#i sure do love making my oc's go through all the same traumatic events that iwent through as a young 4-10 year old <3

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 22

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 3206

Warnings: Swearing, grief, death

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks. Also happy birthday @shanimallina87!!

Chapter Songs: State of Grace (Acoustic) Labyrinth

****

Ghost

After the catharsis of finally admitting all her troubles, concerns, and self-loathing for having felt the way she did for so long, a small weight lifted off of Ghost's shoulders. Juliette, the saving grace that she was, had listened so graciously and consoled her distraught friend when needed. She had validated the fact that Ghost had endured a severely traumatic experience, and while Ghost herself recognized this, she had never truly been able to accept it because why had no one else reacted similarly to her after enduring such a horrific event? Why had others been able to move past such awful circumstances, whereas she held onto this grudge for years?

Maybe because I technically lost two people I loved that day...

The realization did not help lessen the knot in her throat, but Raptor laying next to her with his head on her knee while she built the crib certainly eased her anxiety. Add in Juliette's uncanny ability to keep Ghost talking while avoiding any topic where Hangman would be brought up, she found herself wholly at ease again. Not long after, the first crib sat fully constructed on the girl's side of the room.

Ghost and Juliette stood, admiring their handiwork and teamwork. The latter inquired, "How long do you think this would've taken the boys?"

"Oh, at least a week. In their defense, they only had the Chinese instructions. We found the English ones. That did help."

"True, but we're not going to tell them that, are we?"

"Oh, hell no. We'll make them think we're just that good." Ghost grabbed the instructions and crumpled them up. "Hey, is my makeup okay? I'd be amazed if my earlier breakdown didn't ruin it somewhat."

Juliette studied her friend's face. "Yeah, we might want to touch up your eyeliner. It's smudged enough that the boys might question it. Come on."

The girls headed to Juliette's bathroom, the dogs on their heels. Sure enough, when Ghost caught her reflection, she grimaced at the messy eyeliner. It definitely gave away her tearful confession. Juliette dug through her makeup bag and handed Ghost her concealer and pencil liner.

"You're a lifesaver in so many ways today," Ghost said, leaning forward to apply the makeup.

"This is what friends are for. Besides, you saved mine when I passed out at the Hard Deck."

"Any of the Daggers could've done that."

"Yeah, but you kept Rooster calm at the hospital. Trust me, that's not an easy feat. He's distrusted doctors ever since they misdiagnosed his mom's cancer, and he's not trusting them with me either. Seriously, you kept him sane."

"Maverick helped."

"Maybe, but they're still working through some things, relearning each other after over ten years of not speaking," Juliette said, leaning against the counter, "I'm honestly not sure Maverick could've calmed Rooster down the way you did."

"How are they doing?"

"Compared to when the mission training started? It's a million times better. They're still working each other out, seeing how much the other wants them around, how much they can prod without pissing the other off, and it's mainly Maverick being hesitant. He doesn't want to bother Rooster and inadvertently cause him to withdraw from him, but then Rooster still knows when Maverick isn't telling him everything and starts thinking he's hiding some big secret again, and it's a... whole thing."

"Sounds like this happened recently," Ghost noted, putting away the borrowed makeup.

"This morning," Juliette confirmed, shaking her head. "Rooster thinks Maverick is hiding something because he went to the hangar without telling us like he normally does, and I agree with Rooster; I do think Mav is hiding something, but he's also a grown man who doesn't need to tell us everything. I think Rooster's paranoid that his dad's keeping another life-altering secret from him again. I'm trying to convince him that's not going to happen, but you know Rooster: once he gets an idea stuck in his head-"

"It won't go away unless he's proven firmly right or wrong."

Juliette nodded. "Exactly."

"Speaking of Rooster, has he or Hangman texted you about where they are with dinner? I'm starving," Ghost said. Her stomach growled in agreeance with uncanny timing.

"No. I should probably check on them," Juliette mused, taking out her cell phone. As if their ears had been burning, the garage door opened, followed by the irked voices of Hangman and Rooster. Sharing dubious glances, the girls went to greet them and to check what had taken so long. Upon seeing the men, it took no time to figure out why. Paint splattered their jeans and shirts and speckled their faces, hair, and Rooster's mustache.

Ghost looked them up and down in disbelief. "Did you have a fight with a paint can?" 

"Actually-" Rooster started, setting his bag of food on the counter and glaring at Hangman- "you wouldn't be far off."

"They shouldn't have had an open paint can on an unstable ladder," Hangman grumbled, setting his bag on the counter.

"You shouldn't have been near said unstable ladder!"

"It was either that or us getting barrelled into by that biker gang, and I'm choosing the damn paint, Bradshaw."

"You could've pulled us in the other direction," Rooster pointed out.

"Yeah, but it was farther. You're the one who tripped on your own damn feet and caused us to start falling in the first place."

"You're lucky they love Juliette so much; otherwise, I don't think we'd be allowed back there." Rooster turned to his fiancée and said, "We went to Home Depot to get them a new can of paint, and it was a bitch to find. That's what took so long. I'm sorry."

Juliette laughed. "I always know to add an extra hour onto whatever errand you're running when it's you two. Why don't you take off your clothes, change into new ones, and I'll try to get these stains out?"

"Honey, if you wanted to see me shirtless, all you had to do was ask," Rooster teased, winking playfully at his future wife while stripping off his shirt. Hangman followed suit, and Ghost tried to avert her eyes so she wouldn't be caught ogling his Adonis build, but a few sneak peeks happened. 

The two men hurried to the master bedroom to grab some new clothes. Juliette and Ghost both peered around the corner, watching them go. The girls glanced at each other, then burst out laughing and hurried back to the counter before Rooster and Hangman caught them.

"What are you two giggling about?" Rooster asked when he returned, wrapping his arms around Juliette's waist from behind and resting his head on her shoulder. Hangman stopped on the opposite side of the island, watching the couple with an unidentified emotion.

"Nothing," she and Ghost said simultaneously.

"I find that hard to believe," Hangman jested. He grabbed some of the to-go containers and placed them on the table. Ghost followed with the remaining ones, purposefully putting her food next to his to reserve her spot. She wouldn't separate Rooster and Juliette because of her feelings toward Hangman. She would take the high road and continue being as cordial as possible with him in front of others. 

The group sat down and dug into the food, chatting amiably about wherever the conversation led them. Ghost tried to bring herself to ask Hangman questions directly but choked on the words every time. What could she ask? What could she say? How could she even think about attempting to reach out when she couldn't think of a simple thing to say to him?

Ghost listened to the bantering between Hangman and Rooster, but Juliette fiddling with her necklace caught her attention. After commenting on how pretty the dainty anchor locket was, Juliette responded, "Thanks! It was the first gift Rooster ever gave me when we started dating. It has our saying on the back: India Lima Yankee."

"India Lima Yankee?" Ghost repeated, perplexed.

"Means 'I love you' in the phonetic alphabet. It's how we used to say I love you when we were just friends, so our other friends wouldn't read anything into it. Of course, then we started dating, but we let it stick."

"That's so sweet!" 

"Yeah, I had a crush on her for the longest time," Roosted admitted, jumping into the conversation. He placed his hand on Juliette's thigh. "I meant the saying romantically for most of the time we started saying it, but I never realized she did too until we finally admitted our feelings for each other."

Ghost smiled nostalgically, the story reminding her of what she and Hangman used to say to each other. Without thinking, she said, "I had a similar situation with a friend. We loved each other, albeit only platonically, unlike you two, but still kind of similar. We had a saying we reserved for each other only, too."

"What was the saying?" Juliette asked, her gaze flicking momentarily over to Hangman.

"Forever and always. I would say, for example, 'I've got your back.' He would respond with 'Forever,' and I would say 'and always.'"

"Oh, that's adorable!" Jules gushed. "I'm blanking right now, but what would that be in the phonetic alphabet?"

"Foxtrot Alpha Alpha," Hangman said, staring at Ghost with a mixture of confusion and wistful reminiscence and the silent question: why are you bringing this up?

Ghost held no answer for him because she had no clue herself. The memory popped into her head and rolled off her tongue before she could consider the consequences of voicing it. Maybe this was her sign to rekindle her friendship with Hangman. Maybe she had to suck it up and accept that she would never get an explanation from him about that fateful day. Or perhaps she had to start the friendship again in order to get the explanation. It was worth a shot. 

"I like that: Foxtrot Alpha Alpha," Juliette said, standing up from the table and grabbing her empty container along with the others'. 

"People might think you're referring to the Federal Aviation Administration," Roosted joked. Standing up, he added, "I'm going to work on the crib some more, see if I can make heads or tails of those instructions. Hangman, you coming?"

"Right behind you." Jake followed Rooster to the bedroom. Juliette and Ghost locked eyes and silently waited for the impending interrogation about the newly built crib. Sure enough, hardly five seconds later, the boys returned, and Rooster said, "Now, I could've sworn when Hangman and I left, the crib had not been built."

"Maybe it was the dogs," Juliette suggested innocently, popping a missed fried crawfish into her mouth.

"I might believe that if they had opposable thumbs, but they don't. Please tell me you did not build that by yourself."

"Don't worry, I sat the entire time. Ghost did all the heavy lifting. Literally."

Rooster sighed. "Fine, fine. Did you find the English instructions?"

"No, we followed the Chinese ones," Ghost lied easily, standing up and stretching. "I don't know what you two found so difficult about them. Y'all need help with the second one?"

"We could probably use some supervision," Hangman said, meeting Ghost's gaze. Unless she was mistaken, she saw a glimmer of hope in his green eyes.

"Count us in," Juliette chirped. They all headed into the nursery and sat down to build the last crib. Juliette, now wholly outnumbered, sat in the recliner and watched. She asked, "By the way, Ghost, how's Jackie?"

"Oh, shit, I completely forgot to tell you about that!" Ghost exclaimed, straightening in surprise. She dove into the story of her sister's woes and broken marriage. Hangman, Juliette, and Rooster listened intently, aghast at the flimsy excuses Ryan had given Jackie for ending their relationship so suddenly.

"That smells fishy," Hangman declared in distaste. "Sounds like there's someone else in the picture."

"I started wondering the same thing. However, I didn't want to say anything when she was already distraught. We'll likely find out if it's true sooner or later. See, this is why I don't trust marriage. Outside of you two-" she waved the Allen key at Juliette and Rooster- "I see so many problematic marriages. Hell, even my parents briefly split up about a year before I was born, if only for two weeks, but still. Now Jackie and Ryan, so many people from high school-"

"Oh, yeah, I saw Braxton and Paxton were getting divorced. Guess they couldn't come up with a kid's name that rhymed with theirs," Hangman joked.

Ghost chuckled. "See, the one that shocked me was Nelly and PJ. They seemed so smitten."

"Did you go to the ten-year reunion?"

"No. I wasn't friends with anyone, and I didn't want to stand around awkwardly while everyone else caught up. Did you?"

"Are you kidding? I couldn't wait to get out of high school. Why would I want to go back?" Hangman finished tightening the last screw, and the group stood up. "Well, looks like we can get a lot done with the girls watching over us."

"And when we have English instructions," Rooster added, glancing at the aforementioned packet lying on the floor next to his feet. 

Juliette joined the group to admire the handiwork. "Thanks for helping you two. We owe you."

Hangman waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, this is on the house for our future niece and nephew. I think Uncle Jake and Aunt Annalise have a good ring to it." 

"Agreed. If y'all need help with anything else, you know who to call," Ghost said, checking her phone. "I should get going. I promised I'd talk to Jackie later to see how breaking the news to Mom and Dad about her divorce went."

Jake turned his attention to Rooster. "Bradshaw, it's been fun."

Rooster frowned. "No, it hasn't."

"We make a good team," Jake continued, offering his hand to shake.

Bradley took it and broke into a grin, replying, "No, we didn't. It was a disaster."

"I look forward to the next project." He and Ghost headed to the front door with Juliette and Rooster behind them. Bidding the couple farewell, the two aviators left the house and walked silently down the sidewalk to their rides.

"You okay getting home this late?" Hangman queried, unlocking his truck. 

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Ghost said, wondering where the question had arisen.

"You feel safe getting home by yourself?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Hangman rubbed the back of his neck. "I've been worried about you ever since you told me about Kyle. I don't trust him not to stalk you because his behavior is obsessive already. And look, if you're saying you feel safe because it's me and you want me to leave you alone, then just let me know, and I'll get Coyote or Rooster-"

"Jake-" Ghost interrupted- "I'm not saying I'm fine to get you off my back. I'm telling you that because it's true. If I felt unsafe, I would rather have you escort me home than potentially risk my safety."

Hangman nodded. "Good, good. I, uh, I'll let you go. Enjoy your night, Annalise. I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you around." Ghost turned toward her bike and then stopped, an idea popping into her head of how she could potentially break the ice between them and set them on the road of reconciliation. She took a deep breath and called, "Hey, Jake?"

He whirled around instantly. "Hmm?" 

"Something dawned on me earlier-" Ghost stepped toward him with her hands clasped tightly in front of her- "you and I are both close to Juliette. We're not going to be able to avoid each other because of it, and I don't want Jules to feel like she has to choose between us. It's not fair to her. I understand I'm the one who cut contact between you and me, so I felt the need to be the one who tried to reestablish it. I'm not- I'm not saying we need to hang out outside of other people's invites-"

"Then what are you saying? Because I know it's not that you want to be friends again."

The sadness in his eyes added the missing emotion to his stoic tone, and Ghost ached to reach out for him, to embrace him and confess how much she'd missed him all these years, that she did want to be friends again but didn't know how or where to begin repairing what had been broken between them. Ghost forced herself to stay rooted to the spot and mulled over what to say. Hangman would sense if she lied, so she twisted the truth. "I'm not sure we can be friends again, not in the way we once were, but I do believe we need to find a way to at least become friendly acquaintances. For Juliette's sake and our future niece and nephew's."

Hangman nodded. "Agreed."

Ghost offered her hand, and he shook it. She barely managed to stop herself from shivering at the contact and the tingling sensation engulfing the parts of her hand where his skin touched hers. Snatching her hand back before her mind traveled down the road of desire, Ghost cleared her throat and said, "Good, good... well, I should, uh, I should get home. See you around?"

"Yeah. Are you going to be at dogfight football this Saturday?"

"I don't know." It sounded better than saying, 'I haven't gotten an invite from Maverick because, despite his cordialness to me the other day, I don't think he likes me.'

"Why not?"

Ghost shrugged. "The invite was a one-time thing last time. I don't want to show up uninvited."

"Then this is me inviting you. Besides, if you say no-" a cocky smirk spread across his chiseled face- "I'll tell Juliette, and then she'll call you asking where you are. We don't want her thinking it's because of our fall-out."

Ghost narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you using my own argument against me?"

"Yes," he said unabashedly.

Ghost tried but failed to bite back a smile. "Fine. I'll come."

"Great. I'll pick you up at nine. That way, we can swing by Starbucks on the way there."

"I can drive myself." Despite her protest, Ghost couldn't ignore her heart fluttering in anticipation at the idea of being alone with Hangman in his truck. A flood of memories washed over her: singing along to country music while cruising down roads in his passenger seat, sitting in the bed of his truck while star-gazing, and chatting while they drove through the hills of the Smoky Mountains to escape the Academy and see the fall foliage among so many others.

"Yeah, but then you can back out at the last minute, and I'm not letting you do that. I'll see you Saturday at nine sharp." Not giving her the chance to respond, he winked cheekily at her before getting in his truck. Ghost smiled to herself while she went to her motorcycle, simultaneously elated and nervous about the new situation she'd put herself in with Hangman. This plan would either take off or crash and burn. Right now, she couldn't tell which way was more likely, but Ghost knew what she hoped for.

****

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @bradshawsandbridgetons @catsandgeekyandnerd @peachiicherries @multifandomcnova @fandomsstolemylife00 @bookloverhorses @mak-32 @midnightmagpiemama @luckyladycreator2 @ellamae021 @kmc1989

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#top gun #top gun fic #maverick #rooster #hangman #phoenix #bradley bradshaw #iceman #bob #jake seresin #coyote #payback #fanboy #omaha #yale #halo #fritz #harvard #tg2 #tgm #top gun maverick #fanfic #jake seresin X oc #pregnancy #grief #foxtrot #alpha

[lesenbyan]

A-D for Eve and Cyn

Uncommon Questions for OCs and their creators

you're gonna get a bonus Aki on some of these just bc they're a set by design and I sure you'll find aome way to deal with that horrible truth (that's sarcasm for anyone who can't tell)

A) Why are you excited about this character?

It's hard to put into words with OCs so old. Part of my love for both of them is both nostalgia and reclamation. As I'm sure I've told you before, the girls were created via back and forth character development with the person who then became my first ex (and my only Traumatic Breakup) so my development of them fizzled for a while, but Eve's always been my default go-to OC

And that is bc my thoughts in my own head aren't....clear? I think most in impressions and vibes with a Single conscious thought possible at a time, if I'm gonna remember it anyway, which makes character development without a sounding board really hard. So for years Eve was my only fleshed out OC bc 1) she's the more social one so I pull together her story easier and faster without having to pull teeth to get it from her and 2) she's got a lot more of. Who I used to be and wishfullfilment in her so it's easier to figure her out.

and, in contrast, I love Cyn (and Aki) bc they're difficult to figure out. Cyn's selective mutism is hard for me to write bc I'm not great at show don't tell so writing her when not through the lens of Eve who Knows Her can be very hard and when writing her as her is hard bc I'm also not great at nonverbal communication. But that's fun for me, and it requires me to understand other neurodivergences irl which is a big bonus

B) What inspired you to create them?

again, as mentioned above, they were being created with an ex. I'm not sure exactly if I had any real inspiration for them past the fact of "I'm friends with writers, I'm the [child] of a writer, my brother's a writer, and i write fanfics now, surely this means I have to make up characters" and like. Faulty logic, but I poured into Eve (and the story around her) everything I wanted for my future. I'm not quite certain why I created Cyn in all of it. Like in their original mostly scrapped story Aki and Eve's roles were clear but Cyn didn't have one. I invented a role for her but I could never think of a way for that to tie into what Eve was doing apart from the fact of Aki and Cyn being twins. She only really started getting development when I decided I wanted a "adorable and Bloodthirsty" character but even now I have issues trying to figure out exactly where and how Cyn fits sometimes, for all I love her and know she cannot be removed from Eve and Aki anymore.

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

I- well I kinda went into this above, but to further expound the issue always was that Aki was a metaphor for depression (and possibly suicide coming to think on it) and Eve was her White Knight and I've never quite figured out where Cyn fits in that. Eve's always been easy, she's a protector and a lover and a martyr if she has to be, even if she's angry about her mission, she does it bc it's her mission, as you see with her attitude and mental state in recent events in XIV and Aki's hopeless despair romanticized and turned "beautiful" whereas Cyn's... Cyn was anger at one point but that doesn't fit her. Like don't get me wrong, you don't want to piss her off, but she's much more stable and self contained than that. I've recently ish come to realize she's also a protector but a different kind- Eve protects the world, Cyn protects her own. But I'm still not sure where that fits in with even the base original narrative with the other two girls.

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

Cyn has! she's always been on the mid to short side of average, medium build, and adorably dressed. I would always imagine her in a right red empire waist knee length dress with a black under bust corset and matching bright red like 3-5" heels. And a giant axe. She and her sister (as you can likely guess somewhat from the names) were meant to be Fantasy East Asian looking and then. had none of the culture. bc i was a 13yo weeb (and if i ever revist them outside of fandoms I will either adjust them/their designs and/or their culture accordingly)

Whereas, as we kinda briefly touched on last night while talking about Eve's patron, she's actually slid around a lot. She was originally far more self insert so she was my skin tone and skinny, at a certain point I....in some weird ass logical leap, decided to make her vaguely middle eastern looking (bc of the skin tone??? despite being lived experience that tone =/= nationality or race????) but I didn't do much with her then and when i went to revisit her just went ".....having none of the culture here make this feel gross, she's back to self insert-ish." And one of her defining qualities has always been "attractive" so there was a years long war in my head bc I prefer women mid sized and up but society prefers skinny women and I was never sure how to marry the two so her weight was always inconsistent. Until recently. When I've just been loudly declaring that she is fat and she is gorgeous and she loves her size.

#Eve; #Evelynn; #Cyn; #Cynthia; #sezja; #asks; #ask meme; #this was wordier than I feel is expected from the meme #but there's A Lot behind characters that I've had for literally 14 yrs #and have thus also been effected massively by my teen years my DP/DR my need for validation and my understanding of society #IT IS WORTH NOTING: that while Eve was vaguely middle eastern I did MEAN to do research and incorporate it (bc a separation from identity #has always been part of her story) but I accepted later that I don't have the time energy or means to do that at the time #so if I was to keep playing her she needed to go back to her original design if I didn't wanna be approaching (if not actually at) racism

[fakecrfan]

Since you very nicely offered to write me a fic:

Your prompt is: A story about a background character or characters dealing with life after the TMA apocalypse.

It can be set in the OG TMA universe in the post-post-apocalypse, or it can also be set in a different universe that was affected by the events of MAG 200.

Both OCs and characters established in-show are allowed.

This one aligned so well with my interests that I am actually tempted to open my inbox, briefly, in case anyone else has questions like “what is X bavjground character doing after the apocalypse?” so I can make a series out of it and expand on my post-post-apocalypse headcanons.

For now, you can read your fic here, on over here on AO3

---

Sarah doesn't know where she is.

England, she has to still be in England, she thinks. But it's not an England she recognizes. Not the cobblestone streets of London, and not the moors she used to visit on her vacations. The ground is barren, as though all blades of grass but a few have shriveled up and died. There are no trees, houses, or landmarks for miles--just scorched remnants of where they might have been before.

For a moment, the emptiness of it all is a relief after the hotel. But everything is the same on all sides, and she doesn't know where she is or where to go. She's starting to get hungry, too. She never got hungry in the hotel, nightmarish as it was.

She has to sit down for a moment, take a few deep breaths, and think.

Get food. Find shelter. Survive.

Find Alex.

(God, why had she left her child in a hotel room? Little twelve year old Alex who was still afraid to sleep without a night light. He'd begged her to stay, she should have--)

With that in mind she gets up. Doesn't know what direction to walk in, so she doesn't concern herself with trying to pick one. There's nothing to do but walk, keep her eyes open, and hope.

So she hopes.

---

None of our old maps match the landscape, anymore.

The world these days it's... not like in the before times, as I suppose we're calling it. Despite our hopes, ending the apocalypse wasn’t like everyone waking up from a nightmare. The land is...

It's scrambled, I guess. There are patches of the world that--well. They're not the same, but still have infrastructure intact. Electricity, running water, air conditioning. No scorched earth or rubble in these areas. Just a bunch of traumatized people living in an intact town, or city.

When I talk to them, they tell me it's not the city they remember, though. Everything has been switched around, houses and stores not where they remember them. Their neighbors aren't the neighbors their remember.

Those are the lucky ones. And then there's, well... the outside.

Some places have rubble everywhere, jagged steel ripped apart and waiting for someone to cut themselves on it. Some are frozen over, still waiting for the ice they were frozen over with in the apocalypse to melt. Some are scorched to dust. No phones out there, or anything that lets you connect back with home base.

I'm going out there. We need to map it out. We need to figure out our new world, understand it--and we need to get as many people out of the wastes as possible.

Melanie, Georgie--I’ll see you soon.

---

Sarah does find water. That's something. She's hungry still, so hungry, but she knows that the water is more important.

She wonders if she should stay there. She doesn't know if there will be more watering holes in the future, after all, and she has no way to carry it with her. She decides to keep moving on, and hope for the best.

She starts to see blades of grass poking up, along with some sort of metal crap strewn about the landscape. She looks at them a moment--it seems to be bits of an old carousel? Eventually, a giant sit in their shade, for a while. There she takes a moment to look at the horizon, and goes cold.

She recognizes the tower on the horizon.

A  scaffolded tower with two legs beneath it. A sight she'd last seen on a postcard from her brother. The Eiffel Tower.

Is she in Paris? No, that can't be it. It's just the tower out here in the wastes. There are none of the buildings that would normally surround it. It's almost as though its been ripped out of the city and transported here.

Does Paris even exist anymore? Does London?

If she even finds Alex, will there be a home for them to go back to?

---

I have a theory, Melanie. I think lots of people got transported to different places in the world based on what fear they belonged to. Like, a bunch of lonely people were put in the same place, a bunch of claustrophobic people were put in the same place, and so on. All away from the people they knew.

I’m in one of the suburban safe areas now. No one here knows each other. I talked to them all, and all of them remember living in the same house before, but none of them recognized the houses near them or the people in them. When I went from house to house, everyone had a different native language. I talked to a German guy and a French guy who spoke English, but a lot of them… couldn’t talk to me at all.

There was a woman who--she saw me and she lit up. She grabbed me and started talking a mile a minute in Arabic, I think. But I couldn’t understand her, and she--when I tried to talk back to her in English, her face just. Fell. And then she started to cry.

My dad refused to speak it at home, you know. He-- Actually, never mind. It’s not important. 

She ended up shoving me away.

---

Sarah makes it to the ruins of a forest. 

There’s nothing but stumps left of it, along with litter everywhere. She finds water again, filthy brackish water, and she drinks it anyway because she’s so thirsty. She starts sifting through all of the garbage strewn about for something edible. She finds stale bread crusts crawling with ant and eats them anyway. 

She finds a can of beans, and almost cries. When she can’t find a can opener, she screams instead.

---

The death count has gotten to me, honestly.

I’ve found dead bodies even in the towns and cities. Some looked like heart attacks. Some suicides. People who woke up but couldn’t bear the agony they’d just gone through. That’s still not… the worst of it.

I passed a whole field of dead bodies today.

Hundreds of people, I think, all of them lying dead in the soil. But there were... trails. They had been walking, before they collapsed. All walking in the same direction, to where you can still see London on the horizon.

They were alive. They were trying to get help. And they just... starved, it looks like. The walk was just too long.

How many people are going to die from it all, Melanie? How many already have, out where we can't see them?

I left as many jugs of clean water and rations along the roads as I could. I put up signs pointing to London, saying how many miles out they were, where I had stashed food. I gave them your number, so they know who to call to get to the shelter.

I hope it means the next group that passes by won't die.

I hope there is a next group.

---

Sarah can see what looks like a city in the distance before she collapses. 

She tries to get up, but can’t. She’s been walking for days now, it feels like, only sporadically drinking and almost never eating.  There just isn’t enough energy left in her to stand.

She tries to think about little Alex again, running around in his Batman cape, hoping some kind of love or maternal instinct will kick in and give her the last burst of adrenaline she needs to get up. It doesn’t work. Maybe she doesn’t love her own son anymore, really. Maybe it’s just been fear and guilt driving her this far, and that source has already been wrung dry. 

She manages to crawl a few feet, before she can’t even do that. With nothing else left to do, she starts to cry out. “Help! Water, please!” 

She doesn’t think anyone will hear, or show up. But against all odds, in her dimming vision she sees a figure come into view. Backpacked, clutching a water bottle. 

“Help,” she croaks out again. 

The figure gets closer, and she starts to be able to make out the details of his face. He’s her age, or older, with worry lines carved into his forehead and wide eyes. His nose looks eerily like her brother’s nose, and the shape of his jaw reminds her of her old boyfriend, the one who left her with--

She blinks. Maybe she’s hallucinating, or maybe she’s somehow run into a long lost cousin. But then, the man’s eye’s widen and his mouth opens.

“Mum?”

No, no it can’t…

“A-alex?”

No, Alex was a little round cheeked boy. This is a thirty year old man, at least, taller than her. It hasn’t been that long. It can’t be, it’s not--

“Mum?” He’s doing a frown that looks so, so familiar. This has to be a dream. “Mum, it’s--no.”

He sniffles. He steps forward, and steps back. He paces, uncertain.

“No, no,” she hears him mutter. “It’s all fake, all fake. It’s a trap. That’s what they want, the monsters and the face stealers. No one is real. Don’t give them what they want--’’

“Please.” she begs. 

But she hears him walk away, sniffling, and shortly thereafter everything goes dark. 

---

I have a confession to make, Melanie. I was going to side with Jon, back then. I could have lived with keeping everyone here suffering to prevent more of it. But when he said he was going to kill the whole world, not just leave it--that’s what made me snap. 

I couldn’t let the whole world die. Genocide of the entire human species? Anything but that. Surely passing along the suffering would be better, as long as it didn’t lead to the extinction of whole worlds. But… 

I keep finding more dead bodies.

I went back to that suburb I talked about, to restock on all my food. It was a lonely domain before, I think. I’d thought everyone there would be fine, you know. They didn’t have any deadly sicknesses, or twisted flesh injuries. They had food and water and shelter. But when I went back… more of them had died. 

Lots of suicides. Some of them snapped, and started to self injure.

The German guy I talked to had started to starve. He had a pantry full of food and he just wouldn’t eat it. I tried to get him to eat, to move in with someone else, but he said talking to people “made him sick.” 

I gave up, and left. I had to. There were too many people, and too much to do, so I left him. He’s probably dead now, or going to die soon. Because he can’t find the will to live, and I don’t know how to help someone with that.

The Lonely is probably one of the least directly harmful entities, right? This domain was just a suburb, probably the most comfortable you could get during the apocalypse. And yet the victims are still all dying. 

How much worse is it in places without food and water? In the corruption domains that still probably have deadly diseases spreading? In war zones, in flesh factories?

I think about that nursing home we found. All of the patients who'd died of heart attacks a few minutes after they'd woken up. The ones left alive screaming for help where no one could hear them, for days after the fact. All of the ones that died in their beds before we found them. 

I think about that field of bodies I found the other day. I think about the ruins of that Circus I found, people refusing to talk to me or each other--refusing to help because they didn’t believe it was over and thought everyone else was a mannequin.��

I think… I think it doesn’t matter that we saved the world. If people can’t find the will to live, ro rebuild, to trust and help each other again… I think we’re going through a mass extinction event anyway. 

---

Sarah’s in a car, she thinks. Not a moving one. She’s propped up against a seat,There’s something plastic pressed to her lips.

“Come on,” says a woman’s deep, level voice. “Come on. I got you. We’re getting to London. All you have to do is drink.”

Sarah opens her eyes. She sees a dark-skinned woman trying to coax her to drink, holding up a water bottle. 

“Just a sip,” the woman says. “Just enough to make it.”

Sarah closes her eyes, and takes a long moment to consider whether she wants to.

#my writing #tma fic #post post apocalypse #cw: suicide mention #cw: familial separation #cw: mass death #Basira Hussain

[geraldineswriting]

𝐑𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

(𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁)

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 = 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘙𝘺𝘭𝘦𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 = 3.6𝘬

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 = 𝘖𝘊 𝘹 𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 = 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 & 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

(𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘧, 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘳!)

Rylee was tired of everything. She was tired of having to live in her tiny motel room for the past five months. She was exhausted by the fact that she was working five days a week to pay for the four college classes that seemed to be forever marked on her calendar. She was so damn tired of being alone in a town that was new to her in every way, even if she has already called it her home for almost half a year. She moved here to get away from her parents that seemed to constantly be looking over Rylee’s shoulder, but she didn’t know that the price would be loneliness. She wanted friends and freedom and maybe even love if that was a possibility but it seemed like those cards weren’t in her deck.

God decided to finally give Rylee a break when she found a small studio apartment that was close to not only her job but also her school. She knew that she was going to have to take a few extra shifts to afford the rent but at least she had a mailbox and stove, a luxury that she would never take for granted again. The downside to moving was that she needed to actually move her belongings into the damn place, which she would have to do alone. Luckily, Rylee’s parents bought her a small ski boat when she moved out since they knew boats seemed to be more popular than cars in the Outer Banks area. 

So now, on her one real day off, Rylee was going to move all of her things into her new home, which meant she also had to cross the marsh about ten times since the old motel was across town. She never knew how lonely moving could make someone feel until her ninth and final trip back with only two boxes in her boat left. She felt relieved that it was over but sad that she had no one to celebrate this small victory with. She did it, she was moving into her first real home even if it went by the title, “apartment.” She was proud of herself, at least until the boat suddenly stopped. At first she was confused because the gas tank was at least half full after she filled it up two trips ago. She wasn’t an irresponsible girl, especially when it came to boat ownership and Rylee was having a hard time understanding why it was now deciding not to move. But that confusion quickly turned into violent terror when the boat started to sink. She was at least five miles away from the docks and swimming that far at eight o’clock at night didn’t seem safe. The water had started to come over the bow and was quickly rushing towards her feet. The situation was becoming worse by the second and Rylee knew she needed to make a decision on what to do. She knew she had no other choice but to put on a life vest and swim home. She quickly found the orange life preserver under one of the many seats, snapping shut each clip. As she was about to jump from the boat, she decided to grab one of the two boxes, wanting to lose the least amount of possessions as possible. 

She was almost five hundred feet away when she looked back to see the boat fully under, leaving no evidence that it was even there at all. Rylee immediately started crying, because how could she not. She just lost her only way of transportation and her only sense of freedom that she had a grasp on. Her parents were going to be not only pissed, but also distrust her in every sense of the word. She felt like she was in this epic battle between the world and her, and as she used every bit of strength to get home, she felt like she was losing. 

It was starting to become hard to breathe as the tears rolled down her reddened cheeks and the soreness in her arms and legs was getting to the point of unbearable. She prayed for some miracle that would get her home because she was starting to lose hope in making it back safely. For as long as she could remember, Rylee felt like the little girl who was always being supervised by her parents. The irresponsible, unreliable and selfish girl who had the constant urge to prove to everybody that she was anything but those things.  It wasn’t until she moved to the Outer Banks that she finally felt like a woman. A strong, valiant and beautiful woman who was worth more than everybody else’s opinion about her. But now as she weakly swam through the marsh at almost nine o’clock at night, she once again felt like that little girl. She not only felt weak and stupid but believed it as well. 

It was once Rylee had been swimming for about an hour when she knew she wasn’t going to make it home if she didn’t get help. She had dropped her previously held box about fifteen minutes back, but still the ache in her lungs was only building while the wanting of hope was dissipating. She tried taking short breaks, while also getting rid of the soaking wet jeans and sweater to make herself lighter. Nothing was working. 

At this same time, Rafe Cameron was getting into his boat hurriedly, deciding that a late night drive was what he needed. Like every other night, Rafe’s father had decided that getting into a degrading screaming match with his son was a good plan, which of course caused Rafe to shut down and leave. This had become the regular program and at this point, Rafe was used to it. So as Rafe drove his boat through the seagrass ridden marsh, he was startled to say the least when he heard someone yelling, no screaming, for help. 

Rafe wasn’t the savior type and if anything believed to never get involved with anybody’s business that wasn’t his own but when he heard the pleas, he knew he had to help. Rafe sped up until the screams became more prominent and understandable. He didn’t really know what to do or how to feel when he saw this half naked girl whose face was bright red and covered in tears but beautiful nonetheless. If he was being honest, it was mostly fear that sprung up into his heart when he saw her face, because she made him feel something that for once wasn’t pain or loneliness. He wasn’t sure what it was yet but it was good.

Rylee could not explain the amount of thankfulness she felt once she saw a boat approaching. She wanted to scream with joy but to do that she would have to stop crying, a thing that was too much to ask for at the moment. When the red boat pulled up beside her, she looked up to find a blond and built young man staring down at her. She immediately thought he was handsome but was too traumatized to wander any further into that thought. The only thing she wanted to do at the moment was get out of that water. Even though the weather in the Outer Banks was anything but cold, she couldn’t help but shiver due to the late hour and now freezing water. 

“P-Please help m-me out of h-here.” Rylee stuttered, while Rafe went on his knees to pull her up from her waist.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing her chest against his as her pale and cold body was pulled from the water. Rafe was startled when he felt her body and it reminded him of ice. 

“Thank you, thank you s-so much. J-Just thank you.” She stuffed her face into his neck, crying with tears of joy but also terror. She was terrified of the event that she just experienced and it left her mind in a state of shock to think that she survived it. But she couldn’t have been more thankful that this stranger saved her life. 

“It’s okay, no need to thank me.” Rafe whispered, holding her a little tighter when he felt some of her tears dripping onto his shoulder.

Rafe Cameron was not a person who liked emotions of any sort and would rather jump from a cliff then admit he felt anything at all. That wasn’t his thing and he was scared that that would never change until he felt her hands grasped onto his shoulders and her nose brushed against his neck. He was feeling things that he truly never knew existed, feelings that he thought were reserved for anyone but him. He had only just met her and yes, he was well aware that the thoughts roaming around his head were a little much, but still he felt them. 

“Um, do you have a b-blanket or towel? I’m just a little cold.” 

“Yes, yeah, of course.” He rushed out, gently pushing her into one of the seats as he haphazardly searched for a towel. 

Once he finally found one, he wrapped it around her shoulders whispering, “There, how’s that?” 

“I’ve never been so happy to meet a stranger in my life. Thank you so much.” Rylee meant it with her whole heart, and as she calmed down, she took her time to look up at him.

She had already identified him in her head as gorgeous but now that he had saved her, and the moon was lighting up his eyes like stars, she wasn’t surprised to feel her chest expand. He was the epitome of handsome, but she was starting to feel like he was much more than a pretty face.

“I’m just glad I was out here. I mean, what happened? Are you okay?” His mind was swirling with possibilities, one of them including the thought of an attacker which only made his face burn with anger.

“I’m not exactly sure. All I know is that my boat sank along with some of the boxes that I was moving to my new apartment. I don’t really know how or why.”

“How long were you out there in the water?”

“About an hour, maybe more, maybe less.” It was strange for those words to be spilling from her lips. It left an uneasy feeling pooling around her stomach.

“Wow, I’m so- wow that’s horrible. God, you’re a strong woman, plenty of people I know wouldn’t have been able to make it that long.”

She blushed at his response, “Yeah, I’m glad I made it too. Again, thank you.” 

“Well, where are you heading so I can take you home?” 

His face had briefly caused her to forget that she had a home in the first place. 

“The apartment complex on willow street, it's only about a block away from the docks.” She didn’t want to put him out, and lord knows, nobody’s plan for their Saturday night was helping some poor stranger get home.

“You don’t have to walk me home, honestly just dropping me off at the docks is fine if that’s easier for you.” She added quickly, rushing the words together out of embarrassment from her predicament as the boat started moving. 

“I’m walking you home, especially since you don’t have any real clothes on. It’s no bother, really.”

She looked down at the mention of her clothing, or lack thereof and felt her heart ache with humiliation. She probably looked like the fool of the century. 

“Y-yeah, sorry a-about that.”  She whispered so quietly, she almost wished he didn’t hear her at all. 

“Don’t apologize, I understand. You took ‘em off to make yourself lighter in the water right? No need to be embarrassed about that.” He looked back to give her a show stopping smile that made her feel at ease. She really liked his smile.

“What’s your name?” She asked after he turned frontward again.

“Rafe, what about you?”

“Rylee. It’s nice to meet you Rafe.”

“Trust me, it’s very nice to meet you too.” 

She rose out of her seat, brushing the wet hair out of her face as she walked to stand next to him. Once she stood there at his side, she felt nervous and slightly self-conscious but mostly giddy. With her body still shaking from being cold and the heat radiating off of his body, it felt warm in many ways to be there. He gently rubbed his hand up and down her back, leaving a smile across her face and a quicker beat in her chest.

She had been alone for so long that it had become a companion. A feeling that now carried itself with her wherever she went, and though she never liked it, she got used to it. High school was not an experience that she liked to remember including the people that came along with it. She was alone in every way imaginable, so it felt quite fragile but exhilarating to be with this new friend. A person who made her feel things that past friends never made her feel. He made her feel like she was enough.

“So Rafe, what were you doing out at this time of night anyway? You don’t seem like the type of guy who’s out looking in random marsh’s to save even randomer girls.” She asked with an edge of worry to her voice, fully realizing that she knew nothing about him. As attracted to him as she was, she didn’t know him. If his plan was to kill her or lure her or hurt her, there was nothing she could do. All she could do really was trust that he wasn’t going to do anything of those things.

Rafe stiffened at her question, “Uh-,” He didn’t know if he should be honest about the scuff up with his dad that was slowly leaving a bruise below his eye. He thought maybe that would be too overwhelming to talk about, especially since they had just met and she was still pretty shaken up. He decided that he would lie, but if she caught on then he would tell the truth.

“I was bored and really had not much else to do. Thought the stars might look nice on the marsh.” 

“You sure that’s all?” She looked him in the eye, having a small suspicion that it wasn’t true. She was always good at reading people, and she felt like he was maybe a little upset. Maybe not at her but at something.

“What do you mean?” He laughed uneasily, meeting her stare.

“You hesitated and your answer was pretty vague. I’m just guessing though, obviously I could be wrong.” 

“I uh- yeah you’re right. It’s really not a big deal, another fight with my dad, that’s all.” He admitted, looking down in shame. He felt embarrassed that he was caught lying but also confused by the fact that she just knew something was wrong. Like he was a book and she read him without even looking at the cover. 

“I get it, I mean, not to get so deep but I’ve never had a good relationship with my parents so you’re really just preaching to the choir. I’m sorry though, I know that won’t fix it nor is it probably something you even want to hear but yeah, I’m sorry.” She hoped her honesty didn’t make him uncomfortable because all she received was silence. She felt he was upset but she didn’t think her comment would make him shut down.

It wasn’t until she finally looked him back in the eyes that she saw them tear up, almost spilling over. Rylee was suddenly sure that she didn’t make him uncomfortable with her silence but he was just uncomfortable with showing his emotions. She understood that feeling all too well. She decided the best thing to do was to wrap her hand into the crook of his elbow, as his hand sat on the steering wheel. He looked down at her and gave her a forced but at the same time authentic smile. She gave it right back.

“We’re here.” Rafe announced a few minutes later, as she pulled her hand back to herself. They quietly leapt out of the boat, as he tied it to the dock, no words nor stares being shared between them. It wasn’t awkward, it was just quiet.

“Shit, I’m barefoot.” She spoke to herself, quickly trying to mentally figure out what to do for the next block or two that they would have to walk. It wasn’t until Rafe stepped in front of her and surprisingly picked her up bridal-style that those worries went away.

“You sure you want to carry me? ‘S not the easiest job and I really don’t mind being barefoot.” She spoke with her head lying against his chest and her arms around his neck. It was so comfortable though and with his arms under her waist and legs, she just wanted to fall asleep. 

“Knock it off, you’re lighter than a feather. Oh, and trust me, there’s no way I’m risking you cutting up your feet. It’s just not worth it.” He spoke so softly, it was like a lullaby singing her to sleep.

“Though before you pass out love, where’s your apartment?” 

“Green complex, door thirteen, second floor.” 

“Alright, close your eyes. We’ll be there in a few minutes.” As she closed her eyes, she thought about how if she wasn’t so tired, she would’ve kissed him. 

It wasn’t until she felt her body being put onto a soft mattress that her eyes opened once again. The first thing she saw was his hands, pulling her tan comforter over her exhausted body. They had small, disappearing bruises scattered on the knuckles. Before he had the chance to pull them away she gently grasped one in hers. His skin was soft, littered with tiny calluses on his fingertips. She looked up into his eyes, giving him a tired smile. He gave one back.

“Rafe, thank you so much. I don’t know what else to say except that. Thank you.” He squeezed her hand unapologetically hard.

“You’re giving me too much credit. You’re the one who made it and was strong enough to make it. If we were closer I’d probably tell you that I’m really proud of you.” 

“I’m proud of me too, even if I lost my boat and some of my things. I still did it.” He had this look on his face that was hard to read, but one that still gave her the feeling of achievement and care. 

“Exactly.” He hesitated as he sat there and thought about the different array of choices he had sitting in front of him. He really didn’t know what to do. She was so pretty and strong and mature that he didn’t know how to react. Rafe honestly believed that there was no option that included her ever going on a date with him. Maybe the best thing for him to do was to leave.

“I should go, you’ve had a long day to say the least.” He retracted his hand and pulled the covers little tighter around her arms. He started to back up towards the door, making sure to study her face as he was leaving because he didn’t want to forget it. If this was the extent of the relationship they shared, he wanted to remember every piece of it.

“O-Okay. Um, well thank you. Drive o-or walk or whatever you’re doing safely. Thanks again.” She spoke quietly. She felt abandoned again. For the millionth time she felt like someone was leaving and that she would go back to being alone. This person who saved her life made her feel wanted and cared for and like she was a real breathing person. Not just a shell of a human, walking around with nothing but a heartbeat to remind her she was alive. 

Rafe gave her a small wave, hesitating as he backed out the final few feet. She heard his feet down the hall and with each step, her mind began to search for any type of courage left in her body. He couldn’t leave like this, especially since they both knew this wasn’t just strangers helping each other out. This was special and rare. 

Rylee heard his footsteps stop briefly as he opened the front door.

“No, fuck no. Rafe!” Rylee yelled, cutting through the silence with passion. She rose from her bed with anger and determination and courage. 

“What are you doing?” He asked her as she appeared at the other end of the room, even though he was pretty sure he already understood. 

“I’m not letting you leave like this. Everyone always does that. Maybe I’m just batshit crazy but I don’t know. I don’t think I really have to say it, do I?” 

Rafe stared back at her, fondness carved into his eyes. She was much more courageous than him, that was a fact he wholeheartedly believed. 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Well then are you going to kiss me or what?” She spoke bravely, a shy smile springing up from her face. They both stood there, opposite ends of the room until he slowly walked towards her. When he reached her, his hands landed softly around her naked waist, with hers on his cheeks. 

They kissed hesitantly, careful about how their lips meshed together, savoring as much of the feeling as they could. Rafe really liked Rylee and Rylee really liked Rafe. All she knew was she no longer was upset that her boat mysteriously sank, nor was she scared about calling her parents. She was just grateful that she now had someone, someone who’s plan was to never leave.

#rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #obx imagine #obx one shot #outer banks fic #outer banks one shot #outer banks imagine #jj #jj maybank fic #jj maybank #rafe #kook #pogue #pope x reader #pope heyward imagine #pope heyward fic #pope #john b reader #john b imagine #john b oneshot #john b fic #john b #john b routledge #jj x reader

[robotslenderman]

Sascha! :3

:DDD

SPECIAL INTEREST TIME, BITCHES

How I feel about this character

I used to not give a shit but then you sucked me into them how dare you

They are baby

Mass murdering horrible torturer baby

They've... been through a hell of a lot of trauma and have to process it. They were stuck in that trauma for centuries. Now Ilias is apparently back but he died in their arms, they saw him turn to ash and they have to be dealing with the trauma of that, too.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Ilias cel Frumos, Beckett (but like in a snarky enemies to lovers kind of way), and ofc my own OCs Rose and Nastasya. Wasn't sure about Nastasya/Sascha for a while but suddenly something seemed to click the other night and I think they'd actually work very well together -- their personalities complement each other, I think. Ilias is warm to Sascha's cold, extroverted to Sascha's introvert, but Nastasya is playful to Sascha's seriousness, joyful to their solemnity, vibrant to their reserved nature.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Even before Rose became a romantic partner I shipped the two of them nonromantically too.

Also I like the idea of Sascha being a tsundere Vitriolic Best Buds with Beckett.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I think that they would have responded far, far worse to the appearance of Elias Athanasios than I see fandom talk about (sorry, Ry XD). Like, not even as bad as I've mentioned before -- way worse.

(SORRY RY I'M HAVING A SPECIAL INTEREST MOMENT)

To start: there is no way in hell they're not dealing with hella trauma after the Dracon. That everyone agrees on, but lemme go into detail:

Like imagine not just seeing your lover die in your arms but being unable to really process it because your consciousness just got smooshed with someone else's, with someone who's mourning his own lovers and didn't really care about yours. Oh, and that person's a suicidal but also sadistic psychopath.

So you spend a few centuries torturing people, shit you wouldn't have done before except in extreme circumstances (if at all) and quite enjoying it, and then --

And then you get separated from the part of you that was okay with it because oh, it was actually the other guy who was cool with that stuff, and you were trapped with the brain of the guy who enjoyed everything you did and you felt everything he did as you did it and thought you wanted it, thought you enjoyed it, thought it was you who decided it, but because you were so enmeshed you don't know that you DIDN'T, maybe it WAS you, can you really blame the Dracon?

And maybe it was really you who made those decisions, because after that long fused together... sure, you're separated physically.

But are you really?

You've been together for centuries. After that long you can't have known where one of you began and the other ended, and it must have influenced your true personality. I mean, stick people in a room of people different to them and they adapt their personality and beliefs pretty quickly, like weeks to months, without outside influence.

Like, how much fucking worse would that be if you were actually stuck inside their head, for CENTURIES???

You're apart now, but in a sense you'll always be together.

Stick the both of you in a room and you'd probably talk like a pair of Creepy Twins. You'll finish each other's sentences because you'll both be on the same wavelength, you'll have the same idiosyncratic habits -- scratching your nose with the same finger of the same hand, tilting your head the same way when you think somebody's being annoyingly obtuse, tapping your fingers the same way on the desk when you're thinking.

You've been intertwined for so long that you probably have the same impulses now, the same thoughts, with only the most foundational aspects to the both of you separating you -- the Dracon's still got his sadism, and Sascha is still introverted, so that'll influence subtle differences.

But it'll be buried under seven hundred years of habits you developed together, opinions and thoughts and aversions and passions you developed together, working in sync for every second of existence, dreaming the same dreams, moving the same hands and fingers, doing the same deeds.

You were a gestalt. Are you no longer one just because you're apart? Are you really separated when you were one for so long? Are you even two people any more, or are you just one person with two bodies, now?

It's going to take decades to bring yourself back to a functional level after the identity crisis that causes, and that's not even counting the trauma of the Eldest, or the Dracon's trauma that you remember just as vividly as if it were your own, or the trauma of what Symeon did to you.

You will probably never, ever recover.

There's traumatic events people went through that follow them for decades that only happened over a few hours at most.

How can you come back from seven hundred years?

In a way, it would have been emotionally better for them to have stayed fused to the Dracon forever. At least they would have thought they were themself, then. At least they were used to it. At least they didn't have a conscience. At least they didn't feel as used because half of them was doing the using, if initially unwillingly. They were one; there was no conflict, just two people so in sync they may as well have been one.

Then to add insult to injury, right after the Dracon's pulled from you, a guy identical to the lover you witnessed die in your arms shows up trying to get your attention. That timing is suspicious AF, and any hope Sascha might have had of coming to terms with Ilias's death on their own time comes crashing down as this redhead just casually waltzes on in and just mashes Sascha's trauma buttons by existing, by looking just like him and acting like him and sounding like him and having the same interests as him and and and --

And now half of them is gone. But also -- not gone, never going, never leaving, who are they now? They're missing half of themself but also probably feeling like they'll never be their real self again. Were they ever really Sascha, when that was a name they took on side by side with the Dracon? But how can they be Myca when Myca is seven hundred years away, when he died the moment Ilias did?

Maybe it was Myca who died in his lover's arms, not the other way around.

I think on the outside Sascha would pretend to be furious at Elias Athanasios for posing as their lover, for having the gall to pose as someone they saw turn to ash, but deep down?

I think they're fucking terrified of him.

Because of the traumatic memories he brings back. Because he knows so much about Ilias and Sascha can't figure out who he "really" is and what his true motivations are.

Because after everything Symeon did, after everything the Dracon and the Eldest did, after the evidence in front of Sascha's eyes that Ilias was dead, dead, dead, how can they not be terrified that this isn't another attempt to manipulate them and put them at the complete and utter mercy of another Methuselah or Elder or worse for another few centuries, when they were only JUST set free?

Their nights as the Angel of Caine are done. They've been manipulated so long and now there's someone else using the person that they loved the most as bait to draw them out. Someone they know for certain did not survive. For their own survival, they can't do anything but disappear because given the forces that has had power over them before, they can't take any risks with this one. Sascha keeps trying to find out who he really is and if he's working for someone, what his angle is, but this time their brilliance is getting them nowhere and they cannot find a single scrap of a clue who Elias Athanasios really is, because all evidence points to him being the real thing but he can't be because THEY SAW HIM DIE.

And here Athanasios is, continuing to try to lure them out.

He's convinced Beckett, one of the smartest people Sascha knows, that he's the real deal.

He's convinced Rose that he's the real deal.

He's convinced Sascha's dumbass Vykosovich descendants that he's the real deal -- particularly the descendant that's their biographer, the descendant whose made it her life's work to know everything there is to know about Sascha Vykos. And Athanasios has direct access to her.

He's getting closer and closer to Sascha.

The walls are closing in again.

So, my unpopular opinion?

Sascha Vykos is the most terrified they've ever been in their existence.

(Second opinion, which I don't know if it's unpopular or not, but -- since they used their deadname for centuries before changing it I reckon they'd actually be pretty fine with Ilias still calling them Myca. But, you know, only Ilias, and anyone else gets turned inside out. Not even Rose would get that privilege.)

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Not exactly answering the question but I am dreading the release of the V5 Sabbat book because I'm so scared they're going to completely ignore what BJD did with Sascha and go back to making them a villain.

Also worried that Sascha's canonically followed the Beckoning. I reckon they'd nope the fuck out of it after what happened in BJD. Something strange trying to manipulate them again? Fuck no.

#VTM #Sascha Vykos #headcanon #Ilias cel Frumos

[twistedsinews]

OC Profile

Tagged by @chyrstis

<3

Tagging: @rosewaterhag, @hunnybadgerv, @gatticus, @heywoodvirgin (for when you come back), @chyrstis, @ ... whoever wants to do it and hasn't yet!

V

General

Name: V. Literally. It's always been just V.

Alias(ses): Enough people assume that V is an alias, and it's difficult enough to track down in a database. However. She will use other aliases for one-off jobs when she needs the extra layer of security of not having someone track her down through street work, but none of them really get recycled.

Gender: Nomad. I jest, but I'm pretty sure she's somewhat off the binary even if she straddles the line.

Age: As of the events of C77, she'd just turned 29.

Birthdate: I don't actually have one for her. Possibly in January... I'm only saying that because I started playing Cyberpunk on my birthday but that's when she came into creation so why not.

Place of birth: The Badlands. I'm not sure where in the Badlands, but probably quite the distance from Night City.

Hometown: She grew up in a roving band of self-sufficient scavengers, so... everywhere. And nowhere.

Spoken languages: English. Bad English. She might've picked up a few scattered words of other languages, but she relies heavily on her translation software and that reliance has stunted her learning.

Sexual preference: Ladies and gentlemen, and Jackie Welles. She's not picky on the sex or gender front, but someone who can keep up with her, ideally.

Occupation: Street Ronin. Mercenary for hire.

Appearance

Eye color: Mid-light purple. Dark brown, prior to getting modded.

Hair color: Blue and red, although she'll change it from time to time. Black, prior to getting modded.

Height: 5'8"

Scars: She has a few. The healed slash on her face comes from her first real knife fight, and she keeps it as something of a memento. There are some newer scars on her hands. And let's not talk about that mess of scar tissue that is her heart, because ow.

Favorite

Color: I think she probably likes pink, red, blue, and teal about equally.

Hair color: Barring mods, probably dark.

Eye color: Sky blue.

Song: Favorite in the same way that pain makes you feel alive, I think, but post-Heist, she found a new appreciation for Never Fade Away.

Food: Marshmallows. City takeout, especially pizza.

Non-alcoholic drink: Soda, the sweeter the better.

Alcoholic drink: Nomad moonshine, but tequila can be fun. And then there's vodka.

Have they...

Passed university: Fuck, no.

Had sex: Fuck, yes.

Had sex in public: ...I mean. Not on the Main St. Sidewalk, but I'm... pretty sure there wasn't as much privacy in all those back alley trysts as you might want to believe. Also, do orgies and sex clubs count as public? ‘cause, uh...

Gotten pregnant: Nope. Cyborg birth control ftw!

Kissed a boy: Yes.

Kissed a girl: Yes.

Gotten tattoos: Several. All traditional, none of them are Light tattoos.

Gotten piercings: A few in her ears, the nosering, and the eyebrow thing.

Been in love: Yes. Not until she reached Night City, but then she kinda made up for it by falling in love a few times over the course of the game.

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Pretty regularly, for business and for pleasure.

Are they...

A virgin: Ha. No.

A cuddler: Very much so. Even before the love part, she was always very tactile. (It confused the hell out of Jackie until he just accepted that being her best friend and go-to fling was about as intimate as some relationships he'd been in... prior to feelings coming to light, anyway.)

A kisser: Indeed.

Scared easily: In some ways, not so much others. On her own, she's pretty reckless and fearless. When she has people she cares about, she can fairly easily get scared of fucking up the relationship and also of outside harm coming to them if and when these things crop up on the horizon. However, it pretty much took coming face to face with death in a way she couldn't shrug off before she actually got traumatized to the point of being terrified.

Jealous easily: Under the right circumstances. She's less jealous of physical activity and closeness and more when it comes to feelings.

Trustworthy: She can lie and she can twist the truth, and she has no scruples against doing either. But when it boils down to it, if she's on your side she will have your back to the last cliff at the end of the world.

Dominant: She certainly can be. She can be hard-headed and stubborn, to add to it, and she has no second thoughts about stepping up and taking charge. Though if we're talking about in bed, she's drastically less so.

Submissive: To whom is the bigger question. If she likes someone, she tends to be a lot gentler and tries to be considerate. And again, if we're talking about in bed, well... yes. Pushy about it sometimes, maybe, but yes.

In love: Ha. Hahaha. Yes. With quite a few people.

Single: It's complicated (TM).

Random questions (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

Have they harmed themselves: In a manner of speaking. It's not a conscious/deliberate thing, the way most people think of self-harm, but she falls into plenty of behaviors that would qualify and definitely puts herself out there in harms way or restricts herself as a means of self-punishment.

Thought of suicide: Yes. Quite a bit, after the Heist.

Attempted suicide: Again, not in a conscious or deliberate way, but more of a sarcastic 'wouldn't it be a shame if these dangerous behavior patterns happened to have consequences' way.

Wanted to kill someone: Quite a bit! And has!

Have/had a job: Very many!

Have any fears: Losing the people she cares about, to negligence or outside influence. Not making any lasting impact. Dying, after viewing that BD, and double after reliving Johnny's memories, and triple actually doing it once or twice.

Family

Siblings: To her knowledge, she's an only child. It's plausible that her mother remarried after leaving the clan.

Parents: Her father is a Nomad. Her mother is City, though V never knew which city. She's not in contact with either. And so far, I haven't given them names.

Children: None and she's a little terrified of the idea. Not that she couldn't eventually change her mind - she never thought she'd be in love, either.

Significant other: Jackie. Misty. Arguably Panam and River. Saul and Placide she kinda wishes. Johnny she kinda wishes not, but they share a brain and that's pretty significant even if not in any traditional relationship sense.

Pets: One (1) sphinx cat she found and picked up that was hiding in the alleys of her MegaBuilding.

#chyrstis #nomad!v #cyberpunk 2077 #i'm pretty sure i've done this one with faith before... #so... have a v

[thatonerandomfan4]

Rockwell’s History [READ WARNINGS]

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

Fandom: Madness Combat

Characters: Dr. Crackpot, Dr. Hofnarr, Dr. Jebediah Christoff, Phobos, Hank, Sanford, Deimos, 2BDamned, Jebus, Tricky, Rockwell (My OC), Rockwell’s Parents

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, Gore, Attacking, Detailed Gore Scenes, Cursing, Transphobia, Crying, Injuries, Very Sensitive Topics, Angst, Heavy Angst, Long Story

Summary: Talking About Rockwell’s Backstory And How He Became Part Of The Madcom Group.

Word Count: 2,681

Notes: Rockwell Is Trans. His Original Name Was Roxannie (Pronounced As Roxanne) Roxannie Will Be In The First Half Of The Fic Until She Makes The Transition.

If You Feel Very Uncomfortable/Dislike The Topics That Are Going To Be In This Fic, Please Leave The Fic Now So You Don’t Have To Experience It And Triggers You. 

Also, If You Dislike Fics That Involves Peoples Made Up Characters (OCs), Then You Are Welcome To Leave The Fic. 

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

Roxannie Woke Up To Her Alarm Clock And Quickly Got Dressed, Heading Downstairs To Get Breakfast. Her Mother Greeted Her With A “Good Morning” And A Warm Smile. Roxannie Sat At The Table, Greeting Her Father. She Took One Bite Of Her Cereal Until The Table Was Knocked Over. With A Frightened Look, She Looked At Her Father And Screamed. His Head Was Chopped Clean Off With His Chest Wide Open, Revealing That His Internal Organs Were Tampered With. She Was About To Cry Until She Heard Her Mother Scream. 

Instead Of Staying At The Table, She Ran To The Room Her Mother Was In. As Soon As Roxannie Stepped Foot In The Living Room, She Was Met With A Horrifying Sight.Her Mother Was Brutally Cut In Half With Her Face Missing From Her Head. The Top Half Of Her Body Hung From The Ceiling By A Sword Which Impaled Her. The Bottom Half Of Her Body Was On The Floor, In A Pile With Her Internal Organs. Annie Almost Gagged At The Sight, Until She Saw The Man Who Had Caused Her Parent’s Deaths. A Tall Dark Figure With Red Eyes Approached Her With A Hammer. It Grabbed Her Firmly By The Neck And Bashed Her Head Twice, Revealing Her Brain. 

It Left Her On The Ground Struggling To Stay Alive, Leaving Only A Tablet Behind. Rox Used It To Contact For Help, But Could Barely Stay Conscious Due To Her Brain Being Exposed. Luckily, There Was A Fast Response. The Mysterious Person Was Immediately Able To Track Her Location And Tell Her To Stay Where She Is. She Agreed And Just Laid In Front Of The Tablet, Trying Not To Lose Consciousness. About 45 Minutes Had Passed So Far, And She Was Starting To Feel Her Eyelids Get Heavy.

A Man Rushed In And Immediately Injected Her With Some Type Of Medicine. She Immediately Struggled To Stand Up, Before Being Forced To Sit Down. Her Head Was Bandaged Properly Before She Was Helped Up. She Didn’t Even Get A Chance To Thank The Strange Man Because He Immediately Rushed Her Out Of The House And Into His Vehicle. The Whole Car Ride Was Quiet Except For Roxannie’s Cries, Mourning The Death Of Her Parents. 

She Couldn’t Even Form Sentences Or Explain To The Man That Saved Her What Happened Because Of How Upset She Was. He Felt Bad For Her, Trying To Give Her Anything She Could Keep Her Mind Busy With Until They Got To The Place. She Didn’t Really Want Anything Though, Other Than To Let Out What She Was Experiencing Now. Once They Arrived To Their Destination, She Was Immediately Brought Into A Lab Where A Bunch Of Scientists Were Working. The Man Led Her Into A Room Where A Small Chubby Man Chatted With A Tall, Stern Looking Guy.

Dr. ??: “Hofnarr, Christoff. I Uh….Got The Child.”

The Two Men Looked Over And Immediately Rushed To Roxannie. They Hugged Her And Did Their Best To Comfort Her In Any Way Possible In That Moment.

Dr. Christoff: “Thank You, Crackpot. We’ll Let You Know If We Need Anything Else.”

Crackpot Nodded And Left The Room, Leaving The 3 Alone As Christoff Shut The Door. Hofnarr Tried To Calm Her Down And Talk With Her. It Was Very Hard To Understand The Girl Through Her Crying And Incoherent Words, Even For Him. Hofnarr Just Held Her Close And Consulted Her, Doing His Best To Calm Her Down. Christoff Sat Down Next To The Two And Offered Rox With A Glass Of Water. She Took The Water And Drank Half Of The Glass, Keeping The Drink In Her Hand While The Two Older Men Did Their Best To Help Her Relax.

Once She Was Calm Enough, They Finally Got Her To Explain What Had Happened. She Told Them Every Detail From This Morning, Keeping It Short And Sweet At The End. Hofnarr And Christoff Frowned, Hugging And Comforting Her Again. It Was Very Hard For Someone To Go Through All That Trauma, Especially For Someone At Her Age. Hell, The Kid Was Only 14. She Barely Knew How To Even React Or See Something Like That. She Needed A Lot Of Therapy To Get Past That Traumatic Event.

Hofnarr: “Hey Christoff. Do You Think Phobos Will Let Us Keep Her Here With Us?”

Christoff: “Maybe, With A Lot Of Bribing.”

Roxannie: “F-Forgive Me For I-Interrputing Your C-Conversation...But Wh-Who’s Ph-Phobos?”

Hofnarr: “Oh! Don’t Worry, You Aren’t Interrupting Anything. And Phobos Is Our Boss. We Need All Permission From Him To Do Anything Around Here.”

Christoff: “Kinda Sucky, But We’re Even Lucky If He’s In A Good Enough Mood To Pay Us.”

They Chat For A Bit Before Heading To Phobos’ Office, Staying Together The Whole Trip. Once They Reached Their Destination, They All Greeted Phobos Before Saying Anything About Roxannie. Phobos Obviously Had To Ask First And The Two Scientists Explained The Whole Situation. Phobos Took A Minute To Think Before Accepting Their Request To Allow Her To Stay. Ending It With “I Don’t Care How, But As Long As She’s Not A Big Distraction To You Two And Works With What She Can.” Of Course They All Had To Agree To That.

They All Headed Out The Door And Back To The Breakroom. Hofnarr Figured She Was Still Hungry And Offered To Make Her A Snack And A Drink. Christoff Just Offered Her To Stay With Them So She Has A Place To Sleep And Stay Instead Of The Lab. Rox Agreed To Both And Walked With The Two Men. On The Way Back To The Lab, Hofnarr Was Smiling, Gently Gripping Onto Rox’s Hand. Christoff Took Notice Of This And Chuckled. He Watched His Husband For A While. It Was Only Now When He Asked About His Sudden Cheery Mood.

Christoff: “What’s Got You All Giddy, Hoffy?”

Hofnarr: “We Have A Child Of Our Own Christoff! Aren’t You Excited To Be A Parent?”

Christoff Just Smiled As Hofnarr Went On About The Wonders Of Raising A Child Of Their Own. He Goes On Fantasies About Vacation, Family Outings, Family Dinners And Other Things. Roxannie Gripped Her New Parent’s Hands Gently, Smiling Softly. She Was Going To Start A New Family And These Were Her New Parents. She Didn’t Mind That, She Loved Supporting People Who Were In Relationships With The Same Gender.

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

A Few Years Later…

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

Hofnarr: “Rox, You Ready?”

Roxannie: “Yeah I’m Coming!”

She Placed Her Bandana On And Adjusted It To Be Over Her Bandages, Flattening Out Her Lab Coat. She Turned The Light Off In The Bathroom And Headed Downstairs To The Door, Greeting Her Two Dads As They Hugged Her. They Headed Towards The Lab While Hofnarr Was Going On About How Lucky They Were To Be A Family. Christoff Occasionally Threw In A Few Things, Chuckling At Hofnarr’s Responses.

Once They Got To The Labs, Everything Seemed Normal Except For A Few Stressed Out Scientists. The Shaking Scientists Greeted The 3 And Gave Them Information To Keep Safe. Hofnarr Took Roxannie With Him As He Usually Does For The Morning. Christoff Set Out To His Office, Looking Around At The Messed Up Experiments. He Scoffed At The Thought Of Phobos Actually Trying To Be Successful With This….Project. Christoff And Hofnarr Agreed That This Whole “Project Nexus” Thingy Would Not Be On For Long. Someone Would Definitely Stop Him, Even If It Had To Be One Of Them. 

Not Even A Minute Later, Hofnarr Had A Worried Look On His Face As The Sound Of Gunshots Could Be Heard From The Other Lab. Rox Stayed Close To Hofnarr Just In Case Anything Happened. They Kept Hearing Gunshots From The Other Lab, Not Knowing What On Earth Was Going Down. Hofnarr Was Upset, What Was Happening To His Husband? Was He Ok? Was He Hurt? He Held Onto Rox As He Tried Not To Cry About The Thoughts That Were Running Through His Mind.

Hofnarr: “I Hope Christoff Is Ok. I Don’t Want To Lose Him Like We Almost Lost You.”

Roxannie: “I-I’m Sure He’ll Be Ok, Dad. And Hey, If I’m Still Here, He’ll Still Be Here.” *She Hugged Him Close. Hofnarr Gave Her A Soft Yet Sad Smile.*

Hofnarr: “I Sure Hope So.”

They Waited About 30 Minutes To Half An Hour Until Someone Entered The Room. As The Two Turned Around, Hofnarr Rushed To Hug The Man. It Was Christoff, And Thankfully He Wasn’t Injured That Badly As He Though. Christoff Went Over To Rox And Hugged Her, Handing Her A Gun As He Also Gave Hofnarr A Gun. He Wanted To Keep His Family Safe While This Whole Messed Up Thing Was Happening.

Hofnarr: “You’ve Made Quite A Mess Christoff.”

Christoff: “They’ve Gone Too Far. If We Don’t Stop This Now...”

A Few Agents Entered The Room, And Christoff Killed Them With The Help Of His Husband And Daughter. Hofnarr Sweated And Gulped, Keeping Roxannie Close To Him.

Hofnarr: “I See We Have No Other Choice…”

They Murdered The Agents Who Kept Coming And Headed Out. Hofnarr Unlocked All The Control Panels As The Continued Through The Lab, Killing Any Agents, Zombies Or Any Failed Experiments. It Took A While Until They Got The Whole Place Cleared But They Were Able To Do It Without Much Harm Going To Them. They Got To The Last Room With The Control Panel And Hofnarr Started Getting Worried. He Looked At Christoff While They Got Rid Of The Last Few Agents With Rox Guarding The Door.

Hofnarr: “Ya Know Phobos Will Finish Us For This.”

Christoff Looked At Hofnarr After Shooting The Last Agent, Ending The Life Of The Betrayer.

Christoff: “Phobos Better Watch His Back..”

Hofnarr Unlocked The Last Control Panel And Looked Around The Room. He Started Heading Out After Christoff And Roxannie, Staying Close To Them While They Walked. Eventually Hofnarr Took The Lead Of The Group To Make Sure That The Other Two Were Safe. He Opened The Door Outside For Them Both, And Closed It After They Were Far Ahead Of Hofnarr. He Followed Them And Took The Lead After A Few Minutes. He Then Looked At Christoff As They Approached Phobos’ Tower.

Hofnarr: “Everything Depends On You Now.” *He Used His Key Card To Unlock The Door And Let Christoff In, Keeping Roxannie Back* “Good Luck, Old Friend..”

They Watched Christoff Walk Into The Tower, And Headed Back To The Lab. Hofnarr Kept His Daughter Close To Him, Trying To Keep Her From Breaking Down Like How She Was When They First Met. They Knew Christoff Was Only Doing This For Their Own Good, And To Stop This Whole Thing From Ruining Nevada Even More. They Walked Into The Lab And Immediately Went To The Breakroom, Setting Their Weapons Down By The Table When They Got There.

They Got Some Food And Drinks While They Chatted, Sitting Down So They Wouldn’t Fall If One Was Upset Or Panicked. They Chatted About Christoff And How….Cold He Looked When He Walked Into Hofnarr’s Lab. Rox Was Scared By His Look, As It Was Her First Time Seeing Him Like That. Hofnarr Had Already Known This Look So He Was Pretty Used To It. 

They Kept The Conversation Going By Talking About Other Stuff Like Work, Family Life, Dinners, And Especially That One Dinner Night. That Was The First Time Rox Had Seen Hofnarr Angry, And Not A Playful Or Slightly Irritated Angry. It Wasn’t His Fault They Were Banned From That Restaurant Though. The Boy Walked Up To Rox And Went “Tsk. You Wanna Be Trans? That’s Gross. You’re A Girl And You Will Always Be A Girl.” Hofnarr Was Just Defending His Daughter...By Attacking The Boy With A Chair.

They Were At The Lab For About An Hour To An Hour And A Half Just Chatting And Wandering Around. After A Bit, They Headed Outside And Met Up With Christoff Again.The Only Difference About Him Was That He Was Wearing The Key Fragment On His Head. Jeb Greeted The Two And Lead Them Back Inside The Lab. This Was Going To Be A Strange Experience For All Of Them.

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

A Few More Long Years Later…

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

Sanford And Deimos Turn The Corner, Shooting The Agents That Tried Approaching Them. The Two Headed Into The Room And Killed All The Agents In Sight. Then They Saw Her….Roxannie On The Floor Unconscious. They Both Inspected Her Body And Picked Her Up, Keeping Her With Them. They Finished With Their Mission And Brought Her Back To Base. The Brought Her To Hank And 2B Where They Inspected Her Body. 

After She Woke Up, She Made A Request To The Doctor. She Wanted To Be A Man. The Doctor Hesitated Before Agreeing, Putting Her Under Anesthesia. He Waited A Few Minutes Before Finally Getting To Work. He Wrapped Him Up And Successfully Did Both Top And Bottom Surgery. Doc Finished With Replacing The Bandage On His Head, Cleaning The Wound Before Putting Anything On There. 

After That, Doc Gave Rockwell Medicine To Help With The Pain. He Helped Rocky Walk And Get Used To Using The Bathroom. After That, Doc Gave Rockwell Some Clothes To Wear: A White Shirt With Ripped Sleeves, A Black Vest. A Belt To Go Over His Chest, Black Pants And Another Belt To Keep Them Up, Black Boots, Goggles With One Side Red And The Other Black And A Gas Mask. He Also Put His Hair Into A PonyTail.

Rockwell Put Everything On And Headed Outside, Ordered By Hank, To Fight The Clown. Rocky Took A Look At The Clown And…….Wait….That Lab Coat Looks So Familiar…..Was It..No It Couldn’t Be….HOFNARR?! But..He Looked Way Different Than Before.

Tricky: “WHO ARE YOU?! NEVERMIND THAT- CLOWN KILLS YOU!!”

Rockwell: “No Wait-!”

Tricky Whacked Rocky Pretty Hard In The Face, His Gas Mask Had To Be Removed. After Rockwell Removed His Goggles, Tricky Gasped And Dropped His Stop Sign..He Looked Like He Wanted To Cry.

Tricky: “Ro-Roxannie…?”

Rockwell, Holding His Jaw In Place: “It’th Rockwell Now, D-Dad.”

Tricky Immediately Hugged His Child, Healing His Jaw And Forming A Metal Plate Over The Injury. Rockwell Hugged Tricky Back, Both Squeezing The Shit Out Of Each Other. Tricky Kept His Son Close, Until They Heard Footsteps Approach From Behind Rockwell. It Was Jeb….Well...Christoff But He Didn’t Look That Different. 

Jebus: “Tricky, What Are You Doing?! He’s On Hank’s Side!” *He Took Out His Binary Sword, And Swung It Up*

Tricky Backed Away And Ran To Jeb, Trying To Stop Him.

Tricky: “JEB NO HURT HIM!! GUY IS-”

It Was Too Late. Jeb Swung And Cut Rockwell Almost In Half.

Tricky: “Roxannie-”

Jeb Looked Frightened. Oh God, What Had He Done? He Removed His Sword And Watched Rockwell’s Limp Body Fall To The Ground. The Savior Broke Out In Tears. He Just Murdered His Own Child, Or He Thought He Did. He Was Relieved When He Heard Rockwell. He Was Still Alive! How? That Didn’t Matter, He Was Just Happy His Son Was Alive Still.

Jeb Rushed Over To Rockwell And Healed Him, Summoning Bandages And Wrapping Him Up. He Was Still Crying From What He Had Done. Tricky Joined Them Both, Starting A Group Hug With All Of Them As They Reunited. Sanford, Deimos, Hank And 2B Rushed Out As Tricky Helped Rockwell Up And Jeb Healed Him Again.

Sanford: “Oh Cool, So I Guess We Can Call A Truce.”

Deimos And 2B Agreed, Hank Didn’t. Wimbleton Didn’t Like The Idea Of Living With His Enemies, Especially If They Act Nice And Turn On Them In The End. Hank Disagreed And Left To Blow Off Some Steam, It Was Gonna Take A Long While To Convince Him. Sanford And Deimos Ended Up Adopting Rockwell While Tricky And Jeb Readopted Him. Rockwell Now Lives With The Crew, With Having 4 Parents Who Support And Care About Him, 2B Who Takes Care Of His Wounds And Trans Stuff, And Hank...

#madness combat #madness combat fanfic #madness combat oc #mc fanfic #mc oc #too lazy to tag the characters #Violence Blood Death And Gore #Attacking Detailed Gore Scenes Cursing Transphobia And Crying #Crying Injuries Very Sensitive Topics Angst Heavy Angst AndLong Story #angst #tw angst #long post #fanfic #my fanfic

[thecreelhouse]

✿ masterlist ✿

(updated 7/31/21)

all previously answered prompt requests for both Steve or Robin can be found here!

series/multipart

Kill the Lights (completed!)

Steve Harrington x Lab Survivor!OC (Violet)

Summary: After Violet- formally 003, a telekinetic, electrokinetic, and clairvoyant 19 year old- loses her first family, her first love, nothing is the same. She finds herself taken in by Hopper and El, struggling to find her footing and meaning to keep fighting. The Party, especially Steve Harrington, try to show her where her strengths have been hiding all alone, and that no one has to fight their battles alone. Sometimes you don’t need to be rescued, but someone’s love and support while you rescue yourself sure doesn’t hurt.

Hard to Kill (completed!)

Steve Harrington x Assassin!OC (Sofia)

Summary: Two years have passed since the battle of Starcourt, and Steve’s paranoia is destroying him. Turns out, he was right to anticipate someone was still after him, but he never anticipated an unlikely bond to appear between him and the Russian assassin out for his blood. Typical enemies to lovers.

Sweet Spot - 1, 2 & 3

Steve Harrington x Cam Girl!OC (Lex)

Summary: modern AU where Robin tells Steve about cam girls, and he falls hard for a stranger on the internet. This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve written yet, sorry, not sorry. Smut, obviously. But it’s cute, too.

Feral Love (completed!)

Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: You come from a long line of witches in dark magic. You’ve never felt like you belonged, always feeling like you’d rather do good than evil with your magic. Another escape attempt leads your life’s path overlapping with Steve Harrington’s life, and things take a turn darker than you’d ever imagine.

Within the FL universe:

You Are Where I Belong

Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: A little glimpse into the life you’ve built in Hawkins, side by side with your soulmate, Steve, as the two of you get ready to celebrate Halloween. (Continuation of Feral Love, it’ll make more sense if you’ve read the series, however it should be fine to read on its own!)

Friday, I’m in Love - 1, 2, 3 (completed!)

Robin Buckley x Female Reader

Summary: Finally nearing the end of your eventful lives, you and Robin meet, whether by fate or coincidence, and the rest is virtual history. A San Junipero AU!

Beautiful Stranger / Cosmic Love / Gonna Keep This Love

(completed!)

Robin Buckley x Witch!OC (Olive Lane)

Summary: Olive Lane, a witch in training, leaves home and relocates to an unfamiliar town, a tradition among witches her age to start fresh. Blissfully unaware of the bizarre and gruesome history Hawkins, Indiana holds, she settles on the small town, and seemingly blends in to her surroundings to its citizens. Everyone, except Robin, who is highly bothered and paranoid by the new, mysterious stranger, and needs to know who and what this girl is all about.

—————————

one shots

Like Vines, We Intertwined

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: It started with an exchange of friendship bracelets, meant to last as long as the bond between you two: forever. Life has a finicky way of defining “forever”, though.

So, You Like Movies?

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: You’re a horror movie buff with a love for special effects makeup, and Steve is deep in a crush over you, despite him disliking horror movies. Maybe something can work out.

Taking My Time, Let The World Turn

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve never expected to survive past 1985, yet life continued to surprise him, and for the better. Dad!Steve !!!

Wild Thing

Steve Harrington x OC (Rosie)

Summary: A meet ugly “I broke your nose in a mosh pit” AU

Take Care Of Yourself

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: you’ve been through enough shit to believe self care is building your walls high and keeping everyone out. The Universe has no problem challenging that, though. (The flower shop/soulmate AU nobody asked for.)

They/Them/Theirs

Steve Harrington x Non-Binary!Reader

Summary: Reader knows there’s something different with them, just can’t put a word on it. That’s not the only secret floating between them and Steve, though. Best friend to lovers nonsense (with NB representation!!)

All of You

Steve Harrington x Non-binary!Reader

Summary: just some cute comforting fluff about reader wanting to explore their gender expression and Steve being a supportive partner!! (follow up to they/them/theirs!)

Nowhere Feels Like Somewhere When I’m In Your Arms

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: The fluffy naptime comfort fic that nobody asked for and then evolved into a long, emotional fic with a self indulgent ending. Oops.

Bad Behavior

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: The air conditioner finally breaks in the apartment you and Steve share, and it’s not just toying with the temperature. (AKA: “oH My GoD tHey WeRe RoOmMaTes !!!!11” nonsense and a whole lotta smut. Don’t like it, don’t read thx.)

Check Me-owt

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: you work at the new cafe in town, and Steve’s dying to talk to you, but there’s one thing holding him back from that: it’s a cat cafe, and he’s a nervous mess around cats. (AKA: the modern day coffee shop AU that nobody asked for)

Playin’ Hide and Seek With the Light

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: You’re coping with your demons in dangerous ways, but you’re coping. It’s something. You believed no one noticed until Steve confronts you. (AKA: another comfort fic nobody asked for)

Smarter Than You Think

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Since the battle of Starcourt, Steve hasn’t been sleeping well, and when he does sleep, it’s just reoccuring nightmares of the traumatic night. Until one night, it changes completely, and suddenly he’s not reliving his personal hell, he’s reliving someone else’s. (AKA: another darker twist on a soulmate AU that nobody asked for)

Made To Brave The Pain

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: The monsters in your life have been human, forcing you into a quiet, isolated world, disconnected from reality to keep yourself safe. What happens when you discover not all monsters are human, though? What do you do when the path of your trauma crosses paths with someone else’s? (AKA: a super trauma comfort fic, bc I’m working out my own shit through writing lol.)

I Wanna Get Better

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: your mental and physical health issues are a struggle enough the way it is, and you never imagined locking down for safety in your own apartment would make it all worse. thankfully, your’re not in quarantine alone, and ride it out with your roommate/best friend, Steve Harrington. (AKA: self indulgent quarantine comfort fic that absolutely nobody asked for. modern!AU, obviously.)

Lonely For Her

Robin Buckley x Female Henderson!OC (Jade Henderson)

Summary: Robin and Jade hate each other, and can’t put aside their differences, even during the events at Starcourt while their lives are on the line. Murray is sick of their shit, and finally calls them out. Enemies to lovers nonsense

Flowers in the Concrete

Robin Buckley x Female Reader

Summary: feelings are stupid, quitting smoking is stupid, put the two into the same room, and you’ve got emotion overload, baby!! (Or: reader is hopelessly head over heels for her best friend, and can’t find a way to go about it gracefully.) Best friends to lovers nonsense.

Happy Little Accidents

Robin Buckley x Hazel (OC) x Steve Harrington

Summary: Hazel’s got it bad for not one best friend, but both of them. Avoiding both Steve and Robin until it goes away should work, right? … Right?? (the weird, emotional, fluffy poly one nobody asked for (strictly platonic between Steve & Robin, ofc.))

—————————————

+18 AO3 links

The Detour

Kurt Kunkle (Spree) x AFAB Reader

Summary: After meeting Kurt just days before he kicks off “The Lesson”, you run into him again, and try distracting him from the original plan.

Warnings/Tags: abduction, knife play, breath play, anal play, dirty talk, humiliation, light bondage, oral sex, teasing, spanking, mentions of murder, movie spoilers

The Brat

Sub!Steve x Dom(me)!Reader

Summary: You give Steve orders not to touch himself for a week, but what fun would that even be without disobeying you?

Warnings/Tags: PWP, Brat!Steve, Sub!Steve, Dom(me)!Reader, BDSM, bondage and discipline, femdom, oral sex, anal play, teasing, humiliation, dirty talk, spanking, vaginal sex, anal sex, aftercare

The Bitter and the Sweet

Vampire!Steve x Reader

Summary: Going home with someone after parties isn’t foreign to you, but going home with an attractive vampire sure is.

Warnings/Tags: PWP, porn with feelings, BDSM, dom/sub, bondage and discipline, rough sex, oral sex, wax play, spanking, sex toys, pain play, dirty talk, biting, vampires, vampire sex, vampire!Steve, aftercare, modern AU

After Hours

Steve Harrington x AFAB Reader

Summary: The truth between you and Steve finally comes out, about your feelings for one another... and the way he likes being called ‘daddy’.

Warnings/Tags: PWP, dirty talk, daddy kink, friends to lovers, vaginal fingering, gratuitous use of ‘baby girl’, cunnilingus

Sugary Sweet

Steve Harrington x AFAB Reader

Summary: Steve reminisces on his horrid Scoops Ahoy! uniform, no matter how much you insist it was cute on him. To convince him, you follow through on a dirty, filthy thought.

Warnings/Tags: latex fetish, daddy kink, spit kink, food play, heavy petting, dirty talk, light dom/sub, punishment, wet & messy

Sudden Desire

Steve Harrington x AFAB Reader

Summary: You’re convinced sex is meaningless when every partner you’ve been with can never make you finish. Your best friend, Steve Harrington, is up to the challenge of changing that.

Warnings/Tags: fluff and smut, friends to lovers, best friends, friends with benefits, bff banter throughout, gratuitous use of sweetheart, vaginal sex, oral sex, no use of y/n, light dirty talk

#my fics #am i missing any i dont think so? #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x oc #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x oc #stranger things x oc #stranger things x reader #idk what else to tag this with???? OH #masterlist #duh lmfao okay i hope the links work this time good GOD #updated 7/15!!

[emilythecosmicbun]

Creepypasta OCs.

Any updates information is on Wattpad WATTPAD: https://www.wattpad.com/story/255861941-creepypasta-ocs-emily-elliot-and-stedge

TW BLOOD, ABUSE MENTION

cottontailprincess is my Instagram and Emilythecosmiccat is my username on some art websites.

They/Them pronouns please

do not sexualise me, my characters or my boyfriend please he isn’t comfortable with that.

okay so these are my two vent ocs.

Emily/Elliot (Bunny.)

one of them, as you know, is my impure agere oc, representing all the sad and flashback parts of everything. I made them to help cope with my thoughts and feelings. They are based off of my appearance and my trauma. They age up with me.

BASIC INFO

Full Name: Emily/Elliot Bunzelle but prefers just Emily or Elliot.

Nickname(s): Bunny, Emmy, El, Em, Princess, Prince, Princette

Meaning of name: Emily (from Urban Dictionary.) An Emily is someone who is crazy inside and out. She knows who her friends are and try’s hard to look after them. She is very pretty but doesn’t always know that. She isn’t always the most popular, but to her that doesn’t matter. She has friends from all ages and they all adore her. She hides her feelings however upsetting they may be.

Meaning of name: Elliot (Urban Dictionary) Elliot is a true master at caring. He teaches how to love and be loved. A man of honour a man of steal. He's as handsome as a Greek God, as strong as diamond, as compassionate as a saint and is as gentle as a father's touch. Elliot possesses a magic within to create a vision in the eyes of all, leaving them stunned at how brilliant and perfect Elliot truly is. A leader, a spirit lifter, a lover, a giver, an Elliot'll leave you speechless with his being, his essence.

Gender: Non-Binary

Pronouns: They/Them

Age:

Currently 19, same as IRL me, though they physically and mentally regress to younger ages, so their age varies. Their main ages are variants of 1+

Date of Birth:

August 21st (Body born in 2001)

Race/Species: English and a Spirit or Entity.

Native language: English (as in England English.)

Orientation/Sexual Preference: Bisexual Personality: Silly, playful, honest, caring, childish, bratty, stubborn, sweet.

Are They Dead: No but they aren't alive either. Somewhere in between.

Any Mental Health Issues?

C-PTSD, due to multiple traumatic events. They frequently experience multiple flashbacks and nightmares, and is usually terrified of leaving their safe space unless it’s with Stedge, even then, they panic.

Triggers: Listed Here. Triggers page on my Carrd.

Powers/Special Abilities: Can float slightly off the ground, is able to phase through walls, spew blood at will, and look "alive" when speaking and comforting children, or just around those they trust.

APPEARANCE:

Looks:

Very young child:  Short but very curly/wavy brown hair, a bit lighter than when they are in older looking forms. They wear a pink dress with a white shirt under, and black school shoes. However, they can also just wear a sonic shirt and leggings, or a skirt.

Child:  They can vary but their usual look is long curly/wavy brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, blood on their mouth and nose area, tired-looking eyes, pink dress, sometimes a nightgown, depending on the look, they can wear socks, bunny slippers or even go barefoot! Sometimes they wear bunny ears! Sometimes they like to wear sonic gear.

Teen:  Depending on the age as a teen, at the point it's  "kawaii" inspired things, sometimes just a Melanie Martinez shirt and pants (or skirt), sometimes overalls! They also wore band merch, stuff like that. They have either long brown hair, black hair or multicoloured hair like Melanie Martinez (dyed in variants such as pink, red, blonde (more like light ginger.)

Adult:  Band tops, but also ones with cute designs on such as bunnies or kittens, sometimes overalls or dresses, sometimes even onesies, since they can still have the traits of an agere headspace. Short Brown hair, is a lot chubbier than the rest, can be considered mid or plus size.

Height: Varies depending on form and age, but usually smol.

Weight: (UNKNOWN BUT IT VARIES.)

Hair color: Dark brown/Brown

Eye color: Brown

Scars and/or skin conditions: Has a few bruises and a few cuts in some places, but I prefer to not draw them.

Has a skin condition called psoriasis. (I have it IRL.)

Never Seen Without: White Bun, and their three Cream The Rabbit plushies.

Likes:

• Things with peaches (the fruit) on them. (Including peaches and peach ice tea.)

• Bunnies

• Their Caregiver, Stedge.

• Drawing, and colouring in.

• The colour pink.

• Sonic The Hedgehog.

• Porcelain Dolls

• Stuffed Animals

Dislikes:

• Abusers (including physical, mental and sexual abusers.)

• Those who take advantage of vulnerable people.

• People who don’t take them seriously.

• Drama.

• Being abandoned or left alone.

Relationships:

Stedge - Partner in crime, best friend, caregiver and lover. (Depending on age of course.)

Cream.exe (Sally.exe game) - practically twinning, bunny loves to hang out with cream.exe. (my highest kin, apart from cream herself.)

Family Members - Depending on which member, they do have a good bond or a negative one. Bunny loves them on different levels, some of them, they hate.  This does not reflect on how (I myself) feel about said family members.

(If you want your creepypasta oc to be friends with Bunny, just ask!)

OTHER INFO:

• They age up with my current age since they aren't dead and they are based off of me.

• I decided to make them some sort of entity since I couldn’t make them a ghost and still be alive lol they age up with me.

•Their “trauma” is the same as mine, which is why I won’t write it in detail here but they are a victim of abuse.

• They are all bloody because its how I feel about my trauma.

• They physically and mentally regressed to the age they are supposed to be, if they are in their child forms, they are an actual child. (Direct reference to my age regression I use to help me cope with my trauma) They prefer to be in this form so they can protect and befriend children. They don't harm children or other victims of abuse. The children usually call them “bunny.”

• When they're in their adult form, they have a partner called Stephen. Someone who they have known since they were 17 years old. When they are a “child” he takes care of them and protects them to make sure they don't ever get hurt again.

• Their sense of justice is what caused them to want to help other children. They never want to see another child go through what they went through.

Any Other Info is on the Picture.

Stedge

Well, I also made a creepypasta oc to represent my boyfriend, someone who I love and trust to help me during those horrible times. He’s like my partner in crime. lmao also his age isn’t rly there because he ages up with his real life counterpart, which will get updated.

REMINDER TO NOT SEXUALISE HIM AS MY BOYFRIEND IS UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT.

BASIC INFO:

Name: Stephen

Nickname(s): Stedge, Mr. Bubbles (by Emily/Elliot.)

Meaning of name: Stephen The most beautiful boy in existence. Has stunning eyes, that make your heart fall through the floor when they crinkle with his perfect smile. Is deep, unlike most boys, and extremely intelligent. Has a big heart, and he doesn't realize when he's being taken for granted. Even though he would never admit it, he sometime's can't see what's right in front of him. An over-analyzer, and very stubborn, but he will admit defeat when he has to. Likes to drive girls crazy, apparently. Easy to fall in love with. Hard to figure out.

Gender: Male

Age: Ages up with IRL person. Currently: 19.

Date of Birth:

9th April

Race/Species: English, Human.

Native language: UK English.

Orientation/Sexual Preference: Straight

Are They Dead: No

Any Mental Health Issues? No, None that we know of.

Triggers: None that we know of.

Powers/Special Abilities:

He doesn't have many powers but he athletic and can run quick and has a good amount of strength. He uses a bat and other various stuff.

APPEARANCE:

Looks:

Short brown hair, brown eyes, a bit of facial hair, variants of a black or dark grey shirt, but obviously not only those, sometimes they’re ripped.

Hair color: Dark brown, brown.

Eye color: Brown.

Scars: None.

Personality: He is quite intelligent and mature, behaves childishly in front of Emily/Elliot, cold and serious, is kind, polite, protective.

Hobbies and Likes: • playing the guitar

• skate (skateboarding)

• listening to tunes

• spending time with Emily/Elliot.

Dislikes:

• Abusers, people who take advantage of vulnerable people.

• People who are cruel to Emily/Elliot.

Relationships: Bunny - Best friend, soulmate, would do anything to make bunny smile, frequently gets them stuffed toys and food.

EXTRA INFO:

He is a few months older than me in IRL, his age is 19 right now, along with mine but will be updated.

Stephen is a human, and helps take care of Emily (in their child forms.) since they are a child and very vulnerable in that state due to their trauma, when they’re adult they are romantic towards each other.

They work together as a team when bashing and killing abusers. While he uses physical means, Emily uses mental.

Any Other Info is on the Picture.

WATTPAD: https://www.wattpad.com/story/255861941-creepypasta-ocs-emily-elliot-and-stedge

#my art #agere #sfw agere #creepypasta oc #creepypasta #impure regression #creepypasta child #child oc #bunny #sally.exe #sally exe #sonic exe

[yanderecandystore]

bullies x final girl reader? like, they were recently the only survivor of a killing and they’re being seen as a badass ( rightfully so )? bonus points if the reader seems like ur stereotypical ditzy cheerleader

Honestly, I love this??

Recently I've been getting into Dead by Daylight and Slasher movies, but because I'm just too much of an uncultured swine, I can't get enough courage to open the requests for DBD headcanons.

I wish I could put more fandoms on the masterlist, but because I only follow a couple of niche fandoms (some of those weird ones, ya know?) I'm always a little too worried about saying my headcanons for them. I'm afraid of getting out of character 😂😅

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Final Girl (yes, I know, really creative, I'm lazy okay?) - [Yandere!Bully Ocs x Survivor!Reader - Headcanon]:

Who would've guessed that someone like you would face such a tragedy so soon? A big event that would change people's perspective and morals due to the traumatic experiences, in a span of a day?

Or better question, who would've guessed that you would face everything in such a calm manner? Talk with your classmates like it was a common Monday afternoon.

Let's recap a bit, it was Friday when it happened, you were going back home and it was already getting dark and everyone was already either getting home after work, or leaving their home to go to work.

Your classes had just ended, but you still needed some work to do inside the gym, organizing some of the stuff that you and your friends used for practice.

You see, it's when the sun is starting to come down and everyone inside the city is being active and getting to one place to another, the exact moment when the city feels lively, that people feel more comfortable to just care about their business.

After all, it's a lot safer when there are a hundred strangers walking around. No one would be crazy to try to pull a move when there are so many witnesses.

But that's the catch, when the sunset ends and the moon starts coming into vision, it's the exact opposite of the calm daylight. It all depends on where you're going and how long does it take for you to get there.

Even if you live near the richest places with those beautiful villas, you still have a chance, even if it's minimum, to get killed in those silent streets. That's why everyone around that area is known to walk fast at night and be straight to the point.

But then again, you weren't going to the rich area of the city, no, you were going home, in a more moderate area.

I say moderate, because although crimes aren't really high around your house, it's not exactly a calm walk until you get home.

It would be worse if none of the students lived close to you. At least there are a couple of people to talk with, even if some of them are strangers or not really close to you.

It would be a shame if someone were to follow this group of people that aren't armed or prepared in any way, shape or form-

Oh no, wait!-

You can't like the whole event wasn't really traumatic, it's just that, your brain had blocked a couple of memories, you still have a hard time believing any of it happened.

In one second, you're in a group of 6, on the other, you're in a group of 5. "Someone must have got lost along the way", that's what the others in the group said, trying to come up with more positive interpretations while ignoring the worrying inside their heads.

" Everything is fine, we'll see Marie on school Monday surely!"

" She probably just went the other way, maybe she lives on another street and we didn't hear her say goodbye, that's all."

It was always like this, someone would ask where she could be, and someone would give them fake hopes that she was alright. But deep down you all knew she wasn't.

Something in the air wasn't right and everyone knew that. Even if y'all didn't really know each other (as some of these students were from other classes), you could still feel the same worries that Marie's classmate was feeling. He was getting worried that his classmate just disappeared out of nowhere.

He only had known her for a week, he told you explaining why he didn't know where she lived as she never told him. He decided that he would go back and see if she got lost or was needing help. And so, your group was considering if they should go after him or wait for them.

Or just continue like nothing happened.

After some minutes standing up and not seeing any sign of the two, you all decided to go home, as waiting any longer in the dark would be really dangerous.

So there was you and three strangers that were trying to break the ice as best as they could, but nothing seemed to change how terrible you were feeling inside, knowing that something could have happened.

You did make them laugh a bit though, you were fun to be around, and maybe y'all could have been friends.

But things didn't work out that way, things just got worse and worse that night. You were 6, then 5, then 4, then 1.

The killer wanted to go one by one, but he didn't think you or any of the other students would fight back. He shouldn't have attacked a group of six to be honest.

You managed to escape his grasp and turn to another direction so he couldn't follow you to your house, you were panicking, but using skills that you gained by being a cheerleader, you managed to reach a police station nearby.

Honestly, who said that cheerleaders are dumb just ate a mouthful of grass.

Of course they took some time to believe you, thinking it was a prank at first, but giving you a second glance it was obvious you were panicking and had run miles to get there.

They didn't find the killer sadly, but at least they found the bodies that were hidden in some of the alleys, a really sloppy killer, probably didn't have a plan B to cover his tracks.

The incident was all over the news, there wasn't a person who hasn't heard of what you've been through, people even want to have interviews with you, for you to tell the full story and experience, but honestly you're just too tired for that.

You wish you could rest a bit before going back to your daily life, since a lot of the things that happened that night are now a blank canvas inside your brain.

You weren't expecting people to treat you with so much respect though, it was… Pretty heartwarming!

People never have given you the benefit of the doubt, but now your classmates act like you're movie badass or something, but you can't understand why, you only did basic parkour skills to reach the station. You don't think it was a big deal at all!

( Although the cameras around those streets shown you making fucking backflips to jump a wall, but moving on-)

Even the twins that acted like mediocre bullies towards you actually show some respect for once. It's…. A really weird change and you don't know how to feel about it!?

But can you blame them? They were sitting in their couch messing around with their phones and out of nowhere the latest news passing on their TV is:

" Five students from Amaryllis Academy have been found dead at seven p.m by Police Officer Marcella Diaz, after a student named [Y/N] [L/N] had appeared at the Police Station claiming that a killer was following them all night-"

Like, can you imagine hearing that your soon to be wife had almost fucking died by some creep following them???! The audacity of some people, honestly.

But seriously, after hearing your name being mentioned in TV, they freaked out! Something terrible could have happened to you and they wouldn't know about it!

If you were dead they wouldn't forgive themselves even if they don't have anything to do with the incident. They wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing that not only did you die and that the creep is lurking around somewhere, they wouldn't be able to tell you that they love you and that they're really sorry that they were assholes, and they will burn the man that dared touch you, and-

You know, some people say that after an extreme experience like this, a person would be reborned in a way. But honestly, you feel like your normal self, it just feels like the world is a lot different now. Maybe your perspective had changed, or maybe you did get reborn.

For someone that used to see the world as a great place, you're starting to see that not everything is perfect, and that things like this happen all the time.

That thought kinda scares you.

Lately, the twins have been really friendly towards you, almost suffocatingly so. They even started to welcome you inside their family's lamborghini so they could take you home.

They don't want you to go through anything like that ever again. You even began to go into their house on the weekends.

These past few weeks have been insane, you almost forgot how to breathe when you saw on the news that the body of the killer of your classmates had been found in a parking lot, burned to death.

You didn't know how to react, it was only two weeks after the incident, and he is found dead almost turning into ashes. It's so disturbing, that if it wasn't for the reassuring hug Alexandra has given you, you would fall flat on the floor.

You….. Are absolutely lost for words.

You guess… Maybe you don't need to be worried about him anymore….

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere bully #yandere twins #sheep's stuff #yandere bully x reader #cheerleader reader #yandere bully x cheerleader reader #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request #yandere headcanon #yandere oc headcanons

[lady-aescwyn]

Strange, Tender Things

Steve Harrington x fem!OC One Shot

Author’s note:  I was inspired by a prompt I found while perusing the Stanger Things fics tags.  This was originally intended to be a StevexReader fic, but I decided to give the protag a name.  It’s still pretty self-inserty and I encourage you to overwrite her name in your mind with your own if it pleases you.  My writing skills are rather rusty, but please enjoy.

Premise: Steve Harrington and his girlfriend are having a stupid fight, which is brought to an abrupt end.  Concern and gentleness ensues.

***

When it was over, neither of them would remember how it started in the first place.  It had started out as simple, easy conversation.  He hadn’t quite meant the words in the way they’d come out.  She’d had more venom in her tone than she’d intended. They were both little more than teenagers.  Though they were both whole in body, they were both traumatized by a series of recent events in Hawkins, Indiana.

Now, here they stood.  

In Joyce Byers’ small kitchen.  

Fighting.

The house was empty, save for the two of them; Joyce at work, the younger kids out under Jonathan and Nancy’s watchful eyes, reunited for the first time in months.  But here at the house, Steve Harrington’s hands were planted on the top of the kitchen table, his upper body bent forward as he traded barbs with Dawn.  For her part, Dawn was brandishing a dirty glass in one hand as if it were a weapon and giving as good as she got, her lips curled back in an almost feral snarl.  Her time as a street kid coming back full force, manifesting as a bitter, angry fight to make her point.

The small, cheap table creaked with the force of Steve’s anger, though his voice was low, “We can’t keep living in what happened back in Hawkins.  I’m not saying forget it, but we have to move forward.” His face was stony, eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s not over!  It will never be over, Steve!”  The empty glass swinging through the air between them like a saber.  Dawn’s voice was strained with manic desperation, “Hopper is alive.  El saw him! This can’t be over until we bring. Him.  Home.”  As if to punctuate her point, she brought the glass to a stop with a final thunk on the table.  

Unfortunately, that finality was too much for the old cup.

The glass shattered.

There was a beat of silence as they both took a moment to register the cracking sound of glass grinding against itself.

“Fuck!”  Dawn swore, fussing over the remains of the glass.  She began gathering the bits, heedless of the blood that was beginning to seep from between her fingers.

Steve was around the table like lightning, “Stop.  Hey-“

“I broke Joyce’s glass.”  Blood sprinkled the tabletop amidst the shards.

“It’s ok.  Just stop.” His voice was soft, a far cry from the intensity and clenched teeth of only moments ago.

“I need to clean this u-“

“We will clean it up.  After we clean you up.”

Dawn finally deflated, all of her fight burning off like fog on a summer morning.  

She let Steve take her arm and guide her to the kitchen sink. The air was still, humming with the sound of the refrigerator nearby and their breathing in unison as their anger ebbed away.  The quiet was punctuated only by the clink of bloody glass shards hitting the sink, each accompanied by a sharp intake of breath from Dawn as she winced.

As Steve turned on the water to clean the wound, Dawn stopped him, “Hold on, there’s still a piece in there.”  

She bent forward, trying to see in the dim light from the dingy bulb over the sink.  Her lip was clenched between her teeth as she dug into the wound with her other hand. Despite the surety of her voice and action, her breath was hitched with pain as she coaxed the glass from her hand. In his concern, Steve hadn’t realized that his hand had found its place on her lower back, steadying her.

Finally, that last piece of glass fell from her fingers and they both released the breath they’d been holding.  She gently flexed her hand and then nodded, sure that was the last of it.

He said, “Let me.”

And she did, her stance relaxing as she stood aside to let him wash the blood from her hands.

It was a deep wound, long and jagged across her palm and all the way to the bone at the base of her thumb.  If it had been anyone else, it would have necessitated a trip to the ER.

“I have a healing factor, you know.”  The words were without bite, her attempt at humor cutting the silence.  He knew very well her ability to knit her wounds together and if pushed, to channel that ability to heal others… at an exponentially greater cost to herself.  

She had used it to save his life only months ago.

“I know.”  His reply was simple, but one corner of his mouth hinted at a smile before his brows furrowed again.  “But I- I don’t like to see you hurt.”

The bleeding had stopped.  

No longer over the sink, he still held her injured hand cradled in both of his.  Dawn didn’t move, searching his face as he watched her flesh knit together.  The rumble of the furnace kicking on joined the sound of the refrigerator.  His warm thumb travelled down the skin of her wrist until it met the number 9 tattooed there.

Leaning closer to him, her voice shook, “I’m sorry-“

He shook his head.

She continued, “I know it’s not healthy to dwell so much-“

“I’m sorry too.  If there’s any chance Hopper’s alive, we have to find him.”  There wasn’t much to go on.  Just El’s dream of a ‘cold place.’  It could be grief, or El could be tapping in with her powers, none of them were sure.  They’d had no more success when they’d tried white noise or another makeshift sensory deprivation tank.

The last bit of tension, melted from Dawn’s body, “It doesn’t do him or us any good to fight.  I’m sorry.”  She reinforced her apology.

Steve’s eyes hadn’t left her wrist.

Moments passed in silence as motes of dust drifted lazily through the yellowed, old home.  Still, his fingers ran tenderly along the sides of her wrist.

The cut was nearly closed now; just a jagged, angry red line. Even the scar would soon fade. This was far from the worst injury she’d ever had and they both knew it.  In the buzzing still of the small kitchen, Steve seemed lost in the memory of before.  

With the fingers of her injured hand, Dawn brushed his forearm. “Hey.  Look at me.”

Steve took a deep breath, but his eyes and hands didn’t leave her arm.

After a moment, he spoke, “You told me once that Hawkins Lab created you.”  There was a pause.  When she didn’t interrupt, he continued, “You are so much more than that.  So much more than them.  You took what those assholes did to you and you did amazing things with it. And you’re gonna do even more.”  

The conviction in his voice was searing and Dawn wasn’t prepared for him to cut right to the core of her worries.  

When his eyes finally met hers, he didn’t expect her to look so stricken. Dawn’s eyes welled with tears as all of the emotion came to a head and spilled over. The uninjured hand went to her mouth, but once the tears had started, they couldn’t really be stifled and she stumbled forward into his arms.

“I’m sorry, I-“  Steve’s voice was mildly panicked; he hadn’t meant to make her cry.  As she fell forward, he held her, which was all she really needed.

These weren’t bad tears; they were a too long delayed emotional release and they would pass almost as quickly as they had come.  However, in that moment her shoulders shook with intense sobs as she clung to him.  And he held her as the waves crashed over them.  Damp fingers curled into the back of her shirt as his grip tightened and he buried his nose into the top of her head.  Steve’s own vision was blurred with tears.  This was the first time they had seen each other since Dawn moved away from Hawkins with El and the Byers’ and they’d almost ruined it with the stupidest fight.

Eventually, the sobs passed and once again the buzz of the kitchen appliances reigned in the soft atmosphere.  But the couple didn’t part.  They stood like that for a while, locked in each other’s arms, rocking gently side to side.  Finding comfort in each other again.

After a while, Dawn’s rough voice came from where her face was buried between his neck and shoulder, “M,sorry.”

“Don’t be.”  His voice returned from where he was still buried in her hair.

Dawn took a deep, cleansing breath and finally brought her head up, looking over his shoulder at the glass shards still on the table, “I have to clean up.”  But she made no move to leave his arms.

Steve didn’t move either, “I’ll help.”  

He was talking about more than the broken glass.

“Thank you.”  her ‘I love you’ wasn’t verbalized, but neither did it go unsaid as she began to pull away with a soft squeeze to his arm.

Before they fully parted, he caught her with a gentle hand at the back of the neck and pressed a kiss to her forehead.  Their breath mingled for a moment between them as they drew away.  It was his own silent, ‘I love you too.’

With that, they stepped apart. Steve turned to the sink and Dawn to the table and together they worked to clean up the mess.  Quick work was made of the blood and glass.  Words were unneeded as they worked around each other and in unison, the same as they had done before in Hawkins; though this was nothing like those battles with the beasts of the Upside Down.  It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last time they moved as one.

As the worn dish towel was at last hung back over the handle on the oven door, Steve caught her hand and began to pull her from the room. “I think everyone else has the right idea, let’s get out of here.”  His usual, charming smile dawning on his face like the rising sun.

That smile was infectious and Dawn couldn’t stop from meeting it with one of her own, “You know, I could show you our new mall up here.”

The response was swift and over dramatic, “Oh god no!  No more malls!”

Laughter followed the two of them through the home like light hitting a suncatcher and scattering flashes of rainbow across the yellowed wallpaper.  For now, all was well.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #stranger things fanfic #this was just based off of a quick prompt I found but Dawn is an OC I created a while ago #maybe one day I'll write the full fic #Ash writes

[missn11]

For the soft OC asks, how about the same questions for Barbara and Gloria?💫☄️ 🌠 💦

@badass-at-cuddling Aw yes thank you so much for asking about my girls! :D

For Barbara

💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why? 

I love how manipulative and outlandish she is, and how she loves to experience everything no matter the cost to herself or others. (something great to write about not live it, lol!) 

☄️ Does this OC deserve better treatment from you? Do you make them suffer just a little bit too much? Be nice to them! 

Lol well she wouldn’t have grown in the beautiful monster she is now, if she didn’t have shitty stage parents who screwed up her whole world view and gone through all the shit she did in the Sabbat path of the bloodlines plot! XD But yeah, I should write a fic where Nines joins the Sabbat with Barbara sometime! XD 

🌠 On a scale of 1 - 10 how Baby is your OC? BONUS when asking this question rate the OC yourself as see if the reply matches up!! 

Barbara for sure sees herself as 5-6 where as I would have her at 2-3, followers of the path of Cathari can’t be baby! XD

💦 If you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this OC’s life what would it be and why? 

(Aside from removing her shitty stage parents, lol?) I think I would have Nines not reject Barbara when they meet again at the burning Kuei-jin temple, while Barbara is manipulative and obsessed with her own story, she did really wanted Nines to join the Sabbat with her, since she believes it would help him so much as he is so afraid of his beast. 😭

For Gloria 

💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why?

I love how Gloria does understand a lot about herself, at least in the sense of what she wanted in life, she had a plan, on the other hand, her self-realisation about how she changes as a Kindred is something she has to discover and things do get messy along the way.     

☄️ Does this OC deserve better treatment from you? Do you make them suffer just a little bit too much? Be nice to them! 

Lol I think poor Gloria does have a bit of a rough time from me, not only does her sire, Sebastian LaCroix, almost has her killed because he wants to cover up his mistakes, he wipes her memory of him even being her sire, she’s thrown into the WOD without much support and used as a pawn for the longest time, she gets bitched at for not being able to leave the Camarilla despite she can’t easily, in the back of her mind she is reminded that there are so few people she can truly trust, even her lovers have their own agenda even if they don’t have the intention to harm her. And also making her go through the undercover Sabbat mission from Clan Quest mod is pretty harsh too but at least at the end of the day she’ll become a baron and try to make things better in the Freestates (though she and Nines will go on a break with their relationship for years cause of that and other issues they were having) 

🌠 On a scale of 1 - 10 how Baby is your OC? BONUS when asking this question rate the OC yourself as see if the reply matches up!!

Gloria sees herself as a 5-6 but I see her as 6-7 as she still tries to be humane as much as possible.

💦 If you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this OC’s life what would it be and why? Oh man not have her Dad’s sire force him to abandon his 18 year old daughter would’ve helped Gloria anger and abandonment issues so much, honestly! XD

#vampire the masquerade #vampire the masquerade bloodlines #vtmb #Barbara #Gloria vtmb oc #gloria vtm oc #gloria #asks #badass at cuddling

[shakespeareanwannabe]

Play by Play

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F!OC/Santiago Garcia x Rebecca Cooke

Summary:  Santi gets in way too deep with this woman that he barely knows, but finds that sometimes a leap of faith can be worth it.

Warnings: References to parental issues, age gap in a relationship (both participants are well over the age of consent), child abuse/child trauma, misogyny, swearing, PTSD, low self-esteem

A/N: Hi everyone! So, I started writing this story way out of order. Started with Protective Instincts, jumped to Best Laid Plans, went backwards to Strange Comforts, then came all the way back to the beginning with New Beginnings. But that’s because I was just writing them as they came to me (or, if I’m being honest, as @darksideofclarke provided me with golden headcanons that I just expanded on). But now, I’ve sat down and written a general plan for this multichapter story that is turning out to be so astoundingly different from everything else I’ve ever written. 

So, I’ll be posting in chronological order now, and I’ll make an announcement here in the A/N about where Protective Instincts, Strange Comforts, and Best Laid Plans fit into the whole scheme of things.

Anyway, here’s chapter 2!

                                                 **********

“Hey Jackie,” Santi greeted as he strolled through the front door of the clinic.

“Evening, Santiago. How’re you?” the red headed receptionist replied with a smile, looking up briefly before resuming her typing.

“Same old, same old,” he replied, eyes scanning the clinic. “How’re John and the kids?”

She smiled brightly at him. “Lorelai got accepted to Clemson with a scholarship!”

“That’s amazing, you must be so proud,” he replied, turning his attention back to her when he didn’t find who he was looking for.

“Why is Jackie proud?”

He smiled and felt his face heat up as he turned to face Rebecca, who was just slightly limping through the front door. She was dressed in her usual artfully professional work attire and toting a gym bag that was undoubtedly stuffed with her workout clothes.

“Hey Bex,” he greeted as he slid over to her. “Want some help with that?”

“Ugh, please,” she whined. “I spent the day running after three kindergarten classes, and my hip and back are aching.”

Santi relieved her of the bag and offered her his elbow, a slight tremor running up his spine as she leaned into him.

Three months. That’s how long he’d been going to physiotherapy with Steve. It also happened to be exactly how long he’d been working up the courage to ask Rebecca out.

That first day they met, he’d assumed it was the same kind of visceral reaction he’d had with other women in the past. She was stunningly beautiful, sarcastic, and witty. In other words, just his type. But he wasn’t looking for anything at that moment. He’d just gotten out of a year of trying the domestic thing with Yovanna, and it had crashed and burned spectacularly. He had a new home; he had his friends surrounding him once more. He was good. He was solid. He decided then and there not to do anything to screw up the upward trajectory he was on. That, plus he didn’t want to make things awkward for Charlie, who had a business to run.

So, he’d ignored it. Pushed down the desire to engage and romance, and focused instead on trying to get his knees back under him. But then, their appointment times had lined up and they spent their entire sessions chatting with each other and sassing Charlie. Then it happened again. And again. And, before long, Santi found himself listening in on Rebecca when she booked her appointment times with Charlie so he could book the same slots with Steve.

Three times a week for three months, he spent two hours talking and laughing with this resilient, funny, and kind woman.

That first week had been the introductory stuff.

                                                **********

“So, what are you in for?” she asked, a sly grin on her face.

He grimaced. “Does a lifetime of poor choices count?”

She snorted, burying her face in her arms in an attempt to hide her embarrassment at the unladylike sound. “I’m pretty sure that’s why most of us are here.”

He nodded slowly in acquiescence. “Even you?”

She sighed as she settled further into her table, the heat from the heating pad soothing her sore muscles. “I got into a bad car wreck seven months ago. Idiot driver T-boned me when I was on my way back to work from an in-school art class. Fractured my hip, got a nasty concussion, and a wicked case of whiplash. I got lucky when the concussion symptoms stopped after a few weeks, but I had to come here to get my butt kicked to fix my hip and neck.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. Being military, it was sometimes easy to forget that the civilians they were trying so desperately to protect could also be taken down by something as simple as crossing the street or taking a drive.

Rebecca leaned herself up on her elbows to fix him with a thoughtful look. “You know what? You’re the first person to say that to me.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded slowly as she relaxed back into the pillow beneath her. “My mom took the ‘Woe is me, my poor baby is hurt’ route and the doctors were more concerned with making sure I was physically okay than checking in on my emotional state. So, thank you for that.”

He shrugged as easily as he could lying down. “My buddy Will always says that sometimes the best thing you can offer someone are words, so they know you’re there.”

“Will sounds like a smart guy. How’d you two meet?”

“We were put into the same squad in the military. Worked together for years.”

“Ah, I shoulda guessed you were military,” she groaned as she shifted slightly, moving quickly to catch the heating pad before it slipped. “You’ve got that kinda look.”

“You mean the beat to shit look?” he sighed, turning his head away from her to stare at the ceiling fan rotating slowly above him.

A poke in the arm startled his attention back to her. She had strained herself across the gap between the tables, barely able to poke his arm with her middle finger without sliding off.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she replied gently. “I just meant that you look like the kind of guy who has seen too much bad in this world. Which isn’t fair. Nobody should have to carry that kind of burden.” Santi struggled to swallow; his emotions all caught up in his throat and his skin tingling from the slight brush of her finger against his arm. “I’m not gonna say ‘thank you for your service’, because I feel like that’s just an empty platitude at this point. But I will say that I hope you find a way to make that burden just a little lighter.”

He looked over at her again and smiled. “Thank you.”

                                              **********

Okay, so the introductory stuff got heavier than Santi anticipated. Parental problems, traumatic events, talk of his service. He was in heavy with this girl and he didn’t even know her last name.

That came in week two.

                                              **********

“Basketball or baseball?”

“Baseball. Same question.”

“Baseball. Hockey or football?”

“Football. Same question.��

“Hockey. Cats or dogs?” Rebecca grunted as she kicked her leg out, struggling against the sliding weights attached to her injured leg by a cuff and a cord.

“Dogs. Same question to you,” Santi replied, voice distorted as he squatted on the FitVibe.

“Dogs. You know, you can’t just say ‘same question’ every time it’s your turn. It kind of defeats the purpose of the game,” she gasped as she finished her first set, twisting around to grab her water bottle from the chair behind her.

Santi shrugged as the machine stopped vibrating, giving him 90 seconds to rest before his next set started.

“Did you have a dog growing up?” he questioned as he sipped from his own bottle.

She nodded as she gulped down her icy water, Santi trying and failing to keep his eyes off her delicate neck and chest, which were gleaming with a sheen of sweat. “A St. Bernard. Cookie. I loved that dog, but I hated his name. I mean, really? Cookie Cooke? What were my parents thinking?”

Santi chuckled as his machine began counting down to start the next set. “Probably that it was cute? Who knows? Your turn…” He grunted as he carefully squatted as the pad began to shake again. He closed his eyes against the twinge of pain and missed Rebecca blatantly staring at his ass before beginning her next set.

“Star Wars or Star Trek?”

“Star Wars. Books or movies?”

“Both. Goonies or Stand by Me?”

“Can’t go wrong with Goonies.”

“Ugh, and here I was just thinking that you had good taste! Who in their right mind picks Goonies over Stand by Me?” she teased.

He shot her a glance out of the corner of his eye. Even blurry from the vibrations coursing through his body, she was the prettiest girl he’d seen in a long time.

“Never said I was in my right mind, sweetheart,” he winked and that giggle that he was so enchanted by escaped her lips again.

                                              **********

Week three was when he really tried to pump the breaks on his rapidly developing feelings for her. Not only had Yovanna sent him a box of his stuff via airmail, but he became privy to some information that assured him that this thing between them would never work.

                                              **********

“Don’t tell me you’re done already!” he called from the Kin-Com as Rebecca practically skipped over to the table closest to him. She had her good days and her bad days with her injured leg, and Santi liked chatting with her the past nine days, but he loved chatting with her on her good days. There was this spark, this energy she radiated when she was feeling good that he just wanted to bathe in.

“This is what you get for showing up late, Santi! You’re strapped into the death machine and I get a massage to wrap things up.” She shot him a bright smile before lying down on the table, just out of his range of sight thanks to the half partition wall that separated the machine from the rest of the clinic.

“Don’t tease the old man, Rebecca,” Charlie cautioned in a faux-mocking tone.

“Hey, if I’m an old man, what does that make you? Frankie is two months older than me!” he pointed out, pressing against the mechanical arm that was slowly manipulating his leg.

“Apparently the term is ‘panther’,” she replied, straight-faced. “Learned that one at ladies’ night after one of my friends had a few too many and found out Frankie’s 10 years older than me. Me, I call it lucky.”

“Yeah, you better,” he warned as the machine stopped moving. A quick look at the computer screen told him he had finished his set for the day, and he quickly unstrapped himself and hopped down, walking slightly creakily to the table next to where Charlie was carefully massaging and manipulating Rebecca’s hip.

“Your fiancé’s ten years older than you, Chuck?” Rebecca asked, her eyes closed as she tried to relax her aching joints.

Charlie shot Santi an unamused glare as he lowered himself onto the table and laid back, Steve approaching with the cryo-cuffs and ice machine.

“Yeah, Frankie’s 40 and I’m 30. Why?” she asked, an accusation hiding deep in her voice as her body tensed up.

Inwardly, Santi was nodding approvingly. Frankie sometimes got too in his own head about his age, especially in relation to his fiancée’s, and Santi knew how much Frankie doubted himself when it came to their relationship. Charlie was a successful business owner and college graduate. Frankie was a retired soldier who almost lost his pilot’s license because he’d been desperate for money when his girlfriend got pregnant and knew just how lucrative drug running could be. It wasn’t difficult to see why Frankie felt so insecure about the relationship, but Charlie was so good at getting him out of that headspace, and even better about shutting down anyone who had anything negative to say about her man.

“Nothing!” Rebecca was quick to reply. “I was just curious. Age is just a number, right? Besides, I saw you two together when he came to pick you up that one time, remember? You two are cute as hell. He just doesn’t look 40.” Rebecca rolled her head to look at Santi, and he felt his own hackles raise a little, suddenly self-conscious of his greying hair and his weak knees. Then, she smiled softly at him and, if he wasn’t fooling himself, a warm affection infused her gaze. “Neither do you.”

He felt all the blood rush to his face and once again had to bat down the idea of asking her out. A box full of old mail and knickknacks had just arrived on his porch that morning from Australia. Domesticity didn’t work for him, and even casually seeing someone felt like too much of an effort. Still, there was something about that look in her eyes, the easy repartee they had going on, the support they gave each other during their workouts, that told him that, if he was going to try again, she was the one to try with.

“Hey Becky!” a loud voice boomed across the clinic. “Where you at?”

Rebecca smiled apologetically at him and Charlie before raising her voice just a little to call back, “I’m over here!” She turned her attention back to them, looking almost sadly at Santi as she said, “Sorry guys, that’s my date for tonight.”

A tall guy sauntered over from the reception desk and Santi felt himself reacting instinctively.

He was tall, well over 6 foot, and wearing a fancy, well-fitted navy suit with a white button down underneath, no tie and the first two buttons undone.

“Ah, there’s my girl!” he leaned down and gave her a claiming kiss, almost like he knew that Santi was watching.

“Uh, hi Derek. I thought you were going to wait outside?” she asked, looking away from them all as she raised a hand to her cheek.

“I was, doll, but I’ve been out there for twenty minutes. Our reservation is set for 7:30, and it takes ten minutes to drive out there, so go get yourself cute and let’s go.”

“Uh…” Rebecca looked between Santi and Charlie while worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Santi had never wanted so badly to punch someone he hadn’t even officially met. He wanted to speak up, tell Derek that Rebecca was already cute in her leggings and off-the-shoulder t-shirt. Tell him that he can’t just barge in and interrupt an appointment in a place of business.

Charlie leaned into his line of sight and subtly shook her head and, deep down, he knew she was right. If he punched him, or called him out, he would be just as bad. Plus, what right did he have? He’d spent a few hours with this woman and had zero claim on her time or her attention.

“It’s okay, Rebecca. We’re done for today anyway. You can use the staff bathroom to wash up if you’d like,” Charlie assured, helping Rebecca off the table.

“Okay, thanks Charlie. Santi?” He slowly slid his eyes up to meet hers and read the apology there clear as day. “I’ll see you next week, okay?”

He cleared his throat. “Sure thing. See you then.”

Rebecca smiled, a hint of relief overtaking her features as she sighed. “Good. Have a good weekend everybody!”

She headed towards the staff bathroom with her gym bag in tow and ‘Derek’ left, presumably to go and wait in the car like he was supposed to.

“Frat boy lookin’ douche,” Santi grumbled under his breath.

“Yeah, and the bag it came in,” Charlie muttered as she wiped down Rebecca’s table.

“Isn’t he a little young for her?” Santi asked rhetorically. “He looks like he just stepped off the stage at college graduation.”

“Dude, she’s like, 25. They’re probably the same age.” Charlie flung the white towel she had been using over her shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone I told you that. Patient confidentiality and all that.”

Santi felt his heart sink but told himself it was for the best. Now he had a good reason for not asking her out. What 25-year-old would want to date a broken-down old man anyway?

                                              **********

Week four didn’t happen, and it was the one time Santiago Garcia considered himself a coward.

He’d promised. He’d explicitly told her that he would see her the following week, but he’d called at the last second and rescheduled with Steve for times when he knew she would be at work.

He just didn’t know how to face her. Yes, he had no claim to her time or attention. Yes, he’d spent a grand total of 18 hours in her presence. No, he had never explicitly asked if she was seeing anyone. And, yes, he had sworn off dating for a while, so he had no right to get his back up about her having a date.

And yet, the thought of seeing her, all smiley and happy after her date with ‘Derek’ made him sick to his stomach.

Week five he tried to reschedule again. He picked a time slot that aligned with the closing of the museum she worked at, knowing she often stayed a little longer after closing to chat with coworkers and stare at the art. He should have known, however, that things rarely ever turned out the way he wanted them to.

                                              **********

“Have you been avoiding me?”

The soft voice made him trip over his feet, his left foot tangling in the rungs of the rope ladder he was currently working with.

He looked up and met Rebecca’s soft eyes, tinged with sadness. He sighed and walked around her, stooping to pick up his water bottle before perching himself on a padded wooden block.

“No. Why?”

“Because I haven’t seen you in a week and Charlie wouldn’t tell me why,” she huffed, wrapping her arms around her chest as she moved to lean against the wall across from him.

“I was busy.”

“Really? Huh,” she chuckled sarcastically. “So, this has nothing to do with Derek coming in here?”

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “Nope.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Okay, Santiago. Whatever…” She turned and began to walk away, out of the back room where he was working out and back into the main gym area.

It was then that he noticed her clothing. A really pretty black blouse with a purple and red floral pattern and a black pencil skirt that pulled his eyes straight to her ass, and no red gym bag hanging from her arm.

“You not staying to work out?”

She turned back to him and laughed humorlessly. “No. I called reception and asked if you were coming in today. Gwen wasn’t going to say, but then Jackie got on the phone and told me you were here. Apparently, she’s got a soft spot for you. So, I left work early because I couldn’t stand not knowing if you were mad at me.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he mumbled looking down at the silky fabric of his gym shorts, guilt beginning to gnaw at his core.

“Oh, I’m getting that message loud and clear,” she snapped, marching back over to him and getting right up in his face. “But I did. Because I was worried that I had offended you with my age comment, or that I made you uncomfortable by saying that you didn’t look your age, or that I somehow upset you by not telling you that I was, unfortunately, going on a date that night.”

He stood up, standing nose to nose with her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we both know you don’t owe me anything. I hope you and Derek had a wonderful time together.”

“Screw you,” she seethed.

Santi scoffed and shook his head, turning away from her to escape into the bathroom.

Once he had the door locked behind him, he sighed heavily and splashed cold water on his face.

This. This was why he didn’t want to seriously date anyone. He inevitably would screw things up. Or, worse, he’d ruin things before he even had the chance to really start with someone.

Fuck, Yovanna had been right. He somehow always managed to dim whatever light there was around him. Rebecca’s warmth and energy were so bright, so addicting, that he had thought it possible to bask in them without hurting her. She was like the Sun, drawing him in even when he wanted to stay away. Nobody could hurt the Sun. It was so warm and so bright and so uplifting that it couldn’t be damaged. Yet, there he was.

Santi sighed and stared at himself in the mirror, resolving to fix things next week. He’d switch back to his regular time and pray to a god he wasn’t sure he believed in that she would be willing to hear him out. That was his long-term plan. His immediate plan was to get through the day’s session and go home to drink that bottle of whisky he’d been saving.

Opening the door, he took two steps onto the rubber flooring of the back room and froze.

Soft sobs echoed in the airy space, and he felt his heart sink down to his toes as he followed the sound back to that padded block, finding Rebecca hunched over on it, a hand pressed delicately to her mouth as she tried to muffle the sound.

He grimaced to himself, knowing he was the cause of her distress. Hesitantly, he reached out and tried to place a gentle hand on her shoulder, but Rebecca caught sight of his shoes first and jerked back in surprise, looking up at him with tears gleaming like diamonds in her eyes under the harsh florescent lights.

He slowly crouched down in front of her, balancing on the balls of his feet.

“I’m an idiot,” he started, and felt his heart lift slightly as she choked on a laugh. “And I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head at him, desperately swiping at her tears. “No, you were right. We barely know each other, so we don’t owe each other anything. I had no right to get mad at you. For all I know, you had a family emergency that made you switch your appointment times.”

Santi was already shaking his head. “Your instincts were good, sweetheart. I did change times to avoid you, but not because I was mad at you.”

“The age comments—”

“Were sweet,” he finished for her, meeting her gaze for the first time since he had lowered himself down. “If you had said anything bad about Frankie, I wouldn’t have had time to argue with you before Charlie jumped down your throat.” She laughed again and his heart lifted just a tad higher. “And I appreciate you saying I don’t look my age. I always think the grey gives me away,” he added wryly.

“It suits you,” she rebutted quickly. “Not many people look good with the salt and pepper, grey thing. All I can think of are Idris Elba, George Clooney and you.”

Santi laughed loudly. “Well, I will take that compliment.”

“Good,” she nodded decisively. “Now get off your knees before Steve comes and yells at you.”

She shifted over on the block and he laboriously heaved himself to his feet, coming to sit next to her, a few inches of space between their bodies. They sat in a cloud of quiet calm, both knowing that there was more to resolve but unwilling to break the silence.

“Maybe it’s not my place, but I just think you can do a lot better than Douchebag Derek,” Santi finally said. “No offense,” he added quickly, silently berating himself for the slip.

She giggled at the nickname. “No offense taken. It was actually my first time ever meeting him,” she admitted quietly.

Pope’s mind rapidly went over the brief interaction and he felt his blood begin to boil. “But…”

She nodded sadly. “I know. He’s the son of the museum curator, so I felt like I couldn’t turn him down without affecting my job. And you know how much I love my job.”

He did know. She was the educational liaison for the local art museum. She led field trips that came through the museum, explaining different art pieces and their historical and artistic significance, while also leading the students through art lessons on how to either imitate an artist’s style or create their own styles. Occasionally, she would also make trips to low-income schools in the area through an outreach program, going into classrooms to teach art lessons and give the teachers a break. It was on her way back from one of those in school visits that she got into her car accident, but it hadn’t diminished her enthusiasm for her work. In fact, it had made her desperate to get back into the museum and back into the classroom.

“But he kissed you. And he called you Becky,” Santi commented, confused.

Rebecca allowed her head to fall into her palm. “I know…apparently his mom really talked me up and made me seem really desperate and really into him. Plus, he seems to think he’s God’s gift to women, so it was the perfect storm of misogynistic crap.”

Santi was shaking his head. “Next time, tell me. I don’t care if you have to do it in front of the guy, just let me know and I’ll get him out of your hair in ten seconds, tops.”

She sighed and shuffled closer to him. “Thanks Santi. It’s nice to know that someone has my back.” She ended up pressed right against his side and gently lowered her head to his shoulder.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

                                              **********

That day marked the end of Santi sticking to his guns about not dating. After that, it became an increasingly difficult game that he was playing with himself.

Get closer to her, get to know her more, be that shoulder for her to lean on when she needed it, but don’t cross that line. Just because she said he didn’t look his age; it didn’t mean she wanted to be with someone his age. It didn’t reduce the 15-year age gap between them. She said it was nice to have someone have her back, so that’s who he became. Her constant cheerleader, her confidant, her friend. It was the first female friend Santi had had since Charlie. Before Charlie, never.

They exchanged numbers that day, and soon his days became filled with texting her different stories about his day, like how he ended up at the hospital with Benny because the idiot accidentally put a nail through his finger when he was helping nail down Santi’s new kitchen floor, or how he couldn’t move after a session where Steve had him in the therapy pool for 45 minutes. She’d send him funny quotes she heard her ‘kids’ say on field trips or in the classroom, or photos of paintings in the museum with ridiculous captions.

After she laid her head on his shoulder, he knew he loved her. After she sent him a photo of Queen Elizabeth the First’s portrait with the caption “wanna thank your mother for a butt like that”, he knew he was in love with her. And after she showed him a picture of her childhood dog Cookie and her at age 6, he knew he was drowning in her and that his only salvation would be asking her out.

Still, he kept drowning for months.

“Santi?” He turned his attention to Rebecca, still leaning gently on his arm as they stood outside the change room. “You okay? I lost you there for a second.”

“Yeah, Bex, I’m fine,” he smiled warmly at her and felt a silent thrill go through him when she got a little flustered. “Uh, Jackie was excited because Lorelai got accepted at Clemson.”

“Wow, good for her.” They both paused, a slight awkwardness hanging over them. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you out there?”

“Oh…uh, yeah.”

The door closed with a quiet click and Santi wanted to kick himself. They had spent weeks dancing around this thing, and it was pissing him off to no end.

He had never been like this. Not since he asked out Libby Stiles in the fourth grade. Why was this one girl sending his head spinning? Okay, he knew why, but it wasn’t fair. He could ask out any girl he ran into, except the one he wanted.

“Hey!” Santi turned around at the hissed greeting and found Charlie pumping up an exercise ball behind him. “If you don’t ask her out, I am going to ask her out for you!” she whispered.

Santi took a cautionary glance back at the door before stepping over to her. “What are you talking about?”

“Cut the shit, Santi!” she huffed quietly. “You think I haven’t noticed that all of your appointment times line up with hers? Or that you spend more time talking to her than you do actually doing your stretches? Or that you get this sad sap look in your eyes when you look at her?”

“And what the fuck do you know about it, Charlie?” he snarled under his breath.

“Because it’s the same way I look at Frankie, you dork!” she smirked. “It’s the same way Frankie looks at me, it’s the way Benny looks at every fucking Ring Girl who walks by. Oh, and it’s the same way she looks at you when you’re not paying attention. Now, get this ridiculous sexual tension out of my clinic and ask her out!”

“How?” he exhaled. “And what do we do? Where do I take her?”

“Jesus, Santi…” she breathed, straightening herself and running her arm over her sweaty forehead. “Who are you and what did you do with Santiago Garcia?”

He rolled his eyes and stomped over to the stationary bike. A minute later, Charlie rejoined him after adding the exercise ball to the ball bin.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she murmured softly, one hand on his back.

“I know,” he apologized, grinning at her and nudging her with his elbow.

“It’s just clear as fucking day, Santi. What’s holding you up?” Charlie crossed her arms and leaned against the handlebars of the bike he was riding. “And don’t say it’s the age gap. Not to me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is 15 years not a good enough reason, Chuck?”

She shrugged, leaning down to rest her chin on her arms. “Not to me it isn’t. Besides, Santi, that girl is into you.”

“Right, yeah. These looks she’s been giving me. Okay.”

“Jesus…” Charlie swore under her breath, Santi chuckling as he recognized a few Spanish curses mixed in with the English. Charlie really was Frankie’s lady. “Okay, you didn’t hear this from me, right?” Santi nodded, leaning in as far as the bike would allow him. “Those first few weeks, before you started stalking her schedule to get the same time slots? She would call in and ask Jackie what times you were coming so she could book the same times as you. That’s why Jackie told her you were in here that day you made her fucking cry in my back room. Jackie’s a hopeless romantic and has wanted you two idiots to get together from the start.”

Santi sat back, feeling like the wind had just been knocked out of him. “S-seriously?”

Charlie nodded, a smirk on her face. “Yep. And if you ask her out this week, I win the jackpot.”

“You guys have been betting on us?” he hissed, leaning forward again.

“Oh, please. Like you and the Millers weren’t taking bets on when Frankie would finally pop the question, and I know for a fact you pulled the strings on that one to turn things in your favor, Mr. Best Man,” she rolled her eyes. “Look, ask her out today and I’ll use the winnings to cover your tab at the Beer Garden tonight. Deal?”

Santi fixed her with a suspicious look. “Is this you wanting to win or is this you actually having my best interest at heart?”

Charlie gave him a light smack on the back of the head as she moved away to her desk, conveniently located between the main gym and the back room, with the therapy pool behind her.

“You know me better than that, Santiago. Now get your girl, please.”

                                              **********

Charlie was right. She was always right. It was one of the things that drove Santiago up the fucking wall. Frankie and Charlie were the perfect pair because, between the two of them, they were right one hundred percent of the time. Ben needed advice for his next fight? Forget Will, he was going to Frankie and Frankie’s future wife. Will revamped his speech and needed someone to read it over? Send it to Mr. and Future Mrs. Morales. Santi needed to pick paint colours? He just handed the paint chips to the couple of let them go wild. When they argued, it drove Frankie nuts because his lady had a knack for being right about almost everything. (The one time she was wrong in all their years of dating was when she claimed that Mateo would be a little girl, and Frankie wasn’t going to let her live that down as long as they lived.)

This time, she was right about Santi having to ask Rebecca out, and Santi was sure that ‘Fish would have the same advice if he were to call him up. This hurry up and wait bullshit was driving him crazy, so he needed to do it now, for his own peace of mind.

“Hey, man,” Steve hustled up to him, worry etched across his face.

“Hey Steve, you okay?”

He was already shaking his head. “My brother just called. Our mom took a nasty spill down the stairs. I’m really sorry, but I’m gonna have to cut this short. You’re basically done anyway; I was just gonna do some laser work with you but we can do that on Monday. I talked to Charlie; she can set you up with the cryo cuffs.”

“Yeah, man. No worries. Hope your mom is okay.”

“Thanks, man.”

Santi watched Steve leave for a minute before getting off the glider and heading into the back room, where he knew Charlie and Rebecca were.

“Hey Santi,” Charlie called from the goalpost set up in the corner. “Did Steve talk to you?”

“Yeah. Shame about his mom.”

Charlie nodded emphatically. “She’s a sweet lady. I’ve got my fingers crossed for her.”

“Me too…” Santi watched as Charlie bent to attach a weight to Bex’s foot. “You want me to go grab a table, Chuck? No rush.”

“Sure, if you want,” she replied distractedly. “Or…I was just gonna have Rebecca kick some soccer balls to work on her range of motion. Maybe you could goal keep for her?” she shot him a sly smile.

“I’d love that,” Rebecca piped up, a touch of embarrassment washing over her at her too-enthusiastic tone. “I mean, if you’re free.”

“Sure. Yeah, I can do that,” he agreed awkwardly, moving across the room to stand in the net.

“Alright then. Rebecca, you’re in good hands. Have fun you two.” Charlie turned and sauntered away, turning back once to mouth “Ask her out, dumbass” at him.

“You ever play soccer, Bex?” he asked, adjusting his stance so he stood in the middle of the goalpost.

“Ha, no,” she replied, kicking the soccer ball over to him. “My physical exercise is limited to yoga and swimming. Anything involving a ball or a racquet or running? That would be a no from me.” Santi kicked the ball back to her as it reached his feet. “You?”

“I played some when we would go visit my cousins in Colombia, and I played for my fifth-grade team in school, but that was about it. Sometimes we would play with some of the village kids when we were in Afghanistan. Give ‘em a taste of normal for a few minutes.”

She smiled sweetly as she returned the ball to him, leg moving a little steadier this time. “That’s really great of you.”

“Not really,” he shrugged, sliding over a step to stop the ball before kicking it back to her. “We were the ones fucking up their country. It was the very least we could do. But, god, Tom hated when we did that.”

She scoffed. “Well, that’s not fair of him. Those kids deserve something at least a little fun after all the crap they have to deal with.”

Santi grunted in agreement. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Bex laughed once, low and devoid of joy. “Oh but I do.” Santi stopped the ball and meandered over to her, looking at her questioningly. “Santi, most of my job revolves around kids. You’d be surprised how many of them tell me that their daddies hit them or their mommies throw things at them or that their grandparents intentionally starve them for being bad.” Tears welled up in her eyes and Santi quenched the urge to wrap her in his arms. “I’ve made more CPS calls than I can count and, the worst part is, I never know if that kid is safe after I make the call. Santi, there’s a reason my trunk is full of kid sized snack packs, granola bars, juice boxes. The museum doesn’t cover any of it, but at least I know that, when I walk into a classroom or those kids walk into my museum, they’ll feel safe and loved, and they won’t have to worry about food for at least a day.”

“Jesus, Bex,” he sighed, a small, sad smile on his face. “And they call us the heroes.”

She let out a tear-filled laugh and wiped at the single tear that had managed to escape. “We all do our part, Santi. You play soccer with kids in war torn countries. I feed the ones who get left behind at home.”

Rebecca turned away from him, heading for the main gym when he reached out and grabbed her elbow gently, giving it a squeeze as he turned her towards him and doing his best to ignore the electricity that ran up and down his arm at her touch.

He sighed and released her, his hand coming up to rub at the curls on the back of his head.

“Look, stop me if this is way off base, but if I don’t say this I’m gonna go crazy. I…I really like you, and I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but, uh…” he smiled wryly and chuckled, hating how she made him feel like an inexperienced teenage boy.

“Santi?” Rebecca stepped closer and entwined her fingers with his remaining hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Do you want to go to the Beer Garden with me tonight?” he burst, the words falling out of his mouth. “A, uh, a bunch of us are going tonight. My old squad, Charlie and Frankie. Would you like to come with us? I mean,” he felt his cheeks heat up. “Would you like to come with me? As my date?”

A sweet, giddy giggle surged past her lips. “I’d love to.”

“Really?”

She squeezed his hand, more laughter bubbling up from her lips. “Yeah. I…I’ve been trying to build up the nerve to ask you out for coffee for the last, like, month.”

“Maybe if tonight goes well we could go for coffee next week?” he asked hopefully.

She sighed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Awesome,” he breathed. “I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“That sounds perfect.”

                                              **********

Tags list (open): @darksideofclarke, @writefightandflightclub, @eternallyvenus, @rae-rae-patcha, @himbopoes, @sophoclese, @phoenixhalliwell, @buckstaposition

#santiago pope garcia x oc #santiago garcia #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #fanfiction #oscar issac #pedro pascal

[yulmoldauer]

some things are better left unsaid (Tyson Jost/Male OC): Chapter 2

part 1

Chapter 2

Summary: Mason has to deal with the events of the previous night.

Warnings: uh as you can guess if you read the first part, there’s gonna be homophobia/transphobia talked about. Otherwise, there shouldn’t be anything that needs a warning? If I’m wrong just let me know :)

Words: 2,319

Notes: I don’t think I have much! This is like a lot of flashbacks and I’m sorry but that's character building baybee!!! I promise after this it’ll be more present-based stuff. I just love the character and wish I could spew out my brain and make it understandable lol

Fuck.

That was the only thought Mason had upon waking up. The implications of the previous night hit him like a ton of bricks. His hangover was just an added bonus.

The party had been fun, obviously, but Tyson was still here. Tyson had seen his top surgery scars.

“When did you have surgery?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. A medical degree and some knowledge on what other surgery would leave these scars would be helpful. Mason really did not want to lie, but he wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do.

Being drunk wasn’t helping, either. In his mind, the world was ending and his career was over after the last fuck up that got him traded…

Rationally, he just burst into tears. Not a dramatic scene or anything, he just felt his eyes watering very quickly and suddenly the tears were rolling down his face.

“Oh, shit. Okay,” Tyson set the water down and hurried to his friend. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was- here, will you feel better if you get a shirt on?”

Mason only nodded, allowing Tyson to help him get the shirt on and pull him for a hug.

This just made Tyson think that the scars were from some shitty, traumatic event or something with extremely bad memories. Note to self: don’t fucking ask about them again was written in large letters in his brain.

He did factor in the extremely likely possibility that Mason was drunk and--as anyone with a brain knows--Mason was a hundred times more dramatic when drunk. Still, though, if he was crying, it couldn’t be a good thing.

At least Tyson had been nice enough to leave him some meds and water after forcing him to go to bed.

“You hungry?” Tyson asked softly from the doorway. “I heard you rumbling around in here, I wasn’t watching you sleep,” he clarified quickly.

“Didn’t think you were,” Mason chuckled. “No, I’m not hungry. Thank you, though. You can help yourself to whatever. You know that.”

“Yeah, I made some toast earlier. Fun birthday last night?” Tyson smiled and sat on the edge of the bed as Mason laid back against the headboard and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“You could say that. Thanks, though. Seriously, I had a ton of fun.”

“Yeah, of course. I didn’t stop you from posting anything on social media, though. I dunno why you like taking videos so much.”

“Then I can save them and rewatch them later,” Mason scoffed like Tyson was an idiot. After a few more seconds Tyson moved to get up mere milliseconds before Mason started talking.

“About last night…”

He hesitated, waiting for some kind of confirmation that Tyson was willing to talk about this. There was no sense putting it off, right?

Tyson just raised his eyebrows. “The scars?”

That earned a nod and Tyson sat back down.

“They’re… shit. Okay, sorry. I never meant to lie or anything--fuck that, I never lied. I just... “

“Dude, if it’s something you don’t want to talk about, that’s fine.”

Mason groaned quietly and shook his head. “No, it’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“If you wanna talk, just say it. I’m not gonna freak out or anything. If you don’t wanna, that’s okay too,” Tyson reassured gently.

Truthfully, the curiosity was killing him. It was rare that an injury happened and they didn’t share it with each other. Mason took a few more breaths before nodding. Psyching himself up.

“They’re from my top surgery.”

Silence.

More silence.

Mason officially wanted to die. He was going to have to request another team change, go through the legal battle of making sure he didn’t get outed--

“Like…?” Tyson asked quietly with raised eyebrows.

“Like I had tits and got them removed the summer before I went to college.”

That may have been a relatively vulgar way to put it, but it was true. It was the simplest and least-awkward way he could think to put it.

“Oh,” Tyson nodded a few times. “Thats--I never knew--I mean, I couldn’t, like, tell or anything…”

“Yeah, that was the point,” he sighed and took a sip of the water on the nightstand. “Noone was supposed to know or be able to tell or whatever.”

“So literally no one knows?”

“Not literally, no. My family knows, obviously.”

“But the league?”

At the defeated sigh that escaped his friend, Tyson quickly backtracked. “You don’t have to get into it, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be prying--”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just… a long story that I don’t know if you actually want to hear or if you’re just being nice.”

“Of course I wanna hear, stupid. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

Mason narrowed his eyes at the name, but it was quickly followed with a small smile.

It did take a bit to explain everything, though. How he was drafted into his previous team, everything was fine, and then someone had taken an ungodly amount of time to hit the showers at the same time Mason had been in there.

“Oh, fuck! You scared me,” Mason huffed when he heard the water turn on just across from him.

“What’cha being jumpy for?” the taller guy laughed.

“I’m not jumpy,” Mason grumbled, turning the water off quickly. He wasn’t even sure all the soap was out of his hair, but that didn’t matter. He just needed to get the hell out of there.

“Are you okay, man? You’re being weird-” the other man asked genuinely and glanced over his shoulder. This had been at the same exact time Mason had been trying to just leave as quickly as possible.

There was a few moments of silence that felt like years as the younger grabbed for a towel to cover himself up.

“Are you--?”

“Please, just forget--” Mason tried, but the guy was already turning his water off and grabbing his own towel.

“No, I’m not fucking--are you kidding me, Wright?” he nearly shouted as he stormed out of the room with Mason in tow. “Are you actually kidding me? How the hell have you gotten away with this--”

“I haven’t ‘gotten away with’ anything, you dickhead. It’s none of your business in the first place.”

“It doesn’t matter, you don’t belong here. You know they’ve got the women’s league now, right? It’s not like-”

Mason just shook his head, staring at the floor of the changing room while they were both yanking clothes on as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to hear what was coming next, all the awful shit he’d say.

It wasn’t even what he was saying that was the issue. Mason had heard just about everything at this point and had always had a pretty thick skin. It was the fact that someone he trusted--someone he’d considered family at this point--was saying it.

Didn’t he realize that it wouldn’t be like this if Mason could help it?

“Hey, what the hell is going on?” the head coach cried over them, walking into the room. He hadn’t been concerned about the loudness until it was unbearably obvious that the shouting was getting increasingly angrier and angrier. He wasn’t about to bring up the fact that Mason looked genuinely scared, as if worried about his safety.

The other guy was pissed, going off about how he’d been lied to, he’d been sharing a locker room, dressing room, and showers with a lot of unkind names, and that he wouldn’t keep playing for the team while acting like this never happened.

They ended up in the coach’s office, Mason attempting to towel dry his hair while the other blew off steam. He just didn’t want anyone to see him upset.

Once they were separated, lawyers were brought in with papers and agreements, and the head coach asked Mason if he’d like to request a trade or anything. It wasn’t like he had the option to say no, but he wasn’t exactly upset to go somewhere where he wasn’t worried about going to the bathroom without getting yelled at or beat up by a guy way bigger than himself.

He remembered to thank management before he left for working overtime, it seemed like, to figure out who would take him on such short notice and mid-season.

He was a good defenseman, sure, it just wasn’t easy on such short notice. But what the star player wants, the star player gets.

Colorado was the quickest to take the young defenseman about a year ago, and the rest was history.

“Holy shit,” Tyson murmured after a few quiet moments.

“I thought I was done. I honestly didn’t think anyone was going to pick me up, I thought my career was over. Can you fucking imagine that? Retiring at, like, 22?”

“Yeah, no, that’s… fuck, dude. I’m so sorry that happened.”

“It’s fine, I don’t even really care. I’m happier here, anyway. Especially since it’s not like you’re saying I’m a creep or a fucking… whatever.”

“Does anyone else know? In the league, I mean.”

Mason nodded. “Took a different approach when I got here. Bednar, bare minimum management, and PR knows. PR because if someone ends up outing me, I thought it would be a good idea to have some sort of plan on what to do. And medical staff always has, obviously. I think they know more about me than I do.”

Tyson nodded along, looking at his friend again after a few moments.

“You want this to stay between us, then? Or…?”

The fact that Tyson was even asking made Mason want to cry again. After being fucked over god-knows how many times when it came to being trans, Tyson was the one confirming he’d keep the secret. He wouldn’t give anyone any kind of hint unless Mason wanted him to.

“Yeah.  Between us, please? I dunno, I might come out to the guys eventually, just so they know. I just… I don’t know what I’d do if they react badly--”

“They wouldn’t,” Tyson said quickly. “I promise you they wouldn’t. And even if someone did have an issue with it, they’d just fucking stay quiet. They’d be in the tiny minority.”

“I just don’t know if I can take being traded and going through everything again, Tys.”

At the wavering in Mason’s voice, Tyson reached out and squeezed his friend’s hand.

“You’re not going to get traded over stupid shit like that. Not here, at least.”

“You don’t know--”

“I mean, yeah, I don’t know a lot. But you already said that the most important people who need to know do, they’re okay with it, and it sounds like they’ve got your back. I’ve got your back, too. And if you end up telling the rest of the guys, they’ll have your back too. Even if you end up not telling them, I’m still here for you, man.”

Mason felt about eight tons of weight fall off his shoulders at that. How did he end up with such an amazing friend?

“I just can’t really come out publicly for… I dunno. A while. Ever, maybe? I don’t know.”

“That’s gotta suck. I mean, everyone’s got their shit they want to keep private but… I dunno what I’d do if I literally couldn’t talk about something.”

Especially with how amazing it would be if Mason was able to be that representation for kids like he was who want to play hockey, Tyson thought. The amount of LGBT kids and teenagers who get driven out of hockey is immense, that’s never been a secret. To see an LGBT guy do so well would be amazing, it just sucked it wasn’t possible for Mason to talk about.

And he did want to talk about it. It would suck to come out and deal with that, but if it helped other people he would do it without hesitation. That’s the kind of guy Mason had always been.

“You’re sure you’re not mad that I, like, kinda lied to you about this up until now?” Mason asked, breaking Tyson out of his train of thought.

“Lie?” Tyson furrowed his eyebrows. “Not telling someone something isn’t lying, first off. Second, its none of my fucking business unless you wanted me to know. Even then, this would be a stupid thing to get in the way of being friends with you. I know you call me an idiot all the time, but I like to think I’m not that stupid.”

“You’re definitely not,” Mason chuckled, flipping his blanket off of him and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He shot Tyson a genuine, appreciative smile before downing the painkillers with some water. “Let me get dressed and I can drive you home, if you want. I feel bad making you wait so long,” he murmured. It was well into the afternoon, and even though Tyson constantly reassured that it was fine, he didn’t care, Mason still felt guilty.

It was very clear Mason was hungover when he and Tyson left the building and got into his car, but that was fine. It had just confused Tyson when Mason unbuckled in front of his apartment building.

That is, until he was pulled into a tight hug.

“Thank you so much,” Mason whispered. “Seriously. I… I dunno how to actually tell you how much I appreciate you being so chill.”

Tyson hugged him for a few moments before shaking his head. “It’s really not much to just… I dunno what to call it. Not be an asshole?”

Mason laughed as he let go, allowing Tyson to open the door. “You can text me if you have any questions about… anything. I don’t tell a lot of people, but the people who do know I’m pretty open with.”

“Yeah, of course. See you later, man. Go get rehydrated, okay? You look like shit.”

“Fuck you!”

#my stuff #writing #fanfiction #nhl #hockey #mens hockey #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fandom #colorado avalanche #Colorado Avalanche fanfic #avs #tyson jost #Tyson Jost fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #hockey fandom #mlm fanfic #m/m fiction

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

🍂 🌲☄️ 💦 for Andy thank you!

🍂 Does your OC enjoy hugs? What do they do as a show of affection for: their friends, their family, their significant other(s) or for strangers? Over all what are they like with recieving affection from others? Andy loves any sort of bodily contact he can get... more or less. Andy is a teaser, so if he cares about you, be sure he will be cheeky in your company, quite possible even flirt with you, no matter what your gender is, I mean, he can even flirt with house plants or the thin air, I’m not even kidding! He will tease you, but in a sweet way, he’s not a bully. When he receives affection he kinda melts like butter. He’s just a very affectionate person. 🌲 How deeply does your OC feel? Are they typically empathetic or do they have a hard time connecting with others in this way? What are they like when offering support and comfort to someone they care for? Andy is a very emotional and empathic person. He definitely picks up on people’s emotional vibes, and if someone around him is down, he gets affected almost instantly. The same goes for happiness, if someone is happy, it easily rubs off on him. He even picks up on strangers emotional vibes very easily. Although he sometimes wish he wouldn’t, cause it sadly results in a lot of mood swings for him. A constant emotional roller coaster, and he often don’t know if what he’s feeling actually comes from him, or if it is something he soaked up from someone he was in contact with? When he offers support, he’s rarely insisting. He let’s it be up to the person if they want his help or not. Andy has had a lot of “forced” help over the years, and absolutely hated most of it, so he tries his best to offer when needed, but letting it be up to the person if they wanna accept the help or not. And once again, he’s very affectionate, so if you accept Andy’s help, be sure to get squeezed a lot and/or getting pampered a lot. He’ll probably even buy you something... do you need a new wardrobe? ☄️ Does this OC deserve better treatment from you? Do you make them suffer just a little bit too much? Be nice to them!

Probably. But there’s a reason for the madness. As I have mentioned before, Andy was my original self-sim, although he’s his own standalone character now, so in a sense more like a twin brother, I suppose? But he’s still very much based on the chaos that is me, so giving him a spotless road to travel where everything is fine and dandy, just isn’t for him. Fact is, if he wouldn’t have a bit of trouble in his life here and there, he would frankly get extremely bored and turn back to his more reckless behavior of his past. Which involved a lot of extremely bad things, and a lot of gambling with his own life, which he luckily is more or less past by now. (Not that I was ever like that, and I certainly wouldn’t get bored if my life would be easier) And as much shit as I put him through, I would like to say I give him an equal amount of good as well. Add to the top of that, the fact, which I have mentioned somewhere before, but has probably gotten lost somewhere, so I will mention it again. My story more or less writes itself. Yes I put them on paths, and yes I will push them in another direction if the train is about to derail in a way that I simply can’t allow, but other than that, I let THEM decide what they want and where the story goes. I listen to their feelings, their needs, their wishes, and where they want to go. Essentially THEY write the story, I’m just the penholder. 💦 If you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this OC’s life what would it be and why? I wouldn’t. Everything he has been through, has made him the person he is today, and I wouldn’t change that in any way.

#Anon #Daniel mumbles #Andycorn #Andy Shaw-Thompson