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drprettyboyspence · 4 years

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Memory Lane

Dr. Spencer Reid/reader

Summary: Reader just can't seem to get to sleep one night so she decides to walk around the house she shares with her boyfriend, Spencer Reid. As she travels around the house she remembers significant moments in their relationship.

words: 2.9k

warnings: season 12 spoilers, mentioning of mental illness, nothing else to my knowledge! (just a lot of fluff)

a/n: This is my first Spencer Reid fic and I kinda went off the rails with the word count, let me know if you enjoy it :)

I turn myself over in bed for what feels like the four hundredth time this hour, facing the ceiling now. I can hear the rustling of leaves outside and the distant sirens of the city, remembering how those sounds used to bring me some sort of comfort as a child, now all I can think of is the death and tragedy being an FBI profiler has brought me into contact with, the horrors at the end of the trail of sirens. Mostly noticeably though, I hear the steady breathing of the man lying next to me in the king bed, glancing over at my boyfriend of almost 4 years I smile warmly, his unruly hair draped over the pillow, glad to see him in deep sleep. Recently he hasn’t been sleeping well, suffering from PTSD from his time spent in prison as well as all the trauma the poor man has been through in the last 10 years of his life. I quietly get out of bed, making sure not to bother him, he deserves a good nights sleep and we have to be at the BAU in a depressingly minuscule amount of hours. My feet hit the cold wooden floors and I wonder for the uncountable time “Why did we decide on wooden floors?” A memory of an argument with Spencer answers my question,

“Because silly, don’t you know that carpets can hold up to 200,000 bacteria per square inch, this room is 100 square feet, 144 square inches per square foot, that is 28,800,000 bacteria in our bedroom alone.” I remember shaking my head at him, he’s always been such a germaphobe. In fact, when we first met, he shook my hand, and later when I confided in JJ and Penelope that I had pretty intense feelings for the resident genius of the BAU, they mentioned that he usually hates shaking hands, is known for refusing to shake the hands of many people the team comes into contact with on cases. He shook my hand right away, it’s one of the things I love about him and we always say we knew right away that we had a special connection. I glance at Spencer’s sleeping frame one more time before leaving the bedroom and making my way down the hallway. There are pictures there, pictures of me and Spence, him and his mom, pictures of the team at work, Spencer won’t admit it often, but he wakes up every morning scared that he won’t remember those he loves, his mother’s dementia and schizophrenia have impacted him greatly. I stop in front of a picture of me and Spence, it’s the first picture we ever took together, Halloween almost 5 years ago now, at the FBI Halloween party.

October 2015

“Come on Y/n! How can you not love Halloween!”

“Spencer, what’s so great about Halloween!” I had asked laughing while filling up a plastic cup with punch. The party is fun, but all this dressing up just seems silly to me sometimes.

“It’s a uniquely American holiday! I mean, despite its obvious origins in the Celtic festival of Samhain and the Christian All Saints’ Day, it really is a melting pot of various immigrants’ traditions and beliefs. It became a little more commercialized in the 1950s with trick-or-treat, and today it rivals only Christmas in terms of popularity!” I catch JJ’s eyes from across the room, she gives me a sympathetic look as I’m stuck in another of Reid’s constant statistics rants. Frankly, I don’t understand how the rest of the team can cut Reid off when he’s like this. He’s so genuinely excited by this holiday it makes my budding feelings for the man standing in front of me even stronger.

“Aw you guys look so cute! Say cheese!” the always-hyper voice of Penelope Garcia shouts from across the bullpen, snapping a quick picture of me and Spence before running after Derek. I glance down at my phone and see a text from Penelope “It doesn’t take a profiler to realize how gone you are for him Y/n” I blush profusely before continuing my conversation with Spencer.

Present day

Tearing my eyes away from that specific picture, I continue walking to the end of the hallway, painfully aware that the floorboards are squeaking with my every step, hoping Spencer’s just-finished-a-case level of exhaustion will prevent him from waking up. I pass the threshold into the kitchen and see the dim light of the clock over the stove, the red 2:15 blinking back at me through my tired eyes, I just can’t seem to get to sleep tonight, I’m sure Spencer would say something like

“Chronic insomnia is usually tied to an underlying mental or physical issue. Anxiety, stress, and depression are some of the most common causes of chronic insomnia but even if you do not suffer from chronic insomnia, 35% of Americans report their sleep quality as poor or only fair.” Dating a living encyclopedia definitely has its perks I suppose. I walk towards the fridge and glance at the refrigerator, my eyes traveling to a postcard held up by a doctor who magnet. Houston, Texas the postcard reads.

February 2017

Me and Spencer had been dating for less than 6 months but as we had known each other for over a year I was falling head over heels in love with him. The last few months hadn’t been easy, Spencer learned that his mother had been diagnosed with dementia and not a day had gone by where he didn’t try and find a cure, he had been traveling to Houston,Texas to talk with his mother’s doctor, he then brought her to live with him in Virginia, it had been difficult to say the least. My fingers traced the edges of the postcard I had received in the mail this morning, then flipped it over and saw Spencer’s familiar scraggly handwriting, it read

Dear Y/n,

I was able to speak with my mother’s doctors today, I feel as though there must be more I can be doing, she seems to be responding to the medicines but I am looking into new methods of treating the disease. I miss you so much Y/n, and I miss the rest of the team as well, tell them I will be back as soon as I can, I hate the thought of you putting yourself in danger on cases without me there, not because I doubt your ability to protect yourself, but because I doubt my ability to handle being 1,402 miles away from you. Please do not worry about me, if you’re anxiously awaiting my return, stop looking at the clock because remember, when looking at a clock our brains anticipate what we’ll see faster than we actually see it, so the clock seems to stop, Ill be back before you know it Y/n.

With all my love, Spencer Reid.

I giggle quietly at the added facts, only Spencer would describe the phenomenon of a clock appearing stopped when glanced out. I’m concerned about Spencer though, I’m not sure what is going on, but there is definitely something not right with him and if I didn’t trust him so much I would consider asking Garcia to do a background check to check the legitimacy of his travels to Houston.

Present Day

This postcard is extremely bittersweet, the next week we were all rushing to Mexico, responding to a call that Spencer was in jail, I was a nervous wreck, we all were, it was an extremely rough 6 months, truly showing me how strong the man I love is. I push some of those harsh memories out of my brain, choosing to focus on the happy memories if I ever want to fall asleep tonight. There’s a coffee machine next to the fridge, if there’s one thing Spencer loves more than me, its coffee, or rather coffee flavored sugar with the amount of sweetener he puts in his cup every day. Spencer smells like coffee, almost always, he struggles to sleep most nights and therefore is always hyped up on caffeine. It's actually played a huge role in our relationship.

August 2016

Dr. Spencer Reid and I are walking to the BAU together as we do every single day, we live close to each other, close enough that he walks about 5 minutes before arriving at my house, we then walk to the coffee shop on the way to the train station. We’re best friends, but I’ve been secretly in love with him for months. Walking into Quantico, we get the daily glances from Penelope, Derek, and JJ who are sitting together looking at pictures of Henry. Penelope always teases me that we’re both so in love with each other that everyone can see it but us, it’s ironic actually. As much as I don’t believe Pen, I have been noticing small changes in Spence’s behavior the last couple months, prompting me to, in the deepest corners of my mind, hope that maybe he feels the same way, our friendship is worth too much to risk him not feeling the same way though, so I’m forever stuck. We aren’t on a case right now, so there’s a lot of paperwork to be done, at one point during the day I get up, asking Spence if he wants another cup of coffee before walking to the break room. I return after a brief 5 minutes and am surprised to see Derek sitting in my seat, arguing with Spencer.

“Come on Pretty boy! We both know you’re in love with her! Just ask her out man, she’ll say yes!”

“Morgan, quiet down, she’ll be back any minute, besides I’m 35 and Y/n is 32, I’m not saying there would even be a chance that we would get married but the marriage success rate in the United States is only 50%, the worst it has ever been, that therefore shows the state of relationships in the country as well, I don’t want to ruin our friendship, I could never lose her. Besides, I’ve never been good with women.”

“But that’s the thing pretty boy, you don’t have to be good with women, you’re already good with Y/n, she’s the one who matters, just ask her out man, you’ll regret it if you don’t.” With that Morgan walks away and I take a deep breath, its now or never, walking over to Spencer and setting down the cup, whispering in his ear,

“You never know how good with women you are until you try, Spence” He looks up at me with wide eyes and licks his tongue across his lips, something he does often.

“Um, Y/n, y-you heard all of that?” I nod and I can see Spence take a deep breath just as I did before walking over, “W-would you like to um- go to dinner with me Y/n?”

“Hmm I don’t know…” Spencer’s face starts to fall as I quickly continue “Of course I would love to go to dinner with you silly, what did you think?” His smile lights up the entire room as he pulls me into a deep hug.

“Well finally you two. You couldn’t have waited just a few more months though, I assumed you lovebirds wouldn’t get it together until after Spencer’s birthday” Rossi says from behind us, passing a pretty hefty stack of bills to Penelope.

That was the day that started the greatest adventure of my life.

Present Day

I leave the kitchen and walk to the living room, a chilly breeze blows my hair slightly askew, its June in Virginia, warm enough that all I’m wearing is one of Spence’s oversized MIT shirts with pajama shorts, but the night air causes slight goosebumps on my skin, sending me into my memories once again.

August 2019

Spencer and I are sitting on the couch, participating in yet another Doctor Who marathon on the tv, it's a rare day off from work and the hot summer air fills our living room even with the fan blowing through the house. I lie my head in Spencer’s lap as we watch the tv and his strong hand strokes the back of my neck, causing goosebumps to pop up all over my arms. I giggle and glance up at him causing him to pointedly look at me asking me with his eyes “What is so funny that you dare distract from Doctor Who?”

“It’s just strange, its 95 degrees outside but your hands on my neck give me goosebumps like its a crisp fall day, isn’t that funny baby?”

“Of course the most common cause of goosebumps is cold weather, but when you’re experiencing extreme emotions, the human body responds in a variety of ways. Two common responses include increased electrical activity in the muscles just under the skin and increased depth or heaviness of breathing, resulting in goosebumps.” I roll my eyes at him and playfully swat his hair out of his eyes.

“Only you, Dr. Spencer Reid, would take a romantic statement and turn it into statistics, and I love you for that” he kisses me and well, the Doctor Who marathon was quickly turned off after that.

Present Day

As I turn the corner into the living room I smile warmly, it’s the room that Spencer and I like the best. There are book cases lining the back wall, Spencer loves books, I’d ask him what made his books so special and he’d tell me stories of his childhood, his mom reading him 15th century literature, I loved when Spence told me stories about his childhood.

December 2017

I knocked on the door of Spencer’s apartment, it wasn’t like him to be late for our daily walk to work especially because he had been on probation after his time in jail. I received no answer, prompting my concern as I unlocked the door with the key he had given me. I walked into his living room and saw him, Spencer was sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by books, running his fingers up and down the pages as he does when he’s reading at his top speed.

“Spence what on earth are you doing! Where did all these books come from? We aren’t on a case are we?”

“This year in the United States alone there have been 328,259 new books published, I read at 20,000 words per minute but at an average of 100,000 words per book, it would take me 27,377 hours to read all those books!”

“Oh Spencer how I love you, you don’t need to read every book ever published, are you going to start reading romance novels?” I tease while picking up a copy of 50 Shades of Gray from the ground at Spencer’s feet.

“Okay maybe you’re right, I just feel like I missed so much time when I was incarcerated, all that reading I could’ve done when I was trapped in that place, it's time I can never get back.”

“Spencer, I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you, but this is not going to help that feeling go away, let’s go to work.” Spencer nodded and began to tidy up the floor before following me out the door.

“Wait, Y/n, I have to ask you something that I’ve meant to say since I’ve gotten out of jail, and I might as well say it now, will you move in with me?” He’s chewing on his bottom lip again and I jump into his arms in excitement, kissing his hair as he caresses the back of my head.

“Of course I’ll move in with you! I love you, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“And I love you Y/n Y/l/n.”

Present Day

I’m coming around to the opposite side of the living room now, sitting down on the couch in front of the fireplace. I love the fireplace in our house and I think secretly Spencer does too. We argued for days over the safety of having a fireplace in our house, Spencer of course supplied with enough knowledge of house fires to last him 5 lifetimes, “But Spencer it’ll be so cozy, doesn’t it sound romantic to cuddle up by the fire?” I had pleaded with him the day we toured the house for the first time.

“Y/n, there were an average of 357,400 residential fires per year in the US between 2012 and 2014, an average of 22,300 of those fires were caused by a fireplace or chimney!”

“But Spenceee, that’s only 6.24% of the residential house fires during that period, 43.9% were from cooking equipment, are you going to forbid us from having a kitchen too?” Hey, don’t underestimate how useful a cellphone calculator and a quick google search can be in winning an argument against your genius boyfriend. Obviously, we had ended up agreeing on the fireplace, but Spencer was still overly cautious whenever it was in use. As I stood in front of the fireplace I became hyper aware of the floorboards creaking in the hallway just as they had done when I left the room earlier, I felt a presence enter the room and the 6’1” frame of my boyfriend wrapped his long arms around me from behind while burying his face in the hollow of my shoulder.

“Hi, baby, what are you doing up so late? Are you feeling okay? Can’t seem to get to sleep?” I nod back at him and recline my head so it rests on his strong chest.

“I was just taking a trip down memory lane I suppose” I say before smiling up at the love of my life.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reader insert

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geekkatsblog · 4 years

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Making my heart race for 45 minutes every week season 17x5 or like everyone else likes to call it Grey's Anatomy.

"A VERY LONG BUT IMPROTANT PART TO READ BELOW."

Now before I get started I was idly scrolling through Instagram instead of studying like I was supposed to and I was recommended a Grey's Anatomy confession site to torture myself (because most of the time I feel irrationally sad after reading when I see my faves being bashed) and I was a good few confessions in when I noticed that someone had taken a part of lasts weeks review word for word and submitted it. I never really thought I would have to but I beg please don't do that. Confession sites tend to make my heart race and when I realized it was my words that were used I was already in the comments, none of my opinions in these are final so I'd rather not have my words posted anywhere else where people can't see the complete picture. Its definitely fine to use it as inspiration but Please do not post my reviews anywhere else, or at least ask first.

*Now finally onto the review*

All in all the episode was like I expected in terms of outcomes however Grey's has got to come up with another genetic disorder besides Alzheimers, because this is yet another doctor with the gene. Not much happened besides the main event so let's hope I don't talk all over myself again.

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Catherine Fox and Jackson Avery

Refuses to wear the mask like the pig headed woman she is. Her especially should take no risks because as it was pointed out in the episode she is immunocompromised. She didn't actually appear in person but I thought I would mention her part in the episode because it gave us Richard and Jackson scenes which I have grown to love and appreciate because they're always wholesome the one they had tonight on systematic racism was great and one that I hope managed to educate viewers on the situation. It's great to see Jackson have someone there who has a parent figure there to listen calmly. Catherine as great of a mother as she is in my opinion sometimes she can come across as an eccentric aunt. I'm glad Richad managed to tame the wildcat and convince her to wear a mask with his sexual promises. We've lost enough Grey Sloan staff and family from it so far.

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Meredith

A hopefully temporary resident at the fake beach where nothing is real. Unfortunately there were no new visitors at the beach. Like I stated last week, I'm not entirely sure if we'll see anymore of the greats such as Mark Sloan, Lexie ect but there's still a chance next week although it seems like she might be waking up, but like I always say with Grey's expect the unexpected She may or may not be out of the deep end yet but I'm just thankful for the few glimpses we got to see George and Derek grace our screens again the nostalgia was great. However as much as I enjoyed seeing them again, I want Meredith to wake up I miss her, she may not be as fun and quirky as she used to be in the earlier seasons but without her working in the hospital it's hard to deny that something's missing from the episodes.

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TEDDY / OWEN/ TOM

(Here we go again.) 😔

This triangle has been going strong for a long time almost too long, and once again they flipped the switch its always back and forth. A few episodes ago she was begging Owen for forgiveness and now she's telling Tom they have a future. I feel like she needs some time to process what she's really feeling most of the time it seems like she's confused and fair enough it all happened so fast the time between her being with Tom and Owen expressing his still lingering feelings to her but now she needs to make sure that the decision she makes now is the one she actually intends to stick with.

On another note Tom seems to be out of the woods, for now at least which is great when he asked for his son I was a little concerned for a bit I wasn't sure if he was really going to make it. He's a douche and a hard ass but he has the potential to have a great character development, so I'm glad he got another chance. And my comments about wanting Helm to be his new protege remains in that small scene they had last week something just clicked with me and there's also the fact that she wanted to treat him despite the risks.

Owen was here as a filler basically, and to reinforce the love triangle again.

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Jo Wilson

Is thinking of switching specialties, if Ben can do it like changing sweaters why can't she switch? I do think it will be a good fit for her the way she has been fawning over the babies of recent it was either that or give her one of her own which in my opinion I don't think she's ready for. But even in all of the excitement I can't help but think that she's only looking at the cupcake and rainbow side for now because although it's awesome being the first one to hold the babies and everything, not every delivery goes well sometimes the babies don't make it or in other cases the mothers die I hope she's ready to face that side of the package as well.

Just mentioning as well that I love the friendship between her and Schmitt. It was an unexpected but pleasant pairing one of which I'm looking forward to seeing more of in the long run.

On the other hand if Jo switches this gives us more of a chance to see Carina as well because she was signed on a a series regular yet we don't get to see her enough except for on Station 19 and on there she's only Maya's girlfriend. I hope it changes soon and they give her more of a plot or something.

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Amelia/Link

Not much relationship content other than Link finding out about her and Koracick's fling and he took her going into the hospital before the end of her maternity leave quite well. They are one of the healthier relationships in Grey's. Right now at least things always get trickier later.

I'm glad she went in though it let Koracick know that he still had people who care about him and she managed to make Teddy who everyone was treating like garbage as well feel a little better.

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Maggie

No Winston today but we got a lot of Maggie content which was great. She was the moral support once again but today I was fine with it I always enjoy her moments with Bailey and at least she was able to be there for her seeing that Ben was MIA and Webber was busy taking care of her patients along with Jackson. Once again a very needed conversation between her and Bailey and I loved that she still went to comfort her despite the fact that rehashing her own mother's death had to be painful to do.

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Bailey

(Thanks for ruining My Girl for me Grey's now instead of feeling happy I'll forever think of Bailey saying goodbye to her mother.)

We all know that whenever Bailey starts spouting out her feelings and asking for help and advice things are about to go down.

Before we get completely into it I'd just like to express my disappointment in the fact that Ben literally dropped everything took the aid car to save his in laws no questions asked then dropped off his mother in law at the hospital with Covid and left his wife who has anxiety without even checking in. I know he's a first responder as well and he isn't allowed into the hospital that easily either but geeze no other phone calls or messages to check in?. He better have been stuck putting out a huge fire or something equally as bad, besides being him being hurt himself at least.

Another foot note to appreciate Bailey primping before her facetiming with Ben. Go get it hun. Their relationship be cute as usual.

Then the big revel her, mother has dementia, yet another doctor with the alzheimers gene. The moment between her and Meredith was heartwarming to be honest it's a foreign thing seeing them so close and having life conversations still but it's something I hope we get to see often they've had them as semi rivals/ semi friends long enough.

It was hard to see her have to say goodbye and the fact that her father couldn't be there to tell his wife any final words and be there to hold her as she passed made it worse, his wife that he was married to and loved for so long had to die without the comfort of her husband by her side and her daughter could barely hold her hand because of the bulk of her suit, then one of the saddest parts was that she possibly didn't even know what was happening to her. But thankfully Bailey could have been there to sing to her and keep her calm, a lot of people don't even get that much of a chance during the pandemic their loved ones die alone.

The moment I saw the conversation with her dad and the way she was only half listening I knew she was going to blame herself at some point over what happened, it remains to be seen if Maggie's speech worked or if she's going to continue to blame herself. Like I stated before I love the conversation her and Maggie had. One of the reasons why I haven't stepped off the Grey's Carousel is because they touch on topics that others don't cross they aren't afraid to touch the important and controversial things.

I was too being sad over her mothers death at first but I also want to talk about her and Webber's friendship he immediately postponed everything to be there for her, he took over her workload and still made sure he was there in time to be there and support her when she watched her mother flat line.

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The pandemic has always been real to me but somehow seeing the names of those that passed at the end was surreal I found myself just staring at the screen for a few minutes later reflecting on everything.

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Next week is the winter finale and I have no idea how it could get anymore dramatic than it already is. There's been so much already but Grey's always manages to surprise me. Then after that episode it's back to nothing until March 😭😭😭.

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spookyfloof · 4 years

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A Mistletoe Too Far - (LizardHat Christmas story)

Villainous/Hazbin Hotel crossover

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I wrote this as a Christmas present to @striped-menace last year but never got around to posting it on here.

Summary: Someone plays a Christmas-themed prank on Black Hat, but of course he has the last laugh.

Rating: M (explicit sexual content)

Note: No HH characters are specifically mentioned, but they are referenced.

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Black Hat squinted at the offending plant perched above him. Who would actually be stupid enough to hang mistletoe in his manor?

The three likely culprits stood around him; Dementia delighted, Flug frightened, and 505 simply surprised.

Their boss’s eyes grated in their sockets like rusty metal on tarmac as he looked to each of them in turn.

Flug wouldn't dare. But the other two...

“Oh bon-bon! I thought you hated mistletoe~,” Demencia cooed as she fluttered her dark eyelashes.

His teeth flashed an unmistakable warning.

“Do not start...” he growled, “Take it down.”

“Of course, sir! Right away!” Flug squeaked and beckoned his beloved blue bear to snatch it from the ceiling.

When he did, the scientist crumpled it in his hands and threw it in a nearby trash bin, even going so far as to set the bin on fire with one of the many conveniently placed blowtorches.

“Taken care of, sir!” he said with a gulp, “Anything else we can do for you?

Black Hat crossed his arms and again scrutinized his admittedly motley crew of employees. Demencia pouted at the burning trash but even she and the idiot 505 knew better than to try something like this.

“No,” he grunted out finally. “Get back to work.”

Once he disappeared from the room, Flug nearly fainted into 505′s side. It was too early for this...

“You didn't put that up, did you?” He asked under his breath and the bear shook his head.

“Brawr?"

"I thought so."

He spotted Demencia about to slip out of the room but yelled after her.

As she heard her name, she rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue, but refused to turn around.

“What?”

“Why on Earth did you do that?! I knew you were insane but I didn't know you had a death wish!?”

She whipped around and glared. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what! Hanging the mistletoe over Black Hat!"

She scoffed. “I didn't do that.”

“Of course you did.”

She squared her shoulders as she got closer to him. Despite himself, he backed away, but she pushed him in the chest with one gloved finger.

“No, bag boy, I learned my lesson last time.”

It was true. She'd tried to get their boss to kiss her by hanging mistletoe two Decembers ago and the result landed her at least two broken ribs and an entire wing of the manor in need of remodeling.

Flug studied Demencia's face for any trace of a lie but she didn't crack. If anything she wanted to crack his skull for accusing her. If she was gonna get blamed for something, it better be something she actually did. She had better ways to spend her time.

“It really wasn't you?” he asked, his tone still just as skeptical.

“Duh! It was probably you, asshole! You love to see me get in trouble.”

“Me?! I would never do something that stupid.”

She leveled her eyes with his and raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?”

“No!” he began but caught himself. He had tried framing her for pranks like this more than once...

Flug cleared his throat. “Fine. Maybe I have, but this wasn't me! I don't feel like dying today! Not a week before Christmas.” It was one of 505′s favorite holidays after all.

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Well somebody did and it wasn't me.” She emphasized the declaration by sticking her tongue out and walking away with her head held high, her long green hair curling on the floor behind her. “You two can figure it out among yourselves.”

It happened again the next day, and again the next. Only once on each day and only when Demencia happened to be in the room, but not a soul in Hat Manor had an answer for these appearances. No amount of threats or dismembering got Black Hat anywhere.

So he stopped acknowledging the mistletoe. He stopped yelling at his employees and robots. Wouldn't even spare the little piece of Christmas tradition a cursory glance. Any and all that manifested in his presence simply shriveled into a lifeless black husk that crumbled to ash upon his arrival.

And no one said a word about it.

It was two days until Christmas when Black Hat had finally had enough.

Early in the morning, before sunlight had even graced the horizon, he materialized into Demencia’s quarters. She slept strapped to her slab of a bed by mechanical arms. He flicked on a light and gazed around the dull room with something of a scowl on his face. He never came down here much. He had no reason to, and seeing how boring it was only reinforced that choice. The only notable decoration was a shrine with Black Hat’s picture in a heart shaped frame at the center.

He was sure he’d destroyed that already, but chose to let it be.

Black Hat cleared his throat.

“Demencia,” he called out to her sleeping form and she started to stir. She was a heavy sleeper.

He got close enough to touch her and watched as she twitched and murmured slightly in her sleep.

He leaned down to her pierced ear and tried again.

“Wake up!”

With that, she jolted awake.

“Wha! Black Hat! I didn’t do it!” she insisted with a slur before even laying eyes on her beloved.

“I have good news for you,” he said through a grin, “You’re going to help me.”

Demencia blinked in his direction and licked her dry lips. She realized she’d been drooling and tried discreetly to wipe her chin on the shoulder of her oversized t-shirt.

But the sound of Black Hat’s good news perked her right up.

“Anything for you, handsome,” she crooned and Black Hat did his best not to roll his eyes, though he did flick them up to the ceiling. Just as he thought, there hovering between Demencia and Lord Black Hat was yet another sprig of mistletoe.

His smile brightened at her.

“Wonderful. Now, I’ve been thinking... I haven’t been quite in the Christmas spirit lately and I think it’s time we fix that, hmm?”

Demencia’s head tilted as she looked at him, an eyebrow slightly cocked.

“Yes?”

“Good! I’m glad you agree!”

He wasn’t usually this enthusiastic about something unless it involved killing or taking someone’s soul.

“We’re going to start with that mistletoe there.” He gestured with his chin and her face lit up as she started putting the pieces together.

“You mean it?!”

She wriggled in her bonds with unabashed excitement.

He chuckled darkly. “I do.”

“We’re finally going to kiss?!” Demencia all but squealed.

“Yes. In a matter of speaking,” he said but didn’t elaborate, “Are you ready?”

And though Demencia didn’t fully understand, anything to do with Black Hat and her kissing had to be a good thing!

“I’m so ready!”

She then closed her eyes and pursed her lips the way she’d practiced countless times in preparation for this very moment. She knew it was only a matter of time before he returned her affection!

While her eyes were still closed, he moved towards the center of her “bed” and climbed up, moving her legs apart to position himself between them.

Demencia was actually blushing. “Black Hat? What are you doing?”

He lifted a finger to his lips to shush her before pulling up the hem of her shirt, revealing only a black and red thong underneath.

Her eyes incredulous and wide, she watched as one of his hands turned to claws and with a simple flick of his finger, tore the thong right off.

Black Hat gave her a smile dripping with saliva and lifted her legs into the air by her thighs. Without warning, his inhuman tongue snaked out from behind his toothy grin and took one long, thorough lick over the entirety of her vulva.

Demencia squeaked but didn’t dare to protest even if she wanted to.

So he latched his mouth to her pussy lips and went to town, his tongue wriggling over and between every fold and crevice between her legs.

Demencia found herself wishing she could move her arms but settled for clawing at the surface of her bed.

She moaned and black hat laughed, taking her response as an invitation to go further. His tongue buried itself deep inside her and she gasped. But something else was toying with her clit. She couldn’t see it, but it felt like another, smaller tongue, just as warm and slimy circling and teasing that bundle of nerves.

“Black Hat!”

She couldn’t take much more of this. She’d always imagined what this would feel like with him, but she never imagined he’d do it like this.

His tongue both managed to scrape over her g-spot and hug that spot deep inside her she could only reach with one of her specially ordered dildos.

She bit her lower lip, hard enough for the trace of blood to reach her tongue.

“Ah! Black Hat…I…Please!”

Possessed by the assault of pleasure, she squeezed her thighs around him and score claw marks into the bed. She never thought she’d see heaven, what with being a villain and all, yet here she was, Black Hat escorting her there as her very own grim reaper.

---

Far below the reaches of heaven, far below even the depths of Hat Manor, unknown to Demencia or even Black Hat – though he had a hunch – was a pale man with rosy red cheeks and a smile like a wood chipper sitting in bed in the tallest tower in Hell. Only he wasn’t smiling. Instead his nose crinkled and his lips pressed into a crooked frown. His yellow eyes were fixed on a glowing screen on the other side of the room.

Steam emanated into the room from the adjacent bathroom, along with the steady sound of running water.

Without looking away, he turned his head towards it and called out with unmistakable resignation.

“Honey?”

From the shower, a tall and graceful woman with long blonde hair and two daunting horns replied.

“Yes, dear?”

“Remind me to tell the servants to remove any mistletoe from the premises.”

She paused lathering her hair and he continued to stare at the screen.

“Why?” she asked, “You love mistletoe.”

He hesitated on an emotion…something like regret, but managed to tell her with conviction, “I’ve decided I prefer poinsettias.”

#villainous #lizardhat #hazbin hotel #fanfic #villainous fanfic #lemon

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nikkzwrites · 4 years

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Yesterday Once More | Dark Fix-It Fic Series | Chapter 7

A/N: This fic is one that I started with my OC because honestly, I personally didn’t like how season 3 ended. So I am rewriting all of Dark with my OC Annalise Dahlheim. I hope you all like it. Some things will be expanded more on just for more depth to Dark that season 3 kinda skipped over so…. yeah.

CW: Canon Typical Triggers: Smoking, Sex, Language, Drugs, Drinking, Death, Violence, Suicide Mentions, Cutting, Violence.

Word Count: 3.7k

[First Chapter] [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

Helge woke up in a child’s themed room. It was blue with foxes and hedgehogs. A very weird chair sat in the middle. The young boy studied it as his ear bled. This was the memory old Helge woke up to that morning. It helped him remember everything.

Jonas woke up in an enclosed log deer stand. He checked to see if the letter was still with him before he climbed down and started on his journey to go find Mikkel. He first needed to start at the school. He saw a frizzy-haired brunette in the hall sitting by herself in the hall. He decided she was probably the best to ask, “What day is it today?”

“Pardon?” Regina pulled off her headphones.

Jonas repeated, “What day is it today?”

“November 9th,” She answered.

Jonas sighed and admitted, “I know this sounds crazy, but what year?”

“1986,” She shook her head in confusion. Jonas thanked her and started to walk away, but got called back by the girl, “Wait! Are you looking for someone?”

Jonas stared at the girl confused on how she would know this, “Yeah. A friend. Michael Kahnwald.”

Regina shook her head, “Never heard of him.”

“Ines Kahnwald’s son,” He tried to clarify.

“The nurse,” Regina asked. She shook her head, “She doesn’t have any children.”

Defeated, Jonas then asked, “Do you know where I can find Ines?”

Regina reached for her bag after hearing the bell, “The hospital probably.” She smiled at him, “Well, see you.” As she tried to leave, she got pushed and bullied.

Jonas stared. His heart went out to his friend’s mother. She, in some way, reminded him of his Annalise. She was kind, sweet, and would help out a random stranger. He wondered silently if that’s why his best friend was always giving Annalise a hard time. He shook his head, he couldn’t focus on that right now. He had to make it to find Mikkel then get home.

Egon sat in his office when he got the file from his superior about the power plant. He sat and silently wondered if Ulrich was involved at all in this.

In the present, Ulrich looked around in the files about Mads scattered in Mikkel’s room as if like a summoning circle that he could get all the information from some specter.

Woller, at the same time, walked into Charlotte’s office with the power plant search warrant. Charlotte quickly hung up the phone and grabbed it to head to the power plant.

At the same time 33 years ago, Egon drove to the power plant. He was greeted with the face of Helge. Just the man he wanted to see.

“Anything I can help you with,” Helge asked with a smile.

Egon shook his head, “It’s about the missing Nielsen boy. The night he disappeared, you were on your shift, right?”

Helge looked as if he needed to think back, but honestly, he was just confused and concerned that the man had found out about him, “Yes.”

“Martin wants to document and corroborate the routines and times of everyone who was near here that night,” Egon explained to the man.

Helge nodded in understanding. He checked his watch then told the police officer, “I have to do my rounds and check the blocks now.”

Egon nodded, “Okay, let’s arrange a time you can stop by the station then.”

Helge stared out into space for a moment then asked, “The day after tomorrow?”

“Tuesday?”

“Is 10:30, okay?” Helge asked the man.

Egon nodded, “That works. Sorry for the trouble.”

Helge shook his head and chuckled, “It’s no trouble. I just didn’t see anything. What I mean is… Everything was totally normal.”

Egon nodded and asked, “Your shift ended at six?”

Helge nodded, “Yes, that’s when the night shift starts.”

“Did you take your car,” Egon asked.

Helge nodded, “I took the state road.”

Egon looked up confused, “Were you heading somewhere else? Because you took the state road instead. Isn’t the forest road shorter?”

“Yeah,” Helge conceded, “I just picked something up for my father.” Helge nodded towards the officer and said, “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Egon interrupted the other man’s leaving and said, “One more question. Did you see his brother anywhere that day? The older Nielsen boy, Ulrich.”

Helge shook his head, “Nope. Til Tuesday.” He closed the gate.

In 2019, Ulrich spotted this note in Egon’s day planner.

Aleksander walked out followed by a bunch of armed guards. Charlotte stared at him annoyed. She really did not enjoy this show of force. She held up the warrant for him to see. Aleksander, without a word, motioned for the guards to open the gates for her and her crew.

Hannah slowly pulled herself away from Annalise and out of bed. The rain and thunder had woken her up from her deep slumber. She walked into the kitchen and started to make breakfast. She was happy that she hadn’t woken the girl up yet. And as much as she loved her son, she was glad to be able to talk to Annalise alone. The woman slowly brought breakfast to her bedside. Hannah sat on the edge of the bed and gently rubbed Annalise’s shoulder, “Hey. Annalise.”

Annalise shook herself awake. She looked at the woman smiling down at her. Annalise smiled, “Oh is Jonas home?” Annalise sat up and yawned.

“No,” she explained, “But I think he will be back very soon.” She cupped her cheek gently then pulled away to motion to the food, “I actually made you breakfast. To thank you for being in Jonas and I’s life.”

Annalise smiled gently. She gave the woman a hug. The girl asked, “Can I stay with you until he gets back...I…”

Hannah smiled, “If that’s what you want, but I don’t think Ulrich will come back to hurt me.” She pet the girl’s head and said, “You have a large heart. You remind me very much of my husband, because of this, I can tell you love my Jonas very much. Thank you so much. We both need someone like that in our lives again.”

Back in 1986, Jonas walked through the rain trying to get to the hospital. He was just following the road huddled beneath his yellow raincoat. He started to panic when the police car had noticed him.

Egon, seeing a boy walking through the rain, couldn’t just leave the boy there. He lowered his window and asked, “Can I help you?” He watched the boy shake his head. Then Egon asked, “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

Jonas tried to quickly come up with an excuse, “I’m sick.”

Egon nodded and said, “You look fine to me.”

“I hurt my arm,” Jonas tried to come up with a cover, “I’m headed to the hospital.”

Egon nodded and motioned to the boy, “Get in. I’ll drive you there.”

As Ulrich tried to investigate more in the 33-year-old files of Mads, he noticed that Helge had no statement about what had happened that night. He then called Charlotte and explained. “Did you know that in 1986 your father-in-law was to be interviewed in my brother’s case?”

“No,” Charlotte said tailing the canvassing team.

Ulrich then told her, “I searched through all the files. Helge was supposed to be questioned on Tuesday, November 11, 1986. Exactly 33 years ago, from the day after tomorrow. But there is no statement. He didn’t show. There’s just a note. ‘Why not forest road?’”

“So you think Helge abducted Mads in 1986,” She asked the man, “And now Mikkel and the other boys 33 years later?”

“Where is he now,” Ulrich asked.

“In a nursing home Ulrich!” She sighed, “He’s 75 years old. He has dementia and the evening Mikkel disappeared, Helge was with me.”

Ulrich argued, “But the evening before Yasin vanished, Woller found Helge in the forest.”

“And took him back to the nursing home,” Charlotte cried, getting annoyed. He was sounding more and more paranoid with every passing day.

“Somehow this all has to do with Mads,” Ulrich claimed.

Charlotte shook her head, “You are barking up the wrong tree.”

“Maybe,” Ulrich admitted, “but maybe not.” He ended up hanging up on his boss.

Charlotte turned, noticing a route through the field that went into another part in the woods. She started to follow it to try and figure out more.

Jonas rode in the car with Egon. He was honestly just wondering how his mother and Annalise were holding up with him suddenly gone without much of a word. Did Lise think he was out with Martha right after having everything happened? Was she wondering when he was going to be home? Was she cry-

“What’s your name,” Egon asked, pulling the boy from his thoughts.

“Jonas,” he said without much thought as he turned to the man.

Egon then asked, “And why didn’t you have your parents drive you?”

Jonas shrugged, “My mom is at work. My dad’s dead.”

Egon then asked, “Where does your mother work?”

“At the power plant,” Jonas explained knowing that was an easy out for him.

Egon nodded, “The power plant has changed Winden. This place used to look different.” He looked towards the boy for a second, “What’s that there?”

Jonas pulled out his earbuds from out his pocket and showed it to him, “Earphones.”

Egon laughed, “Those aren’t earphones.”

“You just put them in your ears,” Jonas explained.

Egon shook his head, “Now I’ve seen it all.”

In 2019, Charlotte ended up following the path. She found the gated cavern that Claudia herself was once led to. She knew she had to talk to Aleksander about this.

Egon, soon, pulled up at the hospital just 33 years prior. He let Jonas out of the car, but not before asking, “Among you teenagers, Is Satanism a thing right now?”

Jonas laughed. “No idea,” He was so grateful for the laugh before he realized the officer was serious. He shook his head and replied, “No, I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Egon then advised, “Call your mom to pick you up, it isn’t the best time to be walking through the woods alone right now.”

Jonas nodded. He exited the car thanking the officer. He slid his bag back on his back before walking into the hospital. He walked to one of the nurses and explained, “I am looking for Ines Kahnwald.”

“She was just outside with the boy,” She explained.

Jonas shook his head, “What boy?”

Her brows furrowed. She studied the boy, “What do you want Ines for?”

“I am visiting and I locked myself out,” He lied.

She shook her head, “Ines didn’t mention a visitor. Are you related?”

“Yes,” Jonas said, “You could say that.”

She motioned towards the back doors, “Maybe she’s still out back. Otherwise, I’ll tell her when I see her.”

Jonas shook his head, “No, I don’t want to be in any trouble.”

33 years after that encounter, Ulrich snuck into Helge’s room. He walked over to the man to whisper to try and wake up the older gentleman. When Helge woke up, Ulrich introduced himself, “My name is Ulrich Nielsen. I am a police officer. Don’t be scared. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

Helge started to panic seeing the man he had nightmares every night since he was a child. He started to shake his head terrified.

“In 1986, a boy from Winden Vanished,” Ulrich stated ignoring Helge’s reactions, “Mads Nielsen. Do you remember? You were summoned to the station for questioning but there’s no transcript. What does ‘Why not forest road’ mean?”

The heart monitor screamed out of control for a nurse to check in on the older man. A nurse finally burst in to see Ulrich leaning over the man repeating the question over and over while Helge just tried to communicate. She walked over to the man and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s him,” cried Helge.

Ulrich tried to explain, “I am a cop. I want to ask a few questions.”

Helge struggled out the words, “I know you!”

“What did you say,” Ulrich asked as the nurse tried to pull him away from Helge.

“I can change it,” Helge mumbled, “I can change the past and the future.”

The nurse called out to try and get someone else to help her remove Ulrich from Helge’s room so that Helge could continue living in peace.

“What did you say,” Ulrich asked as the nurses soon surrounded him and started to carry him out, “Where’s Mikkel? Where’s my son?! Where’s Mikkel?”

Meanwhile, in 1986, Jonas walked out the back trying to find Ines so that she could help clear everything up. That is when he spotted them, the younger version of his grandmother and there next to her sat Mikkel. Behind him, the older Jonas, scarred and rugged by his many adventures through time, stated, “How little we understand of the world.”

Jonas turned to him and asked, “Is this real? Or am I crazy, just like my father? Do you even exist? Or are you the hallucination of a lunatic?”

“You are not crazy,” the wiser Jonas stated, “Neither was your father. Sometimes it’s hard for us to grasp things that go against all that we are conditioned to believe. How do you think people felt the first time they were told that the Earth was round?”

Jonas swallowed, “Yes it is. It’s totally insane.”

“And if it’s not?” the older him refuted back.

“How can that be,” Jonas asked with an insane smile on his face, “Is there a breach in time in the cave? So Mikkel hangs out here until he becomes my father?” He must have hit his head in the caves.

The older Jonas, annoyed, replied, “Even if you don’t want to believe it, that is your father.”

Distraught, Jonas looked back at the younger boy and said, “That means...That Ulrich is my grandfather and…”

“Martha is your aunt,” the man who went through this before replied.

Jonas growled, “That’s bullshit.” He was growing more and more annoyed. None of this was right. He just wanted to go home and have everything go back to normal. Martha and he doing this weird dance along the edges. “I’m taking him back and putting this right,” Jonas spitefully spat at his older self.

Knowing exactly what his younger self was thinking, Stranger Jonas pushed Jonas against the back of the car, “Don’t you get it?! If you take Mikkel back, you’ll be meddling in the course of events. Your father will never meet your mother, they won’t fall in love or get married. And you won’t be born! If you take him back now, you’ll be erasing your own existence. The role you play in all of this is much bigger than you think.” He pulled away thinking of a moment that will come to pass for his younger self not too far into his future. His heart ached as he explained tearfully, “But every decision for something is a decision against something else.” He panted as the memory unfolded for him. He could tell his younger self wouldn’t understand but was still terrified at the implications. He further explained, “A life for a life.” He started to calm himself as he asked, “What will you decide?” He wished that the outcome would change, but he knew it wouldn’t. If it had, then he wouldn’t be here as he was with a memory that would haunt him forever and a necklace in his pocket to keep her close to him.

Jonas tearfully watched as the older version of himself walked away. He then turned to watch Mikkel continue eating the green jello Ines had gotten for him.

Charlotte sat on her desk in 2019 as she scolded Ulrich. Ulrich only used this to explain his, correct, theory that the dead boy, Mikkel, and the other disappearances had something to do with Helge. Charlotte tried to sympathize with him, but there was no feasible way this had anything to do with her father-in-law.

Back in 1986, Helge opened up his glove compartment and grabbed the raider bar out so he could eat it.

Mikkel, himself, got hungry around the same time, so he hobbled his way down the hall to the vending machine.

Jonas quickly followed in toe to watch Mikkel. He wasn’t completely convinced not to do anything. He was just about to approach when he saw the younger version of his mother walking up to the boy. Jonas quickly stood back just out of sight to watch. He could see them talking. He wondered if anyone had come back to do the same for him. He pulled out the letter and stared at it. Jonas then decided that he knew what he had to do.

Helge walked to the bunker. He looked around to make sure no one followed him before going inside.

Jonas crawled his way through the caves back home. He, then, made his way into his home. He snuck in quietly without anyone noticing. He wanted to first visit his mother. He walked over to her bedroom to notice something strange. There was a smaller body on the side closer towards the door. There, fast asleep, lay Annalise. He blinked for a second before shaking his head and going to his mother’s side.

Hannah, feeling a dip in the bed, quickly jolted awake. She groaned a bit expecting it to be the girl, but instead saw her son sitting there. He was dirty and sweaty, but he was finally home. “Boy, you startled me,” Hannah complained in a hushed tone to make sure she didn’t wake Annalise, “Where were you?”

Jonas just stared at his mother. He didn’t know what to say, or do for that matter.

“What’s wrong,” Hannah asked, sitting up more in her bed.

Jonas stared at her and asked, “Do you believe in fate?”

Hannah looked down thinking about how to best answer this question. She had never lied to Jonas before, so she really wasn’t going to start now, “I… I don’t know. Maybe it’s my fate that men leave me.”

Jonas stared at his mother in sorrow. He hated seeing his mother like this. He silently wondered if something had happened while he was gone. “I think Dad loved you very much,” Jonas told her.

Both of them stared at each other, tears filled their eyes as they thought back to Michael. Jonas slowly pulled his mother into a hug and held her as she started to sob. This woke up Annalise.

The girl was so excited to see Jonas back home that she nearly pounced to give him a hug, but then she heard it. Their soft weeping. She slowly sat onto her heels and waited for them to be done. When they pulled away, Jonas looked towards the girl. She gave him a warm, tender smile before motioning up to say she was going to head upstairs.

Jonas nodded and mouthed that he would see her there in a moment. First, he had something he needed to do. The boy shut himself in his father’s studio with a bucket in front of him. He pulled out the letter and a lighter. Jonas deliberately set it aflame and dropped it into the metal bucket. He started to cry knowing that he was just destroying one of the last offerings of his father. He felt his presence in his life start to fade as the letter burned.

Ulrich walked into Helge’s room to find him missing. He looked around hoping to find a clue to where he had gone. There on the table rested that clue. ‘The Journey Through Time’ by H.G. Tannhaus with a necklace made of a coin from 1986 tied with a red sting. He knew he was on the right path. Hearing someone close a car door far too easily, Ulrich checked the window. That was when he noticed the sliding door was open. He walked out to see Helge pacing his way to the caves. Ulrich quickly called Charlotte and updated her letting her know that Helge was a time traveller. He watched as Helge went to the crossing and followed him.

While 1986 Helge climbed out of the bunker with the poor boy’s body. He dragged the body to the caves while Noah cleaned the floor. His back tattooed with Sic Mundus’s mark.

After he burned the letter, Jonas changed into his sleeping outfit. He looked to his bed. When he saw that Annalise wasn’t there, he crept down the hall to find her in her bedroom. The boy gently knocked on the door to let her know that he was there.

Annalise sat up more in the small bed. She watched him. Jonas didn’t have to say anything. She knew what he wanted, what he needed. She moved closer to the wall so that he could crawl in with her. When he didn’t quite move, Annalise tilted her head but moved more to the other side so he could have the wall side.

Jonas slowly made his way into the bed after she crawled to the side he wanted her on. Tears ran down his face. He adored that he didn’t have to talk with her. Somehow she just knew. He rest his head on her pillow and turned to his side so that he could hold her close to him. He pulled her to him leaving little space between them. As he clung onto her, he grieved and bawled into her pillow.

Annalise stiffened up as she felt him pull her so close to him. Not that she didn’t want to spoon with him, she just didn’t expect him to do so. She reached behind her and stroked his head. She lowly started to shush him, her voice staying hushed and compassionate to help calm him. Annalise didn’t know how long it was, but she kept caressing him and calming him until he had fallen asleep. His whimpering slowly turned to tempoed breathing. His hold never let up though. It was as if he was clinging onto the last possible string of hope he had in the world.

#yesterday once more fanfic #dark fanfic #dark netflix #dark (netflix)#dark netflix fanfic #dark (netflix) fanfiction

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ladynuwanda · 6 years

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The End of the World as We Know It - Part 1 (Michael LangdonXFemale Reader AU)

A/N: This is my first attempt at an AU, so I’m still a little unsure. But I liked it because it’s very different from everything I’ve ever done, and I wanted to get out of my comfort zone. Part 1 is mostly an introduction to this universe, but I hope you can enjoy it!

Warnings: None, I guess. Although there are mentions to some mental health issues that might be triggering for some of us. But that’s exactly why I didn’t ant to go too deep on the subject. It’s there, but I wanted to keep it light.

Word Count: 1,7K

“Do you know why you are here?”

I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help rolling my eyes a little at the question. This wasn’t my first time in a therapist’s office, although it was my first one-on-one session with Doctor Venable. I looked out the window, embarrassed by my own reaction. I knew it was cold outside, but you couldn’t tell it from inside Doctor Venable’s office. It wasn’t exactly cute and cosy, but it was nice enough, with elegant classic furniture. Very tidy, very neat, like Doctor Venable herself. Shades of purple seemed to be a theme in her office, as well as her life. You didn’t have to think much to figure out whose idea it was to make the wristband that carried our name-tags purple.

“I’m sorry for starting out with such an obvious question...”, she smiled with a small chuckle and lowered her eyes, “but I need to know just how far your understanding of the situation goes, if I want to help you.” Those beautiful brown eyes were burning into mine again, behind stylish prescription glasses. She had a gentle way of making you feel comfortable in her presence. The kind of therapist I’d want to be when I had my Psychology major. If I ever did.

“Yes...”, my voice was raspy for lack of use, so I cleared my throat, “I know why I’m here. You’re not gonna ask me to tell you about my mother, are you?”, I gave an awkward half-laugh and regretted my own silly joke almost immediately. My mother was probably the last thing I wanted to talk about now. I knew she was probably heartbroken by what I did, but I just couldn’t deal with it yet. “It’s only our first meeting, I’d rather get to know you better before being introduced to your family...”, she gave me a kind smile. She understood. She knew I wasn’t ready to talk about it. She wasn’t the kind of therapist that would give me a nod of fake understanding and ask me “and how does that make you feel?”, and I was grateful to her for being better than that.

The session was over before I even knew it, and it wasn’t half as bad as I had expected. I was heading back to the “common room” of Hawthorne Hospital, were I was expected to socialise with the other patients. The building had been a boarding school for boys, before being a hospital, so the corridors were wide, lined with tall glass windows. As far as a mental institutions go, I think it could be a lot worse, it wasn’t at all an unpleasant place. As usual, I sat next to Andre. It’s not that he was particularly friendly, in fact he hadn’t had a single interaction with anyone since he got to the hospital. Which made him my new best friend, of course. It’s not like anyone would go into a mental hospital with the intention of making friends, anyway.

But Coco and Gallant were friends. He was suffering from anorexia, and had a real breakdown when his grandmother found out that he was gay and kicked him out of the house. Coco was bulimic, tale as old as time, she started counting calories and grew obsessed with it, you add a pinch of body dysmorphia to it, and here she is. They obviously clicked right away. And they were always around Evie, an elderly patient with some sort of dementia. The poor lady could talk, in colourful details, about the Golden Age of Hollywood for hours, but couldn’t remember what flavour of jell-o she’d had for desert at lunch.

Those three had made a nice little family for themselves in the hospital, and I was happy for them. But I just couldn’t bring myself to follow their lead. I’d rather stay with my non-responsive friend, the only other patient who was around my age. His story was truly heartbreaking. He was the victim of a hate crime, his boyfriend was beaten to death right in front of his eyes, and he was probably gonna be next, if the police hadn’t arrived. After that he’d just closed in on himself, never speaking another word to anyone.

“You know you are supposed to use this time in the common room to make friends, exchange your experiences with your fellow patients...”, Nurse Mallory was standing beside our table, both hands on her hips in a mock scolding stance.

“I was just spending some quality time here with my friend Andre.”, I gave her my most angelic smile and she narrowed her eyes at me.

“Really? From where I was standing it was almost like you were using the poor man as a human shield...”

“It’s actually the other way around, I was the one shielding him... from her.” I shot a glance at Dinah Stevens across the room and Nurse Mallory followed my gaze.

Dinah Stevens was a minor celebrity, kind of a tv personality. She had a talk show on a local channel, or something. Apparently she had dropped her basket when her show was not renewed for another season. It was a full-on meltdown that included aggression against her crew members and a little bit of stalking at the channel’s new attraction, some former teacher named Cordelia. If Dinah Stevens was a regular citizen, she would probably be facing charges and doing some time in jail. Since she was rich, and somewhat famous, she had ended up here instead. Someone on her PR team had come up with the idea of her helping someone from inside the hospital, in order to improve her reputation. And she had adopted poor Andre as her “project”.

“Aren’t you little miss selfless... I guess you deserve a little treat, then.”, she winked and got something really small from the front pocket of her grey uniform and placed the tiny piece of chocolate in my hand.

“Mallory you’re an angel!”, I shoved the chocolate in my mouth and just let it melt on my tongue so it would last longer. Only then I remembered to look at my Andre, wondering if he’d want a bite, but as usual he didn’t even seem to notice I was there, “But, seriously, who else do you want me to make friends with? The Youngsters?”

That’s what we called Tim and Emily, the last two patients in Wing 3 of Hawthorne Hospital, the youngest of us. Tim was one of those perfect straight-A kids, but as he realised he was failing his SATs he had lost himself to substance abuse. Apparently Emily was here for that too, but in her case it was to run away from a messed up childhood. They were obviously in love, and they were absolutely adorable! Specially the way they seemed to think that no one else knew... Everyone pretended it was a secret. Their puppy-love was a beautiful thing to watch. It gave us all hope.

“So instead, you chose to stay here not talking to Andre...”

“And enjoying the magnificent soundtrack of the common room!”

“Tell me about it! Doctor Pfister and Doctor Nutter seem to think it’s relaxing...”

“Yeah but, come on, playing lyrics like ‘calling occupants of interplanetary craft’ in a mental hospital? You gotta admit that’s poor taste!”

“I do, but they own the place... they’re the bosses! Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to tell you...”

Really, bless Mallory for her snuck chocolates and good-hearted gossip! She was the only thing that made me feel slightly normal in this place. She took my mind from my own shame and guilt, and made me believe I could leave this place and live a normal life again. I was looking at her eyes through her thick glasses, waiting for her to serve the new tea.

“There’s a new patient in Wing 3, Doctor Mead’s bringing him in to the common room for the first time today...”, Doctor Mead was responsible for our group activities. She was the one trying to get us all to socialise and share our experiences, always with a new group-dynamics exercise, or just some plain physical exercise. She was very outdoorsy, Doctor Mead. I hated it about her. Although I did like the woman herself and her cheerful disposition.

“And what’s the deal with him?”

“Same as you, apparently...”

“Oh.”

So another failed suicide attempt. I was already feeling some sort of sympathy towards my new companion, before even meeting him. How could I not? He had wanted his life to end so bad, that he had attempted to do it with his own hands. Unsuccessfully. That’s something I could relate with a little too much. As we talked, the Carpenters song ended and the first notes to Patience&Prudence’s Tonight You Belong to Me began to play. I gave Mallory a side glance “Seriously! If you’re not crazy by the time you get in here, you’re definitely going to be by the time you leave...”, she laughed as the doors to the common room opened and we both looked to see who it was.

It was a tall young man, followed by Doctor Mead, walking in sure black Converse-clad steps, wearing a plain black t-shirt and a dark pair of jeans. His long blond hair was tied in a loose knot behind his head, and there were dark circles around his sharp blue eyes. Still he looked around at everyone in the room, like an eagle choosing his pray in mid-flight, both his hands behind his back. All my sympathy for him was gone the moment I saw him, simply because he didn’t seem to need any of that: He was so intimidating, I believe he would have actually been offended by it, he would tell me to shove my sympathy where the sun doesn’t shine. He seemed to be very much in charge of himself, and of everyone else, for that matter. The icy glint of his eyes fell on me and I gasped, probably rather loudly. I saw the shadow of a smug smile on his full lips before he turned his beautiful face away.

He spotted Tim and Emily in one corner and decided to join the, now terrified looking, young couple. When I came back to myself, I saw that even my friend Andre was staring, slightly open-mouthed, at the newcomer. I looked, round-eyed myself I bet, at Mallory and the sweet nurse gave me the closest thing to a pretentious smile she could muster “That’s Michael Langdon, your new buddy...”

My honey I know

With the dawn, that you will be gone

But tonight you belong to me

Just to little old me

Taglist: There are so many friends I wanna tag here, but I think I’d want to have their permission first... so if you feel like being tagged, just let me know!

#Michael Langdon #American Horror Story #AHS Apocalypse #AHS fandom #Apocalypse AU #Michael LangdonXFemale Reader #Michael Langdon fanfiction #tw: mental illness #Cody Fern #The End of the World as We Know It

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jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets · 5 years

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The Way We Were Supposed To Be - Ch One

HUGE ENDGAME SPOILERS!!!!!

Title: The Way We Were Supposed To Be

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Stucky

Rating: Lemon

Tags: minor character death, there will be smut, slow burn… I think that’s it really.

Summary:

Two years after defeating Thanos, Steve finds himself faced with a harsh reality. Because of his decision to stay in the past with Peggy and finally give himself the life he thought he had always wanted, Nick Fury returns to face him with a daunting truth. With the world’s timeline in disarray, it’s up to Steve to return to the past and restore the world to its natural order. Unfortunately it means that the all American hero has to sacrifice his heart and soul to save the world once again. And although Steve thinks that his one chance at a happy life had passed, who knows what the new future holds, perhaps… everything he had been searching for was right there all along.

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Special Thanks: as always to my girl Katie, AKA @goingknowherewastaken for reading my notes <3

A/N: Soooooo yeah, like it says at the top, HUGE ENDGAME SPOILERS!!! So if you haven’t seen the movie yet turn back now and read this later!!

And for those of you that have seen the movie already and who are reading this, you're awesome and I hope you like it. This is just my way of getting the satisfying stucky ending that I was really hoping for that the movie didn’t quite deliver for me.

So yeah, if you do like this I would be so so so grateful if you gave this a reblog or even a comment, and if you want to be tagged for this or future works let me know!! Love you guys and enjoy <3 <3 <3

Chapter One:

It had been two years almost to the day. Two years since Steve took the leap back in time for round two, and took his second chance at a happy life. Two years since he sat on that bench by the water and talked to Sam, passed off his shield, and decided to live out the rest of his life in the peace he so rightfully deserved. Two years that is, for the rest of the world, but an entire lifetime for Steve.

Today had lead him to Peggy’s grave. A cool wind blew through the cemetery as he shoved his hands deep in his jacket pockets, staring down at his wife’s grave, and remembering the perfect life they had together. Thanks to Tony and his discovery of time travel Steve was able to have everything he had ever wanted. A wife, kids, house, white picket fence, the whole American dream. After everything Steve had been through, saving the world countless times, losing loved ones, being a man out of time, he was finally able to put that all aside and live a normal life, and he was grateful for it.

A shadow crept up beside him, covering Peggy’s tomb stone as feet came into his view. He already knew who it was.

“Director Fury,” he didn’t even turn his gaze away.

“Captain.”

Steve chuckled, he hadn’t been called that in a long time, and deep down he was slightly glad for it. “I'm sure there’s a reason for your visit. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He said nothing in response, merely handing a large brown folder to Steve. When he opened the folder and pulled out the contents he found himself staring at documents, birth certificates, medical records, pictures, articles. He shuffled through them a few times before letting go a sigh.

“Are these…”

Fury hummed with a nod, “The children Miss Carter was supposed to have.” Steve bit his bottom lip worrying it between his teeth as Fury continued, “After you went back in time to return the stones and came back an old married man, I started doing some research over the last two years, collecting information on the old time line. And luckily enough, when you crossed over everything we had remained intact. Certificates, pictures, documentation, all of that remained and nothing vanished, except the memories of these people. You going back in time and taking the life that you wanted, rather then returning the stones and letting it play out as it should have, disrupted the time line and the natural order. Now these people never existed, people who were supposed to exist, people who were destined to do great things for this world and now they’re gone.

But that’s not all. These are just the beginnings of the changes your little escapade created. It wasn’t just Peggy’s time line you changed, but rather hundreds of others. For example, the man who was supposed to marry Peggy went on to marry someone else, they then had kids who shouldn’t have existed, they interacted with people they shouldn’t have, the real husband of that woman would have done the same and married someone else, and so on, and so on. Do you see where I'm going with this?”

“So what you're saying is I need to go back and…” Steve shook his head, not wanting to believe any of this, “and change it back. I have to go back to the exact moment when I was returning the stones and stop myself from talking to Peggy and changing the timeline.”

“Yes.” A simple answer that sounded more like an order to Steve.

Steve huffed out another sigh, subconsciously twisting the gold band on his finger.

Fury turned to face him, placing a hand on his shoulder giving it a squeeze, “I'm sorry, Steve, but the timeline has to be restored and you need to return to the present. You can’t stay in the past, you were meant to be here.”

Anger bubbled in Steve now. He thought he had finally moved on, moved forwards with a new life that he deserved. He fought for his country more then once, all he wanted was the simple life he was owed, and apparently he couldn’t even have that. “What is the world missing because of me?!”

“In short,” Fury shrugged, “a few doctors, a novelist, a research scientist who’s work lead to preventative measures for dementia and eventually a cure, a Nobel Peace Prize winner, mothers, daughters, fathers, sons, husbands, wives… I'm sure you get the point.”

“Yeah,” Steve ran a hand down his face, “yeah, I get it. In order for the world to be restored to its rightful time line, I can’t be happy.”

“No one said you can’t be happy,” Fury shook his head, giving Steve’s shoulder a shake, “this life with Peggy may have been something you wanted, but obviously it’s not your happy ending. But I have faith that it’s out there somewhere and you'll find it this time around.” Steve pulled away from Fury, kneeling to place a hand on Peggy's grave as a tear slid down his cheek and into the grass. “I’ll contact Doctor Banner, let him know what we need to do. Meet us at his lab in two days, don’t be late.”

Without another word Nick Fury slipped silently out of the cemetery, leaving Steve to cry over the loss of the love of his life a second time.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later Steve pulled up in front of Banner Tech Labs. The gates opened before he even reached them, and he drove through the dense tree line until he finally made it to the large building. He stayed in his car for a while, needing a few minutes to breathe before going inside and giving up his entire past, sacrificing his whole world for that of the universe once again. Ever the American hero, he thought.

Turning to the passenger seat he laid a hand on the duffle resting there. Inside was his old jump suit, the one that had taken him back to Peggy. He had long since tucked it away thinking he would never have to use it again… it still fit like a glove.

With one last hard breath he clutched his hand tightly around the duffel and forced himself out of the car and to the front doors. When he walked inside the building was quiet, empty aside from one woman sat at a large desk to his left. He turned towards her and placed his free hand on the counter, and before he could say anything she looked up to him with a smile and said, “Mr. Rogers, Doctor Banner awaits you upstairs. Take that elevator all the way to the top floor and he will greet you when the doors open. Good luck.”

She returned to her work without another word as Steve gave a nod and trudged into the elevator. When the doors closed it felt like a lifetime before they opened again and Steve found himself staring directly at the device that had given him a second chance at life, ironically the same device that would be just as quickly ripping it away.

“Steve,” Bruce who had been tinkering away at the controls, stopped and locked eyes with him. The air was tense, thick, and Steve could feel it getting harder to breath by the second. “I'm sorry, man.”

He stepped out of the elevator and towards one of the desks off to the side of the room, Bruce’s eyes following him as he moved. He lifted the duffel in his hand and plopped it down on the metal surface with a thud, “I brought the jump suit, figured we’d need it.”

Bruce nodded, then continued tapping his fingers on the screens, “I’ll just be a few more minutes here, Fury should be here soon.”

With a sigh Steve left Bruce to his work, opting to wander around the lab while he awaited his pending doom. A few minutes later found him walking past a slightly opened door at the back of the lab. He peeked in and figured it must be Bruce’s office, so he pushed the door open and looked inside. What immediately caught his eye were the countless framed pictures that completely covered the back wall behind his desk. Walking inside he rounded the desk and began scanning his eyes over all of them, even finding himself in a few.

There were some from Tony’s party after they had taken down Loki, one of Sam trying to life Thor’s hammer, one of Rhodes telling his odd joke to a laughing group of people, the tag line “Boom! You lookin’ for this?” forever etched into Steve’s brain, even one of that old guy that Thor got insanely drunk with his Asguardian booze.

There were some of them in battle, fighting Ultron, the twins appeared in a few pictures shortly after that with a memento to Pietro. Even Bucky could be seen in a few pictures, some of which Steve could tell had been provided to Bruce by Shuri from their time in Wakanda.

There were even some more recent pictures on the wall. There was Wanda and Bruce at the newly restored compound, Clint and his ever growing kids along with Laura and yet another bun in the oven, by the looks of things due any time. There was even one of Bruce and a now seven year old Morgan, who was resembling her dad more and more with each passing day. Years of friendships made, broken, and restored all before him. Then his eyes caught a certain picture on the wall and he stopped there.

It was from their short stint in witness protection on Clint and Laura’s farm back in the days of Ultron. Even back then it was obvious that there was more then friendship between Bruce and Natasha, and this clearly confirmed it. The picture must have been taken by Laura. The two were sat at the kitchen table side by side, Bruce with his head down blushing profusely while Nat looked on adoringly at him, and by the angle of her arm Steve could tell she had her hand rested on his thigh under the table. A perfect moment captured between the two star-crossed lovers, and it made Steve’s heart ache all the more.

“I love that picture.” Steve hadn’t realized that Bruce had snuck in behind him and was now standing beside him, admiring the same frame.

Steve returned his gaze back to the picture as he spoke, “You two should have been able to be happy. After everything we did for this world, you should have had at least that.”

Bruce sighed beside him, moving to lean against the desk. “I wish it could have been that way, but unfortunately we were dealt different cards.”

“Don’t you ever think about it?” Steve turned to face Bruce, crossing his arms, “Don’t you want to go back to before Natasha sacrificed herself and be with her, like you should have been?”

Bruce shook his head with a pained look, “Not if it meant changing hundreds of lives in the process. I wish she was still here, with me, but I can’t change that. She did what she had to do to help us defeat Thanos and save the world. Without her sacrifice, trillions of beings in the universe wouldn’t even be alive right now. And yeah, I miss her, and yeah, I will always love her, but she did what she thought was right and I can’t fault her for that.”

“But you could finally be happy.”

“I wouldn’t be though,” he shook his head, “not knowing that the world changed because of my selfishness.”

“And that’s why you have to change it back,” the deep commanding voice of Nick Fury startled them both from the doorway, both turning to face him, “I know you Steve, and I know that you're a man of morals. You can’t leave the world the way it is, you need to restore natural order, even if that means letting her go.”

Steve took a breath pinching the bridge of his nose. He huffed out a small laugh, even following it up with a sad smile, “You know me well, Fury. As much as I don’t want to lose her again, I know I have to make things right.”

“Good man.” Fury gave him a nod and then left the room. both Bruce and Steve followed him out, neither wanting to wallow in this misery any longer then they needed to, and Steve just wanting to get it over with.

When they reached the device Fury had Steve's duffle in hand and pushed it out towards him. He took it, slipped on the suit, and shuffled onto the pad.

“Ok, Steve,” Bruce began as he ran his fingers over the screen again, “I'm going to put you five minutes ahead of your younger self just before you knock on Peggy's door. If the time and date you gave Fury is accurate, you will have exactly five minutes to intercept yourself and for both of you to activate your suits at the same time and head back here. Got it?”

Steve gave a nod from the pad.

“In and out, Rogers,” Fury ordered from beside Bruce, “don’t change anything, don’t talk to anyone except yourself, and head straight back.”

Steve nodded again, and when Bruce asked if he was ready all he could do was give a thumbs up and activate his helmet. Bruce gave him a countdown, and by the time he reached one Steve was fighting a loosing battle against the tears now flowing down his cheeks as he slipped into the quantum realm.

~~~~~~~~~~~

When Steve opened his eyes he was standing in front of the all too familiar house, Peggy's… their house. Bruce had sent him back to the exact moment he changed his life, and the world, and in the next five minutes he had to stop himself from doing just that.

His eyes followed down the sidewalk a few feet and to the end of Peggy’s driveway and there he saw him. The younger version of himself stood stock still at the end of the driveway, watching through the front window as Peggy paced back and forth in the living room, no doubt working on top secret business.

Staring at himself he remembered the feeling of this very moment from way back then. He remembered the doubt that rushed over him, wondering if he was doing the right thing, if she would accept him back, even the sickening thought that she had moved on. It had after all been a year at this point since he put himself in the ice, and a lot can happen in a year. He even considered just making the jump back to the present, and now thinking back he should have known that this was too good to be true. He should have realized himself the repercussions that a drastic decision such as this would have, and he should have left well enough alone and spared himself a second heartache. But a want for a life he deserved overpowered that better judgement and he took the leap.

Lost in his thoughts, his younger self started to walk down the driveway and towards the path to the house. Steve hurried his steps to catch up and just before young Steve was able to walk the porch steps he caught his shoulder and turned him around. He was met with momentary wide eyes before a flash of understanding and sorrow came over them.

“You’re…” young Steve began.

He nodded, “the consequence of this decision.”

“Can’t do it can I?” young Steve asked shaking his head, but Steve could tell he already knew the answer to his question. “And you're here to fix it, to stop me… us, from probably changing the time line, right?”

“Unfortunately, I am,” They both sighed, Steve placing a hand on his younger self’s shoulder comfortingly, “we can’t change the time line. Bruce warned all of us about this the first time around and we were too caught up in wanting something more to see what we were doing wrong, and now it has to be reset.”

Young Steve nodded, taking a second to look back at the still pacing Peggy, completely oblivious to what was happening right outside. “What happens to her? I mean, if we go back to the present, does she have a good life? A happy one?”

Steve nodded with a smile, “She does. She gets married, has kids, a very rewarding career. She does good for herself.”

“And what about her life with us… what happens if we stay?”

This time Steve shook his head, “Its better if you don’t know, just know that this life is the one she was meant to have, without us.”

Young Steve heaved a sigh before looking up to ask, “So, how do we do this then?”

“Together,” Steve held up his hand, finger on the trigger.

“And when we push the button and return to the present, there will only be one of us?”

“Bruce said it would be the Steve that was meant to be in the present,” he scrunched his nose a bit, slightly confused himself, “there will only be one Steve Rogers, but it will be both of us in a way… I didn’t understand the science of it, I just agreed when Bruce tried to explain it.”

They both laughed together, then young Steve raised his hand ready to make the jump back.

“On three,” he said.

“On three,” and Steve began the countdown.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next thing Steve knew he was back in Bruce’s lab. He removed his helmet and turned to look at Fury who was rifling viciously through databases on a computer screen to his left.

After a few moments Fury met eyes with Steve and gave him a single nod. He had done it, he restored the world back to its proper time line, but he still couldn’t help mourning for what he had lost.

Without a word and his head down, Steve walked off the pad and across the room. He stalked directly to the elevator without a single word from either man in the room. When the doors closed his breath hitched when he caught his reflection in the metal surface. It was like he had never left, like he never stayed behind with Peggy, he was just as young as he was before he made the jump. He scoffed at his reflection and turned away, pushed the ground button, and left banner tech labs in his rear view mirror.

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

A/N: And there we have chapter one... chapter two soon to follow! So let me know what you guys think and I love you for reading <3 <3 <3

And I’m gunna tag everyone who liked the posts from before so if you want to be taken off the tags list just send me an ask or message me and I’ll make sure you’re off for the next post :)

Tags: @goingknowherewastaken @kdcollinsauthor @pessoaslily @tiffyfromtw @acrushedrosestillwins @wizzardhowl @buckybarnes-is-my-child-help-him @ghostcellar @julie130201 @steveandbvcky @kittycattycatherine @meanoldmomma @fabinapercabeth4179 @butterflymess @lucaimboreddd

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douxreviews · 6 years

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True Detective - ‘The Hour and the Day’ Review

“I wanna know the whole story.”

The fourth True Detective episode usually features a big action scene that solidifies the halfway point in the story. The harrowing one-shot sequence in season one. The relentless shooting spree in season two. This is more of a prelude to this season's intense powder-keg separating the first half of the story from the second. It's another way that this new story toys with paying lip service to what came before while contenting itself with being its own thing.

What this does instead is take its sweet time in fleshing out what exactly is going on in each of the three timelines and the states of the characters as they exist within each of those eras. It sets the stage for what comes next in the season, while also being character and dialogue heavy. It also takes more time to explore the themes of the season, which I especially enjoyed.

Racial Divide

The issue of race is finally examined, which I feel the show has been dancing around until now.

I felt it was always in the background, noticeable in the lingering, guarded or just suspicious looks that are directed at Wayne Hays, the black detective in rural Arkansas. I've noticed it from the very first episode. Some people don't realize that prejudice is not always overt. In fact, I'd say a majority of it goes understated or unspoken, in that Travis Bickle sort of way.

The thing is most of the people who regard Hays in this way probably aren't even malicious about it, or would even consider themselves racist; I know people like this. You've got ones like state prosecutor turned Attorney General Daryl Kent who clearly looks down on Hays with this smug, dismissive superiority. Then you've got people like Mrs. Faber who will maintain politeness but always see him as an other, holding that look of thinly veiled fear and suspicion. Then there's guys like Tom Purcell, who'll drop racial slurs in moments of anger or frustration and then quickly feel ashamed; that reaction exists somewhere in their upbringing, but they know it's wrong.

No matter the shade in which it presents itself, there's no doubt it sticks in the craw of men as dignified as Hays.

Or men who aren't, as displayed when Hays and West pay a visit to Sam Whitehead, a possible lead on the one-eyed black man who bought the ominous dolls. Was his immediate rabble-rousing and accusations of racial profiling and witch-hunts just a natural reaction from an old black man who has experienced decades of injustice from white cops, or was it an easy way of avoiding direct answers to the questions he was asked? It's not entirely clear.

The hectic encounter with Whitehead and the other residents of that local ghetto did highlight the nuanced dynamic between Hays and West, which I've enjoyed throughout this season. While clearly a bit of a good ole' boy, West does not seem prejudiced. He even seems rather progressive for a man of his era, region and occupation, given his deep respect for his partner and stony admonition of Tom for his aforementioned drunken insult toward Hays. And Hays, while constantly on his toes about the racial divide between them, seems to recognize West's empathic quality, even enjoys it when West jokingly needles him about this sensitivity. It's another reason I dig this partnership, that understanding between two no-nonsense individuals.

Another character who appears not to be clouded by the resident race elephant is the priest at the Catholic church attended by the Purcells. Although West distrusts him on account of being a priest -- which would make even more sense today than in 1980 -- the man is very helpful in organizing his congregation to aid the detectives. He seems sincere in his assessment of Will and Julie and he hopes Hays, a former altar boy, would be open to confession. Nice guy, but there were certain things about his scenes that made me wonder if he might be involved in what happened to the kids.

Couples Counseling

More personal than societal, but equally important are the various relationships we are faced with in this story. It's heavily suggested that they have quite a bit of bearing on what's going on.

The big one is Wayne and Amelia's relationship. The contrast between their blossoming romance in 1980 and their rocky marriage in 1990 is very striking. We first see that the later stage is marred by feelings of resentment from Wayne and accusations of inadequacy from Amelia, despite the love they still share. After ten years, they've become worn down by the flaws and neurotic tendencies they seemed so excited about discovering at the start of their romance.

The first dinner date between Hays and Amelia was certainly the best scene in the episode. It was very cute, even sexy in a surprisingly subtle way. And their dialogue back and forth was just wonderful. Despite being so different in terms of background, occupation, politics and temperament, there was an instant chemistry that both recognized. Almost like these two people who each claim to have never wanted marriage or kids saw in each other the possibility of a future together in this first foray into intimacy.

Initially, though, there's Tom and Lucy Purcell. A couple whose furiously tumultuous marriage bred an unhappy family life, which may have played a factor in their children's secretive meetings with mysterious strangers and their eventual abduction.

Amelia gains an insight into this as she tries to comfort the distraught Lucy, and ends up getting the feeling that Lucy might be hiding something and ends up getting cursed out by the latter thanks addressing it. Not a very good first attempt at junior detective work, but she may have just unearthed a clue without realizing it. Lucy claimed that "Children should laugh", the same phrase included in the cryptic letter sent by Julie's abductor. Either Lucy was just wistfully acknowledging the logic of that message or it could be that she had something to do with what befell her children. It's still ambiguous.

As for Tom, we get to see the beginning of his and West's odd friendship as West gives the heartbroken Tom a place to stay away from his sad home. It's another indication that West is a naturally empathetic person, despite occasionally coming off as a hardass. Though it might be that his empathy has dampened somewhat in the years since.

It's a shame that the 1980 dynamic between Hays and West doesn't return when Hays is brought on board the task force of the second Purcell case ten years later. A shame, but realistic. No way the dynamic is the same after Hays got the shaft and West became the successful, award-winning career lawman who shook hands with young, pre-controversy Bill Clinton. And the fact that Hays, lead detective on the original case, is now expected to follow West's lead doesn't help. No-nonsense or not, old friends or not, pride asserts itself. To put it bluntly, dicks will inevitably be measured and pissing contested.

Haunted Houses

Now let's get more cerebral. The first season's tagline was "Touch darkness, and darkness touches you back", vey Nietzsche-like. That seems to be a constant theme throughout this series. The ways in which human horror and trauma can have dramatic effects on a person's sense of self and their reality. How they might serve as some explanation of what we see as the spiritual, supernatural and even paranormal.

It's introduced well-enough. Tom and Lucy Purcell feel trapped in their house, the place where the kids, the only thing that united them, were raised. Tom can't stay there, broken by their absence. And Lucy seems to stay in it as self-imposed prison for her failings as a mother. A disturbing situation where the place that is meant to be home feels more like hell.

The Hays household experiences a similar phenomena later, which Old Hays admits. He came to believe his unending obsession with the case infected Amelia and their children, sullying their chances at a stable, happy family. That he ended up cursing them with his own restless demons.

This takes on what could be a more literal meaning as Old Hays finds himself reminiscing on the past at the same time he struggles to beat back the ghosts in his mind. It's an incredibly haunting scene, watching him struggle to grasp the memories of his life as men he killed in Vietnam (and one caucasian man in a suit) close in and hover over him like phantoms, whispering, accusing. And the show has played so fast and loose with the line between psychologically unhinged experiences and what might be darker forces that exist on the fringes of existence. Rustin Cohle had his drug-induced visions which at times appeared to grant him insights into hidden otherworldly realms. Ray Velcoro's near death experience offered a bizarre yet prophetic glimpse into a possible afterlife. Now Wayne Hays' years of multi-faceted PTSD compounded by dementia conjure menacing ghosts from the past.

"Purple" Hays, indeed.

Escalating Confusion

But themes aside, the more concrete plot points are there as well.

In 2015, a dogged Old Hays enlists his son -- revealed to be an Arkansas State Police detective like his father once was -- in finding West to help him remember the details of the two Purcell cases. To my surprise, he tells Elisa Montgomery in their private meeting that the 1990 case haunts him most of all. Elisa informs him that she and her team of investigators discovered that the skeletal remains of Dan O'Brian, Lucy Purcell's cousin and suspect in both cases, were recently found in a drained quarry after he went missing around the time of the second case.

Which is interesting, because Dan O'Brian was already missing prior to 1990.

But Hays makes a possibly huge development in the second case when he spots a mysterious young woman who could very well be a grown up Julie Purcell on the security footage of the store where her prints were found.

Meanwhile, in 1980, Hays and West end up traumatizing Freddy Burns when his prints are discovered on Will's abandoned bike; I'd totally forgotten him drunkenly riding it at Devil's Den in the first episode.

The detectives and feds are drawn away from this obvious red herring when they catch wind of the redneck lynch mob advancing on Brett Woodard's home, who has prepared for this event with a military arsenal that's sure to deliver on the action spectacle we've all been waiting for.

Bits and Pieces:

* “The Hour and the Day” was co-written by David Milch, creator of Deadwood. This explains why the characters, dialogue and themes felt even richer than usual in this episode. Milch is almost as acerbic and literary as Nic Pizzolato, if not more.

* There's a framed picture of a brunette woman on West's desk in 1990. I'm betting that's Lori, the girl he was putting the moves on at the church.

* Hays sarcastically raising his hand during a briefing was another fun little callback to the first season.

* Not sure if it was explicitly stated before, but Kent, the state prosecutor in 1980, appears to have blatantly used the Purcell case to snag himself the Attorney General office. What a guy.

* Black Sabbath has been around since the late ‘60s. Seems kind of strange that a bunch of men in their 30s act as if it’s some strange new thing in the early '80s. Perhaps its mainstream recognition in my generation is simply coloring my perspective.

* During his ghostly encounter, Old Hays makes note of a dark sedan that is staking out his house.

Quotes:

Amelia (1990): Let go of me, Wayne. Hays (1990): Stop talking shit about me! Amelia (1990): Or what? Hays (1990): … Or I’m gonna start crying. Wasn’t expecting that.

Sam Whitehead: And you. How’re you gonna wear that badge? Hays: It’s got a little clip on it. Ha!

Hays: Can we say this was anonymous vandals? West: We’re not going with irate negroes?

Hays (1990): We ain’t doing any of that shit they just said, right? West (1990): Wasn’t planning on it.

Priest: Would you like to confess now? Hays: I reckon I’ll let it pile up a little more.

Hays: Thing of it is, Father, we’re about ninety percent sure that whoever took Julie or Will are one of yours. Priest: I find it difficult to believe that anyone here could something like that. Hays: They don’t exactly wear a signboard says “psycho killer.”

Four out of five Claymore mines.

Logan Cox

#True Detective #Wayne Hays #Mahershala Ali #Roland West #Stephen Dorff #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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haxorus-imp · 6 years

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Alien Affections - Villainous/Reader - Chapter 4

You groaned as you started to come out of the haze of sleep. While attempting to find your current placement and remember the activities of yesterday, you swore you could hear muffled yelling. And it kinda sounded like, er...what was his name again? Flug? Yeah...that's right. It sounds like Flug was yelling for some reason. You opened your eyes at that processed thought. The memories of yesterday came flooding back like a movie on fast forward. You were home, then a bright green light took you away to a distant planet. You met a bag-faced dude and were taken to his prankster(?) boss and were now working to stay here by using your college skills to assist Flug in making things for villains to use against heroes. Just like in the comic books and movies. That's right. So. What's Flug yelling about this morning? You sit up and attempt to remove the sleep from your eyes, yawning as you did. Looking around the lab, you can now hear Flug shouting out in frustration at someone. It looked like a demented girl, with a green lizard hoodie and pink hair. She was cackling madly as Flug tried to retrieve a vial containing some strange liquid from her grasp. Moving your arm, which twinged in pain, you then remember. Oh, yeah. Flug asked for a sample of your blood, right? Is that what he's trying to get back from the demented girl? The liquid inside of it was a deep red color...so possibly? Your movement from getting out of the bed caused the springs in the cot to squeak, and it seemed to draw her attention over to where you were. Effectively giving Flug the opportunity he needed to seize the vial from the lady's grasp. Yet, she didn't seem to mind, more focused on you than anything else at the moment. Oh, yeah. You were also supposed to meet the rest of the people who live in the manor. Then, as soon as you blinked, the crazy-looking girl was upon you. Staring into your surprised eyes with interest, and possibly slight hostility, as you just stared back in awkward silence. This felt like the time you first met Flug. So, you decide to try the exact same tactic you did with him. "S'up?" You greeted and smiled at the lady. "..." She squinted her eyes at you.

. . .

"You look so weird!" She said, finally. You just choked slightly on air. First Flug, possibly Black Hat, and now this lady? At this point, you might as well just go with the paper bag trend that Flug has going on. You're starting to become slightly self-conscious of your appearance while on this planet! Footsteps approached the bed where you two were. "Dementia, this is (Name). They're the new recruit and were assigned by Black Hat to help me in my lab with the projects." Flug said, giving the now named lady, Dementia an annoyed side-glare. Not that Dementia noticed nor cared. She then gave a wicked smile towards Flug. Who squinted in severe suspicion at the grin. "Oooohh~" Dementia said as she creeped around the cautious doctor. "So, they're the new recruit, eh?" She giggled madly. "That's pretty early in their career to already have them in your bed!" She laughed obnoxiously, while Flug recovered from the sudden shock from the scandalous assumption. "T-THAT'S NOT WHY THEY'RE IN MY BED, DEMENTIA! T-THEY WERE T-TIRED! SO I GAVE THEM THE COT TO SLEEP IN WHILE I S-STUDIED!" Flug shrieked. Dementia just laughed harder. "I-Is that why you were also passed out at the desk?! Because you couldn't get into the bed with them!!?" Dementia cackled. "Get out of my lab, Dementia!" Flug screeched as he flailed in frustration. You just looked on in slight confusion at the squabbling duo. It's funny how Flug looked so mature yesterday, yet seeing him flailing like a fish out of water at the dirty assumptions that Dementia said just made you pity the poor guy. Getting up from the cot while the two still argued, you walked over to the nearby restroom to do your business. Shortly after entering the bathroom, you heard the commotion outside the private room escalate. But you tried to pay no mind to it as you checked your reflection in the mirror. Yikes! You really had a nasty case of the bedhead! You're kinda embarrassed that the new person, and even Flug, saw you like this. Looking around the bathroom, there was a hairbrush, toothbrush, some gargle, and typical toiletry items scattered around. They were all even organized in a specific way. Probably Flugs' things. Borrowing the comb, you didn't question how Flug could have hair nor what it looks like if he does, you just brushed out the rat nest that was in your hair and checked for morning breath. ECK! Yep! You have nasty morning breath! While getting a cup for some gargle, you wouldn't dare use somebody's toothbrush, you heard a sudden loud noise come from outside the bathroom. It sounded like a door slamming open and two different types of shrieks followed after it. Yet, one sounded like it was from fear and the other sounded like a shriek of adoration. Then, there was a loud and demanding voice that was familiar to you. You sighed. While chugging the gargle, you could hear muffled whimpering and squealing coming from outside. Sounded like your boss dropped in for a visit. Probably doing a routinely check up? Right now, you're thankful for the refuge the labs' bathroom provided. Black Hat...well, just from looking at him, you could tell that the man(?) was just a heap of trouble. He didn't look like a well behaved guy. Definitely not someone you would hire to babysit. Because he would probably be the type that would actually sit on the baby. On purpose. For kicks. Spitting the excess gargle out, you groaned as another slam followed after a loud shout. Then, all fell silent. ... At least you would have peace when you used the loo.

Once you walked out from the bathroom, all was quiet. A quick look-over the lab seemed to show that Flug was putting some test tubes away in a safe-like fridge, Dementia was gone, and WHAT THE-? You stared in surprise at a blue bear with a flower growing out of it's head that just walked in through the entrance to the lab. . . . You blinked to double check if you were seeing things right. A blue bear...with a flower growing out of it's head. You walked over in stunned silence to get a closer look at the creature. Flug seemed to notice your exit from the bathroom and turned to look over at you. "Ah! There you are! S-Sorry about earlier. Dementia can be such a pain sometimes. While you were in the bathroom, Black Hat came down from his office to give us some prompts for projects to work on." Flug shuddered in fear at the very mention of his boss. "But, thankfully, Dementia went with him. So, we won't have any distractions." He sighed in relief. "Uh, yeah. I heard. He wasn't really subtle about coming in through the door." You monotonously said and just stayed looking silently at the bear. "What's wrong, (Name)?" Flug asked worriedly. You just leaned in close to him, making his confusion worsen. "Dude. Do you see what I'm seeing?" You whisper, while staring at the bear. Which was now looking at you with a confused expression. Flug looked over his shoulder at the bear. Then visibly relaxed. "Oh. That's just 5.0.5." Flug pointed out, as the bears' curiosity in you was showing clear on his face. "5.0.5, this is (Name). They're the new recruit." Flug explained, while pointing at you respectively. The bear walked closer and sniffed you, clearly trying to get to know you. So, if it worked for Flug and Dementia, why not try it for a third time? "S'up, bear dude?" You smiled and pet his head softly. He flinched at first, but then his eyes grew wide as saucers. The look on his face was so cute as you showed him affection, but you just didn't expect him to wrap his arms around you and squeeze you so tightly. The bear was so happy, smiling with cheer as he hugged his new friendly comrade. The squeezing caused your spine to let out a distinct 'pop!' noise, worrying Flug. "5.0.5! Please! Be mindful of your strength!" Flug cried and you swore you could see sweat forming on top of his bag. What a mother hen. "Hurk! S-So, I guess...this is why it's called...a 'bear hug'!" You laughed lightly at your own pun as the bear rubbed the side of it's head against your cheek. Flug looked on in anxiousness. He didn't want to get beaten by Black Hat for letting the new recruit get crushed to death by 5.0.5 on their first day. In fact, he really didn't want to carry the responsibility for not being able to properly care for someone from another planet. Let alone be the cause of their own demise. Yet, while looking on. The scene in front of him looked so...innocent. Even if it was just hugs, both parties looked like they were having a great time. It's surprising to see this happening inside of Black Hats' Manor. In the end, Flug just sighed. 'At least 5.0.5 has a new buddy to help keep him company and satiate his hunger for affection.' He thought, but he knew he had to get back to business. For Black Hat would have their heads if he or you lollygagged and wasted too much time.

Flug cleared his throat, garnering the attention of the other two in the room. "It's time to put (Name) down 5.0.5. Today is their first day and it's time for their first task." Flug said, moving some papers and equipment around on his desk. "Black Hat had...uh, demanded us to make two different projects. My task is to make a gamma ray gun and your first task is to make spybots." Flug directed. 5.0.5 set you back down and released you from his arms. You then walked over to Flugs' desk to retrieve your prompt. "Spybots? Well, that's not that hard!" You smiled. "Did he specify any type of spybot?" You asked, looking over some of the prints on the desk. Flug hummed briefly before shaking his head. "Not that I'm aware of. He just wants some spybots. The camera, microphone, and deceptive types. Typically small ones, so they won't get spotted so easily." "Oh, Okay then!" You finalized, picking up your prompt and walking over to the workbench on the other end of the room. Flug picked up his fair share of blueprints and gathered the materials he needed to begin his own project. Well, his lab felt less empty. That's for sure. With a new recruit, 5.0.5, and himself being present in the lab, Flug felt like a heavy burden was slowly being lifted off of his shoulders. Yet, the weight was still present. Just not as heavy before. The only sad things is, that you haven't felt the wrath of Black Hat yet. It's only going to be a matter of time before he breaks them...like himself. Flug shook his head. No, no! He needs to be more optimistic! Now with two people, Black Hat may be more satiable...or he may desire more--no! No! Positive! Like what you said last night! Bad things happen, but good always combats it! . . . . Flug sighed. Yeah, he wished he could be that optimistic. He's been here for a few years. Nothing good happened or changed anything. He looked over his shoulder at his new comrade, who was gathering materials with the help of 5.0.5. Then, the thought hit him like lightning. Maybe...you will be the good that combats the bad? Maybe something decent will come about your stay here? . . . He then suddenly felt like hitting himself in the head. 'What am I talking about?! Them going against Black Hat?! No way. The man is practically made of negativity and nightmares. He not only feeds off of fear, he relishes in it!' Flug shook his head. 'It was preposterous to think of such a thing.' Flug stated bitterly in his mind, before he refocused himself on his own project. Downing out the negativity in his mind with calculations and solutions.

Soon, the sounds of construction on both ends of the lab filled the room. However, most of the noises were coming from Flugs' side. Causing the scientist some to become slightly confused. Looking over, he could see (Name) sitting down at the workbench. Appearing to be engrossed in their project. While 5.0.5 sleeps near them. Flug has to be honest, 5.0.5 has taken quite the liking to (Name) in such a short amount of time. But, he just takes it as what it is. 5.0.5 is still a mystery. Even to him sometimes. Then, you stop and stretch for a moment, petting 5.0.5 while sitting back in your chair. Flug waited for them to go back to work, but...they just sat back and...appeared to be relaxing? Flug sighed. Great. He should of figured someone as laid back as you would be the lazy type. If Black Hat found out about those tendencies, he was going to break them horribly for 'stalling ' production. Stopping for a second, Flug called over to you. "Is everything alright, (Name)?" You came to attention at the calling of your name and looked behind yourself. "Haha, yeah! Just relaxing after a hard days work!" You laughed, albeit a bit coy about being caught getting side-tracked by Flug. Flug cocked a brow at the statement. Finished? Already? Impossible. "What? You're finished?! How many spybots did you make?" Flug questioned, placing down his own project, which still was only just a shell, and began to walk over to your station to examine your wares. "About 10." They answered. Flug walked over to the bench and was actually pretty impressed. And by actually, he means very impressed. It looked like a little living garden of small creatures had just set up shop on top of the workbench. Some butterflies, dragonflies, hornets, spiders, and even a gecko were all scattered on top of the tray on the workbench. Each one was painted with enough care and detail to make them look life-like. The robotic parts didn't even stand out that much! The surprise probably showed through his goggles, as you just started to bust out laughing again. "I take it they're great?" You said smugly. "Great? These look amazing! If I saw these from a distance, I probably couldn't tell them apart from the real thing!" Flug exclaimed, picking up one of the spider drones and carefully examining it. "Well, deception is the entire point, right?" You stood up from the chair and popped your back. Giving out a relieved sigh from the pressure easing away from your spinal vertebrae. "How do you turn them on?" Flug asked, turning over the spider drone, apparently looking for a button. "Well, they're a little low on battery life right now. But, they can run for a little bit. As for turning it on, just say 'SpiderSpy: Turn On'." Just as you said that, the small spider-like robot in Flugs' hand jumped to life. Causing Flug himself to jump. "Woah..." It was rare when Flug would become astonished. However he moved his hand, be it rolling around on his wrist or flipping his palm, the small robotic arachnid would climb around to stay on top. "It's amazing that you went to a college that could create this." Flug murmured, staring in awe at the little robot. "Heh, yeah. It certainly wasn't a cheap college. My parents spent their entire savings on sending me there. I...I didn't want to disappoint them. So...I paid attention in class, worked my butt off, and put work before friends and partying. I wanted to show them that I could do it. That they didn't put their own life savings into a child that would fail miserably or drop out and call it quits. They put me in there so I could make these wonderful things. It's a nice talent to possess." You explained, your eyes zoning out to look back to a distant memory. Flug stayed quiet for a few moments. "Your parents sound like great people." Flug mumbles. "They are. Some of the best parents I could ever wish for." You smiled in contentment. Suddenly, the docile mood was broken from a distinct rumbling sound. 'Grrrrr~...' You looked down at your stomach. "And that's the sound that the tank is empty." You grumbled. Flug then noticed you getting lost in thought for a second before snapping your fingers. "Hey, Flug! What time is it?" You asked. Flug looked over to the clock that hung above the doorway to the lab. "It's about 12:40 p.m." He answered. You stretched once more and you patted your stomach. "How about you and me go to the kitchen to get us some lunch?" You offered. Before Flug could protest, his own stomach growled, answering the question for him. He blushed in embarrassment as you chuckled in good nature. "Seems like your gut just decided for you. Come on! Let's see what we can cook for lunch." You say, picking up the spider drone, turned it off, and placed it back onto the tray with the other small robots. Before you walked off though, Flug spoke up. "You might want to hide those. Just in case Dementia shows up. I'm going to hide my project, you can place you spybots in the safe over there" Flug warned as he made it over to his station to hide the unfinished shell of the prototype. You nodded. You picked up the tray of robots and placed them inside the suggested area. You then woke up 5.0.5, who was still sleeping miraculously, and offered him to join you and Flug to get some lunch. In which he joined eagerly. While on the way to the kitchen, which was shown to you during the tour as of last night, Flug asked one final question. "Do you m-mind if I ask more questions about your college? Like how it was like on campus and w-what antics you got into while in that college?" Flug asked. "Heh. Sure man. I got this one good story about how I made a large bat-like robot and scared the crap out of all the juniors on campus. Aw, man! Me and my peers were in stitches! Of course I got in trouble, but I couldn't help but laugh when the professor tried to scold me. The vision of the guy falling in the fountain while getting chased by my bat robot was just so funny, I couldn't keep a straight face!" You gave a hearty laugh at the happy memory. "Was it your idea originally or one of your peers?" Flug questioned. "Well, you see. At first it was just me and--" You rambled on about the incident to the two eager sets of ears as you approached the kitchen. Flug followed along and listened to your story, along with 5.0.5, and headed into the kitchen with you. He was learning more about you and your talents every hour. He hoped to learn even more about you. That is, if you let him. But, he dares to remain hopeful. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Next> <Previous ~First~

#Villainous #Flug x Reader #Black Hat x Reader #Alien Affections #Fanfic

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huntersanonymous · 7 years

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Sacrifices (Chapter 2)

Author: huntersanonymous

Chapter Two: The Truth Will Set You Free

Characters: Derek Hale x Reader

Word Count: 6317

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, lying

Note: So I know this was kind of long, but I had to lay some groundwork so bare with me please :’)

Summary: Y/N worries about Stiles as Derek tries to keep her away from all things supernatural

Masterlist

Previous Chapter -- Next Chapter

You and your dad pulled up to the high school at the same time, but you were way faster than him. You had the cruiser thrown in park and out of the car rushing into the building with your dad calling your name behind you. As soon as your dad mentioned he needed your help at the school, that something happened in class with your little brother you had been a nervous wreck. You turned the corner into the school, your thoughts running wild as you neared the classroom Stiles told dad he was in.

Ever since your mom passed away, you took it upon yourself to take care of your dad and your little brother, when you graduated all you wanted to do was leave Beacon Hills, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave them. They needed you, so you stayed. Some days you regretted not following your dreams to travel the world but when you look into your little brothers eyes, the same caramel ones your mom had, you knew you would never be able to leave. You weren't afraid of anything, you have stared down bullets, murderers, robbers, and wild animals but nothing compares to the fear you have of loosing Stiles.

You burst through the classroom with your heart hammering in your chest, but when your eyes found the familiar plaid shirt it slowed down. All the eyes in the room turned to you, but you ignored every stare as you rushed to your little brother who was sitting on a desk with his nose buried in his cellphone. He didn't even bother looking up from his phone, so you caught him by surprise when you engulfed him in a hug.

"Mischief thank god." You pulled back from the hug, and grabbed his face in your hands turning his head to the left and to the right to inspect him for any wounds. "Are you okay? What Happened? Are you hurt? Maybe we should take you to Melissa." You knew you were rambling, but you couldn't help it.

"Y/N stop. You're embarrassing me." Stiles huffed out as he swatted your hands away from him. A pink hue dusted his cheeks as he glanced his eyes at the strawberry blonde next to him. You smirked at your little brother, knowing full well about his feelings for the girl since the third grade. You ignored his protest and grabbed his face again, inspecting a small cut just above his eyebrow which was bleeding.

"Mischief you're bleeding, we should get you to the ho--" He grabbed your hands instead of swatting them away this time, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Wichy I'm fine." Your heart warmed at the nickname and he gave you a reassuring nod and you let out a deep breath. You knew he hated when you went in 'mom mode' as he liked to call it, but seeing him hurt made you feel like you were breaking your promise to your mom.

You walked into your moms room, she was having one of her few good days today and recognized you. Your dad said it could be any time now, and you knew by looking at her it was close. You sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to mess with any of the wires or IV. She smiled at you, one that lit up the entire room, as she gestured for you to come in for a hug.

You tried not to cry but you couldn't stop, and she just hugged you tighter. She was rubbing your y/h/c/, trying to calm you down. She placed a kiss to your forehead and you attempted to dry up the tears that were soaking her hospital gown. You stayed in her embrace thinking about when she was diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia and the doctor said 'there is nothing more we can do.' 7 simple words constructed of simple letters, spoke cautiously from a Doctor who was an expert at giving that speech. You grabbed your dad's hand and squeezed it, refusing to cry so he didn't have to worry about you too. His eyes burned with an ache to sob as his stomach rocked back and forth on the harsh waves of fear, and he looked down at your 13 year old self and you smiled at him. You both communicated with your eyes, telling each other it would be okay, even though you both knew it wouldn't.

"Wichrzyciel I need you to promise me something okay baby." Your mom's voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you de-tangled yourself from the hug to look at her. You looked over frail frame, and washed out skin. Everything about her screamed death, except for her eyes. They had never lost their chocolate warmth, even now, they were swimming with love. You wanted to cry again, thinking back to the polish nickname she gave you when you were a child and got into everything. Trouble-maker, your dad called you, but your mom always preferred the polish version. When Stiles came along, a handle full just like you were, he could never pronounce your nickname. You remembered the 4 year old spastic little boy trying so hard to get it right, but he couldn't. He ended up calling you wichy which made you laugh, but you never bothered to correct him, letting him call you that till this day.

"Anything." You spoke with fierce determination, not wanting to be the fragile little girl anymore. You took your moment to cry, and now you had to be strong.

"Look after Mischeif and your father. Those two would be hopeless without you. You are so strong baby, stronger than me. The only reason I'm not scared of dying, is because I know they will still have you." Your mother smiled at you, bringing her hand to push back a strand of hair that fell in your eyes.

"I will mom, I promise." You refused to cry again, you wanted to prove your mother she was right. In your weakness you found strength, the strength to withstand anything. Her death, her funeral, and the promise you made her to never let anything happen to either your dad or brother.

You heard your dad questioning some of the students in the background, but your sole focus was on Stiles. You watched as he picked a feather out of the new english teacher's hair, but your ears picked up a side conversation between Scott's ex-girlfriend and her father.

"Next time you have a feeling you want to stay home, you stay home." The older man spoke up while he was examining Allison's wrist carefully.

"I'm okay," she sighed, "but dad the dear and now this--"

"I know, I know." He grumbled, shaking his head. You remembered Stiles saying something about a deer running into Lydia's car, but you didn't think these two coincidences were related. You walked up to Allison and her father, interrupting their hushed conversation.

"Mr. Argent, you wouldn't happen to have any insight in to this would you?" Your father had joined you, giving you a weird look along with Allison, Chris, and Stiles.

"Me?" He asked, the confusion on his face evident.

"Yeah, I mean all this bizarre animal behavior.. You must have seen something like this before right?"

"I'm not sure why I would, or why you would think I would." He laughed slightly, but you could tell he was on edge and so was Allison.

"I'm sorry, I ugh," you coughed trying to clear the embarrassment out of your voice, "I could've sworn I over heard my brother," you pointed to Stiles standing beside you, "talking about how you were an experienced hunter." Allison's eyes went wide for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure.

"Ahh right," Chris flashed you a small smile, "well not anymore." You felt like an idiot, eavesdropping into their conversation and then asking him for help. Your dad patted you on the shoulder and asked if Allison was okay before he walked away to continue looking around the room.

"Okay, sorry to bother you sir." You gave him a tight-lipped smile, but you couldn't shake the feeling that he was keeping something from you. You didn't miss Stiles angry glare sent your way as you walked over to the love of his life.

"Lydia, you okay?" You put a hand on her shoulder lightly, and she turned around to smile at you.

"Yes, thank you deputy Stilinski."

"Lydia, you can call me Y/N." Since your gonna be my sister-in-law someday.

"Thank you.. Y/N." You smiled at her, and went to walk back over to your brother who was whisper yelling something to Scott.

"Dereks house? What the hell are you doing there Scott?" Your ears perked up at the mention of Derek, wondering why Scott was there. You tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped at the sudden contact. "Damn Y/N, I'm gonna have to put a bell on you."

"Why is Scott with Derek?" You narrowed your eyes at your little brother, wanting to know what kind of trouble he has got himself into this time.

"It's rude to eavesdrop." He stated, his eyes looking anywhere but yours. You could see the anxiety seeping off of him, as he practically bounced in place.

"Mischief." You said in an accusing tone, knowing full and well he was trying to avoid answering your questions.

"Wichy." He huffed out of annoyance and you were fixing to demand he tells you what the hell was going on, first he heard that strange conversation between Melissa and Isaac, then Derek practically threw you out the door of the Hospital, and now Scott was with Derek doing god knows what. You heard your dad yell at you to come over and help collect evidence, but you didn't budge.

"Deputy Stilinski!" He huffed out again, but before you could turn around to yell at your dad Stiles spoke up.

"Looks like duty calls, see you later sis," He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek as he made his way out of the room, "Later Daddy-O." He threw his hand over his shoulder and you watched the familiar plaid disappear out the door. Brat. You stood there for a moment staring out the door, but your dad's voice finally made you get into gear.

"Y/N!" You let out a frustrated sigh, turning around to walk over to your dad. Your mind went over every scenario to explain what was going on, but it just kept getting stumped over the one word you heard at the hospital: werewolf.

Derek heard Scott and Stiles conversation, as he laid an unconscious Isaac on the table. He went over to a pile of wood on the floor, searching through the ruble when Scott came over to him.

"You don't still live here do you?"

"No, the county took it over but there is something here that I need, it can help heal a wound from an alpha." He continued searching through the ruble as Scott looked around the decrepit house.

"But it did heal." Scott scrunched up his nose in confusion, and he sighed stopping what he was doing to look at the young beta.

"Not on the inside." He decided to ignore him, continuing to search for what he needed.

"Hey are you gonna tell me who that was back there.. That alpha?" Scott asked nonchalantly, his eyes roaming over the room. Derek shook his head knowing he was going to ask questions about the werewolf that attacked him and Isaac at the hospital. Derek sighed, grabbing the herbs he was looking for before standing up to face Scott.

"He's from a rival pack. It's my problem. I know you wanna help, and you did.. I owe you one. Now go home, go back to being a teenager." The last thing Derek wanted was to drag Scott into this, because wherever Scott went, Stiles followed which meant Y/N could possible get involved because the annoying little human has a death wish and he'd be damned if he let Y/N get hurt. Derek ignored Scott, as he went to work on Issac but Scott's voice brought him out of his concentration.

"Hey Derek. If you wanna repay back that favor now, there is something you can do for me." Derek looked at the young beta wondering what he just got himself into.

All you wanted to do was go home, and pass out but your dad asked you to accompany him to Dr. Deaton's office and of course, you being you, said you would. You stood in the lobby as your dad tried to explain what the hell was going on Beacon Hills this week.

"We've had 15 calls in the past hour. I got a suicidal deer, birds flying through windows, pets behaving aggressively.. I gotta tell you, I'm starting to think there's something in the water."

"To be honest, I was gonna give you a call about an incident of my own." You were interested in their conversation now as Dr. Deaton gestured for your dad to follow him, and you decided to tag along. "At first I thought it was a break in, some sick individual looking to release some particularly violent impulse until I got a closer look and realized what actually happened." The vet stopped in front of a door, and you accidentally ran into your dad since you were following so close. He shot you an annoyed look, and you mumbled an apology as Dr. Deaton put his hand on the doorknob. He pushed the door open and your eyes went wide at the sight. "They did it to themselves."

There, in all the cages, were mangled cats. You choked down the bile that rose up your throat, usually stuff like this didn't bother you but seeing the blood still dripping from the cages was going to give you nightmares for weeks. The Doctor and your father were talking about what could possibly cause something like this when you told your dad you were going to go home. You mumbled your goodbyes and walked away from the sight, your stomach still churning.

Derek was sitting in front of Scott, looking over his arm at where the tattoo he said he got the night before had disappeared. He flashed his red eyes over the boy, seeing the faint outline of the bands.

"Okay, yeah I see it," he reached up to trance his fingers over the placement of the tattoo, "two bands, right?" Scott nodded his head, and he heard Stiles sigh beside him. "What does it mean?"

"I don't know it's just something I traced with my fingers." He watched as Scott drew a big circle with a smaller one inside of it on the dust covered table.

"Why is this so important to you?" He asked, not wanting to pry but if he was about to do this to him he wanted a good reason.

"Do you know what the word tattoo means?" Scott asked but he didn't get the chance to answer because Stiles did it for him.

"To mark something." Derek turned his head to Stiles, rolling his eyes at him. He looked at the mole faced boy for a moment, comparing the small similarities he had to his older sister. Sarcasm being at the top of the list, but at least when she did it he didn't want to punch her in the face.

"That's in Tahitian. In Samoan it means open wound. I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned 18, I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now, as a kind of reward." Scott looked embarrassed as he looked away from him and Stiles.

"For what?"

"For not calling or texting Allison all Summer. Even when I really wanted to. Even when it was so hard not to sometimes. I'm just trying to give her the space she wants," he let out a laugh, "Even after 4 months it still hurts. It still feels like a.. Um.."

"Like an open wound." Stiles offered, and Scott nodded his head.

"Yeah." Derek could smell the sadness coming off the young werewolf, and he felt bad. He knew what it was like to be in love with someone, but not be able to be with them. He guessed that was why he was going against his better judgment.

"Pains gonna be worse than anything you've ever felt." He offered, giving Scott a chance to change his mind.

"Well.. That's great." He ignored Stiles, as he grabbed the torch off the table.

"Do it." Scott smiled at him, getting comfortable in the chair. He raised his eyebrows at him, but Scott nodded his head signally he was sure. Derek ignited the torch and the flame lit up the room.

"Oh wow.. okay.. That's a lot.. For me.. So, I'm gonna take that as my cue. I'm just-- I'm gonna wait outside." Stiles stammered, making his way to the door but Derek was faster.

"Nope." He grabbed the flannel wearing boy, and Stiles let out a yelp of surprise. "You're gonna help hold him down." He watched as Stiles walked back around to his best friend, mumbling under his breath, and put his arms on Scott's shoulder to hold him in place. Derek looked at both boys, them nodding their head to signal they were ready. He put the flame up to Scott's skin as Stiles winced.

"Oh my god.." Stiles looked like he was going to be sick but he held Scott down as the flame connected with skin and he screamed in agony.

"Hold him." Derek huffed out, as Scott wiggled in the chair. Stiles shot him a glare but put more pressure on Scott to keep him from moving so much. Five minutes in and a full wolf out later, Scott passed out from the pain so Derek continued with ease. Derek put down the torch leaving the young wolf in the chair to go check on Issac who was still unconscious.

"How did you get him out?" Stiles asked, as he walked over to the table so he was on the other side of Issac.

"It wasn't easy, another Alpha was there. I was lucky to get to Scott in time before he killed him and Issac, I had to make sure Y/N didn't follow me."

"Y/N was there?!" Stiles screamed, panic coursing through his body. "She didn't see anything did she? Oh god. She was acting weird at the school, she was giving me the eyes yano. The eyes that say 'I know your keeping something from me and I'm going to figure out what it is' eyes." Derek wondered if Stiles could tell what his eyes were saying as he contemplated smacking the younger Stilinski so he would be quiet.

"Relax idiot. She didn't see anything, I got her to leave the hospital before I went to help Scott. I know I promised I wouldn’t tell her, but you should... It puts her at risk not knowing." Derek watched as Stiles shook his head feverishly.

"Nope. No. Not going to happen. Ever. She freaks out if I get a paper cut,she’d go crazy knowing I risk my life running around saving his werewolf ass." Stiles hitched his thumb over his shoulder to Scott and Derek laughed.

"Saving?"

"Yes. Saving. In case you don't remember I saved your ass too sour wolf. I don't want her to find out about any of this. If she stays out of it, she stays safe. Got it?" Stiles gave him a glare which he ignored.

"She's a deputy Stiles. She has a badge, a gun, and a mean ass right hook. She can take care of herself. She deserves to know."

"You want me to just pretend that telling her all this supernatural shit is what's best for her and not you."

"What the hell are you talking about Stiles. Of course it's for her best interest. She needs to know what's out there."

"Oh and that has nothing to do with the fact if I tell her about Scott, I would have to tell her about you too. I'm not dumb, I know the little thing you have for my sister Derek."

"I do not have a thing for Y/N." Derek growled at the boy, but Stiles just smirked at him.

"I'm not even a werewolf and I know your lying." Derek was fixing to yell at Stiles when Scott gasped from the other side of the room.

"It worked." Scott smiled happily. Luckily the conversation Stiles and Derek were having faded out of the room as soon as Scott woke up. Derek didn't want to talk about Y/N with Scott in the room because he could pick up on his heartbeat.

"Yeah it looks pretty damn permanent to me." Stiles pursed his lips while Scott put his shirt back on and rolled up the sleeves so he could admire the tattoo as him and Stiles headed toward the door.

"I know. I needed something permanent after everything that's happened to us. Everything changes so fast. Everything is so.. ephemeral." Derek raised an impressed eyebrow at Scott's word choice, as he listened to the boy's conversation.

"Studying for the PSAT's?" Stiles asked, nodding his head.

"Yep." Derek let out a small laugh but covered it with cough so they didn't notice.

"Nice." Stiles patted his best friends back, as Scott opened the door. Scott didn't walk out though, he stood staring at the red door.

"You painted the door." Derek heard the accusing tone in his voice, his body tensing up. "Why did you paint the door?"

"Go home Scott." Derek took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to throw both of them out of the house at this point. Scott ignored his comment and put his hand on the door, feeling the wood.

"And why only one side." It wasn't a question, it was more of a statement. Scott pulled his hand from the door, and Derek heard the flick of his claws.

"Scott." Derek huffed, but before he could stop him Scott had his claws on the door, scratching up the fresh paint revealing a symbol that he had painted over.

"The birds at School, the deer last night.. Just like the night I got trampled by the deer, and got bit by the alpha," Derek closed his eyes waiting for him to figure it out, "how many are there?"

"A pack of them." Derek sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. Stiles threw his hands up in the air before resting them on his hips, all while Scott just stared at Derek. "An alpha pack."

"All of them? How does that even work." Stiles asked, confusion written on his face.

"I heard they have some kind of leader, he's called Deucalion." Derek sighed again, knowing there was no point in keeping anything from them now. "We know they have Boyd and Erica. Peter, Issac, and I have been looking for them the last 4 months."

"So you find them.. How do you deal with an alpha pack?" Scott asked, coming to stand in front of Derek.

"With all the help I can get." Scott looked to Stiles, who just nodded his head. Scott was about to ask Derek something when someones voice cracked from the other side of the room.

"Where is she?" Isaac struggled to sit up from the table, his voice shaking slightly. "Where's the girl?"

You finally woke up from your much needed sleep after your basically 24 hour shift yesterday. Your head was throbbing, and you were thankful you had the day off. You quickly got dressed for the day, making sure to pull your gun from its holster from your belt and put it in the clip on your jeans. You knew better to walk around without a means to protect yourself, especially in Beacon Hills.

You texted your brother and asked if he wanted to get dinner tonight but he sent back a quick reply saying he was busy and you let out a sigh. You figured you would just stop by the house anyway and make dinner so he and your dad would have something to eat when they came home. You turned the coffee pot on to brew, and you stared at Derek's contact name wondering if you should text him or not. Your fingers hovered over his name, thinking back to the weird dream you had involving wolves. You decided you had enough of everyone acting weird, so you typed the message.

[Y/N] So... about yesterday. You gonna tell me what the hell happened?

[Derek] I don't know what you mean. I'm kind of busy Y/N/N, can we talk later?

You locked your phone, not bothering to reply. You knew he wasn't busy, that he was lying just like Stiles. The beeping from the coffee pot brought you out of your own little world where you were punching Derek's face repeatedly, and your little brothers. You looked to the coffee pot, full of your favorite substance in the world, and back to your phone. You were so angry, and tired of all the secrets that your stomach was churning.

"You know what. No. Fuck this." You huffed, grabbing your phone off the counter and walking to the door to get your keys. You were gonna make Derek wish he wouldn't have lied to you.

"Yano I'm starting to not like this idea." Isaac was pacing back and forth in front of the loft windows, anxiety seeping from him. "It sounds kind of dangerous. You know what I definitely don't like this idea, and I definitely don't like him."

"You'll be fine." Derek grumbled at his beta, not bothering to look up from his book.

"Does it have to be him?" Isaac whined while he continued to wear a hole in Derek's floor.

"He knows how to do it, I don't. It would be more dangerous if I tried doing it myself."

"You know Scott doesn't trust him right.. And personally, I trust Scott." Isaac muttered, but Derek still heard him.

"Do you trust me?" Derek tore his gaze from the book to look at him, waiting for a reply from his beta.

"Yeah." Despite the word, he still heard Isaac's heart beat skip as he lied but Derek chose to ignore it. He understood Isaac's worry though, but he didn't have a choice at this point. Derek went back to his book, trying to tune out his grumbles. "I still don't like him."

"Nobody likes him." Just as Derek spoke the loft door opened. He knew the saying, speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Boys, FYI, yes me coming back from the dead has left my abilities somewhat impaired but the hearing still works. So I hope your comfortably saying whatever it is that your feeling straight to my face." Peter smiled at his nephew and the young werewolf.

"We don't like you." Derek stated, closing his book with a bang and throwing it on the table before standing up. "Now shut up and help us."

"Fair enough." Peter smiled again, extending his hand producing his claws. Isaac's face paled and Derek pursed his lips. Peter told Issac to sit in the chair Derek had been sitting in as Derek made his way to sit on the sofa.

"Relax. I'll get more out of you if you calm." Isaac fidgeted in the chair as he tried to control his breathing.

"How do you know how to do this again?"

"It's an ancient ritual used mostly by alphas, since it's a skill that requires quite a bit of practice, one slip on you could paralyze someone," Peter stated as he placed his claws to the back of Isaac's neck, "or kill them."

"You've had a lot of practice though right?" He was looking for some kind of reassurance, but was met with none.

"Well I've never paralyzed anyone." Derek's eyes widened at his uncle's words and Isaac about fell out of the chair.

"Wait does that me that you--" Isaac was cut off when Peter slipped his claws into the back of his neck so he could retrieve his memories.

Derek watched his uncle and beta for about 5 minutes, his mind racing with what they could possibly be seeing, until Peter pulled his claws away and stumbled from Isaac.

"What did you see?" Derek asked Peter as he came to Isaac's side to make sure he was okay.

"Uh, it was confusing. Im--Images, vague shapes." Peter shook his head, trying collect his thoughts.

"But you saw something?" Derek asked again, hoping to have some kind of clue to find his other betas.

"Isaac found them.." Peter laughed, surprise coursing through his words.

You pulled up to Derek's building, slamming the door to the cruiser and making your way inside. You waited in the elevator. You tapped your foot impatiently watching the numbers climb as the elevator music filtered through the small space. Your stomach hadn't stopped churning since you left your apartment and your anger had continued to build.

You didn't understand why everyone was lying to you, or what was going on with all the animals in town. It was like Beacon Hills was cursed, and it wouldn't surprise you if witches, ghosts, vampires and werewolves were real at this point.

You pulled your phone out, scrolling through some of the pictures you took of a couple of files yesterday before going to sleep and the notes you made. The one that stood out the most was a report of a giant lizard like monster a nightclub. Great maybe the lochness monster is real too. You put your phone away as you rounded the corner to Derek's loft but stopped at the door when you heard voices echoing through the room.

"Erica and Boyd?" Derek kept asking questions, wanting something concrete to go on.

Wait, weren't those the kids who have been missing for months.

"I-- I barely saw them. It was glimpses."

"But you did see them?" Derek pressed on despite Peters confused state.

"And worse.." Peter grimaced, recalling the vision.

"Duecalion."

Who the fuck is Deacalion?

"He was talking to them. Something about time running out."

"What does is mean?" Isaac spoke up for the first time as he cradled his neck wound.

"He's going to kill them." Derek stood from his spot on the sofa, as he started pacing the room.

"No no no, he--he didn't say that, but he did make them a promise. A promise that by the full moon they'd be dead."

What in the hell has Derek got himself into this time.

"The next full moon?"

"Tomorrow night."

You hovered your hand over the door for a moment, but after hearing that conversation you felt like barging in the room was more appropriate. You threw the sliding door open, and three heads snapped to you while you stormed into the room. You noticed the boy from the hospital first, the one Melissa called Issac, who looked like he was bleeding.

"Isaac are you okay?" You ignored Derek and Peter's stare as you made your way to the boy. He looked at you with wide eyes, not sure what to do as you took his hand from behind his neck. You saw the blood on his hands but when you turned his neck to the side there wasn't an open wound. "What the--"

"Did you forget how to knock Miss Stilinski?" Peter interrupted you with his famous smirk, which you returned with a glare.

"Shut up Peter, no one likes you." You huffed out, annoyed by Peter's presence and Isaac laughed. You turned back toward the curly you to look back him. He smiled up at you, raking his eyes down your body and you raised your eyebrows as the teenager in front of you. He coughed slightly, looking away from you but you could see the blush that rose to his cheeks.

"Y/N/N you shouldn't be here." You turned to Derek who was giving Isaac a murderous look.

"I wouldn't be here if you would stop lying to me. We're friends Derek, or I thought we were. First the weird thing at the hospital yesterday and then you just blow me off with some lame excuse that your busy."

"I am busy." He gritted his teeth, turning his glare onto you now.

"Oh yeah, talking about the missing teenagers and how they are fixing to be dead by the full moon? Seriously Derek what the hell is going on. You know those missing kids are my case right, do I really have to put you in hand cuffs and take you to the station to get some type of answer?"

"Eavesdropping is rude." Peter piped up from the corner of the room.

"So I've been told." You snapped at him, and he held up his hands in surrender.

"Well as much fun as this is, I'm going to go watch paint dry. Yell when she leaves." Peter sighed dramatically, "a pleasure as always miss Stilinski." Peter brushed past you as he made his way up the spiral staircase to the top floor of the loft. Derek's phone rang through the loft and he pulled it out of his pocket, putting it to his ear. You couldn't hear who he was talking to but Isaac seemed to turn his head in surprise like he heard the voices on the other end.

"Okay I'll be right there." You watched as Derek hung up the phone and put his phone back in his pocket.

"Oh no you don't mister." You grabbed Derek's arm before he could grab his jacket off the table and Isaac's eyebrows shot up. "We are not done." Derek sighed as he grabbed your hand from his arm and pulled it off with ease. He reached over and picked up his jacket and slipped it over before coming back to stand next to you.

"Y/N/N--"

"Don't Y/N/N me Derek, I want an explanation. Who is Deucalion?" Derek's eyes widened but you didn't give him the option to speak before you turned to Isaac. "And you, what was up yesterday in the hospital. Melissa was trying to cover for you 'healing' and now you're just up walking around after you were supposed to go into surgery then you said something about Scott and werewolves."

You watched as Isaacs jaw hit the floor and he started stammering over his words like a toddler. "I--ugh-- I-- I don't-- what... Pshh werewolves. That's -- that's crazy, I-- I."

"Spit it out Isaac." You huffed at the young boy with your hands on your hips.

"I--I don't know-- n--nothing-- I mean--" Isaac's flustered words was cut off when Derek put a hand over his mouth.

"Shut up idiot." Isaac nodded his head in understanding and Derek removed his hand. You were about to yell at him when his phone ringing again cut you off.

"Look I know your mad and I know your confused... just," he sighed as he rubbed his hands down his face out of frustration, "I can't tell you what's going on Y/N/N."

"Can't or won't Derek." You felt the angry tears burning in your eyes at you crossed your arms over your chest. He walked up to you leaving an inch between you both.

"Can't. I want to tell you, god Y/F/I, I want to tell you so bad but I promised I wouldn't." He kissed your forehead and you leaned into his touch. He didn't usually display affection so easily, and him doing that made the butterflies in your stomach turn into a swarm of bees. He turned around to leave, a flustered Isaac right on his heels.

"Promised who Derek?" You called after him, hurt evident in your voice. He stopped at the loft door, which was still open from you barging into the room, and turned back to you. His green eyes were piercing into you, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Your brother." Derek turned around and closed the door leaving you standing in the middle of his loft alone with your thoughts. Your brother would never keep something like that from you, he told you everything. You knew the past year had been crazy and he had gotten more secretive but he would never blatantly ask someone to lie you. The lies you feared the most were the ones close enough to the truth to pass under the radar, or else the ones so big you'd never dream a person could make something like that up, and you couldn't figure out which Derek's fell under.

Comment’s always welcome :)

Tag list: @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @cuillere @sarcasmismyonlydefense

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Rupaul's Retirement Home ~ Hobnob

AN: I took some time off to defeat my inner saboteur, and visit my great Aunty Dorris. She just turned 100 so she’s basically crumbling away like an oaty biscuit. Her 100th bday bash was mental she was off her tits on meds. Before that she was in a temporary nursing home, and to be frank it was proper dodgy. This fic is a homage to my experience around old people, and how I don’t really like them too much because they remind me of death.

Beauty can come from unexpected places, but more often than not you’ll just see a pile of dog shit. ~Hobnob

The first thing you’ll notice about Rupaul’s retirement home is the smell. There’s no avoiding it. The second you walk in the stench of old moth balls and re-heated cottage pie makes your nose crinkle and your eyes water. It’s nothing if nostalgic of visiting your Nan’s house, but 100 times worse. As if a physical force were to greet you at the door.

The second thing you’ll notice is the horribly outdated decor. Floral wallpaper peeled by time, beige settees with ominous stains, and varnished tabletops plastered with finished Sudoku’s and the TV times. The room was neither here nor there. Too clean to host rats, too dirty to pass basic safety inspection.

Finally, you’ll notice the residents. Wrinkled, aching, and old. They litter the room. Some hunched over an outdated telly set, some sunk in armchairs with their eyes closed, possibly deep in thought, Possibly sleeping. Most likely the latter.

Overall most would find Rupaul’s retirement home to be a grim reminder of mortality. Of how our skin will wrinkle and crease as if to give up on itself. Of how our eyes will turn a milky white and sink into our skull. Of how our fingers will struggle to clasp at pens and keep still to endless frustration.

Raja exhaled slowly, the corners of her mouth dropping into a frown. For five years she’d been cooped up, destined to repeat the same routine over and over to the tick of an old grandfather clock gathering dust in the corner.

As far as retirement homes go, Rupaul’s was tolerable. The staff weren’t overly incompetent and the food was just about edible. But Raja was restless, and there wasn’t enough room in some stuffy little lounge on the coast of Yorkshire to stretch her legs.

She used to travel overseas, gliding across salt water with a smell in the air no Yankee candle could recreate. She used to go to places she couldn’t even pronounce, and eat foods that weren’t served in a tinfoil dish. She used to make friends, enemies and acquaintances on a daily basis.

But now, Raja was 80. Deemed too old by society to sail a boat, or bathe herself for that matter. All thanks to one silly fall she took 5 years ago. Maybe if her knee hadn’t popped, she’d be in Scotland sampling haggis, or Norway looking over a grassy creek between snowy mountains.

“Raja.”

Or maybe even grabbing a bite to eat in Liverpool, then catching the annual lights show.

“Raja…”

She was too old for abseiling but who knows, she could give hiking a go…

“RAJA!”

She snapped out of her daydreaming and rubbed her temple, turning her head to the source of the noise, slightly dazed.

“You just going to stand there with your eyes facing different directions?”

Sat beside her with a grin comprised of dentures was Charlie Hides, brandishing her familiar mess of grey hair in contrast to a red painted lip.

Raja promptly took a seat, sticking up her middle finger at Charlie mockingly.

“At least I don’t have Athletes foot. I could smell you from a mile away.”

Charlie chuckled, though it developed into a violent cough and she was forced to have a sip of water. The two had met after Charlie was thrown in by her family. They shared similar complaints with the home and bonded over their general hatred of coronation street that always seemed to permanently remain on the telly set.

“They have cream for athletes foot but you can’t cure delusion Raja Gemini.” She tutted, reaching over to grab a crossword off the table. Her hands were unsteady and held the paper a little too tight, causing it to crumple slightly. Raja decided to look away.

“Delusion? I was daydreaming bitch I’m too young to go crazy.” Raja said sinking her back into the settee, her bones creaking along with the worn springs.

Charlie smiled to herself, keeping her eyes on her crossword as she produced a black biro from behind her ear. “The fact you just called yourself young proves my poi-”

“Pill time ladies.”

Their banter was interrupted. Raja grimaced.

“Come on up up.” The carer repeated, patting them both on the backs as if they were some variation of untrained pet.

Raja hated the pills they shoved into her body. They tasted like rust and made her loose any appetite she may of had. Sometimes if she was lucky she could stuff them in her pockets and flush them down the toilet, like she used to do with broccoli as a child.

She exhaled slowly, gripping her yellowed nails into the edge of the settee, ready to hoist her weight up and shuffle up to the poor intern passing out small paper cups of drugs. Before she could go any further Raja felt Charlie grab her wrist.

“Do you know where Tempest is? She’s late for her pills today.”

Raja looked stunned for a moment. She was about to respond but her words were abruptly interrupted by an impatient voice.

“Ladies. Pills. Now.”

The pair rolled their eyes collectively and got up as fast as they could, which was fairly slow. Making their way over to the counter Raja thought over Charlie’s question repeatedly.

The line shuffled gradually with the sound of slippers chafing against the carpet until it was Raja’s turn to drug herself up. Accepting the pills graciously she decided it really wasn’t worth kicking up a fuss about taking them.

Before she could neck down the paper cups contents one of the newer workers, Serena, approached Raja with a quizzical look. She was petite, with a head of blonde hair and an expression of confusion constantly plastered on her round face.

“Wait-wait Raja, you are friends with Miss Hides aren’t you?”

Raja rolled her eyes slightly and nodded, tempted to respond with a sarcastic ’unfortunately’ but deciding it wasn’t worth her voice.

“Yes, well, we’ve been noticing some traits of early stage dementia and i was wondering whether you could shed some light on how her memory is doing.”

Raja froze, pursing her lips. She looked over to Charlie who was absent mindedly chatting to Mrs Kasha Davis. Probably about the state of the economy and how Teresa May was drunk on power.

Dementia?

A second wave of realisation washed over Raja as she recalled when Charlie asked where a former resident, Tempest Dujour was. To put it frankly, Tempest had been dead for a week after passing from heart failure, yet Charlie seemed to have no recollection of this.

“Yes.”

“Yes? Care to elaborate?” Serena Cha Cha said impatiently, quirking a brow.

Raja didn’t want to elaborate. She didn’t want to put any more energy into thinking about it. She didn’t want to think about how the mind just does that sometimes. It forgets.

Suddenly Raja was in the mood for her pills. “Can i get back to you on that later? We’re holding up the line here.” Raja said stoically, turning on her heel to avoid futher confrontation.

“Actually now would be a good time to-”

Her back was turned to Serena dismissively. This could all wait. She necked back her pills and cast another sideways glance at Charlie. She was sat down now with a new crossword, her feet on the table facing towards a small radiator, warming up her toes through the nippy winter evening.

Despite Serena beckoning Raja back, she made her way over to Charlie and took a seat. She was attempting to grab the pen she’d dropped on the floor as she cursed under her breath. It was almost painful to watch.

“This bloody place the seats are too high up. I can barely bend over as it is.”

Normally Raja would agree and go off on one about how shitty the furniture is, but instead she offered a sympathetic smile.

“Could be worse.” Raja sniffed, leaning over to pick up the pen for Charlie. “Appreciate that we weren’t put in a place with no central heating.”

Charlie took the pen from her hands gratefully, looking down to her unfinished crossword. “Part of appreciating something is not acknowledging you have it. Think about having it and you aren’t enjoying it.”

Raja didn’t exactly know how to respond to that. She looked over to the TV set. Red Dwarf is on much to the joy of the residents. The theme tune gets turned up to allow the more hard of hearing residents to listen in.

Think about having it and you aren’t enjoying it.

“Oh, Raja?”

Her train of thought is broken as she looks to Charlie.

“When’s it time for our pills?”

Raja placed a hand on Charlie’s hand and squeezed tight. She hadn’t the heart to answer that. She simply shrugged.

“Defiance…”

“What?” Charlie said confused, biting the end of her chewed pen. She made a mental reminder to never borrow a pen off her.

“open resistance; bold disobedience.” Raja repeated, poking a bony finger at the crossword proudly. “Defiance.”

The other woman let out a noise of joy before scrawling down words illegible to anyone else. Raja took the time to peer out the window. It was pitch black outside with frost creeping around the corners of the window. In summer the view would be that of a lovely garden, brimming with tulips and hanging plant baskets.

Raja had a feeling it was to keep the residents happier. Having such a wonderful view was a reminder that there was a world outside the home, and it was still growing and moving.

But she couldn’t see the garden. She could see the stained wall around it, and the flower patterned curtains that hadn’t been drawn in a long time, but no garden.

Raja wondered how many of her friends would stick around during the winter. Some would go back to see family, some would even give into age and pass on.

She leaned back in her chair and shut her eyes. Maybe she would think more, maybe she would go to sleep. It was yet to be decided.

Prehaps sleep.

#hobnob #raja gemini #serena cha cha #charlie hides #rupaul's retirement home #rpdr fanfiction #crack fic

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andavs · 7 years

Text

Yet another from this long list of prompts, completely unprompted.

Number Twelve: “I’m pregnant.”

The text came in at 7:17am, and in the meantime, Stiles had made his way through four and a half breakdowns, all of them for different reasons.

Number One: Male werewolves could get pregnant, and tying into that:

Number Two: Derek had never found it relevant to their two year relationship to share this fun fact. That didn’t say much as to his thoughts on their future together, which stung.

Number Three: Stiles was going to be a father at twenty-four.

Number Four: Just the night before, with Derek in Argentina visiting Cora, Stiles ate a dinner of Cheetos, plain microwaved hotdogs wrapped in bread, and four beers before passing out on the couch with the tv remote in his hand. He was not ready to be a father.

Number Five (still ongoing, more or less halfway through): They were going to have to move because no amount of corner guards or stupid little outlet plugs could childproof the loft. The door to the kitchen was literally a jagged hole in a brick wall. Stiles caught his shins on it regularly, they were always a mess of scabs and bruises.

Actually his entire body was a mess of scabs and bruises, because that was his life now, had been since sophomore year: fighting off the forces of supernatural evil.

Too bad he couldn’t childproof his life.

Oh god, they were going to have to move out of Beacon Hills. Away from the pack.

Nothing was stable in Beacon Hills, it had been eight years of panic and anxiety and near deaths and actual deaths. They couldn’t bring a baby into their current lives, Stiles wouldn’t even bring an adult into this hellhole. Who was trained in firearms. With combat experience.

But what choice did they have? Did abortions even work on werewolves? Was there an adoption service for werewolves?

Stiles shook that ridiculous thought out of his head as he paced. Like Derek would part with his child. He valued family above all else in life, the fact that Peter was still out there somewhere, skulking around in the world was proof of that—if there was a Hale baby, that baby was growing up a Hale, no argument.

So they just had to find somewhere safe to live. Within easy driving distance of Beacon Hills in case of emergency, but far enough away that the Nemeton’s influence wouldn’t bring vampires to their door. Stiles would have to do some experiments to see just how far that was, but he figured if he picked a direction and drove straight out, the easing pull in his chest would tell him about where it ended.

His frantic pacing slowed to a stop. That darkness in his heart wasn’t hereditary, was it?

Had he started a family curse of nightmares and uncontrollable anxiety that would plague any and all future Stilinskis? Would they all be susceptible to possession if any ancient evil spirits happened to wander by? Was he really even human when he was technically vomited up by the nogitsune possessing his body? How would that affect this kid’s inevitable wolfiness? A fox and wolf couldn’t coexist, could this kid even survive? Would it come out all fucked up because of him?

He fell right back into panicking and pacing.

At one point he managed to sit down long enough to open his computer and do a quick real estate search in the counties surrounding Beacon Hills, but then he checked his savings account, closed the laptop, stood up, and went right back to pacing.

He paced around the couch until he got dizzy, laid back down for a bit, then talked himself into double-checking his phone. He’d seen the text at 7:17am when he was still half asleep and a touch hungover—maybe it was actually a dream. That would explain why Derek hadn’t sent any followup texts or tried to call, and this was definitely something to call about. At the very least, double text.

Yeah, it was just a really fucked up dream.

He turned on his phone, tapped in the pin, and the text conversation with Derek filled the screen. The last text Derek sent was still sitting there, unanswered.

I’m pregnant.

Nope, not a dream.

Stiles stared at the text until his phone went dark, put it back down on the table, and started to pace again.

He should say something. He had to respond; they were going to be fathers together, and that text had already been sitting there for almost five hours unanswered. Derek had to be freaking out, enough that calling or telling him in person weren’t options—hell, he’d waited until he was on another continent to break the news. Or maybe he found out there and was in too much shock to wait until he got home.

Which, not to belittle what he was going through emotionally, but once Stiles stopped panicking, after they’d had a long and informative conversation about werewolf biology and their future, he was going to tear Derek a new one for pulling this. He wouldn’t even need a vagina for delivery with the damage Stiles was going to do for texting this shit.

Stiles stopped pacing and stared out the window while a horrifying montage rolled through his mind.

How the hell was this going to work, c-section? How did a werewolf get a c-section when they healed instantly? Did Deaton know werewolf doctors? Because Stiles’ child sure as hell wasn’t being delivered by a vet. And if not, how would they even find a doctor to deliver this baby from a man who clearly didn’t have the parts for it? Would he...grow the parts?

The weirder corners of the internet he’d happened upon back in high school drifted to the forefront of his panicked thoughts.

Assbabies.

He laid back down for ten minutes, until he realized how much of a total dick he was being for letting Derek stew in this. He had to be freaking out even more—he was in another country, pregnant, and he had a twenty-four year old dolt who was apparently a little too lax with condom use as a partner in this.

Time to man up. His dad would smack him into next week if he knew Derek had been kept waiting at a time like this.

Stiles picked up his phone with shaking hands, stared at the text for another long moment (maybe he’d just been reading it wrong this entire time and this would be the time it clicked, it was worth a shot), and moved his thumb to hover over the phone icon to call.

Once he did this, there was no going back. Derek would know he’d seen the text, they would have to talk, this was the end of Stiles’ child-free, non-fatherhood life as he knew it.

He took a deep breath, tapped the icon, and put the phone to his ear.

Derek, the complete and utter bastard, let it ring right up until voicemail before he answered.

Oh god. This was it. No going back.

Except not.

He hadn’t even opened his mouth to blurt out I love you and respect any decision you make when Derek practically yelled:

“I’m not pregnant, I can’t get pregnant, that was Cora, don’t freak out.”

Stiles’ brain stuttered and tripped over itself for a second, trying to process both Derek’s words and Cora laughing in the background, as well as the explosion of emotions he was having. Relief, anger, confusion, anger, exhaustion, anger…

He was going to be in the bathroom for hours with anxious diarrhea after this.

Finally his brain managed to toss together a response: “Five hours too late, you fucking asshole!”

Derek took the verbal abuse in stride. He knew Stiles didn’t know any other way to deal with stress.

“I didn’t know she sent that. She just told me when she saw you calling.” The laughing faded away and a door shut to silence on his end. “Explains why she’s been in such a good mood all day.”

“And that didn’t worry you? Cora’s never in a good mood!”

“I figured she put something in my bed, I wasn’t expecting her to try to give you a mental breakdown.”

“Oh, she didn’t try, she succeeded. Do you have any idea what I’ve been going through today? I’ve stared the darkest parts of my soul dead in the face, repeatedly, for hours, and let me tell you, it was not fun, and I’m going to get plastered tonight once I stop feeling like I’m going to vomit and/or shit myself.”

Derek was quiet for a long second. “I didn’t think it’d be that bad.”

His tone registered just in time for Stiles to catch himself before his next high strung retort.

Crap, he sounded hurt. That was his hurt and trying to pretend he wasn’t tone, and Stiles was so not thinking clear enough to handle this well. He was still on the sharpest emotional comedown he’d experienced since their first official date when he panicked in a back alley behind a Mexican restaurant for an hour.

“No, god, that’s not—that’s not even what I mean—” He took a deep breath, trying to pull something together that would accurately sum up the rickety emotional rollercoaster he’d been on all morning and why the idea of starting a family with Derek was so far from the bad part of all this.

He medium succeeded.

“Derek. I can’t afford a house and I was panicking about assbabies and whether or not the nogitsune is hereditary. This was not about not wanting a kid with you.”

A pause, then, “Assbabies?”

“Have you seen what you guys can heal from in seconds? There’s a lot about werewolf biology I don’t know, okay! That was only the first breakdown!”

“You didn’t think I would’ve told you about that sometime in the last two years of our relationship?”

“Breakdown number two.”

Derek sighed, but didn’t address that concern. Not promising. “Okay, and why were you looking at houses?”

“Number five! We can’t raise a kid in this deathtrap of a loft, Derek. Even I have scars from it.”

“That’s because you don’t look where you’re going and have zero coordination.”

“And toddlers have even less!”

Derek ignored the obvious opening to rank toddlers above his boyfriend’s coordination. He carried on down the list with practiced ease. He had plenty of experience with these freakouts.

“Okay, so ignoring the idea that possession is hereditary—”

“The susceptibility for possession, and the whole being vomited up by myself thing, so am I actually human? And to be fair, that was tied in with the whole hereditary dementia thing, which is a completely valid concern and was going to be breakdown number six once it really got going.”

“What were breakdowns three and four?”

“What I had for dinner last night and how I’m...really not ready to be a father at twenty-four.” He winced a little as he said it. Judging by Derek’s tone at the start of all this, he wanted kids, but they’d never talked about it before this clusterfuck of a day and Stiles didn’t actually know what kind of timeline he was working with.

He was in the middle of a Master’s degree, working part time, and generally a mess of a young adult who still didn’t fully understand his own taxes. Derek, on the other hand, was more financially secure, he had his real estate holdings, he was older and more settled—Stiles didn’t even know about the whole pregnancy thing so he certainly didn’t know about how fast a werewolf biological clock ticked.

Shit, he was starting to get anxious again.

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted his budding spiral, and confessed calmly, “I’m not ready yet either.”

“Yet?”

“Maybe someday.”

Stiles breathed out in relief and laid back on the couch. No assbabies, no moving, no impending fatherhood—everything had worked out beautifully.

At least until Derek remembered the other breakdown.

“What did you have for dinner last night?”

Stiles’ eyes flicked over to the plate still sitting out on the coffee table and the dry corner of bread that still smelled a little like hot dog. He hadn’t cleaned up the Cheetos bag or beer bottles either. “I’d really rather not say.”

“Stiles, what did you eat?”

“It’s fine! You don’t have to call poison control or anything!” He’d be offended, but there was precedent. But only because Lydia didn’t label her poisonous herbs for weird magical concoctions and left them in the kitchen while Stiles was making dinner.

“I’m calling Scott.”

“Do not call Scott, I’m an adult, I can feed myself.”

“Apparently not!”

“Hey, I ate, and since I’m not going to be taking care of a helpless infant anytime soon, that’s what really matters here.”

“But I need you to be around to help me raise a helpless infant someday, so eat better. Do you have money for groceries? Should I order you food?”

Stiles was so touched that Derek wanted to keep him around and raise kids with him that he didn’t even mind the implication that he was broke and withering away without Derek around to provide for him.

“I’m fine, seriously. I was just being lazy last night.” He put a hand over the still churning nerves in his stomach and grimaced. “And I think I was panicking too much to eat anything anytime soon.”

Derek huffed out a laugh. “I’m really sorry about that. I don’t know when she got to my phone.”

“Assbabies, Derek. It’s been a very traumatizing morning.”

“Stop saying it. You’re just making Cora laugh harder.”

“Good! I shouldn’t be the only one suffering here, because this is partially your fault too!” Derek scoffed. “If I’d been properly informed about all this, I never would’ve believed that text and I could’ve slept in on my day off.” And he probably wouldn’t have shaved ten years off his life freaking out all morning.

“Stiles,” Derek sighed, “how could I possibly have known you would believe I could get pregnant?”

Stiles pulled the phone away from his ear to give it an incredulous look. “Why would I doubt that? Did you miss the part where I was vomited up by myself?”

“Touche.”

“Yeah, and just so you know, when you get back we’re having a very lengthy chat about just what exactly werewolves can do, in all areas of life. Nothing’s off limits, so prepare accordingly.” Invasive questions were already bubbling up from his subconscious, and he couldn’t wait to see how hard Derek blushed when he asked. Derek looked adorable when he blushed.

“Alright, then I’m testing you on it all later.” He could hear Derek’s smirk in his voice. “Because you're an idiot for obsessing for hours instead of just calling me immediately.”

“Agreed, but Cora's an asshole.”

“She is.”

“Hit her for me.”

“Will do.”

And later that night Stiles wasn’t even mad when his favorite order from his favorite restaurant was unexpectedly delivered. Or when the delivery guy handed him a side salad separately, like it was something valuable and important, and said very sternly, “I was told to tell you to stop eating garbage.”

#sterek #ficlet #there isn't actually mpreg #don't worry #but also sorry to anyone who wanted that?#150 prompt

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labradorloverr-blog · 7 years

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My Zodiac: He’s gonna be the death of me.

GUYS I THOUGHT OF THIS AT 3AM. It’s going to be an amazing book I’m really excited. I hope everyone enjoys because for once I created something of my own. I am moving on up from fanfictions!!! Which I will still write of course.

Chapter One: James Olivia Franklin

Zodiacs.

Honestly, a load of bullshit. People use star constellations to tell them who they should fall in love with. Or to justify their shitty personalities and guys use them as pick up lines. They shouldn’t waste their time like this.

When I was young and bedtime didn’t really exist, and the rare occasion my mom had a night off, I would be out in the fields behind our house with her. We would be wrapped in blankets, and have a telescope and hot cocoa.

She would look up at the sky, with the stars reflecting in her eyes and tell me, “Jamie, they’re out there. They’re watching us.” She believes there is no god or jesus or Greek gods or literally any of them. “It’s the twelve Zodiacs that take care of us.” There’s probably a reason she’s crazy.

She's not really crazy, it’s only dementia.

She used to be an amazing astronomer, she would do lectures and teach college classes all about the sky. I share her love for the night sky. That’s what I’m going to to do when I get hell hole called high school. But I’m gonna make sure this silly zodiac crap is put to rest.

My name is Jamie, or James Olivia Franklin, I’m eighteen and 5’3. My middle name is for a girl. I have three older brothers, two live at home and one is a lawyer or something I don’t care honestly. My dad is an alcoholic and my mother lives in a special home downtown. I hate people. I hate talking to them, I hate them talking to me, I hate lunchtime, I hate parties and assemblies and pep rallies. It’s all pointless. I don’t need anybody to help me achieve my goals. I can do everything alone. I just hate things in general, kay?

“Are you gonna finish your sandwich?”

Okay, I lied. There is one person.

Quinzel Martinez, 5’7, total math nerd, a hottie from Brazil, and everybody calls him Quinn, and my best friend. He’s the only person who listens to me. The only person who has helped me go through my mother’s sickness.

We’re in the cafeteria and he asks me the same question everyday, and he knows the routine. I take out an extra sandwich I brought just for him.

“You’re the coolest!!” He bites into it and swallows. “Screw being an astronomer, just be a chef. This sandwich is heaven in between two pieces of wheat bread.”

“It’s whole grain.”

“Same thing.”

“No it’s not,” I look up from my college level textbook I took from the box of my moms stuff that was in the attic.

“Are we gonna argue about this again?” I look back down at my book.

“If you just admit I’m right then no argument is needed,” he laughs shaking his head continuing to eat. That’s another thing, I’m very stubborn. But he doesn’t get pissed off like other students, or smack me in the head like my brothers. I remember the first time we met in kindergarten, thirteen years ago.

“My name is Quinzel Rivero Rodriguez Martinez! But please call me Quin,” his brown hair was really short back then and spiky. He had on a shirt with a college name on it that was too big and pants that sagged. His shoes were transformers like mine. When class started he sat next to me.

I had really big glasses that covered almost my whole face and my hair was long. My clothes actually fit, I found out years later his clothes didn’t fit because his father had to steal them.

“I’m...I’m Jamie….” I wasn’t looking at him. Before I resented all other human beings I wanted friends. But I was shy. As the weeks went by in our first two year of school Quin would just talk and talk and talk, and I would just nod or shake my head. We would sit together in class and in lunch and he even came to my house a couple times and I went to his many times. His family loved me, gave me so much attention.

Attention I craved, my mother was working most nights, my dad was always drunk, my brothers wouldn’t talk to me unless they were yelling at me. Quinn’s family was so different, they ate meals together and laughed and played games. I remember the first time I made him laugh, in 2nd grade. It was on a beach his family took me too.

“I love sand, it’s so great,” he had his hands elbow deep in the sand on his stomach. I was making a neat sandcastle. “Do you like sand Jamie?” I wasn’t going to say anything and I could tell he was about to say something else to continue the conversation on his own like always. Until I finally spoke.

“One time I replaced my brothers protein powder with sand from my sandbox and it broke the blender when he made a smoothie.” He looked at me but I didn’t look up starting to turn red thinking I sounded stupid. Then he started laughing and laughed for a good five minutes. After that day we started having actual conversations. I now feel like I can tell him anything,he’s the only reason I use my phone.

Lunch is over and we go into our AP literature and sit next to each other as usual.

“Quin, What do you want to do in life?”

“Woah hitting me with the big questions today. Why do you ask?”

“Because it’s the one thing that doesn’t come out of your big mouth.”

“Ow...that hurts me Jamie.”

“Answer the question,” he laughs a bit and leans back in his chair thinking. Unfortunately the bell rang and class started. So I wasn’t going to find out till later.

If I don’t go home immediately my dad would beat me. I need to be home by 3:30 and school gets out at 3:00 and so I walk home. I go into the house and I sit on the couch. The house was relatively quiet, so dumb and dumber are probably gonna be our late. Dad is in the kitchen drinking. I take out my homework planner and my laptop.

“You still talking to that homo?”

“He’s not a homo dad.”

“He holds you back Jamie. You should be more like your older brother.”

“Oh so do drugs?”

“The other one”

“The one that got his girlfriend pregnant?”

“Your brother CAMERON!! Stop being smart with me boy!!” I flinched a little, I hated being afraid, my body clenches, I get a knot in my stomach, I starts shaking and just want to curl into a ball. It’s a horrible emotion. “Get your ass in here!! I’m gonna teach you a thing or two.” My brothers hate me, but they always protect me from him. I get up and go into my room closing the door and locking it. I sit against the door on the floor, it was happening again. “JAMIE!! Come. Here.”

My breathing started to quicken. My heart beating so fast and loud I could hear it in my ears. My hands started shaking and tears going down my fast. My phone went off and I pick it up trying to read the message. It’s from Quinn.

“Hey man I never told you what I want to do in life.” I can’t type, I was trying but my dad is still screaming my name. “Jamie???” I put my phone down, I had to calm down. “Jamie are you okay?”

“Is he doing it again?”

“I need you to respond Jamie.”

“JAMIE” he starts calling me and I barely press the answer button putting the phone to my ear. “Jamie...What’s going on?”

“I-can’t b-breathe.”

“Hey buddy. I’m here it’s okay.”

“T-Tell me about w-what you want to be…”

“Alright...I want to become a professor at Yale. I want to do something that will make a difference but won’t put me in the spotlight. Plus it’s the same place your mom used to do lectures and you’re going there. I got my acceptance letter yesterday.”

“H-Haha...You’ll be able to talk all day perfect for you,” dad had gotten quiet, he probably passed out.

“Exactly, my favorite thing to do...Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” I get up and sit on my bed. “I’m good. Thanks Quinn.’

“No problem. I’m gonna do some homework. But I’ll send you memes.”

“Alright. I’ll do the same. Except no memes.”

“You will get sucked into the tumblr hole.”

“Whatever.” I hang up. I started having panic attacks when my brother Cameron had gone to college when I was nine. Dad was drunk and hit me calling me a loser and saying I needed to be like him. Kyle and Eric stopped him from doing anything too bad but I was emotionally scarred. Quinn has always been there for me, and now that I know we’re going to the same college and will most likely rent an apartment, we’ll be together forever.

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demon-winchester · 3 years

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Tremors Behind The Veil Chapter 9

-Chapter 9-

Screaming and howls everywhere

I jumped from the bed with cold sweat and warm tears running down my face.

The nightmares have been getting worse.

Three days have passed with no signs of Circe in any of the abandoned churches surrounding the city.

I have not exchanged words with anyone... the days have felt endless. I need a win.

The doors of the bunker opened and I headed out. The weather was really moody. The sun was cowering behind the clouds and a light fog has coated the city, a city still asleep with only some birds chirping , saying good morning to whoever was unlucky enough to start their day this early. Two churches were left on my list and then, if I had time I would join my classmates for a coffee... Only two days were left after all.

Both churches turned out to be a waste of time. Empty, gothic buildings with some rotten furniture and plenty of bird nests. Another failure, my god I need a break.

I showed up to the cafe and I managed to scare a couple of my friends sitting with their backs turned on me. The time moved swiftly and the atmosphere was really light, it felt like a normal day for once. I tip toed my way around their questions and I must say it went surprisingly better than I expected. Though I couldn't forget the fact that this meetup was more bitter than sweet. It felt like a goodbye and as far as I'm concerned, it was. Lydia emerged with one of the teachers so I excused myself and I approached her once she was alone. We hugged and we started chatting. Eventually, I talked about the dead end I've put myself in because I'm sure her insight would help.

"Huh, abandoned churches you say?" she exclaimed while gazing in the distance, "Chapels are technically churches too aren't they?" she continued. "Well I thought about that too and I've checked.. Even if you count the fact that they are too small for a ritual or something, every last one I've checked was entirely empty" I answered. "Oh damn... OH DAMN" she said jumping up from her seat and smiling, "you know where else you can find a Chapel don't you?" she continued and I was left entirely confused,"Hospitals you idjit!!!".

My eyes lit up, "See, most times you're stupider than a pile of bricks but others... Well other times you surprise me and that's why I love the way you think" I said while starting to gather my stuff. "I'm gonna take the last part as a compliment but nevertheless fuck you!!" she replied. . . "You're leaving already aren't you?" she asked with a lower tone. "That lead might make the difference between life and death and I'm running out of time" I answered. "Tomorrow is the last day you know" she sighed. "I do know, and I'm spending it with you if I find her today... That's why I'm on a hurry" I replied and I hugged her "Bye for now and with a little hope, tomorrow is going to be amazing". "Bye" she replied in a somber tone while I was walking away.

After a bit of research I found an old hospital complex placed near the outskirts. I talked with some people on some creepypasta sites. It's called the Eloise complex but it's known within the community as the Hiver Noir Asylum meaning Black Winter. Stories date back to the Cold War era where the clinically insane were living there and apparently some doctors decided to have some fun with them... Even after all the things I've fought, humans still take the crown for the most despicable. It's been abandoned for 10 years now and it's supposedly haunted, sudden temperature drops, constantly frozen windows and they say you can hear teeth grinding and 'faint wails of anguish of the lost souls', man the creepypasta writers have a lot of imagination. Recently though there have been reports of veiled figures appearing in the premises. Certainly a great contender.

The sun was setting and the scenery was perfect, I of course had the cover of night and the fog would certainly come in useful for getting there... Too far to walk so I had to use my wings.

I landed and dust rose from the ground around me. The asylum was desolate. Overgrown weeds all around the premises and vines slowly making their ascend on the walls of the building . It almost felt like nature had consciousness, like she was trying to reclaim these grounds and then, hopefully, drag this horrid building in the deepest circles of hell.

I approached and I started hearing a weird sound but I couldn't quite understand what it was so I brushed it off. I reached the doors. The windows were frozen and the door knobs were encased in ice.. they wouldn't open. I kicked the doors down and a faint scream was heard in the distance. The weird sound could still be heard but now it was coming from right behind me... I could almost phrase what the sound was.. it stood on the edge of my tongue but I couldn't quite grasp it. I roamed around the building for a bit and the atmosphere was suffocating each and every second.

Eerie phenomenons were happening as I was delving deep inside the building. Peculiar figures standing at the ends of expanding corridors, doors opening and closing by themselves, faint wails in the distance, sudden temperature drops and that awful sound hadn't seized in all this time... My blood was running cold and the exit had never seemed quite so sweet, yet, I had to keep going. The wooden floors were creaking on my every step as I entered a long hallway full of rooms. I kept walking and I was sure some of the footsteps weren't mine. Something was terribly wrong in this asylum.

I was startled and I stopped moving. A face was at the end of the hallway, it was tilting from the wall and looking at me. I - I couldn't move a muscle and the person, or the thing, or whatever it was, it was still staring at me. When I managed to take a step back I felt someone breathing on my shoulder. "Can I crawl inside your body? I feel so, so cold." someone whispered to my ear, then I heard that sound and it was coming from them all this time... They started grinding their teeth.

Countless nights full of feverous dreams and horrific delusions. They all came back, flooding my mind. Memories of that asylum deeply buried were now digging their way back to the surface. I've been here before. I was just a kid when I roamed these halls last time. My grandfather was admitted in this place... He was fighting with Alzheimer's but something else must have been going on in order to be here... This is an asylum for the insane after all. We would visit him during the spring and I can faintly remember the scent of daffodils as if it was dancing around my nose while I was running down these halls... These memories would always end up the same way once I entered the room of my grandfather. Seemingly normal but on a closer look, signs of deterioration all around. From dead flowers to cracked mirrors and even bugs crawling around. This happened every year and I remember that every time he struggled more and more to recognize me. He would tell stories about terrifying witches, fire breathing dragons and castles on snowy mountaintops and even those stories would start to lose meaning the more he kept talking... The words would start colliding and you couldn't understand what he was talking about. I used to have nightmares about these situations and I now believe that's where my fear of getting dementia originates from. After his death I dreamt about some of the other patients, they would visit me in my room at times and they would tell me how my grandfather's torment hasn't stopped... they would tell me he was burning in the pits of hell and that this was my fate as well...they would always grind their teeth as they would enter my room in my dreams..at least I hope it was in my dreams..

The grinding sounds were still right behind me. A weird figure in front of me, something on my back, black goo dripping from the ceiling and now a myriad of doors banging on their own right in front of me. I close my eyes trying to think. Instinctively, I form my hands to fists and I punch the thing behind me falling right through it. It was now walking slowly towards me. Its skin seemed burned and its face . . Oh god it was horrific . . It was just skin apart from a mouth with rotten teeth continuously grinding. It was getting too close. Time to use my powers I thought to myself, I punched it once again making it disappear. "Take the hint asshole" I said and I looked at my fists . . Dark vines all around them, so that's how I can defend myself. I begun walking, the doors all stopped moving at once and the figure in the end of the corridor was now gone . . Finally, some silence.

I kept traversing through the asylum slowly going to higher floors. Weird thing would happen but not too unexpected for this place . . Shadows, screams, the occasional teeth grinding from far far away and doors opening and closing by themselves.

"Sir" I heard a child's voice coming from behind me. I turn around and there he was, a small boy wearing old, almost torn, clothes. "Sir can you help me?" he continued hesitantly. "Hello little dude, what do you need?" I replied, slowly approaching him. "M-My ball . . It's in a room and i'm afraid to go get it." he said looking at the ground. "Hm how about we make a deal, I'll go get you ball and you can tell me if you've seen a girl with white hair and some people wearing black bed sheets, what do you say?" I asked with a reassuring smile. "Deal!" he answered and giggled. "Amazing, so where is that room?" I continued. "Well, it's that one." he replied as he pointed at the end of the hallway. I walked up to the door and a sign was above it saying "ARCHIVES", the door was locked, how do you lose a ball in a locked room I thought to myself. I pushed it and the lock broke immediately revealing the room. You couldn't see much, the only light was coming from the one window of the room, really made me appreciate how surprisingly well lit was the rest of the asylum. I saw the ball at the corner of the room and I went there to pick it up but as my eyes were adjusting to the lighting my blood ran cold. My name . . . my name was written on every wall and ceiling of the room. I picked up the ball and I almost flew out of this room . . Too creepy for my tastes. I started walking and my 'employer' was nowhere in sight. "Hey kid!" I yelled and suddenly he replied behind me, "Yes?" he said. "Okay, I found your ball, tell me about the girl and the people with the bed sheets and it's all yours" I said. "I thought I saw the girl coming here a few nights ago and going to the amphitheater at the top floor but i'm not sure. But, I've seen the bed sheet people hanging out on the top floor the past couple of days." he replied with a smile, never taking his eyes of the ball. "You have been so helpful so here's your ball" I said while handing him the ball, "how did it get in there though?" I continued. "I have no idea" he replied and he grabbed it off of my hand. "Alrighty then, nice meeting you" I said while nodding. "Thanks for the help" he replied. I turned around and I started walking towards the stairs. "Oh yeah, I forgot, do you want me to help you get out of this place?" I said, turning around to face him and he was already gone.

"What the fuck" I said out loud and I started looking for him. A few minutes passed and still no sign, I returned to the archives to take a look and the ball was once again there. I went to pick it up and I noticed that there was another corridor in the archives room. I followed it and at its end I saw the skeleton of a small child with the same clothes my little pal wore. "Oh God" I said silently as the realization hit me. The door closed suddenly and the faceless thing from earlier started emerging from the wall behind the skeleton. I ran but the door was somehow locked again and this time it wouldn't break open. "It's rude to ran away from a lady" the thing said while grinding its teeth. "Fucker if you're a lady i'm turning gay" I sassed while trying to find a way out. I saw a vent and I started climbing on top of some shelves to reach it. I broke open the vent and suddenly while I was climbing inside I couldn't keep moving. "You're not getting away" the thing screeched and grabbed my leg with its slimy arm. I struggled to break free but I couldn't and in the meantime, it kept climbing. Its head emerged and at that moment summoned the vines around my fists and I punched it throwing it on the other side of the room. "I'm not disappearing this time hehe" it said laughing while spilling something white from its mouth . . its blood I assumed. "Do what you want, I'm getting the hell out" I replied while I was dragging myself through the vents.

I heard some weird sounds in the vents and they became more prominent as time passed. "Oh oh" I said and the vents broke down making me hit the floor fave first. I've been through worse I thought to myself and I started running up the stairs to the top floor.

"Time to power up" I said and I summoned my armor along with my sword on my back and my gun on it holster. Harbingers started appearing as I was following the signs to the amphitheater though they would go down way easier than I remembered. The closer I got the more they were and by the time I reached the doors of the room the place was practically crawling with them. I cleared out the place and it was time to see if I had finally found her. I tried to open the doors and as always they wouldn't barge so a kick it is . . . The doors fall down to the floor and I see her, in a chair in the middle of the room just standing there, her eyes turned blank and dozens of harbingers flying around and screaming. I started shooting. That must have done something because she suddenly came to her senses. "You came to get me" she said. "Of course I did" I replied. "Come untie me fast!" she ordered while struggling to get free. "Stay there for a bit, I've got it. Plus if I untie you, you'll have to fight." I continued. "Don't threaten me with a good time" she said smiling. I approached her as I kept shooting and I slashed the chains with my sword, finally the harbingers were almost all gone and I now had some support. The thing came in through the door. "We're not done yet pretty boy" it said and it started approaching. "Damn, she fugly" said Circe. "She?!?!?!" I asked. "How did you know it's a 'she' I continued. "Follow me and I'll tell you as we're escaping" she said and she started running to the roof door. "Well, that's a vengeful spirit and an ugly one at that, basically if their skin seems like it's melting it's a female." she continued as she was kicking the roof door. "Such a smart lady" the thing said, now closing distance fast. The roof door broke down and we were outside . . . The thing was right behind us so we run to the edges. It slowly kept approaching. "You haven't seen what I can do yet" it said and smiled with that horrid rotten teeth. Circe ripped a piece of her shirt and she placed it inside my armor. "We jump on 3" she said. "I'm sorry what, this place is 6 floors tall and-" I continued but she interrupted me, "THREE!" she yelled and she dragged me down with her.

She muttered something while we were falling down and somehow we were safe. "WE COULD HAVE DIED YOU PSYCHO" I screamed at her. "But unfortunately you didn't" said a familiar voice. Smoke came from the roof and danced around the figure that was standing at the entrance of the asylum eventually materializing into the spirit. The figure stepped forward and he was Damien. "Why are you still on our trail" Circe asked with a disappointed tone. "A job is a job love and I have to finish it" he replied with a grim smile. "Let us go and let's put this behind us" Circe continued. "Hell no" I said. "He fucked with us again but this time i'm so much more powerful" I continued. "Aiden stop" said Circe. "Aiden keep going" said Damien. "You indeed have become more powerful" he continued. "And how would you know that?" I asked holding my gun tightly. "Well I've been watching you of course. Not me exactly but my friend Proxy here . . I believe you've met" he said. "Of course that's your friend" I replied. "Aiden, please let's go" said Circe but I couldn't let him go unpunished, let's not forget I now have a really powerful weapon ready to test on him. I drew my sword but his expression was indifferent. I started running my hand across it revealing its new form

. . he smiled and raised his eyebrow. "AIDEN STOP NOW" Circe screamed as the sword was taking form once again. I decided to shoot some energy straight to him but something felt...off. The beam left the sword as Circe was screaming "NO". It all happened so fast. The beam hit him but it did no damage, instead it came straight back to my sword. Circe just started running away. Damien raised his hand and I couldn't move a muscle. "You see I have some tricks of my own" he said. He started approaching. I couldn't do anything. "You see, you have indeed become more powerful but I still played you like a pawn" he said while he drew a pitch black knife. I could only watch. "Once I'm done with you my next target is her." he whispered in my ear and anxiety filled my body, I hoped he was talking about Circe . . I didn't want to think of the alternative. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pockets. He took a the lighter and lit a cigarette. "It feels nice having you as my plaything" he said as he touched the lit cigarette on my face. "What wasted potential" he uttered and he slowly forced the knife into my throat.

I could taste my blood. Everything was turning dark. Hope started slipping through my fingers.

#fantasy #darkfantasy #supernatural #dark #fiction #book #writing #writer #author #books #dark fantasy #dark fic

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rilenerocks · 4 years

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February 28th, 2015

Michael woke up feeling nauseous and vomited bile. We waited a few hours – then he tried an Ensure and some applesauce. Those came back up so off we went to the ER for dehydration and anorexia evaluations. Neither was found and his blood work was all within normal limits except one liver enzyme which is still recovering. He is still taking oral pain meds-are they the source of the nausea?

We roll into early March, getting ready for the next scans. There are times when the pain abates and Michael experiences occasional hunger which we try to maximize, stuffing food into him to in an attempt to keep him as strong as possible for whatever lies ahead. On these good days, we go out for a meal or try to see a movie. During one of these rare forays into regular life, a romantic song from our very beginning pops up in the film. We both get chills and squeeze each other’s hands tightly, as for a moment, we drift back to that exquisitely innocent time. Meanwhile, our oncologist Dr. Luyun, has decided to have M try a fentanyl patch for pain. Michael is ready to try anything at this point. He experiences immediate relief and feels great for a day or so, but the pain returns fast. We received little information about how long it takes for the drug to build up in the bloodstream so we didn’t realize that he’d need supplemental oral meds until it did. We are so overwrought and frustrated. When he’s hurting and tired, I am as well. He’s tired of reminders about food and drink and I’m tired of feeling impotent. Our personality differences serve us poorly during these stressful times. When I get quiet, to stop being a bother, Michael doesn’t like that personality either. Finding a balance is hard as I am imperfect and certainly not saintly. Neither is he. At night, I lie in our bed, feeling him twitch and have tremors. We never sleep apart – there’s no room for that distance even if we’re both irritable.

March 9th, 2015

I lay here, wondering what the scan results will show, where the cancer is now, if it’s hitting his spinal cord, whether he will have permanent damage, become a quadriplegic, lose control over bladder and bowels. I want to know everything and nothing and I want both to hurry up.

By mid-March, we have scan results that show that the cancer spots are all growing but still reveal no clues about the cause of the intensity of Michael’s pain. We asked for a referral to orthopedics where there’s a very smart doctor out of Harvard. After checking all the scans, he recommends MRIs for the lumbar spine and both hips. He thinks those will provide the best diagnosis which can’t come soon enough. I’m still writing to principal investigators running Merkel cell trials across the country. The idea that you can get into a trial easily is completely false. The bureaucratic aspects are truly maddening, especially when there’s blatant evidence of a terminal disease. If a person is going to die anyway, why not let him have a chance? But that thinking is for another time.

The MRI results are terrible. The cancerous lesion that has been sitting in the disk at T-12 for months has permeated the disk wall and is compressing the lumbar spine. All the nerves in the cauda equina, the nerve bundle in the thoracic spine are being squeezed. Big pain. We are now in a medical emergency and in need of a neurosurgeon. Our radiation oncologist tells us that the disk has to be removed and that an artificial one must be inserted in its place. This would be a lengthy, complex operation. We quickly acquire an appointment with the most experienced neurosurgeon at our facility. He reviews all the MRI images and informs us that in his opinion, this compression is not a medical emergency and that we should return to oncology for radiation and chemo. We sit dumbfounded. There’s no time to go hunting for a different doctor. We realize that his pronouncement is code for either 1) his not being able to perform the procedure, or 2) that there isn’t any point in trying. We head back to Dr. Stanic, our radiation oncologist, who takes a deep breath and designs a radiation plan for the lower thoracic and upper lumbar spine which he warns carries the risk of paralysis. The treatment will be coupled with the chemo drug Topotecan, the second line of defense for MCC. Michael and I are both terrified but he continues to be willing to do whatever what might possibly keep him alive. For me, I bounce between admiration and despair. The appointments are scheduled.

The beginning of April starts with the first of 15 daily rounds of radiation. The chemo will be given once a week. This beautiful spring month will be consumed by treatment. When Michael isn’t too fatigued, we decide we’ll just enjoy spending time with our family. Our world has gotten very small. Michael is inner directed and focused on trying to stay alive. I’m committed to helping him in any way I can. The stress is punishing. On April 6th, the fourth day of radiation, we are entering the Cancer Center when I receive a phone call from one of my nieces, letting me know that my brother was found dead that morning by his wife. The cause was determined to be congestive heart failure. He was a troubled guy and in the previous few months, I’d been so consumed by Michael’s cancer that we’d barely spoken. There was nothing to do but go forward, sitting in the waiting room during the radiation appointment, contemplating life and death and everything in between. My goodbyes to Fred would have to play out as I kept plowing through what was in front of me. No more big brother. The days went by, blending into each other. Every time there was a chemo treatment, Michael would have blood drawn to see if his counts were stable enough to cope with the infusion. When the time for the third one came, his platelet count was so low he was at risk for a stroke. The chemo was withheld and instead he had a platelet infusion. Then he started a course of steroids to try preventing any potential bleeding in the brain. Another stunning blow. April is ending.

We head into May, trying to achieve some stability, physically and psychologically. There are days when Michael feels okay – we head outside to appreciate the weather and the garden. Throughout his entire ordeal we have managed to stay intimate. On May 6th, during the process of running my hands over his familiar body, I find a lump in a new spot near his spine. The next day, I call our oncologist to request a scan and find out that he’s resigned from the clinic. We are now without an oncologist – every original member of Michael’s treatment team is now gone. We go back to Dr. Stanic who quickly orders the scans for the next day. The results show stable disease. I can’t understand it. I remember that PET/CT scans don’t show any masses smaller than a centimeter. Now it is May 11th. Our May 1st wedding anniversary kind of slipped away. After running an errand, I came home and found flowers, anniversary cards and Mother’s Day cards from Michael which make me weep. May 18th. Michael seems to be getting weaker. His appetite is poor and he is deconditioned. Sleeping a lot and getting breathless just walking through the house. I’m reading books for widows. I don’t find them very enlightening. Michael talks about death with dignity, although he says he feels stable. He doesn’t look stable. He is weak but trying to act normal.

What is happening inside me? I feel like pieces of who I am slough off every day. Like silt.

May 24th, 2015

I am lying in my bed on the morning of my 64th birthday. Michael’s hand is on my leg and I’m listening to him breathe. I fear this is the last birthday he’ll be next to me. Forty three birthdays shared. This one feels meaningless. There is a lump on his neck at the base of his skull. Last night I felt one in his left groin. Scan or no scan. These lumps are real. I am walking through this life, feeling mostly dread. My hope is dwindling. I have used myself up.

May 29th, 2015

This morning I found 3 pea-sized lumps on Michael’s head, very close to the site of the excision of his tumor on February 25th. The lump at the back of his neck is a tumor. I just know it. On Monday there will be biopsies of his head. This time, the surgeon is too busy to see him and a physician’s assistant will do the cutting. We know it’s Merkel cell. We’re only going to let him biopsy one growth. Then we’ll finally have the soft tissue requirement that kept him out of the Barnes clinical trial. We are still hanging on, albeit by the proverbial thread. We meet with a palliative care team on Tuesday to see if they can help keep Michael comfortable, both physically and mentally as this all unfolds. So much darkness while we fumble forward.

June 2nd, 2015

I am visiting mom at the nursing home. She has about run out of money and I am trying to get her Medicaid in the midst of my nightmare. She always remembers that Michael is sick. She asks me, “if Michael dies, do you think we should try living together?” I remind her that we already did that. In the midst of her dementia and my grief, we both laugh.

June 5th, 2015

Michael is getting weaker and less hungry. Today is his birthday. We spend a lot of it crying. Michael’s emotional pain is finally bursting out of him. He says he’s never lost anyone before, that the first person he’s losing is himself. The kids come over and we all sit in the yard for awhile. We all act just like ourselves which is both bad and good. The weight of what’s ahead of us is like a massive tsunami getting ready to wash us all away.

June 8th, 2015

SCAN DAY.

June 16th, 2015

The week has been madness. The scan of the 8th showed widespread disease including a pleural effusion which is one of the reasons Michael’s breathing is so labored. Dr. Stanic soberly tells us that malignant infusions are virtually impossible to get rid of so that we should be prepared. Lumps are pushing out everywhere, neck, collarbone, both rib cages. I have no idea how Michael is still breathing. We now have a new oncologist, Dr. Zhang, who we’d seen a few times when Dr. Luyun was unavailable. He is smart and aggressive. We go to see him the day after the scan. Michael is so weak he’s in a wheelchair, but eventually has to lie on a bed in the infusion suite for his appointment. Miraculously his recovered platelets, plus the soft tissue disease finally qualify him for the trial at Barnes. Dr. Zhang goes to call those awful people in St. Louis to clear a path for us. Now all we have to do is gather up all the records, forward the scans and move into the trial. At last. Michael is resting at home while I run around gathering all the information. Again, I’m communicating with Dr. Linette and his nurse. A few days pass and there is no action from Barnes. When I call in again, I’m told that Michael isn’t in the trial, but rather that we have to come back so they can do their own scans. I am enraged and feel like I’m going to have a breakdown. I vow that when this ends, I will eviscerate Dr. Linette and his harsh nurse Joanne. Meanwhile we are to see Dr. Zhang tomorrow.

June 17th, 2015

Dr. Zhang is infuriated to hear that we are not in the trial. He asks us to sit and wait for awhile. When he returns, he tells us that he has managed to order pembrolizumab (Keytruda) off-trial for Michael and that he will receive an infusion immediately. This drug is in the same immunological family as the trial drug at Barnes and has been used for melanoma patients. This is an outside the box move. We are grateful for anything as we get ready to leap into this unknown, untried space. Unless this drug is a miracle, we have to face Michael’s death. Can we find a way to walk this path without crashing into a thousand pieces? Michael has suffered agonies. I am as close to him as anyone can get to another human being. Off to the infusion suite.

June 20th, 2015

I am lying in bed with Michael while I still can. The days are the same. I wake thinking of his death and the horror it will bring. I go away to the park in the morning and cry. Then I run errands and on good days, I swim for awhile. Then I go home and wait for him to come downstairs so we can begin the endless battle over food and protein. He sleeps a lot. We are next to each other, often in silence.

June 18th, 2015

Although it seems crazy, the day after the Keytruda infusion, the visible tumors on Michael’s body seem inflamed. The immunological drugs are supposed to remove blockades from the body’s killer immune cells, releasing them to kill your cancer. This sudden release produces an inflammatory response. Michael’s fatigue is profound. But I decide to start measuring what I can see to track the potential progress. Within two weeks, the tumors which initially looked worse, are visibly shrinking.

Michael is dragging himself through this process. Even though his style is so different than mine, I am awed by his stubborn courage. The Keytruda has impacted his pleural effusion. Twice in July, he has had to be “tapped,” to have fluid drawn from between his lungs and body wall. This is done by inserting a needle into his back. Dr. Zhang doesn’t want to chance having any tubing inserted permanently to stave off the risk of infection. The first tapping fills a 2 and a half liter container. The fluid is blood-red and is 100% Merkel cell lymph fluid. The second tapping fills 3 liters – as I look at it, I think half of it looks more amber colored than red. It appears the drug may be having a positive effect. July 12th, 2015

Mom has fallen in the middle of the night at the nursing home and has broken her hip. I run to the hospital where she tells me that she doesn’t think she can “make it through this one.” I an worried about surgery for her but the orthopedic surgeon says the pain without intervention would be intolerable. What he doesn’t talk about is the hospital delirium that accompanies dementia patients after general anesthetics. Mom survives the procedure but is in a dreadful mental state in addition to having post-surgical pain. For eight days, I run back and forth between her and Michael – finally I request hospice for her and a return to the nursing home before she forgets it altogether. I have to fight for hospice but she actually recognizes my conflict with the staff and supports me. Four days after she’d been returned to the home, I receive a call from a staff member saying that she’s asking for me, just as I’m walking Michael into the cancer center. My daughter swaps places with me. My sister joins us on that July 24th afternoon and we sit with our mother, watching her slip away.

She died on July 25th. We had a rapid funeral with those of her family who lived in town. The heat was blistering and I was terrified that Michael would keel over at the cemetery.

Four days later, our beautiful dog Flash, who’d developed a cough, had me very worried. I took him to the vet and asked her to diagnose him before I left. I didn’t think I could stand to bring him back there again. Bloodwork showed nothing but then she X-rayed his chest. Poor Flash had lung cancer and a pleural effusion, just like Michael’s. I held him as he was euthanized, went home and sobbed with the whole family. What an impossible time.August, 2015

Michael was still fatigued but slowly improving. The physical part was challenging but so was the mental exhaustion. I was utterly spent too, but continued to push forward. Day by day, he began to recover in teeny increments. We went out to eat. He worked in the yard. We tried a staycation at a hotel where he sat bundled up and wasted, but was grimly happy to be out of our house. We went to a rock concert at our local sweetcorn festival.

September, 2015

Scan month. Living between scans may be the hardest challenges we faced those many months. As time went by we got smarter about them, scheduling the follow up appointment for the day after the scan so we wouldn’t have too much time to worry. The early September scan was no exception – we went in for it one morning and by the next were getting the results. Which were spectacular. Between June and September, 80% of Michael’s cancer had vanished, including the pleural effusion. Dr. Zhang brought a colleague in to see the results as he was so excited he was barely contained. Michael was one of the exceptional responders to this new class of drugs, one of the 30-40 % whose bodies were just waiting for help in unleashing their cancer-killing cells. We were thrilled but still cautious. Every three weeks, there would be more treatment, more blood tests. But Michael was almost over the precipice and now, was back in his life. And mine.

Cancer Drops the Hammer – Part 2 – Chapter 10 – Be 278 February 28th, 2015 Michael woke up feeling nauseous and vomited bile. We waited a few hours - then he tried an Ensure and some applesauce.

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