#did you know it's a false apparition

[chemical-tlas]

「 Our Lady of Sorrows 」 (4/27/23)

Lore drop: did you know Irae has religious trauma?

it manipulates the nervous system basically, but Irae doesn't abuse it :3 (they dropped out at some point but one of their hobbies is learning about the nervous system to maximize it's potential)

I kinda posted this cuz I kinda want feedback on it's design because I wanna improve it,, I'll appreciate any suggestions pls don't be shy ^__^!!

(but I'm keeping the 6 knives to the heart)

[izvmimi]

cw: angsty. breakup mention. based on this song.

Everyone wishes they could go back to the beginning of a love affair, and perhaps if you were ever afforded the opportunity, you’d rewind to many years ago, when Suo first smiled at you and asked for your name. Perhaps you would have smiled just as politely and given him an alias or a nickname that wouldn’t grow as familiar as your name did eventually in his mouth, or come up with some sort of false appointment to help you leave the soiree. 

It's not like you could have known.

Your friend had told you he was a good man, and by all intents and purposes, he is one - kind, considerate, devoted to serving the community he’s a part of, perhaps at a time devoted to you - but now you are trying to erase desperately every memory you’ve shared, as if the endless harsh scrubbing of your body touched by him, as if rough fingers on your scalp and searingly hot water will melt every mark of him on your soul. 

This is a no-fault end to a love affair. He assured you it was him, not you, and plus, you both wanted different things, he’d reminded you, holding your fingertips the entire time over the coffee table so you wouldn’t shake or cry in public. You’d nodded, as if in a trance, his lips forming words that you had no choice but to agree with, even if soon you could barely hear what he was saying from the rushing of blood in your ears.

Suo doesn’t want you anymore. Did he ever want you? Did he ever love you? 

No fault. You did nothing wrong, you just grew apart, and adults do not force square pegs into round holes, they let each other be free to explore and be nurtured by the communities they serve and fall in love again, as many times as it takes to find the connection that fits and lasts.

It doesn’t matter how long you scald yourself under hot water, the love won’t fade away.

…

You hear your now ex has left the country from your friends a couple of weeks later, and you’re none the wiser. You don’t stop to think more about why, because you’ve cried enough times that the part of your brain that processes him and his person is now numb, and all you can do is nod, even if people are surprised to know you weren’t aware.

You have no details to share.

It’s not you, it’s him, after all. 

A year passes, and six months prior to this has you trying to date again by incessant coaxing from your friends, but the curse of being dumped with no explanation and the love of your life disappearing without a trace seems too daunting to move past. You call a crush Suo by accident and don’t even realize until he’s frowning at you as he pays the check, and finally you give up, wondering if something about you has been permanently altered.

It’s been a year and radio silence. No social media updates to even stalk (he always thought private life should stay private) and you had too much pride to ask his friends (if even they knew).

Only time would fix this and in your late 20s, you wonder if eventually you’d run out of time. 

…

Suo resurfaces in the middle of the night, dry despite the rain, save for his cloth shoes. He looks like he’s finally come up for air once he’s seen you, and it’s a miracle you’ve even opened the door, but he’s like an apparition, and you need to reach out and touch him.

You haven’t thought about him all week.

Men like him always appear when you’re trying to move on, don’t they?

“I missed you,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, and you know he’s telling the truth. You don’t reply, and he doesn’t say anything further, as if he’s waiting for you to slam the door on his face.

You don’t. All you do is say, “It’s not me, it’s you.”

His face turns to steel for a moment, and you can see him turn into the ghost you were expecting for a moment.

He whispers your name and you look down at his feet.

“Take off your shoes. You have exactly ten minutes.”

When your eyes meet his again as you look up, they’re filled to the brim with thankful tears, more emotion than you’ve seen in years.

Indoors, tonight, you’ll decide if there is still a fate that connects you, while the breeze and the moonlight outdoors remains constant.

[dorianbrightmusic]

PSA

-OCD is not a synonym for neat or preoccupied with tidiness. Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder is all about distressing intrusive thoughts and rituals (compulsions) used to combat those thoughts.

-Intrusive thoughts are not synonymous with silly things I want to do. They're deeply upsetting, often taboo mental apparitions. Letting them win is the last thing anyone wants, and nobody is immoral for having them. (See 'impulsive thoughts' if you need a term.)

-Anorexic is not a synonym for thin or emaciated. The majority of anorexic people have OSFED atypical anorexia – that is, their BMI is above 18.5. You cannot judge the severity of someone's illness by their appearance. (If you're worried about someone, look out more for rapid weight loss than thinness, even when it's occurring in someone in a larger body. 10kg in 10 weeks is never a good thing.)

-Eating disorders are not synonymous with just anorexia and bulimia. Anorexia is an ED, but it's nowhere near the most common. Bulimia is an ED, but again, not the most common. Together, they do not constitute the most common. The most common ED is binge-eating disorder, and the second most common is atypical anorexia, which is one of many, many OSFED categories. Those living with ARFID, pica, night-eating syndrome, rumination disorder, subthreshold BN, subthreshold BED, and orthorexia all deserve dignity, compassion, and acknowledgement. Remember: EDs are not necessarily thin, and never glamorous.

-Schizophrenic is not a synonym of all over the place, abnormal, unpredictable, dangerous, or crazy. Nor is schizoid or schizotypal. Folks with schizophrenia spectrum disorders live with hallucinations, delusions, disorganised thoughts/behaviour, and/or catatonia. They are far more likely to be victims of violence than perpetrators, and go to huge lengths to act okay even when distressed by symptoms.

-Schizophrenic is also not a synonym of multiple personalities/volatile. For the disorder involving having different facets of personality that are generally unaware of each other, see Dissociative Identity Disorder, and even then, don't assume it's a) dramatic as it is in the movies; b) evil; or c) trivial. DID is a trauma disorder.

-Delusional is not a synonym of wrong. Nor is it the same as this politician/friend is saying something I do not like/that is potentially dangerous. Delusions are false, fixed beliefs held despite evidence. And generally, folks with delusions don't tend to proselytise them. I know that certain politicians have beliefs that seem to persist in the face of evidence, but nevertheless, we don't need to stigmatise mental illness further to call out poor political/social behaviour. If you need a word for the pundit spewing potentially dangerous content, use 'dangerous' or 'wrong', but don't call them delusional.

-Bipolar is not a synonym of all over the place or fluctuating results. Bipolar disorder involves mood states that, even in the rapid cycling form, tend to last at least 3-4 days (mania) and weeks (depression). If you need a word for the weather, use 'British' instead.

-Psychotic is not a synonym of evil. Psychosis is losing touch with reality, whether it be through hallucinations or delusions. It doesn't make a person bad or violent. It's just a neurological phenomenon that may be distressing. It's also relatively common: 6-15% of people will hallucinate in their lifetime.

-ADHD is not a synonym of just quirky/scattered/forgetful/unfocussed/lazy/careless. ADHD is fundamentally a disorder of being able to choose where to direct attention, rather than of just I can't focus. If someone can't tune out the noise of the crowd, but can't prevent themself focussing on something trivial because their brain is wired that way, it's not laziness or just being quirky/scattered.

-Autistic meltdown is not a synonym of temper tantrum.

-Borderline is not a synonym of harridan.

-Narcissist is not a synonym of abuser.

-Mentally ill is not a synonym of volatile or bad person. This doesn't mean we have to make something artificially positive out of mental disorders. If there is good to be found in certain disorders, great; if there is nothing positive about living with certain others, that doesn't make you any less real or resilient than anyone else. It's okay to have complex feelings about your own disorders. It's okay to feel exhausted or frustrated by a disorder. But never should anyone have to face stigma.

[masivechaos]

vigilante shit!

── ☆ regulus black x fem! reader

── ☆ Request: yes / no

── ☆ Synopsis: it's the first time you meet James after he cheated on you, but Regulus is by your side and you're not against making your ex a little mad.

── ☆ Warning/content: celebrity au, mention of cheating (reader been cheated on in the past), swearing, idk anything about how award shows are organized so bear with me please, idk if i like this or no but err, my English

── ☆ a.n.: 1.8k words-

masterlist/ marauders masterlist / navigation / taglist 

Your eyes travelled the room, mouth in a thin line with the most neutral expression on your face, Regulus’ arm around your waist, flashes of cameras illuminating your make-up-covered skin. It was your first apparition in public with Regulus as your new boyfriend. Well- people knew about it, thank the paparazzi for this, but for the first time, it was official, it was your choice.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say this news broke the internet. You were known to be James Potter’s wife, the lead singer of the Marauders, and your break up was sudden, nobody saw it coming.

James Potter was famous for being adorable and so so respectful. Hence your surprise when you found out he cheated. You couldn’t describe how disappointed and betrayed you felt. You genuinely thought he was a good man, but maybe celebrities were celebrities. You hope it was false because you didn’t want Regulus to fool you as James did.

But you didn’t have to worry for the moment, today was a prize award show and you were nominated in the “single of the year” category and Regulus in the “album of the year” category. You wanted both of you to win, and eventually for the Marauders not to win the album of the year prize. First, for yourself and second to prove to James what he had just lost. It was all ego and pride but you didn’t care.

── ☆ 

Finally sat at your table, you looked around and without meaning to, your eyes fell on the Marauders’ table, so on James obviously. You couldn’t help but notice no one was seated by his side, guess his secret girlfriend wasn’t that good. You rolled your eyes before turning your body to face Regulus sat next to you “You good?” he whispered as he let his thumb slide over your knuckles before pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

“Yeah,” you murmured. You weren’t going to let your stupid ex ruin your night.

Soon the night hosts were on stage and you could escape your thoughts by listening to them but it turned out you were zoning out the entire time, your brain only focusing on what you were going to read in the news tomorrow about how it was the first time you and James were reunited after your sudden break up.

Regulus nudged your shoulder, tearing you out of your thoughts “You need to go, it's soon your performance,” he said as he tried to read your eyes. He knew it was hard for you to face James again, but his band mates too.

The world of celebrity is like a playground for adults. Everybody knows each other, some people whisper and others eavesdrop. The kindest ones weren’t always the most popular and you could have a hard time finding real and honest friends.

And for a long time you thought you did. You had what people would call a “perfect life” and you couldn’t be happier. You had an amazing husband, who was the lead singer of a very famous band and you were friends with the other members. What could possibly go wrong?

Journalists and friends were talking about you like your life was complete, that it was going to stay the same until the end. You believed them. You thought you knew James by heart, that you were going to live a perfect marriage.

But maybe you were blind by love, or maybe you were just oblivious but you never saw his furtive glances at his phone at night or the way he would be less present for you, always finding an excuse to go out without you.

One day you got suspicious and asked his bandmates about it but they said they didn’t know anything so you let it go, forgetting about everything. That was until one of your shows was cancelled and you got home a day earlier only to find James in bed with another. When you thought about it, all you can remember is how you cried and screamed and wanted him to disappear from your life.

With tears running down your face, you left the house to find comfort next to your best friend, Remus. He welcomed you, comforted you. You thought that you hadn’t lost everything, your friends were still here. If only it was true.

── ☆ 

“How could he do this to me?” you sobbed, letting your cries staining Remus’ sweater as he brushed away the strands of hair stuck to your cheeks. Remus didn’t answer anything, hugging you closer. His best friend messed up but so did he.

“Since when was this going on? When did he start to lie?” you asked, anger taking over sadness. You felt Remus tense at this. You detached yourself from him, your eyebrows furrowed “You knew about this?” you whispered, your heart clenching inside your chest.

Remus avoided your gaze, staring down at the ground, the hardwood floor being suddenly the most interesting thing of his life.

“Did you know about this, Remus?” you said through gritted teeth and he shyly nodded, ashamed of himself. You jumped out of his sofa, throwing at him the blanket he offered you for extra comfort. “Get fucked, Remus,” you spat as you left his living room.

── ☆ 

You got off of stage after your performance under the loud applause of the public, taking a deep breath in. You had done your best and you were satisfied with the outcome. Walking back to your table, you passed by the Marauders. After realising, you tried to increase your pace and when you thought they didn’t notice you, you felt a hand grabbing your elbow, turning around.

You closed your eyes, hoping this wasn’t happening “Y/n. Please, can we talk?” You winced as you recognized James’ voice.

With a sigh, you opened your eyes “No, we can’t. Bye,” you said as you tried to leave but he held onto your arm a little harder.

“Please,” he begged and the urge to punch him in the face became even stronger. “I- I messed up, okay?”

“Woah, took you a year and half to realise? You’re a bit slow.”

James took a deep breath, combing a nervous hand through his hair “I regret what I did, okay? I fucked up and I…,” he looked at you in the eyes, getting closer to you and your whole body tensed. “I miss you.”

You raised your eyebrows, there was something so satisfying about seeing him miserable like this. Before you could answer anything, an arm slid around your waist and you lifted your eyes to find Regulus by your side.

“Everything’s fine?” he asked as he kissed your temple before letting his lips linger on your skin.

“Yeah,” you whispered, leaning into him, seeking for the comfort of his smell and touch. James’s eyes travelled between you and Regulus as a frown appeared on his face.

“So you guys are dating, now?” You nodded, taking Regulus’s hand and giving it a light squeeze. “This is your revenge? Going out with my rival? You want to know all the awards he stole from us?”

“You know everything is not about you, James? My only revenge is that I’m finally happy and apparently you are not! Like what, Karma knows how to do her work!” You turned to leave before adding “And maybe he didn’t steal any award, maybe his music is just better than yours.”

“What now? You’re saying my music sucks?”

“No. I was maybe stupid enough to believe your sweet words, I wasn’t stupid enough to marry a guy who’s music sucks. All I’m saying is that maybe he’s not the problem, maybe you are. I also happen to appreciate more a music when it’s not made by a bunch of guys who spent months lying into my face because they are fucking cowards.”

You finally walked away, leaving behind you a very much shocked and confused James. He was being honest, he truly wanted you back. And the fact that you were dating his rival wasn’t helping make him feel better.

── ☆ 

When the marauders started to be known, they were immediately successful. All of them being pretty, nice and talented, the success was almost given to them. Until Regulus Black arrived. He was the marauders’ guitarist’s brother and just as handsome, if not more for you. And from there started years of rivalry, The marauders and Regulus often fighting for awards and being the number one hit of the year.

Therefore, since you were married to James, you were used to see Regulus as a rival and bad guy. But when you broke up, you reached out to him. Out of revenge first, you definitely wanted to make James jealous. But as you talked to Regulus more and more, you discovered how much of a sweetheart he was. He made you realise how much James wasn’t treating you right, because Regulus loved you and always made sure you knew it. He made you understand that the sentence “If he wanted to, he would” was definitely true. By his side you felt loved, whole and happy.

── ☆ 

Sat down at your table, your drink in hand. You were waiting for Regulus’s performance, you were sure he was going to be great, he always was. He appeared on stage and started to sing, you carefully watched him, proud of him. It was his new song, the first time he ever performed it live.

From the corner of your eyes, you looked at the marauders, they were watching Regulus and seemed pretty annoyed. You let out a chuckle. You were waiting for one particular lyric and you quickly realised it was the next sentence and watched even more carefully the band’s reaction.“

The words finally crossed Regulus’s mouth “Picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife and she looks so pretty. Driving in your Benz. Lately she's been dressing for revenge.”

You couldn’t help but let a wide grin appear on your lips as you saw James’ clench his jaw as he briefly glanced at you before realising you were looking at him.

When Regulus sat down by your side again, you kissed him, the smile still present. “I can’t kiss you if you smile so much,” he said as he cupped your face between his hands.

“His reaction was priceless.”

“That’s what I wrote this for, darling,” he smirked.

You leaned into his side, your head resting on his shoulder. “It’s maybe childish of me, but I don’t care, he deserves it.”

The night ended and the grins never left both of your faces. And while the Marauders were going back home with their heads down and hands empty, you were sleeping peacefully next to the man of your life, with both of your awards installed proudly on your fireplace.

James lost you but you won everything. You won awards but you won the game of love too. Because you’re the best thing that happened to Regulus and he’s the best thing that happened to you.

⋆ ★ regulus black taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @maroon-winestain @cauliflowertree @madison-rebel @rhydianissuperior  @loveeharrington @meredarling @jackys-stuff-blog @elenatries2write @juneberrie @f4iry-blush  @gilmore-angel @heartfucks @songs4themoon @moondemon123 @mystic-writings @siriusblackstwin @natashxromanovf @unadulterated-syd @garfieldsladybird @starconfettii @percy-the-hufflepuff @fairydxll @spookydarkwitch @duxpuella @innerloverpainter @kieracassette @nyxxxxxxxx @venussflytraps @oncasette @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @widowbf @starlit-epiphany @rosalyn-s @etanordiesbullsh!t @daltopia @jsjcue @mellozhi @lovings4turn

[silverbirching]

SO WE'RE EXCITED ABOUT HADES 2, RIGHT

At least we had all better be, while I'm waving this broken bottle around.

Look guys I'm a Classical mythology wonk. And I don't mean like, "hey I read the Percy Jackson books, they were neat", I mean when I close my eyes before I sleep I pray to every god who might conceivably be listening that Linear A gets deciphered in my lifetime. I mean I've got a giant metal print of Circe Invidiosa by John Waterhouse in my bedroom. I mean that if you make the mistake of mentioning Hadestown in my presence you have unwittingly activated the trap card of "Sam talks about his string-and-sandwich board conspiracy theory about how Persephone was a terrifying eldritch queen of the dead and the entire greek world was scared shitless of her, so maybe knock it off with all these tender waifs in flower crowns, artists of the last two thousand years for two solid hours."

(The Percy Jackson books are extremely neat, btw)

So cut to 2020, the year of shit, and here comes a game from one of my favorite studios of all time, about one of my favorite subjects of all time, and it's gorgeous and deep and full of stupid gay drama and the art melts my eyeballs and the voice acting (true to Supergiant tradition) is basically indistinguishable from foreplay. So I played it. I played the absolute balls off of it.

AND THEY'RE MAKING A SEQUEL, HOLY SHIT

so the Thing about Chthonic deities is the underworld really creeped the Ancient Greeks out, so there's not a lot of writing about them that has survived to the present day, since if they were worshipped it was usually by mystery cults or more in an avoidant "please please please don't notice me I've been a good boy please" kind of way.

Hence why our favorite bisexual softboi dreamboat Zagreus doesn't really feature much in the mythology, except he was probably an offshoot of Dionysus and usually got synchronized with him, Hades himself, or Mycenaen Poseidon. They make a joke about this in Hades, btw (they make a fucking JOKE SONG about in in Hades).

BUT DID YOU KNOW ZAGREUS HAD A SISTER!?

Her name is Melinoë, and she's also cited from very limited sources, but I want to show y'all the brilliant Apostolos Athansssakis' translation of one of the view sources we have, the Hymn to Melinoë:

I call upon Melinoë, saffron-cloaked nymph of the earth, whom revered Persephone bore by the mouth of the Kokytos river upon the sacred bed of Kronian Zeus. In the guise of Plouton Zeus tricked Persephone and through wiley plots bedded her; a two-bodied specter sprang forth from Persephone's fury. This specter drives mortals to madness with her airy apparitions as she appears in weird shapes and strange forms, now plain to the eye, now shadowy, now shining in the darkness— all this in unnerving attacks in the gloom of night. O goddess, O queen of those below, I beseech you to banish the soul's frenzy to the ends of the earth, show to the initiates a kindly and holy face.

My guess would be is that Supergiant will not have her be the child of Zeus under false pretenses (there's sources that indicate Zagreus is also a child of Zeus) but still. Dope. Rad as hell. Zag's baby sister is a twin-bodied goddess of nightmares and I am excited a normal amount.

Also Apollo is gonna be in this one, you guys.

Look at this magnificent pain-in-the-ass. I can already tell you he's going to be 10,000% annoying, and I am completely here for it.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Magical Theory

I want to reorganize my pinned post a little, so this is one of the masterposts I'll be posting to link at the top of my blog and continuously edit.

General:

How Magic Works in Harry Potter? And More Specifically What is Dark Magic?

The half-life curse of slaying a unicorn

How to make the Philosopher's Stone

Lily's Love Protection and Dumbledore's Blood Wards

Why did Voldemort pass out when he killed Harry? Answer: Lily's magic at it again!

Pensive memories

Mind Magic: Obliviation, Legilemancy, and false memories

Prophecies and Fate

Possession Magic

Voldemort's Humonculus Pre-Resurrection Form

Horcruxes:

Secrets of the Darkest Art: How to Make a Horcrux

Horcruxes: Could the diary have returned using Ginny's life and how sentient is a Horcrux

How could you remove the Horcrux from Harry without killing him

The Horcrux connection is double-edged

Wandlore:

How the Elder Wand chooses its master

Why Harry's wand shot golden flames at Voldemort

How powerful the Elder Wand actually is

Why Ollivanders only sells 3 wand cores when there are more available

Wand appearance

Some Wand Redesigns: Part 1

Some Wand Redesigns: Part 2

The Deathly Hallows:

The Veil, Death, and its Master

Deathly Hallows and the Peverells: Part 2

Even more about Necromancy

Magical Transportation:

The Knight Bus & How it Knows to Come and Get You

Magical Transportation: Apparition, Floo Powder, and Portkeys

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine knowing the truth when Halbrand visits you for the last time…

At sundown, Elrond had visited you in the guest quarters. It was a short exchange. He wished to know that you how you were coping before he retired for the night. Once he was satisfied with your reply, he bid you farewell and descended the steps.

In truth, you did not know how to process the news of Halbrand’s identity so you gave a response that Elrond was willing to hear, hoping that a nights rest may help you think clearly the next day.

You blew out a candle by the bed and settled onto the mattress. You had wished for silent dreams but there was only one face that showed - a memory that you shared with Halbrand in Numenor when he came to you with injuries after a street fight.

You had sat him down and cleaned his wounds, lightly scolding him for not walking away. He was bitter about what had happened but thanked you for the aid nonetheless. His eyes captured yours and in that single moment of distraction you had accidentally grabbed a scalding metal pike that was sitting on the bench beside the bandages.

The burning in your hand forced you awake. Sitting up with a gasp, you looked into your palm and saw the fading scars from the incident. That’s when you noticed something in the corner of your eye - the outline of a person standing behind the curtains. 

Straightening your shoulders, you sent a hard stare at fabric before making a demand. “Show yourself.”

The figure moved and Halbrand appeared from behind the curtain like a shadow being given the breath of life. His attire had changed to reflect darker hues which also altered the appearance of his eyes to be more mysterious and dangerous. He walked into the centre of the room and paused, quietly waiting for you.

Had you eyes deceived you? Swinging off the bed, your bare feet touched the cold floors as you stood. Carefully, you approached the man.

“Are you really here?” You asked, careful to keep your voice low.

Halbrand shook his head. “No, I’m far away now. When you did not return like we had planned, I wondered if Galadriel had told you my truth.”

He noticed the way you sucked in a small breath and scoffed. “Of course she did.”

“Why have you come? Was it not enough for you to play such a cruel trick?”

Halbrand’s eyes darkened as his anger grew. “My love for you was no cruel trick. It was unexpected and complex but never false.”

The boom in his voice made your heart jump but you did not know if it was hope, fear or sadness.

“Was this your plan? Gain our trust before driving swords into our backs while we slept?” You asked.

Halbrand frowned. “Do you think that deception and power is all that I crave? It is a fair thought after all the stories that you have heard about my past.” He began to move, circling you. “My plans were simple. I wanted to stay away from Middle Earth until the elf drew me into her mess.”

“One that you started when you joined Morgoth and killed her brother.” You argued. “Along with so many others.”

Halbrand stopped before you. “We do not linger on the past unless we want to squander our lives. I wanted nothing until you entered my company and my mind began to wander about-”

“About what?” You asked.

“About a life with you.”

You wanted to believe him but his true nature changed everything. With a small head shake, you began to walk away, past his apparition. “If you had truly wanted something then you would be here - not halfway to that volcanic wasteland.”

“I still love you.” Halbrand confessed. “And a part of me always will.”

You paused to hear his words unable to deny the feeling of truth and warmth they were able to bestow. You were ready to repeat them them when you turned but the room was empty once more.

Halbrand was gone and this time, it was unlikely that he would return.

Part 1 | Part 2

~ More imagines here ~

[v-era-18]

Red Licorice

Chapter Four: Apparition

‘Billy never held me like that before, and he most definitely never looked at me the way he looked at her in that very moment,’ - Sidney Prescott

It was like that night before, only this time two more victims emerged, alive but their spirits crushed. The Prescott home was flooded with FBI agents whereas the police station was in chaos, mass reporters at every corner trying to get a glimpse of the new victims-the two girls that survived. It was funny, seeing the flashing lights outside with the shouts of questions and reporters spreading false information.

(Y/n) sat in the chair, slacked and unresponsive across from the two officers in the room, officers David Montana and Casandra Williams. The brown skinned woman pushed a cup of hot chocolate her way with a soft smile, she was being patient with the girl seeing as though it was a traumatizing situation. She stayed next to her side and escorted her personally to the police station making sure she was comfortable. The girl had lost both of her parents, her best friend and now was attacked by a possible serial killer, she needed a break.

Willams took in a deep breath before speaking, “(Y/n)- sweetheart- we need you to tell us what happened,” she crouched down beside her giving her hand a soft squeeze. It felt motherly and for a moment the girl's shoulders relaxed.

Silence.

“Did he-did the killer say something about Casey?”

No response.

“Come on (Y/n), we can't help you if you don't say anything,” It was officer Montana this time, an impatient expression on his face. The officer was the second one to read Casey’s diary, he had every right to believe that the girl was a suspect in this case. There were moments of doubt though, (Y/n) was a good girl- he could see it. Was being outed the tip of the iceberg or jealousy?

The afro haired girl looked through the window to Sidney who was currently talking to Tatum. They watched her eyes water slightly before sniffling once more, “It's all my fault..,”

Cassandra paused, “What? What's your fault sweetheart?”

“I split off from Sidney thinking I could outsmart him- I was wrong,” Fat tears rolled down her eyes as she tried to bring the blanket over her soldiers further, not wanting to see an ounce of her skin. “His-his hands…..the knife-”

The woman held the teens hands, noticing her breathing staring to labor, “Take your time. I know this must be hard for you,” Cassandra whispered, she scanned over the girls face and her shaking form before asking, “Did- did he possibly sexually-”

“No. That's the thing-he only injured my leg before leaving me on the sink- I- I don't understand why he didn't kill me.” It was a partial lie, the male did inappropriately touch her, but now that she thought about it the only threatening part about it was him cutting her leg and taking her underwear. She did stab him in the back-literally, it makes sense with him wanting payback.

A deep chuckle cut through the room shocking Willams, “David-are you fucking serious - ?”

“Cut the crap,” The male's voice was stern, walking over before slamming a stack of files on the desk, “No killer would just leave a witness alive. Meaning you must've known them or worked with them.”

(Y/n) shook in her seat, utter disbelief taking over her features, “What? No! He literally-”

“Casey would be rolling around in her grave if she heard the lies you were speaking,” A glare was thrown her way, “If she had one, we’re still examining her body. And the embalming process nearly seems impossible to do.”

The afro haired girl shook her head in disbelief , thinking she should've kept quiet after all, “I know it doesn't make sense! But I'm telling you, he honestly cut me before leaving the bathroom!”

Williams cocked her head in confusion, “What? The killer was with you in the bathroom? Billy Loomis came through Sidney's bedroom window, sweetheart, that doesn't make sense.”

“That's because it couldn't have been Billy-,”

“What's your relationship with Loomis,” Montana cut in.

The girl paused for a moment thinking carefully before speaking, “We’ve been friends since middle school, we don't hang out as often due to our own lives, but he's a good boyfriend to Sid I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Well,” She looked back through the window at Sidney, “Casey did tell me about him possibly cheating on Sid with another girl-didn't tell me who though. I thought it was a rumor.” It was true, although while analyzing Sidney and Billy’s relationship it did seem like it was missing something not to mention they haven't been dating for too long either. Billy started dating Sidney late July and took her out on small dates and even brought her with (Y/n) Stu and Casey. The only downside was that she was a fifth wheel noticing the couples holding each other's hands and whispering with one another. She left early much to the boy's dismay.

David sat down at the desk, placing an arm down with his cheek resting on his fist, “What about a romantic relationship?”

“Ro-romantic?” (Y/n) puzzled, “Me and Billy never dated.”

“Don't have to. You see men-especially boys- have a certain way of operating to get a woman's attention. They can even go to extreme messures-such as dating a friend or fucking a few girls in order to get it. To get you jealous-to get in your head.”

Her breath caught in her throat at what he was trying to get at, “Your wrong-Billy doesn't see me that way. I'm not special, Sidneys a whole package-just like Casey and Tatum-'' The afro heard stopped, a choked out sob, cutting through, “I’m not what he's looking for-”

“But you want him to-”

“No! I know what you're doing! But I honestly don't think Billy would kill Casey! I mean what reason would he have? My best friend barley hung out with him,”

The officers looked at eachother, a silent conversation going on. (Y/n) didn't like it, not one bit. Casey never hung out with Billy, as she always said he was weird-after his mother his attitude turned sour and the only ones who had patience to tolerate it was Stu and (Y/n). He wasn't a bad guy, just had a lot of baggage to deal with.

Montana finally looked back at her, “(Y/n) be honest with us. Did you love Casey?”

“More than the whole world. She-,” The girl's lips wobbled while speaking, “She was that beacon of light I needed each day. A big sister-a other half if you could tell.”

There was a pause.

“I don't mean as a friend or sister (Y/n),”

The girl cocked her head to the side, her face read confusion and sorrow. The two officers in the room only felt worse from the information they had collected.

“What-?”

“ARE YOU FUCKERS SERIOUS?!”

The officers heard the eruption of shouts and slams of desks heading in their direction. Williams immediately got in front of (Y/n) as the girl got up to see what's going on. Through the window she could see a red faced Billy struggling against the officers, throwing punches left and right as his father shouted for him to stop immediately.

But the Loomis boy was relentless, throwing another left hook at another officer after a taser was deployed. He screamed in pain, face twinsting in agony-eyes filled with fury at the situation; the male pulled out the protruding strings a trail of blood seeping his shirt. Shoving another officer out the way Billy made way towards the office, screaming his whole soul with the name that plagued his mind each night; (Y/n) (L/n)

“Billy, you stop this instant!” His father was chasing after him as the other officers tried to recover heading towards the room the girl was in.

Sidney and Tatum watched the scuffle with wide eyes. Upon them arriving at the station Billy practically begged his girlfriend to see him-to talk to him, pushing against officers in order to get to her. However, the boy was going the extra mile for someone he wasn’t even dating- someone he barely talked to or acknowledged. Punching, moving desks and screaming manically in order to get to their best friend.

The best friend who seemed to have all his flaming attention at the moment.

Billy stood in the doorway furious, his eyes filled with malice and rage before locking gaze with (Y/n). He scanned her form looking over her tear streaked face, to the way she covered herself completely with the blanket as she tried to make herself unnoticeable. She watched as the boy's face softened, stepping up to her, he reached out only for the female officer to step in between them.

He simply ignored her and focused on (Y/n), “Are you okay? Did he hurt you-?”

“Mr. Loomis, it is highly suggested you get away from the victim at this time.”

Billy cocked his head in annoyance, “She's my best friend, I'm not leaving till I make sure she's okay. Especially since you are here in this room questioning her over and over when she looks like she's about to have a mental breakdown.” He stepped forward once more, this time a plea leaving his lips, “Please let me see her, there's literally eyes everywhere, I wont do anything.”

The woman paused for a moment before responding, “If it's okay with Mrs (L/n), you're allowed to talk to her. But with me in the room-or nothing at all.”

Billy nodded, taking what he could get. He turned to the girl expectantly, awaiting her answer. It was a long shot, afterall the girl was traumatized from the recent events inside the house. She was supposed to emerge unscathed-shit-they didn't even know that she was even at the house. Sideny was supposed to be alone tonight-not drag their final girl into this shit.

The afro haired girl stared at him for a long moment before shuffling her feet, “It's fine. Billy didn't do anything wrong to me.” It was barely audible by the boy and the officer heard just fine.

Loomis was by her side in a flash, grabbing her face in both hands trying to gain his bearings-the taser and scuffle was starting to take a bit of a toll on his body. The way he was looking at her spoke volumes to the many people in the office-David including who had a smug look on his face before heading out to grab his partner some ice for his black eye.

The boy knows how to throw a punch.

“You okay precious? I just now heard you were in the house, I swear if I had known-,” Billy cut off noticing the fat welt of tears starting up again, his heart nearly breaking seeing how scared she was from tonight. Mentally cursing Stu for his error, the boy quickly pulled her into his arms. Sobs racked through the girl's body seconds at a time, it felt so long since (Y/n) had cried against him like this.

The last time Billy could remember a similar moment was when they were in eighth grade. The girl was wearing a sweater with beat up ripped overalls, her knee and chin were bleeding. Stu was walking beside her with a black eye, he knew immediately the culprit had been dealt with. But that didn’t make them any less angry with that fact (Y/n) got hurt, mentally and physically.

“I-I’m I’m sorry-,”

“Don’t apologize to me, precious, take all the time you need,” Yeah. Billy was gonna let Stu have it when he got out of here, “I need you to remember to control your breathing. You can do that for me right?”

She nodded into his chest, trying to even out her breaths from what Stu had taught her when they were younger. Billy's hands rubbed up and down her back affectionately, whispering encouraging words in her ears as she continued to let tears fall. Once her shakes and breaths were steady, she proceeded to look up at her distant friend. The boy's eyes were scanning her face, using his hands to gently wipe away all the rest of the tears from her face. His hands were soft, no calluses or rough patches-much different from the man who rubbed up and down her thigh.

(Y/n) took a gulp of air, “It wasn't you.”

A pause.

“What?” Billy asked.

“It wasn't you,” The girl replied shakily, “H-his hands had calluses. Your hands are smooth with no bumps, just slightly dry. I managed to stab him in the shoulder-b-but you're not bleeding anywhere.”

Officer Williams eyes widened a bit before grabbing a notepad writing the confession down. Billy noticed this a bit unnerved but remained focused on the girl in front of him, gazing down at the bandaged cut on her leg. It was obvious the cut was deep, Stu wasn't forgiving about getting stabbed in the shoulder no matter how much he loved her. It honestly was conflicting with the position they were in, especially since they thought she would be home safe from the mess.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. FUCK!

Billy just pulled the girl back in his arms, his heart beating faster as the guilt started sinking in. Never did he ever want the girl in his mess. it wasn't her fault of what that bitch did to his family-to his life. (Y/n) was the light in his life, even if he didn't show it in the best ways. He never engaged in a normal relationship due to the fact it would mess up the plan with Sidney. The girl wasn't the type to go out with her friends' ex's-so was the afro haired in his arms. Either way, the beginning of the relationship would be a cluster of a mess for what he wanted to accomplish.

“Do you know where you left the knife sweetheart?”

The girl directed her attention to the officer, grabbing Billy’s hand for encouragement, “He took it. He made sure to grab it out of the bathtub before leaving.”

Billy acknowledged that Stu wasn’t a complete dumbass, he knew that the knife was evidence due to the blood from the stab in his shoulder. Slow props to him. Still pissed at the fact (Y/n) got hurt. But this was Stu he was talking about, even though he was the more patient one out of the two of them-he had his limits. The girl pushed him over the edge with her actions.

“Do you remember anything else-“

“Are you trying to cause her to panic more?” Billy snapped.

Officer Williams backed up slightly at the boy's tone, she did realize her error a bit. The girl did just go through a lot tonight, and was a lot more traumatized than Prescott. But it was her job to get as most information out of the victim as she can.

“I apologize, but sometimes it’s best to question the victims while their memory is still fresh with the situation rather than questioning later,”

“She needs support right now-not an interrogation,” Billy tutted simply, “Have you called her aunt?” It was plaguing the back of his mind where her aunt was at his current moment. Gia was protective, she barely let Stu and Billy hang around (Y/n) alone without adult supervision. It wasn’t till they turned seventeen that she was allowed more outside the house.

The prison is home to what (Y/n) called it.

“Miss (L/n) is unfortunately at home waiting for her niece's arrival. We thought it'd be safer if she stayed at home due to the mass crowd of reporters outside.” The officer replied patiently.

“Take her home then!” Billy turned back to (Y/n), searching her face filled with discomfort, “Do you want to go home precious?”

The girl paused for a moment just staring at her friend's face, she pursued her lips together before nodding. She needed the comfort of her room.

Sheriff Burke and Dewy watched the two teens talk through the window, before glancing back towards Sidney and Tatum who seemed stunned and lost for words. The Prescott girl couldn't take her eyes off her boyfriend who fought uniforms in order to get to her best friend. He was still embracing her, whispering things in her ear; things he should've been doing for her - his girlfriend. Not (Y/n).

“Do we have anything else to report?” The Sheriff questioned out of earshot.

Dewey shook his head solemnly, “That ghost mask is sold both at Krogers and Walmart. Neither or keep purchase records.” Which would only make their case harder with finding suspects.

“What about the cellular phone bill?”

“They’re pulling Loomis’ account. But it'll be morning before we see something,” Riley looked back towards the window, Billy was still holding the afro haired girl together. They were standing now and both speaking to officer Williams, but he did catch the frustration and worry written on the boy's face. “You think he did it? (Y/n) said it was impossible due to the killer being with her most of the time he was there. It contradicts Sidney's story with how Loomis entered through the window with murderous intent.”

The Sheriff let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Twenty years ago I would've said not a chance. But kids these days….damn if I know,”

Silence filled the space once the other office door opened leading out (Y/n), Billy, and Officer Willaims in toe. Two uniforms came forward to take the boy away, he simply gave his best friend's hand a reassuring squeeze before allowing them to take him. He didn't bother to look his girlfriend's way either which set her nerves on edge.

Tatum strolled up to Dewey with Sidney not too far behind, “Hey..Dewey. Can we go now?”

“Hold up a sec,” Dewey replied softly. He didn't want to give his sister any special treatment but with the way things are right now, letting up on the teens wouldn’t hurt.

Sheriff Burke sent a questioning look to the Deputy, “She's staying with you?” He gestured to Sidney.

“We haven't located her dad yet,” He replied.

Tatum saw Sidney shuffle her feet in the corner of her eye, “God dammit Dewey!”

Dewey turned to his sister with a red face, “What did mama tell you? When I wear this badge you treat me like a man of the law!”

“I'm sorry, Deputy Dewey-boy but we're ready to leave,” Tatum shot her gaze to (Y/n) who was cowering against the wall, “We all are.” Her brother followed her gaze and immediately understood what she was trying to say.

He let out a sad sigh before turning to the afro haired girl, “(Y/n), ready to go home sweetheart?”

The girl nodded back in response, Officer Willaims gave the girl her card just in case she remembers anything else about tonight. In turn she sent a grateful smile even if it was strained, before following Dewey and the girls to the other exit.

“Are you okay?” Sidney whispers softly.

The girl turned her head to her and shook her head, “No, but I’m trying my best. I just need-I just need some time,”

They finally reached the side door of the police station. Upon opening the door the deputy tried to shield the girls from the impending flashing lights and reporters crowding around the front entrance.

Dewey turned to the three of them, “I'll get the car. You three wait here,” the male took off into the parking lot. It was a good thing the parking lot wasn't too crowded since the reporters and cameraman were mainly focused on the main entrance at the moment. Leaving the girls alone to gain their bearings-or so they thought.

The infamous reporter Gale Weathers and her cameraman made an appearance out of the darkness. The illuminated light caused (Y/n) to squint grabbing onto Sidney's sweater to save face, the sight looked pitiful.

“Hello Sidney,” The woman smiled in greeting, causing the Prescott girl to downturn her lips considerably. She then turned to the afro haired girl, scanning her bloodshot eyes to the exposed bandaged thigh peeking from the slit of the blanket draped over her shoulders, “That looks like a nasty scare you got there (Y/n). Are you alright?”

The two girls said nothing in response, simply staring; one cold, one filled with anxiety. Just like Sid, (Y/n) had her run in with Weathers before, only the interview was when the girl was in her tweens. The hot news around that time was her parents' case being closed due to the lack of evidence from that night of the murder. Aunt Gia had found out the reporter had bought the girl a case of horror movies in exchange for a brief talk about her parents. (Y/n) being a naive girl didn't understand at the time that not all adults had good intentions the hard way; Gia had threatened to sue Gale if she released her book to the public on her parents murder.

Something Sidney's father should have done.

“What happened tonight?” Gale tried once more, pointing the microphone in the girl's direction.

The action caused Tatum to step in between the girls and the reporter, a harsh glare taking on her features. “They're not answering any questions. Just leave us alone okay?”

“It's okay, Tatum,” Sidney stepped forward, a coy smirk on her lips, “She's just doing her job. Right Gale?”

“Yes, that's right,” The woman agreed, her smile faltering a bit not expecting the girl's tone to turn a bit hostile towards her.

Dewey pulls up with the squad car just in time as the mass of reporters start to roll in near the alley seeing the commotion. It would be a bit attention grabbing seeing a police car rolling up on the side of the police station; especially if it meant the killer would be taken away or escorted away from the public eye.

“How's the book?” The girl sneered, she was trying to keep calm, but the way her body shook and her face growing warm it was obvious that she was struggling. (Y/n) had scooted closer to the other two girls as more reporters swarmed in

“It’ll be out later this year,”

“I'll make sure to look for it.”

“And I'll make sure to burn them.” (Y/n) muttered loud enough for them to hear.

Gale turned to (Y/n), “And I'll make sure to send a special copy for your case as well (Y/n). Although it won't be published there are copies that have been printed-”

The reporter didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before Sidney reeled back her arm before smashing it unexpectedly in Gale's face. A shock of gasps and shouts rang out around them from the hit the Prescott girl had landed. The woman fell on the pavement along with Kenny the cameraman, she was clutching her eye breathing deeply-glaring at the group of girls in front of her.

(Y/n) peered over Sidney's shoulder, a faint smile on her lips that matched the girl's satisfied look, “Damn Sid. Nice Hit!”

☿

Sidney sat on the bed staring at the floral wallpaper of the guest room at the Reily home. Tatum was currently in the bathroom finishing up with her face mask, she offered to do hers but it was the least of her worries. Afterall, who could bare to get glammed up after nearly dying from a serial killer.

Her thoughts traveled back to one of her best friends; (Y/n) (L/n). Sideny had met her during their English class in the tenth grade; she could still remember the girl's horrific story she told the class for her project. She earned a one hundred of course whereas Sidney earned a simple eighty-seven for creativity and effort about mermaids.

Prescott had asked the girl for advice to do better for the next project, and the rest was history. Sure there were moments of disagreements ,but they were always light hearted. They never actually held anything against one another like Ttaum and Casey did, sometimes they would have fun on their own and it would be the best time without the other two. It was also the year she met Billy by association; at the time she wasn't interested in the trouble maker. Her dad would've never approved of someone who stayed in detention, and here she was dating him.

If you would even call it that.

After tonight she felt like she was intruding on what was already there between Billy and (Y/n). and she didn't blame her friend on it either, only on Billy since he was the one who pursued her in the first place. Why would he ask her to be his girlfriend if he already had feelings for (Y/n)?

A rebound? Moving on? Rejection? Whatever it was, it left her mind in a tizzy, and her heart aching with rewinding the image of the embrace they both shared in the office.

“God, I loved It!” Tatum emerged from the hallway, jumping and landing back first on the second twin bed with a laugh, “‘I'll send you a copy’ Bam! Bitch went down. ‘Ill send you a copy’ Bam! Sid-SuperBitch!”

Dewey stepped into the doorway with a bag of ice in hand, “Thought you might want some ice for that right hook.” Sidney took the ice in thanks, placing it along her throbbing knuckles, “I'll be right next door. Try and get some sleep.”

As if getting sleep was going to be the easiest thing tonight.

“Any word on my dad?” Sidney asked him.

“Not yet, but we're looking, “The male stepped out of the room, “If you need anything…”

“Yeah yeah yeah…” Tatum waved him off, adding the flick of the wrist for emphasis. Her brother only smiled in response, closing the bedroom door to give the girls their privacy.

“Just another sleepover at the Rileys,” Sidney muttered laying down on her back.

Tatum smiled, “Just like old times, aint it?”

Sidney's face turned grim before rolling on her side away from Tatum, “No, nothings like it used to be.” She didn't want to bring the mood down, but her words held their weight. Nothing was going to be the same after tonight. And no amount of face masks gossip or snickering was going to change that.

Sidney and (Y/n) almost died tonight.

And she still couldn't wrap her head around the fact the masked man was in the bathroom with (Y/n) while Billy had entered her bedroom window. She felt horrible for accusing her own boyfriend after her friend's testimony came to light, but the way her gut was screaming something was wrong-the convenience,the timing was just off and alarming. The worst part was he wouldn't even look at her-he gave all his attention to (y/n) and completely did a one eighty in comparison to the way he was begging for his life earlier to talk to her.

A telephone rings off into the distance causing the girl to grip the pillow tighter.

“Do you really think Billy did it?” Tatum said gently, “It contradicts the scar on (Y/n)’s leg and her interaction with that freak of a killer.”

“He was there, Tatum,” Sidney muttered, “Something seemed so off about the convenience of it all! The killer corners (Y/n) in the bathroom just as my boyfriend conveniently comes in through the window trying to rescue me?” The girl sat up in the bed, brows creased together, “Somethings wrong here.”

Tatum hummed thinking things over, “I knew the guy was too perfect when (Y/n) introduced him to us. He was destined to have a flaw,” the blonde locked eyes with her friend hesitantly, “Are we not going to talk about what we saw happening between them?”

Sidney’s stomach lurched as the image swarmed her mind for a second, “About what? About a friend comforting the other?”

The girl thought if she denied what she saw a little longer she would be able to deny the reality of their situation; that her supposed boyfriend who she's been sneaking behind her dads back was truly in love with her best friend instead of her.

‘Billy never held me like that before, and he most definitely never looked at me the way he looked at her in that very moment.’

She was the other woman. (Y/n) was the endgame-the wife-the girl who should've been sitting at the table during dinner. Not her.

It should hurt more than it did, but why didn't it? Why wasn't she crying?

“Sid,” Tatum whispered softly, “You know what Billy did in order to get to her. Hell, he didn't throw left and right hooks in order to get to you-that one step was enough-”

“Do we have to talk about this right now?”

“No,” Her friend shook her head, “But it will have to be discussed eventually. You and (Y/n) are both good girls, talking it out will probably be a breeze if it's just the two of you.”

Tatum obviously learned her lesson from that night when they were thrown out of the (L/n) residence by Casey. She needed to learn not every girl was out to get her or challenge her the way she thought they did, in school it was a survivors instinct. Not to mention her insecurities while tripping over herself to get Stus attention since eighth grade. So when she figured it was (Y/n)’s fault that the male gaze was traveling elsewhere she let her mind get the best of her.

It was one of the nights she still regrets till this day. She doesn't deserve to be called her friend. Not as much as Casey did.

Sideny nodded with a sigh, “You right for once-,”

“For once-?!”

“I need to talk to (Y/n) about Billy, alone,” The girl finished softly, “I can only hope the truth comes out, and if it's true that they both have feelings for eachother then well-”

A knock on the door interrupts the girl's sentence, Mrs Riley opens the door with a smile, her graying hair framed her face nicely while her eyes held warmth gazing at the two girls. “Telephone, dear”

“Who is it?” Asked Tatum.

“It's for Sid,” The mother responded softly.

This caught the girls attention, a glimmer of hope shone in Sidney's eyes. “My dad?”

Mrs Riley paused and shook her head sadly, Tatum frowned in response, “Take a message,”

Sidney shook her head getting up from the bed, “It's alright. I'll get it,” The girl had another strong hope that it was from (Y/n) needing a bit of reassurance from tonight. They barely exchanged words in the car on the way to her home, the girl would shiver and sniff occasionally, breaking her heart. She blamed herself-she was the one who invited her to her home with no adult supervision.

While Sidney takes off down the hall Mrs Riley looks at her daughter jerking her head in the girl's direction, “How is she?” she whispered.

Tatum shrugged a frown playing on her lips. In an event like this all they could do was be observant and offer support, there will never be a guide or possible instruction to help someone who was almost murdered.

Sideny grabbed the phone from the table at the end of the hall, “Hello?”

“Hello Sidney.”

The girl froze the voice over the phone slithering through her-invading her. Her mouth hung open as her entire body weakened, the image of the ghostfaced killer flashed through her mind along with the crippled state of her friend with a large bandage wrapped around her thigh.

“Nooooo..” She cries out gaining the attention of the two other women in the house. Tatum sprinted down the hall to her best friend's side, watching the girl's shoulders bounce up and down in fear with her face contorted in mental anguish.

“Poor Billy-Boyfriend. An innocent guy doesn't stand a chance with you.” The male taunted over the phone, “At least he had my (Y/n) there to testify his innocence.”

“Leave Me Alone!” Sideny shouted her words together, she was in such hysterics she did not process the last part in his statement about her friend.

“Looks like you fingered the wrong guy….again,”

“Who are you? What the fuck do you want?”

“Hang up Sid,” Tatum hissed, she grabbed her friend's shoulder trying to ease the girl off the phone. If it was the killer then she shouldn't be talking to them as long as she was.

“Don’t worry. You'll find out soon enough. I promise,” The killer snickered into the phone, “I do hope (Y/n) won't be around you next time. My precious has already lost someone dear to her, losing you would be the tip of the iceberg.” The way the male spoke over the phone about her friend sent shivers down her spine; it was nauseating thinking about how the girl was left alone in the bathroom with this creep for god knows how long.

The girl let out a sob, “She’s traumatized, you fucker! You killed someone that was practically her sister, now you're claiming she's dear to you?” Sidney looked around at the windows trying to see in the dark of night to see if thers any glimpse of a white mask, “You better leave her the fuck alone, you hear me? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Mrs Riley ran to the bedroom door practically begging for her son's attention-banging against the door, “Dewey! Dewey!”

“This is gonna be fun, Sidney,” The killer growled, “It'll be just like old times.”

The line goes dead, leaving Sidney frozen with the phone in hand. Tatum stood off to the side stunned with the revelation, chills going down her spine from the voice she overheard. This was the voice of the man that attacked her best friends? The one that killed Casey?

The silence was cut through with Dewey barrelling out of his room with a gun in hand, he didn't even have time to put pants on, his pizza print underwear on full display, “What? What? What's happening?”

“Really Dewey?” Momma Riley shook her head, gently grabbing the phone from Sidney’s hands-she had a strong grip but with some gentle encouragement they let go. The girl had her lips parted slightly, tears blooming up to her eyes till they loosely spilled over.

Why? Why was she targeted? Who did she piss off so much to be on someone's hit list?

“Let's get you to bed dear,” The older woman whispered before turning back to her son, “Dewey, get your men on the phone and tell them what just happened! They need to be working faster.”

Dewey nodded, he picked the phone up examining it a bit, almost expecting the killer to call again before placing it back down. It was true they did need to hurry. But how much time did they truly have left?

☿

Stu winched as he reached the outside window of the (L/n) residence, inside he could hear the faint cries of the afro haired girl causing his stomach to do flips. He thought back to his actions in the Prescott house and Billy’s harsh tone over the phone; the Loomis boy had practically hissed at him to fix his mistake. Don’t get him wrong, a part of himself feels as though the cut on the thigh was an even edge to the stab to his shoulder. It was hard explaining to the nurses in the hospital on how it happened, not the smartest idea but he couldn't afford to bleed out. Especially since Billy was arrested he couldn't help patch him up.

He could still see the absolute terror on her face along with black nightie loose on her figure. When he and Billy had watched the girl from the trees and side of the house it was practically difficult to sneak around with their boners practically wanting to jump out of their pants. Hence why he took the initiative of seduction a bit in the bathroom, the way (Y/n) looked back up at him-helpless-tears pooling her brown eyes begging for mercy.

Stu wanted to see that expression again on her face.

It was twisted, he knew-to get aroused at the sight-but damn did she look so good. It felt as though they were in a horror porno of some kind. The helpless final girl reaches her limit, unable to run from her doom, the killer giving the ultimatum of sex in exchange for her life. It was a hopeless dream, but he wanted it to be a reality. Billy would hopefully entertain the idea one day once they were all on the same page.

Snapping off the girls window lock was easy, it was a good thing he and Billy practiced for their kills earlier or else it was going to be loud. He made sure to open the window slowly, paying attention to the bed on the other side of the room in the far left corner. From what the male noticed it hasn't changed that much in comparison to when they were kids. The pictures were the same-some added still in the proper place on the mirror, her shoes lined up near her closet mostly consisting of sneakers, and lonely Mr. Creep was on the floor. His left foot was still missing but was sewed together to prevent further ‘stuffing blood’ to spill out.

Stu still had the bunny’s foot in his room in a box of memories underneath his bed. It was an accident that happened, he simply went too far with his teasing and it resulted in a tug of war ripping the fragile stuffed animal apart. He visionised the girl's anguished face from that day; Her mother had gifted her that bear when she was four, and Stu had ripped off its lucky left foot.

Gia had deescalated the situation quickly and said that it might be a stroke of luck instead. ‘All rabbits have a lucky left foot,’ This caused his best friend to think things over; after a bunch of apologies and a long hug she asked him to keep it, saying that she wanted her ‘Stu Stu’ to have the best luck he could ever have throughout High School.

But how much luck did that foot give him really? Luck of blood on his hands? Obsession? A dark desire for all things twisted and morally gray?

Either way, it wasn't like God could talk to him personally and give him an ultimatum to stop. If a voice did speak to him he might listen-maybe his sins would be forgiven. But would the people who made him this way get punished?

He should have never gone to that stupid party.

The boy eased over to the bed, his footsteps were light, no cracks or groans gave way underneath the old carpets floor. Upon getting closer to the girl he took notice of how she was curled up all the way underneath the blankets- a self defense mechanism. ‘If I can't see the monster, they can't see me,”. She was too easy to read, and Stu missed reading her like this.

It only made him want to protect her from the world himself.

Stu started to pull the covers gently only for the girl to shoot up arm reeling back to land a hit. The male was much faster-he grabbed the incoming fist along with her other arm, “Easy, Final girl,” His voice hushed, “It's only me. It's me, Stu Stu. I'm here, he's not going to hurt you. I’m Here.”

It took a long moment before the girl's face went from fear and dejection-to relaxed and tearful. He loosened the grip on her arms and brought her to a gentle embrace instead, rubbing up and down the girl's back as sobs racked through her body. Stu continued to rock her back and forth settling her down, her words of panic and grief were muffled and watery. It only made his heart contort more. This wasn't part of the plan. Shit, this isn't even his plan originally to begin with; it was Billy’s.

When did this all start? Why and when did everything get so fucked up?

[see-arcane]

Meward

Summary: Within the mad and macabre months caught in Dracula's fangs, we have seen wolves and bats and rats forced to work toward evil results.

Now let's see the difference a cat can make.

For a proper visual for the eponymous Meward, head to Tumblr user @myroomismytardis' amazing blog and take a look at all the cat-ified characters from classic literature on display. Jack Meward, the little black cat with the gigantic eyes, is just one of many fine furry friends in The League of Extraordinary Kittyfolk. Thank you for making such an inspiring design, friend.

Ao3 link here

“Intolerable, unacceptable, and utterly, irrevocably insufferable. That’s you, you pretender. Yes, I said it! Pretender! Fraud! The most insidiously false example of your kind there ever was or will be! No, don’t you dare deny it. These last few weeks have been more than proof enough that you are entirely unsuited to the task required, to say nothing of your whole line. Nay, your full genus. And look at you there gloating! As if you were as proud to disappoint your bloodline as much as me! You little cad!”

Dr. John Seward had been standing outside the door with two attendants for the past five minutes listening to this and similar diatribes concerning some unknown traitor to a joint cause. There had been insults flung their way and apparent insults implied in silence as the man scoffed and gasped over his affronted sensibilities, stalking the room as he did. So far there had been rants and rancor and richest ire thrown about in such a way as to make the most churlish heirs pale before their fathers. Indeed, there was such a lilt to Renfield’s aggravation that it spoke of an almost paternal disappointment. He had worked and he had slaved and reared this unknown other up with his own two hands, and for what? Disobedience! Abuse! Mockery!

And so the ramble would circle around again.

John passed a glance to the men bookending the other side of the doorframe as if he might read an explanation on their faces. But no, his own confusion was reflected there. It was a strange twist in a madman already so full of sporadic facets, but this one doubly so for its seeming divergence from the major habits of his illness. Whether he was plying John for bait and animals to feast on for power’s sake or hailing the sudden religious apparition he had crowned with the imagined ability to bestow nameless gifts, there appeared to be a central focus on acquiring new strength for himself as constant motive. An impetus that always involved turning his gaze upward to cozen or coax for boons.

Now here he was inventing some entity to berate; an accomplice responsible for deceiving him or spoiling some goal outright. It wouldn’t be an entirely shocking result in other patients. Even ordinary prisoners of long sentences were known to either seek out or manifest some subordinate other to exercise authority over. But Renfield, he of the legion of flies, spiders, and birds, oh my, was already a veritable Cronus lording over a throng of tiny lives at his mercy. Perhaps he’d assigned some personification to one them..?

But no. That way laid the issue of many a new farmer or butcher who found themselves abruptly unable to take the blade to whatever livestock they’d made the mistake of naming and petting as they fattened.

“Look at this!” Renfield suddenly barked, stomping his way to another corner of the room. “Just look how simple I made it for you! Sitting there, whole and ready, and still you go for only a sip and nibble of what’s brought in the other way! Disgraceful. Wholly disgraceful. What? Oh, don’t you pretend it’s a matter of inability. You’re well past drinking alone. Yet even with what you’ve gained, still, still you are a mere mote. A speck. A crumb among the veritable giants that slink and prowl so efficiently on their lonesome. I could flick you right back out, do you know that? I could! You are that laughable a specimen!”

Renfield stalked and stomped and huffed. Then, in a conspiring tone:

“In fact, I will. I will flick you out. But not by the way you slunk in, oh no. You’ll not break in again, you cheat, you burglar of time and effort. There are authorities about who can deal with you in expert fashion. You are evicted as of today. Oh? Think I’m bluffing?” There was a sudden pounding against Renfield’s side of the door, so quick and heavy it rattled the thing in its frame. “Doctor! Get Dr. Seward here at once! There is an intruder in my room! Doctor!”

The attendants looked to him. John nodded. When they unlocked the door, Renfield was in his usual safe distance from the threshold, his arms crossed in a manner that seemed more fitting for a landlord smug at the sight of the police coming to remove an itinerant tenant.

“Well, what fair timing that you were passing by.”

“So it was. I heard you have someone here you want to be rid of?”

“Most expediently. I have tried, Dr. Seward. Most earnestly and most fruitlessly I have tried to wring the results and compliance I’d hoped for from this lost cause of a fellow inmate, but I can try no more. The cause with him is hopeless because he is hopeless. Mad I may be, but at least before him I did not suffer the madness of one trying to grow a tree from a beansprout or, more aptly, trying to yield a full harvest from a field of salt. If ever there was an entity made on this Earth who could order their very anatomy to be an instrument of sabotage, it is the preening villain who has imposed on my hospitality and patience.

“Weeks! Nearly an entire month I have tried to make progress with the thing, and I’ve barely an ounce of proof to show for it on him! And his stubbornness! His stubbornness, or else sheer weak-willed cowardice in the face of instinct, has frustrated me as I never thought possible for so insignificant a creature to inflict! I cannot tolerate his presence any longer and I plead, no, demand you excise the lout before I am forced to take my own measures.”

John nodded cautiously at this. Inwardly he was ticking over the possible responses he might have to make to appease the man without sparking some new fury. Did he expect them to pantomime carrying out an invisible intruder? If so, where were they meant to grapple the air? It was as John was pondering this that his eye happened to fall upon two glints of color shining under Renfield’s bed. A pair of emeralds twinkling in shadow.

“Renfield—,”

But his patient had followed his gaze already. With a mix of triumph and irritation, the man darted down and swiped at the dark. Then plucked a piece of the dark away as if scooping up a ball of cinders. The cinders mewed thinly.

“Ah, thought you could hide from your ousting, did you? Think again. This is the criminal himself, Dr. Seward. A thief of potential and promise and, as you can see, a clear failure as a cat. Look!”

With his other hand he gestured to the corner of the cell nearest to the door. A freshly dead bird laid there. As did a small saucer that looked to be of the kind used for the patients’ meals, with some bits of nibbled food still present.

“Again and again, he chooses the plate over the prey! I tried only giving him birds, but he refused anything more than a sniff before he went sulking and starving away. I had no choice but to suffer his spoiled wants and feed him from my own meals or else lose the opportunity entirely. An opportunity that was itself a lie. He is too small, Dr. Seward, and he seems determined to remain so despite my best efforts. Even if he were a veritable rugby ball of a cat it would not matter, for he has no lives in him but his own useless nine! Oh, I know, I know, you will say, ‘But he is only a kitten, Renfield, growth takes time, Renfield, even stray cats will turn to scraps before they deign to hunt, Renfield!’ I tell you, he is an exception. He conspires, Dr. Seward. With his own body, he conspires. I shall suffer him no more.” Then, in a voice so small John almost did not catch the addendum that seemed almost to choke him, “I cannot risk it.”

Before he could register it, John found Renfield had cut the distance between them and thrust the tiny handful into his custody. The attendants tensed to act behind him, but Renfield shot just as quickly away to make a show of glowering out the window with his back to the lot of them. His arms were crossed again and his hands gripped his elbows so tightly they shook.

“Take him away, Doctor. Foist him on some pampering lady or other with room in her reticule for the ridiculous little thing. I wash my hands of him.”

“…Of course. I’ll see what I can do. Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Renfield.” The kitten gawped up at him. Then tried to turn and wriggle to face Renfield. Another half-mute mew escaped. Renfield bristled at the sound.

“Get it away, Doctor. Please.” John gestured to the attendants. They all retreated into the hall, locking the door after them. Almost the instant the bolt slid home, there was another shout, “Dr. Seward! Doctor, are you still there? There is one thing more! It’s important!”

“Yes, I’m still here,” he called through the door. “What is it?”

Then, quite clearly, so that the attendants could hear it too and only half-succeed in stifling their grins when they caught it: “His name is Meward.”

“…Pardon?”

“Meward. Doctor Meward in full, but we know each other well enough to dispense with titles.” John would swear he heard a smile in the man’s voice. “That’s all, Doctor.”

This was, naturally, not all.

Not when word of ‘Dr. Meward’ had circulated first through the staff, then the patients, and even to the occasional visitor to the asylum before the week was out. For reasons that defied logic, Dr. Seward found he did not have the heart—or, more pressingly, the appropriate opportunity—to donate the creature to another caretaker. He had thought perhaps there was a chance that Lucy might take him on. It really was a spectacularly pitiful animal and so was prone to pulling heartstrings with the power of his massive evergreen stare.

In fact, he had expected himself fully in the clear when he made a somewhat red-faced return to the Westenra estate in tow with Arthur and Quincey. Lucy, at first showing a slight pale strain under the ruddy vigor she had shown on their last encounter, had bloomed anew with delight on seeing the scanty mound of fur in his palm. Her jubilation doubled on hearing the creature’s regrettably unchanged name.

“Oh, that is a perfect choice, absolutely perfect!” she cooed as she cradled the bundle now purring in her hands. “He’s got much the same eyes as you, John.” But as soon as the compliment dared to light a blaze in his cheeks, her next words doused it: “I do wish I could keep him all to myself, but my mother always falls into hacking fits around cats. I’m afraid I can’t have him here.” She looked plaintively from Meward to John to Arthur. “Maybe..?”

“The dogs are amiable enough,” Arthur admitted, if sheepishly. “Though they’d need to get acclimated. They have a habit of chasing after any little thing that moves. But I’m sure once they got used to each other it would work out well enough.” An unspoken, ‘Maybe,’ hovered at the end of his words and glowed doubtfully in his face.

It was much the same as Quincey’s expression had been when he admitted, “Well, sure, I had a few old mouser cats as a boy. Only, I don’t claim to know anything about raising a kitten. I wouldn’t trust myself not to botch it, Jack.”

Regardless of these snags, Lucy spent the visit thoroughly enraptured with Meward to the point that she took one of her own hair ribbons off her head for him to play with. Once he’d tired of it, he allowed her to fasten the thing about him as a collar.

“You can’t have him going around bare, John. Otherwise they won’t know he’s anything but a stray. You must get him a proper collar soon.”

John had promised to look into it.

Some short and endless months later, the ribbon would remain. Meward would be too fond of it to let it go. Likewise for John.

But that was for later.

For now, John had to reconcile with his tiny shadow. More, with the unignorable fact that his presence seemed to have a positive effect upon the atmosphere of the asylum. Almost irritatingly so. What had begun as him simply running out of friends to trust with the animal, combined with his not having any personal home staff to entrust with the minding of him on top of household duties, was now a matter of ‘improving morale.’ So he languishingly informed his phonograph. Whether in his office or in the hall, Meward’s perching on a shoulder or chasing his feet seemed at once to quell anything from ire to melancholy to simple boredom in onlookers.

Often with shouted cries of, ‘Afternoon, Dr. Meward. And associate.’ Or else just, ‘Hello, Doctors,’ always nodding first to the kitten. Renfield appeared to be in much repaired spirits upon catching wind of this, now demanding to speak with ‘his’ doctor before offering any word to John.

“Ah, see?” he hummed to Meward as the animal stared at him. “Is it not wise that I shooed you from your lacking status as a failed catalyst for my purposes? Clearly your chicanery has endeared you to the medical profession.” Renfield gestured broadly at John. “You even have your own nurse.”

The obvious jab did not land as well as it might have on an earlier date. He had too much of curiosity and worry for the man to feel any real brunt of insult now. From the increasingly wild swings in his mood to the lapses of haunted lucidness, R.M. Renfield now stood nearly even with John’s distress for Lucy’s condition. Though if even a fraction of Arthur’s worry proved as true as his latest message implied, his own worry was due to triple. Laconic though Quincey may be, it was Arthur who was the fellow of infinitely fewer words in their trio. Whenever he deigned to offer a phrase in speech or text, it mattered. For the moment, he shelved such thinking in favor of his patient who sought to agitate to hide agitation.

“And have you anything you wished to share with doctor or nurse tonight, Renfield? You seemed upset over something from what the attendants implied—,”

“No!” Renfield gnawed his tongue so hard that it bled. He sucked at it, his face convulsing between exultation and concern. “No. I was mistaken. Or, no, I cannot say. And I cannot say why I cannot say. Never mind.” He gnawed, sucked, paced. Meward turned his owlish gaze up to John. A small paw swung gingerly at his mouth while his tongue flicked out and tapped his black nose. As he did, a whiff of briny breath puffed out on the air. Memory prickled. John cleared his throat.

“I’ve discovered something he likes to hunt. Other than bootlaces and pens.”

Renfield slowed in his pacing.

“Oh? What is that?” He cast a sidelong glance at Meward, who paused in his assault on John’s lapel to gape back. “He certainly doesn’t look much bigger. Though I suppose his coat is better.”

“As it should be. He’s taken a liking to fish.” He coaxed Meward’s claws out of his shirt collar and moved him to another hand. “It’s only an occasional treat, but he seems to be aware enough of where it comes from that I have caught him trying to prey on market displays of seafood when we’re out. Which I believe shows a clever choice on his part. Marine life is consistently healthier for the plate than any cattle or pork. And,” he was careful not to look directly at Renfield, but in a nigh scheming way into Meward’s eye, “they are almost always bloated with the nutrition of animals they’ve eaten prior to finding themselves in the fisherman’s net.”

Renfield’s pacing slowed to a stop.

“Is that a fact?”

“It is. I don’t often go poking beyond the edges of medical sciences, but recent reading from a French naturalist, Professor Pierre Aronnax, has been most illuminating. While hardly all of the ocean’s livestock are carnivorous, the bulk of sea life we collect for our own dinner is redolent with underwater hunters of little lives versus the farmland’s bevy of coddled cows, pigs, and hens.” He still did not look up any higher than Renfield’s frozen feet or Meward’s glistening stare. “Which is all without mentioning the miracle a man devours whole every time he treats himself to a crustacean. Lobsters especially. Not only are they fellow omnivores, but this Aronnax fellow theorizes that they may have properties suggesting an extraordinary longevity. It is only a hypothesis, he writes, but he believes that if the creatures are left to their devices without a fatal attack by a predator, they can live well over a hundred years.”

“Do you take me for a child?” Renfield snorted. “I am well grown out of such fairy tales as immortal beasts. Especially supposed immortals one can boil and set on a platter with a side of butter sauce.”

“Not immortal, simply endowed with an anatomy that lasts longer than the expected norm. I found it a strange supposition myself, but he makes a fair case, especially in tandem with the examples he’s put forth in the article—,”

“What article would that be? Some journal of quackery? You must not believe everything you read, Doctor.”

“I don’t. I only thought it an interesting concept, and one with impressive enough evidences that it was worth wondering about. Imagine tucking into a bit of shellfish only for taste’s sake, not realizing you were eating an animal who might have had more than a man’s whole lifetime ahead of it before you swallowed it all down. It is almost sad to picture.”

“Yes. Terribly.” Renfield fidgeted another moment. From the corner of his eye, John saw he was eyeing the window suspiciously. Perhaps searching. Apparently satisfied, the man donned one of his more familiar sycophant performances, sidling near enough that the attendants stood up straighter. Then, “Again, Dr. Seward, what article might you refer to? I am certain it will at least be good for a laugh and it would be such a welcome diversion from the usual softcover twaddle I flip through…”

John provided a copy of Aronnax’s piece a quarter of an hour later. That morning, he heard that Renfield’s latest crop of spiders had disappeared—flung out the window in a skittering spray that nearly scared a pedestrian out of their wits when a harvestman landed on his shoe. Not long after, Renfield had started wheedling the attendants to ask the kitchen if there wasn’t any seafood to come on the menu. Summer’s seasonable window was well past, he knew, but he had just now been struck with a terrible craving for seaside cuisine. He would trade every spider in the world for a crabcake and every bird for a lobster tail.

Hearing this, John had looked to Meward. The kitten had his own paperwork to ponder on the desk now; quite blank, but he refused to leave John, his forms, his pen, or his beleaguered hand alone until he had his own work to attend to. His unblinking eyes lifted up to find John’s.

“My thanks for the consultation, Doctor.” He set down his pen. Taking the sign, Meward trotted across the desk and bunched himself up under his palm. “A brilliant idea.” Meward purred his agreement.

A note was made to make inquiries as to budget and ability in getting the kitchen a stock of fresh seafood. He would see to it once this trouble with Lucy was taken care of.

Lucy’s trouble was taken care of. Twice.

R.M. Renfield’s only once.

It was not until after the Harkers’ trouble was seen to—this time finally, finally by seeing to the end of the one seeding trouble all along—not until after Quincey Morris went into the ground as a last miserable toll, that John could bring himself to visit any of the graves alone. Lucy’s. Quincey’s. Renfield’s.

On visiting the last’s simple plot, John brought along Meward in his coat. No longer quite a kitten, but still petite enough to fit in an inner pocket. The cat stared wonderingly at the marker for a time. He then paced away, seeming to search for something among the other graves. He returned on dainty steps with that something in his mouth. A dead bird. He laid it on Renfield’s plot and then curled himself around John’s leg, staring up.  

If asked, even by Van Helsing, he could not have explained why this was the moment that burst the dam anew.

Nor why this eruption was so horridly raw compared to his past collapses. He had wept whole oceans since the loss of Lucy, it seemed. For twice dead Lucy, for Mina and her damned undying, for Quincey bleeding his life out on the snow, and now, here, last and so criminally considered least until it was too late, Renfield. Renfield who had died as a man neither comprehended nor heeded in his last desperate throes. Renfield who had died to shield a young woman he had befriended for all of an hour over simple kindness and equal regard. Renfield who Dr. John Seward had never healed, only housed or hindered or harkened to for study’s sake.

He crumpled to his knees there among the dead who’d died ill and insane for lack of understanding. Face in his hands, all the horror and hate of self folded back on itself a hundred times over. Arthur did not need his shoulder. Van Helsing did not need his confidante. The Harkers did not need his brave face. His staff and his patients did not need his professional posture or imposture. Nothing was needed here, for no one was alive to need anything.

So out it came. All those deepest acidic tides of unshared grief that could never be dared in the audience of friend or phonograph or the fierce eyes of those who saw and judged the faintest failure of mind as failure of soul, because that was what he was, a failure of psyche and ability who was nothing, who could do nothing but look on, be a warm body, a recorder of others’ misery while he sat and stared and failed and failed and failed them—

A warm ball of fur was worming its way onto his lap. Then up under his jaw, trying to squeeze itself between his hands and his tears.

John looked down. Meward looked up. Blinked once, slow. Then resumed trying to grate himself against John’s face and hands and neck and anywhere else he could reach, purring like thunder as he did. John snuffled and swallowed back another hoarse noise. He laid both hands on the cat to stroke him. Minutes passed on and on until they became an hour. John picked himself up, cat in hand.

“Thank you, Doctor,” he breathed, pausing to tidy the skewed ribbon. “You have a true talent.”

Meward mewed. It was a purely affected sound. The kind he made either to win another round of petting or a treat or a dash of catnip. John supposed he could pay for his services with a medley of all three at home.

A year later, with the asylum behind and the future ahead, the private psychiatric practice of Dr. John Seward was making elated waves through the medical grapevine. It was recommended by most anyone in the Purfleet area—likewise for even the most distant neighbors—that Dr. Seward was the man to go to before anyone started throwing around panicked thoughts of sanitorium stays or the druggist or a mesmeric cure. Go to Seward first, comes the suggestion from all walks.

Talk to him. Talk until you’re blue. Let him hear it all, however strange, however haunted or haunting, and he will neither balk nor sentence you to a straitjacket. Dr. Seward actually listens. More, he keeps confidences. He lays out alternatives the patient themselves might take before being flung headlong to the pharmacy or a locked room. Talk. Be heard. Be helped.

And don’t mind the cat staring in the corner.

He is a colleague and he’s there to help too.

[fiercefauna]

@tiredsn0w - here’s the second part. Chapter’s 4-5 roughly the same length as the first. Take your time with it okay, I’m currently working on other things and this is a background project. To anyone else - this is a series about 6118, first part is lower down.

Part 4. 

“Savages! No knowledge of heal! No knowledge!” The apparition that emerged from the medical suite now spoke a broken standard dialect and seemed intent on leaving. Tasha had seen images of this thing before, it was Terran but it wasn’t human, not exactly; it had human legs and plantigrade feet though, so it was probably at least related. 

She addressed it in what she hoped was impeccable English. “I’m sorry but the gravity and oxygen levels are different here. It may be causing some problems in there. You’ll need to let us help you figure out what’s wrong.” 

“He was doing some kind of surgical work on his own brain, ma’am.” Offered one of the other doctors. “We found him seized up, bleeding from his left eye. These are the tools he was using.” The primitive implements - red with alien blood, were unexpected, and their hints at what the ragged creature may have been attempting, sickening. 

She looked at the “Doctor” itself; the armored, white facial mask, the semirigid beak structure for filtration with a small mouth likely tucked underneath it, and the bioengineered containment suit. This was some human equivalent of a Two, but with a medical rather than martial function. Had some lost technology allowed the Terran to create this only to abandon it after it had become obsolete? 

“This is a dangerous and drastic procedure with uncertain merits. If you’re suffering neurologically, I’ve learned enough about the brains of terrestrial people to perform tests and am licensed to recommend medication.”  

The Doctor sniffed. “Where are my things?” 

A black bag was brought to him and he began to rummage through it. 

One of the other doctors discreetly whispered in Tasha’s direction. 

“It’s empty, we checked.”

“To what extent were you able to examine him while he was seized?” Tasha was handed a data chip that she plugged into her phone. The “Doctor” clutched his bag like a security blanket. “Will you be leaving?”

“Yes” she sighed. She collected her things and guessed they’d probably let her go. 

Part 5. 

That damn Two medic planted her on a bench between display columns covered in large, native lichen composites. “What was that?” It buzzed through the face plate. “All you did was talk to him.” 

“What could I have done that the others haven’t done already? He seems fine now, perhaps if I check the data from this incident I can get a better idea. Clearly, the guy self-harms so I’d put him under observation.” The Two nodded solemnly, relaxing their grip. “I think you should stay awhile in case something else happens.”

There was shouting behind the Two. The beaked alien was clutching a view screen like floating debris. “No, no, no, no, is false!, Is picture! Need to see real!” 

The voice of 5a82 replied from the view screen. 5a82, the Asu, the cure, global savior and fulcrum of the recent ceasefire, was quartered at this facility. Knowing that, was one thing, hearing his voice in real time was another.  

“Stay strong for me alright? We can see each other again next week. The sooner I get this done, the better.” 

5a82 almost bit the hand that took his view screen. The attendant shrieked “That’s brilliant!” and ran off to share the footage with the propaganda department. The guards in the hall put their fists to their chests, as the view screen and It’s precious sound file was carried past. It was so hard to get bangers out of the Murder Messiah.  

7cb7 stepped out of the corner of the stark and empty room, normally used for interrogation, and put their hands on the shoulders of Kepler’s best hope. (The name of this planet simply meant “world” so the term Kepler was used when explaining things to English speaking Terran) 

“I’m sorry I did this to you. I just thought - everyone thought, you had died on Earth. I - didn’t think you’d be hurt by any of it.”

“I’m a war-criminal. You couldn’t have lionized any of the people I killed?” 

“The fact you worked for the Federation and turned so dramatically to the aid of the Resistance seems to validate the merits of Twos and Twos are the darlings of the Feds. They seem to want to get out of this war at least looking like they won it.” 

“What’s all of this going to mean for him? 

“Everyone around you has ulterior motives, and you’re worried about him?” 

7cb7 stepped around to face the ex-assassin, glaring like a vengeful ghost.

The whirring of their prosthetic legs and hands often held in fists to manage nerve pain associated with regenerated limbs, recalled the event, - the event 5a82 had personally witnessed. It was not the kind of thing that anyone usually survived and it had made 7cb7 an Asu in their own right all through the blind luck of biology and ballistics, though the mad Doctor would claim otherwise.  

“What is he even? Bodies don’t evolve to look like his. There is some kind of uniform built into him and it doesn’t look at all like what a Terran might typically call a doctor. He was made - for a purpose!” The rebel One paused, realizing they’d spoken ill of lifeforms engineered for dubious “purposes.” Fortunately, the highly defective super soldier was still on the topic of his boyfriend. 

“He is or was some kind of scientist. I’ve seen him do incredible things. He likes to study anatomy so, maybe bring him some preserved local lifeforms? Earth people freak out if they get ahold of so much as one alien - for him this whole world is aliens. Why hasn’t anyone at least given him a tour?” 

7cb7 gritted their pointed, interlocking teeth. “I can make some calls, but behave yourself till I get back. 

Part 6.  

Tasha slipped past oncoming foot traffic as she headed for the exit. It seemed the rebel compound employed additional staff at certain times of the day, staff quartered elsewhere between shifts. 

That Two was still hovering around. The Feds had started sending these things to kill people shortly before the ceasefire. The apparent allegiance of this individual to the rebels did not make her feel any better, for her official allegiance was currently to the Feds, and secretly to no one. 

It glided through the crowd like a pathra pursuing prey through dense trees, its relatively large size not at all a hindrance. It waited until she was outside and out of the way to hand her a phone. She took the call without thinking. “They weren’t expecting the beaked guy to live, plans have been made that don’t involve lovebirds.”

“I’m not babysitting public figures anymore! I thought I made that clear!” Tasha hissed under her breath, hoping the weight of words like “Public Figures” might frighten off whoever this was and the favor they were about to ask. 

“He’s very important to 5a82, and technically an asset for that reason. 4b80 will continue to accompany you for the time being. It doesn’t seem to like our friend either. Just try to be nice to the Doctor alright, he’s been re-structured toward some kind of lab work so letting him play with dead animals all day could keep him busy. He’s waiting at the Westside Monument, which was where we were going to put him one way or another.”

The phone made a noise and the Two took it back. It didn’t return to the building though, but just stood there, unmoving. After a staring contest lasting at least a minute it buzzed, “I think you’ve seen enough of the Doctor to understand why letting him run around loose might not be wise.”

“You’d mean they’d just - ’’ 

“We are spread thin in there as it is, the Federation wants 5a82 back real bad, the main council room is full of enough passive aggression to freeze a fart.” 

Hearing a word like “Fart” out of a Two brought down upon Tasha the full gravity of the situation. It started to move, and she followed. 

Tasha saw that 4b80 was considering a capped syringe. The color coding was for alternate species, with an anthropoid shape beside an Earth symbol. 

“Do you really think that will be necessary?” 

The syringe disappeared so quickly it may have been cut from reality’s fabric by a divine editor. “Word is, the Terran were keeping this thing at some kind of asylum. We looked into it, and there is a grain of truth.”

“He could have been working there.”

“Five-aye was there also. If this thing was working there and a relationship formed with a patient that’s already concerning. The Asu has a special immune system. This thing seems to be made for bio-hazardous study. I don’t think he’s in love, I think he’s fixated.” 

“I don’t know this ‘Asu’ person outside of news reports and a brief encounter where my sibling provided him with a lavender plant. I was told this ‘049 Doctor’ was important to him.”

Forby stopped. Before them was a table made of artfully stacked war rubble, upon which a heap of decomposing flowers lay. 

“Where is he?”

Forby sighed as it strided off. “I’m looking!”

[egittae]

Ewan was moving through the crowds of people leaving the Arena, nearly getting squished several times in the process. But the boy was undeterred and on a mission to find someone specific. Having to face a creepy apparition of his sorta-but-not-quite professor dad was an experience he’d rather not repeat, and while he was sure of the fact it was all just an illusion.. he wanted to make sure. Just for the sake of his peace of mind. After a little more searching, he finally found him. “Aaaaahhh!!” He let out a yell of surprise. “Professor Lamby, you’re fine!!”

Rushing to the taller man, Ewan looked up at him with concerned, slightly soggy-looking doe eyes. “I was a little worried! Last round in the Arena, I thought I was fighting you! Or like, a creepy silent doll version of you.. a-anyway, you’re not hurt? There isn’t like a weird voodoo spell between you and the copy right?” He couldn’t sense any kind of curse or spell, at the very least…

Ewan looked him over several times for any injuries in places he recalled his allies struck the fake Lambert, but thankfully there were none to be found. “Phew…” he let out a sigh of relief, though he didn’t even realize he was holding his breath.

Now that his fears had been laid to rest, he went back to his usual expression, smiling brightly. “I hope your battles were less weird than mine! It got really intense in there for a second, but everything ended up fine! How about yours? If you still feel a little sore lemme know and I’ll patch you up!”

By the Goddess, he felt horribly drowsy. By now Lambert had already understood more or less what had taken place- they had just finished the last round of the exercise, he had been taken out with a blow to the face and while none of the injuries were real something about it caused his body to feel this ridiculously intense surge of exhaustion. A bit sore here and there, skin still remembering the phantom pain of some attacks he had suffered, though with no scars or any significant evidence that he had suffered actual harm.

He was still going to pay a visit to the infirmary, however. As much as Lambert was one to usually pull through whatever ailed him and refused to be brought down, he also understood that there were times it was best to listen to his body’s needs and right now a good long nap was necessary…and perhaps an extra heal spell to tie the knot.

It was the chirping of a familiar voice that caused him to become more alert, the sight of that red haired boy with big wet eyes calling out for him bringing a mixture of joy and mild pain. “Ewan!” The one he fought was a fake, thank the Goddess- but the memory of his body being struck so violently wouldn’t leave his mind. It was far too fresh still.

The use of the nickname did help soften that pain, though.

A smile bloomed in his face despite the exhaustion as he turned around to fully face the boy. “I am doing fairly well, thank you. Perhaps a tad tired as I unfortunately was defeated in my group’s battle, but worry not. There is not a single injury in my body.” He then frowned. Ah…so Ewan fought an alternate version of him, then. “I…see. My group must have been fighting a version of yours as well, because…one of our opponents had your likeness. As much as I understand that all of this is an illusion, I could not help but pray that it was simply a fake, and that whatever attacks we unleashed against it would not be reflected back on you.”

Lambert placed a hand on the boy’s shoulders, steady and gentle. “I am glad that you are doing well. Better than I am, even. Thankfully my defeat did not stop my team from winning our battle, so I am satisfied either way.”

“I am going to the infirmary at the moment for a simple checkup, but after that is over with…would you like to get some ice cream downtown?” As much as Ewan seemed to be back to his usual self, Lambert still wanted to treat him to something nice. The only sight more painful than his false corpse being struck in battle was Ewan’s very much real eyes filled with tears out of concern.

[topazshadowwolf]

I have questions about nightmare’s ability to enter dreams if that’s okay? He did it when dust was having a hard time waking up from his injuries, so can he enter any of their dreams at any time or just when they’re having negative ones? If he’s in their dreams and it becomes positive does it hurt him? Can he be in all of their dreams at once? Can he conference them all into the same dream like a zoom call?? I’m just super fascinated by this power and wondering if we’ll see him use it again?

OH if he slipped in and one of them was having a super positive dream about him (maybe a bit father-figurey) how would he feel? Or!!! If they were having a nightmare (haha) about him how would he deal with it?

(Sorry this is so much I just think this is a super interesting ability and I’ve never seen it before but I love it!!)

That is totally okay, just next time just send it in a bunch of different asks. Simply because I do ramble... and this is going to be long. Okay! Onto the questions. (Spoilers ahead if you aren't caught up to that scene at least)

Okay, so this is an ability that the originals do not have, which is odd to me considering their names. Or so my research found. So I did have to put this together myself. He gets into dreams through emotions and naturally, he can not use positive emotions, it would have to be negative.

---

(all of these are from Ch 5)

The emotions were like tendrils, much like his own physical ones. Most were not one solid color, formed out of blips of various emotions strung together by a scattered mind. Projecting his mental self, Nightmare took hold of one that he saw was one solid color. That one will lead to Dust’s consciousness. Upon his mental state touching it, he could feel himself fill with the emotion it was projecting.

REGRET

He followed it down into Dust until he entered the other skeleton’s dreamscape. Once there, he found himself in a snowy space surrounded by trees.

---

That being said, while it doesn't have to be a nightmare there has to be some negative emotions felt.

Now if he was in a dream and it became positive he would not be harmed but it would be uncomfortable to him. For him, being around positive emotions generally is like being in a room with a bad smell or having a bad flavor in his mouth. However, if he is around a lot of pure positive emotions or his brother, it does sting or burn.

Since it is his consciousness, he can only be in one dream at a time. BUT, if he can get them gathered together and go to sleep himself, he can pull them into his own "dreamscape." And he can take someone from one dream to another, and even into his own. So, in theory, he can collect them together.

Though he would not be doing any important meetings. After all:

---

“You have been here long enough. It is time for you to rejoin us. Is that understood?” Nightmare asked.

“yes, boss…,” Dust looked like he wanted to shrink away from the idea, but he didn’t. Nightmare smiled and nodded at that.

“Good, we will speak again in the waking world, where I know you will remember my words. What is said and done in dreams are oftentimes forgotten,” Nightmare stated before turning and leaving.

---

The only thing to remember about dreams... they are affected by the mind of the one having the dream. After all, Phantom Papyrus is still a hallucination even though Nightmare saw him.

---

“HE WANTS TO CONTINUE HIDING LIKE THE COWARD HE IS,” a sharp voice mocked as a distinct apparition appeared. Two bright red eyes looked at Nightmare, and he could feel it was the primary source of self-loathing.

“So, I am finally meeting the infamous phantom? I would like to say it is a pleasure, but it is not,” Nightmare said with a grin before making a shooing motion with his hand to wave the false ghost away. “We were having a private conversation. One that I don’t remember inviting you to join.”

“BY BEING HERE, YOU AUTOMATICALLY DID!” the phantom snapped angrily before resting his hands on Dust’s shoulders. “DO YOU HEAR HOW HE SPEAKS TO ME? WE SHOULD KICK HIM OUT. HE’S NOT WELCOME IN YOUR HEAD.”

---

Seeing anything in your dreams does not make it true, and anyone being in your dreams does have access to what you see. Including... memories.

I am inclined to believe it will be used again. However, it is not going to be as common as entering someone's dreams is intrusive. Dreams can be memories, our weakest moments, our fears. Also, It is leaving his body unguarded as his mind is someplace else. This leaves him very vulnerable. Between those two reasons, he does not often use this ability. (This is not true if the dream is his and he pulls someone into his dreams)

Now, if he came to a dream and found them dreaming about him being their father, he would be both amused and... worried? happy? Oh dear... they don't really think of him that way, do they? He would likely stay unseen and watch as he tries to figure out why they feel that way about him.

And a nightmare about him?! No, no, NO! That will not do. Is it because they are dreaming something bad happened to him? Well then, he will appear and make sure that one is aware he is alright. And if it is a dream about him yelling or hurting one of them. Well, he will, again, make himself known and tell this imposter to go away. That he will not tolerate anyone looking like him talking to his sons henchmen like that

[skylarmoon71]

Aaron Hotchner (Criminal Minds) Chapter 31

There’s a hollow knock on your door, and you furrow your brows as you open the door.

“I usually make a more gracious entrance, but since we entered the veil things have changed. So I thought I’d be more careful this time around.”

He’s standing there, and you can’t stop yourself. You rush into his arms. He’s startled to say the least.

When you pull back he can see the distress.

“Sweetheart..”

His paternal instincts take control, and he closes the door, usehring you to take a seat.

“What’s wrong, did something happen to Hotchner?” You shake your head.

“Hotch is fine. So is Jack and Hailey. Everyone is fine.”

You’re smiling, and he’s relieved. But you’re still wearing that pained expression. One he’s grown used to. He understands now.

“I wish I could tell you that it gets easier. Seeing him everyday, not being able to remember a thing. I can’t think of any greater pain. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. “

“I knew what I was doing. I’ll learn to live with it. “

He knows the reassurance is said so he won't worry.

“Actually dad, there’s something I wanted to ask you. I know you said none of them would remember but Jack he..he remembers everything. He’s also found a way to get through my barrier. It was…just like Hotch used to do.”

Manchester took a pause.

“Are you serious?” You nod.

He looks down.

“That’s incredible. It’s not exactly unheard of. Children are anchors for all kinds of power. Still, this is outside the field of seeing apparitions. He’s able to communicate despite the change in reality.” Manchester swallows.

“If he’s capable of that as a child then…”

It dawned on him that maybe Hotch would regain his memories. When he looks back at you, he stops himself. There was no use in giving you false hope. Especially when you seemed to already be at your limit. Maybe he could give you some practical advice.

“Why not pursue Hotch right now. It’s true that you brought back Hailey, but they are divorced here.”

“I’ve thought about it.”

It didn’t seem right. The whole purpose of this was to give him back his family. There was a chance that he could mend things with his ex wife. If so, you didn’t want to get in between that.

“I think the best thing for me to do is keep my distance. If it comes down to it, I may just end up transferring to a different division.”

“But you love this job, and your team.”

“Isn’t that how the saying goes? If you love something, then you let it go.”

“What jackass came up with that? You think I would have won over your mother with that half baked attitude. “ You smile. This is the first time he’s mentioned her in such a light.

“You know, you never really told me how you snagged mom. I mean she was beautiful. I can’t really see her going for such a gangster.”

“Hey, I was very meek in the old days, you know. “ His defensive reply causes you to laugh.

“To be frank she spent quite a bit of time chasing me. I was unapproachable, and blunt.”

“You, unapproachable, I can’t even picture it.”

“Hah ha, hilarious.”

He’s wearing the biggest smile.

“I hope you don’t have any plans, because this is a long story.”

You pull your legs onto the couch.

“I’ve got the time.”

~~~~~

“I’m sorry I kept him up so long.”

Hailey shook her head.

“It’s alright. Jack loved it. It’s nice having his dad around so often.”

Now that Jack was fast asleep, Hotch took a seat on the couch. They’d fallen into a routine that worked for both of them. Despite the separation, Jack seemed like the balance between them both. Hailey walked over handing him a glass of water, and he took it happily.

“Thank you.” She took a seat and he drank it.

“So, Ms. Black.” Hotch lowered the glass.

“She’s a good agent. Jack is also taken with her. Not something I really saw coming.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” Hotch wasn’t fully sure where this conversation was going.

“You don’t think she’s intriguing.”

“Hailey.” She smacked his shoulder playfully.

“Aaron, we're not teenagers. You can tell me if you’re interested in someone. I won’t block you on facebook.” He smiled at that.

“We work together, I’m also her superior. I’m not sure it would be very professional of me to even entertain that thought.”

“So you’ve thought about it!”

It felt like he was digging himself into a deeper hole. Hailey laughed this time.

“You know, for a profiler, you’re very easy to read.” She said between giggles.

“All jokes aside, I want you to be happy Aaron. I know I never made it easy, but you’ve always been there when it counted. You’re a good person, you deserve to have happiness. Something I couldn’t give to you.”

“I was happy, Hailey. “ His eyes are so sincere.

“I was rarely ever unhappy with you and Jack.” Hailey wipes at her eyes, and she leaned over, pulling him into a hug. He returns it.

“It’s time for you to be happy again. Jack and I will be fine.” 

[the-masked-ram]

False Immunity- Part Two

CW: Fem Reader, sfw ---

The first time Hiei met you wasn’t exactly a ‘demon meets potential mate’ experience. He could say it could have gone better, especially since it had included him saving your life from particularly vicious demonic parasite. Yusuke had brought you to Genkai’s temple, practically falling over himself from fear of Keiko’s hand. Hiei had to admit he appreciated the detective’s woman currently. The fire demon had been trying to force himself to give you space after the fox had found out about his fixation. At least Kurama merely offered quiet advice, though he always had a smug smirk at the same time. Currently, Hiei was certain if he had stayed with you, it would never have gotten this bad. Your lips had lost all color, tinged now a pale blue, and your breathing was a harsh, shallow gasp. The creature wrapped around your torso, sinking its teeth deep withing your annoyingly fragile human chest, was something that wouldn’t normally enrage him this much, but he honestly could barely hold back from slicing it in two. The only reason he hesitated was because he knew the lore of this demon, he knew how it fed and that if he killed it when it was attached to you it would pump you full of toxins. His entire body thrummed with anger, “How did this happen!? How could you let this happen?!” He was a snarling savage beast, something he hadn’t been since too young to know any better. His desire to punch the detective square in the nose was rising and he felt his fingers curling into a fist at his side. “Hiei, please, now is not the time,” Kurama said, leaning over your prone form with help from the old woman. The fire apparition gnashed his teeth, but instead forced himself to relax his hand and pace instead as he cast furtive glances at you. “What’s his issue?” Yusuke asked, the ever-oblivious idiot. “Hiei is somewhat attached to your friend,” Kurama murmured thoughtlessly, focused entirely on task at hand. “Fox, I swear,” Hiei hissed. “It would come out eventually,” Kurama said, sparing him a momentary glance before he walked towards the hallway. “I need to borrow a book, Genkai.” She nodded, “Of course.” “You?” Yusuke said incredulously, finally seeming to understand what Kurama had said after thinking it over for a few seconds. “You like…?” He looked over at you, where you gasped and fought for your life, he winced and seemed to realize the new revelation was not as important as he seemed to think it was. Keiko had been hovering until Genkai asked her to make some tea. She eagerly jumped to the task, seeming relieved to have something to do. “Idiot,” Hiei growled, and immediately moved to the empty spot at your side, his impossibly red eyes flicking over every inch of you until he reached out hesitantly and touched your hand. He hated how cold it was. This wasn’t how your first meeting was supposed to go. He wasn’t even sure how he wanted it to happen, but he definitely wanted to touch you for the first time when you were awake, when you could smile and turn those bright eyes on him, and when your hand was warm and full of life.

[adgp35]

Who Needs Fred?

Poor Daphne asked herself how she had managed to split up from the split up. As usual, when seeking the Luna Ghost, the Mystery Inc gang had split up into Velma/Scooby /Shaggy searching the east wing of the creepy mansion, while she and Fred headed for the west. As the shadows lengthened and the ominous hoots of owls and rats scuttling behind the floorboards filled the air, the auburn haired ghost hunter drew close to the barrel chested jock. “Oh Fred,” Daphne sighed, “please protect me!” Fred beamed down at the fainting girl. “Don’t you worry, Daff!” Fred proclaimed confidently. “I’ll look after you. Just follow m - arrrrrrrggh!” With that, Fred disappeared down an open cellar hatch which slammed shut as soon as the young man fell in. Minutes later, the Luna Ghost drifted into view. “You are mine now, female mortal,” the clown faced horror chortled. Daphne clenched her eyes and fainted.

When she opened them again, she found her wrists were tied and she was suspended from an upright. The Ghost stared at her malevolently. “You should have scrammed while you had the chance, baby!” he sneered. Daphne gazed back at the apparition, suddenly no longer scared. “I know that voice!” she replied. “You’re no ghost! You’re Sneaky Wayne, the creepy caretaker!” There was a cackling laugh from the Ghost, who reached up and placed his hands either side of his face and yanked off his Luna mask. “You better believe it, sweet cheeks!” the dark haired, pale faced weirdo giggled. “Now I’ve scared everyone away, including the new owners, I can continue searching for the Monro family jewels in peace! With Mystery Inc tied up, locked up or hightailing it outta here, who can stop me now?” Wayne stood up, shuffling toward the bound redhead, a sinister look on his warped face. “Why don’t you join me, honey bunch?” he leered. Daphne simpered at him as he approached. “Please loosen these knots, Wayne and let’s talk about it…” The oddball caretaker grinned and went to untie his timid captive. “Sure thing, Daphne babe.” Wayne chuckled, then paused. “What the…?” he began as he noticed the girl’s bonds were already loose. CRASH! The upright came tumbling down on the false Luna Ghost as Daphne leapt clear. “Got you!’ she cried.

Later after Daphne had finished tying up a miserable, defeated and de-costumed Wayne, she produced a magnifying glass and ran it over the Luna Ghost disguise. “Fluorescent paint!” she announced proudly. “Just as I figured! Even Velma hadn’t worked that out!” Wayne glared at her angrily. “How did you catch me?” he demanded disbelievingly. “I had neutralised the others. Particularly Fred. You’re just their token bimbo!” Daphne had quite forgotten her on/off boyfriend. “Who’s Fred?” she quipped. Wayne gave the girl a furious look. “I’d have got away with it too, if it wasn’t for you, you meddling airhead!” he fumed bitterly. Daphne smiled sweetly and then gagged him with a strip of duct tape. “Case closed!” she told her prisoner firmly.

Sources: Animation Alliance Australia; ryusen.smugmug.com; Alamy Stock Photos and Galmted Photography

[ash-soka]

Truth serum!

Orph—how’d you meet your man? What drew you to him?

Aqua—Favorite doll and favorite ghost investigation!

"Orph—how’d you meet your man? What drew you to him?"

A question about my beloved Sol ☀️💚

I wish I had a more romantic tale to tell, the first time I laid eyes on him was when I first performed for the Pythian Royal Court. My old dance troupe was hired to entertain the king and his court, and during the performance the sun glinted off the Crown Prince's iridescent scales, catching my eye.

But our first conversation was far from idyllic.

Some weeks after this initial sighting, he requested a private meeting with me, though "requested" may be too light of a word. I met with him and his personal guard in his quarters, I can't say it wasn't intimidating.

He had put together that I was working for his father as an informant, but he wasn't angry, he gave me the benefit of the doubt. And in truth I was ignorant of his father's tryanny, which Sol laid out quite plainly, before giving me the opportunity to work with him instead, to feed the king false information.

I accepted, and this lead quite naturally into the second part of your question, — what drew me to him. We met many times while working against the king, and I saw his kindness, the strength of his convictions and his morals, his determination to be different to his father.

I had a front row seat to the strength of his character, and the full force of his determination to do right by his people. I don't feel there was a single aspect that drew me too him, it was a mix of these qualities that had me falling in love with him while we worked together.

Thank you for asking, I love few things more than discussing my beloved. However, I would have preferred to spin a more romantic fable than the truth that these feelings bloomed as we planned a coupe.

"Aqua—Favorite doll and favorite ghost investigation!"

Hello!

My favourite doll is Mildred! She's been with me the longest! She was given to me by a relative as a child, and I was fascinated by her. She's been a friend to me for most of my life. For as long as I've had her I've felt watched over, and comforted. She just wants somewhere nice to hang out with her friends, she's been really welcoming of new additions to the family as well!

Millie's not the most active physically, but she has an undeniable presence! Even people who aren't very sensitive to spirits get the feeling that someone's there with them around her. Her big brown eyes really make it look like she can see you, as well! Some people find her unsettling because of this, but she's a sweetheart 💗

I don't know if it would count as an investigation, as I already knew about the spirit in question, but favourite ghost experience is actually one that wasn't associated with Wraith Watch.

As you may know, my boyfriend is afraid of ghosts. I don't blame him, it's unknown, and it's something that can have scary connotations. Also, because of his job, he's only available at night, which can add to the frightening atmosphere! So he's only accompanied me a handful of times.

But one night he agreed to accompany me to observe a phenomenon I find fascinating! Sometimes a spirit will stay somewhere not because it's associated with their death, but simply because it's somewhere they loved in life. I tend to leave these spirits alone, they're doing no harm and I trust them to move on when they feel ready.

There's such a spirit who hangs out only a short drive from our city. The location is a beautiful outlook in the desert, especially at night, when the scorching sun is replaced by a blanket of stars.

I was honest with Leo, so he was tense to start with, holding tight to my hand, but the beautiful location helped him calm down, and we sat on the hood of his car. It took barely half an hour for the apparition to show up. They knew were there, but didn't acknowledge us, nor did we do anything to disturb them.

The three of us hung out in silence, enjoying the beautiful scenery and watching the stars, until it got into the early hours of the morning, and Leo became tired. It was the first time he's wanted to leave somewhere haunted because he was tired, rather than scared!

It was really special to share one of my interests with him, and see him so comfortable with it! It's also one of my favourite supernatural phenomenons to observe. I struggle to think of something more beautiful than the fact that you can love something so much that your love will outlast death itself. Thanks for asking!

thought I'd include these nice picrews of them, orph on the left, aqua on the right!

(picrew by caramael)

link to the truth serum post!