#if they had used the bad ending tag or low pay-off or something-ANYTHING- to elaborate then that would be a different conversation

[resinatingbeauty]

A 'Witch Shop' Owner's Plea Before Casting That Love Spell

I don't personally offer many spell kits, mojo bags, etc. In my shop and avoid selling my 'Craft', as in, I don't advertise or list spell casting among my offerings, though I have had a couple of customers specifically ask if I could perform a spell I offered as a kit on their behalf for whatever reason. This is because I personally believe that the journey is just as important as the destination in witchcraft and many of the spell kits / spells I do offer are designed in such a way to soothe, relax, release, and heal throughout the process. Honestly, in addition, I really don't want the responsibility associated with performing magick on someone else's behalf for many reasons. The strength of my intent is not going to be as strong as yours, for example. Even if I effectively channel your energy, creating that personal connection between the beneficiary and the intent or purpose of the spell work is incredibly difficult at a distance. I'm always wary of other shops advertising this type of service- the sad truth of the matter is our little niche has been permeated by scammers, con artists, and frauds looking to take advantage of anyone looking for a solution to whatever it is that has them at this low point in life. I will tell you, more often than not it's love spells that the customer is after, and they are apt to find many options on Etsy, the platform I primarily do business on, and beyond.

I distinctly think of one potential customer who had contacted me one night obviously very upset. My heart went out to her immediately - I could just tell by what she was saying and how quickly she responded to me that she was in a state of panic and extreme emotional distress. She isn't the only one, but she stands out from the others as her desire to win back her ex lover was so strong it was evident that she would do anything and (potentially) pay anything for a chance to get things back to the way they were in her love life.

I am a human being. I have been given this amazing opportunity to pursue my passion to share my creations and spiritual / metaphysical knowledge with the world through my work. I understood a long time ago that this also meant I had a responsibility to do my best to help those in need and never knowingly harm, much like a doctor commuting to the Hippocratic oath. This may make me a flat out horrible business woman, but I would rather not sell someone on something I don't believe is going to help their situation. In fact, love spells usually make things worse. I'll get to that momentarily.

"Is there a spell to make her see what she has done wrong and to make her love and want me again?"

I allowed this customer to explain to me the situation and took the time to hear her out after telling her that I'm sure that she could find something like that elsewhere and someone else willing to sell her a spell kit or cast that spell, but I urged her to take a deep breath and talk to me before she did something that she would regret.

Thankfully, she spent the next hour or so explaining her situation and elaborating on everything that has happened in her relationship. It was one of those on again / off again things that so many of us get trapped in. Understandable, considering once you establish that strong bond of love, whether one sided or not, it's incredibly hard to cut that cord and move on especially if you're so emotionally invested (and maybe even financially invested) in this other individual who has had your heart for so long you can't imagine giving it to anyone else.

This PSA goes out to the broken hearted of all walks, as this is a universal experience for anyone who has been in love. There may not be someone to stop you from pursuing what you think will fix everything as I did for her, but I'm hoping if you read this, you'll think twice about acquiring and performing love spells or any magick in hopes that it will provide a quick fix to any situation.

•Beware the Opportunistic Con / Scam

Our field is flooded with scammers, con artists, and frauds that exclusively cater to those in this sweet girl's position and anyone who is vulnerable due to emotional distress or panic. Whether you need a love spell like she did to win back her ex or a quick fix to get more money in the bank or what have you, beware those that have used spiritual advisory and witchcraft as a means to peddle you their high priced garbaged. This is a tough one, as you may have a hard time deciphering what is 'legit' and what isn't, but there are some signs and facts you can look for when browsing these shops / websites.

-They promise / guarantee results within a specific or unrealistic time frame

Magick takes time to manifest and the true story is that nobody has a 100% satisfaction guaranteed spell book. More often than not, when spells come to fruition, it often isn't quite the way you would expect it to, either. Anyone promising a quick fix to anything is most likely just trying to take advantage of you when you are vulnerable and you better believe there will be no money back guarantee if said garbage doesn't work for you. OR, they like to do one of these:

-"Oh, your situation is worse than I thought. You're going to need this and this, with a huge $$$$ price tag."

This starts a never ending cycle of you pouring money into this scammer who will make you believe that it is necessary to do so. That maybe if you did throw them an extra $500 for their thingamajig that you will get what you want. This is only the beginning, as when THAT doesn't do it for you the way you would like, they will claim some other interference, maybe you're cursed or under psychic attack, and need something else even more expensive and elaborate to take care of that before you can even get to what you went to them for in the first place. Anytime someone proposes this type of thing, stop while you're ahead and don't provide them with a guaranteed cash flow that you aren't benefitting from at all. Also, be wary of ANY seller who makes outrageous claims- overnight changes, curing cancer, etc. Are unrealistic expectations.

•Understand What You Truly Need

Maybe it's time to consider an alternative path. The customer I spoke about DID ultimately purchase a tarot spread, which I was much more inclined to do for her than some love spell to win back this girl who has repeatedly broken her heart over the past few years and obviously got a kick out of it, the way she told it, as it was ALWAYS her doing the breaking up and blocking, starting all the drama. I told her I would much rather give her a spell to find her twin flame / soul mate than to win this person back who has perpetually been hurting her and taking advantage of her kindness.

Sometimes it's time to cut the cord before more damage is done. I understand it isn't easy to move on from someone you have loved and cultivated a relationship with over a long period of time, regardless of the negative energy that has invaded the relationship, we DO tend to focus on the positives, which leaves us a bit biased and blind to what we could have and deserve to have.

Take a moment if you are in a relationship situation like this, are beginning to question your current relationship, or are considering taking the next step in any relationship. Sit down with a pen and paper. On one side of the paper, write down all the things you love about that person. All the ways you think they have been the light in your life (be honest and give credit where credit is due!). Now on the other side, list the negatives or cons in your relationship. If one list is noticeably longer than the other, depending on which side it is, it may be time to consider breaking it off, giving things another shot, or taking things to the next level. Ask yourself;

-Do they support me in what I do, even if they don't understand or necessarily agree with it? (So long as it is something healthy -obviously if they're supportive of a bad habit or detrimental behavior, this is more like enabling and not a good thing)

-Do they have my best interests at heart more often than not?

-Do they show that they care? Even in the smallest of ways?

-Could I call them my "best friend?" Am I honest with them?

-Are they honest with me?

-Do they lift me up more than they put me down?

-Do you want the same things in life / have similar priorities?

-Is our relationship valuable to them the same way it is to me?

•LOVE SPELLS NEVER WORK THE WAY YOU WANT

This is the cold hard truth about love spells. Forget the warnings in movies and books, as it is hard to believe them or even take them as a legitimate warning when you haven't had the displeasure of experiencing what a love spell can do for yourself. I have, so you don't have to. This is MY story:

Of course love spells are very appealing when you're a young and naive teenager. I had a strong crush on this guy I had low key been stalking since middle school. I don't know why I liked him so much. Part of it I'm sure was the way he looked (hey, I'm being totally honest!) And how he came across to me. We had absolutely no interaction with each other outside of passing each other in the hallway. He had no idea who I was.

I had just borrowed a copy of Silver Ravenwolf's 'Teen Witch' (which is honestly a fantastic book for teens and young adults just starting to delve into Wiccan practices, which she follows exclusively) from a friend of mine and thought I would try the super simple love spell in the book figuring I had nothing to lose. All it consisted of was focusing on the subject, your intentions, writing their name on a piece of paper, folding it up and placing it under your pillow. I would sleep on that paper for months. I was in middle school just about to go into my freshman year of high school when I performed the spell and would forget about it up until the day it worked, a few months into my freshman year of highschool, when my crush was in the graduating class of that year- literally my last chance to make an impression.

I had gone to a local band's concert that was performing at the school's auditorium one day after classes and was just about to leave when my crush randomly approached me and started talking to me. It was like the whole world just stopped right there. I couldn't believe it. The thought of that spell crossed my mind briefly as we exchanged phone numbers.

Over time and getting to know him, he admittedly wasn't exactly my type. He was still someone whose friendship I valued, but not someone I could really put any effort into dating. About the time I realized this, his personality took a complete 180° turn for the worst. He was stalking me. Blowing up my cell phone (which was a prepaid piece of junk at that time I really couldn't talk on for more than a minute without paying a fortune), so much so one evening when I was at Jukido Jujitsu practice that I came home to something like 32 missed calls and 17 voicemails from him, each one showing gradual frustration and anger. This scared me. I knew I had to confront him about it and break this off before it got worse.

I caught him in a populated area of the school the next day before homeroom- more like he came up to me out of nowhere like he knew I would be passing through that part of the school that day- and I confronted him about the calls,attempting to gently explain to him that I wasn't interested in a relationship and I would like to continue being friends. He blew up at me and threw me against the brick wall of the school, trying to kiss and touch me in front of every single person that walked by. I wish I was making this up.

Thankfully a teacher came and pulled him off. Nothing much else was done. I did my best to avoid him and cut him out of my life entirely from that point on.

I don't know if it was the love spell or if this would have occurred anyways. All I knew was that what had been originally a very sweet, big hearted guy that was soft spoken with low self esteem became a monster in a matter of weeks. The take away from this and what I have personally seen with other's experiences with love spells is that they tend to bring out the worst characteristics of the person they are cast on and you have to be really careful what you are actually asking for when thinking about 'desire' and 'passion.' This intent can quickly lead to stalking, obsession, and not in a good way. Another customer of mine who originally came to me for my Forgiveness Spell Kit and had the desired results also, unbeknownst to me, had someone else perform a love and desire spell in addition to it. The guy that she was reverted into an obsessed jerk who decided to spread rumors about her on social media and beyond, blocked her on all platforms, and would get her friends involved in his quest to make her life miserable. Her story reflects and embodies so many I have heard over the years from others who have dabbled in such spells. When they work, it's just never quite what you had in mind.

So if you came to this blog post in search of a love spell for your personal situation or came across it when you have maybe considered one in the past or know someone who has, please take a deep breath, consider your options, and don't do anything that you may regret down the line. Remember that you are deserving of all the love, respect, support, and happiness one could give another. Do not settle on someone who offers you less and expects more, no matter how much you have invested in them, no matter how many years you have spent with them, as they do not appreciate you for the amazing person you are. I can promise you, however, given some time to heal, you WILL find someone who does.

-Samantha

(Owner /Chaos Witch/Designer)

Blursedbaubles.etsy.com

[realcube]

1k event | navi | masterlist 

parings ☆ among us au! alisa x reader 

content warning ☆ gore, major character death & angst 

(a/n) ☆ sandbox for @simplywicked​! thank you so much for the request despite the fact i made it angsty as hell :’( also, if you’re reading this and you are not @simplywicked then check down their amazing (less depressing) works @hajkyyuu​

you watched the cameras intensely, biting your nails as you watched people wander through the corridors, moving to and fro tasks – as if they were all unbothered by the fact there was a ruthless killer on board. speaking of which, you had yet to see anything suspicious: no venting, no faking tasks and most importantly, no murder. "hello!" you perked up at the sudden noise and whipped your head around to look for the source, which happened to be one of your fellow astronauts – pink, code name: haiba alisa. beads of sweat began to develop on your forehead under your helmet, "uh, h-hi." you stuttered, pressing you back against the edge of the control panel as you rapidly searched the room for a way to exit if she tried to attack you. "d-do you, um, need something?" she shook her head, a sweet smile adorning her gorgeous features which you could view due to the clear screen on her helmet. "well, i finished my tasks so i figured i may as well keep an eye on the security cameras for some leads. but i see you've already got that covered." she giggled, clasping her hands together and keeping her distance as she could tell how nervous you were – and rightly so. she was a tad anxious too but something about the way you presented yourself made her completely forget about the upspoken first rule of the ship; trust no one. you nodded, swallowing the lump forming in your throat in order to reply, "yes, i finished my tasks a while ago." you faltered, your mind momentarily blanking as you vaguely gestured to the cameras on display behind you. "i've not seen anything out-of-the-ordinary." pink smiled, cocking her head to the side as she slowly began to approach you, "that's wonderful – do you think i could join you? i'm quite bored and i want to put an end to this whole 'imposter' situation as soon as possible." you quirked a brow; if it was anyone else, you would've immediately denied the request, suggesting that they could bugger off to admin if they wanted to help so bad. but despite the fact you had only met this lady a few moments ago, you believed her completely. perhaps it was foolish of you to be so trusting under the current conditions but you had full faith in your intuition, and it said that alisa was being sincere. plus, if you were to die to her blade, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. she's really pretty so perhaps she'll give a little kiss before you go. actually, the more you thought about it, the closer you got to realising that this circumstance has completely messed up your death perception. anyway, you shuffled over to allow her space at the control panel, "sure." you muttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck as she skipped up beside you, halting as she got an eye-full of all the colourful, flashing buttons; along with the massive monitors that displayed what was going on in every corridor in the ship. "hey!" she squealed, not even having to go on her tip-toes to press her finger against the top screen due to her height, "that's my friend; yellow!" she beamed, looking over at you and being met by your shaky smile, as you tried to match her energy, "they're a crewmate like us, i'm sure of it! they were with me in medbay when the last incident happened." you followed her gaze to the screen and watched as yellow roamed the ship, seeming as though they had no true destination but that was understandable, perhaps they had finished their tasks too! although, it was a bit weird that they chose to use their spare time aimlessly wandering around instead of doing something productive. also, as much as you wanted to tell alisa that there was a vent from electrical – where said incident took place – straight to medbay, you didn't. you chose not to break the naïve girl's heart by accusing her friend of being the impostor. all that mattered was that she was away from them now and you could keep a close eye on them. a few minutes had passed where you both stood in silence, absentmindedly watching your fellow shipmates go around, chat and do their tasks. nothing suspicious had yet to happen. eventually, alisa broke the silence by turning to you and asking, "so what are you going to do when this is all over?" your eyes widened at her sudden inquiry, your breath hitching as you weren't prepared for her question and the last thing you wanted to do was embarrass yourself. "y-you mean, if i survive?" you questioned in attempt to you buy yourself time to think of an answer. alisa chuckled awkwardly, her optimistic attitude bringing you hope, "yeah. i'm sure we'll both survive this." you shrugged, wasting to time in blurting out the first reply you came up with, "i think i'm going to retire and just..settle down." "oh, yes! they're giving us the opportunity for an early retirement with pension after this, correct?" "if we live to see earth again, then yes." you murmured, not sparing her a glance as you adjusted the settings of the camera display. alisa gritted her teeth together, suddenly feeling the inside of her space suit rise in temperature but paying little attention to it as she tried to produce the most positive response she could, "i'm going to retire too! this whole ordeal has probably taken a decade off my life anyway." she joked, her slight smile becoming a toothy grin as she managed to elicit a laugh from you. both of your harmonious, unified laughs echoed throughout the security room, followed by even more banter, until alisa deadpanned, causing a cold chill to run down your spine. "(y/n)." she uttered in an uncharacteristically low voice. at first your throat ran dry at how she knew your name despite the fact you had yet to say it once, but then you remembered that there was a large 'MY NAME IS' tag stapled to your chest. "yes, alisa?" if she was using first names, you found it appropriate to use hers right back. she fell down onto one knee, causing you gasp at her sudden movement as your immediate thought was that she was having some sort of medical emergency, but she put an end to that thought when she gazed up at you with her enchanting emerald eyes, "would you do me the honor of--" your jaw fell as you watched her pull out a necklace from her company-provided satchel and offer it to you, "-of sharing a cabin with me when we reach earth." you let out a sigh of relief, thinking she was actually asking for your hand and marriage after meeting you 5 minutes ago; although, if did ask, then there was a voice in your head that’d urging you to say yes. however, sharing a cabin was almost equally as big of a commitment as marriage since y'all would share clothes, utilities, food and more for the next 5 years. "i'd love to." you hummed, hesitantly reach down to hover your shaky hand underneath the locket, "and what's this? i thought we weren't allowed to bring accessories on-board." alisa's lips curled into a mischievous smirk as she hopped to her feet, dropping the locket into your hand as she did so. "i snuck it on." your fingers delicately caressed the cold, silver metal of the necklace before flipping open the heart-shaped locket which hung at the end. inside was a small, compressed photo which was so miniature that you thought it was just an assortment of colours at first but upon closer inspection, you realised it was a photo of all the crewmates before take-off. "woah." you choked, your stare flickering between alisa and the equally as gorgeous locket she had given you. "this is beautiful." then, you proceeded to try give it back to her but she simply swatted your hand away. "it's yours now, (y/n)!" she sung, snatching it from your hand only so she could force it into your satchel. "so you have something to remember me by if i die." your blood ran cold as the buzz word fell from her lips, you were given a reality-check a bit too abruptly for your liking. "don't say that." you whispered, as if the imposter could hear you and would spring out at the mention of the word. eager to change the subject, you rummaged through your satchel in search of something to gift to her in return, "what can i give you to remember me by?" there was a few moments of silence between the two of you as alisa's eyes darted around the room, hunting for something of significance until her eyes landed on you once again; that's it! she raised her eyebrows as a lightbulb lit up above her head, "i have an idea." you hummed, instantly shifting your gaze off of your satchel and onto her, tilting your head slightly as you waited for her to elaborate. which she did, by slowly leaning in with pursed lips, her eyes closed so she couldn't see the perplexed expression painted on your face. before you knew it, the screen of her helmet clinked against yours, her strawberry-glossed lips pressed against it. once you realised it was a kiss she was perusing, you were swift in craning your neck forward to gently peck the helmet where both of your lips would meet – if it wasn't for the fact you were in space. though, your serene, romantic atmosphere was short-lived as the shrill noise of the disaster alarm suddenly went off, bright red lights flashing all around you and every camera view on the wall was replaced by an error message, meaning that there was an issue in electrical. you exchanged a look of concern before watching alisa sprinted towards the door – obviously with the intention of heading to electrical to fix this – so with a second thought, you followed. however, once your reached the door, alisa snapped her head around and fiercely pushed you back into security, "(y/n), you need to stay here, only one person has to go. you stand guard so nobody comes in here and brakes the screens." it was poor reasoning considering there was nothing you could do to possibly stop the impostor since you didn't possess a weapon, but it worked as alisa slammed the door behind her before rushing to electrical, leaving you isolated. your heart sunk watching her leave but you knew that if you were to tag along, you'd only be a hindrance to the endeavour to fix the wires. time passed painfully slowly, the shrieking noise from the alarm seemed to have been going on for ages and the flashing lights gave you a headache so you crawled underneath the control panel, curling yourself into a ball as you prayed for this all to be over soon. fortunately, the shrill noise was eventually put to an end and the lights went back to normal. you hesitantly emerged from the shadows to check if the screens still had the error message plastered on it and luckily, they didn't. you let out an audible sigh of relief as your eyes scanned every monitor in search of alisa but she was no where to be seen. time went on and the dread bubbling in your stomach only grew as she had yet to come out of electrical. a part of you reasoned that perhaps she was alive and well, simply chatting with an old friend of hers in the room and that's why she was taking so long but soon, the anxiety became too much for you to handle so you dashed straight out of security. sweat matted your hair to your forehead as you raced passed any other crewmates in your way. your breathing was frantic and it only grew worse as you reached the door to electrical. you stood like a statue, desperately trying to catch your breathe as the sensor scanned your iris before granting you access to the room. the doors slid open before your very eyes to reveal nothing, well, as far as you could see. though there was still more of the room which you couldn't see just from the entrance, so you called out, "hello?" silence. you weren't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing but either way, you were certain that you had to venture forward in search of alisa or anyone else that could inform you of her whereabouts. you set a trembling foot forward one after the other, on high-alert just in case someone where to jump out at you. after the door shut automatically behind you, darkness enveloped the whole room so you pulled out your flashlight, darting the focussed light around the room in search of leads; handprints, fingerprints, blood, anything. however, the coast was clear. inhaling sharply, you turned the final corner, your flashlight quickly mirroring your actions, shining it's bright light on a sight that you wished and prayed never to see. it was alisa, definitely; her bright pink suit was unmistakable. just not the way you wanted to see her: she lay unresponsive on the floor, pooling in her own gore, her expression undetermined as the screen of her helmet was cracked. it was as if your own soul had left your body and you had to view your trembling, stunned figure from afar because in that moment, you didn't have any control over your own form; you couldn't feel anything. despite the fact your hands were completely numb, you had been training for a moment like this since the day you had gotten the call that there was an imposter on-board, the moment where you'd have to report the body of your friend. so your hands subconsciously made their way down your trousers to grasp the bright red button which hung with a keychain on your belt. tears streamed down your cheeks, your legs soon giving out from underneath you. "alisa." you cried, wanting nothing more than to time-travel, or simply imagine an alternate reality where it was someone else, anyone besides her. the shrill noise of the disaster alarm began once again but this time, you weren’t sure if it was just in your head or not. a shadow loomed over you, the movement you caught a glimpse of from the corner of your eye but you were simply too paralyzed to move. your mind was fixated on alisa and alisa only – why couldn't it have been you instead? – but you still hoped that the figure was a just fellow crewmate, able to report the body now that your own limbs have failed you. but that wasn't the case.

[qupshalfempty]

Hii can i get a scenario/headcannon for Smokescreen, where he meets the sarcastic and witty reader, he instantly likes her and even if the reader protests he already claimed him as jer guardian. The last part I want is, how really protective he is of her, elaborate on that part and write much of it. Really dive in deep of the protective thing, that'll make a smokescreen fan squeal.

I love Smokescreen so much… this accidentally turned into a one-shot, oops. This is the longest one I’ve written yet, so it’ll definitely be tagged as long reads lol.

TFP! Smokescreen With Sarcastic And Witty! Reader

Words: 2,160

“Hey!”

The very over joyous blue and white robot exclaimed. You cringed, feeling your ears pop from the loudness of his voice. You couldn’t hear him introduce himself, too busy digging your fingers in your ears, trying desperately to fix your hearing after his outburst. Damn, you hope you didn’t have to get used to this. Alien robots, some “base” in the middle of nowhere, screaming...

“-Smokescreen will be your guardian-”

I snapped towards the tall blue and red bot and gave him an incredulous look, forgetting about the ringing echoing in my head for a second. I cut him off from speaking further.

“Who?”

The loud bot from earlier gasped, “Me?!”

I gave an exasperated sigh, my shoulders slumping, letting everyone know how I felt within a mile radius.

‘Great…’

It’s already been a week and you had had enough. Smokescreen, as he had constantly made sure you’d known since you weren’t listening when you both first met, wouldn’t leave you alone for a second. Always watching, always two steps behind you and breathing down your neck. It was getting claustrophobic, and generally annoying. You even had to explain why you had to go to the bathroom by yourself. He blushed bright blue, before walking back to the main room completely embarrassed after that. Currently, he was making sure you had known his name, again.

“I heard you the 32nd time.”

I groaned out, followed by an eye roll. I just got the usual upbeat response.

“Just making sure, never know when you’ll get into trouble and need someone to call for help!”

“I don’t know, I could just say help?” He chuckled and scratched at the back of his helm.

“I’m also your guardian now, so we’re going to be around each other a lot more! We’ll need to know each other’s names.” He gave you a smile and turned away, strolling towards where Bumblebee stood.

“Don’t know why he had to walk all the way over there, from how loud he is he could’ve had a full out conversation from here…” You muttered. Walking up the stairs to the human area, you overheard some of his conversation with ‘Bee.

“-yep! I’ve got my eye on them! Don’t worry!”

‘Bee didn’t look too convinced from what I could see out of the corner of my eye, but he acted supportive all the same. Giving from what I could tell, positive beeps and whirls in response and giving him a reassuring pat on the back. Arcee was leaned against the wall nearby with her arms crossed, shaking her head.

‘Same.’ I thought sarcastically, ‘If this is the guy that’s supposed to be protecting me, I’ll be dead in a week.’

With all the others gone and only a couple robots around, it was the perfect time to relax doing what I wanted to do. Since I thought they’d think it boring or odd, I didn’t watch it when others were around. That and I usually followed and done whatever the other humans (Miko) wanted to do. I flopped onto the couch, grabbing the remote that almost fell in between the cushions and switching it on (favorite movie/show). I was on the main screen, about to press play before hearing loud metallic steps approaching behind me.

“Hey Y/N!”

I jumped, recognizing the loud voice behind me immediately. I turned from my seat on the couch, distracted from the TV I was watching, and slowly gave Smokescreen a deadpan look. And if you are wondering, yes he did talk to me a second ago, this is how it’s been all week.

“Just saw you sitting over here alone and-.. Thought I’d drop by…” He cut himself off after noticing the look I was giving him. And something so out of character for him, he looked defeated. Head hung low, eyes cast downward, and sighed.

“Look, I know I wouldn’t have been your first choice. But I’d like to get to know you, hang out and relax. Since I’m your guardian, you’re stuck with me.” He chuckled awkwardly, attempting a joke. Trying anything to be around me, he’s used this excuse three times now this week. He’s just never looked this pitiful. So I pitied him and gave him a half smile, an attempt to make him feel better. It seemed to bring back his confidence, if just for a second.

“So, what do ya say?”

He’d looked hopeful while watching for my reaction, like a puppy wanting approval from his owner. Although people could call me cold if they didn’t know me well enough, especially to know my jokes weren’t insults….. I’m not heartless.

“Sure.” I sighed out reluctantly, running a hand through my hair.

“Yes!” He fist pumped without another thought. “Wanna watch TV?”

“Sure.” I repeated, watching him try to contain his excitement as he turned towards the TV I was watching minutes ago before being loudly interrupted.

“What’chya watching?”

He asked nonchalantly, leaning over me to squint at the screen. His shoulder plate brushed against the top of my head, barely grazing the hair on my head. A chill ran up my spine at the contact. I completely forgot about my self indulgent show/movie I was watching before. My face flushed from embarrassment of what played on the screen and the contact, I hope he didn’t notice.

“Oh uh, just (favorite show/movie). I’ve watched it a couple times through now.”

He leaned back and lifted an eyebrow? Eye ridge? I was too busy hiding my blush from his view to figure it out or care.

“What’s it about?”

I then gave a brief explanation as to what the show was and what was currently happening in it, without giving spoilers when possible. No matter how much he begged to know.

“Wha- please! Now I gotta know!”

“Well, we could start from the beginning. If you have the time.”

“Yeah! Always got time to watch you-! I mean, watch it with you!”

“Uh huh, sure stalker.” I said slyly, without missing a beat. His faceplates turned blue, and he focused on the tv to try and shield his face from my view. I made no intention to let him know that I did in fact see, and I didn’t speak up about how there was nothing on the screen to even watch yet.

Throughout the entire show/movie, he’d sat still. Odd for him, since he can’t stand being bored, so I assumed he liked it. It reminds me of how he’s been trying to get to know me all week, I didn’t make an effort until now. In my defense, I was always following the humans and doing whatever they (Miko) wanted to do or was already doing, which was usually getting into trouble. So I never really had time at the base to do anything I wanted. And I had avoided Smokescreen until now so we didn’t speak enough to get to know each other either. I felt kinda bad, but whenever I had joked with him he didn’t know how to take it. At first he assumed I was insulting him, I guessed so when he flinched back the first time I tried being sarcastic. But that didn’t deter him. At all.

“What’s the main character doing? Why would they do that?!”

He snapped me out of my thoughts, I realized I wasn’t even watching the tv anymore and instead opted to watch his facial expressions instead. He was too busy staring at the TV screen to realize, thankfully.

“Oh uh.”

I finally turned my attention to the TV, trying to catch up and see if I could recognize this part. I explained everything from memory, up until the point on the screen anyway. We were getting to a cliffhanger, and he was already chewing on his non-existent nails. He stared intently at the screen, sitting on the edge of his seat if he was sitting, before gasping when the scene came up. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. He looked away to see what I was laughing at, just to see I was looking in his direction. Putting it together, he turned back towards the TV. The blue blush from earlier making a second appearance today.

“I assume you like this?”

“...Shut up.” I laughed and he chuckled, not once offering to look away at the screen. He’d hoped to see what happened to the characters, but I’d already known so I didn’t bother paying much attention. I leaned back and got comfortable, arms set behind my head. It felt nice to sit and enjoy this moment.

The show/movie had ended, and we talked afterwards about it. Enjoying each other’s company for the first time this week. I tested a couple sarcastic comments about the character’s and he had laughed, taking them well. I think we’ll start to get along just fine after this.

Never mind. After sharing that moment, the next week was still full of him following after me like a puppy. And becoming much more careful around me, and making sure the others were careful around me as well. From the shocked faces of the others and the occasional raised eye ridge, I could tell this wasn’t his usual behavior. And the reprimands from Optimus proved my theory, he was usually the reckless one. Even worse than the “wreckers”, and that’s how they got their name. After getting scolded by Optimus, he became even more protective. Everybody noticed, and so did I. How could anyone not? But I didn’t say anything. I just dealt with it, not wanting to upset the bot more. Until now.

The humans were all gone, most of the robots as well. I was sitting on the couch watching another of my favorite shows/movies when Smokescreen walked up behind me. When I greeted him, I got no answer back from the usual hyperactive robot. With suspicion, I turned. He looked like a puppy with his tail between his legs. He had his head hung low, eyes cast downward. You could tell by the look on his face it still bothered him quite a bit that he messed up. I decided to speak up after he sighed for the 8th time in the 2 minutes he stood there.

“What’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

He looked up at that, not realizing how he was acting or how he looked. I gave a playful eye roll.

“Something’s wrong, what is it?”

“Just what happened the last cycle...”

I furrowed my brows in confusion, I’m going to assume he meant yesterday.

“That must suck.” Wow, good job Y/N. So comforting. He didn’t seem to notice my failure at comforting him. He just huffed.

“I knooooow.” His helm hit the railing, shoulders slumped over and arms hung limply at his sides. I couldn’t think of anything to say, I’m more of a listener than a comforter if you couldn’t tell. I tapped the couch with my fingers out of habit, thinking for a moment as to what to do or say.

“Wanna rant?”

“Do I!” He took the chance without a second thought. He brought his head up, leaning on his servo that was propped up on the railing. I turned, giving him my full attention. My arm propped up on the back of the couch, watching his facial expressions. He was very animated, talking with the servo that wasn’t keeping him up. He’d ranted for a couple or so minutes, talking so fast I couldn’t quite keep up. But I overheard one part that stuck out to me though.

“-so I just wanted to become the best guardian to try and prove that I can succeed at something! … I just want to help.”

He ended on that note, head hung low again. A pit sat at the bottom of my stomach, I hoped I didn’t add to his frustrations with how distant I acted in the beginning. I shook my head, deciding to try my best with the comforting part.

“This isn’t the usual Smokescreen I know, you’ve been a great guardian towards me. Some could argue a little too great.” He chuckled at that, looking away sheepishly after reflecting back on how he’s acted this past week. I kept going.

“Now, want to watch something, protector?”

I added that last nickname to try and uplift his spirits. It seemed to work, his helm turning a brilliant blue that could be seen from a mile away. He chuckled after the shock wore off, and gave me a half smile back before ruffling my hair with a single digit. The force of it, unknown to him, making my head go in the same direction as his servos. I missed the bright smile he sent my way, too busy swatting at his servo.

“Sure, girlie.”

“Ugh.. what’s with the nickname.”

“I heard it on the TV! What’s with my nickname?”

“...Nothing, you gonna watch this or not?”

“Yep!”

[stupidnephilimlove]

Written for the @frightening-fall-fic​ . A few days late, but here’s my take on the week 1 prompt: bad decisions were made. Read here or on AO3 Summary: When Izzy stumbles upon an old ritual book in a used book store, she decides it's perfect for her Halloween party. It's supposed to be a little fun, but the book and the idea give Alec the creeps. But really, what could go wrong? -

Alec wonders how - despite wanting to do something epic every year - Isabelle manages to leave settling on a Halloween idea until the last minute. 

"Just throw a fancy dress party," Alec suggests, only half paying attention as his eyes scan the bookshelf. This was supposed to be a solo outing, an afternoon of perusing the recently opened used book store, but Isabelle insisted she tag along.

Isabelle throws Alec a disgusted look in response to his suggestion. "That's so unoriginal, Alec. It has to be better than last year."

Alec's pretty sure they had this exact conversation around a year ago, but he figures mentioning that isn't going to help the situation. Instead, he pulls a book from the shelf and scans the blurb.

"So do a seance or something," Alec says. 

Isabelle sighs at his lack of interest and pulls the book from his hand. She sets in back on the shelf and looks at him.

"We did that last year. And yes, it was awesome, even if I say so myself. But it needs to be something different."

Alec resists the urge to roll his eyes at her and moves deeper into the store. He spots the fake spiders and cobwebs covering a section in the corner.

"Maybe they've got something over there?" Alec gestures to the Halloween themed area as he speaks. He doubts it, but if it means he can look around the store in peace for a few minutes, then he's more than willing to suggest it.

Mumbling to herself that Alec's no use, Isabelle heads off in that direction and Alec goes back to his book search. He makes it ten blissful uninterrupted minutes before Isabelle comes bounding over, excitement in every step.

"I've got it! Alec, it's the perfect idea," Isabelle says.

Finally. 

"Oh, yeah?"

Isabelle holds up an old, battered book. The binding is starting to come away, and the gold text on the cover has faded so much that Alec's unable to make out the words.

"A ritual," Isabelle says, offering Alec the book.

Alec takes it, and he's off-put by the way the leather feels in his hands. He flicks carefully through the pages, they're well-worn and in what Alec takes a guess at is Latin.

"I'm not sure, Izzy."

There's something about the book that has the hairs on Alec's arms rising.

"Oh come on... it'll be brilliant and fun. No one will expect it."

Alec's sceptical about the 'fun' part, but if Isabelle's got it in her head that this is what's happening, then Alec knows better than to argue with her. So when Isabelle insists she buy the book, Alec makes his first terrible decision by not talking her out of it.

-

Alec stands outside of the intricate chalk circle that Izzy had Clary draw on their floor. That better come off, or he's going to kill her, Alec thinks. There's music playing, something instrumental, and it's giving Alec this feeling of tension. The feelings only increased by the dozens of candles that flicker, shadows chasing each other around the room.

It's a small group tonight, just Clary, Isabelle, Simon, Jace and Alec. Five Izzy had said once she'd settled on the ritual - one for each point of the pentagram the circle surrounds.

"Are you sure about this?" Alec asks.

Jace gives him a companionable punch to the shoulder. "It's just a bit of fun. Don't tell me you're scared, Alec?" 

"No... 'course not," Alec says. That's a lie, but he's not going to admit his unease to his brother. There's this feeling of wrong and stop and this is a terrible idea, and it's not like Alec at all. He doesn't believe in this stuff. He believes in what he can see, what he can understand, what he can explain, and Alec tries to shake off the feeling.

Isabelle instructs them to take their places at each point of the pentagram. She tells Alec his point represents fire and she gives him an unlit candle to hold. Clary's is air and she holds a feather, Simon's is earth and she gives him a jar of dirt, and Jace's is water and he grasps a cup half-filled. 

"And I represent spirit," Isabelle tells them, taking her up her spot.

Then in a hushed tone, voice serious, Isabelle says, "Before we begin, I have to warn you all not to step into the circle until the ritual is complete."

"Why, what happens if we do?" Simon asks.

Izzy grits her teeth at the interruption, the charade falling for a moment. "Then I'm gonna kick your ass for ruining the evening, Simon. Trying to set the mood here."

Simon grins sheepishly and nods his head. "Oh, sorry. Go on."

Isabelle finds her character again, turning to pick up an intricate bowl. She sets it down by her feet just inside of the circle and then stands to full height again. Isabelle picks up the book, and the room falls silent. 

God, why does the sight of that book give Alec chills? 

Isabelle holds the worn book in one hand and gracefully lifts the other. Four sets of eyes are trained on her and Alec's heart feels like it's beating double time in his chest.

"Me invocare te in tenebris," Isabelle says. The words sound odd and mispronounced, but the tone of her voice has Alec holding back a shiver and clutching his candle.

Izzy throws her hand out, something falling from her fingers and into the bowl in front of her. Smoke rises from the bowl on contact and she continues speaking.

"Venire ad me."

Neat trick, Alec thinks.

Isabelle repeats the words again, voice louder. "Me invocare te in tenebris. Venire ad me."

The room feels cooler, noticeably so, and Jace shifts uncomfortably next to Alec. Alec's glad he's not the only one this is freaking out.

"Me invocare te in tenebris," Isabelle says. The pronunciation is better, at least to Alec's ears, and each word is filled with conviction. 

"Venire-" Isabelle's voice cuts off mid-sentence and she doubles over, clutching her stomach and cries out, "No! Please." 

Clary reaches out from beside Isabelle in concern, and despite himself, Alec steps forward. "Izzy?" 

Isabelle raises her head, and there's a goddamn grin on her face, before she doubles over for an entirely different reason, laughter shaking her body.

"Oh, you should have seen your faces," she says between gulps of breath as the group grumbles.

"I knew she was playing," Alec hears Jace tell Simon, and Simon nods saying, "Yeah, sure. Me too."

Alec sighs in exasperation, and as he does, his candle flickers to life. Alec almost drops it in surprise.

"Nice one, Izzy. Quit it now." Alec says, trying to keep the shakiness from his voice. Her tricks are really beginning to get to him.

Isabelle's laughter dies out and she looks at the candle. "That wasn't me."

"I'm not falling for any more of your pranks," Alec says taking a step back to his previous position. His foot stops as if it's hit a wall, and Alec looks down. He's standing inside the circle.

"What is this?" he asks, eyes lifting to Isabelle's.

"Now who's playing pranks?" Jace says.

He tries to move again, panic rising in his chest, but he can't. He doesn't know how Isabelle's doing this, but it's not funny anymore.

"Alec, come on," Clary says and Alec can hear the annoyance in her voice.

The music abruptly stops playing and all at once the candles go out, plunging them into darkness. Except for the small flicker of light from the candle Alec's holding. 

There's the smell of burning. Alec tells himself it's due to the candles all burning down to the wick at the same time. And the lack of music? It's probably on a timer. The whole thing some elaborate plan of Izzy's to scare them.

"Izzy, this is a bit much," Clary says in the dark. 

"Seriously, this isn't me," Isabelle insists. "Who hijacked my evening?"

The group breaks out into bickering. But Alec doesn't move, a hand closes over his shoulder and there's breath at the nape of his neck and Alec's going to kill Isabelle as soon as the lights come back on. 

"I hate the twenty-first century," a male voice, low and sultry, says close to Alec's ear.

The bickering instantly stops. Alec doesn't know that voice, and though the hand is gone from his shoulder, his blood runs cold. The candles suddenly flare back to life and Alec's not sure who screams. Jace? Simon? Possibly Alec himself. Because standing in the circle in front of Alec is a man - at least, he looks like a man. Of course, he's a man, Alec tells himself. A very well-dressed, well-styled, entirely too hot, man. Apart from the eyes.

The eyes are golden and catlike and... fucking brilliant contacts, that's all. Alec's feeling a little hysterical and takes a breath to calm himself.

"Mmm," the man says, tilting his head as he looks at Alec. "A worthy offering though."

"Jeez, Izzy. Where'd you find this guy?" Jace asks.

"Enough," the man says, voice deep and commanding, lifting a hand, and for a reason Alec cannot explain, silence falls. The man turns back to Alec. "You may call me Magnus."

Alec doesn't want to call him anything. Okay, there's a thread of desire that has Alec imagining another evening, in a completely different setting with this Magnus. But right now? Right here? Alec wants this whole nightmare to end. He considers that they must all be in on this, and he doesn't know how or when, but he's going to get them back.

"What do you request of me, in payment of your soul?"

"M-my soul?" Alec stutters. Magnus can't be serious, but Alec can't bring himself to look away from Magnus' eyes. He feels almost entranced by them.

"Yes. You summoned me. I answered the call. Now make your request known."

"What? Like getting that promotion my boss has been holding back?" Alec asks stupidly.

Magnus nods and steps closer. "Unimaginative as usual, but if you insist." 

"What are you doing?" Alec asks, but he doesn't move away.

"To be binding, I must seal all business with a kiss." There's a suggestive raise to Magnus' eyebrow and Alec feels his cheeks flush. 

Is this guy - in the middle of this prank - really flirting with Alec? 

Oh, what the hell. Magnus is hot, and Alec's not giving the rest of them the satisfaction of him backing down. Bolstered, Alec closes the space between them.

Magnus reaches up, hand settling at Alec's neck, and heat spreads through Alec from that simple contact. Magnus pulls him closer, leaning in to take Alec's mouth with his. The kiss is like nothing Alec has ever felt before, and he opens his mouth, accepting Magnus. Alec feels it everywhere, feels a fire burning beneath his skin, and if he examined it closer, he might see that it isn't entirely caused by desire.

The candles burn brighter as they kiss, and as Magnus' lips leave Alec's they blink out again. Alec can hear someone scrambling for the lights and there's a whisper at Alec's ear in the last of the darkness. "I look forward to collecting you, Alexander."

Simon flicks the switch and the room is illuminated, but Magnus is nowhere to be seen.

"Can't believe you stole my Halloween prank," Izzy says, clearly annoyed, though Alec thinks they all look a little shaken. 

"I didn't," Alec says. "Didn't you guys set me up?" Dread is creeping up on him again.

Izzy shoots him an unimpressed look. "Honestly, Alec. You didn't need to go to that much trouble for a make-out session."

"Yeah, dude. My eyes cannot unsee that," Jace says.

And the group comes to the conclusion that Alec was messing with them despite all of Alec's protests. He tells himself it's just part of their prank, just them trying to psych him out even more.

Though, as Alec heads to bed at three am, a flash of catlike eyes in the mirror, the phantom press of lips against his, and that heat still burning under his skin, a part of him wonders if he really did just sell his soul. 

Shaking his head at his fanciful turn of thoughts, Alec crawls into bed. He doesn't believe in souls, so he can't have sold one, and Alec puts the whole thing down to too much sugar and alcohol.

However, when Alec's boss offers him a promotion the next week, Alec struggles to convince himself it's merely a coincidence.

[thebustedandtheblue]

The Busted Ch 5: Good Times Bad Times

The Busted Ch 4: Over and Over and Over

Chapter 1| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Days pass into weeks. Scullery duty continued, but there was a distinct air of hesitation from the rest of the crew when the two worked. There were no more incidents like with the orloni, and while the name calling and jeering still happened it wasn’t nearly as often as it had been that first day. It appeared that N’Zar had been accepted, although she suspected it was done at the behest of the officers of the Starhawk. She no longer tagged along with her charge although she did spend a bit of time with him. Eventually Yondu broke off from mess duties, and she kept washing dishes.

She still didn’t know much about him, where he was from, what he did before becoming a Ravager. What little he spoke to her was usually orders or grunts. She almost never saw him smile, and when he did, it was always with some wicked reason behind it. She had to find out from Tullk. She was scouring the sink of grime from the previous meal when he came by on his break.

“What’s Udonta’s deal?” She asked him, brushing off the grime from her trousers.

“What d’you mean?” He asked, ha

“I mean why’s he always so angry? It’s like he just wants to fight about everything all the time.”

“It’s the only thing he knows. He was a slave most of his life.”

“I figured that but I mean...I’ve known people who’ve been slaves before, I’ve never met anyone like him before.”

“Prolly cause he was a battle slave.”

N’Zar stopped mid scrub. That explains a fair amount. To fight for the Kree without actually being Kree was damn near a death sentence. She had never met one in person, but she had heard stories. They were the vanguard of the ground troops, cannon fodder. He knew her kind more as those that should be destroyed than as actual people. She felt for him, she truly did. Military life, especially forced military life, and at such a young age, was hard.

N’Zar snorted. “No wonder he hates me.”

“I don’t think he hates you. Don’t take it personally he’s like that with everyone. We just got used to it. It’s how he is.”

She was about to say something to him, when someone entered the mess. The Krylorian with the now-crooked nose from the fight.

“Captain wants to see you. He’s with the other officers.” He said.

In so many years of her life, being told to see the boss still scared her. A thousand scenarios went through her mind. She’d been found out and they’re going to send her back to Knowhere; they knew who she really was and they’re going to collect the bounty on her head; they just don’t like her and she’s getting spaced. She could feel her heart beat against her ribs as she made her way to the officers’ quarters, a slightly more spacious section of the ship, where Udonta and the officers were waiting for her. They were all sitting around a table. Stakar, his wife Aleta, his first mate Martinex, Charlie 27, Krugarr, and Yondu. The gang was all there. She stood military stiff in front of her superiors, beating against her chest twice, hard as she could, her back as straight as she could muster.

“Miss N’Zenne”, Stakar started, “We need you

“We’ve been contracted to steal this.” A section of the table shimmered and a projection of a bust of a woman adorned in black robes of obsidian. It was a fairly unimpressive thing, save for a brilliant red jewel in the center of her throat. “That is the Neramani Star. The client just wants that, not the statue. It’s currently owned by this her.” The projection changes, and a Shi’ar woman appears in the bust’s place.

N’Zar relaxed her shoulders, let her back slump slightly.  She cocked her head and looked at the ruby. It must have been the size of her fist. “All right but what does this have to do with me?”

“I’m getting to that.” Stakar said.

“We need you to trade places with this man.” another projection appeared. A Strontian man, slightly younger than the Shi’ar. “Her assistant. We need you to pose as him.”

“Oh! Oooooh. Okay I thought I was in trouble.”

The captain smirked and shook his head. “No you’re doing fine. But if you help us with this you’d be doing us a solid. So what do you want to do?”

“I’m...Wait what are you asking?”

“Give us a plan.” He motioned towards the hologram “What would you do to make it so that his employer doesn’t suspect you, and how are you going to get that stone?”

N’Zar took herself out of the room for the moment. There was a great deal more information she would need if she were to configure a plan.

“What else do you have on him?” She asked, a half demand.

“That’s all we got.”

“I think…”she started, “I’d tail him. No not tail him. Not just me anyway. Get a few guys to watch him, get his routine down, see where he goes in the span of a few days, maybe a week if this was extended. A month if this was deep cover. If this is just a day then following him for a few days or so’d do.”

“Then what?”

“If he’s got a regular place he goes, and by the look of him he probably does. Maybe a bar or he goes and spends time with someone on the weekend, go and see him then, try and chat him up and get him alone.”

“This is very elaborate, N’Zenne.”

She didn’t hear the captain.

“I’d get him alone and the others jump him and knock him out. Hide him in his house or something. Then I go in the next day, check out what she has for security and report back, and then we rob the lady.”

“Sounds like an all right plan.”

N’Zar returned to the land of the living and looked up at Stakar. “Wait what?”

“That was a bit much but we just wanted to know if you were on the same page. You’re joining Yondu here, and a few others, to go and take that stone.”

N’Zar understood now. She knew why the captain didn’t flay her outright when he found her stowed away on his ship. Her sob story did nothing to help her. He was willing to take her on whether she was tragic or not. She almost regretted spilling her guts until the thought of what she would have had to endure back on Knowhere.

“What do I get out of this?” she asked

“You get a cut, and anything else you find is yours.”

N’Zar looked at the holograph. She looked up at the officers and Udonta.

“All right, I’ll do it. Where are we going anyway?”

“Spartax.”

“Oh cool. Spartax. I have no idea where that is.”

Aleta snorted.

N’Zar walked down the sun drenched cobblestones of an old part of the Spartoi capitol. The ancient buildings of stone and glass around the open square stood dignified in contrast to the monstrous skyscrapers of downtown and the floating transports that crisscrossed the sky. There were a few booths and carts set up around them selling all manner of produce, a few selling wines or other libations. This was what she had always imagined what her ancestors’ home had once been like.

“Enough sightseeing, N’Zenne. The guy’s coming up on your left.” Udonta’s familiar abrasive drawl said through her earpiece.

And so he was. Lean, violet skinned, somewhere in his forties and running through the square like several others that morning. N’Zar wandered around him, keeping a good few meters away. The mark turned the corner of the block, she was a good ten feet away from him. The mark stopped at a crosswalk. When the signal changed, she noticed that his pace had picked up. Had he noticed her? She hung back a little bit. She didn’t want to scare him.

“Get closer, N’Zenne.” Udonta said.

“I’ll spook him if he gets closer”

“Get closer. That’s an order.”

“I’m fine.” She insisted. “You’ll lose him.

She stops and looks up into the tall buildings above her. “I know what I’m doing, Udonta.”

On a roof some five blocks away, with a very powerful pair of binoculars, a man with blue skin and a red mohawk of an implant scowled. He would not tolerate insubordination, or some little shit Skrull talking back to him.

“Get back to him. Now.” Yondu demanded, an agitated rumble in his voice.

She glared in the vicinity of the building, and returned to tailing the Strontian man.

“Don’t be so hard on her.” Tullk said from across the room. He had been monitoring her target’s movements. “It’s her first mission, Yondu.”

“She shits the bed I’m going to be the one paying for it.”

“Have some faith in her. She’s probably done this before although it probably ended with a wallet.”

Yondu grumbled. “I have a lot riding on this mission, Tullk.”

“I know.” was all Tullk said and waved him off. He looked through his own scope. The sun was still low in the morning sky, and the scope each could see her in a terran-esque shift with olive skin and dark hair. Her eyes remained the same. “She’s not that bad looking like this.” “If you like skinny green shapeshifters.” Yondu scoffed.

“What if I do?” Tullk asked.

Yondu wasn’t sure if he was trying to get a rise out of him, or if he was genuinely interested. But he turned to look at his scarred and tattooed friend. He squinted. He wasn’t sure if his friend was serious or not. Getting duped by a skrull was one thing, it was an entirely different thing to go to bed voluntarily with one. He could understand the appeal to some degree, shifting into whatever he wanted, any race, any gender, but as she was was different.

“I ain’t her keeper anymore. If you want to ask her out you do you.”

“Then maybe I will.” Tullk said, a ghost of a smile on his face. “What’s she like in bed?”

“He wouldn’t know he never got that far. And I’m not skinny!” A distinctly feminine voice said over the comms. The two men had momentarily forgotten they were still speaking over an open channel. Somewhere in orbit around Spartax, in the officers quarters on board the Starhawk, Aleta Ogord let out a horsey peal of laughter.

She wasn’t that skinny. Not anymore. A few good-ish meals on the Starhawk saw to that. She was lean, but she wasn’t skinny. What would Udonta know anyway.

She followed her orders, catching up to the mark. The old buildings fell away to modern homes. More angular and dull rowhouses. She saw him walk up a flight of stairs to one of the last traditional-looking brick buildings on the street. It was a modest thing of two stories and made of red and creme brick. She walked passed the building, making note as he walked into the house.

“Now we know where he lives. So now what?”

“Wait there, N’Zenne.”

A small and growing blip in the sky came down, a transport, parking a block away from the house. From the cabin of the car came Yondu and Tullk.

“Alright so now what do we do?” She asked once again.

Yondu looked up at the building.

“Y’think you can turn into a bird?” He asks.

“Yeah but I won’t be able to fly or anything.”

“Ah...what?”

“I’m gonna be too heavy to fly, and I won’t really know how to fly since I never practiced being a bird. Might be able to glide, but I don’t think there’s enough wind to get me very far. What did you want me to do crash into the window?”

He scowled. “If you’re so smart what do we do?” Yondu grumbled.

N’Zar looked at her two partners. Both were scruffy, one was ill-tempered, the other one too many tattoos for what she had in mind, but it might still work.

“You guys got any money?”

The two men searched the pockets of their leathers. Between the two of them they had a little shy of thirty units.

“This should do us...we gotta find a thrift store.”

“Thrift store?” Yondu asked.

“Yeah a thrift store! That transport got a GPS?”

He was in the midst of dressing for work when the doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting company, but perhaps it was that package from home he had been waiting on? The one his father said he would have to sign for. The strontian man heard the doorbell ring again, this time with some slight urgency. Down the stairs he went to see three figures behind the frosted glass. He opened the door and in front of him was a small strontian woman holding a very thick, dog-eared book. Her outfit was conservative, a dark skirt and blazer, with a white shirt and dark tights. Around her neck she wore a bright gold ankh. Behind her were two men in a similar mode of dress. They all looked rather tired and haggard, with beads of sweat from the summer heat on their faces, and dark patches under their arms.

The woman gave him a toothy smile. “Excuse me sir, I hate to be a bother on this very lovely morning, but do you have a moment to talk about the Magus? It will only be a moment of your time.”

Unies. Great.

“I’m very sorry but I don’t have the time right now.” He said, and began to close the door only to have it stopped by her foot in the threshold.

“Perhaps some other time then?” She squeaked. “I could come back later today if you’d be so inclined.”

She was being persistent, and from the looks of her she had been running around in those clothes most of the morning. He looked into her sad golden eyes. He honestly shouldn’t. The two behind her looked mean, and the Centaurian in particular looked like he was ready to stab someone His employer does not like to be left waiting, and he generally was not a fan of the Universal Church of Truth, but at the very least he could be polite and let her in for a glass of water.

He sighed, and opened the door wider to let her and her compatriots in.

She gave a slight curtsy and the three walked into the house. The Centaruian kept his eyes forward, not even looking at his host. The last one, a man with scars and tattoos, came up to the man and shook his hand heartily. “Thank ye very much, sir.” He said, sticking a small metal disc to his hand. He looked into the man’s face, a wicked grin on his face. Behind the two men the Strontian woman’s violet skin was changing to an olive green. Her hand was reaching for something around her wrist, and it was the last thing he saw before a shock and the floor rushing up to him.

[raindrenchedstories]

Clash of the Classes

It’s the little things, the things we don’t really give a second glance. Those are the most important signs. The things people really should pay attention to. Something even Henry had to pick up on over time. Over his near hundred years.

A small child turned to a particularly tall woman as they passed. Trying to gain their mothers attention as they were tugged along. He couldn’t make out what the toddler was babbling about but he could clearly hear the mother scolding them. “It’s rude to point.”

The taller woman paused, staring back. Children could see the damnedest things. Including see through a monsters disguise, and know it for what it is. He took another look at her. Seeing through her glamour.

Large wings folded over her shoulders, wickedly hooked at the joints. He could make out two sets of eyes, and a particularly rubbery looking set of jaws. A tail about half the length of her legs swept lazily behind her. Spiked. She looked so thin. Like she hadn’t eaten in years.

The topmost row of eyes slid in his direction, Henry returned to reading the paper. Far be it from him to disturb the creature. Even if he wasn’t familiar with her like. His keen ears picked up on her feet just tapping against the ground, bare.

A hooked claw pulled the paper away from him. And she met him eye to eye. “Yes?” He quirked a brow. Locking his ice blue eyes on her emeralds. The top set seamed to be the primary, so he focused on them.

“I was just wondering. What’s a darling like you doing out here? All~ alone.” That rubbery grin pulled away in what was probably meant to be a seductive grin. Just by the tone of her voice. He could just catch a peek at a second, more ridged and dastardly sharp set of teeth behind them.

“Just waiting. My dear.” He snapped the paper out of her grip and rose it to his eyeline again. She made a point to crawl into his lap. Slinging her arms over his shoulders and elbows.

“Well. Maybe I can wait with you.” He gave her a flat look, and promptly dumped her onto the seat beside him. Not at all minding the fact that she’d fallen off the bench instead.

Henry folded the paper in his lap, and leaned down to look her in the eyes. He couldn’t use his hypnosis like this. He’d need all her eyes engaged on his. And her lower set was on a very intimate part of his person at the moment. “Madam. I can see what you’re trying to do. But you really are wasting your time. My interests lay in the same direction as yours. If that makes any sense.”

“...In other words. Nothin’ doin’. Am I right?” Both sets of eyes snapped to a more appropriate location now. Although the lower set still stayed somewhere other than his eyes.

“Indeed. It was a fair effort, mind you. And were you a man, you’d have me at least intrigued. But this old bat doesn’t swing that way.” He offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet. 

She gave a short laugh. “Old? You’re what. Twenty five? at most.”

“Let’s put it this way. I’ve been around since before the second world war.” He flashed a toothy grin, just the tips of his fangs poked out. Surprising the woman, before she broke into a laugh.

Her wings curled around her as she snickered. “You’re a god damned Vampire? Ah. Makes sense. You probably see right through me. Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And judging from that accent of yours~” She flexed her claws. 

Henry raised a hand and shook his head. “No. I never fought in the war. Never held those ideals. Kind of hard to, when you’re being tortured in those damn camps.” He sighed. Leaning back. “Please don’t ask me to elaborate.”

She lowered herself a bit, sitting back down beside him. “Oh. Ah... Well now don’t I feel like a cunt.”

“You didn’t know.” He raised a hand dismissively. A smile tugged at his cheeks. “So, what are you, exactly? I haven't’ seen anything of your like.”

She shrugged. Folding her arms over her knees. All four eyes scrunched up. “I don’t actually... Know. I just am.” She gave a meek smile. “Sun’s going to come up soon. Did you have a place to spend the day?”

“Yes.” Henry stood and dusted himself off. “Thank you. Have a lovely rest of your night.”

He knew she was following him. Why was a mistery. But she was there. Shadowing his every step. Henry started to notice a lack of monsters in the area. Well, that was a slightly inaccurate statement. As a woman dropped from a ledge above him. Slamming another woman into the ground and binding her quickly. He recognized the material she was using.

It was webbing. Webbing from a close friend of his. Her pungent smell hung in the air anywhere this material was used. May had supplied it. This was probably one of her children. Yes, he recognized the markings on her jacket. 

Huntsman, as she was called. One of the assassins following May. A large, spider creature that had a habit of devouring a certain type of man. She’d set up a cafe in full interest of meeting with clients, then sending her little ‘spiders’ off to collect them. It was all under contract. Meaning hunters, and police had no say in what happened to them. That was just how monsters operated these days.

Henry had squabbled with her a few times. Conflicting contracts often had the two at ends. However, Henry was no fool. And often would relinquish his contract to her. In return for a favor.

The girl turned to him, gave a nod, before pausing. “Henry?” Her voice was little more than a whisper. Distorted by layers of fabric and her hushed tone. He tipped his cap to her with a kindly smile.

“Don’t be so surprised my dear. I do make my way up this far, on occasion.” He chuckled. Kneeling over the womans captive. “It’s rare when you target women. what did she do?”

“Snapped a pic of May. Look. You shouldn’t be here. Like. EVER.” Hunt hissed. Henry quirked a brow. Standing up with interest.

“Oh? Are there hunters?”

“Worse. There’s Dixie Violet.” The woman glanced over her shoulders nervously. As though something would jump out at her for simply speaking the name.

Henry scoffed. Leaning away. “That new drug that’s been circulating? I should be fine thank you. I am undead after all.”

“It’s not a drug. It’s a She. And she’s the big bad alpha monster here. Haven’t you noticed a lack of low class creatures in the area?” Henry took his time in looking around then tilted his head to the side. It started to make sense.

He himself, was higher ranking. Second to May in his little circle. They shared a ‘territory’ of their own. One that, if called, he’d maintain. Part of that was keeping smaller, low class creatures in line. Something he did regularly anyways. On his nightly hunts.

But the odd fact was, even if they were kept in line, they were still present. They still showed themselves. “Do you have permission to be hunting here?”

“May negotiated it. It’s a personal matter after all. But... Listen, Dixie doesn’t care. She’ll pray on another monster if she wants to. The only constant is... Gender.” Huntsman fidgeted nervously, eyeing him imploringly from behind the cloth covering her face.

“Ah. Are they under contract?” Henry rubbed his chin, thinking of a method out of town before he could be taken. Worst case scenario, he’d have to ask Holly to summon him, and tag along with her latest adventure awkwardly. He pulled his phone from his pocket, and texted her.

Huntsman shifted. “No.” she sounded hesitant to relinquish this information.

Henry huffed, before turning back to his phone. “Uncivilized.” He grumbled.Holly could do it, but in a bit of time. With any luck, this ‘Dixie’ wouldn’t catch him by then. “Thank you. For your warning. Please get yourself home safe now.” He continued down the dark alleyway. 

Worst case scenario, he’d have to keep fighting until Holly could drag him home. That was fine.

Something slammed him in the back, Hard. He turned to witness the same woman from earlier. She had a snarl set into her features. “Uncivilized, was it?” She threw her left wing forward.

Henry didn’t have much time to think. He burst into several small bats, swarming behind her. His fangs fully drawn, he tried to bite down. Just pricking her skin, however, caused a light hissing sound. He withdrew and lurched back, running a thumb over a fang. Cursing. It was shorter, blunted. Melted.

So biting was out of the question. In his distraction, he failed to notice her drawing up to his side, An elbow spike flew past his vision. Driving into his shoulder. He could feel the bone underneath crunch. 

It had been a long time since he’d last felt pain. Well, significant pain, at least. Henry’s voice choked into a snarl as he gripped the nearest wing. This would hurt. He jerked her hard, Dislodging the spike from his person and throwing her across the alleyway. He felt something snap, and she screeched.

“Not fun. Is it?” He growled, His left arm was useless. Hanging limp. He could heal it quickly, if he had time. But she left him no quarter as she charged. He burst into bats once more, moving behind her and gripping her other wing. Attempting to snap it just like the first.

She shook him lose and slammed him into the cement wall of an apartment building. They were making quite a bit of noise, it was a wonder no one even so much as peeked out a window. He took advantage of the wall burst once more. Rushing up it’s surface and reforming on the roof.

Magic started to pull at him. Sadly, ‘Dixie’ caught up with him. Bursting forward with her claws splayed wide He couldn’t exactly burst into bats a third time. He was already low on energy, and injured as it was. He’d probably just end up awkwardly clumping on the ground. but, even a weakened Vampire could be a terrifying enemy. Given their enhanced strength. 

Henry instead, dropped below her reach, grasping her around her middle with his remaining arm. The violet she beast screamed in rage as he threw her asside. She couldn’t correct her fall, with her damaged wing. Instead, she plummeted. Landing on a balcony below.

Something lit up under the vampires feet. Before he knew it, Henry was dragged away. Tumbling through time and space before he dropped hard onto a hard wooden floor. Wincing. He shot up snarling. Finding himself face to face with Holly. A book held in her hand, and summoning circle drawn below him in white chalk.

Henry panted, falling onto his side. “I may have to rest here, for today.” Was all he could choke out, before just letting himself drift off where he lay. Not quite asleep, not quite passed out, just... gone. His body got to work repairing it’s self while he lay there.

Holly dared not move him. So he remained, covered with a warm blanket and a soft pillow under his head.

Back in Vancouver, Dixie limped home. Her fall had cost her greatly. An elbow spike jabbed deep into her thigh. She opened the door, and locked all four sets of eyes on a man. Chained in the corner of the room Gagged. And terrified. 

“Looks like you’re it. Sweetcakes.” She carefully selected a hammer from the table, and strode over to him. Practically purring.

[katymacsupernatural]

An Arranged Marriage Chapter 14

Dean Winchester x Reader

1150 Words

Story Summary: An AU of sorts. Where hunter’s have communities, and arrange marriages for their young. Y/N is from the Northwest region, arranged to marry Dean, from the midwest region.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

“So, you’re telling me that hunters have their own communities? With their own beliefs and schools? And they still arrange marriages? That is crazy!” Lucifer exclaimed, bouncing on his spot on the couch as soon as you finished with your explanation. You hadn’t expected Lucifer to be such an eager listener, but he had hung on to your every word, his eyes sparkling as you told him everything.

“Yeah, I guess.” You muttered. Truthfully, as time passed away from the compound, you began to see how crazy, how ridiculous life inside them truly was. No one should be forced to live like that. Forced to marry someone just to keep a strong hunting line going. Sure, you had gotten lucky. Marrying Dean, who didn’t care for the hunting communities. Giving you a chance to see that life outside the communities wasn’t nearly as bad as people told you.

“See.” He literally yelled, his finger inches from your face. “You don’t really like the communities, do you?”

“It’s not that I don’t…” You started stuttering, but with a wave of his hand, you couldn’t speak.

“I can see it. You like being away from them. Of having the freedom they never gave you.” He answered for you. “I think we need to visit one.”

Wildly shaking your head, you tried to argue with him, but your voice was still gone. “This is a must. We will go visit, and I will see exactly what is running through their minds before I burn it to the ground, along with everyone inside. I can’t believe they made it so easy. Shoving all these hunters into one spot. It’s like Christmas, if I celebrated that horrid holiday.” He ended on a mutter, standing up and pacing the room.

Unable to say anything, you finally smacked your hand on the end table, finally getting his attention. Sighing, he waved his hand, and you could talk once again. “I really don’t think this is a good idea…” You started to say, but as the words slipped from your lips his eyes shown red, his lips peeling back in a snarl.

“I am Lucifer, and I make the calls. You’re just a pathetic, little human who lets people control her destiny. Now shut up while I finish planning this out.” He growled low in his throat. Effectively stopping you from arguing anymore.

Dean’s POV

Running my hand through my hair for the millionth time, I couldn’t stop pacing the room. Sure, pacing didn’t get Y/N back, but I couldn’t just sit there. She was gone, and it was all my fault. I should have insisted that the room had been marked in sigils. I shouldn’t have let her stay behind. But that was in the past, and all I cared about was making sure that she was safe. That she was brought back to me safely.

“Dean.” Sam sighed. “Pacing isn’t going to bring her back. We need to come up with a plan.”

Stopping, I turned to stare at my brother in frustration. “I know we need to come up with a plan!” I exclaimed. “But I’m just a little baffled on how to get her back from Lucifer!”

“Dean, do you know why Lucifer would take Y/N?” Cas asked from his spot off to the side. He had stayed quiet, lost in thought and I had almost forgotten he was even still in the room.

“I have no clue!” I yelled at him, watching as he frowned at me. Making me realize how grumpy I was being with both men. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for getting Y/N back.

“I think it’s a way to distract us. We’re too close, and he’s using Y/N to take us off his trail.” Sam suggested.

“But if he has Y/N then we will be following him to the ends of the Earth.” I argued, not seeing Sam’s point at all.

“But we will be searching for her, not paying attention to what he already has in place.” Sam continued, not even noticing the frown on my face. “We need to think hard about what we’re going to do. We just can forget about what he was putting together.”

“We don’t even know what he was up to!” I muttered. “We wanted to put him back in the cage, and now you’re saying that he’s been creating this elaborate plan.”

“Dean, while you guys were traveling here, I did some research, and I do believe that Lucifer is planning something huge. Which is why he needs to be stopped immediately.”

“But after we get Y/N back.” I insisted, watching as both Sam and Cas glanced at each other. “I don’t like that look.” I muttered.

“Dean, I think it’s better if we split up. You can focus on getting Y/N back. With Sam’s help of course. I will continue to learn about Lucifer and his plan, stopping it as quickly as possible. I can call on Crowley and Rowena for help.”

“Fine.” I sighed. “But I still have no idea where to start looking for Y/N.” I mumbled sadly, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed. “She trusted me, and I’ve let her down.”

Cas came to stand next to me, laying his hand heavily on my shoulder. “I know of a place. A place where Lucifer’s grace has been the strongest. It might not be the right place, but it is a start.”

“It’s better than nothing. Thanks Cas.” I said, taking a deep breath. “Sam, you ready?”

Sam glanced between Cas and me, no doubt still wanting to stop Lucifer, but wanting to help me with Y/N as well. “Hey, think of it this way. We find Y/N, we find Lucifer. And we can finally stop him once and for all.”

“If we can figure out how to stop him.” Sam grumbled. “We’ve stopped him once before, but we don’t have the keys, or any way to lock him back in the cage. Rowena might, but it depends on her mood.”

“We will figure out a way. We have to. Because he has Y/N, and we can’t have him running around turning this into another apocalypse.” I muttered, standing up and heading over to my weapon bag. Not wanting to waste any more time, I took a deep breath, ready to face the devil himself to get back the wife I had never wanted. But couldn’t imagine life without.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acreativelydifferentlove @anokhi07 @love-charmer-sketch @akshi8278 @bebravekeeponfighting @colette2537 @lenaabs @a-girl-who-loves-disney  @riversong-sam @its-not-a-tulpa @duckieburns @sortaathief @queen--glitch  @sukawaii317 @bish-its-me @superseejay721517 @brindz30

An Arranged Marriage Tags: @deanandsamsbitch @sweethomelebanon @madithemagicalfangirl @apple-pie-na @calciumcow @purpleturtles-purplespiders @keeshers94 @cemmia @soopranatural @silenceofmidnite @eringva @brittanyovens @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @uniquewerewolfsuit @ricciolocurl @sausage-master @spn-applepie-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @letmebecomeataboo @koaladean @anokhi07 @waywardwinchesteraf @deadpools-wife @duncedgoofball @darling-highness @crazysupernaturalgirl @rhapsody-in-flannel @30inlovewiththecoco1 @itseverythingilike @jaycc7983 @azumitoshiki @loveseries @my-ships-will-never-be-sank @supernatural-fangirl13 @anime-music-is-life @thee-assbutt @jendee05 @viviandarkbloom06 @earthtokace @supernaturalblogging @daydreamingintheimpala @whovianwriter @sofreddie @diary2000 @giftofdreams @magnificentflyingpig @lizzybeth99 @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @redlipstickandthewinchesters @robecca-le-blog-des-citations @silver-and-green @choochi97 @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @xxwinchester-22xx @kitty-winchester-67 @colette2537 @daughterleftbehind @lowlyapprentice @superwhofoundthelock @angelsandwinchesters @walkerbex98 @shamelesslydean @deansgirl215 @iamabeautifulperson18 @deanwinchesters-67impala @joyfulinfluencermoon @ti-tler @geniuschic @deformed-star @keikoraventeller @peaceloveancolor @marilynnlew @kellyn1604 @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @vansawssupernaturalpage @thatonenerd18 @karrueda @castianityislife01 @winchestersnfriends @hayitskristen @malfoys-babe @technicallypurplesalad @jaloesie @supernatural-girl97 @ikeneasul11 @nevaeh-potter15 @mariahoedt @ginger0222 @torristoleyourcookie  @karrueda @deanwinchesters-impala67 @mariazintili @sweetest-little-fox @vvinch3st3r @iamnotsaneatall @furiousdonutbarbarian @iamabeautifulperson18 @sassy-and-classy-cowgirl @lexie-mo @kawaiilivkitty @karmamariejoy @18crazybutcutealsopsycho  @daniyell619 @supernatural-screams @wantingtobekorra  @brindz30 @iwritemyownending @chook007 @i-just-wanna-live-gc @mandilion76 @void-dallison @thebikiniinspector @shadowhunter7 @flirtswithdanger @ericaprice2008 @alex-zeppelin @callie-swagg1

Forever Tags: @simplycheyenneautumn @nerdybookwormsinger @generalgoldfishldrm @just-another-busy-fangirl @saoirsewhittle @summer-binging-spn @pizzarollpatrol @createdbybadappreciation @percussiongirl2017 @trashforwinchesters @freakintasticfan @delessapeace-blog @bohowitch @amanda-teaches @loricwizardbluetoastedcake @jensen-gal @babydanixox @bea789 @samisimportant @chelsea072498 @moosesamdeancasbees @maui137 @evyiione @supernatural-jackles @keelzy2 @eringva @16wiishes @zombiewerewolfqueen @mrsbatesmotel53 @wayward-girl @mogaruke @cornflax01 @myplaceofthingsilove @tatortot2701 @livingasafangirl @be-amaziing @castielhasthetardis @wonderange @atc74 @vvinch3st3r @likesiriusly @cascar24 @jayankles @li-ssu @destiel-addict-forever @sgarrett49 @a-bouquet-of-fandoms @edward-lover18 @starstruck-sugg @pancake-pages @iwriteaboutdean @artisticpoet @pretty-fortune @padackles2010 @procratsinator @andreaaalove @docharleythegeekqueen @bradygabrielle-blog @sandlee44 @juatanotherbandgirl @ria132love @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @oneshoeshort @extreme-supernatural-lover @ohgodjensen @mellowlandrunaway @brunettechick @beltz2016 @cascar24 @benjerry707 @beyourownbeautifulmistake @jenna-luke @bambinovak @camelotandastronauts @imboredsueme @winchester-writes @hunterpuff @ginamsmith @quiverhope @magicalunicorn84 @gloria1097  @littleblue5mcdork @cantsleepian @nanie5 @anxuanpham @superbadassnatural @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @iliketowrite02 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @dixonsvixon2017 @haleyhay96 @saveprettydays @gaia4life @captainemwinchester @thoughtsoftheantagonist @eileenlikesyou-maybe @emoryhemsworth @inlovewithbja  @waywardmoeyy @darthdeziewok @roxyspearing @upon-a-girl @iriyelle @tokentransboy @sammysgirl1997 @the--blackdahlia @criesateverything @captainaudreystark  @captainradicalpassion @sgtbxckybxrnes @freddy-fuckboy-tammy @randomthings077 @love-untiltheresnoloveleft @mysterious398 @crystal923 @sai-kida134 @emmazach @ithinkimadorable-67 @spn-dscc @dslocum89 @angelsandwinchesters @naviwhite @disneychic8 @brooke-supernatural16 @eiskeks202  @katelynbkool @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @rosegoldquintis @buffytheangelslayer @hollandisstilinski @essie1876 @hetsgrinch @spnbaby67 @tunadean @boxywrites @spnbaby-67 @mariahoedt @goldenolaf25 @mrswhozeewhatsis @clairese1980 @easelweasel

[jugxbets]

Archie's Little Sister: Chapter Ten

[foxcroft-rpg-blog]

Congratulations, Kathryn! Wow, your application just made Neil feel so real. Reading it over, I felt like I was there with Neil, Adam and Willa. I felt like Neil was someone I knew. You built on his character in a way that just made sense, and you have a great grasp of potential plots for him. I’m so excited to see you write more for him.

Thanks again for applying! Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the masterlist as soon as you can. Welcome to Foxcroft!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Kathryn

Age: 19

Preferred pronouns: she/her

Time zone: GMT

Activity: so I’ll be active pretty much all the time until the 18th April, when I go back to uni and activity would go down somewhat (until I come back in early June). it’s an intense term even for Oxford because I have exams at the end of May/start of June, but I feel like I would still be able to see to replies before then - writing would be a really nice study break too, so I’d be dedicated to keeping on track of those! I might struggle to keep up OOC though.

Anything else?: nothing from me! :)

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Neil Monroe

Date of birth:

30th October Mischief Night. That’s what they celebrate on his birthday, and not without bitterness does he see how apt that is. Scorpio sun, Pisces moon. ‘You have a charismatic presence and a lot of willpower, but there are periods when you simply want to get out of the world. You may experience depression and mood swings. You are able to take on the feel of your surroundings. You comprehend things others are unable to. You are tuned-in, aware, and have an ability to sense things. You know innately the difference between right or wrong and no one ever has to tell you.” (x)

How long have they been in Foxcroft:

Neil has lived in Foxcroft all his life, except for the couple of nights he spent in the cheap motel at the edge of the purple cornfield one town over, when he decided that twelve was old enough to emancipate himself from his mother. Same house, same peeling paint, same scorched and sick-stained carpet. The poor end of town, at the fringe of swamp and suburbia, where the smells of the marsh are ripe and tang and the windows are always fogged up and the only cars that pass by are joyrides. Broken porch swing out front, blackened panels left charred from when his dad tried to set their house on fire. Home sweet home. (He’s been more accustomed to sofas over the last few years: Hazel’s living room, when her parents allowed it, or her bed, playing with her curls, with his palms all scraped from the tree he’d climb to get in when they didn’t. Willa’s window seat, a couple of nights a week, his legs folded up at awkward angles and the wind-chimes outside tinkling him awake. Adam’s guest room, once his parents moved out and the manor was theirs, playing golf indoors and never drawing back the curtains, losing all sense of time and liking it that way. Adam’s bed, a lot of the time, especially after Hazel died. Shivering even though it was warm there, shaking and trying to cry quietly, only settling down once he felt his friend’s arms around him. That bed was cold, now. There was no room for him there.)

Sexuality:

I’m going to go with bisexual. I think he consciously feels mostly attracted to girls, but just through writing that last answer I also feel like, whether he’s acknowledged it or not, he and Adam were a bit more intimate than friends usually are: nothing articulated, always just silent gestures, moments… maybe just because of the grief, they thought, but still. Take the vibe of lazy, day-drunk Sundays, skipping school together to go skinny dipping in the swamp, climbing into the Sweetwater Church organ loft at midnight, throwing stones up at Willa’s window and getting chased off by her father, collapsing under a lamppost in fits of giggles. The odd sloppy drunken kiss, fingertips on the other’s cheek, but none of it is real, right? Just warm. Like holding onto each other on the worst nights, when the buzz wears off and they remember what they’ve lost.

FC change: n/a

MORE

How do you interpret this character’s personality? How will you portray them? Include two weaknesses and two strengths.

I don’t think I could write about Neil’s personality as if it were a constant: grief brings out different traits, so it’s best to start before all the tragedy. Growing up, Neil was the classic case of the smart kid whose potential was extinguished by his bad background, only Foxcroft didn’t have that inspirational teacher who saw through his tardiness, his falling asleep in class, the coffee-ring and ash-stained sheets he wrote his homework on. But Neil was always very sharp, shrewd, perceptive: he would look at someone and understand them, or at least invent their character in his head. He knew how to read people and how to act around them, depending on the amount of liquor on their breath or whether there was a glass within their arm’s reach ripe for the throwing.

He used that skill, that insight, whenever he was asking for change, or pleading with Mr Rivers down the street to pay him to mow the lawn that he’d only just come round to mow two days before. He was the son of a depressive alcoholic mother and a father who snapped one day selling insurance over the phone, drove his car into a school bus and died in jail two years later. His self-reliance, then, was another strength, one which he cast off like an old coat the moment he found friends who held out their hands for him to hold – now that those hands are stiff and cold and dead, he needs to rediscover that self-reliance, but he’s struggling.

Besides the shrewd intelligence, the self-reliance, and the daring pluck that allowed him to steal, Neil’s other strength was perhaps most integral to his survival: his capacity to imagine, to dream, to conjure, to escape. His ghost stories were always the most chilling, his jokes the most elaborate, his impressions of late-night talk show hosts (his mother, passed out by ten o’clock, never sent him to bed) the most biting. He’d hidden his father’s guitar in the airing cupboard so that his mother couldn’t pawn it, and had played it so much since that he no longer thought of his dad when he touched the frets. There was something almost magnetic about Neil, when he was at his best: endearing, riddling, infuriating and charming.

He was far from the plucky urchin who enjoyed unbridled freedom, though, and from an early age suffered from a distrust of all authority which manifested in insolence: shrugging off the principal’s threats to contact his mother, flipping a middle finger at the police officers he ran away from. Leaving town every few weeks, only coming back when his legs shook from the hunger, not heaven, that he’d found on the open road. Not allowing many near, until Willa, and even then taking a long time to open up and reveal his hand. Worse were the bouts of melancholy, the hopelessness, the desperation he’d feel, the emptiness that a night around a fire with his friends and a bottle of whiskey could only fill temporarily. His moodiness, the unpredictable nature of his intense emotions: getting worked up over a harmless joke, overly defensive over the pettiest thing. Hazel had been the balm to that, the constant that he could cling to when he was caught in the tempests, and when she died the tempests died with her, and he was left with only the flat, mute, empty sea. Somehow, his friends found, that was worse: he’d lost his vigour, his spark.

Now, with Adam gone too, he’s lost everything. He can’t remember what’s real and what he’s imagined, and some days he doesn’t even know if he’s real himself. He’s quiet and his eyes are red-rimmed, ringed with dark circles. He spends a lot of time at the banks of the swamp, daring himself to walk in there and not walk back out again. He wonders whether they walked in, noble and courageous to the last, or if they were pushed. He wonders whether he was the one that pushed them.

How did this character react to the death of Hazel Abrams? Adam Foxcroft?

oh lol he was totally fine about it :) next question? ha hahaha ah aha haha no okay

What happens to the moon when the sun dies? After all, the moon’s only light is a reflection of the sun it chases. A sunny yellow bicycle, reported missing. She was found, drowned. She was drowned in the swamp. Somebody drowned her in the swamp and he lost all sense of taste for weeks after. His tongue was powerless when it wasn’t wrapping around her name, trying to think of a joke, a line, a sweet nothing to whisper. Whispers. Nobody spoke to him at a normal volume anymore, everything a murmur, a pigeon-coo. Even quieter whispers, too, whispers under their breath, he looks terrible, broken, hollow. Hollow. The tree-hollow they’d kept love-notes in, the trunk beneath it they’d carved their initials into after a picnic at the creek. He’d been carved out when she died, a whole chunk of him skinned off and buried with her. His friends had hidden his pocket knife and Adam had visited him every morning with coffee for breakfast. They didn’t drink, or talk. But he’d started to heal after a while. His smile wasn’t the same, his wit not as biting, but he moved his lips and opened his mouth and gave it all a try, anyway, even if just to appease Willa. The three of them stood at the edge of the earth together, one missing, but three still left to look over the precipice like the four always had. Their howls into the night were more like bleated cries, now, their knees skinnier and their eyes duller, but still they howled.

Then he woke up one night and Adam was dead. Adam was dead. He asked the police officer to repeat herself, he was dreaming. He was dreaming and Adam was dead. You know this already, don’t you, because we think you killed him. Adam is dead and you did it, didn’t you? He was the one you’d been holding onto, after Hazel, but maybe you held too tightly or maybe you were high but now he’s low, low down in the soil because he’s dead and you killed him. He’s been dead for two months and where have you been? Where have you been, son? Your mother is on a drip in the county hospital, they pumped the liquor out of her stomach and she’s just about hanging on. That’s where she is, but where have you been? Your buddy and your girlfriend have ended up in the dirt you come from, but where have you been? How do you not know? How do you not remember? Do you remember killing Adam Foxcroft? Don’t raise your voice at us. We have the right to restrain you. Has he suffered a mental break? We can’t hold him on this, it’s not enough. We have to let him go. One last thing, then. One more question. Did you kill Hazel, too?

How do they see the town and its people? Think about the different groups of people and prejudices the town holds about them.

Although Neil grew up in the southern end of town, where the nearby swamps bred misfits and the shared stench fostered a sort of camaraderie of outcasts, he didn’t feel like he belonged there. Nor did he belong to the suburbs, or the business district of the town centre, even though the latter was where he spent most of his time once his dad had been put away and his mom had put herself away with drink. The early days of begging and busking he’d done had garnered him a nickname among the proprietors in town: Oliver Twist, said affectionately at first with a fistful of dollars, but as the years went on it wasn’t so cute, and Oliver became a menace, a loiterer, a dirty-faced criminal.

He saw right through the churchgoers: the same people who would turn their noses up at his rotting shoes and moth-eaten sweaters as he lay on a bench on a Saturday night and looked at the stars with glassy eyes would all fall into rank Sunday morning and preach about saving the poor. He had little love for the long arm of the law, too, though thankfully his legs were longer, and they carried him out of that arm’s reach most of the time. He has even less love for the Foxcroft P.D. now, as he finds himself trapped in their web, jostled into a corner like a stray dog, about to be administered a fatal shot. They’ve finally got Monroe, they think, and they’re relishing it.

The other good people of Foxcroft are pleased too, he knows, as they watch him walk into the station with their beady eyes and mutter about time behind their papers. Even the good kids, the ones he never understood, the ones who might’ve liked him if they’d given him a chance, if they’d heard his jokes or let him sing them a song; even they want to see him gone. He’d tried to run away even before all of this, skipping to the next town over with a PB&J wrapped in newspaper in his pocket, not even through with puberty but already aware that there was no room for him in Foxcroft. The tragedy was, though, that in those nights in the cornfield Neil came to understand that there was no room for him anywhere: people of his ilk had two options, and his parents had shown him as much. Be locked up in jail, or lock yourself away inside. He knows which one the town and its people want for him, but when he sits on the hill and looks up at the moon with silent silver tears on his cheeks, all he wants is to be free.

For non-human characters: What does this character know about what they’ve become? Have they had any experiences that made them aware that weren’t exactly human? Elaborate.

I guess the first thing to address is the gaping hole in Neil’s memory. He knows that the lapse started on the night of the eclipse, but he doesn’t yet understand its significance: for now, the eclipse just equals the last time he saw his best friend alive. He has no idea what could’ve led him to forget two months’ worth of his life: the police are pushing him pretty fervently along the drugs line, but he’s never been much of a user – he can’t afford it. They softened a little once they’d ruled that out, telling him that those who are suffering from trauma can often will entire years out of their memories, that maybe something had triggered him which had caused him to do the same. They weren’t too soft, though, he realised: their idea of a possible trigger for such a memory loss was the murder of his best friend by his own hands. Then they turned to the bloodied hands he’d been found with, and they mused on the idea of a cult. Vulnerable kid, out in the wilderness alone to clear his head, picks one wrong car to hitchhike in… They pitched these theories to him like plots to a cheap horror movie, and none of them fit.

He hasn’t realised that, in the month or so he’s been back, his mood has been waxing and waning in pace with the lunar cycle. He doesn’t see the correlation between the thin sliver of a crescent moon and his cold fever, his physical weakness, the ache in his joints and his shaking hands. He just blames the cigarettes. He has noticed one thing, though, just recently. A mark on his body that is foreign, a mark he doesn’t remember having before Adam died. He spotted it in the mirror after he finally got to shower, after the police had taken samples of the blood on his body and he was allowed to wash it off at home. The ghost of a pale crescent etched high up on his left side, under his collarbone, small and sinister. He touched it, and it felt cold even though the water washing over him was scalding hot. He couldn’t remember getting it done. He couldn’t remember anything.

When he touched it, he could feel his heart beating; he remembered feeling it racing when he was with Hazel, when he was with Adam. He remembered how their hearts were still, but when he touched the crescent on his chest he felt his own heart still pumping, bitter and stoic. The strength in his body gave out and he sank to his knees, keeled over in the shower, back arched and chest shuddering with sobs. He saw the blood on his hands again, the blood which didn’t belong to him, and he scrubbed at his palms with his knuckles until they were red raw for real. He stayed in the shower with his head in his hands until the water ran cold, but still he didn’t feel clean.

Please include 1-2 possible plots you see for this character. The first cluster of plots I think we need for Neil deal with the short-term, and focus on his role in the investigation as it is right now. I want to see tense encounters with Murphy, visits and investigations which aren’t perhaps all above board, or compliant with official procedure: Murphy’s so close to pinning it on Neil and burying the truth that I think he’ll be getting desperate, and I want to see real threatening tension there between them. I also think Levi is important in this regard, and I’d love to cook up some sort of exposé on the Monroe family (it’s perfect for the paper: a crazy, jailed, dead father; drunken, depressive, hospitalised mother; and their inevitably criminal, sociopathic, murderous son) and play that out with Neil and Levi: I think Levi would be really important in telling Neil’s redemption story, too, if that ever comes, so developing their relationship would be very interesting. Amelia is crucial to short-term plots as well as the longer-term burn: we’ll have to tease out an excruciating process of trust, but I want there to come a point where Neil gets to look Amelia in the eye and tell her how he really felt about her brother, and I feel like when that point comes, she’ll believe his innocence, and maybe they can develop a good bond. Because of his role in the murder case, I think it’d be quite easy for Neil to be believably cast out by a lot of characters, and it’s unlikely that he’d push to make connections at this point, so I’ll be on the lookout for ways to engage him with people in circles that he isn’t already involved in. (Cassidy and Summer and the other ‘good kids’ are an interesting case, for example. I wonder, does anyone in the town not think he did it? Or at least pity him nonetheless? I’d be keen to work on a plot related to that, but I think a crucial figure in ‘saving’ him is obviously Willa. The rebuilding of their relationship would be very important in the long-term.) Working on the slow enmity-to-friendship of him and Cherry is another plot I’d be keen to develop. I’ve also been doing some thinking about Shae, and thought it would be cool if one day either they bump into each other and get talking about it - at the bar, maybe, on neighbouring barstools - or Neil just straight up approaches her, and basically he asks Shae to try and read his mind to go digging for answers, to help him un-block his memory, to find the truth, etc. He’s skeptical and reluctant at first, probably, but there’s lots of potential there! I also really, really want to throw him and Valerie together, and Jonah. The fact that they know they’re responsible for at least one of the deaths, of his girlfriend at that, and that now he’s likely going down for both murders – a conversation between them would honestly be squirm-worthy and I want it now. I also want to develop a plot between himself and Dominic - they might have never met before, but maybe they meet whilst both grieving down in the swamps. They get to talking, and they realise how well the other knew Hazel and how little they were aware of it until that point, and voilá - tension.

WRITING SAMPLE

The round white mouth of the interrogation lamp burned full like the moon outside the station, its hot electric hum causing his skin to prickle. The officer had stepped out, undoubtedly in an attempt to rustle his nerves, to leave him with his thoughts in the hope that they’d bubble up so much he’d end up squealing. As if they didn’t already shriek in his skull. Neil’s fingers were shaking, as he sat silently at the table, and he patted his chest for the cigarette box they’d confiscated as he’d come in. Muscle memory. He was good with that: sirens mean run, fists mean duck, bottle-clink means grit your teeth and try to read the newscaster’s lips over the shouting. Oliver Twist, they’d called him, the cherubic thief you can’t help but forgive. Little did they know that Oliver would grow up, and his angel face would become gaunt and his eyes dull, and suddenly his skinny hips and bruised knees would be repulsive, and instead of smiled at he’d be spat on and instead of hand-outs, he’d get handcuffs. On his way in that night he’d been marched past the same officer who’d sat in his patrol car silently six years back, watching the store owner pummel a minor for shoplifting a frozen pizza and some Band-Aids. He’d been photographed for the mugshots by the same officer who’d visited the house after his dad’s arrest, who’d reviled his mother, sneering, to his face: Surname sure does suit her, doesn’t it? Monroe. Blonde hair, bit of a looker, popular with the fellas. Wonder what she’s got rattling in the bathroom cabinets. Daring Neil to hit him, daring him to commit an arrestable offence right then and there, just so they could pack him up for good. Over his dead body, he’d thought: it had turned out to be over Adam’s, instead. He’d never really been able to grow much facial hair, but stubble had ghosted his sallow cheeks when they found him. ‘Like a terrible ghost’, the old Mr and Mrs had described him in their story for the papers: Neil’s reappearance had given them enough dinner-party material for a lifetime. He felt like a ghost, too, a wailing phantom lurking about in the streets of a town which just wanted him gone. He was even living in a ghost house, empty of its owners, bills piling up by the door. He hadn’t gone to visit his mother in the hospital yet. It was almost as though, in his head, she’d died too. Some days he wondered why he hadn’t died himself already. Was he staying alive for the next microwave quesadilla, the next pack of cigarettes? He used to own his poverty like it was interesting, playing the role of the jaded stray too old for his years, too clever for his own good. All that cleverness – the biting remarks, the Sartre aphorisms he’d picked up from a documentary soundtracked by his mother’s snores – was useless now. All the blasé bitterness in the world couldn’t save him, nor help him pick up the pieces which lay around him in ruins.

He’d tried to weave the tapestry together a thousand times, just like the police officers who sat opposite him and attempted to do the same with their questions, their scribbles, their murmurs. None of it made sense, though, almost as if there were a thread missing which condemned the whole thing to fall apart. A missing piece in the story, a missing chapter in the timeline: for him, it was missing months. He needed to make sense of it all, needed to understand as much as he’d craved all those years to be understood. He still craved that now, as he stared into the cup of bad coffee the officer had left him with and tried to find the answer in its black stillness: where have I been? Who am I now? Where the hell am I going?

EXTRA [THIS SECTION WILL NOT INFLUENCE ACCEPTANCE]

How would you feel about this character dying?:

kill him !!!! kill him now !! but no in all seriousness, I’d be okay with him dying and, to be completely honest, I feel like he’s marked himself for death already anyway. my aim in plotting will be to bring him back from that edge with the help of other characters, but if the future turns of events obscure that goal, or if someone takes it upon themselves to kill him themselves, I’d be totally chill with that. it makes a lot of sense for Neil not to make it out of this mess alive, tbh, as much as he’s my baby and I’d hope he does.

Why did you choose this character?:

I’ve played a lot of characters with internal struggles and woes and worries before, but Neil has this darker edge to him which I wanted to explore as a writer. He’s a bit more of a wild target, too (chaotic neutral, I think?) where I’m more familiar with the lawful neutrals and goods. And, of course, there’s a lot of meaty plot to get through with him, and a lot of things to straighten out with regards to his friends, identity, and his role in the case, all of which I’m really excited to bite into.

Extras:

I have a mock blog for him here, though it’s somewhat sparse, but my pinterest board for him conveys a bit more. I’ve also made a playlist of songs that either relate to him or actually feature in his story throughout the years - there are little notes besides each in the description that should explain that more fully.

How did you find us?: through a friend referral!

p.s.: finally, thank you so much for reading all of this !!! I know my app was hideously too long and overblown but I hope you liked it