#chargedconstellate

[forwardmoved-a]

Duke, his assessment and client-contact complete, gathered his files up into his worn out briefcase, and began to head towards the entrance of St. Damien's. On his way, he passed by the nurse's station, and saw the ginger nurse he briefly spoke to before going to talk with the kid he was called about.

Nurse Barnes made a good first impression. She was nice. Laughed at his dumb jokes. Seemed just as concerned about the kid as he was. He would have to be blind to notice she wasn't beautiful too.

Duke stopped in the hallway, pursed his lips, and turned back towards the nurse's station. "Excuse me, Nurse Barnes?" With one hand on the strap of his briefcase, the other hand rubbing the back of his neck, Duke worked up his courage. "Would you like to have lunch with me someday?"

the social worker that she had met briefly returns to the nurse’s station and she can hear the hushed whispers of the nurses that surround her as he does so. becky didn’t like to gossip, but she sure heard her fair share here, and it was almost impossible to ignore how highly the nurses spoke of the handsome douglas keane.

however, she’s nothing if not a professional, and a bright smile appears to greet the man as he addressed her. imagine her surprise when he asks her, becky barnes, if she would like to have lunch with him. with wide eyes, she stares at him for a few seconds longer, stunned into silence that he of all people would be so willing to take her out on what sounded to her like a date.

it is a date, isn’t it? she can imagine it now, the nurses not understanding how it was the widow who managed to catch duke’s eye. nervous laughter is what eventually escapes her lips as she realizes that she has to give him an answer. “ oh, aren’t i rude? i’m so sorry, mr. keane...” she blurts out as her bright smile falls into something a lot more shy. becky, that’s not an answer. “i’d like that a lot, actually.”

@chargedconstellate​

[apotheosised]

@chargedconstellate | slime boy paul starter | for xander 

The Hive is not good at waiting. They are a species designed to be energetic, constantly moving step one-two, quick heel turn, not sitting around doing nothing. Right now the Hive is separated, each body split apart in different cells or laying dead on the ground-really dead, this time. The Hive can wait, and they will, until one of the PEIP agents slips up and gets too close, it is oh so easy to infect someone with their walls down, even for a moment. Waiting, however, is boring work, especially when they cannot move. It’s sweet, really, how the humans think keeping them strapped to their beds will stop anything in the long run. All they need is one clumsy agent and this whole base will be singing with them. 

Paul Matthews’ body is strapped to a bed in a PEIP cell and it is singing. In life the Hive knows that Paul detested singing in front of people-or seeing people sing in front of him-but Paul Matthews is dead and his body is theirs now and they will sing as much as they want (what do you want Paul-a voice at the back of their mind, screaming I do not want this I do not want this I-) An agent the Hive has met before walks into the room and the corpse of Paul Matthews smiles, dry lips splitting and sending beads of blue blood down its chin. 

“So nice of you to join my party!” the Hive calls out in a singsong voice. The agents name is something Lee, the Hive knows this much, and they know that they will take the greatest pleasure in bringing his apotheosis upon him until he is sing-sing-singing along with them. “You seem so stressed agent! You know it would be much more relaxing if you were one of us. The Hive is never stressed-you’ll be happy if you just give in, it is inevitable after all.” 

[forwardmoved-a]

@chargedconstellate​ , from duke : sender surprises receiver with a bouquet.

she steps into the hallway and takes a second to look at herself in the mirror, taking a lock of her hair and pushing it behind her ear before she approaches her front door. she knows who to anticipate on her doorstep, but what she doesn’t anticipate is to open the door and be greeted by a bouquet of flowers. duke’s smile is charming, as always, and her breath is taken away by combination before her.

“i... hi, duke.” a bright and breathless laugh leaves becky as she forces herself to say something, taking a step towards him and her hands reaching out to wrap around the ones that held the bouquet.  “it’s been... so long since i’ve gotten flowers from someone and these are-- thank you, i should be saying thank you.” oh, she’s rambling now, isn’t it? she tries to salvage this, the smile on her lips turning into something a little bit more teasing.

“that is, if i’m not mistaken and these pretty flowers are, in fact, for me...”

[forwardmoved-a]

@chargedconstellate​​, from xander : sender  steps  between  receiver  and  danger.

one. one guard was too good to be true and that familiar feeling of fear settles as more enter the room. there were a lotta guys and although he trusts xander, he knows that he can’t let him do all of the dirty work for him. what the hell was he supposed to do if xander somehow manages to get himself knocked out, huh? run for it? he could, but he wasn’t going to.

ethan wasn’t going to run away from this, not after what that bastard did to his girls. it’s his fault that they’re gone and with that thought, that feeling of fear quickly turns to anger. hands run through his hair, pushing it back and behind his ears as he straightens from behind xander, taking a firm stance.

“alright, what’s the plan, tough guy?" ethan swallows the lump in his throat as his eyes flicker from the special agent to their enemies, trying to find something, anything, that will give him the upper hand here. “do you plan on takin’ them all out by yourself?" hands push the sleeves of his leather jacket up his arms, before balling into fists. “you’ve got five seconds before i do somethin’ so fuckin’ stupid that you’re gonna regret bringing me along.”

[theyhaunt]

bfu meme | always accepting | @chargedconstellate​ “i’m so glad that’s over let’s go eat taco bell ” Scout & Xander 

Here’s the thing: it’s meant to be a (relatively) simple mission. Granted they’re dealing with some interdimensional nonsense but that’s practically PEIP’s bread and butter-and Xander’s, especially. It’s not a ghost, Xander’s been very clear about the fact that they’re not dealing with a ghost. What they are dealing with is an echo of sorts-an imprint from another dimension that’s projecting through into this one and is pissed off about it. They do look a bit like the Ghostbusters though, with the equipment strapped to their back and the weird tube part that really does make it look like the proton pack. Apparently it’s designed to help nudge imprints back into their own dimension, but Scout makes all the appropriate jokes about crossing the beams and marshmallow men before they’re even halfway to their location. 

Despite the gentle teasing, Scout genuinely does enjoy working in the field with Xander. They share a sense of humour that makes the more boring parts like driving pass quicker, and Xander has a certain chillness about him that puts Scout at ease too. She loves John, she really does, but he carries a certain intensity with him in the field, a protectiveness that makes Scout afraid of getting hurt more for his sake than for her own-she can’t deny that working with Xander is generally a much more relaxed experience. Which is all to say, everything’s going well until suddenly it’s not. 

It turns out the imprint is a bit more pissed off and a lot more capable than reports suggested. It’s fine, mostly-or at least, it could be worse. Though, Scout reflects as she skids across the floor with the wind knocked out of her, it could be going better, too. Ironically they do end up having to cross the streams-kind of. To be honest, Scout’s ears are ringing a bit by that point so she mostly just does what Xander says and lets the details escape her. Either way it works, and the imprint is nudged (or shoved, really, if she’s being honest) back home. 

They stand there breathing heavily for a few moments before Xander breaks the silence to talk about getting Taco Bell. Scout laughs, more from adrenaline and a slight concussion than because Xander’s actually said anything funny, and nods. 

“Sure-sure, sounds good. You’re paying.” 

[forwardmoved-a]

@chargedconstellate​​, from john : receiver  finds  sender  covered  in  blood  slowly  dissolving  into  the  black  and  white.

he had sacrificed himself for the greater good and so he, like all of the others, will fade into nothingness in a sea of black and white. and she, the queen of white, simply watches. she has immeasurable powers like her brothers, but she hesitates to save him, she hesitates to meddle in these timelines as much as her brothers did. she knows that she shouldn’t play favorites, she has watched millions of people die throughout her existence, but he had saved one of the girls very near and dear to her heart. and she was thankful.

webby doesn’t make her physical presence known to him, but she is everywhere and nowhere as she addresses him, her voice soft.  she was sure that wiggog y'wrath would throw a hissy fit if he knew that she was meddling, but then again, she was inconsequential as his powers grow.

“you’re out of time.” she wants to help him, but she doesn’t want to give him false hope. she’s also sure that he’s aware of the fact, but she struggled to find the right words to say. it was only when she was around hannah foster, nuclear power plant of psychic energy trapped in a little girl’s body, that she knew the right words to say. “next time. things might be better, next time... or so i hope.”

[theyhaunt]

@chargedconstellate​ said jackson yeet his husband challenge 

When it comes to sneaking up on his husband, Jackson has two main advantages: the first, of course, is that he’s a werewolf. Being almost seven foot doesn’t really lend itself to stealth for most people, but some deep rooted lupine instincts keep Jackson’s footfalls light despite his considerable size. The second advantage is that he knows his husband better than anyone else on earth, and he knows that when John gets that particular crease between his eyebrows it’s because he’s far too deep into his own head about something. Deep enough that he won’t notice Jackson’s approach until it’s too late. 

(the third advantage, though he won’t admit this one aloud, is that nine times out of ten John does hear him coming. It ruins the element of surprise, but it also means that Jackson’s never really going to catch his husband off guard-something which isn’t to be underestimated when your husband is a military man. As much as Jackson enjoys the illusion of startling John, he doesn’t want to be one of the reasons the poor man goes to an early grave.) 

With that in mind, it’s laughably easy to come up behind John where he’s stood staring out the bedroom window, thinking about something. Easier still for Jackson to lift his husband up and fling him onto their ridiculously large bed. John might have him beat in most stereotypically physical things, but no one can match a werewolf for strength. 

“You think too much,” he says to the pile of husband on their bed, “we’re having a lazy Sunday-no arguing.”