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sukunaspinkyfinger · 10 months

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ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴅᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ ꜱᴀᴋᴇ

ꜱᴏɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ: ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴅᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ - ꜱᴀᴍᴜʀᴀɪ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ: ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

The sun begins to set on the never-sleeping Night City as I carefully drive through Jig-jig Street, one of the most bustling locations in the Westbrook area. As a little ritual, I always tend to close all my successful gigs with a drink, doesn't matter how long I have to be stuck behind these god-forsaken wheels.

I promised myself - N, once you take care of her, you're going to spend all your precious eddies on a type-66 Cthulhu, cuz' that baby is not cheap.

as I park the car in front of Jina's, I hesitantly open my sun-visor, which reveals an old picture of my beautiful, big sister Utahime. I smile proudly at her, as she smiles back with her typical mom-like expression. easily the prettiest, smartest girl in Watson district, graduated at the top of her class at Arasaka Academy, nice, family-oriented girl...and a great fucking netrunner, under some big-shot corpofuck. She would definitely scold me for getting shit-faced at a bar after doing dangerous jobs. I laugh, though my smile turns sour.

She would definitely scold me if she wasn't in a vegetative state since 2071 because of a work accident that fried her brain beyond belief while trying to hack into some shady agent's data board. at least fucking Arasaka was nice enough to send her last paycheck, then abandon her, erasing her from the database to avoid any kind of scandal. she and many others deserve better.

"love you, sis, be home soon." I kiss her photo as I put on my sunglasses and make my way over to Jina's, whose entrance is already being guarded by Tyger Claws p̶u̶n̶k̶s̶ members.

"hey baby, nice tits you got there. how much for an hour?" the Japanese tyger claw winks at me seconds before the translation implant reveals his chivalrous intentions. since I don't usually want trouble with these guys, I present him with a cute smile as I try really hard not to throw up in my mouth.

"Thanks, um, is Jina in today?" the guy doesn't even bother to take his eyes off of my cleavage.

"ye, baby, just switched shifts. you her friend?"

"mmhm. anyway, thanks for the info. wouldn't wanna keep you guys busy, so, see ya."

I blow him a goodbye kiss as I push open the glass door, which reveals my haven since I became a merc. pretty girls dancing in every corner, highlighted by neon lights, the smell of lust, and cheap tobacco. I spot Jina and her signature goddess braids right away, tending the bar in her little apron. I take my seat closest to her, she spots me as I take off my sunglasses and gifts me with a warm smile and a shot of Amel.

"I was wondering when you'd show your pretty face again. cheers."

the taste of good old Amel sends chills down my spine as the sour, bitter, and hot liquid coats my needy tongue, making me yearn for more as I take out my rusty cigarette case. thankfully, Jina is already a step ahead.

"It's only been two days, Jina. but I know what you mean. gigs are comin' in hot but-"

"but the pay's shit. you don't have to tell me, I see it in your crusty eyes, madam." she pauses as she hands me an ashtray and another shot. "how's your sis?"

"same, ol'. still can't figure out if she even knows who I am...but that's why these shit gigs are worth it, Jina, cuz' one day-" I down the shot as I point at her with a proud smile. "one day she will be her old self again and the crusty eyes, gunshot wounds, sleepless nights will all be worth it."

we continue to talk for hours, what seems like minutes as I keep downing the liquid gold that oh so sweetly burns my throat. we talk, we dance, we smoke, we drink until the clock turns to midnight as I drift off to a land of dreams, completely closing out the noises around me.

I wake up in a fluffy bed, annoyed by whoever decided to keep the blinds open, but since the sun decided to wake me up so rudely I rise and follow the sound of delicate music. My skin erupts in goosebumps as my feet touch the ice-cold floor, I walk mindlessly in the direction of what seems to be a kitchen tended by a woman whose black ponytail dances freely to the classical music coming from the radio.

"tsk, tsk, tsk. look who decided to show up! and I thought I'm going to be eating breakfast alone again."

my eyes widen and my blood stops in my veins as my big sister turns around with a huge plate of goodies in her hand.

"what, are you hangover again? for god's sake, N, how often did I tell you to stop drinking during the week? sit down and eat, you can take a pill after that."

I instinctively obey her and take place at the dinner table, but as soon as I look up we find ourselves in a different scenario. this time, we are sitting outside in the sun. Utahime wears a thin, red sundress while reading a magazine, slurping on some icy drink. the way her expression changes as soon as she spots some juicy gossip, I get reminded of our mother. the endless similarities scare me sometimes.

"Isn't it so pretty outside? sometimes I forget we're in Night City."

Utahime smiles as she pours me a drink.

"the only way someone forgets they're in Night City is if they have a sister with a cushy job like mine."

right, I almost forgot how well off we used to be when Utahime was working for big-shot corpos. sure, I already had a job when I was seventeen, but that chump change of eurodollars wasn't even cousins with the amount Utahime was making.

"true, but it's not bad to forget sometimes." she takes off her shades and slowly looks at me. "you should forget about me, N."

her words strike me like the bullet in my shoulder from that maelstrom gang member last week. I open my mouth to ask her what she means, to protest, to curse at her, but nothing comes out. the sudden vibration in my pocket pulls me out of the dream and I yank my phone. God save the fucker on the end of the line.

"da fuck you wan'?"

after a couple of seconds of baffled silence, my ripperdoc, Shoko starts to speak.

"I should've guessed you're in some ditch drinking your liver away."

"ouhh, heyyy Shoko. M'bad, m'sry for bein' a bitch. Wassup?"

she lets out a disappointed sigh, I could make out some unfamiliar voices in the background.

"Listen, N, I need you to pull yourself together. someone I know has a job for you, important."

"mhhm, okay. just...just send me the deets. call you back in the morni-"

"No, N, listen to me. The job is from..." She stops mid-sentence while her heels bring her to a more secure spot. "Fucking listen to me, this job is what you've been looking for. High risk, high eddies but I know you need this and I know you can handle it. The job is from fucking Sukuna Ryomen. You have one hour to get back to me, I expect to hear back from you."

she hangs up immediately and before I know it, my feet are unconsciously dragging me towards the restroom. Sukuna Ryomen's name echoes through my mind as the nasty mix of enchiladas and amel exists through my mouth.

Sukuna Ryomen, 43 years old, has been around as long as I can remember. Came from Tokyo to the NUSA, began his career as a street boxer, won every street and official fight in Night City, until he retired and rebranded; today, he is a rich businessman and the leader of The Unwanted, a mid-sized gang that unofficially controls the Westbrook district. Word on the street is, that the less they are the more dangerous. You need high-tech weapons, cyberware, information? You seek out Sukuna. You need someone to be offed? He is your best man. He even convinced big-shot netrunners like Geto Suguru to work for him, a huge accomplishment. That man single-handedly offed 52 netrunners just by hacking into their network, while exposing classified information about a plague that caused the death of more than 14 million people. Geto Suguru was/is a one-man army and bowed to no one until he did to Sukuna Ryomen.

my mind continues to race as I wash my mouth and face, Shoko's words echoing like a never-ending record. I quickly run to the counter and pay Jina for her service, I sprint to my car without a word. My trembling hands take out Utahime's picture and I just smile.

this could be our big break, 'hime. i do this job, i climb up the ladder, we get you that treatment and you'll be back to your normal self again. this is it, 'hime, this is it!

i swiftly start the car and make my way to Kabuki, where Shoko's clinic resides, praying that the badges don't notice my blatant drunk driving.

gotta do this, for her sake. for our sake.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #choso kamo #choso x reader #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk edgerunners #alternate universe #shoko ieiri #jjk #utahime iori #sukuna ryomen

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div1nity · 2 years

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@freeddead 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 : ❝ what does cora's bedroom typically look like. ❞ ——— （ RANDOM HEADCANONS ‣‣ ALWAYS ACCEPTING ）

CANON 01 :

a mattress on the floor ( twin, 39x75 ) the covers are typically dark - black on black - a duvet is folded at the bottom of the bed for her to reach over and pull it over, but mostly she uses her chequered blanket, thin and super light.

walls are painted dark grey, carpet is a light. though there is a positive in all this, leaned against the walls and the extra space, there's canvases, blank, half painted and fully completed works. there's her own drawings hung up on the walls in a clustered pile, these papers will soon become the ground works for her future graphic novel series - blueprints. there's a white desk in the far corner, the surface stained with multi colours of paints, sketches scratched into the wood with a knife ( rough, but she really loves those ) - it looks more like an art room than an actual bedroom.

she has two piles that move around a lot ; a comic book, book and a record pile, they're a little frayed in places, but she loves them. they're one of the few ways where she spends her money on items deemed luxury ( including art supplies in this.) her comics are mostly filled with horror concepts, though does have subjects in fantasy - as for regular books - while there is fiction, it's mostly non fiction : history based around greece, egypt, china - all that good fun, its a growing pile depending on what she feels like learning about. there is a possibility where if you walk in there, you're going to kick a book across the room.

there's a blue case under her desk that she sometimes uses it to up her feet up, inside is records ; not a lot, just focusing on her most favourite artists ; NWA, D12, fugees, 2pac, biggie, cypress hill, guns and roses are the ones that i feel like she really focuses on. where's her record player ? how about you mind your own business ( she doesn't own one:( )

at this point, she's still getting over the trauma of living on the streets - her apartment really represents that. she finds her place really overwhelming and even subconsciously is waiting for the whole place to get ripped from her, getting comfortable isn't something she's good at - but she really, really tries because she wants to have somewhat of a normal life moving forward, which is why she makes it safe in the way she knows best ; littering the space with art.

CANON 3 :

finally my rich girl has realized her worth and realized she doesn't need to live in a hobble… she has treated herself to an alaskan king bed, cushioned white frame, even has those curtains that hang at the top with a rich royal blue - has a mix of colours available for them - bed is covered in decorative pillows, vintage looking ones to modern ones that are different shades of blue, grey and purples - her duvet covers can be very traditional at times, sheets that are very reminisce of a rich girl in the 18/1900s - she really leaned into her vintage heart when it comes to her bed, it's very comfortable, fluffy, jump on it and its like falling on a cloud; don't lay in her bed you wont ever want to leave.

dark wooden flooring with a fluffy white rug that spans across the floor, a gas fire on the right side of the room, the room is large, open, and very bright - its a clear representation of her headspace and how much she's grown.

she has some white shelves, filled with photos of vacations, new friends made, as well as awards that she's gained during this time - antiques, too ; authentic greek and egyptian pottery that she bought, sculptures from her favourite artists through the years, gifts gained from work partners - look on the bottom and you see some out of place cthulhu statue with some horror stuff from in the middle of this, truly living her best life.

coraline also absolutely has replicas of greek paintings, and while she can't hang them all up in her bedroom ; she has one wall where she puts a new painting up every month ( or week, depending on her mood ) - you could walk in and see the painting the fall of phaeton, the next time you do you'll see the lament for icarus - it really is a lucky dip.

#i wasn't sure where to put this so add on. she has a circle window because i said so <3 #looks out into her back garden and its all just so bright and cozy:(#so much better than her shitty lil bedroom before #she actually has an art room and a study so no longer is her shit just laying around.#and yes. you will find her record in the study and it does go walk about around the house SOHDFOSIFS #freeddead #inbox.#absolutely not formatting this get fucked actually LMSODFSOIFSH #headcanon.

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mystilotls · 4 years

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Tokyo Soul AU: Chapter one

Song: Cabinet Man

Tw: Implied gore, implied death, violence, shipping

This is for the peeps who don’t watch TS, these chapters are for the plot of this au.

also PLEASEEEEEEE send me asks ( @ask-mystis-aus ) im opening an “ask the characters event with drawn reactions so-

Enjoy, (no grammar check, we fail like men)

Long ago in a dimension where time doesn’t exist, where every up is a down, Where space is irrelevant, and when Cthulhu ruled with his army of demons, inflicting terror and darkness to all.

However, there was one soldier in the army that seemed more powerful than the rest.

This demon went by many names but to mere mortals, he was referred to as Necro.

Necro could manipulate all, even the dead, Necro could summon anyone or anything at will, Necro possesses all knowledge of any dimension he sets foot in, and most importantly, it is dangerous to make a deal with him. For if you shake his hand, the consequences could be dire.

Demons found Necro’s powers to be too catastrophic and after a long war between them, Necro, and Cthulhu, the demons of the realms were victorious.

Cthulhu was banished to R’lyeh where he built up the once fallen empire he had.

As for Necro?

Necro was trapped in a spellbook, and to add insult to injury, his prison was labeled as the “Necronomicon”. The Necronomicon was banished to a far void, where it was rare for anyone to even find it.

Even when the Necronomicon was found, He is forced to share his wisdom of the dimensions he has traveled to and or harmed. He watches as wars break and mass genocide all from trying to obtain him.

He loves watching but he vows, one day, someone will free him and he will return.

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

“That’s the book we need!” a voice had exclaimed, it seemed to have belonged to a young man with an accent that is different from his colleagues

Necro had gotten up from the corner he normally sat in, at first spending unbearable moments with nothing but dribbling fools constantly grabbing your cell and splattering blood of their former friends on you can get irritating, but since there was nobody to bother him, he often learned to meditate and ignore his surroundings.

Until now.

However, these mortals seem like a change of pace for once. Necro crawled over to where the seeing eye is and looks out to see a bag of flesh grabbing his cover, he tries to remember what lifeform this was and had come to the conclusion that these were creatures from the Earth dimension. Necro never was able to take over this world but he heard stories that the smartest creatures...humans were just as if not more as primitive than the other idiots he had slaughtered like the sacks of meat they are.

These humans seemed like no exception.

Necro looked back and thought this was too easy, none of these fools know what the Necronomicon truly is. All the easy to watch as they destroy themselves. Just a simple compliment or a simple suggestion and he already knows there is going to be delicious anarchy everywhere.

Necro watched as he was being held by the obvious animal hybrid of a human and a long-eared rat humans call rabbits. Necro could easily tell behind the dirty rabbit beanie this mortal calls a disguise.

“It called the Necronomicon” “good eye, genius” Necro mumbled hearing the echo of the freak holding his book and wonders Since he looks like a freak in his dimension, would he be an easy pawn and not clash with his army. He eventually got his attention drawn to the young man from before.

“Oh no, no! No, I’m out” Necro watches from the seeing eye and grins wickedly. This human is smart enough to know his left from his right yet dumb enough to fall for all types of manipulation

He is perfect.

~ Necro groaned listening to them babble on about nothing that interests him. He then chuckled when his “friends” started to insult him. This is just too easy. He had been talking to the rabbit hybrid but his insults were to no avail. Meanwhile the blond, the rabbit had broken him so much that a simple insult or a compliment could make him all his.

“As ugly as a wart too,” Necro said, loud enough for all of them to hear and he got the blond’s attention. Great, now to add gas to this unstable fire.

He tries to hide his grin as the rabbit hands over the Necronomicon to the blond. This pawn seemed easier to control since the rabbit is too broken and too wrapped up in his own fantasies, it would just be a waste of time.

Necro was grabbed out of his thoughts when he was spat on by the blond.

“Well that was a bit unnecessary” Necro mumbled

“This is too boring and such a waste of time to try and get out of this damn book,” Necro thought as he just laid in the void. If only he had his actual body, then he could just watch as Cthulhu’s armies could mow down all these useless souls. Watching as they beg for mercy but then vaporate mid-sentence, at least then it would be a little fun.

He got up and floated around in a sitting position. He thought it was time to try something different

“Take out the nurse. End him” Necro whispered in the blond’s ear. He saw the rabbit’s ears perk up and walk to the other young male.

“The Necronomicon wants us to kill Dr. Nurse, dude!”

“And you want to listen to a TALKING BOOk”

Necro sucked air through his teeth, he may not listen to him now but he soon will. He looked through the seeing eye and saw

Cthulhu, in the body of some sort of walking creature that apparently lives in their water, all he knows is that this animal shouldn’t be walking on land.

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

Grian held the Necronomicon during his date with Silly. It was more of a peer pressure date (he liked Silly in a sisterly way) but he was confused. He thought he was with Taurtis.

Taurtis comes to his bed every night for cuddles and Tuesdays are a day when they can be all alone, but was Taurtis just using him to relieve tension, just his constant play toy for him to use while he goes dating other girls?

Taurtis keeps claiming that he is just taking the girl out for a date so she can help him “get his hair back” but the half-shaved head works for Taurtis. However, he is growing his hair back and that’s all that matters.

Suddenly, this cursed book ripped him away from his thoughts. The Necronomicon had been whispering to Sam yet Grian was the one to have to listen. While Sam went to go get Jorje from Mr. Chupa, Grian looked and saw many shadows of arms grab for Grian’s. They wrapped around him before reaching for his face, cupping his cheek before grabbing for his throat. His eyes went white as he gasped for air.

Grian screamed before tripping and falling to the floor, panting heavily. Silly had rushed to help him up. He looked at his hands to see the shadows gone and all of the students and Mr. Chupa stare at him in confusion.

“Grian, are you oka-?” Silly’s gentle question of worry was interrupted when Grian got up and ran upstairs, Silly could see him with eyes of fear and worry.

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

Grian ran into a bathroom stall before slamming the door. He threw the Necronomicon and opened it to see the undecipherable font which is on every page. He growled before ripping the pages right out of the book, ignoring all the pained grunts from the disembodied voice. Using the sound of torn paper to encourage him.

“Why do you do this, why do you put up with what you do. Cthulhu told me you wanted to go home, that’s not what you really want. I may be a book but I can read you like an open one. You just want respect, You just want to be loved, You want to be wan-”

“SHUT UP!” Grian screamed as he threw the damaged book on the floor, huffing as he glared into the seeing eye which he couldn’t tell if it winked or blinked.

“I’m not just a book you know” Grian gasped as he heard a whisper right in his ear, nobody was behind him but he could feel a weight on his shoulders as if someone was trying to be comforting. It sent shivers through him as he shook it off.

“I can give you respect, I can make people listen to you, I can help you get all the power you deserve” Grian pushed against the door. His eyes wide as he tries to get his bearings straight. This isn’t the weirdest thing by a longshot but something about this made him uneasy. He looked down to the seeing eye and saw red.

“All you need to do is-”

SMASH

Grian stomped on the eye of the book and kept stepping on the cover. He heard a chuckle and soon laughter

“Well, thats all I need, Thanks for the invite~”

A dark mass appeared from the seeing eye before it rushed into Grian’s lungs. He fell and hit his head on the bathroom floor, passing out.

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

Taurtis was starting to be concerned about Grian, he just stopped talking for the rest of the day, he wouldn’t even look at them or let go of the Necronomicon. Taurtis waited for Grian to come out of the bathroom so they could cuddle, he sleeps better on a bed than a mat but he feels more comfortable with another human next to him

Meanwhile, Grian looked at his hands before looking in the mirror, seeing his reflection gaining red pupils and sharp, dagger teeth

“Ah, It feels great to have a body again” Grian chuckled before hearing the bathroom door knock.

#original post #original au #Tokyo Soul #yandere high school #yandere highschool #ts #yhs #samgladiator #taurtis #taurian #grian #yhs grian #ts grian #yhs taurtis #ts taurtis #Tokyo Soul au book series

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robbyrobinson · 3 years

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OWL HOUSE X CTHULHU MYTHOS: GOD AWAKEN (24)

Camila found herself alone in a dark, dank room. Around her wrists were tightly bound in a rope extending from the ceiling. It had now been a few hours since she was cruelly torn away from her only daughter. Her daughter may as well be dead at that point. Every passing hour, Camila tried in vain to loosen the strains weighing her down. The thought of what could become of her daughter filled her with determination, but even that was not enough to make a dint.

“Mija.”

The door swung open alerting the middle-aged woman. Any hope that it was her daughter on the other side were quickly dashed when she was met with the cold, luminous glow of a golden mask.

“It is time, daughter.”

Camila squinted her eyes in a scowl. “Whatever you have planned, you will not prevail.”

Emperor Belos let out a low, hazy chuckle. He was in such a sickly state his ribs were poking through his robes. At that rate, taking the life essences of palismans was not enough to delay the inevitable. Death was now knocking at Emperor Belos’ door to claim him and it occurred to Belos that Death was not a patient fellow. “I am really going to miss your feisty attitude; maybe that is where Luz got her fire from.”

Camila wanted to bash Belos’ mask in until his skull cracked from the pummeling. “Leave my daughter out of this.”

Belos raised his hand in objection. “Fret not, daughter: I will take good care of your daughter.” He turned away from Camila and exited through the door. “I will raise her to the perfect child. Better than you ever were.”

Emperor Belos firmly grasped his staff. He inhaled deeply and exhaled through the tiny slits in his mask. His legs were clenching up giving him a near gallop to his walk. The Owl Spy walked down the hall seeing his lord staggering.

“Any problem, your Majesty?”

Belos waved his head to save face. “Just interrogating the human woman.”

“I see. Luz and the Owl Lady are still locked away, so there should be little issue for the occasion.”

“Excellent; you have always been a loyal follower,” Belos lamented. “By the way, have you seen Kikimora? She is usually the one who would oversee these public punishments.”

The Owl Spy bowed his head. “It’s a shame, really. I cannot believe the odds of this happening.”

Belos tilted his head quizzically. “What pray tell?”

“Our Kikimora was in your laboratory earlier, and for the likes of me, I don’t know how it happened.”

Belos tapped his fingers on the tip of his staff. “Well, what is it? Go on.”

“Kikimora...lost her footing and fell into one of your vaults. She was not in too much pain from the looks of it. It was like...taking a long sleep.”

Belos loosened his grasp on his staff. “Well. That’s a pity.”

Belos resumed walking in the opposite direction without much thought aside from finally getting revenge on his adoptive daughter. When he was completely gone, the Owl Spy opened the door to Camila’s cell. Camila tensed up when she heard the door open again.

“Are you back to mock me more?” She looked at the site of the opened door instead seeing the Owl Spy. “You’re...you’re not Belos.”

The Owl Spy nodded and removed his mask. “Your daughter happens to be friends with my daughter.”

“Oh. Well, why are you here?” Camila walked backward as a way of trying to get as far away as she could.

“Relax, I am not going to hurt you,” he reassured.

“I’m sorry that I am having a hard time believing what any of you witches tell me,” Camila said, “after all, it was your coven that attacked the hospital I was working at and dragged me kicking and screaming to this world.”

The Owl Spy nodded in understanding. “Listen to me: your daughter is still alive, and she is fighting to save you.”

Camila perked up. “Take me to her, please.”

The Owl Spy put his finger on her mouth. “Not too loud...I do have a plan, just listen carefully.”

Amity sprinted down the halls with the knowledge that her siblings were locked away in the dungeon. Her breath was getting heavier and all the running was making her legs sore, but the pain was only a minor stumbling block.

“I just hope Luz has the glyphs ready.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see the mighty door of the dungeon coming into crystal view. In front of the door, two large burly guards were in front of it. Given their attire, it was easy to identify them as working for the dreaded Conformatorium. Amity quickly hid in a wall’s corner hoping to have been silent enough to not be heard. She glared out from behind the wall and saw that the guards were still none the wiser. In fact, they were having a conversation from the looks of it, but about what the witch-in-training did not know nor care.

Amity took her finger and drew a spell circle into the air drawing forth a fire ball. This too she had to do in great silence. She held the ball in the palm of her hand and watched it flicker as it danced around. She took one final look and flung it. She quickly dashed herself away when the guards took the bait and ran to find the origin of the sound.

Amity raced her way to the door now seeing that locks of varying shapes and sizes were all over the door. The witch girl looked around in some ways hoping that the key wasn’t too far behind. Having another idea in mind, Amity placed her hands on the door and inhaled. With a wave of her hand, permafrost began to manifest from her palms and wrists before spreading in all directions on the door. She could feel the door’s metallic design shift underneath her palms becoming converted to solid ice.

Once the door was completely frozen, Amity looked around for something she could pitch at the door. Scanning her surroundings, Amity grabbed a medium-sized rock and tossed it at the door. Much like breaking grass or fine china, the door broke into fragmented pieces and shattered. Without much prompt, Amity immediately dashed in on the off chance that the two guards from earlier returned. It took little effort to see that her siblings were in a cell together.

“Edric, Emira!”

She dashed to their cell, stopping just short of the bars. Now, Edric was nothing more than fragile glass: he was sprawled on the floor in capable of moving. From her sister’s wailing, Odalia likely arrived earlier and withdrew another hit of magic. Now, the boy’s magic sac was completely depleted. Without magic to balance off of, he was a vegetable. Emira looked up to her baby sister. Mascara was running from her eyes.

“Mittens?”

Amity hushed her. “Don’t worry, I’m here now. Once I get the staff, we’ll have our brother back.”

Emira’s eyes widened fearfully. “Look out!”

Amity jumped out of the way of a red beam that sliced into the floor of the dungeon leaving a deep cut in it. “So you’ve come to stop us?”

Amity clenched her fists. “Mother.”

Odalia held the staff in her hand and it shined its ominous red glow. “Why must you prevent Lord Nyarlathotep’s plans?”

“Mother, can’t you see that Nyarlathotep had corrupted you?” Amity asked “the staff has to be destroyed.”

Odalia shook her head. “I have finally gotten everything that I could have ever hoped for.”

“You’re insane.”

“Because of Lord Nyarlathotep, I have gone up exceedingly on the pecking order of this isle; I am a part of an elite group of magic, and now, with his help, I have become one of the most powerful witches on the Boiling Isles! Maybe even second to the Emperor himself! After years of trying to upkeep the proud Blight name, I am now reaping the benefits of that labor.”

Amity got up on feet. “If you let Nyarlathotep and Belos win, then the family line will die with you.”

Odalia firmly grasped the staff in her hand. “You have always been a perpetual thorn in my side, haven’t you?”

Amity did not respond. Her mother continued her tirade.

“You should be more grateful to your mother that I even allowed you to be born. After all these years molding you until you achieved perfection, you instead chose to throw that all away by continuing to see that half-witch behind my back, and I would have at least loved it that you’d befriend...I don’t know maybe a river troll...but no, once that human vermin encroached on our world, you have always been by her side...Why? Are you really telling me that all that time and energy I put into raising you so you could be the best that you could possibly be was all for naught? You are an insult to the Blight family name.”

Amity shook her head in defiance. “The only insult to our family is you.”

“Is that so? Is that how you really feel?”

Amity nodded whilst gripping the ground.

“Death it is then.”

Odalia shot fire balls from the staff in a flurry. Amity instinctively dodged them and shot ice from her finger tips. It quickly froze the balls of fire and they dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

Odalia slammed the staff on the ground creating a tremor. The earth opened up to swallow Amity whole. Once more with quick thinking, the witch girl fell into the hole but bounced back. Odalia stared into the crevice seeing that she created a barrier that bounced her off.

“All that talent, spoiled.”

Odalia lifted the gem of the staff to the sky and twirled it. A crackle of sound came from the gem and it began to glow a bright, crimson red as it charged. Odalia flashed a smile and discharged a ball of light. Amity created another barrier this time large enough to cover the cell of the twins. “Stop this at once! Edric and Emira could get in the way!”

Odalia laughed to herself. The barrier was quickly starting to destabilize from the eldritch powers eating away at it. “This magic is infinitely more powerful than the run-of-the-mill variety you have been studying.”

Amity drew more attention to the barrier. She twirled her finger once more and fired it into the barrier. Holes began to form inside of the barrier which the witch girl tried to fight by hardening it. Sweat was beating down from Amity’s forehead. Her fingers started chafing from the prolonged time she put into resealing the barrier. She sensed the magic being cast from her magic sac was draining slowly. If it were to completely disappear, Amity would be sure to faint.

“I am going to stop you no matter what!”

Odalia shot more of the alien light at the orb forming. It was readily eclipsing the size of the barrier Amity devised. Amity’s knees clamped together. “Just a little more...”

The barrier shattered sending Amity flying back. Amity’s eyes fluttered open seeing the Blight matriarch approaching her. She went to get off her back, but Odalia pinned her down with the staff. It was pressed firmly on her stomach. The gem once more shined brightly.

“If only you would’ve been a better daughter.”

She lifted the staff up and flipped it. The growing gem reflected in Amity’s eyes. The power inside of it surged and crackled. There was a sudden surge of heat coming from the object. On instinct, Amity rolled over and kicked the end of the staff.

“You brat!”

Odalia made a grab for the gem, but Amity took her other leg and tripped the matriarch with it. Odalia held out her hand but it was too late. The gem made contact with the ground and shattered into millions of pieces. A green mist slithered put of the remnants and entered the cell holding Edric. The gaseous cloud hovered over the boy and entered the orifices of his face.

Edric’s skin returned to its former glory, and when he inhaled, his skin bubbled up as it was filled with the magic it was deprived of. Edric opened his eyes, looking around. “Guys? What’s going on?”

Emira’s eyes widened and she sighed in relief. “Edric!”

Before Edric could say anything, she spontaneously hugged him. “You’re crushing my ribs.”

Odalia screamed and clung onto the pieces of the destroyed staff. In her blind anger, she grabbed Amity by her neck and lifted her in the air. “You ungrateful, insolent, self-absorbed brat!”

Amity grabbed her mother’s hands attempting to pry them off her. “Lord Nyarlathotep will be most displeased when I tell him what you have done!”

A crackle grabbed their attention. On the ground, another mist was growing. It widened into a flat circle and opened up. “What is this??”

The hole began to suck whatever was in its path inside it. The sound of legions of flutes emitted from the hole now understood to be a portal. It had the two warring family members in its proximity and was sucking them in. Amity grabbed the cell bar for dear life. “What if that is Nyarlathotep’s dimension? Then that means...”

“Whatever Nyarlathotep had in that dimension was likely feeding on Edric’s magic,” Emira interrupted. She shook. “And I think they’re still hungry.”

Amity’s finger tips were starting to give way. She walked timidly so she could be close enough to grab another bar. Odalia grabbed her. “If those monsters are hungry, you will satiate their hunger!”

The older woman ripped Amity’s hold of the bar and tossed her on the ground. The pressure of the portal grabbed the rim of her shirt to draw her in. Her legs flailed around to catch solid ground.

“Mittens!” the twins shouted.

Odalia observed her daughter’s struggling with indifference and turned to walk away. Black tentacles burst through the portal’s opening and, for some indiscernible reason, bypassed the witch girl and instead grabbed a hold of Odalia’s legs.

“What? Me!?”

It jerked Odalia on the ground, flopping her on her chest. She sunk her long fingernails into the ground. “No, you can’t have me! My bloodline! You cannot do this to me, I am a BLIGHT!!”

But what Odalia did not understand was that there existed beings of unknowable shape and form, some that are older than the universe itself, and they give little thought to the status of the person they are interacting with. The Boiling Isles itself and all the witches within were small specks of dust that the gods would step on without malice but cannot be burdened with our conventional morality.

The tentacles jerked harder on her legs. The once proud matriarch of the Blight family was now reduced to a powerless bully who was begging for her life. Her fingernails scrapped the floor leaving marks in it when the final pull was administered. She shrieked one final time before becoming engulfed by the portal and disappeared. Amity plopped on the ground her heart beating fast.

“Where do you think it sent her?” Edric asked.

“Who knows,” Amity replied. “But now that it’s over, time to get you both out.”

Unbeknownst to them, their mother was ripped from the demon realm and was cast into a dimension outside of space-time, the unfathomable void that the Outer Gods made their domain. It is there where Odalia’s mind would melt from the presence of the gods and she would be an unintelligible mess and the fibre of her being would be shredded for eternity.

#the owl house #owl house #fanfiction #owl house fanfiction #cthulhu mythos #cthulhu #odalia blight #amity blight #fanfic

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casshasfangs · 3 years

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money for nothing

insp

The first thing that The Band Cthulhu learned about award shows, was the staggering amount of free shit they could get. It felt a bit ridiculous to Cass, who had grown up bathing in money, able to buy whatever he wanted on a whim. It made Shosh feel luxurious and fancy, ordering expensive champagne. And it turned Rhett into a fucking kleptomaniac.

While Rhett scooped as many free mini-bottles into her bag as the extension charm could carry, Cass and Shosh were getting steadily wrecked.

Cass was already a little drunk when they went on stage for their award, having won ‘Best Newcomer’. He left Rhett and Shosh to give the acceptance speech, but when they forced him to say something, maybe recognising this as a moment, and definitely not realising how buzzed he was, Cass had just whimpered into the microphone, “Stevie Nicks is here.”

Back at the table, their award, a small brass cup, was being used as a receptacle for bottle caps. Cass twisted the cap off yet another bottle of wine, flicking the cap in comically. It landed square in the middle of the cup and Shosh cheered, throwing both her hands up. Someone’s tie was wrapped around her forehead- and Cass hadn’t been wearing a tie that night.

Having given up on glasses, Cass sipped his wine from the bottle, barely even noticing when someone came to sit at their table. Assuming it was yet another music exec rubbing up to them, Cass was content to let Piper do the mingling for all of them, but the visitor merely cleared their throat.

Cass eyed him through the green glass of his bottle, then had a sip, putting the bottle down.

“Good evening, congratulations on your award-”

“Oh, fuck off, Duncan,” Cass rolled his eyes, sloshing his words about as he pointed his wine bottle in the Minister for Magic’s Direction. “How ‘bout you go suck a hippogriff.”

Shosh and Rhett laughed, Shosh wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.

“I’m glad you’re all enjoying yourselves,” He said, apparently unperturbed by their behaviour. Minister Duncan adjusted the sleeves of his suit, “I trust we can count on you to be as vocal about your support for the UK to have the Being delegate seat at the International Confederation of Wizards?”

“The fuck would we do that for?” Rhett scoffed, and Shosh nodded impassively.

The brown haired girl leaned forward, poking her finger in his direction. “We stand for justice, Minister. You stand for fucking your sister.”

The Minister stood, affronted. “Well. I can see we’re-”

“What?” Cass cocked his head, pulling a puzzled expression. “Do you usually sit, instead? Does she do the standing?”

With that, the Minister for Magic was sent on his way, while the band laughed so hard they cried. Rhett reached for yet another free bread roll, ripping it apart with her teeth and chewing noisily. They were having the night of their fucking lives.

#i pledge allegiance to the band #rhett #shosh

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thatwitchrevan · 4 years

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I’m writing some ficlets/oneshots about Merilwen and Prudence’s friendship (and potential romance?) just being cute and fluffy/hurt-comfort-y! Here’s the first one, just some fluff and silliness. Whichever of these I finish will end up on ao3 once they’re done and polished.

All was quiet on the Joyful Damnation as it rocked upon the waves, soft creaks and muffled crashes of the ocean gently lulling all onboard. Merilwen imagined it would be quite a pleasant thing to fall asleep to, for those of her companions who needed sleep.

For her part, she was reading at the moment, an old childhood favorite about a stray dog’s adventures as he searched for home. She would meditate later to fully unwind and restore herself, but for now, she was just enjoying some nice peace and calm. Her life had kept pretty interesting ever since she first set out as an adventurer, but traveling with this band of hooligans she’d fallen in with had made her days all the more hectic. As much as she enjoyed the galavanting life, she had learned to treasure these times when the majority of the guild was sleeping and she could decompress.

And yet, as she finished another chapter, she felt herself beginning to get restless. Her thoughts were wandering more and more as she’d continued to read, and she’d grown tired of being still. Well, she thought, gentle exercise was good for stress, too. So she bookmarked her page and got up, wrapping a quilt loosely around her shoulders as she left her quarters.

She meandered onto the deck, letting the wave noises wash over her as they became louder and more distinct. She followed her feet across the deck to the bow, taking in the dark realm of the ship and the equally dark sea with her keen eyes. It took her barely a second to spot the seated figure sat near the bow - somebody who looked to be wrapped up in their own bundle, facing away from her, but the long winding horns were a dead giveaway.

Merilwen walked up to Prudence, slow and loud enough to alert the tiefling to her presence without being startling. Prudence didn’t look up as she approached, but a slight shift in her posture indicated that she heard. As Merilwen reached her friend, she looked down and saw two large grimoires sitting around Prudence. The books were just quietly snuggled up to their owner and purring, but seeing Merilwen they perked up with curiosity.

Merilwen stood beside Prudence and smiled down at her. "Evening, Prudence."

Prudence looked up sideways and smiled. "Hey, Merilwen. Got bored of your little elf trance?"

Merilwen smirked. She knew by now Prudence didn't mean anything by light teasing - if she did, it'd be a lot less light. "I haven't done my meditation yet. But I did want some fresh air, yeah."

Prudence patted a spot on the deck next to her. "Well, pull up a chair."

Merilwen sat, crossing her legs and pulling her quilt snug around her. She took care to give Prudence about a half foot of space between her knee and the tiefling's side, knowing that neither Prudence nor her book babies would be thrilled about her getting up in their space without further invitation.

Prudence seemed relaxed with her though, which was good. In the beginning, she'd been the most apprehensive to teaming up and especially to spending one on one time with the others. But after traveling together for a while, Prudence had learned that her friends weren't going to shy away from her or judge her like so many people did.

“So what about you?” Merilwen asked. “You listening to the waves?”

“Enjoying the quiet,” Prudence snorted. “This lot seems to get louder and louder every day. Don’t get me wrong, I love the chaos, but a girl needs her dark contemplation time.”

Merilwen smirked, angling her face down so it wasn’t obvious to Prudence. They fell into a companionable silence, rocking gently on the boat, listening to the waves and the snoring of Prudence’s grimoires.

Merilwen got lost in calm, gentle thoughts, relaxation washing over her. After a while, though, a movement in her peripheral caught her eye. She glanced over at Prudence, who appeared to be trembling slightly. Worry spiked her, concern that the tiefling might be upset about something, and Merilwen moved to reach for her. But she just as quickly realized that Prudence wasn’t trembling, exactly - she was shivering.

Again, Merilwen couldn’t help the tiniest, wry smile at the realization. It was always nice to be reminded that Prudence was just like everyone else - well, mostly. She nudged her. “You cold, Prude?”

Prudence tossed her a small, unconvincing frown. “No! I’m fine, leave me alone.”

Merilwen just laughed, shaking her head. She lifted her arm, offering the corner of her quilt. “May I?”

Prudence continued to frown, looking at Merilwen as if she was weighing up the cosmic costs and benefits of accepting a kind gesture from a friend, or letting an untainted soul close to hers. Within a brief moment, she seemed to decide that either Cthulhu wouldn’t mind her snuggling a wood-elf, or that she was too cold to care. She scooted closer, allowing Merilwen to wrap her arm and the quilt around her shoulders. Prudence pulled the corner of the quilt tight around her, her shivering ceasing as she did.

“Thanks,” she muttered, only a little begrudgingly. Merilwen smiled, and the grimoires stirred and snuggled up to both of their knees. The warm sense of calm washed over Merilwen once again, even stronger this time. She leaned against Prudence a little, appreciating the feeling of mutual trust and friendship. This was, she realized, exactly the quiet she was looking for.

#oxventure #merilwen #prudence #demonwoods #fanfic #fanfiction #griffin writes #if anyone knows what merilwen is reading tell me for brownie points #i know there's plenty of lost dog stories but there's one in particular that i loved growing up #please do reblog and comment if you enjoy this!#like i said it'll be on ao3 when it's edited #and i do intend to do more as long as I continued to have inspiration for it #these two are cute and i love them

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virtuoshosh · 4 years

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Hey Shosh.

So it turns out... I’m pretty bad at talking about stuff.

I know I could chat even Peeves’ fucking ears off if I tried hard enough, but I’m really good at saying a lot and not really saying anything at all. It’s a skill, for sure, but not a good one, and I think I’m better at writing shit down so... here goes.

I’m still sorry I fucked up. I know I hurt you, and that wasn’t cool, and I want to make it up to you, so if there’s anything I can do to help make it better then I’ll do it. Even if it means I have to get ‘Big Idiot’ tattooed across my forehead — I’ll do it. You just gotta ask.

The thing with you and Cass? It’s calm. It’s clear you care about him — and Rhett — fiercely like family and so you should. They’re your tribe and that’s really amazing you can share that with them. I don’t know if I get it right now, the donor thing? But I’ll understand. Let me just work it out myself. As long as you’re being safe then you fucking do you, you know? Don’t let anyone else stop you, especially not me.

It’s one of the things that’s so great about you; you don’t stop for anyone. And you shouldn’t, either. But you’re so fearless and I don’t know how you do it. It’s really fucking cool and you make me feel like I could be like that too. The way you care about your friends and the way you stand up for yourself and what you believe in? That’s really badass and I wish I was more like that.

I don’t know if it’s the right thing to say, or even how to say it, but... the way I feel about you? It’s like thunder. Do you feel it as well? Maybe you can.

But you also make me feel like I’m able to confront my biggest fear in the face and give it the middle finger; you just have this energy which inspires something in me that I didn’t even know was there. It’s really good to know someone else is in my corner. It doesn’t feel like I’m so alone anymore and that’s... really nice. So I’m down to do whatever you want to do. Whatever you want to call this — us — if you want to call it anything at all. I just know I really fucking like kissing you and it would be awesome if we could carry on doing that. If you just want someone you can watch movies and make out with, then I’m your girl. Even if you wanted something more than that, you’ve got it - though I bet you’re gonna have thousands of fans going wild for you soon enough and they’re almost definitely going to be cooler than me.

I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m cool with whatever. Because it’s you.

Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.

I hope you have a good summer. You’re going to be amazing. Cthulhu is going to smash it and I’ll be there to yell all your names from the crowd as you take over the whole fucking world. Just be sure to text me once in a while, yeah?

Clem x

#letters #headcanon #july 2020 #clem

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nelllraiser · 4 years

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hey there demons it’s me, ya boi | connor & nell

TIMING: present. LOCATION: nell’s greenhouse. PARTIES: @connorspiracy and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: connor meets with nell for some demon talk, but gets a little more than was expected.

Ever since the coven had excommunicated Nell and her sisters, she saw no particular reason to be as secretive about her dealings with demons as she once had been. Of course, she wasn’t going to shout it from the mountaintops, but if someone was already in on the supernatural and wasn’t a threat, the witch saw no need to hide her knowledge. Who knew, maybe if more people knew about her familiarity with demons, less of them would mess with her and her family. As for Connor, she didn’t see any harm in discussing demons with an exorcist. Besides, it’d be interesting to see if he had any things to share of his own. She’d met the young man at the perimeter of the property, knowing that the reanimated corpse that Bea brought to life wouldn’t be happy if an unknown person entered the premises without the escort of a Vural. “Hey!” she waved an arm in greeting, waiting to lead Connor towards her greenhouse. “Are you ready to see the lair of demons?” Her tone was joking, obviously having nothing of the sort. Well...she supposed Greg’s doghouse might be considered a lair, but there was only one demon in there. Not demons, plural.

Connor followed the directions to Nell’s home, examining it from the outside. It was nice. Spacious, modern but with a woodsy kind of feel, well-maintained. He parked his car at the front, following her inside. “Lair of demons. Great band name,” he teased with a crooked smirk, following her to the greenhouse. “You know I feel like, as an exorcist, I’m supposed to be super against this, but I have loads to learn about demonology still…” Connor was no stranger to doing things he wasn’t exactly supposed to. The whole concept of a YouTube exorcist was enough to put the community on-edge. Might as well go and talk to the girl who kept demons in her back garden. “So is it like a butterfly room, but a greenhouse full of demons?” he asked, only half-joking.

“I’ve got dibs on it,” Nell instantly teased back with her own smirk-like grin. “I’m glad you found the place, though.” Sometimes it was hard for people to navigate the Outskirts, especially if they weren’t White Crest natives. “I mean, you can make your own rules, can’t you?” There was an air of levity to the words, as if she may or may not be serious on the matter. But in the end, who was to say what the rules were for magic? Ghost or otherwise? Her newly estranged coven had tried their hand at that, and failed spectacularly in her eyes. “And it’s always good to have the knowledge, isn’t it? But you said you’ve met a couple demons or so?” she asked as she swung open the door of the greenhouse, it opening to her specific touch on the door handle. As they entered, the plants were as ordinary as any other greenhouse, flowering and flourishing in abundance. It was only as you went deeper that more supernatural things began to pop up. “Oh yeah, this is where I keep all the flying ones,” she joked easily, wondering how much he might believe such a claim.

“You can keep it,” he snickered. Connor had his brand name anyway. The dumb name he’d come up with for his youtube account when he was a teenager. It was a little silly, but he liked it. He could feel the magic in the air around them. There was something intangible about the place, something in addition to the actual, physical demons. He turned his head as a lanky old man with grey skin and dead eyes walked past, not even looking at him. He stared curiously as the man walked away, doing slow laps around the house. “Flying monkeys, like the Wizard of Oz?” Now that would be something. “I mean, I specialise in ghosts. I’ve met a demon or two though.” Like, the total beginner versions, but there was no need to advertise that fact. “What are you, some kind of demonologist?”

“Good, because I would have kicked your butt for it,” Nell continued to joke, no actual threat in her tone and voice. As Bea’s reanimated corpse, Corpsey, walked by— Nell tried to pay him no mind. Maybe if she didn’t say anything about him, Connor wouldn’t either. After all, she hadn’t expressly told him that she was a witch. Of course, all the demon talk wasn’t exactly something that spoke of a regular human, and her familiar in the form of an Ovinikk named Taki letting himself into the greenhouse wasn’t exactly...normal cat behaviour. But she was happy to ignore that all for the moment. Still, she couldn’t resist poking some fun within the confines of his Wizard of Oz analogy. “Exactly like the Wizard of Oz. I’m actually the Wicked Witch of the West. My green skin’s just hidden under some body paint at the moment. Don’t look at me too closely,” she teased. “But okay, what kinds of demons?” As for whether or not she was a demonologist… Nell shrugged as a part of her answer. “I just know a lot about demons is all.”

Kicking Connor’s butt wouldn’t have been hard. He preferred to talk his way out of situations, but he opted not to say anything about it, his eyes instead following the wrinkly-skinned old man as he walked the perimeter of the property. “Oh, um…” He took a moment to answer her question, having to tear his eyes away from the corpse-man and the weird cat. “A few basic ones. Bannik, Badalisc, Alp, and then just the basic non-specific kind, but not that powerful.” Since she’d asked a more leading question, he wasn’t going to outright lie about his prowess. In the days of pulling receipts, he knew it would just bite him in the arse later. “You have a dog?” he asked, eyes drawn to the kennel. “Can I pet him?”

Nell tried to keep her expression neutral as she did her best to mentally shoo Corpsey away. Get out of here, old man! Go be a knock off zombie somewhere else! Of course, it was no use. He couldn’t hear her, and even if he could, he wouldn’t care. After all, since Bea was the one who raised him, she was the one he took orders from. She had to tell Connor something, though. The walking corpse could possibly pass a human, but there was certainly something...off about him to the naked eye. “Oh, don’t worry about him- that’s just Uncle…” Uncle who? “-Cory.” Cory and Corpsey. Good enough. “He’s harmless, but nosy. Probably just wondering why I invited a guy into the greenhouse. He’s a little overprotective,” she added with a light chuckle, and the slightest air of flirtation. Maybe that’d be enough to distract Connor. “But nice! Thankfully those guys don’t usually cause actual death. Were you here when giant Cthulhu Squidward wanted to make the town his own personal Hellscape, though?” She followed his gaze towards Greg’s wooden and spacious doghouse that was just a stone’s throw outside her greenhouse. “Uhhhhh,” she hesitated, deciding how much she should tell Connor. “Well that is actually home to one of the demons,” she finished with a chuckle, figuring telling him about Greg couldn’t hurt. “He prefers eating hands over being pet by them in the beginning.”

“Right,” Connor answered skeptically. “Uncle Cory.” Sure. Why not? Didn’t they all have uncles with grey, decaying skin who walked around in a daze? He gave a lighthearted snicker at her excuse, flashing her a grin. “What, so you don’t normally invite blokes over to the greenhouse? Should I be flattered?” As an exorcist, he was distrusting of demons, but not fully experienced enough to have seen the extent of the horror they could bring. Probably why he was not only inquisitive and curious about Nell’s life, but actually having fun. “No, I missed Squid-thing, and lobster-thing, and fish-rain thing. From what I know about this place though, it’s not long before something else crazy happens.” His gaze was still longingly on the kennel. “A demon dog?!” He was heartbroken. “So… no petting? That’s just cruel.”

“Exactly,” Nell replied brightly, trying to continue down the road of innocence as Connor repeated the name. It didn’t seem like he really bought it, but at least her attempts to draw his attention away from the corpse with a bit of a flirt seemed to be doing something. “I don’t know,” she teased back with her head coquettishly tilted to the side, a small smirk on her lips. “Do you want to be flattered?” So he hadn’t been here for the squid demon. That was probably for the best. After all, it hadn’t exactly been a fun time. “Damn, you really missed out. There was calamari for days by the end of it.” It was true what he said about White Crest, though. There was always something going on in the not-so-sleepy town. It was endearing how excited he seemed by the prospect of a demon dog, though. “Well...petting Greg probably isn’t the best idea just yet. But I have a different demon dog you could pet.” She rolled up one of her sleeves, revealing both the mottled, patchwork scars that covered the entirety of her arms as well as one of her sigil tattoos.

“I’m always flattered when I get compliments from a pretty girl,” Connor answered, his dumb, innocent charm somehow managing to make the line not entirely cringe-worthy. “Especially when she shows me her demons.” He scrunched up his face at the thought of the sky fish falling down around them. “Don’t reckon I’d want to eat that kind of calamari, or giant horse-sized lobster that tried to kill me, although, that would be a pretty sweet victory feast,” he teased. His eyes widened like a kid at Disneyland as the mentioned another demon dog. “Really? Where?” She started to pull up her sleeves. Oh no. It better not have been burned into her flesh or a Quirrel-Voldemort situation. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw she was drawing attention to her tattoo. “What does that do? It looks mystical.”

The corners of Nell’s lips turned upwards in the beginnings of a smirk, amused that he’d somehow managed to pull off the line. “Well it looks like you’re on track for possibly getting more with an attitude like that. Careful though- I might think you’re just using me for my demons,” she finished playfully. A small chuckle was pulled from her before she moved on to talk of meals that may or may not have once tried to kill her and the inhabitants of the town. “That’s the point! It’s the best victory feast! What’s that line about revenge being a dish best served cold? This is revenge literally served as a dish.” Should she tell him about the magic now? Or just let him figure it out himself when three fully grown hellhounds sprang from her arm? The latter definitely had a larger possibility of having some laugh factor, so she opted for that. “It’s a sigil,” she replied with a twinkle in the corner of her eye. Then she was biting her thumb until it bled, and swiping it over the tattoo along with a few muttered words of Latin. Almost instantly, the three demon dogs formed from the magic, excited to have been Summoned.

Connor gave a little laugh. Nell was proving to be pretty good company. “Using you? Not at all. In fact I’d probably get a good belting from most other exorcists for not expelling them back to hell or whatever.” He waved his hands in a playful spooky motion as he spoke. “Call me old-fashioned, but I just don’t trust food that falls out of the sky.” His eyes widened as she bit down on her thumb, but he knew better than most that some rituals required blood. He usually just used a small knife rather than his teeth, though. He kept his eyes on her, watching carefully, and when the hounds appeared, he yelped, almost tripping over a watering can and some potted plants in his rush to get out of the way. This was it. This was how he died; mauled to death by hell-dogs in a greenhouse.

The coy air that Nell had been employing continued to hang around her as she gave the young man in front of her a sly smile. “Wow- you’re really putting yourself out there for me, aren’t you?” The words had an underlying tone of sarcasm as a means of teasing, knowing full well it wasn’t for her benefit. Then she shifted back into a more informative mode. “Yeah, some people call it hell. It’s sort of like...its own separate dimension for them. Like another world you can just yoink them from or yeet them back to. I can’t believe you’re so unwilling to live on life’s edge when it comes to sky food, though.” Had she eaten anything that came from the sky? Definitely not. But it was fun to joke about. The first thing the witch registered was some of her plants almost getting trampled, and a frown was quick to her lips. “Watch out!” she chastised disapprovingly. But then she noticed just how alarmed Connor was, and her hands were quick to come up in a calming motion. “Hey- hey! It’s alright! They’re not gonna hurt you!” As if to prove a point, the friendliest of the hounds, Scooby, padded forwards- considering Connor with a slightly cocked head, ears perked in his direction. “He’ll let you pet him, if you want.”

Connor didn’t scare easily. It was kind of a necessity to have a thick skin when you dealt with demons and spirits almost every day, but bloody hell, Nell had managed to scare the life out of him. “You’re lucky I’m wearing dark trousers,” he teased, finally letting himself laugh as the air seemed to return to his lungs. Now that he knew they weren’t about to play with him like a chew toy, they were actually kind of… cute. “Aw.” He approached, cautiously, hand outstretched. “Hello…” He’d definitely rather be petting a golden retriever, but this was good too. “Where did you get them? How does it work?” He cocked his head, looking over at her tattoo. “You owe me a really good story for almost making me shit my pants. Maybe even a drink. Or some dinner.” He smiled at her coyly.

Nell snickered a little at the mention of his trousers before saying, “Aww- was the big, bad exorcist a little frightened? Maybe my uncle was wrong to be worried about you in the greenhouse.” The words were meant in good fun, just as the rest of her teases had been. As Connor offered a hand, Scooby sniffed at it and eagerly nosed pressed to the palm of his hand as he searched the young man. “He’s looking for treats,” Nell clarified in a gentler voice, one that was generally reserved for the creatures she worked with. “There’s a jar next to you with some bits of meat in it if you wanna give them to him.” She wouldn’t say exactly what kind of meat it was. “I first Summoned Scooby- the one sniffing you- when I was sixteen. You know- with magic. He wasn’t nearly as wanting to be friendly back then but- he got used to me after I worked with him a lot. Then he brought his brothers along one day,” she said gesturing to the other two hounds. “This one’s Shaggy,” she said, pointing to the largest of the lot who was beginning to approach Connor as well, “and this is Scrappy.” The last of the hounds was positioned quite seriously next to Nell, considering the exorcist with an eye that seemed to be deciding whether he’d be a nice snack or not. In a moment her own flirting grin was back on her lips. “Well seeing as it wasn’t that great of a story…” she started, as if she were mulling the thought over. “I could maybe find the time for a drink.”

“I’ll have you know I’m neither big nor bad,” Connor chuckled, self-deprecating. Five-foot-eight accompanied by a slight build and a baby face didn’t exactly strike fear into most people’s hearts. The posh accent and floppy hair, neither. He tried not to piss himself while the hound sniffed at him, and followed Nell’s instructions, tossing him some treats, which got the others pretty interested in Connor too. “I knew there were witches and warlocks and stuff, but I’ve never seen one with… this.” He gestured to the creatures around them, and Uncle Corpsy as he made another pass around the greenhouse. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that this kind of power was both intriguing and attractive. “Well then, love, name the time and place.”

A chuckle fell from Nell as Connor joked at his own expense, and she could appreciate his ability to not take himself too seriously. “My mistake, I guess you just look taller in your videos,” she decided to poke a bit more fun at him. She hadn’t seen tons of them, but after he’d shown her his YouTube channel she’d been curious enough to watch some of the videos. They were interesting to say the least, especially since she didn’t know all that much about spirits or ghosts. Shaggy and Scooby were all too ready to accept treats from Connor, but Nell made sure that Scrappy stayed alongside her, scooping up some separate treats for the smallest of the hellhounds. He was generally the most aggressive, and she wasn’t keen on taking any chances at the moment. Her lips twitched into another smile as he mentioned witches, and nodded in confirmation of that word. “To be fair...Uncle Corbin isn’t mine.” The words were colored with amusement. Apparently the ‘uncle’ ruse hadn’t stuck. But she wouldn’t openly out her sisters that also lived here as witches. Most people simply assumed that the three of them were after finding out that one was a witch, but that was Bea’s and Luce’s business. But a time and place? The words made it sound like more of an actual date to Nell, and she wasn’t sure she wanted one of those. But she was probably overthinking it, and went with the first words out of her mouth. “Dell’s is always good. Or- actually, have you been to The Seven Selkies, yet? It’s got a fun supernatural crowd.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hard to tell how tall someone is when they’re in frame by themselves,” Connor snickered, pulling out his vape (probably bad form to smoke actual cigarettes in someone’s greenhouse). He gave her the kind of smile that said he didn’t exactly believe her when she talked about Uncle Corbin, but he wasn’t going to directly challenge her on it. “The Seven Selkies sounds great.”

#wickedswriting #chatzy #hey there demons it's me ya boi #ch:connor

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max-will-one-day-be-okay · 4 years

Text

Ink On Skin Chapter One

Ethan walked into his little flower shop with a soft smile on his face. His leather jacket had done its job of keeping him warm in the harsh winter outside. He sat behind the desk, ready for another slow day.

Set up beside him were flower arragements he lovingly called the ‘Fuck You’ bouquets. While no one did much research into flowers much anymore, he had put together a bouquet full of flowers which gave the message of hatred. He was proud of how much research he had put into them, even if they weren’t his best sellers.

There were quite a few pre-arranged bouquets for his customers, but there were also lists of flowers and their meanings for those who wanted to make their own. Ethan had spent weeks making the list and fighting with auto-correct.

He sat behind the front desk and took his jacket off, the sleeve of tattoos on his arm now showing to the world. He looked at his forearm, where his favorites were. One of the biggest ones was of a spider standing over a dead cthulhu type. Under it in cursive was just the name ‘Webby’.

He traced the picture with his black nail and pictured who had the tattoo. He had only gone into a tattoo parlor once, to get his ear pierced. His uncle Hidgens had surprised him for his eighteenth birthday by paying for it.

He never wanted a tattoo for himself. He had dealt with enough pain back when he was living at home. Ethan just didn’t see the use of having someone stab ink into his skin. The worries of infection always crept in when he even considered the idea. He was glad that his soulmate liked them though, they were badass.

As the day went on, at around noon he heard loud rock music coming from the tattoo parlor next door. He didn’t mind it, as it was his type of music anyways. He just nodded his head along to the beat as he cleaned up.

Ethan looked up when a nervous looking man walked in. He was tall and had casual business attire on. He was slightly bug eyed, but not unattractive. Ethan moved to stand behind the counter to get the man’s order.

“Hey. What can I do for you?” He asked the nervous man, leaning slightly over the counter and resting on his forearms.

“I want to get some flowers for my girlfriend. Well- not girlfriend. I’m asking her to be my girlfriend. That’s why I’m getting her the flowers.” The man rambled.

“Alright, and what kind of flowers do you want to get her?” Ethan asked, looking for a notepad in the mess that was behind his desk.

“Well I was hoping that you could help me with that.” The man admitted. “I don’t know anything about flowers, and I don’t want to make her one of...well something like that.” He nodded twords the ‘Fuck You’ bouquets. “But, I also don’t want to say I love you to her yet. Since- well it’s not like I don’t love her, she’s my soulmate, of course I love her, bu-” The man looked so nervous he might explode.

“I’m going to cut you off, pal. Don’t want you having a panic attack. I’m thinking of a bouquet with purple delphinium flowers, pink carnations, and gardenias. Very romantic and pretty.” Ethan suggested lightly.

The nervous man seemed to calm down and nodded. When he looked up, Ethan swore that if he hadn’t have cut him off the other would have started crying. “Yeah. That sounds good.” His shoulders relaxed.

“When do you want to pick ‘em up?” Ethan asked.

“Is Thursday too early?” He asked.

“Not at all. They’ll be waiting for you on Thursday, and you can pay me the eighty bucks then. Is that cool?” Ethan raised his eyebrows.

“It is more than cool.”

“I’ll need a name for the order.”

“Paul.”

“Alright Paul. See you on Thursday.”

Ethan watched as Paul left his store and smiled fondly. It was always nice to see when someone really cared about their soulmate.

He took inventory and put aside the flowers he would need for the bouquet. After he had the flowers set aside, he went through his little shop and took care of the flowers that needed it. He took the wilting bouquets off of the shelves and put them with the other sad bouquets in the ‘sale’ portion.

He looked outside and watched as people left the tattoo parlor next door to him. People walked out, and he imagined some of them as his soulmate. Maybe it was the nerdy looking guy with the bowtie. Maybe the girl with short blonde hair and glasses. It was hard to tell when everyone was wearing long sleeves.

There wasn’t much else to do that day. A couple on a date came by. A large muscular man with dark eyes and a small red headed woman holding onto his arm. The man smiled and bought her a reasonably priced bouquet of roses. She had kissed him.

Ethan smiled as they left, the sun setting. He pulled his leather jacket on and took a few tens from the register to pay for his dinner. He didn’t feel like cooking that night (he didn’t have anything to cook), and knew of a shitty coffee place that was always open late. He always made sure to eat at least once a day.

He walked outside and the freezing air hit his face. He looked over to notice the woman who owned the tattoo parlor next door locking up as well. He gave her the obligatory smile as he turned the key to lock the door.

Occasionally they would lock up at the same time. Sometimes she would have her little sister next to her, tonight wasn’t one of those nights. He didn’t know much about the other woman, other than that in winter she wore a big black jacket.

He turned to start walking, then noticed the woman walking the same direction as him. Towards the edge of Hatchet Field. Everything was cheaper there. “Where are you headed?” He asked as he noticed her match his pace.

“Beanies.” Was her short reply.

“Me too!” Ethan gave her a slightly goofy smile, which in turn made her lips turn slightly up.

“Well that’s cool.” She said.

Both of them walked quietly, and Ethan was nervous that he had creeped her out, but she kept walking beside him.

Soon enough, they got to the small coffee shop. Ethan held the door open for her and soon they were both in line at the small counter.

Ethan eyed the numerous pastries behind the glass, thinking about what he would want. There were quite a few options, all of which could make his mouth water since he had skipped breakfast and lunch.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the woman in front of him swear.

“Shit. I’m a few bucks short.” She mumbled. She looked up at the barista who looked done with life apologetically.

“I guess I’ll just get the black coffee. Thanks.” She looked down and made a b-line to a table in the back corner.

Ethan stepped up and looked at the short barista “Um, whatever else she was trying to order, I’ll pay for it.” He said awkwardly, handing the other one of his ten dollar bills. This just meant that he would have a smaller dinner. “And I’ll get a large hot cocoa and a brownie.”

“That’ll be twenty five dollars.” She told him, giving him a quick and forced fake smile. Ethan nodded, giving her the rest of the money he had grabbed. He put the last five dollars into the tip jar.

He sat in an empty seat a few tables away from the woman who owned the tattoo shop. Her name was called first and she walked over to the counter. Ethan couldn’t hear the conversation, but he could hear a surprised tone coming from the woman who owned the parlor.

He looked back down at his phone until a hot cocoa was rather forcefully slammed onto the table. He looked up to see the woman holding her drink. It was labeled ‘Lex’.

“What the fuck man?” She asked, setting two plates down. One had his brownie and the other had the worst looking cinnamon roll he had ever seen. He took his brownie.

“I’m sorry?” He tilted his head.

“Why did you pay for the cinnamon role?” She asked.

Ethan wasn’t sure if she was angry, as she sat down at the seat in front of him and started eating. She still had her jacket on, as well as he did, but she had pulled her hair down. It was wavy and went just above her shoulders.

“I just wanted to be nice. And you look like you’ve had a long day.” He shrugged, taking a drink of his hot chocolate. It wasn’t good, as expected. He was pretty sure that they made it with water. Heathens.

“Oh. Well thanks.” Lex looked down, her shoulders relaxing.

“Where’s your sister?” He asked, just wanting to avoid silence for a bit longer.

“With her babysitter. I was booked solid today, and there wouldn’t be time to bring her out for lunch.” Lex told him, digging into her food.

“Want half of my brownie?” Ethan asked her, already cutting it in half. He was used to skipping meals.

“Thanks…” Lex eyed him suspiciously, taking the brownie.

“What?” Ethan asked.

“I’m not going to sleep with you, you know?” Her eyebrows went up.

“I didn’t think you were.” Ethan hated how squeaky his voice sounded.

“Alright then.”

“Alright.”

The two of them were quiet as they ate. Lex had a slight pink to her cheeks and Ethan didn’t know what to say.

They finished as the barista started closing up. Ethan made sure to thank her before leaving. He still held the door for Lex, who mumbled a ‘thanks’ as she walked past him.

He walked back to his tiny and shitty apartment and unlocked his door. He walked in and saw his cat, Greg, sitting next to his food bowl. As soon as Greg noticed Ethan, he walked up to him and started screaming.

Ethan chuckled and walked over to the beat up fridge, pulling a can of Greg’s food out. He pulled the lid off of the can and emptied it into Greg’s food bowl. Greg stopped wailing and began to eat, his fur going flat against his back. Ethan gave him a pat on his head.

When he was sure Greg was content, Ethan walked back to the fridge and pulled the only thing left out. He sniffed the expired milk before taking a long drink from the gallon. Greg looked over with a face of pure disgust before going back to his food.

“Don't judge me.” Ethan spat back. Greg did not respond.

He shrugged and walked back to the couch after he put the milk back into the fridge. It had a week left before he really had to throw it out based on the taste. He flipped on the lifetime channel and pulled his jacket off.

He smiled when Greg hopped onto the couch and into his lap. Greg was the ugliest cat Ethan had ever seen. He had been walking home from the auto shop when he heard meowing. He had searched for the noise, even though it was coming from an alley and pelting rain.

He found a cat with a flat face, mismatched fur, and mismatched cross eyes. He hid him under his jacket and brought him home. He promised himself that he would bring the cat to the shelter the next day, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Instead, after a few vet visits, Ethan had a cat.

He fell asleep with the tv on and said cat in his lap. He woke up at around three in the morning with a start and sweat down his back. His stomach growled and flopped and Ethan took a second to calm himself down.

He didn’t have nightmares often, but they sucked when he did. He stood up, careful not to wake Greg, and walked into the bathroom. He looked into the mirror and admitted to himself that he looked like shit.

He turned the shower on as hot as it would go and stripped down. He stepped under the stream of hot water and closed his eyes as steam filled the shower.

He washed his hair first, using his favorite lemon scented shampoo. He kept his eyes closed the entire time, just enjoying the hot water that was no doubt turning his skin red.

Too soon for his liking, he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and walked to his sink. He ignored the fogged up mirror and brushed his teeth.

He walked out and back to his bedroom where he swapped the towel out for a pair of red boxers and a shirt he was given by his uncle. It was bright blue and had the title ‘Workin’ Boys’ in large print. He wasn’t even sure what that was, but the shirt was comfortable.

He looked at his uncomfortable bed and sighed before climbing under the scratchy blanket. He rested his head on the flattened pillow and attempted to sleep.

When Ethan woke up the next morning, he looked to see a new piece of artwork on his shoulder. He walked into the bathroom to get a better look at it, and his breath was taken away by how beautiful it was.

There was a picture of a beach with palm trees. The colors were bright and the sunset in the photo looked real. Underneath was the word ‘California’ in cursive. Ethan wondered if his soulmate lived in California.

He hoped not. While he planned to leave the state one day, he had barely made it out of Hatchet Field. He was living in the shitty part of Clivesdale, and he was already tight on money. He couldn’t imagine moving to California on his own to find one of the millions of people there.

He threw on a white shirt and a green flannel with jeans before walking out. Greg was still sleeping on the couch and only woke up when he heard the can of cat food being opened. Ethan smiled as his cat sat by while waiting by for his food, his tail swishing slightly over the floor.

Ethan left, making sure to lock the door on his way out. He made sure to remind Greg to hold the fort while he was gone. Greg seemed to understand.

The weather was a bit colder than Ethan liked, but it wasn’t too cold to walk. He walked into his flower shop and turned the ‘open’ sign on.

He sat, watching as people passed his window. At noon he saw Lex and her little sister walk by. Not even a minute later, the little sister walked in.

Ethan smiled at the girl. She had to be no older than nine. “What can I do for you?” Ethan asked.

“Lex said to give this to you.” She told him, holding up a ten dollar bill. She avoided eye contact.

“Well, can you do something for me?” He asked, and when she nodded he continued, “Would you please bring her this?”

He gave her a small pot with hydrangeas planted. Lex’s sister nodded and left to go back to the tattoo parlor. Ethan watched out of the window to make sure she got there safely. He was proud of his choice in flower. Hydrangeas could show thankfulness. They were also prominent in his ‘fuck you’ bouquets because they could also symbolize heartlessness. From what he had seen, Lex’s personality was somewhere in the middle.

He sat back and pulled off the flannel to look back at his arm. Whoever his soulmate was had an amazing artist doing their tattoos. He pulled out a marker and wrote on the arm with less tattoos on it.

‘Hello.’ he added a poorly drawn stick figure waving.

‘Hi.’ A response came fairly quickly.

‘I like your tattoos.’ He told them.

‘Thanks. I haven’t talked to you in a while.’

‘Stuff happened.’ He wrote.

‘What kind of stuff? Got a new pet stuff or lost a family member stuff’

‘Actually both.’ Ethan replied, biting his lip. He wasn’t really lying.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. Who did you lose?’

‘Parents.’

‘Oh. I’m so sorry.’ They told him.

‘Thanks.’

The two of them chatted idly until there was almost no room on his arm left to write anything. He pulled his flannel back on and looked at the time. It was about two and his stomach felt almost painfully empty.

Ethan stood up and turned the sign to ‘be back soon’ as he locked up. He stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and walked to a pizza joint nearby. He was surprised to see Lex and her sister sitting at a table.

He walked over with his large slice of cheese and sprite, sitting next to Lex. “Well hello ladies.”

“Who told you you could sit here?” Lex asked, giving a pointed and defensive look.

“Well when I paid for your meal you sat at my table, just returning the favor.” He replied, giving a cocky smirk.

When her sister didn’t seem to object, Lex let him stay at the table as they ate. Lex was eating hawiian pizza, making him wish he had a few extra dollars to do the same. Her sister had mushrooms and peppers littering her pizza slice.

Ethan talked to Lex’s sister a bit. He learned her name was Hannah and that she was ten. She was really into spiders and collecting buttons. He filed the information away for later, sure that he would find a way to use it.

They walked back to their shops together, all in a better mood than before because of the break for food. Before Ethan could walk back into his shop, Lex stopped him.

“Hey, um, thanks for last night. And the flowers. I guess.” She mumbled.

“No problem toots. Just what I do.” He smiled, walking back into his shop. Maybe if he didn’t meet his soulmate, he had options.

#black friday #starkid black friday #ethan green #lex foster #starkid

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master-sass-blast · 5 years

Text

The Literal Crack Fic

Whoooo boy, this one’s a doozy.

Summary: You wind up overdosing after falling into a vat of cocaine and inadvertently inhaling too much of it.

The fic makes more sense than the summary, I promise.

Rating: M for accidental drug usage, seizures, drug-induced psychosis and hallucinations, drug overdose, drug withdrawal, cocaine, and hospitalization.

Like I said, this one’s a doozy.

Massive thank you to @leo-writer for proofing this fic for me and making sure my tired brain Englished properly! <3

Taglist: @chromecutie, @marvel-is-perfection, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @starman-thorsus-canos-jock

Also, to anyone who is struggling with drug addiction, who knows someone struggling with drug addiction, or has struggled with drug addiction: you are a beautiful human battling a dangerous and difficult beast. Your beauty and value are not and will never be diminished by the beast or the fight, I promise. <3

I thought it best to find a few resources to help those struggling with drug addiction. Obviously, I’m one person, so I can possibly cover every country. If someone knows the hotline for their country --or thinks of one I didn’t mention for a country I have listed--please include it in a reblog or a comment!

US:

-https://www.samhsa.gov/find-help/national-helpline

-http://drughelpline.org/cocaine-hotline/

UK:

-https://www.nhs.uk/live-well/healthy-body/cocaine-get-help/

Australia:

-https://au.reachout.com/articles/cocaine

-https://adf.org.au/help-support/

You watch, satisfied, as your fiancé hauls off a group of mutant drug runners towards the X-Jet.

Charles had gotten the call a couple weeks ago; a team of mutants was using their abilities to run drugs through New York, and had gotten too dangerous for the regular authorities to handle. The X-Men had been asked to take in the mutants, and Charles had handed off the task of tracking the group’s hideout down to Nate and Wade.

Earlier today, the two had called the other members of the X-Force with the news that they’d found the drug runners. Within fifteen minutes, the X-Jet had been in the air and on its way towards upstate New York.

And, well, everything had gone pretty smoothly from there.

Wade groans as he stretches. “Fuck, I should’ve stretched my hammies more. I’m gonna be sore for like… another two minutes.”

“You’ll forget how you hurt yourself before the two minutes are up,” Ellie snarks.

“Yes, but until they are, I’m gonna be in agony!” Wade gripes. “Dammit! Why do my hamstrings hurt so bad?”

“Ellie, why don’t you and Yukio go help out Piotr,” you say, nodding at the jet. “Wade, Nate, Neena, and I will try to track down the runners’ stash so we can hand it off to the proper authorities.”

“Minus a serious chunk!” Wade adds as he starts skipping towards the warehouse the runners had been holed up in. “Because daddy needs a restock!”

“Absolutely not,” you fire back as you trail after him.

“Since when did you start sounding like Colossus?”

“Since we can’t afford to look like we’re skimming drugs, dorkus. What were they running?”

“Cocaine,” Nathan answers as he stops Wade from fiddling with various lab equipment on set of tables stationed on the far wall of the warehouse. “Decent grade stuff, and a lot of it from the looks of our recon.”

“I’m guessing there isn’t going to be a big sign with flashing neon lights that says ‘we hid our drugs here?’” you quip as you scan the warehouse for any clues about the drug stash’s whereabouts.

Nathan smirks. “Probably not, no.”

“We’ll find it,” Neena says confidently as she pulls out her phone and taps at the screen. “I’m feeling… two minutes and fifty seconds.”

“Still lazy writing,” Wade says as he turns a Bunsen burner on and off until Nate slaps his hand away.

You chuckle, then start walking the perimeter of the warehouse. The flooring’s wooden and somewhat rotted, so you have to watch your step in a couple places.

“Look, I’m not saying I’m an expert!” Wade protests mid-argument with Nate. “I’m just saying I’ve hidden cocaine before, and we should absolutely be looking for a hollowed-out statue of Betty Boop firing a machine gun into Stalin!”

“You’re the only person on the face of the earth who even has that statue.”

“Not true! The artist on Etsy made three.”

You snort and continue walking the perimeter, scanning the floor for any sign of where the drugs might be hidden –hello.

In the far-right corner of the warehouse is an area where a square has been cut through the floor.

You pry it up and peer down in the cavity beneath it –and, sure enough, there’s several slabs of cocaine at the bottom.

You pop up just as Neena’s phone timer goes off. “Over here!”

Neena cheers. “How about that!”

You jump up and down as you cheer with her—

Then shriek as you land on the hidey-hole panel and plummet through the floor.

You land on the slabs of cocaine –which, admittedly, aren’t too shabby for breaking a fall—and send up a veritable mushroom cloud of the drug into the warehouse. You cough, wheeze, and sneeze as you try to fan the coke away from your face.

And then, from the floor above you, comes the most horrified, blood-curdling shriek you’ve heard in your life. There’s a rush of footsteps on the floor, then Wade practically dives in with you because he can’t stop in time. He manages to catch himself on the lip of the floor, repositions himself so he’s laying down on his stomach, partially hanging over the ledge, then hauls you out by your collar, all while screaming “Get out of there! Get out of there! Get out of there!”

You hack and swipe at your face as you plop onto the floor of the warehouse. “Oh, fuck. That’s worse than the time I dropped that ten-pound bag of powdered sugar.”

Wade seems to be too busy having a nervous breakdown to notice your quip, though. “Oh, fuck! Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god! Fucking monkeys on a stick! Oh, sweet balls have mercy, no!”

“Relax,” you say as you stand and brush yourself off. “I didn’t hit my head; I’m fine.”

“I will not fucking relax!” Wade snaps at you. “I think I fucking shit my pants when you fell down in there, so no! No relaxing! No relaxes ever again! This is the worst possible situation to have ever happened in the history of the universe, including the invention of polyester boxers! Holy shit, Colossus is gonna kill us! He’s gonna kill me!”

“Wade, take a breath,” Neena interjects firmly. “Colossus isn’t going to kill anyone. It was an accident. You didn’t even do anything.”

“He most certainly will if his precious fiancée dies, which is exactly what’s gonna happen to her!”

“Wade, calm down,” Nathan says. “Y/N’s not going to die.”

“Yes, she is, you fucking imbecile!” Wade snarls –and his tone, combined with the fact he’s snapping at Nathan, really settles that he’s being completely serious. “She’s on antidepressants! You can’t mix those with cocaine! Even I don’t mix those with cocaine! Fuck, we need to get her to a hospital. We needed to get her to a hospital five minutes ago! Fuck, why are we still standing here?”

“You’ve been monologuing,” Neena offers.

“Dammit! Not the time! Bad me!” He slaps himself. “Ow!”

“I can just fly myself there,” you say, voice thready with anxiety because you’re starting to get the picture of just how fucked you might be.

“No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Wade clasps your shoulders in a way that would’ve been gentle if he hadn’t been death-gripping them due to being so worked up. “No, nobody’s flying anywhere except in the jet. You need to keep your heart rate as slow as possible. Just stay calm. Everybody’s cool, everybody’s fine, this is totally chill, nobody’s shit their pants and nobody’s going to die, except for maybe you –fuck! Where is Piotr?”

“He’s handing off the criminals to the authorities,” Nate supplies, peering out the warehouse door. “They’ve got some kind of court case they need the guys for.”

“Dammit! This is no time for the boy scout act!”

“Come on.” Neena takes your arm and starts walking you towards the door. “We need to at least get her on the jet.”

***

So, as it turns out, cocaine feels pretty fucking great.

You’re borderline vibrating when Piotr all but sprints onto the jet, followed closely by Wade. “Hi, babe!” you chirp, words coming out in rush. “How’re you? Are you good? I’m really good. I’m super buzzy. Are you super buzzy? Did you eat any bees?”

“How did this happen?” Piotr asks as he kneels in front of you, looking you over with a distraught expression.

“She fell through the floor, I swear to Cthulhu,” Wade says as he frantically strips you out of your jacket. “How’s she doing?”

“Temperature and heart rate are elevated, but other than that she’s been okay,” Neena says.

“We need to get her to a hospital,” Wade insists.

“Already called McCoy,” Nathan calls from the cockpit as he goes through the stages of lift off. “He called the hospital that works with the Institute; they’re already waiting for her.”

You press your sweaty forehead against Piotr’s shoulder, relishing in the cool temperature of his armor. “You feel good, baby. Just like your dick does when you fuck me.”

Piotr hugs you gently. “Just stay calm, dorogoy. Focus on breathing.”

“Oh, I can do that. I am so focused right now. I am the most focused I’ve ever been.”

“Very good. Try to stop talking and just focusing on breathing, pozhaluysta.”

“Okay, I’ll try not to talk, even though it’s really easy right now. It’s like I’ve got entire dictionaries in my head all at once, and they’re all pouring words into my brain, and I have to make sure I let the words out so my head doesn’t explode. Wait, am I still talking?”

“How much longer to hospital?” Piotr asks.

“Ten minutes,” Nathan replies from the cockpit.

Piotr shifts so he’s sitting in the seat and holding you in his lap. “Deep breaths, dorogaya moya. Focus on breathing.”

You’re too focused on tracing the ridges on his forearms with your fingers to really do that, but you are staying calm. Honestly, you feel really good. You’re alert, your brain feels like it’s going a billion miles an hour, and you feel really happy.

Granted, you could do without your chest feeling so tight, but you can’t have everything. You cough a little, then go back to tracing Piotr’s arm ridges with your fingers.

“Alright, Y/N.” Neena squats in front of you. “We have to do some tests to see where your cognitive function is at, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply, drawing out the ‘a,’ while you continue to trace Piotr’s arm ridges. Wait, didn’t I just do his wrist?

“Good. Can you tell me your name?”

You let out another burst of coughing before answer. “Y/N M/N L/N.”

“Okay. What’s today’s date?”

“Uh…” You cough again, harder this time, then rattle off the date.

“Good. Can you tell me your date of birth?”

“Uh… uh… oh, it’s—” Before you can answer, you start coughing again, hard and long enough to make you start wheezing.

“Are you okay?” Neena asks as you double over. “Do you need some oxygen?”

You start crying, out of breath and more than a little disoriented. “I can’t breathe. My chest’s too tight, I can’t breathe.”

“Let’s get you some oxygen,” Neena decides, walking away to get a tank and mask.

Piotr rubs your back and helps you stay steady as you keep wheezing. “Try to stay calm. I know you are scared, but we are almost to hospital. Everything will be better soon.”

You weep against his shoulder—

Then suck in a harsh breath when you see your mother standing across the plane’s interior, glaring at you.

“What is it?” Piotr asks when you scream. “Moya lyubov’, what’s wrong?”

“My mom!” you hack out between bouts of coughing and wheezing. “Get her away from me!”

“Myshka… your mother is not here.”

Neena curses up a blue streak as she sets an oxygen canister next to your fiancé. “Wade! Get in here! She’s hallucinating!”

There’s the sounds of general panic and chaos from the cockpit, then Wade bursts into the main area of the jet. “Fuck—”

Everything goes black after that.

***

Beep… beep… beep…

You wish someone would turn your alarm clock off. It’s hard enough to sleep with something stuck to your face, but the continuous beeping in your ear makes it borderline impossible.

Beep… beep… beep…

Maybe it’s one of those alarms that keeps going until you solve some sort of puzzle or something. You tried installing one of those on your phone at one point, but Piotr had to keep solving them to turn the alarm off because you’d sleep through the damn thing anyway, which kind of defeated the purpose of getting a special alarm to begin with.

Beep… beep… beep…

No…

Beep… beep… beep…

No, wait…

Beep… beep… beep…

That’s a pulse monitor.

Aw, shit.

You open your eyes with a slight snort and peer up into blinding whiteness.

You’re in a hospital room. Fucking fantastic.

“Easy, easy,” someone says –it’s Piotr, you recognize his voice even if you can’t see him—while you shield your eyes against the lights. “Hold still. I will turn lights down.”

You relax as the lights dim down to a more respectable level, then start trying to look around for your boyfriend –except you can’t really move; every single movement –even down to the twitch of your fingers—feels like you’re swimming through molasses.

Then there’s the sensation of the bed dipping on your left side, and Piotr’s face appears in your field of vision.

He cups your face gently in his hands, rubbing your cheeks with the utmost delicacy. He’s smiling, but his baby blue eyes are watering with unshed tears. “Privet, myshka. How are you feeling?”

You try to reply, but you can feel the thing on your face somewhat impeding the movement of your face. You try to reach towards it to move it away, but you have all the limb coordination of a newborn giraffe at the moment.

“Careful, careful,” Piotr cautions, taking your hand in his. “Oxygen mask. You were having difficulty breathing.”

Well. That explains that.

“Where… am I?” you rasp as you try to get your bearings.

“Hospital,” Piotr says. “You… you had seizure from cocaine. They had to give you some drugs to calm you down.”

You frown as you try to piece together what he’s saying. “I… can’t remember…”

“It is okay. Doctors said that might happen. Speaking of which—” he picks up the little remote attached to your bed “—I need to call your nurse so she can check on you.”

***

The full story is such: you inhaled enough cocaine to cause an overdose, and that combined with the interaction between the coke and your meds caused you to experience psychosis before you started seizing. You blacked out when the seizure started, then lost consciousness when you started convulsing. Fortunately, the convulsions only started when you were two minutes away from the hospital. The team there was able to treat you almost immediately –with bendodiazepines, which is a fun word to say—and put you in a room for observations once they were able to stop the effects of the seizure and the overdose.

You don’t remember anything that happened on the jet, and barely anything from the mission itself or the incident in the warehouse –which, all things considered, might be for the best. You’ve got enough traumatic memories to deal with as is.

All in all, you’re tired. Between the mission, the overdose, the seizure, and the drugs they gave you to calm your body down, you feel like you’ve been awake for a week straight. You manage to stay conscious while the nurse checks you over and ascertains your memory recall –average, considering what you went through—but once she leaves, you’re out like a light.

You wake up a couple other times –once to go to the bathroom, once because Piotr sneezes—but otherwise you remain konked out well into the evening, when you wake up to a quiet cacophony of voices in your room.

At first, you almost right it off as having some sort of strange dream or semi-conscious auditory hallucination –except you pick up on that the voices are speaking Russian, and hey!

You open your eyes, and sure enough the rest of the Rasputin family is in your room, greeting Piotr and speaking to him and hushed, worried Russian.

Illyana, unsurprisingly, notices you’re awake first. “Hey.

Piotr’s by your side in an instant, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Privet, sleepyhead. How are you?”

“Really hungry,” you say, which is punctuated by your stomach gurgling. “Can I eat something?”

He kisses your forehead again before standing. “I will go ask nurse.”

Alexandra takes his spot as he strides out of the room, clasping your hand in hers and rubbing gentle circles on the back of it. “How are you, malen'kaya ptitsa?”

“Drugged as fuck,” you answer with a tiny smile. “I can’t… can’t remember most of what happened.”

“That is what medvezhonok said. He sounded very panicked over the phone.”

“It was pretty bad, apparently,” you say.

Mikhail grunts in agreement. “Uppers and antidepressants do not mix.” He holds up his hands defensively when Alexandra and Nikolai pin him with sharp looks. “Not speaking from experience! Just saying.”

You chuckle tiredly, then refocus on Alexandra. “Why are you guys here? I thought you were in Russia.”

“We were,” Nikolai pipes up. “We get call, then we come.”

You frown as you try to do the math. “But… the flight…”

“We teleport in emergencies,” Alex says with a conspiratorial wink. “Medvezhonok needs us. As do you. We are here to help until you’re back on your feet.”

You smile at them, chest swelling with appreciation and love. “Thank you.”

Alex just shakes her head and pats your hand. “We are family. It’s what we do.”

***

The doctor on rotation comes in while you’re eating dinner. He checks your chart, asks you and Piotr a few questions about your medical history, then delivers what just might be the worst news of your life.

“I’m going to be here for a week?”

Okay, maybe ‘worst news of your life’ is a touch dramatic, but still.

“It’s standard practice with seizure patients,” he explains. “We need to make sure you’re stable, especially since it’ll take time for the cocaine to leave your system and you’re on antidepressants. Speaking of which, how familiar are you with drug withdrawal?”

You frown. “I mean… I’ve had painkillers after surgeries before.”

He quirks his mouth to one side, then shakes his head. “Not quite what I mean. You might experienced some minor side effects with that, but cocaine withdrawal is an entirely different beast. Even with your advanced constitution, you’re going to be in a world of hurt for a while.”

“What are we looking at?” Piotr asks.

“Well, typically, cocaine crash happens within the first week after taking the dose. Users who crash often go through various psychological side effects –increased anxiety, irritability and depressive symptoms—along with physical ones –chills, impaired coordination, exhaustion, and so on. Weeks one through four usually constitute the withdrawal part of the process. Again, there’s more of the symptoms I just mentioned, but also an uptick in nightmares, muscle and nerve pain, and difficulty concentrating. She’s basically going to need intensive care from her support system during the withdrawal process; there’s a reason why most centers that help people get clean are live-in facilities.”

“But I’ve never even done anything recreational before,” you insist. “I barely even drink.”

“And that’s definitely in your favor. The fact that you don’t have any preexisting habits puts you ahead of the game. But drug withdrawals severely impact brain chemistry,” the doctor explains patiently. “You’re not going to be yourself or think like you usually do. Your brain will be going through a depletion of endorphins, especially dopamine, and it’s going to drive you to possibly do some incredibly risky things to get more.”

“How do we keep her safe?” Piotr asks, expression concerned.

“Close supervision, for one. Making sure she’s comfortable, that she has the assistance she needs, and that she’s not isolated are going to be key. Keeping her closely in touch with her therapist or someone who specializes with helping addicts with be important, too.”

“But I’m not an addict,” you argue.

“You’re not, but specialists have more experience addressing the problems you’ll be facing. The goal is to help you as effectively as possible. Also, make a point to limit any other substances she could have access to –alcohol, prescription drugs, even over the counter stuff. People who do cocaine often try to get another hit by switching over to a different drug, and we don’t want to risk further complications. Do you live with her?”

Piotr nods.

“Good. You need to be in control of her medication until she’s completely recovered. I know it sounds ridiculous,” he adds when you make a noise of protest, “but this is a deathly serious situation. The odds of you overdosing via trying to get another high are exponentially higher right now. This is about keeping you safe.”

“But I don’t need to get another high!” you insist. “I’m fine!”

The doctor sighs and braces his forearms against his knees. “You inhaled a lot of cocaine when you fell into that vat. Between that and the benzodiazepines we gave you to stop the overdose seizure, you’re still high right now. You aren’t feeling any withdrawal symptoms because your body still has a lot of drugs in its system. Believe me, when they do hit, you will feel them and want to do anything to make them stop.” He favors you with a sympathetic smile. “This isn’t about you being a bad person, or an addict, or anything like that. The situation was an accident, and your intentions are good, but cocaine is a serious drug. All of this is for your safety, I promise you.”

You sigh –and reach for Piotr’s hand because all of this is more than a little terrifying—and nod. “Okay. What happens when I go back home?”

“I’ve instructed Dr. McCoy to keep you in observation for another three days, just to make sure your antidepressants are still interacting properly with your system. If all of that goes well, you’ll be free to resume normal life –under supervision, of course.”

You do your best not to pout. It’s for my own safety. “How long do I have to be supervised for?”

“Cocaine stays in the system for a long time. While withdrawal symptoms usually stop around the fourth week, the elimination stage –which is where the drug starts fully leaving your system and the risk of relapsing gets progressively smaller—can take up to five weeks on its own. Given that you have a slight healing factor and that you don’t have any other substance abuse problems, I would wager you might shave a week off of that cumulative total, but not much more than that.”

You grimace. “Ten weeks? I have to be supervised for ten weeks?”

“The supervision can be less restrictive as you progress through the weeks of the elimination phase, but yes, essentially. I’d advise setting rewards and goals for yourself at each milestone to help things progress better. The hospital staff will be providing you with some information about drug withdrawal and treatment before you leave; it should have suggestions for some good milestones to implement.”

You sigh, then look over at Piotr. “Here’s hoping you don’t get sick of me in that time.”

He smiles fondly at you and kisses your cheek. “Never.”

***

Withdrawal hits like a bitch.

You’re cold. Downright freezing. No matter how many blankets you shiver under, you can’t get warm.

The monitor you’re hooked up to, however, says that your temperature is staying at a healthy level, the lying little bitch.

“I swear to Danny Devito that thing is mocking me,” you grumble as you eye the readout of the traitorous device. “There’s no way my temperature’s normal.”

“Give it time, myshka,” Piotr says as he loads up a spoon with more ‘berry blast’ yogurt; your coordination is still completely tanked, so he’s taken to feeding you for the time being like the absolute angel he is. “You will feel better eventually.”

You groan and grudgingly eat more yogurt. “I just want to feel better now.”

“I know, moya lyubov’. I know.”

***

The anxiety is worse.

Even though you’re still on your anti-depressants –score one to the latent healing factor and overall hardiness mutation there, if you’d had to go off those too you might’ve lost your mind—the crash and slow withdrawals from the coke you’d accidentally taken is enough to put you on a knife blade’s edge. You feel like you’re continually one split second away from a panic attack, no matter how much deep breathing or meditating you do.

Fortunately for you, though, Piotr is a dedicated partner and fiancé who knows just about every trick in the books to help you relax. He has Ellie –who has her license now, which is kind of hard to believe, you swear she just turned sixteen yesterday—bring your favorite movies from the house and generally helps you stay distracted. When you do tip over into a panic attack, he’s right by your side and stays there until you ride it out.

You’re not sure where you’d be without him –here, and in life in general.

***

The exhaustion, however, is what really kills it.

You can’t remember a time where you’ve ever been more tired. Missions, flying out to your uncles, your various escape attempts, flying to the X-Mansion for the first time, escaping kidnapping attempts, that one time you decided to stay awake for three days because Piotr was off on a mission and it sounded like fun and then he came back home to you being borderline delirious and attempting to cook Bagel Bites in the toaster (sorry, Piotr)…

It goes past being just “tired.” You’re exhausted all the way down to your bones, to the point where you can barely move or eat or do anything, and no amount of sleeping makes it better.

Worse still is that Piotr seems determined to keep you on a somewhat normal sleep cycle –which, okay, you need to be on one for the sake of your mental health, but you’re so damn tired that it almost seems pointless.

You sob when he rouses you from yet another nap. “Please,” you beg, “please, baby, I’m so tired, just let me sleep…”

Piotr wipes away your tears and kisses your forehead gently. “I know, moya lyubov’, but it is not good to sleep all day. Besides, it is time to eat.”

“I don’t want to,” you weep. “I just want to sleep, please just let me sleep!”

He hugs you gently, careful not to disrupt the hookup to the heart monitor, and presses his lips to the top of your head. “I know, but you need to take medication. Besides, I brought your favorite.”

You pry your eyes open, sniffling –and sure enough, he’s brought a food container from home stuffed with chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, the works. “Can I sleep after I eat?”

“After a bit. You should try to stay awake for little bit.”

You whimper and try to turn away from him. “No—”

“I know, I know.” He smooths your hair away from your face in a soothing fashion. “And I am so sorry, moya lyubov’, but you know it’s best for you.”

You sniff inelegantly, then turn back towards him and take the box. “Fine. But I’m not sharing my bacon.”

Piotr chuckles and kisses your temple. “Whatever helps you get through it, myshka.”

(You wind up sharing your bacon anyway.)

***

Despite your misery, the week passes quickly enough –which probably has to do with your general disorientation regarding the passage of time, what with your exhaustion and all, which only adds to your suffering.

The Rasputin family takes various turns watching over you and keeping you company while Piotr gets sleep or attends to his duties as an X-Men and general overseeing adult at the Institute. Mikhail and Alexandra teach you the finer points of playing Poker without losing like a scrub, Nikolai tells various stories about growing up in Russia and his kids’ early lives, and Illyana pops in from time to time to just keep you company –more often than not, with Kitty in tow as well.

Ellie even drives Russell and Yukio over and figures out how to hookup her Wii to the TV in your room so the four of you can play. Your skills at Mario Kart are none too improved by your impaired coordination –but, considering you were pretty shit at it to begin with, not too much of your game play is changed overall.

Conspicuously absent, however, are Nate and Wade. You’ve gathered that Wade is still pretty freaked out by the whole thing and is generally avoiding Piotr and his family at all rational –and irrational, because Wade—costs, and that Nate is babysitting him to make sure he doesn’t go on a reign of panic-induced destruction, if the texts he sent to Piotr are to be believed.

Which, honestly, is probably the best thing for Nathan to be doing right now. Wade gets extremely unpredictable when he’s stressed out; having Nate around is basically the only way to ensure he doesn’t attempt to “liberate” the zoo again –or, worse, do something hurt himself.

Either way, after one week of observation, you’re discharged with a few hefty bills, a thick pamphlet of information about recovering from withdrawals and what to look out for, and strict instructions to take it easy and for other adults to keep a close eye on you.

And then you’re taken home and veritably shunted into another hospital bed for another three days of observation.

Honestly, fuck your life.

***

Granted, things could be worse. You’re surrounded by your friends and family, you can afford the bills you’ve accrued from this whole shitshow, you’ve got medical staff used to dealing with the special conditions that come attached with your mutant status, and you don’t have a past addiction to deal with on top of all this.

And gratitude is good, as is perspective, but sometimes suffering is suffering –constantly making sure your attitude is justified is exhausting and nigh impossible.

Plus, you’ve hit a second wave of side effects: freakish nightmares and full body pain! Fantastic!

(To be read as: not fantastic.)

Piotr’s by your side when you wake up with a whimper. “What’s wrong, moya dusha?”

“Nightmare,” you groan, waving your hand dismissively. “Just… weird.” You blink a few times, then peer at him, confused. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Not quite,” he says. “Mikhail will switch off with me soon.” He smoothes your hair back, then kisses your forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit.” You wince, then try to reposition yourself as aches run through your body –not to any particular avail, since the pain seems to run straight through your bones and out the other side.

“Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.”

He tsks quietly –a habit you’ve learned he picked up from Nikolai—and starts rubbing your hands and forearms.

And it does help you feel better, just a little.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tiredly.

“For what? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Just… you have to deal with all this. It’s so much. You don’t deserve that.”

“And you don’t deserve to be dealing with withdrawals or any of it. Besides—” he kisses the bridge of your nose “—we are going to be married soon. That means ‘for better or worse, in sickness and health.’”

“I’m pretty sure whoever created those vows didn’t have ‘accidentally falling into a giant vat of cocaine’ in mind when they wrote them,” you mutter.

Piotr snorts, quietly. “Perhaps not, but principle is same. Besides, I love you. This is no burden.”

“There is an objective level of burden here, Piotr. Even if you don’t mind it, you’re still dealing with a lot.”

Piotr goes quiet for a moment, then concedes with a nod and small smile. “Fair enough –but as you said, I do not mind. You are my fiancée and love of my life. I would sacrifice much more for you than what I have to do with this.”

You lean towards him –even though it sends stabs of pain all over your body, but you can’t be assed to care right now—and kiss his shoulder. “Well, here’s hoping you don’t have to.”

***

Your uncle shows up on the second day of observation at the X-Mansion.

He practically tumbles into the room you’re staying in, hair wet and t-shirt somewhat askew, but otherwise in one piece. “What the fuck happened?”

You stare at him, agape. “What are you doing here? Why are you wet?”

“Alex called me. Said you were in the hospital. I flew out as soon as I finished my most recent mission,” he explains in a rush. “Showered first. I figured you guys would appreciate that.”

“Uh, yeah. Probably.” You frown when you notice him swaying a little on his feet. “When was the last time you slept? Or ate anything?”

“Oh, come on, I’m not that hopeless. It was…” His voice trails off as he starts ticking off numbers on his fingers, which stops shortly after as his face goes blank, which in turn is punctuated by a simultaneous yawn and shockingly loud gurgle from his stomach.

Piotr bites back a snort –Mikhail doesn’t bother—and stands. “I can—”

“Nyet, nyet,” Nikolai interjects as he stands. He says something else in Russian, nodding to you with a smile, kisses Alex on the forehead, then clasps your uncle’s shoulder as he walks out of the room.

“What’d he say?” you ask Piotr as he sits back down in the seat next to your bed.

“Just that I should stay with you.” He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it.

“Right. Okay.” Your uncle plops haphazardly into a seat provided by Mikhail, scrubs his face with his hands, then gives you a slightly crazed look that you suspect is mostly fueled by exhaustion-induced delirium. “What happened?”

You look at Piotr, then shrug. “Uh… I accidentally fell into a vat of cocaine and overdosed.”

“…What?”

***

Wade finally shows up three days after Dr. McCoy releases you into Piotr’s –along with his family’s and your uncle’s—care.

Which isn’t to say that he necessarily shows up of his own volition.

“Nate! Put me down you time traveling, infinity scarf wearing, fuck-boi haircut sporting bastard! I’m fucking serious! I’ll chop off my testicles and hide them under your pillow –again!”

“Like you said, wouldn’t be the first time!”

“Nathan Charles Elizabeth Craigory Sam-becca Summers, so fucking help me—”

You and Piotr watch –along with Mikhail, who’s basically on the floor in a fit of hysterical laughter at this point—as Nathan forcibly carries Wade into your room –and, in a moment of predictable and yet somehow unpredictable desperation, Wade tries to brace himself against the doorframe like a dog who doesn’t want to get into the bath and is doing everything they can to avoid getting wet.

“You fucking cheater!” Wade gasps when Nathan uses his telekinesis to force Wade’s arms and legs forward. “You can’t just do that!”

“Can and did, sweetheart.” Nathan grunts as he sets Wade on the floor, facing your bed –which is where you currently are, propped up on a bunch of pillows. “Time to face the music, darling.”

“Absolutely not. Ryan Reynolds couldn’t make me face my emotions, and neither can you.”

“Wade,” Piotr says softly. “Talk to us. What is wrong?”

Wade looks pointedly at the ceiling and groans. “Ugh, why does he have to be so gentle? So caring? He’s like if the Pillsbury Doughboy and modern therapy conventions had a lovechild.”

Mikhail blinks slowly as he tries to process the sentence. “Pills-berry… what?”

You just shake your head at him.

“Wade,” Piotr says, a little more serious this time. “Please. This is serious matter.”

Nathan takes Wade’s hand and squeezes it gently when the other man looks pointedly at the floor. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

“I fucked up,” Wade says after a moment. “It’s… it’s my fault.”

A mildly pained expression crosses Piotr’s face. “What did you break? Did –Wade, if you had another run in with soap dispensers—”

“No! Although, I do need to refill mine back at home; thanks for reminding me.”

“I refilled our soap dispenser yesterday. With actual soap,” Nathan retorts in the tone of someone who is deeply in love but also deeply annoyed. “And stick to the point, sweetheart.”

Wade fidgets for a moment, then looks to Nate for reassurance, then sighs when the gray-haired man nods. “What happened with Y/N. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have even had her in the warehouse. I know the ins and outs of coke, I know it’s dangerous to people who take antidepressants, I should’ve sent her out with you—”

“Wade,” Piotr says gently, cutting the scarred man off before he can dive too deeply into guilt. “What happened was an accident. I know that, Y/N knows that, we all know that. In fact, if you had not been there, she probably would have been in much worse danger. By all accounts, you helped save her life –so, thank you.”

Wade purses his lips, but manages a small nod before looking at you. “Can I talk to you for a minute? If you’re feeling up to it?”

You nod, then pat Piotr’s shoulder. “I’ll be alright.”

Piotr kisses your forehead, then stands and motions for Mikhail to follow him out –which the eldest Rasputin does without question or complaint.

Nate kisses Wade on the temple, then follows the two brothers into the hall.

You pat an open spot on the bed. “Come sit.”

Wade does, sighing heavily and curling forward so his forehead is resting against your shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “I never wanted anything like this to happen to you.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, hugging him. “You took good care of me afterwards –and, like Piotr said, it’s not your fault.”

Wade laughs thinly. “Not gonna lie, I was pretty sure he was going to kill me when Nate dragged me over here.”

“Nathan would never let that happen,” you chuckle. “And Piotr wouldn’t do that, either. You drive him a little crazy, but he knows when you’ve instigated something and when you haven’t.”

“I’m always instigating something.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Wade concedes with a sigh. He sits up and gives you a half-hearted smile. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you groan. “Withdrawals are a bitch. Cravings, too.”

“Yeah,” Wade says with a chuckle. “Those go away a lot faster when you have a healing factor.”

“Lucky you.” You latch onto his hand. “I didn’t think I’d even get cravings. I’ve never even done drugs before.”

Wade shrugs. “It’s not necessarily about coke; it’s about the dopamine and serotonin. It just becomes a coke thing because of how much gets unleashed on the brain when you take coke.”

“And here you say you aren’t smart,” you tease him.

“I snorted six kilos of cocaine in three minutes after ‘Nessa died,” Wade grumbles. “If that didn’t teach me anything about coke and the brain, nothing would.”

You grimace slightly. “That’s not healthy.”

“Yeah, well, Nathan made me get rid of my stash, so don’t worry. Can’t do anything anymore.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

“Says who?”

“Scientists and doctors everywhere. And also Nathan.”

Wade huffs, though there’s no real anger behind the noise. “Well, I know who I’m listening to.” He pauses, then smiles and checks you gently with his shoulder. “Love you, sis.”

You grin and check him back –well, as much as you can in your state. “Love you, too, bro.”

***

Here are the resources I used when writing this fic:

Cocaine:

-https://www.drugfreeworld.org/drugfacts/cocaine/effects-of-cocaine.html

-https://drugabuse.com/cocaine/effects-use/

-https://drug.addictionblog.org/how-long-does-cocaine-last/

-https://www.therecoveryvillage.com/cocaine-addiction/withdrawal-detox/#gref

-https://www.thefix.com/content/ask-expert-which-street-drugs-dont-mix-antidepressants

-https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/drugs-recreational-drugs-alcohol/recreational-drugs-medication/#.XTWlDOhKjIU

-https://www.therecoveryvillage.com/cocaine-addiction/cocaine-overdose/#gref

-https://www.mentalhelp.net/substance-abuse/cocaine/overdose/

-https://deserthopetreatment.com/drug-overdose/how-much-cocaine/

Drug-induced seizures:

-https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4767205/

Epilepsy (for general understanding on seizures):

-https://www.epilepsy.com/start-here/about-epilepsy-basics/what-happens-during-seizure

-http://wwwp.medtronic.com/Newsroom/LinkedItemDetails.do?itemId=1160041417054&itemType=fact_sheet&lang=en_IN

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #cablepool #nathan summers x wade wilson #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #tw: drug overdose #tw: seizure #tw:drugs #tw: cocaine #tw: hospital #this is an angst fic #make no mistake #angst angst angst #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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laurajameskinney · 6 years

Text

Title: Dancing With The Devil

Rating: T for language

Characters: APH Hungary, APH Romania, APH Ukraine

Pairings: HunUkr, background RomBul

Summary: When college students Elizaveta and Vladimir attempt to summon Satan, they're in for the shock of their lives when a completely different demon shows up instead due to a botched ritual.

Additional Notes: Hi so literally no one asked for this demon hunukr au and yet here is is, i hope yall like it (if you even read it)

Read it on: ao3 , ff.n

“Grandma, how did you and Gramma meet?” a small child asked of an old woman sitting in a rocking chair, looking for all the world as cliche as can be.

“Ah yes, I still remember it clearly now,” she responded. “It all began back in high school,” she started, only to be cut off by a loud groan.

“Ugh, we get it Grandma, you and Gramma met in high school and fell in love. Gross. Not much of a story there,” a different child whined.

“Be quiet, Peter, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” a little girl snapped from beside him.

“Wendy is right, Peter, that isn’t what happened at all. But Wendy, dear, it isn’t necessary to be rude just because you’re right,” an elderly woman reprimanded gently as she stepped onto the porch.

Both Wendy and Peter mumbled “sorry Gramma”s and hung their heads, before the woman they had called “Gramma” kindly ruffled their hair.

“Now, if you bunch are talking about what I think you’re talking about, then it’s a tale much better told over milk and cookies, don’t you agree Eliza?”

“Hm...I don’t know, Katyusha, what kind of cookies are they?” the woman now dubbed Eliza asked playfully of “Gramma”, craning her neck around nearly backwards to see her face.

“Your favourite, Eliza, just like always” Katyusha answered before kissing her sweetly on the lips, much to the disgust of Peter and Wendy.

“Guys, Grandma and Gramma kissing isn’t gross! Love is art!” the first child declared passionately.

“That’s lovely, Leo dear, but I think your cousins disagree with you. Now come along all of you, inside,” Katyusha said sweetly, causing the three children present to jump up and rush in the door.

“Come on Elizaveta, you too! I’m sure you want to tell the kids how we met, right? After all, there are some parts only you can tell!” Katyusha encouraged, pulling Elizaveta up by her arm.

“I suppose…” Elizaveta said playfully, a youthful spark lighting in her eyes despite her apparent old age.

She stood up, and the two women headed inside to be met with the clatters of glasses. Katyusha laughed softly and asked everyone to settle down, passing out napkins and glasses, and then warm heart-shaped cookies, fresh out of the oven.

“Grandma, Grandma, you were gonna tell us how you met, right?” Leo asked impatiently.

“Yes, I was, wasn’t I?” Elizaveta sighed. “Well, it was a night not unlike any other, years and years ago…” she begane

“Vladimir, this is stupid,” a young Elizaveta criticized in annoyance. “I’m almost certain that Satan doesn’t exist, and even if he does, there’s no way that you’ll be able to summon him.: “I bet you’re just saying that ‘cause you’re scared,” Vladimir said, not looking up from the satanic symbols he was chalking onto the floor.

Elizaveta huffed, pulling her arms tighter around herself in an attempt to ward off the chill permeating the air of the run-down old church they were in. She wasn’t scared, she refused to be - but she was cold.

“Why did you even bring me here? It’s not like I actually care about your occult shit.”

“Because, Eliza, the summoning ritual needs the blood of a virgin to work, and, well, we both know that discounts me,” Vladimir said with a smirk that was partway smug, partway triumphant, and partway practically begging for Elizaveta to punch his teeth in.

“Shove it, Vlad. Just because you got yourself a hot Bulgarian boyfriend doesn’t give you the right to make fun of my love life - or my sex life! - no matter how abysmal it may seem to be,” Elizaveta snapped.

Vladimir raised an eyebrow and looked at Elizaveta, before continuing to draw out his summoning circle. “And besides, I’m perfectly fine with the way things are right now! I don’t need anyone else to be happy!” she squaked indignantly, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself than anyone else.

A few moments passed in silence.

“Ugh, could you hurry up?” Elizaveta demanded, letting out a breath of mist. “I’m freezing over here!”

“If you’re so cold, you should have brought a jacket or something,” Vladimir responded tartly.

“It was warm when we left, but it took for-fucking-ever to get up to this decrepit old hellhole - excuse me, I meant sad excuse for a former church,” she gripped.

“Well, I’m done now, could you come over here?”

Elizaveta harumphed and made her way over to Vladimir in an almost leisurely fashion, holding her palm out to him when she reached his side. Vladimir, in turn, pulled out a knife and, dragging Eliza’ hand to hover over the center of the summoning circle, drew it roughly across her palm, causing blood to spill out and onto the demonic markings.

Hissing in pain, Elizaveta quickly pulled her hand back, clutching it to her chest and backing away as Vladimir started chanting, ancient words long forgotten flowing from his lips as easily as the blood did from Elizaveta’s new wound.

As Vladimir continued chanting, shadows started moving around the room, seeming to cause a chill wind to blow. The young man ignored this, as he did many things, but Elizaveta drew in on herself, eyes darting nervously around the ramshackle church. Shadows weren’t supposed to move on their own, or cause wind.

She decided right then and there that now was an awful good time to start being afraid.

Slowly, the shadows coalesced in the centre of the circle to form the body of a young woman who couldn’t be much older than Elizaveta herself. She had short-cropped blonde hair, and was fairly thick-set, wearing all black clothes that seemed at once both tight fitting and loose enough to flow around her.

Elizaveta suddenly found it strangely hard to breathe.

The young woman waved her arm in front of Vladimir’s face. Vladimir didn’t react, as his eyes were closed. “Uh, sir, I think you summoned the wrong demon,” she said rather meekly.

“Mister!” she tried again. “I really don’t think you were looking for me!” the blonde tried again, before noticing Elizaveta in the corner and waving desperately at her.

Still quite unable to untie her tongue, Elizaveta nevertheless forced her slightly shell-shocked body to walk over behind Vladimir, before roughly shoving his shoulder.

“Hey!” he barked indignantly, beginning to wheel around to face Eliza before seeing the other person in the room and stopping short.

“You aren’t Satan,” he observed, rather dumbly in Elizaveta’s opinion. Not that anyone had asked for it, of course, but she was always willing to give it.

“No of course I’m not Satan!” the young woman objected.

“But how did I mess up? I’m certain I had everything this time!” Vladimir wailed.

The blonde backed away at his shouts, and he stopped. He may have been an oblivious piece of shit in Elizaveta’s humble opinion, but even he could tell when he was scaring someone.

The blonde looked down at the markings on the floor. “Well, everything here looks about right...you did use the blood of a virgin, right?” “Yeah, duh. Unless Eliza had sex with someone in the five minutes between saying I needed the blood of a virgin and making the sacrifice,” Vladimir replied sarcastically.

“Er, um, well...when rituals ask for the blood of a virgin, they aren’t actually talking about sex..” the woman trailed off. “They’re talking about previous summonings, and - and anything else, really, even failed rituals count,” she added in a whisper.

Vladimir dragged his hand down his face, sighing exasperatedly. Of course attempting to summon Cthulhu in the tenth grade would come back to haunt them, of course it would.

Suddenly, the young woman rushed over to Elizaveta and grasped her hands. “You were the one that made the blood sacrifice, right?”

“Y-yeah,” the brunette stammered out, slightly in shock due to the proximity of such a woman who was, in Elizaveta’s opinion, so amazingly beautiful.

“Well then, I have to do any one thing that you ask of me, so long as it’s within my power,” she paused, blowing out a puff of air. “Unfortunately, I don’t really have much power. I’m really low-level, which means I can only do the most basic illusions and stuff. Do you have anything you’d like me to do? Elizaveta shook her head no. The two of them - she and Vladimir, that is - had been attempting to summon Satan to ensure success at college, but if the blonde was telling the truth, that would be far out of her abilities.

“Well, you’re hurt,” she said, holding up Elizaveta’s palm. “I know! I’ll protect you, then! Make sure you don’t get hurt. It’s a dangerous world out there!”

“W-what? No! I can protect myself, thank you very much!” Elizaveta exclaimed. She may have been tongue-tied, but she would never let someone think that she was in any way incapable of defending herself.

Vladimir winced slightly, no doubt remembering the many times Elizaveta had demonstrated her defensive capabilities before.

“Oh…” the blonde chewed her bottom lip nervously. “Well, see, this is kind of awkward now, because me saying that sort of bound my life to yours.”

“It what?” Elizaveta shouted, yanking her hands out of the other’s.

“Ah-ah-ah you two, no fighting!” Vladimir chimed in, pushin in-between the two women. “And Eliza - no I don’t care that you hate me calling you that, shut up - what our new friend here is saying is that now, her health depends on your safety, basically. The long and short of it is that if she fails to protect you, then she also gets hurt.

The silence hung in the air, thick, smothering, and unbroken, or at least until Vladimir clapped his hands. “Well then, demon-lady, it looks like you’re going to be spending a lot of time with us, so we should probably all introduce ourselves. I’m Vladimir, and this charmer you see in front of you is Elizaveta. And you would be?”

“Yekaterina. I’m pleased to make your acquaintances, Elizaveta, Vladimir. I do hope I won’t be much of a bother,” Yekaterina said with a gracious dip of the head. Elizaveta would never have thought a demon could ever be so polite.

“Oh, I assure you, you’ll be no bother to us at all. In fact, you’re welcome to stay with us,” Vladimir offered.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Yekaterina said before walking out of the church with a quick “places of worship make me uncomfortable, I’ll be outside.”

For one fleeting second, Elizaveta allowed herself to think that maybe, just maybe, Vladimir had offered shelter to Yekaterina out of the kindness of his heart, but then he turned around with the absolute most shit-eating grin she’d ever seen and said “So. Are you still so content with the empty void that is your love life?”

“Grandma, you can’t just end there!” Peter whined.

“I can and I will, Peter, Leo’s father is here to pick all of you up. Besides, I thought you didn’t want to know how Katyusha and I met,” Elizaveta responded playfully.

Leo frowned pensively, face comically serious for the nine year old that they were. “Storytelling is a form of art, you know. Can you tell us what happened next time?”

Yekaterina laughed, ruffling their hair affectionately. “Of course we will, Leo. Now, all of you get your things, okay?” The old couple stood in their doorway, waving the children off as they left. “Bye! Have fun at the pool!” Elizaveta called out, lowering her arm as the car faded into the distance.

The old woman sighed, resting her head on Katyusha’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around her waist. The blonde, in turn, rubbed soft circles onto the back of her hand and entangled her fingers with those of the other.

“How long has it been?” Elizaveta murmured. “Sixty? Sixty-five years since that night?”

“I’d put it closer to seventy,” Katyuska whispered.

Elizaveta let out another sigh. It was suddenly hitting very hard very fast just how very old the two of them were, and frankly, neither of them liked the reminder.

#hetalia #aph #hetalia fanfiction #aph hungary #aph romania #aph ukraine #hunukr #demon au #human au #(?)#idk #hunukr fanfiction #background rombul #*shows up ten years late with this*

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bastardtravel · 6 years

Text

August 11, 2018. Portsmouth, New Hampshire.

In the deepest hidden recesses of the internet, on a vague Wikipedia page about “brewing in New Hampshire“, I learned that there is one beer that stands above all others. It is a Russian imperial stout lovingly handcrafted by an unusually tall hill dwarf, undoubtedly from an ancient recipe that his clan brought from under the mountain untold ages ago.

Wikipedia claims it is “the best beer in America” and also “the most sought-after beer in America”. It’s called Kate the Great, and legend has it that it can only be obtained by locating this master brewer on his home turf, the Portsmouth Brewery, and praying to whatever gods you keep that the stars have aligned and it’s in season.

It was drizzling on Mystery Hill, but it hadn’t quite started to monsoon in Portsmouth yet. Thunderclouds loomed in the sky like hanged men, shrouding the little downtown in portentous darkness. Everyone we encountered hated us. This isn’t altogether foreign to me, I’ve chosen the Bastard moniker for a reason, but the Girl tends toward amicability and we hadn’t done anything yet.

In The Shadow Over Innsmouth, an archaeologist crossing New England in search of genealogical information finds a foggy, derelict port town. He thinks it might be interesting to check out, so he books a room and pokes around. The locals seem to share a common deformity, a scaling skin disease, puffing around the face and eyes, and unusual hydrocephaly. They spurn him outright. We’re talking like, Amish shunning. The inhabitants call him an outsider and refuse to sell him anything. They bar most public places against him, and retreat into their homes if they see him on the street. As the novella goes on, he discovers that the inhabitants of Innsmouth have been interbreeding with a race of cannibal fish-people, the Deep Ones, who conduct grisly rites in worship of a bloodthirsty aquatic god called Dagon.

I thought the parallels were cute at first, but as our time in Portsmouth wore on, they got more distressing. We’d driven across New Hampshire into an HD remaster of Call of Cthulhu: Dark Corners of the Earth.

The Portsmouth Brewery was wall-to-wall with people, easily the most active building in the town. The hostess sneered that the wait for a table would be 20 minutes. The Girl said that would be fine, and asked if we could get a drink while we wait.

“Yeah, I guess.”

We dodged around the teeming masses of people and, for some reason, all their infant children, to get to the bar. When did the bringing babies into bars phenomenon start? And why? Babies don’t go in bars. Babies go in, I don’t know, parks. McDonald’s Playplace.

Eventually, the girl tending came over to us.

“Hey, we’re here treasure hunting,” I said, trying for charming. “Legend has it this is our best shot at getting Kate the Great. Do you have that right now?”

She scoffed. “We’ll never serve THAT beer again.”

I exchanged a glance with the Girl.

“Is this like, a sensitive subject?”

“No,” she said, providing the exposition she really should have led with, “It’s just, the brewer just quit working here, it was this whole big thing, so we don’t have Kate the Great anymore.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“He opened his own brewery, Tributary. It’s in Maine. But here, you can see our draft list.”

This was technically true. It was in Maine, across a bridge, an 8 minute drive from our present location. It was also technically true that we could see the draft list. It consisted entirely of IPAs, which would have been clutch if I’d ever liked one.

“Can we have a minute to think about it?” the Girl asked. The bartender nodded and drifted off. We escaped to the place next door, which had a similar draft list, substituting one of the IPAs with Budweiser which it listed as a “light lager”.

“I can’t Yelp,” the Girl said. “This is impossible. Two for two. You do it. I’m losing hope.”

dolphins have had it good for TOO LONG

A few blocks away was a brewery called Earth Eagle, which specialized in a hopless proto-beer called “gruit”. It’s a Danish word, and should be pronounced “gryoo-IT”, but I pronounce it groot and will continue to do so until dead.

We made our way past the cute little technicolor New England cottages to Earth Eagle. Random assignment from day two of any outdoor music festival would give you the clientele. It was also crowded, but not as bad as the Portsmouth Brewery.

“Could we sit outside?” the Girl asked. The waitress glared at us balefully.

“You can if you want,” she said. “But it’s gonna rain.”

“If it starts to get bad, we’ll move back in,” the Girl said.

“You should probably just sit inside.”

The Girl was ready to fight her on this. She was hangry. I’m always hangry, and so I’ve developed a tolerance. I steered her aside.

“Not worth it,” I said. “If we sit outside, no one’s going to come take our order.”

It looked like no one was going to anyway. After a while, one of the Deep Ones waddled over, and we ordered gruit. It tasted like beer-flavored juice. They also played the entirety of Rancid’s “And Out Come the Wolves”. I found that suspicious. Like they were humoring me, and when I left they’d return to their backward recordings of whale song and those high-pitched meditation bowls.

The scene was about to turn. I could hear them sharpening their knives. During the next ponderous waitress’ circuit, we waylaid, paid, and am-scrayed.

“I’m so hungry,” the Girl said. “This is where we die.”

“Very possible. I’ll bet they have a sacrificial table here, too.”

“Bastard, we need to find something,” she said. “I’ll go back in there and eat tofu puffs if I have to.”

“Don’t talk like that,” I said. “Listen. We’ll go back to the pizza place. We don’t need to drink there. We’ll just get a pizza. It’s impossible to ruin pizza.”

She was hesitant, but I kept saying, “Huh? Piiizza?”, and that eventually won her over. That’s a pro strat for you, fellas. No charge. Just remember where you learned it.

They were kinder at the pizza place, probably because it was in a basement full of aquariums, and being below sea level and surrounded by their brethren soothed the agitated merfolk. They had a giant neon sign for RED HOOK, which I presumed to be of “The Horror At” fame, and would have won me a prize had I remembered my Mythos bingo card.

We asked the first pleasant waitress in New Hampshire for garlic and it baffled her.

“Garlic? Like, whole garlic?”

“No, like, powder,” the Girl said. “Or salt, if that’s all you have.”

“We… might have some in the kitchen.”

“That’s only a thing where we’re from,” I told her. “When I went west, none of the pizza places had garlic. A lot of ’em didn’t even have oregano.”

The Girl looked as though she might cry. “But… but why?”

“Forgive them. They know not what they do.”

We were given this.

garçon! a ration of garlic powder, s’il vous plait, and your finest sprinkling fork

We walked back out into the building tempest. The fishfolk were growing stronger as it became soggier. It was like you could hear the Jaws theme playing in the distance.

“We gotta look at the whale wall,” I said. “That’s like the only other attraction. Then we get the hell out of here.”

We looked at the whale wall. It was both.

Then, we scurried back to the car.

mood

Unfortunately, the Deep Ones were lying in wait for us. A supply truck was sitting in the middle of the street, right next to my car, parking us and only us in. I couldn’t get around it, and there wasn’t enough sidewalk for any real desperate escape maneuvers. I waited, crouched in the driver’s seat with a fileting knife clutched to my chest. The Girl sat shotgun, slowly pumping up a super soaker full of tartar sauce.

Some other lost tourist/genealogist had parked in front of us, and finally returned to her car. She got the hell out of my way and we made our daring escape.

We crossed the bridge into Maine. It immediately stopped raining. Whatever ancient cult magic held sway in Portsmouth didn’t extend beyond its borders.

Tributary Brewing Company even had a parking lot for free! It was busy, as one would expect for the chosen brewery of the creator of America’s alleged best beer. We sat on the bench along the wall and had a flight and took in the ambiance, most of which consisted of impressionist paintings of this dude’s face.

Mott the Lesser is what he renamed Kate the Great, presumably in order to avoid legal disputes with Portsmouth Brewing. It wasn’t in season, but that was all right. Ask Tennyson. It was never about the Grail. The quest is all.

The man himself sat at a table, eating his lunch and grinning the grin of a man presently living his dreams. He was surrounded by a squadron of adoring Dads. I will admit the dude had an aura, and his biere de miel and porter were magnificent. The porter tasted like smoked joy.

We went next door to a tasteful mermaid-themed restaurant with walls colored in equally tasteful mermaid tiddy art. In retrospect, I should have photographed that, instead of whatever the hell it was we ate. (I know mine was scallops, and I know they were excellent).

Our next stop, continuing with the supernatural theme along New England’s eldritch ley lines, would lead us to the most haunted restaurant in America.

But that’s a spooky campfire story for another day.

Love,

The Bastard

The Shadow Over Portsmouth August 11, 2018. Portsmouth, New Hampshire. In the deepest hidden recesses of the internet, on a vague Wikipedia page about "

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