#litter alley i will cry when this is over

[fuckmeyer]

Come Nightfall tracklist & album notes

[every song & artist referenced in Come Nightfall]

Chapter 1 - Offer

A Change is Gonna Come – Sam Cooke

"While Sam Cooke's track burst into life, my brush tap-tap-tapped on canvas."

Chapter 3 - Date

2. Devil’s Gonna Git You – Bessie Smith A piano in a Bessie Smith song plinked with fervor.

3. Welcome to the Jungle – Guns N’ Roses "If you think I’m going to subject myself to Axl Rose, you’re out of your mind.”

4. Booze and Bules – Ma Rainey 5. State Street Rag – Louie Bluie 6. West Coast Blues – Blind Blake He tripped over himself explaining the origins of Detroit blues (Ma Rainey! Louie Bluie! Blind Blake!) and the birth of twelve-bar blues, whatever the hell that meant.

7. Lohengrin: Prelude – Richard Wagner “So what's on the menu for tonight?” gesturing with my head to the tiny stereo. “Wagner, to celebrate my being done reading that freak Nietzsche?”

8. Clair de Lune – Debussy 9. In the Garden – Emile Pandolfi 10. Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, Op 18: Adagio sostenuto – Sergei Rachmaninoff “You know what it reminds me of?” I said, patting his knee. “Debussy. With a little Emile Pandolfi zhuzh to it. Or like if Rachmaninov woke up one day and decided to write something a little more understated.”

11. Blue Velvet – Bobby Vinton "You know I like your recs.” “Except Bobby Vinton.” “Fifties trash," I said with a dismissive shrug.

12. Bella’s Lullaby (From “Twilight”) – Carter Burwell “It’s a lullaby. Your lullaby. I wrote it for you.”

Chapter 5 - Party

13. It Had to Be You – Bing Crosby “The last real birthday party any of us had was for Emmett in 1945,” Edward said. “I believe Bing Crosby was on the top of the charts.”

14. I Want It That Way – Backstreet Boys “So,” I said, “Backstreet Boys, huh? Nice.”

15. End of the Road – Boyz II Men Alice knew my secret. As an avid Boyz II Men fan, we’d jam out to 90s boy bands in the car on the way to the mall. It was the only way Alice could get me to the mall.

16. What a Girl Wants – Christina Aguilera Christina Aguilera’s “What a Girl Wants” began to play in the background. Alice danced near a cluster of flickering candles while she snapped a picture of herself.

OCTOBER

17. Thriller – Michael Jackson Red solo cup in hand, I sat beside the radiator. Observing the sky of drunken college kids dancing, chatting, flirting above me. Listening to Michael Jackson's “Thriller” for what seemed like half an hour.

18. Teenagers – My Chemical Romance Angela had confessed her love for My Chemical Romance on the car ride over, but she was never a classic rock fan.

NOVEMBER

19. You Go to My Head – Frank Sinatra Frank Sinatra’s voice chased me down the hall. The cold tickle of Edward’s lips sing-whispering “You Go to My Head” had done it. So soft, so sweet, so irritating, so real, too real, stop, Edward, leave me alone—

DECEMBER

20. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas – Frank Sinatra 21. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas – Bing Crosby 22. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas – Tony Bennett

Chapter 12 - Hunting

23. Hammer Smashed Face – Cannibal Corpse “‘Hammer Smashed Face’.” “What?” “Cannibal Corpse?” “What?” “I’m, uh. I’m sorta into metal now.”

24. Everybody (Backstreet’s Back) – Backstreet Boys 25. Say My Name – Destiny’s Child 26. Smells Like Teen Spirit – Nirvana Not only did the glovebox contain emotional support picks from childhood that didn’t remind me of my ex—Backstreet Boys’ Millennium, Destiny Child’s The Writing’s On The Wall, and Nirvana’s Nevermind, among others—but also a cannister of prerolls and ‘shrooms I’d inherited after the death of Ang’s stoner phase.

27. Still – Geto Boys I flipped the radio on and fiddled with the dial until I found something lively, loud, and safe from memories of him: Geto Boys rapping about picking out our victims when the time is right—

28. Still D.R.E. – Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg The truck became quiet enough to hear the soft plinking keys of “Still D.R.E.” over the radio.

Chapter 13 - Friends

29. Hey Ya! – Outkast While Jacob babbled, he bobbed his head out of rhythm to Outkast’s “Hey Ya” whispering over the radio.

30. Bennie and the Jets – Elton John The list became longer as quickly as daylight retreated from the garage. No way could we accomplish everything in one summer. [...] Backpacking through China, seeing Elton John live, breaking Kenenisa Bekele’s world record, falling madly in love.

Chapter 14 - Adrenaline

31. By the Time I Get to Phoenix – Dorothy Ashby Dorothy Ashby’s harp plinked in the background.

SATURDAY

32. Hips Don’t Lie – Shakira A poster of a bikini-clad Shakira crinkled under my weight.

Chapter 22 - Family, Part 2

33. Who Am I (What’s My Name) – Snoop Dogg Snoop Dogg rapped softly between choruses of girls singing his name. Jake groaned. “Old rap? You’re on this again?”

34. Complicated – Avril Lavigne Avril Lavigne’s “Complicated” played quietly. I resisted the urge to turn the dial.

35. Doctor Jazz – Jelly Roll Morton Truth was, I fell in love with Edward. Period. Not just the trivialities, like the song he loved to drive to (Jelly Roll Morton’s “Doctor Jazz”), the books he loved to read aloud to me in the meadow (Marcel Proust’s Swann’s Way), or the movies we watched on rainy days (Shakespeare adaptations, mostly).

Chapter 24 - Deviations

36. Voice of the Soul - Death “Death is okay,” Edward answered without enthusiasm. “Get real. Death is awesome.” “As if you would know?” “As if you would know,” I retorted. I pulled it out from the Pre-Owned bin. “Look at this. Tell me this album cover doesn’t scream ‘expertly curated collection of badass metal ballads’.”

37. Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds – The Beatles Posters covered the store, from The Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper’s to handmade CDs ~ Buy 2 Get 1 Free! signs.

38. Beyond the Cemetery – Cannibal Corpse “When I finally get around to exploring the genre beyond Metallica—” I waved the CD case “—these guys right here. Or, ooh, maybe this. Cannibal Corpse. Tomb of the Mutilated. Wow. Yikes.”

39. Meditation, Op. 42, No. 1 – Tchaikovsky, Leonid Kogan “Okay. Are we done casing the joint or what? Do they have it?” “At the front—under lock and key. Now the issue becomes a matter of price.” “Soviet violinist dude has a price?” “A steep one,” said Edward, “and warranted, being among one of the greatest violinist 'dudes' of the twentieth century.”

40. They Can’t Take That Away From Me – Frank Sinatra “We may never never meet again, on that bumpy rooooaaaaad to love.” “How can you be so casual about it?” “Still, I'll always, always keep the memory of…” He spun me around; my sopping shoes squished. “The way you hold your knife, doo-doo-doo doo doo-doo…”

Chapter 25 - Fate

41. Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door – Guns N’ Roses “I’m not concussed.” To prove it, I rattled off the date, the sitting president, and the names of all the guys in Guns N’ Roses.

Chapter 27 - Volterra

42. Orfeo ed Euridice, Wq 30: Dance of the Furies Over the machine’s growl, I could feel the pulse of the frantic string instruments of Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo in my seat—Alice’s unsuccessful attempt at getting me to calm the fuck down.

Chapter 28 - Verdict

43. Maramao perche sei morto* – Trio Lescano (*NOTE: not referenced by name) Music burst from behind the thick antechamber doors, some upbeat Italian swing music on vinyl that sounded straight out of the 1940s.

44. As Time Goes By – Billie Holiday Buoyant plinking piano notes of Billie Holiday’s “As Time Goes By” spilled down the long hallway, filling the somber, imposing space with life.

45. You’re as Pretty as a Picture – Al Bowlly A female server flashed me a dazzling smile, offering her tray of fancy desserts. Some upbeat Al Bowlly song pulsed in the background. Like a statue reanimated after a broken spell, Edward bared his fangs at the enemy.

46. What a Wonderful World – Louis Armstrong We rose above the murder and death, but “What a Wonderful World” still followed us over the tinny speakers.

21:32

47. The Devil Went Down to Georgia – The Charlie Daniels Band* (*NOTE: not referenced by name) "I happen to know the devil holds fiddle battles in exchange for souls."

Chapter 31 - Postmortem

48. Bein’ Green – Van Morrison Leah stared at the portable speaker playing Van Morrison’s “Bein’ Green”, one of Harry’s favorite songs.

49. Bring It On Home – Lou Rawls Lou Rawls played in the background. I choked on a chuckle remembering the way Harry used to dance in that lame dad way of his—the pumping of his arms, the slow shoulder shimmy, the hip bump he’d do to Sue to make her giggle…

EPILOGUE: PRELUDE

50. Vermilion, Pt. 2 – Slipknot

[lillsisamarshmallow]

Nurse Y/n (4)

Chapter Summary:  When the Jungkook and Hoseok show up at the café without Jimin, Y/n does her best to help them, but she can only do so much. When she meets the pack leader who hates her will she be able to help him? Will he let her help? Who did this?

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Implied Violence, Violent Aftermath, Implied Hate crime?, Injuries, Blood, Lots of Blood, Bleeding, Nurse Reader, Crying, Medical emergency. Let me know if I missed any!

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Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"We need your help."

My face dropped at the serious tone in the younger boy's voice, uneasiness settling throughout my body waiting for a further explanation.

"Jimin's hurt and we don't know what to do. Please we need your help."

Before my mind could even process what was happening my feet raced me across the kitchen slamming open one of the cupboards and snatching out the first aid kit we kept on hand. Ducking my head through the doors to the front I told Seoyeon there was an emergency and I'll be back later to which she sternly nodded her head understanding, since it was still early, she'd have to call someone in to help her out.

Running back to Jungkook and Hoseok, I gave them a look before telling them I'm ready, as we ran through the alleys, I recognized most of the turns but not all, my legs were burning from the constant running yet the boys in front of me didn't seem to struggle so much.

Eventually we made it to the cross section of alleys, they ran down but I stopped behind them staring into the alley not stepping forward remembering what happened last time. I stared down at the ground, knowing that beyond the line was their territory. Looking up through the alley I could see Namjoon lying down injured.

He's hurt...

He must have felt me staring at him as he looked back at me staring, it felt as though he was searching my soul looking of any bad intentions, finding none he gave me a slight nod before dropping his lead back into its laying position.

I raced into the alley only to be taken aback by what I saw, it looked like a bomb had gone off in such a small space, scanning the area I could see that Jungkook and Hoseok as well as one of the men I had spoken to last time were attending to their friends whom were all lying on the ground, spotting Jimin I raced over to him dropping to my knees besides him.

"Y-Y/n..?" He grumbled, despite having his eyes closed he knew exactly who I was, not questioning how he knew, I rushed out questions asking him what happened but didn't get much of an answer deciding it was more important to patch him up first.

"Where Jimin? Where are you hurt Jimin?"

Jimin's trembling hands reached the end of his shirt slowing pulling it up, realizing what he was doing I grabbed hold finishing the job for him before dropping the shirt holding my hands in front of my mouth gasping at what I saw.

Littered across Jimin's torso were large forming bruise's along with small tears all around them, shaking hands reaching for the first aid kit I scrambled through it looking for some alcohol wipes and a bandage, getting them out I turn back to Jimin gulping.

Slowly I wipe over his bruise's disinfecting it before moving on to the cuts, Jimin flinches from the sting of the alcohol, apologizing I continued placing Bandages on the cuts after disinfecting. I started wrapping a compression bandage around his torso telling him how sorry I was every time I had to lift him up to get the wrap all the way around, thankfully Jimin wasn't too hard to lift but he did his best to help me out. Fixing up the clasp securing the compression bandage, I pulled Jimin's shirt back down before looking over his face and rest of his body to check for more injuries.

"Okay, all done" I spoke out slightly relived there wasn't any more injuries on him.

"P-please help them..."

Staring at Jimin I turned around seeing everyone else who was injured, pursing my lips I stood up from my crouched position looking at the hurt men, Namjoon, the Panther hybrid, and the Cat hybrid. Deciding the cat was the least dangerous and seem to hate me less I went over to him first where Hoseok was already trying to help.

The cat hybrid faced me before turning right back to face Hoseok trying to ignore my presence, but I persist.

Crouching down beside him I went to reach for his hand, but he moved it away, Hoseok seemed to notice and looked up at him, pleading with him to let me help. "Please let me help you."

We made eye contact as I spoke, knowing he couldn't fight and I won't give up he gave in moving his hand over to mine, I smiled at him trying to reassure him as I held his hand bringing it up to my face to closer inspect it.

He's dealt a few hits.

His knuckles were bleeding from the punches he clearly threw, grabbing the alcohol wipes I passed one to Hoseok so he could copy me as I saw him watching me intently, carefully I wiped down his knuckles, as the alcohol made contact with his raw knuckles his hand wrapped around mine gripping it so impossibly tight that my face twisted in pain, he seemed to notice and let go moving his hand away but I was quick to grab hold it. He mumbled out what I can only assume was an apology before letting me continue.

I finished wiping down his hands then got bandage wraps and tightly secured them around the cat hybrids hand. Hoseok passed me his other hand where I did the same, looking at the cat hybrid I could tell he'd been hit a few times but not enough to be seriously injured, besides, I don't think he'd let me touch his face.

I'll have to bring back some ice packs.

Giving a little tap on his hands to let him know I was done I returned to my full height slightly stretching before locking eyes with the next person who needs help, the panther hybrid.

What even happened here? Why are they all hurt?

Thank goodness they made me take basic first aid in school.

I waltzed over to the panther hybrid glancing down at him and Jungkook as well as the sugar glider hybrid, scanning his body it seemed as through most of his injuries were on his face, unfortunately due to where he was sitting propped up against the wall in between the chair and some boxes would make it hard to get to his face.

I stood in front of him crouching down coming face to face with him, he looked slightly surprised by my fast movements, his velvety brown eyes staring right back at me holding both pain and curiosity. Seeing his injuries, he had a busted lip which was bleeding and he had clearly been hit in his nose, as well as a cut along his eyebrow, he was covered in blood, his deep brown hair wet with the liquid. Biting my lip, I got to work starting with basic wipes to get most of the blood off followed by an alcohol wipe disinfecting the larger areas, but I had to get a cotton bud to help with the rest.

Slowly I swiped the cotton bud over his lips, he winced in pain but I kept going, moving up to his eye brow he kept staring into my eyes not looking away the whole time, it made me nervous but I couldn't stop, the pain must have been way worse because as soon as the coated cotton bud touched his eyebrow wound his arms snapped up grabbing hold of my thighs squeezing them and wincing in pain. Shocked I froze at the sudden contact, I had been so side tracked trying to help that I hadn't realized that I was crouching, hovering over his lap, blush spread up my neck blooming on my face at the realization of just how close we were. Opening his eyes, he looked me over seeming to notice my state before smirking at me, this only made my hot skin even worse, trying to get his attention off of me and release me from my embarrassment I put the cotton bud back on the cut below his eye.

This seemed to work as he grimaced in pain coughing a bit making me feel bad, but I continued cleaning up his face and adding small butterfly bandages where needed, when I finished, I tried to stand back up, but he kept me in place with his strong grip, my face started heating back up as I tried to hide it and look away. The smirk was almost audible on his face as he let out a light laugh before letting go of me.

Immediately I got up grabbing the first aid kit and stepping away a bit. Looking around everyone seemed to be doing okay now, they were either all patched up or looking after someone who had been injured. Thinking I was done I sigh slightly relaxing before I realized.

Namjoon.

Spinning around so fast the box almost dropped out of my hands I hastily made my way over to Namjoon before stopping just a few feet away from him, anxious I wasn't sure if I should step closer, he had his back facing me so I couldn't see his face. It wasn't until I started scanning his body for obvious injuries that I began to notice the dark, wet circle around him and the dark red growing up his worn grey shirt that I realized.

That's blood. He's bleeding... bad.

Standing closer to him a heard the familiar growl but this time it was different, it was laced with pain.

"T-That's a lot of blood...Namjoon-"

"Go away. I don't need your help."

Hesitating I considered just leaving him here, but I can't do that, I need to help him. Shoving the fear, I have of this man who is now clearly riddled with pain and writhing on the ground I pressed.

"Yes, you do." I sternly said stepping around him to face him meeting his eyes, anger and pain swirled in them as he looked at me, I crossed my arms and rivalled him own anger with my own at his sheer stubbornness. "I am going to help you."

I crouched down to get a better look at his wound but to no avail I still couldn't see it, huffing I put my hands on his chest using all the power I had and to attempted to push him over, thankfully due to his state Namjoon didn't fight back much, just groaning from the movement.

When he was finally facing up, I got a small idea as to where his injuries were, his shirt was mostly soaked in blood, but the source seemed to be right at the centre of his upper chest. Reaching to grab his shirt to pull it up he grabbed hand of my wrist stopping me, shooting me a glare, I shot one right back at him.

"I can't help if I can't get to the wound."

"I told you, I don't want help form you. I'm Fine."

His ice-cold tone striking my heart like a spear going straight through my chest and out my back, slightly taken a back I just stared at him before noticing, not only did his eyes hold anger for me and pain from his chest but they also held fear, pushed back as far as it could go, but still there.

He's scared of me...

Immediately my expression softened upon the realization that he was just scared of me, he was worried I'd hurt him or his pack, changing my approach to this I wrapped my other hand securely around his hand that was gripped on my wrist, encapsulated it as much as I could seeing as he had much bigger hands than me.

Staring into his eyes I spoke softly. "Please Namjoon, let me help you. I want you to be okay, for them." I nodded towards the others but kept eye contact with him. He stared into the eyes before begrudgingly letting go of my wrist and lifting his shirt up himself, giving him a small smile, I looked over to where his shirt once was my face dropping.

Across his upper chest were countless slashes, they didn't look deep enough to affect any of his organs but the sheer amount of them made him bleed like crazy, whoever did this clearly wanted to seriously harm him and whoever it was had got him good. My mind was running miles an hour not knowing where to start.

There's so much blood...

This is serious I can't patch this up.

"We need to get you to a hospital." I spoke is disbelief, his wounds were too severe for me to be able to help sufficiently, he needs proper medical attention, and I was worried about the amount of blood he was losing, it was pooling around him, and my legs were covered in the crimson red liquid that was pumping out of his body at an alarming rate.

"No, no hospitals. They won't help me." He grunted seeming to be losing consciousness.

"W-What? We have to! I can't fix this I-"

"No!" He yelled at me. "If you can't help me then I don't need help" He moved his hands trying to pull his shirt back down but my hands shot out stopping his, staring at his chest, knowing that if I don't help him, he won't get any help, for whatever reason he doesn't want to go to the hospital so I need to do my best what I have and my basic training.

Trying to clean up his chest was a mess, every time I wiped blood away more would ooze out from the cuts, I could tell it was hurting every time I did because he would tense and hiss out incomprehensible words. My hands by now were soaked with blood having it seep into my nailbeds where it appeared darker, it was all over my clothes and my face from wiping the sweat away, or at least I hope it was sweat.

Deciding against wiping the blood away anymore as it kept coming back, I started wrapping it figuring I can clean and disinfect it another time, Namjoon was not like Jimin, and I could not so easily lift him. "I need you to sit up so I can wrap it up." Namjoon was very out of it right now due to the blood lose but he needed to do this so he would stop losing blood, I'm starting to get seriously worried.

Weakly, Namjoon sat up, but I had to help him, I started wrapping around the bandage, it was going smoothly until Namjoon leant his weight on me throwing me off balance, smacking a hand to the ground to keep me sitting up straight, and the other went around Namjoon to stop him from falling. "Namjoon?" He didn't respond, panic spread through me as I tried to find a pulse, thankfully he had one, but it was weak.

Slightly adjusting our position, I kept wrapping the bandage around him trying to get it done fast and tight as my arms were aching from holding us up. Getting to the last round I secured it over his shoulder putting the wrap down and shifting slightly to lay Namjoon down. Not wanting his head to rest on the dirty ground still flooded with blood I placed his head on my lap and leaned against the wall behind me.

Before I could truly relax, I looked around making sure everyone was okay and patched up, Jimin was still out of it, but he was patched up, the panther hybrid seemed be drifting in and out of consciousness and the others were all sitting quietly scattered about the alley. A final sigh excited my mouth as I looked up to the sky closing my eyes trying to process everything.

Why are they all so hurt?

Who did this to them?

Was this normal?

"I'm sorry."

Breaking my thoughts, I opened my eyes and looked at the alley way only to see Jungkook staring at me, I hadn't noticed it before, but his eyes were red, liked he'd been crying. Confused by his words I softly spoke to him, too exhausted to be much louder.

"What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't have brought you here, I didn't mean to, but we weren't sure who else to go to."

"I'm happy you came and got me Jungkook. I would've been more worried if you didn't show up and I wasn't able to help." I said trying to ease the tension, it seemed like everyone was going to be okay which was good. "What happened?" I asked him finally making eye contact with the bunny boy.

"Well..."

As Jungkook went on to explain what had happened with a few of the other conscious members filling in gaps and details, I felt the bile rising in my throat at what they were saying. How this had happened before, and it was normal for them although it had never gotten this bad. Tears started to pool in my eyes, I hadn't realized how bad they were living, and it all came crashing down on me just how bad it was.

People would beat them up this badly, just because they were hybrids.

Growing up I had never met a hybrid, but I knew they existed, I thought they were cool, so I never had anything against them. I know Seoyeon had nothing against them either, she treated them just as she would treat anybody else. They don't deserve this, being treated like that, people who beat up hybrids or have establishment with 'No hybrids allowed' are just sick.

I know that it's mostly older people who have problems with hybrids these days, but they pass their beliefs onto their kids and the younger generations, and some people are just jerks for no reason. I was thankful that my parents never had anything against hybrids and just simply didn’t know much about them.

Knowing I wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, I settled down a bit more shifting under Namjoon’s weight trying to get a bit more comfortable. It was rest time for the boys, most of them had now lied down and closed their eyes trying to recover from the traumatic events from today.

Jungkook kept talking and answering a few of my questions occasionally going quiet at some, which I took as stepping too far and moved on to a new question, by now pretty much everyone had passed out, it had been a few hours and I stuck around to keep an eye on them especially Namjoon, constantly checking his pulse making sure it didn't get any worse.

The stress of the situation was beginning to dawn on me, and my eyes kept closing, Jungkook had also drifted off muttering a quiet 'Thank you'. I slowly reached for my pocket which had my phone, getting it out and unlocking it I sent a brief message to Seoyeon letting her know I was okay and won't be back for a while before turning it off and stuffing it back in my pocket.

The exhaustion coming over my body my eyes started to close as my body went limp succumbing to the comfort of darkness.

A/n: New chapter! I knew where I wanted this chapter to start and end but I had such a struggle writing it. I have never taken any sort of medical course, but my mum used to do first aid for our local football club, I kept asking her questions about injuries, bleeding out and whether you’d need proper medical help, she thought I was planning something 😭. I’ve never written about Injuries or stuff like this, so sorry if it sounds a bit weird, I’ll keep learning! Also, the support has been so amazing! I love reading all the kind words and thoughts about the book, I took a break from writing this week but I’m ahead in chapter writing so it’s not a big deal, I’ve written up to chapter 7 and I’m working of what’s going to be either Chapter 7.5 or 8, I’m thinking of just doing weekly updates since that’s how long it usually takes me to write a full chapter as I don’t have a lot of time and tend to have a short attention span. But anyways, I hope you all have a lovely day & Thankyou all for reading! 💜

[lunasfics]

What We Deserve - Tim Drake

summary: Love is a foreign concept to her. Love is transactional. It’s pain and it’s setbacks and she doesn’t need it. Love is not something she is incapable of feeling nor is it something she is incapable of receiving. She does not need it. 

pairings: Tim Drake x f!reader

warnings: mentions of childhood physical abuse, alcholism, self sabatoge, angst angst angst, issues of self worth, mention of toxic/abusive relationships, suicide attempt, suicidal ideation, i think that's it

word count: 1.3k

a/n: please read the warnings of this fic! it covers some heavy topics as well as flawed characters. multiple triggering topics are discussed and if any of the above topics trigger you please please do not read! i'm trying to broaden my horizons when it comes to writing, i'm also experimenting with different povs, i hope you enjoy this read, if you or anyone you know are going through anything mentioned in this fic please seek the following resources for help: domestic violence, suicide hotline, drug & alcohol abuse rehab site

reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

We accept the love we think we deserve.

Her memories from childhood had a complicated occupation in her mind. A considerable amount has been blocked off by now. Whether it’s because of the drinking or because of the trauma, she couldn’t tell you. Though if anyone asked, Who gives a shit? The fuckers are dead. It doesn’t matter now. 

Love is a foreign concept to her. Love is transactional. It’s pain and it’s setbacks and she doesn’t need it. She’s never needed parental love. She never got it, she’s never needed it. Love was foreign to her because she didn’t want it near her. Love is not something she is incapable of feeling nor is it something she is incapable of receiving. She does not need it. 

When she catches herself crying for them, for her father and her mother, she forces herself to look at the cigarette bud shaped scars on her arms, the scars and scratches that litter her body. The only feeling they deserve from me is anger. 

She reaches for the bottle so she can forget again. 

She remembers the night she met Red Robin. She remembers being buzzed, not a deviation from her typical state. She remembers planning to die. She remembers her feet dangling over the edge, staring down into the dark alley somewhere in Crime Alley. She’s forgotten how she’s gotten there by now. She remembers how she laughed at the thought of what they would do to her body, how they’d probably take her organs and leave the rest of her to rot. Fitting. Shit life, shit death.

“You know, just cause you’re high up doesn’t mean you’re safe out here.” 

She didn’t turn around. Her words were slurred. “If that bat fucker sent you you can just fuck right off. Just walk away. I’ll be out of everyone’s hair within the hour.” 

“I’m not in contact with the ‘bat fucker’ right now. Why don’t you just scoot away from the edge and we can chat.” His tone was blank. Void of panic. She supposed that shouldn’t be a surprised considering his occupation. 

She turned to look at him, eyes narrowing, she was expecting scrutiny, some form of condescension. All she saw were the blank white eyes of his mask. 

She’d had a run in with the bat before, the intensity of his gaze, the tightness of his lips and the weaponization of peoples’ fear made her decide she hated them all. 

“Maybe mind your fucking business.” She snapped. 

“Let me take you home and I’ll be on my way.” 

She scoffed. “I’ll just kill myself tomorrow then.” 

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Not here.” 

“I’ll find you regardless.” 

“Fuck off. Seriously. Go fight Penguin or some shit and just let me die.” She wanted to hit something out of frustration when her voice cracked. She was angry. She wanted to cry. She wanted to feel her feelings and free herself once and for all. She would be damned if she let this bat variant shitface see her cry. 

“I don’t care for Penguin right now. I care for you.” 

“Bullshit. You don’t know me.” 

“I will by the time I get you home.” 

She stared at him, in her drunken state she resolved that he would not leave her alone anytime soon. 

He walked her home that night. 

He checked in on her every day after that, there was no escaping the man. 

Of course a friendship grew, despite her many efforts towards resistance. Of Course she patched him up when he came to check on her, despite her constant complaints about the blood stains in the carpet. Of course he came to check on her, injuries and all. She didn’t know why he kept coming back. She decided soon enough she didn’t mind it. Slowly but surely, Tim Drake helped her get her start to get her shit together. 

That was until she met him. 

Maybe she was finally starting to get her life together. Maybe it wouldn’t last long. Maybe it was just a temporary feel of structure before she reverted back to the bottle like she always did. 

Maybe he was her soulmate. Maybe he just gave her the right kind of attention at the wrong time. 

Deep down the only person she wanted to call her soulmate was Tim. Tim wasn’t perfect, but he was so, so good. He destroyed himself every day to make the world a better place. She destroyed herself every day to try and cure the anger she carried with her everywhere she went. With him, the suffocating weight on her chest felt just a little bit lighter. With him, she could breathe. 

She refused to place the weight of her burdens onto him, not when he already had his own. She refused to delude herself into thinking that someone like Tim would ever stoop to her level, would ever look at her in all her fucked up glory and decide that she was worth it. 

Maybe it was because he deserves better. Maybe she just doesn’t deserve him. 

We accept the love we think we deserve.

As smart of a man Timothy Drake is, he has never fully been able to place when it all started. The lines of time have been blurred for him for years now. He remembers meeting the guy for the first time. He remembers not liking him at all, he remembers how she looked at him. He remembers how big beautiful eyes admired the sorry excuse of a man that stood in front of him. He remembers going home that night and resolving to silence in favor of her happiness. 

He remembers meeting her. He’d been on patrol that night, he’d found her on a rooftop. She was bumming a cigarette, a half empty bottle of jack sat beside her as her legs dangled off the edge. Her eyes were heavy, hair up and in wisps of disarray. There was a breeze that night. 

He remembers taking her away from the edge, finding that her risky placement was intentional. He remembers deciding that night that he didn’t want to leave her. He remembers how she accepted him for everything he is. How she didn’t bat an eye when he’d revealed his identity. How she saw both versions of him as one, never valuing one more than the other. How she patched him up and told him to rest because she really did care.

He remembers when he realized he’d fallen in love with her. He remembers hearing her laugh one night and deciding it’d be all he needed for the rest of his life. He remembers every detail of her face but he can never bring himself to look at it when he’s there. 

He remembers the first time she called in the late hours of the night. The first time he picked her up and held her while she cried. He remembers how he felt when he watched her pick apart every detail about herself, Why, Tim? What is so fucking repulsive about me? What did I do for him to treat me like this?

He’d always say the same thing. That he was an idiot, a piece of shit. That she wasn’t the problem, he was. Everytime he managed to build her back up again, she’d run back to him, only for him to rip her apart, again and again.  

He remembers every time he told her to leave him. He remembers every single broken, “I can’t.” 

There are lots of things Tim doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that he’s the only person she is willing to be this vulnerable with. He doesn’t know that deep down all she wants is him. He doesn’t know just how much of her heart he truly occupies. 

There are also a lot of things that Tim knows. He knows she deserves better. He knows she refuses to let herself be happy. He knows she doesn’t think she deserves good love. He knows he loves her. He knows he can’t have her.

We accept the love we think we deserve.

[dabislilbaby]

Come Home

A/N: This is just a little bit of fluffy angst I was thinking about last night after watching the new episode. Aged up Deku, still in his vigilante stage.

Warnings⚠️: mention of blood and scars.

@electricnovaa @haru-x-ren @juslili

"Izu?" You called to the masked man a few feet away from you. He was quick to turn his head, emerald eyes glowing behind his disguise. He saw you, standing under the bridge to shield yourself from the pouring rain. Brows furrowed with a pained expression of worry painting your features. His eyes widened. "y/n?" He quickly rushed over to you, red sneakers splashing in the puddles of water beneath his feet. His gloved hands held onto your arms and looked you over for any damage. "What are you doing here? It's not safe. Are you hurt?" Panic in his voice.

You grabbed his face in your hands and stared into his eyes for just a few seconds. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug as the tears began to well in your eyes. He tensed, he hasn't had a moment in months where he felt it was safe to let his guard down. "I miss you, Izu." You choked out thru your tears. He sighed, his arms finally relaxing and caging you in. He held onto you tight. "I know...I'm sorry." He whispered, burying his masked face into the crook of your neck.

For a moment, the rain was the only sound that filled the space as the two of you just existed in each others arms. It was the first time in so long you'd been able to feel his warmth and you wanted to relish it for as long as you could. He broke the silence when he pulled away from you just enough to see your face, hands still on your hips just to feel you for a little longer. "You shouldn't be out here y/n. It's not safe for you to be anywhere near me I-" You interrupted him with a hand on his chest. "Come home."

There was a silent pause. You wanted so bad to read the look on his face, so you reached for his mask but he flinched. You waited, staring at the ripped, green fabric that was stained with dirt and blood. And when you reached for it again, this time he allowed you to remove it. As you peeled back the layer of his green armor, you saw the scars that littered his face, the dark circles under his eyes and the lack of life in his gaze. He was tired. Exhausted, drained, and worked to death. You cupped his face in your right hand and made him look you in the eyes. "When was the last time you slept?" He didn't answer. Mostly because he didn't want you to worry so much, but also because truthfully, he doesn't actually know the answer himself.

"Izuku please... you can't keep going like this."

"I'm fine—"

"Don't lie to me." He stopped and looked at you, eyes darting between yours trying to find his words. "I know you. You will say your fine when you are suffering." Tears rolled down your cheeks full force as you continued. "Please...don't pretend with me." He reached up and wiped away your tears with his gloved hand. He saw the pain in your eyes and it did nothing but break his heart.

"I can't come home just yet...I'm sorry y/n." Your head fell with a broken cry, more tears streaming down your face. "I haven't seen or heard from you for months." You lifted your head, meeting his eyes again with blurred vision. "No calls, no texts. Not even a note or something just to let me know you're okay. The only reason I know you're still alive is because I keep overhearing conversations about you. Most of which are from people who are terrified of you. It's like you've become this...thing that's just out of my reach. Like I know you're there, but I can't see, or feel, or speak to you." You continued to rant to him, venting all your built up emotions from the last few months. "I have been so fucking worried about you. Having no idea if i'll ever see you again or if you're bleeding out in an alley somewhere with no one to help." You sobbed, holding your head in your hands as you broke down in front of him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest, like he was holding your pieces together so you wouldn't fall apart. "I'm sorry, I know it's hard... I never meant for things to get this bad." He held you while you cried shamelessly into his warm chest, tears staining his suit but he didn't care. "These past few months have been hell without you, Izu. I need you...please just—"

"Hey, look at me." He lifted your chin gently, making you look him in the eyes. "I promise I will come home to you, okay? I just can't right now. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because I was careless. I hate every second that I'm away from you, y/n. I want nothing more than to have things back to the way they used to be." He paused and wiped your tears again. "I miss you every single day. You may not see me, but i've always been there, watching you the whole time. Making sure that you're safe." He pressed his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes. "Just hold on for me a little longer, puppy. Can you do that for me?" You opened your eyes and nodded, sniffling down your tears.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you." You felt him scoop you up in his strong arms and saw the flicker of green lightning. "Now let me get you somewhere safe."

[wehaveimagineshere]

First time doing this, hope I'm doing It right. I was curious If I could request some Astarion x Male!Tav Rogue scenarios ? Just some angst and fluff, whatever crosses your mind c:

Heya! Ren here! I saw "scenario" and figured you were looking for me. You didn't specify an admin, so hopefully we guessed right!

You didn't give a specified prompt, so I went with the first thing that came to mind! A little angst, a little fluff, hopefully it's up your alley!

~*~*~

With just the moonlight filtering through the windows to guide your aim, you line up your dagger once more, the makeshift target at the other end of the common room already littered with holes.

A steady inhale. Aim. A steady exhale. Throw.

Bullseye. The blade slides easily into the wood, right next to the two other daggers already thrown true.

With a sigh, you plop down onto the nearby chair, the awaiting bottle of wine quickly in your hand, the drink sliding down your throat, an attempt to ease the thoughts circling over and over in your mind.

Astarion broken underneath that mansion. That cry that had ripped from him had nearly shattered your heart, his dead abuser's blood soaking into your knees as you settled beside him, fingers digging into your pants at the want to comfort but not knowing if he wanted touch.

Karlach's sob behind you. Astarion's forced levity as he ushered everyone to leave. The turmoil in his eyes, the tightness in his smile.

It all kept circling around and around and around.

He'd went straight to his room upon return and hadn't come out since. He needed time to process, to figure out his thoughts and emotions, and you didn't fault him for it. Not for one second.

It just left you restless. Worried. So you'd taken to mindless, quiet activity on the Inn's second floor's common room, anything to keep your hands busy and your mind just a little quieter.

Taking up another dagger from your obscene collection, you start fiddling with the table, digging the point into the wood. Spin the blade. Run your fingers over the hilt. Carve out a small dick into the wood. Spin the blade again. Add a pair of balls to your dick.

A latch unlocking has you going still, obscene artwork forgotten as you peer behind you.

You weren't sure if Astarion could ever look anything but freshly kept. Even with blood splattering his face and clothes on many occasion, cuts and bruises peppering his skin that thankfully quickly healed, his hair had always stayed put. His eyes had always had that amused crinkle, his lips pulled into a small, knowing smile.

Even in the poor lighting you can see his dead eyes, his tired face. His ruffled hair as if he hasn't stopped running his fingers through it since you'd last seen him. The paleness to an already pale complexion.

You stay seated, quiet, allowing him the opportunity to pretend he hasn't seen you, even as your hands start to shake, your chest tighten. Twitchy fingers flip the dagger in familiar tricks instead of reaching out.

He crosses the room on silent feet, slowly sliding into the seat next to you, head bowing, shoulders hunching and elbows keeping his upper body upraised.

Setting down your dagger, you ask quietly, "Want to talk about it?"

A half hearted scoff escapes him. "Talk about it?" A pause, then quietly, "Where would I even begin?"

Leaning forward casually and shifting so you're facing him, you lay a hand down on the table, palm up. When he doesn't move, you wiggle your fingers. Shift your hand closer and wiggle them again.

"What are you doing?" he snipes, the bite missing.

"Letting you know my hand is ready for prime holding time."

His eyes meet yours, a small indignant spark lighting his hues that make you smile. "That is the stupidest thing I've heard, darling."

Now you lift your hand between you, raising an eyebrow and wiggle your fingers once more. The look he gives you screams more of his usual self as he rolls his eyes, fighting a smile as he takes your hand and presses it against the table.

Palm against palm. Fingers sliding to interlock.

"I hate that it works," you hear him murmurs, and you can't help but chuckle.

Quiet settles again and you let it, your thumb sliding over his hand as you give him all the time he needs.

"For years," he starts quietly, eyes staring at your hands, "I've wanted nothing more than to tear his heart out. To give him just a taste of the pain he'd given me. It kept me sane, as sane as I could be." A pause. "I've done it. He'd dead. I've killed him."

"But?" you prompt when he falls silent again.

"But, I..." He looks to you fully then, expression so open and lost it cleaves your chest in two. "I thought I would feel...powerful. In control. But all I feel is... Emptiness. Relief, yes, yet..." His brows furrow. "What do I do now?"

"Anything you want," you respond. Gesturing to the table, you add, "I carved a dick in the table."

He blinks. "Yes," he says dryly. "You did."

A shrug. "And Cazador can't say shit about it."

"Why did I come to you for advice?" he asks with a sigh, amusement lighting his eyes. "I pour my heart out and you tell me about a table dick."

"I think it's a nice dick."

"Yes, yes, it's a nice dick, now can we go back to the part where I was talking about myself?"

You grin. "By all means."

He huffs, but his voice is lighter. "Cazador's gone, and I find myself with a future I only dared dream of."

"You have the chance to figure it out now," you say. "There's no timeline."

He hums in quiet approval. "You're right. I no longer have to look over my shoulder." Another pause. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"You always make me voice everything, don't you?" He shakes your joined hands in mock irritation. "You helped. You trusted me when it was an objectively stupid thing to do. And I'm here now because of it."

Another shrug. "Give me a kiss and we'll call it even."

That smile crosses his lips, the one that always makes your heart sing. "You are an idiot, I hope you know." He leans in. "I would request a much more favorable gift if I were in your shoes."

"Yeah?" you ask, voice dropping. "Like what?"

"Money. A favor." You can feel his breath mingle with your own. "Nothing as simple as a single kiss."

"I wouldn't ask for a kiss from anyone else."

"Good."

The trust he showed you tonight fills your heart and you can only hope he can feel just half of that gratitude as you slide your hand to the back of his neck, deepening the kiss that sends tingles through every inch of your body.

[kaylinlmao]

Fight PT 3 *Edited*

Warnings: Murder, violence, gore, yandere, reader is 17, boys are 18. They're all in their senior year.

Summary: Y/N pissed Moose off in math and he got his revenge. What will the boys do when they find out that Y/N stood them up?

After I promised the boys that I would eat with them, the bell rang and I went to my first class. My first class was smooth with no problems. My second class, math, on the other hand, is a different story. I had to keep raising my hand because I didn't understand the questions. There was this guy sitting behind snickering and making rude remarks every time I would raise my hand. After the teacher was done explaining the equation, the boy said something really rude about me being a retard. I was pissed to say the least.

"I don't understand why you're making rude comments and snickering when everything written on your paper is wrong." I said. The teacher walked over and glanced at the paper. "She 's right, Moose. None of this is right. Come out to the hall with me please." Moose walked out with the teacher glaring at me. I just smiled, victorious. The bell rang and I went to the bathroom before going outside.

As soon as I walked in and the door closed behind me, I felt something hard hit the back of my head. It was Moose hitting me with a fucking pipe from the ceiling! He hit me over and over and over again until I was about to black out. Then he leaned over me, said " that's what you get for embarrassing me" and spit in my face.

I was laying there conscious but I just couldn't bring myself to move. I couldn't think about the boys, Donna, lunch or anything other than the pain.

Pain, pain, pain

3rd Person POV

Vance, Bruce, Finney, Griffin, Billy and Robin were sitting outside fuming. Y/N stood them up! They went over to Donna and asked her where Y/N was. "She said she was going to the second floor bathroom because it's cleaner." "Lets go boys" Finney said as they headed to the bathroom.

Back to Y/N's POV

I was laying on the floor bawling. It hurts so bad. If I was expecting it, then I would have been able to beat his ass. But I was stupid and underestimated Moose. I started to scoot to where my back was against the wall. All of a sudden, the door slammed open and the boys stormed in angrily. They all started yelling at once. Mind you I just got my head hit with a damn pipe so my head hurt really really bad.

"PLEASE STOP!" I yelled shaking and crying. They all looked at me as I lifted my shirt to see bruises littering my torso, waist, arms, and legs. My head was bleeding badly. I collected my things even though I was seeing white flashes of light. I put my things in my bag and turned to see the boys gaping at me. "Who the hell did this to you?!" Finney asked. "Nobody" I said.

"Y/N, sweetheart, who did this to you?" Bruce asked me sweetly. "I said it was nobody." I sniffled. "Y/N come on. We know it was someone hun." Billy said. I knew what they were doing. They were gonna be mad. And I didn't have it in me to deal with them being mad. "Princesa, last chance." Robin said. Vance and Griffin stood in the corner whispering to each other then Griffin left. "Alright Doll." Vance said. Finney knelt down to my level. "Baby. Who. Did. This. To. You?" Finney asked. "Moose." I muttered. Finney was the only one who heard me and told them all. "It was Moose"

"Don't hurt him. Then we'll all get in trouble. " Y/N. Let's go. We'll walk you home." "I have a car" "Then we'll drive you home" "I can drive myself home!" I protested against them. "Princesa" Robin said sternly. "Lets go Dollface" says Vance, walking away. "Whatever" I pouted.

Time skip to later that day

My older sister said that as long as I was careful I could go the grab n go and get a soda and a snack. As I was walking, I heard talking in an alley between the grab n go and the store next to it. I walked down there to see what was happening. As I got down there I saw the boys were there. Along with Moose? All of a sudden I heard a loud crack and saw Robin break Mouse's neck. I screamed loudly and then.....

Oooooo. A cliff hanger. You're welcome. Part 4 is up! Love y'all! :) -Kaylin

[bradshawsbaby]

My dahling, you asked for a Rhett Abbott thought?? Maybe some thots in between?? (lol).

Spring is your favorite time of year with Rhett because the land around your house literally looks like The Shire. When you were building your dream home, Rhett kept asking if you could build a hobbit hole instead of renovating the place you got (lol). But the place is just as cozy and maybe more so.

It's old but you and Rhett make it your own. There's always some house plants in the windowsills and plenty of wide windows to let in the sunlight. The house is all full of wood and stone and the kitchen window has the pretty little yellow gingham curtains that Cecelia's mom made. Near the stairs is the old Swiss grandfather clock that Royal's mother brought with her from Switzerland after WWII (I'll have to send you the story I have for Oma Heidi, I cried while writing it) and in the living room is an old rocking chair that Royal's grandfather had made in the 1920s. Most of the other stuff is antiques that you guys have come across at the stores and shops downtown with Rhett and Royal having spent hours in Royal's woodshop restoring them.

You and Rhett love when spring comes because you can pack away all the heavy winter flannels and duvets and put out the ones for spring and summer. They're all soft pastel yellows, greens, purples and blues that you've collected and made over the years. You even taught Rhett how to knit and how to crochet even though he still insists his hands are too clumsy for it. You've made and fixed his shirts so many times that he's lost count and he always gives you "the look" whenever you give him a little twirl to show off the new dress or outfit you've made.

Your house has also become the ranch's unofficial animal hospital and nursery for the baby animals and strays. So far the nursery consists of Timothy, a little field mouse that was found in the chicken feed sack with a broken leg (Royal made him a tiny little leg splint from a toothpick, lol), Bambi, a little female dairy calf, Wilbur, the piglet who was the runt of the litter and needed to be bottle fed, Pinky and Alberto, a male and female chihuahua pair that Rhett found in an alley outside the Wabang General Store and Hazel and Clover, two little cream colored bunny rabbits that had escaped from a hoarder farm. One of the toughest yet was Chewie, a setter-spaniel mutt who's owner had given up on him because of a growth that had gotten really big on his mouth. You and Rhett immediately took him to the vet and had the growth removed and in no time at all, Chewie was eating again and had become your unofficial helper in the field when he had healed. And it's thanks to his sharp nose too that you and Rhett never have any trouble with pests or unexpected visits from your animal neighbors.

I may have to do a part two to this my dear because there's so much to go through (lol).

Stop, the animal hospital and nursery?! I’ll cry 🥺 I’ve been weeping over every animal video I’ve seen lately! Timothy the field mouse with the broken leg?! My heart can’t take it!

Ugh, I just want to live this simple, sweet little life with Rhett ♥️

[th3w00ds]

Ain’t No Magic Word Can Make Me Disappear (Yandere Phantom)

@red-balloon12 @nwtbobsessedemo @colourfulmes @aspiderfrogjack

Fandom: Youtuber Egos

Trigger Warnings (if any): Yandere behavior (Phantom), Phantom acts extremely possessive, blood, injuries, death, name carving

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

The sky was black, littered with stars and clouds. The moon was full, illuminating the alley you were running through right now. You had luckily just escaped Phantom, the demon that was… incredibly obsessed with you. 

He had mentioned earlier today that there were apparently demon hunters in town, and they’d probably heard of his presence, so he didn’t want you going out for the next few days (not that Phantom ever let you go anywhere without him anyway.) So it was your goal to find them, so they could help you, and maybe even get rid of Phantom for good.

You were still running through the alleyway, your legs starting to become sore from it. You slowed your pace to a walk, looking around. You heard a crash of something that sounded like a trash can lid or something, and you stopped in your tracks. 

“H-Hello?” You nervously called out, shifting from one foot to the other. You hoped to God it wasn’t Phantom. 

“Hey!” A male voice shouted back at you, “Show yourself! Come out now!” 

You didn’t hesitate and started to walk towards the man. When you got closer, you realized there were actually three men, all holding guns. Your breath caught in your throat; were they the demon hunters? Were they going to shoot you?

“Are you the… d-demon hunters?” You asked, stepping closer. The middle man lowered his gun, and motioned for the other two to do the same. 

“Yeah, we are,” he said. “We’ve been tracking a demon here. Do you know anything about it?” The man asked. You nodded. “Alright! Can you tell us what you know?” 

“Yeah, I can-“ You started to answer him, but then you heard footsteps behind you, so you stopped talking to hear better. You also heard something thudding on the ground, like a… cane? 

Oh shit. 

“Damn it, angel! What the fuck are you doing out here?! People could hurt you, you know that, so don’t go outside without me there-“ Phantom said, cutting himself off when he noticed the three demon hunters with their guns. “Well I’ll be damned. You managed to find them, huh angel?” 

You were frozen. You couldn’t move, terror was consuming your body. Phantom was now standing next to you, and put a hand on your shoulder, leaning in to whisper in your ear. 

“Answer me,” He said. You nodded, flinching away from his touch. Phantom chuckled, glaring at the hunters. “I’m going to tear all of you apart for daring to even TRY to help them. They’re MINE,” He stepped forward, glancing over his shoulder to look at you. “Stay behind me.” 

You took a couple steps backward, still terrified. Phantom stood there for a moment, before he snapped his fingers. The shadows seemed to come alive, and impaled one of the hunters before they had time to raise their gun again. He stepped forward, and more of the shadows eviscerated the second hunter to pieces of mangled flesh. 

The third hunter raised his gun towards Phantom, but Phantom simply flicked his wrist and the gun flew out of the hunter’s hands. Phantom then ran at the hunter, punching him square in the jaw, knocking the man back. Phantom grabbed him by his shirt, pushed him against the wall of a building, and began to punch him again and again. After each punch, you could hear the cracking of bones and splattering of blood. 

“YOU AREN’T TAKING MY ANGEL AWAY FROM ME!!!!” Phantom shouted at the hunter, whose face was now throughly bruised. Phantom then threw him to the ground, and started to kick the poor man, who was screaming and crying for it to stop. 

You could only watch as Phantom beat the life out of that last hunter. Phantom raised one of his legs, and stomped down on the hunter’s head repeatedly until it broke open, his brains and blood a splotch on the concrete. You were horrified. Phantom did this… for you? 

He was panting and looking at the body below him, and Phantom began to laugh. It was unnerving, and rang out throughout the alleyway. Finally, after a few moments, he stopped, and looked at you. He wiped off his vest, which had blood on it (along with his hands and face,) and walked up to you. He grabbed you by the shoulders. 

“I did this for you. I proved how much I love you, angel. Stay with me. Not that you really have a choice…” Your blood ran cold at his words. “I am going to have to do something to make sure you don’t try to leave me again though. Let’s do that here, shall we?” 

“No no no no no, Phantom wait, PLEASE-“ You started to plead before he covered your mouth with his hand. 

“Shhh, shhhh.. it’s okay, I won’t do anything that bad,” He said, grinning. Phantom pulled out a knife, and you flailed around, trying to get out of his grip. “This is just… to make sure you always know you’re mine.” 

He pinned down your left arm, easily able to stop your flailing. Phantom put the knife on the skin of your arm, and began to carve something. Pain shot through your arm, like fire. You closed your eyes and attempted to scream, but his other hand over your mouth muffled the feeble noises. 

When he finally stopped, you felt weak and drained. The pain has sapped any remaining strength from you. “There we go.. doesn’t that look nice?” He said. You opened your eyes, and glanced down at your bloody arm. In big letters was the word “PHANTOM.” 

Your breath hitched when you saw it, and tears welled up in your eyes. That would scar over, that would never go away- but that was the point. You knew he wanted to own every single part of you, to make sure you would never leave him. 

Phantom grasped your chin, turning your head to make you look at him. He smiled, and laughed softly. “Good angel, not making that much of a fuss… let’s go home.” 

[tiredly101]

Leonard... He's gone

Fandom: The Big Bang Theory

Pairing: Leonard Hofstadter x Male!Reader

Timeline: Leonard meet you after Penny broke up with him at the bowling alley. You are William's best friend and William's way of apologizing for provoking the break up is to trow you his way as a "I'm sorry" gift. You are used to this.

Warning: Suicide, angst, mentions of self harm, OCC Male reader so his name is Andy (you can change his name).

Leonard pov;

I enter the living room to see Andy there, he looked down while a tear fell down his face.

— Hey, what's wrong? — I asked while I walked over to Andy, I see that he is holding his arm with a dead grip making me worry more.

— You know you can tell me anything — I said softly while I grabbed his hand and pulled it away from his arm. He looks at me with those gorgeous big green eyes that had tears pilling up making my heart shrink in pain. He looked down again and slowly rolled up his sleeve.

His arm was littered with scars that went from the wrist all the way up to the veins in the elbow, the cuts were open, some where even still bleeding. I feel how I take a shaky breath and look at him, pushing my own tears back.

— Don't ever do this again... I love you — I said ready for rejection but instead he hugged me softly whispering "I love you too dummy".

I looked at Andy while he slept with his new bandages where the scars where littered at. I can't imagine what I would do if he did something I can't heal.

Two months later

It had been two months after the accident. Only our friend group knows about it and I'm mostly surprised how Sheldon treats Andy with a brother-like love.

Today has been a horrible day at Caltech, I rush inside the apartment, drop my bag on the floor and trow myself at the couch. I let a sight escape my lips when I feel Sheldon entering the apartment desperatly, weirder behavior from him, and then left simply saying that "Penny is taking me out, I'll be back in a few" and rushed out.

I roll my eyes at Sheldon's behavior and grab my phone seeing no notifications from Andy and decide that a small nap shouldn't hurt.

-

I wake up at Sheldon screaming my name, scaring me, making me fall off the couch.

— How can you be sleeping! — asked Sheldon screaming even though it sounded more of a statement. I see him heading for me with, unlike him, anger flaring from his eyes until Penny holds Sheldon away from me. Every one else looked at me with either pity or disapproval.

— What the hell is he talking about? — I asked when Penny got Sheldon to go to his room with Amy so she can help him calm down. She sights and makes me sit down in the couch before hugging me tightly.

— Leonard... He's gone — said Penny when she pulled away from the hug, I look at her confused and stare at everyone hoping for someone to explain or say it's a prank.

I walk towards my desk, where I left my phone and saw in the screen four missed calls from Penny and one from the hospital and a text from Andy.

I opened the text and I try to read it out loud but instead tears started pooling in my eyes and so I give Howard the phone and he took the hint while he sat down.

— Hey baby, I wanted to say that I'm so sorry for this. It just started with a cut but the second and third became to deep. I sent a massage to Penny so she can take me to the hospital but I know I'm not going to make it... I love you to infinity and beyond — read Howard while he turn off the phone screen letting out a audible shaky sight while Bernadette rubbed his back while her own tears fell from her eyes, Penny sniffled but hold her tears while she stared at me with nothing but sympathy, ai could hear Rajesh sobbing while he hugged, both, Bernadette and Howard. I could hear from Sheldon rooms his sobbing and Amy trying to comfort him...

Everyone decides to do a big group hug but the only thing I'm thinking while I cry is "Please let me wake up... I can't do this without him..."

I may make a second part where Leonard wakes up and realized that it was a dream or of an alternate universe where reader survives

[whatdeweybeautiful]

Agora Hills

-also on my ao3-

Everything about him just shone light, everything tooth-achingly sweet. His smile, his soft eyes, that curly hair, the way he held your face every time he gently kissed you, lips reminiscent of sugar themselves. He was brighter than the sun, he always had been, since the moment you met him nearly two years ago when he found you in the cold rain.

But lately, things have been… different. Not bad different, certainly not, but there had been a definite shift in the relationship. Before, Steven had been- well- sweet and innocent Steven, who else? Childish grins, hand holding, whispered confessions for the hundredth time, kisses littered all over your face. It was wholesome, which made sense given Steven’s refusal to to give up the scraps of childhood he had. It had been awkward at times, the physical age gap. You grew up at a normal pace, actually being a year younger than Steven, yet you looked almost five years older. It bothered him sometimes, feeling like he was holding you back, dragging you down with every uncomfortable glare at your joined hands. You wondered if that’s what prompted what came next.

It wasn’t all at once, but it certainly felt quick. He started to carry himself both with a certain confidence and self-consciousness, all at once. It was an eccentric mix, ego and simultaneous need for your validation. He cared what others thought of him, sure, but at the end of the day it was always your gaze he sought.

“Do you think this jacket looks ok on me?”

“Am I pretty?”

“Say you love me again, please sweetheart…”

He started to slowly look older as well, just little by little until all the sudden he was half a foot taller than before. Of course, the adorable baby face seemed permanent, no matter how many times you caught him trying to shapeshift it away in the bathroom mirror. That's how you knew this wasn’t just some gem-endured late bloomer thing, because Steven had the ability to control these sorts of things. Your sanity was probably the only reason he didn’t grow a neck and half a foot of height overnight.

Speaking of necks, he’d grown practically obsessed with yours, or having some sort of mark on it, rather. He’d suckle and bite what you swore was poetry into your skin, then the moment he noticed that it had faded, he’d pull you into privacy, whether it be your shared bedroom, a bathroom, a closet, an alley, just anything to taste you and make that proof of ‘mine, only mine’. 

It wasn’t the only possessive habit he’d picked up. Sure, Steven wasn’t the most jealous person, but the few things he had to himself, his most precious possessions, were things he protected and kept safe with his life lately. You were his most precious possession, above all else. So he always had at least one hand on you, any time he could. 

Before, he had always been holding your hand, but this was different. When he was driving, there was a hand on your thigh, when you were walking, there was an arm around your waist, or shakily around your shoulders when visiting the Diamonds. They had messed up his mental state for a long, long time, caused nightmares and teary-eyed kisses in the dead of night. But they were family, apparently. It wasn’t until you were lying in bed that he had every limb wrapped around you, whispering sweet nothings of ‘I love you’ ‘you’re so beautiful, so pretty’ ‘you’re my favorite thing’ until you pull him into you chest, spooning him as you doom scroll his feed, falling asleep just like that. The last part had always been a constant though.

Now Steven was knowing lopsided grins, a comfortable grip on your waist, confessions pressed and whispered into your skin for the hundredth time, kisses so deep and needing they nearly went to your throat- It was enough to give somebody whiplash. Any sane person would cry and protest, saying something like, ‘what happened to my sweet boyfriend? This is nothing like when we started dating!’. But honestly? You loved it. 

It was still Steven, always had been, always will be, just a side of him you hadn’t met yet, something he was scared to embrace before. But this change was not only something he needed for himself, but it was like falling in love all over again, with a man who already adored you. A soft hand on the cheek one moment, a tug on your hair the next. Hugging you and burying his face in the crook of your neck, before leaning you back and sinking his teeth into it. All the while mumbling ‘I love you’ over and over and over again. It was exhilarating. You truly loved him no matter what.

Bonus:

Pearl: Honestly, it’s not normal for humans to always have bruises all over them! You’re so clumsy, you could get seriously hurt one of these days, I swear-

Steven: Yeah, you really should be more careful, sweetheart, or you’ll get eaten alive out there…

[thatseventiesbitch]

Could you do a fun fall themed one shot? Little Leia and a friend are playing in the leaves, but friend steps on her fingers and things go badly? Either Eric or Donna comfort her, your choice.

Thank you!

Thanks for the ask, anon! If you have an ask or request, send it to me here 😊

Crisp red, gold, and orange leaves were littered across the Forman family's backyard. It was a beautiful fall Saturday - the blue sky was bright, the air was chilly but not yet cold. Leia and the neighbor kid played in the leaves, piling them up and then jumping in them, laughing and giggling, completely carefree.

Eric wished he could join them - but adulthood called. If he didn't rake and dispose of the leaves now, when it snowed the grass would be smothered, and the leaf cover would attract vermin that would further tear up his yard. He could almost hear Red cackling at his dilemma, and Eric rolled his eyes and picked up his rake again.

At least Leia was happy. And seeing Leia happy made Eric happy. He watched her and her friend toss armfuls of leaves at each other and listened to their happy shrieks as he filled first one trash bag and then another with the colorful leaves that dotted his lawn.

He'd just hauled the trash bags out to the alley when he heard Leia yell. This wasn't her playful, I'm-having-fun scream. She was hurt or scared. Eric dropped the trash bags and sprinted back into the yard.

She was crying, her arm curled close to her chest. Her little friend looked terrified.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," the kid chanted.

Eric frowned, and knelt down next to Leia. "What's wrong, pal?"

"M-m-my ha-hand," she sputtered through her tears. A big, fat crocodile tear started to make its way down her cheek, until Eric caught it with his thumb. She still cradled her hand protectively against her chest, and Eric reached for it gingerly.

"Let me see."

Leia let out a mangled sob as her father gently stretched her arm out. He inspected her hand carefully, rubbing it gently like he was checking for broken bones.

"Think you're gonna be alright, honey."

Leia shook her head and another tear flung free. "S-she stepped on it," she accused her friend, pointing her good hand in her direction.

"And I'm sure that was an accident," Eric soothed.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!" her friend continued to babble. Eric patted her shoulder sympathetically.

"It's okay, everybody." He paused dramatically. "Leia is going to live."

It broke the tension. Both little girls giggled.

"She's gonna have to learn to live without her hand, because we're gonna have to chop that off," Eric continued. He picked her arm up and squeezed gently above her wrist. "Maybe like right here. What do you think, Princess?" He winked at Leia.

"No!" she screamed, laughing, as she pulled her arm back towards herself protectively. "No, Daddy, don't cut my arm off!"

"Oh, you can live with one arm," Eric argued, a playful gleam in his own eyes. "Come on. Just one little snip, and you won't have any more pain - "

"NO!"

Leia and her friend both dashed away from Eric, giggling. He made a lunging motion, like he was going to follow after them, and they shrieked some more.

"What's going on out here?" Donna had appeared on the porch. She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders tighter, at the slight chill.

"Daddy's gonna get us!"

"Okay, well why don't you two get inside," Donna gestured to Leia and her friend. "It's getting cold." She took a pointed sip from her mug.

"What's that?" Eric gestured to the mug.

"Hot cocoa."

"Hey. I think we could all go for some of that." Eric gestured to Leia. "Come on, girls. Come inside."

The kids tumbled inside the house, but Donna smirked and pressed a hand against Eric's chest when he went to follow them. "No no," she stopped him. "You can have your cocoa when the leaves are gone." She raised a playful eyebrow at him and glanced over his shoulder. He still needed to dispose of the leaf pile the girls had been playing in.

"Oh is that how that works?" Eric raised an equally playful eyebrow.

"It is."

There was a loud crash. The girls were in the kitchen.

"Do you know how to use the stove, Leia?"

"Yeah!"

Donna's face went white, and Eric's jaw clenched.

"I'm gonna - "

"Yeah. Go."

[st0rmyskies]

A long while ago @miniscrew-anon and I had a "two cakes" back-and-forth about Four and Shadow in the Blood Lust/Count Darkula continuity. I feel like it was a prompt or something similar with the line, "I can't do this without you."

So have a lil drabble. I said it would be 300 words and it's more like 700, whoops. CWs for the aftermath of violence, blood, blood-drinking (vampires duh), and the insinuation of major character death, of a sort. I'll probably add this to Blood Lust but it may end up being part of a larger, more involved arc.

There was blood. 

A lot of blood.

Wild was breathing quick and harsh as the adrenaline began to fade — some mortal traits were harder to kick than others — and his inhales became slower, more drawn-out as the scent rolled across the roof of his mouth and filled his lungs. 

There was a flavor to it. 

Black currant and pepper, baking spices and candied cherries, pomegranate and loam. His mouth watered as he rubbed his tongue against his palate, trying in vain to taste it, and he hungered. It had been far too long since his last meal. 

Someone was crying. 

Wild tripped over a lifeless limb and reached out to steady himself against the brick wall. His neck, his shoulders were singing in pain. But it would be short-lived once he began to feed. The alley was littered with bodies, already dead, already cooling, they wouldn’t make a satisfying meal. So he leaned toward the warmest scent, long ears twitching as he picked up on the wavering heartbeat, so very close to fading. 

“Come on, come on, open your eyes you asshole…”

As he took a shuffling step forward, someone firmly grabbed his arm. Wild bared his teeth as he turned, slitted pupils flaring in his anger. 

Hyrule put up a hand in a gesture of peace, but he didn’t balk. “Easy, Wild,” he murmured. The sound of his voice, calm and controlled, brought Wild back to his senses.

“Come ON!! GET UP!!!”

Wild flinched as a bulky shadow came up on them too quickly, but Dark only held out his arm to keep them behind him. Wild followed his hard stare down the alleyway.

“Wake up!!” Shadow’s voice cracked as he shook Four by the collar much more roughly than he ought to. Four was dead weight in his own clothes. His head lolled but he opened his eyes, and Shadow uttered an oath as he got on his knees and hauled Four’s torso into his lap. He kept his hands tucked into his long sweater sleeves and blood soaked into the material as he brushed the long, sticky hairs away from Four’s face.

“Here.” Shadow supported Four’s head with one arm, using his teeth to pull up his sleeve on the other. He grunted as he sank his teeth into his own skin and gave a quick pull. A stream of blood much darker than what pooled on the ground at his knees began running up his arm. 

“Shads,” Dark warned. He made no move to approach. 

“Here,” Shadow repeated softly, just for Four. He lifted his elbow awkwardly to tilt his arm so that the blood flowed down toward his palm. “Here here here…”

Four’s eyes slid lazily to the side as he followed the motion. When blood began spattering onto his cheek he grimaced, weakly lifting a hand to bat Shadow’s away. 

“Don’t you dare!” Shadow insistently pushed his arm toward Four’s face, but Four pressed his lips together as he turned away. “I can’t do this without you, Rain!!”

Four shut his eyes tightly. His brow twisted in pain, not just from the hole in his gut that had him bleeding out across the asphalt.

“I can’t.” Shadow was openly crying now, lifting Four and pulling him closer, cradling his head against his chest as Shadow started to rock back and forth on his knees. “I can’t, I can’t, don’t do this to me, Rain, I’m not ready, it’s not— This is forever, right?? I can’t, I can’t do it, not without you. Please, please, please…”

Something that had long gone still in Wild’s chest seized at the broken sound of Shadow’s voice. Hyrule’s gaze fell before he let go of Wild’s arm and turned away, unable to watch. Dark cursed under his breath, but he remained still as stone.

Slowly, deliberately, Four leaned away from Shadow’s chest. He looked pointedly at Shadow’s wounded arm, then back to his face. Shadow’s exhale wavered as he looked Four in the eye, searching for some sort of confirmation. 

Four’s breaths were quick and shallow as his lips parted and he mouthed something that only Shadow would know.

Shadow hastened to bring his shaking hand to Four’s face. “Okay… okay…”

Hyrule tilted his face to the sky and shut his eyes, his fists flexed at his sides. Wild could do nothing but stare, transfixed, as dark blood spilled across Four’s lips and into his mouth. 

And Dark startled them both as he abruptly turned and stormed away toward the mouth of the alley. He made it about half way before he needed to lash out, kicking the side of a metal dumpster hard enough to leave a dent. 

“Fuck!!!”

[angstyandromanticwriting]

Lyutsifer Safin X Reader Strange Chemistry Prompt

!TW: Mention of blood, mention of weapon, mild violence!

You had gone out for a walk during the night, like you usually did, and Safin had made a mental note of your schedule; he’d been watching you closely after you’d managed to escape from him - it hadn’t been hard for him to locate you as he knew that you’d never stray too far from home. Safin positioned himself in an alleyway he knew you’d pass, and when you did, he trapped you in his hold, gingerly dragging you into the alley with his hand over your mouth to muffle your screams and whimpers. “You thought I’d never find you, didn’t you?” Safin guessed, and your eyes grew wide when you heard his soft, foreign voice. Safin held you closer to him to try to prevent you from struggling more, but he found it difficult to stop you. “I half-way hoped you would hear me crying on your way to Heaven, and that you’d turn around and come back for me,” he mused, “but you didn’t. Do you have any idea how much you hurt me when you flew away from me, angel?”

Safin hesitantly removed his hand so you could answer, but you wouldn’t answer his question. “Let me go!” You cried, prompting him to cover your mouth again, a pained expression on his face.

“I really wish you’d stop trying to run away from me,” he expressed, “it hurts me to see that you don’t want to stay with me, angel.” You silently prayed for someone to walk by, but your neighbourhood was very quiet at this time of night - that’s why you loved to go on a walk at this time. “Y’know,” he began again, “I always thought you’d be the one to save me, not the one to push me over the edge.” You tried to speak, but your voice was muffled against his hand. “What was that, angel?” Safin inquired, removing his hand again.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whispered shakily, “I - I’m really scared.. Can’t you please just let me go?”

“I’m not letting you leave me again, angel,” he answered calmly, “and it’s okay to be scared.” Safin then smiled wryly, lifting his hand to stroke your hair. “The man in my closet and the girl under my bed were scared, too,” he remarked, and you would be shocked, wondering what he was talking about, until you realised he could be making it up. “You’re coming back home with me, angel,” he stated, before he dragged you out of the alleyway; he knew it would be too risky to stay any longer; he didn’t want to be caught by a random passer-by, and also he knew he’d have to return to the helicopter before it could be reported as something suspicious by a resident in the area.

↯

You and Safin occasionally stole glances at each other in the helicopter, and you would quickly look away when you realised he’d caught you looking at him. Safin smirked, tilting his head partially. You decided to break the awkward silence, in need of a distraction from the strange feelings you were - well, feeling. “Why did you choose me?” You asked in a quiet, shy voice as you looked out of the window of the helicopter.

Safin leaned forward slightly, but you tried not to react to his action. “I chose you because I knew what you were from the beginning,” he answered, “I could smell the blood on you. You were born to spill it, kitten, like me.”

You shook your head, hesitantly letting your eyes meet his greyish blue ones. “You have the wrong person,” you murmured, “I - I can’t hurt people, Safin.” Safin fell quiet, disappointed as he pried his gaze from your’s. “What makes you even think that you can rule the World?” You questioned, and Safin would think about your question for a moment.

“Firstly,” he began, “the earth is littered with the ruins of empires that believed they were eternal, but they clearly didn’t have enough power - and secondly, control. Our new weapon gives us a lot of it, and it also makes us more powerful.”

𖧷☭𖤍

You disapproved of the way Safin spoke to his workers occasionally, so you decided to bring your concerns up. “Do you have to shout at them?” You asked as you pulled Safin aside, and he grunted in response. “Can’t you just try and tone it down a bit, and try not to lose your temper so quickly?” You pried, but Safin shook his head.

“I tried to do things differently before, Y/n,” he answered dismissively, “I tried to make them all my friends. Now,” he uttered as he glared back at his workers in the lab; they’d been infuriating him, “I want them dead.” You winced, watching as he re-entered the laboratory to unload some more of his anger on them.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed this prompt! ❤️

[lazuli-writes]

Survivor

summary: Ron gets himself his very own wand.

pairing: none

genre: light angst / fluff / slice-of-life

estimated word count: 4700 words

a/n: I was kinda ooc with the wandlore here so please forgive me. Remember folks, copying other people’s works is plagiarism and that’s illegal. Don’t be that kind of person. Anyways, hope you all enjoy it :)

©little-lazuli. Do not copy, repost, or translate without permission

Ron loved the United States.

Magical New York felt like an odd combination of Knockturn Alley’s worst and Diagon Alley’s best, all in the same neighborhood. The young wizard never lived in a city, let alone, spent enough time in London to understand true city life. But even he had to admit that the hectic, unstable, bustling life that erupted through the streets of magical New York was awe inducing.

So many lights, so loud, so much to see and do. It felt like he was being consumed by a whole new world. And as unsettling as it was at first, Ron had come to crave it. He thought the rushing would be tiring, but it felt like a never ending adventure. The cajoling of shop owners: bakeries, antique shops, boutiques and sports halls was tireless in their enthusiasm.

The snowflakes that fell from the sky, as the Christmas spirit exacted itself over the city did nothing but brighten the congested district of witches and wizards.

This is probably the best Yule Break he had ever had!
Ron couldn’t wipe the grin plastered across his face, all of the life and happiness around him was enthralling. But maybe it was also the fact that Ron was being dragged down the frosty roads of magical New York, hand in hand, by his favorite friend.

“Ron hurry up! If my father finds out we left the suite he will flog us!”

He only chuckled as he returned his focus to their tiny little escapade. After winning his very first international chess tournament—along with the five hundred galleon grand prize—Ron figured that it was about time he got himself a new wand. His own wand.

To say he was miffed when his parents didn’t get him his own wand would be quite the understatement. He had been looking forward to getting his own wand since he learned of them. To have something, tied and bonded to oneself, an extension of one’s being… Ron had almost expected to have something special like that for himself.

But Percy had been made prefect and money was tight. And so, he had been given Charlie’s old wand.

Hurt he was, but not really surprised. Ron couldn’t stop himself from crying that night, a single thought running through his mind. Did he do something wrong? They’ve managed to purchase wands for everyone else despite our money problems… were they angry with him and felt he needed to be punished?
Ron couldn’t help the feeling of unease and distrust that littered his soul every time he held Charlie’s old wand. His grip was always lacking, but only because there was no comfort in holding that wand. And the wand clearly held reservations for which bearer it desired.

Ron had held on to hope the first few weeks he had his hand-me-down wand, hoping that maybe everything was all right and things could get better. Maybe mum and dad really were just hitting another financial hurdle again, that’s no problem. But the moment he saw Percy, proudly holding his new owl… everything fell into place for a split second. Harsh understanding kicking Ron in the gut.

They got Percy an owl versus getting him a wand. It took all of Ron’s might and willpower—which wasn’t much for an eleven year old—to bite down on his tongue and not complain. The constant reminder though of Ron not being worthy enough of his parents’ attention and doting was too much at times. The young wizard would be lying if he said he didn’t cry himself to sleep sometimes, as the same storm of thoughts consumed him on those nights.

What could he do to get mum and dad to love him more? What was he doing wrong? Why couldn’t he get a wand? Does he need to be a prefect for mum and dad to like him more? He could do better! He could be better! He could be worthy of their attention and love! Right?
Eventually, he got used to biting his tongue. Staying quiet. Not complaining. It was probably his best skill in life—other than disappointing his family.

Looking back, his past two years of school with his brother’s wand… Ron would say that much of his magical problems could have been ameliorated with a wand that was actually suited for himself.

Classes such as transfiguration and charms would have been easier. Theo and Tracey were clear on that front. He was lucky he had Daphne as his regular potions partner because if that hadn’t been the case, then that would have been another harder than normal class. Ron initially figured potions wouldn’t need the use of wands, but even some of the greatest of potions needed some magic to churn it at times. Defense Against the Dark Arts was a useless class if Ron was honest. With the way Charlie’s wand nearly failed him at every turn—he couldn’t even properly do an episkey—and the fact the past two professors were horrible.

He more or less forgot about the disloyal wand over other matters in his second year. He played in his first chess tournaments outside of Hogwarts. He rose as one of Hogwarts’ best players, to one of the best in all of magical Britain. Then there was that whole fiasco about the heir petrifying students. Ron was honestly terrified, and it didn’t help that the majority of his house liked to brag about the beast of the chamber coming to clean the school of the unworthy—damn blood purist mania ran thick and true in most of his house.

Charlie’s old wand only came back into prominence after he convinced Harry Potter to let him and Theo come down with him to the Chamber of Secrets. Ron had never been more terrified. Terrified for Ginny who was all alone, taken and mentally tortured by the heir. Terrified for Theo and even Harry… What if the beast kills them? And terrified for himself. He didn’t want to die, he’s not strong like his brothers, he wasn’t brave like his parents. He was a snake. How could a snake possibly be able to save his sister?
But it seemed he almost didn’t make it that far when Harry decided to invite the barmy loon called Gilderoy Lockhart. The revelation that he was a fraud shouldn’t have shocked Ron as much as it did, but it did. And having to duel a full grown wizard was probably the hardest feat he had ever done. Lockhart had taken Theo’s wand and shot a stunner, causing the chamber’s walls to collapse in. Leaving Harry and a wandless Theo on one side and Ron alone to face the full grown wizard on the other.

Ron nearly screamed in true terror and fright every time Lockhart shot a curse or a memory charm his way. Yet, through sheer luck and remembering his numerous dueling lessons with Theo, the consistent use of weak shield charms and using other spells to absorb or parry the elder wizard’s assault was just enough for Ron to land a blow.

Ron had regretted uttering the word ‘Legilimens!’ Being bombarded with horrible sights and visions of Lockhart. Of his crimes. Of his cruelty. Of his vanity. It was unlike anything Ron had ever witnessed. And by the looks of it, Lockhart felt the same. Rending the grown wizard speechless and nearly traumatized at the sudden intrusion, Ron took the advantage quickly. Painfully screaming out ‘Obliviate!’

It seemed the joint use of two lethal spells, with the obviously negative intention would come with a cost, seeing as Ron felt the hand-me-down wand heat up in his hands fiercely. The boy watched in trepidation as the wand suddenly cracked open, the smallest essence of misty magic escaping from the wand. After witnessing the crude display, Ron felt defeated, not even the realization of successfully defeating a numpty grown wizard was enough to soothe him.

Despite that, Ron was still left with an incapable wand. However, with Ginny saved, the heir defeated, Lockhart out of the way, and finally Ron’s final tournament at Diagon Alley, the insipid wand was once again at the back of Ron’s mind. Ron’s victory and becoming a national chess champion played a huge part in Ron almost forgetting about the injured wand. Until now that is.

Ron’s trip to Egypt with the rest of his family, to visit Bill was alright. Ron could do without the sand and the heat at times, and maybe the occasional joke and references of snakes every time Ron conversed with Ginny or the twins. Even Charlie and Bill cracked a snake joke once or twice, leaving Ron annoyed to no end. So much so, that he eventually snapped. He guessed he did go a bit overboard when he locked the twins in that vault for nearly seven hours. The punishment in Ron’s eyes however, was too much.

He wasn’t allowed to come to Diagon Alley with his family that year for school supplies. Forced to stay behind with his father, who stayed behind for work. Ron was livid. The whole point of the trip to Diagon Alley for his third year was for him to finally be able to ask his parents to get a new wand. But seeing as he was restricted from even attempting that, it left him down right embittered.

He of course had the money to purchase a new wand—winning two hundred galleons from his national chess tournament—but that required going to Gringotts to pull such assets out. Why he didn’t keep some of his money on hand was stupid. Nonetheless, Ron started his third year with a brittle and cracked wand.

Daphne, Theo and Tracey tried their best to mitigate any disasters by being his partner in classes such as Charms, Transfiguration and Potions. But even they couldn’t fix everything. His practical assessments were nothing but abysmal, but his theoretical and writing assessments were key in Ron maintaining his good marks. So he focused heavily on that. He couldn’t bloody well practice duelling with Theo anymore, so he resorted to researching spells instead. This only frustrated him further because now he had no suitable way of practicing the things he learned. With the way things were going, Ron figured he’d be kicked out of school for possibly having a defective magical core.

But when Daphne’s father, Mr. Greengrass, his Chess mentor and Hogwarts Chess Club sponsor spoke of a potential international tournament, Ron leapt at the chance. He needed the distraction. He also figured that there might be some monetary gain, which meant an opportunity to have money in his hands to buy himself a wand. A plan that came to fruition in his Yule Break.

Here he was, on Yule break in the United States, an International Chess Champion, holding hands with the prettiest girl in his school and ready to get himself a wand. Ron didn’t need someone to say it for him to know that right now, he was at an all time high.

“Ronald hurry up!”

“Daphne calm down. Blimey, one would think we’re trying to escape dementors or something.”

“That’s not funny Ron!”

Ron giggled at Daphne’s words, despite his complete agreement at how messed up the situation back at school was. A mass murderer on the loose, as well as having an entire school besieged by Dementors was not particularly great.

“Well where is this wand shop? Why can’t the Americans just have their own Ollivander’s?”

Daphne rolled her eyes at Ron’s question, refusing to entertain Ron’s train of thought. Instead, focusing on the task at hand.

“We have about an hour before my parents return from Wizarding Broadway. We have to get in and get out. It’s a wonder Tabby is able to distract Astoria”

Ron digested Daphne’s rambling, returning his train of thought to the present. It was a simple plan. Sneak out to go to the American wand shop down near the muggle Brooklyn Bridge since Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass would be out, and have the Greengrass head house elf, Tabby, occupy Astoria. It was a good plan.
Though Ron felt like they have been walking for forever, he didn’t feel like complaining. Not when he was too busy admiring the magical and muggle scene around him, as well as being alone with Daphne. Ron truly felt, once again, it was the best Yule Break ever.
“There it is!” The young blonde witch announced, nearly ripping Ron’s arm off as she dragged him down the street quickly. Ron yelped in surprise at Daphne’s strength. He sometimes despised that the girl who was a full head shorter than him, could manhandle him with a creepy sort of ease.

Ron looked ahead, sandwiched between possibly hundreds of similar looking buildings in the hidden pocket of wizarding New York, Jonker’s Wand Works Emporium was an ornate building. The row of shops looked similar to those muggle shophouses Padma Patil and Sue Li talked about once. White walls, decorated with Christmas colors and furnishings, enchanted red and white flower vines scaling the walls. A large display window was fogged up, obscuring the interior. The door, next to the large window, was left wide open, allowing echoes of Christmas jollies and bells to be released from within.

Entering in only seconds after Daphne, Ron was bombarded by an aroma of nutmeg and cinnamon. The shop itself was glowing with holiday cheer. Muggle string lights hung from the ceilings, fairy lights traversed the side of the shop counter. Shimmering Christmas trees of varying colors in one corner, while on the opposite end of the room sat a fireplace, where three small mechanical dragons shot green and red flames. Basking the shop interior with its warmth.

If Ron and Daphne had anything to say about this place, they would call it simply magnificent.

From behind the counter, an almost endless series of large rows filled with wand boxes. Ron had only ever seen such an amount of wands at Ollivanders. And it never ceased to amaze him how so much magic could be contained in one space.

The two young teens were busy absorbing the serenity of the shop with a tight and gruff voice rumbled, “PRESS ME!”

Daphne and Ron jumped at the sound. Looking around quickly, eyes shooting across the empty room.

“PRESS ME!”

Daphne jumped, gripping harder on Ron's hand as the two continued searching for the voice until finally landing on the counter.

“PRESS ME!” Screamed a Nutcracker soldier toy, sitting at the counter eyeing the two teens with a murderous glare. One arm held firm against his side and the other holding a sword. Both teens were beyond confused at the command, now that they saw the toy for what it was.

“PRESS ME!”

“Why would we do that?” Ron asked, clearly dumbfounded at the toy before him. The soldier seemed to become enraged at the notion, beginning to scream out a chant,

“PRESS ME! PRESS ME! PRESS ME!”

Ron looked at Daphne, both teens too confused and unsure on what to do. They didn’t have to linger for long because soon enough, a pale light shot forward, vanishing the screaming soldier from sight. The two looked up to see a lanky, middle-aged man.

“Apologies for that. He was meant to alert me when I had customers enter the shop. He still hasn’t quite grasped how to say ‘Help Thee.’ I should probably stick to wand making.”

The young duo smiled awkwardly, not knowing how to proceed. Luckily, the man spared them.

“Anyways… I’m Jeremy Jonker, and welcome to Jonker’s Wand Works Emporium! The greatest wand shop in America. How may I be of assistance?”

Daphne held a kind, greeting smile whilst Ron nodded. Jeremy Jonker wasn't an old man persay, but he was nowhere near young. Ron figured he was probably in his late thirties, but that was just a guess. Clearly of European ancestry, the wandmaker had wavy brown hair and wide eyes. Ron thought he looked like that character, Dr. Rawlins, from the horrifying and sad muggle film “Empire of the Sun.” Ron still refused to watch anything else Tracey wished to show him and their friends, for that film alone was terrifying by itself.

Ron’s thoughts were broken by Daphne, lightly shoving him, gesturing towards the smiling man. Ron coughed a bit, regaining some composure before beginning.

“Ugh.. hello Mr. Jonker. I was wondering if I could purchase a wand today… for myself that is.”

Ron almost facepalmed. That was embarrassing.
“And why young one, would you need a new wand?” Mr. Jonker was still smiling kindly as he asked.

“Because I need one.” Ron said plainly, confused at his question.

Mr. Jonker giggled, whilst Daphne literally facepalmed. Ron sighed, he clearly missed something.

“He’s asking about what happened to your other wand Ron.” Daphne huffed, leaving Ron to mentally facepalm again. The young wizard quickly deduced that he was not good with such word play.

Without uttering a word, Ron pulled out the damaged wand, quickly passing over to Mr. Jonker. The older wizard’s eyes bulged greatly as he inspected the wand.

“Oh Dorcus!”

Ron watched as Mr. Jonker twirled the wand, eyeing the clear crack in the wand, and even blew a bit into the crack, prompting misty white smoke to escape from within the wand.

“This is quite the dilemma, young one. Ron was it?”

Ron nodded.

“Well Ron, by the looks of it, this wand once held a functioning unicorn hair core. Do you have any prior knowledge of what makes unicorn hair cores different from other cores?”

“No sir.”

Mr. Jonker gave Ron a comforting smile, “Unicorn hair provides the most consistent magic. And they are the more faithful of cores. Paired with the Ash wood, it means that this wand would have been twice as loyal to its original owner… am I right in presuming that this wand was second-hand?”

Ron blushed furiously. Embarrassed beyond measure at how a complete stranger was able to decipher pieces of his entire life so quickly. He nodded silently. Mr. Jonker however, didn’t let up on his comforting and sympathetic look.

“Your wand here also shows that the unicorn hair has been burned black. To a complete crisp. And by the degree of which some of the ash marks I detect within the wand itself, I believe that this wand has been damaged for a bit longer than four years at best.”

Ron looked down at his feet, barely swallowing down his frustration. He had been given a second-hand wand—one that was already destined to become disloyal and embittered in Ron’s grasp—but a second-hand wand that was already burnt out.

No words could describe the feeling of discomfort, despair, offense and spitefulness he felt. He just felt so… unwanted. Ron wouldn’t have been surprised if the definition of the word ‘Undesirable’ showed a photograph of Ron, rather than an actual worded explanation.

“Nonetheless, I am so very glad and honored that you came to me to purchase a new wand. And I have a feeling, you’re gonna do great things with this new wand of yours.”

Ron looked up, seeing a happy and honest twinkle in Mr. Jonker’s eyes. Ron forced a smile, prompting Mr. Jonker to smile brightly. Retrieving his brother’s wand back from the wandmaker, Mr. Jonker turned around, swiftly gathering some wands for Ron to try out.

“Are you alright?”

Daphne looked up at Ron, clearly worried at Ron’s intake of the news presented. Ron gave her the smallest of smiles and nodded. It seemed to be enough for Daphne, as she then stepped back, gesturing to him to move up closer to the counter.

Doing so, Ron only stood there for a minute longer before Mr. Jonker returned with seven wand boxes of varying colors and sizes.

“Now, let’s begin. Just outstretch your hand or pick up the wand. Give them a flick if you want. Just do what you feel is best.”

The wandmaker opened the first box, a stunning wand, inlaid with mother-of-pearl laid before him. Despite feeling a superficial attraction to the wand, Ron recoiled his hand at the cold aura exuding from the wand. He saw Mr. Jonker smile before opening the other boxes.

Hovering his hand over the row of wands, Ron felt a series of different urges and emotions overtake him. A few of the wands felt cold, another burned like dragon fire, while some held no effect at all. It was almost disappointing for Ron when not a single one of the wands before him appealed to him. But Mr. Jonker was quick to comfort.

“Don’t fret Ron, I’ve got hundreds of more wands for you to try.” Gathering the current row, Ron waited patiently as Mr. Jonker turned to collect another seven wands for him to try.

The next set, Ron finally made some progress. The sixth and seventh wand in the set gave Ron a strange sensation. He couldn’t explain it. Neither felt cold and cruel nor hot and bitter.

The sixth wand, a beautiful pale brown wand, almost the same length as Charlie’s old wand, felt mostly comforting in Ron’s grip. He flicked it around and the display was lacking to be honest. But it still felt so warm and comforting to touch.

The seventh wand, larger in length and a weird rusty color, Ron could feel his magic sing. Despite the wand feeling cold to the touch, the magic within himself emanated neatly as he commanded its box to float. Ron set the wand down before locking his eyes down at the last two wands of the set, conflicted on his emotions.

“I see you’ve come at a crossroads, eh?”

Ron looked up to see the beaming smile of Mr. Jonker. Ron couldn’t believe how one could be so happy and smile so much. The you wizard wondered if it was just the holiday joys imbuing itself into the wandmaker.

Nodding swiftly, Ron began,

“I can’t explain it. But the sixth wand feels the most comfortable to me. I physically feel at ease holding it. But the seventh one… I think it calls out to my magic better than the other.”

Mr. Jonker nodded in contemplation at Ron’s words.

“I believe you have discovered which wand wood is best suited for your current person. Whilst the seventh wand demonstrates what kind of core better promotes your magic. Give me a moment.”

And so, Ron waited once more, as Mr. Jonker came and went, collecting even more wands.

He turned to look back at Daphne, apologetic for his difficulty in obtaining a wand.

“Sorry I’m taking so long.”

Daphne only smiled softly.

“Don’t worry Ron. Don’t worry about me. This is very important for any witch or wizard.”

Ron smiled genuinely, gratefully in return.

“Okay. This should do, hopefully!” Mr. Jonker exclaimed happily, opening a new set of seven wands. This time, they all seemed to call out to Ron. One was pretty large, whilst the rest remained average in length. Shades of the wood were similar, light-brown, sandy, another even copper colored. Ron’s eyes widened in awe. Just feeling the warmth radiate off of these wands made Ron feel encased in a feeling of content.

Outstretching his hand, Ron slowly hovered his hand down the line. Waves of serenity, calmness and warmth pressed against Ron’s hand. He stopped however at the sixth wand in the lineup.

Ron didn’t need to move over to feel the seventh wand. The sixth one, the abnormally longer wand, was sandy in color. Its handle was also one of the many that was inlaid with mother-of-pearl, presenting a sleek pattern of stars and crosses. Taking a hold of the wand, Ron could only sigh in pure content and happiness. A sense of completeness consuming him. This was it. This was his wand.
“How fascinating!”

Ron looked up at the once again, beaming smile of Mr. Jonker. The elder’s eyes twinkled like a pair of suns.

“How so?”

“13 ⅓ inches in length. A beautiful balsam fir wood, with a white river monster spine core. Solid in flexibility.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “White monster what?”

“White river monster spine core.” Mr. Jonker said simply. As if that answered the growing amount of questions he had.

“Uh….”

“You have a survivor's wand Ron. Fir wood is some of the most resilient woods in the world. Wands of this wood demand a firm and strong wielder. Typically suited for those considered intimidating, fir wood accompanies a wizard or witch that can adapt and endure. A wand designed for a fighter in both mind and body.”

What were the odds… a survivor's wand. What else could he possibly endure that he hasn't already? Severe self-loathing, duelling upper years and even a Professor, constant harassment and bullying, pure-blood politics at the ripe old age of eleven.
“What about his wand core Mr. Jonker?” Daphne wondered aloud, stepping forward to inspect the beautiful wand. She was clearly as intrigued as Ron about this new treasure.

“This wand is one of a rare bunch left here in the states. The White River Monster is a magical aquatic beast, whose spines make a stern and fierce conduit for magic. Its unnatural length is due to the wand holding an entire spine as the core. Like the monster itself, it is rather misunderstood”

Ron remained entranced at the old wandmaker’s words. He couldn’t help but blush, the red wave crashing across his cheeks. He just couldn’t get over the peculiarities of the wand that had clearly chosen him.

And by the looks of it, Daphne was as well.

“An old wandmaker here in the states by the name of Thiago Quintana was the only person to ever produce wands with this core. His secrets to producing wands of this core unfortunately died with him. And from then on, available wands of this core became rarer by the decades. But it seems this one, surprisingly unused, made its way into my family’s possession. And is still in its prime. Ready and able.”

Mr. Jonker cleared the other wands away, granting Ron another smile as the trio inspected the wand within the young wizard’s hands.

“Wands with a White River Monster Spine core produce spells of force and elegance. Paired with fir wood, I do truly believe that you, young one, have quite the future ahead of you.”

Stunned. Enchanted. Frozen. Overjoyed. He couldn’t explain it. Ron just couldn’t articulate how he felt at that moment. His lips felt chapped, and yet it didn’t bother him.

He could honestly cry at that moment. But he held it back, if only for a moment to express his gratitude.

“Thank you so much Mr. Jonker. May I purchase this wand please!”

Mr. Jonker gave Ron his signature smile and nodded.

“Five dragots please.”

Ron froze, as did Daphne. How they possibly seemed to have forgotten that magical currency in America differed from that of magical Europe, made Ron want to bash his own head in.

“Um… we only have galleons, Mr. Jonker.” Ron said, pulling out seven of the familiar gold coins, presenting it to the wandmaker.

Mr. Jonker laughed. “Well that’s alright. I guess four galleons should be good.”

Ron blanched whilst Daphne’s eyebrows rose in confused glee.

“Only four?” Daphne asked.

“Yup. Galleons are worth more than American Dragots. But as I am no banker, I do not know the exchange rate. So four galleons should be alright for me.”

Clearly not wasting any time or the chance to be cheated out of such a deal, Daphne gestured for Ron to pay up. His hands were clammy as he went through the motions of paying for the wand, gripping his newest possession, letting it twirl in his fingers. He couldn’t believe it, he finally had his own wand.

“Like your new wand?” Daphne asked, the duo now racing back down the streets of New York, hoping to beat Daphne’s parents back to the hotel.

Ron could only nod his head, his demeanor completely consumed by awe. Awe at finally having something for himself, something he paid for by himself. A burden he removed off his own shoulders. An extension of his magic, of his soul, of his life, of his entire being.

He had never felt so whole in his life until now.
But despite the high the young wizard found himself on, Ron couldn’t stop the giddy smile that broke out on his lips as Daphne rejoined their hands and began dragging him across New York once again.

For Ron, he couldn’t help but think once again, that this was the best Yule break ever!

[allegra-j-joann]

Old Writing Assignment

“I’ll not have them for all the wealth they bring or the songs they sing, ballads and gold won’t keep me warm or make me loved” she cast her gaze to the crystal silver crying skies, framed in climbing violet, set apart by slowing drizzle. She dry, and he damp, she stared at the sulking suitors. ‘But you would Marry? They would marry you.’ The question loomed over her mind heavily, the cold voice slipping like the raindrops across silky black hair and falling away “they know I won’t come so easily, they all agreed to this challenge, I could have thrown it in the lake before it freezes, or given it to a raven, a cat should be far easier to catch, it’s a very fair condition” the ring glittered on the ribbon it hung from, jingling against the bell with soft bright chimes when the cat moved.

The people of the town wouldn’t look long at the black cat as it slunk lightly along the lanes, long body taking languid steps. The cat also didn’t seem to heed the stares and whispers, nor the cooling fall air, or even Katya’s wedding ring about its neck. The beauty’s challenge had swept through every home, yet none dared to approach the small beast, the meekest suitors chased off under the emerald gaze of a housepet. 

The first youth to challenge the cat’s stride was the youngest son of a blacksmith, fast enough to dodge embers from the forge and strong enough to carry the iron and the moulds, he’d have made a fine husband was his skin not already littered with scars from his hard work, but nonetheless, he believed himself capable of catching the cat, it was only small after all. The confident youth stepped from the shop as the cat passed, blocking it and staring down into its face, the cat stared back with earnest indifference. Though the young man was quick and strong, when he lunged he could not catch hold of its silken fur, its lithe and nimble frame slipping right between his large hands again and again. Every day for a month the man tried, letting his work fall to the wayside as he lamented to his brothers and waited for the creature to pass, he only stopped when the black cat grew tired of him and avoided the shop and its warmth altogether, though the son was one of their own and well respected in his craft, rumours of his failings spread swift and vicious from tongue to tongue until not one person did not turn away from him.

The cat continued unconcerned a few more weeks before the next suitor took up her challenge, the sun of the town grocer, not as strong perhaps, but sweet and clever, he remembered every name in town and often new which shelves they would choose from before the shop’s bell had rung, he watched the cat for several days before managing to herd it into a closed alley, holding a crate between them to trap the cat, he only needed it to hold still a few moments and the ribbon would be his. His chance came almost immediately, He lunged, catching the cat by its tail and hind leg before it could dart away, he only held it tight enough to keep it from fleeing, but the cat yowled and screeched like he’d broken its bones, carrying on even when a lady on the street stopped to look, whispering in disgust to her companion. The cat’s wails, like the air itself, filled all corners of the village, and all too quickly, everyone could hear how he treated such an innocent animal, alarmed, he let it loose, watching as it righted itself and walked away, not even its fur ruffled. 

The third son of the town to try his fortunes was a tailor’s apprentice, where the first two had great strength on their sides, the tailor boy was far smarter than the two together, with nimble hands and patience to spare, he saw the disgrace brought on those who failed and had to surrender, and did not chase the little beast through the streets. The tailor boy instead laid in wait, a wool shawl and a bowl of cream by the window of his workroom, after days of tempered patience, the cat appeared, and again the day after until it would appear without fail, settling by the window to watch him, but the cat was no fool, when the tailor boy reached out to pat its head, the cat hissed and took its leave. Frustrated he moved the shawl to the floor instead, luring the cat deeper into the room, but never trying to touch it again, when the cat next returned and took its place, he jumped up, slamming shut the window, trapping the two inside, but his confidence only doomed his dresses to be shredded by furious claws and the cat once more fled out into the shadows of the streets. if he was to remake all his ruined work, he’d no longer have time to pursue it.

All too soon the fall winds were replaced with winter sleet, and with Katya’s challenge, still unmet the youths stayed unwed, growing as bitter as the cold air. The three, the Blacksmith, the Grocer and the Tailor, all came together in the Tailor’s warm shop to talk “It’s no normal cat, it’s mocking us!” the blacksmith cried, slamming his fist on the table and rattling half the room “we have to do something about it or the beast will ruin us all” agreed the grocer, “I don’t know what you hope to achieve, all three of us have already lost to the thing” the tailor replied tiredly. The Blacksmith shook his head “we lost to it independently, if we each pool our strength we can get the ring easily!” he looked slyly over their shocked faces “then we need only decide amongst ourselves who will marry Katya, let's not have our dignity decided by an animal” his words stirred the men from their foul slumps and warmed their temperaments, and all through the icy afternoon and blustering evening the three planned.

assured of themselves, the men set about their plan, placing the wool shawl in the alley to draw the cat in, the three shoulder to shoulder blocking it from fleeing again, like this, they drove it deeper into the alley, into an empty crate the grocer had laid out earlier, the Blacksmith lunged forward to hold the cat there, his hands were the strongest and though it struggled, it couldn’t pull from his grasp or shake his hand from over its mouth, the Grocer joined him to hold it still as the Tailor drew out the long blades of his heavy scissors. It seemed they were set up perfectly but as the tailor moved to cut the ribbon, the Blacksmith’s foot slipped across the slick snow and frozen stone ground, and the blades missed their mark, taking with them the tip of the Grocer’s finger. They had their prize, but at the cost that the cat had perished, so disgusted by their success and guilty of his part in it, the Blacksmith turned his back and left, not even for the prize he might have gained. The Grocer and the Tailor too felt guilty, but their resolve was stronger, they hid the cat in the crate and washed their hands of the blood before going to find Katya, they would make her choose. However hard they might have searched though, they only found that the beauty’s house stood empty and cold “she must have left,” moaned the Grocer, throwing the ring to the ground in his frustration “perhaps she saw what we did”.

The shadowed figure stood at the railing of the verandah, watching the men lament that Katya had left them, all the while she, besides the shadow, sat crossly ‘those men wail not for their deeds, but for what they thought theirs, is such selfishness always the way of humans now’  it asked her, bone-thin fingers skimming lightly over the black cat’s ruined fur “the humans here, at least” she sighed in return, looking up instead at the shadow ‘yet you consented to marry them’  came the reply from deep in the hood, “no such thing, I set my challenge because I knew I’d not have them. They couldn’t catch me, for all their wealth and songs, they couldn’t make me want them” she cast her gaze to the crystal silver crying skies, framed in climbing violet, the figure considered the cat’s words a lingering moment ‘if you did not want this, why did you play at being human, so wasteful of a life’ The question loomed over her mind heavily, the cold voice slipping like the raindrops across silky fur and falling away “I suppose you are right, had I married it would have only wasted my magic anyway. In my eighth life, I will stay a housepet by the fire, I don’t need this frivolity” as she stood from her place on the railing to stretch the ribbon hung from Katya’s neck, the ring and bell chiming lightly against each other as the two walked away.

[comatose--overdose]

Bruce, about Robin!Dick, recounting the other night's patrol: So I hear Robin gasp, say "oh no" and then start crying. Immediately I'm on the verge of a heart attack.

Clark: Understandable.

Bruce: I ask him what's wrong and he tells me he found a cat that must have been hit by a car.

Clark: Oh no! poor kid, I hate he had to see that.

Bruce: Me too. I told him to take a minute to calm down and then meet back up with me, we'd call it an early night.

Bruce: Then I don't hear from him for a little while and when I finally do, he nearly shatters my ear drums with a squeal. Once again I nearly have a heart attack before it registers that was a happy sound. I ask him what's going on.... And he tells me he heard some meowing from the alley nearby the other cat he'd found.

Clark: Oh no.

Bruce: Don't get ahead of me. He tells me he went to investigate, "like a good detective should..."

Clark: [stifles a chuckle]

Bruce: And that's when I hear a LOT of meowing over the comms. He'd found a whole litter of kittens behind a dumpster, looking pathetic as can be. [He looks completely unimpressed as Clark "awws"] I tell him I'm on my way and not to touch them, they could be sick and they could get him sick too.

Bruce: By the time I get there, Robin is covered in kittens, and he's named them all after pies.

Clark, laughing: called it.

Bruce: So we have seven cats now.

Clark: Wait, what?! You kept them all?!

Bruce: Clark, would you have been able to say no to that? To Robin, covered in kittens, already attached, and pleading with his biggest puppy eyes?

Clark:.... Okay, yeah, that's not possible.

Bruce:

Clark:

Clark:.... So... What are these little pies' names?

Bruce: *sigh* ...Key Lime, Lemon Meringue, Pumpkin Spice, Apple Cheddar, Cherry Crumb, Bourbon Pecan, and Chocolate Mousse.

Clark: oh my God.