#but uh. yeah. been thinking about victim lately. their actions make So Much Sense when u remember their history

[darubyprincx]

cold world out there, kids, grab your coats

[itssuppertim3]

Lean (Miraak x Reader):

Contemplating on writing for Pyramid Head every once in a while since I can't get the thick bastard off my mind but we'll see what the future brings

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"Do you like winter, Miraak?" I asked the man strolling quietly beside me. "Not necessarily. However, I remember a time when I did. My temple always felt a bit warmer-- more enjoyable during that time." I snorted at him in amusement, to which he wasn't fond of. "I just imagined you stringing up holiday decor." He merely scoffed in denial, though we both knew it was true.

While searching for another conversation topic, my foot slid against the mud beneath me. "Careful," Miraak warned as his hands clasped firmly around my shoulders. My breath was trapped in my throat from the sudden startle, but somehow he only made it worse. Once my voice came back to me, I said, "uh...-- yeah. Thank you." Damn, his hands were so warm. I could feel the heat emitting from them even through my armor. Alas, the soothing feeling dissappeared as soon as he retracted his arms.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you hadn't already cracked your skull before I came along. It seems that you are always tripping and stumbling wherever you go." I scratched my cheek and chuckled sheepishly. "Ah, you know me so well."

"That is only because I stand witness to it," he uttered. We continued onward to Morthal in silence. A week ago, Jarl Idgrod sent me a letter of assistance; "potential murdurer on the loose," it had read. She noted that she wasn't one to fall victim to senseless gossip, but over the last several days she had been growing paranoid of the situation. Thus, she requested us to investigate. "I wonder why the jarl wants two dragonborn to take care of a killer instead of the guards? Gods, I feel like most of the soldiers are just using this pitiful war as an excuse to be lazy," I grumbled with my arms crossing.

"I agree. Though as far as I'm concerned, she wants you to handle it, not I." I perked up at his remark. "What do you mean? Everyone should know by now that you're just as powerful as I am. We've been traveling together for three months." Miraak diverted his gaze from me and pointed it straight ahead. "Perhaps, but you and I are still very different from one another. The people of Skyrim view you as a hero to be remembered for ages, whereas I will forever be remembered as a traitor-- if I was even remembered at all." The atmosphere around us suddenly became very dim. For a moment, the only noise that could be heard was the mire sloshing under our boots.

"That's bullshit," I retorted finally. Miraak was taken aback by my sudden change of attitude. "Excuse my language, but it is. Look at all of the good you've done since we've been together! We took down a vampire lord for crying out loud! And yeah, we weren't thanked for it or anything--"

"Y/n."

"But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that you put in a lot of effort to make the world safer, and I think that deserves respect."

"Y/n." By now, Miraak was no longer walking at my side. "What is it?" Before he was able to respond, the muddy ground had fallen loose beneath me and I plummeted into a brown socket of water. Oh yeah, I forgot that we were trudging through a swamp. The filth shot through my mouth and nose as I was completely sumberged. To make matters worse, the water was also incredibly frigid, making it even more difficult to sort through my panic. A pair of arms dove into the murk and proceeded to yank me up by my collar.

I gurgled, spluttered, and heaved strong breaths once I was dragged out of harm's way. Miraak shook his head at me all the while. I could practically feel the smirk hiding under his mask. "Oh, yeah. Real funny. Please continue... to remind me of how much... of a klutz I am," I rasped, still trying to flow air into my lungs. "I did try to warn you, you know. You were about to walk straight into the pond," the man defended. "Ok. I'll give you that." Miraak helped me to my feet after I finally regained my composure. "Oh, great," I sighed at the muck covering me head-to-toe. "I look so unprofessional." He skimmed over the grime coated over my outfit before scooping a clump of mud and smearing some over his robes. "I suppose we'll both have to look unprofessional, then." My cheeks tainted a dark pink at his actions, but I decided to blame it on the nip in the air.

My arms hugged my body when I started to shiver. Going for a dip in late autumn definitely wasn't the best of choices. Miraak scanned over the map and pinpointed our distance from Morthal. "We won't be able to arrive there before nightfall. We still have an hour left to go," he informed. I groaned to myself in reply. "Guess we'll have to make camp, then." He nodded, gesturing me to follow him.

In a matter of minutes, he had already secured a decent campfire and was now assembling the tent. Meanwhile, I was sitting on a nearby log with my bedroll enveloped around my trembling body. I was enjoying watching him, though. "I'd say you're a natural. When did you get so skilled at camping?" I inquired once he took a seat next to me. "By learning from you," he stated simply. Gods, how could he be such a jerk yet act so charming?! I avoided saying anything more and began scrubbing the dirt from my armor with a wet rag.

It was freezing, tonight. There was no comforting glow from the moon and stars due to the thick layer of clouds overhead, which only made it feel colder. I shuddered when a breeze travelled through the area and tormented my body. I was still wearing my undershirt and trousers, and even those were still damp. The cloth made my fingers sting the more I used it, until I felt Miraak's hand take ahold of my own. "Your fingers are red," were the only words that left his mouth before he grabbed my other hand and squeezed them both gently. I was so shocked by this that I couldn't even so much as blink. "Are you cold?" I had forgotten about the prickles climbing over my skin. "Um--uhh, kind of." How did my voice become so small?

Before I could protest, I was pulled closer to Miraak. And now that I left exposed, he felt even warmer than he did earlier. I wasn't even touching him! Not to mention how nice his hands felt. He was like a portable smelter! I stayed more silent than a moth as he continued to caress my fingers and palms. There was no telling what was going on inside of that brain of his.

"You may lean against me, if you like."

Oh.

Oh!

My heart was thrashing around inside of my chest. He wanted me to just... slide even closer and lean on him?! Just like that?! By now, my mind was spiraling in both confusion and embarrassment. Still, I was very cold. There wasn't any harm in doing it, right? He was the one who offered. I ultimately accepted his proposal.

It started off with our knees touching awkardly, and then with my head attempting to rest against his shoulder, which failed due to the golden scales protruding out from his sleeve and jabbing me in the side of the head. Miraak eventually lifted his arm, inviting me to scooch under it-- to which I did. As soon as I got situated, he let his hand ease onto my shoulder. I was so flustered that I could barely breathe. It was suffocating, practically unbearable, yet I only felt myself nestling further into him. "You're really warm," I mumbled.

Oh, dear.

Why on Nirn did I say that? I sounded like a pervert!!! What if he thought I was creepy?! My heart dropped as he held me still and turned to look at me. "Y/n, how do you feel?" It was made to be a question, but it sounded more of a demand. I sat tense for a long while, lips parted yet unmoving. "About...?" I gulped when he slowly placed my hand flat against his chest. I could feel his heart throbbing at a rapid pace, as was mine. "Me."

Miraak's voice was low and sounded on edge. Perhaps he was more nervous than I thought he was? My next movements were reckless. Recklessness seemed to be my only sense of courage, right now. I carefully drew his hand towards me and slipped off his glove. He didn't stop me, however his muscles twitched under my touch. I stared at his pale skin for a long while. It was decorated with veins and had a scar stretched over his knuckles. Thanks to the protection of his gloves, his fingernails were in prestine condition. In short, his hands were utterly glorious.

I tilted my face down and pressed my lips against his scar, leaving him breathless. "Does that answer your question?" I asked Miraak with a flushed grin. Without responding, he brushed his thumb over my cheek and felt the entirety of my features. His hand was so calloused and smoothe! I cupped my own against it, keeping it there for as long as possible. Once again, I was pulled into another embrace, this one being much tighter and affectionate. Neither of us decided to speak, and somehow it felt more befitting that way.

With my head resting against Miraak's chest, I could hear his heartbeat quite clearly. It was much slower compared to earlier, more soothing than anything. He wasn't very sure where to place his hands, so he kept one firm on my waist and the other rubbing my hair. Sure, my face was hotter than a bonfire and there was still panic fresh on my mind. Then again, I also felt so calm in his arms. This may have been the first time in my life where I actually felt normal. Everything around me simply fell into place. It was selfish of me to inwardly beg for this moment to never end. As a dragonborn, I had my responsibilites, but for now I kicked those responsibilities aside. I had the right to be selfish every now and then.

"Maybe I should go diving into swamps more often," I teased, breaking through the comfortbale silence. I felt my heart flutter in the midst of him vibrating a soft chuckle. "That would certainly be an entertaining idea. Though I might not get the same reaction from you each time." I peered up at my new love interest with a quirked brow. "What kind of reaction?" In one swift motion, Miraak nudged up his mask to his nose and blessed me with a kiss. It was quick and simple, hardly lingering over my lips in time for me to process it. It was as if I had just imagined it!

Even so, the blush stained on my cheeks was already spreading to my ears. This man was a complete menace. His mask was already tipped back down, but the coy smile he was holding was evident. "You bastard," I hissed. He only shrugged his shoulders at me. "If you fall into the swamp again, I may even give you another kiss," Miraak jested. I proceeded to whack his bicep.

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I bet Miraak got those plump ass lips :^3

[emsylcatac]

A little push

Summary:

Alya asks Chat Noir to record a video of himself encouraging Marinette to confess...to Adrien.

Of course his mouth speaks on its own. Of course he says yes.

Of course his Lady is most likely sure to kill him.

...And of course Marinette feels like she's the one who's about to die.

Read it on AO3

Happy (very late) birthday to @janaikam ♥

I hope you’ll like this post-reveal pre-relationship fic!

A big thank you to Bren, Lisa & Alizeh for beta-reading this you’re all amazing!

* * * * *

“Pound it!”

Adrien looked into Marinette’s eyes as he said it and she did the same, giving him that soft smile of hers that never failed to make him feel better. They lingered a few seconds with their fists touching, searching each other’s eyes knowingly.

Even though it had been months since they’d discovered each other’s identities, they couldn’t help but share a special glance that said, ‘I know who you are now’.

They disconnected their fists and turned towards the victim of the day—a woman in her thirties—who was slowly gathering her bearings. Marinette walked towards her and helped her stand up, offering words of reassurance.

Adrien watched her fondly before joining her and giving the woman a pep talk himself, until she left, thanking them once again.

“Well, Kitty, we did good today, eh?” Marinette said, nudging him with her elbow.

Adrien laughed. “Of course we did, we’re unstoppable! But I think you should go, you’re about to detransform soon,” he winked.

“Olala, I should hurry! Wouldn’t want you to find out my oh-so secret identity super top secret!”

They both giggled, Adrien shaking his head. “I’ll see you in class on Monday,” she whispered, and dropped a kiss on his cheek before flying away.

He touched his cheek and stared at her retreating form. He was about to let yet one of his all too recurrent lovesick sigh when a voice called out to him.

“Pssst, Chat Noir!”

He turned his head, only to be met by Alya’s grinning face and waving hand. He beamed at her, noting that he still had enough time left if she wanted a small interview.

“Well well well, if that isn’t our ever-so always intrepid Ladyblogger!”

Alya took that as a sign that she could come and talk to him, laughing all the way.

“Please, call me Miss Ladyblogger, The Most Intrepid And Greatest Reporter Of All Time, and not to brag, also personal favourite citizen of our local heroes themselves, between you and me.”

“Oh, my bad,” Adrien chuckled. “What do you need of me? An interview? A selfie featuring my best winning smile? Or,” he dropped his voice conspiratorially, a hand around his mouth, “pictures of Ladybug falling in the fountain because she was scared of…a ladybug?”

Alya laughed. “Actually, I had a favour to ask from you, but if these pictures are still on the table… how much would you want for them?”

Adrien winked. “Give me a croissant and I’m your cat, if you don’t tell Ladybug about your sources, of course.”

She smirked. “Of course. It’s a deal. I’ll have your croissant same time, same place tomorrow.”

“Lovely. Now what was it you needed of me, before my time is up?”

“Oh. So this is gonna sound really weird but...Okay. So my best friend is a fan of yours; her name’s Marinette, I don’t know if you’ve heard of her?”

Adrien bit back a laugh and tapped his bell. “Rings a bell, must have met her once or twice. Admirable citizen, just like you!”

“Why, thank you,” she said, falsely flattered. “Well. So Marinette is trying to hype herself up to confess to the boy she loves—”

Oh.

“—but she’s always had troubles, you know? Except now she told me that she really wanted to do it, and I’m so proud of her! She has been in love with our friend Adrien for so long now—”

OH.

Adrien’s brain short-circuited after that, and Alya was talking, and probably saying very interesting things, but what was it about Marinette loving him?!

“—So, could you do that? It would really mean a lot to her! ...Chat Noir?”

He startled, trying to reconnect with reality, and was met with Alya’s confused frown.

“Sorry,” he said—because yes he could still speak, which was great, wasn’t it?—“I didn’t quite catch that last part. Could you repeat, please?”

“Oh! Yes, so I was wondering—since I’ve heard from akuma victims and Ladybug herself that you give the best pep talks and since Marinette holds you high in her esteem— if you would agree to give her a few encouraging words while I record you? I want it to be a little surprise for her.”

Oh. Now that was a funny situation.

...A very, very embarrassing situation he had no idea how to get out from.

Was it true? Was Marinette really in love with him? It made sense, in a way, he reasoned.

It would explain a lot of things.

But what would Marinette think if she saw him, Chat Noir him, making a video for her to confess to him, Adrien him?!

...She would probably hate him forever.

“...Chat Noir?” Alya’s voice brought him back on Earth once again. She was looking at him with what he assumed were the best pleading puppy eyes she could muster, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t working. Now he knew why Marinette couldn’t say ‘no’ to Alya and vice-versa.  “Could you do it? Please please please please pleeeaaaase? I’ll bring you another croissant! And Marinette really deserves it, you can’t deny her that—”

“Sure.” He heard his voice speak. Oh no. “I would love to!” Sometimes he wished he hadn’t been gifted with the ability to talk.

Alya let out a happy squeal, pulling out her camera. It almost convinced him that he had made the right decision in agreeing. Almost. “Thank you, Chat Noir, you’re the best! Marinette is going to be so happy after seeing it, no way she won’t nail her confession!”

“Hahaha…yeah...no way…”

Marinette was going to be mad at him. He didn’t know whether he should warn her or not; call her or not.

But one thing he was sure of, he was not at all ready to face her after that.

“So when you’re ready,” he gave an awkward thumbs up, “on the count of three… One...two...three...aaaand action!”

Adrien stared at the red indicator light on Alya’s camera, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. It was a terrible feeling. If a deer miraculous existed, he was sure very glad that he wasn’t its owner.

Alya nodded at him, reminding him that he had to speak.

“So,” he brought a hand to his neck, rubbing it awkwardly, “um, hello, M-Marinette, as you can probably see, this is Chat Noir! I’m here to tell you that...to tell you that...that…” He took a deep breath, trying to summon confidence he wasn’t sure he possessed at the time, and looked straight into the camera. “I’m here to tell you that I believe in you. I know you’re an amazing person and—”

* * * * *

“—you’ve been proving that you were very brave the few times that I met you. What I mean is...trust in yourself, and I’m sure your confession to...to that boy…”

“—Adrien,” Alya’s voice added in a harsh whisper.

“...Right. That boy A-Adrien will be very...very happy to hear it. I mean, you saying it, yeah he’ll be, um. Overjoyed. I think. Probably. So good luck and, uh...be happy.”

Marinette stared at her phone screen as the video ended, stopping on Chat Noir’s awkward finger guns with a face that clearly screamed like he just wanted to drown himself into the Seine, a sentiment she was currently sharing with him.

She couldn’t move for the next few minutes, replaying his words in her head. She didn’t dare to press “play” again and feel the embarrassment she was already feeling more and more a second time.

It was sweet of Alya, really. And well thought out. And Marinette probably would have loved the attention if the person she was planning on confessing to wasn’t the one encouraging her in this stupid video.

“Marinette?” she faintly heard Tikki’s voice calling out to her.

“I’m gonna die. No, wait… I’m already dead.” And with that, she dropped her phone on the floor and threw herself unceremoniously onto her bed, an arm covering her face.

“Marinette, this is great!” Tikki squealed. Marinette violently pulled her arm away to look at her. “Chat Noir said Adrien would be overjoyed to hear your confession!”

“Tikki. He said that ‘Adrien’,” she quoted the name with her fingers, “will probably be overjoyed. Keyword: probably. Keyface: the desperate one he was throwing at the camera screaming ‘please let me die’. How is any of this great, uh?”

Tikki didn’t answer right away. “Well,” she spoke in a timid voice, “if you’re both gonna die, then at least you’ll be together?”

Marinette knew Tikki was always trying to be optimistic, but this was a little much.

Tikki sighed. “Listen, I know it looks embarrassing—”

“—understatement of the century—”

“—but now you have the hardest part of your confession already done! All you have to do is call him or wait for him to call and—”

Marinette gasped and straightened up suddenly. “HIM TO CALL!” she screamed, and grabbed her phone.

When it was clear that no new notifications had appeared, she released a loud sigh to alleviate the pressure and fell back on her bed dramatically.

“Tikki. He hasn’t called. Or left any messages.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to do it?”

“Maybe.” Maybe not.

Marinette continued to stare at the ceiling, a thousand thoughts running through her head, all catastrophic.

“Tikki,” she called again. “He’s never gonna love me, isn’t he?”

“You know that’s not true.”

Marinette ignored her kwami. She grabbed her Chat Noir plushie that was snuggled up against her cat pillow, held it in front of her, and caressed the side of its ear and hair with one hand.

“All I want is to get lost in his emerald green eyes,” she almost sniffed, “pet his cute little kitty ears,” she rubbed the doll’s cat ear between her fingers, “and...and kiss his adorable kitty nose,” she bopped its nose, “and hold him close to me,” and she hugged the doll close to her chest.

“Marinette, don’t you think that you’re being a little dramatic here?” Tikki’s voice pulled her out of her reverie.

She glared at her, straightened up and shoved the doll into the kwami’s face.

“Tikki. There is nothing dramatic when it comes to this boy and my feelings for him.” She brought back the plushie close to her and lowered her voice. “I love you Adrien,” she murmured, before dropping a kiss on its forehead with a loud mwah.

Tikki sighed. “Well, now that you just practiced your confession and are ready for next time you see him, off to bed!”

Marinette pouted and gave her a distraught look.

Tikki’s expression turned kinder and more tender. “I’m sure everything is going to be perfect, Marinette. You don’t have to worry.”

“I hope you’re right, Tikki,” she answered while the kwami nuzzled her cheek. “I hope you’re right.”

* * * * *

“Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?” Marinette asked again.

“Nope,” Alya grinned. “This is going to be fun, I promise.”

Marinette groaned playfully, the bag of croissants her best friend had asked her to bring swinging at the rhythm of her pace. It was a nice morning, and it was sunny for once in Paris. Marinette might not have slept a lot that night, but Alya’s overjoyed mood was lifting up her spirit.

...Until a realisation hit her and she suddenly stopped walking. “You’re not going to bring me to see Adrien, are you? Because you, dragging me on a Sunday morning, with croissants...”

Alya just laughed. “Of course not, silly. That’s you and only you who will have to decide when you meet up with him. I think I’ve done my part already,” she winked.

“Your par—oh. The video.”

“Yes, the video, the last little push you needed to have the most perfect and grand love confession that love history itself has never heard!” Alya dramatically said while making wide gestures with her arms, which would have amused Marinette greatly were it not for the tight knot she could still feel in her stomach from the previous day.

She forced a laugh. “Hahahahahaaa, yes it was very nice of…of Chat Noir to accept and…”

“Oh my god, Marinette,” Alya interrupted her. “Chat Noir was such a sweetheart. I wasn’t expecting him to accept but it was really nice of him.”

“Ooooh, yes yes, veeeery very nice of him, he really shouldn’t have,” Marinette nervously nodded.

“Right?! He probably had tons of other things to do but he still chose to take the time for us,” she kept on gushing.

Marinette thought she must have nodded dumbly after that. Talking about Chat Noir and the video just reminded her that he knew now and that she had no idea about what he thought of it.

That she had yet to officially confess—that she had yet to face him.

And somehow, the fact that he knew that she was in love with him when she hadn’t even told him herself, well… It felt more stressful than any surprise confession she could have planned.

“...and he even said that you were an admirable citizen, by the way,” she heard Alya’s voice talking to her again.

“Who? Me?”

“Yes, you! And me too, but that goes without saying,” she fake-bragged. “But come on, we’re almost there.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her in a small run, eyes glinting, and Marinette had no other choice but laugh at her best friend’s antics.

They passed by a small shop Marinette recognised as one that was destroyed the previous day during the akuma attack. They turned around a corner she knew would leave them were they defeated that akuma and—

“He’s already here!” Alya gasped.

—Chat Noir was casually leaning back against a wall, seemingly lost in thoughts and inspecting his claws.

...And all of Marinette’s panic came back full force in the span of a second. She was not ready. She was so, so not ready to meet him just yet.

She unknowingly gripped the bag of croissants and Alya’s hand tighter, using the latter as an anchor.

“Hoy, Chat Noir!” Alya waved at him.

Adrien turned his head.

Smiled and waved back.

Looked at her.

Dropped his hand and smile, eyes widening in horror.

Clearly, he too hadn’t expected her. She was probably looking at him with the same horrified look on her face and cursed her inability to pretend that everything was perfectly fine on command.

Luckily, Alya didn’t seem to notice the tension between them.

“I’m glad to see you remember our little deal,” she joked.

Adrien, bless him, quickly schooled his expression into a more neutral one and turned to Alya.

“Of course. A promise is a promise.”

“I’ve got your croissants,” she went on. “All warm of today from the one and only Dupain-Cheng bakery!”

“Wooohhh,” Marinette could hear the forced enthusiasm in his voice, “that sounds de-li-cious!”

He quickly glanced at her, and she averted her eyes immediately.

A nudge from Alya reminded her that she was the one with the bag of croissants and that she was supposed to hand it to him.

She all but shoved it into his face.

Great.

“Oops, err, sorry, here,” she apologised, dropping the bag in his hands instead.

“It’s fine, thanks,” he answered quietly.

She didn’t dare to look at him. Maybe he was looking at her, or maybe he was avoiding her, too. It felt awkward.

It felt so wrong.

Wouldn’t he look overjoyed if he was in love with her and just learned she loved him back? Wouldn’t he?

Alya’s voice pulled her out of her spiralling thoughts. “So, do you have my merchandise, hm?”

Marinette looked up to Adrien who seemed to be startled from his own thoughts, too. “Of course,” he zipped down his pocket, “here. It’s all on this USB key.”

He gave Alya a wink for good measure.

“Thank you, you’re the best!”

“What’s on it?” Marinette asked, more to pretend that she was invested in whatever was happening than out of real curiosity.

“Ah-a! That’s for me to know and you to never found out,” Alya wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh by the way,” she gave a small movement of the head in Adrien’s direction, “what did you think of the video?”

Marinette’s eyes widened in horror and she looked into Adrien’s eyes to see him looking back at her absolutely...terrified. She couldn’t find a better word to describe it.

He looked….he looked terrified.

...He really had moved on, hadn’t he? She was too late, and the idea that he would have to reject her terrified him, wasn’t it?

Marinette tried to control her emotion and keep the tears she could already feel prickling her eyes from escaping.

“The...the video?” she said timidly. “The one you sent me yesterday with Chat Noir?”

Alya nodded enthusiastically. Adrien was offering a tentative smile but she could see how much it was costing him to do it.

“Oh yes I hope… I hope it’s gonna help you,” he murmured in a trembling voice.

...She couldn’t do it right now. Internally cursing herself for being a stupid coward or some other name she didn’t even had in mind, she took a deep breath and summoned the cheeriest voice she could muster.

“Ooooh hahahaha, yes it was very nice of you and um, and a good surprise! But pfffeeew, it wasn’t necessary at all, I mean! I loved that you took your time for me but… I’m totally over Adrien, hehe. It wasn’t even a big big crush I had you know, just a tiny tiny little feeling, but now it’s all gone into the wind, wooooshh!”

She could feel Alya’s incredulous eyes on her, and saw the small smile Adrien had been trying to maintain completely disappear.

“But… Marinette, what are you saying? Just yesterday you were telling me on the phone that you were head over heels for Adrie—”

“Exactly,” Marinette cut, nodding, “yesterday is suuuuuch a long time ago, things have totally changed now!”

Her statement was met with silence, so she looked awkwardly from Adrien to Alya, and to Adrien again.

Adrien, who looked like a part of his world had just crumbled in front of his very eyes.

“Well,” he said, voice quivering, and she suddenly felt like she was falling from very, very high, “it’s okay.”

It was not.

“I’m glad to know that you’ve made peace with your feelings,”

Oh god no, please no.

“and that you don’t really need my help to...to confess.”

No, no, no...Everything, but not this.

“Chat Noir…” Alya tried to speak, sounding apologetic.

Adrien gave her a wobbly smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m always happy to help, even if things don’t always work out as we hope they would. And it was fun to spend a little time with you two.”

Marinette wanted to speak, but no words would come. She was sure her tears were visible and she tried to convey what she wanted to say with her eyes instead except...she didn’t even know what exactly she wanted to tell him.

Probably it was why she couldn’t form a sound.

Adrien’s eyes met hers for a split second, and he turned around, his back to them.

“Well, if you’ll excuse-me, I have somewhere else to be. I hope you two have a nice day.”

“Chat Noir, wait—”

But he extended his baton and soon disappeared behind a building.

“Wait…” Marinette whispered again, staring at the spot where he had just vanished.

“...Marinette?” Alya tentatively called out to her.

She turned to her best friend and let her tears free to roll on her cheeks.

“Alya... Why do I keep messing up? Why do I keep messing everything up?”

“Oh, girl… It’s okay.”

Alya pulled her in a hug and Marinette let herself cry.

“No, no it’s not. It’s… It’s not. Why did I say all of this? None of it is even true,” she sobbed.

Alya rubbed circles on her back and let her talk her heart out, listening patiently as always.

“You panicked at the idea of admitting again to someone that you loved Adrien?” she finally asked.

It wasn’t exactly that, but Marinette couldn’t really say why, so she just nodded into her neck.

Alya sighed. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have asked Chat Noir for this video. I thought it would be a good idea, but…”

Marinette shook her head frantically. “It was a great idea Alya, it’s not your fault.” And she meant it: she would have loved the video had Ladybug and Chat Noir not been her and Adrien. “It’s just me, I don’t know why I’m like this. And now, I hurt Chat Noir,” she whispered.

“Forget about Chat Noir right now,” Alya said. “It’s you who’s hurting. I’m sure he’ll understand, he said he had been happy to help anyway. And if you want, we can make a little video to tell him it was a joke,” she teased.

Marinette managed a giggle through her tears, and broke off the hug. Alya kept her hands on her shoulders.

“But seriously. Are you sure it’s only the Adrien thing that is making you cry? I feel like you’ve been more stressed than usual lately.”

She shrugged; she didn’t even know the answer to that.

“You know what?” Alya said, tone a little less consoling and a little cheerier. “I declare today as a girls day, and a make-Marinette-feel-better-day. So we’re going to have a nice lunch in a nice little restaurant, and then we’ll go to the cinema, how does that sound?”

Marinette finished to wipe her tears. “That sounds great Alya, thank you so much. I couldn’t have asked for a better best friend, you know... You’re always there for me.”

Alya laughed and gave her a side-hug, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Oh you could. You could have been me and have you as a best friend.”

That made her laugh. She still had to talk to Adrien, but for now she was glad to forget a little about him.

* * * * *

It had taken quite some time for Marinette and Adrien to get used to each other’s identities. They had been fumbling with their words a lot, overthinking each of their moves. It was a sort of out-of-body experience to merge two persons you viewed as two different entities into only one, and it had taken some time to really click in their mind and adjust their newfound dynamic.

So yes, it hadn’t been short, but they had gotten there—they had found a common, safe compromise.

But now, as Marinette anxiously watched Adrien’s back as he was packing his bag before leaving for lunch, it felt as if all this progress had been destroyed and they were not even back to square one, but to square minus ten.

She purposefully took more time than necessary to clean her table, nodding to Alya to let her know to go ahead and that she would join them at the cafeteria in a few.

And soon it was only the both of them left in the classroom.

Starting a conversation with Adrien had finally felt natural, like starting one with Chat Noir before they knew each other’s identities, yet it had never felt harder than now.

Thankfully, he was the one who took the plunge.

“Marinette? Can I… Can I ask about what happened this weekend?”

His tone wasn’t unkind, far from it, but it was also firm.

“This...this weekend?” she stuttered, cursing herself for pretending she didn’t know what he was referring to.

His expression crumpled a little and he sighed. “You know what I’m talking about. Listen, I’m gonna be honest with you—”

The knot she had in her stomach tightened and she could feel her heart beat faster—the kind of beat that wasn’t due to a sudden surge of love, but the one that was fearful of what the turn of events might be.

“—but sometimes, you confuse me. I mean, it got better now that we know, but there are times I don’t know what you think and…” he sighed again, and ruffled his hair.

Marinette kept staring at him; he was right.

“And this weekend, I finally thought I had figured it out, but then you…”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Adrien shook his head, looking like he was the one feeling sorry. He took a step towards her, and brought a hand to her face, gently putting some strands of hair behind her ear. “It feels like you don’t trust me with your feelings, my Lady,” he almost breathed. “I’ve always told you how I felt, or if something was bothering me...even if I’ve been more than clumsy about it at times.”

Marinette said nothing.

“I’m just asking you for the same honesty.”

He dropped his hand from her face but kept maintaining her gaze. His look was intense, expectant, but oh so disheartened.

“I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled again, because words still wouldn’t work.

His expression turned to a resigned one, and her heart broke a little.

“You know that you’re my best friend and that I’ll never think badly of you no matter what?” he said, before turning around.

“Adrien...wait—”

His phone rang.

“It’s the Gorilla. He’s waiting for me. I’ll see you after lunch,” and with that, he exited the classroom, leaving Marinette even more frustrated with herself than she had been before.

* * * * *

It’s precisely because something is important that it’s important to say, no matter what.

She had lost count of how many times she had repeated this in her head ever since Chat Noir had told it to her. She had often been close, so close to follow it and say what was on her heart.

So close... But she had never achieved it.

Marinette took a deep breath. Exhale.

Adrien was in the locker room, alone. All the other students had gone back home now, but a fencing lesson after class had held him up.

She had waited the entire lesson—she knew he would come by the locker room at the end to take some school books.

“Adrien?” she called timidly.

He stopped what he was doing, a hand on the locker door. He didn’t turn around.

How many times had she imagined confessing to him?

How many times had she planned her confession to him?

How many times had it all failed…?

Confessions don’t plan themselves, she figured. They just happen when they happen.

“I know you’re probably still frustrated with me, but...there are things I want to tell you.”

Hello Marinette; as you can probably see, this is Chat Noir.

“First of all...I’m sorry. For yesterday; for being confusing to you. For being a coward,” she whispered the last word.

I’m here to tell you that I believe in you.

“The truth is… I’ve always been afraid to open my heart, and especially to you.”

She couldn’t read his expression, but he hadn’t moved, his back still to her.

She took a step forward.

“Which is stupid, of course, because you’re my partner and there’s probably no one I trust more than you.”

You’re an amazing person—

Another step.

“But I think that’s because you’re so important to me that I’m scared to be honest with you. Because once I tell you…”

—and you’ve been proving that you were very brave.

“Once I tell you, you’ll know everything about me. And that’s terrifying.”

Trust in yourself.

“You told me once that it was because something was important to say that it was important to say it. No Matter what. Well. I have something important to tell you.”

She took another step, so she was standing right behind him now.

I’ll be happy to hear it.

“I love you, Adrien,” she whispered, and hugged him from behind.

You, saying it. I’ll be overjoyed.

“I love you,” she repeated louder into his back.

Good luck and…

She untangled herself from him. “I love you,” she said firmly, confident, one last time.

...Be happy.

Adrien turned around.

And he had the brightest smile she’s ever seen on his face, tears glistening at the corner of his eyes. Just like that, hers that she hadn’t noticed forming ran on her cheek and she let out a choked giggle. She threw herself at him, her arms around his neck.

He caught her easily and hugged her back just as tightly.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” he whispered into her hair. “I love you too. So, so much.”

She hugged him tighter, and put her hand in his hair, massaging it.

They stayed like that a few minutes, gently swaying.

Then, Marinette loosened her grip on him to look into his eyes. She slid her hand from his shoulder to his arm to his hand to link her fingers through it, but kept her other one in his hair.

She could almost feel him shivering.

They nodded at each other, knowing what they wanted.

And then their lips met. Softly, lingering but not pushing.

Marinette was aware of everything that was him, that felt him: his hair, that she was still caressing with her hand. His arm around her, with his hand slowly running up and down her back.

His other hand, still tangled with hers, slightly pressing more and more as the kiss went on. It sent waves of shivers throughout her body.

And his lips and breath on hers.

They broke the kiss, giddy smiles on their faces. Marinette grabbed his face then and kissed his nose.

Adrien laughed. “What was that about?”

“I wanted to kiss your kitty nose.”

He snorted. She giggled, and climbed on her tiptoes once more to kiss his laugh.

Once. Twice.

Three times.

He kissed her back each time.

“I’m sorry about this video. It must have put you in a tight spot,” she said after the third kiss.

Adrien whined. “I am the one who’s sorry. I had no idea what to do and I thought you were going to kill me.”

“I thought I was going to kill myself when I saw it,” Marinette exclaimed. “And then Tikki said that at least we’d be happy and dead together!”

Adrien burst out laughing. “I’d rather be happy and alive with you for now, if that’s okay.”

Marinette nodded frantically. “Oh yes me too. It was a good video though. It did help me in the end.”

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah. And from now… I’ll make sure that you know what I feel about you.”

He gave her one of his soft smiles, one of her favourite smiles of his. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

And she sealed it with another kiss.

.

.

.

_____________

Bonus scene:

Adrien watched Marinette out of the corner of his eyes. She was calm, sipping her tea.

But something was wrong. He could feel it.

Maybe it was in the way she was so casually drinking, almost ignoring him. Maybe it was because she still hadn't reacted to the pictures of her, Ladybug her, falling head first in the fountain that Alya had released the previous day—with the bright grand title "Ladybug vs ladybug? It's more likely than you think."

Maybe it was a little bit of both.

Marinette brought her tea one last time to her lips, and put the cup on the desk.

"You feeling good Chaton, uh?" she asked in a calm voice. Calm, but with a tone that either meant "all is good" or "all is wrong".

It was terrifying. He gulped.

"Yes?"

She nodded. "Good."

His right leg was rapidly bouncing up and down in anticipation. Marinette grabbed her phone and tapped a few things on it, before putting it back on the table.

His phone rang.

She was looking at her nails, casually rubbing them with her thumb. Adrien raised a brow and looked at his own phone.

One new message. From Marinette.

A link. And a caption that just said: '😘'

He clicked on it. A tab to the Ladyblog opened.

He felt a wave of dread slowly washing over him as the page loaded.

And suddenly, in bright, grand title was written:

"Five Times Chat Noir Was Scared By A Passing-By Cat, And The One Time He Fell Into The Seine."

[itsclydebitches]

Some of my friends in the RWBY FNDM actually said people don’t forgive their friends for betraying them (Jaune killing Penny) but will forgive strangers betraying them (Em killing Penny). Uh…NO. Being close and attached to someone leads to bias. People are more willing to see someone they don’t know as evil for hurting them BECAUSE THEY DON’T KNOW THAT PERSON. They said this as an excuse to why RWBY will be pissed at Jaune. NOPE! (1/2)

I think it can go either way depending on the person, or in this case the character. People aren't so uniform that they'll have a single, predictable response to someone's actions depending on whether they're in the "friend" or "stranger" category, to say nothing of the complexities of figuring out when one moves from one category to the other. (Is Ozpin the beloved and respected headmaster they look up to, or a virtual stranger whose age and power makes him someone the group never would have seriously connected with? The fandom is divided.) But that connection (or lack thereof) can go in either direction. It might make it easier to forgive them, or it might make it seemingly impossible. I've been replaying Witcher's Blood & Wine where Anna Henrietta is so relieved to have her sister back that she's blind to the horrors she's committed - love make forgiveness an inevitability. I'm also rewatching Criminal Minds where Reid is furious with JJ for keeping Prentiss' secret from him, specifically because they're so close and JJ was the one to comfort him over Prentiss' "death" - love makes forgiveness that much harder. And it's the same with strangers. If someone you're less close to commits a horrible act, you might respond with pure disgust because who are they to you? Nobody. They're defined only by that one action. Or, their distance might make it easier to forgive them once you have gotten to know them a bit, simply because the action didn't, at the time, feel personal. You know the version of them now, the one that "counts," the one you're emotionally attached to. I don't think it's an either/or situation here, where there's a correct answer of "Yes characters will get angry if they're close to the person in question" or "No characters will be less angry if they're close to them." It depends on the individual, the action, the circumstances, the state of mind of the person trying to grant forgiveness, and a hundred other, smaller factors. If Yang did something horrible, would Blake be less willing to forgive her because they're so close, or more willing because they are? That depends on a whole range of things from "What exactly did Yang do?" to "Has Blake eaten and slept and generally not been stressed out of her mind lately, making her less likely to lash out?" It, to be blunt, comes down to good, nuanced writing.

Which is why the Jaune situation is... complicated. And sadly, RWBY doesn't do well with complicated. Free of the rest of Volume 8, my mind says the group has to be mad. How can they not? Even if Jaune had a 100% solid reason for killing Penny with no possible way to blame him - which, let's be frank, he doesn't. The guy has a healing semblance and just took her word that it was useless - it's not in our nature to approach a tragedy with that level of logical maturity (especially not after the crazy level of trauma that's been going on: Salem, battles, falling to their "deaths."). You don't have a friend admit they killed another friend and immediately go, "Oh yeah. Makes sense. Had to be done. No worries!" and move on with your life. You at least start with some anger, whether it's rational or not, deserved or not. People harbor anger over deaths that we know, realistically, are not the fault of another person involved, we resent people who survived over others even though we know they had no control over it, and we even hate ourselves for hating that person, because we know it's not fair and we're feeling it anyway. If we have all that complexity tied up in deaths that are unambiguously not the fault of the person in question... what do you do with the guy who straight up agreed to an assisted suicide? Gave up on healing or retreat? Was the one to drag his sword across Penny's throat? The fandom recognized that scene as something intensely complicated, made worse by ineffectual writing. We knew, the second it had finished, that Jaune was not an easily categorized innocent here who should be treated solely as a victim of horrible circumstances. There's a very good reason why the fandom went, "What the fuck, Jaune" because this entire situation is so. messed. up. I'm not saying all this to paint Jaune as some irredeemable monster or anything, but rather to highlight that there should be a huge range of emotions coming off of this action. Whether we the audience or the characters decide what he did was the right thing or not, Jaune's actions are still objectively horrifying. He killed Penny. Was it necessary? Given RWBY's shoddy writing, idk, but that's not the point for an initial reaction. The point is, "How would you respond if you found out Friend A helped Friend B commit suicide, right after you'd worked so hard to keep Friend B alive, after she'd already come back from the dead?" The answer should be, "Uh, not well. Not well at all."

But this is RWBY. There should have been a range of emotions to Jinn's vision in Volume 6, but there wasn't. There should have been a range of emotions to Penny's resurrection, but there wasn't. There should have been a more persuasive reason for Jaune to kill Penny, a better job of stripping away other options, but there wasn't. Arguably, Penny shouldn't have died at all, not after being brought back, getting the Maiden powers, being made human... but she was. This situation is already a mess but then, as you say, anon, we have Emerald on top of it all. I mentioned above that it's "Free of the rest of Volume 8" that the group should be mad at Jaune, but obviously that's not how the story goes. I can't separate Emerald from the rest of this and yeah, it looks ridiculous for the group to have a long arc of hating Jaune after they forgave Emerald in, what? An hour? We can talk about that context all we want, but at the end of the day, Emerald's actions were too horrific to shrug off as they were and Jaune's action is also too horrific to shrug off. RWBY has, once again, backed itself into a corner. What the story actually needed was for Emerald to get a full redemption arc, allowing the group to process, grapple with, and learn to forgive her past actions through apologies and new actions to demonstrate growth, so that they could then later do a modified version of that with Jaune, one tailored to his character, their characters, and this new situation. The story needs the group to be mad at both of them because both did things that would generate different types of anger. But because Emerald was granted laughter almost immediately upon arriving at the mansion, yeah, it would read as absurd for the group to go through a whole arc of learning how to forgive Jaune... even though Jaune's actions arguably do need some kind of forgiveness arc. The situation is screwed either way. If the group forgives him quickly it's, "Really? He killed Penny and that's it? No one is going to struggle with that? That's absurd!" and if the group doesn't quickly forgive him it's, "Really? You'll insta-forgive the woman who has been trying to kill you for years, but won't grant the same thing to your friend who only took that action with good intentions? That's absurd!" And if the focus is on Jaune being mad at himself, we're right back to where we were in Volume 4: Jaune mourning a redhead in his life and getting too much focus. I really don't think there's a good solution here, which (as my more recent posts speak to), we're seeing more and more as the series goes on. The more material we get and the more shoddily that material is written, the more we're going to see future situations where we go, "I don't like any of the writing options here, because of something that happened in a previous volume." RWBY has created a situation where the group very much deserves to be angry - or at the very least conflicted - over Jaune's actions, but because it's following on the heels of Hazel, Emerald, and their own horrific choices across Volume 7 and 8, any anger will feel hollow, hypocritical. But isn't that what we're left with? We've been here since the beginning of Volume 7 when Ruby repeated Ozpin's secrets and the story never acknowledged that either she's as bad as he is, or he's not as bad as they believed. We've been watching a show built on that hollow hypocrisy for at least two years (longer, really) and it's just getting worse the more the story introduces sensitive material and then doesn't appropriately follow up on it.

[ofmythsandmadness]

i need a favour - seven.

PART SEVEN - bullet wounds and wounded hearts. (or, in which, they’re just too eager for some relief from the pain that no one gives a shit about labels anymore). WORD COUNT - 3318. A/N - forgot i wrote this, forgot about it for months & here we are. sorry. i’ve not really had much interest in writing this or anything in this style on here lately, but i didn’t want to leave this totally abandoned. figured, there’s no point in letting it rot away, might as well post (and for some reason, there’s been a spur in people reading this, so.) START FROM THE BEGINNING - one | two | three | four | five | six

PEOPLE THEORIZE A LOT ABOUT COMAS. And more specifically, what they do to a person.

More specifically than that, where a person goes, once in one. What the mind and psyche creates for them, where and when they escape off to while their body falls apart. If they relive their life’s best and worst moments until they can return to reality, if they dream on continuously - like the world was just one bad trip, and waking up they would not even realise their sleep had lasted more than a day. Or, if the person’s aware of everything around them, just unable to open their eyes and rejoin life - but maybe that was something totally different entirely.

But it was nothing like that, for her.

There was no way to tell just how much time transpired, when out; it could have been an hour, a couple days, three years tossed down the drain, for all she knew. Time moved so much differently, lost in the hellish dreamscape of the inbetweens of life and death. 

For the most part, she felt absolutely nothing at all. Not even a sense of drowning, or darkness, or anything around her; like she was dead, her brain was turned off, and really...nothing at all. The only way she knew she was still alive and things were happening was when her brain woke up just a little, enough to send her into panics she could not express. She still could not move or speak or fucking breathe on her own, but she felt the world crashing in, sluggish and deafening around her. People moving around her, voices, loud noises echoing like crashes and explosions that she could not place. It felt like she had been laid down in a warzone, paralysed from head to foot and forced into silence. Just waiting for her eventual death.

And the voices...she really could not distinguish most. Or if they were even real. She got flashes of familiarity, phrases and sentences that added up to only nonsense in her mind - threats of violence, promises, old memories so faded they might as well be someone else's. None of it made sense. It just made her feel more and more scared, and trapped, every time she ‘woke up’ again. Left her craving the still of death once more, waiting for its skeletal hands to cradle her trembling figure again.

Finally, however, she heard the first real sound in a long time. She left the stillness to a strange noise, not a voice but a repetitive beep that would not turn off. At first, she thought it was also in her mind and that if she just ‘shut’ her eyes, sleep would once more overtake her - but despite her mental protests, the sound wouldn’t stop. If anything, it got louder, forcing her forward until she could just about think of opening her eyes.

And then, the beeps were joined by another sound; soft, almost non-existent mumbles, or snuffling of something? Something alive, not a machine, but...Y/N wasn’t sure what it was at first. 

That was, until she began to move. With all the strength possessed in her frail figure, she pushed her lids open, blinking away copious tears welling at the bright light and forcing her eyes to work again.

She found herself in a small, white room - and though her mind seemed a million miles away, she could sort of guess it was a hospital room. There really was not much around her, the bed being the main furniture. The beeping came from her right, and she was able to crane her neck just enough to see some sort of monitor, the sort she would have seen on a crappy doctor’s show. With flashing lights and graphics she really couldn’t make out and honestly just hurt her head. She turned away from that pretty fast.

To her left, however, was a different story. She found the other source of the noise; Diego was slumped over in a chair too bony to be comfortable, softly snoring away. Which was never a good sign. The man was a quiet, still sleeper, like he was always waiting for something to happen - but after too long without sleep, his body would collapse into emergency catch-up mode. She had seen it many times after he’d come to her. And he always snored then.

She sighed, letting her head fall back against the pillow. There was no pain, which she guessed was either good or bad (who knew what the doctors were pumping through her veins, eh?) but her mouth was bone dry and she felt helpless, like even calling out for Diego was a deathly trial.

Y/N craned her neck again, taking his slumped figure in. He was almost right next to her bed, close enough that if she could reach out -

-her hands shook like tsunami waves, crashing against his black jacket like jagged knives of limestone on a cliff. She just could not find strength enough to angle them right, finding herself only able to brush the man and hope he felt her touch from wherever he had drifted to. Forget calling out; she could only mimic motion in the barest of touches, waiting for something to happen.

Luckily, it only took maybe a minute for him to stir. Slowly at first, then when realising what woke him up, he was up in seconds. His hands met her own, squeezing tight.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he croaked out, voice hoarse and worn out - she could only imagine how much stress-induced yelling he had been doing. Begging for something to be done, snapping at anyone who tried to get him to move; the guy was all too predictable. “I just fell asleep, I-”

“-s….okay…” Her vocal cords felt rusted over; how long had it been since she spoke? Her hand left his, gesturing weakly towards her throat. “Wa...wa...ter?”

“Shit, right.” He left her side and grabbed at a glass by her right. Within a moment he was by her left again, bringing it up to her lips. His hands shook ever so slightly. “Careful.”

But she ignored his word and slurped at it eagerly, too parched to be ashamed at how childlike her actions were. Too long had her throat been forced dry - how long had it been since the relief of a glass of water? 

Once she had drunk enough, she waved it away, doing her best to smile. “Thanks.”

“Course.” His eyes remained on hers, steady and dark. “How...how are you feeling?”

She glanced away for a moment to look down at herself in the bed, before looking back. Slowly, Y/N shrugged. “M’not sure...weird. I don’t know how I should feel.”

“Right. Well, you’re on a shit load a’drugs, so I guess that’s stopping the pain. Uh...you remember what happened?”

She frowned. “Sort of. More...I don’t know. Remember the pain...like burning, on my side. Talking...was there a Polish chick?”

Diego didn’t crack even the tiniest of smiles. “Ukranian. But yeah. She was with you when it h-hi-she called the ambulance.”

“Right.”

“Look, Y/N, I am so-”

Before he could continue, a new voice joined the duo, one Y/N was certain she did not know. She tore her eyes away from the man by her side to take him in; tall, gray-haired and smiling from ear to ear. It made her a little uneasy, the look; was this how all gunshot victims were treated? With doctors who thought big grins and happy tones were a good answer? If she didn’t already have a headache, she would by just one look his way.

“Good to see you up! Was wondering when that’d be happening.” He seemed to grin even larger, if that was even possible, and made his way around her bed. She watched him fiddle with something behind her, before moving into her view once more. “How are you feeling?”

“Um...weird,” she mumbled, struggling to find any words to describe the feeling. “Tingly.”

“No pain?”

“Not really.”

He nodded. “Good. You’re going to be hopped up on pain meds for a while, but just let someone know when you start feeling anything.”

“Okay.”

Once more, he nodded. He looked like a bobblehead, almost, in the ways his head swivelled and shook on his too-small neck. “You got quite lucky, I must say. Good support system. This guy, right here? Barely moved at all while you were out.”

Her hand squeezed a little, in Diego’s. “How long was I out?”

“About three days, after surgery.”

“S-surgery?”

His grin got a little strained, there, but somehow still remained. Impressive. “Yes. Yeah, we had to get you straight into intensive care after you were brought in. The bullet hit your right hip, just about here-” he grazed the blanketed leg lightly, “-but then travelled downwards into your leg. Which was somewhat good, you avoided serious damage to your hip, but it did nick your femoral artery.”

Y/N frowned, glancing down to where his hand hovered. She could not even remember feeling pain in her leg; it had radiated from her hip alone. “How...how did it go down?”

“Well,” the man sighed, “from what we could gather, you were at just the right angle for the bullet to go straight through the hip. Since it didn’t hit that bone - again, a lucky point on your part, it tore right through and down to your upper thigh. The bullet actually remained lodged, which made reason for surgery. If it had come straight through, well, I don’t know what situation we’d be in but you were very fortunate. Held you from bleeding out on us.”

Something about the emphasis on ‘lucky’ made her feel somehow worse. Like she was a kid all over again, and before getting the bad news, her parents had to amp up the few ‘good’ things about the situation. She really wished he would stop smiling.

“How much...I…” she weakly lifted her hands, gesturing downwards. “How much damage has been done? In simple terms...please.”

His grin shrank a little more. “Well, that’s a bit complicated. The surgery was a success, although there were several blood transplants needed to cover that hit your artery sustained. However, because of said bleeding, and the way the bullet hit, it will be a long recovery time. The leg muscles are built to be used, but when damaged as yours was, well - I can bring in the charts and explain this to you simply, if you want?”

Y/N bit her lip, hard enough to rip through. Absent-mindedly, she noticed the taste of blood, licking a bead of red off. “Long?”

“The timeframe is hard to estimate,” he said - and at least that time, he had the courtesy to look semi-apologetic. “After a couple days, we’ll check in and see how well the limb is functioning, if the muscles are healing properly. You should be able to head home by that time, if it's healing right. But I’m afraid you're not going to be able to use the actual limb for a while.”

Vaguely, from what felt like far away, she heard Diego curse. The doctor kept talking, throwing around words she could not understand, verbal warfare against her already panicking mind, creating a chasm of stress and fear inside her brain. She wanted to do something, reassure him, ask the doctor what she could do and when - but it was impossible when she herself was drowning in panic.

Where had Diego gone? Why did he feel so far away? He sat beside her, but his hands were fidgeting and his face tight, and she just wanted him to tease her, hug her, promise her that she wasn’t lo-

“-judging by your faces, this isn’t sounding great but I promise, you’re in the best possible case scenario. I mean, you got here at the best time, you’ve had the best working to put you back together. And physical therapy will be a big help, you’ll be recommended some top-tier-”

“-whenwillIbebetter?” 

Her words were hardly a breath, leaving right along with the little air in her system, but Diego still heard it. He clutched tight to her tsunami waves for hands and looked pleadingly the doctor’s way. “Can we h-have a moment?”

“I-” his eyes darted between the two, before resigning to an answer. “Sure. A nurse will be in at five, with me. Let me know if anything happens.”

Diego just nodded and watched him leave. The second he was out the door, he turned her way, hands moving from hers to hold her face, brush away the tears quickly slipping down her cheeks. Blearily, she made out his own eyes, swimming with emotions she had not seen from him in a long, long while. “Hey. Hey, it’s - it’s g-g-gonna-”

“-I got shot,” she huffed, struggling to get the words out between sobs. “I got shot, I got - I can’t walk?”

“That’s not -”

“-holy shit, Diego,” she cried, and in an instant his arms were around her, holding her as close as he could to his own trembling figure. She tried to talk, but failed and simply gave into the sobs. Words struggled to make their way through, really indiscernible and lost. Whatever it was, Diego could probably guess the point they were making - and it did not ease the guilt bubbling in his stomach for a second.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” she whispered, sobs turning into quick huffs of breaths caught like she was running out of air. “You - the guy - the way he talked - I’m so fucking-g screwed.”

“Don’t say that.”

“That’s how they do it, don’t they? Make you feel...lucky, like you dodged a -” she stopped to snort, like any of this was funny - “-a bullet, but you’re really screwed.”

“Stop.”

“What if I never walk again?”

His arms stiffened around her - only for a second, but enough for her to notice. It was not a thought only she had had. What more did he know? “I...l-look, you’ve always said it best. Look at the bright side.”

She slipped out of his grasp then, pulling back so he could see her face. Stained with tears and puffy, with red and dark circles alike taking a toll on the previously bright expression. She was scared, and rightfully so. 

“I don’t know how to do that,” she mumbled, staring him down as though somehow, she could give him all the fear through her eyes, make him feel all the things she did. And maybe she could, because the longer he looked, the harder it felt to keep his own composure. 

“I don’t know how to do that...not with this.”

Diego didn’t say anything to that. All he did was hold her a bit tighter and sigh heavily as he traced circles into her back with shaking hands. In return she used his shoulder as a tissue and openly sobbed, uncaring as to who saw or what repercussions came. As far as she could see, it didn’t matter anyways. Did it?

“What do I do now?”

Her words were soft, kitten mews into the heavy silence. Accented only with another heavy sob.

“I don’t know, Y/N.”

She cried a little harder. His arms couldn’t hold her close enough.

“But I’ll be right there with you. M’not letting you go, not now.”

She sniffled. “Don’t say that.”

“Why? I mean it.”

“I’m a fuck-”

“-shut up,” he murmured, hand finding hers and closing over it. He held it to his own pounding heart. “I’ll be there. That’s that. Okay? W-whatever happens, I will be there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N shut her eyes and leant her head against his dampened shoulder. She let herself focus on the sound of his heartbeat and the steadily beeping machines, somehow a semi-relaxing melody despite the stress behind each. She squeezed his fingers gently.

“O...kay. Okay.”

She felt his lips meet the crown of her hair, then his own head fall against hers. And then it was just nothing more than the two of them. A small duo, amidst the chaos of it all, finding just a moment of peace before things got even worse.

That was not the end of her tears shed that day, far from it. She cried more than she had in years, maybe more than her entire life. She cried when her sister came, when her dad showed up and told her her mother couldn’t get away from work, she bit through her lip trying to hold back the tears when her class’ warm messages of ‘get better’ finally got delivered. The dam was broken; the water dripped freely down her cheeks, waterfalls of emotions held back for too long.

Six weeks was a minimum of her being able to properly walk again, and it felt like it was a lifetime. The doctor broke down physical therapy rules, recovery times, prescriptions and all the ways she could be fucked otherwise by this wound, and the nurse pumped her to the brim with all sorts of medicines she couldn’t begin to pronounce. Her sister pretended to cry before leaving and her dad drank through six straight coffees, dumping packet upon packet of Splenda until the garbage can was filled with paper and cardboard cups. The doctor droned on and on, and the nurse kept ‘checking up on her’, and everyone kept wishing her fake sentiments and fake smiles that might as well be placebos, sent to placate her weakening psyche.

It was only hours later, when there was any relief. When they were all gone, and yet for some reason, Diego stayed.

“Don’t’cha have to…” she cleared her throat, trying to speak past the lump in her throat. “Y’know. Fight crime? Play neighbourhood superman tonight?”

Diego shook his head. His grasp on her hand tightened and it was only then when she realised how long he had held on. She had gotten used to the feeling, with her own fingers limp and weak throughout the day, and yet he had traced steady circles into her skin for the entire day and into the night.

“Not tonight.”

“Diego...I’ll be okay.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Just go, I’ll-”

“-m’not leaving,” he grunted, firm and hoarse. He ducked his head so she could not see his expression, but Y/N did not have to see his face to know what he was thinking. “S’all.”

She was exhausted and still weak, and the limbs that did work didn’t seem to want to, but still she tried. Y/N adjusted herself on the hospital bed and laced her fingers properly through his, gripping tighter than she could all day. His head moved at that, but did not lift.

Carefully, she lifted their joined hands to her chapped lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. The lump in her throat grew larger, and she found herself unable to speak more than a ‘thank you’, but maybe it was more than suffice, for the two of them.

Only then did their eyes meet, and his other hand moved to grip tight to theirs. Diego’s lips quivered, but he stayed silent, simply letting go of the breath held back in his own throat. Their faces remained close, separated only by their own hands, but holding onto the matched caring gaze reflected on both of their faces.

There was a feeling of mutual fear, and grief, and shame and loss that ascended the wound - years of pain between the two of them that sped up to meet this moment joyfully. But they did not speak on any of it. Just held tight to one another, even as her hands grew weary and trembling and his gaze grew dark.

She fell asleep looking at him, and feeling finally, the littlest bit of hope.

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[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog Ch. 7-10

This is the “Dead Zone” arc, featuring Luke and Jan Valentine.

This arc is set around... uh, September 3rd-ish, I think.   By now, Hellsing has had time to investigate this recent uptick in vampire incidents, and she calls a meeting of the “Convention of Twelve” to discuss her findings.   This group represents the heads of various important agencies, political leaders, and noblemen, and the manga states that they “essentially” run the British Empire.    I’m not sure how to read that, exactly.  Kouta Hirano appears to be establishing one of two things:

1) Parliament Shmarliament, everything is really controlled by this secret group of oligarchs sitting at a table.

or

2) This is a collection of all the big wheels in British society, so they might as well be calling the shots even if they aren’t a true governing body. 

I’m not terribly concerned about which one it is, since we left real-world Great Britain behind a long time ago.    The Hellsing U.K. seems to put a lot more power in the monarchy, for example.    Also there’s friggin’ draulas runnin’ around everwhere. 

Anyway, Integra reveals that the vampires they’ve been killing lately all have microchips installed in their bodies.  She says the chips “define the vampire’s status, behavior, intent, and aggression.”   I don’t know if that means outright control or a more subtle manipulation.    It might exaplain why the couple in Chapter 3 weren’t exactly being subtle.

Moreover, these vampires haven’t been following the conventional rules laid down back in Chapter 1.   Vampire bites can turn a person into another vampire, but only if the victim is a virgin.   Otherwise, they turn into ghouls.   Destroying the head vampire will destroy all the ghouls he’s created.    But that hasn’t been happening.    The couple in Chapter 3 killed a lot of children, but they all became ghouls.   And in Badrick, Anderson killed the vampire, but the ghouls remained active long enough for Alucard and Seras to fight them.  

At least, that’s what Integra is saying.   We never actually saw any ghouls in Chapter 3, and Anderson killed the vampire in Badrick off-panel, so we don’t know the exact timing.    But I’ll take Integra’s word for it.   

Something that got lost along the way was the matter of what happens to Seras if someone managed to kill Alucard.   According to Chapter 1, she’d die immediately, but we never actually see that play out, and Seras is the only vampire created by another vampire in this story.   We never see ghouls die en masse, either, because there’s never a situation where their master dies first, and the ghouls we see from here on out are these rule-breaking microchippy kind anyway.    

Never mind that shit, here comes the Seras part.   Walter has replaced her bed with a coffin.    Apparently she had a bed in this dank-ass dungeon, and then one day Integra got a wild hair and decided “Oh, yeah, she should be sleeping in a vampire bed.”     She’s been a vampire for like two months now.    I feel bad for Walter, having to lug that big-ass bed down here, only to have to take the damn thing right back out.   He must have known it was going to end this way.   You’d think he would have said something before.  

Seras hates this idea, but Walter relays a second order, one from Alucard: Seras has to sleep in the coffin.   Well, that seems kind of redundant, but I guess Seras might have tried to sleep on the floor or something instead.    The main thing I find interesting about this is that Seras is mostly irritated by Integra ordering the coffin, but she takes it much more seriously when Alucard is mentioned.  

According to Walter, since Seras hasn’t drunk any blood, her powers will weaken... unless she sleeps in a coffin lined with soil from her birthplace.   So maybe it’s an either/or deal.   Integra was fine with Seras using a big girl bed because she assumed Seras would be drinking blood.  But without it, she has to use a coffin, or she’ll be no good to the team.   And after two months, it’s become clear that Seras has no intention of drinking blood, even bags of donated blood, like the one Alucard snacked on in Badrick.

Even Seras doesn’t know exactly why she won’t do it, which Alucard finds baffling.    If this was a dealbreaker for her, she should have just died as a human in Cheddar.  

But Al isn’t entirely unsympathetic either.    His words are harsh, but they’re the truth: Seras is a vampire now, and there’s no going back.  She keeps trying to resist this, but it’s already happened.   Denial will only make this more painful for her.   I think that’s part of the reason he offered his own blood to her in Badrick.   I mean, there weren’t a lot of other options, but from an ethical standpoint, drinking Alucard’s blood seems reasonable, since it won’t kill him.    The unspoken sentiment here is: Listen, I know this is difficult for you, and I’ll try to make this as easy as possible, but you need to do this and there’s no way around it.    But even that doesn’t seem to work, and Alucard’s in no particular hurry, so he’s willing to table the matter.   Which I suppose is how the coffin thing came about in the first place.

Walter also takes this moment to give the vampires their new guns.    Alucard wanted something special for the next time he tangles with Alexander Anderson.    Recall that Al already has a special cosmogun with an infinite supply of magic bullets, and he shot Anderson in the face and it didn’t stop him.    So Walter builds him “The Jackal”, which is basically the same as his first gun, only even bigger and with a black finish.   It also says “Jesus Christ is in Heaven Now”, which drives me nuts because I don’t know if that’s like a message to Anderson, or just some random thing.    Kouta Hirano puts these nonsense religious slogans all over Hellsing, and I’m pretty sure he’s just doing it for effect, and not particularly concerned over whether there’s any religious significance to the words.   

As for Seras, she gets a giant bazooka-looking think called the Harkonnen, named after a Dune character.   One of these days I want to sit down and read Dune.   I kind of feel guilty that I haven’t already, because then I could be writing this and get all excited for this moment.   “HOLY SHIT!! IS THAT MOTHERFUCKING DUNE REFERENCE?!”  Instead I’m like, ho-hum, yes it is.

Let’s move on.    This arc is about the Valentine Brothers, two vampires who take the fight to Hellsing instead.   They have a small army of ghouls, and their plan is to just drive up in a tour bus and storm the gate.   Ghouls are mindless, zombie-like monsters, but apparently they can work a gun well enough, and Hellsing never imagined an enemy would try such a thing.

As soon as Integra finds out about this, she tries to evacuate the Twelve, but their helicopter gets destroyed, cutting off any chance of escape.   Then Jan (pronounced “Yon” by the way), calls her on the comm system and threatens to kill them all.  

So Integra calls Walter, who already knows what’s happening.   Um, how?   I feel like the anime explained this better.   Maybe Jan’s profanity-laden threats were on a public-address system instead of just for the conference room.   But it sure looks like Walter’s just chilling out in a windowless, underground room.   But he already knows there’s no hope of reinforcements arriving to save them.   He proposes himself and Seras using the ventilation shafts to get to the coference room, where they can defend the twelve, while Alucard can go on the offensive.

Alucard is amused to hear that Walter is going back into action, and calls him “Angel of Death”.    We’ll come back to that.

So Walter’s pretty much on top of things here.    No one ever considered anything like this happening before.    Hellsing is supposed to be a secret organization, so a vampire shouldn’t know to come here in the first place.    Moreover, no one dreamed that a vampire would plan it out so well, using ghouls in a military fashion.     But he’s optimistic about their chances for survival, because...

Walter has super powers.    Specifically, he has these magic wires he can use to bind and slice up his enemies, and this makes short work of the Valentines’ ghouls.   He then repeats Jan’s taunts back at him.   Okay, so I guess Walter did hear Jan’s message from earlier. 

The problem I always had with this development was that it seemed awfully convenient for Walter to have super powers.    But then, it took me a while to catch on to Anderson having super powers, and he took a bullet to the face.    I think the conceit of the Hellsing world is that these “anti-freak” organizations have to have super-powered operatives, so they use secret techniques and alchemy or whatever to empower men like Walter and Anderson.   It’s really not that hard to swallow.

Except that the first vampire-hunter we meet in Hellsing is Alucard, who is himself a vampire. So it seemed like the whole point was that he was the best suited for the job because he had the raw power to do it.   Integra doesn’t seem to have any powers, and neither do any of the rank-and-file Hellsing operatives who get mowed down by the Valentines’ ghouls.   So it always confused me for Walter to just go “Wassup, I have powers too.”   But it only makes sense for Hellsing to have more than one card to play.    Clearly, Walter used to hunt vampires on  the regular before he retired to become a butler.

Between Walter’s wires and Seras’ giant gun, they manage to subdue Jan easily enough, but he reveals he has a partner, Luke, whose job is to tackle the second half of their mission: to destroy Alucard.   Let’s check in on him...

Yeah.    I was thinking about doing a blow-by-blow of this fight, but it’s kind of pointless.    Luke talks a big game, and seems confident that he’s on a higher level than the vampires Alucard has been fighting recently, and for a hot minute, even Alucard believes that he might be a worthy adversary, “above even a ‘Category A’ vampire,” so he releases his “control art restriction,” to “Level 1″.  

I guess I should back up and explain this.    Alucard, like all overpowered anime characters, can hold back his full power and reveal it in stages.   For some reason he has to announce that he’s doing this, like Windows 10 describing it’s own updating.   Presumably, there’s a Level 4 where he usually operates, and that was enough for him to fight Luke evenly.    But here, we see him jump all the way to Level 1, which allows him to turn into some shadowy form with lots of eyes and two dog heads.  

Also, centipedes.  The point is, this is all stuff Luke can’t do.   He’s more of a “super speed gun-shooting” kind of vampire, so he’s immediately outclassed.    Alucard’s dog form eats Luke and that’s the end of him.... OR IS IT? 

Meanwhile, Jan’s ghoul army is beaten, but he still has reinforcements in the form of all the Hellsing soldiers they killed earlier.   These men rise up as new ghouls and chase down Seras while Jan makes a break for the conference room where the Twelve are holed up.    Walter tries to catch Jan, but only manages to rip off one of his arms.   He makes it to the door, only to find...

Integra and the others all have guns, and they shoot him down.  

All Jan has left now is his second wave of ghouls, except Seras manages to overwhelm them.   At first, she was panicking, but then she freaks out and goes feral on them, to the point where Integra has to jump in and order her to stop.   When she does, she seems to have no idea what just happened.    This is mostly overshadowed by the sheer horror of Hellsing’s soldiers being reduced to the undead.  

All that’s left is Jan, who refuses to talk.    He has the same microchip implants as the previous vampires, and the people who sent him are monitoring him in real-time, which means they know he failed, and they can make him self-destruct before he can tell Hellsing anything.  As he dies, Jan flips them all off and gives them one word of information: “Millennium.”

After that, Integra tasks Walter with destroying the remaining Hellsing ghouls, until Sir Irons, one of the Twelve reminds Integra that this is the duty of a commander.   As Hellsing’s C.O., it’s her responsibility, so she agrees and starts shooting the ghouls in the head.   

Meanwhile, Jan’s mysterious overseers talk amongst themselves, and their leader calls for them to resume their “research”.   As devastating as this attack on Hellsing was, for Millennium, this was merely a test.   

[undertalethingems]

Bark at the Moon, Chapter 8: Local Cryptid

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Or read on my Ao3>

Rating, Setting: Gen, Pre-canon

Chapter Warnings: None

Chapter Summary:  A rumor's been spreading in Snowdin...

"I'd dismissed it as gossip myself, but then that Ice Cap said they attacked it," Dogaressa was saying, catching Undyne's attention as she stepped indoors.

"What's going on?"

"Oh! Captain!" Dogamy yelped, and the dogs gathered around the table at Grillby's quickly stood and saluted.

"At ease," she said, and the group collectively wagged their tails as they sat back down. "Really though, what were you talking about before I came in?"

"Some rumor," Doggo replied dismissively. "It's been going around a couple weeks now. Supposedly there's some kind of beast running around attacking people. Some even think it's a human. I don't believe a word though, I haven't seen anything."

"And we haven't smelled anything," Dogamy added, his wife nodding. "It was all just hearsay until two days ago, but everyone's been on edge because of it."

"Two days ago--that's when the Ice Cap saw it?" Undyne surmised, and her crew nodded.

"Did they get a good look at it? If someone's causing trouble--or if it IS a human--we can't let them escape justice. You know the policy."

The dogs exchanged looks.

"Well..." Dogamy started.

"The Ice Cap didn't exactly see what they attacked," Dogaressa said, drumming the table with her claws, her brows furrowed. "All they could say was that it was big and white--frankly, that could be anyone at this table. Or even just a snowbank... The rumors, though..."

"Supposedly," Doggo picked up, "it's some kind of deathly skeletal beast that picks off people who stray too far into the woods to eat their dust. Sounds like something parents would say to scare their kids if you ask me. Uh... that's why we haven't reported it. We were just discussing what to do before you walked in."

"I see." Undyne narrowed her eye. "...Skeletal?"

Doggo shrugged. "Yeah, all made of bones, like the brothers who used to live around here, but no one's actually seen it so who knows... By the way, have you heard from either of them lately? I thought sure Papyrus would be back from vacation by now, and you said Sans was sick... but it's been a real long time..."

Undyne studied her crew's somber faces and made a quick decision. "Papyrus is fine, I've been in contact with him. As for Sans... we don't know where he is--just that he... probably isn't dead. Seems he's taking a vacation of his own."

The table considered her words somberly.

"There's been some speculation that he was one of the beast's first victims," Dogaressa said quietly. "Of course, no one else has disappeared, so it's kind of silly, but... he has been gone for a while, and other people have been attacked."

"It's been a lot more glum without either of 'em runnin' around," Doggo sighed, propping his head on a paw, and Undyne's heart twisted.

"Well, I'll let Papyrus know how much you guys miss him, and... I guess, keep an eye out for Sans--and this so-called beast. If people are getting hurt, we need to bring it--or whoever's behind this--into custody as soon as possible. I'll have more formal orders for you later, but if you'll excuse me, I DID come here to order food."

The dogs nodded and waved her off, and she headed for the counter.

"Hey Grillby, long time no see. Yeah, one order of cheese fries, thanks."

She waited on her food, thoughts buzzing. If the rumor was true, it didn't make any sense. A skeletal beast... she only knew one person who fit that description, and he'd been hanging with her for three weeks now. Her fries were set before her, interrupting her thoughts briefly, but she continued to ponder as she ate. Gossip and rumor wasn't unheard of--it, for better or worse, was a frequent form of entertainment in the Underground. But tales of strange creatures were rare--largely because almost everyone was a strange creature. Was someone trying to play a joke...? Being petty about their neighbor? Or... was there more to it? She needed information.

"Hey, so the rumor that's been going around, the one about the beast," she started, turning to the red bird sitting next to her. "Any idea who started it?"

The bird opened a bleary eye. "No one's entirely sure, Cap'n. Jus', one day it was all the kids could talk about. Think maybe it's some game they're playin'. Right Grilbz?"

The fire elemental paused to nod.

"Hmm. The Guard told me people have been attacked?"

"Sure, and everyone's all jumpy because of that," the bird replied, "but I still think it's the kids, messin' around with their magic. Someone oughta set 'em back on track."

Undyne snorted a laugh. "I get the hint. Still... no one's even seen it, but they're all pretty sure it's not a regular monster, huh?"

The bird thought for a moment. "Guess not. If it's someone new to town, why haven't they introduced themselves? Us Snowdin folks don't bite--the dogs are real good about that."

"I would hope so," Undyne stated, brow raised. "You're right though. If there really is someone out there attacking people, they need to be dealt with. Thanks for the info. Here Grillby, keep the change. Stay safe."

The dogs saluted her as she marched back out; she was really glad she'd decided to treat herself and learned about this situation sooner rather than later. What an odd rumor to start up... Her thoughts still swirled, trying to piece it all together. She was confident no one had seen Papyrus in his current state--but maybe something had gotten past her. If that was the case though, why had the rumors started in Snowdin and not Waterfall? And that relied on the description of the beast being accurate--as far as she knew, no one had actually seen it. It was an odd coincidence--but not enough for proof.

With a scowl deepening on her face, no one dared stop her during her patrol, and by the time she headed off to pick up Papyrus she was ready to punch something. People were getting hurt, and she couldn't understand or figure out why. Maybe it was reckless kids--but whether it was that, some rogue monster, or even a human somehow, they needed to be stopped. And if it was Papyrus at the center of this--then someone needed to be set straight about that too. But without any major leads or evidence, she couldn't take action. There was nothing she could do about it. She hated it.

"Undyne? You look... displeased..." Papyrus noted wincingly as she stormed into his sanctuary, and she checked herself.

"Sorry, uh... bad day at work. Hope things went okay here?"

"Yes! Quiet as usual! Well! Except for when I was practicing my best bone rattles. Would you care for a demonstration?"

Somehow, he was already brightening her mood--she broke into a smile. "Aaaah c'mere, I'll rattle your bones for ya!"

He dodged her lunge with a yelp and took off, and she was happy to chase after him and let off steam until she ran out of breath. Sinking to the cavern floor with a clatter, she laid her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her hands, panting. Papyrus, who had won yet another round, trotted up and turned in place a few times before laying down next to her.

"That should have put some distance between you and your problems," he said, and she laughed breathlessly.

"Oh, my god."

"I'm not wrong." He beamed.

"No," she replied, "no, you aren't. I feel a lot better. Thanks."

"Then I have done my job! Nyeh heh heh!"

"Hey, I saw some people who really miss you today."

"Really?"

"Yeah--I went to Grillby's for lunch and talked to the dogs, they're all still worried about you guys and hope you'll be back soon."

"Aw," Papyrus said, looking flattered. "I still can't believe I have so many fans! I'll have to be sure to say hello when I return--though, not by going to Grillby's. I could smell you coming almost as soon as I could hear you!"

"Hey, I don't smell that bad!"

Papyrus looked like if he'd had a nose, he'd have wrinkled it. "You smell like greasy, sweaty fish and it's a wonder I haven't keeled over."

"Oh my god! I'm gonna push you into the lake!"

"Then I'm taking you with me! You need a bath!"

"Just you try it, bone boy! NGAAAAAHHH!"

Undyne was up and chasing him again in a flash--and between her own single-mindedness and some clever moves on Papyrus' part she did end up careening into the lake. Armor sopping, she hauled herself up laughing, and had to take a moment to lean with hands on her knees. Papyrus watched her happily, tail waving in a motion that wasn't quite wagging but seemed to mean the same thing.

"Alright, I've had enough fooling around for now. Ready to head home?"

"Yeah! I think I'd like to try those clothes you talked about tonight."

"Awesome! Yeah, Alphys helped me pick some stuff out, she knows what dealing with a tail is like and had some great suggestions. I think you're really gonna like 'em!"

Papyrus bounced in place, then darted off to collect his things. Undyne was extra vigilant as they headed back; she scouted ahead to make sure the coast was clear, ears pricked and eye darting at every sound and motion they encountered. Escort missions were always a bother, but if her friend was being targeted by awful rumors... She wasn't taking any chances.

They got back to her house without incident, but Undyne had made a decision. She'd considered leaving the strange sightings to the Snowdin unit until further notice, certain they could handle it. But the more she'd thought about it, the more she was certain someone had seen Papyrus. Considering it was her duty to protect him while he tried to regain his other form, she owed it to him to track down whoever had started the rumor and get to the bottom of this personally. He was getting more comfortable with himself every day--he hadn't slipped in over a week--and she wouldn't let his own hometown ruin that for him. They spent the evening laughing, wrestling, and relaxing as they always did, but all the while, Undyne had her mind set on her goal.

It was only a few days later that she heard from the Snowdin dogs that word had spread of residents hearing eerie howls. According to witnesses, these cries came from deep within Snowdin Forest late at night, well after most monsters had gone to bed. But despite being the usual suspects, the calls were not coming from the dogs themselves--they didn't sound right. No one quite knew how to describe what they'd heard, but they all knew how it had made them feel: terrified.

All this had been charted in a brief report. Undyne looked it over again, shaking her head. She'd thought the beast rumor had been based on a sighting of Papyrus, but there was no way he was responsible for these howls. He'd have to be sneaking out every night while she was asleep... which, she supposed was possible. She wasn't sure he slept...? But, she was sure he wouldn't risk the whole trek to and from Snowdin every night, and she knew he'd never hurt anyone. He liked fighting, but... this wasn't his style at all. She had no reason to doubt him.

Undyne glared at the report and growled under her breath. Was the rumor and the howling even connected? The story had started up well before any strange noises... it didn't add up. None of this made sense and it was making her brain hurt. She slipped the note into the rest of the paperwork she'd put together so far, then left the small archive feeling antsy. It wasn't often a full report had to be filled out--most incidents were small and easily resolved, but this one... people had been hurt. Someone had to face justice for that, whether the beast was real or not.

And then, only a few days after the howling had begun, someone pounded on her door in the middle of the night. She ushered Papyrus into her room--a rare allowance--and answered to find the Dogi and Grillby decked out in a plastic poncho, wading boots, and an umbrella. His normally reserved expression seemed alarmed, and Undyne wasn't sure if it was because of a trek through hostile territory, or why he was here to begin with.

"What's happened?" she said quickly, and the Dogi saluted.

"Captain! We apologize for waking you, but this was urgent. The beast is real--Grillby saw it!" Dogamy replied, and his wife nodded.

"Grillby, please describe what you saw to Captain Undyne."

Her understanding of Hands was rusty, but Undyne did her best to follow the bartender as he explained. He'd just turned in for the night after closing, and hadn't been in bed long when a noise disturbed him. He got up to investigate, and found something digging in the restaurant trash.

At this point, he paused, looking unsure of himself.

"Go on," Undyne encouraged, and he rubbed the back of his neck before continuing.

He'd turned up his light, and seen it really was skeletal just like the rumor had said (and with Sans being his best customer, he knew a skeleton when he saw one). But the creature had noticed him as well, and he took no chances and cast a burst of flame at it. It darted off faster than he thought a creature of that size could move, and just like that, it was gone. He'd secured his trash, then found the Dogi as quickly as he could to give them his report and evidence. They'd made the decision to go to Waterfall from there.

Undyne considered all this carefully. "Thank you, Grillby. Whatever this thing is, it seems like it's getting bolder. We might have to put a curfew in place until we can catch it--for now, advise people to put their trash indoors and keep an eye out. Did you smell anything unusual on the evidence?"

Dogamy shook his head. "It just smelled like snow--and Grillby's--and maybe something else we couldn't identify. Not good enough to track. But here, you can have it for the file."

He handed her a small plastic baggie with a few torn-up napkins and a burger wrapper with holes punched in it--a bite pattern. She eyed it skeptically, but took it and set it on the table. "Thanks. You guys get some rest, call me if anything else happens. We'll continue the investigation tomorrow. Dismissed."

The Dogi saluted, and Grillby gave an awkward bow before they left. Undyne waited until they were well out of earshot.

"Okay Papyrus, you can come out. They're gone."

The door creaked, and he slowly crept out. "Is everything alright? What happened?"

She smiled at him. "Everything's fine! Just a small investigation that's ongoing, nothing you need to worry about."

"Oh, I'm not worried--I want to help! If. If I can. If that is a thing I can do. Which it almost definitely is."

Undyne shook her head. "No Papyrus. The Guard is handling this. Your assignment is staying safe while you try to get your regular body back."

Papyrus looked hurt. "You think I can't keep myself safe? You complimented my bullet patterns just last week--"

"I know!" Undyne snapped. "Your magic is great, but--"

"But what?"

She grit her teeth, rubbing her face. "... We're still trying to figure out what's going on, and everyone's on high alert for anything strange. Even Grillby... I don't want you getting hurt because someone made a mistake. I'll bring you in when I think the time is right, but until then, you have to stay hidden, and no investigating on your own. Promise?"

Papyrus studied her for a bit, and closed his eyes. "... I promise, Undyne."

She breathed a sigh. "Alright. And I'm SERIOUS! No sneaking out!"

He jumped, then nodded quickly. "I'm sure if I did not get in trouble out there, I would be in a definite quantity of trouble with you, and that is the opposite of a calming thought. So. I'll just wait here! You can count on me!"

Undyne smiled. "Good. I'm gonna go back to bed so I'm ready for tomorrow. You should try and rest too."

"I will. Goodnight, Undyne."

"G'night."

Undyne turned back to her bedroom. With all this new information, falling asleep would he hard... But it was better if she faced this with a clear head.

Because the only thought she'd had that seemed to make any sense was that this creature was Sans, and that couldn't be right. She'd never admit to Papyrus, but she was starting to doubt he was even alive at this point... and they'd both told her this shapeshifting thing was unique to Papyrus. But Undyne didn't know of any other skeletons...

Even if it was Sans somehow, she couldn't let Papyrus go charging in, not when he matched the description of the creature everyone was either attacking or had orders to capture. Until she knew more, she couldn't let him get involved. She settled into bed, one thought clear above the others.

No matter who or what this creature was, it wouldn't escape.

[cherry3point14]

Stranger Than Fanfiction: Ch 5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader   Warnings: Lusting. Tumblr Meta. Word count: 2,400.   Chapter Summary: What’s worse: reading fanfiction about two men you just met, or a narrator who wants to push you into one of their arms? A/N: lol tumblr. You guys should let me know who wants to be in this thing. I kid, I kid... OR DO I?

Ao3 if you prefer

Y/N pushed forward onto her elbows and pressed her fingers into her temples. Outwardly it might look like an attempt to relax but she was actually attempting to massage away the oncoming headache. It had been a tiresome, stressful day that had exhausted her long before Sam and Dean Winchester had arrived. Up until then, her biggest concern had been catching up on her mounting work, something that was now trivial in comparison to the monster roaming her neighborhood.

Her disorientation was not aided by the Winchesters themselves. Or Dean. He was a problem, a curse, and a mystery in one flannel-clad package. Y/N wanted to strangle him, mostly. He’d sauntered into her domain and attempted to take the lead where he hadn’t been invited. He was short-tempered and disrespectful. Yet when she considered what it might be like to wrap her fingers around his throat and finally silence him—a fantasy she wouldn’t have been prone to normally —her mind wandered of its own accord. No, she didn’t usually indulge in flights of fancy, which is why she read so extensively, that is until Dean drifted into her life. Now what would begin as a simple imaginary tirade towards the man, morphed into her nails carding through his hair while she brought her lips to his. His lips that were suddenly so fascinating…

“Erm, Y/N?” Sam interrupts you, well her, causing you to slump into your hands where you’re still leaning on your desk. You could only hope that the way you’re staring at nothing doesn’t appear quite as wistful as it feels.

Your narrator had started this absurd new direction in her story shortly after you’d accepted the men in front of you to be Sam and Dean Winchester. She’s been filling your head with these seemingly endless paragraphs about Dean. Bubbling new emotions and how you notice each of his seemingly perfect features for the first time. So, while you're trying to have a conversation with the two men, you simultaneously have to listen to her pining after Dean on your behalf. And then there's the way your body reacts to everything the voice is saying. You’re not sure if you’re lusting after Dean or if the voice is, either way, you find yourself licking your lips in anticipation or trying to suppress a shiver in your warm office.

It’s exhausting.

“Sorry, you were- I mean you’re telling me that because the first victim's murderer has an alibi, you came to check it out and linked four deaths because they all had life insurance policies?” You pause, unsure, “no offense but that doesn’t sound very, uh, weird. I mean- I have life insurance.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “of course you do, you work at a damn insurance company.”

You’d actually been asking Sam but it’s so easy to fall into the trap of arguing with Dean since it’s been happening for the last thirty minutes now. “Life insurance is very common, you know, maybe you should consider getting some.”

The problem is whenever you do decide to engage with Dean, your benevolent narrator takes the opportunity to inform you of something else attractive about him. Thus neutralizing your annoyed reaction.

She couldn’t help it. Though she fought and struggled to control herself she found herself looping through the same motions again. Warmth bloomed over her chest to accompany the spark of aggression. Her tongue fired off a response like a bullet leaving a gun. As she hit her intended target, marked by Dean’s creased brow or the clench of his jaw, she’d experience a pleasant moment of weightlessness as a small, relieved sigh would leave her body. This petty behavior would be uncharacteristic for her if this were a regular acquaintance whom she simply disliked. He was not any other offender. Dean was both her tormentor and tormented, not just because of the way his tongue peeked out over his bottom lip for a teasing second.

Sam clears his throat, again, “we found the insurance connection after we figured out what it is. The first case, the murder victim? We saw the shifter on video before they-”

You brighten up, interrupting, remembering the fact from your reading, and happy to have no internal monologue. “Oh, the eye thing? Like the shifter who pretended to be Dean in the books?”

“It wasn’t only in the books… how many times, that happened!”

Dean has been getting more and more agitated by your slow realization that everything you’d read was real. Sam, in trying to explain why they needed the information about the claim beneficiaries, has been worlds apart more understanding.

“Right, of course. Don’t worry this isn’t weird for me or anything.” You cross your arms over your chest like you can block out Dean’s negativity with the action. Or stop the flush on your skin from continuing up your neck.

Sam scrunches his face as he gets to the end of even his patience, although you’re not sure whether it’s you or Dean.

“Yeah, the um-eye thing. Anyway, we found three other unsolved cases except these weren’t as big news because no one was arrested for them. But all died the same way, all had sizable insurance policies with First National, and all the spouses practically went into hiding after the claim was paid.”

“Right. And you think Maggie Hall is a shifter who killed her own husband?”

Sam nods, “something like that.”

“Ok, ok. What can I do to help?” You’re not ok with monsters or guns, or all the crime. Although little data protection infraction seems in your wheelhouse. “Do you have the names? I could get you all the information.”

Dean barks a laugh from the chair he’s sunk into, crossing his own arms at some point.

His broad shoulders are slung low, his head bouncing against the back of the chair. She’d be forgiven for thinking that he’s a teenager asleep in class for the way he’s sitting and the lack of interest he has in talking to her. Except he’s not treating her like the dull teacher, quite the opposite. She’s offering to break the rules and so he’s treating her like a child trying to stay up past bedtime. He infuriates her as much as he makes her want to prove him wrong. She thinks she could do it too, given enough time, she could prove everything he’s said wrong and then perhaps he’d show her a modicum of respect.

You’re reminded then of your own strange circumstances. Where you’d had a comment waiting for Dean’s apathetic laugh you stop and consider for the first time if you should tell someone. Them even. Not screaming at Laura to ask if she heard it too, but honestly tell someone. If you’re committing to believing the Winchesters exist does it make sense that they would be the only people to actually believe you?

“And you’re sure that it’s a shapeshifter?” You don’t look up to see their faces, hoping it’ll make this easier.

Dean doesn’t notice the soft change in your voice at first. “ Just because you’ve read a few books and think you know a few things…”

Sam waves a hand in Dean’s face to shut him up, making you wonder where that trick has been for the last forty-five minutes. “What makes you ask that?”

You bring your eyes to theirs now, flicking between them. Both of them are wearing those intense stares, boring into you again, softer now. Something tells you that you could take twenty minutes to gather your courage and they’d still wait.

Sam is looking at you kindly and Dean, for the first time since you’ve seen him, is patient.

You know that lightning isn’t supposed to strike twice but it feels like maybe you have been hit with two realizations at once. Firstly, you couldn’t tell them. As absurd as the voice is it somehow seems too weird even for them. They are hunting an actual monster and you are struggling with possible mental illness. If they didn't cart you off to a head doctor at the very least they'd think you're crazy.

Secondly, and it pains you to prove your narrator correct, but Dean really does have a rugged yet boyish charm when he’s not scowling at you.

Not that it matters if you play along with the voice and her desires for you to fall for Dean. Because you’re going to help them find this shifter and they’ll do what the Winchesters do in every Supernatural book you’d poured over. They’ll get into their car and leave.

“It’s nothing. I’m was thinking-it’s fine. We should get going before security wonders why I’m still here.” You stand up ready to go digging through the filing cabinets. “I guess you need to look at those files now?”

It’s Thursday. A regular and normal Thursday. Nothing out of the ordinary. You hadn’t spent the night before re-reading Skin because shifters are real and there is one stalking your companies’ clients. And you’re definitely ignoring the notification icon on the Tumblr app.

Sure, before you’d met them maybe you’d read one or two, or twenty unpublished short stories written by independent writers. The books had ended and you’d had nothing new to read. You’d already known the fan-created content was out there because you’d glanced at it when you downloaded the books. It had been so easy to retrace your steps.

But knowing what you knew now, knowing that the Winchesters were real, you certainly couldn’t go around reading fanfiction anymore.

Definitely not.

Which is why it’s Thursday morning and you’re at your desk. Jittery from another late night, on edge because what if they are killing the shifter right now and curious as to where the voice has gone. Again. Adding the Tumblr notification on top of that pile was like throwing lighter fluid onto a burning building. Not really going to make things worse in the grand scheme of things, still probably frowned upon.

The notification only bothers you as much as it does because it’s something that should be manageable. Unlike everything else, you can deal with this little red badge.

“Y/N, I brought you a coffee!”

As you search for the source of the voice you see Laura coming across the office with two cups in her hands from the coffee shop down the street.

“Coffee?” You cock your head at her.

Laura makes it to your desk and sets down the brown to go cup directly on top of the paper on your desk as if trying to force you to engage with it before continuing to work. “You seemed a little tired this morning. Thought you could use a pick me up.”

It’s nice of her to have noticed. It’s even nicer that she didn’t tell you to your face this morning since you’d have been annoyed by the comment first thing. The strange thing is that she’s brought you coffee of all drinks. The cozy little coffee shop is where you lunch together when you both decide to treat yourselves and, as at home, you drink tea.

Still, it's the thought that counts. “Thanks, that’s nice of you. My treat next time.”

If she catches the confusion still lingering in your tone then she ignores it, electing to wink at you, unaware. “Don’t be silly. Anything for you.”

Today wouldn’t be the first time that Laura’s perkiness had continued throughout the day so you write off the weirdness and let her walk away. Now would be an excellent time to pick up your phone. You're going to drink the coffee in front of you out of politeness anyway, why not take a break at the same time? You pick up the cup first to signify the start of your coffee break. Unfortunately with actual coffee. Laura did at least add cream so it's slightly more palatable.

Flicking at your screen you open your emails first under the pretense of checking all your notifications at once. There aren't many since you checked at breakfast. Then your Facebook because surely someone in your life has done something horrific enough that they want to share it with you. Nothing except your cousin's pregnancy announcement, which you mom had told you about days ago. Finally, you can't avoid it, the Tumblr app calls for you and click it. The notification was for a message and it's a reply to one you sent.

It's important to note that you'd sent the message before you met Sam and Dean.

Although since this conversation has been started already there's no harm in messaging back. It would be rude not to. You'd only wanted to tell someone that you enjoyed their story, and they messaged back thanking you for your feedback. It was perfectly innocent. It's not like you were choosing to read more stories. And you weren't going out of your way to find the Dean ones.

Hey, thanks for getting back to me. I only read the books last week and I loved your story. Great characterization. Looking forward to reading some more!

It does feel like a cheap shot since the Winchesters are not characters anymore, they're people. Although it's not like they'd find out.

You click send on your reply at the same time as you take another sip of your free coffee and wince. Laura is safely back out of sight at reception now so hopefully you will get away with it without offending her.

The notification is gone. That's one less itch to scratch. Only the remaining laundry list of problems in your life to deal with now.

Starting with the email from Mark that pops up in the corner of your computer screen, asking you if you'd cleared Maggie Halls' file yet.

Continue to Chapter 6.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23   Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278​ @bloodydaydreamer StrangerThanFiction tags: @jaylarkson @starsandmidnightblue​

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 31)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 3515

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

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

“You’re back kinda late,” Spencer noted as he read a book, sitting in the hotel chair next to the small desk they provided. 

“Yeah, uh, Dexter got stabbed at a bowling alley,” you explained. 

“Is he alright?” he asked, closing his book and looking at you, trying to find signs of distress. 

You mindlessly tossed your purse and keys onto the table. “Yeah, no he’s fine. Sorry, should’ve led with that. Uh, but he was stabbed by his mother’s murderer. Apparently, a few weeks ago, on the horrible advice of his NA sponsor, he went to find him in Naples and confront him. I guess things got heated, they had a fight, and somehow he found out who Dexter was and followed him. He came up behind Dexter. I had to warn him, and help fight him off. He got in his truck and got away though.”

“Sounds like an intense night. Are you okay?”

You nodded as Spencer stood up to come rub your arms and check on you. 

“I’m fine, yeah.”

“Is everything alright? You seem a bit distant.”

“Well, I have something I want to ask you and I’m worried how you’ll take it.” 

“No secrets, remember? Just ask me. I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he assured with a sweet smile. A smile you’d nearly forgotten about. You hadn’t seen it in so long. 

You took a deep breath, your eyes casting to the ugly hotel carpeting. “Okay, Dexter and I think it would be a good idea if you came along with us to kill his mother’s murderer.” You let out the breath you’d been holding. 

Spencer’s hands let go of your arms. Your eyes flashed up to see what his facial reaction was. It was morphed into a deep frown.

Okay, yeah, you knew that was coming. 

“What?” he asked, clearly put off. “Y/N, that’s the most insane idea i’ve ever heard. I don’t want to be any more a part of this than I am, than I have to be. You want to drag me along to watch this? And since when are you going back to killing again?”

“I’m not. I just want to be there to help Dexter. It’s mainly for moral support, nothing else.”

“Funny choice of words,” he said balefully as he began walking around the room, his hands going to his hair, disheveling it even further. 

“Don’t start right now. Look, I wasn’t thrilled either, but Dexter made a point. We think maybe you have this horrible imagery built up in your head about what we do, what he does. Some kind of villainous nightmare. Subjectively, yes, he does kill and he kills gruesomely. But objectively, this time we thought you could have some perspective. You nearly killed Cat because she had your mother hostage. This man brutally murdered his mother in front of him and his brother as little kids. Tell me you can’t find some iota of sympathy in you. I’m not saying you’ll enjoy this or want to do it, but maybe if you just watched us, watched his process, you’d see he wasn't some unhinged unsub.” You let out a breath, starting to feel frustrated. You didn’t know why you had to spell this out for him and it was getting old. Either he understood, or he didn’t.

He sighed, clenching his fist as he turned his head to the side, not looking at you. “Alright, you’re right. I said I’d support you in this, and I haven’t given you the full chance to show me what you two have done. I just assumed the worst, and because I love you, I forgave your actions. But you’re right, if I’m going to keep helping you two, Ineed to know exactly what it is you two do.” 

“Really? You’ll do this?” 

“I’m not excited about it, but if I’m going to fully understand where your mind was at and what you two did together, I need to see it. I think it will be beneficial either way. It might bring us closer together, it might help me see it from your view.” 

You nodded. “Good. I think it will help. He wants to do it in the morning because it’ll take all day to get to him in Naples, abduct him, and kill, and dispose of him.”

“Wow, that’s soon. What about work? All 3 of us can’t just disappear for a day.”

You bit your lip. “Shit, I forgot. Well, we just need to wait for a break in the case that could get us all some time off. As soon as things slow down one day, and they give us a break, we’ll go.”

He nodded in response and the next day, you told Dex your tentative schedule. He agreed that all three of you needed to be present, and in order to not raise further suspicion, you’d have to wait on Rossi to deem you all had worked too much, and for there to be a point for your team to just wait.

Doakes was eventually brought in but he barely stayed two minutes before he rushed out. You frowned, wondering why he was so upset, but kept back to your case work.

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

Much to your surprise, the BAU team started to look into officers past, but thankfully not into Dexter. In fact, they set their sights on Doakes, so all effort went into locating him. That was mainly on Garcia and Luke. Once Rossi and Matthews had declared him suspect number one, known only to your team, not the Miami PD, the case became hands off. It was a waiting game to see where Daokes would show up. All the profiling in the world couldn’t help with seeing where he might be going, but Rossi declared that the team should take a break while you all wait for some kind of news about his whereabouts. This was it, it was the chance you needed. Albeit noon, it provided enough time to get to Naples, stalk him, and do the rest. 

You and Spencer went to Dexter’s lab immediately and told him you needed to go. The three of you drove to his apartment where it was like deja vu. 

“Okay, so here’s how I operate,” Dexter explained, pulling out his trunk and duffel bags. “I’ve got all my kill tools in here, including the sedative, plastic wrap, and duct tape. Tonight, all we need is duct tape, plastic, scalpel, slides, dropper, and I’ll need to stop to pick up a chainsaw.” 

You glanced to Spencer to see how he was holding up. He had a bit of a sick look on his face. 

“Is the chainsaw really necessary?” he asked. 

“I typically try to use whatever my victims do. Unless it’s poison or suffocation. In this case, I think it’s highly fitting.”

“Y/N’s said that you usually kill them quickly, so they don’t feel pain. She said you do this with a large knife, like a hunting knife. Are we not using one tonight?” 

“Normally, yes, I stab them in the heart so it lowers the amount of spray and they have a rather quick death, but tonight, Jiminez deserves to feel everything.” 

“So this is the most personal kill you’ll do?” 

“Probably,” he responded with a bit of a shrug. “Alright. I hope you don’t love those clothes because there will be blood on them. I need to pack my apron, mask, and other protective gear. Y/N, you want your clothes?” 

“You let him keep your clothes?” Spencer asked, an undercurrent of hurt in his tone. 

“We thought it would be safer. He could wash them with his, and you’d never see them…” you quietly responded, feeling as if you were on trial.

With that, you told Dexter you wanted your clothes. You quickly changed into your old kill outfit, feeling an odd sensation being in them with Spencer around. Dexter offered Spencer some old clothes but he declined, rudely. 

Then the two of you set off in Dexter’s van. He stopped and picked up the chainsaw. Spencer said nothing to you while you two waited in the car. You were trying to gauge his thoughts and feelings, but he was giving almost nothing to go on. It made you feel anxious. You were somewhat terrified he’d leave this experience hating you, fearing you, seeing you as nothing more than a sick unsub. It could backfire and instead of bringing you closer together, it put you further apart. 

Dexter drove all the way to Naples, explaining how he was going to stalk Jimenez. Spencer didn’t have many questions, seeing as it was his job to know how unsubs thought, worked, calculated. He didn’t compliment or condescend him. 

Still, you were on edge about his reaction to all of this. 

Dexter drove up to the bar where Jiminez worked, and you all followed him, watching, waiting. You were sure Dexter was feeling the same thing you were - rush of adrenaline, all your senses sharpened, the ever vigilant eyes. 

Eventually, the stalking led you three to a run down cabin in the Everglades. It was extremely remote. After sitting with the engine killed for a long time and being sure Jiminez wouldn’t come out, Dexter turned to you two. 

“You remember this part, right?’ 

You nodded, in student mode once more. “Of course. We’re going to lure him out and sedate him.” 

“Wrong. You’re going to,” Dexter told you firmly. “Get in my bag, get the sedative.” 

Quickly, deftly, you did as you were told. You got the syringe out, opened the door quietly, and slipped out. You pulled the cap off and tossed it back in the car. Just as you were about to walk by Dexter’s driver window, he stopped you. 

“Wait, come here,” he quietly ordered. You walked back over and Dexter put his hand on yours. 

Red flags went off in Spencer’s mind. The simple touch seemed to make all those old feelings resurface. He always knew there was something further than just a friendship between you two. 

“Hold it like this, remember?” he instructed, wrapping your fingers in a particular way. “Keep the needle out, away from you. Go check, make sure he’s alone, create something to lure him out, and then attack from behind.” 

The small correction suddenly set Spencer at ease. Dexter was, in fact, just teaching you something. There was nothing remotely romantic about it at all. Some of the nerves he had built up, melted way.

“I know,” you reminded evenly, confidence in your tone, but not arrogance. You knew Dexter had done this dozens of times. But he also needed to remember he trained you extensively. 

You walked quickly and low to the ground as you went to a window and peeked in. You saw Jiminez and no one else. After a second, you snuck back over to the truck and turned on the radio, before going to hide against the wall again.

Your heart was racing, your hand was shaking slightly until you took a deep breath. 

Jiminez came out, you ran up behind him, injected the serum, and he passed out cold. You looked back at the van and held a thumbs up. Dexter jumped out of the van and Spencer following. 

Spencer’s instructions were clear: don’t get in the way.

You and Dexter had a system now and half the reason for this trip was to show him how you two worked together. You two grabbed all of the supplies from the back hatch. Spencer followed you and Dexter as you moved quickly in the cabin. Every inch was covered in plastic. You two moved around each other as if you were long time dance partners, every move choreographed, every move done with precision. 

Spencer stood and watched, objectively, trying not to let it sink in that you two were really about to kill someone. 

Next, you and Dexter carried Jiminez into the room, finished off the plastic, and got him strapped to the table after disrobing him. Not a word was spoken the entire time and Spencer couldn’t help but notice. Dexter didn’t have to tell you what was next, he didn’t have to instruct you on a single thing. This was as methodical as it could get. 

You got Dexter’s slides ready, along with his scalpel and dropper. Dexter busied himself with his clothing, getting all the gear in place. You and Spencer put on your face shields, to protect from blood spatter. 

“Y/N, do you have your knife?” Dexter asked. 

“Yes.”

“Go ahead and show me where you’d stop blood flow,” he evenly requested. 

It was becoming increasingly clear to Spencer as he watched you two that everything had a purpose, everything was clinical. There was no malice in it. It was only calculating. The entire time you three had been together today, there wasn’t any jokes, any goofing off. When you and Dexter interacted, it was educational. 

You put the knife over his chest, the tip barely cutting through the plastic. 

Dexter again, offered his hand, without warning, and wrapped his fingers around yours from the opposite side of the table. 

“Almost, just a hair up towards the chin and towards the left just a little,” he calmly explained. 

“Right,” you agreed, then pulled your blade away. 

“Wait, you’re not killing him?” Spencer asked. 

“No, this is Dexter’s kill. In light of who this man is, Dexter has elected to kill him the exact same way his mother was… with no mercy.”

As you finished your sentence, Jiminez began stirring. Dexter made his way to the head of the table. 

“Here we are again,” he said, picking up the surgical blade and slicing along his victim’s cheek. 

“What-- what the fuck?!” Jiminez gasped out. 

“I know. I keep asking myself that same question.” He absorbed the blood, and squirted it onto the readied slides provided by  you. 

“Let me out of here!” 

“But.. I’m finding it’s best to accept things you can’t change. Now is where I have a chat with you, so you know exactly why you’re here. I think you have a pretty good idea, and I certainly know why you’re here, but I have some company tonight that I’d like you to tell.”

He glanced at you and Spencer. Jiminez did the same. 

“Let me go. I got cocaine. You can have all of it.”

“It’s funny you should say that. I am off the wagon. But that was never my drug.”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” he cried out angrily. 

“Hey,” you quietly commanded, hovering over Jiminez. “My friend told you to talk. Years ago. You committed a heinous crime in a shipping container, a young woman, two boys. I want you to admit it.” 

“Fuck you!” Jiminez spat. 

You slapped Jiminez hard, but swift. “Cut the sht. You’re strapped to our table, huh? You’re not getting out of this. The least you can do is maybe clear your conscience before you meet your maker. So confess. What was it you did all those years ago to a young mother in front of her kids?”

Jiminez stared at you, he looked like he was about to spit at you or shout more obscenities so you warned him. 

“If you spit at me, or say anything other than what happened, I’ll make you wish you never opened your mouth. Are we clear?” 

He nodded once. 

“Fucking hell! Fine! I cut her up. I chopped her to pieces. I killed that bitch because she was fucking a cop! Not my fault her fucking kids were there! It had to be done!” he cried out. “It wasn’t personal! It was business!”

“It was personal for him,” you said, pointing to Dexter. “You killed a young mother in front of two innocent little boys. They grew up to be killers, just like you. You took their lives away. All for some blow? I hope you rot.” You looked up to Dexter, giving him a nod to signal you were done. Then you took a step back next to Spencer. 

Spencer glanced between you and Jiminez. Finally, it was clear to him. This man had no redeeming qualities. Cat adams was a walk int he park compared to him. He finally truly understood what this whole thing was about, how you two worked. 

“I’m going to kill you tonight, Mr. Jiminez for what you did to my mother, and because well, this is what I do best.” 

At that, Dexter picked up the chainsaw at his feet, started it, and began cutting. You’d seen this before, but not on a live victim. Spencer hadn’t been exposed to this, making you still very unsure where his mind was at. 

The goriness was done, the body was cut, ready to be transported into a bag and then moved. Dexter began going through his wallet. 

“Is this usually part of the routine?” Spencer asked. 

“No, but I’m curious,” Dexter passively said. He dug into the wallet and found a note that had the address of the bowling alley and the time he went. “What the hell?” he mused.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” you asked, making your way over to him to read what was in his hand. “What--”

“I only went with you, but I also told my sponsor where I went that night. Lila. Fuck!” he cried out. 

“Lila? I told you to get away from her,” you reminded angrily. 

“I’ve been trying to. But this means that she called Jiminez and told him where I was going to be.” 

“But why?” 

He threw his head back in thought. “She probably wanted us to be close. The night I met Jiminez, we got into a fight. I was upset, broken, she and I shared a hotel room. Nothing happened except us talking all the way into the morning. I bet she thought if he attacked me again, I’d go running to her.” 

“That’s why you and Rita have been on and off lately, isn't it? She found out about you and Lila.” 

“That, and some other things.” 

You shook your head. “Dex...” Disappointment laced your tone. “I told you that chick was bad news.”

“I know, I fucked up, but--” 

His phone rang and he held up a finger before he answered it. It was Rita, she asked if he had used her key to the house. He told her to get out of the house and call the cops. He hung up the phone and quickly explained he needed to leave because he thought Lila might be at Rita's house. 

“I can drop you two off at your hotel, but I really need to go,” he said. 

“No, we’re going with you to Rita’s. If Lila is there, we need to help you.”

“Are you just going to leave this guy here?” Spencer asked, gesturing to the body, sounding alarmed. 

“Well I can’t take him with me. Use some of those IQ points, Agent Reid.” 

“It’s Dr. Reid,” he spat back, his face eerily calm so you quickly stepped between them. 

“Okay, calm down. Dexter, let’s just go back to the city. Jiminez isn’t the type to share a cabin full of cocaine with anyone.”

“Can you dispose of him?” he asked.

“With what? We don’t have your boat.” 

“Shit, you’re right. Okay. We’ll just have to deal with him later. I need to go to Rita’s.” 

With that, the three of you took what you needed and loaded into the van quickly. Dexter nearly broke the speed limit the whole way. You changed into your old clothes and stuffed the bloody ones in a bag and kept them in the van for Dexter to deal with. Spencer took off the cardigan he wore over, leaving him in a normal shirt. 

The three of you walked up to Rita’s place. She apologized for bothering you before asking why you two were there. 

“We were out for drinks,” you quickly lied easily. “Good to see you again Rita, just wish it were better circumstances.” 

With that, Dexter spoke to the police while you tried to console Rita. When he was done, he said he was going to see Lila. 

“Let me come. You don't need to face this psycho on your own.” 

“No, Y/N, I really do,” he responded, walking quickly. He turned and put his hands on your shoulders. “Thank you, for coming ot make sure Rita and the kids are alright both of you--” he shot a look to Spencer “--but I need to face her on my own. If i show up with you, it’ll just add fuel to the fire of this jealous inferno she has. I can handle it. I’ll drop you at your hotel and then I’m going to her place. I’ll be fine.” 

And so he did. He drove you to your hotel where you hugged him quickly, called him an idiot for not listening to you sooner, to which he smiled and agreed, then he left to face his psycho sponsor.

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

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[armysantiny]

The Death of Me - YS

-vampire!reader, vampire!au, angst(?), fem reader

He had always known what you were - a vampire, a creature of the night - but it never fazed Yeosang all that much, you were one of their closest managers after all. Yeosang was the one who helped you reveal your vampirism to the boys and your co-workers, his humour breaking the news better than anything you could have thought. Out of everyone in KQ, you were the only one he trusted to call at 2 am when the morning's news of another vampire staking plagued his thoughts again. He knew it couldn't have been you, but still, what if it was? Seonghwa was who comforted him, holding the younger male and whispering nothings of 'Y/N Noona's going to be fine, don't worry~'

"Up late again Sangie?" You asked him in the morning, sipping on your flask of AB - like it was coffee- as the group stretched. He nodded as he stood up straight, Hongjoong beating him to the punch by pulling you over to the side. As the leader of the 8-member boy group, he was concerned for Yeosang's well being.

"What's the matter, Hongjoong-ah? You look concerned - is it because of Yeosang?" The sigh and nod from the male told you all you needed to know. He had pleaded with his manager a while ago to let you stay with them at the dorm for a few days, to which his manager agreed; it would probably do both parties some good. If the 'experiment' of sorts did work, you'd most likely start moving in with the boys after a while.

You scrolled through your phone as you popped out for some air, walking towards a convenience store. Putting your phone away after you stepped foot inside the brightly-lit store, you trailed the drink isles until your regular drink was nowhere to be found. Sighing, you decided to leave, only stopping where you were when something in the corner of your eye caught your attention. The store clerk was wearing a badge. A blood drop badge at that. Relief coated your face as you made your way over.

"How can I help?" They asked first, seeming particularly cheerful,

"Do you receive any AB donations? I'm on a work break right now and I kinda forgot to bring some with me" You asked - and admitted as the youthful-looking male in front of you blinked in confusion first before nodding in realisation. Nodding and sweetly asking you to stay put by the counter, he ran into the back to see where his manager had placed the box labelled 'AB'. In the meantime, you fiddled with a mirror you kept in your pocket, fixing a few stray hairs that fell in front of your face.

It had two hours since you left and Yeosang - and the other members - hadn't seen you since. You'd gone home for the rest of the day on your manager's advice, nursing a red moon craving and forgotten to inform your boys of the changes. Jongho had been keeping an eye on his hyung and had also been watching his phone throughout the day, just in case. While the other members had extra practise and things to do, Yeosang and Jongho were Scot-free for the rest of the evening.

"Hyung, let's just call Noona instead. Worrying like this can't be good for you at all." Jongho insisted, bringing his phone out of his jacket.

"Ok - you do have a point. She could've just been at home." The older agreed, looking for his phone which had been on charge. Unlocking the device, his eyes enlarged in horror as he read the breaking news headline that popped in his notifications. A group of vampires had been surrounded and brutally murdered, stakes driven through the heart as a 'calling card' of sorts. His hands were shaking as his feet remained plastered to the floor. It didn't help that one of the victims looked like you - almost too much like you.

"Hyung! What's wrong?!" The maknae's voice snapped Yeosang back to reality, as Jongho pulled the phone away and took a read of the article himself. Exhaling sharply, he exited the page in a heartbeat and wasted no time in searching for your number.

Red moon cravings weren't fun. Not at all - the uncontrollable red eyes, overwhelming senses, animalistic instincts; you had all the symptoms. But they had started to settle down and you were more than glad, especially when the phone started to ring. You answered it immediately, already knowing who was on the other line.

"Yes, hello?"

"Oh my God - Noona, you're okay?!" You heard Yeosang cry out in relief, a faint 'told you hyung!' and laughter emanating in the background.

"I'm fine Sangie - is Jongho with you as well?"

"Uh - yeah, yeah he is. Do you want me to put him on?" He asked, waiting for your reply at the other end of the line. There was nothing for a while, and he was starting to worry again - what was happening to you on your end?

"No, no, it's perfectly alright. Hold on - it should be the end of everyone's schedule, right? I'll pick all of you up, then we can go to the dorm. Sound good?" Yeosang hummed contently in agreement with your offer, hanging up the call with a weight lifted from his chest. You were alright, thankfully.

Driving through the streets of Seoul to pick up the boys in your mini-van, you switched off the radio and tried to take your mind off current events. Eyes sinking from brown into a deep red hue, you ignored it and continued to drive towards the entertainment building. It wasn't as if you'd had any personal connections to the victims, but as of quite recently, just hearing about the death of your kind had a tendency to set you off - intentionally or not. As KQ came into view, you parked up in the parking lot and stepped out, leaning against the door as you called your colleague, letting him know that you were ready to pick the members up.

"Hey, boys - ack!" You were cut off when the boys jumped you and engulfed you in a group hug, "I love you guys too~, now come on - we've got a dorm to be going to." They let you go after a while, bright smiles on all their faces. All piled into the vehicle, chatting amongst themselves the second you shut the door. Walking to the driver's side, your hand stopped at the handle when a searing cough ripped through your throat and chest - a blood craving taking hold. Although it had mostly gone unnoticed, Hongjoong, Yeosang and Jongho had spotted what happened and watched your behaviour with caution from their seats on the mini-van.

On the drive back to the dorm, you'd reached for your blood replacement tablets repeatedly - they were almost finished by the time you all collectively reached the dorm. As the Ateez boys left the mini-van, Hongjoong and his two younger group-mates, helping take your suitcase-worth of clothes inside and upstairs to the apartment.

"Alright. I'll be sleeping in the living room - my clothes can stay here." You announced as soon as you kicked your shoes off and set them aside, moving your suitcase to a corner of the room. It was late at night, so there wasn't much in the way of chatter as the boys dragged themselves to their rooms. Making yourself comfortable as you laid on the couch, you closed your eyes in a futile attempt to get any sort of sleep. Which, of course, didn't work - a desire to satiate that burning thirst stopping any rational actions. Getting back up, you found and opened your suitcase in the dark of the Ateez dorm, taking out what was considered the wine-bottle equivalent of blood.

"Noona? What's going on?" Yeosang's tired and raspy voice came from the entrance of the hallway, ruffling his hair while he squinted as he tried to make out your silhouette in the dark. His question pulled your attention away from the bottle and now the glass that was in your hands, setting it down on the table in the current dim lighting of the living room. In a wordless exchange, you patted the empty space beside you - inviting the awoken male to sit with you. Yeosang took the invitation and sat down, a comfortable five minutes of silence passing between you both.

"...Yeosang, you do know it's three am in the morning, right? What's keeping you awake?" You asked, after watching how his eyes would start to close every so often, only for Yeosang to open them sharply.

"I think it's all the news going around - my mind won't let my rest at all." He admitted, looking at his hands. Sighing as his thoughts ran freely, Yeosang picked up the AB bottle and observed it, a simple question popping in his mind that just had to be answered.

"Is there a difference?"

"Difference in what, Yeosangie?" He held out the bottle, indicating to clearly labelled blood type before placing it back on the table. Didn't blood just taste the same?

"Blood types Noona. Is there actually a difference?"

A few hours after you'd explained how blood types were different and how they affected personal taste, you'd found Yeosang fast asleep, head resting on the couch. With no real use for your blanket anymore,  you covered the younger male with it and placed the pillow behind his head, moving his dyed-blond hair out of his face. But you stilled when the scent hit you - rich vanilla and caramel. Maybe it was because of the red moon, but self-control stopped being a thing you had once your gaze travelled to his porcelain perfect neck.

Yeosang's eyes awoke to your fangs grazing against his skin ever-so-slightly, just enough to startle him. That self-control which had gone out of the window made a sudden return and the realisation of the current situation had you spiralling back in fear of yourself. Eyes quivering in terror as you scrambled away, your breathing was heavy and uneven as you held your head in your hands. Were you really about to bite down into the male who you were the manager of?

'I'm a monster...I almost bit him. Why couldn't I stop myself? How could he ever trust me agai-'

"Noona! Calm down, you're shaking!" Yeosang had rushed over to your side, his hand rubbing your shoulder as he tried his hardest to get you to look at him. Breath hitching in your throat as his scent hit you once again, you shook your head at his pleas to look at him, looking away with your head hung, ashamed at your actions. During this exchange, the other members had started entering the living room as they awoke, only to be shushed by Yeosang before they ended up asking any questions that would make you feel worse than you already were.

Could you really control yourself around the members?

Everyone was lively and chatty during breakfast in the dorm - you'd offered to make scrambled eggs and pancakes to try and forget earlier's mortifying experience. Plating everything as you hummed, the boys thanked you gratefully and immediately got stuck in with their breakfast. As much as your vampirism meant food didn't taste as flavourful as it would, watching people enjoy your food made you feel just that little bit more normal. Just that little bit more, human.

A week had passed since then, and Yeosang could tell something was wrong - they all could. As their manager, you were perfect, but once work had ended, it was more than clear that you weren't in good shape. But you already knew this; you were doing this to yourself after all. You hadn't been feeding on purpose - not since you almost bit down on Yeosang. All your senses were dulled, mellowed and nothing felt the same. Zoning out for long periods had quickly become a regular occurrence.

It then became two weeks without a single drop of blood and Yeosang had seen you suffer for long enough. Conveniently, it was his off-day and he was determined to get you to have something. Finding you in the dorm kitchen with a book in hand, reading while a cough ripped through your throat every so often, the 20-year-old sat down and rested his head in his hands, watching you with concern in his eyes. You looked so...weak and fragile - and it broke his heart.

"...Yeosang? What - what do you want?" Your voice was hoarse, throat was dry and it made speaking all that much harder.

"Noona, when was the last time you fed? At all?"

"Uh - two weeks ago, I think. Why do you ask-" Yeosang cut you off by pulling you into a hug, moving his head to the side and bringing your face into the crook of his neck - where you could smell the scent of his blood as it flowed - more intensely than you ever had. You couldn't do it...you wouldn't do it. Not to him.

"I know you're hesitating. Please, please just do it. I trust you Y/N, and you can't be doing this to yourself anymore. It's not healthy." He wrapped his arms around you tighter, his pleas making you sigh in defeat. He was right, you knew he was; you'd most likely collapse without blood if you kept this up any longer.

"Thank you Yeosang - and I'm sorry." Sinking your fangs into his neck as softly as you could, you lapped at his blood feverishly, drinking your fill. His grip tightened and his breath shallowed as the blood left his body, but it was worth it. Stopping before you took any more, you cleaned the fresh wound and helped the younger male to the couch. With an airy giggle, Yeosang held onto you and tugged on your arm, pouting as he asked you to sit with him with his eyes. Complying, you sat with him as he laid his head on your shoulder.

"That hurt less than I thought it would - do you feel better Noona?" Even after having his blood taken from him, he was still thinking about your well being - how is he so lovely? Simply smiling, you nodded as you wrapped an arm around him.

"Much better Sangie. Thank you."

"Then you can feed on me more often!" He offered - well, more so stated, "Or I'll have to make you - depriving yourself isn't a good choice." Yeosang promised, dozing off as he spoke, a pleased a smile donned on his face.

"My God - you're going to be the death of me Kang Yeosang."

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Changing Channels: Part One

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,123

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I am so sorry this is out late. I’ve been dealing with shit the past few days.

I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“Dean, do you have to watch that here? I’m trying to eat,” you half-joked, throwing your wrapper of the candy you bought from the vending machine earlier.

He disregarded your comment as he stared at the TV as Dr. Sexy MD played. He was channel surfing, this was on, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off the TV yet. Right now, a doctor was making out with a woman in an elevator while you were eating on the bed next to him and Sam was in the bathroom.

“Dean, your girlfriend is right here. If you want a make out session, I’d be glad to give you one,” you added.

“What are you watching?” Sam asked from the bathroom door.

His brother’s voice made Dean snap out of his trance, but he didn’t look away from the TV.

“Hospital show. Dr. Sexy, MD. I think it's based on a book.”

“When did you hit menopause?” Sam scoffed.

Tipping your head back, you let out a loud laugh as you got off the bed.

“It's called channel surfing,” Dean pouted, getting up and turning off the TV.

Sam grabbed his suit jacket off the other bed and put it on.

“You boys ready?” you asked, putting on your grey blazer.

“Are you?” Sam asked Dean.

The older brother just rolled his eyes, grabbed his keys, and left the motel room with you and Sam snickering from behind him. The drive to the police station wasn’t long since you were down the street from it. As soon as you walked in flashed your important badges, the sheriff came out and started talking to you.

“The FBI is here why, exactly?”

“It might have something to do with one of your locals getting his head ripped off,” you said in a monotone voice.

“Bill Randolph died from a bear attack.”

“How sure are you that it was a bear?” you questioned.

“What else would it be?”

“Well, whatever it was it chased Mr. Randolph through the woods, smashed through his front door, followed him up the stairs, and killed him in his bedroom. Is that common? A bear doing all that?” Dean asked.

“Depends how pissed off it is, I guess. Look, the Randolphs live way up in high country. You got trout runs to make a grown man weep… and bears.”

“Right, and what about Mrs. Randolph? The file says she saw the whole thing,” Sam commented.

“Yes, she did. My heart goes out to that poor woman.”

“She said it was a bear.”

“Kathy Randolph went through a hell of a trauma. She's confused,” the sheriff said after a few reluctant pauses.

“What did she say?” you asked.

“I think you’d rather hear it from her. Take a seat in the interview room, and I’ll call her down to the station.”

“Thanks,” you nodded, leading the brothers to the room.

After taking a seat, you leaned back in exhaustion.

“What do you think she saw? Was it really a bear?” you wondered.

“I guess we have to wait and see,” Sam sighed as he took a seat.

Due to it being a small town, it didn’t take long for Kathy to show up at the police station. Once she was escorted into the room, she took a seat across from the three of you with a nervous look.

“Hi, Kathy, would you mind telling us what you saw the other day?” you asked gently.

She shook her head with a mutter as if she was talking to herself about what she might have sawn.

“It must have been a bear. I mean, what else could it have been?”

“What do you think you saw?” you asked.

“No, I—I remember clearly now. It was definitely a bear,” she nodded.

She was obviously hiding something from the three of you, and there was only one logical way to go about getting the information.

“Kathy, I’m sure it was a bear, but it really helps us if we can evaluate every single angle. Whatever you say, I promise you, we’ve heard it all. Just tell us what you thought you saw.”

“It's impossible, but,” she sighed, “I could have sworn I saw... the Incredible Hulk.”

“The Incredible Hulk…?” Sam questioned.

“I told you it was crazy.”

“Bana or Norton?” Dean asked, and you kicked him lightly underneath the table for teasing her.

“Oh, no, those movies were terrible. The TV Hulk.”

“Lou Ferrigno. Spiky-hair, Lou Ferrigno?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.”

“You think I'm crazy,” she sighed.

“No. Uh, no, it's just... would there be any reason that Lou Ferrigno, the Incredible Hulk, would have a grudge against your husband?”

“No. Why would he?” she asked.

“I think that’s all the information we need right now. Thank you so much for coming in and telling us the truth,” you smiled.

Getting up, you escorted her out of the room before turning to the brothers once you knew it was secure.

“The Incredible Hulk?”

“I think we need to look back on the police and news reports while someone goes and checks out the house.”

“I’ll check out the house. You can drop me off on the way,” Sam declared.

“Then, let’s go,” you agreed.

“This report is just weird,” you commented as you read an article in the Wellington Guardian about a "Local man killed in bear attack".

There was a picture of the victim holding a fish proudly that you assumed he caught. The door to the motel opened and Sam walked in with a look of seldom.

“Find anything?” you asked based on his expression.

“There is a giant eight-foot-wide hole where the front door used to be. Almost like a hulk-sized hole. What do you two got?”

“Well, it turns out that Bill Randolph had quite the temper. He's got two counts of spousal battery, bar brawls, and court-ordered anger management sessions. You might say you wouldn't like him when he's angry,” Dean read.

“So, a hothead getting killed by TV's greatest hothead. Kinda sounds like just desserts, doesn't it? It's all starting to make sense.”

“How is making sense?” you asked.

“Well, I found something else at the crime scene,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of candy wrappers. He drops them on the table to show just how much he’s got. “Candy wrappers. Lots of them.”

“Just desserts, sweet tooth, and screwing with people before you kill 'em,” Dean observed and started to put the pieces together. “We're dealing with the Trickster, aren't we?”

“Sure looks like it.”

“Good. I've wanted to gank that mother since Mystery Spot.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking positive.”

“No, I mean are you sure you wanna kill him?”

“That son of a bitch didn’t think twice about killing Dean a thousand times,” you argued.

“No, I know. I mean, I'm just saying maybe we should talk to him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Think about it, Y/N. He's one of the most powerful creatures we've ever met. Maybe we can use him.”

“For what?” Dean asked.

“Okay, the Trickster's like a Hugh Hefner type, right? Wine, women, song—maybe he doesn't want the party to end. Maybe he hates this ‘angels and demons’ stuff as much as we do. Maybe he'll help us.”

“You’re actually serious about this,” you gasped.

“Yeah.”

“Ally with the Trickster. A bloody, violent monster, and you wanna be Facebook friends with him? Nice, Sammy.”

“The world is gonna end, Dean. We don't have the luxury of a moral stand. Look, I'm just saying it's worth a shot. That's all. If it doesn't work, we'll kill him.”

“How are we going to find him anyway?” Dean wondered.

“He doesn’t ever just take one victim. He’ll show somehow. I’m sure of it,” you sighed, taking a seat on one of the beds.

“I better make the weapons,” Dean declared, grabbing his keys to get the stuff out of the trunk.

Dean was almost done with sharpening the wooden stake that would kill the Trickster. There was something off about this whole thing and with the Trickster. Why was the name Gabriel coming to your mind whenever you thought of him? Why did he appear now, of all times? It’s been a long gap between the Mystery Spot events and now, so why pick now to show up again? There was something about this eating at your brain, and it bugged the hell out of you not knowing what it was.

Sam was sitting at the table with a police scanner on, waiting and listening for the right kind of call to come in that might point you in the right direction of the Trickster. Dean was on the last stake, although, he seemed pretty much finished. You, on the other hand, were nervously biting your nails in anticipation. Dean looked over at you, and he reached up and removed your hand from your mouth.

“Don’t bite your nails,” he stated.

Sighing, you were about to get up and start pacing when the police scanner started going off with chatter.

“Um, Dispatch? I, I got a possible 187 out here at the old paper mill on Route 6?”

“Roger that. What are you looking at there, son?” Dispatch asked.

“Honestly, Walt, I wouldn't even know how to describe what I'm seeing. Just send everybody,” the officer panicked.

“Alright, stay calm, stay by your car. Help's on the way.”

“That sounded weird, right? Like, weird enough to be our guy?” you asked.

“Let’s go find out,” Dean declared, getting up and gathering the weapons he made.

After packing the car, you three jumped inside. Dean took off down the road to the old paper mill on route six which was a longer drive than you thought it was. However, when you arrived, you frowned at the lack of officers and people.

“Where is everyone? There was a murder here. No police, no anyone. How’s that look to you?” Dean asked as he got out of the car.

Both you and Sam followed his action, and you walked to the trunk to retrieve your weapon.

“I don’t like this at all. Something is wrong,” you muttered loud enough for the brothers to hear it.

“It’s the Trickster. Don’t worry, he must be inside,” Dean shrugged, handing out the flashlights and bloodied stakes.

After he closed the trunk, he and his brother began walking to one of the warehouse doors.

“No, don’t open it!” you gasped too late.

Dean opened the door and walked in, you and Sam following behind. As soon as the door closed, you were no longer in the warehouse, but a hospital. Gone were your worn-out hunter clothes and stakes, only to be replaced with white lab coats and stethoscopes around your neck.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered in confusion.

A blonde doctor and an Asian doctor passed by the three of you, and they gave Sam and Dean sly looks.

“Doctor,” they said as they disappeared into a room.

“Doctor?” Sam asked.

“You shouldn’t have opened those doors,” you sighed.

Turning around, you opened the door you three walked through, expecting to see the outside of the warehouse. Instead, you saw two people making out, and you quickly closed it. A dark-haired male doctor walked past you, and as soon as he did, he slapped your ass with a grin.

“What the fuck?” you snapped angrily.

“Call me,” he winked at you.

Your body jerked forward at the thought of ripping him a new one when Dean held you back. There was no use in fighting anyone when you didn’t know what was going on and the circumstances of this. A brunette doctor quickly approached Sam from the side, muttering his name before slapping him across the cheek.

“Ow!” Sam gasped, your focus shifting from the perverted doctor to the new presence.

“Seriously.”

“What?”

“Seriously? You're brilliant, you know that? And a coward. You're a brilliant coward,” the woman sighed.

“Um, what are you talking about?” he asked, clearly confused.

She reached up and slapped him once more in the same spot.

“As if you don't know!” she sniffled, stalking off in the opposite direction.

While Sam had a look of complete befuddlement, Dean’s was more shocked and admired.

“I don’t believe this,” he smiled.

“What?” you asked.

“That's Dr. Piccolo. Dr. Ellen Piccolo.”

“Who?”

“The sexy yet earnest doctor at,” he walked as he looked around before spotting the name of the hospital on the wall, “Seattle Mercy Hospital.”

“Dean,” Sam sighed, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“The doctor getups. The, the sexy interns. The 'seriously’s’. It all makes sense,” he laughed.

“What is going on, Dean?” you urged.

“We're in Dr. Sexy, MD,” he chuckled.

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[zi-i-think]

13 | Shame and Guilt

Pairing: Zuko x Ama (OC)

Word Count: 4600+

.☽☼☾.

~ Ama ☾ ~

         "We're pushing back the wedding." Katara firmly said. After calming down and letting everything process from last night, she went from being quiet and frightened, to loud and furious.

         "Is that really the best way to go about this?" Aang tried to rationalize with his fiancé. He was definitely angry at Azula, but he still kept a cool head.

         "Azula just interrupted my bachelorette party and threatened Ama." She motioned her hand at me.

         "She threatened you." I corrected her. I'd been silent the entire conversation and let the others tell the story of how Azula crashed the party. But I couldn't let Katara pin me as the only victim here.

         I looked around the meeting room, since the living room was still being cleaned up. Seeing the faces of my longest friends and family. "She's threatening all of you to get to me." I tore my eyes away and got up. "It's best I just leave. You all can just enjoy the wedding without worrying about Azula and be safe without me here." The others immediately started to protest against my suggestion, but I ignored them all. Allowing for my feat to take to wherever it chose.

         My breathing was getting more rapid. Each time I closed my eyes, I'd picture Mulan's lifeless eyes. Then I'd blink again and see the cold eyes of her murderer. I just needed a moment. A moment to understand everything. A moment to let out my frustrations.

         Their killers was in my house. He looked right at me. And somehow, they were working with Azula, who also claimed responsibility for Mulan's death. And in some way, that I'm not understanding, was connected with Suh, who might not even be the real Suh and was instead her insane sister Leiza. And Azula's motive was that I beat her in a fight that happened roughly 7 years ago?! None of it made sense.

         I had absentmindedly brought myself to the training yard. My body knew better than my brain what I needed. There was still a line of human shaped dummies left out from the warriors training earlier.

         Perfect.

         I went over the the opposite side of the yard, shaking my arms to prepare to let out all of my frustrations. Widening my stance and holding my arms out next to me, I began to bend the water in the snow.

        I turned it into an ice spear and flung it at one of the dummies, hitting it in the chest. But it wasn't enough for me. I sent another ice spear to the next dummy. And then another. It turned into an endless stream of ice spears, one after the other sticking roughly into the hay-filled figures.

         In one final move, I bent an entire row of spears beside me. My hands were up to my chest, palms facing the targets. With a rough skip forward and pushing my arms out in front of me, and the ice spears flew forward, sticking into the fake heads. The poor dummies were pierced with multiple ice spears. Some in the chest, arms, neck. There wasn't a single body part left untouched.

         My breathing was fast as I tried to catch my breath and I felt beads of sweat dripping down my forehead, despite the freezing temperatures.

         "I was always told that I was the one with anger issues." Zuko's voice came from behind me.

         I sighed and turned my body to see him standing by one of the blue pillars. He still wore his more casual, warm attire, and his long hair fell perfectly on his shoulders. He looked a little unsure whether he should come over to me or if I should go over to him. I decided to make it easier for Zuko and walked over to him.

         My arms were crossed over my chest and I avoided any eye contact. "Did the others send you here to talk to me?" I grumbled the question and sat down on the wooden bench.

        Zuko took a seat next to me, leaning his elbows on his knees. "No, I just thought you could use a friend." He said sincerely. "You're picking at you nails again." I looked down, seeing that I was indeed picking at the dirt – that wasn't even there  – underneath my nails. A nervous habit I've had since a little girl. I immediately stopped and dropped my hands on my lap. "You know you can talk to me about anything."

         I nodded, moving aside some of my hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. I figured the two of us would be here for a while and got comfortable, leaning on the backside of the bench and bringing one leg up, hugging it to keep it in place."Last night wasn't the first time I've seen the two men who attacked us."

         Zuko furrowed his eyebrows and glanced down, somewhat taken aback but that new piece of information. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

         "Because..." My shoulders raised and I shook my head. "It's a... sensitive subject." Zuko stayed silent, leaving me room to either continue speaking or for anything else I needed. "Mulan didn't die because she was sick. She and three other friends were murdered by the same men who just broke in."

         My friend sat up, leaning back and crossed his arms. He looked puzzled, obviously. Not only did I tell a lie about Mulan's death, but I also failed to tell anyone about the rest of the Miraculous Bastards. "Why did you lie?"

         "Because I'm ashamed of myself." I answered truthfully, keeping my eyes focused into the distance to avoid seeing his reaction. "After they murdered them, I held so much anger and pain I didn't know what to do with it all. I eventually tracked them down... and I bloodbent them. I almost killed them." I paused, recalling that horrid night was not something I liked to think about, much less talk about. "I would have been a monster, just like them."

         "But you didn't." Zuko slid closer to me, our shoulders just barely grazed against each other.

         "No, Zuko." I said in frustration, letting my leg fall off the bench and shut my eyes tightly, a lame attempt to hold it tears of shame. "It's not that I almost did it. It's that I wanted to. I loved the feeling of being able to kill them right then and there." I clenched my jaw, my anger being direct to myself. "Even today, I wish I did it. And I hate myself for it."

         "Don't do that to yourself." Zuko's warm hand grabbed mine, and kept it on my thigh. I swear my heart skipped a beat when that happened. "The grief of losing someone can make people feel and do things they never thought they could. It's how you choose to better yourself that matters. Speaking from personal experience."

         A light smile tugged at my lips and I rested my head on his shoulder. "I was at the Eastern Air Temple for eight months trying to, I don't know, be more in touch with myself? Achieve peace? I just couldn't move on like nothing happened or come back to the South."

         "Did it work?"

         Did it? Being at the temple helped me come to terms with the deaths of my friends. But the guilt hadn't exactly all gone away. And then with the murderers coming back to haunt me, all of the negative feelings that I've been working of getting rid of were just coming right back.

         "In some ways more than others." I came to the conclusion out loud. "I think knowing that Azula is also involved, it's a little more aggravating."

         Zuko let out a long sigh, like he wasn't expecting for our little investigation to get this messy. Well, neither of us really expected for this to happen. "Don't forget about Suh. She's been a little more on edge lately." He reminded me.

         "Do you think it might be time that we told the others about Suh?" I asked. It was a valid question. There'd be more eyes on the woman, especially since there were threats made. The others deserved to know that there was a [possible] mole in our mists.

         "Pretty sure we have to at this point." He replied. I took my head off his shoulder and nodded slowly. It was a quiet for a moment. I don't think either of us wanted to go back inside yet. The cold air was tolerable, but Zuko's hand was still on mine, and I didn't really want to move.

         "You know, Zuko, I think you've gotten easier to talk to." I stated turning my head to look at him.

         Zuko chuckled with that damn smile that was as bright as the sun. "Well I hope so. I've been told my social skills have improved a lot over the last couple years." I nodded in agreement. He spoke more naturally than years ago when there was a slight hesitation in each action or choice of words. "I have to say, it seems easier to talk to you also."

         "Shit, is this what getting older is like?" I quipped, an intrigued smile on my face as I moved my body to face Zuko better. I tucked one leg under the other and my side leaned on the backside of the bench. "Aang and Katara are getting married. Soon it might be Sokka and Suki."

         "Mai and Kei Lo have also been going strong." Zuko added, pointing at me like he was reminding me. "I wouldn't be surprised if there was an engagement sometime soon." I smiled fondly and placed a hand over my heart.

         My nose scrunched up at a new thought. "And not long after kids." I giggled while Zuko shook his head with a chuckle.

         "One adventure after another." He was right there. "But if all kids are like Kiyi I'd be incredibly grateful." Wow. It honestly didn't feel like it's been years since Zuko found the other half of his family. I mean, Kiyi was 6 when we met her. Now she was 12.

         "I think you're forgetting about the baby part." I raised an eyebrow at him, getting a huff of a laugh. "Like the diapers and waking up in the middle of the night. You know, the nightmare parts."

         Zuko groaned and threw his head back. "That sounds like a wife problem." He joked.

         I scoffed and punched his shoulder. "I pity the woman who marries you."

         "Yeah, me too." He responded with a dismal and sort of sarcastic tone.

         My jaw dropped and I shook my head. "Oh-uh. I thought you were done with the self-depreciation."

         "I was just joking. I think I'd make a great husband." He cockily raised an eyebrow, like he was teasing me. "And the lucky woman would ideally be beautiful, smart, maybe a little bit competitive." Is he? Flirting? I wasn't really sure, after all. It's been a few years. Not to mention, Zuko's my ex. We had a sort of teasing relationship because of it. But the way he said that. It was kind of like he was directing it at me.

         "I hate you." I rolled my eyes and scoffed.

         "No you don't." Why does he do that?

         How did we even get to this point in the conversation? Marriage and babies? Now he's teasing me. He knows that he was making me flustered. He has to. I wasn't exactly good at hiding my emotions all that well. There must have been a light blush on my cheeks at the least.

         Zuko and I were looking right at each other. The silence was comfortable. I found myself looking over his golden eyes and then my eyes flickered to his pink, smirking lips. I gulped. On Tui, I hope I don't regret this.

         I leaned in quickly, placing my lips of Zuko's. And for a moment, I thought he was kissing me back. But he pulled away a moment later. "Ama..."

         I sucked in a breath and covered my mouth with my hand. "Spirits. I am so sorry." I'm most definitely blushing deeply at this point.

         "It's okay..."

         "I read the signs all wrong. I'm an idiot. I'm sorry." I completely ignored him and stood up from my seat. I was so ready to leave in embarrassment. "Let's just forget that I even did that-"

         I felt Zuko's hand grip my wrist and turning me around, but I covered my eyes with my other hand so that I wouldn't have to look at him. "You can uncover your eyes, Ama."

         "I'd prefer not to." My voice was small, one that I don't recognize all that much. It only came out when I was embarrassed or sad. And at the moment, I was probably both. Just mix in some self-hate.

         I heard his fruity voice chuckled lightly at me. "Then just listen when I say that I want to kiss you. It just doesn't feel right if I'm still with Suh."

         I removed my hand and gave him a puzzled look. "But you don't even like her."

         "That is true, but she's still under the impression that I do." He said matter-of-factly. "No matter how bad she might be, I can't do that to her."

         I was sort of taken aback. A small part of me didn't really care. Suh was so rude that it didn't matter to me how she would feel. Except this wasn't as much about Suh as it was about Zuko. He had his principles and morals; and he'd be damned if he strayed from them. "I can respect that." I nodded, but kept my gaze away from him.

         Zuko's hand reached to the side of my neck, his thumb skimmed on the curved of my jaw tenderly. He made me look up at him, instead of being fixated on a pillar in the distance. "But I promise you that once this is all taken care of, I will kiss you one hundred times to make up for it." His forehead leaned on mine. It was such a small gesture, but it left me longing for more of him.

         I bit my bottom lip lightly in a mixture of delight, nervousness, excitement, probably a few other emotions. I just felt like things were starting to fall into place. It's kind of funny considering only thirty minutes ago things felt completely opposite of that. "I'm going to have to remember that."

         Zuko grinned and then glanced at the palace entrance. "We should probably get back to the others." I nodded in agreement. "And maybe keep this between us." He motioned between the two of us.

         "Sounds boring, but alright."

         "I just think it might be a bit overwhelming to tell them that Suh is a spy and then that we'd be getting back together." Again, he had a point. But I knew that he was probably just trying to refrain from any teasing or feeling flustered.

         We headed back inside together, just standing a few feet apart to avoid any suspicions. The meeting room was much quieter than when I left, but still as tense. Everyone perked up once seeing the two of us enter the room.

         Katara muttered something to herself and stood from her seat to heartily walk over to me. "Spirits, Ama. You can't just walk away from us like that." She groaned, wrapping her arms around my shoulders to hug me.

         I hugged her back and rubbed her back soothingly. "Okay, sis. I appreciate the concern." Katara pulled away from me when I said that and gave me a weird, skeptical look. Probably because my mood had changed since I left.

         "Where's Suh?" Zuko wondered and I perked up. I turned, scanning the room. Everyone was seated at the rectangular table, except for Suh.

         "She left shortly after you did." Sokka half-cared, shrugging his crossed arms. "I think it was something about how all of this stress was going to make her breakout and needed to go on a walk."

         Zuko and I gave each other a side glance and then looked back at the group. Zuko sighed loudly and the two of us went over to our seats from earlier. "Yeah, we need to talk about Suh." he started.

         "I was right about her this entire time and she's a huge fucking bitch." I couldn't help but spill, lightly slamming my hands on the table. Katara groaned and rolled her eyes, tired of hearing me voice my opinions of her. And I could hear Ty Lee and Suki giggle from a few seats away.

         "Ama, how many times are we going to have to tell you. Suh is not evil." Katara sighed, shaking her head disappointedly.

         I sucked in breath out of frustration. "Okay, listen. Suh is a spy who has been working with Azula for years. And Suh probably isn't even her name. She killed her family and took her sister's identity. She's a master manipulator and liar."

         "Do you have any proof of this?" Aang asked with an unbelieving tone and a concerned look for me.

         I huffed and fell back into my seat before motion towards my –technically still– ex. "Zuko, you explain cause they all think I'm a liar." Everyone's eyes turned to the Fire Lord who was faintly shaking his head at me.

         Zuko leaned his arms on the table, prepared to explain the deal with Suh. "I have a theory that Suh has been working with Azula since the kemurikage incident. I've been keeping her close for the past couple months to try and find Azula." He turned to give Katara and Aang an apologetic look. "I never thought that it would lead Azula here. I'm sorry."

         "But the kemurikage incident was years ago." Aang pointed out. "Would they really work together for so long?"

         "Suh is a determined person. Whatever she wants she gets." Zuko informed. "There's a possibility that Suh's took her sister's identity, making her Leiza. Leiza was taken to the same mental institution as Azula with a severe obsessive personality. She's controlling, manipulative, calculating. She and Azula needed each other to each their goals."

         "So if Azula's goal was too get to Ama, what's Suh's?" Katara wondered.

         Zuko shook his head and shrugged. "My guess is to be Fire Queen. After all, I met her through the Council's matchmaking attempt."

         "Her obsession might be with you also." Mai added in her usual dry tone.

         "I don't think a person would go through that much trouble just to marry a guy they've never met." Suki disagreed with a questioning undertone.

         "Right, what would I know. It's not like I've been around the two for the past six months." Mai shot back sarcastically and then gave Zuko a deadpanned look. "She's been hanging off your shoulder since you two met and you said she's clinically diagnosed as obsessive. It's not that hard to piece together."

         "Or a mixture of both wanting to be Fire Queen and to be with Zuko." Ty Lee proposed the thought, her finger rested on her chin investigatively. "Either way, I can believe the theory of her working with Azula. Suh kept looking out the window before the attack and was quick to get us out of the way from the crash. I can't explain it, but it felt like Suh was trying to protect me last night."

         "There's one more thing." I sighed. "The attackers who were working with Azula were the same ones who killed Mulan and some of my other friends."

         "What!?" Sokka gave a shocked reaction. "Sis, how much have you been hiding from us."

         "Look, there's a lot to unpack! Okay! I'll explain later. But now we know that there's a connection between Azula, Suh and the guys who killed the people closest to me a years ago! They're pulling strings on me and I want to stop them. So can we please gloss over that for now?" I snapped. Already regretting it because of the silence in the room.

         "So what now?" Haru spoke up. Damn it, Haru's so quiet I always forget he's here.

         "We confront Suh and force her to tell us everything she knows." Toph slammed her fist on the table. She was fuming, and honestly, it scared me. It was probably over the fact that Suh had been able to lie and Toph couldn't detect it. But Suh didn't just lie. She knew how to word things so strategically, that she didn't even need to lie half the time.

         "We can't do that." Zuko refused.

         "Why not?" Toph raised her voice. "We can force her to tell us what Azula is planning and be one step ahead of her."

         "She won't spill anything." The firebender said more firmly. "She's been able to avoid any questions directed to her about her personal life. She was able to lie to you. Are you forgetting the part where I said that she's manipulative and calculating?"

         "So we just wait for Azula to crash in again?" Katara tensed, running her hand through her hair and pacing the floor. I hated seeing my sister so stressed. She should be nervous for her wedding next week. Not worrying about some deranged women who could crash it and hurt people.

         Aang stood from his seat, the wooden chair scraped the floor loudly, getting some attention towards him while he walked over to my sister. He took her hands into his and made him look at her. "Inhale." He directed to breath in deeply and she followed his example. "Exhale." He let out a long breath after a moment.

         Katara turned to look at everyone with a more composed demeanor. Walking back to the table, she and Aang took a seat. "The wedding is still happening as planned." She gave her decisive decision. "But we need more guards around the palace and at the wedding until this is dealt with."

         "Sound's like a job for me." Sokka pridefully pointed at himself with his thumbs.

         "You don't think." I gasped sarcastically, letting my arm fall on the table. "Didn't know that was the kind of thing a commander of the tribe could do." There was a few faint giggles at my remark while Sokka gave me an unamused frown. I couldn't help giggling at myself either.

         "Haha. Very funny, sis." He rolled his eyes and only sat up in his seat straighter to give off some sort of authoritative attitude.

         Katara's hand shook her head disappointingly at us. "And I want at least one person to keep an eye on Suh at all times." She requested, or more like demanded.

         "I think Zuko's already got that part covered." Sokka firmly hit Zuko's back and gave him a thin, amused smile. Zuko just rolled his eyes at him and turned his head away. Our eyes locked and I lightly shrugged, communicating that I didn't know what Sokka was hinting at.

         "So, should we be worried about where Suh is right now?" Haru reminded everyone that while we were hear talking about the obsessive woman, who had excused herself a while ago. We all shared a concerned look. Because the answer was probably yes. We should be concerned.

.☽☼☾.

~ Azula ϟ ~

         "Azula!" I heard the obnoxious voice of Suh shout at me. I didn't flinch, though. Even if I was surprised that she was here; disturbing my meditation. "Azula, you were right." I could hear her step beside me and plop down on the floor.

         I sighed irritatedly and keeping my eyes closed to keep a semi-meditate state. "You're going to have to be more specific, Suh. I'm right about a lot of things."

         "Ama still has feelings for Zuko. She kissed him." She informed me with her angered and distressed tone. The news was interesting to me. Interesting enough to urge me out of my meditation and open my eyes.

         "Oh did she?" I cocked an eyebrow up and gave Suh an interested look. I couldn't say I was surprised. Ex or not, those two were eventually going to end up with their tongues down each other's throats.

         "Zuko didn't kiss back. Obviously." Suh rolled her eyes with disgust for Ama but confidence for herself.

        I found that hard to believe, but didn't want sit through Suh's confident rants that Zuko loved her. "And what happened after the kiss."

         "I didn't stay long after." Suh shrugged like it didn't matter. "Zuko pulled away from her and that was enough proof for me that he's way over her."

          My eyebrows raised and I scoffed at her. "You're joking, right?"

         "No, I'm not." Suh tilted her head and leaned back on her arms as she sat, like she was challenging me. "I trust Zuko. It's Ama that I don't trust."

         I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Suh was a smart girl. How could she not stay and get more information. But not only that. This wasn't the first time that I'd been put second because of Zuko. I wanted to shout at Suh. Knock some sense into her even. She was too self-assured for her own good.

         I didn't think for a second that Zuko would have any emotional attachment to Suh. She was just a pawn in my game. I would be the last person to admit that even Zuko had half a brain. He'd keep Suh around to get to me, thinking I wasn't on to him. Ha! I'd always be one step ahead of him. Suh was only needed to get me inside information that would get me to Ama. To get a peak at what could break her.

         I took in a deep breath and avoided looking at Suh. "Did you at least hear what they were talking about before you so idiotically left?"

         "Ama recognized one of your goons." Suh half-cared, primarily focusing on her nails. "She also expressed that she liked bloodbending. She still want to kill them for killing Munal."

         "Good to hear not all of your poor eavesdropping went to waste." I sneered. The information was good. It meant that things were going to plan. All of the information was probably sinking into the winey waterbender's head right now. It was finally settling that I was behind her friend's and girlfriend's death.

         Well, to be fair, that was an accident. How was I to know that Bohan and Puha were two bloodthirsty criminals who were more than angry to have a heist ruing by Ama and her group? I thought they were just regular criminals. Not that it matters. It's not like I had any guilt about it or that the guilt from a lifelong of fear mongering was getting into my head.

         I was stable, clear-headed, and perfectly fine. I've accepted that I'm a nuisance. I took pride in it even. I'd planted the seed of doubt into Zuko's brain years ago. Now it was Ama's turn.

         She had the chance years ago to kill me, but she chose the more honorable path. She could have given in to those desires that she's feeling now. Turns out I just wasn't pushing the right buttons. The waterbender had the potential to be cruel and ruthless. To be a killer. She just needed to give in. Then she'll live a life of misery, just like me.

          The weight of all her wrong doings. Of taking a life. That's what she was missing. I was almost there. Of achieving my goal. And once that happens. I'll be done here. For good.

.☽☼☾.

Okay so I’ve finally caught up on updating everything to tumblr. I’m still in the process of writing the next chapter so stay tuned!

Hang loose, amigos 🤙🏼

[hollenka99]

The One Where Jackie Meets The Others

Summary: Chapter 4. Jackie enjoys a couple trips out with Marvin.

Warnings: death and blood mentions

@bupine @badlypostedeverything

Things don't smoothly transition back to the way they were following that morning. However, they both agreed it was clear Anti's intentions were to divide them. Therefore, it would be dumb to give him that satisfaction. When Marvin asks, out of pure curiosity, about the mullet, Jackie doesn't really have an answer. He'd simply liked the style. But maybe it was time to move on. The chances of him returning to the '80s were particularly slim. With the green having faded weeks ago, he has it cut so it now only reaches his ears. The style is nice but he does miss his old look. He supposes Marvin was pleased with this development. He definitely got a lot of joy from teasing Jackie about how much curlier his shorter hair became following showers. The only quip he has in response is that the hero's hair wasn't much better when wet either. The next thing on the agenda was the excursion to Pizza Hut. The four of them agree to meet on Thursday. In preparation, Marvin offers Jackie a copy of the restaurant's document on allergy information. Marvin faces falls when he learns just how many items he loved posed a certain risk to Jackie's health. Nope, no pepperoni for him. No garlic breadsticks or cheesy fries either. Fried items were a contamination risk too, apparently. He lies when his friend asks about stuffed crust. Jackie trying the crust option was one of the main reasons they'd agreed to visit the establishment. Besides, it wasn't guaranteed it would trigger a reaction. He could possibly get away with sampling a little of Marvin's crust if he didn't push his luck. It is comforting to learn Henrik, the friend who made educational videos for others, had coeliac's disease and therefore had to be wary when eating as well. Jameson was Marvin's cousin of sorts. Their grandmothers had been sisters. Then their mothers were friends, leading to their sons to develop a good relationship while growing up. Jameson was a performer who used his control over time and sound for entertainment purposes. He and Marvin frustratingly run late due to the hero misplacing his wallet. They are apologetic to Henrik and Jameson who have already found a table and ordered drinks for themselves. Jameson has neat brown hair that extends down his face to his jawline and closely surrounds his mouth. Henrik, on the other hand, has black hair which has been swept back as well as glasses. The two of them promise they don't mind the delay. They haven't been here for ages anyway. In time, four pizzas are delivered to the table. There is the pan BBQ americano, gluten free Hawaiian, cheesy bites pepperoni and stuffed crust BBQ beef and onion. Marvin suggests he and Jackie trade a slice. His friend makes a supposedly humourous comment about how he identifies as Jackie's pizza base but it's lost on the former drummer. How someone can deeply relate to dough that's been baked in a pan, Jackie has no clue. He allows Marvin to take a slice regardless. However, when it comes to him returning the gesture, Jackie insists he only wants a little bit of his friend's crust. Half a slice's worth of stuffed crust is placed on top of his own pizza. Jackie regrets it as soon as it enters his mouth. God damn it, it was actually really tasty. He could see why Marvin was so enthusiastic about it. His expression remains neutral as he chews, well aware he has an audience. He hates how disappointed Marvin looks when Jackie gives a bullshit review about the cheese within being too chewy. Allergies and cross-contamination risks fucking sucked. Screw his body for being an asshole who overreacted to a commonly used spice. "Oh well, more for me." Marvin winks as he recovers from the blow before stealing a piece of chicken from Jackie plate. Alright, maybe letting one small inconvenience ruin tonight in his mind was stupid. Marvin had said he'd act as translator. Which was a lovely gesture. Jackie was grateful he was prepared to sacrifice part of his evening to play the middleman so he and Jameson could communicate. Except Marvin got sidetracked at one point and had delved into a whole conversation with his cousin, spoke entirely in BSL. It looked like a funny one too. Jackie was glad the pair were enjoying their evening. He stuck to conversing with Henrik instead. It's a struggle as they don't seem to have much in common. That is until Jackie absentmindedly asked what sort of food Henrik enjoyed. This in turn triggered the German man sitting opposite him to enthuse about fried potato slices with pieces of bacon and onion. Jackie himself launches into a story about how his mother used to work with a woman who had family in West Germany. Then this German colleague would sometimes write down a recipe or two to give to them. In no uncertain terms, those foreign dishes beat jacket potatoes or beans on toast any day. The four men give their stomachs a chance to settle a little while they chat as a group. Then it was time to finish off the night with ice cream shakes. Two strawberries, an oreo and a chocoholic are brought to the table. Although there had been several mentions of what Jameson did for a living, it is only at this point that a proper conversation about is initiated. "Jameson's doing a show on the 4th. I think we should go. What do you say?" Jackie's response is delayed due to Marvin making the suggestion just as he takes a long sip of his strawberry shake. "Oh uh, yeah, sure. What exactly will be in the show? Time stuff, right?" Jameson taps the side of his nose with a wry smile. The younger of the cousins translates this as "I believe he's saying that's for him to know and for you to find out." The performer signs something. "Expect the unexpected." Marvin rolls his eyes with a smile remaining on his face. "Oh yeah, like when you get a younger member of the audience to volunteer for your sound tricks. I once heard Hacker T Dog from CBBC sing Thinking Out Loud, you know. That was an experience." Jameson makes a comment. "I haven't seen the weirdest combinations? Well yeah, I sure hope I haven't. Kids' minds can come up with bizarre things. Henrik, especially, should know that." Henrik nods to this with a sense that this was a profound understatement. The banter carries on and Jackie soon feels like less of an outsider. The ice creams shakes eventually get drained as the evening draws to a close. Once all the goodbyes and "It was nice to meet you"s are over, the tow of them hop into Marvin's car to head home. Bohemian Rhapsody happens to begin playing on the radio as they set off. Jackie doesn't even have to ask before he's turning the volume up for both their benefits. They haphazardly fall into a duet. Jackie's heard Marvin singing absentmindedly to himself before this. He therefore already knows he has a good voice. But it isn't until tonight that he's able to hear it out loud. "I need you to do me a favour. Do you mind headbanging like in Wayne's World?" "What?" "Wayne's World. Never seen the film myself but there's a pretty well known scene where a bunch of them are in the car while this song is playing. Then during the instrumental that's coming up, they really rock out. I've always wanted to do it while in a car but I always seem to be the driver when I get the chance. So do you mind rocking out in a minute on my behalf?" Jackie chuckles. "Sure. My pleasure." As Freddie finishes claiming Beelzebub has a devil put aside for him, Jackie springs into action. He moves his head back and forth in rapid succession to the music. The pair follow along with the next verse as loudly as possible. At least, they attempt to. It isn't long before they have both descended into raucous laughter. "Thanks!" Marvin manages in between breaths when it calms. "We should do that again. With us stationary next time so you can do it too." "Deal." Marvin bursts into laughter once more and Jackie thinks he's growing particularly fond of it. --- Another crime scene, another person fighting to remain alive while bleeding from the neck. Cat is only able to stand by while the paramedics do their job. He'd like to beg them to not take this guy to hospital, to not risk history repeating itself. But it's not like he can ask anyone to skip properly treating the victim. He's sure everyone here knows this situation is a catch 22. However, they can't do anything other than perform their jobs. It takes great deal of convincing but Cat is allowed to stay outside the patient's room for the night. He's been standing guard for a good while when midnight passes. A doctor comes along on her rounds. She speaks to Cat and the other member of security he's been spending the night with. While she's talking, Anti's latest victim begins coding. Any and all resuscitation efforts prove futile. The guy is gone. So is the doctor. If she even existed in the first place. And Cat suspects Anti himself is long gone too. The day afterwards, he catches some reporting of the murder while flicking through channels. The victim has an identity now. There's a name, age and grieving loved ones. The television is bitterly switched off as Marvin searches for his notebook instead. Joining the countless other entries is 27/4/19 - Nick Shaw, 34, wife + 2 little kids The next time he sees Anti, he's not fucking around. Enough was enough. Marvin was putting a stop to this once and for all, by whatever method was necessary. --- The first Saturday of May is a cloudy one. That doesn't stop a crowd from flocking to the Jolly Gentleman's show. Chase is still getting out of the car when Niamh races out, the name Oscar having barely left her mouth before doing so. It is with great relief that Chase witnesses his daughter collide with a familiar man. The pair of single fathers briefly kiss as a part of a greeting while the five year old girl is returned. Her twin sister and older brother hover around as the greetings continue. Eventually, Fletcher drifts into his own group with both of Oscar's boys. The seven of them make their way inside. "So where is this friend of yours?" Oscar asks as they take their seats. "Do you see him?" "Not yet. He should be bringing his new roommate with him." His scanning of the tent is halted. "Speak of the devil." Chase spots Marvin entering the area, along with another man whom his best assumptions identified as Jackie. They seat themselves in the same row as the fathers. The children sit directly in front of the adults. Marvin introduces him to Jackie as Dr Chase Brody, emphasising the title. "I'm just spending the day out with my kids, there's no need to be throwing my doctorate around. Chase." He offers his hand for Jackie to shake. "And this is Fletcher, Ciera and Niamh." Oscar carries on the round of greetings by introducing himself, Milo and Max. They spend a full minute going through the mundane pleasantries before Marvin and Jackie finally stay seated. As the performance begins, Chase relaxes. They'd filled the wait time with small talk and chatter amongst themselves, however, he had intended for today to be a chance to spend time with his partner. He gives Marvin the benefit of the doubt. The thing is, Jackie came across as a decent enough guy. He also understandably seemed a little overwhelmed by the amount of people in the group. If the chit chat served as a distraction, then fine by him. Besides, he only looked like he was in his late teens anyway. They did share a history of drumming when they were younger though which was a nice surprise. That certainly allowed for a whole avenue of conversation. As soon as Jameson emerged to start his performance, the auditory atmosphere changed. There were speakers around the place and at certain points of the show it almost felt as if the sound was travelling around the space as a physical thing. He also seemingly teleported to a different spot than moments before. A woman was completely flabbergasted when she discovered a small thank you card in her handbag that certainly hadn't been there when she arrived with no easy explanation for how it got there. Throughout the performance, one of his colleagues acted as his commentator. Among his other tricks, the Jolly Gentleman sets a row of plants on fire with an elongated lighter. One of his colleagues dramatically shows up with a bucket of water to extinguish it. The performer stops him with a raised hand. He then holds the lighter, still producing a flame, up for the audience. It trails across the plants, erasing any evidence that there had been any combustion taking places. Not a single scorch mark or hint of smoke in sight. A little girl is summoned from the audience. She's about the twins' age, maybe slightly younger. After being asked what her favourite character was (Daddy Pig, of all things) she was encouraged to sing a song she really liked (I'm a Little Teapot). Already familiar with work stories his friend had, he knew what to expect. The crowd was treated to Daddy Pig's rendition of I'm a Little Teapot, complete with actions. Or at least, they were partially treated to it as the volunteer kept giggling into the microphone throughout her performance. It is evident that Jackie is too enthralled by the show to notice the barely subtle yet fond glances in his direction from the one sitting next to him. Ah, so it was like that, huh? Good for them. Chase catches Marvin's arm as they head out, taking advantage of Jackie going to speak with Jameson. It would be more discreet if Marvin's friend wasn't in earshot. With a wink, he teases his friend. "And they were roommates." "Hey, shut up. It's not like that." "Sure. And Oscar is nothing more than my buddy." "Chase-" "Seriously, what have you got to lose? If he's straight then it might get a little awkward for a moment. But I feel like he would be reasonable and appreciate the honesty. Well, you know him better than I do. You tell me." "You sure?" "Listen, I was already married to a woman when I started being cool with liking dudes. But since the split I've been around the block a few times. It is going to be fine." Marvin moves towards his car as Jackie re-emerges from backstage. It's clear he's still very much skeptical about it all. "If you say so, Chase." ---- Joel makes the judgement that Jackie would probably be fine to travel through his portals a week later. His apartment is pleasant. The ledge of one of his windows has a cushion to improve comfort. Jackie notices remnants of blu tack on the wall where something had clear been removed, which was odd. He almost makes a joke about it but decides against it. "Well... fáilte!" Joel spreads his arms to gesture to the whole room. "Wait, you know some Irish?" "Yep. Had an Irish grandmother who got me conversational." "Really? Nice. In that case, go raibh maith agat." Jackie chuckles. "So... anyway, you going to tell me how you know I'm from '86 or not?" "Okay, so you already know about my portals." "Are you trying to tell me you portalled me through time?" "What?! No, of course not. Bold of you to assume I have any control over the 4th dimension. I meant, I have powers and therefore I inherited the ability to have them." "So how then?" "One of my dads has a time based power and I guess, that trickled down to me a little. Stuff like that happens sometimes. I think Jameson might have an unusually strong immune system because his mother has enhanced immunity. Either way, I just have a sixth sense for time stuff." "...Right." Joel huffs in annoyance. "Alright, believe me or don't. The point is I want to help you go back to your own time if that's what you want." Ah. That's where that elephant was hiding. He was slowly getting used to the future but there was an inexplicable longing to return to where he came from. He was never meant to be 20 in 2019. There was no denying that fact. And as much as he enjoyed hanging out with Marvin and the rest of his new friends, it felt wrong somehow. That said, he was particularly good at going with the flow where necessary. If he was stuck in this century for good, then he'd deal with that. But if there was a chance he could be returned to 1986, there was no way he wouldn't take it. "How?" A sly smile appears on Joel's face. "Ah, for that, we will need Jameson and Henrik's help. All we have to do is wait for the right moment to ask for it. And seeing as it's now May, I don't think we'll have to wait that long."

[hardforbenhardy]

somebody to love pt.2 | rogerxreader

warnings: fluff, sad vibes a lil, smallest tiniest inference of sex (blink and you’ll miss it)

word count: 4.1k

part 2 of somebody to love is here! it’s going a little slow, but i promise, we will get some roger/reader action next chapter!!

taglist: @jennyggggrrr

It is finally Monday, the day you've been dreading all weekend after the little... incident. Your minds been clouded with thoughts of what Roger may do, you could barely spend time with your Ma and Pa the whole of yesterday. Not to mention, they were kind of disappointed at the fact you didn't have the money to pay for their water bills. You’re pulled from your dreams by the blaring sound of your alarm from your bedside table, a groan releasing from your lips as you push yourself from the comfort of your silk sheets. You can hear Freddie's angelic voice soaring through the apartment as he sings along to the radio; it's like waking up to the melodic tunes of birds outside your window, but better. You quickly got dressed, knowing you don't have a lot of time before you need to be in school, and run down stairs to grab a snack from the kitchen. Freddie notices you, but instead of saying anything, he just gave you a huge grin and a thumbs up as a form of motivation. It's strange how Freddie is able to light up any room he is in, if only you had that ability, you may actually have friends. Not that you don't like your life already- sure it has its rather larger downsides, but you like spending time by yourself; it's calming, you don't have to rely on people and most importantly people don't have to rely on you. It's just, you’re fucking lonely. That's it basically. Everyone your age is in relationships, or sleeping around, or at least getting it on with someone in more than a friendship kind of way - and you’re just not. You wander through the university campus to class, which starts in 10 minutes, and you see couples cuddling and/or making out; large groups of friends laughing and having fun; the sport teams having a large football match on the field; the drama club sitting around to learn their scripts; even the music club playing their instruments to mildly entertain passers by such as you (which in fact, it is much more irritating than it is entertaining at 9 in the morning). Everyone seems so active and full of joy, and then there's you. You don't know why you’re so separated from everyone else, you've just always been like this. You remember on the first day of secondary school, you were sat alone the whole day; no one sat with you, spoke to you, no one even knew your name - you were known as "that weird girl" for the first 3 months of your education, until the teacher finally picked on you to present in class and you had to start by saying your name. You liked it then if you were being honest, you didn't have to reach anyone's expectations and you certainly weren’t a victim of peer pressure - but now it just makes you feel like a piece of shit. Sure, you have Freddie, but it's not exactly much is it. You just wish you had someone who would love you for you and actually want to spend time with you; is that so much to ask for?

As you entered the dry lab, you noticed that everyone was there but one person in particular. Roger. Fuck sake, where is he? You went to sit in your secluded seat, in the corner of the room, praying to God Roger wasn't in today at all and he had bunked off. Your racing thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Smith raising her voice:

"Okay, class, instead of a test, we are doing a small practical today - it doesn't go towards anything, but it is important we understand the skills and can therefore apply it to any furt-" And with that, Roger burst through the door, panting and wheezing like he had just ran a mile. "Ah, Mister Taylor, late again are we? Look, if you want to get your degree, I suggest you buckle down and get here on time - this isn't an easy course and I'm not going to teach you if this is how you treat it"

"Sorry, my um, my car broke down and I had to run to school" Roger heaved, placing both his hands on his knees as he faced the ground and took in long hard breaths. Droplets of sweat glided down his forehead as he attempted to catch his breath, and you couldn't help but admire the way it framed his face; his hair still scraggly from sleep, and his clothes slightly torn from what you presumed was multiple trips when running. He looked strangely sexy. Fuck. Why were you thinking like this? But it's true... his voice was raspy and choked, from the running - but you can only imagine that's what he always sounds like when he's exhausted. When else might he be exhausted? God, you could only imagine his voice whispering into my ears after a long, hard -

"Do you mind love?" - you were pulled from your daydream, looking up to see him stood there, staring at the empty seat beside you. Your heart began to beat at an irregular pace. Why is he talking to you? Why is he sitting next to you? Did he just call you love? Does he recognise you? Is this some kind of sick joke to him? "Oh- uh, n-no" you stuttered, struggling to even form a simple sentence after your overwhelming wave of emotions which had just washed over you. He threw his briefcase on the floor beside him; pulling out his folder, which was half the size of yours, making you wonder whether Roger actually takes notes in this class or rather it's all just stored in that incredible brain of his. God he is so smart. And sometimes, like today, he has to wear his glasses in class if he forgets his sunglasses, which perfectly frame his face; they make him look so fucking sexy. OMG what the fuck is going on with you?! "Uh- uhm, why are you sitting next to me?" you barely choked out, trying to take your mind off the whole... Roger's incredibly overwhelming persona.

"Prof said we are partnered for this practical, love" He explained, tone still deep and stifled although his breathing has began to go back to normal. You could sense an awkward tension between the two of you the moment he sat down; you knew this was a bad idea and you knew you should've just bunked off. As he began to prepare the equipment for the practical, you couldn't help but stare at his face; his eyes clouded over as he bites his bottom lip from utter concentration. "See something you like?"

He lifted his head, smirking in your direction after you snap out of my trance; you had been staring at him while chewing on the end of your pen. "Oh- uhh, sorry. Sorry. Nice glasses" you panicked, swiftly turning your head in the other direction, until you heard a chuckle and a small 'thanks' come from beside you- which you were instantly able to recognise as Rogers, considering he was the only person who has sat next to you in the past few months on this course. The suspense in the atmosphere only got heightened with every second going past, and you couldn't bare to sit here anymore. "Look, I know you saw me on Saturday. I don't know if you've sat here to tease me or take the piss or whatever but I'm not in the fucking mood- I'm surviving off 3 hours sleep and 5 coffees so if you're not even going to talk to me about what you saw, then you can piss off"

Roger doesn't say anything to respond, and instead just looked at you with a semblance of speechlessness, as if he's trying to conjure up a sentence in which he won't offend or make things more awkward than they already are - failing of course as he eventually comes out with "Y-you have nice moves". You felt your cheeks immediately blush, getting redder and redder; although his words sent chills down your spine, you couldn't let it show.

"What the fuck Roger!" you exclaimed, slapping his arm harder than you originally intended, as he acknowledged it with a sharp 'ow' and quickly reached to rub the now-red area as a way of soothing it. "Sorry . But seriously, you can't tell anyone. Please. If you do, my life will be fucking ruined and I plan on actually doing something with it and if people fin-"

"Y/N, I'm not going to tell anyone." He quickly retorted, making your head turn to face him as a sudden feeling of shock ran through you. Why wouldn't he tell people? "R-really?!" you spluttered, the words barely reaching the surrounding.

"Why would I tell people?"

"Erm, because it's not exactly a thing I should be proud of and you could ruin my life with it and that's kind of what you popular kids do, not to mention you probably think I'm a slut or something because of it" you mumbled, shying away from making any form of eye contact with him. Mainly because the atmosphere is getting increasingly more awkward by the second, but also because you can't deny; you could stare into his eyes all day and I'm afraid if you start you may not be able to stop.

"I'm not that much of a dickhead, love. I don't know why you have... that job, but I'm not going to go around spreading your personal shit."

"Right, sorry. Thank you." you let a fake smile grow on your face, and once noticing him return a wide grin - it became a real one. There was a small moment of silence before you asked one question that had undoubtedly been on my mind all weekend; "W-what were you actually doing there? There are never any lads younger than 30 in that place"

"Oh, erm, I was meant to meet a girl there"

"For a date? You were going to take a girl on a date to a strip club" you emphasised, trying your hardest not to laugh loudly at the idiocy of the Rogers idea of a good date.

"Yeah. But I didn't know it was a strip club - she was the one who gave me the address and told me to meet her there. But she never showed." He explained, with a small sadness to his tone. You felt a pang of guilt and empathy wash over you as he spoke, understand completely how it feels to be stood up; it has happened on multiple occasions and you've basically accepted it's your destiny to be alone by now. "Oh, I'm sorry. She sounds like a bitch"

"She kind of was - I only agreed to the date because she was a good shag" Roger muttered under his breath, most likely hoping you didn't hear him; but you did. You almost choked at his statement, but really you just feel a little shit. You know, of course, Roger is what some might call a 'ladies man'; but the idea of him sleeping around isn't something you keep on your mind because you let it get to you. You say you'd like to be one of those girls, but honestly, you don't just want to be a one time shag that Roger has before moving onto the next. Which is exactly the reason you had originally attempted to push all the feelings you had for Roger deep, deep down - but of course they can't stay down for long, because as soon as Roger walked in the room, you had fallen all over again. And before you knew it, it was the end of the session. Which meant you'd now have to go to the library for the next 4 hours, sitting by yourself and reading over your notes for the hundredth time, pretending like you didn't just want to scrap all your work and quit. As you began to pack my stuff away, you heard Roger cough beside me - in the kind of way that says he's asking for your attention. "Hey, Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Erm, I'm performing at Imperial tonight, would you maybe want to come along? I understand if you're busy or something, I mean you are always studying, not that that's a bad thing but I understand if you can't come, I just thought you could do with some fun and I think you're a really nice girl and I wanted to hang out some more you know- but like I said, you don't have to come, you're probably super busy so" Roger muttered, looking to the floor whilst twiddling his thumbs; nerves prominent in his tone. A wide grin grew on your face as he spoke; he wanted to hang out.

"I'd love to - like you said, I could do with a night out that doesn't involve biology in any form." you smiled, as Rogers head shoots up and he gives you a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushed through you. He threw his bag over his shoulder, before heading out; you following shortly after. "So, what do you mean by performing?"

"Oh, well I'm in a band with some of my mates, it's nothing much. We play every Sunday and Monday night." He explained, hands in his jean pockets as he walked me home. Slightly stunned by his admission, you looked up at him before asking "What do you play then?"

"Oh, I'm the drummer"

And with that, you were frozen in your place as you stood in shock at the new revelation. Roger Taylor was a drummer? Your eyes widened and your mouth fell ajar at the unfamiliar thought, your mind trying to comprehend such information. Not only is Roger Taylor smoking hot, super kind (well, he seemed) AND incredibly intelligent - but he also plays the drums? Just when you thought he possibly couldn't get any more attractive, he goes and pulls this out of the bag. Roger notices your sudden halting, and turns to look at you with a confused face; "Hey, you okay? You need help?" He cautioned, the worry prominent in his tone, snapping you out of the trance you were in.

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry, just got lost in my thoughts" you chuckled, looking towards the ground as embarrassment grew on your cheeks, pacing forward to catch up with Roger who was at least 5 steps in front of you. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Huh?" you questioned, furrowing your brows as your head shot up to face. If he was now going to make you come up with a fake thought in less than five seconds, you think you may just freak out, because there is no way you can explain to him that you fancy him and therefore was dreaming about the absolute charmer he was. "Penny for your thoughts - what you thinking about?"

Fuck.

"What are we, 5 years old?" you giggled, putting a sharp facade of humour when you knew deep down your brain was racking for something, anything that may sound at least an inch better than 'I think I may love you'.

"Come on, I can tell something's bothering you. You can trust me you know - I thought I'd have proven that by now"

"I just... why are you talking to me?" you sputter out, it being the first thing to come to your head.

"What on earth do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you even associating yourself with me - I'm the weird loner who sits in the back of class, who no one talks to, or even looks at, who has one friend and has a job as a stripper. I'm not stupid Roger, I know people don't want to associate themselves with the 'quiet' girl, so why are you?" you ranted, finally releasing a long breath after venting, feeling tears pricked your eyes as you realised you were now facing your actual reality. Why was Roger suddenly trying to be your friend? "I mean, was this some kind of dare? Or have you decided you want to add me to your list of sexual escapades because don't think I haven't noticed you've only started talking to me after seeing me strip. Or do you just want to cheat your way through the course, hoping I'll end up doing your work for you?"

You stopped after hearing a small chuckle from beside you, and looked to see Rogers face sporting a little grin, clearly amused by you. "Do you know what, just fuck off. Forget about tonight, I'm leaving" you raged, beginning to storm away as anger boiled inside you at Rogers apparent sense of humour, or lack thereof. He seriously found this funny, whilst you stood here, opening up feelings you would never usually share to anyone apart from Freddie. You tended to struggle opening up about your emotions to people, unless you have a decent amount of wine in my system to flush away the shame that is. Instead, you keep them buried deep down, and you know they're bound to erupt one day- you have a slight feeling today might just be the day. You were halted in your motion as the tight grasp of a hand clutched onto your wrist, causing you to stumble back. "No, wait, Y/N m'sorry! I wasn't laughing at you, I promise."

His apologetic tone rang in your ears, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks once again as you realised how pathetic you were actually being. "The fuck were you laughing at then, 'cause I don't see any fucking clowns wandering 'round here"

"I-I, I wasn't laughing at you! I just, well, I don't really have a reason- why do I need a reason? You are super cool and you seem nice, I just wanted to get to know you."

"You still didn't answer my question." you grumbled, pouting your lips out as you dropped your head to face the floor; your cheeks beginning to redden at the idea that Roger just wanted to get to know you. No one ever just wanted to get to know you; there was always a reason. They would use you to up their grade a little; they would feel sorry for you because you’re a fucking loner; they would attempt to be friendly in hopes of getting you into their bed for the night. That was admittedly the worst one, considering it was the most common. You have never had a true friend, let alone boyfriend, so you can certainly count on yourself to be the biggest virgin gracing this earth. You'd think having a job which was in that kind of area, you’d be basically the opposite; but you agreed with yourself when you started the job that if there was one thing you would never ever turn to, it'd be sleeping with the men in the club. Not only were they almost twice my age, but they weren't exactly the most graceful, gentlemanly men you'll ever meet. Not that Roger was any more chivalrous, from what you'd heard, but at least you were the same age and you actually know him. Though you may be completely conflicting personalities; you being a quiet, reserved, and overall anxious character and Roger being one of loud, adventurous, energetic tendencies; they say opposites attract... right?

"Okay, well, maybe I was laughing at you - but not in a bad way. I was just thinking, you are kind of cute when you are angry y'know" Roger confessed, trying to come off as if he was confident and almost flirty in his words, but you swear you saw his teeth grind from nerves as he spoke.You began to feel your cheeks flush at his simplistically adorable words. "I swear to god, Roger Taylor, if you are trying to flirt with me - I will walk away right now" you giggled, poking his chest a little harder than you expected, gaining a laugh from Roger too. As the laughter died down, you realised you had reached yours and Freddie's flat already, and you still had hours to kill until tonight.

"Erm, this is my block" you muttered, pointing to the entrance of the block of flats you were slowly approaching.

"I know - we live in the same block." He chuckled, opening the door and standing against it, his arm gesturing you to walk through. Maybe he was a gentleman? "Thank you. How come I never see you around the block?"

"I don't know - I've seen you around a few times, usually when you are going out in the evening; presumably to work. I mean, you are always in the library"

"I guess." you chuckled, beginning to walk up the steps to the third floor, where your flat resided. Roger followed swiftly behind, attempting to catch up with you. There was silence as you walked up the stairs; but it wasn't the uncomfortable kind of silence. It was more the kind where you just enjoy each others company in the moment. The better kind. Once you had reached your apartment door, Roger stopped, almost as if he knew where it was without even asking. You didn't bother to question how he knew which flat you lived in, and instead just began unlocking the door.

"I'll, erm, I guess I'll see you tonight? Meet me backstage once we finished our set?" He asked, leaning on his side against the entrance banister. You looked up, but continued turning the key in the lock with movement memory, swiftly taking the key out the lock and opening the door to walk through. "Yeah, of course. You don't mind if I bring Freddie with me do you? He loves a night out"

"Fred's your roommate right? Yeah, sure" He nodded, twiddling his thumbs together. You swear you heard him sigh and possibly roll his eyes at your suggestion, but you gave him a quick smile, as if to say 'see you tonight' before closing the door behind yourself and releasing a loud sigh. As soon as you had locked it, you slid down the wooden door letting out a muffled scream into the bundled coat now in your lap. You could hear Freddie's steps approaching you from the living room, quick paced with urgency. "You alright, darling?"

"Fucking amazing Fred" You grinned, the pace of your heart gradually decreasing again after its irregular habits when you were with Roger.

"I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I heard the one and only Roger Taylor's voice as you walked in the door?" He chuckled, finding your lustful infatuation merely a piece of comedy for his entertainment. "So where is it you are taking me for a night out then?"

"Roger invited me out to the Imperial, he's performing with his band - He plays the drums, Fred. I thought he was already an angel but then he reveals he's a fucking drummer too. Fred, I think I may just suffer a heart attack if I spend even one more second around him."

"So Roger invited you out? And you asked if I could come along? I think your brain has finally fizzled out, love. Are you completely insane?"

"I don't want to die. And I'm sure it'll happen if I have to spend any more time with him alone." you sighed, your heart beating out your chest at the mere thought of spending time with Roger by yourselves. God, how am you meant to cope in a relationship with him when you can barely even hold a conversation. "I said I'd meet him backstage after their set, so we should leave around 8? What should I wear? I don't own any nice clothes Fred! All my clothes are baggy jumpers and joggers - ugh Fred take me shopping!"

"You know I can't turn down a shopping spree darling, grab your shoes and coat!" Freddie exclaimed, making you chuckle under your breath at his extravagance. He held out his hand, which you hesitantly took into line, and yanked you up from your previously comfortable position you found for yourself on the floor. You pulled on your boots and coat, wrapping your scarf around your neck to accommodate for the autumn weather outside. Fred told you of a store just a 10 minute walk from the flat, which was his favourite shop to buy clothes in; Biba. He had never really mentioned the store until a few days back, after going to a small gig by himself. You just remember him coming home relatively sober and with a look of infatuation growing on his face and in his eyes. He never really talks about what happened that night - you just presumed he'd maybe had a good hookup.

[ladyoutlier]

For a writing request, maybe something about when Aziraphale+Crowley first met on the wall in eden? Like their first impressions of each other

Read on AO3

Aziraphale and Crowley once again found themselves feeding the ducks from a bench in St. James’s Park. One particular mallard was being extremely greedy for breadcrumbs and would scare every other duck away when they got close. A vicious little creature. Crowley was loving it.

Temptation at its finest, he thought. Stupid thing wants to hog all the food. It’s going to find itself in cardiac arrest with that behavior.

“Crowley.” The angel retook his attention. “Do you remember when we first met?”

“Course I do. Eden some 6000 years ago. Why you ask?”

“I’ve been reminiscing quite a bit about our time on Earth, and through that, I’ve found myself working back to that moment.”

“Would make sense. It being the beginning and all.”

“Yes. Well, I’ve been thinking about how things have changed since then.”

“Oh, yeah. Whole lot has happened. Civilization, government, cars. Could write an endless list.”

“What were your first impressions of me, Crowley?”

The demon ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking. He pelted the mallard with another balled up piece of bread. “I thought: Well there’s an angel that looks like a lot of fun to mess with.” 

It was a half-truth answer. Crowley very much had approached Aziraphale with the intent to tease, but there was also a sense of curiosity or perhaps awe. The demon hadn’t seen an angel since he himself was one. And this one seemed… friendly enough. At the very least, he looked as though smiting wouldn’t be his first reaction. Crowley really wasn’t interested in a fight. Had been enough of that lately.

Of course, his second impression of Aziraphale—after the angel had told him that he had given away his flaming sword—was a lot more meaningful. But Aziraphale hadn’t asked about that, and Crowley wasn’t going to say anything about it without being provoked.

“I wish I could say that I had the same relaxed impression of you.” The angel attempted to toss some crumbs to the other bullied ducks, but the same aggressive mallard ferociously waddled to them first. “I was wary. At that point, I hadn’t encountered a demon before. There had been stories Upstairs, and I do remember thinking that I wished I had my sword back.”

“Lucky it was me then. Plenty of other demons that a wary impression would be more than fitting for.”

“Yes, lucky indeed.”

They were silent for a few moments, taking in the environment. A jogger ran past them, and all of the ducks, minus the mallard, quickly cleared the path and jumped into the lake in front of them. It really was a gorgeous day. The weather was warm enough and cotton ball clouds lazily drifted in the sky.

“Did the fact that we were hereditary enemies ever make you wary of me, Crowley?”

“Maybe in those brief moments before I approached you. But otherwise, nah, can’t say I ever felt that way.”

“I guess that makes sense. My status as an angel would’ve caused you to forgo the fear of a potential backstabbing.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, dramatically rolling his neck as well just so Aziraphale would know what he was doing. “I didn’t say that. I’d say it’s your less angelic qualities that made you seem less threatening.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that one of the first things you told me was that you willy nilly gave away the Almighty’s gift to you.”

“You told me that was the right thing to do!” “Yeah. I mean it was. Still wasn’t angelic. Angelic angels have their trousers hiked up too high to do something like that. More of a my way not the right way type.”

“I did feel a bit guilty about it. Like it was something I wasn’t supposed to do.” Aziraphale tossed his last piece of bread and swept his clothes of crumbs.

“Probably the best thing you could’ve done given the scenario.”

“Yes, they most definitely needed the sword. They might not have survived without it.”

“Oh yeah, was definitely good for Adam and Eve too.”

Aziraphale looked to him. “I thought that’s what you were referring to. What did you mean?” “Nothing, angel. Exactly that.” Crowley pulled himself into a more upright position on the bench.

“Really now?”

“Just meant that I might not have felt as inclined to hang about you if you hadn’t done that.”

Aziraphale smiled rather slyly. “So what you’re saying is that you’ve had a soft spot for niceties since the very beginning.”

“Don’t make me strangle this duck right now to prove otherwise. I will do it.” Crowley shooed the mallard away as if that somehow strengthened his remark. The beast snapped at him before joining his victims in the lake. “My exception for things like that stretches to you and you alone.”

That last remark was more damning than him just agreeing to Aziraphale’s comment ever would have been. It’s not that the angel didn’t know. It was just that the words had never been said. Such a blunt response that Crowley valued Aziraphale so highly. Sure, actions speak louder than words and all that, and Crowley had shown him that he cared many a times, but when the words had never been spoken, they mean an awful lot as well.

“That’s... quite a sincere thing to say. I wasn’t expecting you to just blurt that out. That you make a special case for me. I really appreciate hearing that from you.”

With Aziraphale’s reply, Crowley seemed to just now realize what he had said. “Yeah, well don’t read into it that much. I mean, of course I, uh, do things for you. We are friends after all, but it’s not like I’m planning my life around it or anything like that. Just let things happen naturally. Nothing all that special.”

Really, all Crowley accomplished with this was him digging the hole he found himself in quite a bit deeper. Crowley very much wanted that mallard to come back to offer a distraction. Maybe he would actually strangle it if it got Aziraphale to forget everything he had said in the past minute. He refused to meet Aziraphale’s eyes when he smiled at him.

“Well, I’m very glad to have met you, Crowley. I can’t imagine having gone through the centuries without knowing you. Strangely, I can’t say I’d be at all the same as I am now if I hadn’t met you. I can’t help but think this was how it was all meant to occur.”

“Ineffable, is it?” Crowley asked, regaining some of his composure as a smile formed on his face as well.

“Indeed. This day and all the others we have and will have spent together until the end of time. Completely ineffable.”

The mallard returned from the lake and began pecking at the stray remaining flakes of bread. Another duck from a different flock sprinted out from beneath the bench and snagged one of the mallard’s snacks before it could consume it. The mallard chased after the duck down the pathway, crying and quacking the whole way.

“Heh,” Crowley replied. “Until the end of time. That doesn’t sound that bad.”

[dwindlingashesburnt]

Undertale ideas

...I don't generally like angst, but a majority of Undertale angst seems to centre around Sans in some way, the concept of resets or of genocide routes, or of one of the people capable of resets going "ahahahah no consequences I can do whatever evil things I like and you can't stop me!!!"

Well

I'd like to propose a different variation for undertale angst - namely someone capable of resets going "oh fuck oh no there's no consequences oH FUCK HELP ME"

I mean.

Think about it.

All three capable of resets - Chara, Frisk and Flowey - have every single basic rule for life on Earth flung out the window, and are then told on top of that "btw no consequences for you, lol". Are they going to say "hell yeah, sweet"? Nope.

They're going to freak the fuck out. The fundamentals of how they understand the universe have just been torn out from under them - they're KIDS, they haven't made their own rules for their worldview yet, not really, they just have the fundamentals.

Think about those fundamentals:

What comes up, must go down, everything falls -> uh yeah gravity magic exists so that immediately goes out the window

What happens, happens, time cannot be rewritten -> ...resets.

There will be some form of consequence or reaction for every action taken -> ...well kind of a bit, but resets ultimately mean it doesn't make any difference, there are no TRUE consequences which means it likely very quickly fewla like there are none true or technical

For Chara and Frisk specifically, magic breaks the laws of physics, as does stuff like the snow in Snowdin, the whole concept of intent causing harm an of SOULs existing is also likely to rip the floor out from under their feet. I know most of this would be somewhat old news for Chara but I'm thinking it may end up being the straw that breaks the camel's back type thing

For Chara and Flowey specifically, their very existence is now likely to tear a pretty huge gap in their worldview. Flowey is now FLOWEY the flower, has no soul, potentially has his magic messed up due to the different form and or soul issues, does he even need to eat as a flower? Does he need sunlight, hell, does he photosynthesise? What about Chara - the fuck, how are they even existing? How if at all are they linked to Frisk? Were they aware since their death? Do they know anything about Frisk?

Further point for Chara and Flowey -> how much time, if any, has passed since the last time they were aware? Is the Underground drastically different to what they remember? What about their brief trip to the surface, when compared to Frisk and or Frisk's experiences??

Frisk specifically-> HUGE UNDERGROUND with MONSTERS and MAGIC and hoooollly shhiiiiittt what. Shouldn't that fall have killed them?

All -> the concept or lack thereof of an afterlife is probably a pretty huge knock to their worldview too

So now you must imagine these kids, who have had everythig and anything they could base their understanding, predictions, actions or reactions on, torn out from under them, leaving them completely lost and probably extremely panicked. Oh, they also have literally no idea what's happening....unnnntil they do, ok, they now have a huge amount of power that doesn't really help them at all with little knowledge to back it up and NO GROUNDRULES to guide them

Like this post sucks so bad compared to the idea in my head but like. I'm imagining Flowey and Papyrus getting on well because Flowey came up with his own rules to replace the usual gravity and time and consequences...But they don't make that much sense, his rules, however Flowey has made em a fundamental part of his worldview so anytime he sees them violated it sends him right off the deep emd, flailing as the world is again pulled out from under him, often resulting in panic, and or anger, and or violence. But he gets on well with Papyrus because Papyrus is very good at figuring out the fundamental rules of Flowey's worldview, and then operating within those rules - meaning he is one of few or perhaps the only person whom Flowey doesn't inevitably get distressed spending time with

I'm also imagining that Chara and Frisk very notavly don't make their own rules, but stubbornly cling to what should be their foundation but no longer is. This results in them taking a rather short route to a rapidly impeding breakdown as they frantically keep trying to prove the usual rules in any way they can. They try good consequences for their actions at first, but that doesn't really work out too well, and they can't figure out how to get out from the Underground so they inevitably get killed and end up resetting no matter what they do (meaning no sense of permanancy can be added to the other issues), so instead they start gradually doing things that SHOULD have worse and worse consequences. But they don't, not really. For one thing, it can be undone in a blink of an eye, for another...Well. There's no real consequence for Toriel or amy of the unnamed monsters anywhere in game. You don't find out the consequences for Papyrus' death until much later - late enough that it probably no longer feels like a connected sequence of events to these two kids who went throygh who knows how many resets getting from a to b anywsy - and Papyrus certainly doesn't hint at any consequences himself. He forgives them - who wants to bet that feels more like a slap to the face than anything else, to these two increasingly hysterical children who are starting to feel the world isn't quite real, they aren't quite real, none of it matters because no matter what they do they're not meeting any real consequences...

Imagine when Sans pretends to offer mercy. Imagine the kid(s) feel a dull roaring in their ears, because just when it seemed like they'd finally met some sort of consequence...Imagine them sprinting up to Sans with renewed fury as what's left of the two kid's sanity splinters along with the last remains of any solid worldview. Imagine they finally manage to kill Sans and sort of go into shock for a minute, because no. Nononono that wasn't supposed to happen, he said that was the consequences, that was no real consequence, what are they supposed to...

They don't care what the consequence is at this point, just something real and solid that proves that their actions affect things in the world and have been acknowledged felt and witnessed by other real living people.

Imagine Chara, in a fit of dark humour, asks Frisk, wheezing between paindul laughter as they demand to know "Do you think you are above consequences?"

Frisk can't breathe for a moment. They gasp, their breath hitches. A "Yes" escapes and then a child or two is half laughing, half crying, absolutely hysterical as they rock, trying to comfort themselves and each other. Neither of them notice until a good twenty minutes later that a near constant mantra of "yes yes I am we are above consequences yesyesyes there are no consequences none yesyesyes we are above, we are, oh god please help, helpmehelpmehelpus, yes, yes, yes" has barely stopped since Chara asked that question. They think, or would have, if either of them could think anywhere near coherently, that they may have had a bit of a panic attack there. Just a bit. They have no idea how long they were freaking out for - they try to check, turns out it was a couple of hours. They thought it was ten minutes.

IMAGINE THEY HAVE ENOUGH POWER TO ERASE THE WORLD they don't, but only because of the same type of mental block that stops you crunching your finger like a carrot. the realisation that they have that option, however, sends them into a near catatonic state for the equivalent of hours (saves and resetsare screwy). Then one or both of them decides now would be a good time to reset

IMAGINE THESE TWO KIDS GOING ON A COMPLETE GENOCIDAL RUN AND THEN FACING EVERY SINGLE PERSON THEY SLAUGHTERED AND WERE SLAUGHTERED BY, AS THOUGH NOTHING HAPPENED

imagine what that does a the psyche of these two kids who aint even 18 and quite possibly arent even teens?

Imagine Sans and or Papyrus thinking they're stuck in this hell of resets. Imagine Sans, determined that there is his friend, and there is the evil anomoly.

Imagine the people in control of those resets being as much if not more of a victim than the rest. Imagine Sans coming across a hysterical child having a fit of emotion and fear that mostly involves screaming and crying or laughing a lot and breaking things, because why not? It's not like they'll face any consequences for it.

Sans eventually figures out what's wrong with Chara and Frisk, very roughly anyway, and immediately goes...Ohhhhhh. Shit. Fuck. Fuckityfuckfuckfuck.

Papyrus is mildly bewildered by Flowey suddenly mildly changing his rules upon Frisk falling into the Underground and taking the reset option from him. Maybe Papyrus tries to guide Flowry to a healthier mindset or get him to a therapist, and instead ends up in a whole load of trouble. Flowey is concerningly dpendent on him and they're both feeling the strain

Just...just imagine the possibilities, yaknow?

I just think "oh fuck, no consequences" has pretty great angst potential. At LEAST as much as "oh yeah, no consequences" has