#this very morning rip poor human being

[scoutswritingcorner]

The Monster That Lurked

Alastor x GN!Reader

A/N:Hey hey! I'm in a really angsty mood and decided to write a full fledged fic about my own work of ‘Monster In The Woods’!!! YAY!!! ALSO A FRIENDS TO LOVERS DEAL- SUE ME. Also you can picture Human Alastor or Alastor anyway you want cause I don’t really describe him much except for what he is wearing and I picture Alastor a certain way in my head. This got long I apologize.

TW: Set in the 1920-30’s, Human Alastor and his murders. Pre-established relationships, cheating, Alastor “stealing” you away from your husband.Alastor and Reader have known each other for a long time already. Reader is also some sort of fucked up, in like the murder way. Talks about cheating, fighting, Gore, Christianity and religion in general. MURDER VERY MUCH MURDER

Word Count: 7k

1927, the days filled with laughter and partying whilst listening to jazz standing with your husband..well you were waiting outside a sleazy bar for your husband, the same drunkard that your father had married you off to. He wasn’t your first choice neither was he your last choice. You would’ve been fine not marrying anybody and just living your life hidden from prying eyes, you would rather be somewhere in the Louisiana bayou with Alastor. Just sitting and listening to him ramble on about a new show he was talking about or how some poor lad got on his bad side. 

But yet you were standing on the sidewalk in front of a sleazy bar with even sleazier patrons as you stared at your husband through one of the windows as he hit on the same poor dame that served him. He cheated all the time and yet you never cared, was it because you never truly loved him or was it the fact you’d rather picture his own death while he begged god for his sins. You couldn’t tell anymore and a part of you didn’t want to know anymore. The other part of you wanted to delve deeper into your own thoughts, wanted to open the door that was locked and barricaded for your own good. You wanted to understand what it felt like to rip flesh from bone and see how long it would take for him to lose consciousness from the blood loss.

A loud honk from a passing car made you jump out of your skin and look around, feeling the small box in your pocket, it was supposed to be for your husband but he didn’t deserve it, he would’ve just sold it eagerly for some kind of money to waste his life away. That’s fine you knew a man who would appreciate it more than him anyway. The same man whose voice was happily broadcasted on every radio for miles around, you could practically hear his smile through the radio static and fuzz. Your heartbeat a little faster than it should’ve just thinking about him, he was your friend and that was it. Friends don’t have crushes on friends. This was just a way to spoil him for being a good friend of yours. Right?

You couldn’t bother him right now, you knew better so you did what you always did. Went back home and made yourself busy until he eventually made his way over to your house. He was always quick enough to get to your house before your drunken husband did but stayed around long enough (i.e in the early hours of the morning) so you wouldn’t have to deal with anything unnecessary and you eventually went to bed. Then he would’ve disappeared for a few days but he came back around. You didn’t question him or his ways, you knew better. A part of you did want to question his motives but you held your tongue like you always did.

Your husband wasn’t a necessarily violent man..just dumb and constantly drinking, said some nasty words too. If it wasn’t for you, Alastor would’ve probably done him in by now. Especially when he was talking bad about his Mother, you saw the way Alastor stared at your husband. The same angry look you gave him when he had gotten on your last nerve. But before Alastor could get to him, some other patron did. Knocked your husband’s nose sideways and a tooth completely out. Bastard deserved it completely and till this day you don’t visit that place. You needed a fucking drink thinking about your husband but the bastard drunk your house completely dry.

A knock on your front door snapped you out of your thoughts and as you turned towards your front door, the man of the hour had walked through your door. A huge grin plastered on his face, one hand holding a bottle of whiskey and in the other today's paper. “Ah ha! There you are, My Dear!” He called out his suit absolutely spotless. A smile formed on your lips as you grabbed two glasses from the cupboard, waving him towards one of the only rooms your husband doesn’t enter. “You had me worrying there for a moment,” He said tilting his head back towards you as he led you to the parlor room, “Maybe that husband of yours was back from wherever he was lurking.” He finished his smile falling into a snarl, Alastor was also not a huge fan of your husband from the start. You never asked why as you both didn’t want to think of him during your little time together.

“Please..you know better than I do that he’s hitting up on a poor dame at the bar.” You replied, sitting the glasses down on the table causing him to make a noise in acknowledgement, “At this point, Alastor..I’m believing you're a mind reader with how you just appear with whiskey in hand at my front door.” At that? He let out a loud belly laugh leaning in closer to you allowing his gaze to soften as he stared at your features before he leaned away opening the bottle of whiskey. This was going to be a long night for the both of you and you had forgotten all about the gift.

~~~

A couple weeks had passed since you last saw Alastor in person but you didn’t fret, he had called the next day to tell you he had made it back home safely. Something he had picked up ever since you had asked him to stay the night so long ago, you were-..are still scared of your own thoughts. The ones that dare creep out, the ones who tell you to crack open your husband’s chest and rip out his still beating heart. The ones who you don’t dare tell a soul and you sure as hell won’t tell Alastor, he’d think you're insane. But you knew..you were slowly losing yourself and everyday it was one step closer to killing your husband.

Walking into the kitchen and rolling your eyes seeing your husband looking like hell, “Hungover John?” You hissed out as you moved past him a grunt falling from his lips in reply, “Shut the fuck up..” He hissed out speech still slurred as half assed venom dripped from his tongue. “I wasn’t the one up at 1 in the morning drinking with that no good radio host.” You froze your hand twitching towards the knife on the counter but stopped yourself, “I wasn’t the one who was at the bar drinking his sorrows away whilst trying to bed another dame for the twentieth time this week.” You hissed back, sending a glare towards him. 

John stood up fully and walked towards you getting into your face, hand raising to no doubt strike you. But nothing came as someone cleared their voice, an icy cold tone to it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Friend.” Alastor..fuck you forgot about him and his way of just walking into your house. You had drunkenly given him a key one night, ‘Just in case’ you told him. You were glad that you did because as soon as he heard Alastor’s cold voice he immediately backed up and stormed off deeper into the house.

Alastor’s cold gaze had followed the poor idiotic man as he disappeared into the home before they snapped back onto you. “Are you alright?” He asked the venom and anger laced in his voice gone but you saw how his eyes still held his anger, like they did when that fool had talked bad about his Mother. You often had envy and wished that you could know a mother’s gentle hand guiding you towards a better life. But criminals only give birth to criminals, your mother had left the Earth so long ago you don’t even remember what she looked like anymore but sometimes when you look into a crowd you see a familiar figure and a part of you becomes elated before it crashes and burns into the ground. 

“I’m fine, Alastor.” You replied softly as you glanced down the hallway where your husband stormed off. Alastor sat silent watching your face keep still but the sadness in your eyes was apparent, he knew you yearned for freedom and solace. He knew how you would rather be a thousand miles away from your “husband”- God he hated that word and man, if he could’ve he would’ve killed him a long time ago. Walking over he softly hummed, “Let me take you out on the town, Dear…a way to get your head cleared.” He whispered, reaching over and carefully placing his hand on your shoulder. He watched your eyes once almost so lifeless and dull flicker to life at the thought, “All day?” You asked, glancing at him, the warmness in your eyes returning, a small smile forming on your lips. Hook…line…and sinker, he’s got you right where he wants you, perfectly safe in his hands.

“Of course, Dear! Now go on, go get dressed!” he hummed his smile, returning as he guided you to go down to your own bedroom which was supposed to be the guest bedroom. You never explained why you had moved bedrooms but he didn’t need to guess or ask. It was abundantly clear to anyone who had stepped foot in your household, this “marriage” wasn’t full of love. It was only necessary and after the first year of it, you had grown cold. That man had taken away any semblance of your hope and happiness for a better life. Alastor hummed a tune that played from his radio broadcasts as he looked around your home, he’s seen the decor and fake photos that hung up on the wall a million times but yet it never gets old. Especially when he’s staring at the photo of you on your wedding day, the way the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “What are you still doing here?” A slurred voice asked, causing him to calmly look over. His smile grew wider at the sight of the boy in front of him. That wasn’t a man..far from it. “Good to see you at least a little sober, Jonathan.” He hummed, dodging the question thrown his way. 

“Shut the fuck up, Alastor.” John threw back, moving closer as Alastor’s eyes darkened. Just a little closer..and then he’d be gone for good. “John!” You yelled out making the man flinch and Alastor’s heart raced, oh how he loved hearing that venom lace your tongue; it was always a delight to see how commanding you were when you wanted to be. When Alastor first met you, you were quiet yet happy and you hadn’t been married to this fool. Such a lovely little mouse minding your own business when you had accidentally bumped into him. He wouldn’t believe anyone if they said meeting you would change his life. You had spilled wine on his suit, yet you didn’t freak out when you saw his eyes flicker angrily. Only apologized and paid for his new suit with the money you had been saving up to leave for good, he wouldn’t find that out until a year later.

John looked over at you with anger but soon he once again stormed out of the house cursing you and Alastor. Alastor looked over at you with a gentle smile returning to his lips as he guided you to the front door. “Come now~ Let’s paint the town red, Dear” He called out laughing at his own little joke making you roll your eyes at his antics. Silly man.

~~~

Hours happily passed by and the day turned into night from swinging into tailors and from jazz clubs to socialite parties so you both could secretly judge people between hushed breaths, he eventually led you down to a park that was lit up with lampposts every so often before sitting down on a park bench under the moonlights soft glow. Your laughter had died down into a comfortable silence as you glanced over at Alastor. His leg crossed the other one, “I haven’t seen someone so eager to play the fool in one of those parties.” He laughed out, tapping his thumb on his knee, “Something on my face, Darling?” You jumped and looked away, “No no..sorry I..I’ve been lost in my own thoughts recently, Alastor.” 

He looked over at you, you were unusually silent the whole night. “Can I tell you something?” You asked, watching as you finally looked over, oh he could never get used to those eyes of yours and that darling little smile was everything to him. “Of course, Darling.” He reached over and carefully plucked a stray leaf from your shoulder, his attention fully on you. You looked down, hands trembling..you had to tell him, you could tell him right? “Nevermind it, you’d think I’d gone insane.” You corrected and cleared your throat leaning back into the cooled bench. You felt uncomfortably hot despite the cold air, winter was right around the corner.

Using his hand to rub at his chin as he hummed your favorite tune he played on air, this piqued his curiosity much more than he’d like to admit. “I’d never think such a thing, my friend!” He replied throwing his hand up in the air as if to actually try and swat those thoughts away from your mind. “Tell me whenever you feel ready to do so, my Dear!~” He was always willing to listen to you even if it was about nothing, your voice was practically music to his ears. Closing his eyes as a cold breeze hit his face as he continued to hum along to fill the silent night, he suspected it was your..’husband’..the cause of all your misery. The way your honeyed voice was now constantly laced with venom and authority as if you had to fight to even allow your voice to be heard. Your silence had felt like an eternity for him but he knew it had only been a moment or two, he didn’t realize how addicted to your voice he had become.

“I..I’ve been having thoughts.” You started making him look over at you, his eyes narrowing in concern at your form, how small you had looked at the moment. He had leaned forward and took his jacket off before draping it over your figure not minding how the cold nipped at his skin but he didn’t interrupt you, he knew better to do so. “Angry thoughts..well they started out that way but now they’ve turned into something more..violent.” You explained carefully pulling his jacket closer to your frame, eyes casted off in the woods. You imagine some man standing there, blood covering his hands and drenching his shirt, a wicked smile on his face as he looked up into the night sky and laughed out loud for god to hear him. 

Alastor followed your gaze as his humming slowed down until it completely stopped to allow the silence to fill the air, his smile pulling into a more sinister one at how he finally understood. The same one that happened to find its way on his lips after killing his latest victim, he quickly rubbed his hand over his mouth allowing the smile to drop before you could catch a glimpse of it. “I think of what it would feel like to rip flesh from bone..to finally choke him out..I want to know what it feels like to snub out a life..his life. I’m not a violent person and these thoughts terrify me, I try to keep them hidden but…sometimes they slip out.” You finish up finally noticing how tight your throat felt and the tears falling down your face. It felt great to finally get that off your chest but now the anxiety of it all set in, would he rat you out to the police? Would he hate you?

“I don’t remember when they started. Was it when I was forced to get married to him? I’d tell myself I can save enough money and start somewhere new..but then I’d miss you..miss your early morning show and our late night talks.” You confessed spilling your problems out onto the sidewalk like a drunkard when he had spilled his guts on the pavement. You were pathetic in your own way. Alastor watched you for a few moments before carefully pulling you into his side, using a handkerchief tucked into his vest pocket to carefully wipe your tears away. “No more tears, dear friend.” he whispered, allowing you to hide your face into his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your waist. 

He was at a crossroad in his own mind, should he tell you not to go with it? He wouldn’t want you to go into this dirty mess. But he also wants you to feel the rush of adrenaline when snubbing out a life, he wants to help. But either way if you did or didn’t he’d take care of it..in some way or another. No one should hurt his little mouse in such a way and get away with it. It was silent for a long time as you calmed yourself and he held you with a softness that was foreign to himself and most others. 

“I always..I always imagined running away with you..to some old house down near the bayou.” You whispered out feeling the familiar chain that hung on his vest, the one hidden under his jacket. He leaned his head against yours and hummed in reply. It sounded picture perfect in his mind.

~~~

You sat at the church pew next to your ‘husband’ and kept your head down as you listened in on the priest doing his normal sermon. The only time your husband had decided to not be drunk and clean up for once in his life was always on Sundays or when his family was coming over. Something you always ran away from, you stayed in the empty parlor with a glass of water and a small book. His mother was never kind to you nor his sisters, you chose to ignore them and their gossip. Especially when you had to be seated around them in a church talking about a man who you possibly didn’t believe in but was instead forced to hear this priest talk about whatever was in the bible. Your hands clasped together as your mind kept drifting off. 

It had only been two days since you told everything to Alastor, your feelings and how you wished to murder your own husband. You haven’t been able to talk to Alastor since which was fine, he was a very busy man after all. Lifting your head up as you felt your husband nudge your leg with his own, you sent him a glance ignoring how he was practically glaring at you. “Don’t embarrass me infront of my family” He hissed out as you glared at the wall. “They already know how rocky our relationship is, John.” You hissed back, about to leave but someone sat next to you keeping his head down, “Sorry I’m late, Dear Friend.” Alastor whispered, making the anger dissipate in a matter of seconds, “Mother wanted to go see an old friend,” He hummed and got comfortable next to you.

After an hour or maybe it was a good 10 minutes you couldn’t tell but Alastor had successfully dragged you away and out of the church under the guise of it being important and he couldn’t dare interrupt the sermon. You didn’t care now as you laughed at some joke that was pointed towards your husband, walking down the street arm in arm as he used his other hand to dramatically explain everything that’s happened between the hours you both had parted. The crying and confession long gone in your mind as you pointed out the flaws in his story but he had only reached over and pinched your nose between his fingers with only a half hearted threat of keeping his ‘secrets’. 

As you both walked down the street the laughter and conversation lulled into a peaceful silence. “Where are you taking me?” You asked, feeling a familiar presence in your pocket, the gift you had forgotten about for weeks now. “Just for a walk through the park, Dear.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a smile had formed on your face but your eyes still had that faraway look in them. Guess you were going back into your own head again, “I got you something a while ago and forgot it in my jacket” you called out reaching into your jacket and pulling the small box out, you didn’t want to bring up the fact it was supposed to be a gift for your husband. Alastor abruptly stopped in his tracks and looked at you, “You didn’t need to do such a thing, Dear.” You only smiled at him and gave him the box, “I know..but I wanted to give it to you.” You whispered out watching as he opened the box, his eyes widening. It was one of the newer pocket watches that you’ve had your eyes on for a long while now, “Dearest I..I couldn’t take this.” He replied carefully, taking the watch out, flipping it open and smiling. “But you can..and you will cause it’s for you, Al..”

You loved seeing him smile like that, something that you had rarely seen when you first started hanging out. It’s still mostly rare, especially when he’s had a hard day or the simple fact that you sometimes don’t see him for days on end. He put the pocket watch back into the box carefully, “Guess I’ll have to find to pay you back now?” He hummed out placing the box into his pocket causing you to sigh, “You know you don’t have to do such a thing, Alastor. I..I don’t deserve it.” Only criminals give birth to criminals and criminals don’t get nice things. 

“Oh but I think you do,” He replied and leaned down to gently tap your forehead, “Despite what those thoughts of yours tell you.” You blinked and stared at him, “You know me too well,” You huffed turning away from him. “Not well enough!” He called happily following after you and quickly catching up, long legged bastard. You looked up at him as he held out his arm, “Are you sure about that, Alastor? I think you know me better than most people.” You said carefully taking hold of his arm, he chuckled and quicked his step making you practically had to speed walk to catch up with him.

The night truly didn’t stop until you were almost on the verge of passing out from laughter and how sleep creeped up on your shoulders. Alastor’s arm was snuggly wrapped around your waist to keep you upright as the sandman was practically calling your name. “Come on now, one foot up the step.” He whispered as he guided your sleepy self up onto your own porch. “I can walk fine, Alastor. I’m not drunk,” You whispered, shaking your head trying to fight off how your eyes grew heavier. You don’t like being up past a certain time in the early mornings but for Alastor you would’ve done it a million times over….Maybe you did have a crush on him but he wouldn’t love you back in a million years. 

You don’t remember when you got into your bedroom, did you black out on him? Yet he was still holding you against his chest as he swayed you to an imaginary rhythm. “And here I thought you had fallen asleep on me already.” He whispered out, causing you to jump out of your skin for a second before you huffed, “Sorry, didn’t mean to do so.” You replied leaning back to try and smooth out his shirt, now noticing his jacket was draped near the door of your bedroom. “Nonsense, I find it comforting in a way that you trust me to fall asleep near me.” He replied watching you, his bow tie had been undone for a couple hours now but watching the way you had subconsciously fixed it for him made his heart race and butterflies erupt in his stomach.

His mind wandered off watching as you blinked the sleep from your eyes to make sure he still looked presentable. He wondered sometimes what it would be like if he married you instead of that idiotic man. “..Don’t leave for too long this time, Al..I know I’ll eventually hear your voice on the radio but sometimes it’s not the same..” You whispered out glancing back up at him, his gloved hand reaching up to cup your face tracing the bags under your eyes with his thumb, “I’ll try, Cher..” He replied as he leaned down to press his head against yours. He couldn’t promise it but he’d try especially since he has been working so hard on his plan to get rid of that idiotic husband of yours.

You leaned your head up, allowing for your noses to brush against one another. His arms were still wrapped around your waist, one of his hands splayed on the middle of your back. Then it had hit you, all those times he had pulled you away from your husband and took you to the places you loved..was he silently courting you? Had he been doing so for days now and you were just too stupid to notice? You gently cupped his face and watched as he had opened his eyes, when did he close them? “I..Alastor? Have you been courting me?” Your voice was only above a whisper making him freeze in his tracks. He was silent for a long time before he nodded and sighed. “I have been yes,” He replied and you felt your face warm, seemingly all of the tiredness from before had dissipated. 

His gloved hands came up to carefully grasp onto yours as your thumb caressed his cheek, a faint scar that had healed overtime. You remembered when you saw the scar, yet you never asked, figuring he would’ve told you when he decided to do so. He had yet to say a word about it so it must’ve not been important. In the years that you had known him, you’ve grown to love him and to be wary of him all at the same time. He was a wild mutt waiting to sink his teeth into any fresh meat he could find, he wasn’t the one to be tamed or “domesticated” and you surely would never think to tie him down to a preconceived notion such as marriage or a family life. It took someone truly special to worm their way into his heart and that was a tough act, nonetheless, he had picked and prodded at the worst parts of you wanting to see how quick it took for you to finally snap at him, show your fangs and reveal your weak spots to him. He loved the game of it.

Yet here he was, the same wild animal that used to raise his hackles and bare its sharp teeth was essentially laying down and showing his belly to you. He’d disappear to find his fill and get those fangs bloodied before he’d make his way back to you. Maybe everyone who told you to stay away was right, he wasn’t a man to stick around but here you were inviting the man into your home day after day because you just couldn’t get enough of him. 

Blinking your thoughts away you focused on Alastor, how he had leaned closer to you. “May I?” He whispered, ever the gentleman he was, his hands carefully squeezing yours as you nodded your head a small smile on your lips. Wordlessly, he closed the gap and gently kissed you. At first it was such a small kiss but you didn’t want it to end, you just got a taste of what it felt like to be loved..actually loved and it felt amazing, that one small kiss turned into a bigger one as his hands fell down to hold onto your sides.

You would be asleep until lunch the next day, the memory still fresh on your mind as you awoke to find a small gift box on your bedside table. You were going to kill Alastor.

~~~

You sat in an office, legs crossed as you watched the lawyer in front of you collect some papers and give you a passing glance every so often. “Now, it’s to my knowledge you are looking to file for a divorce?” The man asked, causing you to nod, “Now is there a reason for this divorce?” You huffed, how many times did you have to explain it? “Infidelity, I’ve caught him one too many times and I’d rather make this quick.” You huffed out venom lacing your tongue as you watched the older gentleman nod and produced some papers. 

After an hour of signing papers and making everything on record you had finally gone home. You didn’t even greet your husband when you walked inside, just placed the papers on the table and left for the day ignoring how he yelled out for you. You had walked all the way to the park, the same park Alastor had walked you to all those weeks ago and you spilled your darkest secrets out into the open. Sitting on the same bench as you watched people pass by as your eyes drifted to the woods, you also knew Alastor was an avid hunter and you’d be alone for a while longer as deer season came around. You’d be alone with your husband and your thoughts. You hoped this divorce would go through but it was a slim chance and then you would rightfully be kicked out of church for thinking of doing such a thing. Laughter rang in your ears as you got lost in your own world, your eyes glued onto the Doe walking out of the collection of trees to find something to eat on.

As the doe finally found something to snack on it had turned its head up and towards you. A small part of you felt a twinge of dread as you stared at the doe and the other part felt calm as the feeling started to grow and settle into the pit of your stomach, your breathing slowed down considerably before the doe had run off seemingly spooked away. You frowned and watched as it disappeared further into the woods. Gloved hands clamped down onto your shoulders making you jump up in surprise and let out a loud scream as Alastor’s laugh was heard from behind you.

 You turned on your heel ignoring the passerby who looked on in confusion, “I’m going to kill you, Alastor.” You hissed out trying to hide the prominent blush on your features and how your lips creeped up into a smile. He smirked, he knew you didn’t actually mean you would kill him. Your version of ‘kill’ meant you would simply get him back later in some kind of fashion. You were a smart person after all. “I’m sorry, Dear! You were so out of sorts you looked primed for me to scare you.” He hummed and moved to sit down on the bench, his hand patting the spot next to him. You let out a loud sigh sitting next to him, “What’s on your mind?” He hummed out fixing his gloves before moving to brush imaginary dust off his pants. 

You were silent for some time trying to figure out the words in your head, “I gave John divorce papers today.” you whispered out causing him to look over trying to hide the growing smile on his face, you still haven’t brought up the kiss you both shared the night before and you were scared to do so. “Really?” He hummed, leaning back against the bench using one hand to tap a melody on his knee, “I’m just waiting for him to sign it and see if the court will..allow the divorce to happen.” He didn’t answer and looked ahead as the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. Your mind raced as another cold breeze hit you in the face, what would you do if the court denied the divorce? Would Alastor still..be by your side? The thoughts raced and raced but before you could delve deeper, a warm inviting hand was placed onto your shoulder causing you to look over at him confused but leaned into the warmth.

“It’s going to be okay, Dear. Don’t let those thoughts run you ragged now.” You nodded at his words and smiled, “Figured you’d be out hunting by now.” That made him let out a small laugh as his smile grew wider and went off on a tangent about hunting and how to actually be a good hunter.

You’d be fine.

~~~

You’d be fine.

Those were the words echoing in your head as you were now standing in your kitchen hands on the counter as you stared down at the broken glass cup as you heard your husband yell at you. The amber liquid is now spilling onto the wooden floor, your cheek burned like hell and you tasted the iron in your mouth as you unclench your jaw allowing your teeth to free themselves from your tongue. You stormed over to the phone and used the rotary dial to call a familiar number that you had stuck in the back of your mind. Alastor. You don’t remember the start of the conversation. All you could mumble between the stinging pain and blood in your mouth was, “Come over..It’s an emergency.” Before hanging up abruptly.

The next few moments were quick in your mind but you knew it took far much longer to do as your hands trembled. Grabbing whatever heavy metal object you could find in the vicinity, as your husband turned to face you once more. The fear in the man’s eyes as you swung and hit him in the face, breaking his nose with a sickening crack. He fell to the floor, his hands moving to cover his nose as he stared up into your empty anger filled eyes, god..it felt good to see him as nothing but a pathetic ant beneath your feet. It felt invigorating as you dropped to your knees one hand holding him down as you continuously bashed the item into his face until he was nothing more than a lifeless body surrounded by a pool of his own blood.

You stared down at him and then the blood covering your hands as tears formed into your eyes and a sob bubbled up from your throat but you weren’t sad. Far from it..you were relieved as you looked up at the ceiling falling flat on your ass as you started to laugh between horrid sobs. Your hands grasping at your shirt laughing louder until your cheeks hurt from how long you were smiling and as Alastor finally came into your vision. The smile faltered for a moment as another loud sob wracked your body, “I did it, Al..I did it-” You choked out as you curled into yourself. “It felt so fucking good..I felt fucking invincible.” You hissed out blood dripping from your mouth and onto the floor. “Oh god- I finally fucking did it.”

Alastor walked over calmly and quietly, his hands clasping on your shoulders. His suit was long gone as when you called him he was in the middle of getting ready to go out ‘hunting’ but when he heard your desperation, he rushed over immediately. “You did and I’m so proud of you, Dearest..but go get cleaned up and I’ll deal with the mess, yes?” He whispered into your ear as you let out another sob allowing him to help you stand up on your two feet. As he helped you to your own bathroom and got you fresh clothes, he went back to the freshly dead body in your kitchen and smirked. “Got what you had comin’ old boy.” He hissed out before starting to get to work cleaning up the mess.

It didn’t take him long to clean up but now he had to find a way to actually get rid of the body. In your backyard? No, that's too suspicious..in the woods? Maybe but he doesn’t want you to have another breakdown. But he would have to wait until night time so right now? He’s going to have to play the part just in case people start to suspect something. He looked around and draped a blanket over the body before dragging it towards an empty room.

When he had walked back to the kitchen, he had watched as you were carefully cleaning up the shards of glass. Walking over he had finally noticed the blooming bruise on your cheek causing a part of him to be angry. “He hit you?” He whispered out helping you stand up, “Yeah..after we got home after the court denied the appeal..said I embarrassed him and broke a cup over my head before slapping me.” You whispered your speech slurred from your swollen tongue making you flinch, “What do I do now?” You whispered out, allowing him to gently grab your chin, “I don’t know what to do, Al..” His eyes softened and he sighed, “Sit down and I’ll cook something for you, Dear. We are gonna have to wait till nightfall.” He hummed, pressing a gentle kiss upon your head.

Later that night, he had helped you bury your ex husband deep in the forest, he mostly did all the dirty work but he did explain how to hide a body. 

~~~

It was now 1931, four years after you had killed your ex husband and a year after the economy collapsed. You and Alastor had moved in with one another and while not officially married by the courts you both loved one another and acted as such. Wearing a wedding ring on your finger told everyone you were either remarried or you still loved your poor ex husband that was murdered in cold blood by the rampant serial killer that was on the loose. Which would be far from the truth.

His family blamed you for his murder, calling you every name in the book and berating you for ‘kicking him out of the house’ which also wasn’t the truth. Yet another lie your ex had spun to keep his pride intact, you didn’t care in all honesty. The man was gone now..killed by your hands.

But here you were walking down the dark streets of New Orleans to get back home to your loving Beau, you had heard through the grapevine he was having a rough day and hoped to cheer him up that night but as you continued to walk down the street you realized that you were being followed. But maybe not maybe it was just your paranoia, but still you felt like a waiting duck, taking a turn down an alleyway and then another hoping to lose the trail of whoever was following you. 

It wasn’t until you had gotten to a familiar part of town out near the bayou that you felt relatively calmer but then that was stomped on when you heard a yell from behind. You looked back thinking it was one of the friendly neighbors but it wasn't. It was the man from before the same one who was following you. You dropped the book you were holding and broke out into a sprint down towards where your house was, trying your best to dodge anything that could hurt you. Then a loud shot rang out and it sounded like thunder causing your body to freeze up for a second. But you continued to keep running, you just needed to get home..you could see the smoke billowing from the chimney and the soft glow of the lights inside.

Your heartbeat was banging on your chest as you ran, you were almost there..you could see Alastor inside before a loud SNAP echoed through the silent air as you fell face first into the ground. 

You scrambled to get up sobbing as you looked back to see a trap digging into your leg, its sharp teeth scraping against bone as you sat up watching as the man got closer. “Fuck fuck-” you hissed out as you started to painfully get the jaws of the trap unstuck and scrambled off ignoring how your leg was burning. You yelled out for Alastor before another loud shot echoed through the air. The constant buzzing of the cicadas had gone silent as you fell to the ground gasping for air. Oh god it hurt, your hands moved to clutch your stomach as you looked up at the man, pistol in his hand pointed right between your eyes, “You killed my brother.” He hissed out his voice breaking as you teared up and begged him to let you go.

Tears cascaded down your face as he yelled, whispering some prayer that spilled past your lips and then the night went silent. As the gun had fallen down the hammer hit the ground first causing the gun to be set off, the bullet flying into the sky of the New Orleans Bayou. You trembled laying on the ground sobbing as you brought your hands up to see blood covering them the moonlight had casted down upon you as you sobbed out. There was movement before your head was lifted up and cradled into your Husband’s chest. His familiar cologne invades your senses in a comfortable way as he shakily tries to stop the bleeding. 

“It’s going to be okay, Cher..I’ll fix you right up.” he whispered into your hair as he pressed his hand onto your stomach. You were bleeding out too much as your breathing started to slow. No no it wasn’t supposed to end like this, tears raced down his cheeks as he pulled you closer as your hand weakly grasped around his sobbing out how you didn’t want to die. But he knew he couldn’t help you, he was far too late to properly help you and it was too far to get you to a doctor. “Sing me a song, Al?” You whispered out, “One last song?” he nodded and cleared his throat, watching as the light in your eyes slowly faded as he sung your favorite song.

He stayed like that for an extra hour, holding your lifeless body to his and singing all your favorite songs before he finally had the courage to find a place to bury you properly, making sure that when the sun rose the next morning it’s first rays it sent out over the bayou would hit your grave. You always did love watching the sun rise and listening to his broadcasts.

He would meet you again, he just knew it. He just didn’t know when.

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Sacrifices series: Chapter 3: Face to face with a monster

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 8k

Series Summary: After closing the Darkhold, Wanda struggled to find her place in the word. Until she met you that is. And in you, she found hope. But the past has a way of coming back and she’s faced with an impossible choice once again. A choice that’s going to break her heart. Chapter summary: Finding the layer, doesn't mean she's captured the monster, who was terrorizing the city and Wanda needs to see you at least once, before she has to go back to her hunt, but it seems the sorcerer has plans of his own...

Warning: angst!; emotional trauma; Hurt - No Comfort ; Blood, human sacrifice, gory details of a mutilated body, dark magic... violence, possession, manipulation; That should be it, but in case I missed anything, please let me know. Also, Reader will be making a very small appearance in this chapter, but she has a significant role to play in the future. Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3

Wanda dropped the piles of books in her trunk, closing it with a loud thud as she looked at the building in the distance. She could see agents coming in and out, carrying objects, while others were escorting people out. Even from afar, she could see those people were scared, worried where they’ll live next, how they’ll afford it. They held their children close, protective, even in their fear. So brave. She knew what it was like to be displaced, to have your whole life ripped from you, to watch it all crumble down in an instant. She knew how much courage it took, to make the next step, and the one after that… She didn’t know how she’ll interview all these people tomorrow. She didn’t know if she’ll be able to carry the burden of their pain and grief as well. Yet, there was no one else to do it. Only she knew what to look for, what to ask… Only she knew how to get the information that even they didn’t know they could have.

The prospect of invading so many minds, of taking on so many lives filled her with pain. All she wanted was to curl in a ball, her head in your lap. She wanted to feel your hands run through her hair, soothing and soft. She wanted to feel you close once more, to have you fully wrapped around her, until she could forget that this ever happened. She wanted peace. She wanted what was stolen from her. But she couldn’t have any of it back, until she defeats this monster first… Even after being in his apartment, after coming so close to him, she had no idea how to find him. He had left no clues as to his next move, or his plans. None that she could see. But the agents will go more thoroughly through his things and have a report for her by tomorrow morning. Perhaps they’ll find something. Until then, she was free to go home and rest. But the compound, with its grey walls felt nothing like the cozy home she had with you. Her room never felt as welcoming as the shared bedroom she had with you. It was all so empty without you. She found no joy in cooking now, since she had no one to share her meals with. She found no joy in walks, since it always reminded her of the days she’d take you and Bella out to different parks to walk and play… Even her sitcoms brought little comfort. Yes, no one got hurt in them, it wasn’t that kind of show. But the real world was nothing like a sitcom. People got hurt every day, they were hungry and poor and lived on streets with nothing but the mercy of strangers to help them face the next day. There were so many in pain. When she remembered that, it was always so hard to fight back the inner voice that told her that she could fix it all. She was the Scarlet Witch after all. She was born to rule the world. It was her birthright. Her destiny. She could make sure that no one got hurt ever again, that no child was ever orphaned, no one ever had to leave their loved ones, no one had to get hurt. She could do that. Wanda could feel the magic rising within her, the raw power of chaos opening up doors for her that were closed to everyone else. She could do anything. She could win this fight with the snap of her fingers. She could erase evil from this world. And they would all thank her for it. Those poor people that she watched get evacuated. They would all be so grateful. They would worship her, just as they were meant to…

Wanda shook her head, blinking a few times, until her eyes focused once more. Red whisps of magic were swirling around her, her blackened fingers moving through the air. She was casting. Not that she knew what. But she knew she needed to get her emotions under control. Keeping the darkness at bay was much harder, when it promised everything she ever wanted. She could have Pietro back. Her boys. And her parents. She could win you back too. If that didn’t work, she could always make you forget she ever left… “No!” She shook her head in defiance. She knew better than to listen to those thoughts. She crawled her way back from an emotional hell, fighting such thoughts. She knew better than to trust them. With a final glance towards the grey building, that seemed to stand like a hungry giant over the people below, she got into her car and drove away. She was done for today. And now she could finally see you. She could finally drive back to your house, she could see you again, hear your voice… She could feel human again for a few minutes. The redhead drove slowly, her windows rolled down, so she could breathe in the fresh air. She needed to get the stench of that place out of her nose, out of her hair and her clothes. She felt dirty. And she almost felt bad for making her way to you, covered in such filth. Then again, it’s not like she was going to knock on your door. Then again… Why shouldn’t she? Why should she deny herself this one thing, this one kindness, when she has sacrificed so much already? What was to stop her from knocking? From walking in… Who could stand in her path, should she choose to pull you in her embrace. Who had the power to stop her? She could kiss you again. Taste you and feel you, like she’s been dreaming of. She could…

“No!” She almost screamed, hitting the breaks. It was just in time too, a pedestrian was crossing the street, standing frozen in fear of her approaching car. She was seconds away from hitting him. She almost didn’t stop. She had barely even seen him. It took the man a moment to get a hold of himself, before he ran the rest of the way to the other end of the street, looking back at her with fearful, yet angry eyes. Wanda couldn’t blame him. But she also couldn’t quite bring herself to care. She could tell that something was wrong. She wasn’t usually like this. Distracted, careless, cold. She didn’t have such dark thoughts either. Not usually. She was much better at controlling them. She studied calming techniques, meditation, she went through every enlightenment course she could find, looking for a way to keep herself in check, but it was especially hard this time. There was just this voice, in the back of her head, a low murmur that had found its way in and just wouldn’t leave her alone. How long has she been hearing it? This voice. Why was it trying to get her to come to you? Except… That’s not quite what it wanted. You were just a suggestion. A means to an end. A way for her to give in. Yes, that’s what it wanted. It wanted her to give in. Wanted her to unleash her powers. Wanted to set the Scarlet Witch free. It wanted her to use that magic inside. It wanted her to let all that chaos loose and never stop.

The honking of cars behind her startled Wanda out of her thoughts and into motion. She sped away from the spot with a heavy heart and she contemplated if she should even come see you tonight. It was dangerous in her state. It was almost reckless, tempting herself like that. Especially with how off she’d been feeling and acting. It would be a mistake… She was once again pulled from her thoughts, when she saw something strange out of the corner of her eye. She was driving past some neighbourhood, all the houses framing the road. But something was wrong. She could feel eyes on her. She could see old ladies in their kitchens, looking out the windows, mothers with strollers, not even looking at where they were going, too busy staring at her… Men, who openly followed her car, as she drove. And then something else. A man with eyes so black, there was no white left in them and a face so sunken in, it looked stolen from a cadaver. A man, who seemed to smile at her, as if seeing an old friend, before he turned away from the road and walked away. Wanda hit the brakes so hard, she almost hit her head on the steering wheel from the force. She felt shaken, like she had witnessed something important, something she should be better at naming. Like she was walking in the dark, her eyes closed, allowing herself to be led. She realized that this place was not her usual route to your house, that she’s never even been here. Just as she realized that whoever this man was, he knew to expect her. He had felt her presence here, known of her arrival, he was watching her, before his eyes ever fell upon her… But how? She pulled the car over and locked it, using her magic to seal the trunk, just to make sure that the books inside wouldn’t “disappear” while she was chasing whatever this was. She had to walk a little, to reach the spot she first saw him, and she looked around nervously to see where he might have went. The eyes of strangers followed every step she took, not even considering to hide their actions, yet none of them approached her. Wanda could almost smell that same sweet, yet repulsive smell she had first felt when she entered the building she was inspecting. The one where He used to live. It was faint, but unmistakable and a strange sense of longing washed over her. A desire to breathe in deeply. To let herself be intoxicated. The voice in her head salivated at the prospect. Hungry.

She decided to ignore it. Pushing back against the low whisper, that told her to give in. Instead she started to walk in the direction she saw him turn. Beyond the first street, the houses started to look poorer, the yards smaller, the windows covered. She could see dogs sometimes, uneasy and nervous, barking in warning, but never really getting close. They were scared. Just like the people who lived here. But scared of whom? The sorcerer? She couldn’t tell. As she walked, the voice in the back of her head, the one she knew to be the witch within, kept warning her. There was danger here. She could feel it. There was darkness too. And the eyes that followed her on the street, seemed to watch her here too. It made her feel surrounded on all sides.

“It’s a trap.” Her inner voice warned. She could feel herself tensing up, readying for a battle, all her senses on high alert. Her magic was just at the tip of her fingers, making her eyes glow that deep scarlet she knew so well, yet there was no one around. At this point she almost hoped someone would try to make a move. Give her an excuse to release all that pent up energy inside, yet no one did. Eventually the street came to a sudden end, a single entrance to a building signifying her only way forward. The door had a padlock and a rusty chain to keep out intruders, runes covering the links in protection. “Pathetic.” Wanda laughed bitterly, the words loud enough to be heard if someone was nearby. That same energy she felt swirling just beneath the surface suddenly came forth, pouring out of her in a burst and shooting forward. It crashed against the building, taking the whole door and parts of the surrounding wall with it, a loud bang ringing in her ears as it fell to the ground. Dust flew everywhere and she waited for it to settle, not wanting to breathe any of it in, before she finally walked forward. The ridiculous chain was still in takt, the runes glowing a dull grey. She laughed humourlessly once more, stepping inside the building and looking around, her steps echoing off the walls. “One chain?” She called out in a challenge. “I can take down the whole building.”

Her voice rang clearly in the large space, that seemed to have been a factory or a storage hanger once, but no response actually came. There was just silence, mixed with that sweet, yet repulsive smell again. “It’s too easy.” Her inner awareness warned, a low hiss in her ear that she felt an almost compulsive need to swat away, even if it was coming entirely from within. Met with no response, Wanda walked further inside, studying the building wearily. In all honesty, she was getting impatient with this whole charade. She didn’t want to be here, playing hide and seek with a psychopath. She wanted to be at the house with you. She wanted you in her arms again, wanted to have you in a tight embrace and breathe you in. Wanted, no craved your warmth against her stiffened, aching muscles. She explored the floor, impatiently walking around, being met with nothing but decay and ruin. There was nothing but old junk, dust and the unmistakable signs of rats and pigeons taking over the building and claiming it as their own. It looked abandoned. But she wouldn’t be here if it really was abandoned, would she? He wouldn’t try to put protective runes, if there wasn’t something important here.

With that in her mind, Wanda summoned her magic, using it to propel herself in the air. From above, Wanda could see that there was nothing special in this room and she moved quietly into the next, passing through a small hallway, only to find a man hunched over a pot, stirring the content inside. He had his back to her and for some reason she felt the need to sneak closer, even though it was impossible for him not to know she was here, considering all the noise she made. “Welcome, Miss Maximoff.” He said, without turning, “I’ve been expecting you.” The greeting startled Wanda for a moment, making her stop mid-flight, before she moved forward, flying over him and the strange liquid he stirred, murky and  filled with bits and pieces of something she couldn’t see clearly enough to name. What she could recognize however was that distinct smell that she felt ever since she left his apartment. That repulsive, yet attractive smell that urged her to breathe it in deeply. That is, until she came closer and Wanda realized that the small objects Wanda was observing, were actually eyes.

“Isn’t it poetic? Stolen eyes, to grant you stolen sight!” He said with a small giggle. “That’s what you used that poor man’s eyes for?” Wanda asked, her voice shaking. She tried not to look at the ugly pot, filled with the murky liquid or to picture the man on the wall, with his empty sockets and a gaping hole in his chest. “Poor man?” The Sorcerer laughed. “He was hardly an innocent.” He hinted. “He liked to watch. In fact it’s all he wanted.” The man continued, words slow, as if explaining to a child. “Do you know how many women they forced, just so he could watch?” The Sorcerer asked, raising his hand, so he could make an obscene gesture, that imitated self-pleasure. It made Wanda sick to her stomach. “So you killed him?” She asked. “How noble.” Her voice was mocking and full of disgust. “I thought it was rather poetic in a way. He liked to watch. And thanks to him, I now see everything.” He said in a smooth voice. “Everything?” Wanda scoffed. “Aren’t you a bit full of yourself?” “I saw you coming.” He retorted in that same calm demeanour. “The all-powerful Scarlet Witch.” He said with a purr. “If you wanted to see me, there are far easier ways.” Wanda replied. She wanted to bait him, wanted to know his plans, while she still had him here. She knew that if it came to a battle, he may not survive. Once she unleashed her powers there was no telling what will happen and she needed to know why he did what he did. Needed to know if there was a greater power behind him. Truly, she needed to know why he did all these terrible acts. Needed to know if he was the monster that he was presenting himself to be. “But this one is rather effective.” He smiled at her. “I saw you look into my apartment. Saw you take things that don’t belong to you.” He accused. “How did you see me there? I was alone.” Wanda narrowed her eyes. “All living things need to eat and drink, Miss Maximoff.” The man explained. “And once they do, they’re mine to use.” “That’s disgusting.” She spat, her hands balling into fists. “Oh, don’t play innocent now. You’ve studied magic. I believe one Agatha Harkness had a very impressive collection on the subject. You’ve read her books. You know there is always a price to be paid.” He spoke patiently, as if he could somehow convince her that he was right. “Well, perhaps not for you…” He trailed off. “With control over pure chaos, you don’t need to pay that price, do you? But the rest of us… We still have to follow the rules.” “Trust me, I’ve paid…” Wanda growled, the control over her emotions fraying. “I’ve lost more than you can imagine.” “Ah, yes, of course.” He nodded slowly. “You and I are kindred spirits in that regard.” “Never compare yourself to me.” Wanda spoke through gritted teeth, the urge to hurt him growing stronger. She could hardly hold herself back, desperate to end all this. She felt so tired.

“But it’s true.” He argued, raising his finger in the air, signalling for her to be patient. “I too lost my parents very young.” He began, taking a step closer to her. “And the world is rarely kind to orphans, Miss Maximoff. Had to go hungry, dressed in the rags others gave away to the orphanage. Had to go to school in them too. Other children are hardly kind to their peers.” He lowered his head for a moment, countless cruelties passing through his memory and flooding Wanda’s thoughts. “But I found an escape.” He continued. “I found that knowledge truly does give you power. I found my first real spell when I was 16. It was just a stupid trick. Turning sugar into salt.” He laughed humourlessly. “It was useless for more than a prank, but it opened my eyes. There was real magic in this world. I knew it now. I had the proof for it. My history teacher was stirring it right into her coffee! So I looked. Researched spells and grimoires, travelled on foot, or hitchhiked to chase down any lead for real magic wielders, looked for amulets and enchanted objects. I built my collection, knowing that one day, I’ll use it to make the world better!” He exclaimed, coming to the culmination of his little speech. “But then I found something better. I found the cult of Salvain. I thought it was nothing more than a cult to a non-existing God, but I went to the forest of perpetual silence, where his followers live. It wasn’t easy, trust me, but I made it there.  Have you ever experienced mind-numbing nothingness, Miss Maximoff? Have you ever been in a place so quiet, that every sound is swallowed, to a point you can’t even scream, because nothing actually reaches your ears? It was horrible. I was lost in there for days, walking aimlessly and praying for death to mercifully take me. I was dehydrated, hungry, never met another soul… And just when I thought I would die, I heard him. I heard his voice.” He said with fire in his eyes, his face betraying real emotion for the first time. “He’s been speaking to me ever since. Helping me. Guiding me. I let him inside me and he saved me. He showed me the way to salvation and he’s going to save everyone.” He explained with what appeared to be genuine excitement and appreciation, his words hanging in the air for a long moment. “You’re actually insane…” Wanda finally spoke, her head tilting to the side. “Oh, but I’m not.” The sorcerer said with a grin. “He’s here.” He said, closing his eyes in bliss. “He knows you.” He whispered teasingly, stepping closer still. He was just a few feet away now, giving Wanda a chance to take a closer look.

Underneath the grey skin and sunken eyes, underneath the painfully thin, bony face, he was actually a young man. So young. More a boy, than a sorcerer and a monster. But there was very little of him left. She could see the corruption of dark magic spreading over him like a disease. It was probably what ate away at his mind. “Don’t you want to speak to him, Miss Maximoff?” He asked, his big eyes fixing her in a predatory way. “He’s been waiting to speak to you, you know.” “How about this…” Wanda started. “You surrender yourself quietly, and I’ll talk to him.” She suggested, hoping to be able to contain him without having to hurt him. Despite his seemingly docile appearance, he had managed to kill several people already. She couldn’t be sure what he was actually capable of. “I won’t resist.” He told her gently, hands raising in the air in a gesture of surrender. “You shouldn’t resist either. Can’t you feel him calling you? He’s been talking to you for a while now.” Wanda thought of saying something sassy in return, but the words died down in her throat, before she could utter them. The sorcerer leaped forward, grasping her head on either side, his long, bony fingers digging into her skin. “Just listen!” He hissed, before a blast of red magic pushed him away from her and he fell to the ground. She heard him gasp from the impact, his right hand clutching his side painfully, but when she looked at his face, he looked amused. “He told me you wouldn’t just hear us out.” The sorcerer said bitterly. “But thankfully, Salvain has a solution for everything.” He giggled “What did you do?” Wanda growled, her teeth bared. This was the confession she was waiting for. His next sacrifice, his next victim, his plans. Once he gave those away, she could be done with all this. “You don’t feel it yet?” He asked with a raised brow. “You have a strong mind. Pushing him away all this time. But even you can’t resist him forever.” “What are you talking about?” She asked, feeling a bit dizzy as a wave of that horrible smell hit her nostrils again and she had to put her hand to her mouth and nose just so she wouldn’t gag. Instead of a response, he waited, circling her now, though he kept a safe distance. His watchful eyes seemed to never leave her and she was once again feeling dizzy from the way he circled her. It was almost like vertigo, but it came with the unpleasant return of that nagging voice in her head, that wanted to seduce her. She could stop all this right now. She could just blast him with her magic. He had attacked her once, had he not? She could claim his death on self-defence and leave all of this behind. No one had to know what happened. There were no witnesses, no cameras…

No! She had to shake the thought away. This wasn’t her way. She could easily immobilize him and let S.H.I.E.L.D deal with him. She didn’t need to hurt him. She was not going to become a killer. But the Scarlet Witch is a killer, a thought flashed through Wanda’s mind. And even though it seemed like it came from within, even though it had her voice, she finally realized that it wasn’t. There was a presence in the back of her mind, a voice that whispered in her ear, disrupting her thoughts. “Now you get it.” The sorcerer smiled, smug and self-satisfied. “How are you doing that?” Wanda hissed at him, fighting the urge to slap his smile away. She could easily knock him down. He seemed so weak, so fragile… It would be so easy to just… Wanda shook the thoughts away again, starting to get angry at this stupid game they were playing. “I’m not doing anything.” The man in front of her responded. “I have no power to influence you.” He told her softly. “Ordinary humans are easy, but you…” He shook his head. “You’re strong. I had to find a way to help you hear Him. ” “What did you do?” Wanda asked again, her voice shaking so much it sounded like a growl. She was losing her patience. Each second that passed between them felt like an eternity, fraying her nerves. Why not just be done with him? Whatever he planned would simply be left unfinished if he were to die… No, he could have accomplices, acolytes… She couldn’t afford to leave this unfinished. Not when so much was at stake. “I only helped you open your mind to him. That’s all.” He said with a surprisingly gentle voice. “I’m only helping you see. That’s what he wants as well. For you to see the good he can do in this world.” He said with a look of longing in his eyes. “He can do anything. Give you anything. You just have to let him come through…”

As the sorcerer spoke, Wanda’s vision slowly started to blur. The dizzy feeling she’d been fighting, suddenly overtook her and she felt like she was fainting. Except that wasn’t quite it either. It was more like she was being pulled underwater, supressed so deep within herself that she no longer felt one with her body. She was floating within her subconsciousness, a passenger in her own body. Her clothes were slowly changing, her comfortable pants and soft sweater that she wore suddenly fading and being replaced by her old suit. The boots and tights came first, her magic working its way up, red swirling around her and weaving the tight corset into place, her old cape flowing down her shoulders… Magic weaved itself in the places where the suit had torn, glowing… Then came her crown. It glowed in the same scarlet as her magic, surrounding her in unnatural light that looked both terrifying and regal. She’d never seen herself like that. She always felt like Wanda. But this was the Scarlet Witch. This is the destiny she kept rejecting.

“Why fight it, Wanda? This is who you were meant to be.” A voice creeped up on her, ringing all around her. She turned frantically to look for the source, but there was no one. The sorcerer was still in his spot, staring in awe of her, a deeply unsettling smile on his face. “Show yourself.” She challenged, sounding more scared than she liked, hoping to draw out the voice. “If you want to see me, you’ll have to invite me into your world.” Salvain said in a low voice. “Invite you, huh? So you need someone to let you through.” Wanda retorted, feeling some of her confidence return. Whatever entity this was, he couldn’t move into the world on his own. “Not just anyone, Wanda. I need you. Gorden over there was a good servant. He did as he was told, performed the rituals and cast the spells, but he’s not strong enough. His body is failing. He can’t pierce the veil and let me in.” The voice explained in a monotonous tone, as if talking about the weather and not a life. “But you can.” He said, a trace of a smile in his tone. A trace of urgency. “And what makes you think I will?” Wanda lifted her chin defiantly, her lips trembling in barely-contained anger. “Because I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, Wanda. I can bring back all your friends. I can bring back Vision… You can have your brother back! Your parents too. Your boys! I can make it so they never, ever died. I can make sure they never do again.” He said seductively, his voice bouncing around her skull with all the weight of his promises.

“I tried that!” Wanda hissed, her fists balling at the memory of Westview. “It doesn’t work. It’s not real.” She shook her head. “As powerful as you are, Scarlet Witch, you’ll always need your magic to sustain them. But I… Once I’m in this world, I can bring them back, make them real… I can make anything you want real… You can have your whole family back. I can give you back Vision. Or Y/N. Or even both?” He chuckled. “Both of them, so willing and loving… You’ll want for nothing, Wanda.” “No!” Wanda growled, but to her surprise, her body moved. Her fingers glowed, whisps of magic swirling around them slowly. “It seems your counterpart disagrees.” Salvain purred. “No! You can’t do that!” Wanda’s eyes widened, filled with panic. “I’m not doing anything.” He chimed in, amused. “You are doing this.” He explained. “It’s ok, Wanda. I understand. Aren’t you tired? Aren’t you so utterly exhausted of having to fight for a modicum of peace? For a place in the world? For even a crumb of love… Aren’t you angry? At all the injustice in this world? At the people who turn a blind eye to suffering, to poverty, to strife? You can make it stop! You’ve always had the power to stop it. You can rule this world… But you don’t want that, do you Wanda? I understand… I can help…” “Stop it!” Wanda screamed, her voice bouncing around in her head. She could see more of her magic seeping out of her, now a hurricane of red that swirled around her, building and waiting to be unleashed. The sorcerer, Gorden, was on his knees, awe-stricken at the feet of the Scarlet Witch. His bony face looked even more sickly in the red glow of her power, yet he seemed so at peace. “It’s too late now, Wanda.” Salvain sounded almost smug. “It has already started. Gorden laid the path, now you will open the door and soon… I will walk in the world…” Wanda listened to his words, the terror inside her building at the prospect of what was coming. She had never heard of this entity, had no idea of his powers and if he could truly influence reality the way that he claimed. She hardly knew if that voice in her head was real or if this was all in her head and she was about to unleash her powers upon the world and destroy it. She only knew that she needed to regain her composure and her control over herself if she wanted to stand a chance against him. She focused her thoughts, ignoring his voice and the endless tirade that served no other purpose than to hurt her further and she tried to gain back some of her control, but every time she did, she felt herself being pushed away, her path blocked by an invisible force.

“It’s useless Wanda. There’s nowhere to go…” He chimed in, making her eyes snap open in annoyance. Her power was building, crackling in the air around her like a storm, the pressure in the room growing. If she unleashed that, she would rupture the veil between worlds, creating a passage for him and God only knows what else and she wouldn’t be able to stop any of it. “You’re not in control anymore.” He reminded gleefully. The words bounced around Wanda’s head, heavy and mocking in their finality. The magic that swirled around her now rose to filling the whole warehouse, thundering and waiting to be unleashed. It was almost time and she wouldn’t be able to stop it. She would once again fail. She would fail to protect you, to protect all the innocent people of this world, she would fail herself and her legacy… She would once again be a monster. With that realization Wanda broke down, falling to her knees and letting the tears that she’d been holding back for days finally fall freely. “I’m sorry…” She sobbed, her head bowing down in defeat. “Don’t be sorry, Wanda. You’re doing exactly what you were meant to.” Salvain said with a surprisingly gentle voice, as if talking to a child. “I wasn’t talking to you!” Wanda shouted suddenly, looking up. The Scarlet Witch was now floating, the magic and particles of dust swirling around her. She was getting ready to unleash it all. “I’m sorry I rejected you. I’m sorry I pushed you down and treated you like a disease to be cured. I’m sorry, that I pretended like you weren’t here all this time…” Her words died down into sobs, as she looked through her own eyes, a prisoner of her body now taken over by another. “I’m sorry I made you feel like this all this time.” She whispered. Wanda shook with sobs, her heart beating wildly in her chest, her thoughts a frantic mess that she could hardly distinguish anymore. She thought this would be the end. And selfishly, she regretted that she’ll spend it away from you, when suddenly a red glow illuminated her face and a gentle hand rested under her chin, urging her to look up.

There she was. The Scarlet Witch, in all her glory, was standing above her, her features unreadable. Salvain’s voice had quieted down, pushed aside by the presence of the witch. “I’m so sorry.” Wanda whispered again, her face wet with tears. She wasn’t sure how this moment was possible, both of them face to face, as her body continued to float into the air, magic crackling and threatening to be unleashed at any second, but as she looked at the face of the Scarlet Witch, she didn’t care. “I should have never neglected you.” She whispered at the witch, her green eyes full of regret. “It’s not just me you were hurting.” The witch said gently, her tone a stark contrast to her stronger, more defined features. “This rift between us, hurts us both. We were never meant to be separate. You and I are one, Wanda. The divide leaves vulnerable.” She explained, her strong hands helping Wanda to her feet. “We can only do this together.” “But…” Wanda looked confused. She was still in the air, or her body was, summoning more magic, the walls of the warehouse groining with the force of it. “We are meant to rule the world, Wanda. It is our destiny.” The witch reminded seriously. “Do you really think I’ll give away our throne?” She tilted her head, a sly smile starting to play on her lips. “So you have a plan.” Wanda questioned, an eyebrow rising. “No… We have a plan.” The witch corrected, her smile growing. She offered Wanda one of her hands, their palms touching. The feeling was electrifying. Wanda felt a surge of power pass through her, making her gasp. Than the Scarlet witch moved closer, their faces so close together, their noses almost touching and a warmth spread over her, a kind of relief that made her muscles relax. She allowed the witch even closer, her counterparts free hand wrapping around her waist in a gentle, confident motion. The softness in the other woman startled Wanda. She always saw the witch as ruthless and merciless… Thought of her rough and unforgiving. She always resented her for it as well. “Those were the traits you needed.” The witch suddenly said, a knowing look in her eyes, when she saw Wanda’s confused expression. “That’s not all that I am.” She said, her eyes softening once more.

She guided Wanda even closer, their bodies making contact and making Wanda shiver. The witch’s presence gave her this inexplicable sense of surety. Then calmness. And with it, a deep sense of belonging. And then a longing for more. Her hands wrapped around the witch’s shoulders, as if they were partners in a dance, strangely close and intimate in the bubble of privacy the Scarlet Witch had made within their mind. Their breathing synched together, their eyes locked and for a moment Wanda had the strangest urge to kiss the other woman, to run her hands through her hair and down her back and she felt that desire reflected in the features so identical to hers. On instinct she closed her eyes, lips parting slowly as she leaned in, their foreheads touching for a brief moment, before she tried leaning in even further, only to find the space empty. Wanda opened her eyes to find herself alone and she blinked a few times, questioning if this wasn’t just a figment of her imagination, before she felt that same sense of surety wash over her, her mind opening up and expanding to accept the witch within herself and allow her to merge, just as they were always meant to. Her mind’s eye suddenly opened to the universe as the knowledge and power of the Scarlet Witch bled into her, connecting them, until they were whole. As they merged, Wanda felt more powerful, more alive, more confident than she ever had been in her life. She could finally sense the real, raw strength of chaos magic and she opened her eyes to find herself back into her body, the center of a hurricane of magic that swirled around her and threatened to tear down the whole building.

Without wasting too much time, she focussed her strength, guiding that magic into a single point in the floor, feeling the vail between our world and the next start to bend under her strength. The ground shook and groaned, but gave way to her will, a portal starting to open, rimmed in scarlet. Beneath her Gorden had recovered from his stupor, stopped staring at her in awe and moved closer to the portal that formed, arms open in welcome to the God he had been serving all this time. Wanda sensed the approach of something powerful, something monstrous, as it neared the portal she was holding open and she braced herself for the moment he would pass. He paused some distance from the portal, the world on the other end black and filled with nothingness, before he surged through it. He passed smoothly, landing on the dirty floor of the warehouse, the portal closing shut behind him. Dazed by the strength the journey had taken, he didn’t seem to notice the trap of the Scarlet Witch and started to stand, feeling carried by weak, almost trembling legs. He looked around, winded, breathless, his eyes landing on Wanda, who used her powers to land on the floor softly, her red eyes staring at him. “You made the right choice, Wanda.” He started to say, his voice coming out rough and distorted. It sounded nothing like him, he realized and with a distrustful gaze, started to look down at himself.

That’s when he saw it. The skinny legs, frail frame, bony fingers connected to dry, vainy hands… And a whisper… Except this time it wasn’t the distant voice of a far-away acolyte, but a voice inside his own head. The voice of Gorden Shaw… Salvain felt himself smothered in Gordon’s body, so weak, so frail… A mortal shell too fragile to contain his strength. He had but a fraction of his abilities here and he wanted to free himself from the uncomfortable confines this body provided, but he seemed unable to leave, rattling inside his cage like a wild animal, before his eyes landed once again on Wanda. “How dare you!?” Salvain roared, realization painting Gorden’s bony face. “Release me, at once!” He demanded, his voice a growl. “I’m not holding you.” Wanda smirked. “You cannot exist in this realm without a body and yours didn’t make the trip… I’m afraid you and Gordon will have to share.” “You tricked me!” He exclaimed, enraged. “I did nothing of the sort.” Wanda retorted calmly. “Creating a passage isn’t easy and the veil has many layers. I lifted enough for your consciousness to pass through, but your body… Alas, that was left behind.” Wanda explained, summoning her magic, so she could show Salvain the image of his abandoned body, a mindless heap on the ground where he had passed through the portal. “If you don’t return back to it soon, I’m afraid it would die…” Wanda said with a mocking pout on her lips, the whisps of her magic fading. “You foolish girl!” Salvain growled, low and dangerous, his hands balling into fists. “You should have done this the easy way.” He snarled at her. Before Wanda could realize what he meant, a ball of energy formed into Gorden’s hand, now Salvain’s, and it shot toward her, barely giving her time to block, before it hit her straight in the chest. Another followed, than another, magic raining down on her as he gave her no time to do much more than protect herself from his attack. He groaned and grunted with the effort of it, breathing shallow. “If you would not welcome me, Scarlet Witch, you will fear me!” He exclaimed, sending more balls of energy her way, before he used his abilities to lift her off her feet and fling her across the room. Wanda tried to cushion her landing against a wall, but still groaned when she fell on the floor, feeling several bruises form on her knees, but she pushed herself to stand upright, summoning her own powers and throwing a few energy blasts his way. He blocked them, teeth bared, grunting from the unfamiliar feeling of being inside another’s body. In retaliation he looked around, lifting pieces of metal, wood and brick into the air and sending them flying toward Wanda, who tried to dodge them, but hissed when a sharp nail flew passed her, tearing the flesh in her forearm.

“Aren’t you tired of this charade, Wanda?” He asked with a note of challenge. “Pretending to care about all those ridiculous mortals out there? Pretending to be moral, when I know what’s inside you. You wanted to kill Gorden. You want to kill him still. Be done with all this, so you can walk away and find your little girlfriend. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? Why not just go do that? Or maybe I’ll go find her, once I’m done with you. Show her some real horrors.” He smiled, crooked and ugly. The mention of you and the clear threat he made had Wanda’s blood boiling. Gordon’s features, if sickly before, had now turned wild and monstrous, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth wet, like a rabid animal, cheeks even more hollow now. Salvain’s presence and the energy it took to sustain him, as well as the magic he used to fight Wanda clearly took their toll and the thought of this thing making its way to you made her sick to her stomach. “I would never let that happen!” She spat, gathering her strength and summoning her magic. She levitated in the air, the scarlet whisps of her magic surrounding her once more as she rose higher and higher, her form almost reaching the ceiling, the ground once again trembling, as she made it all crash down.

She watched the rubble start to fall, the ceiling and walls of the warehouse collapsing, chunks of concrete and metal piling over one another, a cloud of dust and a thundering crash sounding around her as she watched Gorden’s body disappear from view. A part of her regretted the unfortunate end of his life. A part of her recognized his suffering and the inner turmoil he must have felt. Another part of her felt glad. Felt relieved he was gone… Or at least she thought he was. Very few could survive the collapse of a building. But S.H.I.E.L.D would have to confirm that. She saw their black cars from the air even now, saw a few helicopters heading in her direction as well, some government, but some of it was the press. Of course, reporters would want to capture this, even if they weren’t sure what they were filming. It would be golden none the less. Even she knew that. After all, the Scarlet Witch was hovering in the air, a collapsed building on the ground… She’d be on the news and the first page of every newspaper and magazine for weeks! Wanda was about to float down, try to give them less of a show, when a sudden rumble sounded from the rubble and a deep feeling of dread settled over her. An unnerving thought crept its way to her, causing a shiver to pass through her body. The confirmation of her fear came in the form of a chunk of concreate that flew towards her head and narrowly missed her. But it wasn’t what scared her most. What she feared came after.   In the center of the ruined warehouse stood Salvain, his arms outstretched as more rubble started to float in the air. He seemed to be taking the whole building, forming a hurricane of dust, bricks, metal and wood, as well as anything left inside. And when that was all gone, he started to tear pieces of earth and rock too. “You should have walked away, little witch.” He shouted over the sound of wind, releasing his hold on the flying objects and hurling them in the air. Some were aimed at Wanda, but some flew astray, passing close to the helicopters that now hovered over the scene as well and it took everything in her to try and stop them all, a magical barrier forming in front of her and the nearby helicopters, but she still saw pieces of rubble falling to the ground, scaring curious onlookers, who had gathered to watch the fight, despite S.H.I.E.L.D’s efforts to keep people away.

In the chaos of it, she felt torn. There were so many innocents around. So many people who would get hurt, should she allow him to get the upper hand. The carnage seemed to amuse him, his lips outstretched into a sickly grin. She couldn’t protect everyone. Not like this. She could hear shouting, the cries of women and children as they ran from the falling debris, helicopters whirring around her… It was all too much.                                              *             *             * With a flick of Wanda’s wrist, a wave of magic surged through the air and although your TV could hardly do it any justice, you could see that it was a powerful blast. A deafening silence came first, the panicked sounds of people fading into utter stillness. Then came a red glow, seemingly bursting from Wanda’s chest and expanding, dipping the whole world into a scarlet hew. You watched with bated breath, your eyes glued to the screen of your TV, your heart hammering in your chest. This was the first time you’d seen Wanda since she left, and the apparent danger she was in did very little to help your anxiety. You could recognize the old warehouse, not too far from where you lived and the thought that she was so close, yet so far, made it feel hard to breathe. Then came a third wave of magic. This one however was a dull grey. It shot through the air in a cluster, like the pellets of a shotgun and everything you saw, was the way they found their target, right in Wanda’s chest, before everything went dark.

[nekovmancer]

Heartless

Pairing: Ramattra x f!reader Summary: It was never in your plans to love a heartless being, and yet there you were: aching for something you could never have  Warnings: pure angst ‘cause I like to suffer over things I create in this silly head of mine. Insecure & rejected reader etc etc to not mention it’s been a while since I wrote anything in English so… maybe the poor writing is a warning itself thanks to insecure writer also lol Word count: 685 A/N: just found this in my drafts, which was supposed to be the fic I would post for my comeback but- before being such a drama queen, I am a shameless slut and always needy for a big robot guy who would surely ignore my burning passion… anyways, delight in the pain as much as I did while writing. Also posted at AO3!!

Sat alone on the bed, hearing your own hasty heartbeats as a requiem to your daydreams, you felt miserable once again as memories cursed you, echoing in your head until they ached. A common sentiment over the past few weeks, maybe months, since you’ve come to realize something that scared you to death: you’ve been in love with someone who could never love you back. 

Omnics, especially those like him, weren’t made to feel, only to destroy. And Ramattra was being formidable in crushing your feelings without a clue. No, maybe not so bluntly. The Null Sector leader surely wasn’t stupid, just as he wasn’t one to care about humans, mostly their questionable emotions: hate, disdain and anger he could cope with, but affection? That was too far from his purview.

Since you’ve met a long while ago, you had stood by his side like a pet, a very obedient one for the record. Once a discarded experiment from Talon who was staring into the precipice of loneliness long before he came along, now more like a tool with something akin to a porpoise. He gave you something to live for, to love, so you fought along Null Sector, gave them your blood, sweat and tears, and none of it seemed enough for you to be loved back, or cherished at least. So, why sacrifice your heart over a lost cause? They, or better, he would never, ever express any kind of gratitude for your commitment.

Or nothing at all, to the matter. 

You actually envy Ramattra. His faceplate is unable to conjure any emotion that could betray his feelings, if he held any. Your face, on the contrary, had plenty to show whenever your feelings threatened to flood from every pore of your being. That’s where the problem began. It was any morning like many others, after so many sleepless nights, but instead of holding back, you’ve made a decision, one that would cost more than you thought at first. 

It began with slightly flushed cheeks, a restless tremble on your fingertips, and that uneasy sensation on your stomach, sometimes cold, sometimes warm enough to heat your skin to a fever pitch. Feeling more exposed than ever, like your chest was being ripped open right in front of him, you thought he deserved to know, to recognize every little thing you felt… so you vocalized them, without a single hesitation. For what? A cold quietness followed.

Maybe he was thinking, maybe he would consider everything you had sacrificed… maybe you’re the one to blame. And still, you came to him with nothing but your bare passion, and returned to your solitude with something else: shame. 

“Why would you say that, human?” his tone was nothing like you thought it would be. Surely wasn’t amused, nor mad.Thing is he acted like it was nothing at all, remaining placid and untouched, as everything you just said meant nothing at all, despite the aching in your heart threatening to consume your very being. “Whatever you have in mind, forget it immediately. You should not be distracted by such frivolous sentiments.”

Shrinking, your mouth fell agape, but no words were poured. Instead, they found themselves stuck to your throat, and the overflow you’re expecting turned to your eyes, sight now blurred thanks to the tears. Your last efforts are invested in holding them back, only a single drop finding its way through your cheeks, meeting your lips with a salty taste that turned bitter on the tip of your tongue. “But, I–” your voice was shaking, lips also trembling to pronounce those two simple words.

“Enough,” Ramattra cuts you off, so sharp his words could be a blade. “I do not wish to hear about it. I can’t have whatever you think you’re feeling interfering in Null Sector’s plans.”

And with that, he buried your heart. Rest in peace, this terribly broken thing, whose shattered pieces may never come together, and shall the endearing pain haunt you from now and forever as you lay in your bed, alone to revive that moment again and again. 

[gatheringbones]

[“Terry’s hair was long & thick, bleached blond, perhaps because she wanted to be a princess in a fairy tale instead of real. We wrote letters to one another, passionately declaring our eternal love, which the technicians stole. One night when she was sitting on my bed in the dorm after lights out, as I brushed her hair, they threw on the lights in a frenzy of disgust & separated us for being lesbians. We were too drugged and too frightened to do more than hold hands. The head nurse was a lesbian, who called Terry’s mother, who came the next day to take her home to her psychiatrist father, to whom she had not spoken in over four years. I was sent to the old women’s ward for punishment, where my job was to feed the bed-bound ladies, some of them in restraints all the time. The stench of urine & untreated cancer was overwhelming. I wrote long, intense letters to Terry, which I could not send, hiding them under my green plastic mattress. Terry’s stars are deep burgundy, & I bleed into the other colors when I mourn that we never made love.

Then Maggie was dragged onto our ward, in hot pink tights & purple smock, her teeth glittering with mischief Far from being depressed by the surroundings, she sang bawdy songs to the old ladies she fed, opening our misery with laughter. She was from a wealthy Marin family who sent her there to straighten her up & scare her into agreeing to marry the man they wanted to sell her off to, although they wouldn’t say it like that (she did). Somehow her wedding veil was among her belongings. She liked to wear it to the vast dining barrack because it annoyed the nurses so much. It was very beautiful, expensive lace which she trailed behind her like indifference. One day Maggie & I decided to get married. The guy who thought he was jesus was happy to perform our ceremony, held in the courtyard of our adjoining wards, surrounded by hundreds of old glass windows barred with iron grates. I wore Maggie’s veil & my Napa State Hospital white cardigan tied to make a train. We both carried huge bouquets of lilacs, which were blooming wildly in that hot, dry country. All our patient guests cheered & clapped so loudly that we couldn’t hear what jesus was saying. We only got to stroll down the sidewalk, showered with rice that Edith had filched from the kitchen where she was one of the cooks, before our union was rudely interrupted by burly male guards straining with anger in their white uniforms.

Everyone was locked down, some of us in solitary, & the bells went off for riot alert. Maggie’s poor veil was ripped apart by their feet & rage & arms. The head nurse (another lesbian) called Maggie’s mother that night, & before I had a chance to kiss her hello & goodbye, Maggie was driven away the next morning in her father’s limp-dick limo (her words again), as we ate our powdered eggs, silently depressed.

However, Maggie was a very sneaky & smart girl. She calmly arrived the following day in her VW bug (custom-painted purple, as are her stars) & said she had come back to collect her belongings, which no one had thought to pack up. Her mother, a master materialist (probably hoping for the veil), was very understanding. The hospital wanted to be accommodating in hope of future funds. So Maggie surprised me by returning to busily pack up not very much. We weren’t allowed to talk, & the nurses were watching us sharply until Ursula, understanding our need, threw her tennis shoe at the TV, screaming. Maggie palmed me a note to meet her by the lilac hedge behind the building, where she had conveniently parked. I left as though going to my new job at the dairy (cow shit apparently being a step up from human shit). The other women realized Ursula’s intentions & took off their keds, too. My last sight of that day room (where I had been declared incurably schizophrenic) was of flying sneakers, screaming technicians, breaking glass, & laughing patients—a really lovely melee. Because, of course, Maggie had returned to rescue me. We pulled out the backseat of her bug & I lay down across the battery. She laid a Mexican blanket over me, while I tried to project looking like a backseat. She piled her boxes, mostly empty, on top of me. The guards at the main gate were distracted by another call from the ward where the women who weren’t strapped down could not be contained. Maggie smiled, they gave her back her driver’s license, & off we went. On the other side of town, Maggie freed me from my seat charade & I tasted the wind in my hair for the first time in more than a year. She drove me to Big Sur, where I’d never been & they wouldn’t look for me (I had seven previous escapes, which is why I was on the violent ward so often, a curious juxtaposition—is freedom indeed violence, for lesbians?). In her trunk she had a sleeping bag, some food, money, & clothes that didn’t say Napa State on them for me. She dropped me near an overpass under which fellow fugitives of all kinds were camped, driving back to Marin, where perhaps she did escape marrying him. My belongings & three cartons of writing may still be in a dusty storage room at Napa. I guess I’m AWOL. Freedom’s worth the loss. If not for Maggie, I’d still be in the loony bin, incurable & terrified, not allowed to be a lesbian except with technicians. But I ripped that nurse out of the quilt.

Big Sur was rich with empty summer houses we raided for canned goods as a gang of teenage runaways, Vietnam War deserters, Rez escapees & drug dealers. We caught and roasted a wild pig. We hid out from the park rangers. We flirted with soldiers from the base for bags of potato chips, Hostess lemon pies, & chocolate bars. It was my theory we wouldn’t get scurvy if we ate the pies. We dropped acid & had orgies & stole into the mud baths at night. I was in a fog & detoxing from the nuthouse drugs, until one dusk when my eyes became diamond sharp at the sight of a thin young guy getting out of a hitchhiking ride at the convenience store near the campgrounds. He had black wavy hair cut in a DA falling forward over his face, wearing a leather motorcycle jacket that oozed sex. Our eyes caught across the parking lot & I fell in love like slamming into earth. I walked over, offering my open bag of BBQ pork rinds. Her reaching hand made me laugh & I blurted out, “I thought you were a guy.” She looked me up & down intensely, startled me by stroking my crotch with a quick secret movement, & growled, “Good.”]

chrystos, from cherry picker, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[omgfiredragon18]

Mom says it's my turn on the writing

I made another fanfiction, inspired by this fic

Quick warning there is a slight mention of death, but no one died and its not lingered on. Alright lets go.

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Night was slowly slipping away as thunder clapped overhead. The rain poored down in cold sheets that obscured anyone from seeing more than ten feet in front of them. However, if anyone had bothered and looked in one window in a perfectly normal-seeming house, they would see one glowing yellow eye peering out from between the curtains. 

Inside the house, Clyde was pressing its face up to the window. It ached to hunt, to sink its claws into another person and drain their mind. But the thought of getting wet kept them inside the house.

It hated going into the rain. The rain obsured its vision, and while it didn't need to see perfectly to hunt, it did get annoying. Plus, its costume just absorbed all of the rain, and it took forever for it to finally dry out. While it's drying, the soaked costume would drip, causing it to leave behind a trail of water. It hated leaving any sort of trail. The trails always made it feel super paranoid. A problem that had only gotten worse since its partner went missing. Overall, going out into the rain was a very annoying and uncomfortable process.

Slowly it slunk off of the window sill and deeper into the humans house. The wallpaper was torn and scratched, mostly due to Clyde's tail spike. The couch had started to sag a little on the side that Clyde had claimed as its own. The path from the living room to the bedroom was as ingraned into its memory as the knowledge of its own nest. 

It had been spending more and more time in this place. Not because it liked being there. It would definitely much rather be out hunting. It's just that every second spent around the human was a chance to gain more information about the foundation, and in turn Winfry. 

Winfry, that was why it was doing everything. That was why it was hanging around this no where town. Usually, during the night it was preoccupied enough with hunting and observing the human that it could push away the despair that lived in its bones. However, every morning when it went back to that cold, wide, open nest, it felt the absence of its partner. The loneliness felt like it was getting its own soul ripped out. It had to get them back no matter what. Its partner was one hundred percent the only reason Clyde was hanging out with the human. It was for its partner.

The whole process would be much easier if the human communicated more information with it. Of course, Clyde could just devour Alex's mind; however, it didn't like that idea. It reasoned that it was probably because it couldn't gain any new information after the human was consumed. Clyde couldn't enter the foundation without being captured. But Alex, Alex worked there. They enter and leave that hell every day. So it kept the human alive. Just long enough to get what it needed. 

...It also didn't hurt that the human made great sandwiches. Sue it, it was hungry, and even if the sandwiches didn't fill them up, they helped take off the edge.

Alex also helped ease the loneliness ever so slightly. While they could never compare to Winfry, they also weren't the worst thing to be around. They were far easier to deal with than Simon, and they were clearly still scared of it. 

It had been unconsciously wandering down the long, dark hall that led the humans room. Only snapping out of their thoughts once they were right out front of the closed door. It figured that thinking about them must have caused it to start moving closer. 

Reaching out Clyde slowly turned the doorknob. Carefully, it pulled the door open until there was just enough space for it to crawl inside the room. Clyde had figured out that if it opened the door any more, the door would creek loudly. Ever so gently, it began to push its way in, trying its best not to move the door. Once it was in, it quickly closed the door. Once the door clicked shut, Clyde relaxed and made its way over to where Alex was asleep. 

It thought the human was interesting to observe. Like most humans, they slept through the night and went on with their activities during the day. It was odd. Why would anyone want to be out during the day? It was so bright you couldn't get any hunting done. Never the less, every morning the human would follow the same routine that ended with them leaving the house while the sun rose. When Alex came back, they always looked very nervous and tense. They seemed incredibly distressed, either by the foundation, Clyde, or both. However, while Alex was asleep, they were far calmer than when they were awake; the tension they held in them seemed to melt away while they rested. 

At least, most of the time it did. There was a night awhile ago where Clyde had heard distressed sounds coming from Alex's room, and when it went to investigate, it found them trashing about in their sleep. Clyde had attempted to check on them by lightly tapping them on the shoulder. The result of that was Alex waking up in a flash and almost punching the demon. Luckily for them both, Clyde managed to dodge out of the way of the attack.

Every night before and after that, Alex was calm and undisturbed in their rest. However, Clyde did tend to check on them more after that incident. If the human was going to die, Clyde needed to make sure they were able to absorb all of their knowledge. That's why.

Staring at them Clyde felt the beginnings of sleep pull at its edges. The storm was raging full force, and it seemed unlikely to stop before the sun finished rising. It figured it had two options: it could just go and be miserably wet, or it could risk heading back to the nest in the daylight.

Or it could...

It only did it because it was convenient. No other reason. Just for one night. Because of the rain.

It slowly clambered up onto the bed. Its claws nearly pulled the green blanket off as it hoisted itself up. Once it had managed to get on top of the bed, it settled itself on top of Alex. Curing over them like it used to do with Winfry. 

It just liked the feeling of having prey already caught for when it woke up. Yeah, that was it. It definitely wasn't the reassuring feeling of Alex breathing under it. Totally. It settled into the warm, soft bed, relaxing and letting a purr slowly build in its chest. For a makeshift nest, it wasn't the worst thing ever.

It curled into itself a little tighter. As the night slowly became day, Clyde succumbed to the exhaustion in its bones. It slowly shut its eyes and drifted off to sleep.

---

A few hours later, Alex opened their eyes to find the Eastridge demon fast asleep on top of them.

It was going to be a long day today.

[cloudcountry]

the pursuit of beauty

Genre/Tropes: Enemies to lovers vibes except they're barely friends at the end? Implied unrequited love (Rook to Reader.)

Summary: Rook thinks you're beautiful! ...And you think he's creepy.

Author's Comments: Wrote this for a friend but also because one of my writing goals for January was "write a trope you don't write for often" and I chose enemies to lovers because I've written for it like twice. I took some liberties for how the brooms work in TWST because I don't think they ever talked about it when I wrote this? It doesn't affect the plot that much, but meh. It's there and it doesn't matter anyway. Uhhhh the ending is rushed because I got bored by the end but I hope ygys enjoy this one anyway because I liked writing it!

~~~~~

“Oh, mon coeur! Isn’t it a lovely-”

“Nope, no it isn’t. Please go away.”

This morning started just like any other, which meant it was going very badly for you.

Rook Hunt, the Vice Housewarden of Pomfiore and the recent thorn in your side. He seemed intent on observing every moment of your day, monitoring what you ate and how much weight you gained and even your sleeping patterns. It was a huge breach of boundaries and he chose to excuse his behavior by saying it was “for the pursuit of beauty.”

Creep.

“How beautiful! Your scorn is as lovely as your smile.” he beamed, trailing behind you as Grim yanked on your pant leg.

No, you refused to walk faster. You did not want to give Rook the satisfaction of running away from him—you knew all too well it would only lead to a chase (like with those poor Savanaclaw students.)

“You should get going, you know. I don’t like having you around and I know you have places to be.” you whipped around and glared at him, “So why are you still here? Go away.”

He chuckled, gazing at you adoringly.

“Is it such a crime to be mesmerized by beauty?” he hummed.

“Yes. Now leave. Go to class.” you rolled your eyes, turning on your heel and walking away.

“Geez what a weirdo!” Grim huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “I coulda taken him if he tried anything funny! Don’t worry, hench human, I got him!”

“I know you do, Grim.” you smiled, patting him on the head affectionately, “Now come on! We’ve got to catch up to Ace and Deuce.”

The two boys in question were already waiting outside the classroom for you, a hot beverage and a breakfast sandwich in Deuce’s hands.

“See? I told you, they always sleep in a bit too late on Fridays.” Ace rolled his eyes.

Deuce handed over the snacks as you accepted them gratefully, touched by the gesture.

“Thank you two so much. I really appreciate it.” you beamed, subtly holding the breakfast sandwich out of reach of Grim’s grabby paws.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s whatever. You owe us, though.” Ace waved it off as he headed inside.

“A chocolate croissant sounds good.” Deuce snickered, following Ace inside.

You rolled your eyes, tearing off half of the breakfast sandwich and giving it to Grim.

“Eat quietly and neatly, okay?” you murmured, taking a seat next to Ace.

“Yeah, yeah! I know.” Grim grumbled, ripping into the breakfast sandwich like he hadn’t had four pancakes fifteen minutes before.

Meh, he was cute. You’d let it pass.

The history lesson moved as slow as ever, Trein’s droning voice making Ace almost drift off twice (both times you ended up elbowing him hard in the side, but it was unavoidable! You’d be a bad friend if you didn’t wake him up.) The second time he grumbled something about how he shouldn’t have gotten you that drink, but after you promised him a slice of cherry pie from the cafeteria he shut up.

The cafeteria, unfortunately, had the one person you wanted to avoid.

You could see him staring at you from all the way across the room, without even an apple on the table in front of him. Could he be any more obvious?

You elected to ignore him once again, trying to forget the creepy feeling of being watched as Ace and Deuce snacked on the food you bought them. Grim didn’t seem to notice him either, or maybe the food in front of him was too good for him to care. Either way, you wanted to wrap up this lunch period and get to your next class as soon as possible.

Now, the only problem with that was that your next period was a study hall. Because the brooms used for your classmate’s flight practices flew entirely on one’s own magic and how they controlled it, you were exempt from using them. Crowley had dumped you on Crewel’s schedule, making up some excuse about how you could grade papers with him and contribute to the school (as if you hadn’t saved the school from destruction multiple times from the sheer amount of Overblots that had taken place over the year you’ve been here.) Besides, Grim had magical abilities so he could use the brooms just fine for the both of you.

You know, you hated Crowley a little more than Rook. At least you didn’t have to deal with the Headmage today.

Your lunch officially spoiled by thoughts of the people you hated, you tucked the wrapped items away for later. You knew Grim would probably eat them (as he was already snatching bits and pieces off your plate) but you both needed to be fed somehow. All three of your tablemates looked up at you as you stood, sliding your tray over to Grim.

“I’m going to head to Crewel’s a little earlier than usual. Grim, you can have my extras.” you said, patting the cat monster on the head affectionately.

“Are you sure?” Deuce asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I just remembered Crowley and it spoiled my appetite.” you joked, knowing full well that all of them would catch on.

Ace cackled, waving you off with a loud “good luck!” You waved them goodbye, forcing a smile as you stepped into the quiet hallways. It really was so much nicer at NRC when you walked the halls alone. No offense to Grim of course, but it was hard to get alone time when you were constantly being followed around by a strange cat that never quite stopped talking.

The walk to the classroom was as uneventful as it always was. For a moment, you expected the Terror of Rook Hunt to pop out from behind a corner and make some weird comment, but he didn’t.

Weird.

Shaking off the thought, you made it to the classroom without so much as a disturbance. You envied the rest of your classmates for spending time outside and getting to stretch out their legs, but the thought of going through Vargas’s training regiment made the envy vanish immediately. Grading papers wasn’t so bad when you got used to it anyway.

The second the bell rang, you sprang up from your seat and passed the graded papers to Crewel’s waiting arms. He thanked you with a smile, gesturing to the cauldron right in front of his desk. The joy from your hard work was dampened by the knowledge that the teachers still kept an eye on you during magical lessons—especially Crewel—even though you had proven proficient at everything they’d thrown at you so far.

Well, except the magic part. Obviously. That’s why you always had to work with someone else, even if Grim was with you.

You stood by the cauldron and watched as the students from flight lessons filed in, Grim lighting up as he rushed to your side.

“Hench human! Ace almost fell off his broom today!” he cackled.

Ace followed close behind him with a sour look on his face, gently nudging Grim out of the way with his foot.

“Yeah yeah, fur ball. It’s because Kalim ran into me.” he huffed, shaking his head.

“Silence, pups!” Crewel smacked his whip against his hand, and the class went quiet, “Good. Today we will be creating a sleeping potion. I have outlined the ingredients and instructions on the chalkboard. You are welcome to use any of the resources in the classroom to complete your assignment. However, if you fail, you will be responsible for making up the ingredients you used. Do I make myself clear?”

The students all nodded, a mixture of fear and excitement in their expressions.

“Good! Now, for this assignment, I have decided to split up your normal groups. You will not be working with the same people you have been. To get all of your pups more comfortable with each other, you will partner with someone you don’t yap with often!” he announced, eyes flickering to you and your trio of friends.

No way was he pulling this shit right now. Was he serious?

“And I will be choosing said groups!”

Oh great, even better! Now you couldn’t pretend to not know Trey or someone who was friendly enough to you!

“Grim, I want you to partner with Azul. He’ll keep you in line.” Crewel smacked his whip against his hand again.

Grim looked taken aback, but said nothing as he rushed over to Azul.

Yeah, being a cat and being threatened with a whip probably wasn’t a good combination.

“Ramshackle Prefect, you’re with Rook. He is proficient in potion making and can help you along if you find yourself stuck.”

No fucking way.

“Huh?” you piped up, mouth open in shock, “Wait, Rook Hunt?”

“That is what I said, yes.” Crewel replied, stern eyes offering no mercy.

You decided not to test your luck even more than you already had, and began the slow and painful walk to Rook’s desk. He watched you with smug, narrowed eyes as you approached, his gaze like a hunter. He was so creepy. You were never doing this again. Education be damned.

“Don’t say anything.” you grumbled, crossing your arms as you took your place next to him.

Rook shrugged and smirked, keeping his mouth shut. That somehow made you more irritated. You rolled your eyes and turned away, taking note of the ingredients on the board.

Weirdly enough, Rook said nothing during the entire class. He kept staring at you though. You could tell Ace was keeping an eye on you from across the room as he stirred the contents of the cauldron meticulously, lest he risk Sebek yelling at him. The concern made your chest swell with warmth and appreciation for the most irritating of your friends.

The time dragged on for far longer than usual for you. The fact that Rook wasn’t bothering you the whole class period made you more uneasy than it should have, but it made the hour easier to bear. The second the bell rang, you cursed as the potion released a puff of smoke.

Something had gone wrong with the final step.

If the look on Rook’s face was any indication, he didn’t know what had gone wrong either. Crewel approached the two of you with narrowed eyes, inspecting your potion thoroughly.

“You stirred it too hard.” he said, finally meeting your eyes, “You will be required to procure the materials you wasted and create the potion again.”

“Yes sir.” you grumbled, not too thrilled about having to spend more time with Rook.

“Of course.” Rook smiled, and you knew he was enjoying this.

When classes let out for the day, you dragged your feet to the botanical gardens. Your friends weren’t even laughing at your misfortune as they promised to wait for you at Ramshackle. They didn't listen to your reminder that they had a curfew, and that Riddle would surely have their heads if they broke it.

Oh well. Nothing you could do about your idiots.

Rook was already waiting in front of the botanical gardens by the time you got there. You made sure to match his smug smirk with an angry glare, entering the greenhouse without saying a single word.

“Come on, mon coeur! You hurt me so!” he cried out, dramatically throwing his arms open, “How are we supposed to work together if you won’t even talk to me?”

“I cannot tell you that I hate you enough.” you hissed, walking faster into the greenhouse, “Your mere presence makes me so uncomfortable and I hate how often you follow me around. You have no respect for boundaries and every time I see you I want to punch you. Anything to get you to leave me alone!”

“My pursuit of beauty has left you uncomfortable?” he questioned, tilting his head, “I wasn’t aware you harbored such disdain for me.”

“Are you serious?!” you gritted your teeth, shaking with rage, “You never leave me alone! I always tell you to go away and yet you think I enjoy having you around?”

“I simply thought you were an angry person.” he shrugged, seemingly unaffected by your outburst, “That is, until I saw how you acted around your friends. You were always so kind to them, so casual…I wanted that with you. I want to see every side of you.”

“You’re…you’re unbelievable. I can’t understand how Vil deals with you.” you shook your head.

“You should be flattered! It’s rare that someone catches my interest.” he offered, shaking his head from side to side.

“Well, I’m not. So stop it.” you stormed off, intent on finding the plants you needed as quickly as possible so you could leave. You’d need to talk to Crewel about this so you’d never have to partner up with Rook again. You’d never allow yourself to be in this position ever again.

Going through the mental list of plants, you tried your best to ignore the possibility that Rook was lurking around every corner. No matter how often he talked to you, you could never understand him or anything he did.

Snatching up the first plant on your list, you winced as its thorn pricked your palm. The pain only made you angrier as you ripped out the thorn and continued on your way. The rage bubbling inside you served to make you more productive, and before you knew it you had gathered all of the plants.

Now you were angry that Rook hadn’t done any of the work.

You sighed as you started your walk back to the front of the botanical gardens, slowly speeding up when you saw no sign of Rook. You needed to get out of here before you ran into him again and he ruined your afternoon even further.

“You’re done gathering, mon coeur?” Rook asked, popping out from behind a bush.

Speak of the devil.

“Yeah.” you refused to meet his eyes as he stalked closer, a bundle of plants in his arms.

“It seemed we gathered double what we needed!” he chuckled, following you out the door.

“Sure. Now get away from me.” you shuffled away from him, taking your phone out of your back pocket to text Ace and Deuce that you were on your way back.

Surprisingly, Rook didn’t push it. You paid him no mind as you walked back to the classroom, trying to move through the halls as fast as you could without running.

Rook tilted his head as you went, examining every move you made. You really were fascinating to him. He yearned to know more about you, but that knowledge was out of his reach. Perhaps he should listen to what you told him earlier if he truly wanted to see every side of you. Perhaps he had to give you space for a while, and form a new space for himself in your life.

Rook Hunt was nothing if not adaptable.

🏹

The next morning, there was no Rook at your front door. You were immediately suspicious as to where he was, but a quick sweep of Ramshackle’s front lawn confirmed that he was nowhere near you. Brow furrowed, you slowly left with Grim, meeting Ace and Deuce on your way to first period.

Rook didn’t show up once until alchemy, where he made no weird comments about beauty. You made sure to stir the potion slowly and carefully, hoping another greenhouse trip was not in your future.

When Crewel gave the nod of approval, you nearly jumped for joy.

“Good job, Prefect.” Rook smiled as the two of you washed the beakers you’d used.

You shot him a weird look and said nothing.

Rook didn’t show up at your dorm the next day either, or the next. He started making small talk with you at alchemy, questions that were not at all invasive or weird. You asked him what had gotten into him multiple times, but he always just laughed. While you had no idea where the sudden change had come from, you definitely preferred this side of Rook Hunt to who he was before.

You weren’t stupid, though. You knew he was only acting like this to take you off guard.

One day, you opened the front door to a white rose on your doorstep. By then, you’d gotten relatively used to having Rook not show up and bother you. It’s not that you were beginning to like him or anything, far from it. You just didn’t hate him as much anymore.

The white rose was kept in a glass of water on your nightstand.

“Your calmer side is just as beautiful as your angry side.” he said one day, watching as you cut up an herb for the poison you were creating.

Instead of telling him to go away, you stuck your tongue out at him and ignored him.

That was progress.

To observe your beauty properly, Rook bided his time before making more friendly advances on you. He invited you to the Pomfiore dorm for a self care night. You asked if Vil and Epel would be there, and he said the entire dorm would be attending. The fact that you still didn’t like the idea of hanging out alone with him was discouraging, but he was persistent.

You spent most of the night talking with Vil and Epel, laughing and smiling as Epel struggled to open the container the face mask came in. Rook watched you like always, taking notice of how relaxed you seemed and comparing it to how you looked around him.

He determined that he was getting close to having you comfortable with him.

“Rook!” you called out, waving your arms in the air, “Are you just going to stare or are you going to come over here too? You look like a creep!”

“Prefect! Don’t yell!” Vil scolded, fussing over your mask like a mother would.

“Rook!” Epel screamed at the top of his lungs, for no particular reason other than wanting to yell.

“Epel!” Vil shushed him, shooting him a glare.

Rook laughed, getting up from his seat on the nearby couch and walking over to the three of you.

He’d get you to warm up to him sooner or later.

All for the pursuit of beauty.

[thantoloveandtobe-lovedbyme]

Yeah no, Pluto definitely did not die from suicide. At least, I don’t think so.

The world of Nevermore is very, very influenced by Edgar Allen Poe. For example, Prospero. In the original Edgar Allen Poe short story “The Masque of Red Death”, he was a prince, which could explain how prim and proper he acts in Nevermore, and he died from the Red Death, which at the beginning of the story is stated to be a plague. I wonder whose spectre is a plague doctor. Also, Fortunato, Duke’s stage name, was a character in the short story The Cask of Amontillado, who dies from being trapped in a wall. Sounds familiar? Anyways, my point is, a lot of names and deaths and details are inspired directly from Edgar Allen Poe.

Now, Pluto. Our beloved British catboy. Coincidentally, the name of a cat from my favorite Edgar Allen Poe story; The Black Cat.

The Black Cat is not one of the cuter stories of Edgar Allen Poe’s works. It starts with a man; he loves animals and finds a wife who loves animals too, and they both adopt a plethora of animals together. One of them in particular takes a liking to the man: a black cat, named Pluto.

The man’s life begins to go downhill when he starts becoming an alcoholic. He begins to abuse his animals just for the perverseness of it, and he becomes a lot more mean-spirited than the person he was before. One day, he comes home, and thinks that Pluto is ignoring him. In his annoyance, he forcibly picks up the cat, causing the cat to bite him slightly on the finger. This small inconvenience causes the man to become so enraged that, in his anger, he takes a knife, and gouges out Pluto’s eye.

Obviously, after this, the cat is positively terrified of the man. He avoids him as much as possible, but after about a week, it seems his eye injury has healed and is doing him no harm.

Then, just for the pleasure that doing the wrong thing gives him, one morning, the man takes it upon himself to finish the deed and hangs the poor car in cold blood.

That’s the end of the relevant section. If you want to know the rest of the story, I would recommend reading it-just search up The Black Cat by Edgar Allen Poe online and you can easily find it for free.

Anyways, what does this have to do with our beloved Nevermore Pluto?

Well, besides from the obvious similarities that Pluto shares with the Edgar Allen Poe cat, what stood out to me the most was the nature of the man. In episode whatchamacallitimtootiredtofinditrightnow, it is revealed the Pluto’s father is an alcoholic. Not only that, but enraged that Pluto wants to leave home and see the lights, he gouges out his son’s eye. Again, very close to the story. I wonder what the man did next to Pluto in that story?

I suppose it could be implied suicide due to the fact it was awakened in Pluto when he felt relieved, but remember in the story how Pluto’s eye injury had finally healed before the man killed him? It may be a far cry, but I believe that Pluto could have finally thought he was free from his father and that he made it out of his house before his father found him again and hung him. Finally relieved before it is yanked away from him. After all, that’s what he did in the story, and when he experienced the flashback of his death, he didn’t think or feel the thoughts of a relieved suicidal person (as memories of the time seem to slightly return during those flashbacks), but rather panic and fear, which would be odd if it was a suicide that made him feel finally relieved.

Also, he died wanting to go beyond the binds of society and what humanity deems is possible. If he had such a strong dream that he absolutely wanted to make happen, even present while dying, why would he kill himself and destroy his opportunity?

Honestly, I would also find it odd at this point if that wasn’t what happened. After all, the authors have been very accurate to the poems and stories of Edgar Allen Poe for the characters ripped from them. Again, Prospero and Duke, Eulalie has lavender eyes as described in her poem, and Berenice has a very heavy teeth theme like in her story. Not only that, but after following the story of the Black Cat for so long in Pluto’s backstory, I would find it odd if they changed the one thing that both Plutos were killed by if they were so accurate with Duke.

But who knows?

Perhaps I ramble like a madwoman.

[boytickler35]

Abed watches, engrossed as Kickpuncher punches another villain with the force of a kick, sending him off the catwalk and presumably to his doom on the factory conveyor belts below. The next of Punchkickers goons lines up and-

Troy’s ice cold foot presses up against his belly. He pushes it away.

Kickpuncher duels an enhanced baddy- the purpose is to show Kickpuncher can be challenged in combat, therefore building suspense that Kickpuncher might not make it through-

Abed jolts again as the cold foot once again finds his belly and he shoves it away again.

Kickpuncher exchanges a few brief words with Punchkicker. The dialogue is clunky but establishes Kickpuncher’s growing awareness of his own humanity despite denying it in the last movie. This will lead him down the path-

The cold foot is once again there and Abed glances over at Troy who shows no signs of being aware of what he is doing, totally engrossed in the movie as he is. Abed decides to get Troy’s attention this time, and runs a finger up the socked sole causing Troy to let out a squeal before shooting him a dirty look.

“Abed!”

“Troy.”

“What the hell?”

“You’ve been putting your cold foot on me over and over.”

“So you tickled me?”

He sounds incredulous and Abed replies plainly, “I did.”

“Well-”

Abed probably should have known something would come of provoking Troy but he doesn’t expect the other man to grab both of his feet and run his fingers over them.

Nor does he expect to throw his head back and start laughing at how much it tickles! He doesn’t think anyone has ever touched his feet before, he had no way of knowing he was this ticklish. He doesn’t let that stop him though, and is able to snag Troy’s feet and rip the socks off before tickling Troy’s now bare, and still cold, feet.

“Hey don’t take those socks- Fine!”

Abed feels his being pulled off but he has Troy’s feet in a headlock, and he’s always liked the sound of Troy’s laughter, so even though Troy is now tickling him, he’s enjoying giving as good as he is getting, even as his socks finally come off.

It continues for a bit longer before Troy finally yells, “Time.”

He turns to face Troy, who is panting like he is.

“If we are going to do this- we’re going to do it right.”

“I was unaware there was a right way to do this.” Abed isn’t really sure he knows what ‘this’ even is beyond a tickle fight Troy started by being unable to keep his feet to himself.

“No, there is. First we need rules, a point system, a way to determine the winner-”

This sounds involved. Abed checks the clock.

“I have until seven tomorrow morning.”

Troy nods and says, “We can make that work.”

CommunityCommunityCommunityCommunityCommunityCommunityCommunity

Troy looks over the list of rules, his feet now slightly sweaty from being pressed against the radiator for the past fifteen minutes.

“So, we agree that the first to get the other to call ‘uncle’ is the winner.”

“Even though it is very cliche and this is probably the first time it has ever been done outside of TV.”

“Right. We agree that the winner gets one request, within reason, from the loser.”

“Something to make sure this stays interesting.”

“Agreed. We agree prior to starting that we make sure our bodies are as ticklish as possible- I still hate this one.”

“Your feet were too cold. It shows poor circulation. Warmer parts of the body are more sensitive and will make this more interesting.”

It sort of bothers Troy about the robotic way Abed assess his feet and how ticklish they are or aren’t and then makes a move to correct them. “Yea but it seems to benefit you!”

“You still agreed to do it. And now it’s too late to go back.”

Troy also kind of hates that he agreed so easily, he might as well have been downright eager, but there isn’t anything he can do about that now. “Anything is fair game below the knees and above the waist unless agreed otherwise.”

“Keeps options open.” Abed comments neutrally and Troy gives a nod.

“And that’s it. Are we agreed on all the rules then?”

Abed nods and to sign the deal, they do their handshake. Troy puts the notebook back before saying, “I think my feet are warm enough. If you’re ready-”

He’s suddenly pinned on his back, Abed sitting on top of him, long, slender fingers poking and prodding away at his ribs which has him squealing and squirming from side to side in a frantic attempt to escape, but as he goes left to escape some fingers, there are others waiting for him to bump right into, and when he goes right to escape those, he runs right back into the original pair he was trying to get away from.

“ChEHehEAteR!”

“Not really. We didn’t agree to anything else in the rules.”

Troy is stuck for several minutes squirming back and forth before he finally manages to flip Abed off of him and now sits on him. He really needs a minute but he knows Abed won’t give him that minute so he digs his fingers into his buddy’s armpits earning deep laughter from Abed.

Troy likes it. Abed doesn’t laugh, and Troy thinks it’s a shame cause he could listen to it all day. He’s so engrossed in the laughter that he ends up getting thrown off by Abed pretty easily. They grapple for a bit, getting random pokes and prods in. It turns out that his belly is really bad but Abed’s armpits are equally problematic.

Troy eventually manages to get on top of Abed again and can’t stop himself from fluttering his fingers lightly around Abed’s neck which produces the most adorable set of giggles he thinks he’s ever heard.

“You should laugh more,” he blurts out before thinking about what he is saying. In his embarrassment after that, he pauses a mistake because Abed doesn’t hesitate to capitalize on this.

“You too,” his friend replies and once again, he is flipped under the taller man who shows a total lack of mercy, poking and prodding at Troy’s muscled belly, muscles which aren’t helping him at the moment.

“Your laughter is very boyish, like school boy boyish,” Abed comments absently as he works Troy over. Something about the comment is both embarrassing because he’s a man now, but also flattering because Abed meant it to be a compliment and he likes to store up Abed’s compliments for days when he’s feeling low.

Still, as the nimble fingers continue to drill into his tight belly, he knows he needs to get out of this before he totally loses his mind, which feels like it might happen any time.

It’s only when Abed pokes into his belly button that Troy manages, through sheer ticklish induced strength, to burst free. Bucking Abed off of him stuns the other man long enough for Troy to jump on him- in a very manly, totally straight way- to take his revenge.

It’s strange, he’s never tickled anyone before, but right now, it feels like he might as well have been doing it his whole life. He just knows what to do- and it’s kind of awesome. That’s how things are with Abed though, the right thing to do just sort of comes and it makes his friendship with Abed easily the most low pressure one he’s ever had.

At some point he ends up under Abed again who leans down to blow hard on his belly.

He’s torn at laughing because it tickles so much, and because it sounds like a really wet fart, but when Abed pauses for a moment to breathe, Troy can’t stop himself from asking, “What was that?”

Abed frowns and then says, “I have no idea, I saw a boyfriend do it to his girlfriend once at a party.”

“Oh, I thought maybe it was something your dad did to you.”

Abed shakes his head. “No. My dad never did anything like this.”

Troy frowns and then says, “Yea, mine neither. If he saw me now he’d be super disappointed.”

Abed hums and then says, “Well he can’t see you right now.”

A wave of relief washes over him but before he can figure out how to properly thank Abed for getting rid of any shame that thought carried, his friend continues.

“And do you know what?”

“No, what?”

“I think it’s time we get back into it.”

Troy’s brain only catches up with what that means too late as Abed digs into his sides again and he is once again howling and thrashing around but even though Abed looks tall and lanky, he’s surprisingly strong and hard to throw off. It doesn’t stop Troy from trying as he squirms more and more but it isn’t until Abed goes to shift that he seizes his chance and is able to buck him off.

What follows is a mad scramble where they both end up poking and prodding anywhere they can find trying to distract the other long enough to get the upper hand. He feels several sharp tickles on his sides, armpits, and Abed even brushes a hand against his thighs which almost causes Troy to space out long enough to get pinned. He didn’t know they were ticklish, but apparently, all that muscle doesn’t help much against tickling.

At one point, Abed pulls out of reach and asks, “You’re still good with this?”

Troy frowns. “Yea.”

“Okay. Cool, cool, cool, cool.”

“Why'd you ask?”

“Well you’ve been shouting ‘stop’ and ‘cut that out’ so figured I should ask.”

Troy blinks, wide eyed for a moment. He didn’t remember saying any of that.

“Anyway, if you’re good-”

Abed leaves the sentence hanging, and lunges at Troy, who falls for it like he always does. It doesn’t take long for the taller man to wind up on top of him and he’s once again pinned as Abed’s skillful fingers find a new point of interest, Troy’s nipples.

Apparently, they are stupid ticklish, and unfortunately, he now understands why Jeff likes nipple play and he really wants Abed to stop but the nails continue to swirl teasingly around his nipples so lightly, he can barely feel it and that’s the most infuriatingly ticklish part about it, because he can’t do anything but laugh!

Troy realizes he needs to do something or he is going to lose and Abed’s foot is just barely in arm’s reach. He makes his gamble and lunges at it.

As his grip closes around the ankle, he lets out a crow of triumph. Abed's feet seemed a lot more ticklish than his upper body when they were on the couch, maybe he can get his buddy to give up by tickling him here.

He digs in, surprised that he kind of likes it? Abed’s soles are smooth to the touch and not gross sweaty, but slick enough that his dull fingernails slide across them with no resistance and Abed again produces a wonderful laughter, this one honest to goodness uncontrolled and it’s more musical than anything Troy has ever heard before and he loves it.

Somehow it comes naturally to him too. Abed’s feet are massive, way bigger than his and super soft, he remembers Abed almost always wears socks or slippers in the apartment so he guesses that makes sense, and also tracks with how soft his feet are since he does the same.

He just knows though, where to poke, where to scratch, where he can do the most tickling without hurting Abed and it’s amazing. At one point, he gets bold enough to say, “Coochi-coo!”

Abed shouts something incoherent in reply but Troy doesn't pay any attention to it as he continues exploring. Abed’s toes are long and kind of pretty somehow. He doesn’t know what it is about them, but he’s sure they’ll be fun to tickle and doesn’t think twice about wiggling his fingers between the squirmy digits and flossing the space between with his fingers.Abed seems to melt and Troy likes not only being in charge, but being able to make Abed laugh.

Unfortunately, he makes the mistake of not paying enough attention to his own feet and suddenly lets out a shriek and is suddenly thrown off and before he knows it, his feet are in Abed’s arms in a headlock and all he can do is watch in exhilarated terror as Abed’s nails start tracing up and down while he’s helpless to do anything other than watch.

The sensation is indescribable. He’s never really been tickled before this and on his upper body it was like his body would move without him thinking to escape the tickling, not it’s the same except he is watching Abed’s every move but is too damn ticklish to fight back effectively and all he can do is watch his own feet get tickled madly.

Everything he did to Abed’s feet, Abed does back to him, but with his being much smaller, he knows it has to tickle him more. All his nerves must be bunched up more so his feet have to be more ticklish! And it really sucks right now because Abed is easily dominating his feet with just one hand, using the other to control them and Troy is too tired from all the rolling around earlier to make much an effort and Abed is sitting cross legged, his own feet well protected against anything Troy might even think of doing.

He holds out for a while though, as Abed investigates each of his toes, pads, between, and underneath. Pokes, scratches, flossing, he even puffs a few breaths of cool air on them and lets it slide effortlessly between them.

Abed doesn’t contain himself to just Troy’s toes though, he takes a full tour of the ticklish feet, with Abed like meticulousness no matter how silly this all is. He works the heels with nails, pokes at the silky arches, and half massages, half tickles the balls of the feet until Troy’s world becomes limited to tickling and nothing else.

“UnHAHCLE!” He bellows, unable to take it anymore and like clockwork, his feet are released and he’s able to roll away from Abed in the least dignified way possible, panting against the couch as he has to catch his breath.

“I win,” Abed announces calmly, and needlessly.

Troy feels his face heat up as he says, “Yea, I guess you do.”

Abed stands up and goes to find his socks, pulling them over his feet before observing, “We made a mess.”

Troy glances around and it’s sort of true, they pushed things out of the way to make room and there are now stray articles of clothes that he doesn’t even remember taking off or having taken off. He half expects Abed to start putting things back together, but all his friend does is reach up to the top bunk and take the TV down and plug it back in.

“Doommaster Defeats the Forces of Good marathon?”

Troy puffs out a breath and nods, pulling his shirt back on and remembering that he technically owes Abed something and hoping that somehow- incredibly, his meticulous friend has forgotten. Sitting back down, he props his feet up on the coffee table that never holds coffee, still bare because he can’t be bothered to find his socks and doesn’t trust them not to tickle a bit since his feet still feel tingly.

He can’t stop himself from looking at them, and sometimes at Abed’s socked feet. He kind of hates to admit it, but the whole rolling around on the floor thing was fun. He’s an only child, growing up was kind of lonely sometimes. He had friends, but none like Abed… and his parents didn’t really tickle him either- it was new and he didn’t totally hate it even though he kind of hated it at the same time.

They get about ten minutes in before Abed speaks up, but keeps his eyes fixed on the TV, breaking the silence between them as he asks, “Did you have fun?”

Troy starts and then bluffs, “Fun? With that- no way! How could you think I did?”

“You keep looking at our feet, and didn’t even notice that I continued Kickpuncher.”

Troy does a double take at the screen before realizing that this is in fact the same movie they were watching before and is about to end.

“I- didn’t hate it. But I didn’t like it either!”

Abed hums, still watching the TV.

“I’m serious!”

He isn’t sure what he is serious about- both probably but he sort of wants Abed to assume it’s about not liking it, but also sort of hopes Abed knows he means not hating it so he doesn’t have to say it.

They lapse into silence for a bit longer, his eyes still mostly studying his and Abed’s feet before Abed speaks up again and says, “Hey Troy?”

“Yea?”

“I know what I want- for winning.”

Troy holds his breath as Abed continues.

“I want to do this again sometime.”

He exhales slowly, relieved that somehow, Abed knew what he wanted but didn’t know what to say. And also thankful that he can comfortably slip into the role of macho man without Abed calling his bluff as he replies, “You’re on. I’m not losing round two!”

CommunityCommunityCommunityCommunityCommunityCommunityCommunity

At study group on Monday, they are chatting about their weekends when Annie asks, “So how did the movie marathon go?”

Abed looks at Troy who predictably looks shocked at being asked. The group watches them with varying levels of concern and confusion before Abed says, “We didn’t do it.”

Shirley frowns and starts reaching across the table to put her hand on Troy’s forehead as she asks, “Are you sick? Are you still sick?”

Troy bats the hand away and says, “We got busy with something else.”

Abed knows that wasn’t the right thing to say, and it was the wrong tone to say it in. Troy sounded guilty about it which was sure to get the nosier members curious and sure enough Pierce demands, “Got busy doing what? I didn’t think anything stopped your movie nonsense.”

Troy stalls so Abed says, “We had a tickle fight.”

Troy looks at him in horror but Abed doesn’t really care.

Britta is the first to recover as she says, “And you filmed it for money?”

Abed frowns and looks at Troy who looks equally confused while a chorus of ‘ews’ arise from the table.

Britta defends herself. “I’m just saying that they are somewhat conventionally attractive men and people would pay money for a video of them doing that kind of thing.”

Deciding to end whatever conversation is going on Abed says, “I don’t think a tickling based movie exists. Actually, statistically speaking, many movies will avoid the topic of tickling because the hands on nature of it may make some people uncomfortable.”

“So you just… did it for fun?” Annie asks, obviously confused.

Troy shrugs and replies, “Yea.”

“Gay.” Pierce mutters.

“Alright with this- fascinating distraction out of the way, can we please get to work on not failing Spanish?” Jeff cuts in which ends up ending the conversation and refocusing everyone on what they need to do.

[inkwell-and-dagger]

Ruaridh had been travelling for days. Or had it been weeks? Months? They had no clue. Time seemed to pass in one incomprehensible blur, and Ruaridh was still trapped in this forest. Sure, it was a tranquil, peaceful place, but hunger gnawed at their mind as they trotted and scurried and weaved through the trees with no destination in mind.

They'd tried hunting for small prey animals like they'd learnt in one of their books — if only they had their books now — leaving a discreet trail of animal carcasses in their path, but even then the raw meat had done nothing to relieve their starvation. Water was scarce, and whether that was due to them going in a certain direction, or just overall a lack of luck, they couldn't be sure.

They'd been sleeping beneath the stars ever since their abandonment, soft grass and the lullaby of crickets lulling them into fitful sleep. Mud had begun to stain their palms and feet from having to move on all four limbs, dried blood still staining their hospital gown and claws from feasting, horns and tail tainted crimson at their tips from impaling their unfortunate little victims. They felt bad about having to kill such beautiful things, but they had to survive one way or another.

Civilisation was nowhere in sight for miles in all direction, and in a way they were glad. From what they could infer about what Derwyn had said to them, they wouldn't fit into this 'real world' in the state they're in now. The monster they are. Perhaps their only purpose was to be a ruthless killing machine, and they really were flawed. Ruaridh had never thought about freedom — they were born in the lab, as far as they were concerned — but now, with it right at their fingertips, they relished in their new-found release. Sure, it was a change from the sterile walls and chemical scent of the lab, but it was a welcome one nonetheless.

They'd been traveling for a few hours since their last rest, and dusk had arrived by now. Darkness enveloped the forest, and yet activity was still buzzing around. With heightened senses, they could hear everything from little bugs scurrying along with them, weaving through blades of grass like they were weaving through the maze of tall, looming trees.

Until something stopped them in their tracks. They'd been scanning the surrounding area for a while after hearing.. something up ahead.. but their palm had landed on something small and soft. With closer inspection, it was a feather. There were quite a few scattered about.

Ruaridh frowned. What could've happened to cause these feathers to be discarded? Perhaps, like Icarus, a bird had flown too far and had fallen, crashing through the trees and, in its hurry to regain balance, some feathers had been ripped from its wings? It must've been a very pretty bird to have such pristine white feathers. They hoped the poor creature was okay.

Their head whipped around, long platinum hair rustling in the wind before their eyes landed on a silhouette ahead. It was quite far, but it looked man-made. It wasn't slender, like the trees surrounding them, and it wasn't too short, like a clump of shrubbery.

It was a cabin.

Of course, at the prospect of human life potentially being here, Ruaridh hesitated. The only human they'd ever come across was Derwyn, and from that they assumed everyone was like the scientist. But.. perhaps this was different.

The cabin looked safe, unassuming, and peaceful. Although it seemed strange for a single building to be so far from civilization, Ruaridh figured they shouldn't ask questions. Maybe they could investigate some more, perhaps ask for help.

Perhaps, when morning comes. Then they will. For now, the feather still resting delicately in their palm meanwhile, they hid behind the nearest tree and waited for sunrise, hiding in the shadows. Just to make sure.

-----

OKAY SO UH. I AM FERAL!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!!

so uh! I am very excited because me and @whumpy-wyrms are gonna make a little crossover au of his series, The Last Lab Rat, and Uilebheist A Rinn An Duine :3!!!!!

I. do not have a clue if this will end up being officially the way anton comes across ru, I just had an idea and HAD to write it down, but it's here!! it's existing!! idk the brainrot is brainrotting, so uh! I do hope you enjoyed reading that little drabble! again I'm not sure what will or will not be canon, this is just a tiny idea I had!

uhh it does contain references to chapter 12 of tllr (dew falling from the sky) so. yay tiny detail! uhm. also thought I'd put in anton's cabin for the sillies at the end. I'm very sorry I've no clue what I'm doing but I'm so excited because eEEEE!!!!!!!!!! anyway jay is so cool read The Last Lab Rat!!!!!!!!!

[endlessraine]

Nameless ghoul head cannons no one asked for

Dewdrop is nothing like his on stage personality, no one knows why he chose to be like that but he’s actually very quite and reserved.

Dewdrop had like a shit tone of scars, Rain too, like they're the type of people to have a giant cut on their arm and be like “I have 0 fucking clue where that came from”

Rain goes mute when he’s overwhelmed/anxious, so there have been times on your when the ghouls will notice Rain isn’t talking so they do a ghoul pile to try and help soothe his nerves.

Rain also has sensory issues so he had to have his uniform altered so he could wear it without wanting to rip it off.

Dewdrop also has sensory issues but more when it comes to food, he's very picky about what he eats, a lot of the time when he won't eat something it's because of the texture not the taste.

RAIN ALSO HAS A WEIGHTED BLANKET AND WILL NOT SLEEP WITHOUT IT

Mountain has issues with his joints because of his hight, the other ghouls do a vote every morning on if Mountain is gonna come down to the common room himself or if someone’s gonna have to help the poor guy down the stairs.

Mountain grows weed, self explanatory

Aether likes hanging out around Copias office to make sure he doesn’t over work and burn himself out, there has been a few times where he found Copia asleep at his desk so he carried him to bed.

Aether is a morning person, mfs up as soon as the sun starts to rise

Swiss is an amazing cook, the first time he made food for everyone they were genuinely shocked that he didn’t burn the ministry down.

Also that man can and will dance and and everywhere to any song, he just likes to grove

Sunshine is very self conscious about joining the band late, but all the other ghouls try to make sure she feels welcome:)

She has poor impulses control and will just do or say anything she thinks of consequences be damned

Cirrus loves baking, she makes pies around the holidays and is ALWAYS the one to make “birthday” cakes(I’ll get into why i have birthday in quotations)

She also really likes flower language, she’ll get flowers from mountains garden and gift them to other ghouls and explain the meaning behind them, all the ghouls have kept every single one.

Cumulus really enjoys painting, she could do it for hours, the walls of her room are covered in paintings she made, it’s pretty common to find her sitting in a chair, covered in paint happily working on a painting without a care in the world

She is like the mom of the group, besides Copia she is usually the one that plans hang outs, brings food ect when they all go out and she always keeps some extra cash on her just in case.

Ghouls don’t have birthdays once summoned to earth, their “birthdays” are their summoning day, they chose to do this because non of them have very good memories from being in hell so this helps them separate it well still being able to celebrate someone:)

Ghouls are people who died and went to hell, once their they decided to serve for Satan, becoming ghouls, so all the ghouls have little marks or “tattoos” representing how they died it usually has somthing to do with their element.

Ghouls are supposed to be in some sort of pact, isolating a ghoul could quite literally lead to them dying.

They can all speak ghoulish

Newly summoned or younger ghouls won’t talk to higher ups or humans in general, usually resorting to sign language or writing on paper

THATS ALL I HAVE RN

Hope you enjoy them ALSO PLEASE SEND ME YOUR HEADCANNONS IN MY ASK BOX I WANNA HEAR THEM.

[leclerced]

Ohhh okay so we’re talking real vampire au. I love it tbh. Charles for sure is super old but just loves humans and Max is perfect for being old and grumpy in a godly body hahaha

Poor Oscar is terrified when he learns what he’s become and the stories aren’t only that-fiction made by someone’s imagination. He’d try and starve himself but learns it’s not that simple when you’re a vampire and finally he stumbles onto Charles who immediately knows what’s going on cause he’s seen things like this more than once in his life. He’d be the first of his bloodline so he’d have to learn about the specifications of his powers. Oh damn him meeting Lando whose specialty is seduction and generally making people do what he wants. Can def see a love story here with Oscar being insecure because he doesn’t know if it’s real or just Lando’s powers meddling with his brain.

With them still being drivers I can totally see it too! Like maybe there is one or two super old that decided they are getting bored in their too long of a life so why not hop into f1 car. But then someone getting turned accidentally and having so much troubles because of it. Maybe it does help a little but…(here’s how I’d imagine the vampire thingy to work lol). When you’re a new vampire it’s not like you have all of your heightened senses all figured out just like that and the bits of additional strength are not settled in (?) so whoever would get turned would struggle so much through the first ad second race. Then he’d get used to it and start using it so that’s why suddenly he’s better after actually being the worse for the past weeks. Maybe after one race the hunger for blood would be so bad that he’d attack his teammate? Or the older ones without knowing they’re also vampires ofc and it would be pure comedy with them finding out in that way. Like suddenly they have fangs in their neck and someone’s trying to feed on their almost nonexistent blood n they have this debate whether it’s just weird or uncomfortable or enjoyable??? Either way they don’t know why people are letting them do this haha

Oh god it’s so long probably deserves “read more” right after the first sentence hahaha

yes real vampire au !! my fav vampire stuff is like buffy, cirque du freak, lost boys. that's more what i would draw inspo from. im forgetting some but those are more my vibe than like. tvd or twilight. i like tvd but i like it for the same reason i like teen wolf, y'know?

oscar’s slowly drying out or is extremely sick (what happens to vamps that don’t drink blood?) because he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. charles stumbles upon him and immediately knows what’s wrong with him and takes him home, gives him a few blood bags and asks who turned him. oscar’s got no clue, he woke up one morning in pain and in a room he didn’t recognize surrounded by dead bodies. can imagine he’d want to stay inside and avoid humans because he’s terrified he’ll rip into someone’s throat. charles would introduce him to other vampires, and they’d help him understand what he’s going through, maybe telling him about how they were turned. they’d get him to go out and start living again, promising they’d stop him before he could hurt anyone.

lando being super seductive !! i think vampires sharing blood is very intimate but i can imagine lando shares his blood with oscar and oscar assumes he shares w everyone because of it but then oscar finds out he’s doesn’t and lando’s just like “well you won’t bite a human to feed and it’s better fresh. it’s not my fault you’re a big baby.” and totally makes it out to be like he’s doing oscar a favor by letting him feed from him

in a possible racer vamp au, i can definitely see them attacking a teammate after a race, when they can hear their blood pumping and can see the veins in their neck throbbing. im thinking about landoscar and oscar becoming a vampire midway through his rookie season. he manages well enough getting blood from people in the middle of the night and healing them with a bit of his own blood before he returns to his hotel room and pretends he didn’t go out for a late night snack. he’s so careful not to take too much. one day he can’t control himself after a really good race, he didn’t feed the night before and now all he can think about is blood. how it’s pumping through everyone who gives him a congratulatory hug or even passes by, he can’t help but think about sinking his teeth in them. he had a good race so he’s on the cameras giving tight lipped smiles, forcing his fangs to retract during interviews and the debriefs. stumbling upon lando back at the hotel when he’s debating calling room service and snacking on whoever brings his food, but suddenly his teammate looks really good. goes a little blood crazy and bites lando before he remembers who he’s biting, then starts panicking and giving lando his blood to heal him. drags him to his room and is pacing around while lando slumps on the couch.

i think it’s fun when vampire venom makes it’s victims feel euphoric so they’re not scared, so lando’s just like “hey that felt really good do it again.” while oscar tries to figure out if mind control is a vampire ability or if that’s just in movies, hoping he can make him forget this ever happened because it never should have!!

it’s very funny to think about two vampires on the grid and not knowing the other is one! max and charles being old vampires who are bored and decide to see what humans are up to lately, find out about formula one and think it would be funny to race. then one day they catch another driver drinking from someone at a race, like in a back hallway or bathroom, and just being like, “jesus you’re so stupid. don’t do that here! what is wrong with you? who raised you?” and then teaching them vampire etiquette!

i like when vampires have blood and they can feed from each other but its an intimate thing, so only done with someone you’re bonded to, or not really sustainable because it’s not human blood. they could get by but they’re weaker. and i swear there’s one vampire book i read where when they drink from each other they see each other’s memories or something weird like that. they get bitten by a newbie vampire and are like “hey! what the fuck? not cool man!! only my friends can do that.” the newbie is confused why they’re fighting back and why they taste so different than others they’ve fed from

also the drama of a vampire driver getting in a crash and coming out unscathed? just like aha yeah nbd! just got really lucky! haha! stop looking at me. they def have tests done on them (at least random piss tests for drugs, no?) so would he have to mind control ppl to fake the tests ?? how would it work

[lynswriting]

you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody

aziraphale has a nightmare.

contains: 2191 words, canon divergence/fix-it (s2 ending didn’t happen), hurt/comfort, nightmares.

ao3

a/n: i apologize if anything is ooc, this is my first gomens fic (+ my first finished fic in a hot minute). i hope you enjoy <3

requests are open! check my pinned post for more info!

At 3:13 in the morning on a rainy Saturday night, Aziraphale is asleep in his bed. His limbs are a tangled mess with his partner, Crowley’s. Their duvet is halfway to the floor, and the throw pillows are already there. The ambiance of London’s Soho at this hour is nothing but rain pattering, light wind, and the occasional car. Every door and window of the flat above Aziraphale’s bookshop the couple shares is locked practically and with miracles. They are completely and utterly safe.

Aziraphale doesn’t know this. His body is present, but his brain believes he’s somewhere much worse.

He’s having a nightmare. His very first one, as a matter of fact. 

He began sleeping a few weeks before this dreadful night. At first, sleeping was an excuse for him to lay in bed with Crowley instead of reading through the long nights like he usually did. After some time, though, Aziraphale began to see the appeal of sleep itself. Who wouldn’t want to escape their thoughts for a few hours? It was a break he hadn’t realized he needed, and he’d assumed angels didn’t dream in any capacity, so he foresaw no issues.

He was, regrettably, incorrect. In fact, the nightmares of supernatural beings tend to be significantly worse than humans, which is just lovely for Aziraphale. Truly splendid.

As the angel lays in bed, his arm hooked around Crowley’s side and his pillow crooked under his head, the nightmare begins.

The first thing Aziraphale notices is the cold. It is bitter and harsh against his skin, and his robes scarcely protect him from it. They’re the same ones he donned in his earliest, starry-eyed days. He’s standing on a cliff overlooking the deepest valley he’s ever seen. Darkness shrouds what should be the bottom, leaving him wondering if it is endless. The thought makes his blood run cold. The sky is piercingly white. Aziraphale looks up and immediately winces. The brightness makes his head throb within milliseconds of seeing it. He turns his gaze back down and screws his eyes shut to get rid of the ache.

The worst part of all this is that he is completely alone. As far as Aziraphale can see, there is no one else around. Just the expanse of the cliff, the sky, and the valley below. 

And yet, he has the chilling sensation that he is being watched. It’s a stronger feeling than when Heaven was constantly overseeing him. It’s as if there’s a presence, lurking somewhere he cannot see, but with an aura so threatening he feels it in his bones.

He doesn’t remember how he got here, how long he’s been here, or why he’s still here. He figures the best thing to do is to ask.

“...Hello?” he says into the air. “Is, er, anyone around? I’m a little bit confused about how I got into this, um, situation.” He chuckles, devoid of humor and full of nervousness.

Suddenly, wind begins to howl from the valley. It only deepens the terrible cold. Aziraphale hugs his torso with his shaking arms in a poor attempt to conserve body warmth. The wind continues to blow, pulling icy tears from the angel’s eyes. The sound of the gusts is nearly deafening. Aziraphale is violently shaking, and a scream is about to rip from his throat when, just as suddenly as it came, the wind halts. It doesn’t fade away, just randomly ends. Aziraphale straightens up, much more confused than before.

And then, someone speaks. The wind must have been announcing it- rather dramatic, if you ask Aziraphale.

The voice must be from whoever- or whatever- is watching him. It’s so loud that the ground beneath the angel shakes, but it remains invisible.

“THIS IS YOUR PUNISHMENT, AZIRAPHALE.”

Aziraphale’s breath hitches. He shakily inhales and replies, soft and meek, “For what?”

The voice begins to cackle. It drips with cruelty and is disgustingly mocking as if that was the silliest question in the world. Aziraphale grimaces. It goes on, and on, until it cuts off with a menacing sigh.

“YOU HAVE FAILED.”

Aziraphale wants to ask how so, but he feels frozen. The shouting continues.

“YOU WERE PUT ON THIS EARTH FOR ONE THING, AND THAT WAS TO BE AN ANGEL. AND YET, YOU CARE FOR HUMANITY MORE THAN HEAVEN. YOU CARE FOR THE ENEMY, A BLASTED DEMON, MORE THAN HEAVEN! DID YOU TRULY THINK CONSORTING WITH A DEMON AND ACTING LIKE YOU BELONG ON EARTH WOULD END UP ALRIGHT FOR YOU?”

Only when the voice pauses does Aziraphale notice the tears pooling in his eyes. He hastily swipes them away, but the pit that has formed in his stomach will not budge.

“AZIRAPHALE. DID YOU?” 

He swallows. Hard.

“...No.”

“THEN WHY HAVE YOU NEVER STOPPED? NEVER EVEN THOUGHT TO STOP, TO RETURN TO THE LIGHT?”

Aziraphale has no reply for that.

His greatest fear is falling. It always has been. The mere thought of it makes him nauseous. But it’s not like this voice is wrong. He does care about the Earth, doesn’t he? And he has no desire to return to Heaven. He’s okay with being the renegade if he gets to live on this beautiful planet with the love of his life by his side, demon or otherwise. But does that, in turn, make him want to fall? Is he demonic?

“YOUR MOST FRUSTRATING BLUNDER,” the voice snaps Aziraphale back to attention, “IS ALL OF YOUR QUESTIONING.”

Aziraphale sharply inhales. 

“YOU ASK WHY THE WORLD IS HOW IT IS. WHY HEAVEN IS HOW IT IS. ARE YOU TRYING TO QUESTION GOD’S WILL? ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY IT IS NOT ALWAYS RIGHT?

Aziraphale opens his mouth to say no, of course not , but wouldn’t that be lying? He asks a lot of questions these days.

“YOU NEVER LEARN. ANGELS ARE SUPPOSED TO LISTEN. TO FOLLOW ORDERS. AND YOU, YOU TALK AND YOU WONDER AND YOU ACT LIKE A HUMAN.”

Aziraphale tries not to think about how those are some of the greatest joys in his life. 

“DON’T YOU REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS TO ANGELS WHO ASK QUESTIONS?”

“I-” Aziraphale begins, about to say no, when he stops, realizes, and suddenly feels incredibly nauseous. 

From the pit beneath the cliff, something begins to scream. Some one . Resounding sobs cut through horrified shrieks, clearly in agonizing pain, and Aziraphale is stunned at how familiar it is until he realizes why.

It’s Crowley. Not pre-fall, or post-fall, but as it is happening. Maybe it’s not how he really sounded, but if not, it’s terrifyingly accurate.

Aziraphale looks up at the sky. He squeezes his eyes shut but does not look down. He needs to have a word with the voice torturing him, and he assumes it’s coming from up there, and that up there is Heaven. Only an angel could cut this deep.

He wants to scream but can only whisper. “Please,” it comes out so soft, so broken, “let me go. I will do better, I swear, I don’t want to fall-”

His mouth is clamped shut. It is not by his own will.

“IT’S TOO LATE FOR THAT,” the voice delivers its final blow.

Something is controlling Aziraphale’s body, and it’s not him. His head jerks away from the sky, his eyes are peeled open, and something nudges his back. He stumbles closer to the edge of the cliff.

“Wha-” he breathes out in shock. He’s pushed again. “Why- stop, please. I-” Again. His legs begin to tremble. “Please, I’ll- you can’t-” Again. His toes are off the cliff, hovering above the void below. Again. Something in his gut tells him this won’t just discorporate him. “Please, just, stop this, I-” He’s going to die.

He feels the pressure on his back again. His foot slips, and he’s falling, the fear shoots through his body and everything hurts and he’s falling and the ground isn’t underneath him and he’s falling and he’s falling he’s falling he’s-

He wakes up.

He’s sitting up before he’s even fully conscious. A sound escapes his throat, something between a scream and a sob. The darkness filling the room only makes things worse, but he’s too tired for miracles and too disoriented to reach for his lamp. He stares into the blackness as his head spins.

You’re fine , what’s left of his rationality tries to remind him. That wasn’t real. You’re fine.

He doesn’t feel fine. He’s still horrified . He’s felt fear many times in his life, but he hasn’t been afraid like that in a long, long time. Is that what it would be like? To fall? Was that horrible voice telling the truth? It was in some ways. Maybe it was right. Maybe he deserves to fall, to suffer a torment like what he just dreamed of. Nightmares couldn’t be very holy. Why was he, an angel, having them? It has to be a sign. He deserves for that to be real after all he's done. He deserves to suffer, to hurt, to fall-

“Angel, can you hear me?”

A voice pierces through his spiraling, but this time, it’s not the harsh roar of what haunted his dream. This voice is gentle and familiar, yet so concerned.

Crowley’s awake now, with his hands in Aziraphale’s and his brows downturned with worry. Aziraphale nods. He straightens up a bit, as he’s always hated to be seen in disarray like this. Crowley frowns and rubs his hands with his thumbs.

“You’re shaking, love. What’s going on?” he asks quietly.

Aziraphale clears his throat and draws in a long breath. Crowley waits, ever patient, until he exhales and speaks.

“Just had a bad dream, dear. I’m alright.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Something about Crowley’s tone, the way Aziraphale can almost hear his heart breaking, breaks every wall Aziraphale had put up. The dam behind his eyes is breached by his tears, and Crowley instantly hugs him close, one hand rubbing his back and the other resting in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. 

Neither knows how long they sit like that. Time doesn’t matter then, as Crowley whispers assurances of it’s okay and you’re safe into the weeping angel’s ear. The cries can’t just be from this nightmare, both are sure of that. When you’re an angel, expected to uphold every difficulty under the sun with no complaint, you let your emotions bottle up. This is Aziraphale’s way of uncorking the bottle Eventually, though, his body runs out of tears, and birds begin to chirp outside. Crowley clears his throat.

“I’m so sorry, angel. If I had known…” he trails off with a sigh.

“Known what?” Aziraphale replies hoarsely. “How could you have stopped that?”

“I…I couldn’t have, I just…hmph.” The demon pauses. He peels away from the angel to look into his eyes and cup his cheek with his hand.

“I didn’t know that you could even get nightmares,” he admits.

“Neither did I.”

“But…I dunno, some demonic energy is probably radiating off me or something. If it weren’t for me here, you wouldn’t…I don’t know.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispers, almost bewildered. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing you could have done to stop that.”

Crowley accepts defeat to his self-deprecation and weakly nods. He wraps his arms behind Aziraphale’s neck and presses their foreheads together. The touch is warm. It feels like home.

“There’s nothing you could’ve done either,” Crowley reminds the angel, who is just as insecure as him. 

They sit in content silence for a few moments before Aziraphale speaks. He hates to ruin the moment but cannot get one thing off his mind.

“What if that happens again?” Crowley moves back to look at him. “Another nightmare?” Aziraphale nods, and his next words come out faster than he can control them. “I feel so childish, for worrying about bad dreams, but it…it felt like all of my fears combined.” His voice begins to shake. “I don’t want it to happen again.”

Crowley presses a kiss to his forehead. “First of all,” he begins once he pulls back, “it’s not childish at all. You don’t have to explain it to me, but I’m sure it was fuckin’ terrifying. They always are. And second, no matter how many times it happens, I’ll be here. And if they get so bad you don’t want to keep sleeping, I’ll stay up with you. Whatever makes you feel better, my love. Okay?”

Aziraphale thought he ran out of tears, but he is nothing if not a happy cryer, so he sniffles. Crowley laughs and wipes them from his cheeks before pulling him in for a kiss.

Maybe Aziraphale’s fear of falling will linger with him forevermore. Maybe he’ll wake up screaming more often than not. Maybe he’ll never sleep again.

It won’t matter. Not to Crowley. He’ll stay by his side for as long as they live, even if that’s forever. If Aziraphale needs him, even if it’s three in the morning, he’ll be there. Always. And that love, that dedication, will carry them through anything that tries to tear them apart.

It’s funny, an angel and a demon with such an unbreakable bond, but it’s the strongest in the universe. Literally.

They’ll be okay.

[taeminscoconuthead]

Idk if the read more thingy works but yeah- (CW // vent, dec 18th, sui, cyber bullying, self deprecating humour, self esteem issues, just so many stuff…)

—

Bruh I was so excited for dec 18th because of the milk thing and now it’s getting daunting again. Not because I’m sad now that Jonghyun is… well…. but it’s because I’m constantly being reminded about the time I was getting cyber bullied online. I’m still remembering all the times someone told me to kill myself and my mind instantly was like “well I might of well since I’m pretty sure nobody would miss me the way everyone misses Jonghyun because I’m a nobody” and my stupid ass would start crying whilst trying desperately to end this suffering since there’s nothing for me to do or anyone to run to.

I would constantly talk about how much he hates me and if I died he’d probably beat me up and make my eternal life hell with his pure lust for my soul. In fact, once he finds out I was sent to the netherworld he’d run over like a fanboy not to ask me for an autograph, but to give the devil a holiday so he could torture me instead to unleash his raging anger at me. If I was there at that very moment, he’d probably rip through me like he was celebrating the Christmas he missed out at 2017. As soon as he saw me, his eyes probably lit up like a kid and I could tell you that Jonghyun would scream of joy and I’d be over there, laying on the ground as I tell him to get it over with since nothingness feels so much more than somethingness at this rate. At this point, I’d probably cured his depression all together since he’d wake up happily knowing that “it’s time to beat the shit out of that bitch again” and would wave good morning from the window but really he meant to say “bad morning” because it was about to turn back to torture again. WHY DIDN’T I SAVE HIM BEFORE? I could of easily saved him by simply existing and him hating the idea of me existing! Why was I a stubborn piece of shit when I could of saved millions of heartbreaks around the globe. Oh? I was too young to travel to Korea? Boy shut up. Bang Chan went when he was 10, bad excuse. You should of went and then saved Jonghyun. Oh poor dear Jonghyun, a selfish little 12 year old refused to come and save you from your suffering because they cared about themselves more than other people. You should be ashamed of yourself. Shawols hate that you didn’t save their precious bling bling and now you don’t deserve to ever use that title ever in your life. You’re a disgusting, pathetic human being and I hope you die — never mind, Jonghyun doesn’t need anymore unsolicited guests. Oh well.

Honey don’t say thattttt! Jonghyun loves all of us and he’s never single anyone out for their race, gender, sex, shawol status, etc.

I know this year will be even harder than the last since you had to go through all the bullying and the harassment online, but look at you. You’re still alive and didn’t die! Jonghyun is probably watching you with his jaw to the floor seeing that you survived something like that whilst going through depression.

You may not think so, but some Shawols could even be his idols! Anyone who has went through depression and actually makes it out alive, he idolises them and is fascinated at the fact that someone would actually see the light of day. That doesn’t mean that if a Shawol doesn’t make it, he’ll think badly of them. It would mean that he’d feel their pain and is quite understanding. Trust me, Jonghyun is way different than how you interpret him to be. He won’t beat the shit out of you just for existing, but rather make heaven much more comfortable for you as he shows you around.

Don’t worry hun, you’re very valid and bullying like this should never of happened to you. As a Shawol, I’m so sorry you had to go through something like this. I hope you heal well and hopefully Dec 18th wouldn’t be as bad now that you got me and the gang! You are such an amazing Shawol and even an inspiration that you make the room shine when you step into it. Your vibes are so cool, nobody would dare to hate you at all. Only complete strangers would act like this to you because I’m saying this as a friend. You’re doing well, keep going.

[just-some-random-blogger]

love letter bc not only your fanfics deserve love but you do too! 'me when i dance' you mean cute? does it mean dance covers too? 'WHATEVER HAPPENS' well it went better than i though but i still was dizzy and sleepy. thanks for your support! i sewed a tie on friday! it took exhausting 3 hours (i was promised itd take 1...) and i was hungry but everythings ok. im still alive. how did your friday go? 'my grandma was kinda mean for that' im judging. respectfully to your grandma but still. 'our neighbor threw it away' oh my am i angry now? id tell this (in)human being a couple of sweet words... you didnt but i cried. yk if you want to make me cry in wfal you should kill a cat. (not recommended) rip lovely TT 'it’s the in the keep then' *excited meow meow* 'OFF ANON LIKE YOU PROMISED' oh youre so petty. 'im sure you’d burn the first day you step foot here' absolutely right. thats why i never go there. im like burning in summers in st. petersburg when its 30 C so... 'YOU DO KNOW THATS FREEZING POINT' nuh its perfect?? 'why is it harder to breathe in dry areas?' its dry + cold. its important. bc we just got less oxygen into the blood... like we have the same amount of oxygen in the air but bc of the absence of water vapor the blood doesnt absorb it as good as in the south. 'I HOPE YOU FIND PEACE TOO' its ok i still dgaf while she doesnt trigger me. but alright. ill get over once. thanks for your love<з 'Thank you i love my hands even though they’re so veiny' its ok isnt it? ik many people love it. its just your hand that do very perfect things! 'ur making me wanna maybe make it' hgjdj ig thats my job here. glad you love it and know how talented you are again. id be very glad to see the part 2 if youre up to make it! 'I HAVE THIS STARK UNIVERSE' yeah and i love it TT its just easier for me to associate myself with the starks? ghdjfdj yes bc of the north. im glad you love the north's aesthetic sglkljs. do yk the series vikings? i never watched it BUT. i know they interacted with the ancient rus and wow theyre northern so. i did some research and learnt they had a russian actor which was very famous and ideal of male beauty but now hes a meme TT i nearly cried bc of laugh when i found out this fact. 'because then id have to use a name or (Y/N)' HAFHISI poor child. try not to? get more creative? goof luck? im glad you find the possibility of speaking for others' thoughts important enough to use y/n. 'she at the very least knows how to properly conduct herself and treat others' yeah thats why shes fine. i dont have guts to raise a sword either, rather make smn raise it for me >:) but still your opinion is the most important here. so im gled you love your creation. 'IM SO FUCKIGN HOT' HFJSJFKF and how nice it was to walk down the street with the snow falling down and only -5 C🥰 so cozy. HGIODJOF how were the classes? how are assignments? oh youre soso sweet with the song TT love you catmom TT so good morning or anything! have a nice everything! love you! drink water (esp during this hot time) and eat nice food! take care<з

OMG LOVE LETTER

ME TO MY CAT EVERYTIME I SEE MY KITTY

love letter bc not only your fanfics deserve love but you do too!

'me when i dance' you mean cute? does it mean dance covers too?

T_T i meant funny HAHAHHA i mean i dance but i dont post myself dancing. i enjoy learning dances though! if i like them enough

'WHATEVER HAPPENS' well it went better than i though but i still was dizzy and sleepy. thanks for your support!

<3 <3

i sewed a tie on friday! it took exhausting 3 hours (i was promised itd take 1...) and i was hungry but everythings ok. im still alive.

do you mean like you made a tie from scratch T_T RIP I TOOK DRESSMAKING AS MY ELECTIVE IN HIGHSCHOOL AND I HATED EVERY MINUTE OF IT. I WORE THE DRESS TO PROM BUT MY GRANDMOTHER HAD IT GET REDONE BY A DRESSMAKER SO I COULD WEAR IT AND ALSHFHASF;ASF;HASF;HASFHSA I CRIED COS IT WAS EXPESIVE at least to me AND I FELT SO BAD THAT MY GRANDMA HAD TO DO THAT T_T

how did your friday go?

i was on a roll on friday that was when i posted the p3 and the pedro pascal fic. the next day tho T_T i was really tired cos i was overthinking about my assignments. i finished them now tho so its ok. i still have some to finish but meh im tired it can wait tom

'my grandma was kinda mean for that' im judging. respectfully to your grandma but still.

T_T my grandmas kinda mean so its fine but STOP JUDGING PEOPLE IN GENERAL T_T

'our neighbor threw it away' oh my am i angry now? id tell this (in)human being a couple of sweet words... you didnt but i cried.

there was unfortunately no place to bury the poor kitty T_T i live in the city. its just concrete and asphalt T_T

yk if you want to make me cry in wfal you should kill a cat. (not recommended) rip lovely TT

WTF NO WTF NO WTF WTF WTF

'it’s the in the keep then' *excited meow meow*

LOL it may take a while im tired T_T

'OFF ANON LIKE YOU PROMISED' oh youre so petty.

/: im not petty im just reminding you T_T

'im sure you’d burn the first day you step foot here' absolutely right. thats why i never go there. im like burning in summers in st. petersburg when its 30 C so...

oh wait it becomes 30 degrees there in st petersburg!? that's actually pretty hot. it was apparently 32 C here during 12pm AND I WAS ON FIRE T_T so wow im suprised it gets that hot. idK I FEEL LIKE THE INTERNET IS GIVING ME WRONG TEMPERATURES BECAUSE IT FEEL LIKE ITS WAY HOTTER THAN THAT BECAUSE IF ST PETERSBURG CAN GET 30 DEGS WTF

'YOU DO KNOW THATS FREEZING POINT' nuh its perfect??

'why is it harder to breathe in dry areas?' its dry + cold. its important. bc we just got less oxygen into the blood... like we have the same amount of oxygen in the air but bc of the absence of water vapor the blood doesnt absorb it as good as in the south.

oh so now you believe in science /:

'I HOPE YOU FIND PEACE TOO' its ok i still dgaf while she doesnt trigger me. but alright. ill get over once. thanks for your love<з

'Thank you i love my hands even though they’re so veiny' its ok isnt it? ik many people love it. its just your hand that do very perfect things!

people like veiny hands on men. and

i mean i love my hands but sometimes im like wew theyre so big and veiny. its a testament to how hard i work but yeah society makes me questions things about myself. its so unhealthy

'ur making me wanna maybe make it' hgjdj ig thats my job here. glad you love it and know how talented you are again. id be very glad to see the part 2 if youre up to make it!

WELL SEE ALL YOU PEOPLE MAKING ME DO PART TWOS WHEN IM SO AGAINST THEM T_T

'I HAVE THIS STARK UNIVERSE' yeah and i love it TT its just easier for me to associate myself with the starks? ghdjfdj yes bc of the north. im glad you love the north's aesthetic sglkljs.

lol i was not sure if you knew of my stark universe at the time SO YEAH WOOO I LOVE WOLVES <3

do yk the series vikings? i never watched it BUT. i know they interacted with the ancient rus and wow theyre northern so. i did some research and learnt they had a russian actor which was very famous and ideal of male beauty but now hes a meme TT i nearly cried bc of laugh when i found out this fact.

i also only know of the series vikings. who's the actor? im so curious. the first persont that popped into my head is alexander ludwig, but it says hes candian so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

'because then id have to use a name or (Y/N)' HAFHISI poor child. try not to? get more creative? goof luck? im glad you find the possibility of speaking for others' thoughts important enough to use y/n.

I AM CREATIVE HOW DARE YOU 😡 and of course other characters are important my gosh AHAHAHAH imagine having everything be about you all the time T_T 🤢🤢🤢

'she at the very least knows how to properly conduct herself and treat others' yeah thats why shes fine. i dont have guts to raise a sword either, rather make smn raise it for me >:)

d;lkgaf;ksagflkasfgkas;fgas;fg;fakl;gaf;asf why are you so inheretly evil. it's giving yes i love manipulating others alshf;ahf;ashfsla stop HASLFHALFLASFASLG gwfo/

but still your opinion is the most important here. so im gled you love your creation.

HAHAHAHH of course i love my creation. out of all the forms of art i make, i am most confident in my writing because of how much feedback ive had on it, as opposed to my drawing and my music and anything else. i would like to be better at them but that would also require me to force myself to be confident enough to share them so T_T its a paradox

'IM SO FUCKIGN HOT' HFJSJFKF and how nice it was to walk down the street with the snow falling down and only -5 C🥰 so cozy.

/:

[blocked]

HGIODJOF how were the classes? how are assignments?

never ending like my queue AHHAHAH T_T

oh youre soso sweet with the song TT love you catmom TT

<3 im excited to do it!!!!

so good morning or anything! have a nice everything! love you! drink water (esp during this hot time) and eat nice food! take care<з

good day my love <3 i hope you also keep yourself hydrated and eat well. take care of yourself i love you

xxx

[l0veliii]

 The Creation of evil

         (prologue) 

I fell from heaven a few centuries ago,  damned to this place to live as a demon feeding on the living. 

I tried to make my life as normal as I could but there's never a truly normal when you are something like me. Being here for as long as I have. I've figured out why this was my punishment for challenging god. It's because this is also a punishment for everyone here, no matter how good your life is there's always a downside. He wants me to understand that he has more power over me and he always will, which is bullshit! He can barely understand his own creations that's why after these mortals die they fade into nothingness. because he realized making these poor things was a mistake and he can't care to fix it. And I truly feel sympathy for those who think they will get to live up there in Golden Gates with him. He is a selfish god and always will be, so it will never matter how good you are or how much you pray to him your life will never change, you will all eventually fade away into the dust of eternity…. 

I wish I had the pleasure of fading away into nothingness, but no he won't let me. I'm forced to play his game for all of eternity. I've been alive for so long that eating, breathing, and loving have all become a distant memory for me. My life now has become living and starting over and living again. Sometimes I even forget what I look like because why look at yourself when you don't even care to brush your teeth in the morning? And when the cold embrace of the night comes, my real nightmare begins.

 I hate that I become such a thing when the night comes because even thinking about that thing makes me shiver. The transformation is the worst part but I've gone through it a thousand times but I will never get used to the pain. Sometimes I don't make it to my apartment and I have no choice but to run to the woods isn't so bad after you do it for such a long time. The Transformation feels like hell on earth, and how I'm describing it right now is even an understatement considering it literally rips out of me like some type of demon awakening; it's like I'm a balloon full of nails and they're all trying to get out… My current life hasn't changed in a long time. I've worked as a librarian for most of my long empty life. Mainly because it's easy and doesn't draw too much attention; and it helps me keep from going insane.

One day he came in…he was tall with long flowing the color of the midnight skies and beautiful slanted eyes. I don't know why I fell for him. He just made me feel something, something I haven't felt in a very long time…love, his presence felt warm like I was being held to a calming fireplace. I can hardly remember the last time I felt like this.  Ive never felt like this for any of my past lovers. He checks a book out about “biology and the human body” which I find surprising considering he doesn't look like the type to be into the human body.but what am I saying i try out new things all the time. Then he walked out of the door, heels clicking as they touched the ground. And the rest of the day leaves just as soon as it came. THE CLOCK TICKS MIDNIGHT… I run to my apartment in a panic, completely forgetting my curse knowing I won't make it. I book it for the woods as my body rips apart skin falling off as that thing takes control and I soon lose consciousness as the transformation ends. In his demon form it wanders the woods sniffing its prey out and looking for anything to eat. Soon a movement catches his eye causing it to quickly dart towards the unlucky victim. Stumbling over its own feet it chases snarling as drool pools from its mouth as it lunges at its target and it freezes…its eyes meet, and I come back to consciousness…“Why are you here” comes out as a low growl. Before fading back out of consciousness and crawling away back into the darkness. I woke up in the middle of the forest again.i need to pay more attention to the time.i don't know why I was so distracted by that man. I've seen men before but what was so different about him...?

[joshuasearing]

Tuesday 25th June 2024

Hey journal so this morning I work up feeling like shit as I woke up from a nightmare. Then after a while I got up and got ready for work, then I drove to work. Then once I got to work for most part of e day I was on instore and was just helping run parks as well. It was really hot today so I was running parks trying to enjoy the heat as much as I possibly could if that makes sense. Then near the end of my shift one of the managers wanted me to help clear out the backyard and get it all clean sorted. At one point the waste been hadn’t been cleaned out properly so the manager was using a hose to spray of these disgusting maggots. Anyways after I finished doing everything it was 30 minutes after my finishing time so I did a little bit of extra time. I then after this drove to the gym. The traffic was not great but will still got there in decent time. Then once I got to the gym I trained biceps and it was good session. Then I went to the shop and got myself some cookies, two cookies and cream donuts and some yogurts. Then I drove home. Since I have been home I have been on my phone a bit then, also watched England with my dad. We drew 0-0 with Slovenia which is pretty shit.we have won the group but we have been playing so poor. There has been no speed or urgency it’s awful.

Also a few hours ago I realised one of my tiktoks I posted a day ago randomly went from like 5k views to 450k very quick and then for the last few hours it has just kept going up and up. It is now at 1.6m views I think or 1.5m I can’t remember. That is ridiculous. At one point it went up like 20k in a minute which is crazy. I was just talking to my dad at one point and the views were going up like crazy.

Also that Lacey girl I was speaking to I found out she was speaking and flirting with other people and was trying to hit on my mates tailor’s new boyfriend. So when everyone found out she blocked me and shit, then she ends up messaging my dad and being strange. She has just been so immature and idiotic. I don’t get people. I just feel like losing faith in humanity now a days. Oh yeah I forgot to mention I also saw my ex sisters ex boyfriend. So the ex of her sister if that makes sense. We spoke for a bit then he explained that he’s exhausted had fell off so he’s car was so much louder so he showed me and yeah it was so loud for the car that it is. However he’s insurance is like 4.5k a year which is so steep compare to my 2k a year. Also he has been driving for a year and I’ve only been driving for a month. Anyways I also forgot to mention when cleaning the back yard earlier there was loads of waste in the black bin. So I’ve tipped in a bin bag and I’ve found it has liquid in it as well. Meaning the bad started ripping so this caused so much stress and hassle but we got it sorted. Also I helped flatten boxes clear up any extra mess and it was hot outside but I didn’t mind too much.

Anyways speak to you later journal, bye journal!