#anyway listening to time to pretend and murder on the dance floor on repeat

[thiagodasilva]

all kinds of reactions are welcome here

[themangledsans0508]

Grasping at Control

Allie can suck my wee if she’s reading this you bitch.

TW: Self-Harm

Tweek Tweak considered himself the most fucked-up person in the entirety of South Park, which was quite an achievement considering he went to school with actual sociopaths, murderers, and drug dealers.

Yet here he was, a cocktail of addiction, anxiety, ADHD, and depression. He felt pretty alone, despite all the years he had to make friends and come to terms with himself. One of two kids out as gay, and very few adults in their town understanding, much less out themselves; he had no one to talk to. 

Just thinking about it made him want to curl up into a ball and suffocate.

And he tried.

He wrapped himself up in blankets and cried.

He cried for what felt like ages before he got sick of feeling miserable from the stale air that had just enough oxygen in it to keep him alive. 

He crawled out and sat, shaking violently. Why did he want this to happen? Why didn’t he want to be alive?

Mr Mackey had lectured them many, many times on what to do if you or someone you knew felt like they wanted to kill themselves, and Tweek wouldn’t hesitate to act if someone else felt the same way he did.

So why didn’t he care about himself?

He thought back to fourth grade when Kim Jong Un marked him as a possible target if war were to break out and Craig brought him to an amusement park.

“Well, I’m sorry that I’m actually in control of my goddamn emotions, you baby!”

That exchange had only been a minute long, but Tweek had never forgotten it. Craig was right, he wasn’t in control of his emotions. For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t even in control of his movements.

He wasn’t in control of anything. He snapped back to the present from the pain of his hair being torn out by himself, and he tried to stop himself.

His movements were involuntary, even when putting his force against them he couldn’t stop himself.

He screamed in frustration. He didn’t care if anyone heard him, because he knew from experience that nobody would do anything even if he was being murdered. His own parents didn’t care for him. The only reason his dad kept him was because having a kid helped his coffee shop.  As he got older, his dad also got free labour out of him as the form of “chores.”

His hands flew from his hair to his arms, tearing up his skin to the point he bled. He looked down to see the mess and rushed to the bathroom to prevent his room from turning into a crime scene.

He stared at himself in the mirror. Small patches of hair missing from his scalp, large bags under his eyes that served to highlight the tears running down his face. There were scratches down his cheeks from his nails dragging down his face and when he raised his hand to feel them, his arms showed a nightmare of red lines intersecting so much that they looked like a terrible map. 

He reached for the bandages under the counter and felt a flash of pain from a tear dropping onto an open wound on his arm. He bit back a yelp of pain and a horrible idea came to him. He reached for a razor in the cabinet.

Maybe there was something he could control.

~

Craig Tucker liked to call himself a “good boyfriend.”

Sure, he wasn’t perfect, nobody was. He still had spats with his lover just as everyone else did. However, as they aged and matured, those spats stopped being physical very quickly as they aged and by eleven they were purely verbal. 

They didn’t have them frequently either, and they didn’t last very long. 

So, as a good boyfriend would be, he was concerned when Tweek didn’t come to school. He tried texting him, then calling him to no avail. He didn’t like that, Tweek would usually tell him if he was sick, or pick up the phone when Craig called. 

“Craig, dude,” Token said, “maybe he’s asleep or something.” 

“He doesn’t sleep Token. He breathes coffee,” Craig sighed.

“Okay, maybe he left his phone somewhere,” Clyde offered. Craig nodded.

“Probably.” Craig could hear the static noise of his friends talking about girls, football, or other things he would usually be amused by.

Concerned was not something that people would normally think Craig Tucker was capable of being. Once upon a time, they were probably right. Tweek taught him how to comprehend emotions instead of pretending they didn’t exist, even if he still preferred not to express them.

Tweek brought out the best in him. Craig helped him find his center. They balanced each other out pretty well. 

Craig would be lying, however, if he said he didn’t keep secrets from Tweek. His secrets weren’t anything terrible like he murdered someone or he was cheating on Tweek, but that he had anxiety himself.

He never told Tweek because he decided early on he could deal with it himself. He was constantly worried that something would happen to Tweek or any of his other friends. With the town that they lived in and the fact that he had actually been kidnapped and dragged to Peru once, he felt those fears were justified.  

While he would never claim his anxiety was as bad or even worse than Tweek’s, it had given him his fair share of sleepless nights and long days.

Situations like this had happened a few times before and never failed to set off his anxiety.

Perhaps his friends were onto his lies, or maybe they could simply tell that this was bothering him more than he would let on, but they gave him some space.

He appreciated that.

~

Tweek sat on his bed, staring at his arm. His room was littered with lego bricks, empty coffee cups, and bandage wrappers.

While he was in general rather prone to accidentally hurting himself,  the sheer amount of fresh wounds dancing down his arms exposed what actually occurred.

He couldn’t risk anyone finding out about it, especially Craig. 

He loved Craig too much for him to have the burden of this on his shoulders. He couldn’t imagine what he would say when he found out.

If he found out.

Tweek had no intention of telling him, and he wouldn’t let him see either. 

But he couldn’t skip school forever. 

He sighed in frustration. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Anger, sadness, frustration, regret, or maybe a mix of it all.

He felt lost

~

Craig inserted his copy of Tweek’s house key into the lock.

They both had a key to each other’s house, and they had for a long time. Since they began dating to be exact. They respected each other’s privacy though, and if Tweek told him to leave, he would. 

He opened the door and poked his head in. The house was dark, which didn’t really surprise him since both the matriarch and the patriarch of the family were working in the coffee shop.

“Tweek? Are you in here?” he called

The house was still, yet Craig went in anyways. He shut the door behind him and flicked on the light. There was no one downstairs, so he swiftly moved to the second floor and approached Tweek’s room. He knocked on the door gently.

“Tweek?” Craig listened for a response. He heard nothing but quiet breathing on the other side. “Tweek, is it alright if I come in?”

The boy on the other side remained silent.

“Tweek?” 

“Go away, Craig.” His voice was sad and quiet, and the promise Craig had made got lost in the wind.

“What’s wrong Tweek?” Craig couldn’t stop the worry from flowing out in his voice, even though he tried.

“I’m sick Craig. Just go away. I don’t want to see you right now.” Tweek’s voice shook as he spoke, along with small jitters and whimpers. Craig could sense something was wrong and turned the doorknob.

He gently pushed against the door and to his surprise, it didn’t open. There was a weight against the door. It wasn’t heavy, well he wasn’t heavy. Craig knew exactly who was against the door. Tweek was never heavy, not even when they were little. He had gotten scrawnier and scrawnier as they aged since sometimes his anxiety made him just not be hungry, or even scared to eat. He would also forget, or be full from drinking so much coffee even though he drank far less than he used to. 

Craig stopped pushing and heard the door quickly snap back into its place with a click. He wasn’t going to force the door open and possibly hurt Tweek, he wouldn’t risk that.

“Craig, please. Just-” he heard his voice break, “Please.” His voice broke, along with Craig’s last straw. 

He silently went back down the stairs and out the house, turning to look up at Tweek’s window. The shades were drawn and the room behind them was dark. 

Craig turned to look at the twin pines that grew next to the house. They had been there for longer than either boy had been alive, and had grown past the height of the window.

He walked over to the lush green plant and grabbed a hold of it’s lower branches, hoisting himself up. He repeated the movement multiple times until he was at the tip of the tree. The entire tip shuddered with his every breath and threatened to snap with his every movement. 

The tree leaned over slightly, allowing Craig to reach over and tap the window. It flew open and Tweek pulled open that shade.

“Craig! What the hell are you doing?”

“Hanging out. Can I come in?”

Tweek cursed under his breath and reached his hands out. Craig accepted them and jumped into the window, cutting his legs on the branches of the tree. He tumbled through the window, landing on top of Tweek with an “oof.” He felt the stinging in his leg and light wetness and realised trying to climb into a window from a pine tree was a terrible idea.

“Tweek-”

“Craig, what the fuck?” Tweek panted. “Why did you fucking do that?”

Craig looked at the blonde boy underneath him. He was skin and bones, the bags under his eyes were huge. His face was tear-stained and scratched. 

“Tweek, I know something’s wrong.” Craig pushed himself off Tweek and offered to help him up. Tweek simply stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

“You’re an idiot, Craig. Why don’t you ever just listen to me?”

Tweek let out a quiet sob and looked up at Craig. 

“Craig, I’m a mess. What the hell do you want from me?” Craig lowered himself down to the floor and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Tweek, I want to know what’s wrong. We have to work together through these things, remember? Beat them together, expectations, resentment, all of it.” Tweek pushed Craig’s hand off him and jumped up.

“You want to know what’s wrong? What’s wrong is the fact that no matter what I do, I have no control over my life! Something that only I should control! Me and me alone! Everyone else controls it! I never became a knight or a queen, I’m still just a pawn in someone else’s fucking game! And guess what, pawns are expendable! I’m expendable. I’m not needed. That’s what’s wrong! I’m only a fucking tool for the entire world to use.” 

Tweek waved his hands, exasperated. His voice shuddered with every word he said, tears ran down his cheeks. He twitched and whimpered every few seconds. His hands tore across his body, flying from his arms to his shirt to his hair.

Craig stepped forward and embraced him. He pulled him tight against his body and felt him tense up and wince slightly. Tweek pushed against him slightly in a poor attempt to break free of his grip, before he simply caved in and buried his face into Craig’s shoulder. 

“I-I’m just replaceable Craig. My parents didn’t have to sell me into slavery because I’m already a slave to them. They control me, Craig.” 

“What can we do about that, Tweek? There has to be something.” Craig tangled one of his hands in Tweek’s hair and had the other one rub circles into his back. His voice was not sarcastic or mocking, but gentle and genuine.

“I don’t know Craig. I’ve tried so many things, so many things. Nothing works, Craig. Nothing.”

“Let’s try something else then. Something together. You don’t have to do this alone, Tweek.” Craig lowered them down to the floor, sitting with his legs crossed and Tweek in his lap. “We can run away together. Get our own house.”

“We can’t do that. Your sister needs you. She’s only thirteen.” 

“Fine. I’ll take you home with me then. You can live in my room.” Tweek shook his head.

“No, no. All these things put stress on you too. I want to deal with it myself,” he scolded. Craig sighed.

“I won’t let you do that. The whole point of a relationship is to deal with things together. If I can’t help you directly, then I want to be able to at least support you.”

“Where were you when I needed you? Why aren’t you ever here when I need you?” Tweek pushed himself out of Craig’s grip and stood up. “Why the fuck does everything go the shit when I’m not with you?” He shouted.

“What do you mean Tweek?” Craig slowly stood up and put his hands into his pockets.

“I mean why am I even more of a fucking mess without you?” Tweek’s hands flew up to his hair, causing his sleeves to slip down. 

Craig didn’t miss the small movement, he had become very perceptive since they had started dating. He noticed the red lines and scabs weaving down his arms. He reached his hand over to intertwine their fingers and grab his attention.

“Tweek, what happened to your arms?”

“Huh?” Tweek looked down to the subject of Craig’s curiosity. When he realised what it was he attempted to pull himself out of Craig’s grip. “It’s nothing! I just fell!” 

Craig’s grip strengthened just enough to keep a hold on Tweek but not enough to hurt him.

“Tweek, those weren’t from a fall.” Craig locked his own green eyes with Tweek’s blue ones. “Tell me the truth, Tweek. What are they from.” 

“What the fuck do you think they are from? You aren’t dumb,” he snapped. Craig lurched forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Tweek. He pressed his full weight into him. For the first time in perhaps ever, he had no control over himself.

They toppled backwards onto Tweek’s bed. Craig manoeuvred them so they weren’t at risk of falling off the bed and rested his head so his ear was directly above Tweek’s heart.

“Dude, what the hell?”

“What were you thinking?” Craig’s voice was different. It wasn’t monotone or bland, it was raw and emotional and occasionally breaking. “Why would you do that?”

“I was in control. I knew what I was doing. Nobody was in charge of me.”

“Yeah, well, you could have fucking died! Those could have gotten infected. They could have gone too deep and cut a vein! Is a brief relief really worth that risk?” Craig let out a quiet sob and gripped Tweek’s shirt.

Everything hit Tweek suddenly. He wiggled out from under Craig to lay beside him instead. He placed his hands on his cheeks and pressed their foreheads together.

“Hey, hey, I know it was stupid, okay? I’m not going to do it again.” Tweek whispered.

“You better not,” Craig muttered.

“And if I’m feeling like shit,” Tweek continued, “I’ll call you or text you to come over.”

“Or you can come over to my place,” Craig countered.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Craig rolled Tweek over and pulled him against his body. He moved his arms from his shirt to his waist and pulled him down so he could rest his chin on his head.

“Well, I’m tired,” he yawned. “Text my mom and tell her I’m staying here tonight.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Tweek asked.

“Well, because I’m about to take a nap.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yep.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Tweek said, “I have stuff I need to do.”

“Not anymore you don’t” Craig grumbled. “All you need to do is stay right here. I’m not moving until it’s time for school.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Well, we’ll have a terrible marriage then.”

There's gonna be a part two the angst isn't over my dears

[writingbymel]

Syndicate - Part 4

Author’s Note: Part 4 is here! Also, I’m working on other imagines/writings at the moment so stay tuned. 

Date Posted: 11/06/2019

Summary: After discovering the identity of the new vampire hunter in town, Y/N and the gang have an idea to investigate the situation. Things don’t go to plan when the hunter is a lot more prepared than they all thought. 

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Word Count: 2,000+

Parts: SYNDICATE MASTERLIST

“You thought you saw me die Y/N,” Sami says. “Cause that’s what I wanted you to remember.”

“What do you mean what you wanted me to remember?” I ask her angrily.

“I compelled you to forget,” Sami responds handing me a cup of blood. “You were human at the time and I was able to compel you to forget.” I push the cup away from me.

“How come I didn’t remember when I turned?” I ask.

“I had the help of a witch,” Sami tells me sitting down across from me. “She made sure you wouldn’t find out.”

“Now why would she help you?” I ask.

“She didn’t want me to kill her family of vampires,” Sami tells me fidgeting with her hands.

“Sami how can you be killing your own kind,” I plead.

“We’re monsters Y/N,” Sami says. “We shouldn’t be allowed to roam free like this it will only hurt more people. Just think about all the innocent humans who have been hurt since the original vampires. Thousands probably millions.”

“Vampires were once innocent humans too,” I continue.

“Emphasis on once Y/N,” Sami states. “You once hated them too, Y/N. I can’t believe you’re one of them now. All high and mighty by Klaus’s side of all people. Remember when you tried to kill him?”

“You know I had no choice,” I tell her.

“Or did you?” she replies with a smirk.

“You didn’t, did you—?” I start.

“Compel you to stab an original vampire? Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,” she laughs. “It was for your own good Y/N he’s a terrible person. He was changing you.”

I speed over to Sami pushing her against the wall, “You had no right.”

“I wouldn’t do that Y/N,” Sami says pushing me off her onto the ground. “Don’t you remember I’m older than you?” In a swift movement, Sami pins me on the ground and ties my hands together.

“God Sami I thought we were friends,” I struggle against her grip.

“We were before you got involved with them,” Sami responds. “Now you’re going to make great bait.” Sami shoves me onto the couch. “Stay there and don’t move.” She reaches for my phone in my back pocket and disappears out of the front door.

“Are you kidding me,” I whisper to myself attempting to wriggle out of the ropes around my wrists. They were way too tight. I sigh sitting back down on the couch hoping someone come helps me soon.

Klaus’s POV

“Don’t you guys think Y/N has been in there for a while?” I ask worriedly attempting to listen inside the building. All of us stood outside of the inn waiting for Y/N to leave.

“We all know Y/N can handle herself,” Damon says staring at the door to the inn. A girl with long blonde hair walks out of the front door. “That’s her that’s the hunter.” We all immediately crouch down behind some shrubs.

“Do you think she saw us?” Elena asks.

“Doubt it,” Caroline replies.

“I think all of us coming looks highly suspicious,” Damon says.

“Well no one wanted to stay behind,” I point out. “It looks like she’s headed towards the Grill.”

“Me, Bonnie, and Elena will head over to the Grill to check it out,” Stefan states. “Klaus, Damon, Caroline, and Leo stay here.”

“But I want to go confront the hunter too,” Caroline whines.

“No one is confronting anyone,” Stefan replies. “We’re only going to be looking at her from afar.” Stefan, Bonnie, and Elena head off into the direction that the hunter went.

“That’s it I’m going inside,” I state angrily. I march off to the front door before anyone could stop me. I hear Leo and Damon follow me from behind. I quickly compel the front desk lady to let us in. We come face to face with a locked door.

“I got it,” Leo says. He uses his strength to pry open the door in a swift movement. Damon and I raise our eyebrows at him slightly impressed. “Hey just because I’m glamorous doesn’t mean I can’t be a kick ass vampire too.” As we rush inside we see Y/N tied up on the couch in the living room. I rush over to her.

“Who did this?” I ask tearing the ropes from her wrists gently.

“Sami,” Y/N responds feeling her wrists. “Thanks guys,” She pulls us all in for a hug. I feel my heart beat in my chest. I was hoping no one could hear, but the look Leo gave me after we all pulled away told me otherwise. “but let’s get the hell out of here. I feel like I can smell vervain in the air.”

Y/N’s POV

“Nah uh Y/N, we are not leaving before we investigate this room,” Damon says rifling through a bunch of papers on the coffee table. “Leo go be our lookout.”

“Aye aye captain,” Leo says. I roll my eyes at him laughing slightly as he makes his way to the door.

Klaus moves to the small kitchen area looking through the drawers. I walk over to him to help him look. “Wow Sami sure has the collection,” Klaus says. My eyes follow his to the drawers filled with wooden stakes.

“It’s like the girl is planning to kill the entire vampire population,” I say sadly.

“How are you holding up?” Klaus asks pushing some of my hair behind my ear. “I know how close you and Sami were.”

“I found out she was the one that compelled me to stake you that night all those years ago,” I say avoiding eye contact with Klaus. I open one of the kitchen cabinets to reveal a whole bunch of vervain plants.

“I knew you were compelled Y/N,” Klaus states. “I knew that never in an eternity you would ever try to harm me. Look at me Y/N.” I sigh turning around to look at him.

“I don’t know why I ran Klaus,” I say tears welling up in my eyes. “I was just so scared to face you and your siblings after what I had done. I was just this silly human that you guys took in and turned. And for me to betray you like that. I just couldn’t face you.”  

“Yet here you are,” Klaus says. I let out a huge sigh.

“Look Klaus, I—” I start. Damon walks into the kitchen holding a journal.

“Woah am I interrupting something?” he asks.

“Actually—” Klaus starts. I quickly interrupt him.

“No nothing at all,” I say my voice an octave higher from embarrassment. “Whatcha got there Salvatore?” He opens the journal to show me the contents inside. Klaus walks over to get a better look as well.

“Miss Sami here has a list of all the vampires in Mystic Falls,” Damon says.

“Where did she even get this information?” I ask angrily.

“Beats me,” Damon chuckles. “But oh dear Y/N and Klaus it gets better.” Damon flips to another page in the journal. “She has names of vampires in over 30 cities.”

“What the actual hell,” I say.

“Lucky for us though she has a number scrawled on the inside of the cover,” Damon shows us the number and a name underneath it that read “Katerina.”

“No it can’t be,” I say. “They never knew each other.”

“Well there’s only one way to find out,” Damon replies. “But let’s get out of here.” Damon takes a few photos of the pages in the journal and sets it back on the shelf he found it. We all make our way back to the Salvatore house where we met up with the rest of the gang to give them the bad news.

—

“Alright so it’s quite simple really Y/N,” Katherine smiles widely. “I’m going to flip a coin and decide who I want to go the dance with more.” Once again Katherine was toying with the feelings of two guys like she always did.

“Doesn’t it bore you pretending to be a high schooler every century?” I ask filing my nails. I look at myself in the mirror, another host body I didn’t recognize, but would make do for the time being.

“Doesn’t it bore you switching appearances all the time?” Katherine fires back. “Don’t you miss being able to just be yourself?”

I throw my pillow at her, “Shut up, Pierce.” She throws it back at me with more force, but using my vampire speed I quickly move out of the way.

“Someone has adapted to vampirism well,” Katherine smirks.

“Well it has been about half a year now,” I say.

“I wish I could’ve met what real Y/N was like,” Katherine says. “She seemed fun.”

“Katherine I’m no different than ‘real me,’” I tell her. “I just look different.”

“I don’t get why you’re running from Klaus,” Katherine mentions. “You and I both know the guy is head over heels for you. I highly doubt he even cares that you tried to kill him. If you just explain to him that you were forced to all would be well in KlausY/N world.” She throws her top off switching into a bright red evening gown. “Now are you sure you don’t want to come tonight?”

“I’m 100% sure,” I state. “I’m not in the mood to party. You know I’m still getting over the trauma of attempting to murder my ex-boyfriend.”

“Come on Y/N,” she pleads. “For me? I need someone to keep me from going crazy tonight.”

“Fine, but just because I know how crazy you get at these things,” I reply. She squeals in excitement and forces me into a light blue dress. As we made our way into the gigantic mansion, I am attacked by the loud noise of music and chatter. Katherine scans the room for her date only to be interrupted by Damon Salvatore.

“Fancy seeing you here Katherine,” Damon says smugly. His eyes travel to mine. “And you are?”

“This is —” Katherine starts.

“Penny,” I say coming up with a fake name quickly.

“Right…” Katherine trails off. “Penny…Anyways Damon I would love to chit chat but I have two hot dates waiting for me.”

“Some things never change,” Damon mumbles. “Care for a dance Y/N?” His sentence catches me off guard. How did he know?

“My name is Penny,” I repeat. He laughs at me extending his hand to me.

“Y/N you are a really bad actress,” Damon says. “Plus you never take off that bracelet not very clever if you ask me.” I take his hand to the middle of the dance floor.

“I guess I should be more careful with that,” I sigh in defeat letting Damon lead because I couldn’t dance for my life.

“Hey just so you know,” he leans in to whisper in my ear. “Klaus is here tonight.”

I quickly pull away from Damon. “I have to leave.” I rush to the front door only to collide with someone in the midst of the large crowd. “I am terribly sorry…” I look up to see Klaus staring down at me.

“Sorry love,” Klaus states grabbing my hand. I quickly hide my left hand adorned with the bracelet behind my back.

“It’s quite alright,” I reply. “But I really must get going.” I run off before he has a chance to stop me.

—

  “Katherine?!” Elena shrieks. “Didn’t she run off into hiding?”

“That doesn’t mean she can’t have a telephone number Elena,” Klaus says laughing slightly.

“Big bad hybrid has a point Elena,” Damon declares.

“So let’s try calling the number already,” Caroline states.

“Is that a safe idea?” Stefan asks. “The hunter is still on the loose. Shouldn’t we take care of her first?”

“Hello who is this?” Damon asks holding his phone up to his ear. Stefan groans at his brother’s impulsivity. “Oh Katherine it’s me Damon. Okay yeah yeah. We want to know how you know our dear hunter friend Sami.” Damon hangs up the phone. “Katherine is coming back to Mystic Falls.”  

[slasherscream]

A/N: i love soulmate shit. it's my bread and fucking butter my dudes. so here's a soulmate au where you see your soulmate for the first time in mirrors. take a fucking sip, babes!

     billy loomis x reader x stu macher             ft. mirror soulmate au 

                                                     ——————– 

You’d always dreamed about the day you’d first lay eyes on your soulmate. What would they look like? Act like? Would you see and meet each other young? Have a whole lifetime of love ahead of you? Would you meet when you’re old? Have a lifetime of experience behind you but still have hearts open enough for love?

You tried not to obsess over the concept. Plenty of people didn’t have soulmates. You might be one of them. It would be fine if you turned out to be one of them. People without soulmates don’t all die alone or live a life doomed to ongoing misery. You tell yourself these things a lot.

You also tell yourself your young. Very young. It’s a rare few that ever meet their soulmate so young. Still, you feel like there’s always an itch under your skin. Like any moment now something incredible will happen. The incredible something. That special moment where you’ll just be standing in front of a mirror, or a shop window, or any number of things! And the surface of that item would warp and gone would be your own reflection, in its place would stand the reflection of your soulmate. Your true love. Somewhere out in the world, perfect and beautiful, just waiting for you. Or        realistically speaking maybe not waiting per-say but, you can always dream. At least in the privacy of your own head.

This is one of those rare moments you aren’t thinking about your soulmate at all. Not even subconsciously. You’re brushing your teeth and dancing around your bathroom to the radio. Having a good time all by yourself. Then it happens. The moment you’ve been waiting for since you understood what soulmates really were.

The mirror you’re dancing in front of shifts and changes. You don’t notice it at first, too busy rocking out. You do notice when you whip around to point a finger at yourself in the mirror only to not see … yourself. Instead you see two boys.

Two boys wearing identical, loose black costumes. Two boys who are soaked in blood. Absolutely covered in it. The bathroom around them covered in it as well. It paints a gruesome scene. In the tall one’s hands you see something white and your heart stops. A mask. Their faces are exposed but in that taller one’s hands is a mask. A Mask you know intimately well for someone who lives in Woodsboro, CA.

Your brain is starting to work again. Your soulmate. One of these boys is your soulmate. Then your brain throws out another thought, you know these boys. They go to your fucking school. They go to your school. The ghostface masks. All that red. Blood. It’s blood. Masks. The names, you remember them now, Stu and Billy. Billy and Stu, a dynamic duo rarely seen apart. How fitting, you guess, that they’re quite literally partners in crime for this.

You have just enough brain faculty left online to try and catalog how they’re reacting. You’re trying to see…. trying to understand which one of these boys soaked in blood is reacting to you. Reacting to the shocked and stricken look you have on your face, toothbrush hanging from your mouth.

They’re both staring at the mirror. Not like one is seeing you and the other is trying to imagine what their friend is seeing in the awed way people always feel when they’re around when someone discovers their soulmate. They’re both staring at the mirror. Both staring at you.

Billy looks shocked, isn’t moving a muscle, hardly looks like he’s breathing. Stu is a whirlwind of motion. He’s pulling at his hair and seems to be screaming. You can’t read his lips. Never had a reason to try reading lips before. You want so badly to know what he’s saying at this moment. It’s probably what you’re thinking, oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fu c k-

You open your mouth to start to scream. That was the original intention. What you actually do is start throwing up. It burns. Your eyes start to burn too, with tears that quickly spill down your face. You can’t move to make it to the toilet or the sink. Just fall to your knees right where you are, sobbing and sick to your stomach. You wish your bathroom was smaller in that moment, differently shaped maybe. You know they can still see you where you are, curled up on the floor, but at least you can’t see them.

Them.

A whole life fantasizing about one, perfect person to love you and you actually have two of them. Two fucking serial killers. This is the exact opposite of everything you’d ever wanted from this moment. The exact opposite of everything you’d ever dreamed. It feels like your whole world is shattering. You start to scream now. Raw, and angry, and heartbroken you start to scream. Your parents coming running up to your room, barging into your bathroom. Panicked they ask you what’s wrong. Your mother is crying. You fall into their arms but don’t stop wailing. How could you? This is the worst moment of your life.

                                                     ——————– 

You should have told. Should have told someone. Should tell someone right now. People would listen. Would even understand the fact that you’d waited nearly a week to go to the police. How does one turn in their soulmate? Turn in their pair of serial killer soulmates?

You haven’t been to school. Your parents, having never seen you act the way you did …. that night, aren’t pushing you to go. They don’t know what happened. You couldn’t begin to tell them. To form the words. What would you say? How can you express such a sudden feeling of profound horror and loss? It had hit you like a train-wreck and wasn’t getting any easier with the passing of time.

You can’t eat. Can’t sleep. Can’t leave the house. You’re stuck in a mini paralysis. A living nightmare.

You’d only just managed to call your worried best friend that morning. Ask with a voice hoarse from endless crying if Billy Loomis and Stu Macher had been in class these last few days. Confused, they’d answered in the negative. You’d hung up promptly.

They hadn’t been to school either? Probably figuring out how they're going to kill you. Even though you’re horrified at what you’d seen you’re still heartbroken at the thought. They were still your soulmates. Your killer soulmates.

It’s why you hadn’t told a single soul what you’d seen. Without knowing them you’d loved them your whole life. Had made vows to yourself about loving whoever the universe saw fit to give you with the entirety of your heart. Some small part of you is still echoing those same vows. Repeating them over and over again, is what your heart does every time your brain tries to be logical. Tries to do what’s right. You feel like a monster. They could be hurting people right this minute. People you know! People you see every day, smile at, wave at. But still your silence persists.

You doubt they feel any sort of loyalty to you. Any sort of anything at all. They’re probably sociopaths. Or psychopaths. You forget which are the ones that can’t feel love. Nothing more than a loose end to them, probably. Just a problem to solve. Just another ghostface victim that isn't dead yet. Their secret will die with you when they kill you. Any day now, you think. It’s what you’ve thought every second since you saw them in the mirrors.

You can’t decide which hurts more, the thought of your own life being cut so short or knowing who will be doing the cutting. A dry sob escapes your throat and it hurts so badly. You can’t remember the last time you drank water. Can’t remember the last time you ate.

The doorbell rings. You ignore it. The doorbell keeps ringing. Your crying still, laying out on the couch. You’ve been crying a lot. When you shove yourself away from the cushions you immediately feel dizzy. You head to the front door anyway. You know you look terrible, whoever is there will take one good look at you and do the polite thing and go away.

You yank open the door.

You’d scream but your throat is too sore. All that comes out of you is a surprised little squeak that hurts more than it should. So much so that you grab your throat afterwards, whimpering from the pain (both physical and emotional).

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher are on your front step. Stu’s finger poised to press the doorbell one more time and Billy looking oddly stressed. More stressed than you’d ever seen him look. These are stressful times all around, you sympathize completely.

The part of you that cares whether you live or die wants to slam the door and start running away. The part of you that is already so tired of living like this, in constant fear and heartbreak? That’s the part that has you sagging against the door and wiping another round of tears from your eyes.

“Can we come in?” Stu asks, stepping up beside Billy who is doing nothing but staring at you. It’s not an angry stare… just a stare. When his face finally does shift it’s to fatigue. He looks just as tired as you feel.

It still hurts to speak so you just turn around and walk back inside, leaving the door open for them. You won’t beg. Won’t ask what they’re going to do to you. How they’re going to hurt you. You don’t have it in you to hear all that. You just hope they kill you quickly. It doesn’t have to be painless, even. Just quick. Quick enough so you can pretend your soulmates aren’t murdering you.

You don’t react when you hear the door closing or hear footsteps following close behind. You just walk to the living room and lie back down in the spot you’d been laying on for hours. Days. You close your eyes trying to already get used to darkness. You wonder if it will just be darkness forever or if they’ll be something waiting for you after the pain. You think you deserve an after of some sort for living through this type of hell.

Silence fills the room. You know they’re still there though. Can hear them settling in the chairs across from you. Your soulmates. You want to laugh and you do so, it’s manic and hoarse. Utterly painful to do. It’s unlike any other laugh you’ve had before. You don’t think this bit of throat pain will bother you too much in a moment.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Billy’s voice for the first time, drifting through the open space oh so delicately. You’ve seen him covered in blood. Dripping in blood. He whispers your name like saying it too loud will break you. Maybe it would. Why does it matter? You’ll be dead soon.

“What are we waiting for here?”

“Huh?” This time it’s Stu.

“Just do it already.” You still haven’t opened your eyes. You don’t want to see. You remember dreaming of getting married. Of starting a family. Of just being madly in love. You don’t want to open your eyes to a reality so cruelly throwing all your dreams in your face.

“We’re not here to kill you.” Billy spits. The venom in his voice makes you open your eyes. Not jump. Just open your eyes.

He’s staring at you like he’s been waiting to look you in the eyes his whole life. He has nice eyes. Intense and brown. Perfect for getting lost in. The romantic that died in you brutally would melt. You just want to cry.

“No?” You croak back, it’s not really a question because you don’t believe him. Of course they’re here to kill you. But ghostface plays games doesn’t he? Likes to fuck with people before he kills them? Maybe this is what they’re doing. Coming here in normal clothes in the middle of the day. Luring you into security so when they kill you it’s all the crueler. The ultimate game.

“Here.” You’d closed your eyes again at some point and only open them because something is being pushed into your hand. A glass. Cold glass of water. Stu’s sitting beside you pushing water into your hands and he looks … you’d almost say worried. You settle on pitying. You drink the water anyway.

Wonder if it’s poisoned. But that’s not their M.O.

“Thanks.” Your throat hurts less immediately. You are actually grateful for the small kindness. It’s probably the last one you’ll experience.

“Stu, we talked about this-” Billy says and Stu springs up from where he sits on the couch beside you. It’s only when he goes do you realize he’d had his entire side pressed to your own. You miss the warmth you didn’t know you’d been soaking up. You’ve felt cold these last few days inside and out.

This is the first moment that peace dissolves. Stu’s hands are ripping through his hair, reminiscent of that night you’d first seen them in the mirror. Billy seems to be an echo of that night too. He’s so still beside the rise and fall of his chest. Like a snake ready to strike.

“I just want to-” Stu starts off nearly screaming before he folds into himself. Billy gets up then, eyes finally moving away from you. He puts an arm around Stu and turns the both of them away from you. You can see that his hand rubs circles into Stu’s back like he’s trying to soothe him. They talk for a moment. Quiet murmurs you can’t focus on. Probably working out last minute details. You’re so tired.

“Please make it quick.” You interject into the space softly, they turn back to face you. Staring at them both at once is …. a lot, but you manage. “As quick as possible, please. I just …. I don’t-” your eyes are stinging again.

You don’t want to cry in front of them. But you have so little control over the body you’ve been abusing and neglecting these last few days. The best you can do is tuck your face into your knees and hold yourself. You press your knees into your eyes so hard it hurts. The pain is grounding. Centering. Everything will be okay soon, you tell yourself.

“No one came here to hurt you.” Billy says tightly, like he’s trying not to be frustrated. He speaks the way someone who knows they’d signed up for an impossible, irritating task does. “We didn’t even bring anything we could use to hurt you.”

“There are things in the house.” You’re practically on autopilot. About to start offering up the kitchen knives in the same way a host would offer someone lemonade. “Lots of things. You’re both creative.”

“Jesus christ, Billy-” Stu practically whimpers.

“I know, Stu.” He answers back, sounding tired again.

“We didn’t come here to do anything to you. We just-”

“Then why’d you come?” You shoot back and with that Stu is crying. That shocks you. The first bit of real feeling in days. You shift uncomfortably in your seat even, at the sight of his tears. The heartbreak on his face. It looks like he wants to fall apart, and then he looks desperately to Billy like he hope’s the other boy knows how to keep him together.

“You’re our… you’re our soulmate. You’re ours. We’re-”

“Yours.” Finishes Billy, putting a steadying hand on Stu’s shoulder. Stu pulls himself together quickly enough. Like he’s on a mission even though his eyes are still misty, “Whether we all like it or not.”

And that is your breaking point. You’d never imagined that being said to you when you imagined your soulmate. Whether we like it or not- (stuck with me. stuck with them. stuck. probably hate me. You wish you could hate them. But some part of you loved them even with the way you saw them that first time, soaked in blood) you sob and it makes your body want to be sick again. Desperate gasps for air narrowly avoid becoming dry heaves.

They’re both crowding you now, panicked by your panic. Your distress. Hands on you. Arms around you. One boy on each side and God help you, you melt into their arms.

“Didn’t tell anyone. Should’ve. But I didn’t. Like it or not,” You would scream if you could, “Like it or not       I loved you before I ever met you. Dreamed about you. And I-”

Billy tucks you into his arms, pulls you into his lap and Stu follows, pressing into your back like he’s drawn to you magnetically. The back of your shirt feels wet. He’s still crying, you realize. It makes you cry harder.

“That wasn’t the way you’d always dreamed of meeting us as a kid?” There’s something about his tone that’s softer now. You're doing nothing but babbling really, making such little sense, but Billy is an expert at deciphering what people mean. He’s seemed to realize now that you don’t hate them, much as you should. You’re just confused. Upset. Rattled. But there’s no hate in the way you’re clinging to him and reaching back for Stu. No hate to be found in your eyes. In your voice. Your touch. Just hurt. They can deal with hurt. They can fix hurt.

“Understatement.” Even as upset as he is Stu laughs at your dry response. Nuzzles into the back of your neck with a sniffle.

“We have a lot to talk about.” Billy runs his hand through your hair. Keeps your head pressed to his chest like he wants to tattoo you there. Keep you there. Remember you there. This is such a cluster-fuck of a situation this might be his one chance to hold you.

“It can wait.” Mumbles Stu against your hair, arms coming up to encircle you and Billy both.

You agree. You don't want to think too much about how the hands on you have been covered in blood. Hurting people. They're holding you gently and you want, just for a moment, to be soulmates. Just a regular trio of soulmates in need of a moment of peace before they brave the worst shitstorm of their own making.

                                                     ——————–

[medeafive]

Blood and Stone -02

Masterpost

"You're really lucky," Bruce confirms, staring into the microscope at her blood sample. "Looks like you don't have silver poisoning. Not for lack of trying, though."

Natasha sits up uncomfortably, rubbing the bandage over her left palm. "What would that even look like? In humans?"

"Argyria?" Bruce asks. "Skin turns blue or blue-grey. Either locally or generalized. Potentially toxic in high doses or at chronic exposure. Deposits usually in the skin, hence the color, in other organs, particularly the eyes. Can damage rods in the eye, impairing vision, particularly night vision, and can also impact organ functions. Most of all, never ever goes away."

Natasha shudders. "Sounds like it could be worse."

"It's doubtful the dose you took would have killed a vampire," Bruce adds sternly. "Even if he drank all the blood in your hand. People have experimented with that in the past, it only works very very rarely. So stop poisoning yourself."

Fury is staring at her with one eye. Oh great, he's gonna have words. "Promise," Natasha says. "Won't do it again."

"Hope so," Bruce repeats, cleaning out the petri dish. "Tell me if your hand does go blue in the sun. Other than that, you should rest for at least a week, you look like you got run over."

Plus going out into the night with a bleeding wound is suicide, no matter how well bandaged. And really, she just wants to sleep. But first, she'll have to face Fury, Fury standing there, arms crossed. She sighs, turning to face him, not trusting her legs enough to get up. "Come on. Just get it over with, I know I fucked up."

Bruce decides he maybe should not be here and excuses himself. Fury's face doesn't change, even when the door falls shut. She snorts inwardly, as if the silent treatment would work on her. But she's tired. "Just say it. I broke the rules."

"I don't appreciate you trying to sacrifice yourself," Fury states. "But I can't say I don't understand it."

Not the tone she expected. She breathes in deeply, against the protest of her rips. "That's not-"

"It is," Fury interrupts. "But that's never going to work. So sleep, and then we'll work out how we get this motherfucker together ."

She sighs again. Boy, her right shoulder still hurts from time to time, even though Bruce relocated it and put her on painkillers. "Do you think that's going to work, though? That we have a chance?"

"I don't know," Fury replies honestly. "But if there is, that's the only way."

  Strangely enough, nobody really asks her what the black cloak actually wanted. Then again, it's probably a bunch of lies anyway. Except that he honestly doesn't seem to plan on killing her or he really would have. Why would she trust anything he claims to want, though? She won't be played with.

While Fury mostly lets her off the hook, Clint is very pissed at her. The words reckless, crazy and suicidal fall. She holes herself up in her room, sleeps, only comes out at night to eat and generally pretends she's dead.

Her left hand grows an unhealthy ashen color, swelling up as well, especially around the cut, creeping up her forearm. So she does have some silver poisoning. She doesn't show Bruce, though, because she is so fucking tired. Sleeps most of the day. It calms down after a few days of rest, only leaving another scar in her palm.

"You're a pale motherfucker, Romanoff," Tony the tinker remarks, stuffing more grapes into his mouth with his greasy fingers. "Maybe I should point a UV beam at you?"

She snorts, opening the fridge. At least she doesn't have to look for her own food anymore, like when she was running around Saint Petersburg all alone. "I'll hack your precious fingers off. Where's the meat?"

"Meatpacking plant got attacked again," Tony clarifies. "No, seriously. Do you remember the sun? Incredibly bright, yellowish, gives you that weird warm feeling?"

"I do go out during the day," she insists, slamming the door of the fridge shut. At least some bacon… but no. "When I'm not recovering. Seriously, no meat at all?"

"None, Clint ate the last sausages," Tony states, slapping after a fly but missing. "You can take some of Sam's protein powder, he claims it's very healthy."

She rolls her eyes demonstratively, yanking the fridge open again, spotting some eggs at least. "Guess it's better than them going on a killing rampage in Vinohrady. Though I would die for a juicy burger."

"Don't flirt with me, Romanoff, we talked about this," Tony teases. "Bruce says it's more like a gateway drug. The animal blood, not the flirting. That too but he obviously didn't mention that."

She gives him a warning look, cracking the eggs into the pan. "What are you even doing? It's the middle of the night."

"Pepper's out tonight, testing her new armor," Tony replies. "Probably not coming back soon, though. Actually, I should go back to bed."

Natasha grins crudely. "Awww. Can't sleep, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up, you heartless shell of a human," Tony returns. "Enjoy your stupid eggs."

  Her shoulder still slows her down. Jab. Block. Jab- too slow. His kick hits her, knocking her back. Fuck. Block. Dodge. Jab jab- ouch. He doesn't take it, probably because he knows he doesn't need it. Upstrike. Jab cross jab knee strike- it actually lands, though not very hard. Block. Dodge. Block. Punch- too slow. Block block block. Kick. Blocked. He catches her on her back foot so she stumbles back, block, dodge, lash out, tumble-

She grunts as she lands on her bandaged hand. Should get up before he pounces, not give him the chance to- fuck, she's so tired. She groans, dropping on her back. "Fine. I give up."

"Took you long enough," Sam remarks, unwrapping his hands. "You're a lot stronger than you look, though, I have to give you that."

She huffs, pulling her knees up. Breathe. "Not quite back at my best yet."

"Pretty close," Sam corrects, holding a hand out for her. "Wanna get up? I'm cooking dinner."

She waves him off. Not in the mood for that many people. "Thanks. Just gonna lie here."

"Mhm." He sits down next to her. "Is everyone mean to you, just because you disregarded every rule of safe conduct in the face of an unprecedented danger?"

"Fuck you and your psychology degree," she returns. "Just leave me alone."

"You're really no good at dealing with problems that you can't shoot in the face," Sam observes, getting back on his feet. "I haven't done my isha prayer yet, do you mind?"

She shakes her head, staying on the floor. She won't admit it but she actually enjoys listening to him pray. While she can no longer believe in God, it gives her some momentary comfort that he can. "I'll put some food aside for you later," he offers while getting his bowl and filling it with water. "Whenever you feel like eating."

She nods to herself, closing her eyes, then quiets her breath down enough so she can hear him recite Basmala and wash his hands.

  Clint also gives her the silent treatment, even after a week. She can live with that. Though she doesn't really want to. The streets are way more quiet at night now, but people are starting to doubt there's really a black cloak. If there was, it would have to somehow be worse, more murders, more blood in the streets than just the occasional execution of inept vampire fledglings. If the hammer doesn't come down, no matter how loud it cuts through the air, one starts wondering whether it's really there.

They're patrolling the riverside today, up from Vyšehrad towards the National Theatre, staring occasionally across the Vltava. The castle's lit brightly, tauntingly. As if they're holding a crooked dance of the dead. Clint draws his bow, just for the hell of it, because a patrol is always an incredibly tense and taut affair. He's right, the bow's incredibly quiet. The vampire the silver arrow hits won't be, though. Slowly releases. Natasha breathes out. "They're really high on their horses, aren't they."

Clint makes a non-committal noise, shrugging and turning away. Won't cut it. There's a car coming down from Karlovo Náměstí, loudly spluttering over the breaks in the asphalt. The roads have seen better days, too. Clint raises an eyebrow and puts in an arrow. Vampires don't drive, obviously, but they often follow cars waiting for the occupants to stop and climb out. Easy prey. The car's brakes screech as it prepares for the turn, the driver's face flashing yellow as it comes closer to the street light, eyes widening, and then he yanks the car to the left, speeding past and away from them, South. Maybe, if he drives far enough outside the city, he'll be safe. Clint snorts, lowering the bow. "Yeah, thanks."

As if they looked like vampires, with all the body armor and all the silver on their persons. Natasha shakes her head, internally grateful the silence is broken. "Forget about him. Let's check the roofs around, maybe the noise lured some out."

Clint nods, shuffling across the now again empty street. They know the area very well, since it's the closest thing they have to a frontline, the hunting parties from the castle crossing the river to find prey. "You wanna stay on the ground?"

"No, coming with you," Natasha replies quickly, following him through a backyard. She promised not to run around alone after all, and she doesn't feel like suffering the silence alone either. There's music playing somewhere inside, soft and jazzy, somewhere in the warm light behind the curtains. Clint throws a grappling hook up a balcony, grabbing onto her wordlessly, and then they're already pulled up into the night sky, climbing and crawling up onto the roof.

The noise is different up here, less people, more wind. There's some traffic, somewhere, constant humming in the background. Cars these days are fairly safe. Getting out is the hard part. There's light in some windows, those that aren't behind wooden shutters. The river glitters with the moonlight. Clint settles on the top of the roof, surveying the area. She crawls up as well, pushing some loose strands of hair behind her ears. The shadows are quiet, for now.

"I'm sorry if I worried you," she says. "That was not my intention."

Clint bites his lip. It's clear he doesn't want to talk. Well, so would she, but here they are. "Fury didn't even care, did he?"

"Because he didn't rip my head off?" Natasha questions.

"You could've died ," Clint repeats. "Damn close. You shouldn't even have gone out. He didn't seem overly concerned, to say the least."

"Guess he lost a few too many," Natasha replies. "This job… it helps not to get too attached."

"That's not what you deserve," Clint states.

Someone opens a window, a middle-aged woman, pulling out a cigarette. When she sees their silhouettes on the roof, she slams and bolts the window again.

"It's after 1am, isn't it?" Natasha asks. "They're getting careless again."

Clint huffs. "Aren't we all. See that down there?"

Natasha leans over the edge to see better. "Think that's just a bag of trash. After all, been a long time since we last saw a homeless person."

"You never saw that, did you," Clint remarks. "Wasn't great seeing them, but not seeing them anymore is worse."

Natasha huffs. "Plenty of homeless people in Moscow. And Petersburg. The very first ones they got, when no one cared yet."

"Got something of a divine punishment, doesn't it," Clint states. "Turning those we neglected against us."

"Man is wolf to man, right," Natasha agrees. A light turns on somewhere and there's faint arguing carried over by the wind. She remembers women locked out of their apartments by abusive partners after sundown, kids thrown out by their parents, the threat of being left outside in the dark hanging over everything. Since the police stopped patrolling at night, everything falls into nothing. Anarchy. At the mercy of whoever's stronger, more brutal.

Clint gets up carefully, watching every step. "Let's cross to the other side."

They climb South, over the roofs. What they don't tell you is that most of the time, nothing happens, nothing at all. Just sitting around, paying constant attention and definitely not falling asleep because that gets you killed. Also why you don't go out alone. It's 90% boring as hell and 10% deadly.

There's hardly any movement on this side either. Another stray feline beast. Rats, almost bigger than the cat. Many of the windows are just empty, dead. The city lost a hundred thousand to the vampires and another three hundred thousand to the safer seeming countryside, not counting the other side of the river. Everything has changed so much. It's like a war, right here, only fought at night. A bloody war.

The silence is more comfortable now. Clouds move quickly, with the wind, and the moonlight soon drowns in them. "I don't know if someone told you," Clint remarks quietly. "But I wasn't particularly pleased when you came here to join us."

Natasha smiles to herself. "I know."

"You didn't seem like a teamplayer, to put it mildly," Clint justifies. "And you're still holding back, but you know the ropes now."

Does she, now? "Is that why you were so pissed I went out alone?"

Clint laughs, bellowing. "Turns out you don't actually think you can solve every problem on your own. Just that you have to."

"Not true," she returns, pushing against his shoulder, carefully, and then they settle into an amicable silence.

After about half an hour, the armor becomes uncomfortable to sit in. It's not a cold night but moisture has still settled on the roof so that she's extra careful getting up. Clint stretches his arms. She slips slightly, grabbing onto the edge of an alcove to steady herself, only slowly straightening again.

"Tasha!"

She whips around, just in time to see a black silhouette diving towards her, it crashes into her like a wall, knocking her far off the roof, she grabs on automatically, twisting, window straight ahead, rolls up to prepare for-

Just as she slams into the glass pane, her side , she's pulled back and suddenly, they're diving down another street, cool night air cutting tears into her eyes, oh shit, house, house, stone, closer, closer, closer-

They ricochet off almost noiselessly, up again, towards whichever fucking floor that is, another street, another house, another window, house, stone, glass glass glass-

Whatever she's knocked into doesn't break but she hears the glass, barely has time to roll in on herself, then they crash, stopped, all the speed turning into impact , some crack , and boy, her spine.

She's thrown around once again but then it stops, only her insides swim, her sight, sick, sick, can't hear properly, her vision swims red, groans, the glass beneath her crunches but the armor, thank Tony, up, down, up, up, up, she presses her eyes shut and her gloved hands down, her back hurts , right side, shoulder, no time, she fights herself up to seated. The black cloak stands by an intact window, up, they're high up, staring out, boy, she's ready to throw up. "Are you batshit crazy ?!"

He doesn't reply obviously, that fucking asshole, intently focused outside. She tries to breathe again, despite her ribcage and the pressure of her armor. "We should be good," he states, not paying her any mind. "He's going the other- ouch. "

She reaches for her gun while he plucks the silver throwing star out of his thigh, only to find the belt must have ripped, cut by one window or the other, gone, and then he's already turned back to her and she missed her chance. "For the last fucking time, could you stop throwing things at me?"

"Are you insane ?!" she screams at him. "The fuck are you doing?"

He rolls his white eyes, throwing star dropping to the ground carelessly. He's bleeding but not much, as far as she can tell. Dammit. "Calm down."

"Calm down?" she repeats. " Calm down ?"

"Try not to cut yourself," he advises. "I'm sorry I hurt you last time, I'm not going to do it again."

This guy is un-fucking-real. Off-the-chart annoying. Another wave of sickness overcomes her. "Maybe don't knock me through a window next time? Two. Two windows."

"You didn't go through the first one," he returns. "And I took the second one for you, you're welcome. Not my fault you're so hard to grab for a talk."

"Oh, now it's my fault?" she questions. "A fucking talk ?"

"Yes." He strides over. "Have you decided?"

"Whether I would rather be turned into a monster," she clarifies. "Or see all of my friends die."

"Yes," he confirms calmly, squatting down to her height. "It's not going to become any easier."

"I was being sarcastic," she remarks. "How about I get rid of you instead?"

He smirks, fang peaking out, and dangling something from his hand. Her belt. With the guns. Motherfucker. "Don't think so, sweetheart."

She calculates mentally whether there's any chance she could snatch that- not without a good distraction. But she can't think of anything other than cutting herself, and she's not ready for that. "I could always bite the bullet myself."

He chuckles, and it sounds frighteningly human . "No, you wouldn't."

"You don't know anything about me," she bites back.

"I know more than you think," he replies, straightening and backing away, taking the belt with him. The throwing star is by the window, too far, can't reach. Is there anything else… "I know why you left Russia."

She freezes, very cold all of a sudden. No. No. Nononononono- "I know what you did there," he adds. "Really, you're not better than anyone."

She jumps to her feet, crunching glass. Don't engage. Don't feed the flames. "Give me my guns. Or I'll cut myself."

He seems exasperated. "You couldn't goad me into a blood frenzy if you cut an artery."

Bluffing. "Guns," she repeats, holding out a hand.

"I could still murder your friends," he points out coldly. "Starting with the one with the arrows."

Her hand drops. Her head's still spinning. Shouldn't poker too high. She feels very lost all of a sudden. "I'm not going to hurt you," he repeats for the umpteenth time. "Or any of your friends, if I don't have to. Just agree already."

"I don't give a fuck about your empty lies," she spits.

"Well, I do," he replies. "You know, you remind me of myself. Before."

"Before you turned into a fucking monster," she specifies. "Before you started hunting humans for blood."

He looks slightly disgusted. "I hardly ever feed on humans."

"Oh great," she cuts him off. "Then you're hardly ever a murderer."

Surprisingly, he throws her one of her guns. She's too slow to catch. "This look innocent to you? But I forget, you're obviously something better ."

There's a trap somewhere. She can't just shoot him- "I'll take you to Žižkov," he announces. "Satisfy your own bloody urges. Then you can think about whether you're really all that different."

[sylvari-bouquet]

Noise without meaning is better than music without sound

prompt: family time

cw: alcoholism, difficult family relationships,

this isn’t really a feel-good fic

The morning in Hoelbrack was always very lively - hunters and merchants had both risen before the sun, and now, hours later when kills, gold and goods changed owners in rabid pace, the air was full of chatter and bargaining as the daily business ignited a spark to mountainous city. Nona hadn't visited Hoelbrack for awhile, and she enjoyed listening in to the conversations happening around her. There, a young hunter was boasting about their first Minotaur kill, and over there, two merchants were engaged in a fierce competition to win the customers' hearts and wallets. A skaald in-training was sharing a well-known legend to all who would stop and listen. His voice was wavering and a little too quick, but Nona tossed few coins as she walked past. The young storyteller's face brightened, and his speech relaxed as he continued. Supporting the new-comers was important, but that wasn't why Nona was in the city.

Nona made her way to a small cabin. Norn with large families preferred to live in homesteads, so the cabins were tucked away from the main roads, but Nona knew the way too well. She stopped in front of a one that didn't seem to have any footprints going in or out. It was likely still early enough that the older housekeeper hadn't visited there yet. She knocked, yet there was no answer or sound from inside.

Anxiety lurched in her stomach and made her fur puff up as she placed her hand on the doorknob. A part of her just wanted to run away, to pretend that the scene that surely would open before her did not exist, just keep sending money to the housekeeper and ignore the weight in her heart. But she was too much of a coward to do that, so instead, she opened the door.

The first thing Nona noticed was the smell. It wasn't as strong as it used to be, but the sweet aroma of booze mixed with more unpleasant, nauseating smells escaped into the open air behind her. It was dark in the single room, only light was cast by the brightness invading outside the door. It illuminated a stained table, toppled chair and a figure slumped somewhere between bed and the floor.

It wasn't a shocking scene, like one of dramatic reveals in murder mysteries. Nona knew all too well the culprit of this case, as she stepped in and picked up one of the bottles leaving a red trail of wine on the floor. Alcohol was an enemy her mother had been fighting a losing battle against ever since she had nearly died in that Molten Alliance ambush, and Nona could only watch how the opposing forces took hold of more ground each passing visit.

She moved closer to the bedside. Before the weekly hired help, Nona had tried her best to help her mother, doing the chores by day and performing in Lion's Arch by night, but it had became too much for her to be both the housekeeper and the breadwinner. Both the physical and mental strain almost made her completely lose her voice. As much as it pained her, she had to choose herself first, or she would be only be grinded down to dust. Sometimes she wondered if choosing herself had saved her at the cost of her own mother.

"Mother?" Nona asked, kneeling down to figure and not trying to shudder when her knee touched something sticky, "haven't you eaten yet? What about the medicine?"

"Not hungry", her mother replied like a stubborn cub being asked to eat a carrot.

"You still have to eat", Nona bargained with her as she lift her to sit at the bed, "you should drink water at least."

The jug was as dry as her mouth, and so Nona went to get a bucketful of cool water from the outside well. It had a layer of frost that she had to break, and a sharp edge scratched her paw as she did, but Nona did not mind. She returned with the jug to her mother, poured some to a glass that had seen better days, and gave it to her mother to drink. She accepted it without putting a fight, and another.

"I'm tired, getting back to sleep", mother told her with no word of thanks, rolled over to the bed and curled up, facing away from Nona. She had learnt not to take her mother's behaviour personally, but something still stung her eyes. Must have been all the dust around. Nona lifted up the dirty crumbled blanket, and pulled it on her mother, who had already fallen asleep.

While her mother slept, Nona set into cleaning the most recent mess her mother had left behind. There was something almost meditative in the repeated motions of sweeping, forth and back, forth and back, as if it were a dance for one. It made her almost feel like when she played an instrument, like she was creating a rhythm that she controlled, and that her work moved others. Well, the last point happened more often with music. Nona was still at scrubbing floors when the old housekeeper arrived with warm food, and took away the dirty laundry. With sweet yet sad look she asked if Nona needed anything, but Nona declined, she had to leave for Lion's Arch and then Divinity's Reach for soon anyway. Her mother didn't wake up for when she left.

The day had moved faster than Nona thought it was possible. The sky was beginning to show the hues of twilight, meaning dusk was right around the corner. Something deep in her, a feral spark, tugged her vocal chords and wanted to roar out all the pain and frustration she felt, that it could crawl out of her throat and unleash terror around her. Yet she couldn't. Nona grabbed a fistful of snow and threw it on her face, hoping the cool sensation would make her blood numb, and she headed back the way she came from, towards the Asura gate to the city that could drown out all the rest of the world.

[shireness-says]

If I Could See Your Face Once More (1/6)

Summary: This time, there's no celebration at Granny's when the latest crisis has been resolved. Instead, they're left to deal with the body of Killian Jones. A 5B canon divergence where Killian dies in Camelot, never becoming a Dark One. Rated T for language. Also on AO3. ~4.3K. 

Here it is - my contribution to @csmarchmadness! Thanks to @xemmaloveskillianx for organizing such a great event! I started writing this 2 years ago, before it got way out of hand and I ran out of steam. The next chapter will be posted on the 13th. 

If you guys have talked to me for any length of time, you know I hate 5B. Hate it. Why all this Zelena/Hades stuff? Isn’t this supposed to be about saving Killian? Wtf? So here’s my take on 5B, featuring Liam not being a murderer, no Gold at all, Robin not dying, and so many other corrections. I have a lot of feelings about this, guys. Title taken from the Kodaline song that gave me these feelings in the first place (”All I Want”).

Special thanks to my beta, @snidgetsafan, who’s been surprisingly happy to deal with all this angst and dragging me through the writing process. You’re the best, babe. 

Tagging: @thejollyroger-writer, @captainsjedi, @profdanglaisstuff, and @ultraluckycatnd. Shoot me a message if you want to be added to the list!

Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

This time, there’s no celebration at Granny’s when the latest crisis is has been resolved.

There’s just Emma, re-forging Excalibur with shaking hands to trap what’s left of the Dark One inside the blade, removing it from a human vessel once and for all.

Then, of course, they’re left to deal with the body of Killian Jones.

------

When Killian steps off the boat into the Underworld, it’s a small consolation to see Liam waiting at the docks for him.

It’s somehow fitting that the first words he hears from his brother in nearly three hundred years are “Little brother!” as he smiles sadly and pulls Killian into a fierce hug. And even if Killian tosses back a half-hearted “younger…”, he can’t help but squeeze even tighter, just to savor this reunion.

When the two finally break apart, it’s Liam who speaks first.

“I’ve been waiting so long for you, Killian. I can’t tell you how good it is to see your face again.”

“I know, believe me, I know,” he replies, before realizing something. “How did you know I was coming?”

Liam looks a bit sheepish and moves to scratch behind his ear in the same way Killian does (the same way Emma calls “adorable”). “Ah, well… you see, the captain’s log aboard the Jewel has kept me apprised of your life up above - the most painful moments, to be precise. A form of penance, I suppose. When the entries cut off abruptly after you got hurt in that swordfight, though, I got worried. So when a new house appeared down here... I couldn’t resist going to check it out, just in case it was yours.”

Killian knows immediately which one he’s talking about. “Grey Victorian? Tower room?”

“That’s the one. I walked in, saw pictures of you and your lovely wife, and figured one of you would be showing up in the next couple of days. Even if it was your lady instead of yourself, I thought I should still check in on her and find out how you were doing.”

Killian’s heart sinks as soon as he hears the word “wife”. He hates to disillusion Liam of this idea that he’s been living some idyllic life, but it will hurt too much in the long run to pretend, even for a little bit. So he forces himself to whisper back, regret coloring his voice, “I’m not married, brother.”

Liam frowns. “I’m sorry, I just thought… there was a picture of you two dancing. She was in a white dress, you looked dressed to the nines… I just assumed…”

Killian cuts him off before he can go any further. “It’s quite alright, we just… it was a maybe, someday.” He pauses. “I guess not anymore.”

“And the house?”

“We were planning on living there together. Building a future. But again…”

“Not anymore.” Liam nods. “Well, whatever would or wouldn’t have happened, the house appears to be for your use down here. Come along, I’ll take you there.”

------

The house Liam brings him to appears to be a perfect replica of the one Henry and he picked out back in Camelot, just more run down. What little furniture is present is covered in drop cloths and feels stiff and painful. Of course, those observations are secondary to how his attention is immediately drawn to the two photos in the entryway – the one from Camelot that Liam described, and the tiny instant photograph the Lady Snow took the night of their first date. Emma’s beautiful pink dress had made her look like an angel of some kind, and he can just see his temporarily-restored left hand resting on the small of her back. It’s a little bittersweet, seeing those images in this place that might have been home, but he’d rather they were here than not.

Liam, as it turns out, lives on the Jewel of the Realm (and it’s definitely the Jewel here, not the Jolly – beautiful and pristine and not marred by centuries of unintentional gouges from his hook) and runs the local bar, where he promptly offers his little brother (“Younger!”) a job. Turns out this was the only place at which he could find employment when he first arrived, and when the previous owner moved on, ownership transferred to Liam.

“And why have you never been able to move on? Go, be happy and at peace?”

Liam smiles sadly. “I was always worrying about you, wondering how you fared. Felt too guilty about not listening to you, I suppose, making you watch me die like that.”

Whether intentional or not, Killian can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the fact that his brother has been trapped here because of him. Gods, will his list of sins never end?

But Liam breezes on. “Now that you’re here, though, I think I’ll be able to move on, just as soon as we sort your unfinished business. Any idea what that might be?”

That only twists the knife deeper. Of course he knows what his unfinished business is, and it’s nothing that can be sorted out in a few weeks. It’s promising Emma a happy ending and a future – hell, just promising her that he’d survive. “Ah, well, we’ll both be here for a while then.” Liam quirks a quizzical brow. “I made a vow I ended up not being able to keep. So until Emma either moves on or…” He can’t even speak the words, refuses to even contemplate Emma dying and joining him down here for many, many years yet. “… then I’m stuck here. Which apparently means so are you.”

That feels like the worst admission of all – that he’s somehow doomed everyone he cares about to a lifetime of misery. And when Liam pulls him into a hug that he’s sure is meant to be comforting, he can’t help but feel that he doesn’t deserve that kindness, not one bit.

------

Killian quickly settles into a routine, if only in an attempt to retain some semblance of sanity. Every evening, he joins Liam to work behind the bar at the Underworld’s version of the Rabbit Hole (though down here, the bar seems to cater to those drinking to forget, rather than serving as the social hub it was back in the real Storybrooke); every morning and early afternoon he tries to fix up their – his house a little more, straightening hinges and sanding floors as best as he can. A man learns a good bit of carpentry over years of maintaining a ship; the only thing holding Killian back oftentimes is his lack of proper tools. Liam’s assistance is often offered, but rarely accepted; somehow, Killian feels like this is a task he must accomplish on his own.

Besides being in a state of complete and utter disrepair, the house additionally seems to have a mind and a life of its own. Killian simultaneously loves and dreads the surprises the house conjures up for him. The metal table and chairs on the back porch are an exact match to the set outside of Granny’s where he and Emma shared their first real kiss; a constant smell of cinnamon lingers in the kitchen, despite there not being any of the spice in the house; Middlemist flowers wilt, half dead, in the front flowerbeds. The tower room upstairs must have been meant for Henry in another life, as all of the photographs that appear there are of the two of them or of him, the lad, and Emma. He even finds the Author’s pen in a drawer of the desk beneath the window. This is, oddly enough, the room that hurts the most – a vivid reminder of the life they all might have had. Yet he still finds himself checking the room nearly every day, sometimes twice a day, to see if any new memories have appeared of him and the young man he was looking forward to one day proudly calling his stepson.

------

Every few days, he allows himself to visit the red talking phone box to try and send a message to Emma. There’s no real knowing if any of it reaches her, but he repeats the same words over and over again anyways:

“I’m so sorry, Swan. I’m so very, very sorry to have left you, especially after I promised I wouldn’t. I’m so sorry and I love you so incredibly much, will love you as long as I have a soul to do so.”

(He can’t decide if it hurts more to talk to her or to stop.)

------

A few weeks after he arrives in the Underworld – he thinks three, but really, time runs together down here – there’s a persistently circulating murmur that the former Dark One, Rumpelstiltskin, had been brought here, brought to the Underworld to answer for his sins, before being taken back to the world above by Charon on the very same boat.

Killian knows it’s petty, and far too late anyhow, but he can’t help but feel like he deserves a second chance more than the Crocodile ever could.

Maybe that’s the reason – when given the option of a second chance, a shot to redeem himself, Killian grabbed it with both hands and made the most of every moment. He was satisfied. He was happy. Rumpelstiltskin hasn’t achieved any of that. Apparently, someone thinks he deserves all that just once.

Whatever the case, Killian knows he’d have given anything to be the one going home – back to his real home – on that boat.

------

Maybe a week after that, Killian is shocked one afternoon to feel a strange tingling all over his body, and when he looks back up, is stunned to see himself not in his kitchen, but in Storybrooke’s cemetery with Henry standing in front of him. In his joy, he rushes forward to embrace Henry… only to be devastated to see his arms pass right through his boy.

Henry looks just as crushed. “It’s only temporary,” he explains softly. “I got this ale stuff from Merida to talk to you.”

Killian nods. “That was very resourceful, lad.” A pause. “How are you doing?”

Henry shrugs noncommittally; Killian knows the feeling. “Ok, I guess. I miss you. We all do.”

“I miss you too, Henry, you and your mum. More than I can properly express.”

“She misses you like crazy, you know. Kinda just goes through the motions like she’s in a daze. I guess she imagines your voice sometimes, cus that’s what she always tells me when I walk in on her crying.”

(In that moment, Killian vows to stop visiting the talking phone box. It’s clearly hurting her more than it’s helping him.)

Henry looks worried for a second. “Are you doing alright? You’re not… it’s not like pits of fire down there, is it?”

Bless this wonderful boy for worrying about a man who can’t possibly deserve it. “I’m ok. I’m with my brother, get left alone most of the time. I wish I was up here with you lot but it’s not so bad, being dead.”

Henry nods, and Killian’s heart breaks a little more at the thought of having left this young man concerned about him for even a moment. Henry shouldn’t ever have to be in position where he has to think about what happens to the soul of one of his loved ones after they’re gone. He’s already had to do it with his father; the last thing he ever wanted was to put Henry through that pain again.

Henry seems to finally work up the courage to get to his point, the reason he summoned Killian. “Gold woke up the other day. We all thought he wouldn’t, and I think my moms kinda hoped he wouldn’t, but he did.”

Killian nods. “I know. I heard down in the Underworld.”

“It’s just so unfair, you know? That you don’t get another chance too. I know more people would want you back.”

“Ah, but we don’t get to decide these things, lad. You have to know that if it was up to me, I’d be back with you two in a heartbeat. I’d choose you every time.”

“I know.”

Another pause. It’s like there’s so much to say that neither even knows where to start.

Killian breaks it first. “I take it you’re back in Storybrooke then?”

“Yeah. Mom used…” His voice falters. “Mom used your heart to cast the Dark Curse. She and my other mom and the fairies and Merlin are trying to figure out how to send the Camelot folks back now.”

“Does she know you’re here?”

“No. I just thought…” Yet another pause. “I figured if this didn’t work, I didn’t want to get her hopes up. She’s already sad enough as it is.”

Selfishly, he wants to beg Henry to go bring her here as fast as possible, but he can feel whatever this spell is about to fade out, a tingling starting in his toes. Not to mention, the lad is right. No need to torture his love unnecessarily. He wants her to move on, be happy, and that’s just not possible if she’s coming to summon him every chance she gets.

“I think that’s smart, lad. Maybe we don’t tell her? Just keep this between us?”

He can tell Henry wants to object. “But –“

“It’ll be too hard otherwise. For both of us. I just want her to move on and be happy, yeah?” At least this time, Henry nods. “I think I have to go now, but I love and miss you both so much, ok? Try to be happy for me?”

He won’t lie – it hurts a lot that his last view of Henry before he reappears in his kitchen is of the lad sniffling and trying to hold back tears as he waves goodbye.

------

Not long after his talk with Henry, Killian is shocked to walk past a previously empty room of the house one day to discover a fully furnished nursery. Mostly, he hopes to any god that might be listening that this is just another trick of the house, another glimpse of what he could have and should have had, had he lived. He hopes Swan isn’t having to go through a pregnancy alone again.

(A selfish part of him likes to imagine she has a little someone to remember him by – a little lass or laddie with her hair and his eyes.)

(He can’t help but add that thought to the ever-expanding list of reasons to be disgusted with himself.)

------

About two months after his death, Killian is once again summoned by Henry, who is pacing and clearly furious when he rematerializes.

Internally, Killian can’t help but huff a sigh – Henry needs to move on, needs to let him go, needs to not try and contact him every time something goes wrong. “Henry…” he starts, intending to reprimand the boy, when the young man in question colorfully interrupts.

“That son of a bitch!”

“Henry, language! I know for a fact neither of your mothers tolerates that.”

“Well pardon me, but that asshat Gold separated Excalibur and took back the Darkness, so I think it might be warranted.”

“That son of a whore,” Killian can’t help but blurt out. So much for scolding Henry.

“See?”

This talk ends up being slightly longer than the last – Henry just needs to vent, but when it comes to the Crocodile, there’s always an awful lot to vent about. But right before he fades out, Henry fixes his full attention on Killian.

“I’m going to find a way to bring you back, okay? If he gets to live, so should you. You deserve it a million times over.”

(He knows he no longer has a heart, but somehow, it still feels warm anyways.)

------

The next few weeks, he can’t help but feel hopeful. It must be apparent, because Liam keeps commenting on how cheerful he seems, one day even (Gods help him) catching him whistling. Killian even finds himself making an effort to interact with the other souls living in the Underworld. In the end, that’s how he meets Milah again.

It’s bittersweet, really. Killian spent hundreds of years trying to avenge his first great love, only to see her again and realize how many of the finer details he had forgotten. He supposes that’s what happens when you finally move on.

At least he’s relieved to learn that Milah’s unfinished business has nothing to do with him (one less thing to carry on his conscience). In fact, it’s her guilt over leaving Bae that has kept her here all this time. It’s the very least he can do to tell her about all the times he and Bae – or Neal – interacted, how Bae had still fiercely loved his mother and forgiven her for leaving before he had died. That seems to be enough for her – to know that her son had ultimately been happy.

It’s a little awkward, telling Milah about how he had moved on with Emma (especially since he had been dating the former lover of his own former lover’s son), but she loves hearing his stories about Henry – how smart and down to Earth he is, how brave, how adventurous. It’s a pity, really, that the two will never meet – he sees so much of Milah in her grandson, and thinks the two would have gotten along famously.

“Thank you,” she tells him, as she kisses his cheek. “I’m happy you were able to find a family for yourself. You and your big heart deserve it, even if you want to pretend otherwise.”

Then she vanishes, off to hopefully meet her son in a better place.

------

Five weeks after Henry’s second visit (this time, Killian is counting carefully), he’s summoned for a third time to find Henry looking exhausted and disheveled.

“Gods above, lad, are you alright? What happened?”

“Don’t worry. Long story.”

“Well then summarize.”

“Uh… Belle found out about Gold taking back the darkness. Broke up with Gold. Found out she was pregnant. Then Gold found out she was pregnant, and tried to manipulate her to come back to him, but she didn’t. So he sped up Zelena’s pregnancy so we’d be distracted while he tried to kidnap Belle to another realm. And I’ve been researching all the while.”

“Is she alright? Is everyone alright?”

“Yeah, Belle’s fine. Mom and Mom figured out what was going on pretty quick and Mom – Regina and Gramps went after him while Mom held down the fort at the hospital. That’s what I’m here about actually – Merlin and I found a spell to get to the Underworld. It required the blood of someone who had already been but came back, but Gramps nicked Gold before he fell through the portal, so we’re all set now. Just have to wait a few days, six days, for the full moon and then we’re coming to get you.”

Killian knows he should be grateful, but his blood runs cold when he hears the words. “No, Henry, you can’t, I can’t let you put yourself in danger for me. I’m already dead, I can’t let you risk getting yourself killed to fix something that isn’t meant to be fixed.”

“I don’t care. I miss you, Mom’s miserable, so I’m going to get you back. End of discussion.”

And, well, who is he to argue with the young man who possesses the Heart of the Truest Believer?

------

Of course, it’s too much to hope that everything will run smoothly and he’ll be home in a week. Instead, Hades shows up in all his slimy glory. Apparently, Killian’s hope is a little too contagious - enough that the Lord of the Dead himself has noticed and deemed it a threat to his rule.

Instead of waiting in his house for his Swan and their boy to take him home, he gets taken to Hades’ underground cavern of a dungeon to have the hope beat out of him.

------

Briefly, through a haze of pain and a coating of blood, Killian thinks he feels himself being summoned again, thinks he catches a glimpse of Emma and all her – their – family, but he writes it off as a hallucination.

------

And then suddenly, he’s being lifted down from the chains he’s strung up in by a pair of small, gentle hands.

Emma.

He’s half delirious with pain, but he can’t help but try and grin when her face swims into focus (or at least as much focus as he can achieve with one eye swollen shut). She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, even in filthy jeans and an oversized sweater with a pale face and tears in her eyes.

It’s the very least he can do, after all he’s put her through, to work through the pain to try and wipe away her tears.

------

Somehow, Emma helps him hobble out of the chamber where he had been suspended to an outer landing where Liam is waiting with a boat, ready to return them both to the upper levels of the Underworld.

(There's some tension between the two, but it’s difficult to comment on that tension when he has to consciously focus on breathing properly and not falling over.)

Killian is more than happy to mask any physical pain, however, when upon re-emerging into the Underworld’s facsimile of a library, Henry rushes up to wrap him in an enormous hug. He may not be fully healed for a while, but this? This is a start.

He’s just as touched to see the small crowd assembled behind the lad – Emma’s parents are there, of course, and he’s not that shocked to see Regina, considering that it was her precious son that engineered the plan to find and retrieve him, but it’s something more of a surprise to see Belle and Robin as well. He shakes the men’s hands in turn, offers a nod to Regina, and hugs Belle as firmly as his injuries will allow (taking the chance to whisper a soft but deeply meant “congratulations” in her ear). Killian then does his best to console the lady Snow – who looks close to tears – with a mumbled “it’s not as bad as it looks” as she holds his face to kiss his cheek before Emma interrupts to say she needs to bring him home and clean him up. At that, the others disperse, either to the Charmings’ loft or the Mayor’s mansion, as his Swan slides her slender arm around his waist and tosses his arm over her shoulder in order to help him hobble the few blocks back to his – their house.

It’s only once she gets him inside and settled in a kitchen chair – “I know it’s unsanitary, but hey, better than getting bloodstains on the couch, right?” – that Killian starts to think something is off. He hadn’t been too surprised when Emma wasn’t clinging to him in front of her family; on the best of days, she isn’t much for public displays of affection (or “PDA”, as she and Henry insist on saying), and a time when he needs help holding himself up certainly isn’t the best of days. But they’re alone now, and he’s sitting down, and damn if he doesn’t want to hold her. Killian knows it’s not the blood that’s the issue – he may be covered in the stuff, but so is she after supporting his weight for the past forty-five minutes, and it doesn’t seem to be fazing her in the least. Maybe before, his lack of self-confidence would have insisted Emma didn’t actually want to be here, didn’t want to be with him, but the way she tries to touch his face or his hand every time she passes him as she scurries around his kitchen trying to clean off the worst of the blood seems to suggest otherwise. So why doesn’t Emma seem to want him to hold her? It could just be that she doesn’t want to hurt him further, aggravate his wounds, but something makes him think otherwise.

“Love?”

She hums in his general direction.

“What’s wrong?”

Emma shoots a quick, though tight smile his way before turning back to the sink, trying to wring out a rag that was surely as clean as it was going to get. “Nothing’s the matter babe, don’t worry about it.”

He wants to believe her, so badly, but he knows how to spot her avoidances. And this? This is one of the most obvious he’s seen. “Emma, love…”

Killian holds out his hand towards her, and even if she was trying to avoid him a moment ago, she takes it like their palms are connected by magnets. “I’m just so relieved to have found you, to see you again. That’s all.”

“Even if that’s true, I know that’s not all,” he replies, to her half-hearted scoff. “You don’t have to tell me right now, but just let me hold you, love, let me try and make it better for both of us, yeah?”

As he tugs her closer, Emma tries to protest, tries to tell him “Killian, I don’t think that’s a good —” but he’s even quicker to interrupt.

“If this is you worrying about my injuries, sod the injuries,” he dismisses as his hand and stump move to her waist in order to pull her closer, only to unexpectedly encounter firmness.

Now Emma has always been strong and well-muscled, certainly, but she’s also a tiny, petite thing, thanks to her mother’s genes. So to encounter her now, more filled out, is odd. And suddenly, Killian remembers –

Upstairs, there is a room, meant to be a nursery.

“Swan…” he murmurs, slowly pulling up her sweater as she sighs in defeat to reveal…

…The small beginnings of a bump.

“…Surprise?”

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Clover and Lace, Chapter 15

Chapter warning: References to childhood abuse, forced childhood prostitution and graphic description of spousal abuse/murder.

Well kids, this chapter is two days late but about 800 words longer than normal. Ever wondered what Rosemary and Julian's childhood was like? What sort of childhood would make these two people?

A quick thanks to @winterisakiller who has had to put up with me while I write this and pretty much everything else in the last few months. Somehow she hasn’t murdered me yet and that’s worth a whole hell of a lot. Into RPF and Tom Hiddles? Check her out (That’s a order, not a request. <3)

As always, you can find my masterlist on my page or by searching “Kit’s Masterlist”. Just four more weeks of Clover and Lace to go! 

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

Chapter 15

Rosemary’s shoulders ached. Her fingers were slightly numb though she wiggled them periodically to make sure she still could. Her joints hurt and part of her would kill for the chance to just get up and stretch, though she was sure if she tried to stand her knees would buckle under her weight.

Around her, men spoke in a language she didn’t understand. The cabin of the small aircraft vibrated with the force of the engines as they sailed through the air, high above the ground. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember getting on the plane. That gap in memory caused her to rightly believe she had been drugged at some point.

With no memory of take off, she had no way of knowing how long they had been in the air. They could have taken her anywhere. If she didn’t know where she was it would make it even harder to call for help.

She wondered where they were taking her but part of her feared she already knew the answer. It had been a mistake to save Steve’s life. It had been a mistake to step into Avenger business. She tried to tell herself that she should have just let Steve and his team die, though she couldn’t get herself to believe it.

A man walked up to her and with a thick accent that seemed to confirm her fears, he spoke. “You have questions, yes?”

“Can I get a large quad shot mocha? And maybe unchained?”

Perhaps sassing wasn’t the best idea. Actually, when the man reached out and slapped her hard, she was pretty sure it had been a bad idea. Still, it made her feel better for a second. But she did learn something valuable, at least one person on this plane spoke English.

“What do you want with me?” She shouted as the man walked away. The more he talked, the more she could learn. “Where are you taking me?”

“We want location of weapon.”

“What weapon? I don’t know anything about a weapon. I think you’ve kidnapped the wrong person.”

“You’re Lady Ramsey.” Well shit- they kidnapped the right person.

“My name is Sara Wilson.” If only they would take that answer.

“Sara Wilson has only existed for one year.” Gosh, has it been that long already? “You are Lady Ramsey. You are the Lady Spider.”

She spent the rest of the flight trying to deny it. She argued, supplied facts from her fabricated childhood that could be verified on the surface level. After a few hours, she had tried to convince them to let her out of her chains. She asked for a bathroom break and was offered a bucket and a group of men who seemed all to eager to watch her use it. Turned out, she didn’t have to go that badly after all.

It had been a long flight and the sun had gone down hours before when they finally descended into a clearing. The plane made a rough landing on what appeared to be a private airstrip in a thick jungle. The air was thick with misquotes eager to feed from them. It was a shame applying bug spray wasn’t a part of her morning routine though in reality she knew it would have worn off by now anyway.

She could just imagine cuddling with Steve while covered in the strong scent of bug spray. That would surely increase the odds of a repeat of this morning. Every man loved to smell of it, right?

This morning seemed so long ago. It was another lifetime. One where she could pretend that she was just Sara Rose Wilson. With how they parted- did he even know she’d been taken? Had he tried to reach her? Did he call? She should have let him in. She should have trusted him. Perhaps he did turn her into Shield, perhaps he did just use her but Shield wouldn’t have killed her. Probably. Hopefully.

It didn’t matter- Julian would be looking for her. He would have called within 20 minutes of her text message. She should have just stayed home and packed. But no, she wanted one last milkshake from the ice cream store down the road.

She was pushed along the dark pathway from the plane with a hand firmly in her hair. Really, it was starting to piss her off. They shoved her into a small shack with one light bulb hanging from the ceiling and a metal chair bolted to the ground. It wasn’t lost on her how stereotypical the scene was and if not for the fact that she wasn’t sure if she was going to live to leave the shed, she would have laughed.

They secured her chains to the chair and left her there, turning off the light as they went out the door. Moonlight shone in through the small dirty window. Rosemary listened for signs of life outside. When she found none, she pulled on her chains.

They held fast, tightly secure with very little give. The reality that she was stuck there, trapped with no way out hit her hard. She even had her damned phone- at least she was pretty sure, silent in her jacket pocket. It did her little good with no way to reach it. She could only pray that it connected to some sort of radio tower near by, if it wasn’t shattered from how many times she had been thrown onto hard surfaces. Rabbit was not activated and she had no way to activate it in her current position.  Even in the best case, that the phone was still in her jacket pocket, had charge and wasn’t shattered beyond use it wasn’t useful in that moment.

She had no way to help herself. All she could do was sit and wait. If she got lucky, she would see a friendly face who owed her a favor. The odds were slim however- much of her web she wouldn’t know on sight and she was so very far from home.

This was a terrible situation. Rosemary closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Would Steve come for her? Would he miss her? Did he betray her? While she was alone, she may as well think back to happier times as tears gathered in her eyes.

A smile graced her face as she thought back to being a young girl, running through the forest with her brother while the sun glittered off the leaves and grass as if they were emeralds. Their task had been to gather wild food but it meant valuable time out from under their father’s thumb. It was a rare time when they could play and act like children as they ran through the greenery and played in the sun. Still, if they didn’t gather enough food there was a mighty beating that would greet them when they got home with too light pockets.

She thought back to the way Steve looked when when she had first seen him from across the crowded room, the warm lights making his hair look more like warm caramel than gold. Her heart had skipped a beat when he smiled the first time. Butterflies seemed to take up residence in her stomach when he spoke to her, his voice smooth and low. While she felt like a nervous mess with his imposing size, handsome face and hardly hidden muscles yet he seemed to be just as nervous.

Their fist date had been perfection and absolutely nothing she had expected. It had been so perfectly them when at the time there hardly was a ‘them’ that even for those things that went wrong, it was everything she needed it to be. It felt amazing to dance in his arms. It felt amazing to be with him.

She was addicted to him. She couldn’t help but fall for him and fall she did. It happened hard and fast, leaving her terrified yet wanting more every moment. Steve’s kiss seemed to draw new fire to desires that only simmered within her before. He gave her a taste of what being in love could be like, what being desired could be like.

Their easy conversations brought her peace even when she was having to make less than wholesome deals. Never had she feared for someone the way she had feared for him during his mission. It was a deep fear that shook her to her core. Never did she think she could feel that sort of fear in her life.

She may have slept for short spells as she sat in that metal chair, dreaming of what could have been, what had been. Somehow that first night felt impossibly long. Each time her head would jerk and she would wake from the light sleep, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Rosemary sang herself some folk songs from when she was a child, filling the dim and musty space with the sounds of the few happy childhood memories she had. Morning light began to come through the small window and fill the space when morning finally came. She could see how small the room was.

It was just as small as she feared. The floor, though solid, was covered in dirt, grass and straw. Water pooled in places and looking up, she could see the light coming through areas where the tin roof had rusted through. She was thankful it hadn’t rained during the night though if it had she could have possibly gotten a sip of water.

Rosemary was resigned to the fact that she would likely die here. Perhaps they would keep her alive for a few days or a few weeks. Maybe longer. They wanted the information she had access to. They wanted to use her web for their own gains.

She wouldn’t allow them to. The threads of her web reached far and wide. If her contacts fell into the wrong hands she feared for the world. Governments could topple with shifts in the balance of power. Her web would die with her and that would be worth it. Rosemary watched a disturbingly large spider crawl out of the shed as she decided that she’d lived a good life.

If she died now, that was okay. She had done all she had dared to dream of and more. She had seen the world. She’d lived a good life, better than she had dared to hope when she was nothing but a small child cowering under her father’s fists. She had even found and experienced something she never expected, love.

Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine Steve’s touch. She focused on the way his hands felt on her and the way his kiss made her beg for more. She would have given anything just to see his smile one more time. In her head, she played back the sound of his voice when he said he loved her. It didn’t matter to her in that moment if it was true or not, if he had used her or not. What mattered was that she loved him.

The door was chained closed at some point. It must have happened while she dozed in the middle of the night because she had no memory of hearing the rattle of chains. She would have remembered the sound, had she been awake. It was loud as someone outside unlocked the chains and let them fall to the ground.

Slowly, the door came in and someone Rosemary hadn’t expected to see at all walked in holding a tray of absolutely delicious smelling food. Spiced broth spilled a bit as the woman walked in and smiled warmly even as Rosemary’s blood ran cold. Detective Mary O’kelley was the one person she didn’t expect.

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“I’m pretty sure this violates more than a few international laws.” Rosemary put a bright smile on her face. “How’s your dad?”

“He died.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that. He was a good man and a good cop. Mostly.”

“He wasn’t willing to do whatever it takes to put down the parasites who would go so low as to kill their own father. You know, we found your mother’s body. I bet you two killed her too.”

“We took no part in their deaths. That wasn’t us. Now come on, you were an honorable cop. Don’t do this. Let me go.”

“Tell me why you killed him?”

“We didn’t!” Rosemary yelled before schooling her emotions again. “We planned on it. We intended to. We would have. But we didn’t. He was already dead when we came home that night. There was so much blood.”

“You were heard talking about slitting his throat. Just admit it and this can all be over.”

“We talked about it, yeah. But we were going to wait till he drank himself to sleep and suffocate him. Why does this matter so much to you? It didn’t matter this much before.”

“Because this murder we can prove. I can prove. But you killed her too. You killed my mother.”

“No one even knows who your mother was. You dad just showed up with a babe. At least that’s what they said.” Rosemary was thoroughly confused. Mary was older than they were but it was well known that her father had just came home one day with a child he called his own.

“Somehow, she loved you two more! Why wasn’t Pap good enough? Why wasn’t I good enough?”

“What are you talking about?”

“She was my mother too!” Mary screamed. “And you killed her! You killed her and then you killed your own father.”

“You’re mother… That’s why?”

Mary threw the bowl of hot broth at Rosemary before throwing the whole tray at her. Bowls clattered around her and rice flew everywhere. She could only watch helplessly as Mary stormed out and the shed door was slammed shut behind her.

Calmly she sat and listened as the chain rattled outside and the door was locked again. Passively, she wondered exactly how Mary- and now she was only Mary and not worth of the title Detective- expected her to try and escape the shed if she was chained to the chair.

When the rattling stopped, Rosemary desperately licked what grains of rice she could reach that had clung to her face. It was hardly more than a few but it was all the food she would have and she wouldn’t waste anything she could get.

Sitting there she watched bugs run around on the ground, eager for the spilled food as she thought. Mary held a personal grudge. She was being blamed for the death of Mary’s mother, someone Rosemary hadn’t ever known. Except it seemed she did know who Mary’s mother was.

Rosemary remembered the night that their mother died clearly. It was one of the few things she could never forget regardless of how hard she tried. Their father yelled and screamed, though such was normal for him. Items were thrown and broken and through it all, Rosemary tried to remember exactly what had triggered that last fight.

“You bloody cunt!” The booming voice of their father seemed to rattle the walls. A small girl clung to her brother and together they prayed that he wouldn’t notice them.

“Don’t you yell at me!” The woman with hair the color of fire screamed back, throwing a pot. It was a scene they had seen countless times before and yet somehow, this time it felt fundamentally different in a way they would only understand when it was too late.

“You think you can run around behind my back and hide the money?” The man slapped the woman hard. The blow sent her down onto the dirt floor in a crumpled heap.

“There is no money!” She cried as her fingers dug into the dirt. “I didn’t charge him a coin.”

“You’re nothing but a whore. The world’s cheapest whore apparently!” The man’s leg pulled back and he kicked her hard in the stomach before reaching down and pulling her up by her hair in order to scream in her face again, calling her a useless whore and other vile things the children had all heard before.

“He loves me!” She yelled as she slapped at him. “He said he will take me and the kids in! I just have to ask and I will. I will leave you!”

“Bet that little bitch of his would love having a whore like you to call mum.”

The children watched as their father’s hand clamped around their mother’s throat and squeezed. She clawed at his arms and neck, leaving long angry red lines crossing along his skin. Finally, possibly by luck, she managed to scratch deeply at his eyes as red blood beaded up on his arms. When he let go of her, he shoved her away from him violently. Her body was weak from lack of oxygen or perhaps the adrenaline was why her knees buckled and she fell harshly to the ground. A sickening pop rang out as her foot twisted in a way that the children both knew it most surely should not twist.

She screamed as she crawled away from him but he was on her in nearly an instant. With a fist in her hair, he lifted her off the ground again. Terror was clear in her eyes and fueled her as she kicked out wildly, catching him on the shin repeatedly. When he let go, she fell hard in front of the stone ledge of the fireplace.

He was enraged at her for having the nerve to finally fight back and this time when his hand gripped her hair he didn’t lift her head more than a foot off the ground before he slammed it down. The sound of her skull hitting the stones around the fireplace was sickening. Though Rosemary could clearly hear it in her mind all these years later, she could never begin to put words to that sound. He repeated the action again and again as blood spilled from the side of her head and her nose. Though she had gone limp, he did not stop.

The young girl that had grown into Rosemary clung to the boy who would later choose Julian as the name he would give himself. He held her face into his shoulder and whispered in her ear, trying to drown out the crushing sound of their mother’s bones breaking. Her brother was always her rock and this night like so many others, she clung to him.

They didn’t sleep that night. Instead, they clutched each other as they cowered next to the couch. Rosemary couldn’t look, even if she had tried. Julian held her face lightly in the crook of his neck and one could easily wonder if protecting her from the sight gave him some sense of control over the situation. He would grow into a man who greatly favored being in control.

“You’re mother left. You saw her walk out the door. She didn’t love you.” Their father announced as if that somehow overrode their eyes.

“Yes Papa.” The children both responded dutifully, as if they didn’t see the blood and hair pooled by the hearth.

His eyes however were glued to the mess that had once been their mother’s head. It no longer looked like the face of the woman who would sing them to sleep when their father passed out for the night, kissing the hurts inflicted by the man who should have been protecting them. Their father dragged the lifeless body out into the back garden with a shovel. For the first time in many years, they were allowed peace that night as he buried their mother.

It was the first time in months they had enough time to get some solid sleep through the night. It was a shame neither of them managed to sleep that night or the following night. When Julian did finally sleep, he often woke with nightmares that would force the air from his lungs in a violent scream. Rosemary would do everything she could to muffle it, even if it meant risking holding a pillow over his face. If father was woken up by the noise they would both be beaten.

Within six months their father had brought another woman home. She was tall and her hair lacked the warmth in the color that their mother’s had. It was a cold blonde, frizzy and wild in a way that lacked the grace of their mother’s soft curls. The woman’s face was sharp and angular. There was no kindness or love in her eyes for anyone, let alone the children of another women.

“This is your new Mum.” Their father said as if that was all it took to make it so. The children nodded and agreed, as if he had declared that the sky was blue.

The woman would go on to become one of their greatest abusers. It was her that suggested and encouraged their father to take his greed to greater heights. It was her that told him how much people- terrible horrible people would pay to have time with a young girl to indulge in vile acts.

As the now adult Rosemary sat in the dim shed alone with her thoughts and memories, she wondered what ever happened to that woman who they called ‘mum’ and had never once thought of as a mother. Did the police ever investigate her? Did it even matter? Rosemary didn’t care who did the deed and offed their father but she had dared to dream that they had taken her out as well. It was that woman’s terrible idea to sell off her virginity to the highest bidder. It was her idea to sell Rosemary’s body to men night after night. If the woman had been violently killed, Rosemary would still think it wasn’t enough of a punishment.

Long ago Rosemary had moved on, he was dead and that was all that really mattered to her. He would never harm them again. Their lives were their own now. Their decisions were their own though it had taken Rosemary a very long time to make a choice without Julian’s opinion and approval.

If she was going to die with Steve being the only choice she made on her own, she would indulge in the memories of him. With what little time she had left, she would put side the thoughts about what had passed as a childhood. It was far better to indulge in the fresher memories of far better times. It was better to spend her last hours or days thinking about the taste of Steve’s kiss, how safe she felt in his strong arms and the way his warm hands would touch her.

There wasn’t a better thing she could pick to have as her last thoughts.

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

Tag list: @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @dangertoozmanykids101, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @princess76179, @fairlightswiftly, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @michelegurl

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[srona58]

TAYLOR IN REPUTATION IS JAY GATSBY!!!

No disrespect to cats or food or sleep or Florida or hockey or Chris Pratt or Star Wars or Mark Hamill or Christmas or snow or porgs or Robert Downey Jr or cheesecake or even my Avy, but Reputation literally just brought my two favorite things on this planet together and I want to cry: Taylor Swift and the Great Gatsby. 

 Don’t believe me?  It took me an entire listen all the way through but I AM DYING; Gatsby is my all time favorite book and I have written about it, read it, and watched the movies thousands of times…so, let me know what you think.

Let’s start off simple.  For those of you who haven’t read the Great Gatsby, it’s a dramatic love story that doesn’t have a very happy ending.  Jay Gatsby is a rich, yet shady to the public eye, man who throws parties for the girl he used to love before he went to war.  He moved near her and eventually they got back together…only to end up in a crazy, mixed up tragic ending.  Daisy is married to Tom, but Tom is seeing Myrtle..this will all make sense later on.   So, if you don’t want spoilers, don’t read ahead…but please do anyway, haha.

The book/movie had a few themes that were repetitive – the color green, which included hope and wealth, the locations, and giant parties representing the 20s.  Start with So It Goes, Dancing With Our Hands Tied, and Dress - all mention the same color gold, which is also equal to the idea of wealth and money that the color green gives in Gatsby.  The lyrics in SIG are ‘gold cage, hostage to my feelings’, DWOHT says ‘painted my golden’, and a ‘golden tattoo’ is mentioned in Dress.  

Now, take notes of the songs Ready For It, Delicate and Dress – all discuss the theme of an island or the east and west side.  In RFI, she talked about moving to an island, and in Delicate she talks once about the ‘east side, where you at?’ and later says ‘third floor on the west side’ – yes, she is talking about New York, I assume, but the East and West Egg are mentioned over and over again as the home bases for the characters in Gatsby. Last: in This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things, King Of My Heart, and New Year’s Day, the lyrics are almost a mirror to the party life of Gatsby.  TIWWCHNT is a complete match, using lyrics like ‘it was so nice throwing big parties’, ‘everyone swimming in a champagne sea’, ‘bass beat rattling the chandelier, feeling so Gatsby for that whole year’.  This is probably the only time I’m going to mention this song in this rant, though, since it’s solely about the parties when discussing this Gatsby idea.  KOMH mentions fancy cars and the idea of ‘fancy me not fancy stuff’ which is how Daisy sees past the parties to see Gatsby for him.  NYD discusses ‘glitter on the floor after the party’, which again, is obviously a party mention.

Now, here we go with chronological things that I feel line up to the story of Gatsby and how Reputation follows this.

In Ready For It, the question of ‘ready for it?’ definitely reminds me of when Daisy asks ‘Gatsby?  What Gatsby?’ in the opening of the book/movie; this sets up the whole story, as does this first song on the album.

Lets move onto End Game.  The words ‘big reputation’ are repeated over and over again, which, yes, is the album title, but in Gatsby, Jay is always given a bad wrap by people he doesn’t know, and he knows the rumors being shared about him – example, when Nick is trying to locate Gatsby at his first party and he is told several things, including murder, about the man before they meet by other guests.  Gatsby definitely has ‘big enemies’, like Taylor has in End Game.

I Did Something Bad and Don’t Blame Me both remind me of the song Lana Del Rey did for the latest movie version of Gatsby, ‘Young and Beautiful’ - they both have that mystical backing vocals.  Now, I Did Something Bad links back to the reputation of Gatsby/Taylor, saying ‘cause for every lie I tell them, they tell me three’; she is saying the can always one up her with more rumors or lies.   Then, Don’t Blame Me states that ‘your love made me crazy’ – yes, we can relate this back to Blank Space, but in the end of the book/film, he also goes over the edge and gets angry, eventually scaring Daisy off.

With Delicate, Taylor asks ‘is it cool that I said all that’ – which directly uses the word cool, as Daisy does when she tells Gatsby he always ‘looks so cool’.  She also talks about pretending someone is ‘mine all the damn time,’ as Gatsby does the entire time they are separated and he is pursuing getting Daisy back.  Gorgeous also uses the word cool, then mentions ‘consequence[s] of you touching my hand in a darkened room’, which could relate to when Gatsby and Daisy go off to the woods during the first party of his that Daisy attends.

Let’s head into So It Goes, which furthers the discussion of the party in which they escape together in secret, hiding from Tom, Daisy’s husband. Taylor sings ‘all eyes on us’ and ‘but when you get me alone, it’s so simple’, which is how easy it is for Daisy to fall right back into place with Gatsby once she realized he is living near her.  She also writes about ‘doing bad things’ which could foreshadow how Gatsby and Daisy get in trouble near the end, but NO, I do not feel like this mimics how the book/movie ends…completely.

Look What You Made Me Do was our first single from the album and while I love this, it also covers a big part of the Gatsby story line.  ‘You said the gun was mine’ directly relates to how everyone blamed Gatsby for killing Mertyl, when in reality, it was Daisy but no one knew.  This is the part of the book/movie where everything turns from good to bad, and for the album, this is where it goes from good to bad and is the beginning of the demise of Gatsby…so, turning points at the same place?

Getaway Car follows, which ironically follows the story line of Gatsby, too!  Yes, Taylor is probably referring to Joe saving her, BUT it also can relate to Gatsby and Daisy using the car to escape back to New York after Jay raises his temper and scares Daisy off while in the city.  The song starts off with ‘I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason’ and Daisy wanted to leave Tom and was waiting for Gatsby to tell him and give her a reason to.    ‘We’d never get far’ refers to Gatsby and Daisy never getting far with their relationship, as Taylor hadn’t with her past relationships.  Then, she writes ‘I shoulda known I’d be the first to leave’, as Daisy leaves before Gatsby dies, knowing she could never truly be with him.  The other big parts in this song are ‘but you weren’t thinkin, and I was just drinkin’, well, he was runnin’ after us, I was screaming’ and ‘it hit you like a shotgun, shot to the heart’ – the first just sets up the car ride home where Daisy is wildly driving after they were all drinking in the hotel in the city, and the latter is the scene where Gatsby is, quite literally, shot and killed in the heart by Mertyl’s husband.  Last, one of the lyrics is ‘the last time you saw me’, and after that scene I just described, Gatsby never saw Daisy again.

Continuing…  Dancing With Our Hands Tied uses the phrase ‘love you in secret’, for obvious reasons.  It also says ‘nothing in the world that could stop it’, which is what Gatsby though, because, after all, he was seeing the world through the eyes of God…but that’s a different in-book concept.  Later on in the song it talks about ‘I’d hold you as the water rushes in if I could dance with you again’ – Gatsby hears the phone ring while in the pool before he is shot and whispers Daisy’s name, even though it was Nick calling; he is shot and killed with the hope that Daisy had come back, and as he sinks into the WATER, he is thinking about the past few days he spent DANCING with Daisy and trying to get her back.

Call It What You Want, a personal favorite, generally relates to the incident with the gun at the end and how Gatsby was finally taken down by Mertyl’s husband.  His ‘castle crumbled [literally] overnight’, and he didn’t bring any weapons when his killer brought the gun.  After he died the windows of the house were boarded up – ironically after the shit show of a storm their lives became.  AND ‘late November’ is in the fall (even though Gatsby is shot near Labor Day).

And now the last song on the album, New Year’s Day, is the one that differs, but it is GOOD.   The one big line that stands out to me is ‘don’t read the last page’ – DO NOT READ THE LAST PAGE OF GATSBY, because it delivers the end of his life, and states it is time to move on, not be ‘borne back ceaselessly into the past’.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY LAST POINT! As a recap…one of my FAVORITE THEMES that I have not mentioned yet is the idea of repeating the past.  In the book/movie, Nick tells Gatsby he ‘can’t repeat the past’, in which Gatsby replies ‘can’t repeat the past?  Why, of course you can!”  He will never let go of that hope of getting Daisy back.  I Did Something Bad says ‘I’d do it over and over again if I could’.  Don’t Blame Me uses ‘I would cross the line, I would waste my time, I would lose my mind’, talking about how desperate Gatsby is to go back to how things were.  AND in Dancing With Our Hands Tied, the lyrics are ‘I could’ve spent forever’.

AND THE KICKER?  She blatantly uses the name Gatsby in TIWWCHNT and even says ‘now I’m your daisy’ in Don’t Blame Me –  SHE IS NOW JOE’S DAISY, AS HE DOESN’T WANT TO LET HER GO, EITHER.  But in a healthy way…so DON’T READ THE LAST PAGE AND KILL THE STORY – the story will go on!!!

IN CONCLUSION, Taylor is the epitome of Gatsby, from starting as a party thrower to having rumors spread about her, to desperately clinging for love and trying to repeat the past until she finally killed herself (the ‘old Taylor’), only she is REWRITING HER OWN STORY and not killing herself off…she is simply jumping characters and being in love.

THERE YA GO, THIS IS MY FAVORITE ALBUM BY FAR.  PLEASE REBLOG AND TAG @taylorswift

[danceydanceykpopfancy-blog]

Too Close Pt. 4

Character: Byun Baekhyun (EXO) 

Genre: idek

Word Count: 2123

(I do not own this GIF) 

A/N: Hello all of you! I know it has been months and you guys probably dont even remember me at this point. So I got surgery yesterday and I am on bed rest. I’ve been having health issues and have been busy with school and I was out of the country this summer. I am extremely sorry but I will try to update more often from now on :) thank you guys 

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  

You woke up to the sound of your alarm coming from your phone on the night table at sharply 9:00 am. You were never a fan of waking up early but also wanted to be productive which led you to where you were right now, waking up at 9:00 am on a Saturday. Groaning you sat up, yawning and stretching until you reached for your phone, finally turning the annoying alarm off. Once you unlocked your phone your eyes widened, it was this early but you had 12 missing calls from the one and only, Byun Baekhyun. Getting worried since number one, he never wakes up this early and number two, he never spams you this much unless it’s important, you went to your contacts and clicked on Baekhyun’s, dialing with your heart beating hard at the thought of something horrible happening to him while you were asleep. It had been 5 rings and Baekhyun had not picked up when he usually picks up on the first one. Now you were getting worried, the call went to voicemail after a couple of rings. Getting up from your bed you went to your closet taking the first thing you saw to wear, not even worrying if it matched, your heart pounding and your hands shaking in worry. Without doing your hair or brushing your teeth you left your room and started looking for your keys, as you were looking under the couch your phone rang, your head lifting up in alarm. You reached for your phone and were a little relieved once you saw who it was.

“Baek what’s wrong? Are you ok? I’m on my way to your dorm, please tell me you are ok, talk to me please” You said reaching for the door once you found your keys and leaving your dorm not even locking the door, running at full speed. 

“Everything is wrong Y/N! I don’t know what to do!” He said in a very high pitched whine

Running even faster you got to the elevator clicking the button to go to the first floor.

“Tell me Baek, what happened?” You say clenching your shirt where your heart is and trying to catch your breath while the elevator starts to go down.

“I was supposed to go to a party with Sehun tonight but he cancelled on me! Can you believe that?” He said annoyed

Your mouth hung open and a sigh of relief left your body, after you took a couple of seconds to recover from the scare of your life you heard Baekhyun on the other line.

“Y/N? Did you hear me? Now I have no one to go to the part-”

“You are such an asshole Byun Baekhyun, wait until I see you, you are getting whipped” You said after the elevator doors opened with a ding sound, getting off and clicking the button to go up once again.

“Oooh Y/N, I didn’t know you were kinky like that” He said laughing

“Not funny Byun, you almost made me have a heart attack. I ran out of my dorm so fast” you said looking down at your feet “I’m not even wearing shoes oh my god Baek you are really going to get beat when I see you” you said surprised because you didn’t even notice your lack of shoes until now. 

Guilt struck Baekhyun, not being able to believe that you ran so fast to help him, forgetting to wear your shoes along the way.

“Are you okay?” He said turning a lot more serious after the possibility of your feet getting hurt.

“Physically yes, emotionally still recovering” You said matter of factly

“I’m sorry” He whispered, a whisper that was almost inaudible but you heard it, being used to the guilt that came after any mischievous act Baekhyun did.

“You know I can’t be mad at you for too long” you said with a sigh “Anyway why did you spam my phone with like 100 calls before?”

“And you call me exaggerated, it was 12 calls Y/N! 12! not 100, that’s like” He tried doing the math in his head “a lot less than 100!”

You chuckled going inside your dorm and laying on your couch after the mild heart attack baekhyun put you through.

“Anyway Y/N” he said putting emphasis on your name “I called you because, like I said before your murder rant, Sehun cancelled on me and we were supposed to go to this huge party tonight, at Kai’s house” he said

“And that should matter to me because?” you said getting annoyed as he was not getting straight to the point.

“Because you are going with me!” He said too happy for your liking

“Said who?” you sassed “Look Baek I love you and all but you know parties are not my thing, drunk guys trying to grind their way in my pants? No thanks I pass, just ask someone else”

“I did! But no one wants to go with me” He whined very loudly, too loudly, into the phone

“Glad to know I’m your last choice Baek” You said pretending to be hurt

“I’ll pick you up at 8:00, please dress appropriately, you need to look hot enough to be Byun Baekhyun’s best friend”

“Baek I said I don’t want to please don’t do that I really just-”

“See you later hottie, love you bye!”

He hung up. You sighed, you really hated his guts. ‘No I don’t’ you thought

After a long day of looking through every single article of clothing you had, you opted for a pair of high waisted, ripped jeans, a black crop top that went off your shoulders, and your pair of black and white adidas. This may not seem like the greatest outfit in history but it was completely out of your comfort zone.You looked at the clock realizing it was 5 pm. Your eyes widened in shock.

“It was like 10 am 5 minutes ago what the hell!” You said out loud

You had 3 hours to get ready, for now you went to the kitchen and made a sandwich since you had not eaten all day trying to look for appropriate attire and making a huge mess along the way. You went to your drawer ,munching on the last bite of your sandwich, getting out a matching pair of bra and panties and hopping in the shower hoping to not take too long. Shaving about everything on your body took up the most time in your shower, you washed your hair with a strawberry scented shampoo and did your regular shower routine.

You got out of the bathroom with just your bra and underwear on, not wanting to deal with the struggle that is having to put on skin tight jeans after a shower. You moisturized your whole body and decided to go get a glass of water from the kitchen. As soon as you walked out of your room you heard a loud scream coming from your couch. Startled you screamed as well until you saw Baekhyun sitting there with eyes widened staring up and down at your quite revealing body. Grabbing his jacket that was sitting next to him you tried covering as much of your body as you could.

“What are you doing here!” You screamed

“I came to make sure your outfit was good!” He screamed back

“How did you even get in!”

“The door was unlocked!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here!”

“You were in the shower!” he screamed “Why are you naked?” he screamed again

Blushing your tried to press his sweater tighter to your body. You looked at him, both of you making eye contact and both of you burst into a fit of laughter. He got up and embraced you in a hug, completely shutting you and your laughter up, and making the very much common blush in your face reappear.

“I’m sorry I just wanted to make sure you looked great, don’t be shy in front of me we are best friends” He said hugging you tighter placing his hands on your bare back.

“B...Baek get out I’m still not done, you said 8. Just trust me with the outfit ok?” You said breaking apart from his hug.

“Fine, but you better not let me down ok?” He said heading for the door “See you at 8!” He said leaving

Recalling the events that had just happened your cheeks started heating up. ‘Baek just saw me half naked’ you repeated in your brain, trying to function after that.

After Baekhyun left he couldn’t stop thinking about what he had just seen. You and Baekhyun had been best friends for the longest time, he saw you as someone irreplaceable in his life, and loved you more than anyone. Why did seeing you like that make his stomach get butterflies? He then realized what you had told him was right, both of you had grown up...a lot.

Baekhyun picked you up exactly at 8, you both drove to the party, jamming to songs together. You made him promise he wouldn’t leave you alone in there since you didn’t know anyone. Yet..it hadn’t even been 30 minutes into the party and there you were, standing, alone not knowing what to do. After scrolling through your phone you looked up to see something that made your insides churn. Baekhyun was hugging a girl, they were talking and smiling to each other. Her hand was on Baekhyun’s shoulder and his was on her waist.

A guy walked by offering ‘mystery drinks’ in red cups. You took one and chugged it down, this broke one of the most important rules of parties. You remember your first party, with Baekhyun obviously. “Listen up Y/N there is rules to parties ok? Rule number one! Do not take drinks from anyone, do you understand? Especially if they’re in a red cup, those are sketchy” you remember him telling you and you chuckled at the irony. Both of you had been 16 at the time and of course you followed his ‘party rules’ no matter what. Now it was different, you needed to forget. Just like that you found yourself chugging 4 cups of said ‘mystery drink’

You felt great. You were dancing with no worries and you were being friendly with everyone. You knew you wouldn’t feel as great the next morning, yet you kept drinking. You hadn’t seen Baekhyun since you last saw him with that one girl and honestly you didn’t want to see him. After dancing for what seemed like ages you went and sat down on one of the couches, catching your breath. You closed your eyes and rested your head on the couch, feeling slightly dizzy. ‘So this is what being drunk feels like?’ you thought to yourself. You spent so much time listening to everything Baekhyun told you that you missed out on so many things. You had never gotten drunk, or rebelled, or even kissed a guy; all because of him. You were tired.

Suddenly a hand on your waist interrupted your deep thinking. You opened your eyes to see a familiar face. A guy from your psych class, Chanyeol was it? “Hey” he said

“Hello” you whispered, the dizziness increasing

“Why are you by yourself?” the tall guy in front of you said

“My best friend dumped me for a girl, and now I’m stuck at this party, all bored until he’s done having his fun” you closed your eyes and sighed

”Maybe I could change that. The being bored part I mean” you opened your eyes once again and looked at him and there was a very obvious smirk on his face.

You looked at him. He is cute, tall and his smile is kind of creepy in an adorable way. ‘Fuck it’ you thought. You were done being Baekhyun’s little puppet, following all the rules he had set for you. You had to live too, besides the only reason why you followed those rules was because you hoped you would be able to experience all of those things with Baekhyun at some point. That obviously wasn’t going to happen, you are Baekhyun’s best friend, his little sister. “You’re not a woman to me, you’re my best friend” those words replayed in your mind, and without noticing you found yourself saying “Sure Chanyeol”

You looked at his hopeful eyes and suddenly he was leaning in. You knew what he was trying to do and you were not going to try and stop him. Whatever had to happen will happen. You felt him getting closer and closer, you could feel his breath on your lips and his nose touching yours. All of the sudden what you expected the least happened. That voice.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

[halo-of-honey]

The Quartermaster

Justin Ripley x Original Fem. Character

Synopsis: Quinn is tired of her job. She desperately needs a vacation. So she decides to take a month and visit London. What she doesn’t expect is to meet a handsome, young detective in a city of millions. But can she let go of her past and move into the future?

Words: ~8,655

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

[[ Read on AO3! ]]

Chapter 4: The Rooftop Pool

Justin slumped back in his chair. He had been watching Luther in the interrogation room through the one-way mirror. Luther had been in there with their murderer for almost an hour, trying to get the guy to confess. Finally the murderer slipped up, Luther noticed, and then the man confessed to it all. Their case was solved and the murderer caught. Justin had worried that things would go sideways. Their criminal was smart, but clearly not smart enough. He felt a rush of relief and ease wash over him. It was a feeling he had been seeking like a drug since he became a cop.

Luther met Justin in the bullpen. Their desks faced each other, both cluttered with paperwork and photographs. They clasped hands and bumped shoulders, congratulating each other and the rest of their team on a job well done. Justin moved to start straightening up the files on his desk while Luther moved to take down the photos pinned to the wall. Eventually Luther returned to his desk and dropped the cardboard office box full of photos on his desk. The box landed on his almost completely paper covered keyboard and a moment later the computer started beeping incessantly from the repeated keystrokes.

“Move the box.” Benny, the Serious Crime Unit’s in-house technical assistant said in a dull tone from across the room.

Luther shoved the box away from his monitor a few inches and the beeping stopped, “Damn technology.” he grumbled under his breath.

“You’ll get used to it someday, old man.” Justin teased.

“Alright, give me a break. I just got the bastard to confess, didn’t I?” Luther replied, even as he smirked. “I’m starved. Anyone wanna grab a bite and a drink? First round’s on me!”

Benny stood up, reaching for his coat, “I’ll meet you outside. I think this calls for a celebratory smoke first.” he said, putting two fingers to his lips and winking.

Justin considered it, tapping the files in his hand against the desk to straighten them, “Actually can I take a rain check? I’m meeting someone tonight.” he said.

Luther cocked an eyebrow, “Who is this someone?” he asked.

“No one, just a friend.”

“Is this friend that girl you ran off to chat with in the square the other day?” Luther asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Wait, you saw her?”

“Of course I did, mate. She’s a stunner.”

Justin gaped at his partner, not sure how to respond to that. Finally he shook his head, “I should go.”

“Yeah, go. But I want to meet her soon, alright?”

“Yeah yeah...” Justin replied with no intention of actually following through. He really liked Luther, even considered him one of his closest friends. But he didn’t want to scare Quinn off. “Maybe someday.”

Twenty minutes later, Justin parked on the street as close to Quinn’s building as he could find. It was almost 7pm and he wondered if she’d even be home. From their long conversation at the bar the other night, he knew she didn’t really have any other friends or family in the city. But he didn’t know what time she usually got home in the evenings. He wondered if he should’ve called her first, then shook the thought out of his head as he approached the door. It was too late for that now.

Theodore saw Justin and pushed through the door to hold it open for him. “Good evening, sir. How are you doing tonight?”

Justin smiled politely if not a little taken aback, “I’m good, thank you. Just here to see a friend.” he replied.

“Very good. Which friend may that be, if you don’t mind my asking?” Theodore continued, following Justin into the lobby.

“Her name is Quinn. I dropped her off here after we went out for drinks the other night. Is there a buzzer where I can ring her?”

“Oh! Yes! Miss Quinn, a lovely young woman. Here let me call up to her flat for you.”

Theodore stepped over to a panel on the wall and pressed the button for apartment 32. He waited a moment, then pressed the button again but there was no answer.

“Well I know she hasn’t gone back out. So maybe she’s having a swim. She mentioned she likes to visit the pool daily.” he explained.

“Oh, alright. Well I can try to call her.” Justin said hesitantly.

“No need, come follow me. I’ll let you up to the pool.” Theodore said, waving Justin towards the elevator. He called it down and when it arrived, he stepped in and tapped a plastic keycard against a scanner next to the other buttons, “Check up there first.”

Justin got into the elevator, “Thank you, I appreciate your help...” he paused, not sure of the doorman’s name.

“Theodore Carmichael. And you are?”

“DS Justin Ripley. It’s nice to meet you, and thanks again for your help.” he replied as the doors began sliding shut.

“You as well, sir!” Theodore called back.

As Quinn flipped underwater to turn into her next lap, she saw someone enter the pool room. Assuming it was just one of her neighbors, she didn’t pay them much mind. She was about halfway back across the pool when she noticed the person had approached the edge of the pool. Her head tipped to the side so she could take in a breath. Using the time to take a better look, she saw that it was a man in a dark suit and peacoat. She slowed her pace as she came nearer to the opposite end of the pool. The man squatted down as she glided up to the edge, putting her hands on the pavers at his feet.

“Justin, what’re you doing here?” she asked, treading water so she could smooth her hair back and wipe the water out of her eyes.

“I’m sorry to surprise you like this. But we got our man and I was hoping I could take you out to dinner to celebrate.”

Quinn smiled up at him, “Oh that is good news. Do I say congratulations? I’m not even sure.”

“Well really Luther cracked it. Got the killer to confess.”

“Either way, that’s great.” she said. “How did you get up here, by the way? You can only access this floor with a keycard.”

“Oh the doorman, Theodore was it? He let me up. Said you’d be up here. I didn’t know you were a swimmer.”

Quinn lifted herself up out of the pool, sitting at the edge to ring out her hair, “I was never on a team or anything. It’s just good exercise.”

“Well you look good in the water from what I saw.”

“Thank you,”

Justin held out a hand to help her to her feet, “So anyway about dinner, it’s alright if you’ve got plans or didn’t want to go out. Like I said, I was just feeling good about this case and wanted to see what you were up to. I really should’ve called.” he rambled.

Quinn reached for her towel and rubbed it in the shell of her ears, “No! No, I’d love to go to dinner. It’s always better to celebrate with company.” she answered, smiling at him.

“Oh, great. Well I can come back in an hour or something so you can get ready...” he trailed off.

“That’s alright. Just come downstairs, it’ll only take me a half hour to get ready. I promise.”

Quinn already had her hand on the door to the hall and Justin had to jog a few steps to catch up with her. She led him back onto the elevator and pressed the button for the eighth floor. When the elevator stopped, she got off and turned right. She pulled a set of keys from the pocket of her robe and unlocked the door on the left at the end of the hall. Justin followed her inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. She dumped the keys in a dish on the kitchen counter.

“Here, put on some music. I think there’s beer in the fridge if you want one. Make yourself at home.” Quinn told him, opening up her laptop.

Before Justin could say anything in response, Quinn had already gone down the hall. A few moments later he heard the shower turn on. He took a cursory glance around the flat, more out of work habit than anything. It wasn’t the biggest apartment he’d seen, but it was a good size for one person who was just visiting for a month. Of course because she was renting, many of the trinkets and accessories were of the homeowner’s choice and not Quinn’s. So he couldn’t get a very good idea of who she was off the decore alone.

He went to the fridge and opened it, ducking to look inside. It was mostly empty, with only some condiments and a few leftovers containers. He didn’t see any meat, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was a vegetarian. On the bottom shelf there was a six pack of beer with two missing. He took two more out and shut the door, then rifled through the drawers until he found a bottle opener. Leaving one bottle on the counter and taking a long pull from the other, he made his way back to her computer. She had opened Spotify for him and the playlist she had last been listening to was still up on the screen.

When Quinn returned, she was dressed in a black, thigh-length dress, camel leather jacket and a large plaid scarf. As she came down the hall, she pulled her damp hair up into a messy ponytail. Justin was bent over her laptop with a beer in one hand, scrolling through her music collection. He had taken off his coat and she had to admire the way he fit in his tailored black slacks. Even though she wasn’t wearing shoes, he still seemed to notice her presence and looked up. Her eyes quickly darted away, pretending like she hadn’t just been staring at him.

“I didn’t know you liked dance music.” he said.

She raised her eyebrows, reminding herself of what was going on, “Oh? I guess it didn’t come up.”

“You have a lot of good stuff on here,” he said, picking something and letting it play in the background.

“I fancied myself a DJ in college. I even got a part time gig at a club in Providence when I was doing my masters.” she admitted.

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought.”

Quinn laughed, reaching for the beer that Justin had left on the counter for her, “Yeah it was a hobby really. I wouldn’t say I was any good. But the people at the club seemed to enjoy my sets.”

“Well that’s what’s important.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Quinn said. She leaned on her elbows on the counter, giving her calves a gentle stretch as she sipped from her beer. “I guess you listen to this kind of music then?”

Justin himself was almost caught staring at her ass and quickly had to look away, “Yeah. I listen to a lot of stuff. Never really been able to choose. But my mates and I like to go to the clubs sometimes.”

“I’m sure that must be fun. I haven’t been to a club in ages.”

“Hey, we’re actually supposed to go out to this new club that’s opening in Canary Wharf next weekend. You should join us.”

Quinn stood up, drinking more of her beer, “Oh, I wouldn’t want to butt in on your friends.” she replied politely.

Justin shook his head, “No, not at all. There’ll be so many people there, they won’t even notice. Just come, it’ll be fun.”

“Alright, alright.” she conceded, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Send me the address and I’ll try my best to be there.”

When Justin and Quinn left the restaurant around 9pm, it was still very warm outside. They had had a couple of drinks and neither of them were ready to say goodnight quite yet. So they started walking towards the Thames and then eventually along it towards Westminster Palace. Justin couldn’t think of a time he felt so comfortable around another person. Quinn seemed to have this bizarre effect on him. Her conversation could make him laugh one minute and the next make him contemplate the world around him. She was incredibly smart and he felt evenly matched with her.

Eventually they reached the palace and stopped, standing under the glow from Big Ben. They leaned against the railing overlooking the river. Justin listened intently as Quinn explained the struggle artists faced with respect for the relationship between their time and the cost to sell artwork. He was blown away by how passionately she could speak on the topic. She seemed to have all the right words and never stumbled or faltered with her convictions. Eventually she noticed he hadn’t said anything for a minute or two and looked at him worriedly.

“I’m sorry, I’m boring you.” she said sheepishly. “I never know when to shut my mouth.”

Justin shook his head and stood up straight, “No, not at all. I was very interested in what you were talking about.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” he said. He moved a little closer to her, “I will admit I was getting a little distracted though.”

Quinn’s voice was barely a whisper when she responded, “Distracted by what?”

“By how much I want to kiss you right now.”

Justin watched as Quinn’s tongue snaked out to trace across her pink lips, “Then kiss me.” she told him.

He reached for her, weaving his fingers into the hair at the base of her skull and leaned in to press his lips against hers. She sighed into him, her whole body moving to be closer to him. They both grinned through the kiss and then Quinn giggled. Justin broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. He couldn’t help but chuckle with her.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. Her fingers reached to touch her lips, “I didn’t think I’d be standing here, halfway across the world, kissing a man I just met.”

“We didn’t just meet.”

“Okay, but just about.”

Justin smirked, “Well I don’t know about you and maybe I’m just going mad, but the connection I feel with you I can’t explain. When I saw you on the plane that day...it was like I knew you. Like we had been friends when we were little or something and just happened to run into each other again.” he admitted to her.

“No, I get that.” Quinn agreed. She looked away past him, “I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone.”

“Not with Ethan?” Justin joked.

Quinn smiled, bringing her eyes back to him, “No, definitely not with Ethan.”

“Oh, come on. I’m sure there must’ve been something there.” he teased, grinning as she rolled her eyes.

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

[underthekillingmxxn-a-blog]

Drabble

(long post, contains mention of domestic abuse/violence, graphic violence, and blood)

Like many of his recent nightmares, Adrian’s dream took place in an endless, dark maze, with mysteriously lit looking glasses of various sizes covering the black and infinitely tall but otherwise nondescript walls. Wind howled like the tortured, simultaneously mouse quiet and impossibly loud. The Blade, wearing his usual gear, quietly toured his current path, until he reached a two way intersection, marked by a large, square mirror.

A horrific beast, a mishmash of both animal parts and impossible anatomy, stared at him with his six, glowing amber eyes, grinning floppy ear to floppy ear with his crocodilian maw. The former assassin recognized its form: it resembled one of Pontiff’s Sulyvahn’s enormous beasts, though he couldn’t quite recall how he knew. Perhaps in the two or so days missing from his memory of trekking through until he collapsed in Anor Londo held the answer. 

For a few weeks now, it haunted him while he slept. It certainly didn’t feel any better than the dreams of falling to his death or being murdered by his father.

In fact, these often poked at similarly deep seated fears.

In any case, the beast often took on a form different from the last, sometimes even morphing in the dream. This time, from his mouth sprouted tusks like that of a boar, and from the end of his tail curled a cat-like tail.

Interrupting his train of thought, the beast spoke in a distorted version of his own voice, thick Vinheimian accent and all, in an impossibly low register as he clicked his talons on the ground, “How good of you to return, love. Waiting for your slumber is always so dull.” He broke into raucous, mocking laughter that raised the tiny hairs on the back of the former assassin’s neck.

Adrian began to stalk down the path to the east, his pace swift.

“Oh, you think pretending I don’t exist is going to work?” the beast taunted as he followed the exiled Vinheimian through the mirrors, his size adjusting to that of the mirror. Just like the man he reflected, he moved with incredible grace, even on his four massive paws, each easily larger than Adrian’s head. 

Suddenly, the hallway the towering Darkmoon Knight stomped down changed, dream reality rippling as it came to an abrupt end just so the Unkindled could stare at his Shadow. In the time he only observed it through the corners of his eyes, it gained another pair of limbs that ended in human-like hands, with fingers too long.

The monster sat on his large haunches, looking Adrian in the eye. “Face it, Adrian,” he sneered, throat thrumming with dark chuckles, “You have twice the anger of your father, and to top it off, you savor violence and bloodshed like a fine wine. You didn’t become your father; you became worse. I’m sure he’d be so proud that his rotten apple of a son became an awe-inspiringly gnarled and twisted tree.” His gaping rib cage vibrated and shuddered with perverse amusement.

Clenching his fists, the Blade stared at him defiantly, staying quiet as he seethed. “Prove yourself right, why don’t you?” the beast yawned, covering his mouth with one of his deformed humanoid hands before laying down on his belly.

“I don’t have to listen to his,” Adrian growled as he turned on his heels, cape swishing behind him as he started in the opposite direction.

Standing up on all four legs, the brute leaped after the man he reflected, stampeding from mirror to mirror until he surpassed Adrian.

Instead of changing the interior, his unconscious mind that produced not only the dream but the pursuing monster merely let the Darkmoon Knight scamper down the other side of the intersection. The mirrors on either side of him began to change, some of them no longer rectangular or square but uneven, polygonal shapes, a few even shattered in places. 

As they both ran, the brute, conjured from his own sleeping mind, hissed in a sinister whisper, “What makes you think at the first chance, you won’t do what your old man did? You remember how your mother used to scream as he battered her, only hitting her harder with each noise of pain? How his belt would leave welts on your oldest sister’s pale legs, and that’s why she hated skirts and dresses?” the beast’s thin lips curled away from his sharp, yellowed fangs as drool dripped from his maw, “Oh...and what he did to you.”

The former assassin stopped in front of the mirror containing the beast and punched it with his iron-encased left fist with a belligerent cry. As the glass shattered, the monster guffawed as his voice changed to match Adrian’s exactly.

“You are the walking embodiment of his sins. You think violence will solve your problem? Typical. Killing will only make you turn more into...” the brute’s form danced to the next mirror, standing on his back legs and gesturing the talons of his hands, “this.”

“It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself at night. You love the way blood feels when it splatters on your tainted skin, love how it tastes like metal when you swish your tongue over the droplets on your lips, love how warm it feels on your blade. You will never be saved. You will fall as a Blade when you give into that twitchy need to destroy. Velka’s crows will capture you, and every night they will tear your liver out for the Sins that crawl like maggots up your spine.”

Adrian marched up to the mirror and looked at his Shadow beast in the eye. “Your point?” he asked, tilting his head as his nostrils flared and his right eyelid twitched in rage. His nose touched the cold surface of the looking glass

“You aren’t deserving of mercy, just as you give no mercy or pity to those you hunt. Such nerve, you have, to call yourself a man when you are but a brute walking on two legs,” the creature replied, similarly pressing his elongated snout up to his side of the mirror. His hot breath steamed it up on his side.

Truly, the dreamer expected the beast to just jump through.

Beat.

Then, the Blade said between clenched teeth, “Tell me something I don’t already know, Adrian.” Even his sleeping mind knew it was more or less a discussion with himself.

A scaled, gangly arm reached out from the mirror, the surface rippling around it like water, and grabbed him by the collar of the vest.

“You destroy everything you touch.” The nose came forward until it started nudging him backwards. Then, the beast shoved the former assassin into the other wall hard. Had it been real, it would have knocked the wind out of him, but instead the human Adrian blinked in shock.

In a seductive whisper, the brute spoke in his ear,“Your hands are always covered in blood, because that’s what you turn everything you get your claws on into.” The hand and fanged mouth receded into the mirror, then the form of the monster vanished.

Brushing himself off, the Blade shakily stood up, looking up and around as if he could find an escape to this labyrinth. As he turned, it changed again, ends becoming new halls, old corridors becoming ends, the ceiling becoming its own segment up above. Eventually, he just chose a path, and darted down it.

Slowly, the amount of mirrors on the walls dwindled ‘til there were no more. The featureless walls became lush, green hedges, though the lighting stayed dim.

He could feel the beast's breath on his neck, and as he ran, he heard soft, manic laughter in his ears.

In the dream, at least, he did not tire out, as he ran the equivalent of miles, pursued by himself.

The further he dashed down the endless hallway, the louder the laughter became, until he clutched at his ears and shut his eyes.

“Shut up, shut up.”

Opening him again, he nearly collided with another looking glass on the hedge. First, it reflected nothing, but Adrian blinked again, and instead he looked at what he first thought was his own remarkably clear reflection.

But a quick look revealed it wasn’t his true reflection. The man staring at him was drenched, head to toe, in blood. Only his false reflection’s eyes weren’t red. Even his teeth, as his lips pulled into a grin so wide it was physically impossible, was soaked. It dripped off him, oozed from him, until distinguishing it from his Shadow’s body was not possible.

“He’ll go Hollow, because of you, as he waits for the day you’ll stop being so monstrous. The day that will never come, because you’ll do anything to keep him safe. Even if it means embracing the Dark. Even if it means slaughtering all around him.”

The blood began to pour of the mirror and onto the black void of the floor. Some of it began to flow up.

“Shut. Up.” Adrian shut his eyes again and held his hands over his ears.

Two damp, far too warm hands wrapped around him, pulling him into a foul, bitter mockery of a lover’s embrace. Hot puffs of air ghosted on his lips before a mouth full of fangs tenderly kissed him, clamping down on the Blade’s lower lip. No real pain registered, but the man yelped in pain anyways.

“But I will always love and accept you. I will always be here, even if no one else will ever love a wretch like you.”

Widely opening his eyes, the Darkmoon Knight stared at the version on himself dripping with blood before sinking his teeth into the Shadow’s neck and viciously tearing. His mouth tasted not of blood but the thick bitterness of morning.  Muscle squished and squelched. The brute laughed heartily, taking off the dreaming man’s Pharis’s Hat and running his hands through the hair beneath affectionately. Adrian pulled away, flesh between his teeth, and spat, only to repeat the process in the same place that gushed blood until there was a river at their feet.

“Proving me right, my monster?”

Clamping savagely down until he hit bone, the Blade hissed “Shuddup” against muscle as his nails became claws and raked his Shadow’s back, shredding through leather and chainmail and skin.

“Shut up shut up shuttup shuddup.”

He repeated it like a prayer.

“Oh, Adrian, how you prove yourself right and prove yourself deserving of your fate.”

Gasping, Adrian finally woke up, chanting, “Shut up,” in a whisper, his hands flailing about like they did in his dream. The blankets had long since slid off him onto the floor, and yet head to toe, his nude form was slick with sweat. In the darkened room, he blinked as his mind realized he was awake.

His tearing eyes focused and adjusted to the dim light until he realized his adolescent puppy stood in front of the bed, as if anticipating he’d attempt to walk in his sleep. Through it all, she remained remarkably calm.

Sighing and darkly chuckling, the Blade leaned over and petted Selene’s head. 

“Just a dream. Just a dream,” he told himself as he checked his hands as if expected bloody claws. Just bitten fingernails and callouses. Wrapping his arms around his chest, he sat up and softly, silently cried.

[illbefinealonereads]

It’s back.

Where have I been for four months? Inside, mostly.

Notes from: Chapter 10 through Chapter 13

They got caught sleeping on the couch by her brother. I can’t wait to see how this will end.

“Oh I got it; he’ll have to accept this one! “I had a bad dream, Jake,” I mumbled, looking at the floor, and pretending to be upset. He gasped and wrapped his arms around me, instantly, putting his chin on the top of my head. “Oh shit, Amber. It’s OK,” he cooed, rocking me slightly.” No one acts like this? Why are they walking on fucking eggshells and acting as if she’s fucking five?

“I don’t like having to lie to your brother, Angel,” Trust me, no one is enjoying it.

“He laughed and shook his head. “No I don’t. I make a bowl of it every day and pretend to eat it, before you come in and snatch it off me,” he said with a sexy smile and amused eyes. “Why the heck would you make a bowl and pretend to eat it? Do you like to piss me off?” I asked, annoyed. “No, Angel. I like to make you breakfast,” he said simply.” It’s so stupid!!!

“Every day I would come in and make some nasty comment to him about eating at home and leaving my cereal alone, and all this time he makes it for me? Jeez, that is so freaking sweet!” Oh my god it’s getting more stupid.

“All this time I thought he was just a jerk, when really he was being nice to me!” The good old he’s pulling your hair because he likes you trick. Listen kids, when someone’s nice to you, it’s not disguised, you’ll immediately know that their being nice.

“Good, I’ve been waiting for you to get jealous for the last twelve years,” Twelve years ago you were six. And she was four. Just a friendly reminder.

“I purposefully swayed my ass, trying to look sexy; it must have worked because three boys from my history class whistled at me and made a comment about my sexy booty. I rolled my eyes. Boys!” Oh no.

Now that Liam has told everyone that he has a secret girlfriend, the girls at school are betting on who’s gonna sleep with him next. Guess what’s Amber about to do.

“This was a running joke, Sarah had bought some ‘herbs’ from a friend of hers and lit them in her room to cleanse her aura or something. It had ended up being weed and she got high, running down her street half naked whist calling everyone on her cell to come and see the parade.” Sure, this is really stupid cause I’m pretty sure that’s how mushrooms work and not weed, but look… We got a bit of backstory about one of the characters. Another miracle. I’m so proud.

“Jake, it’s a lot of money I just thought, you know, it’d be a laugh. You never know, I may get to lose my virginity to the famous Liam James,” Yes, please say that to your older brother.

“I wasn’t good at lying” What do you call sharing a bed with a boy for ten years without anyone knowing?

“I thought that once people knew I wasn’t interested, that they would all leave me alone,” Yeah, that’s how the world works.

Liam’s introducing her to his parents (who she’s met before), a thing that grown ups who have been dating for months do. Is this the ‘look, they’re mature’ portion of the book that’s trying to get us to forget that we’re talking about a 16 and a 18 year old

“Pat was baking cookies and Rick was busy trying to eat the cookie mix straight from the bowl, making her laugh and hit his hand with the wooden spoon. I chuckled at the scene. They were always like this, she was the perfect housewife and mother, and he adored her and Liam, which was really sweet.” Rick (Liam’s dad) is acting like he’s a kid. And I… I don’t know what to say.

““Hey! You said I couldn’t have one because they were cooling,” Rick whined, pouting, making me laugh; she picked up a cookie and tossed it at him with a wink.” Aw Rick. You fucking child.

“Pat’s face snapped to look at me, shocked. Slowly, her face turned to happiness, then complete bliss, as she laughed and ran to me, grabbing both me and Liam into a big hug. “Oh my gosh! Finally, you two got together? Finally!” she almost screamed, jumping up and down on the spot.” Has your mom said this about anyone you’ve ever dated? I’m asking for science.

“I am so happy for you two. Liam’s told you he’s been in love with you for years, right?” Pat, you had one job.

I don’t know how to prepare anyone for what follows. This is Liam’s mom, Pat speaking: “That’s right. So anyway, you and your brother came to the party and as soon as you walked through the door, Liam just stared at you. He literally couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You smiled and said happy birthday to him, but he couldn’t even speak to you, so you walked off to go dance. He turned to me, and do you know what he said to me?” she asked, her eyes tearing up. I shook my head. What the heck is she going to say? This is freaking me out a little! “He said in a deadly serious tone, ‘Momma, am I dead?’ And I said ‘no honey, you’re not dead’, and he shook his head, looking all confused about something. Then he pointed to you dancing and said, ‘if I’m not dead, then why is there an Angel in our house?’” she stated, clasping her hands together and beaming.”

“I think Liam really is in love with me, but am I in love with him?” Y’all have been dating for like three days. CHILL

““I never noticed because he was always so mean to me. He was always pushing me over, or pulling my hair, calling me names.” I frowned. Why did he do all of that if he was in love with me?” Okay Pat, you have another job now: don’t say anything stupid.

““Your brother made him stay away. He beat Liam up after his birthday party that same year and told him to stay away from you,” she said, laughing and shaking her head. “That brother of yours sure is protective, bless him,” she said, smiling fondly.” Come on, Pat! Stop fucking up!

“Suddenly, Liam jumped over the back of the couch and landed next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me to him. When I turned to smile at him, he kissed me, nibbling my lip, asking for entrance. Jeez, did he forget his mom was sitting there watching us?” Apparently. Jesus!

“His taste exploded into my mouth as he slipped his tongue in, massaging mine passionately, making me moan.”

“The first time I saw you I thought you were an Angel straight from heaven. You were so beautiful that you took my breath away. You still do, every day.” You know how in books and movies and TV shows, whenever we find out something, there’s no need to repeat it five more times? This book does not follow that rule.

Another almost sex scene.

“Pat smirked at me. “Bye, Amber. Did you guys have fun?” she asked, giving me a wink.” Pat, you’re being a creep, talking about your son’s sex life. Chill.

““Well, I enjoyed my grilled cheese,” he joked, making me laugh.” Missing: a joke.

Oh, now. We’ll be getting more angst apparently, Amber’s father is trying to reach out. This will be… well it won’t be good, or interesting, or engaging. It’ll be something.

“Jake walked over and pulled me from Liam’s arms, making me whimper. He wrapped me in a tight hug. “Damn it, Amber. Don’t ever do that to me again! I thought you were going to die! Shit, you scared me,” Jake ranted, as he rocked me back and forth gently.” Yes, please yell at your sister who just had, what I assume was supposed to be, a panic attack.

“Jake looked murderously angry. “What the fuck? You two are together, aren’t you?” he roared.” Priorities, mate.

“He nodded but didn’t open his eyes. “What was that what you did, Liam? How did you do that? Calm her down like that?” he asked, opening his eyes and looking at him gratefully. “I don’t know. It’s just something that calms her down that’s all. I’ve always done it,” Liam said with a shrug.” How many secrets will be uncovered in this chapter ffs.

Okay, Jake needs to read a fucking book, his insults sound like he’s six and has just learned them. Luckily, my excel spreadsheet has a ‘childish insults’ section.

Jake knows everything now, they don’t have to hide anymore. Thank fuck.

“It was nearly ten o’clock but my body felt so exhausted from all the emotional drama that it felt like I hadn’t slept in days.” Do you mean, emotional trauma?

I’m gonna push past the opening of this chapter. They made out, that’s all it happened.

Liam doesn’t like cereal. He just made it for her every morning. We’re going over it again.

He calls her beautiful. She comments on the honesty in his voice. I gag.

“I don’t want to know that you two are having sex. I don’t!” Jake, mate, me neither.

““Angel, I don’t want you to want to be with me for some bet.” He frowned, looking a little hurt.” What I want is consistency in the tone of the characters in this book. We don’t get everything we want, now don’t we.

Oh fuck, they’re talking about having sex, and they haven’t even finished having breakfast. In front of her brother.

“I can’t believe girls do that sort of thing.” What? Make bets on who’s gonna sleep next with a certain boy? No one fucking does that.

Angel makes a play for Liam publicly. Angel gives Liam a boner publicly. Angel leaves to make plans about getting the pill. Angel goes to a family planning clinic. Angel goes on the pill. Liam gets angry because he wasn’t invited. Angel apologizes for not inviting him.

“Most guys aren’t in love with their girlfriends like I am.” I’m not like other boys, I’m special? Most guys are smart and strong and beautiful? #feminism?

Saying shit like “I should’ve been there” makes Liam a little controlling in my opinion.

“I just prayed I would be ready soon, before he got bored or desperate and went chasing after that skank Jessica.” Oh no. Oh god no. This book is getting more problematic by the paragraph.

Um. Liam just barged into the bathroom while Amber was taking a bath, and he asked if he could get in. Then he commented on how cold it is, before going back to her room, where he scolded her about “hypothermia or something” after she left the bathroom. What is this book? Can it decide?

“He wrapped his arm around me, putting each of my prune like finger tips into his mouth, warming them one at a time. Oh my God, that’s sexy!” It’s not though.

“Angel, you couldn’t possibly be any hotter, trust me. That would be illegal,” Would it now?

Okay, they’re getting naked. I think the almost sex-scene is turning into an actual sex scene. I wonder how hard to read it’ll be.

Angel knows innuendos.

“I laughed and couldn’t resist teasing him some more. “Jake, you might want to borrow my iPod, we’re warming up for the bet,” I joked, winking at him. Liam burst out laughing and Jake just glared at me, shaking his head disapprovingly, closing the door behind him. “Angel, you are just too funny,” Liam said, kissing down my neck.”

Now that I'm 50% done, here's the tally: