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reawritesthings · 4 years

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my heart ✿ kiara cerrera ✿

summary: unlike you, kiara was accepted for being gay and welcomed you with open arms, after your parents get suspicious of you spending time together you call it off leaving kiara with a broken heart.

Gif by @rudypankows

based on the song ‘my heart’ by christopher

words: 2.2K

warnings: mention of homophobia and angst.

a/n: if you ever feel what reader is going through just know that you aren’t alone and be proud of who you are. If you ever need to talk or anything, my dms are always open for you guys. i hope i wrote this professionally.

so tell me how to find another you, baby, i've looked underneath the stars

As night hit the blue haze of day to reveal the stars. Kiara always felt that this was a sign of another day of broken pieces. Like an old photograph, Kiara couldn't accept the rugged lines that interfered with her heart. The wind blew through her curly locks as she memorised each word you spilled, each laugh and worst, the thing she loved the most about you, your forest green eyes that sent anyone to a home of reassurance.

You warned Kiara, you told her that this longing train of love would stab you both in the back. Without any warning, Kiara felt a streak of light coming from the skies above. The winds gushed through her skin forming shivers to run down her spine.

She was lost, lost in the depth of her own heart that stopped beating the minute you left her in the moonlight. Afaird of telling yourself, admitting who you really are made Kiara wonder why the world was against them. Loving another human shouldn't have to come with harm, hate and dishonour. Regardless, of your gender or ways to your heart shouldn't interfere with the greatest force on his earth, love.

Kiara doubted herself, she couldn't breath knowing you were with someone else, in someone else's arms that weren't made to hold you. Kiara's hand gripped the long grass that trapped her in a neutral position, forcing her eyes to absorb the stars that weren't shining like they did.

She did look again, looked for someone to fill her void of heartbreak that you created with words that weren't meant to praise you. Her friends introduced her to many different Tourons but, they weren't you.

She looked for another you, another shilloute that match the curves you embraced. A laugh that could light a whole tree of lights when power is missing. A soft voice of reassurance when she felt she didn't belong. A touch that could melt away any evil that lured their way into her life, a song that would emphasis the love that the two of you shared.

Kiara's eyes closed, letting the painful memories possess her mind with lurking thoughts that never knew could be her worst enemy. If another you was out there, someone in the streets or the big city, a light will guide her but living on this side of North Carolina, you'll be lucky to get a decent night sleep.

you threw me in the deep end, without a fucking reason

You've been acting off with Kiara all week, dodging her calls, lying about being busy. You hated it, you wanted to run into her safe haven but, the thunderstorms blocked your path. The lighting wasn't agreeing with your love, nor was your parents.

Coming from a family, a religious one where love was only acceptable for the male and female made you feel trap in your own home, where you should feel the most safest. The countless times your parents have lectured you about finding a boy, was barbaric. They didn't interest you, you wasn't fascinated by their witty attitude or their penises.

You were curious, always have been. You hated being unsure of your own identity, afaird that people won't speak to you, or even look at you. Meeting Kiara that fear automatically disappeared, she made you feel accepted, and loved. Her own family welcomed you with open arms, they were proud that their daughter found happiness. Why couldn't yours?

Lazily around in your room, flicking through the endless pictures of Yourself and Kiara a knock startled you, quickly closing your phone.

"It's me." Kiara's voice smoothly entered the room, filling your body will excitement yet pain.

"W-what are you doing here?" You stuttered out as Kiara welcomes herself into the room, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"You have been avoiding me? Why?" Kiara was always straight to the point, she didn't use excuses. If she wanted something, she would get it. If something was on her mind, she would tell you regardless if your feelings were hurt.

"I haven't? I've been busy with my family.." You lied as your nose twitched. Kiara rolled her eyes. She wasn't stupid, she figured you out in a matter of seconds. Your nose only twitched when you were lying, even though you hated how smart she was of made you love her even more.

"Don't lie. I know you, you may think I don't but I see you, baby girl." Kiara grinned as she knew that nickname was one of your weaknesses.

"Sh. My parents can hear you." You spat, pulling her closer to you as you didn't want your parents to hear the conversation nor see her.

"What's going on?" Kiara's playfulness died down as she looked at you. She could feel the tension in your eyes as she slowly trace your arm, giving you that reassurance that you wished your parents gave you.

"I-I I can't do this anymore. We, Us, we can't see each other anymore, Kie. I can't disappoint my parents. They suspect something and I can't let them know about me." You breathed out, letting that out was burdening you all day as you didn't know the right way to say how you were feeling.

Kiara was taken back a little, she wasn't expecting those bullets to hit her. She didn't know how to even reply or react. "Baby girl... I understand that. Your parents will come around,

"Kiara, I'm being serious. We can't do this anymore, I don't love you. I don't know how I feel, I feel like I'm drowning in my own mind and I can't seem to swim. Everything is crashing down and you charming me isn't working." You blurted out, stinging yourself as you let those words leave your mouth.

"You don't love me?" Kie choked out. Mental flashback started to trap Kiara into a haze of memories that you both shared, they all seemed to be lies.

"I'm sorry, Kie. I can't do this anymore. You have to go, forget me." You pleaded, not even making the eye contact as you were a coward.

"How can I forget you? I fucking love you, Y/N. I love everything about you. Look me in the eyes and tell me that what you felt wasn't real? If you can tell me that these three months were a bunch of lies, I'll leave and never speak to you again." Kiara protested, letting tears fall onto her thighs that now was a safety blanket for her tears.

You wanted to wipe away her tears, take all the pain that you trapped her with a simple kiss. But you couldn't, you couldn't do it. No matter how much your heart wanted her, your brain is the reason you are functioning.

Taking a deep breath, you looked Kiara in the eyes. You looked at her brown eyes fade into a puddles of water, this was going to be the last time you see her big brown eyes. The last time you were going to run your fingers through her locks.

"It was never real." You spoke, looking at the love of your life pick herself up from your bed not even giving you a satisfaction to redeem yourself. You watched her leave, the last memory you had of her was her tears engraved in your covers.

Not even a last kiss goodbye or a touch to reminisce the lovely memories you shared, it was a simple look that would haunt you forever.

and tell me how not to be jealous, baby, when I see you dancing in his arms

Kiara was mesmerised by the gown you were wearing for midsummers, a soft greenish-blue gown made of satiny fabric, long and loose. A semicircular collet made of silk. Your entrance was known, people were aware when your presences lured them to stare. The puff of wind swept through your hair before it vanished into the forest to provoke the leaves.

Kiara, of course attended the gala. She didn't want to but, hearing that you were going made her thoughts change like a child. She saw you, all of you. Infatuated by your beauty, she wanted to pull you inside and kiss your lips. The agony of knowing you weren't hers haunted her as she pleaded with the universe to have one dance, with her true love.

You were glowing and a smile was glued to your face. You blocked out the pain with the alcohol that JJ managed to sneak in, it was rich whiskey that would drown your sorrow after one gulp.

"May I have this dance?" A tall, brownish hair boy tapped your shoulder. You simply nodded downing the whiskey as you puffed your hair up. Taking his hand you felt disgusted, it didn't feel right. His hands were soft like Kiara's, they were rugged. His palm was sweaty, but Kiara's palm was tender.

You missed her touch, missed her thumb gently brushing against your hand as she whispered sweet things in your ear. When the boy dipped you, your eyes were fixated on Kiara, she was looking at you.

You quickly removed your eyes for her gaze meeting the strangers, you simply smiled. You didn't feel anything when you were dancing with him, he never said much nor even smiled. A twirl made you chuckle, but your heart made you angry. Another twirl surprised you as you let out a laugh, a laugh that wasn't loud, it was mellow.

"I like your laugh." He stated, holding your waist as he pushed your body closer to his. You should be feel butterflies, not caterpillars. You should be luring him to kiss you but, you didn't. You stare at him, trying to find something to love, to kiss but there wasn't anything.

The pain in your eyes as you nuzzled your head in his chest as the song dimmed, made you think of all the times you and Kiara would dance. It was slow nor romantic, it was upbeat and sexy.

She taught you to twerk, grind and freestyle. You never got the hang of them but Kiara liked the way your body moved with the music. The way her hands mistakenly ended up on your hips as she guided you to her body.

"I can't watch this... Pope, I can't fucking look." Kie pleaded as she went to stand beside Pope, who was working the party.

Pope understood the pain of watching someone you loved, with someone else. He always hated when JJ would flirt with Tourons, just so he can score every nationality.

"We can leave... we don't have to stay here." Pope reassured her placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Why do we fall for people who always end up breaking our hearts?" Kie murmured as she looked at you, swaying your body with his.

"Because we love the idea of them, they suck us in when we need them the most. They use our vulnerability for their self confidence. They don't know they are doing, but, it hurts." Pope whispered as he pulled Kie in for a tight squeeze, slowly moving her side to side.

"As long as we have each other, we will be fine." Pope huffed as he noticed JJ walk up to them both, with a huge grin on his face.

"Here we go..." Pope whispered as he forced a smile on his face.

I never knew loving you would break my heart

Kiara never saw you after midsummers, you didn't even hang out with the Pogues or attend the parties. You vanished from their lives, JJ was heart broken that his other half disappeared. They were both the crazy types when it came to parties. You were his pair in every drinking game and now, he had Pope.

Pope was great but he couldn't even handle drinking Coke, let alone beer. Kiara wasn't there, she was present but her soul wasn't intwining with the others. She was barked against the tree, where you both shared your first kiss. The hammock that swayed behind her was the first time you said I love you's.

If Kiara could take back the day she meant, knowing the outcome she wouldn't of gone there. She would have picked another girl who was here for the weekend. But you stood out, you weren't desperate for someone. You didn't even make yourself available to anyone, you simply hanged with JJ and got drunk.

And that's how her body began to lure to yours, wanting to trap you in her embrace and never let you go. The alcohol that consumed them both, didn't even warn them about the consequences about the reality of two girls being in love.

It wasn't your fault, nor hers. It was the world they lived in. It was toxic, cruel and unkind to humans like them. Kiara loved the world and always protected it, always recycled, managed to keep litter off the beaches and waters.

The world should be thanking her, not tearing her apart. Why couldn't the world accept everyone? We are still the same people. Our hearts beat the same minutes, our brain works the same but, when it comes to loving another human.. why is there so many rules? Everyone should be allowed to love who they want to love, why couldn't they let them be in love? Why was loving you so hard?

#outer banks #jj maybank #madison bailey #outer banks cast #obx cast #outer banks imagines #kiara outer banks #kiara carrera #obx kiara #kiara fluff #kiara smut #kiara outerbanks imagines #kiara outerbanks imagine #outer banks jj #outer banks masterlist #outer banks imagine #fluff

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #424

“got no superspeed, but i’m running this town”

What is the first line in the song you are currently listening to/last listened to? "I’m running out of time; I hope that I can save you somehow.” Are you an easy lay? Not in the slightest. What was the last reason you cried? Life and how inexplicably I'm failing at it. What’s hurting you right now? More like what isn't. Do you remember important dates? Only some. I'm awful with numbers. Do you own anything with the Playboy Bunny on it? No. Do you own a bean bag chair? No. Have you ever played Gamecube? At a friend's house. Have you ever played with toy cars before? Yeah, with my nephew. He LOVES monster trucks. Have you ever touched a caterpillar? Oh, definitely. I loved picking them up as a kid. What is your favorite kind of salad? Just plain 'ole iceberg lettuce with ranch, really. Are you any good at Ping-Pong? Holy hell no, I SUCK. What was/is your high school mascot? A firebird. Can you make cute little animals by folding paper? God no, I'm awful at origami. Like, I have zero concept of how to do it. What kind of music do you like? Various types of metal and rock. Do you like apple juice? Yeah. Do you like to draw? It's funny, like I do love it, but I barely ever do it because I get frustrated when I can't get what's in my head onto paper. What do you put on your french fries? Generally ketchup. How many people can comfortably sleep in your bed? Two. Do you want to have a big family in the future? I don't want kids, just pets. Probably a lot of pets. Is Vegas one of your must-see places? No. Pet rat: yay or nay? I've had multiple pet rats and I adore them. I've come to find I'm not the best at keeping rodents because changing the bedding so much sucks ass, but nevertheless they are fantastic pets for people who don't mind the maintenance. Would you call yourself a writer? Written any stories lately? Yes. I haven't written in a while, though. I just have absolutely zero motivation to RP. Are you good at reading people's body language? I probably overanalyze it, really. Ever threatened somebody and actually went through with it? I don’t threaten people. Does holding newborn babies scare you? Extremely. I feel like they're made of thin glass. Piercings: yay or nay? I LOVE piercings. They add an interesting touch to your appearance and to me just (usually) look super cool. There are very few piercings I don't like. Do you have a collage of pictures in your bedroom? No, but I want to make a motivation board very badly. Favorite Nicholas Cage movie? Ghost Rider. Were video games better in the 1980s, 1990s, or the 2000s? Why? '80s games bore me honestly, but I love some '90s and many 2000s games. I've got to say ultimately newer games win, because of graphics increasing immersion (no, I do not whatsoever believe graphics are everything or always make a better experience), voice acting improving immensely, etc. Have you ever watched The Beverly Hillbillies? Yes! Mom loves it so I used to watch it a lot with her as a kid. I'd still watch it. Did your mother ever sing lullabies to you when you were younger? Yes. Are you ready to get out of this town? I HATE THIS TOOOWN, IT'S SO WASHED UUU-UP, AND ALL MY FRIENDS DON'T GIVE A FUUU-UUUUUCK god hell yes get me the fuck out. Do you know anybody that is pregnant right now? Quite a few. What are you listening to? "Superluv” by Shane Dawson. Have you ever gotten a speeding ticket? No. Does your father have any facial hair? Yes. Did your grandparents teach you anything? My maternal grandmother, the only one I really ever knew, taught me I'm a disappointment, pretty much. And a bitch. Do you want/have a Bachelor’s degree? It'd be nice to have one, but I don't, and I'm not pursuing it again. I've wasted enough of my parents' money. Are you into superheroes? Who’s your favourite? Not seriously, but I enjoy them well enough. I like Spider-Man. What did you have for dinner last night? Mom ordered Mexican. I had two shrimp and cheese quesadillas and rice with cheese. Do you think you look similar to your siblings? No. Have you ever played Cards Against Humanity? Did you like it? Yeah, it's fun. Do you know your best friend’s middle name? Yes. Are you close to your father? I am. Have you ever had a serious conversation with your dad? Yeah. Would you rather have long or short hair? I enjoy having short hair way more. Who did you go/plan on going with to prom? I went with Jason twice. Have you ever been to a debate and speech tournament? Hell no, and I never would. Arguing makes me cry lmao. Are you someone who enjoys stand-up comedy? Yep. What’s one thing that scares you about living alone and being independent? A lot of things do, but one thing in specific that I fear is that I let the house become cluttered and messy. I'm so shit at cleaning, especially when I'm depressed. It's why my own bedroom isn't even fully decorated, and we've lived here since I wanna say last November. If someone offered you an all-expenses paid trip to one European country, where would you go and why? Germany, 'cuz I enjoy the culture and would love to try some foods and visit places. Have you ever won anything on the lottery? No. Are you interested in the World Cup? I couldn't possibly care less. What’s the longest time you’ve ever been on a plane for? Idk. Do you let your hair dry naturally or do you towel-dry it or blow dry it? I use a towel to dry it some, then let it really get the job done naturally. How many of the Harry Potter books have you read? None. Who last gave you their number? When I posted on Facebook about going on a mental health hiatus, my good friend Alon messaged me her number if I ever needed to talk. I was really thankful. Are you often the last one to understand a joke? Honestly yeah. I'm slow to grasp a lot of things. Your first black eye: Did you give it or get it? Never gotten or given one. Have you ever slept in a tent, indoors or out? Yes to both. Are you mad right now? I'm annoyed, but not mad. Are you allergic to nuts or dairy products? No. Has anyone ever called the cops on you? No. Do you ever actually drink milk alone? Yeah, I love milk. Do you have a sensitive gag reflex? It is EXTREMELY sensitive. What was the last situation to upset you? I'd rather not talk about it. Have you ever had an online argument? I have been heavily active on the Internet since I was like, 11. Maybe younger. I have been in plenty. Are you at risk for any medical issues? A lot of heart problems run in my family. I'm also suspicious I may develop diabetes, which also runs very heavily in my family. What were you doing at 7:00 a.m.? Surprisingly, I was asleep. Do you own a robe? No. What would you consider your life to be? A wreck. What is your favorite mark of punctuation? I like question marks. Who knows your biggest secret? Nobody. Do you think anyone has feelings for you? Probably not. How do you know? I just doubt it. I'm so unlikable right now. Could you go a day without eating? I don't think I could. I do not react to stomach pain well, and that includes when I'm hungry. How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? None. What’s your favorite drink? Strawberry Sunkist, but I don't allow myself to have it. I will DESTROY a can or five of it. Who was the last person that texted you? My mom. What are you craving? Nothing really right now. What was the first thing you ate today? An everything bagel. What was the last type of meat you ate? Pork. Have you taken any medication today? Yeah, I take some prescription meds in the morning and at night. Have you ever been to Hawaii? No, but that'd be cool. Do you know anyone who has diabetes? My mom, for one. Have you ever made a boy cry? Sadly. Who are you talking to? Nobody. Do you think you’ve ruined your chances with someone? Absolutely. Your parents split; would you want to live with your mom or dad? My parents are divorced, and I stayed with Mom. Would you strongly prefer to go out with someone of your own skin color/racial background? I couldn't care less. For you personally, is abortion an option in case of an accidental pregnancy? For others, absolutely. It's your right. For me myself, it's possible, idk. If I was God forbid raped, I probably would have an abortion. If I accidentally got pregnant in a healthy relationship, I'd probably have a "too bad, so sad" outlook where I'd suck it up and go through with the gestation because having sex and risking pregnancy was my own decision. Even if I'm pro-choice, I think I'd feel too guilty aborting, especially with the child being someone's I love. Is it a requirement that you communicate every day with your significant other (via phone, text, in person, whatever)? IF I had an s/o, no. I like to, but sometimes you just want space. Are you fetish-friendly? I'm not gonna lie, some fetishes are just too fucking weird for me. I TRY not to judge, because I doubt you can actually help fetishes, but I inevitably do sometimes. If you're asking would I engage in fetishes because my s/o liked them, possibly, but it would really depend on what it is. Have you ever cosplayed? No. I think cosplay is really cool, though. Do you support the exploration of outer space? If yes, would you consider taking a trip into space, or even to another planet? As creatures who crave knowledge and understanding of our universe, I do support space exploration, but I do NOT believe we should be spending as much money as we do on it. Taking care of the planet we're actually on is far more important imo. I wouldn't personally go to outer space. Is it okay for men to wear makeup? What’s your opinion of male crossdressers? It's totally okay! Guys with makeup can be super attractive. Crossdressers, too. Go for it. You’re in a new relationship and your partner admits that they have had 14 sexual partners. Does that sound like a lot to you? For me personally, yes. I don't even know if I'd date someone with 14 past sexual partners, honestly. I would admittedly question their loyalty. Would you let your children under 13 watch movies with full nudity? No. If someone asked you, “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” would you know the answer right away? I would. What is your opinion concerning strip clubs? Not my scene at all, but so long as you respect the dancers, whatever. You do you.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''superluv'' by shane dawson

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frostedsims · 4 years

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FALL INTO WONDERLAND LEGACY

have you been looking for a new berry challenge? or do you just really, really like alice in wonderland? boy, do i got the challenge for you!

the fall into wonderland legacy was originally created by @unicorns-tea-party-archive and is absolutely amazing! i wanted to adapt a few things for my personal gameplay, and thought i would release the edits in case anyone else wanted to play! alice’s original challenge can be found HERE and i encourage you to check it out!

here’s the first gen, then the rest under the cut (or message me for the doc link!)

Gen. 1 - Alice You never really fit in at home. You wanted adventure, you wanted to collect everything you saw, but your family wanted you to forget all of your silly dreams and follow the path that they had set out for you. One day, while avoiding responsibility, you see a peculiar sight… A white rabbit! Or, a person with pure white coloring? You follow them and fall down a rabbit hole in the process. Once you’re in the strange, strange world, you’re forced to adapt— and excited to have finally found one great adventure. You meet so many strange people— berries! — and meet a berry that’s just a bit absurd but understands your desire to explore the world.

Founder should be vanilla and from a vanilla world. Of course, Alice can develop berry qualities from falling down the rabbit hole!

Name begins with an A, and preferably doesn’t sound berry. We want them to stand out a bit!

Trait: Childish

Aspiration: The Curator

Must explore Wonderland & visit at least three different types of lots.

Attend three of the Mad Hatter’s parties before you can marry them.

Heir must pass for a berry. Have as many kids as that takes!

Gen. 2 - Mad Hatter (Blue/Aqua) One of your parents is from another world, but you never really seemed to bond with them. You feel more attached to your berry parent, and you want to follow in their footsteps in every way that you can. You’re just a bit unhinged, and you found friends that seem to connect with that. A lot of people are bothered by your mixed heritage, but you don’t care what anyone thinks! You’re just here to have a good time. You’ve studied everything you can to have a good time, and you marry one of your friends after the world’s most legendary party.

Aspiration: Party Animal

Trait: Erratic

Max the mixology skill.

Have a better relationship with your berry parent.

Each outfit must have a hat!

Marry the March Hare, one of your childhood friends, after a wild night out!

Have more than two kids, exact number is up to player.

Gen. 3 - March Hare (Orange) To you, everything is a joke. You grew up in a big family, and you’ve always used comedy to break out of the mold. Your parents are a bit exhausted with your jokes, but your siblings love it. You stay close with them even as you all grow older, and you know you can tell them anything. Just like your parents, they love throwing parties, and it’s at one of these parties that you meet the most interesting person. When you meet them again, they’re far more reserved, but you’ve made up your mind. In their house, where they’re comfortable, they light up the room. Slowly, you fall in love, and after a while, you get married, you have a kid, and you never stop telling jokes.

Aspiration: Joke Star

Trait: Goofball

Must maintain a ‘Good Friends’ relationship with your siblings throughout your life. If you have a mod to enable multiple best friends, they must stay at ‘Best Friends’ level!

Max the Comedy skill

Meet the Dormouse at a party that your siblings throw! Then, when you meet them again, they seem a lot more reserved and shy. You can only romance them in private and show affection indoors. Spouse should have the ‘unflirty’ trait.

Have only one child.

Gen. 4 - Dormouse (Peach) You grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth. Your adorable parents (sickly sweet with your love), gave you absolutely anything that you wanted. As a child, you were a musical prodigy, and you had big dreams and big plans. But something changed. You give up music, and you prefer to just laze around the house all day. You spend your days napping wherever you can, and on one fateful day, you’re poked awake by someone who’s tired of your lazing. You manage to charm them a bit, and after a short-winded week wind up with a child. You never hear from them again.

Trait: Lazy

Max Violin skill or Piano skill before reaching Young Adult.

Use Odd Jobs as your only way of making money.

Stay in your parents’ house your whole life.

Take lots of naps in parks, or at parties. Be woken up by a snobbish berry (Purple) for napping in a bad place.

Slowly win them over with your charm and have a short but passionate affair that results in a child. A messy break up leaves you with the kid, and you don’t hear from that berry again.

Gen. 5 - Cheshire Cat (Purple) You grew up in your grandparents’ house, and figured out pretty early on that you were an accident. As a child, you acted out a lot. You pulled pranks on anyone who passed, but until you were a teen, your family only saw the perfect side of you. When you become a teen, you start lashing out at everyone around you. After annoying nearly everyone around you, it seems that you’ll be on your own forever. Almost miraculously, you meet one person who doesn’t even react when you pull pranks. They see the hurt child underneath, and just being around them seems to calm you. You don’t fully change, of course, and still manage to pull a few pranks at your wedding.

Aspiration: Chief of Mischief

Max Mischief & Charisma

Your mischevious acts cause negative relationships with most people you meet, but when you’re younger, you don’t bring it home.

As a teen, you lash out. Have a negative relationship with your parent.

When you’re a young adult, you meet a berry (aqua) who isn’t fazed by your antics. You slowly calm down from your wild ways, but you do pull a few pranks at your wedding.

Have as many children as you’d like!

Gen. 6 - Caterpillar (Turquoise) You’re well-educated in many things, and you like people to know that. From a young age, you prided yourself on the things you knew and the things that others did not. You prefer the finer things in life, and the finer people... And you like to hang around a bubble machine most of all. You go through a transformation in your life that changes you almost entirely. For better or for worse, you like what you’ve become.

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

Trait: Snob

At some point, you go through a transformation that turns you into a different person, for better or for worse.

Spend lots of time at a bubble bar or using the bubble blower.

Max Logic skill

Meet your spouse (yellow) at the bubble bar, and then their twin a few days later. Accidentally romance both without realizing they’re two people, and marry the one you have a better relationship with in the future.

Have children until you have multiples.

Gen. 7 - Tweedledee & Tweedledum (Yellow) Being a twin is your favorite thing in the world. You have a built in best friend, someone who you know you can rely on. You go through life attached at the hip, merrily making mischief. Your sibling is more of the creative type, but you help them out by writing their songs and silly rhymes. When they hit it big, you stay by their side. You end up having to protect them from a lot of the crueler critics. There’s one person who’s green with envy over your twin, and after a lot of time shouting at each other, you somehow end up at dinner with them.

Aspiration: Friend of the World

Max singing skill

Publish three poems

Be best friends with your twin for your entire life. Visit with them every few days, or even keep them in the same household!

Be enemies with a berry (green) and wind up on a dinner date. Somehow, it’s enjoyable, but neither of you are willing to admit that. After running into each other a few more times, you slowly begin to grow romantic feelings.

Gen. 8 - Jabberwock (Green) You don’t really know how your parents ended up together— they’re polar opposites. One’s all sweet and fluffy, and the other… Is exactly how you want to be. You seem to have inherited their ruthlessness, and you very quickly take to the criminal underground. You like the more dangerous parts of life: spice, crime, violence. You marry someone who understands that just as well, and you have children that you hope will carry on the family legacy.

Aspiration: Public Enemy

Max criminal branch

Marry a coworker (red).

Max the spicy food skill.

Gen. 9 - Queen of Hearts (Red) Both of your parents expect you to follow in their footsteps along a path of crime, but it doesn’t really fascinate you. You’re more interested in using romance to get what you want, and then breaking their hearts to little pieces. Your parents get tired at around the sixth partner and threaten to disown you if you don’t settle down. You find the meekest person you can to settle down with to get them off your back.

Aspiration: Serial Romantic

Trait: Hot-headed

Have at least two negative character values from growing up.

Must have a messy breakup each time the romance is done with.

Marry a skittish berry (white) when your mob parent threatens to cut off your head. Which sucks because, hey, that’s your thing.

Gen. 10 - The White Rabbit (White) You grew up under the watchful eye of your grandparents and living parent, always terrified to make the wrong move. You have your head in the clouds which makes you late to almost everything. You spend as much time as possible outside the house, away from watchful eyes. It’s on a late afternoon hiding that you meet a new friend. You sneak out as much as you can to see them, and slowly start saving up money so that you can both run away.

Aspiration: Freelance Botanist

Trait: Vegetarian or Paranoid

You never break the rules because you’re scared of your grandparents. One of your parents died when you were young.

Arrive late to most events you attend

Meet spouse (white) when hiding out from your parent’s wrath as a teen. Exchange promise rings and marry young

BOOM THE END.

#Berry Sweet Sims #berry simblr #sims 4 challenge

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

The Crucible (part nine)

[UK Tour; Carrie AU]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Word count: 10,088

TW: Blood and gore

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

-Alma Mater-

“We found these in the dumpster behind what’s left of the gym.”

Bessie recoiled so sharply in disgust she nearly fell backwards out of her chair when Mulaney dumped several pieces of paper onto the table in front of her. She looked at the pile as if it were made of actual human hearts, wrinkling up her nose.

“I can’t believe you touched those!” She exclaimed in an almost humorously repulsed way. “They’re probably swimming with diseases.”

“Recognize them?” Mulaney asked, sitting across from her.

“They’re prom ballots,” Bessie said with a dismissive shrug. “I’m the one who Xeroxed them.”

“According to these, Ruby and Leila won prom king and queen.”

Bessie blinked at Mulaney in shock, as if he had just told her the secrets of the universe. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish caught on a hook, then she sputtered out, “I-I counted those ballots myself. Principal Holbein checked my work! You can ask him...yourself…” She trailed off with a grimace, hunching her shoulders in and looking away. For a moment, she looked a lot younger, and a lot more shaken than she thought she was.

“Anna and Joan won fair and square.” She finally spoke up again, although there was a not-so-subtle shakiness to her voice. Madeline gave her a sympathetic look.

“I’m guessing by a landslide?” Mulaney asked.

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t seem odd to you?”

“I just thought they were pity votes.” Bessie said, shrugging.

“They weren’t pity votes, Elizabeth.” Mulaney told her grimly. “Someone switched the ballots.”

------

“Attention! Attention, everyone!” Bessie called jovially from the stage. The mic she was using gave a few abrupt screeches of feedback, so she tapped it with a manicured finger. In the fairy lights, her dress glistened in shimmering waves of purple and made her look like a walking amethyst. “Can I have your attention, please!”

The DJ cut the music off hastily. Everyone inside the gym quieted down one by one and turned their heads to the stage. Bessie’s hair was blindingly white in the light.

“Thank you,” She said, then raised her voice excitedly, “We will now be voting for this year’s prom king and queen!”

“This contest insults women!” Margery Horsman shouted from near the globe tree. There were a few scattered applause and one loud, whooping cheer from a girl who must have been her friend.

“It insults men, too!” Francis Dereham piped up mockingly. Laughter followed, along with several eye rolls.

“Take your seats, please!” Bessie went on loudly. “Time to vote!”

Everyone began to swarm back to their respective table as Maggie and two other girls started to pass out prom ballots and small pencils. Anna, Joan, George, and Jane were already sitting, recovering from their intense dance session and playing Spoons with a deck of cards George had brought in (“I still cannot believe you brought cards to prom.” “I never leave home without ‘em! You know that, Anna!”). As far as games being played at a school party went, it definitely wasn’t the lamest option they could have gone with.

“Aha!” Jane exclaimed, seizing one of the three plastic spoons on the table after she got a match of four aces. George looked up at her lovingly. “I have totally figured out this game! I am the new Spoons champion!”

“Ow!!” Anna yelped. “You SCRATCHED me!” She had been trying to grab one of the other spoons when Jane’s fingernails raked viciously over her hand. She rubbed the scraped skin tenderly, giving Jane a playful pout.

“This is a very violent game,” Joan observed. When someone got a match of four cards, they were supposed to grab a spoon as quick as they could, prompting everyone else to do the same, which resulted in some mayhem. Especially because there were four players and only three spoons, so clawing and yanking and merciless tug-of-war would sometimes happen as a result. There was even a moment where they all lurched forward at the same time and bonked their heads together.

“What can I say?” Jane said with a shrug, flicking her spoon back and forth. “I play to win.”

At that moment, Maggie came around with ballots, setting four papers and four pencils on the table for them. Before she whisked away, she declared a louder-than-necessary, “GOOD LUCK!” into Joan’s ear. Joan rubbed her ear uncomfortably as Anna and Jane both glowered after Maggie, then examined the ballot in front of her. Her mouth dropped open.

“Anna,” She whispered shakily, grabbing onto Anna’s arm tightly. “W-we’re on here!”

“I saw that,” Anna said.

“Woah! Congrats!” George beamed.

“Can we decline?” Joan asked anxiously.

“Hell no!” Anna said, laughing slightly. “If you win, all you do is sit up there on those thrones for the school song, wave some scepter around, and look like a jackass.”

“Oh, and then you get your picture taken for the yearbook so everyone could see that you looked like a jackass.” George added. He, Jane, and Anna laugh lightly. “You also get to lead a dance! So that’s pretty cool.”

“Well...who do we vote for?” Joan asked Anna. “They’re more your crowd than mine. I don’t really have a crowd.”

“Ourselves, duh!” Anna said.

“Isn’t voting for yourself like voting for Ralph Nader?” George asked.

“Who’s Ralph Nader?”

“Well, I’m voting for you.” Jane said to Joan. She smiled and checked off Joan and Anna’s names.

“Thanks,” Joan whispered, ducking her head shyly. She glanced over at the thrones on the stage and couldn’t help but be enamored by them. They were so sparkly and pretty. “They are beautiful…”

“You’re beautiful.” Anna grinned, taking Joan by surprise. She would never get over the shock of hearing someone say that to her. “To the devil with false modesty.”

Joan smiled. “To the devil,” She said, and checked off her and Anna’s names.

------

“Look at how she’s smiling. Stupid little cow.”

Cathy peered over the shrouded edge of the catwalk they were hiding on. She could see Joan Seymour, the poor bitch this prank was on, playing cards at one of the tables with Anne’s younger brother, his girlfriend, and Anna von Cleves. Her dress was beautiful, Cathy had to admit, and she looked so happy.

It was such a shame it was all about to be ruined.

The buckets were poised and ready.

“God, and my stupid brother.” Anne rolled her eyes. “I should have known he would befriend the resident freak.” She shook her head and turned to Cathy, smiling again. “Are you ready? It’s almost time.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Cathy mumbled, feeling ill.

“Oh, cheer up.” Anne nudged her. “We’re just playing a little joke! Nobody is getting hurt!”

“Anne, this is--this is sick. Really, really sick.” Cathy said. “If we get caught--”

“We aren’t going to get caught.” Anne said firmly. “Calm down, will you? It’s not that bad. We’re just gonna give her a little scare, that’s all.”

Cathy shook her head and cast a dark look at the two metal buckets. She could still smell the contents from her spot, the scent of three-day-old pig blood and guts wafting heavily in the air. It was a miracle nobody else on the stage had smelled it yet.

“Do you really think they’ll vote for them?” She finally spoke up again, glancing at her girlfriend. In the dim light, only half of Anne’s face could be seen, and there was madness reaching out of that amber eye.

“Of course,” Anne answered her. “I set it up. Nobody else will even be close.” She smiled wickedly. “Do you want to pull the rope?”

------

Katherine was restless. It was starting to worry her sister, she knew. She kept getting up in the middle of the movie they were watching and would pace around the living room like a lion in a circus cage. She couldn’t help it- something felt off.

“Kit?” Isabel called. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Katherine replied, shaking out her wrists as if they were crawling with caterpillars. “Just a little anxious, that’s all.”

Isabel paused the movie and turned to her completely. “About the prom?” She asked.

“What else?” Katherine sighed. “I texted Anna and she said everything was going fine, but still… I’m worried about Joan. I hope she’s having a good time.”

“I’m sure she is,” Isabel said. “You’re letting your Mum Friend status get to you too much.”

Katherine managed to laugh. “Maybe.”

She took out her phone and checked it for what felt like the tenth time that evening. Just like last time, there were no new messages. Just her reply from Anna after she reacted to the picture that was sent, which was marked as “read.” Anna must have been too busy having a good time to text back, which was good. She was giving Joan her full attention. But what if she wasn’t answering for a different reason…?

“Ugh--” Katherine collapsed down on the couch next to Isabel, who looked quite amused. “Anxiety SUCKS ASS.”

“Preach it, sister.” Isabel laughed. She patter her shoulder with a tender smile. “It’s going to be okay, Kat. I’m sure everything is just fine.”

But she was wrong.

------

“You really make all your own clothes?” George was asking with great interest. After Maggie had come around again and picked up the marked prom ballots, the group decided to take a small break from Spoons to let their maimed hands rest and stop burning. Now, they were just chatting idly, talking about random things as they waited for the score to be tallied up.

“Yeah, most of them,” Joan answered, nodding.

“That’s so convenient.”

Joan smiled shyly. “Yeah. Sorry I’m not better at conversations. I don’t have a lot of interesting stories.”

“No worries!” George said dismissively. “You’re much better company than most of the people here. Some of them don’t know how to keep a secret.” Then, he turned his head and shot an irritated look at a boy in a dark navy blue suit at a navy table. “And SOME OF THEM think very HIGHLY of themselves.”

The boy in navy blue whipped his gaze around and narrowed his eyes at George.

“I can HEAR you!” He shouted.

“We all can!” Piped up someone else.

“I KNOW.” George shouted back. “We’re in a GYM! But I’m having a PRIVATE CONVERSATION, so stick your nose somewhere else!”

“Then why did you look at me?!” The boy in navy blue cried.

“Because I was MAKING a POINT to my FRIENDS!” George snapped.

“You WISH you had friends!”

“Go suck a LIME!”

“Now, now,” A teacher chaperone said in a bored voice. “Settle down.”

George turned his head back to the table and smiled. “Anyway,” He said, his voice all sweetness again, “Where were we?”

The other three burst into laughter.

And then, silence was called over the gym.

“Attention, everyone!” Bessie said into the mic. “It’s time to announce the elected prom king and queen!”

There was a drumroll as Bessie excitedly pulled out a slip of paper from an envelope. Everyone held their breath in anticipation.

“ANNA VON CLEVES AND JOAN SEYMOUR!!!”

Anna, who had been mindlessly taking a sip from her cup, not thinking much of the election, spit her drink out in George’s face. Joan froze, her eyes opening wider than possible. All heads turned to her table. Gasps and murmurs whisked through the crowd. The gym went very quiet.

And then, there was a huge, booming, explosive eruption of applause that seemed to shake the walls like thunder. Everyone began to clap and cheer loudly, roaring into one big celebratory mass of noise. One person even yelled, “Yeah, go Anna! Go, Joan!”

Two student body members dressed in (school appropriate) togas, a boy and a girl, walked over to the table, smiling. Anna laughed and stood up with her arms spread in a queenly gesture of sorts, and the crowd went wild, shrieking their support. George, who quickly recovered from being sprayed with mouth soda, was beaming in pride for his friend and Jane looked both a little stunned and absolutely thrilled. Anna nudged Joan’s side and then extended her elbow for them to lock arms, but Joan did not get up. She was far too starstruck to stand at the moment, lost in the whirling of the radiant, overwhelming glee rocketing through her. She had never been clapped for before like this, nor had she ever been so joyful in her entire life.

Prom Queen. Her. Joan Seymour. She was Prom Queen. A queen. Royalty. Important. Her.

It was a dream come true.

Anna gently grabbed Joan by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet, effectively snapping Joan out of her daze. She still remained breathless and dazzled, however, as the entire prom screeched for her when she finally got to her feet. She nearly fainted from joy right then and there, but managed to cling to her consciousness. She grappled onto Anna’s arm, a smile coming to her lips that she knew would not be leaving for a while.

The two of them, escorted by the toga-clad student body duo, began to stride through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea when they passed. The band boomed and swelled into a loud, upbeat melody. The audience continued to applaud and scream and cheer. Any sarcasm was lost to its cacophony; this was honest and deep and genuinely happy for the elected pair. Someone whistled. Someone else patted Joan’s bare shoulder as she passed by. Miss Aragon, at the edge of the trench of students, looked so proud.

Tears were welling up in Joan’s eyes. Her mouth was starting to hurt from smiling so widely. Has she ever smiled for this long before? She doesn’t think so. She hoped she wasn’t hurting Anna, she was hanging onto her arm really tightly. Anna didn’t seem to mind, though. The older girl was practically glowing in the fairy lights, like a goddess of sorts.

They reached the short flight of stairs to the stage, where Bessie and Principal Holbein were waiting. The thrones were pushed up to the front arches of the decorative Parthenon, glistening in the spotlights poised on the apron. They were inlaid with gold and fake jewels and were so much more breathtaking up close.

“Come on up, you guys!” Bessie shouted over all the noise. She beamed at Joan as Anna helped her up the steps, then turned to shake hands with Principal Holbein. “You look so beautiful! Congratulations!”

Joan couldn’t possibly must up a reply with all these endorphins sprinting through her, so she just smiled even wider, if that were even possible at that point.

She and Anna were whisked over to the thrones (but not without Bessie launching herself into Anna and hugging her very tightly). A silver scepter was thrust into Anna’s hands by the boy student body member in the toga, while the girl swept a furry velvet and sunflower yellow cloak with a puffy collar around Joan’s shoulders. They sat in the thrones and another ear-splitting bout of applause broke out.

Joan was glad to be sitting. Her legs were shaking and her knees felt weak. She was dizzy from shock and bliss and excitement.

(look at me Mama look at me)

(i made it)

(i did it)

The crowns were taken out on big wine red pillows. Both were encrusted with surprisingly realistic looking diamonds and glittered like captured rainbows in the light. Joan nearly sobbed when her tiara was set on her head and she reached up to touch it instantly, just to make sure it was there and real. And it was. The jewels were smooth and bumpy beneath her fingers. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Anna grinning at her affectionately.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Bessie said energetically into the mic, “your king and queen on senior prom! Anna von CLEVES and Joan SEYMOUR!”

The audience howled. Anna laughed. She stood up and thrust her scepter into the air.

“Long live King Anna!!!” Someone yelled.

“SPEECH!!!” Someone else, George from back at the table, cried out.

Anna grinned brightly in his direction.

The band cracked and rose into a fever pitch as the school song was played. The audience began to sing along to the music, their hundreds of mixing voices spiraling into a cloud of haunting sound. Anna basked in it, her chest puffed out with pride, then turned and gently gathered Joan to her feet so she could bathe in the glory with her. Joan probably would have crumpled right to the floor if Anna hadn't helped her up.

It was such a dizzying feeling, being the center of so much positive attention when it was usually all so negative. All these people were cheering for her, Joan Seymour. And they didn’t look to be doing it mockingly at all. They liked her. They really, really liked her!

(i told you Mama i told you)

“Long live Queen Joan!!” Shouted the person from before.

“Queen Joan!!!” Someone else whooped gleefully.

Joan was shaking all over. She knew everyone could see that she was, but it wasn’t deterring their applause. They just kept clapping and cheering and singing, even as she quivered like a leaf in a hurricane.

But unbeknownst to her, among the crowd, Maggie Wyatt and Anthony Lee were smirking rather than smiling. Maggie kept glancing up every few seconds, which caught the attention of Jane, who began to sidle over slowly to see what she was looking at.

Bessie waved her arms and all the noise began to diminish. She turned to Anna and Joan, still grinning her head off.

“Your Highnesses,” She said, “your court requests you lead them in a dance!”

Like that, the cheering started up again.

The toga boy took Anna’s staff from her, but Joan’s cloak was left on. Anna extended a hand and Joan took it as the lights around them faded to soft blue and light purple. They walked slowly down the steps and onto the center of the gym floor, where they pressed against each other and began to dance in long, graceful movements. The band played an airy melody of violins and flutes, which Joan didn’t even realize they had, but she could hardly care. She was too wrapped up in dancing with Anna to care about anything at this point.

Her legs trembled, unsteady, unpracticed, fawn-like. Her head spins and her vision blurs with the opposite of vertigo. Her hands clasp tightly at Anna’s and her shoulder, like the older girl was an island out in a raging black ocean. Moats of silver dust float like moths in the rays of light beaming from the spotlight, and she had never been more awash in radiance.

Anna’s hand is warm on her waist and she looked up at her, dry lips parting with a slight pop. Anna tilted her head at her and smiled, the corners of her mouth held aloft by the spotlights. Her fingertips trail over Joan’s veins, bluer than hers, rivers snaking beneath her skin and crisscrossing the imperfect planet of her body.

But Anna doesn’t care.

Each sweeping step they take gave Joan more confidence and made the world come a little more into focus. This was all Joan has ever wanted- being held so gently, being loved despite her flaws, being wanted and needed and swayed like she is. Anna doesn’t care that she’s touching her, Anna doesn’t care about the roughness of her scarred palms, Anna doesn’t care that she wasn’t at prom with her girlfriend.

Anna cared about her and her alone. Nothing else in the entire universe mattered to her. And that was a dream come true.

Anna coaxed her closer in that honeyed voice of hers that makes Joan feel all fluttery inside, whispered that she wanted to show off to all these loons, and Joan does as she's told, tentatively placing one foot in front of the other, searching for stable ground as they whisked in loops inside the circle of students crowded around them.

“Anna?” Joan whispered.

“Yeah?” Anna looked down at her, still smiling with so much affection for her.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Joan.”

Joan was still shaky but that’s okay. If she fell, Anna would surely catch her.

There was a blooming warmth on Joan’s hand and she looked at it, and that’s when everything fell to pieces. Shafts of burgeoning gold cut through soft silver and burst outwards, filling the gym in blinding yellow waves. Violin and flutes were replaced with a marching drumbeat. Silence turned to an uproar of cheering and clapping. The dance floor melted away and the stage rose up beneath Joan’s feet. And there was Bessie and the band and the two student body members in togas and Anna, now up there with her again. And there was blood. On her hand.

“Your Highnesses,” Bessie said, “your court requests you lead them in a dance!”

Joan does not hear her. She can’t even move.

Red. Blood. On her fingers. Blood.

Her blood?

Was it happening again?

Anna looked at her in confusion, eyebrows furrowed together.

“Joan?” She whispered. “Everything okay?”

Joan does not reply.

Like how Anna does not see the blood.

It was the size of a nickel American tourists would sometimes accidentally drop on the streets. Bright red against her pale white skin, like a ruby buried in fresh snow. Completely odorless in such a small quantity.

Blood.

Where did it come from?

Joan looked up shakily and time seemed to slow down so she, and everyone else in the gym, could watch as two buckets full of blood poured out in an unhurried manner to fall, splash, splash, splash, right over Joan’s head.

------

“Hail, Alma Mater,”

The singing of the crowd mixed with the band and all the cheering was a mess of noise in Anne’s ears. She grit her teeth in rage and glared down at the thrones, where the pig herself, Joan Seymour, was being crowned Prom Queen. With her tiara.

“Why are they still clapping?” Anne hissed.

“I don’t know, babe.” Cathy said uselessly. “Don’t ask me.”

Anne growled lowly in her throat and gripped the rope in her hands tightly. The smell of the blood wafting from the buckets was intoxicating.

“Oh, Mother, we salute you,”

“Are you going to pull it?” Cathy asked. “They’re there. The song is playing. Get it over with already.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Anne snapped.

“We proclaim out devotion,”

Anne’s hands were starting to shake. Her chest burned as she held her breath.

“I’m not pulling it for you.” Cathy said. “That thing can sit up there ‘till hell freezes over.”

Anne elbowed her hard in the stomach and her girlfriend reeled backwards in pain.

“As we set our dreams into motion!”

“Your Highnesses,” Bessie said from below after the school anthem ended, “your court requests you lead them in a dance!”

Anne leaned forward and yanked the cord with both hands.

For a moment, there was slack, making her think Cathy fucked up the set up to get back at her, that the rope was attached to nothing but thin air, that Joan fucking Seymour was actually going to get away clean.

But then, it snagged and jerked away from her grasp, leaving a thin rope burn across her palms. The buckets tipped and glorious red fell free. She peeked over the edge to watch, then turned to Cathy, smirking widely in victory.

In the darkness, Cathy looked horrified.

And in the light of the stage, someone screamed.

------

Two weeks after the Black Prom, Elizabeth “Bessie” Blount, would write this for the detectives,

“I had been looking at the crowd when the buckets came, but I turned fast enough to see a majority of it. It got EVERYWHERE. Joan got the most of it. She looked like she had just been dragged out of a river of blood. There were barely any spots of pink left on her dress. But us onstage got some of it, too. Anna was wearing a white tux. She got splattered. She looked like she was in a murder scene. I got splattered, too. My dress and my chest and my face. And for a moment, when my mind flashed back to the showers on Friday, I wondered if this was period blood. It was clearly a prank of sorts, so did whoever planned this (which I now know was Anne), get a bunch of girls to squat over some buckets and bleed into them just to dump it out on this one chick?

But then I realized that it didn’t smell like period blood.

I don’t think any of you or anyone else who wasn’t there really understand the smell. It wasn’t just an awful sight--it smelled, too. Like--like...it’s so hard to explain. It smelled like blood, but blood that has been left out in the sun for a week. Like rotten meat. Have you ever smelled rotten meat? It was like that.

And it also wasn’t just blood. There were organs and pieces of organs, too. I don’t even know what it was, but there was a strip of /something/ on my face. But Joan was covered in guts. Intestines hanging from her shoulders, mushy livers and kidneys caught against her dress, a stomach snagged on her crown. There were even testicles. One missed her, but the other hit her in her head and then bounced off.

Joan was still for a very long time. She had been looking up, so her face was dripping and her eyes were closed. Then, she opened them and things all went to hell from there.

I look back on this a lot. I know it wasn’t that long ago, but it’s always so fresh in my mind. I got my period two days ago and I /cried/ when I saw the blood. Because I wonder, if I had been a little bit nicer, would it have never happened? I know that’s wishful thinking, but I still wonder about it all the time. I do that a lot, now. I just think about what happened. And it gets worse each time.

I wish about a lot, but I never wish to stop the Black Prom. I just wish I had died in there with everyone else. I could kill myself, but it wouldn’t be the same, you know? I was left alive for a reason, I think. It’s a punishment. Unless Joan thought I was innocent enough to let go. But I don’t think so. So now I have to live with what I did and what happened because of it.

I would like to see Anna again, though. I wish I got to say goodbye to her.”

------

She was covered in it.

Blood.

Whose blood?

(my blood)

The smell was overwhelming. Like rotten meat left out in the summer heat for several months. The taste was worse. She didn’t want to describe it. This blood did not have the same metallic tang of normal blood. There was something very, very wrong with it.

The blood was thick, half a liquid, half a solid. It was coagulated and clotted, thick chunks caught in her hair and eyelashes and dress. It drooled down her chest, between her breasts, and over the flat expanse of her stomach.

Everywhere. It was everywhere.

In her ears and her nose and her eyes and her mouth.

Blood.

Something else splattered down against her, too. It made a loud slapping sound when it hit her head and made her tiara crooked when it snagged on the points. Something long and squishy draped over her shoulder while something else went down the back of her dress and fell out the bottom with a wet /plop/. They all had a very rank, ripe scent.

Joan’s eyes were closed. She had been looking up, so her face was completely drenched. Her dress was ruined, dyed to a deep scarlet instead of a pale flamingo pink. Her hair was soaked and dripping and red, retaining no hints of the original platinum white-blonde. The cloak around her neck looked like a freshly gutted dog, and it fell heavily to the ground at her feet. Rivulets of red ran down her arms, oozing off her fingers and into the crimson lake all around her.

One by one, the clapping stopped, the cheering died off, and the smiles fell until the only sound was the creak of the two ropes the buckets were attached to and the splattering of blood on the floor. Nobody moved, nobody breathed, nobody spoke a word.

And then, Joan’s eyes opened.

Something was glowing behind those twin orbs of grey-blue.

Joan slowly raised her hands and stared at them, watching tiny rivers of blood snake down the palms. Her breathing picked up slowly, faster and faster and faster, until her body was heaving with the weight of her panting. Her eyes darted around- at Anna, spattered in red beside her; at Bessie, wide-eyed and bloody; at George and Jane, horrified; at Miss Aragon, with her mouth hanging open; at Principal Holbein, shocked into stillness; at the audience, silent. She looked down and saw the blood, then the guts.

She was covered in guts.

Intestines hung from her shoulders, several pieces of pruney and wrinkled pink tissue clung to her dress, a stomach was caught on her crown.

Guts.

Someone spilled guts on her.

Blood and guts.

Something itched in Joan’s throat, and when she opened her mouth, a whimper came out.

And then a cry.

And then a scream.

She screamed a horrible, nightmare-haunting scream that reverberated throughout the auditorium and jammed itself into the ears of the audience. It cut off after a moment and she stared at her hands again in horror, hoping they would be clean, but the red still remained. She tried to scrub at her arms, but the blood only smeared and coated her skin even further. She whimpered and keened loudly, scratching and clawing desperately. Someone in the audience snorted.

“WHAT THE HELL?” Anna roared in fury. She was the first to snap out of the terror-stricken trance, and now all she felt was outrage. “WHO DID THIS?”

No answer. Someone snorted again. A few people murmured. Heads whipped around frantically.

“WHO DID THIS?!” Anna screeched again. She looked around and spotted something in the wings- Anne and Cathy. She snarled lowly, like a dog about to bite, then took off after them when they fled.

Like that, with Anna’s jarring sprint into motion, the trance that had descended over the gym was broken. People began to exclaim in shock and whisper to one another. A few took out their phones to take pictures. Maggie Wyatt and Anthony Lee snorted and then burst into howls of laughter.

And people joined in.

They were laughing at her.

(Mama was right)

Joan felt her body start to seize. She went hot and then cold and then hot again until she was freezing. Her heartbeat hammered in her chest, racing faster and faster and faster until she thought it would burst apart.

“Pig, pig, pig, pig!” Anthony bellowed through bouts of laughter. “Sweet pig, pig, pig!”

(Mama was right they’re laughing)

(they always laugh)

“Freak! Freak!!” Maggie shrieked in giggles.

Everything was starting to bleed together. A blur of black and silver marched through the crowd below; Jane Parker slapped Anthony hard across the face.

Joan gasped.

Miss Aragon and Principal Holbein rush up to the stage, along with George Boleyn and Jane Parker. The whispers are swelling into a full thunderstorm of murmurs, but she can’t make them out. Her ears were too clogged with blood to really hear.

“Joan?” Jane called out, and her voice was but a distant echo. “Joan, can you hear me?” She waved a hand in front of her face.

Miss Aragon gently touched Joan’s shoulder, brushed away the tangle of intestines caught against it. Her nose was twitching; she could smell the overwhelming stench of the rancid blood and guts, too.

“Joan? Joan, sweetie, talk to me. It’s Miss Aragon.” The coach said.

But Joan does not awaken from the strange state she’s slipped into.

The adrenaline is making the strain on her body bearable, all the beautiful chemicals coursing through her veins as she flexed her powers.

That, and the anger.

It all made her so angry. Her mother. Her treatment at school. Her life. Who she was.

Fifteen long years of being the good Christian girl. Of turning the other cheek. Of enduring and bearing. Of being patient and understanding and letting things go, always letting things go.

It gets old. So fucking old.

She was tired of it.

The pillars of the Parthenon began to quake. The decorative spires and sculptures on the gym floor soon followed. Joan sent her powers through their mass and ripped them into chunks. The pieces locked together in the air like a growing puzzle until a long body was created. Wings from the ripped mural canvases, a tail of ice and marble, curved claws chipped from stone, sharp spikes torn out of chair legs, and a piece of the fire alarm and DJ booth attached to the back of the throat.

Everyone stepped away and stared in horror as the dragon thumped to the ground on its back haunches and let out an ear-piercing roar.

“Say. Hello.” It spoke in a gargled voice. “Everybody. Say. Hello.”

And then, a pipe from up above was ripped free and sailed straight into Maria de Salinas’s heart.

August had thought they had been scared when the buckets dropped, but not even that fear could rival the absolute terror pumping through them as they stared at the bleeding corpse just a few feet away. Several people were starting to run, but they couldn’t move. It wouldn’t matter anyway; all the doors were locked. They could hear students shouting over it in a panic all around them, through the screaming.

They looked up at Joan Seymour’s bloody form and realization dawned on them with a jarring shock.

She’s going to kill us all.

The pipe pulled loose from Maria’s heart with a spurt of blood. Joan peered at it curiously, as if it were a new pet. A moment later, it flew around and jammed itself through the spot that connected the second victim’s jaw to her neck. It went all the way through and left her nearly decapitated, spasming wildly on the ground before death overcame her and she stilled. Then, the pipe spun and sailed straight through a boy’s stomach.

By this point, full pandemonium had erupted throughout the entire theater. Everyone was running around screaming, panicking, crying. They’re trampling over each other like caged cattle—and they very well may have been, because they were all going to burn like the filthy cows they all were.

This is our punishment, August realized. For bullying her. We did this.

They looked up with tears in their eyes. The head of the conjured dragon turned to them slowly and creaked open its jaw.

“Repent, repent, repent, repent.” It said, and then smashed its talons over August’s head.

Nicola couldn’t even scream when August was crushed right before her eyes. Their body crumpled like a compressed can; she could hear their bones snap and break beneath the heavy weight of the strange monster’s talons. When the claws were raised, there was a huge splattering of blood and mushed organs, which oozed slowly off stone nails in droplets of liquid ruby and rose quartz.

August was dead.

Joan was not done killing yet.

Nicola dove behind an upturned table and tried to steady her ragged breathing. She yelped when someone collapsed down in front of her.

“Ari!” She cried.

Ari, shell shocked, but uninjured, scrambled beside her, ducking low for cover. Their eyes were wide and mortified.

“What--what the fuck is going on?” They whispered. Each word sounded like it took great effort to speak through heaving breaths. “What--is--happening?!”

“I-I don’t know!” Nicola replied.

Near the buffet temples, the flying pipe stabbed through a girl’s neck. Nicola shuddered and hugged her knees.

“She’s killing us,” She whispered. “She’s killing us all.”

“Oh god,” Ari muttered in horror. They pressed a hand to their forehead. “You know what, Nicola? I-I don’t want to die!” They laughed shakily, tears brimming in their eyes.

“Shh. You’re not allowed to die.” Nicola said, and Ari managed a tight smile.

And then, the pipe flew by and put itself directly between Ari’s eyes.

The table tipped backward, along with Ari’s body. The pipe pulled out with a squelch and squirt of blood, leaving a gaping hole all the way through Ari’s head. Nicola vomited, she couldn’t help it.

“Monster,” She whispered raggedly She glared at the stage through tears. “You’re a monster!”

Joan twitched, but didn’t look at her. Nicola braced herself and prepared for the pipe to come around and take her life, but it didn’t. It was currently embedded in the stomachs of two students at once. No, instead, her executioner was a snake that rose up from one of the candles.

Nicola’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the flaming serpent coil out from the candle. It was huge, with bright golden eyes and a tongue that spewed embers when it flicked out at her. Then, it opened its wide jaws and came at her faster than lightning.

Pain. Blinding pain. Blinding, unbearable pain.

She was on fire.

Her dress exploded into golden plumes almost instantly, with her hair following shortly after. She could feel the fabric of her gown fusing with her flesh as it dripped off her body like wax. She screamed and flailed helplessly, but it did nothing to help her. The serpent consumed her.

A thick shoulder smashed Violet into a rigid back. Boots stamped down on one of her feet. She heard a screech of pain that sounded like someone from her Economics class. She caught a glimpse of Principal Holbein trying desperately to calm everyone down. Someone grabbed her forearm, and she turned to see Lara, staring at a raging snake made of fire.

“Oh god,” She whispered. “What do we do?”

“I-I don’t know!” Violet said. “We can’t escape. The doors are locked!”

“There has to be another way!” Lara cried. “D-don’t say that! There has to be!”

Nearby, a kid burst into flames when the snake coiled around him. The dragon jumped into the fray, shaking the entire gym when it leapt to the ground. It lashed its huge tail, connecting with a large panicking group of students and sending them sprawling with an awful symphony of breaking bones and splitting skin. It trampled over kids as it made its way to the tree and climbed to the top.

“Respect me. Respect me. Respect me.” It said over and over again, flaring out its wings. Its mouth did not move when it spoke, rather just hung open like a snake spraying venom.

Violet and Lara backed away, getting pushed and shoved and nearly separated in the process. They clasped their hands together and watched as fire began to spread through the ripped murals against the wall.

This place was going to burn to the ground.

“JOAN!!”

The pipe, which had taken lodging in the back of a blonde girl’s skull, flashed through the air and cleaved into its next victim’s stomach, silencing them.

Lara gasped and buried her face in her talons.

“Oh no,” Violet whispered. “Oh no, no, no…!”

Anna coughed and was startled to taste blood. She touched her lips and her fingers came back red. Then, slowly, her hands slid down to her stomach, where an even bigger patch of red was spreading across her tux.

There was a pipe in her stomach.

Her vision blurred and she collapsed to her side, gargling on her blood.

“Anna!!”

Joan was there, even bloodier than her, grey-blue eyes wide. Her hands hovered around the pipe, then pulled it out, sending sharp bolts of pain through Anna’s entire being.

“Anna, Anna, no--” Joan stammered. Tears flooded down her face. “Anna, no--”

“J-Joan--” Anna coughed. She raised a bloody hand and Joan clasped it in her own.

“Anna, I’m so sorry!” Joan said. “I-I didn’t mean to…” She glanced at the gaping red horror in Anna’s stomach. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know,” Anna said. “I-I know you...you didn’t…” Everything was starting to blur together.

“No, Anna, don’t die!” Joan begged. “Don’t die! You can’t die!”

“Think...think I still have a shot at being a singer?” Anna choked out a laugh that was thick with blood.

Joan sniffled and nodded tearfully. “Y-yeah, of course.” She said. “Y-you’d be the best!”

Anna smiled weakly up at her. Her brain felt very fuzzy all of a sudden. The pain was getting worse.

No. No. She cannot die, not now, not after all she’s done. Surely she won’t—the wound is likely not nearly as terrible as it felt, or this is some nightmare and she’ll wake up any moment, and there will be no more blood and George and Jane and Joan will be teasing her for falling asleep at prom and then they’ll go to the Blazer.

She doesn’t wake up.

And now she can’t breathe--her chest heaved and she gasped and coughed, and suddenly her throat felt very hot and full and it’s terribly uncomfortable.

She doesn’t want to die. But it hurt too much.

“Joan--” She rasped. “I-I can’t--”

“No.” Joan said through gritted teeth. Then, she softly pushed Anna’s head up to look at her. The spotlights glowed around her and made her look like a blood soaked angel. “You‘re not dying today. Not here.” She sniffled. “Not in my arms, Anna.”

Anna frowned and parted her lips, gasping for air so loud Joan’s own air almost got pulled out of her lungs.

“Please.” She begged quietly. “You have to--”

The rest of the words didn't come out, but Joan’s face paled and she understood.

“No, Anna,” She whispered. “No. Not after I--”

“I-it hurts, Joan.” Anna said.

“I-I can fix you!” Joan said, shaking her head. Blood from her hair splatter everywhere. “I-I can sew your wound! I-it’s gonna be okay!”

Anna shook her head sluggishly. “Joan,” She whispered firmly. “You can’t. You know that.” She lifted a quaking hand and wiped away one of Joan’s tears, smearing the blood already on her face. “Don’t--don’t be--sad.”

“W-we were supposed to w-watch that movie together,” Joan whimpered. “And have a party. You can’t die, Anna.”

“I’m sorry,” Anna breathed out. Then, quietly, she said, “I love you.”

“I love you.” Joan said back

Anna’s face lit up, regardless of the pain. “You’re incredible,” She said.

Joan cried harder.

“Don’t let--don't let this--w-world tell you--otherwise, mh?” She said. “Don’t let it--it ruin--you.”

“Anna, please.” Joan sobbed. “Please, please don't go. I-I need you. You--you brought me back to life.”

“And I’d do that again--and again..and again--”

Anna was delirious. She caressed Joan’s cheeks with her thumbs, and Joan leaned her forehead against hers. Joan let the silence between them fill the void she started feeling inside of her for a few seconds, but her sobs soon came back, filling the stage’s space. All around them in the gym, the panic of students and teacher chaperones was unified into stillness. They were all watching transfixed in shock and despair.

“Thank you,” Anna whispered.

“F-for what?” Joan asked.

Anna smiled. “For giving me the best night of my life.”

Anna’s neck snapped. Joan knew where to send her powers into her spinal cord to make her stop crying. Hurting.

To make it all stop.

If someone had asked her to do this, she would’ve killed herself. She would kill herself for Anna a thousand times. Over and over. She would let anyone torture her, use her, hurt her, however whenever wherever they would like to. But Anna asking her to end her suffering… She could not bear this. She could not bear her pain...not this one.

Not like this.

The one person who ever truly cared about her. The one person who genuinely wanted to be around her… She killed her.

Joan let out a long, keening whimper and began to rock back and forth, cradling Anna’s upper body against her chest.

If they only could’ve had more time. If they only could’ve had some more time to spend together, some more time to share, some more time to be friends. In such a short period of time, Anna had turned into the big sister she never knew she wanted or ever had. She wanted to be next to Anna forever and always. She wanted to be with her and her friends and even Katherine.

But it didn’t matter now. Anna was dead. And no amount of power was going to bring her back.

Joan cried for several long moments, clutching Anna’s corpse. Fresh blood mingled with the blood coating her entire being. Warmth was slowly draining out of Anna’s body.

And then, something itched in her throat and, holding Anna closer, she tipped her head back.

The thing that overcame the silence was just a noise, one that had been boiling up in Joan’s chest for hours; long before she had gotten blood dumped over her head, or walked into prom, or even got invited to prom at all.

Joan didn’t yell a whole lot, never had. She’d always had the tendency to quietly brood when her temper ran high or her spirits low, something that had helped facilitate her transformation over the years of torment and torture. So in reality, the noise that was escaping her right now was one she’d been holding back for a very long time.

It sounded stupid. But it felt good.

So she kept doing it. Screaming. Over and over again until it just turned into one long roar of agony and fury and anguish.

Intimidating or not, effective or not, when a sound was being uttered over and over by a teenage girl who’s been living the closest thing to Hell that could exist on God’s green earth, a teenage girl covered in blood with wild eyes, a mangy body, and a lifetime worth of pain...

It was a goddamn battle-cry.

Joan gently placed her flower crown on Anna’s chest, situating her limp hands to where they were holding on it, then stood very, very slowly as if she were underwater, or her muscles were buckled into place. Her movements weren’t right- they were too twitchy and abrupt like a robot with rusted limbs. And her eyes—god, her eyes… They were wider than humanly possible.

She stood, dripping with blood, tears still streaming down her cheeks, and stared out at the audience.

(i’m going to kill you all)

Someone should tell the Devil she was going to room with him because she was about to turn this place into a living Hell.

Grace period ended with the striking of the flaming snake. A poor boy in a dark purple tux burst into flames, and screaming erupted all around him once again.

“Oh fuck! Oh god!”

“We’re all going to die!”

“Open the door!”

“Somebody call 999!!”

“HELP!!!!”

Madness. It was pure madness.

(nobody will EVER laugh at me again)

She imagined storming into the school and screaming her head off at the inconsiderate teachers, the rude students. She’s a smart kid, dammit! She’s been in school as long as everyone else, and she’s very good at it. No more questioning her, no more arguing or trying to make her look foolish, no more bullying.

And then, it happened. Within the space of the gym, it happened. Absolute mayhem.

She imagined setting fire to the entire school, not caring about how much money it would cost to fix it. Just to hear the crackles of flames, just to watch the people scramble, just to be the chaos instead of the shield against it.

Roaring flames tore along the walls of the gym, thanks to Judgement. Her dragon at the top of the tree helped by fanning the fire with its giant wings, throwing embers all throughout the room. Students squealed when they were burned, music to Joan’s ears. Someone crumpled to the ground, charred as black as night. Someone else with their tux on fire was screaming for help. Several burned corpses lay half in, half out of the firestorm, so melted and disfigured that their gender could barely be made out.

She imagined stalking into her classes, kicking the door open like she would sometimes try to do with the prayer closet. She would watch class jump in surprise and fear, not just staring at her like she’s her mother’s trained puppy.

Her fingers clenched and someone’s head popped like a balloon, splattering bits of brain and bone all over the faces of the people around them. They all shrieked in horror. Someone else yelled in a higher register, and Joan realized it was some guy coming at her with a knife he must have snuck into the party. She couldn’t touch it, but she could feel her power surging through her fingers and she leaned into it, snatching the knife right out of the boy’s hands and making it cut murderously across his throat like the widest, most bloody smile in the world.

She imagined punching Anne in the face, hearing the crack of her nose. Better than any of the bullshit Christian music her mother makes her listen to.

And then, relishing it, she imagined dunking her into water until she couldn’t breathe, she imagined stealing Bessie’s clothes and leaving her stranded naked in a bathroom stall for hours, she imagined tripping Maria in the hallway and having her break her jaw on the way down, she imagined putting a snake in Maggie’s shoe and watching her howl and foam at the mouth when it pumped her full of venom.

Who’s the boss now? Who’s the tough one, who doesn’t take shit, who doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want, ever?

She imagined growling into all of their ears as she tore into all of them and didn’t care how much of a devil it made her.

How do you like me now?

Being strong, and bold, and standing up, taking what she wants when she wants it, for the first time in her goddamn life. Because, before this, she would have never done any of that stuff she imagines.

She never did that.

She never defended herself or stood up for herself or fought back.

She only endured and endured and endured like a good little girl, like Mama wanted, like how Mama made her.

It's what's best for her. What's best for everyone.

But not anymore.

Never again.

Joan reached out her powers and found Maggie among the panic.

(never again Maggie never again)

(you will never hurt anyone else ever again)

She coiled her powers around Maggie’s shoulders and clenched down. When the grasp was tight enough, she began telekinetically pulling away from Maggie’s body. Instantly, Maggie was alerted that something was very wrong when her arms raised outwards against her will. She fought against Joan’s power, but was much too weak, and began to scream loudly at the strain on her flesh.

“Maggie!” Anthony yelled in shock. “What’s wr--”

Joan halted his sentence. She didn’t want him speaking anymore.

She found his organs after a quick moment of searching and vacuumed them upwards. Anthony gagged loudly and clutched at his stomach. His throat bulged like an anaconda was trying to slither out of his body, and then his guts came pouring out of his mouth.

Everyone shrieked much louder than they were before, or at least those not completely panicking. Anthony’s stomach splattered to the ground first, then his kidneys and liver, large intestines, and then his small intestines, which didn’t make it all the way out and dangled from his mouth like a half eaten snake. He collapsed into the pool of his own insides, empty and very much dead.

“Anthony!!” Maggie shrieked, tears pouring out of her eyes. A moment later, her arms ripped off of her body and began spewing blood everywhere. Delicate bones poked out like stars on a dark night from the fresh openings against her shoulders. She would bleed to death quickly, and Joan left her to die on the floor, hoping it would be painful.

She looked around, noting how many people were still left alive. She watched Judgement corral three students, one of which fainted from terror. He set them all on fire and then whisked off for new prey. The girl who fainted woke up screaming, but the screams didn’t last very long.

Where was Anne?

(she ran)

(coward coward coward)

She had to go after Anne.

Joan got into the sprinklers overhead and activated them. The spray of water felt amazing over her tingling skin. The blood, mostly dried, began to run in red trails, but she knew it would do little to really clean her the way she wanted it to.

(i’m coming Anne)

But first, she had to finish what she started.

Violet took one step too close to the white tree where the watching dragon was perched. Having spotted her, the dragon roared a challenge, extending its wings in a brilliant display of dominance.

The roar it made was earth shattering.

Violet was still recovering from the roar when the dragon jumped down and its spiked forearm slammed into her chest, catapulting her backwards. It went after her, crushing several students into nothing beneath its talons, then pierced her with its tail, leaving her dangling several feet from the ground. Rich, ruby red blood drizzled from the razor sharp point.

She felt faint, the pain radiating through her like a dull ache as the dragon slowly brought her around, its beady white glass eyes fixed on her. She tried to wriggle free, but the sharp edge of the tail tearing into her unresisting flesh caused her to slide further down the blood-streaked appendage. The tail grated through her organs, cutting clean through them. She coughed blood and moaned weakly. Everything was starting to spin.

“Violet!!” Lara cried from down below.

Violet coughed blood again. The dragon lashed its tail and sent her flying free. She hit the floor roughly, hearing several bones snap, and then went very still. The last thing she ever heard was the sound of Lara’s skeleton being crushed in the jaws of the dragon.

Aragon was rarely ever scared, but the mayhem that had erupted throughout the gym nearly had her paralyzed with fear. For a moment, as she watched the destruction break out, she felt as though she couldn’t breathe, especially when she saw Anthony Lee spill his guts from his mouth, but when the sprinklers kicked on overhead, she put her head back on her shoulders.

She had to get out.

Amid the chaos, she saw a flash of white and purple- Bessie. She hurried over to the bleach-haired student, who was in the middle of a pretty bad panic attack, and grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Bessie! Bessie? Bessie, listen to me!” She shook her shoulders. “Come with me, alright?”

Bessie, unable to muster up any comprehensible reply, nodded. Aragon took her hand and began guiding her to a set of side doors that weren’t as blocked off as the rest of the exits. However, they were just as jammed as all the others.

“Fuck!” Aragon hissed, yanking on the handle.

“Wh-what do we do, Miss Aragon?!” Bessie whimpered, shivering.

Aragon looked around desperately, then located a vent up near the ceiling nearby.

“Get a chair!”

Bessie obeyed and grabbed the closest, most stable chair she could find. Aragon stood on it and ripped off the vent cover, then hopped back down. She had to let her kids go first.

“Go!” She shouted over the pandemonium. “Hurry! Get in!”

Bessie didn’t hesitate. She kicked off her heels and stood up on the chair, scrambling into the vent as quick as she could. Several other students who were smart enough to come over followed her in. By the time it was her turn to climb in, the sprinklers had cut off and the ground was covered in a layer of water.

Joan stepped off of the stage slowly. With every step she took, the water around her spread away so she would be walking on dry ground. Above her, the electrical equipment holding up the spotlights crackled, and Aragon realized what was about to happen.

“EVERYBODY, GET OFF THE FLOOR!!!” She screamed.

Aragon leapt up onto the chair and flung her arms inside the vent. As she was pulling herself up, the chair flipped and she was left dangling above the ground. And, at the same time, the electrical equipment exploded into sparks and fell to the floor.

It was horrifying. Absolutely horrifying. She watched her students spasm as they were electrocuted and then drop to the ground like birds with broken wings. Hundreds must have died, and she would soon join them. Any second now, her arms would give out and she’d plummet into the electrically charged water, joining the kids as a corpse inside the gym.

Her life began to flash before her eyes, surely thinking she was about to die. But then, a strange, unseen force began to lift her up and tuck her gently into the vent. When she turned her head, she saw Joan looking at her with shining eyes.

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writersrealmbts · 5 years

Text

Beary Scary

Description: Hybrid!Namjoon x reader: Namjoon is out party hopping for halloween with his friends when he meets his mate, and she’s dressed like his hybrid species.

Angst/Fluff

Posted: 10/28/2019

Tags: Hybrid au, Hybrid Namjoon,

Wordcount: 4,105

A/N: So, I did something a little different with this one, but I really hope you like it!

Namjoon laughed as he followed his friends into the next party, wondering how they somehow knew everyone around here. They were dressed as zombies because it was "easiest" and because Taehyung had wanted to practice the stage makeup he'd been learning. He didn't even mind his friends pointing out that he was a zombie-bear. He was a hybrid, the bad jokes were normal, especially among his friends.

The exceptions to their group of zombies were Yoongi and Seokjin. Yoongi was a ghoul, his pale complexion usefully emphasizing the darker areas of his face. And Jin was a werewolf, which wasn't actually that far off since he was a wolf-hybrid.

This new party was a little more mellow and jolly than the last one, less grinding and more goofy antics. There was one couple, dressed in forties attire, swing dancing to Monster Mash and immediately capturing the interest of the drunk dancers in Namjoon’s friend group.

He went to the snack table, grabbing a couple "caterpillars" and popping one in his mouth. This place was one of Jin's friends, and the one Jin had been most excited about. In the next room, Halloween themed Disney cartoons were playing, and others were playing some homemade Halloween game and seeming to have fun.

He laughed to himself as someone dressed in a cute bear costume came backing out of the cartoon room, tripping slightly but laughing.

Then he smelled her.

He swallowed hard, his feet taking him to her side before he could really think it through.

She shrieked a bit when she finally noticed him, then was crouched on the floor with a hand over her heart. “Dear God, sorry, shit. You scared me.”

“S-sorry, um, sorry,” He offered her his hand.

She took it, and he felt his whole body tingling at her touch. She looked his costume over with a smile. “Cute! A zombie bear!”

He was pretty sure Tae would die if he heard his work called cute, but he smiled a little. “I, uh, I really like your costume.”

She glanced down at it, as if unsure of what she was wearing, then looked up with wide eyes. “This isn’t offensive, is it?!”

He laughed a little. “No, it’s cute! Really, really cute.” He looked at his feet shyly.

She giggled a little, and he thought he might die. Did she really just get cuter? “You’re Jin’s friend, right?”

“Oh, yeah, you know hyung?” He was a little surprised. He’d thought he’d met almost all of Jin’s limited friend circle. Usually strangers were Tae’s, Jimin’s, or Hoseok’s friends.

“Uh, yeah, this is my place. We’re both in the play that’s coming up,” She explained, smiling the whole time.

“Y/n!” Jin came over, throwing an arm around her shoulders, obviously a little past tipsy. “That punch is a work of art.”

“Thanks, you made it,” She said grinning.

“I did?” He looked truly surprised. “When?”

“Earlier today, you came over, mixed all of the liquids and told me what to add and when. I only deviated once from your very detailed instructions.”

“Oh yeah,” He breathed, then noticed Namjoon. “Namjoonie! You’ve met Y/n! She’s the romantic lead in the play I’m starring in!”

“I’m preparing to be the most hated girl on campus,” She laughed out, shoving Jin off. “He’s already got a huge fanclub and guys are never as fanatical about theater as girls are.”

“Doesn’t Namjoon’s makeup look good? Taehyung did all of us! Isn’t he scary?!”

She rolled her eyes, meeting Namjoon’s afterward with a smirk. “Yes, Jin-oppa, beary scary.”

Namjoon choked on his cup of punch.

Jin cracked up. “That was a beary good pun!”

“Thank you beary much,” She replied without missing a beat. Definitely sober.

“You’re beary welcome,” He giggled out, petting her head. “Cute.”

Namjoon really hoped his hyung would pass out or leave or something before he had to threaten murder for all the bear puns.

Thankfully, Jimin came to drag him off because of something or other that Jin needed to see or experience or something.

She was shaking her head, meeting Namjoon’s gaze again. “Sorry, I just had to see how punny he gets when he’s drunk.”

“It’s okay,” He said, finding that he was grinning still. “Um, so…uh….”

“You’re majoring in music production and philosophy, right?” She asked, smoothing over his stutters like they never happened.

He needed a stronger drink if he was going to continue looking at how cute she was. She was a bear, for pete’s sake. A cute bear, with cute ears, and a cute tail, and her makeup was just so…cute! “Yeah, yes, yes.”

She nodded slowly, seeming a little more amused. “So, do you not talk to women often?”

“I do, really, um,” He cleared his throat and glanced around, “It’s just….”

“Just?” She prompted, cutely confused.

God, he needed a different descriptor. But his mind seemed stuck on how adorable she was. Oh.

“Just…that…um…do you…know anything about…hybrid’s mates?” He finally ventured to ask, nervous about how she would react.

She looked thoughtful. “Yeah, they can tell by scent alone most of the time. Jin talks about it. Why? Is yours here?!” She looked excited for him.

He found himself nodding, despite knowing that he actually needed to verbalize his answer and tell her it was her.

“That’s awesome! Who?!” She was grinning, hands tucked into the adorable bear paws at the ends of her sleeves. Her eyes sparkled in the lights all around the party. Her eyeliner was different on each eye, just slightly, but still different.

Namjoon swallowed hard, looking over the face of his…maybe-mate. “Um…well…it’s kind of….”

Her smile faded with concern, head tilting adorably. “Namjoon-ssi? What’s wrong?”

He looked away, toward his friends, who were drunkenly dancing with each other, then back to her.

She looked worried about him. “Do you need some water? I’ll go get you some water.” She hurried toward the kitchen and he didn’t have it in him to object.

He groaned softly to himself, a little growl to the groan as well. He turned and waved down Seokjin, who hurried over looking worried.

“What’s wrong?” Jin asked, looking more sober now.

“Hyung, I can’t tell her! We need to leave!”

“Whoa, tell who what? Y/n?”

“Yes, y/n,” Namjoon replied partially, dropping his head to the elder’s shoulder. “She’s my mate, hyung. I knew it the moment I smelled her, but it isn’t the same for humans. And she’s so damn adorable that I can’t even get a complete sentence out! Please can we leave?”

The wolf-hybrid sighed, carefully petting Namjoon’s head. “If that’s what you really want,” He finally replied quietly.

“Hey, here’s that water,” Y/n said as she came back with a cup of water.

Namjoon forced a smile, taking it and sipping. “Uh, we’re gonna go. I’m…I’m not feeling too well.”

“Oh, okay. Feel better,” She said, her gaze drifting to the food table in worry. “Oh god, I hope it wasn’t the food.”

“No! It wasn’t your food, at least,” Namjoon quickly said, unable to handle seeing her somewhat distressed.

She seemed somewhat relieved. “Alright, well, I hope you feel better, Namjoon-ssi. Seokjin-oppa, do you want me to round up your friends?”

Jin nodded. “I’m going to take Joonie outside.”

She nodded again, waving to Namjoon before heading toward the dance floor and pulling aside Taehyung.

Namjoon couldn’t tear his gaze away until she was out of sight and he was outside, gulping in the crisp night air.

Jin was stroking his hair comfortingly. “It’s okay, Joon-ah. At least now that you know, you can slowly introduce yourself into her life. It’ll be okay.”

Namjoon just let out a distressed sound, letting the older wrap him in a hug.

Yoongi was the first to come out. “What happened? That was the least stressful party yet?” He muttered, obviously drunk.

“Namjoon isn’t feeling well. Where are the others?”

“They’re coming. Jungkook was trying to get someone’s number. Why didn’t you tell us that your friend was so cute, hyung? And how come we haven’t met her before today?” Hoseok asked, grinning as he leaned on Yoongi.

Namjoon heard his teeth clacking before he could register that he was going to do it, and intermittently letting out low moans of distress.

Seokjin quickly pulled Namjoon back to him, rubbing his head. “Shush, Hope-ah. Namjoon’s not well.”

“Sorry, hyung, we tried to rush Jungkook, but you know how he is,” Taehyung chirped as he skipped out.

Jimin was behind Jungkook, making sure the youngest didn’t turn back.

Namjoon squeezed his eyes shut.

“Fine. Let’s get Joon back to the house before he has a meltdown,” Jin said, looking to Yoongi for support.

Yoongi nodded. “Come on, brats. All or none, right? You can watch a movie and stuff yourselves on the Halloween candy I got.”

“Yay!” Taehyung cheered, hopping and then skipping along.

Namjoon felt worse. Making his friends leave the party just because he was a coward.

Jin didn’t leave his side for long. It was sort of a pact they’d made since they were the only hybrids in their group. They stuck with each other. Normally, it was Namjoon helping the elder since Jin was more emotional and tended to get himself hurt more. Overworked himself.

The others helped too, but having another hybrid help when distressed was definitely more comforting. They knew the ticks and tricks to help the other through whatever issue was there.

Which was how Namjoon ended up spending the night beside Jin, getting pets and comfort until he fell asleep.

The next day was actually Halloween.

“Man, am I feeling last night,” Yoongi grumbled, mostly to himself at the dining-table as Namjoon sat down.

“Hyung, how are you so chipper?” Taehyung asked, watching Jin make an omelet while humming.

“I’m a responsible drinker,” Jin replied cheerily.

“Feeling better, Namjoon-hyung?” Jimin asked, smiling at him tiredly.

“Yeah, how are you?” Hoseok asked, finally looking awake after half-an-hour of sitting at the table.

Namjoon let his gaze drop to the table. “Oh. I’m…much better.”

It was quiet following his answer.

“Just tell them, Namjoon-ah. I’ll make sure they don’t tease you, or push you, or anything else,” The wolf-hybrid said, a slight threatening growl as he obviously addressed each of those things to the others at the table. He put the rolled omelet on the table, making sure Namjoon got part of it before it was scarfed down by the ravenous boys.

Namjoon took a couple bites, trying to gather his scattered thoughts, and courage. “Um…I found my mate last night.”

Everything went still again, some stopped chewing, chopsticks froze in midair, he wasn’t even sure they were breathing.

“That’s…a good thing…right?” Jungkook asked, sounding uncertain.

Namjoon slowly nodded.

“Then…what happened? Is she dating someone else?” Yoongi asked, sounding confused.

“Who?” Hoseok asked, sounding cheerful and happy.

“Y/n,” Namjoon murmured, setting his chopsticks aside, not looking at the others.

It was quiet again, but not as quiet as before.

“She seemed really nice?” Taehyung sounded bewildered.

“And she’s hot,” Jimin added, helpfully.

Namjoon just nodded. “She’s adorable.”

He could feel their confusion in the air.

“Finding your mate is a big thing,” Jin finally broke the silence. “But it’s a very hybrid thing. Knowing our mate by smell alone is something that can be hard for humans to understand and can lead to rejection, which is even harder for us.”

They were still quiet, which was unnerving.

“I’m a coward, okay?” Namjoon snapped, standing up. “I couldn’t tell her. I chickened out and I begged for us to leave while she went to get me water because she thought I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Hyung, it’s okay to be scared,” Jimin said softly.

Namjoon just clacked his teeth and quickly left, feeling like he was losing control again.

Jin followed. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Namjoon just moaned in distress again, pacing a little before letting the other hug him again, scenting him a little.

“It’ll be okay. They get it, Namjoon. Really, they do. I promise,” The older whispered into his ear.

Another set of arms wrapped around Namjoon, and he could smell Jimin already.

Tae was nearby, probably about to—

And there was a third set of arms around him.

Hoseok quickly joined, pulling Yoongi and Jungkook in as well.

Then the doorbell rang.

He peeked out as Jungkook went to peek out the window.

“Uh, it’s y/n,” He called back.

Namjoon groaned, burying his face in Jin’s shoulder. “I don’t exist. Kill me now.”

“As warm as bear fur is, you don’t even have enough to make a decent hat. Let her in, Jungkookie.” Hoseok disbanded the hug easily, pulling Namjoon away from Jin and quickly flattening the crazy bed-head.

“Morning, sorry to drop by so early, but I wanted to get the lights back to you,” Y/n said, addressing the last part to Jin as she let Jungkook take the box she had with her. “I also brought that taco-dip I owed you. Freshly made, don’t worry.”

Jin grinned. “You’re the best. Did you get everything cleaned up?”

“Better than most of the other houses did, apparently. I actually got to go to bed with a clean house. Namjoon-ssi, are you feeling better?” She asked.

Namjoon swallowed hard, hoping she hadn’t noticed him staring. Even out of costume and with barely any makeup she was adorable. Breathtaking. She was wearing an oversized sweater, jeans, and converse highs. Her hair was a little messy, maybe windswept.

Yoongi jabbed him in the back.

“Uh, yeah, a little.”

She didn’t quite look like she believed him. “Okay, good.” She glanced away from him, and then looked to Jin. “I’ll get out of your hair then.”

“Wait! Uh, we’re doing a scary movie marathon tonight if you want to come,” Hoseok quickly said, grinning at her. “Just bring a dish to share.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude—”

“No way, you’re more than welcome!” Tae followed up cheerfully. “We’re having korean barbecue!”

She hesitated. “Well….”

“Please? You hosted us, it’s only fair that we return the favor,” Jimin pleaded softly, voice saccharine and face angelic.

Namjoon could kill them all.

“Um, okay, if you insist,” She replied, seeming a little reluctant still.

“We do,” Jungkook delivered the last blow with a grin that Namjoon couldn’t wait to wipe off his face.

She nodded. “Okay, I’ll try to bring something yummy. Just, nothing too scary?”

“With Hobi-hyung in the house? I wish,” Taehyung folded his arms.

Hoseok gave her a sheepish smile. “I can’t do too-scary movies. They’re mostly Halloween-themed movies.”

She looked relieved, and Namjoon wished he’d been the one to put that expression on her face. “Oh, good. I was afraid I’d be hiding behind a pillow the whole time.”

“Nope! You’re in good company here! And don’t worry about a costume, either. We’re going super cas, and some of us will probably be in pajamas.” Jin finally added himself to the conversation with an apologetic look in Namjoon’s direction.

She nodded, gaze flicking to Namjoon for the briefest of seconds. “Okay. I’ll see you all tonight, then.”

“Yup, see you,” Jin said as he saw her out.

Namjoon glared at Hoseok. “What was that?”

“It’s called getting you more time with her,” Hoseok answered calmly. “You want her to be okay when you tell her, maybe getting to know her and spending time with her is the—I don’t know—logical first step?”

“Don’t antagonize him, hyung,” Jimin said softly. “It’s okay to be scared, but you’re sending her the wrong messages right now. You’re making her think you don’t like her at all. That’s why she wanted to refuse. You’re lucky we’re persistent and you’re totally sitting next to her tonight.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? She thought I didn’t like her?”

“Well, you’re not the best liar in the world,” Jin said weakly. “And I do recall us making some…pretty bad bear-related puns last night. She probably thinks she offended you somehow.”

Namjoon groaned and flopped onto the couch. “Did you see how gorgeous and adorable she was? I was staring and I thought she caught me, I panicked!”

“Hyung, I think you’re making this harder than it has to be,” Taehyung said. “I think Y/n would understand.”

“Guess we’ll find out, depending on how tonight goes,” Yoongi said dryly. “We better clean the house. Especially the bathrooms. I heard girls are fussy about bathrooms.”

“With our movie lineup, it’ll be pretty late, one of us will have to either walk her home and let her stay in one of our rooms so she’s not walking home at such a late hour,” Hoseok said thoughtfully.

“I’ll make sure my room is clean, just in case she stays that late,” Jin replied softly. “I know her best, so if she stays, then she’ll be the most comfortable with taking my room and my room has a lock on the door.”

The others were staring at him suddenly.

He coughed awkwardly to get rid of the growl. “Sorry.”

Jin just looked amused. “The point being that she can make sure no one touches her. Even if she finds out about you being her mate tonight, she’s not likely to sleep with you. Even in a platonic way. I know she’d feel safer having a door that locks between her and others. Alright, Yoongi, off to the store with Jungkookie. Taehyung-ah, go study for your test on monday.”

“Aw, hyung,” His face screwed up as he complained.

“I’ll help you, Taehyung-ah,” Namjoon said quietly, tugging on Seokjin’s sweatshirt in aggravation.

Jin rolled his eyes, taking it off and putting it over Namjoon’s head. “I’ve got to get cleaning. Hobi?”

“I’ll start on the bathrooms, hyung,” The other said cheerfully.

Namjoon shoved his arms through the sleeves, keeping the hood up so that the smell was close. He normally wouldn’t be so insistent about scents. He really needed to get over this.

By the time the evening rolled around, Namjoon was jumpier than the bunny hybrid in his math class when hopped up on enough caffiene for three people.

Jin snarled at him after he dropped a dish, the glass shattering all over the floor.

Jimin managed to hop up on the counters and slide away from the mess, but Jin was trapped.

Yoongi gave Taehyung a broom and started vacuuming under the cupboards after tossing a small dustpan and broom to Jin.

Hoseok pulled Namjoon away from the kitchen by the hood of the Jin’s sweatshirt. “Best stay out of the way, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon groaned. “I didn’t mean to break it.”

“It’s okay. He didn’t mean to snarl at you. It just surprised him, and some of the glass might have hurt him.”

“I’m pathetic,” Namjoon protested.

“You’re not pathetic, hyung,” Jimin said, wrapping around Namjoon. “You’re just out of your element.”

“And shy,” Hoseok added, eyebrow arching with a smile. “It’s okay, Namjoon. But maybe don’t wear Jin’s sweatshirt while Y/n is over. She might think that Jin is your mate and you freaked because of that.”

Namjoon groaned, but was hesitant to pull the sweatshirt off. “But…it’s….”

“Mine, now give it,” Jin ordered, limping over to them. “It doesn’t even smell like me anymore, I bet.”

“It does,” Namjoon pouted a little, not wanting to give up the security sweatshirt.

Jin forcefully pulled it off, then froze, listening. “She’s here. Go change into your blue shirt, Namjoon. The loose one. Jimin, get the door.”

Namjoon was frozen, but Hoseok quickly pushed him along to his bedroom, pulling the shirt Jin had said to wear.

“Come on. It’s okay. We’re just watching movies and eating food. No big deal.”

“She’s my mate,” Namjoon whispered. “My beautiful, adorable mate, that I can’t make conversation with. And don’t think I’ve forgotton your tone last night when you were talking about her.”

Hoseok smirked. “And if I flirt with her, what are you going to do? Growl at us?”

Namjoon looked away. “Don’t be a jerk.”

“Then talk to her or I will. Or worse.”

“Worse?”

“Worse, Taehyung will. He was talking about how hot she was last night, you know.” Hoseok leaned against the door. “Jin will make sure you’re sitting next to her, but you’ll have to make sure you keep that seat.”

Namjoon growled a little playfully, finally able to discern the teasing in his friend’s voice. “Come on. Just, try to help me relax?”

Hoseok nodded, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “You got it.”

Y/n looked adorably comfortable, curled up in the corner of the couch and laughing at the conversation between Jimin and Taehyung—the latter of which apparently committed some sort of treason against his best-friend.

Jungkook plopped next to her. “So, are you dating?”

“Which answer will get you to give me some space?” She asked back, good natured in tone, and smiling, but eying the lack of space between them.

Jin was laughing at Jungkook’s stunned expression. “Find somewhere else to sit, Jungkookie. You know Namjoonie is sitting in the middle.”

“Oh, should I move?” Y/n asked, suddenly looking uncertain.

“No, just Jungkook,” Hoseok answered, patting her head.

She looked unsettled by that gesture, but soon shook it off and waved at Namjoon with a small smile.

He managed to smile back. “Hey. How was your day?”

“Good, really good. Yours?”

“Yeah, good,” He answered, but winced afterwords. It sounded as awkward as he felt. “I was helping Taehyung study for his test and was a major klutz, but good.”

“Yeah, the dish, Jin told me about that. It happens.” She shrugged, looking a little more comfortable. “I already told him not to worry about it, too.”

“Wait…what?” He looked between the two, noting the slew of bandaids on Jin’s propped up foot, and feeling bad.

“It was one of my dishes. We exchange food once or twice a week, so we usually end up with each other’s dishes. We usually just give them back with food in them instead of making a special trip. But like I told Jin, it was two dollars at the resale shop. I’m just glad no one was hurt—well, not badly anyway.” She shrugged.

Namjoon eyed the headband she was wearing that had bear ears. “Um…nice headband.”

She looked confused while the other boys snickered, her hand reaching up and feeling along the headband till she reached the first ear.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I forgot my roommate put that on my head.”

“No! It’s cute! Really, I don’t mind!” Namjoon quickly said, holding his hands out, wanting to stop her from taking it off but not daring to touch her.

Her gaze darted between him and the others, uncertainty completely plain on her face.

He let his gaze and hands drop. “It’s really, fucking adorable.”

When he got the courage to glance at her face again, she was staring at him with wide eyes.

“Oh,” She breathed out. “Oh! I’m…because you…me….”

“And you call yourself an actress,” Jin muttered, obviously joking.

She chucked a pillow at him without looking, gaze still fixed on Namjoon—who didn’t dare look away. “I’m your…mate….”

He nodded slowly, clenching his jaw so that his teeth wouldn’t clack.

“But then, why did you hide it? Did I do something wrong?”

He shook his head, still struggling with words.

“Did you think I would reject you?” She asked gently. “I know there are a lot of people who aren’t open-minded about that.”

He hesitated, then nodded once.

“Well, I wouldn’t have. I’m not. I understand how hard rejection can be.”

“It’s scary,” Namjoon whispered, studying her face. She was wearing a little more makeup than she had been when she was there earlier in the day, but less than last night.

She giggled. “Beary scary.”

He choked on a laugh. “Okay, but there’s a limit to the puns.”

“Sorry, last one.”

He looked at her curiously.

She shifted so she was sitting on her feet and facing him on the couch. Her smile was gorgeous, and the way she was looking at him happily was seriously breathtaking. “I would beary much like to get to know you, at least.”

He felt himself grin. “I’d like that too.”

Masterlist

#halloween story madness #halloween story #hybrid!au #hybrid!namjoon #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #hybrid!seokjin #min yoongi #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #Jung HoSeok #namjoon x reader

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lucidpantone · 4 years

Text

The Almanac: Visitations Chap 2 pt. 2

This is the first time you see them. The butterflies.

Ask yourself, what is the lifecycle of a butterfly?

Egg → Caterpillar → Chrysalis → rebirth/reemergence into the world in a new skin.

What is the theme of Visitations Life → Death → Rebirth. What do humans do to butterflies when they die? We encase them like some prehistoric jewels and put them on display and suspend them in time. To when they were at their most aesthetically pleasing. Think about this theme and it will help you understand the end.

We find out a little about Sander’s state of mind the night of Chernobyl. He admits that he was selfish but I also think though he may not say it directly he was resentful of Robbe. Resentful that he became aware of himself, his looks, his physical draw and that was something Sander had always seen in Robbe but it stopped being their private secret. It became available to everyone.

Also we begin to pose a question we will circle back to in Chapter 4. Did Sander deserve Robbe’s punishment for the Chernobyl event? Robbe and Sander were not together. He did not cheat on Robbe. Do I think the whole night was in poor taste? Of course, but did Robbe take the punishment too far. Did his ego ultimately come between them because he felt embarrassed by Sander behavior that night? The fic attempts to answer this for you but ultimately you should decide how you would have reacted in this moment.

Big clue to the ending: What is going in the empty space over Sander’s heart? FYI by the time you read about the empty space you have already seen what is going in the empty space at least once. So somewhere in chap ½ the clue of what is going in the space is hidden.

August 15th timeline: I am not sure if you guys have figured it out but this fic is going to end at a specific time on August 15th. They are clues pointing to what time it will end specifically but I start dropping hints and intentional timestamps from here onwards.

Another ending clue: Pay attention to what am showing you versus what you are reading. What actions are taking place specifically with Sander. What is he always doing? Also, The watch is on Sander and time is moving forward. Robbe tells Sander to “come” in this scene when Sander tries to get on Robbe to jump on his back. Robbe carries Sander on his back instead(what am I telling you here?). Sander puts his head on Robbe’s first tattoo….(again what am I showing you here)? Think about it.

-----------------------------------------India------------------------------

Do you like love stories? (This question is asked to Robbe for a specific reason)

“So, originally humans had two faces, four arms, four legs, and they were happy like that. Complete.Then we defied the gods. So the gods split us in two as punishment. And by doing so they tore us away from our other half. And each of us, when separated, are always looking for our other half because that's our nature.”

This my friends is a foretelling.

The India flashback shows us how deeply in love these two were (not to be confused with are). Sander dedicated so many parts of his body to Robbe. The necklace, his hands, the black wedding band, R/S initials on his wrist.

This phrase is used in the India memory to describe Sander's passion for design: The kind of designs that require a commitment. The shit that was needle to bone. The shit that fucking hurt (then its used again to describe Sander & Robbe’s love for one another). Ponder that.

Tiny add-on: When Robbe and Sander go to meet Mama Riddhi they pass Vishnu the God of Protection.

Lastly the “drop”. If Visitations was a rollercoaster then the last four lines to chapter 2 are the drop. Except they are also a little bit of a false set up because up until this point you’re assuming that the break up had to be Sander’s fault but that's intentional of course because I want you to trust Robbe because then it gives the reader(you) a false sense of safety like Robbe is going to be a reliable narrator, but he isn’t, quite the opposite actually.

**Someone mentioned that the memories end with similar words in which they begin. That is intentional; it is meant to convey the concept of memories blurring into one another. The idea of losing track of time.**

#wtfock #wtfam #wtfock fanfic

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

Text

A Permanent Deal

John Deacon x Reader

Warnings: None, just pure domestic Deaky fluff!

Preview: “Right, just promise me this isn’t going to become the new look for the band alright? I mean, Brian’s got enough hair already, and I’m not entirely sure Roger can even grow facial hair.” John shrugs.

“I don’t have that much hair.”

“Bri, we could shave you and have your hair turned into costumes for the entire cast of cats!”

The smell of chemicals filled John’s nose as he sat in a salon chair, a black smock draped over his shoulders and fastened securely at his neck. There was a brunette hair dresser stood behind him, attacking his hair with said chemicals, and Roger was sitting in the chair beside him, flipping through a cheap gossip magazine, occasionally grunting as he read an article. “It says here, that Brian is the most marriable…. And that I’m the most likely to die alone?!” Roger screeches, causing John to smirk. A hard tug at his hair quickly replaces the look with a frown though, as he curses the hairdresser under his breath.

“Why do you insist on reading articles about yourself? You know it’s all rubbish, right?” He sighs, watching Roger in the large mirror hanging before him. “What does it say about me? He asks, unable to keep his interest under wraps, these articles always made him laugh, because of their sheer stupidity.

Roger scans over the article quickly, before finding John’s name on the glossy paper, “Apparently you’re the most likely to have multiple girlfriends and never settle down.” He shrugs, wrinkling his nose at the words.

“Hm, well now that’s interesting. I’m sure (Y/N) and the kids would love to hear that.” John muses, as he watches his reflection, his hair being twisted up upon his scalp. “How do you think I should break the news that I have other women in my life? I could hire a skywriter?”

Roger scowls at him, placing the magazine down on his lap forcefully. “Deaky, I’m pretty sure that after you come home with a perm today, (Y/N) and your spawn won’t be at all surprised by anything that you say or do.”

John can’t help but nod in agreement, which causes the hairdresser to pull his hair harshly, to cease his movements. “She’s actually going to kill me when she sees this.” He sighs, drumming his long, calloused fingers against his jeans. Roger purses his lips as he mulls over his words, before nodding in agreement, and sign which doesn’t ease John’s nerves in the slightest.

“Excuse me Jane, your two o’clock is here.” Says a quiet voice of a blonde woman, who had suddenly appeared behind John’s stylist. She hums her acknowledgement, before turning towards the other woman.

“I’ll need you to finish Mr Deacon for me please, I don’t want to keep Mrs Gatten waiting.” The stylist, Jane, places her utensils down on her trolley, then looks back to John. “I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Lisa, she’ll get you all finished.” She smiles, before leaving for her next appointment.

Lisa sets up behind him, donning gloves to protect her skin from the chemicals that were required to perm John’s hair. She smiles happily at him, then turns her attention to Roger, biting her lip when he catches her eye, a blush flooding her cheeks rapidly. John rolls his eyes at the exchange, even married, Roger is still a flirt! “If you don’t mind me asking, why a perm? Out of all the styles you could’ve chosen, what made you pick this one?” Lisa asks gently, as she makes quick work of John’s hair.

“There was a bet.” John begins, before being interrupted by Roger. “Which he lost!” “Yes, thank you Rog. There was a bet, that I lost, and Roger decided that for my loss, I had to get a hair style of his choosing, and this is it.” He sighs, gesturing up to his half-permed head, a look of pure annoyance gracing his features.

“I would love to hear about the bet!” Lisa grins, focusing entirely on Roger, awaiting his explanation. He carefully folds the magazine, placing it down in the rack beside him, keeping the young woman in suspense.

**********************************************************************************

There was a deafening silence which had overtaken the usually bustling recording studio, which was shattered like glass when Brian coughed, causing everyone to be awoken from their trance like state. No one knew what to say, how could you possibly react to something like, like THAT? It was simple, John decided, you couldn’t. He would simply ignore the elephant in the room, that was the only thing for it.

Brian however, had other ideas entirely. “Freddie, you seem to have a caterpillar on your lip…” He chuckles, though even Brian can’t hide his surprise at the new look. It wasn’t objectionable per say, just highly unexpected.

“Well darlings, I figured it was time for a new look, and besides, I find I look rather dashing this way.” Freddie grins, his pearly white teeth showing as a sharp contrast between the dark bush of his moustache.

“Right, just promise me this isn’t going to become the new look for the band alright? I mean, Brian’s got enough hair already, and I’m not entirely sure Roger can even grow facial hair.” John shrugs, dodging with expert timing as Roger throws one of his drum sticks at his head. Freddie laughs joyfully at the exchange, while Brian folds his arms across his chest, blowing a stray curl away from his eyes.

“I don’t have that much hair.” Brian mutters, causing Freddie to fall into fits of laughter, practically rolling on the floor.

“Bri, we could shave you and have your hair turned into costumes for the entire cast of cats!” John smirks, as he picks up Roger’s thrown drum stick, twirling it between his fingers, as Roger had shown him years before. There’s a moment where it looks as if Brian was about to argue, though he quickly thinks better of doing so and turns back to his guitar, plucking at the strings aimlessly.

Roger looks across at John, his eyes trained on the drumstick held in his right hand, glaring slightly. John lifts his eyebrow in challenge back at the blonde man, “You can have it back, if you apologise for throwing it.” He smirks.

“I don’t have anything to apologies for! You’re the one who insulted me!” Roger cries out dramatically. John looks away, and catches Freddie rolling his eyes at the child like response.

“Children, please. Deaky, please return Roger’s drumstick, I would hate for him to start playing the bongos on this new track.” Freddie sighs, strolling his way over to the drum kit where the two men stood.

Begrudgingly, John hands Roger back the drumstick, both refusing to make eye contact. This was a frequent occurrence, with both men being far too stubborn for their own good. “Excellent, and now that the band is properly equipped again, we can record!” Freddie claps excitedly, rather like a school teacher who wanted the classes attention.

Freddie was the last to record for the new track, the bass, drums and guitar all having been laid down the previous few days, all that was required now were Freddie and Roger’s vocals to complete the track. As Freddie sang his heart out, the others gathered in the sound booth, watching him through the window, grinning as he hit every note perfectly. “So, what do we think of the moustache?” John asks quietly, as the recording technicians work their magic.

“I can’t lie, it’s starting to grow on me. I’m thinking that maybe I should grow a beard?” Roger chuckles, as Brian shoves his shoulder playfully, a wide grin spread across his lips.

“I suppose it isn’t one of his best looks, but he seems to love it…” Brian shrugs, as he lopes over to the well-worn couch at the back of the room, settling himself down on the green cushions.

John nods his agreement, turning his attention back to Freddie as the song comes to an end. “He always stands so close to the mic, I’m genuinely surprised he hasn’t eaten the thing yet.” Roger laughs deeply, gasping for breath just as Freddie enters the room, who casts a curious look at the gasping drummer.

“Roger darling, if you’re going to die, please do it quietly.” Freddie sighs, as he strides towards the sound desk, awaiting the playback to begin. One of the technicians starts the vocals, the booming voice of Mr Mercury pumping through the speakers. There’s an odd sound to the vocals however, a strange almost brushing noise sweeping across the mic. “What on earth is that?”

The band collectively turns their attention towards the technician. “I’m sorry Fred, but I think you were too close to the mic, and you kept brushing your moustache against it. We’re going to have to rerecord, this time with you a bit further away.”

Freddie looks shocked, and John is stuck between wanting to comfort his friend or laugh at his expense. Roger has already opted for the laugh option, while Brian seems to be facing the same decision as himself. John reaches a hand out, ready to place it upon Freddie’s shoulder, but just as he’s about to make contact, Freddie steps away, stomping back into the recording studio. “Well? Let’s bloody well do it darlings!” He calls.

John leans against the arm of the sofa where Brian had made himself comfortable, his long legs taking up the entire seat, leaving no room for anyone else. Roger doesn’t seem to find this an issue however, and promptly sits himself down atop Brian’s calves despite his protests. “Oh shut up will you Brian, I’m not that fucking heavy!” Roger grumbles, as he turns to John, taping him on the shoulder to get his attention. “So, about that moustache…”

“I’d be bloody surprised if it lasts a year at this rate! Especially if he has to keep rerecording everything because he can’t step back from the microphone!” John exclaims, gesturing wildly to the angry looking Freddie in the recording studio.

Roger’s eyes light up with glee, as he removes his ever-present sunglasses from his head, tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. “Wanna make a bet?”

John lifts an eyebrow down at the drummer, pursing his lips as he considers the offer, on the one hand, making bets with Roger could end in tears, though on the other hand, John felt he knew Freddie well enough to know the moustache wouldn’t be around for long. “You’re on. Winner gets to pick a new style for the loser.” He smirks, as their hands meet and shake twice. This was going to be good.

Roger grinned wickedly as their hands parted, Brian shaking his head softly at the look. “Deaky, you’re going to regret this I fear.” He sighed, as he opened the latest newspaper he could find, even that was a few weeks old though, flipping through the pages absent mindedly. John frowned slightly at Brian, he knew Freddie, this was just a phase, it wouldn’t last!

“I’d be bloody surprised if it lasts a year!” Was the phone call John had awoken to this morning, he was sure if he could see Roger, that he would be wearing a shit eating grin on the other end of the phone. He had been having a well needed sleep in, his arms wrapped securely around (Y/N)’s waist, her hair tickling his chin as she slept soundly in his embrace. Though now they were both wide awake, thanks to Roger’s phone call. Upon hearing the drummers voice on the line, John had promptly slammed the receiver down, cutting the conversation short, however he knew it wouldn’t be long before Roger either tried to call back, or better yet, showed up on John’s doorstep and forcefully dragged him out of the house.

A shrill cry from their young baby echoed through the house, causing both John and (Y/N) to grow more alert, as wakefulness overtook them. “Bloody Roger, I’ll kill him one day.” John hissed, as he rolled out of the duvet, shuffling his feet against the soft carpet, before pushing himself into a standing position. You rolled over onto your other side, watching as your husband stretched his arms above his head, exposing his midriff in the process.

“What did he want anyways? It’s unusual for someone as nocturnal as him to be conscious at this hour.” You laugh tiredly, sitting up against the headboard, pulling the sheet up to your chest to keep you warm. You recalled John mentioning something about being out with Roger today, though the details were fuzzy.

John turns back to look at you, a nervous smile tugging on his lips. “Just got some band stuff to do is all, he said he’d drive for a change. I guess he just wanted to see if I was awake yet?” He shrugged, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There was no real reason as to why he couldn’t tell you what he was doing, it was more the fact that he was too nervous to, you had always loved running your fingers through his hair, but with a perm, John feared those days may be over. “I’ll go and check on Joshua, see if it’s just the phone that woke him or something else.” John smiles, before leaving to go check on your young son.

You lack the energy to get out of bed and get moving for the day, however when your daughter Laura comes bouncing onto your bed, you find yourself eager to spend the day with her. “Come here you!” You laugh, as you wrap your arms around her torso, pulling her against your chest. She squeals as you do so, kicking her little legs as she flops against you.

“Can I help you make breakfast pretty please mommy?” Laura pleads, batting her long lashes up at you. You have no idea how she mastered that look, but you had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with her Uncle Roger.

You pretend to think over her request for a few moments, tapping your index finger to your chin. “Well, I suppose so.” You smile, as she launches herself off the bed, in a similar style to how she had arrived. Laura sings loudly as she skips out of your bedroom, and into the kitchen, knowing you wouldn’t be too far behind. Sliding out of bed, you wrap your nightgown around yourself, padding into the kitchen where your daughter was helping herself to a spoonful of peanut butter, she was definitely yours. You lift an eyebrow at her as you watch her clean off the spoon, carefully replacing the jar in the pantry, a cheeky grin on her round face. “We’ll pretend I didn’t see you do that, okay?”

Laura chuckles softly, following behind you as you move around the kitchen, collecting the necessary ingredients for pancakes. You would try and make them a little bit healthy, by adding on some fresh berries, though you knew both John and Laura would pick them off, opting for syrup instead. “Joshy!” Laura squeals, jumping up and down on the spot as John walks in carrying your son in his arms, using one hand to press his pacifier against his lips. The moment Joshua had been born, Laura had taken to him, spending as much time as humanly possible by his side. It was a lovely sight, though you did wonder how things would change as they grew older.

“Hey now, I thought you were helping me? How else am I supposed to transfer the pancakes when they’re cooked, without my little spatula holder?” You pout, watching the conflict cross Laura’s face. To stay with her brother, or help cook? That is the question.

“Go on, go help your mum. Josh will be right here when you’re finished.” John smiles, tilting his head in your direction for Laura to follow. Somewhat reluctantly, she returns to your side, though a large grin soon spreads over her face when you hand her back her prized spatula. She was far too young to help with the actual cooking, so instead Laura was given the very important task of moving each pancake from a plate you put them on, onto a plate for each individual person. Standing beside you, she wore the most serious face she could muster, holding her spatula in a death grip, waiting for the first pancake to be ready.

John moved around behind you in the dining room, strapping Josh into his high chair, and tying a bib around his neck. He was at the stage now, where he would eat bits and pieces of adult food, so long as they were soft, and in tiny pieces. Pancakes where one of his favourites, though even with nothing on them, he still managed to make a mess all over the place, making the bib more or less just for decoration. After getting Josh settled in his high chair, John headed back into the kitchen, to retrieve the maple syrup, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he passed you. His morning stubble scratched your face gently, causing you to scrunch up your face in protest. “Don’t worry. I’ll shave after breakfast.” He chuckled deeply, moving back into the dining room to keep Josh entertained.

It only took another fifteen minutes before all the batter had been turned into perfectly golden pancakes, with three on Laura’s plate, one on Josh’s, and the rest split between yourself and John. As you had predicted, the bowl of berries went mostly untouched, that was until you dumped a spoonful onto Laura’s plate, much to her distaste. Just as she’s about to protest, the front door bursts wide open, revealing a grinning Roger Taylor. “Morning Deaky, (Y/N)…”

“Uncle Roggie!” Laura screams, jumping out of her chair, and darting over to the blonde man before he can greet her. She wraps her arms around his legs, clinging to his jeans for dear life, as he leans down to pick her up, spinning her around in circles.

“Spawn of Deacon!” He chuckles, as your daughter laughs merrily, despite her growing dizziness.

“Careful there Rog, if you don’t stop spinning her, we’ll need to get out a mop.” You warn gently, feeding Josh a small bite of his pancake, grinning as he claps his pudgy hands together. John leans his chin against your shoulder, both watching your son with fond smiles.

Roger places Laura back on her feet, she grips his hand tightly as she attempts to stand still on the spot, waiting for the world to stop spinning around her. “Fair point, I’d rather not clean today thanks.” He shrugs, as he follows Laura further into the house, and into the dining room, stealing a pancake off of John’s plate.

“Um, excuse me? You break into my house, try to kidnap my daughter, then steal my food!” John grumbles, glaring at his bandmate as he bites into the stolen pancake.

“I didn’t break in, you gave me a key remember!” “A key that is only supposed to be used in emergencies!” John fights back, watching you from the corner of his eye. He could see you struggling not to laugh, your lower lip pressed between your teeth to fight against the smile threatening your features.

Roger rolls his eyes, licking the syrup off his fingers, before focusing intently on John. “This is an emergency Deaky, we have a deadline to meet remember?”

John wants to kill him, surely it wouldn’t be that hard to find a new drummer for Queen? “Roger, it’s our one day off before we’re back in the studio. Can’t you let me enjoy breakfast with my family? Just for ten minutes?”

The blonde considers his request for a moment, and for a split second, John thinks that maybe he’ll leave them be for a little while. “Nah mate, we’ve got places to be, people to see, and all that jazz.” Roger smirks, as he scoops a handful of berries into his palm. Laura watching him in fascination the entire time, she too leans across to scoop some berries into her own hand, though stops when you grab the spoon from her. It was rather frightening how much she idolised her Uncle Roger.

“Why don’t you just take the bloody bowl with you?” You muttered under your breath, it was just loud enough for Roger to hear however, and with a wink, he picks up the bowl, and walks to the front door with it.

“I’ll meet you at the car! Thanks for the bowl (Y/N)!” He yells, throwing a raspberry into the air, tilting his head back, then catching it in his mouth. “Bye spawn of Deacon!” He waves at Laura and Josh, your daughter waving back frantically.

John pushes himself away from the table, buttoning up a few buttons on his shirt, leaving the top few undone. “Sorry, it looks like I have to go now.” He sighs, leaning down and pressing soft kisses to your children’s cheeks. He kisses your lips gently, lingering slightly, both of you reluctant to part ways. The sound of Roger blasting his horn on the street is enough to make you part, both sighing deeply.

“Please make sure you get that bowl back. We’re down to five as it is, I really don’t want to go and get more just because Roger decided he wanted to keep one.”

“I’ll see what I can do, though I can’t make any promises.” John grins, pecking your lips once more, before leaving your home, heading out to Roger’s car, and sliding into the passenger seat. Roger was staring straight ahead, making no sign that he was aware of John’s presence. “(Y/N) Wants her bowl back.” Is all he says, causing Roger to break out into a grin.

“I love the fact that I steal her husband at nine in the morning, and all she’s worried about is a bloody bowl!” He howls with laughter, as he pulls out into the street, travelling down a route John was unfamiliar with. “What if I was about to murder you? Bet she would feel pretty bad about her last words to you being about a bowl.”

“I’m pretty sure she knows us well enough, to know that if you were going to murder me, you would do it on stage in front of millions of people, just so you could get your face on the front page one last time.” John shrugged, tapping his foot along to the beat of the music playing on the radio.

Roger remains silent for a few moments, mulling over John’s words. “You’re right, she does know us well.” He finally admits, before pulling up in front of a hair salon. “Alright then Deaky, time to get you looking beautiful!” Climbing out of the car, John swallows deeply as he looks at the images plastered on the windows of the salon. Women with brightly coloured hair, in varying degrees of length, pout on the posters, all advertising a product that could make you too look just like them. “Let’s go!”

**********************************************************************************

“And that’s how we ended up here.” Finishes Roger, who now had his feet propped up against the arm of John’s chair. During the retelling of their story, John had been moved over to a different section of the salon, to a seat where a large hair dryer had been lowered onto his head, allowing the chemicals to work their magic on his hair.

“You can come back over here now.” Lisa smiled, as she pulled the helmet off John, leading him back to his original seat. “Well it sounds like you all get up to a lot of mischief. On the plus side John, I think this is really going to suit you!” She smiled, as she began working her nimble fingers over his scalp, taking out the rollers that had been used to set his perm.

Roger watched eagerly, as John’s new hairdo slowly took shape. “See, I told you Deaky, you’re going to be a hit with all the ladies soon!” He grins, as he brushes his own hair away from his eyes, not wanting to obstruct his view in any way.

Twenty minutes later, Lisa removed the last roller, running her fingers through the tight ringlets that now bounced all around John’s head. They weren’t the same as Brian’s, though they were damned near similar, John finally understood why so many people accused Brian of having a perm. “So, they’ll stay quite tight for a few days, then they’ll loosen up a little bit and sit more naturally.” Lisa smiled, as she brushed his hair this way and that, until all the strands fell in a way, she deemed suitable.

“Thank you, I suppose. Now is this the time I ask about any rules when it comes to having hair like this?” John sighed softly, studying himself closely in the mirror, perhaps this style was growing on him? It didn’t look nearly as strange as he had thought it would, if anything, it rather suited him.

“Just make sure you don’t get it wet within the next seventy-two hours, otherwise all our hard work will be for naught.” She smiled, as she unclasped the smock from John’s neck, folding it neatly over her arm. Roger followed her up to the register, handing over a small bundle of notes.

“When news gets out about Deaky’s new look, reporters will be all over the place, looking for whoever styled him. Any chance you could maybe not mention anything about the bet?” Roger smiled, with what must be one of his only genuine smiles of the day.

Lisa smiled, taking the notes from Roger, placing some into the register, and a few into her pocket. “I’m sure I can remember to do that.” Was all she said, before Roger turned away to collect John. He groaned as he looked out the salon window, rain splattering heavily against the glass.

“Right then, Deaky come here.” Roger instructed, as John made his way over to him, resting his hands on his hips. “We can’t get your hair wet, so I’m going to walk behind you with a magazine over your head, alright?”

“You don’t trust me to protect my own hair?” John grumbled, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops on his jeans.

Roger frowned at him, opening a magazine and creasing the spine to keep the pages open. “Do I trust you to not get your perm wet, thus rendering our time here pointless? Let me think about that…. Of course I bloody don’t!”

“We never said how long the style had to last. The bet was, that I just had to get the style. Technically I’ve fulfilled my end of the deal.” John shrugged, though he allows Roger to hold the magazine above his head as they make their way back to his car. Roger blasts the heater the moment he turns the key in the ignition, the car warming up in minutes, drying both men from their mad dash through the rain.

“Did your hair get wet?” Roger queries, as he pulls out into the main street again, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel despite their being no music, John just assumed he was working on another song. Carefully, John brushed his hands against his curled hair, feeling for any rain that may have made its way through his make shift umbrella.

“Sadly, I think it survived.” He smirked, watching as Roger gripped the steering wheel tighter, rolling his eyes.

“I paid good money for that perm Deaky, the least you can do is wear it with pride!”

John simply nodded along, opting to stare out the window, watching the scenery as it passed them by in a blur. There was no use in fighting about it, he had a perm now, that’s all there was to it. The drive home took far less time than John seemed to recall, and all too soon the car was parked out the front of Johns home. “I’m dead, I’m honest to God going to die today. She’s been home alone all day with the kids, she’ll be tired and stressed as it is, and then I walk in looking like this?” John mutters, gesturing to his hair wildly, as Roger resumes his position behind him, holding the magazine over his hair once more.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll love it.” Roger grins, using his emergency key to open their front door once again. Shoving John through the entry, causing him to stumble. In his effort to stop himself from falling over, he grabs onto the coat rack by the door, knocking the entire thing to the floor with a loud crash.

Your voice calls from down the hallway, echoing off the walls. “Who’s there?” There’s an edge of worry to your voice, and John is sure that you’ve grabbed both children, just on the off chance there was an intruder.

“It’s just me love!” John calls back, and he can almost hear you sigh in relief. Roger sweeps his hand before John, allowing him to enter the soon to be war zone first. “Oh, why thank you.” John hisses, his lip curling up into a snarl. Roger simply grins, running his hand through his blonde locks.

Each step seems to take John an hour to complete, bringing him closer to the lounge room where he had heard your voice. His heart races in his chest, pounding against his ribcage violently. Eventually he turns the corner, spotting you laying down, with Laura tucked into your side on the sofa, and Josh playing with his building blocks beside them on the rug. John’s shadow looms over his family, and your eyes snap up to look at him, a smile already tugging at your lips. It freezes the moment you see him though, your eyes widening at what you were looking at.

“Deacon spawn, come over here!” Roger yells abruptly, as he crashes in behind John, crouching down and opening his arms wide. Laura rolls off the sofa, leaving you behind, running into her uncle’s arms. He lifts her up, waltzing out of the room, and into the children’s play room.

“John Richard Deacon. What the hell have you done?” You bark out, leaping off the sofa, standing directly in front of your husband. John had the good dignity to look slightly guilty as you stared him down, shoving his hands into his pockets, his feet shuffling against the floor.

“Listen, (Y/N), I can explain!” John tries, but you hold your hand up in front of him, signalling him to stop talking.

“God, I can’t pay attention to anything else but you!” You sigh, looking directly at his perm, rather than his eyes. “What were you thinking? Were you even thinking?” You raise your voice, throwing your arms to your side in exasperation. You didn’t hate the look, you hated the fact that John hadn’t mentioned anything to you about doing it, and that Roger had clearly known what was happening long before you.

“Guys, your child is on fire!” Roger shrieks from the other end of the house, in his usual attempt at stopping you and John from bickering.

“Roger, shut up!” You both groan simultaneously, hearing Laura laugh loudly.

“One day, I’m going to say that, and your child really will be on fire, and you guys will look like the worst parents in the world!” He grumbles, though grins at Laura.

Laura doesn’t repay the look in kind, opting instead to fold her arms across her chest. “Is it me or Joshy going on fire?”

Roger looks down at the young child in surprise, not having expected her to ask such a question. “Why, neither of you of course! I mean another kid!”

Laura nods her head in earnest, grinning up at Roger. “Oh, so you mean maybe the baby in Mommy’s tummy will be on fire?”

Roger is, for the first time in a long while, completely lost for words. The sounds of his best mate, and his wife arguing in the kitchen are drowned out by the numerous thoughts running through his head. “What baby is that Laura?”

“Mommy told me to keep it a secret, but she won’t mind me telling you. She says I’m going to be a big sister two times!” Laura smiles, as she brushes the hair on her doll, handing one dressed as a princess to Roger. “You can be Giselle today.” And just like that, all baby talk is over, leaving Roger with far more questions than he started with.

John was leaning against the kitchen counter now, keeping his eyes on you as you paced around the tiled floor. “What next? First Freddie and his moustache, then Roger started bleaching his hair, now you get a perm! What’s the next step? Is Brian going to shave his head?”

As if on cue, Brian allows himself into their home, swinging the door shut behind himself, despite Freddie being right behind him. “What’s this about me now?” He calls, placing a bottle of wine down on the kitchen table as he passes it.

“Brian!” You cry, on the verge of tears, your emotions running on high. “Are you bald? Please tell me you’re not bald! Come take a look at what my bloody husband has done!” You shout in rapid fire succession.

John leans his head back, staring up at the ceiling, he didn’t expect you to get quite so worked up over this, and he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe something else had occurred today, to make you so stressed. Brain waves as he enters the kitchen, grinning widely as he spots John’s hair, folding his arms across his chest as he leans beside the bassist. “Am I bald? No love, this is all me.” He grins widely, shaking his wild mane of curls over his shoulders.

“Oh, thank God.” You breathe out, though that doesn’t stop you from reaching out and tugging on one of his curls, sighing when his hair stays in place. John reaches out, taking your hand in his, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand soothingly. “Really though Brian, just look at this. How am I supposed to focus on anything when I’ve got this hanging around?”

“You make it sound like I’ve sprouted a second head. Besides, it’s really starting to grow on me.” John shrugs, pulling you into his side, and rubbing his curls against your cheek. You can’t help but giggle, the soft brush of his hair feeling rather pleasant.

For the fourth time that day, your front door slams open, and you make a mental note to take back all the emergency keys you had given to John’s band mates. Freddie struts through the hall, posing with his lips pouted as he enters the kitchen. “Well hello darlings, Roger said to meet him here, and dear lord! Deaky what have you done!” Freddie cries, the light leaving his usually sparkling eyes.

John sighs once again, pressing his palm to his forehead, causing Brian to chuckle deeply. “Freddie, calm down. I’ve already gone through this once. There was a bet Roger and I made, after you grew your moustache. I didn’t think it would last, Roger did. So we agreed that if it was still hanging around in a year then…”

Freddie holds his hand out, just as you had done earlier, and John stops mid-sentence. “I’m sorry Deaky, I love you. But I just can’t pay attention to anything that you’re saying! We’ll discuss your lack of faith in my moustache later.” And with that, Freddie turns on his heel, and glides back to the front door, shutting it firmly behind him.

“Well, that could have gone far better. With both of you.” John shrugs, staring at the spot where Freddie had been moments before, Brian nodding besides him.

“Hey, at least I didn’t leave!” You defend, resting a hand mindlessly over your stomach, scratching your nails against the material of your shirt.

“No, instead you just threatened to kill me! That’s so much better.” John huffed, lifting his hand away from his face, and looking over at you. You simply shrugged at his statement, at the end of the day, you hadn’t actually killed him.

Brian grins at your bickering, shaking his head at the sight of you both. You fought like children sometimes, yet always managed to make amends. “Is anyone else slightly concerned about how quiet Roger and Laura are being?” He queried, stepping through the kitchen and peering up the hall towards the playroom.

“Actually, yeah. I don’t like the silence.” John hummed, following behind Brian, you also followed, not wanting to be left behind. You knew they weren’t up to anything too horrible, generally when Laura and her uncle fell quiet, it was because they were drawing, a task which your daughter took very seriously.

As if they had heard you all wondering what they were up to, Roger came parading out with your giggling daughter on his shoulders, both with wide grins on their cheeky faces. “I know a secret about you.” Roger smirks, looking directly at you, his blue eyes shining brightly.

You roll your eyes at their antics, looking over at Josh as he clapped two blocks together, giggling at the clunking sound they made. “No you don’t Rog.” You sighed, shaking your head gently, curling your fingers around John’s. You felt his grip squeeze yours, his calloused fingers rough against your knuckles.

Roger turns his attention to John now, his canines poking over his lip as he grins, looking just like the Cheshire cat in that moment. “Hey John, I guarantee you that I know something about (Y/N) that you don’t.”

“Not likely mate, we’re practically joined at the hip. We know everything about each other.”

“Wanna make a bet?” Roger smirks darkly.

“Never again.”

My Masterlist

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things-we-used-tc-share · 5 years

Text

Mess Is Mine

Warnings: Mental Health Issues, suicidal thoughts mention, non-sexual nudity mentioned, hallucination and ptsd mention

Ship: Royality

Plot: Patton’s bad days used to be harder, but now he knows that loneliness is the worst acceleration for the end of his world, and now he knows he doesn’t have to do it alone.

Patton sighs a little as he stares at the flowers on the windowsill; he must have been staring for a while now because his eyes were doing that thing that eyes do when they’ve stared for too long and none of the shapes make much sense. His sigh catches in his throat as he blinks back to the present, wringing his wrists as though the touch might ground him. He has a plan in place for days like this, his mind void of conscious thought for more than a few seconds at a time. Patton grabs his phone, dark eyes searching for that contact wrung with little hearts like a third grader referring to their crush.

“Hey,” He whispers into the phone once it’s picked up, the ‘hey’ sounds more like a question, like he’s asking permission to be talking to someone in the state he’s in. “It’s one of those days,” The crackle of the voice on the other end is gentle, careful, there’s nothing in it that would suggest to Patton he would be lying.

“I’m on my way, I love you,” And although love won’t fix Patton, it certainly makes him smile a little.

“I love you too, Roman,”

He wonders sometimes if he burdens his lover with his episodes, although now they are admittedly rare. Roman would tell him not to be silly and take his hands in his own with a hundred reasons why he’s not in anyway burdened by Patton’s mental illness. It was because of Roman that Patton even managed to put a plan in place, beforehand he’d been so alone with no support network at all, and then he’d started University and there was this handsome man in his class.

If he’d been younger and more naïve, Patton would declare he fell in love instantly.

When he finally worked up the nerve to talk to the man with the dark skin and even darker eyes, who spoke with an accent and a hundred words at a time, he stammered and stumbled his way through “Do you want to grab a coffee some time?” Roman took Patton’s hand and has barely let go since.

Then, when the elephant in the room could no longer be avoided and their relationship seemed to become a multitude of things, including a future, Patton realized he could not continue to pretend that he has nothing that differs them. He didn’t know how Roman would react, to tell him first that he thinks about suicide first thing in the morning and last thing at night, and that sometimes reality for everyone else is not reality for him. The boundaries between here, now and something long since gone all mixed up inside his mind.

But he took it well. He listened, he waited, he took mental notes and then he asked Patton “Do you have any sort of support plan? A councillor you talk too or a way that I can help you?” And Patton realized he’d been going at this for too long on his own, because he’d never heard anyone ask him how they canhelpbefore. He started crying and didn’t stop for so long because he hadn’t realised he was lonely until Roman had asked that question, hadn’t realised he was supposed to talk about it, hadn’t realised anything could help him cope.

He hadn’t realised he could cope.

Roman didn’t fix him, he didn’t wave a magic wand and suddenly Patton was okay, but he made him feel stronger at least, asking him what he needed and holding his hand through the worst of it so at the very least he didn’t have to be alone. Eventually, when Patton stopped being afraid of his illnesses, he saw a doctor and then later, a psychiatrist. There was a long, long process before anyone told him if there was a diagnosis for the issues he had, and then how to cope with the things that were distressing him. He realised that not everything would change, some things will not change and that’s something he can deal with. Humans are not a broken microwave that simply need a few cables changing to work. Brains are much more complicated than that, peopleare more complicated than that.

Now, Patton knows he has to take medication every night and he knowshe can’t drink alcohol and he knowsthat sometimes he can see things that aren’t actually there, and that he needspeople, that he can’tdo it alone. He also knows that this is okay, that he can’t be afraid of himself forever, that he shouldn’t beafraid of himself.

He knows when Roman walks through the doors he’ll hold out his arms and ask if he wants a hug (he does) and Patton will crawl into the comfort like a caterpillar into a cocoon (he does). He knows Roman will ask what he needs, and he’ll respond with “direction,” and Roman will help him into the shower, and wash his hair for him whilst talking enough that Patton doesn’t have to think too much, he’ll want to lie in that voice as Roman helps him through the basic steps of self care (they do all of this). Roman will help him make some food, he’ll make some ice tea, he’ll keep having small conversations that Patton doesn’t have to think too hard about, but will keep him grounded (He does). They’ll curl up in a blanket and Roman will read to Patton as he rests his tired mind. He knows that when he wakes up the next day, there’s a good percentile that he’ll feel better, and there’s a good percentage he’ll have another day where his mind feels numb. He knows that through it all he will not be alone, not anymore.

He has his friends, he has a doctor and a councillor, and he has tutors, a support plan, he has Roman. When everything else fails he doesn’t have to be alone anymore, sitting and staring until the day is up and he panics over the time lost. Sometimes, looking after yourself is hard when you’re alone, sometimes looking after yourself is the last thing you want to do, sometimes asking for help is simply not a bad thing at all.

@analogical-mess // @unikornavenger // @mycatshuman // @creativity-killed-thekitten// @theresneverenoughfandoms // @charmingprincey // @heck-im-lost// @k9cat // @stilljittery // @romansleftshoulderpad // @sanderssideslibrary // @max-is-tired // @trashypansexual // @demigodnamedathena // @sevencrashing // @jemthebookworm // @sandersandthesides // @penguinkool // @georganabanana // @ao-koshka // @dangerous-doodle // @hell-or-high-waters // @no-sleep-gang-posts // @marshmallow-the-panda // @flix-net // @omni-hamiltrash // @an-absolute-failure // @mason-does-a-thing // @iceoblivious // @fandermom //

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#sanders sides #royality #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #ts sides #ts Patton #ts Roman #ts sides fic

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rwbyremnants · 5 years

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CHAPTER WARNING: Unsavoury stories from Winter's past.

NOTES: Well this is definitely the make-or-break chapter as far as Winter is concerned. Some of you will still want her to fry and some of you might forgive her. The authors don't think either of those reactions is "wrong"; she did something very fucked up, after all. So that's up to you guys. Just know that we definitely won't judge if you continue to hate her.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the last chapters. We're going into the home stretch! Less than 10 left - and that's including the epilogue!!! (And I know that's still a lot, but hey this fic is already super long lol). See you soon!

=Chapter 34

Luck finally seemed to be on Yang's side. A canceled appointment from another client meant that she could get into counselling the very next day, and finally attend her first session. And this time, with Blake's company, she didn’t back out. She went in, poured her heart out to the kind woman who took notes of everything and gave heartfelt advice. A few tears were shed, but when Yang apologized for them, her counsellor simply smiled, and told her, "For most, if you don't cry on the first session, then you don't need our help."

Blake had sat in the waiting room for that hour, having brought paperwork from her job as something to pass the time. It was an ease on Yang's guilt to know that this afternoon wasn't going to be unpaid or an inconvenience for her best friend. But most of all, she was glad to have her there. To know her friend was still saving her, even now.

Once the hour was up, the two made their way toward the main desk. Yang was still wiping the few stray tears that were present away with a tissue, but her doctor only smiled as she completed the paperwork. "You did really well today. I'll go through this paperwork once I’m home so we can come up with some coping strategies, but for now, remember those deep breathing exercises, alright?"

"Of course. Sorry I never showed last time…"

"Hey, now," Blake told her quietly, soothing up and down her shoulder with her hand. "Already told you, don't worry about that. You're here now and that is what's important."

"Today's just been talking, me learning more about her. Next week, we'll be going over various techniques and the real progress will begin." The doctor smiled, but then looked back to Yang again. "Should you ever want to see another counsellor or if you move out of state…" The doctor began to scribble something on the top of one of Yang's forms, before handing it over to her. "That's the number for our main office. They'll sort everything out from there."

Taking it back as she instinctively leant against Blake again, Yang sniffed once more, wiping away one more tear. "Okay, I'll keep this. Thank you so much."

As they made their way out of the small office building and into the parking lot, Blake watched her friend. She did seem to be doing better; like even though she wasn't back to her old self quite yet, there was significant improvement form the week previous. The phrase "scared straight" came to mind… ironic though it was, given her sexuality.

"So… Cold Stone? I did promise."

"Huh? Oh! Right, yeah." This time, she was actually smiling when she looked back toward Blake. A genuine smile, rather than one that vanished within three seconds. Even if she was still sniffing occasionally. The first session was emotionally draining, mainly consisting of explaining what she thought the problem was, and the underlying causes that upset her the most. Winter was covered, along with many more topics related to her own undealt with issues that had always been there. Of course, it left her nervously laughing. "S-sorry. It was kinda… damn."

"You don't have to explain. One of the things I promised myself was that I wouldn't pry into your therapy; like, that's all you and your business. If you wanna talk about it, that's cool, but if not… also cool." Then she opened the door and plopped down in the driver's seat, buckling up as Yang did the same on the other side.

It wasn't until Blake started the engine that Yang looked up again, and then toward her. At least now, she was really there, and not off orbiting some other planet like a runaway moon. "I'm… sorry it took all this to get me here though. Seriously, I didn't mean to let everybody down."

Only now did Blake's expression look a bit sadder than before. Still, she smiled over at her friend and said in a soft tone, "I know. I know that, I… you're still Yang, and the Yang I know would never hurt anybody unless they earned it. So unless I pissed you off on accident somehow… yeah, obviously you did your best."

"You never did. You never ever hurt me, you've only ever been good to me. And now…" As she tucked the form away in her pocket, she nervously laughed again, smiling to herself. "You literally saved my life, dude."

"Anytime. Literally, if you need me to save your life like, a hundred more times… I'm there."

Once they were out in traffic, Blake decided to try putting their plan into action. After talking it over with Sun, they had agreed that there was nothing wrong with at least attempting to make this happen — even if Yang didn't go for it.

"So… um, I've been thinking about taking a trip down to LA to go to this conference; like, it's totally skippable, but I could make some contacts if I decide to attend. That kind of thing. And I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come with me."

Up until that point, Yang had been idly nodding her head to the song on the radio. Neon Katt's newer single, of all things. But just as the presenter was about to talk about more details of the Beach Fest, she turned back to Blake again, tilting her head.

"LA? You mean like… California, LA?"

"Is there any other LA?" she laughed, but very easily; she was even wary of being too mean in her humor about anything now. They could worry about getting back to kidding each other once Yang was in a better state. "Yeah, I mean, maybe the extra sunshine will help a little. And then we'll be back here in a couple of days, so it's not like a really long vacation or anything."

"Yeah… I guess. I do really like LA this time of year. Especially the bea-" But as soon as that word began to slip out, she stopped it before she could go further, and then looked down. It was like the flip of a switch once she realized the exact timing of going to the beach at that time.

"Um… Nah. I-I just… Wouldn't you rather take Sun? So you and lover boy can have a good romp in the hotel room?"

"Well, I was thinking I could have a romp with you…" But when Yang didn't respond right away, she nudged her with her elbow. "Kidding. I mean, we don't have to keep doing that if it's gonna be weird now, after… what happened."

"I'm more worried about you," Yang admitted earnestly, leaning against the car door as she idly stared out the window a moment. "Like… I don't wanna give off the impression that I'm just using you for sex, because I'm really not and never would."

"I mean…" Blake broke off as she tried to figure out how to phrase things, taking the moment to guide them around the corner toward their intended destination of ice cream. "You could. I was okay with that being what we were doing, if we were. And if it were… something else, that would be okay, too. Because I trust you not to mistreat me."

"I know you do. But I wanna make sure I don't. Like hell am I gonna lose my best friend after all this." She looked back toward her again, smiling gratefully as she nudged Blake right back. "Life saver, great kisser, good in bed… Sun's a lucky man to have you, y'know."

Nodding, Blake spared her a smile before returning her eyes to the road. "I respect that. Again, though, we both know we're on fire between the sheets, so friends-with-benefits is definitely still okay with me if it is with you."

Now Yang was finally reacting to such remarks, rather than the sullen, disinterested look she had been giving for the past two months. She was blushing for one, and looking over with a slight smirk. "Let's see how we feel when we get back then, huh?"

"Definitely," Blake told her with a grin. In the wake of almost losing her friend, literally anything that wasn't a sea of depression felt fantastic. They could worry about those "benefits" later.

However, as they went inside to get their ice cream, an annoying little bug nibbled at the back of her mind. She'd failed in her "mission" to encourage Yang to fly to California. Sure, there were other tactics she could try later, but this first attempt had flopped the minute Yang remembered the Beach Fest. Things were going to get tricky from here on in.

Once back in the car, several calories richer than they had been beforehand, Blake then asked, "So… about that job. No big deal, you getting fired; from what you told me, it was pretty crappy to begin with. Maybe we can get you one as a bouncer again?"

"That's what I was thinking! I mean, I still have Weiss's dad's number. If I couldn't get Winter to give me a reference, I could try him instead behind her back. I dunno why I never tried that before, actually…" She scratched the top of her head in thought, once more leaning against the car door to look out the window. "As much as I don't like him, considering what Weiss has told me, he seems a lot tamer than her. Just shave off the caterpillar ‘stache."

Snorting at the comment about the man’s facial hair, Blake turned down their road. "Well, maybe you should. And I mean… if nothing else, I can probably get you a job in the mailroom at my office. It will be the most boring work you've ever done in your life and pays minimum wage, but it's not nothing, right?"

"If it means company at break time that's not some guy constantly talking about his kid, or a customer asking me when his order's done, I'm fine with that." Although she began to perk up that little bit more when a thought seemed to come up with an idea. "This is totally like some kind of soap opera! I mean, I know we're all already okay with everything, but 'In your free time you're with the boyfriend, but at work you're banging the mail gal in the supply closet' sounds so Daytime TV."

The window was rolled down, so when Blake shouted a little too loudly, "Oh GOD, Yang, you're making me WET!!!" a few of the neighbors might actually have heard her. Probably not, but one never knew. Being as red as a tomato, Yang did manage to glance around just to check there wasn't anybody on the sidewalk, and then back to Blake again. Instead of leaning away against the window, she began to lean toward the driver instead.

"We'll just be photo copying something, except you're gonna be bent over the copier."

Before, she had been kidding. Now, she really was feeling wetter underneath her drab grey pencil skirt. Licking her lips, she kept her eyes on the road as she asked, "With the lid open, right? So the copies will be of you taking me as hard as you can." After all, it was only fair to tease back.

"Duh. Wonder if I can get your 'O-face' copied… hang that on my wall." Yang really was only teasing, although now that subject was coming up, it was seeming like the benefits part of their friendship certainly was going to be in play for longer.

Until they began to pull closer towards the drive, and Yang noticed another car pulled up in front of her bike. As much fun as they could have had coming home to an empty house, seemed Sun was here. Still, shrugging her shoulders, Yang simply made the best of the situation.

"Ah well, looks like lover boy’s gonna give you that O-face instead today. Want me to plug in some headphones and stay in my room?"

"Yeah, I guess so. For now." When Yang shot her a questioning look, she unbuckled her seatbelt and said, "Well, I mean, I've only asked him once before if he was hungry for a Blake sandwich. Maybe it's time I asked him again." As she stepped out of the door, she added casually, "Or a Sun sandwich. Whatever."

Raising her eyebrows as she unbuckled her own belt and opened the door, Yang seemed to look up as if she was questioning that notion. "Or… A Yang sandwich, even. Hell, if anything remotely like it happens, it'll be crazy." Finally getting out of the car and leaving, with a completely red face, she stepped onto the curb, eagerly waiting for Blake to come join her so they could make their way indoors.

But what was awaiting them inside was certainly going to put a damper on those plans. And a potential damper on their whole day.

Sat on the couch was Sun, just as they had been expecting. However, there was another person next to him on the couch; one that reminded Blake distinctly of the pop star she had met before. However, it wasn't quite her; she was taller, and had shorter hair and more severe features compared to Weiss's magazine-worthy ‘baby face’ ones. She was dressed in a suit not unlike the ones her bosses tended to wear, mostly light greys and navy blues. And on her face was the most miserable expression she'd ever seen on a complete stranger.

"Uhhh… who are you?" she couldn't help but demand.

"Okay, I did try to call, I was about to try again b-but-" Sun was fumbling on his words over and over, but as he was doing that, Yang had entered the room. And realized straight away who their mystery guest was. Her eyes widened, and she appeared more scared than anything else.

"Winter."

"Miss Xiao Long." The address was stiff and formal, even compared with how she had usually addressed her. "Well…" Awkwardly, she seemed to decide at the last moment that it was rude for her to remain seated when the two newcomers — the actual residents of that apartment — were standing, so she pushed to her feet and smoothed down her trousers. "When I heard your voicemail, I had to come. It seems there are matters that need to be settled between us."

"I… Um… I-I was… I just…" It seemed it was Yang's turn to fumble her words now as she looked between Winter and her two friends. One of which was turning more and more furious by the minute. And no wonder when she was the one who had to tell Winter the results of her actions. But such open support on her side was giving her that bit more confidence, even if she was nervous with the following line.

"Okay, me drunk-dialing you? T-that's not going to happen again, for a long long time."

"Yes, I… your associate here has been informing me of your progress. Well, partly. He hasn't gone into much detai-"

"Save it," Blake snapped, arms folding over her chest. "You know… you have a lot of nerve coming here after what you pulled. Do you understand that?"

Winter's calm demeanor faltered, but she did her best to pull it back into place. "Right. To business, then. It… seems I may have… misspoken when last we saw each other."

"Misspoken? Or realized there were consequences for what you said?" Blake demanded. But before she even gave her a chance to answer that, she then let out a harsh laugh. "Actually no, lemme ask you this; are you here because you thought she might have been dead, or because Weiss found out?" It was very visible; the color drained from Winter's face. But before she could speak again, Blake followed up with, "Give me one good reason not to call the police and report you for trespassing in my home. You couldn't give me a good one last time, either."

"Please, listen, I…" She took a deep breath. "I came knowing you survived the attempt, as I learned through Weiss. Not that she's speaking to me anymore." Admitting this last cost her something, and it was clear by the way she swayed in her black high heels before continuing. "H-however… oh, I don't really know why I came. I wanted to try, but I don't think it's going to be worth anything to you."

"You just wanted to ease your guilt a little. I get it." Yang nodded her head, finally starting to appear more annoyed than frightened by the exchange. If money wasn't just an object for Winter, she would have maybe considered why she was here more. But then again, Chicago was very much out of the way in Winter's line of work, especially when she should be heading west.

It was this moment when Sun perked up again. There was an advantage of him speaking to her before the other two got there. "She was, uh, just telling me how Weiss still misses you; even if she’s kind of a… cishet, I guess, she can see Weiss is hurting."

"Hurting from what she did to her," Blake corrected slightly. "I mean, are we forgetting that she did this? That without her, none of this would even be an issue?"

Winter's head bowed and she went on, "I understand. I… I'm not welcome here, you don't want to hear what I have to say. I can appreciate that, honestly. But… I want to make things right. There has to be something more I can do for you, other than simply staying out of your way."

"Well there's nothing! Nothing! I'm completely fucked up because of what you did!" Yang shouted, hands curling up into even tighter fists then before. But even as Sun tried to place his hand on her arm to calm her down, she shrugged it off instantly. "No, I'm done sugarcoating this! I was hard enough for anyone to date as it was; chicks with dicks don't tend to be very successful aside from the odd dude that has a fetish and wants a wild night. And now I'm a walking time bomb who needs pills and psychiatric help to keep from offing herself! So why the fuck would Weiss want to date that?!"

"Because she does!" Winter pleaded with her, eyes wide and tearful now. Her composure was slipping, and quite rapidly, at that. "Please, you… I thought I was doing the right thing, you have to see that! It wasn't supposed to lead to- to any of this!"

"But it did," she replied bluntly, expression beginning to soften as she looked down toward the floor instead, growing sadder rather than angrier. The fire had burned out so quickly, whereas the old Yang could have maintained it for ages. "And now, I don't deserve her. She might want the old Yang but I'm not the old Yang; and I'm not gonna be, not for a long time. This current one is a drunken, pothead burnout who can't hold a job. In what world does a fabulous diva deserve that?"

"Believe me, you're wrong! So… so I made an erroneous assumption about your motives, alright? I've never known a- a person like you, I'm sorry! But please don't think she's doesn't care about you, or that I ever wanted anything like-"

"Listen, haven't you done enough?" Blake interrupted her with a voice like a razorblade. "Messing with their lives because you get some kind of sick pleasure out of playing God! You don't care about Yang! You don't even care about Weiss, and she's your own sister!"

That made Winter's expression darken. For the first time since they had entered the apartment, she looked any way other than distraught and apologetic. Those emotions were still there, but there was also the tiniest pinprick of anger.

"You really think that, don't you? Oh, how wrong you are."

"Hey, don't you dare talk to her like that, you old cunt!" Yang snapped.

And within a few more seconds, the three girls were bickering at each other, shouting louder than one another to try and get their points across, but all to no success. All it was gaining was more stress, tears forming in Yang's eyes, and tears even falling from Winter's. And for the other blonde in the room, who bore witness to it all, it was becoming too much – which became obvious when he yelled louder than them all.

"ENOUGH!"

There allowed a brief moment of silence to follow, just to clear the air, before he sighed. And then gestured the following words with his hands. "Don't you guys get the point of all this? Everyone in this room wants the same thing; for Weiss and Yang to be happy. And we're not gonna get there by trying to out-yell each other!"

"But she hurt them!" Blake protested, slightly surprised at her boyfriend even somewhat standing up for Winter. Normally, she would have understood and even appreciated him being impartial, but not when it involved the woman who almost brought about the end of her best friend's life.

"It's done, Blake. And we can't exactly hop in a DeLorean and go back to prevent it. My point is, we need to focus on what's happening now." It clearly hurt Sun to be stuck like this. To be defending the person responsible for the worst thing that had happened to his girlfriend's best friend's life; even if he was just acting as a mediator. Not allowing that to stew any further, however, he began to pace around the room back and forth.

"Things are fucked, with Yang's head, no doubt with Weiss's head, too. We can blame Winter for where we are, or we can take her word that she was trying to fix shit, and now she’s trying to fix what she fixed the wrong way before. Right? Way I see it, this is rock bottom; we can’t fall off the floor. We have nothing to lose by trying."

"Why should we trust her, though?" Blake said, trying to force herself to be more calm and rational despite the pulsing of anger behind her temples. "After what she pulled, I don't even believe she has our best interests at heart; she's just mad that we're mad. Like any little bully who finally gets in trouble for bullying."

"As I said, I can understand how you would see me that way,” Winter whispered. “And… you are right, to a degree. But I promise you that I had no idea my actions were affecting anyone this way. That she…" A quiet sob fell from her mouth before she could cut the rest of it off. "She hates me. She doesn't even think of me as her sister anymore, and after how this turned out, I suppose I deserve that. But if you only-"

"’Oh, woe is me, my sister's girlfriend nearly killed herself because of the shit I pulled and now she won't talk to me,’" Yang mocked, refusing to even look at the sobbing, crying mess that was once Winter. “Like you have it so bad compared to me.”

Which had made Sun roll his eyes. "Guys, you're doing it again! Look, let's focus on the goal; Weiss and Yang, everybody feeling good. Right now, there's so much distance that there's no chance of that happening. So, we need to close the gap. And we need to do it before we no longer know where Weiss is."

"And that's why I'm here!" Winter followed up from him, desperate to get past the topic of her horrible misstep and on to the task at hand. "To make amends, to… do what I can. It's already come so close to being too late once, and I don't think we should risk it again!"

But Blake was already shaking her head, arms still folded tightly against herself. "Sorry, but I still don't trust you. I can't. You might be for real here, or you might be trying to… I don't know, make sure Weiss doesn't get back in contact with Yang. But your transphobic ass chased her off once, and I'm not letting you do it twice. Now, unless Yang wants to hear you out any more than this, I think you should leave. She's already upset enough as it is."

The white-blonde woman looked wholly defeated. Not merely set back or frustrated, but as if she wanted to crawl into bed and stay there for a week or two. Turning to Yang, she said in a very uncharacteristically meek voice, "Please… hear me out, I… we can make this right together, but not if you shut me out now. I… I’ll…" She swallowed hard and whispered, “I’ll beg if you need me to.”

Yang no longer knew what to think. From the amount of unpleasant things she had heard about Winter, and the family in general, Yang was more inclined to reject her offer. And that was without considering how Winter had spoken to Yang in all the time they knew each other. And yet… seeing her so desperate, so upset and lost… it tugged one of Yang's heartstrings in the wrong way. Whether or not she knew what she was saying before was hateful and hurtful wasn't helpful in this situation.

But seeing how she was now reminded her of someone else who was so desperate recently: herself. Would Winter end up in the hospital the very same way she had if she sent her away without hearing her out?

"You've got thirty seconds to explain whatever you and Sunny Jim cooked up together; then it's up to Blake if she calls the police."

"Come with me to LA," she began immediately, looking almost as excited as Weiss had when she first learned Yang had a motorcycle. That was the only time it was clearly visible they were actually related, and not just in possession of vaguely similar faces. "I have a private jet waiting at O'Hare, we can be there in a few hours, and then… then you can talk to her. I've already explained what I did, so she should hear you out. Even before that, I think she would have; my sister is… much more open and accepting. And if you knew how desperately she misses you!"

It was a tempting offer. And definitely much cheaper than heading to LA on her own. But the plan still seemed flawed. Yes, they knew where she would be, but she wasn't exactly going to be available in that time. "She's gonna be performing, she will want to — heck I'D want her to focus more on that. This concert's the biggest thing that's ever happened to her."

"Then just… go to show you support her. And then you can talk to her afterward; I'll pay for the hotel room, I’ll pay for anything, just… try, if you can."

"You can't buy your way out of this one, Schnee," Blake growled offhandedly. The matter seemed quite settled in her mind, but it was Yang's situation to handle; she didn't want to take the reins away from her.

"And how am I supposed to get in?!” Yang growled, running a hand through her hair then grasping a handful of if. The entire situation seemed too hopeless. “I'm not a bodyguard anymore! I don't have all access! Frankly if I can get in that easily I'd be worried for security."

But Sun and Blake knew an advantage they had on their side. And now was the time to announce they'd been thinking of it. "What if we told you Ruby's going?"

A roll of eyes. "And what's her going to a concert gonna do to help me?"

"She has an extra ticket," Blake told her matter-of-factly. "One that could have your name on it, if you decide to at least show you're still her friend. If nothing else."

"And I'd make sure you have no problems," Winter rushed ahead, seeming so close to fending off a possible panic attack. "Not a single one; I'll pave the way for you and her to have a private conversation, either at the event or afterward, or- or the next day! Just say you'll go, and we can… can make this work!"

Seeming to stare out blankly, Yang was deeply considering the options. The plan seemed sound enough, to get to LA and be there for Weiss’s big moment, then talk to her backstage afterward. And Sun had a point that this would be the only time she was guaranteed to be anywhere in the immediate future. It was now or never. Even if it was a long shot. There was nothing to lose.

Then again, what could she do to get Weiss to notice her in the audience? If the crowd was so huge, she'd need some kind of big gesture to get her attention. Something that only her and Weiss shared…

And once she'd figured that out, she began to smile, rolling her eyes. "I guess I'd better get my shit packed then. I have a dumb idea that is just crazy enough to work."

The Schnee private jet was more or less everything one would expect from such a well-known organization. Stocked to the brim with both food and drink from around the world, staffed with an attendant to help with anything they should need, it was as close to staying in a luxury hotel as one could come in the middle of the sky. But Winter had dismissed the woman once she got them all waters – and Sun a bag of Cheetos – asking her to simply make sure the pilot was comfortable and that they would call upon her if needs be.

"Well, just make sure and tell me if you need anything else," she told them in a would-be professional voice after asking for the fourth or fifth time. It was getting hard to keep track.

Yang hadn't particularly said too much on the plane only sat on the large leather seat with the guitar on her lap, occasionally strumming the odd tune quietly. But every time Winter asked about water, or food, or any other feeble little thing, it made Yang strum an incorrect note, and her groan was audible and pointed. Things still weren't looking good between them.

"I swear you were less annoying when you were hounding me for my history…"

Sighing wearily, Winter turned around and remained silent for a few moments, checking something or other on her tablet. Clearly, she had yet to engender any true trust or respect, and could not so easily make up for what she did to Yang with a few meager gestures. That was to be expected, but the manner with which the other three treated her was beginning to grate.

And after a few more wrong notes, Yang finally gave up, rolling her eyes and putting the guitar to one side. On a plane thousands of feet in the air, it was difficult to concentrate. Even if it was the fanciest plane she had ever seen. Thanks to Winter's presence, talking to Blake felt awkward, along with anything else.

Her only possible solace came from sniping comments. "Looking through my Facebook again, I assume?"

"I am not," Winter said through clenched teeth. "I'm actually finding out the weather conditions for our flight and also catching up on correspondence."

"Death threats, then," Blake muttered easily, sipping at her water. "Can't float those out there and forget about them."

Even though she could feel the tension in the air, she continued to push, even smirking toward Blake. "Maybe telling Daddy she picked up the tranny and asking if she can keep her as a pet."

"Yeah," Blake laughed nervously. Though Yang would joke around with that word once in a while, she always felt uncomfortable with “tranny” being said in her presence. Even by the trans woman herself.

"He has no idea,” Winter couldn’t help snapping. “I simply let him know that I had an urgent matter involving something I needed to correct; as I promised you, if you left, I would tell no one. I had no reason to break that promise… and since now I'm dissolving your responsibility to stay away from Weiss, there's no longer any reason to make your… habits more widely known."

That remark only made Yang laugh as she stared back toward her. "Wow, me almost dying and your sister disowning you is still not enough to make you realize this isn't some hobby."

The death comment put Winter on edge, but not in an angry way. "Fine. I'm choosing the wrong words. I don't know the correct ones, alright? Trans woman, yes, I know there's some kind of difference from a crossdresser, but it still doesn't-" She cut herself off, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I am not being insensitive on purpose, I’m merely ignorant."

"Got that right," Blake muttered under her breath.

"That's one word for it. Then there's selfish, bigoted, transphobic…" But as Yang continued to roll off the words, and observed how annoyed this was making Winter, she was starting to smirk to herself. After how Winter spoke to her in their last meeting, calling her an abomination and threatening to ruin her own sister’s life just to spite her, this only seemed fair.

Which was when she decided to switch tactics. "Part of me wonders if you did it because you hate me, or because you hate that Weiss was happy."

"I told you not to speak about that," Winter told her in a flat tone, trying her best to focus on the tablet screen. "And that I was only trying to ensure Weiss's future. Yes, I regret doing it because I didn't fully understand the situation, but at the time-"

"At the time, you split up a happy couple," Blake overrode her. "Not really sure when that's ever the 'best plan' but hey, made sense to you so that was all that mattered, right?"

"Yeah,” Yang chuckled. “It made sense to either get rid of the annoying tranny, or ruin her sister’s life. Both our lives. How’d she take the news that you did this? I bet she's been thanking you over and ove-"

"That is not at all what I've been doing," Winter told her soberly, irritation creeping into her voice after so many hours of keeping it clear. "Not that I would expect for you to understand how hard it is to manage her business affairs, but I am… exhausted from trying to keep up with all the loose ends, to make sure the business doesn't spiral out of control. Just because you were one of the few times I made a bad judgment call doesn't I did it on purpose!"

"Save it," Blake sighed irritably, shifting as if she was going to move to the lavatory and avoid this conversation. "You're so full of yourself. Like any one woman has that much power or pull. Just because you deluded yourself into thinking Weiss can't survive without you doesn't mean sh-"

"No, YOU save it!" Winter shot to her feet and whirled on all three of them - including Sun, who had been largely silent. Her eyes were wild, and she gestured at Blake, since she had been the last to speak. "I’m not the only one who’s ignorant here! You have no idea! My entire life is about making sure nothing bad happens to my little sister! Not just 'I spend a lot of time' on it - ALL of my time! Anytime I'm not sleeping or eating, and even then, I'm usually eating while checking up on Weiss's affairs, sleeping and dreaming about all the things I might have missed! Consequences that could be avoided if I put in more time here, contact the right person! Do you think I wanted to protect her for all these years in the business, only for her to end up as the next Britney, the next Miley – flushing her 'All-American Sweetheart’ image down the toilet because she's irritated by authority?!"

"Yet you threatened to make that happen!" Yang burst out herself, standing to her own feet as she glared right back at Winter, gritting her own teeth. "Remember?! You said to me that you'd out me to the media so she'd suffer! So her reputation would be down shit creek without a paddle! So don't you even think about saying you're a good sister, because you are not!"

"Do you really think I hadn’t already planned to clearly outline you were the one taking advantage of her?! That she wouldn't be the pure one being defiled by your, your…" Pulling at her hair, she managed to shout, "What I thought was your perversion, okay?! I’m trying to accept that things aren't how I saw them, but all I could see was a man who had found a way to put his hands all over my baby sister! And it made me SICK! I had fought so hard to keep that from happening, done so many things I shouldn't have done to preserve her from becoming that kind of casualty of this awful business! And I thought I failed!"

"Don't you dare call Yang a 'man', you bitch!" Blake was firing up. She was on her feet as well, even though she had felt Sun tug at her arm when she pushed to standing. "She's ten times the woman you'll ever be, and you're acting like she's nothing but a- a CREEP! What did you think she was going to-"

"None of you have the slightest CLUE!" Angry tears were falling now as she shouted at the top of her lungs, causing huge, blotchy red areas to rise on her cheeks and neck. "How many wealthy studio heads, top executives, would KILL to have a seventeen-year-old girl with an angelic face all alone in their offices for a few minutes! How many meetings I had to rearrange, cancel, shift, to make sure that never, EVER happened to her! All without sacrificing her chances of rising to the top of the charts, and I have done it! Damn you and your judgment of me, I have done the impossible, what my inept and aloof father could never manage: kept her safe AND pure AND successful! Even if sometimes I had to be the one defiled in her place!"

The instant the last words were out of Winter's mouth, she drew back and slapped a hand over it. Fear burned behind her eyes; real fear, not just a niggling worry over what they would think of her. Terror about that particular secret escaping her inner security vault.

And in her guest’s eyes, a different type of fear. Shock and awe. None could believe what they had just heard, but obviously they'd heard too much, considering the fear that they were seeing back in return as they stared.

“What… did you say?” Sun asked softly.

“Nothing,” Winter attempted, though now she looked as broken and dazed as they had ever seen her. Worse. “All I mean is that… that I only wanted what was best for her, and I don’t want to hear you claiming anything to the contrary. That’s all.”

The room had turned deathly silent for what felt like forever as they simply stared. That was until Yang finally swallowed, and spoke quietly. "Blake, Sun, can you guys leave the room for a minute?"

"Yeah…" Blake glanced at Sun, then went off to find the lavatory, after all, taking her water and boyfriend with her. She didn't meet Winter's eyes again, only glanced at Yang, curious what the blonde was feeling. Clearly what was once anger had begun to melt away, but she waited until they had both closed the door behind them until she moved again.

And even that was to just sit slowly back down, and continue staring out into space. That sentence could have meant anything, as of yet she had no clue. But the sickly feeling in the bottom of her stomach was enough to tell her what it probably was. Then she remembered, the case she had heard about when she first joined the team. That Weiss was having anonymous pictures taken of her from inside her changing rooms and tour bus, yet that fad had suddenly came to a stop with no explanation as to why, and no one bothering her again. A comment or two from Winter before this that implied no one would understand how hard she fought for Weiss’s future.

"You… found out who was taking those photos, at the beginning of my career… didn't you?"

Weaving slightly as she walked, Winter made her way to the minibar and dropped a few cubes of ice into large, clear glass. "He won't be bothering Weiss again. Or any other young starlet. My… father has connections that are quickly becoming my connections. They don't mind making sure unfortunate things happen to unfortunate people."

"Your father knows about this?" Yang asked while she watched Winter pick up a bottle of gin, and then hesitate. Still, she kept going, "And he lets it happen?"

"He knows I dealt with the source of the photos, nothing more." Something like a smile passed over her as she began pouring other dark substances into the glass, mixing them together. "They had… warrants in another country already. Pull a few strings, and off he goes. Extradition."

"And you… had to clean it up. Plus a lot of other things. Um… what kind of strings did you have to pull?"

There wasn't much more she could do. At the beginning of the day, she hated this woman with every fiber of her being, the day previous she was sending her a voice mail about how it was her fault she nearly ended her life. And now, she didn't know what to think. If it were really true, this explained so much of who Winter was, why she acted the way she did. It even explained why, with the limited knowledge she had, she had tried to destroy their relationship.

Explained, not excused. But she still wanted to learn more.

"Oh, that doesn't bother me," she said offhandedly as she finally raised the drink to her mouth and took a long draught. "Even…" Again, fear flickered in her eyes. "I don't mind, as long as it means I can preserve my sister. Even sex; using it as a tool of the trade. It's the worry of anyone finding out the things I've had to do… using that to cast aspersions on Weiss, on my family name. That's what keeps me up at night."

So it was true. There was undeniable truth that her assumption was right. Yet again, she could feel her stomach turning at the thought, at the mental image that unfortunately made its way into her mind. Such a proud, fierce woman, debasing herself behind closed doors because she thought it was the only way to help her sister. But what made this worse? Weiss was completely oblivious. She had no idea what went on behind closed doors while Winter was securing various contracts and concert opportunities, and only thought of her sister as an even more soulless copy of her father. In a way, she still was… but now Yang knew there was a reason she had become so soulless.

And that made her breathe outward, shaking her head as she spoke quietly. "You're an idiot for thinking Weiss would want this career at that kinda price."

"No, I'm a manager. Though I'll admit, sometimes they are the same thing." Another swill and the glass was empty - and Winter went straight to pouring more for herself. "You don't have any reason to believe that I'm sorry for how this turned out. I was just doing what I always do, but… that's no excuse for getting sloppy. For seeing a threat and trying to eradicate it without first figuring out if it was a real threat to begin with."

"Well for one thing, she wouldn’t force you into a situation where… that is the solution. Nobody’d do that." Yang got up to walk to the bar herself. For a moment, it looked as though she was going to grab one of the bottles of beer, but in the end, she skipped past it and went for cola instead. Before pouring it, she pulled out the small bottle of pills from her pocket, resting them on the bar for a moment.

"You could have just asked me who I really was, and asked both of us if we were together. Just done things the nice way instead of sneaking around behind our backs. I'm supposed to look intimidating, yeah, but I'm just… a big fluffy teddy bear if you're nice to me."

"No, you aren't," Winter scoffed harshly. "You've been a thorn in my side since you started working. Sniping at me, taking your little pot shots… still. No excuse for me jumping to conclusions." Her finger nudged the bottle of pills slightly before she reached to freshen her second drink. "Chasing you into that."

"I've been a thorn in your side? Right! Like, I understand why you were so vile to me now, but you could have just talked to me, talked to Weiss. Don’t act like I’m the one who started all this when you’ve been jumping on my back." She allowed that comment to stand in the silence while she filled up the glass to the full, and then took one of the pills from the bottle, toying with it in her fingers a moment. "Especially talk to Weiss… Because I can tell you now, if she knew you had to do all this just to keep her career going, she'd be heartbroken."

"NO." As if the word hadn't been final enough, Winter set her glass down so hard that it cracked down the middle — not that she noticed immediately. Her eyes were completely intent on Yang, mouth set in a hard line.

“’No’, huh? That’s it?”

"Weiss must never know. Not ever; I don't care if you and Blake talk about what a hypocrite I am, or a 'transphobe' or whatever else you want to call me, I don't care. But you can't tell her about any of this, it's… disgusting. Already, I have to look at her and see you on top of her – and that was her choice, something she wanted." Her lip curled, but when she continued, it was clear she wasn't offended by the previous thought, but rather the following. "Putting her through the same thing? Making her think about men she's barely met… with her sister, and when it wasn’t what I wanted, it's… I can't let that happen to her beautifully pure mind. I won't."

Taking the pill into her mouth and swallowing it before the conversation could go on, Yang took a large gulp of her drink to help it the rest of the way down, resting it softly on the bar again. It also gave her a second to think. The situation was one Yang wished she was never in, especially since it involved caring about her worst enemy. But she did. And she couldn't stand that she was so stubborn she'd do nothing about this, and continue to “help” her sister in this same dubious fashion.

Not for much longer. "Fine. I'm not gonna tell her, and it's up to you when you can tell her. But it stops. Now. Because I know for a fact if the only way she could get those contracts signed is by you whoring yourself out or whatever, then she wouldn't want them. God, you know that!"

"I… don't know how to promise that to you." Raising the glass again, she noticed it was broken and sighed, dumping it straight in the trash bin before dragging another over to replace it. When she noticed Yang watching her, she smirked bitterly.

"Haven't you figured out why I'm so determined to get as much alcohol into my mouth while we're discussing this… horrible subject? It's to wash away the memory of their taste." Once the glass was full of booze and ice, she took a swig, then sighed as if it were satisfactory. "Not that I was ever truly forced into it; I made my decisions based on what would have the best possible outcome. Just… the cost of doing business."

"It's wrong," Yang corrected her. But not for the reason Winter would assume. That much was obvious as she went on. "It's wrong for those jerks to trap you in a situation where that's the only option. You shouldn't have to do that, shouldn't be expected to put out for pigs like that. And if you think stepping in to take that… that abuse is the way to get results… what's gonna happen when some other fourteen-year-old 'America's Got Talent' winner doesn’t have a sister of their own to protect them, huh? Those guys will do the exact same thing… and it’ll work this time."

Her shoulder shrugged, though she looked so much less sure of herself than before. "What does that have to do with me? All I care about is Weiss. I'm not out to change the world; just to protect her from how completely horrible it is."

Finishing off the rest of her drink, Yang put the empty glass back down, and shoved away the pack of pills now that she'd taken them. Rather than say anymore, she folded her arms instead. "Well guess what? Since the start of that tour, that's been my job. Bodyguard and all."

"I know." Her fingertip traced a circle in the water the sweat from her other glass had left behind on the countertop. "You… did your job well, I must admit. When I first realized you two had designs on each other, I thought about making you the same offer I made all those other executives and producers, if you would only leave her be, but…" The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. "Isn't it funny? I hated you for tainting my sister, but also knew you wouldn't have gone for my offer. Somehow… gut feeling. I wouldn’t have been enough."

At last, she turned around properly, eyes wet and face a mask of indifference… one as cracked as her first glass. "My sister means the world to me. And she means the world to you, and you to her. I don't understand it yet, or this whole thing about you… being you, but I'm beginning to see what she sees in you."

A slight smile was beginning to appear to one side her lips, yet she couldn't quite bring herself to look back into Winter's eyes just yet, eyes staring out blankly as she thought on that. The more she was hearing Winter talk, the more she was beginning to realize why at first she hated her, and also why now she was so flattered by hearing her words.

"You remind me of me." She shrugged, grabbing another bottle of cola whilst they were still stood by the bar, pouring it into the glass. "Do anything to protect your loved ones even if it means you take the fall. But only problem is, as I just learned the really, really hard way, that's dangerous. I don't wanna wish what I went through on anyone. Even you."

That startled Winter out of her calm state, and she blinked several times. "You… are you worried about me trying to harm myself?" Against both of their expectations, she let out a bark of laughter. "Wow. After all the trouble I've caused you, I'd think you would be happy to see me go."

"When I left that voicemail? Maybe I did. For a little while, when I was looking for someone to blame other than myself for how shitty I felt. Now that I'm thinking rationally…" She could only sigh, only now looking up to meet Winter's eyes with her own. "You really are just another me, trying to do what they think is best. And we both really fucked that up. Maybe you went first, but I haven’t been doing much better lately."

She had no response to that. Tears were rolling down her face freely now, but she couldn't find her voice to speak. Maybe Yang hadn't truly forgiven her, but even just being compared in this way, given some tiny amount of understanding, was far beyond her expectations.

"Hey." She tried to catch her attention again, finally genuinely smiling toward her as she stood upright, holding her arms outward. But all Winter could do was sob harder, shaking where she stood. As if afraid to move any more or she would fall apart completely… which was a distinct possibility.

So instead, Yang was the one who stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around the crying woman. It was still an awkward situation, since Winter hadn't quite begun to trust her, nor had she quite forgiven Winter just yet. But it was a step in the right direction. Clearly Winter needed for someone to be on her side, and someone to vent to. Even if it came accidentally.

"I know you don't know what to think of me… but know that if this goes well this weekend, no matter what comes Weiss's way, I'll protect her with my life. You don't have to do that anymore. Not the way you’ve been doing it, that’s for sure."

"But if I'm n-not protecting Weiss… then who am I?!" That seemed to be all she could ask before she broke down crying into Yang's neck, the sound raw and ugly, halting. The sound of someone who never cried and wasn't really sure how to go about doing so.

"Her sister," she responded instantly, still embracing her tightly even as Winter used her to cry on. She needed this. As much as Yang hated being the one to give it to her, it was the only humane option. "You're her sister, and she loves you. And she would love you more if you showed her how much you cared instead of letting yourself get abused for the sake of her career. Because she cares about you way more than a couple of album deals."

At first, all Winter could do was nod into her neck, sniffling and clutching at the back of her shirt. By this point, it could have been just about anyone on earth and she wouldn't have been able to stop herself using them as an object of comfort. But she wasn't going to forget who it was. A minute or two later, she pulled back, still sobbing but having recovered enough to speak again.

"I can't believe I was s-so unkind to you! I don't deserve your pity, I don't deserve you being nice to m-me, not after what almost- what I almost did! I'm such a st- a stupid whore!"

Instead, she rubbed her shoulder gently, allowing herself to nuzzle lightly against her neck. Taking a deep breath in and sighing, she tried to remain as calm as she could while Winter needed comforting. In truth however, she just wanted to cry. It hurt to see anyone this broken, even her. "You're not. But today's the new leaf, new start. And if I can pull myself out of a pit of self-hate, you can pull yourself outta this."

"You and Weiss have my blessing," she told her very soberly, eyes wider now than they had been thus far. "Not that you n-need it, but I'm also going to do whatever I can- I meant that before, and I mean it now, I… I was already thinking that anybody who would actually have listened to my ridiculous orders on the off chance that it would be what's best for Weiss… that you clearly… I was so wrong."

Her hand came up and pressed against Yang's neck as she looked her in the eyes. "You're in love. Really and honestly… even though I'm still confused about you being a woman but born a man, and all those things. That's…" She shook her head violently. "It’s less important than my sister. You're going to have to teach me as we go along."

Nodding, Yang eventually released her grip around Winter, softly smiling at her instead. She was finally at the stage where Weiss began at; plenty of work to do, but she was willing to learn. Picking up her glass again, she paced toward the chair instead, immediately sitting down and relaxing.

"Then ask away, sister-in-law."

For some reason, that last term, even though it had probably been intended as a joke, made Winter smile at her for the first time since Yang had known her. Watery and broken as before, but a true smile. And it remained in place as she sat herself directly across from the bodyguard and they finally began to do the one thing they never had: talk.

In that time, Blake and Sun had vacated to the spacious bathroom of the plane. Both were stunned by what had just happened. Winter was the cause of all their problems, the reason Yang was even there in the first place. That was all they knew her for. And now there was a true reason – not that they could hear it over the humming of the plane engine.

"Well… now I feel pretty shitty," Sun sighed as he paced around the room.

"I don't," Blake said from her perch on the toilet seat, though her voice was a lot more subdued than it had been before. "I mean, yeah, it sucks that she went through all that… I wish she hadn't. Wish the world worked different ways, but she still interfered with Yang's relationship and… and almost killed her, you know? It's no excuse."

"Never said it was." He gave up his pacing, and instead leant against the wall next to her, deeply sighing and staring upward at nothing. Crossing one leg over the other, he also folded his arms over his chest. "Either way, seems like Yang's not the only one screwed in the head."

Snorting, she leaned back and tried to get comfortable again, as impossible as it was. "We're all probably a little screwed in the head." Then she looked up at him out of the corner of her eye. "Except for you. Out of all of us, you're the one that's solid as a rock, you know?"

Numbly smiling as he looked toward the ground, he uncrossed his legs again, allowing himself to slowly slide down the wall to sit on the ground instead. "You'd think that, but I was just as scared as you were last night."

"That's not really the same. It's not about whether or not you were scared, it's… that you were still there for us. Being awesome." Then she looked down at the tile again. "I'm gonna need you a lot, too."

He spared a moment to give her a soft smile, but then went back to staring outward again. Now they had come to the subject that Sun had been meaning to mention for a while. Especially so in the last two weeks. "I know. And… I know you want this to go well, for Yang’s sake, but I also know you'll miss her a lot if it does."

"Oh, why should I?" Blake said with a would-be amused laugh. "Just… what happens with us. She's here, then she's gone, then she's here, then…" A tight shrug, and Blake started drumming her fingertips against the sink. "I'd be pretty dumb to expect her to want to stay with the rebound chick."

"You're not the rebound chick. You're just… two people who needed each other for two different reasons. Yang needed the company and something to ease the loneliness, and you were in it for the nostalgia – and having someone who can keep up with your sex drive." Somehow, he found himself smirking at that remark, shrugging his shoulders. "It's gonna hurt, but you both knew it was temporary. Doesn't mean you don’t matter, y'know?"

"Yeah…. yeah, I know all that." Her fingertips drummed faster. "I guess. Don't I?"

"Hmm, maybe not." He smiled. This time, he reached up to hold Blake's spare hand instead, holding it in his for a moment. "I know this’ll be super rough for you. It's not every day someone's first ever love just randomly comes back into their lives; of course that's not gonna be easy."

Blake digested that for a few seconds before answering. When she did, her question was, "Do you… think I took advantage of Yang? Please, be honest; I'm too in the middle of this and I can't trust my own instincts like I normally would."

"I…" He hesitated for a moment, looking to one side and visibly scrunched up his expression. This was the subject he was slightly more scared to voice an opinion on. And although he didn't agree with it… "I think you were both vulnerable and both rushed into it without thinking. So even if you did, so did she. Nobody fucked up worse than the other person."

She nodded glumly, staring down at the floor. "Okay. I never tried to, but I was worried that was what happened. So… so that's fair, I guess." Then she cleared her throat and forced a smile. "Now all I have to do is let her go. Again."

"But this time, stay in contact." Sun squeezed her hand lightly, beginning to stroke it with his thumb. "Because she means a lot to you, and you do to her. With or without the sex. You've done a lot to help her out, and I'm sure she appreciates it."

"Yeah, of course; I'm not letting her sneak out of my life completely. Never. I'm just…"

And then, Blake did the thing she had promised she wouldn't do; she started crying. Unlike the girl in the main quarters of the plane, her tears were very quiet and resigned, but that may have had something to do with how very resigned her voice and body language were.

"Just always going to be in love with her. At least a little, even if I'm also in love with you. Isn’t that crazy? I never, ever thought that I could be the kind of person who's fine with dating two people, that I could let that happen, but it's… it's just… true, and I lied to myself, a-and said it was just sex, and… and now there's nothing I can do about losing her."

"Hey hey hey…" He let her hand go to stand again, and leaned in to give her a quick hug, slowly stroking her back to try and calm her down. Even if he knew all along this was the inevitable result of their actions, it still hurt to see her so utterly heart broken. He wasn't exactly going to have no reaction other than 'I told you so'.

"Can't say I know how it feels, but it sounds like it sucks. A lot. But, I guess at the end of the day, it's good to know she’s gonna be on the road to recovery, right? That she’s doing better – you saved her, dude!"

"That's true," Blake sniffled, though she didn't sound cheered by it at the moment. This was the one second she would allow herself to actually feel the pain of loss, petty as it was to her way of thinking. "I'm just… stupid. I know that. You tried to tell me that, and I didn't listen… and I just let myself believe I was going to keep both of you around. Because I'm such hot shit that can have the two hottest blonde Asians in North America, right? UGH, I sound like an idiot."

Sun only hugged her tighter, unable to help but slightly chuckle at that remark. "Hey, least for a while you got to live the dream. One of each gender, ‘n all. I guess… be glad it happened, and look forward to staying friends this time." But as he gradually released her, he shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows? Maybe if this goes well, Weiss and Yang might be up for experimenting. "

"Oh, don't be…" But Blake fell silent. That was about the least likely chain of events she'd ever heard of… but the very idea was making her mind turn into a fog of scattered possibilities. "But I'm not even really bisexual," she reasoned, almost mumbling to herself. "Just… Yang is hot, so- and Weiss has no reason to want to fuck me! Like, are you serious?"

He had been joking, but seeing how Blake was serious about that remark, and very doubtful in herself in regards to other people wanting her, he shrugged his shoulders. "Why not? If she's gay, you're curious and Yang is bi, I can't see why it wouldn't work… other than like, awkward limbs going everywhere, Twister-style."

Blake was rolling her eyes, though blushing through her tear tracks. "Stooooop! No way does some megastar want to bang me when she has Yang in the sack! That's like… trading in a Prada purse for one from Walmart!"

"You really gotta stop that," he said bluntly, pulling her in closer toward him for a moment as he rested his forehead against hers. Unable to help himself, he stole a kiss from her lips. "Downgrading yourself, when you're made of gold. I'm a lucky guy, you know."

"But have you seen Yang?!" When Sun only kept glaring, she finally relaxed into his arms. "Quit being so nice to me. I'm going on and on about this woman I'm attracted to, when I have the hottest boyfriend of all time buttering me up. You deserve better than that."

Sun only shrugged again, once more leaning in to peck her lips. "Yet here I am, cuddling you, spoiling you, getting into the mile-high club with you…."

Her voice dipped lower as she hissed, "We can't do that! Not with Yang and Winter discussing terrible stuff out there!" But then she slid her arms around his neck. "However… nothing wrong with a little of this."

Then her lips pushed in against Sun's; chaste and warm. They would do quite a lot more of that before Yang saw fit to come and retrieve them. Blake needed the solace.

#White Noise #rwby fanfiction #winter schnee #rwbyremnants #black sun

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