to speak until you finally look at his face, your eyes flitting across it like you're trying to find something.

“What's wrong?”

You shake your head, looking away again. It breaks his heart to watch the way you huddle into yourself. “It's stupid.”

“It's not stupid,” he protests kindly. He reaches a hand out to cradle the back of your leg. His hand is warm, it feels good even through the fabric of your slacks. “Not if it's making you feel like this.”

You don't respond. Spencer's mouth twitches to the side. He taps your leg lightly. “What happened?”

You sigh, taking a moment before you lift your head to see him again. There's a tiny crease in his brows. His eyes are narrowed just a bit. He's genuinely concerned, and it makes you feel bad because the reason you're upset is so…trivial.

“We deal with death every day, and most of the time, I come out of it okay,” you say under your breath, shaking your head at yourself, “but this is what gets me.”

“What's ‘this’?” he presses gently.

You lick your bottom lip and speak slowly. “I went to print some papers, and this lady walked up and waved at me, so I waved back at her and…”

He thinks he knows where this is going. “Yeah?”

There’s an element of self-depreciation when you respond, and your words from earlier echo sadly in his head at the thought that you might be hearing it, too—it’s stupid. “Well, it turns out, she’s not even waving at me. She’s waving to this other lady standing next to me.” You shake your head, looking down as if to remember something. “And she kinda, like…gave me this look.”

“Was it a mean one?” He hopes not. He loves you too much for someone to be giving you mean looks. He wants you to feel safe and happy, and you don’t.

You shake your head. “No, she looked…maybe a little confused or even, like…apologetic, but it was a look.” He watches you bury your head again, hiding away in your embarrassment. “I should not be hiding because of a look.”

Spencer sets a reassuring hand on your knee. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed about something like that.”

When you lift your head again, he can see tears you’d tried so hard to keep back shining in your eyes. His heartstrings tug behind his ribcage. He thinks you’re gonna kill him one day. “I know!” you sniffle, refusing to let any of your tears spill. “I know, but I do, and it’s ridiculous.”

“But…” he says, like he isn’t finished, “it’s also perfectly okay to be embarrassed about something like that.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and looking to the side again. “Please.” A tear spills over, and you catch it quickly. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down hard. He’s worried you’ll draw blood. “I overreact or underreact to literally everything. When are my feelings ever reasonable?”

He would scoot closer if his body structure allowed it, but, alas, he is too long. “All the time. They never stop being reasonable,” he reassures. He sighs gently, wanting so badly to make sure you know how much he adores you. “Can I hold your hand?”

You look back at him, swallowing thickly as you slowly raise your hand for him to take. It means a lot, actually, that he wants to hold your hand. Too many germs. Your chest feels warm with your adoration of him. He gives you a smile, and you almost hide for a different reason.

Holding his eye contact is so hard sometimes. He has such pretty eyes, it’s a shame how hard it is to look at them when you get like this. You want to kiss him, to let him know.

Instead, you just squeeze his hand. “She probably already forgot it happened.” You chew on your bottom lip. “And I’ve been hiding under Derek’s desk for the past, like, ten minutes because I can’t forget about it.”

Spencer doesn’t want to tell you that it’s been twelve minutes and sixteen seconds. You hide your face once again more, dramatically this time. “This will haunt me forever.”

His lip quirks but he tries not to smile too much. “Hey.”

“I know. It’s childish.”

“That isn’t what I was going to say,” he smiles. He ducks his head in the hopes of catching your eyes, but he waits for you to look up first. “You know what I’m going to say?”

You do look at him. He’s so sweet, now you can’t look away. “What?”

He leans forward, feeling his back spine stretching as he does. His large hand sets against your cheek, and you lean into the warmth. He gives you a smile that you call charming, though he probably wouldn’t agree. “I love you.”

You can’t help it. The way he makes you feel is reminiscent of a teenager who just shared eye contact with her crush. He wipes your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb, clearing away any water left behind by the few tears that had escaped your clutches. “Stop,” you giggle, turning away.

He guides your face back. His grin is this huge, mushy thing on his face that squints his eyes until his lashes kiss. “Never,” he mutters affectionately. He loves to see you smile. “I love you. Especially when you care a little too much about an accidental wave.”

You catch him in his words, raising your brows accusingly. He’s helping your anxiety tremendously, and you probably won’t realize it until you’ve fully recovered. “So you agree that this is stupid?”

He laughs, shaking his head quickly. His voice, not as soft anymore, is filled to the brim with his happiness “That’s not what I said. I’m saying that I love you because you’re so amazing, and I want you to know it.” He traces the underside of your eyelashes, reluctantly slipping his hand off your cheek. “No matter how many times you wave at someone who isn’t actually waving at you.”

You’re still giggly. “Spencer.” You shift your legs, not without difficulty, to sit in a criss-cross position. Spencer mimics you (with even more difficulty than you). He has to bend down a little so he’ll fit.

“It’s the truth.”

“Well…” you try to dull your giggles to a simmering bubbly feeling in your chest, “I love you, too. Even when I think you’re crazy for loving me…” You think about that for a moment. “Especially when I think you’re crazy for loving me.”

Spencer holds your cheek again and pulls you in for a kiss. You savor this one, your noses brushing affectionately as you do. Spencer doesn’t kiss you at work.

“Will you come back to your desk with me?” he whispers, his lips brushing yours.

You nod gently. “Yeah.”

Spencer smiles, pecking your cheek. He lets go of you to untuck himself from under the desk. He has to stretch his body out before he offers his hand for you. You take it, hoisting yourself up to stand next to him. “Those are mine.” You gesture toward the papers on Derek’s desk as you brush off your pants.

He doesn’t wait for you, he just scoops them into his hands. “I’ve got them.”

“Thanks,” you grin. He sneaks one more kiss, this one to your temple.

You look up at him and hold your arms open, a quiet request. Spencer’s happy to answer your request, wrapping his arms around you in a hug that pulls you closer to him than you feel like you’ve ever been. He takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes and sighing longingly.

When you pull away, you walk with him. His hand hangs down by his side, and you glance at it as you brush your pinky with his. He smiles, but he doesn’t look over at you.

It’s been hardly ten seconds since you left the office, and your phone is ringing. You furrow your brow, fishing it from your pocket and glancing down at the screen. You sigh gently, silently appreciating her because she means so much.

You put her on speaker. “Penny?”

“Are you okay, sweet girl?” she asks immediately, her voice full of worry. You glance at Spencer, who still doesn’t turn to you. He’s smiling, though, so you know that he knows you’re watching him.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?” she asks. “I can go to you. I’ll bring the squishy that you like!”

Your voice fades into a laugh. “I’m okay, Pen, really.”

“Did my desk help?”

The way Derek’s voice sounds when he speaks up makes you flush a little. You keep your voice level, still looking up to stare at Spencer. You trust him not to let you run into anything as he suppresses his smile with the thin line of his lips. “Yes, Morgan, it was very nice.” You raise a brow. “Am I going to hear Prentiss next?”

He laughs. “Just li’l ole me.”

“And me. I’m still here.” Penelope makes you laugh.

“Goodbye, both of you.”

“Bye, honey bun.” “Bye!” You hang up on them.

Spencer’s warmth seeps into your side. You resist the urge to lay your head on his shoulder because you’re supposed to be professional at work. Instead, you sigh and let your pinkies brush. “I love our friends.”

Spencer smiles. “Me, too.”

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 Dr. Reid taglist: @swwanlake Tag yourself here...

[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #6: A Nightmare on Elm Street

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Event #6 Summary: Marc spends the evening with you and Steven gets a haunting

Pairing this chapter: Marc Spector x f!reader, Steven Grant x f!reader (Jake mentioned)

Word count: 3k

Content: ANGST, the yearning, ghost probs (no body), language, dealing with death and grief, manner and COD discussed, violence, spooky/horror elements, probably inaccurate DID (show based), not beta’d

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PREVIOUSLY on "Spectre"...

"And...and maybe don't sell the house just yet?" You barely managed that request in a choked whisper. "If this is the only place I am besides the dark, and...and you guys leave then, I'm afraid - "

"Of the dark," he solemnly concluded. Reaching for your hand again - pointless, though it was, he made a vow. "Baby, look at me. I will never leave you here alone. Never. I promise you."

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Marc wanted to stay home with you all day, but you insisted that they lead normal lives. You promised to come back.

He wanted to kiss you goodbye. You’d just told each other you loved one another. It almost seemed as if he was headed downtown to work, and you would venture into your loft to write for the day.

You missed your loft. Why couldn’t you go in there? Maybe if you concentrated hard enough…

You missed writing. Maybe you could write some children’s ghost stories. After all, you now had first hand experience.

What…were you thinking? Write?

Was this death? Feeling all these tormented emotions? And good ones too? The sparkle of laughter with Jake, the yearning to talk to Steven, the love and longing, even lust for Marc.

And the guilt. You were too harsh with Marc before, when you said he ran away from pain or punched it in the face. You had to see him again soon, to apologize. He was going through too much already - he didn’t deserve that - not from you.

“I’m so sorry, Marc,” you whispered into the stillness of your bedroom. As if he could hear you.

The feelings washed over you, making you feel…alive. And clearer than you had felt since you first became aware of yourself, or of this room.

You waited all day. This was new. It was boring. But boring was better than darkness. Feeling anything was better.

You were practically bouncing with anticipation by the time the sun set. Finally Marc arrived.

You called his name as soon as you saw him climbing the front steps to your front door, and didn’t stop until he was standing in front of you.

“Baby? You okay?” He huffed, having run up the stairs.

“Yes, you can see me?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, pulling off his jacket. “The way you were calling my name, I thought…something was wrong.”

You both realized how weird that sounded. Being dead kind of meant everything was wrong.

So you told him about your day. How you thought and thought and felt so many feelings. How you wondered about writing and your loft. How you never went back to the Dark Place. And how very sorry you were for what you said to him.

“I’m the last person who should be confirming your worst thoughts about yourself, Marc,” you explained. “Please forgive me, I felt terrible about it all day. I’m so sorry.”

His brow furrowed with confusion. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” No way he wanted you of all people to feel anything negative. You were the one who lost your life after all.

You talked for a little while longer, about simple things - his day at work, his walk home. Ordinary things. He mentioned speaking with Ms. Marjorie and you shared that you heard Steven speaking about her quaint, lovely shop.

Finally, Marc’s stomach growled, letting you both know that he needed some dinner. He could plainly see that you were anxious about him leaving the room.

“Just gonna grab some leftovers, honey, I’ll be right back,” he softly assured you.

Great. Now you were a clingy ghost. What the hell…

He wasn’t gone long, by your estimation anyway, and ate in your bedroom, with the two of you sitting on the bed. Then you felt even more guilty, as if you were trapping him here somehow.

“Hey, is the World Series on yet?” You asked, knowing October meant baseball postseason.

“Next week,” he clarified. “Why do you ask?”

You smiled at him knowingly. “Well, I mean…you can go watch baseball if you want to. You don’t have to sit in here all night.”

He pretended to be offended. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“No! No, I just…I want you to live your normal life…” You trailed off, sighing wistfully.

“Fuck it, I’ll just move the TV up here. Or get a new one,” he shrugged. “I want to be with you.”

That proclamation sobered you both, because it was the whole problem. You couldn’t be together. Not really.

“I want that too,” you whispered, easing a little closer to where he sat, leaning against the bed’s headboard. “It’s all I want. To be with you. But…it’s too late.”

“It’s not too late,” he found himself telling you, without really thinking before he spoke.

You frowned, confused.

“That’s what you kept saying, or…some voice I kept hearing when you first started appearing to me. ‘It’s not too late’. Even Ms. Marjorie said it. I didn't realize it til now but...I've heard it a few times: 'it's not too late.' What do you think it means?"

You shook your head. "No idea. It's obviously too late for us to really be together...isn't it?"

The sight of your wide, hopeful eyes broke his heart. "There has to be a reason you're here."

You talked a little while longer, about what this all could possibly mean. And instead of fading away, you seemed energized...and felt more alive, but you definitely were not.

Marc kept trying to touch you on instinct and you were most assuredly a ghost.

So you talked about ghosts: about myths and fables and any lore you could think of. You even looked it up online. Marc admitted Steven might be the better consult regarding this topic, but you both soberly remembered that he couldn't see you.

Which hurt because you felt overlooked and Marc felt crazy. But it wasn't Steven's fault, clearly.

"Ghosts can have unfinished business," Marc read from his phone screen. "All right, who are you still pissed at?"

The tension in his shoulders and the scowl he normally wore had relaxed as the night wore on. He almost seemed like his old self again. The person he was with you. The loving partner you adored, not the grief-stricken lonely man who questioned his sanity.

"No one," you thoughtfully answered, not knowing how the next words out of your mouth would change everything. "Well maybe the asshole who killed me."

Marc's phone dropped out of his hand and hit the mattress. He went deadly serious in one second flat. The mirth in his eyes turned stone cold - his lips parted as he drew a shuddering breath.

"W-what did you just say?" He choked out.

Shit, that wasn't a topic you should have made light of, or thrown around carelessly. Marc must still be reeling from your murder, if not blaming himself for it somehow.

"I'm sorry I said that - "

"What...did you say?" He covered his mouth with both hands as his eyes burned with fury. Pushing up off the bed, his fingers tore through his hair. "You...you weren't murdered," he gasped, his chest heaving the way it normally did right before he panicked. He wouldn't likely be here for much longer.

"You weren't," he hissed out a whisper. "What are you saying? There was an autopsy. You weren't...what are you saying!?"

Shit.

You floated off the bed, bewildered. You hadn't considered, even for a moment, that Marc was unaware of how you died. And it hadn't exactly come up.

"Marc, I...it doesn't matter how it happened, really. I didn't mean to...I thought you knew - "

"Yes, it really fucking does matter," he snapped, his fists clenched so tight they were turning white. His wild, frantic eyes landed on you, and seeing your distress, he shook his head in agony.

"You were...how? Who did this?" He let out a choked sob. "Tell me who. Who hurt you?"

"I-I don't know him. Marc, I thought you knew. If I wouldn't have gone to see Jake that night - "

"What?"

You went into the city the night you died? And Jake never fucking thought to mention it?

"I...I was on my way to see Jake." You did that sometimes - ride around with him at night, when Marc and Steven would have the next day off. It was a way to spend a little extra time with Jake, in his environment - his own little world. Plus it was fun to stay out all night, driving people around, eating at your favorite diner...making love in the back seat...

"I never made it," you explained. "I-I was still here in town when a man grabbed me - covered my mouth. He was strong. Then he moved my arm and I felt a pinch underneath my armpit. And that's all. He...maybe he injected me with something."

Marc pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, almost doubling over in agony. "No. No, no, no, no." He banged his fists against his forehead and before you could follow your instinct to go to him - before you could even remember you wouldn't be able to touch him, he was gone.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven straightened up, blinking a few times before using his sleeve to dry his eyes. "What?"

He glanced around, trying to get his bearings when he heard the most heartbreaking cry of anguish...

coming from you.

“Bloody hell!” Steven gasped, scrambling away from your visage - not because it was you. He simply wasn’t expecting anyone at all to be in his bedroom. And he still couldn't see you, but he did hear someone cry out.

“No, no, no,” you cried, knowing Steven couldn’t see you.

"Losing m'mind," he mumbled, drawing his hands to his chest. His eyes swept across the room nervously, but he saw nothing.

"Maybe this place really is haunted," he murmured to himself. Deciding to take an evening walk and shake himself out of his spooky mindset, Steven found his shoes before shuffling downstairs, leaving you alone and heartbroken.

The feeling of being alive was so close, you could almost taste it. Your chest heaved with emotion - your heart, which stopped pumping life through your veins months ago, raced with worry for Marc and longing for Steven.

"Steven, please," you gasped, in a manner that would have been tearful, except that you had no tears to cry.

But he was gone.

Steven no longer lived in complete oblivion as he once did. If he suddenly fronted, his cheeks wet with Marc's tears, there was clearly a reason. Maybe Marc was still seeing you. He wasn't sure right at the moment because his alter was quiet - nowhere to be found, really. And it wasn't a parlor trick. He couldn't force Marc to appear or share anything.

Perhaps your little bungalow truly was haunted. Without giving it much thought, Steven's feet carried him back downtown, straight to the "Mystic Delights and Other Charming Novelties" shop.

He was looking for Ms. Marjorie. He wanted answers and somehow, he felt that she could give them.

But as he rounded the corner onto Main Street, he stopped short. There, right where the Mystic Delights shop should be, was...nothing. The building was dark and little run down. Unoccupied.

"Wait a minute..." Steven mused to himself, inspecting the darkened windows, where twinkle lights had recently shone out, welcoming him in. He scurried a few more doors down, to Mrs. Alraune's flower shop. Her store was closed, but in tact.

Retracing his steps, Steven tried to reason with himself about where Ms. Marjorie and her lovely shop could possibly be.

Finally, he decided to inquire in the corner drug store. He recognized the face of the cashier but didn't know her name. She looked to be in her early 20s and often rang Steven's order when he stopped in.

He inquired after Ms. Marjorie and the little shop that had come to mean so much to him in only a couple days.

Devon, the young cashier was named, told him she had been employed at the drug store since high school and that particular store had changed owners a few times. The city had tried to clean it up on many occasions but she couldn't remember an antique store - not recently, anyway.

"No, that's not possible," Steven argued. Realizing his words might offend, he apologized. "Sorry, I just...I swear there was a lovely little antique shop right there. The most extraordinary woman owns it..."

Realizing he sounded like he wasn't quite right, he offered up one more apology and left.

Steven felt more confused than ever. Where was Ms. Marjorie? And her shop? Who was making noises in his home? And why had Marc claimed to see you?

October 31st hadn't quite rolled around, but Steven was all done with spooks. He walked home, quickening his pace, fueled by confusion and agitation.

Once he reached your front yard, he saw the curtain of his bedroom rustling.

"All right, ghost," he firmly declared, "I'm coming up and you bloody well better make yourself plain. No more games."

He rushed up the front steps to unlock the front door, hoping with all his heart that, if you were here - if Marc really saw you - that he might see you too.

So he called your name.

"Darling, I know I haven't been able to see you, and...I don't even know if you're here, but please...please send me some kind of a sign."

Turning this way and that, he checked the living room, the kitchen. With a heavy sigh, he climbed the stairs to the bedroom, pausing at your picture in the hallway.

"What's happening, love? Marc is seeing you, and I'm apparently having tea with a spectre instead of a shopkeeper. Please...are you there?"

His shoulders slumped in defeat and confusion, he trudged the final step into your once-shared bedroom

...and there you were.

Right there, seated on the edge of the bed, wearing Marc's hoodie.

"Oh my days," he breathed, his eyes widening as he stepped right in front of you. “Darling? Is it really you?”

Your gaze, so forlorn, snapped up to his. “Steven?” You gasped, “Can…can you see me?”

He rubbed his eyes for good measure, then nodded eagerly. “You are here. Aren’t you, love?”

"Steven, oh my god," you breathed, rising to meet him, wishing with all your nonexistent heart you could throw your arms around him. "I've been trying to talk to you, but you couldn't hear me, or see me," You emphatically explained.

"God, I'm so sorry," he sincerely returned, his dark eyes shifting, studying you with concern. "I didn't mean to doubt you. I'm sorry."

He shook his head in wonder. "I can't believe it. Marc was right. H-how are you here?" Stepping closer, he interrupted himself. "Are you alright, love? You're not hurt or anything? I mean, besides the obvious..."

He trailed off, granting you a bewildered smile as he drew his hands close to his chest. Oh, how you missed this precious, adorable man of yours.

"No, I'm okay. I was with Marc before. Then you left."

You explained to Steven a little of what had been going on, with your talks with Marc and Jake. Then you asked Steven if any of them knew how you died.

"Coroner said your heart just stopped," Steven explained.

"Yeah because someone injected me with something," you supplied, feeling the need to pace back in forth, even though you were really sort of floating. "They didn't find anything in my system? A drug, or a puncture mark under my arm?"

"Darling you're not...you're not suggesting that you were...killed?"

Just the thought of some asshole taking you away from your life - from your stories, your loft, from the town you adored, from this house and from the man you wanted to marry and have a family with - the feeling of the helplessness and despair you felt in that moment boiled into rage.

Without even realizing what you were doing, you curled your fingers into fists, squeezed your eyes shut and cried out, sending a wave of energy jolting through your bedroom, knocking Steven clean off his feet. The power was so strong, it knocked the lamp off the bedside table, crashing to the floor, and lastly, the mirror over your dresser shattered.

You acted out of pure spectral instinct.

Steven reacted equally, having summoned his Mr. Knight suit without a second thought. He didn't even intend to do it - it just happened as soon as his mind registered the danger of falling and flying glass.

The sight of your partner "taking arms", or suiting up in his defense against you...

It absolutely shattered you. The coherent thoughts you wanted to share with your partner were as scattered as the shattered mirror glass.

Powerful emotions swirled and blurred into despair. You found yourself untethered from the sweet conversation, longing and desire with your partner - the serenity you had experienced here over the last day or so, with Marc and Jake.

The broken lamp sent the room into darkness and as you fell further into despair, you could no longer detect the white of Steven's suit, or see even the moon's glow through the window.

You thought you heard your name called, but it was galaxies away, the way a voice above the surface of a swimming pool sounds when you're underwater.

The sound faded and all that was left was the Dark.

next

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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[doubleddenden]

Okay I was just sharing a tweet I saw with my friends, right. Then I realized the background- one of the possible decorations you can set for the Blueberry Academy League Club Room, the Dark theme- could potentially be a hint towards ZA. So basically I saw a gold mine in a meme, so thanks for accidentally inspiring me :)

1. The "hag" meta is definitely in for vtubers, so that tracks for Iono lol, but 2 moving away from that, 2. Follow me into this rabbit hole and look here, friends

Besides Larry being beautiful and questioning his life, a lot of us saw the portrait and thought it could resemble Caitlin of the Unova Elite 4 and formerly princess of the Sinnoh/Johto Battle Castle- fitting since Blueberry Academy is off the coast of Unova in the case of Unova Elite 4. Some of you probably think this is old news- be patient, I'm going somewhere with this.

The resemblance is there, especially in the hair in gen 4, but the eyes are different and she's holding a Banette or Banette doll, a ghost type. It was dismissed by many to just be a creepy little girl.

Except, I think it might be a hint or teaser. And before anyone dismisses this. Take a look at these screenshots (from Nintendo Life via google)

A lot of people immediately turn to the painting of Uluru- aka the rock monolith found in Australia, and many tend to focus on that for Gen 10 hints- myself included, of course, I've wanted Pokemon Australia since I was 10. However, what if I told you that if a Z-A hint were a snake...

...It would have bitten you. That's Lumiose Tower in that one sketch, a cleverly hidden tree in a forest of brighter colored trees. There's other stuff there I wanna look at, but unfortunately the angle is purposely bad in Hassel's art room, so you can't focus on it.

So if we go back to the creepy girl in the portrait, knowing that Game Freak already planted a Z-A hint that tiny on that wall, we could possibly go a little nuts and say that maybe she's a character we meet in Z-A.

If that weren't enough- Banette has a Mega Evolution, introduced in XY. So yeah.

Anyway here's what I think: Caitlin has an ancestor that used to be royalty in Kalos, or more fittingly, part of the Lumiose Aristocracy in Z-A's fan proposed time frame of 1850s Rennovation of Paris, or so. Caitlin has psychic powers, fitting for a Psychic type user- but Ghost type trainers also have been known to exhibit supernatural abilities similar to Pokemon Psychics as well, and Caitlin is so powerful that she either had her butler run the Battle Castle for her or sleeps most of the time as an Elite 4 member to keep her powers in check. Perhaps her powers are passed down and a result of a family line of involvement with supernatural Pokemon.

The girl in the photo is either the first or just another of the family that has some kind of innate power or connection to Pokemon in this manner- in this case, ghost types.

Lumiose in XY is actually not that far from the haunted swamp and supposedly haunted house/tourist trap, so perhaps Caitlin's ancestors are losing power in the aristocracy at the time period but still retain some sway, and most importantly could be the proprieter of ghost Pokemon we'll need for the dex AND an "alpha" equivalent ghost type Pokemon.

Picture this: there's a haunted mansion to the north of Lumiose. There's some old documentation inside that will help with your goal of rebuilding Lumiose- but it's haunted. Like HAUNTED haunted. It's layout kinda large but manageable, like Luigi's Mansion in a way. Caitlin's ancestor- maybe of some partial relation to Shauntal as well- helps guide you through this mansion that's infested with ghost type Pokemon.

That's an idea anyway, which admittedly could be a stretch from just a couple of screenshots- but do keep in mind that Gamefreak hid Gmax Toxtricity in their Alolan office in Ultra Sun and Moon on a poster at a bad angle. Not to mention they probably had DeNA use Masters to tease at Volo with Cynthia's Giratina Sygna Suit. Plus the Kitakami Easter egg at Larry's own gym before SV DLC was even announced, or using the English word for Blueberry- a North American berry, instead of the Spanish words for Grape and Orange- to signify Blueberry Academy being off the coast of Unova/America.

Sometimes their hints are right in your face, sometimes cleverly hidden, sometimes it doesn't even register until it hits- so imo, I think I might be onto something here. At the very least, a haunted house in Pokemon is LONG overdue at this point- we haven't had a new one since Alola in gen 7, although that was a destroyed grocery store- the others we've had are repeats of Lavender Tower or Lost Tower and Old Chateau.

... WHICH, BTW, A chataeu... is French :) the Old Chateau- haunted by ghosts, in Sinnoh, where Caitlin was first introduced. Come to think of it, in Hisui, there isn't even a NEW Chateau yet.

So now I think it's a possibility that Caitlin's ancestors were the ones that built the Old Chateau, and possibly used blueprints from one in old Lumiose to build it in the freshly colonized lands of Sinnoh. Blueprints WE help find.

Or, as a lot of people who made it this far are probably SCREAMING at me right now- all of this is nothing and the little girl is just a generic little girl made to be creepy on purpose.

But we like to have fun here in DD's theory corner. And it'll be so hilarious if I got some of this right in the slightest.

[steddie-thirst]

Meet Pennywise | Eddie Munson X (Emerson)Fem!Reader |

Summary: Who would have guessed that the small town of Hawkins, Indiana was haunted by a unfathomable being. One that only could be real in nightmares. You begin to notice things and try to convince your friends there's more going on. Resident 'Town Freak', Eddie Munson, so happens to believe you.

"Are you sure you want to walk home, Chris?" You ask, eyes studying the inky black sky and desolate school lot. "My brother wouldn't mind giving you a ride after Hellfire." You offer with a gentle smile.

"No, it's a nice night." She denies the offer with a wave of her hands, "Besides it finally stopped raining!" Chrissy did a little spin earning a bubbly laugh from you, her skirt flouncing with the brash movements. "Plus, I don't live to far." All three things were true, but she wouldn't be safe alone at night. It was dark and anything could happen.

"I just worry, Chris." You admit wringing your hands in worry, bringing them close to your chest, but she was a free spirit.

"I will be fine. Deep breaths." She extends her arms out for a hug, which you gladly accept, but let her go after relishing in the friendly exchange. She gives a friendly smile and then vanishes off into the night. You take a deep breath and head back down the, empty halls towards the drama room.

Loud cheers followed by Eddie's cackle was slightly comforting, but then it fell silent. The lights overhead began to flicker sending your heartbeat into a frenzy, breathing uneven as you manage a small whine, "Hello?"

Laughter, followed by skittering feet, and one of the lockers behind you creak open. Despite your best efforts to not turn around, you do so anyway, in which after the locker slams shut.

From behind a tall figure emerges, bells jingling, yellow eyes, fiery red hair curled up. Painted red and white face, lips curled up into a smile. "You look frightened." It speaks in a crooning manner that leaves you frozen. Clowns, you had always been terrified of them. Ever since you were a kid.

"Y-Youre a clown." You note obviously, to which IT giggles.

"Not just any clown. I'm Pennywise the Dancing Clown." He steps forward and into the light, still flickering, and you jump back.

"S-Stay back.." You back away slowly the fight or flight response kicking in with the adrenaline that coursed through you. Stumbling back towards the end of the hall where the Hellfire club was currently meeting. The clown grins, teeth showing off, like sharp blades. The kind that would tear through your flesh in a heartbeat.

IT lunges at you and a scream rips it's way through your throat and your chest burns. You turn to run, only to bump into someone's chest. Everything goes quiet for a second and your eyes screw shut.

"Whoa, hey. Take it easy, sweetheart."

That voice. You recognized it, two hands grip your shaking shoulders as your eyes fluttering open, squinting at the sudden intrusion of light. Your eyes find his soft brown ones, caring and soft, "Eddie." You pull him into a hug and Barry your face in his chest ignoring the smell of weed that lingered on his clothes. His hands slide down to your mid-back letting you cling to him, fisting the leather if his jacket in your small hands.

"Easy, easy." He cooes down at you. "I got you, Sweetheart. Nothing's gonna get past me." You clung to Eddie for a good while, before the sobs died down along with the confusing ramblings.

"Hey, look at me." He bends at the waist to be eye to eye with you. You comply looking at him, "I'm gonna take you home, okay? Sound good?" You nod. "Good, let's go get your things. Yeah?" You let the guitarist lead you back to the meeting room where everyone has already left. Gareth probably took off to grab Haley and Holly from Grandma's, making Eddie promise to give you a ride. He was sweet though. Always checking in on you even when he wasn't asked.

The thing was, would he believe what you saw? Would anyone?

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[deafmangoes]

An Album of Christmas Carols - 4

This time I'm going to cover the, I assume, lesser-known musical adaptation of the classic story, the 2004 A Christmas Carol based on the 1994 stage musical by Alan Menken.

"A Christmas Carol" (2004, Kelsey Grammer)

To be honest, the whole vibe of the film really betrays that it began as a stage show - sometimes it's endearing but in other places the stage directions don't translate to the film format that well.

We open not in Scrooge's counting house but the Royal Exchange, where a conspicuously underdressed Cratchit (feat. influenza) runs around after his employer and a definitely-not-Cratchit expy asks for a loan extension for himself and Tiny Tina.

I mean look at her. Girl has a withering scowl that could peel paint. She is apparently "Grace Smythe" in the credits but the only time she's named is kinda muffled by the singing.

In this opening monument to raw, Victorian capitalism, I admit I do enjoy the lines:

"Thank the Lord our profits have been huge / Thank the Lord we're not in debt to Scrooge".

Anyway! On to the...

Ghosts? Ghosts!

In an unusual twist we're introduced to the Ghosts before Marley - Past is a lamplighter, Present is a ticket hawker for a charity pageant, and Yet to Come is a blind beggar woman (Incidentally portrayed here by Charlie Chaplin's daughter, Geraldine!).

Marley himself appears in theatrical manner not through the door but popping out of the wall. This Marley has a jovial tone, genuinely happy to see Scrooge, and seems more resigned to his fate than lamenting it. He (and some of his and Scrooge's former business partners) perform "Link by Link" with a mix of moral haunting and... just being very extra.

Christmas Past... awkwardly appears as an attractive younger woman poledsncing on the end of Scrooge's bed. I suspect in the original stage show they had a professional dancer for this and the actress tries but doesn't quite nail the graceful movements. Rather than whisk Scrooge from his bed, she shoves his astral projection into a photo album.

This version gives us the "Scrooge's dad went to debtor prison" excuse, which I'm neutral about. Comes up in a few adaptations, and it works but I'm just not fond of Freudian excuses.

The Fezziwigs (here a banking firm) dance, romance occurs, blossoms, we see Scrooge and Marley set up their business and become increasingly more ruthless.

Now I just want to comment on one specific bit that really falls flat, in my opinion. Fezziwig comes to the pair for a loan to save his failing business. Scrooge refuses on the basis that it won't prevent the bankruptcy, merely postpone it.

Then both Fezziwigs turn on the emotional manipulation - "I helped you both get started", "he treated you like a son", etc. I hate this. It cheapens both Fezziwigs as characters and actually Scrooge is right to refuse the loan. But we're meant to see this as him becoming hard and uncaring. Ruins a core moment of character development.

Anyway - engagement breaks off, Marley dies of a heart attack, yadda yadda, Past leaves in a puff of smoke.

Christmas Present puts on an agonisingly long stage show and... comes off a bit like a pimp, with the staging and the chorus girls. And the cane. And the fur-lined robe. It's not great. We see more of Tiny Tina because Tiny Tim had supernatural scheduling conflicts or something.

The Cratchits have their deep emotional song about shoes and counting your blessings. I'm normally not a fan of these bits but... Actually I'm okay with this one. There's a big medley of people celebrating across London, and I think it does a way better job than "Abundance and Charity". Nephew Fred's party segues in at the pre-finale lull - and incidentally this is the only version I know of where Fred has a kid. He gets one line, in which he's a snotty-nosed brat. We return to the Cratchits, then close out on a brief Ignorance and Want looking... I'm not gonna lie, they look like they're completely out of it.

It's time for some real trippy haunting.

Christmas Yet To Come transforms from the blind beggar woman into a white/grey banshee figure who takes Scrooge into another musical number a confused amalgam of visions. I really like this! I know it's being done for practicality, but it helps get across this idea of the future as being shadows, shifting and changing, still malleable.

Also the song's a bop.

Another small detail I like is the undertakers attacking and robbing Mrs Dilber Mrs Mops for pennies after they've hawked Scrooge's belongings to Old Joe. It's quite visceral in the middle of the song, and each time I see it, it reminds me how women like Mrs Dilber may be easy to judge, but in Victorian society they really had a very fragile existence. Nobody cared for the widows and elderly. After all, are there no prisons? No workhouses?

Scrooge's redemption is indicated by a much softer and happier round-up song in which he sees a vision of his departed mother and sister. Aww.

We close out on Scrooge temporarily kidnapping a child, finally making Tiny Tina crack a smile, passing the three ghosts in Incognito Mode, trolling Bob and going to Fred's for dinner. Then it snows on cue.

Highlights & Humbugs

The film's not one of my top favourites but it's still in my rewatch cycle. The songs are catchy, as you'd expect from Disney veteran Menken, with some clever reprises. Marley's "Link by Link" is good fun, but the Ghost of Christmas Present's "Abundance and Charity" really overstays its welcome, especially since the song immediately after it does a better job at getting the point across.

I think I've already commented on what I think works and doesn't work in this version, but I have yet to mention the most haunting image of all.

Kelsey Grammer's hairy chest. Be glad I couldn't find a higher quality snap.

Overall, a jolly musical with some flat notes, but a pretty good jab at the story. 6 out of 10 Humbugs.

[residentdormouse]

Find the Words Tag

Thank you @scienceoftheidiot for the tag!

My Words were: Smile, Dream, Tear(s), Dark, and Soft.

You guys are going to get sick of me posting these 😂 but here goes. All but one word was in the last chapter (and three of them within the same scene in that chapter). The missing word? Dream. I had to go back to Chapter 30. For 'dream'. When the canon source material has everybody getting haunted by this MF in their nightmares. I can't readily find dream?! Wtf am I doing?!

But, this is all from the last chapter - most are vague enough to just post as is, but all instances of 'tears' are spoiling a major event that happens later in Diving. If that is a concern, skip that one.

Since this is like the fourth I've done (😬) I'm just giving an open tag: if you want to join - please '@' me!!

Words: devour, dive, dig, dear, damned

My Answers:

Smile (Chapter 34)

"I uh… thanks for… if we don't…well…"

Thanks for everything if we don't make it out alive. The blanks were easy enough to fill in, despite Lloyd's current inability to come to the words himself.

With a sincere smile, she placed her hand on his shoulder. What she had heard of his past, maybe this response from him should have been a surprise, but it wasn't to her. Maybe she came in too late to see the man who had earned the reputation following him, but the man in front of her now, the man that came to Haven, that man was sincere in his intentions. Fit right along with the loudmouth tavern corner occupants, but never truly gave her a cause for concern. No, this man had always been a good one. If only he could see that too.

Another set of silent nods, and he was off.

Dream (Chapter 30)

"You didn't ask for him to show up in your head, did you? Didn't come to him uninvited?" He waited for her reply to the negative before continuing. "Yeah, thought not. From what I've gathered, between you and Lloyd, what we've seen, what I've seen, this magic, abilities, whatever you want to call it, it's not easily controlled."

His smile still held the prior compassion, his tone lighthearted, but she didn’t register it. Couldn’t. All she could see was the recent dream. All she could feel was guilt.

"He hadn't even started anything, Glen. Being an annoying ass, but that's it. I just got so… I wanted something bad to happen. I did. Did and didn't. I don't know."

Tears (Chapter 34)

**************SPOILERS*****************

Despite the prior context, a laugh broke through and caused a hiccup in the flow of sadness and tears from before.

“But now that that’s established, looks like up and running got you back in quite the spot again, yeah?”

"I…. Glen, I just… You were right. Down and still. I mean, what's the point of it all? Everything just gets more confusing, and violent, and then people die. You died…"

"I know… I know, but you have to head back there anyway. And you have people that are counting on you. Worlds. Universes. No, can't give up on them, you know you can't. Won’t. Deep down. You know that, and you helped me see that.” His hand came out to lightly tap her on the chin in a loving manner, but it only caused the tears to flow freely once more. While unsaid, she heard the “aw Hell’ sighed under his breath before he pulled her back into a hug, gently rocking her in place. A few additional moments were spent here before he once again pulled backward. “But you can't go back like you were either. What’s done is done, you can’t keep holding in your pain. Inflicting it on others…”

************END SPOILERS***************

Dark (Chapter 34)

Familiar knots in the wood gave away her location before she could even stand up from the floor of her cabin. Thoughts went back to the moment before. Lloyd and Flagg. Rayna. Then darkness. She was trying to take her out of the game. Fuck if she was going to sit by and let her do it.

The bookshelf was her first stop, and it took the brunt of her wrath. Books landed harshly against the floor as she threw them from their place. One after another after another, but there was no teal book to be found this time. No need for it anymore. No need for locking away secrets. No hope of pulling herself out of this state with its help.

Another burst of devastating anger, and she tipped the empty bookcase down on the floor. Splinters shooting outward almost drowned out the voice coming from the kitchen.

“Well, I’m sure that’ll be fun to clean up later.”

Soft (Chapter 34)

She took one hesitant step forward. One more. And without any further delay, she rushed towards him. Arms wrapped around his back and held him tight enough that if he wasn’t solid, she would have absorbed him with the force. But he was solid. He was there in front of her. She could touch him. Kiss him.

And with the realization, the action followed. Desperation fueled grasps at connection, as her lips met his. But no matter how much she felt him there, the tickle of his beard on her face, the glide of his hair through her fingers, the taste of him jolting her senses, she couldn’t understand how it was possible.

“Fuck… How are you… I… you…”

And there was that chuckle, that soft sound that always exuded a lightness which reverberated inside her until she had no choice but to relinquish whatever negativity she was holding on to. Let it all go, and just be there. With him.

[underagoldenmoon]

Under a Golden Moon, chapter eleven - Wander Home

Content warnings for this chapter:

Next | Previous | First

      "Are you…okay?" The stranger is leaning over Moon. "You collapsed."

She shifts slightly. 

      "Uh…I think so…"

She blinks, looking closely at the other cat. Blue-black fur with grey markings. Which doesn't seem…she's never seen a cat with that combination of colours before. Oh well. It's probably nothing. 

      "Well. Got to go." They start to walk away. 

      "Wait!" Moon cries, leaping to her paws. "Who are you, anyway?"

The stranger smiles, eyes glimmering in the sunlight. One black, one white. Why do they look…why do they look so strange? She tries to banish the thought - it's probably rude in some way. But she can't force it to leave her head. 

      "You saw nothing," they say. And, though Moon may be mistaken, it seems that their voice has gained an edge, hidden like the moon behind a cloud, but there nonetheless. "I'm not here. Just an illusion. A trick of the moonlight. You never saw me."

      "Moonlight?" Moon glances up to the sky. "Oh Sunlight, it's night already! I need to go!" She turns to run, then stops. She needs this answer, at least. "Please. Tell me who you are."

The stranger jolts to stand straighter, as if startled by Moon's persistence. 

      "Don't you realise?" They pause. "I'll give you a clue. Look up."

Moon does as she's told, feeling foolish already. 

And looks to a moon that shines almost unnaturally bright. 

She turns back to face the other cat, a million questions rushing through her head. What does it mean? How is that a clue? But they're gone. Disappeared, soundless, leaving not even a clouded breath in the cold autumn air, like a wraith. 

      "Where are you?" She lets her voice echo. "Where did you go?" But there is no reply. 

A twig cracks behind her and she spins around, waiting to see the stranger, waiting to see a monster from a story, waiting to see all manner of horrors. 

Nothing. 

It's just because it's nighttime. Darkness makes monsters, and the only monsters that matter are corrupted gods. And darkness doesn't make them; death makes them. 

      "You don't scare me," she whispers, suddenly frightened. "I'm not scared. I don't get scared. Not at all." A lie, but hopefully a reassuring one. 

It works, for a time. Glancing around, she looks for landmarks - anything to work out where she is. Even a strangely-shaped tree. But this seems to be a part of her Guard's territory that she's never seen before. If I'm even still there. Now that she thinks about it, she's heard all manner of stories. There is no proof that she is safe. No proof that she'll survive the night. Stories of monsters and gods haunt her mind. Is that a normal bird, or is it Magpie, come to fly me away and feast on my bones? Is that just a tree, or is it Evergreen about to turn my paws into roots? She shakes herself. Most of the gods don't kill; most of them don't even get involved with mortals. All Froster does is edge the blades of grass with ice and make the world shine. And The Sunlight and The Moonlight are protectors of the Guards. They wouldn't let the other gods hurt her. 

So she keeps going. She'll know where she is soon - she's sure of it. 

She takes a breath in, a breath out. Calm, Moon. You'll be fine. 

For a second, it's working and she's walking, then trotting, only excited to get home. She doesn't care about the dark. For a second. Then she sees what's maybe just a bird, and the worries start to run through her head once more. Pull yourself together! You'll be fine! 

      "Hey! Who's there?" The voice isn't anyone she recognises.

She's about to respond, but her voice is dead in her throat, trapped as if in amber. Soft pawsteps draw closer, and a black cat, the same shade as the night, walks out from a bush. 

      "My name's Shade. My pronouns are he/him, and I'm a tom. You?"

Moon finds her voice again. 

      "I'm…I'm Moon," she says, though she's still barely audible. "My pronouns are she/her and I'm a molly."

      "It's like the start of a love story," Shade says, laughing slightly. He pauses. "Let's hope it doesn't end like one."

      "Why…why not?"

      "Where I come from, love stories…don't have happy endings." He shrugs. "And anyway, I'm fraysexual and frayromantic. It wouldn't work out."

Moon smiles. 

      "Well, fortunately for you, I'm not looking for a romantic relationship now. Probably not ever."

Shade nods. 

      "Well, you…look a little lost. I can help take you back to wherever you live?"

      "Uh…yeah, thanks! I'm from Hazel's Guard - I assume you've passed through camp to get here?"

Shade pauses. 

      "Uh…well…yeah, yeah I…I did." He glances away from her for a second. "I…well, I wasn't exactly given the warmest welcome."

      "That…doesn't sound like our Guard."

      "Wait, there are multiple?"

      "Yeah. Two here - Hazel's Guard, where I'm from, and Yew's Guard."

      "Ugh, I'm such an idiot." He pauses. "But I've not crossed any boundaries. So this is Yew's Guard territory."

Moon nods. 

      "You know where the river is? I can find my way back from there."

      "I…think so."

Moon follows Shade through forest paths, silence marking their way. At last, she speaks: 

      “Did you…did you see a black cat? Grey markings, weird eyes?”

      “I…don’t think so. But that sounds like one of the more powerful spirits.”

      “Spirits? Like…ghosts?”

      “No. Like…well, I suppose you would call them gods.”

Moon nods. 

      "I…yes, our gods do…they can walk among regular cats. But in different forms." She thinks for a second, before asking the question that she needs to ask, that she dreads the answer to. "So…which god - I mean, spirit - is it?"

      "The Moonlight, I believe she's called."

[minzart]

Wait, wait wait- WE HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF RIDDLE!? DAS A LOAD OF BU- Anyways. Is that part of the yandere?

Oh yeah. That's when they kick in

Anyway, it's my excuse to change to the boys POV. Bc my yanderes show more in that

For Riddle, Yuu is nothing but a useless handyman who arrives late, can't fix things quick enough, has no manners and no presence

So of course he tries his best to teach them, after all, this is Night Raven Collage, and if the headmaster isn't going to teach and punish his staff properly, might as well do it himself

Soon enough he's impressed, Yuu learns faster than he thought, little punishment was actually necessary, and one day they said something that caught the dorm leader by surprise

Yuu: ... thank you

Riddle: hm? Speak louder if you want others to hear you!

Yuu: I want to thank you dorm leader Rosehearts, you can be strict, and merciless at times-

Riddle outraged: is that how you thank somebo-

Yuu: HOWEVER, your strictness was what pushed me to learn how to organize my life here, I now have a routine wich... wich I realy needed, but I need to remind you that I am not a student nor am I a servant, so I can't be at your disposal at any given time, so I'm here to give you that reminder, and warn you that I'll be abstinent of the next unbirthday party

Riddle: are you perhaps challenging me?

Yuu: yes I am, not everyone can take so much rules and live by them at a T, and I don't have the privilege of being a student to get a break, so if you take a stranger saying they want distance from your lessons that were uncalled for, as a challenge, then yes, I am challenging you Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle face burns: You INSOLENT! [OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!]

Yuu doesn't flinch, they lock eyes with Riddle and walk away unharmed... the students that were present are just watching, the dorm leader goes pale, for noone had the guts to call him on his bullshit until today

Riddle's mood is getting worse and worse, slowly he notices that a part of him misses the handyman, a little pet project of his own, someone to guide through the rules of the queen and through the rules of this world

He notices them around campus, walking and cleaning here and there, and then he notices how... alone they are... noone to come back to, staying in a ramshackle dorm haunted by ghosts and having to run around to find the headmaster, Riddle decided to observe, and he saw the growth

Yuu was faster than last time he saw them clean, they were learning the ins and outs of the school, they know proper greetings and talk to the paintings in their break, they are getting better at catching the annoying raccoon, and... and Riddle notices that he misses them

He misses the smal talk, the little snarky remarks, the misbehavior that was soon corrected, he misses their little game of "how far can I push the rules until you break"

He learned something with Yuu, that students will find loopholes to break the rules, he learned that you can talk back in a proper way enough not to sound vulgar, he learned that if you have a punish bag that would be back for you again and again you could teach a lesson to yours students without danger of involving the headmaster

He's sure they know it isn't serious, they have talked and learned so much about each other, this little punishments weren't because he wanted to, but he needed to make an example, and Yuu is... nothing... but not everyone knows that, so that make them the perfect candidate! Sure they knew that... so why... why did they leave...

It's no wonder that he overblots that day, but the surprise was... how relieved he felt the moment he saw Yuu... they came back... they did, he wasn't alone anymore, Yuu was joking... Yuu... Yuu understands him... he knows they do

The night he awakens Yuu is by his side, so he observes them, tired... so very tired and having nightmares... he can't comfort them from were he is, it's frustrating, so he focus on their face, the shape of the jaw, how their chest goes up and down, how their eyes flicker because of the nightmare, how the moon illuminates... what the fuck is the thinking of?????

Riddle is in denial mode until he heals, well... until his sense of duty can't be still for any longer, until then he demands Yuu's full attention, by the end of it I think he pass his denial fase.....

[a-mended-pact]

Let the Right One In

A/N: So this is for @boldlyvoid 's challenge. I had so much fun writing this. Even though I'm still super anxious about posting my stories. It's been a pleasure and an honor getting to know you Em. Congratulations on reaching 2k! 🖤

Warning: Mentions of insecurities. Maeve Donovan. Faking a death.

Word count: 2,082

It was midday when I heard knocking on the front door. I was half tempted not to answer. Spencer was away on a case and neither him nor I were expecting anyone. Anyone that would come over at all was away on the case with him or states over. So who could be coming over unannounced? I clumsily headed towards the door. My fuzzy socks are making it difficult to stay balanced on the hardwood floor. A knock came again. It was gentler this time. 

I looked through the peephole and saw a small woman looking around nervously leaning from foot to foot. “Who is it?” I wondered if I could at least get a name. 

“I’m here to see Doctor Spencer Reid. I got his address from Aaron Hotchner.”

  My face blanched at the sound of Hotch’s name. It had been quite some time since anyone had mentioned him. After he went into protective custody with Jack even though the reaper was dead he still chose to stay away. Contact with him was rare and slim. I quickly opened the door and watched her jump back slightly. 

“Who are you?” she asked. She looked around the same age as him. She is actually quite beautiful. I wonder how Spencer knows her? 

“ I’m Y/n Reid.” She tilted her head to the side as she studied me.

 “I didn’t realize Spencer had a sister.” She finally met my gaze and smiled.

 “Is he here or do I need to come back at another time?” A small laugh escaped me 

“No, I am not his sister. I am his wife.” I crossed my arms over my chest and locked my foot in place behind the door keeping it only slightly ajar not letting her see into our home. 

Her face shifted to one of slight surprise. “Oh well I better just go then.” She went to turn away. When a thought crossed my mind.

 “Wait, I can call him if you’d like and let him know you are looking for him. What’s your name?” I was wondering whether this was a good idea or not to even call him but i had already offered and i am already in far too deep to turn back now. 

She stopped not turning to face me again. “My name is Maeve. Maeve Donovan.” 

Maeve. Why did I know that name? Why is my brain going off with alarm bells? But why do I know that name? I watched as she vanished from the hallway down the flight of stairs never turning back around to look at me. 

I slammed the door shut as I racked my brain on if I should mention this to Spencer at all. Especially while he is away on a case. Maybe I should wait until he gets home. He should be home later tonight. At least if the weather was alright over in New Hampshire. He had left me a message earlier this morning to let me know the case was solved and it had started snowing there but their flight wouldn’t be ready till a little later. 

He should be home in about an hour now. I will wait. I’ll definitely wait.

 

~

When Spencer walked through the door he looked sluggish and about ready to just collapse. The exhaustion clearly got to him from not getting enough sleep while he was away. He took off his satchel and his suit jacket. He began undoing his tie as he walked his way into our bedroom. Not even making eye contact with me. 

He came back out moments later in nothing but his flannel sweatpants. “Sorry I know I should have said hello to you. I just felt like I was suffocating in my clothes today.” As he spoke he made his way to the couch where I sat at one end.

 Once he sat down he leaned down and put his head in my lap. I gently started running my fingers through his hair while scratching his head. 

“That feels really nice.” His voice was soft and he let out a quiet sigh as he relaxed into the couch and my lap.

 If I wasn’t petting his head I was gently caressing his back with my fingertips. I know I needed to tell him. I was just so nervous. I knew somewhere deep down this would be stressful to him. The day already has worn him out so completely. It was like he needed my touch to recharge himself. I began biting my lip as my hand stopped on his lower back. 

“Hey, Spence, A woman came by to see you today. She said she got your address from Aaron.” He made a humming noise to let me know that he heard me. “Her name was Maeve Donovan.” I felt his back muscles tense at the sound of her name. He sat up immediately. 

“Wh- what did you say?” He looked at me as if I had just grown an extra head or as if I had just spoken another language.  “Mae-” He cut me off. “No, I heard what you said. I don’t need you to repeat yourself. It’s not possible she was at the door. She is dead. She’s been dead for years.” 

He pushed himself up off the couch, the muscles in his arms flexing more than usual. He was more tense than I have seen him in a long time. The last time I saw him this upset or stressed was when he first came back from prison. We were just dating back then.

“I am going to go call Hotch.” he moved quickly to grab his phone when he finally reached it. It began to ring. He looked at it for a couple of seconds before he answered.

“Hello?” His eyes widened slightly. I watched as he clenched his jaw and tears brimmed his eyes. 

“M-m-maeve?” He leaned himself back against the wall. His breathing became irregular as he slid himself down the cold panel. At the same time I saw a couple of tears leave his eyes.

I sucked in a breath and sighed. Was this going to be the end of us? Now that all the stories Spencer told me of her came back once he said that she was dead.

She was his first love after all. It would only make sense right?

====Spencer’s Pov=====

My vision was blurred beyond recognition. I could hear my blood pumping in my ears as the sound of her voice drifted in and out. This isn’t real. It’s not possible. I watched her die. I saw her. She was pronounced dead at the scene. I mourned her. It’s been years. Nearly a decade.

“Spencer? Can you hear me?” I felt my tears stream down my face, nodding as if she could see me. 

“Yeah, Yeah I can hear you.” My voice cracked as I answered her. 

“Just like old times huh? It’s so nice to hear your voice. I’ve missed you.” My breath hitched at her words. 

I felt my heart hammer in my chest. I glanced up to see if I could find my wife. She was watching me with concern but otherwise she hadn’t moved not yet. All the guards Y/n had torn down throughout the years started building themselves up higher and higher. 

"H-how are you alive? I watched you die." The horrible memories of that fatal day still haunted me. What am I supposed to do now?

Do I still have feelings for her? Is it wrong if I do? I don't know how to handle this. What should I do?

"That's why I came to see you earlier.  It was an idea that I came up with at the last minute.  So I faked my death." Her voice was calmer than my breathing.  I felt the walls Barricading around me to keep me safe. I was suffocating.

I wasn't sure I had heard her right. I could feel my ears ringing as the blood in me ran cold.

"You faked your death and made me believe for a decade that the first person I ever loved died a brutal death because you wanted a new life?" My tone was harsher than I anticipated.

I felt my wife's hands run through my hair in a comforting manner as she lowered herself to the floor with me.

I glanced at Y/n as tears streamed down my face. The memories of Maeve and my feelings for her wreaking havoc on my heart.

"Darling, I think you should hang up. For now anyway." She whispered it as her hand lowered to the back of my neck giving me a gentle message. 

My back stiffened. I was so caught up in my own nightmare I hadn't realized that this is probably a living one for her.

"Spencer. I can expla-" I cut off the call before she could even finish her sentence.  Y/n was right.

"You have a lot you need to process and I'm sure you didn't want to say anything you would regret. I'm sorry if I've overstepped." She looked a little nervous as if I was gonna snap at her the way I had Maeve 

I gently grabbed the hand that was touching me and brought it up to my lips placing a kiss on it.

"Nonsense. You are my wife. You were right. I should have hung up. I just. I don't know how to explain what I was feeling." I could feel my breathing begin to slow slightly as I tried to match her breathing to get mine back to normal.

It was like my world paused for a moment and began to spiral faster than I could catch my balance. I felt air fill my lungs when I heard her voice but yet I was left gasping for oxygen. 

The very thought of Maeve brought back so many things I thought I had dealt with prior to now.  I leaned my head against my wife's shoulder as I just let the tears fall.

I felt awful having her comfort me over another woman. Yet I couldn't bring myself to completely care. She was the one offering me comfort.  

She held me in her arms. Whispering to me that things will be okay. That we'd figure things out.

I truly didn't deserve her. She loves me so unconditionally it's unnerving. That's when my phone went off again.

It was the same number Maeve had called me from.

I glanced at my wife. Who just watched me. That's when I fully knew and decided something that had been bothering me for over the past hour or so.

I let my phone continue to ring as I cupped her face. 

"You...you make me feel special and good and all these things that I still don't have the words for yet— good things… things I never thought I deserved to feel.” I pulled her in closer letting our lips caress one another.

"I love you Spencer.  You don't need to say all of this right now. I know you are still-" She tilted her head to the side as if she were trying to figure me out.  "Cluttered and that's okay."

I kissed her harder than I've ever kissed anyone before.

"I’m not in love with her, I’m in love with you”

I have no real idea on if she needed this reassurance all I knew is that I did. I wanted her to know out loud what she meant to me. I couldn't imagine a better partner. A better lover or a better best friend than her.

 I wasn't going to have her doubt everything about us. Not for anything.

I stayed close to her as my phone kept repeatedly going off until eventually it stopped. I was still figuring things out. 

Knowing that Maeve was alive before I met Y/n would have changed my life completely but now? I didn't want anything to change.  For once I was happy. I had someone in my life who put me first. Who cared about me. Who wasn't afraid to hurt my feelings as long as it kept me safe. She loved me for me and all the mess in between who I have yet to become.

She saw me for me. I wasn't Doctor Spencer Reid.  I wasn't a federal agent or a professor to her. I was just Spencer.  The man for some ungodly reason she chose to love. 

[dairyminki]

hii! can i request 53 + 59 mafia/gang au with Yunhov thank you!!!!

prompt:

53. “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.” “You’re literally bleeding out!” “It’s fine-” “nO it’S NOT!!”

59. “I love you.” “You shouldn’t.” “I know/I don’t care”

Fatality

↬ pairing: jeong yunho x gn!reader

↬ genre: mafia au, angst

↬ warning: blood, guns, possible character death (since it's open ending)

↬ wc: 666 (uhm wow)

↬ a/n: atp i'm convinced that I love writing angst for yunho </3 anyway, i hope you like this anon!

》

The sound of a gunshot rang through the air. It takes a few moments before it finally registered into your mind that the bullet came from your own gun.

You were the one who fired that shot.

With your heart beating as fast as if you ran a thousand miles, as you pant, your eyes slowly went to your hand, where you saw smoke coming out of the very gun you were holding right now.

It made your knees weak. The moment you dropped to the floor, you also dropped the gun, your hands now shaking.

However, in the far distance, you see, a bloodied figure lying on the ground. Time momentarily froze for you as you realized it wasn't the supposed to be target who had caught your shot.

Rather, it was him.

"Y-Yunho!" You screamed, gathering all the strength you could muster to go to him, and when you did, you kneeled beside the small pool of blood that leaked and wet the fabric of his shirt near his abdomen.

Tears blurred your vision as you lay your hands on him. "W-Why...you.." You choked on a sob as your hands moved frantically, soon enough, it stays on the area he was shot as you tried your best to make it stop from bleeding.

"It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it." Yunho says, literally coughing out blood. His attempt at consoling you only made breathing harder for you as your sobs turn into cries.

"You’re literally bleeding out!"

"It's fine-"

"No, it's not!!" You shout, slapping his legs hard, finding it hard that one second, you were a nervous wreck as you awaited their command from your earpiece to fire that gun, and then the next, Yunho's already lying on the ground in his own pool of blood.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

"And you!" You turned your head to the man who you were supposed to kill, and whom Yunho just sacrificed his life for. Kim Hongjoong.

You wanted to scream so badly, accuse him of running away from his own fate, of dodging a bullet that was meant for him - but you knew better than talking back to the notorious Mafia King, or so they call him.

"Please, save him." You begged. Yunho needs to be alive.

Contrary to how Hongjoong usually acts and looks like; ruthless, fear-some, a taunting smirk always present on his face and whose bloodied-hands always haunts those who chose to rival against him - right now, all you see is fear and worry written all over his face as he scrambles up to his feet, calling for immediate back-up.

As soon as he was gone, you looked back and faced Yunho, "Why did you do that?" Your voice turned out small and calm, yet deep inside, you were still panicking and too much anger, regret and guilt was filling you up.

The regret and guilt, you reckon, would continuously and endlessly eat you alive if Yunho happens to be dead cold before he can even leave this abandoned warehouse.

"The moment I sealed my fate with him and the group, I swore to protect him with all my life." Yunho said this as blood trickled down the side of his mouth.

With your other hand still pressing on his wound, the other reached to gently wipe the blood that messed his face. "What about me? W-What would become of me?"

Yunho sheds a tear, and as more threatens to fall, he blinks excessively. Then his misty eyes settled on you.

"I love you." He says.

You shook your head, "You shouldn't." Shouldn't say it a time like this, because it sounds like goodbye. And you were sick of goodbyes.

"I know." One of his blood-covered hands rest atop yours in a reassuring manner. However, you don't know if it's to reassure you that he'll hold on for you, or that he'll be okay and that you'll be fine without him.

You wished it wasn't the latter.

》

♡ 100 Milestone Event

taglist: @hwaelle @binniesstay @hxneyboy @enivivs @tohokuu @goodvibecorner @joti17 @umbralhelwolf

can't tag: @cheline @pshwaa

[lupinsravenclaw]

Until we meet again// The Weasley au

content warning: mention of death, hints of depression, swearing, intense sadness:((

George sat on his bed, staring at the blank wall. No expression on his face other than complete and utter despair. His eyes were dull, lifeless, hurt, while his skin was grey and sickly looking. He had sat there, for hours on end since they had came back from the Battle of Hogwarts. Fred's death, naturally, took a horrendous toll on the Weasley family. From being a jolly, close family to being completely isolated and silent. No one hardly spoke since they had came back, it had been three months. The silence was deadly. And it had corrupted the house completely.

George's eyes were red, swollen and puffy from violent sobs. He hadn't cried for about an hour yet he could form no thoughts, no words. Nothing. It had felt as though he had lost himself, in theory he did. He lay back on his bed, closing his stinging eyes, he wanted to stop replaying the images in his mind, seeing Fred's lifeless body on the floor covered in blood. The memories were printed into his mind like a tattoo, yet unlike a tattoo these memories remain printed and would print in his mind forever. He said to himself ‘it should of been me’, and this thought circulated his broken mind until his eyes became too heavy to keep open- falling into a deep sleep.

"George, wake up you lazy git. Come on it's summer, Weasleys Wizard Wheezes is absolutely chocker! The puking pastels are going down a treat though I’m not sure why, the summer holidays will be ruined”Fred exclaims going off on a tangent before a sleepy George awakens. His eyebrows knit together rubbing his head, a confused expression plastered on his face.

"Freddie?" George asks squinting his eyes.

"The one and only" Fred winks.

"Freddie I don't understand, your supposed to be dea-,"

"Well yes maybe, but I pissed off God so much so he sent me down here,” Fred smirks.

"Is this a dream?" George asks.

"Well of course this is a dream,"

George's face lightens, eyes beginning to tear up.

"It's you Freddie!" George throws his arms around him, he returns the same. Sobbing quietly into each other's shoulders.

"I'm, I'm so sorry. It should of been me Freddie"

"Oi stop that, what happened has happened. It's not your fault" Fred assures.

"If I didn't send you off to fight so quickly you would still be here"

"Please stop blaming yourself, stop holding this anger for yourself. Let it go. The past has happened, let go. It's ok" Fred softly spoken says to a broken George.

“Anyway I have some amazing things to tell you about the other side” Fred says, strolling over to his old bed and falling onto it. George looks enticed as he sits back onto his pillows, savouring every minute with his best friend before it slips out of his grip

“Right so remember the Marauders Map? The names on the front, Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail and Prongs? I found out who they were and you won’t believe it ” Fred says raising his eyebrows in excitement.

“Who are they?” George asks inquisitively.

“James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. They were best friends at Hogwarts and apparently better known as the prankers of the school,” Fred says crossing his legs.

“WHAT?”

“I know, also that whole situation with Sirius Black it is a huuuuge misunderstanding, honestly once you get to the other side you find out everything,” Fred’s arms rest behind his head and he lays back down.

“So what happened after you, you know. I mean did it hurt?” George asks, looking down.

“Well, it hurt for a little while, I consumed all the pain from the attack then all the emotional pain from after you all found out. It was dreadful, but after a while it started to sink in. I saw you, by the way, holding my cold body. I know how much this is hurting you. I’m so sorry,” Fred says, holding back tears. Occasional voice cracks and choked back tears. Fred raised to see George, and went to sit on his bed.

"I miss you Freddie, I miss you so much. It hurts so much. I want it to stop. The pain. Everything. I just want to be with you," George cried.

"I miss you more than you can imagine. I sit watching you, I feel your pain, every heart ache, every wincing pain you feel. But please you need to think of yourself, and mum. I mean mum, she hasn’t been the same. Percy, Bill and Charlie all dodge her letters everytime she asks them to come down. I know inside they are hurting and they can’t bring themselves to come back, but it’s killing mum. Her and dads relationship is just going downhill. No spark. Nothing. No talk of muggles, no nothing. Ginny she feels like she’s lost both her brothers, she needs you Georgie, so does dad. He goes out every night and sobs for hours on end feeling like he’s lost everyone. Ron doesn’t speak to Harry or Hermione anymore. No owls, no sneaking out. Nothing. It’s heartbreaking,” Fred chokes out, tears running down his cheeks.

George goes to open his mouth, but closes it not knowing what to say feeling overwhelming guilt. He looked around, no life in the room. At this point his eyes were swollen once again and flooded with tears.

“That was awfully modest of you Freddie, a bit too mature for my liking” George laughs, Fred returning the same manner.

“Well what can I say, I’m all knowing and legendary now” Fred jokes smirking. George wipes a tear escaping his eye.

“At least no-one will get confused between us anymore and do the awkward thing when they realise they mess up,” Fred says.

“I’d rather go through life with people mistaking us than to be going through life without you,” Solemnly George said, looking Fred dead in the eyes.

"Come on Georgie your worse than Moaning Myrtle! Also that was painfully cliché it hurt my soul,” Fred says sarcastically. George sniffles.

“Look George, you need to stop dwelling on me. I know it hurts, it feels as though your heart is literally broken, as though knives pierce through your chest every damn second. But things will get better. And one day, maybe not now, but it won’t hurt as much. Your going to go on, find a beautiful wife or husband. Have some annoying kids, teach them about their legendary uncle Fred. How he wishes he could meet them, but he’s watching from above. Tell them about every prank we played. How we tormented Professor McGonagall-,”

"Fred I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that without you, everything will be so different. Christmas will be so different,” George cried, tears streaming down his heated cheeks.

"Yes it will, but I'll be there, you won't see me but I will be there. I will in sit next to you and watch you attempt mums sprouts even though you hate them, I'll watch you play board games and watch Ron go red and angry after he looses another game to Ginny. I’ll be there with you always,” Tears rolled more frequently down Fred’s face now, as he attempted to stop them with his jumper.

“You were supposed to be my best man, you were supposed to help me annoy Percy, you were supposed to- you were supposed to be here Fred!” George began to get frustrated.

“Oi oi now, it’s okay, I will always be your best man. Even if I’m not standing next to you at the alter physically,or God I don’t know when you buy your first couch. I will be with you spiritually. I mean I think that’s how this shit works,” The silly red head jokes.

“Please don’t ever leave me, I can’t do this without you. Your my best friend.”

"Hey, who says your going through this alone? I will be here for you always. That’s why I came back. One last time, just to ease your mind. Plus I couldn’t just leave you without a proper goodbye could I now?” Fred says winking before a sob breaks out between the two.

"So please, for me. Go and remind mum that your still here, tell dad he’s not alone. Go into Ginny and hug her, she really really needs you. Tell Ron that it’s okay to let others in. He doesn’t feel like he can talk to anyone. As for the others, tell them to come down. Mum needs to see them. She misses us so much,” George took in the word ‘us’ before breaking down again.

The twins embraced into a hug. Wanting to stay there forever.

“Oh and George?”

“Yes,”

“I love you, please don’t give up. Also never forget me or I will haunt your ass.

“Don’t be stupid Freddie, I love you so much. Never leave me.

They embrace into a hug yet this time so tight, they couldn't breathe. Reminiscing every moment together before their departing.

“George, I have to go now. You need to let me go,”Fred sobbed.

“I can’t Freddie, I can’t leave you,”

“You need to, my body is cold. You need you to move on,”

“Just five minutes more?” George questioned.

“Five minutes more,” Fred rested his head onto George’s shoulder, crying into it.

Five minutes had passed.

“Right time for me to get back. I love you so much” Fred let go of the warm embrace.

“Fred I’m scared,”

"I know you are, I am too. But I'll be waiting right here for you when your time comes. I will be right here to welcome you back, until we meet again brother." Fred says a tear escaping his eyes. Holding each other as if the earth was about to explode, George jolted awake.

"Freddie!" George exclaims shooting his hand out and sitting up abruptly. Scanning the empty room his breathing begins to slow down as he rests his hand upon his fast heartbeat. Fuck he mutters running his cold hands through his hair. He had felt a dampness on his shoulder. The whole experience felt so real. Maybe it was. Either way it had felt it.

Getting up from his bed, inhaling and exhaling, George opens the door for the first time in three weeks. He was so normal to smelling his mothers Scouse ready in a pot, hearing Ron muttering 'bloody hell' to himself after messing something up, his father rambling about Muggles obsessing over the purpose of a tennis ball. He was used to Fred coming upstairs with more supplies for their joke shop. Instead was an immediate cold draft and deadly silence. For a split second, the desire to crawl back into his bed, shutting out the outside world and crying into his pillow for the rest of his life, was such a convincing idea George’s hand rested upon the door nob. A faint familiar voice creeps into his head.

‘You need to let me go’ Fred’s voice had creeped into his mind. And with that, George had let go of the door nob and began to make his way downstairs. Walking downstairs taking in every little detail that he didn’t realise before. Not coming out of his room hardly for three months had really shocked him of how isolated from reality he could be strung into. He scanned the kitchen spotting Molly who was stood by the oven, her hands just resting upon the surface and her head is dropped and a few tears splash against the chopping board. Without warning George's large arms wrapped around Molly mid-waist. She had jumped slightly, startled by the sudden act of affection which broke George's heart even more.

“It’s okay, someday we will be with him,” Fred says settling his head onto Mollys shoulders, a choked cry coming from Molly.

The Weasley family, or what was left, had tried their best to act normal. George had helped Molly with the tea, not speaking much yet. But for the first time in three months, the ache in his heart began to feel less sore. That night, Molly, Arthur, Fred, Ron and Ginny all reunited for a pot of Scouse; chatted a little, laughed a little, cried a little. Most importantly things began to become more normal. Realising about how isolated the family had became, they had decided the best thing to do was to remind themselves that Fred would hate this divide.

After tea, Fred went upstairs to spend some time with his siblings. He had knocked to enter Ginnys room. She was sat writing in her journal already crying. He had asked what the matter was, asking what she had written in her journal. She passed her journal to him after two minutes.

“I just feel like, I’ve lost all my brothers. And it’s the worst feeling ever. I miss you all so much. I miss Ron telling me to go away, I miss George annoying me, I miss Charlie and Bill telling me about their crazy adventures. I miss Fred, I miss him so much. I just want my brothers back” Fred read, tears falling onto the page. Looking back up towards a fragile Ginny Fred replied.

“I know what you feel like, I miss them too especially Fred. It hurts so much. But you will never loose me and you haven’t lost Fred. This pain, is just temporary. Okay?” The red headed siblings engulf into a hug for the first proper time in three months. Following was another knock at the door, entering a sniffling Ron who ran over to them, dropped to his knees and embraced into the hug. Fred turned to him.

“You can’t shut people out forever. It’s time for us to move on. It’s time to let go. We will see him again. Someday we’re going to be with him,” Fred comforted, holding back his own painful tears. They had spent the whole night talking about him one last time for a while, reminiscing about the best memories before letting go. Ready to move on. Not forgetting Fred, no not at all. But more for their own sake, for Fred’s sake.

After leaving Ginnys room, George fell onto his bed. Crying a little more, he reminded himself of what he had said to the others. ‘It's okay I know someday I'm going to be with you,' He thought to himself before he fell into another deep sleep until morning.

I WROTE THIS ON WATTPAD ASWELL BUT IT BELONGS ON TUMBLR AND I MADE IT BETTER. also this was the most heartbreakign thing i’ve ever wrote my heart HURTS. please send feedback bc i would love to hear any suggestions or comments:)

[herstarburststories]

Something About Pride

Summary: It's Pride Month! Dean tries to make sure you feel celebrated today, while Sammy has an inner dilemma about Castiel.

Pairings: Bi!Reader x Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester x Castiel

A/N: I had more alternative titles for that one (too in love to think straight and the gay angel), but this one fits a lot! A bit late, I know.

"Shouldn't you buy him a gift or something? It's like a full on gay Valentine's Day," Dean said in a husky voice, barely functioning in the light of morning as he prepared the daily coffee for him and Sam along with your cold lemon tea.

His little brother didn't bother giving him an articulate answer other than a mild glare at his back. (Y/N) simply rolled your eyes at your boyfriend's statement, a small grin on your lips. Dean could be simultaneously clueless, dumb and cute sometimes.

‘’I doubt Cass knows what pride month is, honestly.’’ You glance at Sam, resting your hand on his arm with a friendly smile. “But I think it would be cool if you somehow celebrated with him.’’ 

‘’Wait,’’ Dean interrupted the conversation, placing the coffee pot and your cup of tea on the table. ‘’Do you want to celebrate it?’’ he asked, suddenly worried about somehow being negligent on something important to you.

‘’Nah, I'm good. Being myself is all the celebration I need right now.’’ You grinned at him, withdrawing your hand arm to grab the cup full of chilled tea. It was adorable how caring Dean was. ‘’Besides, your gift this morning was good enough.’’

The wink you offered, followed by Dean's double-meaning smirk caused Sammy to huff lightly and purse his lips. ‘’Leave the weird kinks for the bedroom, guys. And more silently. I can hear.’’

His elder brother rolled his eyes and claimed the seat next to you. ‘’And I thought he would get some after he got with Cass.’’

‘’I think he would like it,” you continued after taking a sip of your tea. ‘’Maybe you could bring him to a parade?’’

‘’And explain him that pride month happens because people were killed and tortured for loving someone?’’ Sam replied, a hint of harshness in his voice. It was obvious he didn’t want to snap, but it could be a delicate situation when the brunette male thought about it. Castiel clearly knew that love has no boundaries regarding to gender — his angel nature and the fact that he had various vessels through the ages made him indifferent when it came to sex — but he probably wasn't aware that it hadn't been always like this on earth. Part of Sam didn't want to explain too much. For once, he wanted to make himself believe that not knowing could be a blessing.

You laid your eyes on him, a frown on your face. Dean was silent like he usually would be during conversations like this. Rather, he was pouring coffee for him and Sammy.

Sighing, the taller man tried to reason with himself. "I'm sorry, it's just — "

‘’It's okay. I get it,” you said, refusing further explanation. You remembered how nervous Sam was to tell Dean and how broken he was after realizing that John would never know part of what made him who he was. He was paralyzed, even, spine chilled with horror as he’d considered how his father could react. ‘’The accumulation of history, this heteronormative society. it’s buried deep inside everyone. It makes coming out necessary and scary, and even sometimes it backfires as if we were doing something wrong. Some people even tell us it’s something wrong, but that doesn’t make all that we have achieved any less important or beautiful.”

Dean's hand found your high under the table. It’s a soft squeeze and not in the teasing manner that you’re used to. His own little way of supporting you, of saying I'm here if you want to talk or drink about it. I have your back. He has been always supportive when it came to your bisexuality and his brother's sexuality. You pecked his cheek.

‘’I know, it is just…’’ Sam shrugged, his hazel eyes getting puffy. ‘’What Cas and I have — It's innocent. It's good. I don't want him to doubt it or something because of what a bunch of ignorant people think. Does that make sense?’’

‘’Cass has had the hots for you for years, dude. He didn't run away from us when he had to go against Chuck, go to the purgatory or when you offered him rabbit food. He won't leave anymore.’’

Although he coated his tongue with a humorous truth, it broke Dean's heart to hear the fragility in his little brother's voice. For as much as Castiel was his best friend, he was ready to punch the grace out of that angel if he hurt Sammy.

‘’He is right, Sam. Castiel wouldn't doubt your relationship for that. It's Pride Month. History isn't known for being pretty, but victorious. And we won.’’

‘’Sometimes I just wish we didn't have to fight,’’ Sammy said quietly, shrugging while he grabbed the cup of coffee to bring to his lips.

You gave him a solidary glare, an empathetic smile adding in your expression. You held his huge hand in yours, rubbing your thumb into Sam's palm.

‘’I know.’’ What was left to say? It was unfair as most things in centuries. It was revolting. But above all, it was changing. Love was finally being seen in every way. Things were slowly getting better. ‘’But we keep fighting, right? And we get something good.’’ You pulled away, drinking more of your lemon tea. Sam nodded, sniffling a bit while he recomposed himself. ‘’You could keep it simple if you explain, like…’’ 

‘’Tell him it is a full-month of exclusively gay Valentine,’’ Dean suggested, smiling genuinely at his idea and wiggling his eyebrows.

Sam sighed and you scrunched your nose, but had to agree with your boyfriend. That would be a good way to describe it to Castiel. 

‘’You could bring him to a parade or give him one of those tiny rainbow flags, like Captain Holt’s. It's cute!’’

Dean grimaced. ‘’Don't be that chick flick, Sammy.’’

‘’How is that chick flick, Winchester?’’ You arched your eyebrow, almost challenging him to continue.

The long-haired brother just chuckled at you two, rising from the chair with his cup in hand. He needed to think about Castiel and the whole month's explanation deal.

‘’All right, I'll let you two argue alone.’’

Sammy could hear the words that grow more quietly as he stepped away from the kitchen.

‘’Are you sure you don't want to go to a parade or something?’’

It brings an amount of pride that he didn't think he would feel, just like the joy.

Sam Winchester wasn’t the kind of man to get nervous mincing words, especially near his family. That was why he almost felt ashamed when the faint tremble in his voice became noticeable enough for even him to detect when he spoke to his boyfriend.

‘’So, Cass, I wanted to talk to you about something.’’

The hunter wanted to scream stupid at himself for the tiny frown on Castiel's usual tranquil expression. When Sam said similar words to the angel, it was most likely to be a life or death situation, or a Dean becoming a demon situation, or a Chuck about to destroy the world situation.

And he certainly wasn't this anxious when he first brought it up to his brother and you.

‘’What is this about?’’

‘’Full-gay Valentine's Day, but it's a month.’’ Dean arched his eyebrows, pursed lips parting into a proud smile. You slapped his arm. Unbelievable. ‘’What? You agree!’’

You held his arm and dragged him out of the room. Sam needed privacy. As you and his brother walked away between whispers, he let out a breath that he didn't even notice the holding. 

For a split of second, Sammy almost followed you two to bring Dean and his stupid jokes back to the subject.

The hunter coughed, but his angel lover just remained standing there; calm blue eyes waiting for his next speech, head subtly titled to the side because of his curiosity.

‘’Uh, Pride Month.’’

For his surprise, Castiel answered with a nod, ‘’The month of love, I believe? It is very colorful to see.’’

‘’You know what it is?’’ Sammy frowned in confusion, approaching his boyfriend with a soft smile. It was a weird relief. He wouldn't dare to tell Cass how some humans saw their relationship. Not that they mattered, anyway. But it'd haunt him how his lover could react. After all, Castiel was still considerably new to the human world as a dweller.

‘’Yes, I do. A month to celebrate romantic relationships,” the blue-eyed man said. Once he saw the look on Sam’s face, he quickly added, ‘’I saw it on the television.’’

‘’Yeah, it's, huh, kinda like that. But not fully.’’ He gave him a tight smile. Sammy was close enough to hold his hand, and so he did. God, it was possible to feel his body relax just with that mere touch. If Samuel didn't know any better, he'd theorize that he could sense Castiel's grace. But no, it must've been love in its purest form. ‘’It's important for relationships too, but it is mostly about self pride. Like accepting and praising part of who you are.’’

Cass intertwined their fingers, enjoying the way Sam's soul shone brighter to his closeness. It was such a majestic view.

‘’I was thinking, maybe we could go to one of them. Or just have a date. It's kind of our special month on earth. Well, the backstory isn't that nice, but — ’’

‘’Many things in humanity aren't, Sam. You are not a harmonic kind. Like bees,’’ Castiel said, butting into his human's babbling as he noticed how agitated his aura became. As if he was scared for some reason. Sam gulped, the prior anxious feeling crawling back in a bigger form. ‘’Although, it is an honorable celebration for a great cause. I would like to enjoy this with you.”

Sammy's mouth was open in a perfect shape of an O. Features echoing his mixed feelings of intrigue and shock, he had to make sure of what he heard by asking: ‘’You would?’’ 

‘’Yes, Sa — Honey.’’ The graceful being was still learning the perks of being in a romantic relationship. Pet names were a new thing to him, but honey was his favorite. Mostly because of its association with his favorite insect. ‘’We could go for one of the group walks on the street? The sensation to be there seems — ’’

“Freeing?’’ He smiled, pulling Castiel closer to his taller figure with a free hand. Not a worry in earth, hell and heaven catching his mind now.

Castiel curved his lips into a smile. It was tiny, but it was there, just like the hold on his waist. Would every move of his angel make him experience this peaceful embrace? He believed so. Perhaps that was the happiness that he found in the chaos of his life. That his brother found. And it was good. God, it was amazing. Heaven in one angel, just for him. 

‘’Exactly, like pride.’’ Sam's words come only to be soon replaced by his lips pressing against Castiel's in a kiss.

He felt so proud to love him. No one could take it away.

And they wouldn't.

Masterlist

Dean's Sweetheart: @akshi8278

Liked my work? Leave some feedback. Wanna be tagged? Send me an ask or dm. Requests are open.

[enigmaticmaki]

A Stor Mo Chroi

In which our character will miss a certain Senpai as his graduation looms near. Reblogs are appreciated! Enjoy!

A/N: My OC's name is Fulnis, but feel free to imagine your character as well lol

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

"Would you play a song for me?"

Johann looks over at you in surprise, fingers pausing their motion on the cello's bridge, bow suspended as the music halted into a quiet.

"Wasn't I already?" He asks, golden eyes squinted in confusion.

You run your hands across the velvet plush seats, aligned in rows extending towards the back of the auditorium, with the abrupt urge to dig your nails into them.

You were here with Johann Chu to hear him practice his piece for the opening ceremony in honor of the incoming freshmen. A whole year has passed, and your senpai had one final year in Cassell College before officially being a dragonslayer. One final year before he is forced into the path fate deemed him suitable. It somehow made your gut wrench, and your lips quirk into an emotionless smile wondering if you'd miss him.

You probably will. Terribly.

Gods you still had a year, why were you so emotional? If anything, he'd probably go with a bang. Caesar would throw Johann's farewell party himself just to spite him, despite having already graduated this year.

The thought lightened your mood a bit.

You whirled around to meet his eyes, and answered "No, none of that classical shit you're playing. Besides, you seem more of a Brahms instead of a Bach."

Johann somehow took offense in this, though he had no idea what you meant. Seeing the appalled look on his face, you shrugged and came over to the stage where he sat by his lonesome; footsteps echoing through the haunting silence of the empty auditorium.

"You said you liked Irish folk songs, didn't you?" You asked, moving past him and settling yourself on the piano.

"I seem to recall having said so, yes," Johann replied, turning over to watch you run your fingers across black and white keys. The song was more suited to a harp but you supposed a piano would do.

"Are you familiar with A Stor Mo Chroi?"

Johann's eyebrows raise in surprise, before closing his eyes in contemplation.

"I think I remember the notes to it, yes."

"Play it with me."

You raise your fingers towards the keys, and begin playing the opening notes knowing Johann will follow along the melody on his cello.

Once you hear him start playing, you softly sing the words.

A stor mo chroi when you're far away

From the home you will soon be leaving

It's many's the time by night and by day

When your heart will be sorely grieving

For the stranger's land may be bright and fair

Rich in its treasures golden

But you'll pine I know for days long long ago

And the love that is never olden

A stor mo chroi in the stranger's land

There is plenty of wealth and wailing

Where gems adorn the great and the grand

Where the faces with hunger paling

To your surprise, you hear him join along for the second verse; voice carrying over well across the empty hall.

Damn, this wasn't fair, he was athletic, smart, musically inclined and he could sing??

His baritone blended with your alto, creating a harmony that carried the somber mood of the song well.

When the road it is tiresome and hard to tread

And the lights of their cities blind you

Oh turn a stor to Erin's shore

And the one that you leave behind you

A stor mo chroi when the evening mist

Over mountain and sea is falling

Oh turn a stor and then you list

And maybe you will hear me calling

For the sound of a voice you will surely miss

Somebody speedily returning

A run a run won't you come back soon

To the one that will always love you

You lift your hands from the piano as the last notes recede and the song ends, looking towards Johann. You slightly jump in your seat as you find he was already looking at you, golden eyes boring into you like they were fire.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me?"

You flinch, surprised by his instinct and taken aback at his rather straightforward question.

"None at all," you lie, averting your eyes to the empty seats as if an audience had magically appeared, "I just heard the song somewhere and thought it would be nice to share with you."

"Mmhhmm," Johann hums, slightly amused by your expression. "And I don't suppose this has to do with me graduating this year and leaving you behind?"

Damn it, when did he get so perceptive...?

You turn to him in a huff, deciding to just be honest and get it over with. You hated beating around the bush.

"And so what if I am? You're leaving in less than a year then it's probably off to the Japan Division where you get to slay dragons and attract Japanese women, not that I care."

Johann sets down his bow and cello, putting them away gently in their case and turns to you. You continue your rambling, unaware of a small smile forming on his face.

"I'm just mad they still wouldn't give me that extra credit class when you took like, three! I could be a year ahead by now as well but noooo, Professor Manstein had to be a prude and keep me in my own batch--"

"Hey."

"Not to mention I'll have no one to spar or train with. Luminous is there sure, but he'd rather rot in his room than go out training-"

"Hey, Fulnis."

"And this is definitely not because I'm sulking. What is there to sulk about anyway? The fact that you're going away without even addressing this thing we have between us? Was there even a thing? Ugh I don't even know why I'd call it a 'thing' when-"

"Fulnis!"

You gasp and promptly choke on air when you see Johann's face hovering not 5 inches away from yours, his hands firm on your shoulders in an attempt to gain your attention.

In your ramblings, your eyes have screwed shut in an attempt to block out the severe headache that was coming on, and partly because of embarassment, and thus, have failed to notice that Johann had stood up to shake you out of your stupor.

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you stare at his eyes. They really were ethereal, and you thanked Raja he didn't wear contacts today.

Fuck you fell hard, didn't you? You silently mused.

"Fulnis, are you alright?" Johann asks, bemusement lying under notes of concern.

"...A stor mo chroi." You whispered, after a moment's pause.

"I'm sorry?" He asks, not having heard you clearly.

"You. You're my stor mo chroi."

Golden eyes widen as Johann processes your words. You curse yourself silently for confessing in the manner that you did, and the heat on your cheeks has evolved into a full blown blush.

A few seconds of agonizing silence passes, and just when you were sure your heart felt heavy enough as it is, you felt a pair of hands softly take yours.

"I may be graduating, but that doesn't mean I'm leaving you behind," Johann says, pulling you up to stand in front of him. You feel his fingers dance on your knuckles, your hands impossibly tiny in his.

"The Johann Chu you got to know isn't someone who leaves the ones he loves behind. The Johann Chu you know is more than the A-grader, basketball player, and celloist. Your Johann Chu is the one who likes Pony and Friends, is scared to go on extreme rides, and listens to Irish Folk songs."

He takes ahold of your chin, guiding your head to look up at him; you were holding back unwelcome tears by schooling your expression into a blank one. But your body betrayed your facade, as your shoulders visibly shook.

"That Johann Chu is yours."

Yours. He said yours. Johann Chu was yours?

You stare at him speechless. There was a ringing in your ears growing louder with each passing second, and you feel Johann clasp your hands in worry as you failed to respond.

"Fulnis?"

The ringing stops and your hands escape his, only to find themselves framing his face and pulling him in for a kiss.

The silence in the auditorium had never been louder, but even that seemed muffled when you feel him reciprocate; his hands on your waist and kissing you back with such a gentleness that your heart ached.

And in the back of your mind, the Irish folk song echoed:

A run a run won't you come back soon, to the one that will always love you.

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

I did an angst fic, now have a kinda soft one!

A Stor Mo Chroi is a traditional Irish folk song about love and loss, and I got inspired to write this while listening to it.

The direct translation to the title is 'Darling of my Heart'.

Have a listen here!

[croakings]

idk i think, sometimes, about the broader scope of what it means to be human, and how for as long as we've existed we've been defining that, adding and subtracting value and values, importance, conditions, pros and cons.

like what i mean is. i think about feral children, sometimes, who grew up like nothing that we could ever know, and almost universally were brought into the world we've built ungently, with no experience in the things we've decided we are and the ways we've decided life is. i think about how manners and mannerisms often translate poorly across time and space and history, how we misunderstand each other and ourselves through actions and feelings and words and remnants despite our very best efforts, i think about how century after century we've passed down habits and stories and beliefs and cautions, i think about how like every ruin we've ever stumbled into we are shards of memory that have passed from hand to hand, year to year, until they've been worn into something nigh unrecognizable but that still has meaning, even if it's not the same as it once was.

people like to be like "how much can i change until the things people remember of me belong to a ghost" or "my body is haunted by days long gone" but, you know, i'm going a step further. we're not haunted. we're imaginary. the self is a daydream, a story, parceled with care through the ages.

i mean. everything that we are or know or have been has been built, you know. there is no universal truth of kindness or goodness or right or perfection or ideal, or any of the opposites thereof and beyond. i feel like people are really invested in like, tearing rightness or exactness out from somewhere in their bones, but there is no— we're making this up as we go along. we have been winging it since before we even could imagine what we are now.

like people like to argue morality and come up with categories and labels and place certain things in places of importance above all else like they are divine absolutes but, y’know, we did actually make up....... all of that. often separately, many times over, in different environments and contexts, and some of those things are still fair and some of them are outdated or obsolete and some of them were really meant to be more of a metaphor from the start but ultimately. these are just things we've crafted and run with. these are torches we've carried.

and. i mean of course we change, then, beyond recognition, even day to day. we aren't caterpillars going from Point A to Butterfly. we are the world's longest game of telephone/white elephant gift combo. honestly i think it's a testament to how stubborn and sentimental we are, how much an essential part of our nature is preserving as much as we can of everything that's ever touched us like a fossil record of importance, that in recorded history we have stayed something not only recognizable but reminiscent.

it seems a lot these days that we're just, clinging onto nightmares, on a structural level, and sure, but— i like to think of it as, that's a lot of notes they've left us to read, and repurpose, and recycle, and rewrite. it is backpedaling on backbreaking amounts of life that people very deliberately baked into the very land we walk on, it feels like, so. it's slow going. it's tedious and painful and in some ways it is actually just pulling teeth, cutting off hands, seeing that the things people long ago gave to build everything you are and know are, uh, Bad, in a word. that you and everyone and everything around you have been sculpted from things of harm, and that you're going to have to learn not to break or batter whatever you come into contact with, and that sometimes you just will anyway, and it's still your fault even if you didn't mean or want to.

which isn't an excuse for anyone or anything, obviously, it's just. yeah, our brains build themselves over the course of our lives, and they carry thousands of years of blueprints and revisions in different hands and of varying merit, and sometimes things go wrong. sometimes the things we are and have been given and taught and the ways we go forward from and with all of that are cruel and thoughtless and cause pain. sometimes this ends up being a widespread issue, because we love to share, and we love to help each each other, and we love things that last, and those end up being monstrous qualities every now and then by the luck of the draw.

i see lots of "people are inherently good" and "people are inherently bad/selfish/etc" and, well, eh? we made all of those words and accompanying concepts up, entirely. what's a person? what's good? what's inherent? etc? we try to honor and respect ourselves and our history and our space and our fellow creatures as best we can according to what we have been taught. results may vary. compatibility mileage depends on a coin toss. there are no refunds or returns and critical engagement with ideas imparted is not guaranteed. context not required. weight distributed arbitrarily. offer valid only while supplies last.

i had a point in there, somewhere. i don't know, we just discuss a lot our various manners and values and places of importance for those things, there's a lot of "oh my language puts that this way!", we like to compare notes on everything and that's fantastic, but also, sometimes people start searching for some universal truth or constant in there, and like. who am i to say this, really, but possibly it's an exercise in futility. if i may suggest that.

existing is complicated and self-serving and messy for all things at the best of times and we just, really take the cake, i have to say, with the layers of complexity and where the edges of "self" lay and the manner and definition of "serving" and the spectacular quality of "messy". unfortunately for all people we are often in the presence of other people, and lives, and sometimes we don't know enough to know or notice that.

i don't know. have you ever woken from a dream and had it cling like a cobweb into the waking world? leaving little traces on everything it brushes against, fragile but difficult to fully remove? i feel like that's all we are. just little careworn bundles of thousands of fragments of thoughts and lives no one's had any one claim to for a long time. the byproducts of dreams we have no way of knowing. a flicker of a character in the story the world is muttering to itself to pass the time. i feel like we try too hard to force that to mean more than it necessarily does. we've all just always been living. we are trying to keep the people before us alive in what small ways we can. we have been carried and we carry in turn and someone someday will be borne by the whole fractured wave of us and maybe we'll end up being part of the kaleidoscope shards they cling to.

like. again, y’know, we are not in fact born knowing..... anything, at all, which is an easy thing to forget or at least misunderstand the scope of. everything that we do know we've been taught. every standard we hold and every goalpost that we set was given to us, or plopped into our hands half-formed, or set loose nipping at our heels. there's not, like, "right" ways to do or be or think........ anything! which, i mean, no one clown there, you know what i mean. the way that we're living life now is just... the spin of the wheel and we landed here. how crazy is it the ways we work and live and get around and communicate? have you ever thought about anything we do or think or are from, i don't know, the perspective of an alien toddler? grocery stores are insane! we have pets? we made them? objectively bizarre! we have made up so many odd little things and just, accepted that this is how the world is, even though a lot of what is is manufactured by us if not a giant game of pretend altogether. we just do things! we have always just done things.

once again i had a point here somewhere. i lost many trains of thought getting to it but ultimately: i think we're..... gonna be fine. in the end. someday. i think we're living, and in some (dare i say: many) cases it becomes horrifying, but, well, we've been "may you live in interesting times"ed. we're still figuring it out and i think we will. i think we've cobbled together a lot and we've just. i mean we're gonna keep going. but we've also got to, like, us, the tired people, and i know we know this, but, idk, sometimes i think about how i'll survive myself, someday, a very long time from now. how we all will. like everyone does i just want us to last; i want the things i see and understand to be good and worth bringing forward to make it there, where i won't. and i think that all i've got to do is just my best, and what i can, to be earnest and live unapologetically, so that maybe i can give that little piece of myself to someone else.

i want to be a part of building something good, someday, and that's something to hold onto.

[punkscowardschampions]

Ali & Ro

Ali: One of your kids is here??? Ro: Oh no! Ro: I double checked everyone was aware of the cancellations and everything Ali: You know what people are like, probably received but didn't actually read/listen to the message, like Ali: I'll quickly get in before ma can be her charming self any harder Ro: Thank you Ali: [allow time for that] Ali: Done Ali: Why'd you have to cancel anyway? Ro: Sadly I have yet to master being able to be in two places at once, especially when one of those places is so ridiculously far away Ro: What's more surprising though is that you've remained at home for long enough shepherd my pupil in and out for me without assumedly cursing Tess Ali: Ugh, I feel that Ali: until we're blessed with time-turners, we'll all have to muddle through Ali: and I've been there enough myself to guess where you are, so I won't pout about any potential adventures you could've been on Ali: everyone is DOA and MIA today, plus if I let her shout at me for long enough she might not ground me forever 🤞 Ro: Indeed Ro: Well, I can't deny that would be very much appreciated as I've been subjected to plenty of pouting already as things stand Ro: You can let her know that I'll be making my grand return soon enough which will at the very least give her another target should she desire one Ali: You can probably ignore him, he's just feeling the ill-effects of a 3-day bender, like Ali: some hydration and vitamin c and he'll be over it Ali: can't say the same of mother but my sins definitely outweigh yours Ali: though the offer is appreciated 💚 Ro: He's very much fine in that regard I'd been assured prior to my arrival and of course did my part to truly make it so by making him a late lunch or early dinner once I got there Ro: Regrettably, that offer was taken very much not in the manner it was intended Ro: The tally of my sins therefore apparently exceed the number of yours, in Drew's eyes at any rate Ali: Sounds like Drew Ali: you spoil him Ali: Caleb's mum made him work today, as he was too sick for school Ro: All I've spoilt is his afternoon seemingly Ro: Yet again, I'm a waste of time Ali: Hey Ali: don't take on his bad mood just 'cos he's mad he didn't get what he wanted Ali: you know it's bullshit Ro: None of his grievances are unfounded Ro: I shouldn't break promises Ro: Even if I did make them for less than ideal reasons Ali: No, but you know Ali: you have those reasons regardless Ro: And he has his own reasons to be upset Ali: Which you're clearly giving a fuck about Ali: so he owes you the same in return, yeah Ro: Of course, but his anger is fuelled by how much he does care, obviously Ro: It's because he likes me so much that he wants to take things further than they are Ali: Partly Ali: but I don't think anyone can say that that's all it is Ali: not to discredit how he feels in any way Ali: if anything, it takes into consideration all aspects Ro: He is the only one who can address that with any degree of clarity but its a conversation we're unlikely to have for a while Ali: I'm sure it won't be anything like that long Ro: That almost sounds as if you are in fact discrediting how he feels but I have no desire to get into a disagreement with you about the one I just had with him Ali: No, I'm saying he's nothing if not persistent Ali: trust me, he'll get over it if he has any sense Ro: It's less about the sense he possesses and more about the degree to which my own has abandoned me Ali: Do you regret the fact you didn't or regret the fact you were considering it? Ro: Both regrets somehow exist side by side and I have no idea how that can be Ro: Or which of the many internal voices vocalising my many mistakes I should begin to listen to Ali: Sounds about right Ali: are you in love with him? Ro: Yes Ali: Yeah Ali: it's Ali: the worst kind of headfuck Ali: amongst many other things Ro: What would you do in my place? Ali: About what Ali: specifically Ro: My next move Ro: He says I won't lose him but I know it's more likely than not Ro: Especially now that Carly has her own caravan to host in Ali: You shouldn't do it if that's the only reason why Ali: doing it because you're fearful of any outcome is just a bad idea Ali: it should always be primarily that you want to Ro: I do want to but I also don't want to Ro: It's complicated Ali: It is Ali: it might stop being complicated Ali: or you might do it before it does Ali: either of those is fine and valid Ro: What if it doesn't and I can't? Ali: You will Ali: if you want to, then you will Ali: I said it was the most important factor but definitely not the only, not even close Ali: it's complex but you know, like most things, stressing upon it will never make it less so Ro: I suppose Ali: It's like all this stuff isn't it Ali: thinking you'll never get your period and then it just happens Ali: we've all got our own pace for all of it Ro: And my pace is several steps behind always Ro: Maybe next time I should just go to the party Ali: Well his is coming up so Ali: you will be at that one Ro: Oh my god, don't remind me I haven't even begun brainstorming gifts yet Ali: 😂 Ali: you do have time Ali: but it might distract you from this worry so have at it Ro: You're so fortunate that Caleb's is ages away Ali: I know Ali: so much of me cannot hack that, I'd actually die Ro: After emerging from Carly's mostly unscathed, you could be forgiven for believing yourself immortal, I'm sure Ali: It was pretty hectic Ali: not sure if I'd say life-threateningly so but keep that between us Ali: could tell ma though Ali: keep her from hysteria Ro: I'll use that as my conversational opener when I come in if you'd like Ali: Subtle, cheers Ali: tell her there were no recreational drugs or pre-maritial relations too, whilst you're at it Ro: Carly would appreciate the lack of, I'm certain Ro: More so than Tess would my attempts at such a clearly crafted lie Ali: Can't win with her, like Ali: don't lead with that though Ali: even if that's a truth Ro: It's the kind of day I'm having Ro: I'll simply wish on everything possible that the losses extend to calories as well Ali: Don't waste the magic Ali: I know you skipped lunch Ro: You know because I told you I was busy running around after Drew Ali: Exactly Ro: Nonetheless, I've spent more time on this bus than anything else Ro: It's a pity I can't transfigure my bike here Ali: it seems like a good idea until it starts chucking it down halfway Ro: True, I'd be unlikely to garner any sympathy or permission for more time off from Tess even if I caught my death Ali: Seriously Ali: if she has to see any of us tomorrow at all, she might actually lose it completely Ali: what with Bea and Fraze being their delightful selves all weekend too Ali: the only ones not on the shit list rn are Tommy and Joe and that's only through absence Ro: Precisely Ro: Much like how the idea of finding birthday gifts for Drew is favorable after the nightmarish pursuit we all have to endure in order to provide something that Bea will undoubtedly dislike and return where possible Ali: 😂 s'why I kick it homemade Ali: good luck finding any takers for my sentimental tat, babe Ali: bless Ro: Alas the memory of my childish homemade cards finding their way to the recycling bin earlier than I feel necessary haunts me still Ro: Did Carly like what you made for her though? Ali: 😞 Ali: Yes, thankfully she's far more receptive and forthcoming with her thanks Ali: and the caravan looks amazing Ali: looked, I HOPE everyone kept out Ro: It would be difficult for her not to be, Bea, of course, is without competition in that regard Ro: I was impressed by the pictures despite being well aware of your artistic eye and resourcefulness in gathering materials Ro: Perhaps you should take and utilise all the magic yourself immediately Ro: Protection spells have been employed and succeeded for less Ali: True Ali: and a good idea to boot Ali: I better do it remotely Ali: aside from me leaving the house for anything but school and work rn being a deathwish, I'm not sure of the state I'd find the residents in, like Ro: Hm, yes arguably that is an even better idea Ali: Obviously, I do not plan to be her prisoner for long Ali: but for a great escape, I need even greater plans on the outside Ro: It would be my pleasure to extend such an offer, dear sister, but my own flight of fancy earlier did little else but backfire so it's best I stay under lock and key until I feel suitably chastised Ro: Either by Tess or myself Ali: Self-flagellation is next to godliness, of course Ali: I'll think of something Ro: I have no doubt that you will Ro: But whilst the subject of faltering has been raised, can I ask you something? Ali: of course Ali: scientia potentia est Ro: I was just wondering if you spent much time with Drew this weekend, that's all Ali: Not a huge amount Ali: but I saw him about, doing his thing Ali: if I saw anything like that I would've kicked his arse and told you Ali: in that exact order Ro: Okay Ro: Well, thank you Ali: Of course Ali: sisterhood before everything Ali: especially boys Ro: My favorite religion and the one to which I've been devoted to for the longest and most faithfully Ali: 💚 Ali: What's your ETA? Ro: 13 and a half minutes Ali: Ooh precise Ali: that'll please the jailer Ali: tell her 15 and you'll be back in the good books when you're arse is up the table without her even having to shout up the stairs Ali: 👍 Ro: I already told her 21 minutes so I have enough time to fix my face somewhere that isn't a very full bus Ro: She doesn't need to know that I've been crying Ali: 😕 Ali: Cold water fixes all Ali: we can talk about it properly after Ali: feels like forever Ro: It's not too late to pray for a summer storm Ro: Though it seems everyone misses me until they get the opportunity to spend time with me, so I might be wise to adjust my prayers accordingly actually Ali: Not everyone Ali: just him Ali: and just because he's mad Ali: we'll tea and talk, promise Ro: As long as you share too Ali: I gotcha Ali: you wanna hear all the fantastical and sordid exploits Ro: Fantastical yes, sordid not so much Ali: 😂 Ali: I'll do my best to spin the yarn into something comfortable and befitting Ali: don't worry Ro: Being guaranteed one less thing to overthink about will forever be appreciated Ali: That's my job Ali: one of Ali: labour of love, really Ro: tá mé i ngrá leat freisin Ali: 💚💚💚 Ali: right, I got a table to set Ali: not gonna know what's hit her Ali: Rock even agreed not to throw any spaghetti up the wall Ali: providing I buy him sweets for a week Ro: I'm in awe of your power whether or not she will be Ali: whether a six-year-old can stick to a deal is another thing Ali: did threaten him with a broken pinkie so 🤞 Ro: I'll likewise threaten him with the type of hex befitting a 6 year old promise breaker if needs be Ali: 💀🐸🐀🕯🥀💀 Ro: Our minds have always worked in similar ways, that's a truth which deserves to be universally acknowledged Ro: But for now, go Ro: There will be plenty of time for talking later