#i watched a few minutes of someone playing through the night terrors level and messing around at the prize counter

[honesthammie]

Prompt 39: Death wants you to be terrified. But the scariest thing is wanting death.

13th Doctor x female curvy reader

Warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughts, alcohol and drug abuse, domestic abuse, fat phobia

I'm sorry for this. Its really depressing and I've been hesitant on letting you guys see it but I kinda like how it's written. I've made the abuser gender neutral as females can also be abusive. I promise the next one will be much happier!

"Come on (y/n), you can make it! Just jump across and reach for my hand. I promise you won't fall." The Doctors voice echoes across the widening canyon. If you looked down, you would only see pitch black. You didn't know how long you'd fall. Maybe this would be the perfect time to just go for it. Its not like you'd matter, you're only slowing the team down as is.

They wouldn't even be in this mess if you didn't slip and hit the world shattering drill, turning it on full blast. Unfortunately, you smashed the button making it unable to turn it off. Of course the only way you'd be able to turn it off is to actually go towards it. Everyone in the room screamed at you and some raised their tentacles to attack you if the Doctor didn't step in front of you. You know the Doctor noticed you flinching and your eyes gloss over and noticed you bracing for the impact.

You learned over the years to just accept your fate. You can't run from anyone when you weighed this much. You couldn't hide either, which often left you to just accept what was coming and hope nothing broke. Bruises were always easy to cover and so were any cuts but broken bones, that was always on display and you'd have to break your number one rule: never lie. You hated lying. The truth always comes out anyway so why hide it? If you hide it, you get punished worse anyway so why bother?

If you jumped and actually went with the team, you'd get questioned about earlier and about hesitating at jumping. But if you fell, would the Doctor miss you? As much as you hated to admit it, you were absolutely in love with the adorable alien. Why did you hate to admit it? Because she was a goddess and you were a waste of skin and bones. You weren't skinny and you didn't fit in with the team at all. You were only here out of pity.

You remember when you first met the team. You were the only person alive when they searched underneath the hotel. Even the spiders didn't want you. You were at the hotel because you heard about killer spiders and you wanted an out. You could never do it or something would come up stopping you from ending all your misery. You were the complete opposite of the Doctor. She was so brave and said whatever she wanted and didn't really care for the consequences.

You focused on the Doctors sparkling eyes. Despite the situation, she still sparkled with hope and encouragement. She wasn't upset with you. You really wished she was. This would be such an easier decision to make. Your head was pounding and your heart was going faster than her two hearts. Did you even want her upset? You couldn't tell, your head was spinning wildly, one thought going to another without a chance to process the last one.

You had come to a clear decision. You ran back and let momentum do its thing as your feet left the muddy gravel. You felt so free as you glided in the air for a few seconds. It was the most beautiful feeling. No punishment, no tears before going to sleep and no terror of going back home. Just you and gravity.

Then with a clearer mind you regretted your choice. You were horrified. You weren't ready. It wasn't time yet. Graham can't lose you. He'd only recently lost his wife. He'd feel the same as you and that thought terrified you. He'd survived cancer and gained himself a new family. He can't be like you. Ryan needed him, wether he was willing to admit that or not.

Suddenly you panicked and last minute reached your hand out hoping you'd grab something. Anything. You felt a soft warm object and latched on for dear life. You were then lifted up and onto soil. You focused on your breathing a moment and waited for your heart to calm down. You looked up and saw what, or rather who, saved you. You shouldn't have been so surprised to see the Doctors worried face above yours. She gave you a questioning look, knowing the question, you nodded your head and she straightened herself and helped you up.

"That was great (n/n)! So brave of you! Let's go gang, we've gotta turn this drill off before it splits the planet in half!" She shouted as she ran forward, seemingly knowing the way. She didn't let go of your hand until you reached the drill about 10 minutes later. You couldn't help the blushthat formed on your cheeks. The Doctor quickly opened a panel on the side of the drill.

The drill was massive, bigger than the Eiffel Tower and that what was on surface level, it went down much deeper that it had reached halfway to the liquid nitrogen that ran in this cold planet where our magma centre would be. The drill itself was purple and spherical. The panel box was the size of a human head which was about the size of the civilisations sucker pads. Inside were 3 buttons and 1 lever. You needed to type the pattern that would gain the access to the drill and force stop. If it goes wrong, it speeds up rendering this planet uninhabitable.

You watched as the Doctor quickly typed the pattern in. Red,blue,red,red,red,blue,black,black,blue. That was the pattern she quickly pressed in and held the lever down for 10 seconds. Soon the drill came to a halt and the planet was peaceful once again. You all let out a sigh of relief as it stopped.

You made your way back to the chief of the race and explained that they should dismantle and never use that drill again unless they plan to empty the panet of everything it has within. He quickly agreed and the fam made their way back to the TARDIS.

As soon as tye TARDIS was parked on the edge of your solar system, you got into your comfy clothes ready to nap or maybe play a few games to slow your adrenaline until you were tired enough for a full nights rest. You played a few rounds of uno and some poker where you used some bits of metal instead of chips. Eventually everyone had left except you and the Doctor.

You made your way to the doors of the ship and settled down just watching the stars in front of you. If the sentient machine hadn't already been aware of your darkest thought, you would have jumped out there and been amongst them. Just floating eventually turning to nothing but bones drifting, maybe to never be found. All the sights you've seen and yet this is where you were the most impressed. This was your home, your galaxy and because of all the light pollution, you had never been fully aware of how many neighbours you had because you had been literally blind. This was only stuff captured and faked and now, it's forever in your mind.

You heard movement and a shuffle next you. You knew who it was because she was the only other person awake and you knew she was going to ask and not let it drop until you tell her truth. And you were going to give her it but that doesn't mean you were ready to do so but you had to, someone had to know. Maybe you wanted help or maybe just someone to listen and know everything making you mentally naked in front of them.

The Doctor waited a few moments. She was figuring out how to word it without sounding horrible. "Is everything alright at home?" She asked her voice laced with genuine concern. "Sorry if this sounds a bit abrupt but let me explain. You've been really weird lately. You hardly speak and when you its with as few words as possible, you keep going elsewhere mentally and Rassilion forbid anyone getting angry with you! I also noticed how you hesitated today when jumping and I saw your worry and panic when you jumped. I think I know but I can't help you if you don't at least tell me what is going on! And don't change the subject or anything, just answer me please. I lo-. I can't lose you too." Her voice raised a little as she panicked just speaking about it. Halfway through she grabbed both of your hands and continued her speech.

You looked deep into her eyes for any sign of a lie but there wasn't one. Just like at the canyon, her eyes showed nothing but love. Maybe you should tell her, just her. No Yaz, no Graham and no Ryan. Just you, The Doctor and the TARDIS. You looked away for a moment as you collected your thoughts. However, as you opened your mouth and tried to speak, you found no voice. You couldn't tell her about them. Lord knows what she's capable of. But you've been looking for an out for so damn long. Maybe this is it. She's your out, no death involved.

You walked towards a panel in the console and pushed your hands inside and focused. You focused on the worst time it happened. You concentrated on the fear and everything attached. You couldn't tell her, but you could show her. The TARDIS disappeared into the vortex but didn't seem so sure on landing. She was picking it all up, she felt everything you did and she did not like going. "Please baby girl, I need her to know. I need help but I can't tell her. She's my only out that doesn't involve death and that terrifies me! Please. I understand your hesitation but she needs to see." You spoke mentally to the sentient blue box. She made a sad sound as she gently landed in the moment.

The Doctor looked at you bewildered. Her eyes were wide and her mouth agape. You walked up to her and grabbed her hand reassuringly. You led her to the doors that separated her from your darkest secret. You took a deep breath and slowly opened the door.

You appeared to be in the basement of your house. You walked up the stairs and took her to a storage room where she could see it happen. You sat in silence for a few minutes only the sounds of breathing and your heartbeat could be heard.

You knew this day off by heart, it plagued your nightmares often. It all started to sweet and went sour so quickly. At this time you were currently on your way back from doing your weekly shop to Tescos making sure you didn't forget their vodka and gin on your way to pay. Thankfully, the shop was only 10 minuets away and you doubted that the TARDIS would make you wait longer than nessacary. Just as the Doctor opened her mouth to speak the door opened and in walked an 18 year old you.

You set the bags down and started sorting the items into their new places. The canned foods go in the cupboard and the meat goes into the fridge. There were loads of food and stuff to go through and place properly. After you placed the last can of baked beans into the cupboard, the door swung open, nearly breaking the door.

They came home from their dealers place early. They stunk of weed and alcohol and had a little white powder around their nose. They looked like they had a good time until they had to come home. It was their dealers birthday so he was having a brothel themed party meaning there were strippers, pole dancers and prostitutes as well. The dealer was a rich guy who practically ran this city. The cops couldn't do anything as he could always bail himself out of jail.

They looked you in your comfy clothes and scoffed. They looked angry. "Why aren't you in your normal clothes babes? I thought I told you to throw away all of that shit. Come on now. Don't tell me I wasted all my well earned money on those clothes I specifically chose for you?"

You shuddered, both in the past and now except now they only made bile rise into your throat. You were so young and vulnerable. Now you know better.

The past you quickly scampered off to get changed. After only 5 minutes you reappeared in what was sexy school girl. The blue miniskirt covered less than most underwear so you were forced to wear a thong. The shirt was a bralet that barely covered your nipples. Your hair was in pigtails and you wore thigh highs. The sight made you silently sick in your mouth. You looked pathetic and weak.

You looked at them expectingly. You were waiting for your next order from them. They seemed to drool at the sight of you. "That's better babes. Why didn't you go shopping like that? Show the world your fat ugly figure? I want you to walk out there and see that no one else wants you but here I am, loving you. I am the only one who will ever like you in the way we have now. Your lucky I've had some fun tonight. All I want is my vodka and a new blunt darling"

You quickly went and grabbed their stuff and walked towards them as they settled in front of the TV. They turned the TV on and put Love Island on. How you hated that show. It made you feel bad for being the size you are. The women on there were beautiful but you also knew that, that kind of beauty costs money. So while your partner had fun watching the show for the romance, you watched it to spot what part of them was bought and what was real. Almost all the women had fake teeth and breasts. You hated how your partner would make snide comments on how they looked compared to you.

"You should be looking like Becky ya know. Beautiful teeth, big perky tits and a fucking great ass. What do you have? Flabs!" And there was the first comment of the day. The first of 30, you counted.

"Yeah well you are fucking broke so I can't look like fucking fake ass Becky or the others!" You thought. Then the Doctor gave you a look of shock and pity and then you realised you said that aloud. Not loud enough for them to hear you but enough for the Doctor.

"Make yourself fucking useful and make me some dinner. I fancy a steak and chips." They ordered as you got up and waddled over to the kitchen. A few minutes in you realised you put too much oil in the pan for the steak but the steak was already in and cooking quick. So quick that it started to smoke just a little bit. You tried blowing it away from them before they realised that you fucked up their dinner but ut was too late. They were already on their feet a marching towards you.

"I'm so sorry. I accidentally poured too much oil in. I'm so sorry. I have a spare steak, you can have my meal for tonight, I could do with skipping a meal anyways, helps me lose weight!" Past you was panicked and present you wasn't much better. Even though you were safe from them, they still made you uneasy. If you were to ever see them again, you'd freeze. They made your blood run cold. Even their voice sent unpleasant shivers down your spine.

"You better make me another steak but I still have to punish you. You fucked up, a lesson needs to be learnt." They said scarily politely. They grabbed your left arm and marched you towards the sink. They also grabbed the burning pan and pinned you so you had no escape as they poured the boiling oil onto your skin. You knew not to scream do you bit into your other arm knowing a bite out of it is better than causing more punishments for screaming.

When they were done left to watch the TV and you knew what that meant. You had to cook the spare steak and make there meal before you can get proper treatment at the hospital. Through your tears of agony, you quickly ran your burnt and bleeding arm under the cold water of the sink. You bit deeper into your other arm and tasting blood, but thay didn't stop you until the left one had cooled down. Then you got an old shirt, ripped 2 pieces of fabric off and wrapped them around both arm Injuries. You then continued their meal.

Once they had the meal they kicked you and punched you in the stomach because the chips were slightly cold and then they drove you to the hospital as they promised. When you had left you didn't realise you had been crying until a drop fell on your arm. You walked out of the storage room and sat on the sofa, turning the TV off.

The Doctor looked shocked for a moment before walking over and kneeling in front of you. The Doctor went silent for a moment. Before she could speak, you decided to speak first.

"I couldn't tell you because I couldn't think if a nice way of telling you. I didn't want to appear weak to you." You cried as your voice cracked in the middle due to the tears and the strain. The Doctor looked at you in pity and disappointment.

"This does not make you weak. Being abused does not make you weak. Because being abused is like being tortured by someone who supposed to love you and cherish you. They are meant to protect you from danger not be the danger. I would never hurt you. I know that I put you in risky situations but believe me, I would never intentionally put you in danger. You mean too much to me" The Doctor softly spoke with tears making a little river down her soft cheeks and onto your black carpet below.

"Before I met them, I was like you or Yaz. I was so happy at everything. Very little could bring me down. But I met them and started dating them and suddenly, my world of sunshine faded to grey. There was no light. I wanted to die Doctor. When you found me at that spider hotel, I wanted to be free from them as I couldn't do it. I can't because they'd kill me. I don't want to be alive whilst I'm with them. I have so many scars from either them or me trying to end my own life and that the scariest thing. Death wants us to be terrified but wanting to die is so much more terrifying Doctor, I know that." You cried as you emptied all you could to her. The Doctor was silent for a moment, taking in everything you said. Waves of emotion flashed through her, anger, sadness, pity and something you couldn't quite place.

"You said wanted. That's past tense. You said wanted to die. What changed? What made you want to live?"

"You did. You saved me from the spiders. You gave me a temporary out of the relationship for a while. You made me smile for the first time in 3 years! You made me laugh. The world of grey is now full of sunshine and rainbows Doctor. You also saved me today. When I jumped across that canyon, I jumped to end my life. I made a mistake that nearly ended a planet! If I wasn't so fat and clumsy maybe i-"

"Don't you dare say that! You are not fat (n/n). Yes you have more plush to your body but you are not fat. I hate that word. Its such a nasty word. You are gorgeous, amazing and so brilliant. You can't see what I see and I really wished you could for just one moment. You are worthy of being loved and cared for. You are precious, rare, one of a kind. I've never met anyone like you. There's always some skinny, fake bodied and caked up women but there's no one with as much natural beauty as you! Let's get back to the TARDIS and we'll talk more when looking at the stars because I can see that being here isn't doing you any favours" The Doctor spoke with such passion that you started to believe that her words held more than those of a supporting friend would.

Once the TARDIS was parked in the Milky Way you settled by the door once again and found yourself accompanied by the sweet alien. You both sat there for a moment just content with wrapping your heads around what's just happened. You looked over to the blonde and noticed how the stars made her glow in such an ethereal way that you felt almost compelled to worship her. Maybe you should after everything she's done for you. Her eyes sparkled with si many emotions from the past senario.

"Are you still with them?"

"Why do you think I never left this place? I mean even if could, I wouldn't want to but it's mainly because if I go back home, I'll come back with more injuries. I feel safer with you. You are my sunshine and rainbows and they are my storm clouds. Whilst I'm here, I'm alive and mostly unbroken. Whilst I'm there, I'm as alive as a puppet and severely broken. I can't leave, not on my own anyway."

The Doctor looked at you in thought. "The starlight compliments you. You look so pretty and almost angelic. I just wish they never hurt my angel. My innocent angel had broken wings and I'm going to fix what the Devil broke, I promise. Just hold on, I'm going to take us somewhere."

You held the nearest crystal as the TARDIS transported you somewhere but it seemed like the sentient machine was determined to take you there as quick as she could. As you opened the doors you noticed a familiar smell of weed mixed with alcohol. You heard the familiar tune of Love Island and knew exactly where you were. You were home. The Doctor saw your hesitation and whispered softly, "I want you to pack everything you want. I've written a note for them to find. I'm going to put it on the bed. If they notice you scream for me and I'll be there. They will not hurt you much, hopefully not at all. I just need to do something in the TARDIS before I help you." She turned and left into the TARDIS and disappeared down a corridor.

The atmosphere sent chills down your spine and you were frozen. The TARDIS seemed to notice and words of encouragement were sent into your head which helped you move towards your bedroom. You quickly buy quietly opend your suitcase and started to fill it with clothing and hygiene products. As you entered the bathroom a bottle of their shampoo fell into the tub giving you away. You knew you only had so long before they came in and hurt you so you closed the door and barricaded it with whatever you could.

As you pushed the last cabinet to the pile they roared through the wooden door. "Let me in you fat dumb bitch. You've been gone for 3 weeks and you've got some balls coming back! You're lucky I haven't burned all your shit! Where have you been?"

Your heart ran at an extremely fast pace nd you knew only one person could help you now. And so you screamed her name so loud it hurt your throat bit that didn't stop you. You screamed until you heard talking. You couldn't understand what was said but suddenly a thud was heard and then silence.

"Hey Starlight! It's only me. I've taken care of them. They're not dead but in a venishion aikido. They can't move, they're paralysed. You can come out and finish packing"

You moved everything out of the door and opened it to a view you expected. The Doctor with 2 fingers to their pulse point on their neck. The Doctor smiled at when they saw you. You finished packing and zipped the bag up. Then Yaz walked in with her police uniform on and arrested them for domestic violence and many other things. Now you understood why The Doctor left, it was to get Yaz as a back up option to completely take them out of your life.

The Doctor helped open doors for you as you got your room and you set the suitcase to one side to empty another day. You both sat down on your bed. The sound was filled with nothing but 2 lifeforms breathing and the TARDIS faint buzzing. You two stayed like this, staring into each other, trying to read the others emotions. But we all know what The Doctor is like, she can't stay silent for long.

"I had to save you because as long as you were with them, you weren't ever going to be truly happy. I didn't want my big bright star to turn into a black hole, I wanted her to be a supernova. My Starlight deserves to be happy."

"You keep saying my Doctor. And you asked if I was still with them and then when I basically said yes, you quickly, as in a rush, sent us home so I could leave them. You keep saying all these things about me. You held my hand from the canyon to the drill. You are always the first to check on me and you always make sure I'm OK first even if I'm the farthest person from you! Doctor, be honest, I don't want any more bullshit. Doctor why?" You spoke softly but with determination. The Doctor blushed and shifted her gaze to the stars and quietly gulped. She knew this day would come. The day her secret was revealed. And she dreaded her answer and she dreaded your reaction. And whilst she figured out what to say, you already knew the answer.

You gently grabbed her chin and made her look at you. Once her gaze caught yours, you smiled and placed your lips to her soft ones. Quickly she caught up and kissed you back with all the love and passion she could muster. She wanted to relay that she did love you and that she would do exactly as she said earlier, she would cherish you.

As for you, you smiled. You finally had an out that didn't end in death but instead ended with the same love that you yearned for, for years.

#13th doctor #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #depressing post #im sorry

[blossom-hwa]

Constellation - FELIX

The last week and a half has been hectic, to say the least. I don’t think I need to go into detail about why, but hopefully this story will bring back a bit of levity :) I’m really excited that it’s finally finished, and for a) the comeback and b) Felix’s birthday no less! Happy comeback, happy late birthday to the one and only Han Jisung, and happy birthday to the lovely marvelous wonderful Felix Lee, one of the best boys in the whole world! I hope you all enjoy :)

Pairing: Felix x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, nature spirit!au

Word Count: 11k

You swear an oath to return your fallen star to the sky.

SKZ Masterlist | Whispers of Nature

Felix’s head hurts. It really hurts.

Something liquid starts trickling down his hair when he tries to move, something that he’s pretty sure isn’t the starshine Donghyuck so loves to splash in his fellow stars’ faces. It’s much thicker. Stickier.

Where…?

Groaning slightly, Felix forces his eyes to flutter open slightly. Immediately a round of dizziness rushes into his head and he slams them shut, willing the nausea to fade away.

What happened?

Mentally, Felix starts going through everything he remembers doing tonight. Nothing much, really – he sent dreams to the children, shone in the Sky, mediated a squabble between a few younger stars, ran away from Donghyuck’s antics, then… falling?

Wait, falling?

His eyes snap open to cold air brushing his skin and dusky green dotting his vision. A stark horror starts to fill his mind, overtaking the growing pain in his head.

I’ve fallen. I’m on Earth.

Panic rises in his chest but he forces it down, if only for a few moments. He must’ve hit his head when he fell. That would explain the throbbing pain. He probably blacked out for some time – he doesn’t know how long, but the Sky’s light is already turning gray in the east so it must be near dawn by now.

If he weren’t immortal, he would be dead right here, right now. Felix gulps at the realization, sitting up slowly. His limbs work, even though they ache a lot. But even that pain can’t compete with the feeling in his head. 

Something shiny glints at the corner of his vision and he turns to see bright ivory ichor on the grass. He slowly reaches a hand to the back of his head and feels a sticky, wet lump. When he lifts his fingers to his face, smears of ivory glitter in the faint daylight.

By the Mother Earth and her child the Sky, how did I get into this mess?

For how long he sits there, trying to get a grip on the situation, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do – should he try to find people? Should he try to figure out a way back home on his own? Should he just lie down and wait and hope that the Sky will take him back tomorrow night? Why did he even fall in the first place?

A rustling of grass jerks him out of his spiraling thoughts and his head whips to the right. The throbbing intensifies and Felix watches in mute horror as someone emerges from the trees.

For several seconds that could be minutes or even hours, Felix stares at you and you stare at him. Terror adds to the growing pile of emotions in his head and he can’t even act on his instinct to flee because his body feels so tired and pained that it won’t let him move. The fact that you’re a human nearly sends him spiraling again but he forces his mind to cooperate.

Felix has seen many things from his vantage point in the Sky. War. Famine. Greed. Disease. Destruction. So many atrocities that humans have committed against each other and against those they deem different, inferior.

What would they do to a star?

Slightly more mobile, Felix scoots backward as best he can. His eyes remain locked on yours and he can feel himself trembling in your presence.

A being of the heavens, a child of the Sky and the night, trembling in front of a small human. The other stars would laugh if he shared this story with him.

He wonders if his powers still work on earth.

But for now, he doesn’t need to find out. For instead of pressing forward, you back away, holding up your hands in a gesture that does not scream danger to him. Curious eyes look at him with wonder and a little fear, but not enough to warrant harm. It is natural to fear the unknown, but thankfully for Felix, it looks as though you have not given in to the fear so much as to hurt him.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. My name is Y/N.” Your voice is soft, like the one he uses when comforting a startled moon rabbit. “I saw you were injured. Do you need help?”

Yes. Yes, he does. He needs a lot of help, but he’s not sure if he trusts you enough to rely on you.

You sit down, keeping a safe distance away from him, though Felix isn’t sure if the distance is for your safety or his. “You’re bleeding,” you say patiently. “I’m a maiden at a shrine not far away. If you want, I can take you there and clean your wound, then give you directions to wherever you’re headed.” A small, worried smile plays on your face. “The shrine is very deep in the forest, you know. You must be lost.”

Almost against his will, Felix nods. He is lost.

So very lost.

“May I take you to the shrine?” you ask again. “I can help you better there.”

Felix notices his muscles have untensed. He’s relaxed in your presence. He vaguely thinks he should be upping his guard, but the pain in his head has rebounded and the throbbing has turned sharper. He raises a hand to the wound again and his fingers comes back still covered in blood.

Ivory blood.

Hiding his hand is of no use but he does it anyway, heart dropping when he sees your widened eyes.

Dead silence reigns, broken only by the slight rustling of the leaves.

“Ivory blood?” you finally say, smiling tentatively. “It’s okay. At the shrine, we take care of many magical beings. We’ve had pixies, nymphs, a few fae, even a demon, once. Red blood, golden blood, black blood. I’ve never seen ivory before, but we care for all, so long as they show us no harm.”

The momentary panic cleared his head but now that he thinks you still mean no harm, Felix finds himself relaxing again. He nods sluggishly.

You come forward, touch slow and gentle against his bruised skin. You loop one of his arms around your neck, then support him with an arm around his. Step by slow step, you help him across the soft grass, deeper and deeper into the forest.

. . . . .

The bruises are easy to treat – a few dabs of cream, and you promise the boy in front of you that they will be good as new in a few days. The wound on his head takes more time. Ivory blood oozes from a nasty lump on the back of his head, and it takes a lot of water, a lot of flinching, and a lot of murmured apologies before it’s clean and bandaged.

“Done.” You finally give what you hope is a reassuring smile and begin putting away the bandages. “I need to go do my morning chores, but you can stay and lie on my bed awhile. I don’t think many people will come by here, but on the off chance that they do, they won’t hurt you. I promise. I’ll be back soon, probably around midday.”

He nods, luminous eyes staring at you with something unreadable in their depths. Even as you begin walking to your bedroom door, he doesn’t lie down on the bed. He’s still sitting as you close the door quietly behind you.

Your heart pounds as you rush down the hall, hoping the priestesses won’t scold you for being so late to your chores. They know your fascination with the forest, know the long walks you take every morning. Maybe you could just say you got lost in the sunrise? They wouldn’t hold that against you, would they?

Thankfully, no one comes by as you snatch a broom from the shed and begin sweeping the front of the shrine clear of dead leaves. Your stomach scolds you for missing breakfast but really, what’s a missed meal in the face of helping one of the lost?

Even if this lost boy is unlike any being you’ve ever seen before.

A lot of magical beings have strange-colored blood. That didn’t faze you. Fae, sprites, nymphs – golden blood runs through all their veins. Hell, you’ve seen black blood from the demon you helped that one time. Ivory isn’t so different.

But white hair that glows? Eyes as pale and silvery as the moon? You’ve never seen that before. As you finish the chores and begin walking back to your room, you puzzle over what the boy is.

He reminds you of something, but what is it?

Lost in thought, you bump into a heavy table full of small relics. But just as the curse leaves your mouth and pain starts blooming in your hip, a yelp from the sleeping quarters pushes all thought out of your mind and you run to your room.

You nearly smack into Priestess Jeon, the head priestess of fire, who’s standing outside of your room with a shocked look on her face. Peering anxiously into the room, you see the boy, looking scared but thankfully unharmed.

“Y/N.” She turns to you, not angrily, not fearfully, but with confusion. “Why is there a star inside your bedroom?”

It hits you.

A star.

Of course.

He is a star. It explains the glowing candlelit hair, the luminous eyes, the way he seems to exude the calm of night. That’s what he reminded you of – a night sky full of stars.

“A star,” you finally murmur. “I-I’m sorry, Priestess. I found him in the forest and he was hurt, but when I came back I was already late for chores and I saw no one around so I tried to patch him up as best I could and left him here to rest until I finished. I was just coming back to check on him.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the poor star’s gaze flicker from you to the priestess to the door and you feel terrible. He’s a star, one of the luminous children of the sky and night, being forced to face two impure human beings.

How did he even end up on earth in the first place?

Priestess Jeon steps forward slightly and your eyes rivet between her and the star sitting on your bed. She kneels down so that she is eye-level with the boy and beings to speak.

“Hello, little star.” You know the smile she has on her face – it was the one that persuaded you and your brother to stay, and you only hope it has the same calming effect on the star. “I am Jeon Jiyoung, priestess of fire, and one of the head priestesses of this shrine. We are a shrine, but we are also a home for the lost. We welcome all – nymphs, demons, fae. We have never hosted a star before, but it would be our greatest honor to do so. If you are lost, we will take care of you until you can return to the sky.”

“I don’t know how.”

Had it not been so full of anxious terror, the startlingly deep voice that the star speaks with could have belonged to a man. But all you can see is a scared boy in front of you. Cracked, soft, terrified, his words make your heart clench.

“Would our witch know anything about stars?” you ask. “She might have suggestions. Or maybe Changbin?”

“Perhaps.” The priestess stands. “Our witch is very skilled – she might know something. Changbin is a moon child, too. He might know or be able to ask someone how to return you to the sky,” she tells the boy. “But until then, little star, do not fear. The shrine is safe for you. Y/N –” she looks at you – “can I entrust you with caring for our star?”

“Me?” you squeak. “Aren’t there… shouldn’t one of the older maidens… I’m not –”

“Do not doubt your capabilities.” Priestess Jeon puts a hand on your shoulder, smiling gently. “Besides,” she whispers, “I think our star is a little afraid – naturally so. Since you found him, I think he will trust you the most. You have not given him any reason to distrust you, have you?”

Biting your lip, you shake your head. She turns to the star, satisfied. “Is this all right with you?” she asks him.

His pale eyes bore into yours, as though he’s seeing right through your soul. Trapped beneath his gaze, you cannot move until he nods slowly. “Yes.”

“Then it is settled.” The priestess claps her hands. “Y/N, you are excused from the rest of today’s chores. Take our star to the healing ward and check him for any more extensive injuries. He may stay there until he can return home.”

. . . . .

Felix lies awake for most of that first night in the healing ward. He doesn’t like it there. It’s too clean, too silent. He would have preferred sleeping in your room and he wishes the priestess had suggested it, but she didn’t and his shyness prevented him from asking.

Faint sunlight shining through the windows tugs him out of a light sleep the next morning. You come in just as he’s swinging his legs out of the bed.

“Good morn – oh.” You cover your eyes. “I’ll just… wait outside until you… put on a shirt?”

Confused, Felix looks down. Then he remembers that humans have strange rules about covering up their skin in the presence of others. “Sorry,” he mumbles, hastily fumbling for the shirt he was given yesterday.

After a light breakfast – the milk and the bread taste good, but not so much the sour, crunchy thing you say is kimchi – you take him on a walk in the woods to meet the witch.

“I don’t know exactly why she came here,” you explain on the way there. “She just showed up one day, pregnant, and asked for shelter. I think only Priestess Jeon knows truly what happened to her.”

Felix doesn’t know much about witches, but the one he meets is kind. She has a child, a young boy who has her hair and nose and eyes and who quickly takes a shine to Felix. His skin is a little paler than hers, though, and their smiles aren’t quite the same. Maybe those are traits from his father.

“I’ll be honest with you – I don’t know exactly how to return you to the sky.” The witch closes her book and Felix looks up from the cooing little boy you’re holding in your lap. Little fists grab onto Felix’s pants and he almost yelps in surprise, but the boy’s chubby cheeks and laughing eyes render him silent and he deals with it, even though it feels strange. You laugh a little, adoring gaze focused on the child, and Felix pauses at the love he sees within your face.

The witch holds out her hands to her child, who immediately (thankfully) abandons your lap and Felix’s ragged pants to enter her arms. “I do think there is a library in the moon palace where there might be more books on the stars, however. I’ll ask Changbin to help me find some. Until then, I will give you a potion that will help you adjust to life on earth. It will change your sleeping pattern, as well as prevent serious sunburns. I’ll also ask Changbin for one of his moonflowers – I think the moon’s magic will help keep your body stable.”

Felix nods, a little overwhelmed by the information and disappointed that the witch doesn’t know how to return him home, but thankful nonetheless. “Thank you,” he says, dipping his head in respect.

“Thank you,” you echo, standing up from the floor. “Do you know when Changbin will be around?”

“Not exactly,” she replies, detaching her child’s hands from her hair and settling him firmly on her lap, “but he’ll come soon. It’s almost that time of the year, you know.”

A dark silence falls over the small house, something you and the witch understand but that Felix doesn’t. Clearly something bad happened to this Changbin, and he isn’t exactly sure he wants to know what.

Then the child starts babbling and the spell of silence is broken as the witch focuses her attention on him and you laugh at his antics. “Thank you, again,” you say, looking fondly at the small family. “If there is anything you ever need from the shrine, simply ask. You do so much for us.”

A faraway look comes into the witch’s face. Felix wonders what she’s thinking of. “It’s no problem.” She smiles warmly, but with a tinge of melancholy that a less perceptive person might not notice. “Oh, wait.” Hefting her son onto her shoulder, she stands. “Would you give me one of your hairs? I will need it for the potion.”

Bemused, Felix reaches up a hand and plucks out a strand of hair.

“I know it’s strange.” The witch takes it with an embarrassed smile. “But this is a specialized potion, specific for just you, and these potions often need something from the person they will be given to. It’s to ensure that it will be effective on you.” She smirks. “Blood is often temperamental, so I don’t use it unless I have to. And I don’t feel like you would want to drink what used to be one of your nails or a sliver of your skin.”

Felix makes a face. He would not.

“I suppose we should take our leave now.” You bow slightly and Felix scrambles to do the same. “Thank you so much again.”

“Thank you,” Felix echoes, hoping his expression conveys the depth of his gratitude.

“The pleasure is mine.” The witch smiles, patting her son on the back. “I’ll bring over the potion sometime tomorrow.”

Then the boy starts crying, so you quickly leave the hut.

. . . . .

“I need to complete my chores,” you tell the star as you two enter the shrine. “Do you want to come with me, or do you want to stay in the healing ward until I finish?”

A slight grimace crosses the star’s ethereal face when he hears your second option. You’re not surprised by his choice to come with you, but you are surprised by his offer of help.

“It’s awkward just standing here, watching you work,” he mumbles shyly. “If I’m staying here for some time, I should at least learn to help out.”

So you fetch him a broom and teach him to sweep, then attempt to teach him to cook. He’s surprisingly good at sweeping – he even looks graceful while doing it, which doesn’t make sense at all – but he’s a terrible cook. You have a hard time stifling your simultaneous laughter and yelps of fear when he nearly cuts off a finger and sends carrot peels flying all over the floor.

In the end, you send him back to the healing ward with a plate of food and a promise to join him after you’ve finished serving the other maidens and priestesses. But by the time you enter the ward, he hasn’t even begun eating yet.

“Are you not hungry?” you ask, sitting on the bed next to him. “We can wait to eat until later, it’s not a problem.”

The blush that settles across his freckled cheeks is strangely adorable. “Um… no.” He holds up his chopsticks. “How do you…?”

“Oh.” You laugh. “It’s not hard. Let me show you.”

So the star learns to use chopsticks as quickly as he learns to use the broom – so not long at all – and within minutes, he’s carefully putting food into his mouth. Silence falls as you fill your stomachs.

“Do you want to go outside?” you finally ask, putting your plate on the floor. Then you look more closely at his face and see pale pink beginning to burn on his skin. “Wait, are you already burning?” You touch his face, alarmed.

He shrugs, leaning back slightly. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “Is… that what the pain is? Burning?”

“You felt pain?” you half-screech. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugs again. “I thought it was normal?”

You sigh. “Have you ever been out during the day?”

The nonplussed look he gives you is enough of an indication of how dumb that question was. “I’m a star,” he says by way of reply.

“Sor-ry.” You roll your eyes, embarrassed. “Sunburns are common if you stay outside in the sun too long – the heat literally burns your skin. But normally you don’t get burns from walking under the forest canopy. I guess your skin is just extremely sensitive.” You rummage around a nearby drawer, pulling out a bottle of aloe. “Can I put this on you? It’ll soothe the pain.”

Swallowing, the star nods assent. You sit next to him and begin applying the gel to his skin.

“How do you have freckles if you don’t see the light of day?” you mumble, brushing gel over some of the tiny dots on his face. They don’t really look like freckles – they seem to have a pattern, and they’re a little darker – but that’s the best word you have for them.

“Freckles?”

There it is again – that lost, confused expression that he had while holding the chopsticks. He doesn’t know what freckles are.

“Uh, freckles.” You wave your hands somewhere near his cheeks. “The… dots? The dots on your face?”

His mouth forms a little ‘o’ as he realizes.

“Yeah.” You drop your hands. “People are either born with them or get them from the sun. Most of us get them from staying outside too long, it’s not a commonly-born trait.”

“I didn’t get them from the sun,” he mumbles. “They’re… the constellation I’m part of.”

Silence falls again as you put away the aloe. “By the way,” you finally say, trying to start conversation, “may I know your name? I don’t think you ever said anything…”

The star swallows. “I’m sorry. In the sky, we don’t usually give our names to anyone but ourselves. Because to give our name to someone like a fae or another trickster race would be disastrous.” He smiles a little. “You’re not a fae and you’ve been kind, but I don’t think I can give you my name just yet.”

You give him a small smile with the last dab of aloe. “Don’t worry. I know the weight of a name.” Happy memories bring a smile to your face. “We had a fae here once – his love brought him in after he fell out of a tree, trying to impress her.” You roll your eyes. “The priestesses had to give up their names and all of the maidens’, too, to know the fae’s and his lover’s. It was worth it, though.” You close the drawer, smiling at him. “The fae and his love are some of our favorite and most frequent visitors now.”

“A fae,” the star murmurs. “You have a lot of strange visitors.”

“We do, but it makes life interesting.” You lean forward. “Did I tell you about the demon?”

He shakes his head slightly. “You mentioned it, but didn’t go into detail.”

“Well, let me tell you, he had the wildest blood pressure.”

And so story after story turns afternoon into evening, the light outside the window dimming until you have to light a candle and one of the maidens comes in with food for you too. Guilt-stricken, you apologize for not cooking, but Jiae simply waves you off, reminding you that your duty is with the star and a few missed chores are nothing. Felix doesn’t speak much, but his features begin to relax as the hours tick by and that’s all that matters, really.

The candle has almost burnt out by the time you decide you should leave. “I think it’s time to sleep.” You can only just see the faint outline of his face in the flickering candlelight, but his hair almost glows in the dark while his silvery eyes still bore into yours. “I’ll go now.”

Fear and another indecipherable emotion flash across the luminous eyes as you stand and you stop. “Do you need anything?”

The star swallows hard. “I…” He takes a deep breath. “It’ll sound stupid.”

“I’m sure I’ve heard stupider things. After all, I grew up with my brother.”

A small smile twitches at the star’s lips, but the uncertainty remains on his face. Patiently, you wait, and finally, he speaks.

“I don’t like being alone here,” he admits almost shamefully. “Could I stay somewhere where there are more people?”

That throws you for a loop. Where could he stay? In someone’s room? Maybe with Jeongin or some of the other messengers? But their quarters are all the way across the shrine grounds…

“You could stay with me?” you offer. “Do you want to go to my room or stay in here?”

A look of relief passes over the star’s face. “… Your room? If that’s alright.”

Hopefully the priestesses won’t scold you for this.

“Of course. Come on.” You take him to wash up first, then lead him to your room. He follows behind you so soundlessly that you look back sometimes, half-expecting him to have vanished. He’s always there, though.

“Take the bed,” you order, spreading out a blanket on the ground for yourself. Felix immediately begins to protest, but you hold up a hand. “You are the guest, and you are injured. Take the bed. Don’t argue.”

He takes the bed.

Satisfied, you lie down on the floor, pulling the blanket around you. Then another one drops on top of it.

“It’s too warm,” the star’s voice rumbles. His silvery eyes, peeking over the side of the bed, dare you to argue.

You sigh but smile. “If you say so.”

And so you fall asleep.

. . . . .

Several weeks pass, and Felix becomes more comfortable with the shrine. Trust is something hard to give and easy to take back, and he vacillates between the two as he explores the world little by little. You seem understanding, though, never showing impatience or annoyance with his periodic silences. That comforts him.

Life goes on. He settles into a routine, and as the days go by, Felix starts taking your presence as a comfort, rather than something to be viewed with suspicion. A month later, he feels comfortable enough to tell you his name.

“Felix,” you mumble. His name catches on your tongue, but he likes the way it sounds from your lips.

A flash of doubt courses through his body. “Please don’t give it out so easily.” Felix’s eyes beseech you. “I must return to the Sky.”

“I won’t.” You squeeze his hand gently. “I promise.”

The witch comes by with Felix’s potion after the first week and he can finally go outside. The other maidens and priestesses make him nervous at first, so you only take him deep into the woods to sit in silence.

Sometimes you talk. Sometimes you don’t. At first, the silences are awkward, but they later turn warm. Comfortable. You bring a pad of paper and sketch things when it becomes quiet. Felix likes to watch you draw, fingers moving smoothly along the pages and etching flowers and grasses and trees onto the paper. The silences are almost as pleasant as talking.

But when you talk, Felix is reminded by how nice your voice is. Soothing, sweet, kind. It washes over him in gentle waves and calms him like the starshine used to. Now, he’s too far away from the Sky to feel the starshine as much as he used to, but it’s okay. Your voice and your stories are good substitutes. They help him feel at peace.

One day, you bring a different book with you on the walk into the forest. It’s not your rough sketchbook. This book has tattered pages and a heavier cover embossed with faded golden characters. You stop him at the edge of a sparkling pond, right under a large willow tree that drapes over the water.

“What’s that?” Felix asks, pointing at your book. He can’t read the words on it.

“It’s a book of stories,” you reply, opening it up. “Since I’m running out of stories to tell you about the shrine, I thought I could read you some instead.”

You read to him for hours, stopping only to pass over some bread you packed for lunch, and Felix loses himself in your voice and the stories you tell. Witches, dragons, pirates, brave princes and princesses – he revels in every tale.

Being the star of everlasting childhood, he always knew humans had the ability to come up with these fantastic stories. But too many lose that ability as they grow older and their innocence slips away. It’s been a long time since Felix has had a reminder that people are still born under his star, born with the gift to remain a child despite their age.

The Sky has darkened by the time you close the book. Felix pouts a little when you say it’s time to go, but the firm expression on your face convinces him to stand.

“The forest isn’t safe at night,” you explain on the way back. “Daylight may keep the dangers away, but once the cloak of night falls, the sprites like to come out to play. Han isn’t here and I think Chan had to visit another forest, so we have no guarantee of safety right now. If you’re lucky, the sprites will leave you alone, but you’re a star. That’s strange enough. Better safe than sorry.”

“Who are Han and Chan?” The names are unfamiliar on his tongue.

“Chan is the guardian of this forest, and Han is the fae I told you about.” You grab Felix’s hand to pull him around a large tree root. Your skin is rough, but it feels so right against his. “Han is not the fae’s real name. Chan is, though. He’s protected by the magic that binds him here, so I can tell you his name. Han isn’t as safe.”

Felix likes your touch. Your hand may not be soft and white like a star’s, but it’s comforting and gentle in its smooth roughness and he trusts it.

Your voice pulls him back to reality. “But anyway, if you’re so put out by story time getting cut off,” you laugh, “I can teach you to read, and we can try to read together tomorrow. All right?”

Blushing slightly, Felix nods. “All right.”

. . . . .

Changbin finally arrives several weeks later, eyes hollow and reddened. They regain a little of their normal sparkle when you wrap him in a large hug, burying your head in his neck. His expression turns to one of wonder, then respect as he meets your star for the first time.

Felix is too starstruck at the sight of a moon child to say much, only wordlessly handing over a strand of hair for the witch and taking the moonflower necklace Changbin hands him. You tease him about his pink cheeks after the moon child closes the door.

“I’ve just never met a moon child before,” Felix grumbles. “He’s the son of the goddess I serve!”

Rolling your eyes, you push him out of the room to get ready for bed. The two of you settle down in comfortable silence after you blow out the last remaining candle, and you’re on the cusp of sleep when Felix mumbles something.

“Hmm?” you mumble.

“He didn’t look lost,” Felix whispers to the dark. “Changbin, I mean.”

Confusion shakes you awake. “Lost?”

“Priestess Jeon said this shrine was a home for the lost.” Felix rolls over in the bed. “I… just thought he didn’t look very lost. He looked quite sure of who he was. Where he was.”

Sympathy and sadness fill your heart, and your mouth twists into a small frown. “Changbin found this shrine after he lost someone very precious to him.” Your throat closes up, just remembering his story. “She was his world, for a while. When he lost her, he lost a part of himself. That’s when he found his way here.”

Contemplative silence fills the room.

“When were you lost?”

Under the bright rays of the sun, you don’t think you would be able to tell Felix your story. Allowing him to see the terror and joy and desolation of the memories on your face would make you feel far too vulnerable in the daylight. However, the darkness of night cloaks your expression and comforts you.

So you tell Felix of your manipulative and abusive father, leaving out the worst details but keeping enough that he realizes the gravity of your situation. You talk about your mother, the woman who tried to shield you and your brother from the worst of it but ultimately succumbed to sadness, illness, and injury.

“We left on a particularly bad day,” you murmur. The night hides your face, but it feels like Felix can still see the tear making its way down your face. “It was night, and our father had just gone to sleep. Jeongin and I just ran for it. We couldn’t stay any longer.”

Half-starved, you eventually found the shrine. The priestesses took you in, fed you, and allowed you to stay.

“Jeongin likes being a messenger. I like being a maiden.” You blink the tears away in favor of a smile. “We’re happy. I think I’d be happy here for the rest of my life.”

“What about Jeongin?” Felix asks.

Your smile turns wry. “He likes being a messenger. He gets to travel a lot. And if I’m not mistaken, he’s found a special someone already.”

“What?” Felix sits bolt upright, his silhouette dark against the window full of stars. “Who?”

You snicker. “I’m not sure,” you reply truthfully. “But I think – I think! I’m not sure – she’s the nymph in our wishing well.”

Felix falls back onto the bed with a soft whumph. “I’m so going to tease him tomorrow.”

“You’re terrible.” You sit up in the darkness, fixing him with a mock glare that he can’t see. It’s teasing, though – if there’s anything you’ve learned about your star from the past few months, it’s that he has a sense of humor. “What happened to being so solemn and sober in the beginning, huh?”

He rolls over. “Tch. I’m the star of everlasting childhood. I can be however I want.”

“… Everlasting childhood?”

A sad smile settles on Felix’s face. “Yes.”

“Isn’t that just immortality?”

“Not quite.” His silver eyes shimmer into yours. “You can age, but still be a child forever.”

You lie back down. All you say is, “I see.”

An idea begins brewing in the back of your mind. All this time, you’ve been choosing random stories to read Felix from the shelves of the shrine’s small library, but now you think you know one that he’ll enjoy for sure.

It’s one of your favorites, after all.

. . . . .

The next day, you’re buzzing with excitement, to the point that you drag Felix away from his breakfast to the tiny library in the shrine. When he starts complaining that you took him away from food for a dusty book, you just laugh. “I think you’ll like this one,” you grin.

That afternoon, after chores, you read to him the tale of Peter Pan under a shady tree, warm sunlight dappling through its leaves. It’s a children’s story, full of mermaids and pirates and young boys fighting, and it’s a little overwrought, but even so, Felix falls in love with it. He falls in love with John and Michael and their exploits with the Lost Boys. He falls in love with Peter Pan and his rivalry with Captain Hook. But most of all, he falls in love with Wendy Darling, the girl who trusted in her innocence and ability to fly.

Wendy reminds him of you, Felix thinks. Mother-like girls, caring for the lost souls around them without a thought for themselves. With a pang, he thinks of all that you’ve done for him during his time on Mother Earth.

He can see why you thought he would like the story, as the star of everlasting childhood, the star of those who stay young at heart for their lives. Peter stayed young forever, literally. But Wendy’s spirit was passed down through the generations of girls after her.

There’s one line he loves, one line that doesn’t have too much real meaning (they’re just directions, after all), but that resounds deeply within him, for some reason. It’s when Peter tells Wendy where Neverland is.

“Second star to the right, and straight on till morning.”

It’s childish, really. A bit stupid. Where is the first star to the right? How can one figure out the second star Peter speaks of? And depending on when you start out, how can the distance ‘straight on till morning’ be the same for all those who journey there?

But it’s the simplicity of thought that rings with Felix. The pure, innocent certainty of Peter Pan that he will find Neverland again and again, based on such minimal direction.

It makes dreams seem so direct, so simple, so real.

It gives him the hope that he’ll be able to return to his home in the Sky.

. . . . .

It’s a peaceful day when things begin to fall apart.

Felix is reading, his deep voice stumbling and uncertain and beautiful as he works his way through Peter Pan on his own. You’re taking advantage of the time to sketch, lulled by the errant rhythm of the star’s halting words. You haven’t picked up your sketchbook in some time, what with helping Felix adjust and all, but now that he’s picked up a penchant for reading, it’s nice to go back to one of your older hobbies.

Mina is the one who finds the two of you in the clearing, sun shining warmly through the trees. You look up, ready to greet her, but a frown slides over your face when you see her panicked expression. “Mina?” You stand. Felix stops reading. “Is something wrong?”

“Our witch,” she says quickly. “She wants to speak with you.”

It’s with a racing heart that you enter the shrine and see the witch waiting for you there. “Y/N,” she greets, kindly but hurriedly. There’s something terrified in her eyes – however, they’re steel. Whatever she’s decided she’s going to do, she’s set herself on it. “I’m leaving for the war.”

“War?” Felix echoes, eyebrows furrowed.

“There is a battle in the west,” the witch explains. “I’m not going to fight. I’m going as a medic. I’m letting you know now because I know the star depends on my potion, so before I leave, I’ll need several more hairs to lay in a supply. Changbin has the instructions to make more, if I don’t come back in time.”

Everything’s happening too fast. Just moments ago, you were sitting in a grassy clearing without a care in the world. Now you’re being told that one of your favorite people is leaving for a fight you can’t even see.

There’s no convincing her otherwise, though. You’ve seen the set in the witch’s eyes before. It was there when she arrived at the shrine, pregnant and on the brink of exhaustion. It was there when she gave birth.

You don’t know why this war means so much to her, but that’s not for you to know unless she explains. So you only nod. “I wish you luck.”

Felix echoes the sentiment, but as the two of you dress for bed, his expression remains pale and uncertain. You ask him if something’s wrong.

“I’m… I’m just wondering if I’ll ever go home,” Felix whispers.

With that short sentence, something in your heart breaks. You sit on the bed next to him. “I’m going to give you a hug,” you state.

Felix nods.

You squeeze him between your arms, patting his head until it falls limply onto your shoulder. His shoulders shake a little. “We’re going to get you back,” you whisper, stroking his hair. “If you don’t believe anything else, just believe this. You will go home.”

Felix sniffles, though the tears aren’t coming yet. “I know it’s selfish, but… why is she leaving?” he mumbles. “I just want her to stay and just work on a cure. I know she can’t, but…”

A sigh leaves your lips. “Our witch works in strange ways,” you say heavily. “She has a lot of secrets. She doesn’t say a lot about herself. But she does have a large heart. One thing I can say is that she wouldn’t have left you if the war wasn’t so important to her. She cares about you. She cares about everyone she helps. It would have been a very difficult choice for her to leave.”

The tears start falling, soaking into your shoulder. You huff a small breath, holding your star tighter. “Trust in her and trust in me. Or, if you can’t, trust in Changbin. He’s a moon child. He knows things that we don’t, and he isn’t completely through searching his mother’s library. We can find a way.” You lift Felix’s head out of your shoulder, making him look you in the eyes. “We always do.”

(You fall asleep in the bed that night, arms wrapped tightly around Felix’s small body. When you wake up, he’s turned around, one arm draped over your shoulders, breaths puffing softly onto your face. Tear tracks stain his cheeks.

You hold him until he wakes.)

. . . . .

The witch leaves quickly, dropping off her child at the shrine the next day with Felix’s supply of potion. As he watches her disappear into the forest, Felix can’t help feeling like the last thread of hope he had is about to snap.

He asks if you can stay at the shrine that day. Reading by the pond is relaxing, but he needs something to keep his mind from drifting. He needs chores, messages, something to do that’ll occupy himself.

“Of course.” You smile, squeezing his hand in the gentle way that reassures Felix’s trust in you. “Come on, I’ll teach you how to actually cook. None of the disasters from before,” you tease.

Felix feels his face grow hot with embarrassment. He smiles, though, in the wake of your sparkling eyes.

He’s still terrible in the kitchen. Bowls clatter to the ground, knives draw cuts on his pale fingers, and more than once you have to rescue a pot from charring itself on the stove. But it’s fine. Everything’s fine. The other maidens only laugh and smile, kindly helping him wrap up his fingers, finish cutting the carrots, and pick up the bowls scattered on the floor. They eat his bland food without complaint, telling him he’ll do better next time.

And for all those hours in the kitchen, you don’t leave his side. Not once.

So the days in the forest turn to days in the shrine, with Felix finding every little thing he can do in order to keep his mind away from the Sky. When he feels himself wavering, feels himself becoming jaded or hopeless or depressed, you nudge his side or hold his hand or call his name, and he comes back. He feels hope.

(You told him, once, to trust in you and the witch to get him home. And if he couldn’t, he could trust in Changbin.

You don’t know that he would trust you over the other two combined.)

The stories don’t stop, of course. He trades happy memories with you while sweeping the floors, tending the gardens, and washing the clothes. Every night, you read to him from another book, or you sketch by candlelight as he works his way through another few pages of Peter Pan on his own.

Your presence comforts him, wraps him in warmth that reminds him of starshine streaming down his skin. Felix knows that when (if) he leaves, you will be the one he misses the most.

Still, he has to go. He has to return to his home, the Sky. Mother Earth may be kind, but she isn’t his home. He isn’t meant to be here. It’s unnatural, his new sleeping pattern, the way his skin has slowly darkened over time. And though he revels in the sunlight, loves its caressing warmth against his bare arms, it isn’t meant for him.

The sun is meant for Mother Earth. The moon is meant for his Sky. The sun and its warmth weren’t made for his pale skin and silver eyes.

Which is why when Changbin returns, pressing a heavy, ripped book into his hands, Felix feels his heart soar and drop at the same time. He stares at the tome, unable to comprehend its weight between his fingers.

“There’s a spell inside that will help a fallen star,” he says, “one who has fallen due to a mistake of the universe, not one who fell of their own misdoings.” Changbin looks Felix steadily in the eye, dark eyes boring into silver. “This was not you?”

Felix racks his mind for anything that could have caused him to fall. He comes up with nothing. “No,” he answers.

The moon child nods. “There isn’t much to it. We need your blood. There are herbs in the witch’s home that she has given me access to, and we can get the rest from the garden here at the shrine.” Changbin’s gaze slides to you. “We also need the blood of one who cares for him. One who will be willing to sacrifice a day of their life for his return.”

It’s clear who he thinks that person should be.

A lump grows in Felix’s throat. It all rests on you. He wants badly to say something, to ask you if you will, but he can’t. You’ve done so much for him already.

He doesn’t have a right to convince you to do more.

Silence seems to stretch for an eternity as your gaze shifts between the moon child and the star. Felix doesn’t know what you’re thinking – your face, for once, is unreadable.

Then you nod. “I can do it.” You swallow hard, like something hurts, and say it again. “I’ll do it.”

Felix doesn’t miss the glance Changbin sends you, full of something he doesn’t understand. A prickle of uncertainty grows in his heart, but then the moon child is nodding, moving on to something else. “The spell can only be cast on the sixth full moon of the year,” he says.

Next to him, you make a small noise of surprise. Felix feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

The second full moon has just passed. There are only four left to go.

On one hand, he’s soaring above the clouds in excitement, elated that he can return home so soon. On the other, his heart is dropping like a stone, upset that he has to leave so quickly.

“Okay,” you finally say, breaking the silence. “That’s good.” You turn to him, a smile on your face. “You’ll be home soon.”

Your smile is genuine. It says so much, and Felix knows you truly are happy for him. But after all these months of standing by your side, he can see the underlying emotions conflicting beneath the surface of that smile.

“Yeah,” Felix breathes, unsure what else to say. “Home.”

His home, the Sky.

. . . . .

It’s easy to avoid Felix for the next day. You disappear into the forest with Changbin, citing the excuse of practicing the spell that you have to cast to bring him home. It’ll be boring, you say. He should just stay back at the shrine and maybe talk with Jeongin. You’ll figure it out.

As you walk to Changbin’s small home, he gives you a sidelong glance. You stubbornly don’t return it because if you do, he’ll see the truth lurking in your eyes.

And the truth is, you don’t want Felix to go.

You are happy for him, you truly are. When Changbin brought in the book, seeing that light flicker on in Felix’s eyes gave you so much joy in that moment that you almost felt like crying in happiness.

Then you realized that if he was going home, he was going to leave the shrine.

You still wanted to cry, but for a very different reason.

It’s stupid, you know that. Obviously, if Felix was to return to the sky, he would have to leave you behind. Just as stars don’t belong on earth, humans don’t belong in the sky. You don’t even think you’d want to live in the heavens, at least not forever.

But for the past months, you’ve managed to push that thought to the back of your mind. Felix is here, you told yourself. He’s here now, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?

Clearly, it isn’t.

Everything happened so fast. It was like whiplash. One day, the witch was leaving and Felix was crying in your arms over the thought of never returning to the sky. The next, Changbin had found the book and there was a way to send your star home.

It happened too fast.

You’re being selfish, you know. Even though the sun is kind and the Earth welcomes him, this isn’t his home. He belongs in the sky, with the moon and the sun and the darkness of night. He doesn’t belong to the tainted impurity of the Earth.

And yet your heart doesn’t want him to leave.

“Copper for your thoughts?” Changbin pokes you with the book when you zone out for umpteenth time. With a jolt, you come back to the present, staring blankly at the sheet of paper in front of you. Written on it in Changbin’s neat scrawl is the phonetic translation of the symbols in the book.

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “Sorry. I’m… tired.”

It’s a lie if you’ve ever heard one, and the moon child knows it too. He puts the tome down and looks at you expectantly.

“What?” you snap, feeling cornered.

There are times when it’s hard to remember how old Changbin is, times when he seems more like a friend your age than an ages-old son of the moon. Right now, he’s a mix of the two, posture mimicking a slouching teenage boy, but eyes piercing with wisdom.

“Something’s on your mind,” he states simply. “And I think it has something to do with the star.”

Felix. The star. Your star.

Yes, it has very much to do with him.

The words slip out. “I don’t want him to go.”

A lump grows in your throat after you speak those simple words, staring at Changbin as though he holds the answers to your dilemma. But you already know the answer, the only correct answer – you must let your star go.

The problem is, you don’t want to.

The moon child brings you close after that, books and translations forgotten in favor of soothing hugs and quiet tears. He doesn’t tell you to do anything, doesn’t tell you to talk to Felix or the priestesses or even to avoid them. He just embraces you in silence with hands that hold the wisdom of an eternity.

You cite a headache as your excuse to go to bed early that night, curling up in your blankets on the floor and burying your head in the pillow. It takes some time, but you’re starting to drift off just as the door slowly creaks open and Felix pokes his head in the room. Immediately, you pretend to be asleep.

Mistake.

The star pads in with quiet feet, then picks you up with gentle arms and settles you on the bed. You can’t even protest or he’ll know you’re awake, so you lie in smoldering silence as he arranges the blankets over you.

He falls asleep on the floor while memories of his gentleness squeeze tears from your eyes.

. . . . .

Felix knows you’re avoiding him. There’s no doubt about it – no matter how much you claim you need to practice the ritual with Changbin, there are only so many times that excuse can hold merit. And anyway, there’s no reason he can’t be there too.

He thinks he knows why. It might have something to do with the fact that when he returns to the Sky, he will leave the Earth behind. Felix isn’t so oblivious as to believe his departure will leave no impression on you.

He isn’t so oblivious as to believe it’ll leave no impression on him, either.

The Sky is his home. There will never be any doubt of that. But he’s come to love the Mother Earth too, much more than he used to. He’s come to love her greenery, her creatures, the gentleness and care she showers her inhabitants with. He’s come to love the shrine, the priestesses, the maidens, the messengers.

And he’s come to love you.

If he stayed longer, Felix thinks, he would want to explore this tentative love, this blossom of affection in his chest. If he stayed longer, he might be disappointed, but he wouldn’t be sad. At least, not all the time.

The stars lure him in, though. Sometimes, he pretends to sleep, but he’s just staring out the small window in your room at the darkened sky studded with lights. His friends, his family. His home.

But he won’t go home without making peace with you first.

It’s hard to corner you when you don’t want to be caught, Felix finds. You disappear easily, quietly slipping between trees or into unknown rooms of the shrine. Even when you’re in plain sight, you’re busy – sweeping, cooking, gardening.

Then it rains.

Felix doesn’t normally care for the rain. It’s cold and wet, heavy and about as far from the gentle lightness of starshine as it can get. But the clouds heeded his prayers, perhaps, because the rain gives him the chance he needs to finally get you to talk.

You’re glancing out the window when he walks over, as though hoping a miracle will stop the pouring rain. When you notice him, your eyes turn slightly panicked, and you move as though to leave through the door.

The words escape him before he can hold them back. “Please stop avoiding me.”

You freeze.

For several moments, his broken, soft voice hangs in the silence, expanding to fill the room and thickening until he thinks he’s suffocating under the muffling words.

Then you drop your head. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, voice thick. “Let’s go to my room.”

. . .

Silence falls again when the two of you are seated on the small bed. You look smaller than ever, hunched over slightly, hands entangling themselves in the sheets. Felix wants to gather you up in a hug, the way you always did with him, but restrains himself. It isn’t the best time.

“Why were you avoiding me?” he asks quietly, just to dissolve some of the tension. He’s pretty sure he knows the answer, but he needs to hear it from you anyway.

Your fingers curl tighter into the blanket. “You’re leaving,” you mumble. “I just…”

The silence hangs heavily once more.

“I want you to go home,” you finally say, looking up. The sky outside the window is still dark gray, pouring rain, but you look at it like there’s something beyond the clouds that only you can see. “But I don’t want you to leave. Does that… does that make sense?”

Felix nods, once, twice. “Yes,” he manages. “Yes, it does.”

“I needed time to get my thoughts in order,” you continue, turning your gaze back to him. “I thought avoiding you might be the best way for a bit. But I’m a coward, I guess. I just kept trying to hide, even after I knew what I thought.”

“Do you still need more time?” Felix prods softly. “It’s fine. We have…”

He stops himself. He was about to say you two had all the time in the world.

You don’t. You only have around two months.

“No, it’s okay.” You shake your head. “I know… I know myself now.” Sad eyes stare into silver. “What about you?”

Felix knows his answer. It’s on the tip of his tongue, and if he could just get rid of the lump in his throat, he’d say it. Rain pounds on the window, mimicking the dull throb of the thoughts in his mind. He opens his mouth with difficulty.

“I don’t want to leave Earth,” he says slowly. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Your fingers loosen slightly on the sheets, then clench them even more tightly.

“But I have to return home.” Felix breaks his gaze, his head lowering. “I don’t… I don’t belong here, Y/N. I have to go home. I want to go home.”

Belatedly, he realizes how childlike he sounds. He sounds like a newborn star, newly formed of the moon and the sky, scared and terrified of the expanse of space in front of him. Shame crawls up his pale cheeks.

Then he feels a tender warmth around his shoulders. The thin mattress dips as you shift, wrapping your arms around his body – since when was he trembling? – and bury your head into his neck.

“You will go home,” you mumble into his skin. “You will go home. I promise.”

“I wish you could come with me,” he chokes out. “But you wouldn’t, even if you could, would you?”

The sigh you heave is all the answer he needs. “No,” you murmur, pulling back gently. “I wouldn’t.”

There are no apologies. No “sorry” for your decision, no “sorry” for his. There’s no blame here. Just facts, ways of life, and decisions.

A stray strand of hair falls into your face. Felix pushes it back gently. “You have too much here to give up for me.” He smiles sadly, his hand falling to cup your cheek. “As I have too much in the Sky to give up for Earth.”

You nod slightly, fingers rising to touch the hand on your cheek. Felix basks in the gentle warmth of your roughened skin.

He doesn’t know who leans in first, exactly. The memory is slightly hazy. But when his mind clears, he’s pressing his lips to yours gently, warmly, sadly. Your fingers intertwine, falling to your laps, and Felix tries to memorize the feeling. To memorize the way your hand fits into his, the way your lips feel so connected to his.

Two months. He has two months left before he must go.

Two months left before he leaves this warmth behind.

. . . . .

You pass the days with as much levity as possible. You don’t speak of leaving. Neither does Felix. Every day, the two of you work together on your chores, traipse into the forest, sit together in the sunshine. At night, when darkness falls, you crawl into bed together and hold each other until the sun rises.

Morning turns to night far too slowly, but far too quickly. In the back of your mind, there’s always a little voice reminding you just how long you have left. One day passed turns into two, then three. A week turns into two. Two weeks turn into four, and then there is only one full moon left to pass.

The night of the year’s fifth full moon, the last you will share before Felix leaves forever, you sit on the steps just outside of the shrine. Your star’s hair glows in the bright moonshine, bathing him in pale light.

A lump rises in your throat. You swallow it away. “Wait here,” you say.

You come back with your sketchbook and a few pencils. “Can I draw you?” you ask.

Silver eyes softly stare into yours. He nods.

This isn’t just a rough drawing. It isn’t one of the half-baked sketches you’ve done in the forest. No, this time, you want to capture the sparkle in your star’s pale eyes, the airiness of his blinding white hair, the exact location of each of the starry freckles dotting the sky of his cheeks.

It takes several nights to complete, sitting under the comforting rays of the waning moon, studiously ignoring the voice in your head that keeps chanting two weeks, two weeks. You sketch and resketch, rubbing bits of charcoal away, until on the third day, the sun is beginning to rise, and you have a portrait of the star you love.

You don’t cry. You promised yourself when you decided to draw the portrait and you promised yourself again when Felix sat, eyes expectant and soft and warm and gentle and kind. No tears will fall during the last few days you have together.

Your eyes still sting. Your throat still chokes. But even as Felix leans in, pressing the gentlest kiss upon your lips, you don’t let a single tear slip down your face. Not today, not tomorrow, not the next day.

And then it’s time.

. . .

The night is perfectly clear. Deep blue, so deep it’s almost black, ripples across the sky. Stars dot the landscape. The forest is silent, save for a slight rustling of trees.

Felix stands in a patch of moonshine, pale light glinting off of silver eyes. His eyes close as you begin to read from the book Changbin places in front of you, chanting strange words as the moonlight grows brighter.

Your eyes begin to sting. Your fingers begin to shake. Your throat begins to close, and your voice grows hoarse. But you keep speaking, words unwavering, until the chant is almost over.

Changbin pricks your finger. A drop of blood falls into the tiny bowl, already half-full of crushed herbs and two drops of Felix’s silver ichor. He gives the mixture to the star. Felix drinks it.

A wave of dizziness blows through your mind. You close your eyes, feeling a tear slide down your cheek, as the sky takes a day of your life away.

A day of your life for your star’s return to the sky.

It’s worth it.

As soon as the dizziness comes, it goes, leaving your mind clear once more. You finish the chant, voice trembling. It’s over.

Come dawn, your star will be gone.

Changbin leaves quietly, picking up the heavy book and disappearing back into the shrine. For a few moments, you sit with your star in silence, cool grass tickling your skin.

“Wait here,” you whisper eventually. “I have something for you.”

It’s a simple gift that you lay in his waiting hands, a worn, well-loved book with a torn leather cover and faded gold lettering. It’s familiar, and the corners of Felix’s lips lift in a ghost of a smile as he takes it.

“Thank you,” he says, clutching the book. One shiny tear drips onto the cover.

“I know it’s your favorite.” You try to smile, but it’s too hard. “Keep – keep learning to read, all right?”

He only squeezes your hand in reply. “Give me a moment,” he murmurs. “I have something for you too.”

He’s in and out of the shrine in seconds, carefully cradling something between his hands. A crown of wildflowers and leaves, interspersed with several delicate moonflowers. The ghostly petals glow in the moonlight as he places it in your windblown hair.

“It won’t decay,” he promises. “Changbin helped. I made it, but he gave it the magic.”

It’s too hard to not cry and you bury your face in your star’s shoulder, dreading every second that passes. Felix’s arms automatically loop around your waist, thin and warm and strong. “Hey, look up,” he whispers, his soft breath caressing your ear. “Look up for me, Y/N.”

Shakily, you comply.

“See that?” He points, finger glowing in the moonlight, at a patch of the sky. His constellation.

You nod.

“That’s where I used to be,” he murmurs. “Remember Peter Pan?”

“‘Second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning,’” you recite, a shaky grin coming over your lips. “How could I forget?”

“Well, maybe I’m not the second star,” Felix says, pulling you close, “but I’ll always be there, all right? I’ll watch over you. You’ll know where I am, always.”

You take a breath. Nod. “Always,” you echo.

Little by little, as your quiet whispers and tiny laughs disappear on the wind, midnight begins to turn to dawn. Starlight fades, the sky turning from deep blue to pearly gray.

And as the moonlight disappears, Felix begins to turn translucent.

No, no, no, no…

Your heart races. Tears begin to pour down your cheeks. Felix looks as calm as ever, save for the slight panic in his eyes and the deep sadness etched in his face.

“Don’t forget me, Felix,” you beg, voice strained, words pleading. You try to breathe. “Please. Remember me.”

“How could I ever forget?” Your star smiles through the tears sliding down his cheeks. “You mean more to me than the earth itself.”

Minute by minute passes as you hold him, memorizing the weight of his body against yours, the warmth of his skin, the silver of his eyes, the gentle pressure of his lips on yours.

“I love you, Felix,” you whisper, even as his freckles begin to disappear. The tears roll down faster. “Truly.”

“I love you too.” Even his voice sounds thinner. You strain to catch the deep tones of his words, the slight rasp in his throat as it fades away.

For a second, his entire body disappears. You almost scream, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Felix!”

“Hey, hey.” He holds your hands tight, even as his fingers flicker in and out of existence. His silver eyes sparkle with unshed tears. “When you’re lonely, find me in the sky, yeah? I’ll always be there.” Your star smiles. “You’re never alone.”

You lean in desperately, lips crashing against his with terror and love and everything in between. His fading hands rise to cup your cheeks and you tangle your fingers with his, trying to feel everything about him before he leaves.

The sky takes him mid-kiss, and you’re left holding air.

. . .

They find you there after dawn breaks, silent tears streaming down your cheeks as the sun rises. Jeongin holds you close, saying nothing as he helps you back to your room.

You see the portrait of Felix you drew so many nights ago sitting neatly on the small nightstand. His smiling face stares up at you, starry freckles dotting his nose and cheeks, silver eyes glittering on the paper.

It hits you in the gut that he is truly gone, that your star has left forever.

(Jeongin catches you when you collapse to the ground.)

A week passes before you find the courage to speak to the sky. The moon is dark but the stars twinkle mischievously, throwing bits of light onto the grass.

Felix’s constellation glows, a silver map of his freckles sparkling in the sky. There’s a star, small but very bright, that wasn’t there before.

Your throat chokes, but no tears fall. The constellation that dotted Felix’s cheeks is now complete.

“Hello, my star,” you whisper. His flower crown sits on your hair, glowing in the dark. “It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

Speaking to him hurts a little at first, stings a bit in the heart. You keep wanting to look over into his eyes of silver, see his pale hair glow in the moonlight. But as you talk to the constellation, imagining the freckles dotting your star’s cheeks, the lump in your throat fades, and you begin to smile.

A few tears fall that night, dripping onto blades of grass and your clothes, but not too many. Just a few. You talk of anything and everything, from new shenanigans to old memories to plans for the future. You promise him things, to love and honor him as long as you live, to stay a child, to remember the story of Peter Pan, even though the book has gone with him to the sky. You talk until your words are strong and the silences comfortable, broken only by the rustling of trees in the wind.

Wind wisps around your shoulders as you eventually stand, staring at the new star in the sky. It seems to glow a little brighter.

“I love you, Felix.” You smile up at the blanket of night. “Thank you, my star.”

The star glows even brighter. You can almost feel his presence by your side.

Second star to the right, straight on ‘til morning. I’ll be there, always – you’re not alone.

#starryktown #inkidz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz #felix #fluff #angst #nature spirit!au #stray kids felix scenarios #whispers of nature #constellation #scriptura-delirus

[quicksilversquared]

Move to Safety

After Adrien just happens to spy Nooroo in his father's office, he's sent into an panic. His father is Hawkmoth, which means that Adrien is in serious danger.

Thankfully the Dupain-Chengs are more than willing to step up to the plate and lend a helping hand.

links in the reblog

Adrien didn't know what he was going to do. He paced, he grabbed at his hair, he made a couple stabs at making plans to run away but found big, gaping holes in his plans almost immediately when he actually managed to take a half-step back and look at them again.

His father was Hawkmoth, and Adrien Was Not Dealing.

"I can't sleep here, what if he finds out about me?" Adrien asked frantically for the twenty-fifth time, carding his fingers through his hair. "Or what if he already knows? What if he suspects something and decides to put up a camera on my window? What if-"

"Okay, first of all, I do check for things like cameras and hidden microphones all the time," Plagg said loudly, cutting through Adrien's panicked fog for the first time in- well, for the first time in however many minutes it had been that Adrien had been freaking out. "There aren't any over here or any even pointed in this direction, which is a bit odd considering how often you sneak out but maybe it's because people can't really sneak in this way. Second of all- can't you move out? You were planning on doing that when you went to university anyway, right?"

Adrien nodded, then shook his head. "I'm too young to move out yet, I still have a few months before I'll even be able to sign a lease. And if I move out right away- then he'll know that something is up. It's better not to arouse any suspicions, but I don't want to be close enough for him to get any suspicions about me."

"He's had years to get suspicious about you, though," Plagg countered. "It's not like you just started being Chat Noir."

"Yeah, well, I've had years to get suspicious about him, too, and look at where we are now!"

Plagg looked. His usually picture-perfect Chosen was a frazzled mess in the middle of his room, hair sticking up oddly from him pulling at it so much. He could see where Adrien had been pacing in the carpet, the little loops scuffed more than the ones around them. Scattered pages of notes from his half-baked plans covered the top of the desk, some things circled and others crossed out (and some circled and then crossed out).

It was a somewhat unsettling picture.

"Okay, so first of all, don't let on that anything is different," Plagg said, because apparently he had to be the cool-headed thinker between the two of them now. "If you do, your father will investigate. Second of all, you have locks on your doors, right? Lock them at night."

Adrien shook his head. "It won't make a difference. Father has the keys to all of the rooms. At best, I could set an alarm so that I would wake up if someone came in, but that would be hard to do without anyone noticing. What if I set it at night, had to go out for a morning akuma attack and forgot about it, and one of the maids tried to come in? Then the alarm would go off and Father would be so confused and annoyed and would investigate and-"

Plagg watched, unimpressed. "I think pigtails is wearing off on you with the over-the-top unrealistic panic scenarios."

"They aren't unrealistic! You've seen what Father is like. Paranoid and controlling and- he's a supervillain, Plagg, it's not unrealistic for him to notice something off in the room and wonder about it and then he would try to lock me down even more while he tries to figure out what's going on and why I have an alarm system set up on the interior doors of my room."

...his Chosen had a good point. So Plagg sighed, floated down to desk level, and actually gave it some more thought.

Tikki would be so proud of him right now.

"Okay, so you'll definitely have to tell Ladybug sooner rather than later," Plagg started, because while the discovery was earth-shattering for Adrien, he still had to think like a superhero. "And then, uh..."

Yeah, so maybe he was coming up a little blank.

"Yeah, that was about as far as I got, too," Adrien said moodily, flopping down in his desk chair and spinning around. "I mean, once I turn eighteen and can rent a place, I could just escape at night and run over there to sleep. As long as I set an alarm every night, I should be able to get back here before anyone notices that I'm gone. And I would only need to buy a mattress to keep over there, at least until I move out for good. And at least I can afford it," he added. "All of the money from my modeling and commercials and all the other stuff that I've done- that's in my account, and no one can take it from me. I made sure that the account was entirely in my name last year, when I started thinking about moving out. Neither Father nor Nathalie can touch the money in there, I made sure of that."

That still left several months between now and then which- well, again, not ideal. Maybe they would defeat his father before then, since they knew where to find him now, but if they didn't...

"Lots of sleepovers with friends, maybe?" Plagg suggested weakly. Adrien laughed, then sighed.

"Yeah, I wish. I think Nino might start to wonder if I showed up at his house every night for three and a half months, though. And his parents might call Father, and I don't want that." Adrien slumped in his chair again, then straightened with a yelp when he caught sight of the time. "Oh! Crud, I'm meant to be going over to Marinette's house today so we can all hang out today. I don't want to be late for that. C'mon, Plagg, let's go!"

  Adrien was undeniably, irrefutably, most definitely feeling off. And it was showing. He had lost the last three games of Mecha Strike to Nino, of all people- and he had lost badly. Thankfully his friends seemed willing enough to write it off to exhaustion from too many photoshoots instead of interrogating him on his distraction, and so Adrien got off scot-free.

That wasn't good if he was so obviously distracted, though. Nathalie would see through his squirrely behavior in an instant. She knew that he didn't have an overly loaded schedule- well, no more loaded than it usually was, at least- and she would be more likely to ask question.

He wondered if she knew about his father. She had to, right? There was no way that she could miss it when she was working in the same room as him day in and day out-

-she was Mayura, wasn't she. The thought hit Adrien like a brick wall, and he swallowed hard, feeling a little ill. His father was his family and Nathalie had been like family and they were the supervillains terrorizing Paris, the ones that he had to fight against almost every other day.

He was going to be sick.

How Adrien made it through the rest of his get-together with his friends, he didn't know. It seemed like time flashed by in an instant and then Nino and Alya were leaving, headed out the door together arm-in-arm and without a care in the world. Adrien was about to follow them- now that he was nearly eighteen, he was actually allowed to walk between Marinette's house and his own instead of having the Gorilla drive him for the few short blocks- when a slender hand slid around his wrist, stopping him before he could get more than a couple steps. Confused, Adrien blinked and turned around to see Marinette staring up at him, concern written across her face.

"Something is bothering you, isn't it?" Marinette asked, tugging Adrien gently away from the door and letting it close. "You've been off the entire time that you've been here."

Adrien tried for a smile. "It's nothing, just photoshoots-"

"You haven't had a photoshoot in three days, and you were just fine after the last one," Marinette shot back, and belatedly Adrien remembered that oh, right, Marinette had an open invitation to all of his photoshoots and knew when they were. "And if you were tired, you would have passed out on the couch while we were playing games. Instead, you were almost fidgeting out of your skin. And you suddenly got more distracted partway through- you looked like you were about to be sick."

"Start-of-summer cold?" Adrien offered up weakly. Marinette looked even less convinced, brow furrowed with concern as she gazed up at him. All of a sudden, Adrien couldn't do it anymore.

"My father is Hawkmoth," Adrien confessed in a rush, practically collapsing in on himself. "I was passing by his office today and I saw him talking to Noor- to his kwami, and it was a butterfly, and then he pulled off his necktie and was rubbing this brooch underneath it and why would he hide any jewelry if it weren't the Miraculous? And Nathalie knows, she has to, she's in the same office all day and she has to be Mayura and I'm living in the same house as two supervillains and I can't move out for a year without them getting suspicious and what am I meant to do?"

Marinette looked rather as though she had been hit by a truck, she was so surprised. Adrien winced.

...he definitely could have broken the news better. Maybe she wouldn't want to be near him now, because it would be dangerous to be near the son of a supervillain even though he wasn't a supervillain, he was a superhero, and wasn't that ironic? He had to fight against his own father.

That was really, really messed up.

Marinette's expression shifted from startled to confused, and Adrien heard her mumble "But how does he know what-?" before her grip suddenly tightened around his wrist and she turned his hand, just enough to see his ring glinting in the sun. She let a tiny oh, and suddenly Adrien knew without question that somehow she had just figured out his secret identity.

A soft thud behind them caught Adrien's attention next, and both he and Marinette swung around in time to see Mr. Dupain startle, righting his tray before another loaf of bread could fall off. His gaze returned to Adrien as soon as he had ensured that all of the bread was safe, and- okay, apparently Marinette's dad had overheard him.

He hadn't planned on letting people know, let alone this many. Marinette's family was perfectly normal and completely functional and he shouldn't be burdening them with his family's problems. But now Mr. Dupain was setting down his tray to come over and wrap Adrien up in a hug, and when had Marinette started hugging him? Adrien couldn't help but stiffen up in surprise at first, before practically collapsing into the hug.

Adrien hadn't been hugged like this for so long. Two sets of arms wrapped around him, and Marinette's hands were rubbing up and down his back. It was absolute unquestioning acceptance, and Adrien couldn't even manage to be embarrassed about the tears that he could definitely feel starting to leak down his cheeks. Marinette's cheek was pressed against his, and she clearly had no reservations about holding him close.

"Does your father know that you found out about him?" Mr. Dupain asked, pulling back but only enough so that he could see Adrien. "Or doesn't he know?"

"He doesn't know," Adrien said at once. After all, he hadn't lingered much in the atrium once he saw the kwami- Nooroo, Plagg had called him- before making a hasty (and quiet) escape to his room. In fact, he wouldn't be 100% sure of what he had seen if it weren't for the fact that Plagg had seen it, too, and had even zipped back to try to eavesdrop for a bit. "I left right away, and he wasn't facing the door. But I just- I can't believe that I've been sleeping under the same roof as a supervillain. Two supervillains, if you count Nathalie."

"You don't feel safe sleeping there anymore, do you?" Mr. Dupain asked at once. He was frowning. "I know that I wouldn't."

Adrien nodded, burying his face in Marinette's hair and trying not to sound like he was about to cry. He was pretty certain that he wasn't succeeding. Also, he was definitely getting snot all over her hair, and he would have to apologize for that later. "Yeah. I was planning on moving out once I started university, and of course I can get an apartment once I reach my birthday and then just sneak out to sleep there, but I would have to wait for that."

"And it's very possible that your landlord would still reach out to your father," Mr. Dupain said, and Adrien's head flew up in alarm to stare at him in alarm. He had only done a little research on apartments, enough to figure out that he had to legally be an adult to rent without a guardian's signature, but he had a source of income and a savings account of his own and surely that would be enough, right?

Marinette was frowning, too. "But surely if he asked the landlord not to say anything, they wouldn't?"

Her dad shook his head. "Not necessarily. I assume that you would pick something small and relatively cheap, at least for the time being," he said to Adrien, and Adrien nodded in confirmation. He didn't want to spend too much money right away, after all. "Right. Some of those landlords- well, they're not the best, to say the least. They would know that you come from money and they might try to exploit that. It's not legal, and all you would have to do to get them to back off if they were trying to push for more than what's in the lease is report it, but if something like that happens or you forget to pay on time they might go to your father, and once is all you need for him to find out."

Adrien nodded, his heart sinking.

"And frankly- Adrien, you're still a teenager. You're still a kid. You shouldn't have to be spending your money on essentials yet, and I'm not comfortable with letting you do that." Mr. Dupain glanced towards the bakery, where Mrs. Cheng was still working the front counter. "I'd have to discuss it with Sabine, of course, but- Adrien, we do have a guest room that rarely ever gets used."

Adrien's jaw was practically on the floor at the implied offer as soon as it sunk in. "I- I mean, that would be- are you sure?"

Mr. Dupain smiled, clapping Adrien on the shoulder. "You're a kind young man, Adrien. If you don't feel safe at home, we'd be more than happy to help. I will have to tell Sabine about your father, though, to convince her that we're actually helping and not just trying to steal you away from your family. Not that she would be entirely opposed to that, of course."

If it would get him a place to stay at night, that was fine. He would just have to trust that the Dupain-Chengs wouldn't get akumatized before he and Ladybug could take Hawkmoth down. "Of course."

"Good, good." Mr. Dupain gave Adrien's shoulder a squeeze before stepping back and picking up his tray of bread again. "Why don't you two head back upstairs then? If you can stay for dinner, Adrien, then maybe we can discuss how this is all going to work out?"

Adrien nodded obediently, glancing back towards Marinette. He certainly wouldn't mind staying longer- the Dupain-Cheng home was so warm and friendly, so very unlike his own- and he also had a few things that he needed to discuss with Marinette. Namely, the fact that she had figured out that he was Chat Noir.

Somehow.

Adrien's mind was racing as he and Marinette headed back upstairs. He was trying to figure out where to start. Should he try to deny her discovery? Would she even believe him if he tried? Something told him no.

"We're going to have to figure out how to time things so that your father doesn't catch on," Marinette said as she ushered Adrien back upstairs towards their living room. She sent him a sharp look. "Though I suppose that you being able to just slip in and out from your window makes things easier."

...yeah, he wasn't even going to try to deny his secret identity. Marinette hadn't phrased it as a question. She knew.

Adrien sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Ladybug wasn't going to be happy about someone finding out his secret identity, but at least- well, at least they knew Hawkmoth's identity, too, so an end to this whole fight was in sight. Hopefully. "Yeah, it makes things a lot easier. But speaking of that..."

Marinette glanced up at him. "Yes?"

"We really need to talk."

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #Move to Safety #adrien agreste

[silver-rings-and-rabbits]

Open Heart: Second Year

I don’t think I’m saying anything that hasn’t already been said before but this is bugging me like crazy. I don’t use Tumblr very often but I don’t know anyone else who plays Choices, so here I am (I guess spoiler alert for those who haven’t played Open Heart).

Open Heart book 1 is one of my favourite books, possibly even my most favourite. I genuinely couldn’t decide between Bryce, Raf and Ethan. I switch between the male and female MC and I’ve been able to give them different personalities. The book had strong writing and a coherent plot with probably three main storylines: Patient X, Panacea Labs, and Mrs Martinez, which all tied together beautifully at the end. Even all our patients came back in the last chapter.

And then Open Heart: Second Year. Where to start.

Obviously Ethan is our boss, mentor and colleague so he will have a vital role in the story, but why push the other LIs aside? Why can’t Bryce romancers steal a few minutes in the hospital corridors where Bryce gives you a flirty wink and a pat on the butt? Why can’t Jackie romancers sneak into her room every so often?

And let’s get started on Rafael. First of all....what the fuck?

I love a little bit of angst so I wasn’t initially too mad when Sora was introduced (actually I think it made me want Rafael more, because apparently I only like men I can’t have...and I’ve gone off Ethan because he would be too easy). But there was none. Sora appeared in chapter 2, where it’s described as ‘stings a little to watch’, but doesn’t appear again until the baseball game in chapter 8 where they cheer for Edenbrook a couple of times. The only kind of ‘angst’ Rafael romancers got was dancing with Raf at the music festival where Sora is briefly mentioned and MC closes their eyes and listens to Raf’s heartbeat (which was a sweet moment, to be fair). Are you seriously telling me that none of their friends acknowledged that he and MC used to date? That they wouldn’t have asked if MC was OK at least once? That they would have invited Rafael over to the apartment without giving MC a heads up? And when PB was asked about this they gave some crap about making things realistic and exploring the mature themes of a medical drama. If Open Heart were realistic, MC would have been fired halfway through book 1 (one of the dialogue options with Ethan in book 1 chapter 6 actually leads him to say ‘consider yourself lucky you’re even getting a next time’) but NO, we get ‘realism’ by losing a beloved love interest and character that people have grown invested in and spent money on, and then completely waste the opportunity for drama.

And then there’s chapter 10.

And going back to realism, they couldn’t think of anything else apart from vengeance and terrorism? Not, I don’t know, just a highly infectious patient which is probably more likely to happen within a hospital?

I do think that chapter 11 is one of the strongest chapters of Second Year, and the book has got stronger since then. But knowing that it might have ended with the death of Rafael leaves a VERY bitter taste. I’m very glad they rewrote it...but what on earth was the thought process behind that?!? Going back to realism again, if they wanted drama and emotions, why not have Kyra die of surgical complications? At least we’d have been somewhat prepared for that as she was introduced as being a cancer patient, and there would have been more angst (especially for Bryce romancers) as he would have had the guilt of not being able to save her when he promised MC he would, even if it was out of his hands. But sure, have Rafael caught in an assassination attempt, that makes sense. And it still doesn’t really excuse Sora, I mean, imagine the pain if he was still an LI and he and MC were saying their last goodbyes in that room??

I was happy with the rewrite to chapter 11 and the kiss between Raf and MC in chapter 12 was beautiful. And PB have actually made something of an effort to include Raf in the rest of the story; I was half-expecting to not see him again until the obligatory 30-diamond scene in the last chapter.

Chapter 12 was so emotional and it was so clear that each character and LI was struggling with the events. And the end of chapter 12 and the beginning of chapter 13 made it very clear that MC was terrified of returning to work. MC has butterflies in their stomach as they walk in to Edenbrook and then...nothing. That was that. As if they just needed to face their fear and they’d be alright again. Now I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure PTSD isn’t as simple as that? It would go far deeper than ‘Oh, I’m alright, just taking it one day at a time’. And the narration specified that MC was uncomfortable at the idea of going back into the diagnostics room where the attack happened, but chapter 14 we’re back in there without batting an eyelid.

Someone (I don’t know who...if you’re reading this let me know!!) pointed out that Danny and Bobby could have been mentioned at the gala...there could have been some kind of ‘in memory’ and donors could have been guilt tripped by MC. But no, not a peep. I keep thinking that we could have had Baz, Zaid and Inez (I miss her) catching up with MC and asking how they’re doing and how worried they were. If you’re going to the gala with Raf there could have been a highly emotional scene between them about what happened in the room. Raf alludes to it in a line of dialogue but there was potential for so much more.

And how about the fact that a group of doctors cured the incurable OVERNIGHT and it worked without proper testing? NO ONE has mentioned that since! Surely there would be papers being published and deeper research being conducted now that lives aren’t on the line? We had a whole chapter about how a research grant would save the hospital but now...nothing?! Ed Farrugia hasn’t been mentioned since chapter 12. No one in the team is talking about how it was June’s idea to convince him to switch to Edenbrook. Surely that would be a huge elephant in the room? Wouldn’t she at least say something like ‘I never wanted this to happen, we went too far’? Something?!

The fact that there has been no follow-up to the attack suggests to me that it was purely for shock value. They just wanted drama and didn’t care about keeping it grounded. And assuming that Rafael died in the original, that’s more upsetting. I can’t believe that he was the least profitable character in the history of Choices ever. And even if he was, was it because no one bought his diamond scenes, or because he didn’t have diamond scenes to buy? I romanced Bryce in my first playthrough, but I remember choosing to assist on his surgery without even thinking about it, I didn’t even look at the diamonds it would cost. So a beloved character would have been killed, and it would have brought nothing to the story.

Furthermore, Sora would never have been explained. Rafael almost explained in chapters 2 and 12 but both times MC cut them off. If Rafael was originally going to die in chapter 11, Rafael romancers would never have got that explanation, unless they were to hear it from Sora themselves afterwards (doubtful). And it’s highly unlikely it actually will be explained. PB will probably say ‘it’s up to you what happened!’ like they’re doing us a favour by creating our own headcanon, but to me that’s just lazy writing; they wanted to write off Rafael and they didn’t care how they did it.

If Second Year hadn’t opened with a funeral scene we might never have been clued into what was going to happen and demanded a rewrite.

Aside from that, there’s Esme. She’s introduced as breaking Dr Thorne’s hand and then has to diagnose and treat him in chapter 10. Depending on your choices, he gets surgery and thanks Esme for saving his life and apologises for the bar incident. Otherwise she doesn’t run further tests and he messes up a surgery which eventually forces him to resign. And then Esme gets her plotline with Levi. If Dr Thorne wasn’t her main plotline, what was the point in introducing him? It’s another storyline that had huge potential--sexual harassment in the workplace, for example--but had little to no payoff and fell off the radar. If PB wanted to introduce MC and Esme the night before they both started working then MC could have just literally walked into Esme and either apologised, asked if she was OK, or told her to watch where she was going, and that would have affected how she greeted you in the hospital the next day. But no, we get this storyline hinted at which is then written off and replaced. Maybe it was a rewrite, I just don’t see why it would have been.

Like I said before, the main storylines of book 1 all tied together in the end, but the storylines we’ve had in book 2 have just felt like completely separate events, just a bunch of stuff that happens and is quickly forgotten. I think the balance of the LIs has been better since chapter 11; even when the gang went to Vegas, Raf romancers got a quick phone call with him. As a Raf romancer, I appreciated that, and it only goes to show how PB could accommodate for all LIs whilst having Ethan integral as our boss (see before, bonus scenes for Jackie romancers sneaking into each others rooms, bonus scenes for Bryce romancers having flirty interactions in the corridors). 

There is such a difference in dialogue if you’re playing Ethan’s romance route or not. I had him stay behind in chapter 11 and I thought it came across as a sweet conversation between a mentor and his protégée. But the other LIs don’t have anything close to that level of detail. Ethan romancers get pretty close to being official in chapter 17 but I’ve heard Jackie and Bryce didn’t get that. And Raf romancers didn’t even get caught sneaking back into the gala. I’m still holding out hope that book 2 will end with all LIs saying ‘I love you’ and being official with MC, but the inequality makes me sad.

I might have had some more to say, but this post has been longer than I intended and I don’t remember what that might have been. I really wanted to like Open Heart: Second Year. Book 1 will always be a favourite, but book 2? It’s like going from the classic era of The Simpsons where Homer was a lazy dumbass but genuinely loved his family, to the modern era of The Simpsons where nothing makes sense and Homer is a straight-up jerk. I just hope that, if we get book 3, they would have learned from their mistakes and Open Heart can be saved. It doesn’t deserve this.

Well, that’s my two cents. Sorry for the long post. If you got this far, thanks for reading.

#choices #pixelberry #choices stories you play #open heart #open heart second year #ethan ramsey #bryce lahela #jackie varma #rafael aveiro #casey valentine #rant #long post

[creepy-spooghetti]

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 4 - Take Me Away, A Secret Place

———

The morning eventually comes, and it brings the bright, cheerful sunlight with it, much to Y\n's relief. The golden rays shine in through her window pane, forcing her to press a hand to her eyes and give herself a chance to adjust to the light invading her vision. She's kept herself awake for the whole rest of the night, starting from when she woke up from that horrific nightmare at around eleven-thirty and absolutely, under any circumstances, refused to go back to sleep.

Troubling subjects have been laying heavy on her mind for the past six hours, and no matter what she does to rid herself of them, it never works. At least, it hasn't yet. She's tried scrolling through the internet, watching YouTube videos, she even started another painting, though she only managed a few brush strokes before she scrapped it altogether and fell to the floor in a tired rage.

She isn't going to deny the fact that she's mentally exhausted, from both the lack of sleep and anxiety that's been creeping through her nerves the entire day thus far. After around two hours of laying in bed, she decided to get up and go downstairs for a glass of water. Then she decided against it, mainly due to the fact that she already had a perfectly good bottled water sitting right beside her bed. She considered wandering down to watch some TV, or eat some food, or virtually anything she could do to get her mind off of what had happened, but also blew off that idea fairly quickly.

She didn't want to be the reason for her grandparents waking up, especially because of a stupid little dream. Even though she, herself, knows that it wasn't just a 'stupid little dream'. Whether it has a deeper meaning or not, it terrified her, and that's all the convincing she needs to not want to have one like it, or one even worse. She just fears that she would be scolded for having such childish agitation over something that, in all reality, can't even physically hurt her.

Well... the things in her head can't hurt her. But what she saw... was that really in her head? Sure, one could blame paranoia, panicked delusions, a tired, frantic state that made her hallucinate something that wasn't really there. Like sleep paralysis, though she knows for a fact that she wasn't experiencing sleep paralysis.

So what was it? Maybe a strangely-shaped tree bent by the light in the right way to make it look scary? Some type of humanoid animal? Or perhaps it was just her imagination playing tricks on her, after all? She isn’t entirely sure, but she does know that whatever it was, it was unsettling and very out-of-place.

And then there’s the nightmare. That is the second time in barely three days that she’s had a nightmare like that. Sure, bad dreams are no stranger to her; she’s been experiencing them since she was a little kid, though they became more common after her life started to fall apart. But none of them were like that. Her mind had never been in such a gut-wrenching, sinister state before, and it deeply concerns her.

What would make her think up such a scenario? Her cousin, one of her very best childhood friends, being dead? Right before her very eyes? She’s thought, maybe it has something to do with the odd conversation that she shared with her grandfather just a day prior? But he didn’t say anything that should ever make her think anyone was murdered. Especially Wyatt.

Although it’s still a mystery to her, she knows that nothing like that could’ve happened during her long absence… right? If it had, someone would have called her dad to inform him, then he would have told her. He isn’t the best person or the best father by any stretch, but surely he wouldn’t keep her in the dark about something so horrific, right?

She’s tried to forget about it, even though she knows that it’s likely going to be something that sticks with her for quite a while, and she’s tried to calm herself down. It was just a dream. Nothing more. She hasn’t anything to worry about. It was just a startling vision that her mind created to scare her. It’s all the stress finally getting her, that’s all.

A feeling of dread and terror has settled inside of her stomach, and though it has faded considerably since she awoke, it’s still there and very present, plaguing her mind, repeating the nightmare over and over again in her head, making her miserable. As if it’s saying, “The worst has yet to come”.

She will ask Nana and Pops. She will get to the bottom of why her aunt, uncle, and Wyatt never, supposedly, come down to visit. Once she gets them to answer, finds out why her grandpa was acting so suspicious yesterday, gets it through her head that it isn’t as bad as she’s made herself think it is, then maybe, just maybe, she won’t be bombarded with such terrible thoughts each time she tries to sleep.

She blinks, adjusting to the bright, bulbous orb that slowly appears from behind the trees, and watching as the stars fade away, the moon following close behind them. The sky changes from a deep, royal blue to a vivid maya in the span of only a few minutes.

Her eyelids feel heavy, and even without checking the time she knows it has to be around six-thirty to seven in the morning based on the low place that the sun rests in the sky. She leans her back against the wall, letting out a soft, distressed sigh and allowing her eyes to shut for but a brief moment. Any more and she would drift back off to sleep, and she doesn’t want to do that. Not any time soon. Not until she’s been reassured that nothing like what her dream suggested actually happened.

Rubbing her eyes to rid herself of the drowsy feeling still messing with her senses, she sits up fully in her bed, finally able to convince herself that now would be a good time to go downstairs and start her day. Quietly, of course, so she doesn’t wake her grandparents.

Maybe she can make them breakfast like Nana has done for her so many times, recently and in the past. She’s never been a very skilled cooker, but she can make simple things like scrambled eggs, bacon, and French toast. What’s the worst that can happen? Okay, she can set the kitchen on fire, or make the stove explode, or overcook/undercook everything and give the residents of the household food poisoning, but she prefers not to think of those unlikely—but possible— outcomes.

With a small mental protest, she wearily rises out of bed, walking over to her closet to find some decent clothes for the day and changing into mentioned clothes before heading toward the bathroom, although somewhat cautiously. She’s still on-edge about the events that took place mere hours ago, and she figures that she probably will be until she can get another, more light-hearted subject on her mind. Like making breakfast for two people she loves. It sounds like a fool-proof plan to her, and she fully intends to stick to it.

She isn’t exactly sure what time they wake up, but her guess is somewhere between seven-thirty to eight, or even eight-twenty-five. The hall is still considerably dark, thanks to there being no windows around to light it up a bit, and it makes her nerves spike as she hurries to the targeted room.

Once there, she closes the door quietly and turns on the light, her eyes falling on the mirror straight in front of her, and she leans against the sink, studying her reflection with a blank mind. Her hair has most definitely seen better days, though that’s something easily fixable. Her eyes are the problem.

They look almost completely drained of energy, and the dark rings right beneath them make it clear that she didn’t rest well the night before. She dips her head down after turning on the faucet and splashes cool water against her face, hoping to get rid of some of that ‘I just woke up and I’m exhausted’ look that her reflection stares back at her with.

Her eyes get wider and already, she feels more alert and aware of her surroundings; the exact thing she was wanting to accomplish. She then does everything she deems necessary before she goes back out, snatching her phone from off of her bed and her Bluetooth wireless earbuds, and trekking down the stairs, taking joy in the fact that natural, bright light is shooting through the windows and illuminating the majority of the main floor.

She spots Marshmallow sitting atop a chair, seemingly content grooming himself and only sparing her a short, unphased glance as she appears at the bottom of the staircase. Smiling lightly, she makes her way over to him and squats to his level, currently not caring if she interrupts his self-given bath, stroking his head in greeting and giving him an affectionate kiss on his cheek.

“Hey, little buddy,” she says, her voice lowered as she gingerly scratches his chin. “You having a good morning?” His mouth latches around her finger, not hard enough to make her bleed but she’s certain his sharp teeth will leave indents for a few minutes once they’ve left. She pulls her hand back and rolls her eyes. “Yeah? Me, too.”

She stands back up and straightens her posture, catching a glimpse of the front door before she looks back down at him curiously.

“You ready to go out?” She points at the door, and he seems to get the gist of what she’s saying because he releases a meow of protest and stretches his body out. “Well, I know it’s early.” She crosses her arms. “That doesn’t mean you can’t go hunting or whatever.” Marshmallow jumps from his position on the chair and walks toward his empty food bowl, looking back at Y\n expectantly. “Oh, c’mon. You’re perfectly capable of going out and getting your own food.”

She’s met with a loud and, frankly impatient, meow, and she huffs but begins her small journey to the pantry nonetheless.

“Fine, fine. You win.” When she arrives, she gazes idly through the various cans of food, bags of flour, and boxes of cereal and rice and beans, trying to locate the bag of branded cat food she knows has to be in here. “Last time I was here, they kept it in this room…” She mutters to herself, bending down to look beneath the shelves. Her eyes land on a red and white bag, the top ripped open and a metal scoop resting inside.

Instantly recognizing it as her desired item thanks to the large cat head printed on the front, she takes the handle of the scoop and dips it farther into the brown pebbles of cat food, walking back out soon after and dumping it in Marshmallow's bowl. He lets out a satisfied meow and sticks his nose into it briefly, as if checking that it isn't fake, before seeming content enough and beginning to eat it.

Y\n pats him on the head and returns the scoop to its rightful place inside of the pantry, closing the door behind her and going to the kitchen. She turns on the overhead light, enabling her to see a lot better than she could previously, and grabs different ingredients from the fridge, including a carton of large eggs, cheese, water, vanilla extract, syrup, and a pack of bacon. Then she moves to collect salt and pepper, a loaf of Sunbeam bread, cooking oil, a whisk, a mixing bowl, three separate skillets, and three plates.

Happy that Nana has all of the stuff that she needs in order to create this easy and, hopefully, good-quality breakfast, she puts in her earbuds, turns on some music, and begins by mixing up the scrambled eggs and putting a few strips of bacon on a skillet. Not having made breakfast in quite a while, she's a bit rusty, and it takes a few moments to remember what exactly she's supposed to do, though she gets the hang of it pretty quickly, and in around thirty-five minutes, she has the food all ready to eat and is washing up the used dishes after dividing everything up and pouring them onto plates.

I wonder when they'll get up... she thinks, glancing at the food then at the staircase that leads up to their bedroom. Breakfast will get cold if they don't come down soon. As if on cue, she hears a set of heavy footsteps from upstairs as they stop by and go into what she assumes to be the bathroom. Drying her hands, she grabs two of the three plates, walking into the dining room and setting them on the rectangle table before going to get the third one. As she passes the door again, she sees Marshmallow sitting and pawing at its surface, not-so-subtly implying what he expects of her.

She inwardly sighs and looks down at him with a raised eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip. "Really? Now you want to go out?" She receives a 'meow' in response, and she rolls her eyes but unlocks the door nonetheless, Marshmallow standing and backing away to ensure he doesn't get hit by it swinging open and then waiting for her to push the screen open. On his way out, he rubs against her leg and lightly flicks his tail in her direction, a gesture she takes as appreciation before he jumps off the porch and disappears around the corner of the house.

Around that time, she hears a door on the second floor open and that same pair of footsteps walking closer to the staircase, and she turns her head to look behind her, seeing her grandpa cautiously making his way down, making sure to hold onto the wooden rail for support. She shuts the door and plasters a smile across her face, stepping forward to greet him once he reaches the floor, though he speaks before she can.

"Hey, hummingbird!" he says, glancing at the clock hung on the wall beside the door to check the time before meeting her gaze. "What are you doin' up? It's only seven-forty-eight." Her smile turns slightly timid and she holds back a yawn, instead opting to keep her response simple so she doesn't make him worried and shrug her shoulders.

"Uh, well... I just, thought I'd get up early. Make breakfast..." Then her eyes widen and she signals toward the dining table on the opposite side of the living room. "Oh yeah, I made breakfast! Is Nana gonna be up soon, too?" He shakes his head in the negative, giving Y\n a friendly pat on her shoulder and walking toward the table.

"Nah. She didn't sleep very well last night, she probably won't be up for a couple of hours yet." Y\n glances at the plate of food laying on the island in the center of the kitchen, feeling a pang of pity erupt throughout her chest. She grabs it and places a sheet of plastic wrap over it diligently and puts it on a shelf in the fridge, hoping that Nana will feel like eating when she does finally get up.

She fills two glasses with milk and brings them back into the dining room, giving one to Phil and the other she keeps, taking a seat in one of the four identical chairs placed around the table. "How come? Was she having bad dreams?" Part of her wonders whether or not her grandma is suffering the same symptoms as herself, though she seriously doubts it. But it never hurts to ask, she supposes.

"Heh, no." He takes a bite of eggs, taking his time to finish his reply, and she takes his silence as an opportunity to begin eating, as it seems like she won't have to be in any hurry to say anything for a few moments. She has to admit, she didn't do a bad job with making the food. The eggs could use a bit more salt, but other than that, she's quite proud of how it all turned out, especially since she hasn't made a proper meal in several months. "Just aching joints, mostly. That and stress."

She lifts her eyes curiously at this, and he continues looking down at his plate, taking steady bites and not seeming to acknowledge her questioning gaze, nor what he had said. After around thirty seconds of silence, she breaks it, wanting to know what would possibly be stressing her grandmother out so much that it interferes with her sleep. "What do you mean stress? Is there something wrong?"

Only now does he meet her eyes, his face morphing into one of realization, and he furrows his eyebrows. "Well, yeah..." His voice wavers ever-so-slightly, and it's so precise that even Y\n almost doesn't notice it. "I mean, w-with your parents, and everything."

"Why would my parents stress you guys out?" She can tell that at least part of his statement isn't 100% true, though she doesn't want to pressure him and instead be easy with it. After all, if he wants to tell her, he'll tell her. "They're my problem, not yours."

"Darlin', if your parents aren't treating you right, that makes them our problem, too. Especially your dad." Perhaps she just isn't used to people willingly getting involved in her personal life, but those two sentences sound so strange to her. They also sound touching, so much so it makes her heartbeat speed up. "We're not going to stand aside and let you be neglected and mistreated."

She swallows, trying to keep the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes at bay, and takes a shaky breath. "Well... thanks, Pops..." Her tone is soft and genuine, probably the most genuine it's been in quite a while, and she sends him a grateful smile. He briefly returns it, turning his attention back to his food and continuing to eat.

A couple of minutes pass, and silence is all that's heard as the two enjoy the meal, Y\n's mind swarming with thoughts. How could she have forgotten how pure her grandparents are? How has she gone nearly half of her life without their wholesome influence? How could her father just get rid of almost all connections with them and act like they don't even exist? It's a totally shameful thing to do, and that fact is only just now making itself apparent to her. How could he? After they raised him? After they gave him and Aunt Darcy all of their love? How could he just stop talking to them like that?

It's bad enough that he refuses to visit with them, but then he goes and forces her to do the same thing? How could her father be so utterly selfish that he abandons what should be two of the most important people in his life? It doesn't make any sense to her. Then again, her father hasn't really made much sense since all of this pointless drama started, so she guesses it won't get much more sensible from here on out.

At least her aunt still treats them like her parents. Or... she did the last time Y\n was here. It's unknown what she does, now, which makes the dream she had flash into her mind. Just what happened between her aunt and her grandparents? Taking a composing breath through her nose and biting the inside of her cheek somewhat nervously, she speaks, again. "Pops... can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Y\n. Ya don't have to be shy around me." She averts her gaze to a wall, gathering her thoughts and attempting to form a coherent sentence.

"Well... you said, yesterday when I asked about Aunt Darcy, that you'd tell me later." She tries to keep her voice raised enough so he can hear her well, as his ears aren't 'what they used to be', as he's told her. "And... well, it's later, so..."

She sees him stiffen and stare down as if trying to sort through his thoughts, and she waits patiently, if not anxiously, for his response. It's clearly a serious matter that he feels hesitant to discuss, but surely it can't be anything like what her dreams suggested, right? No, absolutely not. She would've been informed a long time ago if something like that had happened. They probably just lost touch. Maybe they moved far away from here and they feel sad talking about it.

"Y\n..." He catches her full attention when he starts, and he almost seems to crumble under her apprehensive gaze. "I think you should wait and talk about this with your grandmother. I'm afraid I'm not the best, uh..." He rubs the stubble on his chin and releases a humorless laugh. "I don't explain things very well."

"Please?" She really doesn't want to resort to begging, but she has to know. If her mind is going to be put to ease, it needs to know that her dream is nothing more than that; a dream. What she saw isn't real, and it will never be. So she can relax and enjoy the rest of her vacation with her grandparents. He opens his mouth like he's about to further argue his point, but she beats him to it. "I don't care if you're not good at explaining things. Just tell me? Please?"

He stares across the table at her for a good minute before finally letting out a defeated sigh and sliding his now-empty plate to the side in order to give him room to rest his arms comfortably across the wooden surface in front of him, muttering something about how 'she'd have to know eventually'.

"Look, Y\n..." He looks like he's currently straining himself for the correct words to say, and she doesn't take her eyes off of him. "...around a year and a half, two years ago..." He meets her e\c orbs, his own holding great pain and hesitation. She subconsciously squeezes the fork within her hand, her lips parting slightly in anticipation. What happened? Did they get into a fight? Did Aunt Darcy and Uncle Marvin get divorced? "...Wyatt disappeared. And... and Darcy and Marvin were murdered."

Her breath hitches as her mind tries to comprehend this newly-delivered information. No, no... that couldn't have happened. All of it was a dream, nothing more. Her mind didn't predict anything. It couldn't have. No, Pops has to be joking... but what if he isn't? She leans forward in shock, eyebrows raised and heart skipping a beat as she forces one single word out of her mouth. "Wh-what...?" It comes out as a whisper, and he runs his fingers through his white, thin hair.

"I-I really shouldn't be telling you this."

"How...?" She fights the tears in her eyes and gulps, nervous to hear his answer. He only shakes his head.

"That's too descriptive, I don't think you need to—"

"Were they stabbed? S-strangled? Shot?" She isn't sure why, but she wants to know. Despite how painful it will be. She tilts her head in distress and considers the way he stares at her, seeming to contemplate what she said. Her eyes are pleading, desperate, and her bottom lip quivers vaguely.

"They... they were stabbed. Probably by the javelin that Marvin kept in the living room, because it was missing, a-and the wounds were... messy, they said." She drops her fork and shoves her plate aside, resting her elbows on the table and burying her face in her hands as she comprehends all of this. How could this have happened? These are things that are only supposed to take place in movies, on crime shows, not in real life. It isn't supposed to happen to her family.

"And... and Wyatt?" Her voice is muffled and quiet as her stomach quickly becomes queasy.

"Nobody knows. He just... vanished." Her heart gets caught in her throat and she releases a small sound similar to a whimper. "There are theories that he... that he killed them and then took off to get away from the law." She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut and gripping strands of her hair.

"H-he wouldn't. He loves them..."

"I know. I think that's an absurd theory, myself." He rests a consoling hand on her arm in an effort to bring her comfort. She barely even registers the touch and focuses on the thoughts running rampant through her mind. How could her aunt and uncle be dead? How could her cousin be missing? How could anybody think he had anything to do with it? "I knew this would be a lot to handle, I'm sorry, darlin'."

"Wh-why didn't I know about this?" She lifts her head just enough to meet his eyes, her voice unsteady. "If it happened that long ago, why was I kept in the dark?"

"Trust me, we tried to tell you. We tried to tell your dad, your mom, but neither of them listened to us. They ignored our calls, wouldn't let us get on the phone with you. You deserved to know, and I'm sorry it's taken us this long to tell you." She can't stop her hands from shaking as a tear rolls down her cheek.

"Y-you mean Dad... Dad didn't care that his sister was dead?" Bitterness and a form of disbelief lace her voice as her eyes seem to bare holes into the table in front of her.

"He didn't want to believe it. I think he convinced himself it didn't actually happen and refused to acknowledge any of it." A rich, overwhelming fear washes over her and nearly makes her throw up as she bites her lip, so hard it almost draws blood, though she doesn't pay attention to the pain. Her eyes narrow in on Phil and she removes her hands from her face to get a better view of him, and so her voice wouldn't be indistinct.

"You... you're not joking, are you?" He shakes his head slowly, and goosebumps form along the skin of her arms.

"No... I'm so sorry. I know you were close with them..."

"I, uh..." She stands to her feet, grabbing her dishes and not having the stomach to finish her breakfast. "I'm gonna... go. Out, f-for a walk." As she walks around the table and past Phil, he lightly takes hold of her wrist to get her attention, and she glances down at him with glossy eyes.

"...I didn't want to scare you, or make you feel so bad, Y\n. I just... didn't want to lie to you."

"N-no, it's okay," she says, though her tone implies otherwise. "Thank you. I-I wanted to know." Before he can say anything else, she easily pulls away from his grasp and heads toward the kitchen, dumping her scraps in the large trash can before washing the dishes, putting them in the drainer to dry, pocketing her phone, and going toward the front door once again. "Um, if Nana wakes up  before I'm back, please tell her that there's food in the fridge."

Not waiting for a reply although not exactly expecting one, she exits the home, shutting the screen behind her and speed-walking toward the white gate. She finds herself in a hurry to get some privacy, be in solitude so she can express herself more clearly without fear of being judged. Though tears now stream freely down her cheeks, she tries to hold them back until she's concealed in the thick greenery of the forest, and she takes the very same path she did yesterday, and many times before, this time not paying attention to what she steps on and what she doesn't.

She stumbles several times over the thorny plants and uncut weeds until eventually making it to a tamer area of the trail, wrapping her arms around herself and letting out squeaky sobs. Is it just a terrible coincidence? Her dreaming about Wyatt dying then finding out his parents was murdered and he's missing? Or is there something deeper going on? She can't seem to think past the fact that her aunt and uncle are dead, or the fact that her cousin just seemingly vanished without a trace and has yet to return.

Since she's arrived here, her dreams have had a menacing, eerie atmosphere to them, though she assumed it was just the stress of everything manifesting itself into the form of something specifically created to put fear in her heart. She didn't think they meant anything more, not so much so that they invade her mind during the day, every day, without end. But... was she wrong?

How can they be gone? Just like that? Her eyebrows furrow and her eyes narrow in both incredulity and anger. And how could Dad know but not tell me? I'm his freaking daughter, for goodness sake! And they're his sister, his brother-in-law! His nephew! How could- how could he just act like nothing happened!?

A pathetic whimper escapes through her lips and she shakes her head, quickening her pace and keeping an eye out for a connecting path in particular that she and Wyatt used to take to get to the river. They used to take that path, together, when they were kids. That would never happen again. Because he's missing and probably won't ever come back.

Oh God... this means Nana and Pops are the only ones left... She sniffles and sucks in shallow, sharp breaths as she comes to this realization, slowing down absentmindedly. She was my only aunt, he was my only cousin, Marvin was my only uncle... they were my closest relatives that actually gives a crap about me.

Seeing as how her mother's parents disowned her when she was only seventeen because she got impregnated by a man who was, at the time, twenty-two, she never got to meet them and didn't hear too much about them, outside of insults and general hate. Her mom's sister, Giana, didn't visit a lot, and when she did she was always snobby and selfish, and it was apparent to Y\n that she didn't really care for her niece very much. She was clearly only after the money that Y\n's father and mom had at their grasp.

In other words, her mother's family left much to be desired. At least her dad's side of the family loves her, which is something she's beyond grateful for. But now part of them is gone. Only her grandparents remain. Does her father even care about that? Has he ever stopped and thought, 'ya know, maybe I should stop acting like a scumbag and spend time with my parents before it's too late', or 'I should be there for my sister's funeral'? Doubtful. If he did it was a mere idea that he quickly brushed aside and labeled as 'ridiculous'.

Y\n wouldn't be so angry with him had he at least let her still see them, at least a couple of times a year, maybe on holidays, but that simply isn't the case. If she had been allowed back here years ago, she would've been able to spend quality time with all of them before that horrible event occurred. But now it's too late. All thanks to her selfish jerk for a father.

She releases an infuriated scream and turns to kick the nearest tree, causing a bird that was sitting on a branch previously to fly away in alarm, likely thinking that it's under attack and wanting to get away before it gets hurt. She could care less about the winged creature at the moment though and continues to kick the tree a total of three more times before collapsing on her knees in a sobbing, shaking, and heartbroken heap.

Even if she tried, she'd be unable to keep her negative emotions to herself. But she doesn't want to. She wants to cry, cry until she can't anymore. Nobody's around, she's completely alone. What harm will it bring? Salty tears slide down her face and hit the ground with a tiny splash each time, and she leans forward and rests her forearms on the grass beneath her for some sort of stability.

She can hardly believe this information, no matter how many times it runs through her head. It seems surreal, almost like a dream. But this isn't a dream. Right? It would be amazing to wake up and find out that Marvin and Darcy were alive and well, and Wyatt was still here, living a happy life. But that scenario is very unlikely to be true. Still, she hopes. Maybe it's all in her mind. She pinches the skin on her arm and instantly winces, waiting to wake up in her bed. But she doesn't.

She crashes further to the ground and her pained wails become louder. Why them? Why some of the sweetest people in her life? Why did they have to go? Why couldn't it have been a bad person? Someone whose only goal in life is to make others suffer? Why couldn't it have been her own parents instead of Wyatt's? As terrible of a thought it sounds, she can't seem to make herself think any differently.

Who would do such a thing? Who would murder somebody with a family that they love, that loves them in return? Have they no empathy? No compassion, no remorse, whatsoever? Clearly not. A sudden snap of a twig draws her attention and she cranes her neck to the side, gazing through swollen, glassy eyes and trying to see past the trees and find whatever is the source of the noise. Seeing nothing and brushing it off as an animal or her imagination, she turns back toward the ground, attempting to gather her bearings to continue her walk in peace.

After a couple of minutes, she catches her breath, calms herself down enough to be somewhat aware of her surroundings, and leisurely rises to her feet, wiping the remainder of the tears away with the back of her arm and beginning to walk forward, once again.

She spots a familiar trail, shrouded by even more briars and thick plants, that she remembers to lead to her and Wyatt's old 'Hangout', as they used to call it, where the water is just clear enough to be considered 'clean', where a small mountain covered with boulders rests, where a large oak was planted beside the river many years ago and made the perfect place to sit and play cards, share stories, or just stare down below into the beautiful scenery and beyond.

That was the way it used to be, almost eight years ago, and that's the way she hopes it is, now. Maybe it will be just like a painting frozen in time. Maybe it hasn't changed at all. Guess I'll find out...

She struggles to swat away the plants and duck under branches, looking extra closely for low-hanging spiderwebs that happen to be in the direct path of her head. Her heart aches, there isn't a doubt about that. But below that aching, below the pain, there's anger. Pure vexation, all directed at her father. Yes, she knows he wasn't the one who killed them, but he's the one that kept her from seeing them. Perhaps she should focus all her negative energy around the actual person who caused their deaths. But she can't, not right now. The real villain, in her eyes, is the man whose self-centered personality, along with his total disregard for other peoples' feelings, made the last of her childhood and beginning and middle of her teenage years miserable.

Her mother isn't innocent in this either, with her cheating on her own husband, disacknowledging that her daughter even existed most days anymore, and overall disloyalty toward her family makes Y\n angry. Makes her strongly dislike her. But Y\n's mother had almost nothing to do with these family issues, no. Her father caused that all on his own. She's sure the only reason her mom didn't communicate with them is because he told her not to.

Y\n recalls turning to her mother for answers when she couldn't get anything out of her dad, and she only responded with, "You'll have to ask your father", or "I'm not the one you should be questioning about that". Every single time. So she stopped, after all, what's the point in asking about something if all you get is vague, useless answers in response?

She looks back when she gets the sudden feeling that she's being followed, and flinches in surprise when she meets the chestnut eyes of a fairly normal-looking boy, with messy brown hair and an innocent-looking face. He seems to be around her age, perhaps a couple of years older, and he puts his hands up in defense as if taken off-guard by her startled reaction.

He's taller than average, and she takes a cautious step back when he begins speaking. "O-oh, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." His voice is deep and has a mature sound to it, and she furrows her eyebrows in slight suspicion. Who is this guy? How long has he been there?

"Were you... following me?" Her tone holds wariness, and he sends her a friendly smile to show her he means well, though she gets the feeling that maybe it isn't as sincere as he makes it seem.

"Uh... yes? But—you don't have to get creeped out or anything, I'm not a stalker." She raises an eyebrow and takes another step back, trying to make as much distance between herself and this random person as she can in case he were to try and attack. "I just moved here and was exploring around, then I saw you walking around and figured I'd say 'hi'."

She considers his posture, his appearance, his upright demeanor, before meeting his eyes again, her muscles relaxing and deciding he seems genuine enough, though she won't let her guard down completely. She isn't extremely concerned about the way she must look to him, and he isn't commenting on it, much to her relief. "...Really? Where do you live?"

"About a mile north from here." He nods his head in that direction and sticks his hands into his hoodie pocket habitually. "My mom thought I should get out and get familiar with the area."

"And how do you like it?" She tilts her head, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. He shrugs.

"It's nice. Pretty quiet most of the time, but it's a good area to unwind, I guess." She nods in response, and he takes a step closer, something that doesn't go unnoticed by her. "What about you?"

"I'm here visiting some family while my parents are away on business." She said the term 'family' instead of 'grandparents' without even thinking about it, something that makes her chest tighten when she realizes that very thing.

"Cool. You been here before?"

"Not since I was a kid."

"How come?" She narrows her eyes up at him and her voice hardens slightly, not willing to give a stranger a lot of personal information about herself. Maybe it's the fact that she hasn't interacted much with anyone outside what was necessary for quite a while and it's making her feel overly-cautious about meeting new people, but something about this person seems strange. She can't quite put her finger on it, all she knows is that she feels weird around him.

"Family issues." There's a certain tension that begins to form between the two of them, and she shuffles on her feet uncomfortably, not sure if this guy wants to maintain some type of conversation with her. She was never the best at reading people and knowing what they were thinking. A few moments pass.

"So... where are you going?"

"Um..." She glances behind her, to the unconquered trail that she was taking before he appeared, and jabs her thumb backward to show him. "There's a river and a tree and stuff down there, I was just seeing if it's the same as I remember it being."

"I don't mean to be the annoying know-it-all, but..." He uses his eyes to signal around them in an obvious manner. "There are trees everywhere." A huff exits her nose and she rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, well. There is one tree there that's more special than the ones here." He chuckles lightly and nods.

"Fair enough. Mind if I tag along?" She presses her lips together after hearing this seemingly harmless request, thinking it over. "Hey, I know that face. Don't worry, I'm not gonna slaughter you or anything when we get there."

"Heh, no, I wasn't—" She runs her hand through her hair and grapples for words that won't make her seem paranoid or stupid.

"You were." He grins mischievously, walking closer to her, and she steps to the edge of the path in response, still not fully trusting of this evidently nice individual. "It's okay. Look, I'll even go first so I can't stab you in the back." She bites the inside of her cheek and watches as he passes her effortlessly and stops a few inches ahead. "You were following the trail, right?" She nods. "Then c'mon and we'll 'get familiar with the area' together."

"I'm already familiar with the area," she says, hesitantly following behind him when he starts walking.

"Okay, okay, then let me get familiar with the area and you will just... stay familiar with the area, I guess." She can't stop the amused smirk that etches itself across her face as she falls in place next to him, though keeps a fair distance between the two of them. As 'fair' as the distance can be, at least. She's content that she's found something that will hopefully distract her for a little while just so she won't have to think about the current horrors of her life. "So what's your name?"

"Y\n." She briefly meets his eyes and repeats his own inquiry. "What about you?"

"Nice to meet you, Y\n. I'm Jack."

#Creepypasta #Marble Hornets #Creepypasta fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #Y\n L\n #Reader insert #Eyeless Jack #Jack Nichols #Creepypasta x reader

[grouptalekindnesssoulstories]

Big Bwother

Otherwise know as once again, Delphine writing about dark sides. Look, I love them okay?? This is pre-accepting anxiety, so some morally grey sides!

Words; 2,089

Warnings: Remus being himself, age regression, arguing, unsympathetic-leaning Patton, mentions of wounds. If I missed anything, let me know!

____

Virgil was up far too late again. At this point, he had given up trying to be quiet during the night. Patton was the closest to him, and that was down the hall enough that he wouldn’t bother Morality. Plus, the fatherly side was a heavy sleeper. 

Virgil slunk downstairs to try and find his teabags. Usually, he wouldn’t be caught dead drinking tea. If anyone saw him with his cup, he claimed it was coffee. There was a solo light on, over the sink. That didn’t set off any alarms, it was always on in case someone needed a drink at night. He didn’t notice that someone else was using their dark vision for a late night trip though, until it was too late. 

“Anxiety?” A small voice asked from the fridge area. Virgil shot up, whipping around to see who it was. There was Roman, but he looked like he was no older than 10 or so. 

“Yea? What’s up” Virgil finally answered, crouching down to more the level of the creative side. He was shocked when Remus appeared from behind his brother, looking just as young. The two of them seemed to communicate something silently before both approached him carefully. 

“Vee Vee? hug?” Remus asked, making grabby hands. Virgil melted, opening his arms to the little guy. Remus pulled Roman into them and knocked the adult over. 

“You guys ok? I thought you’d at least be in bed by now” Virgil asked, sweeping the duke’s bangs out of his face again. Roman shrank more from him, and huddled next to Remus. 

“I-i needed something to drink and then something happened. Re appeared next to me and he-he was like me too! I don’t wanna be separated from ReRe again! Don’t make us split again!” The kid burst into tears. Virgil rushed to soothe them both as Remus joined in. He started to stand, shifting them each into an arm. 

“I’m gonna take you guys up to Pat. He’ll know how to help you” 

“No! He’ll make me leave again” Remus sniffled, reaching over the gap towards his brother. 

“Please don’t. I need Re” Roman added, his bottom lip quivering. Virgil sighed, carrying them to the couch. He gave them a blanket, and returned to the kitchen to start some tea, and rummaged in the fridge for some milk. He warmed it up in the microwave and poured two big glasses. 

“Ok you guys. We can watch disney until you fall asleep. I’ve got some milk here for you” He offered, carrying the glasses into the other room. The boys were already tangled together in the blanket.  They twisted to peer over at him, before chorusing their choice.

“Maleficent” “Maleficent”

“Alright mini terrors. Be quiet though, I don’t want Logan and Patton down here criticizing my choices” he fiddled with the remote for a few minutes before starting the movie. He retreated to get his tea before selecting a chair where he could both watch the movie and the other sides. It was also just out of sight of the stairs. 

“RoRo, moveeee” Remus whined half an hour later, trying to shift the larger twin off of him. Virgil jolted from his doze, dropping his cup and vaulting over the couch. He pushed Roman off Remus. Roman was steadily growing back to his normal height, and age apparently. Remus started to cry silently as he realized what that would mean for him.

“Shshshs It’s okay Re. I’m sure he’ll want to be with you still” Virgil bounced the kid, trying to contain his own anxiety over the substance. It wasn’t working, and Roman was waking up again. 

“He never does. Every time he forgets and I have no choice but to go back” Remus stated sadly, his adult intelligence briefly returning. 

“Anxiety? What are you doing here” Roman muttered, shifting upright. Virgil shifted himself away from the other side, hiding Remus from immediate view. 

“Nothing. I was just getting some coffee and you were passed out on the couch” Virgil said grumpily, turning towards the kitchen again. It was then he realized he had fucked up. In his haste to get to the twins, his cup had shattered on the floor. 

“Uh-huh. I’m getting padre, and telling him that you’re up late and drinking coffee” Roman rose from the couch, an eyebrow already raised in judgement. He finally noticed Remus at that point, silently staring.

“Ro” He said simply, moving closer to Virgil.

“I should’ve known! You were trying to sneak my brother up here to cause chaos weren’t you” Roman hissed, stomping towards the pair. Virgil shifted again to place Remus behind him, and out of the reach of Roman’s katana if he chose to summon it. 

“Leave him alone. It’s not his fault you dragged him into it” Virgil hissed, ready to run. 

“What do you mean?” Roman’s voice shook, and his footsteps had paused. 

“I came down here, and you both were here. You were the same age as him, and when I settled you down, because you refused to be separated, you suddenly regrew” Virgil turned around, on the verge of yelling. Roman looked completely shocked, and Remus had long since lost interest in watching his brother. He knew there was a good chance both of them would be run through and didn’t want to watch it happen. 

“....Re? Is this true?” 

“Mhm! Every night!” Remus piped up, almost shooting out of Virgil’s arms. 

“and you let me?!” 

“I don’t have a choice. It’s around the time we...and every time I’m forced to endure it with you. I don’t want to leave. I miss you RoRo! Like I miss Vee Vee!” Remus started wailing, clinging to Virgil again like a koala. 

“Shshshhs. It’s ok little rotter. It’s ok. We can go infect some of his villages into zombies to calm down” Virgil murmured, swaying back and forth. 

“I wanna play with him! I’m tired of trying to pretend like I don’t miss him like an amputated limb!” Virgil smiled slightly as he heard Remus’s brand of thought pop through. He was starting to return to himself hopefully. Unfortunately, the rest of the house had woken up.

“What is that racket” Logan snarled, appearing on the stairs first. Virgil panicked again, and tried to sink out. Roman had crept closer without him noticing, and grabbed hold of his arm to keep him there.

“Anxiety trying to cause chaos” Roman snarled, forgetting all about what Remus had told him.

“Run Re” Virgil tossed him into the air, hoping he would listen. Pat appeared though, catching the kid before he could hit ground and run. Or make more of a racket. It was a 50/50 chance at that moment.

“Thissss isssss wonderful” Dee appeared from the basement stairs, raising an eyebrow at the scene. He obviously was very tired, and did not want to deal with this shit. 

“Everyone. Sit” Logan pointed to the couch, his eyes flashing dangerously. Remus wiggled out of Patton’s arms to sit next to Roman, who pushed him away. Dee ended up picking up the kid, and hugging him with most of his arms. 

“Who ended this mess?” Dee asked. 

“Look. I came downstairs to find both Roman and Remus as kids. I gave them milk, and put on a movie-” Virgil waved at the TV which was still playing said movie “-then let them watch it. I was dozing and heard Remus telling Roman to get off. I looked over and Roman was growing, so I pushed him off. Then I tried to leave” He explained as everyone turned to him. 

“Any idea on how they got that way?”

“It happens every night. I’m pulled up here when RoRo reverts, and I revert too. By morning he’s forgotten what happened and we’re both adults again. Virgil just happened to come across us tonight” Remus piped up, sucking on one thumb.

“He’s obviously lying I wo-” Roman started to protest.

“He’s not” Dee interrupted, his snake eye flashing. 

“I want my brother back. Both of them” Remus said in a small voice, huddling closer to Dee. Virgil melted, guilt filling his gut. He opened his arms and Re cannon balled into him, wiggling into his hoodie. He had missed this. He adored his little brothers, and having Remus curled up next to him filled a void he didn't realize he had. It was filled the rest of the way when Dee scooted closer and buried his face in Virgil’s leg. 

“We have to find some way to fix this. We can’t have creativity reverting every night and talking with..” Patton was saying to the others. Virgil’s stomach dropped again, knowing exactly what the fatherly side meant. 

“Problem seems to be with Princey. Ask him how to fix it” he drawled, falling back into his indifferent attitude. 

“Now, I wouldn’t say-” Logan began to say, having returned to the calm mediator. 

“MY FAULT? This is obviously your’s if anyone’s Anx-i-ety” Roman roared, drawing out Virgil’s name with hatred. 

“Ok. Fine. Glad to know you still don’t care about your brother. Yea. It’s not like I had to break his heart day. after day. after you left him with us!” Virgil snarled back, cupping an arm around the side. 

“Anxiety, that is uncalled for!” Patton scolded, face screwed up.

“Yea, like you’re any better Morality. You should’ve known not to separate them! You’re the reason they’re like this in the first place! If you weren’t so strict, they’d still be one side! AND I WOULDN’T HAVE TO WATCH AS MY BABY BROTHER PINES FOR HIM!”  Virgil screamed at the top of his lungs, jabbing a finger at the Prince. All the other sides cringed away from him. 

“Anx-”

“Look, I’m glad I met Thomas. It was wonderful. But I’d rather leave now, as it seems I’m next on the hit list. 2 out of the 3 of you hate the mere idea of me. Logan, you’re a cool guy. Take care of Thomas, cause it seems like I’ve made it sooooo hard. C’mon little blep, rotter” He nudged Dee up, turning to walk back down the stairs. He obviously was heartbroken, and had no fight left in him. He was cradling the kid side and had his other arm around Dee. The trio were walking down the stairs when a small blur hit Virgil’s legs. 

“ReRe! Don’t leave me!” It was Roman. He had reverted again in his stress, to a five year old this time. He seemed to have no memory of what had just occurred. He just wanted to stay with his brother. 

“Ro!” the other half of creativity de-aged too, reaching for the first. Virgil crouched down, and Roman clambered into his hoodie too. 

“Dee?” He turned his attention from the reunion to the scaly side. 

“You’re wrong. We can’t separate them again. Neither of our hearts can take it” He shrugged, and turned to the other pair. One had shock painted across his face, and the other...looked sad. Logan knew exactly what they were silently asking and he had no answer. 

“Do you want to keep the twins? Or will they come with us” Virgil asked, ignoring the snot and tears down the front of his shirt. 

“Remus will hurt Thom-” Patton started. 

“Can you all stay up here? You’re right, it will tear our hearts apart to separate them, but we can’t lose all of you too. So, please?” Logan interrupted, tears gathering in his eyes. Virgil started to nod, before turning to Dee. Dee nodded too, tears fully emerging from his human eye, and charged into Logan’s arms. The pair sunk to their knees and began sobbing together. 

“Hey boys, can you shift our rooms?” Virgil murmured to the sleepy pair. They nodded and the mindspace snapped into a more united setup. That seemed to fully drain them, and they curled into each other in deep sleep. Virgil couldn’t help but beam as he wrapped both arms around them. After a moment, he zipped up his jacket more so they’d be supported as he talked to the last side. 

“So. You’re staying shadowling?” Pat looked worn out, like he had aged several years in the last few minutes. 

“I am. Now, I want to sleep, so see you in a few hours” Virgil smiled tiredly, moving over to the couch and laying down. He curled around the twins, pulling the blanket over himself. He was asleep before Logan and Dee had moved. Patton had disappeared almost immediately. 

#unsympathetic patton #sympathetic virgil #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic logan #sympathetic roman #sympathetic remus #sanders sides #ts sides #my writing

[fancifulbutsensiblething]

Adventures in Auditory Agony

So I recently made a playlist of absolutely horrible music to drive around to, and the image of Ronan and Blue terrorizing the others with it popped into my head and refused to leave until I wrote this entirely self-indulgent fic to go along with the playlist. It’s v silly and also my first foray into writing TRC content, but...here we are.

Post-TRK/Pre-Epilogue Bronan friendship and gangsey shenanigans, rated T, read on ao3

In the week following Gansey’s graduation, something strange happened.

He hadn’t wanted to leave for a week, not when he was going to be leaving Henrietta so soon anyway. He’d disliked the plan even more when Maura had insisted Blue couldn’t go with him, that if she was going on this road trip with him and Henry, the Fox Way ladies needed to take advantage of every moment they had with her. Gansey couldn’t begrudge Maura time with her daughter, just as he couldn’t blame his own mother for wanting him to spend a little time with the rest of the Gansey clan before he took off again.

So he acquiesced to his mother’s demand-phrased-as-a-polite-request that he would spend a few days at home, on the condition that he could bring Adam along. Adam was even less thrilled than Gansey at the prospect of leaving Henrietta, especially when he knew Ronan wouldn’t come with them, especially especially when he remembered the last time he’d visited D.C. But Gansey desperately wanted company, and with Henry visiting his mother, Adam was the only option left, and he knew it. Besides, at Gansey’s suggestion, they’d added a few extra days for visiting some of the colleges Adam was applying to.

(Neither of them mentioned that the idea of some quality time together—just the two of them—before they each went their separate ways for the foreseeable future was an appealing one. They both thought it.)

The plan was met with mixed feelings by every party involved, but it went off without a hitch, and four family dinners, three college visits, two breakdowns in the Pig, and one emotional late-night heart to heart later, the two boys had returned to Henrietta.

For a while, Gansey noticed nothing amiss.

The first night back was a game night. As usual, Blue somehow managed to beat everyone at Super Smash Bros. despite passing up actually learning how to play in favor of smashing buttons at random. As usual, Adam was alarmingly good at Monopoly. As usual, Ronan got bored before they could finish a round and insisted on playing Cards Against Humanity instead. As usual, Gansey was terrible at every game but nonetheless seemed to have the most fun.

The next day was spent split off in pairs. Gansey spent some time at 300 Fox Way, helping out around the house and good-naturedly tasting Maura’s experimental teas before Blue got fed up with Orla, who was not in the least deterred from her usual flirtatiousness by the official nature of their relationship, and dragged him out of the house to 1) go for a drive, 2) make out in the back seat of the Pig, and 3) explore a local farmer’s market. The rest of the day was spent at Monmouth Manufacturing, though Adam and Ronan were nowhere to be seen. Ronan had been spending more nights at St. Agnes than Monmouth, though, so Gansey wasn’t surprised. All went as usual.

It was on his second full day back that Gansey realized something had happened during his week away.

After a lazy morning, everyone was gathered once more at Monmouth Manufacturing to go for a trip to the Barns. Ronan had volunteered to drive the BMW.

Adam and Gansey followed the other two as they headed out of the apartment, watching amusedly at the scene unfolding. Blue had thrown herself sideways into Ronan, and despite her size, she’d managed to knock him off balance for a moment.

“Hey, asshole, cut it out,” he growled, mussing the colorfully clipped mess of her hair affectionately.

Blue huffed and attempted to shove his hand away. He redoubled his efforts. She ducked away, but he followed, and it quickly escalated into a chaotic tussle.

“‘M gonna shave it all off,” came Blue’s muffled voice from behind Ronan’s arm, “just to spite you.”

Adam laughed. The sound made Gansey grin.

“I’d shave it for you if you asked nicely.”

“No way. It’s a punishment, not a reward.” By this time she had freed herself and was grinning breathlessly back at him as she jogged up to the Beemer.

Then Blue climbed in shotgun.

Ronan was unfazed by this. He hopped into the driver’s seat, and Gansey saw rather than heard him answering her quip.

Gansey, however, was not unfazed. And neither was Adam, if the slight frown and amused quirk of his lips when he turned to meet Gansey’s eyes was any indication.

Gansey could only shrug and follow Adam into the back seat.

Blue rode shotgun in the Camaro more frequently than Ronan or Adam did these days, and on the rare occasion that any of them ended up in Adam’s piece of shit car, she had as fair a shot as either of the others. But if Ronan was driving, it had always been Gansey or, more recently, Adam in the front. It wasn’t that Blue and Ronan weren’t close—they were just about as close now as any of them, and it made Gansey’s heart feel like it was swelling up three times it’s regular size, like the Grinch’s in the old cartoon he and Helen used to watch every December. But Blue had never attempted riding shotgun in the Beemer if either of the others were along, and Ronan had never asked her to, and something about it felt significant when she casually swung herself into the front seat.

It was practiced, Gansey realized as he buckled his seatbelt. It was easy. What had Ronan and Blue gotten up to while he and Adam were away?

He didn’t have to wonder long.

Ronan wordlessly tossed Blue his phone, and she hooked it up to the aux that he’d dreamt to work in the BMW. This, too, was practiced and easy. Blue even knew his phone password.

Just as they screeched out of the parking lot, some kind of music that Gansey could only call aggressive blasted through the speakers. It wasn’t the murder squash song, which he appreciated, but it also wasn’t all that much better. It was all angry electric music and yelling and loud, so loud, but Blue and Ronan were both yelling the words and head-banging, which he had never seen from either of them. It was so strange, he had to glance over at Adam for confirmation that he wasn’t hallucinating. Adam stared back at him wide-eyed.

For a while they only watched in silence, and Gansey almost felt as though he were intruding on some kind of private ritual until Blue turned and began to teasingly sing some of the lyrics of the next song—a horrible, upbeat electronic sounding one—at him. From the few lyrics he could understand, it was about carrying out a relationship over the phone. It was more than a little pointed, and he found himself blushing at some of the more explicit lyrics.

Some of his discomfort evaporated when she laughed delightedly at him and returned to dancing in her seat, replaced by fascination.

Finally, Adam broke in, yelling to be heard over the music, “Can someone please explain what is going on?”

Ronan met his eyes in the rearview mirror and shouted back, “We’re going to the Barns, Parrish. Where have you been?”

“Or do you just mean like, the state of the world today?” Blue asked, turning to face him. “Because you will not believe what’s going on with climate change.”

“I mean the state of my good ear, which is on the verge of becoming my other bad ear. The hell are we listening to?”

Blue lowered the volume just enough that they could speak without having to shout, warding off Ronan’s dirty look with one of her own. “Our playlist. I wanted to name it “emo to the excreamo,” but Ronan kept insisting on names that were objectively terrible and we couldn’t compromise so now it’s a sad nameless little playlist.”

“For the record, ‘songs to commit crimes to’ is the perfect name.”

“It doesn’t make sense! I can’t commit ecoterrorism while blasting Britney Spears.”

“Not with that attitude you can’t. You probably shouldn’t even fucking bother with the ecoterrorism if you aren’t gonna blast Britney Spears while you do it.”

Gansey’s head was spinning. “There’s Britney Spears on this playlist?”

“Obviously,” Blue shot back over her shoulder. It did not seem obvious to Gansey given that the current song was some kind of angry electric rock and that the playlist had been made by Ronan Lynch and Blue Sargent, but then again, nothing else about their current situation had seemed obvious to him ten minutes ago, either.

“I can’t blast anything as bop-worthy as Britney Spears, or I’ll get caught and then I won’t be able to commit more ecoterrorism.” This Blue directed at Ronan. “You must be a terrible criminal.”

“Fine. ‘Songs to get murdered to’ works just as well.”

Blue punched him in the arm. “That’s insensitive! Gansey’s been murdered!”

Ronan barked out a surprised laugh at that. “Yeah, by you and your kiss of death, Maggot.”

“For the record,” Gansey interjected, “Jane’s kiss of death was vastly preferable to the thousands of hornet stings.”

“What a compliment.” Adam raised an eyebrow and looked from Gansey to Blue.

Ronan snickered. “Congrats, Sargent. Kissing you is slightly better than getting stung to death.”

Blue’s reply was interrupted by the sound of “it’s Britney, bitch,” from the stereo, which sent her scrambling to set the volume to its previous ear-bleeding level.

They carried on like this for a while, Ronan pushing 20 over the speed limit and Blue scream-singing lyrics to songs that almost all had to do with sex, cars, or both. Gansey thought the one about a dreamer in a Beemer seemed a little on the nose, and sentiment Adam voiced moments later.

“I can’t help it if I’m someone’s muse,” came the reply. Blue snorted loudly, and Ronan reached over and pinched her on the exposed skin between the top of her knee socks and her ripped shorts. She slapped his hand and squirmed away.

At one point, Blue sang (if you could call it that, when it was really closer to talking or shouting but set to music) the intro to a song that began, “Hey you lil piss baby,” leaning across the center console to get in Ronan’s face, without missing a single word. In fact, Gansey realized, she knew at least some (if not most) of the words to all of these songs, and he wondered just how many times they’d listened to them together.

The fact that they had coordinated dance moves and established which of them sang specific parts when there were back and forth elements solidified for him that the answer was…many, many times.

This coordination was amusing for the most part. An amused smirk played across Adam’s lips as he watched their stupid dances, and Gansey was just ruminating on how happy and carefree both of them seemed, open in a way he rarely saw from either of them, when their performance jolted him out of his reverie.

Blue was moaning. Loudly.

It was part of the song, of course, the singer’s desire to — like rabbits, with a moan in place of an expletive, blaring over and over through the speakers. Ronan was singing along with the rest of the lyrics. Blue contributed the…interjectory sounds, and apparently took this role very seriously.

When her eyes, glinting mischievously, met his in the rearview mirror, he realized she was doing this on purpose. To mess with him. His mouth finally caught up to his brain, and he spluttered a scandalized, “Jane!”

She threw her head back and cackled gleefully. Ronan fist-bumped her. Gansey’s face felt hot.

“I think you’ve become a bad influence, Lynch,” Adam shouted, but he was failing to suppress his smile.

“If anything,” Ronan shot back, “Sargent’s been a bad influence on me. She’s the one that found most of these songs.”

Gansey wondered at that. He wondered all through the suggestive and outright explicit of the next song as well. He wondered at Blue’s ability to sing along without so much as a blush, all while he tried very hard not to think on any of the images his mind conjured up in response.

But of course, she was dauntless and outspoken in everything she did. He smiled at the mental image of her playing these songs for Ronan, ranting all the while about how women in media are sexualized for male gratification but expected to keep themselves modest and pure, the double-edged sword that is the masculine perception of female sexuality, and raging against the vilification of the women who wrote songs expressing that sexuality while men could objectify women in their song’s as much as they pleased. Gansey wished he could’ve been there for Ronan’s response.

None of that made the upbeat, electronic excuse for music any more aurally appealing, unfortunately.

One song ended with sudden bursts of horrid, metallic clashing sounds at a volume so painful that he, Adam, and even Blue covered their ears. She reached to lower the volume, but Ronan slapped her hand away.

“Come on, Ronan,” Gansey yelled, “this isn’t even music! It’s just…screeching!”

Ronan threw a wolfish grin at him over his shoulder. “I know. It sounds just like the Pig when she breaks down. Does it turn you on, Dick?”

Gansey let out a deep sigh, but before he could defend himself, the song had changed and Blue had let out a little excited yelp.

“I just remembered!” she gasped, grabbing for Ronan’s phone. “Henry gave me a song to play for you. You’re gonna love it.”

Ronan sneered. “I don’t trust Cheng’s taste in music.”

Blue only waved her hand dismissively and fiddled with his phone until a new song, not dissimilar in style to the rest, was playing. A few verses in, Adam began laughing, a full, joyous laugh rarely heard and positively contagious.

“It’s perfect for you, Ro,” he gasped out.

Ronan had to concede that a song about only answering the phone for your boyfriend’s personalized ringtone was rather fitting, even if Henry was the one to recommend it. He didn’t fight Blue when she added it to the playlist, and his threats following her announcement that she was making the song Adam’s ringtone were halfhearted at best.

Looking from Blue and Ronan’s bickering to Adam’s gasping laughter, Gansey tried to take in and file away every detail. He wanted to be able to look back on this moment when they were spread out across the country, to remind himself that the separation was only temporary. His chest felt like it was going to burst.

By the time they got to the Barns, it was his eardrums that felt like they were going to burst.

“Next time,” he groaned, stepping out of the car and into the Virginia summer heat, “I’m bringing ear plugs.”

#oof haven't written any fanfic in a long time #i'm out of practice and not used to these characters y'all #but this idea has been living in my head rent free for like...a week #caroline writes #bronan #the gangsey #the raven cycle #trc #trc fic

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Promises - Chapter Five

Chapter Summary:  Salaciously the seduction goes down.  The situation and the proposition have Bucky feeling uncomfortable.  What can he do when he's simultaneously offered something he's always wanted and put in a position to lose it all?

Warnings: Drunkenness and bad flirting.  Did I mention the flirting is terrible XD

PROMISES MASTERLIST  |  MAIN MASTERLIST  |  MOBILE MASTERLIST

Belated Prologue Pt 4 - The Proposition

In the morning, Bucky woke up to the smell of coffee brewing.  Izzy stood in his open-plan kitchen hunched forward and leaning against the counter for support.

She must be feeling real rough, Bucky thought.

“Morning.”  His voice was croaky with sleep.

“Morning.”  Izzy didn’t even have the energy to be startled. “Coffee?”

“Please.”  He sat up and allowed himself a moment before standing to go to the bathroom.  The last thing he needed was to be exhibiting morning wood to his guest.  “There’s bagels in the fridge.”  He said from the bathroom before closing the door.

 Izzy looked cute with her hair all tousled, and ridiculously comical with mascara smears under her eyes. Bucky smirked at her when he accepted the mug of coffee from her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”  He smirked again as she checked her reflection out in the chrome surface of the kettle.

“Oh, fuck you!”  She rolled her eyes and turned her back.

“How you feeling?”  He asked after his cup was half gone.  His caffeine levels were directly proportional to the amount of socialising he was prepared to do first thing after waking.

“Peachy.”  Sarcasm exuded from her tone.   “I had a wonderful night.”

“Yeah you seemed to be enjoying yourself until some point down the I495.”  Bucky smirked into his cup.  “Wanna tell me what happened with Brad?”  He’d gotten the drunk version last night but the sober version would be more reliable.  “Was it really that bad?”

“It’s not bad like ‘I propositioned my best friend for sex’ bad or anything like that, but it’s pretty bad.”

Bucky didn’t know whether to laugh or be shocked.  So he did both.  Practically inhaling his coffee and spluttering into the cup.  It wasn’t exactly a voluntary choice.

Izzy looked concerned for a moment until Bucky held his hand up to say he was ok.  He wiped the coffee off his chin before looking at her with a sad smile.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.” She had tears in her eyes.  “You were so good to me and I had to go be a pathetic, whiny, needy mess.  I didn’t mean to push any boundaries.”

“I meant what I said.” He spoke quietly.  His heart was hammering in his chest; excitement, terror, and more.

“Huh.”  It was more a surprised noise than a query.

“I said I’d think about it. And I would still do that.”

“You also said you’d get a pinky promise tattoo so is that still on the cards?”  She laughed mischievously.

He could tell it was a deflection and he didn’t care.  He’d have her however she chose to be with him, obviously the more of her time he got, the better.  He’d get a tattoo for her, no questions asked.

“What if it is?”  He teased back.

She laughed, grinning big. “Oh Barnes, you’re so gonna regret saying that.”  She tried to hide her amusement in her cup just like he had, but her smile made her eyes twinkle in just the right kind of way that had him staring at her, wishing she’d look at him like that for ever.

“Yeah, yeah, bring it on!”

 The tattoos became a reality.  They both got the word promise tattooed on the inside of their right pinky finger in the Izzy’s cursive handwriting.  Steve became part of the pact too, which made Bucky feel it was a little less special but he approved nonetheless, and it did take some of the tension out of it for him. Having her handwriting tattooed on his skin bound her irrefutable to him.  He needed only to glance at it and he got a tingly feeling in his stomach. It was like her mark on him, permanent and heart-felt.

It was a couple of weeks after that when the whole friends with benefits thing came up again.

 Izzy was at Starks with a few of her girlfriends from the office.  The tall blonde with a huge rack had been hitting on him at the bar all night and, although Bucky had no qualms bedding someone who pursued him that hard, he didn’t want to mess with any of Izzy’s friends or colleagues.  He loved and respected her too much to do that. Despite the blonde being salacious, he had to decline.

Bucky came over to the table to collect empties and to check in with Izzy.

“You good?  Need anything?”  He asked, leaning over to scoop up a few bellini flutes.

“We’re getting table service from bar manager Barnes?”  Izzy was practically flirting with him.

“You came over to see me, didn’t you, sugar?”  The blonde, Claire, said as she seductively trailed her finger around the rim of her glass.

Bucky laughed short and nervous, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly before his tongue made a quick pass of his upper lip.  He felt so damn uncomfortable.  A quick glance at Izzy revealed her amusement.

Well, this is going to get more awkward before it’s over.  He thought with a sigh.

“Would you be a darling and rustle up a couple of my favourite cocktail?  No one in the whole of New York makes them like you do, Buck.” She bit her lip purposefully, glancing down to his mouth and back up to his eyes.

He frowned slightly. Very confused.

What the hell kind of game was Izzy playing?  This was uncharacteristically flirtatious, forward, predatory, whatever the hell you wanted to call it; this wasn’t normal.

Bucky nodded slowly.

“You better leave me a good tip though.”  He winked at the other women, suddenly feeling like it was a game he’d been enlisted to play.  He didn’t want to make Izzy look stupid so he decided he’d bite.  “You ladies got to appreciate a man with skills.”

That got a titter of giggles from them all.

 Delivering the cocktails himself had been a bit of a mistake.  The ladies insisted Bucky sit with them a little while and Izzy was more than happy to continue tormenting him.  She teased her cocktail straw with the tip of her tongue before taking it between her lips for a sip, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure, a little nasal moan escaping before she swallowed.

His palms were getting sweaty just watching her.

“You’re so hot.”  One of the ladies said, leaning in to touch his thigh.

Bucky laughed, looking down and shaking his head, embarrassed.  Women had told him that before but he’d never sat at a table with the girl of his dreams and had other women try to bed him.  This was all too much.

“That’s the cocktails talking.”  He deflected.

“Cock-what?  Yes, please!”  Someone said, earning themselves a round of lewd laughter.

There was no hint of jealousy in Izzy’s face or her body language.  It was like a neon sign to him that she didn’t feel anything other than something platonic for him.  She was watching him, intrigued and mischievous.

“Just feel how hard that is.”  The woman said, inviting the others to touch his leg.  “All that perfectly toned muscle.”  She sighed.

“What would it take for me to have you in my bed tonight?”  The blonde, Claire, was relentless.

Bucky blushed hard, laughing again as his nerves got the better of him.  Izzy shouldn’t be okay with this, he was supposed to be her friend and he was uncomfortable as hell in this situation.  He wished he hadn’t played along in the first place.

Shaking his head and with a bashful smile he could barely make eye contact with any of them. Blushing hard he protested. “Stop… You’re making me blush.”

That earned him a round of ‘awww, so cute’ from them all.  He really couldn’t win.

Izzy’s eyes hadn’t left him and when he stood to leave, making excuses of tending bar and cleaning up, she followed him to the bar.

“Can I get you something?” He was a little short with her but she didn’t notice.

She had seemed only tipsy at the table but now he saw she was pretty damn drunk.

“Remember that conversation?”  She said playfully.

“Which one?”  They’d had thousands of conversations over their many years of friendship, he probably could remember all of them but he was clueless as to what she was getting at without a pointer or two. “The one about the end of the world? Who we’d have on our team?”  That was one from a couple of days ago.

“No.”  She was deadly serious now, it gave him chills.  “In your room, the night you picked me up from Long Island.”

“Oh.”  Suddenly the air was oppressive and his mouth dry. “Um, okay, yeah.  What about it?”

“I’ll be wanting your answer now, Barnes.”

He kind of liked this side of her, boldly asking for what she wanted.  The way she looked at him then sent a tingle over his scalp and down his spine right to his cock.

This can’t be happening.

“Right now!?”

“Right now.”  Her lips curled subtly in a lopsided but flirtatious smile.

“You’ve been drinking and I would hate to take advantage…”  Bucky trailed away as Izzy shook her head.

“Who’s taking advantage?” Her laugh was bright and completely her.  “You did not just see yourself get torn to pieces by that pack of lionesses over there.”

She had a point but still, he wouldn’t feel right about this at all.  It had to be sober or nothing.

“What about the rules?” He became aware of a customer waiting. “One sec.”  He gave Izzy a placatory look.

 Bucky filled the order and came back to her a few minutes later.  She’d finished her drink and pushed the glass towards him, slowly, her fingers trailing up the stem through the condensation on the side to the rim where she circled with her index finger.  Her tongue slowly traced her upper lip as she stared him down.

Christ!  She was trying to seduce him.  Not trying.  Succeeding.  What the hell was this?  What had changed?

“Rules, you say?” Even her voice was pitched lower, more sultry.  “I can do rules.”

Maybe he should just tell her that she didn’t have to make all this effort, that he was hers already and always would be, for as long as she wanted him to be.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”  He chuckled ironically.

“So it’s a ‘yes’ then?” Was that hope he saw glint in her eye?

Had he said ‘yes’? His answer should be no.  Their friendship might get ruined and then he’d be without her in his life at all.  But then again what if she grew to love him, was that not worth a risk?

“Conditional approval, pending suitable rules.”  He couldn’t help the playful smile that spread across his face.  “And sobriety.”

Izzy was smiling too and she looked stunning, stood there with flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes. Maybe drunk was a good look on her, hell every look was good on her.

I’m so fucked.

“You’re gonna make me wait for it?”  She teased but seemed more than a little disappointed.

“Damn right I am.” Bucky flirted.  “I’m not the sort to put out on the first date.”

“You totally are!” Her head dipped forward as she laughed, snorting like a pig in the middle which made them both laugh harder.

“Alright, alright, so maybe I am.”  He chuckled as she came down from her laughing fit.  “But you shouldn’t.”  And he was serious again.  “Text me tomorrow when you’re not drunk.”

Izzy actually groaned in frustration.  What had gotten into her?

“Now, go on!  Scoot.” He flapped her away from the bar with both hands.

His face burned but not as much as the fire in his chest.  Simultaneously terrified and excited, he could barely focus on his work for the rest of the night.  Tony grumbled that he wasn’t giving the customer his full attention, and the old man was right, Bucky wasn’t.  He put on a smile when his whole soul was racked with bewilderment.  He didn’t know if he wanted her to forget what she’d asked of him or if he wanted her to take this idea of hers in both hands and never let it go.  One thing Bucky knew for sure, he was never going to be able to say no.  Not to her.  Not ever.

Continue to chapter six >>>

A/N:  I just want to say thank you to anyone who is reading this.  I kind of feel like this things is a giant flop or that Tumblr still hates me and won’t let any of the chapters for this show up in searches.  But if you are reading, I won’t let this be a forgotten work because the story is so close to my heart.  If I do lapse though, feel free to kick me up the arse.

Tagging @renxzs​ because you are so invested already and I love you for your dedication to this thing <3

#bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky x ofc #friends to lovers #bucky barnes fanfic #promises #my writing

[redrobinfection]

(15) Horror Movies

SociallyAwkwardFox’s Spooktober - Day 15 “Horror Movies”

JayDickTim | Established Relationship | Horror Movies | They’re not always scary but they can still put you in weird headspace | Sleep Deprivation | (brief) graphic descriptions of horror scenes | Panic Attack | Want to write with me? Find the prompt list here!

~*~

Tim loves his boyfriends. So, so much. But one thing that Jason and Dick both love that Tim just can’t wrap his head around: horror movies.

They’re watching one right now, the third of a trilogy Jay and Dick love, and Tim is sandwiched between them on the couch, feeling faintly ill.

Jay and Dick are the kind of people that get that something from a horror movie, the adrenaline or the enjoyment of their terror or whatever it is that hooks people. Tim isn’t and he gets nothing but is a sick feeling in his stomach and the impression that all the color has been sucked out of the world.

It isn’t the scenes themselves that get to him, because as terrible as it is to admit, he’s seen and experienced thing just as terrible, maybe worse, in his time as Robin. All of them have. Brutal serial killings, human trafficking tragedies, figurative and literal monsters left and right, not to mention the rogues. A run-in with Scarecrow’s fear toxin? That would make most horror movies seem like a pleasant summer picnic. Chasing and being chased by Killer Croc in the sewers in the dead of night? Monster B-flick gold. And the Joker? ‘Nough said.

No, for Tim it’s more about the way the scenes are presented - the cold, dark filters; the unnatural lighting; the haunting music and grisly sound effects. It turns a factually horrifying scene into an garish exaggeration, like a scene from one of his nightmares - you don’t fully believe its real, but it still strikes a chord deep in your psyche.

He can handle one movie. Easy to shake off. Maybe two, in the daytime. But tonight they watched three, using their one night off from patrol to stay up into the wee hours of the morning–as if they would ever think use that time to catch up on sleep or something.

Three-quarters of the way through the third movie, Jason notices Tim getting twitchy and asks if he’s okay.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just getting late. I keep nodding off and then every time someone screams, I jump awake again,” Tim tells them, playing it off with a laugh. Dick and Jason laugh with him.

“No problem, Babybird, we’re almost done. We’ll let you sleep in peace soon enough.”

“Did you mean 'rest in peace’, Jaybird?”

“Ugh, Dick, staaaahp.”

They laugh and kiss over Tim’s head, then come at him from both sides when he makes a disgruntled noise for being squished between them, showering him in kisses and noogies and awkward side hugs. The warm moment of affection between the three of them almost distracts Tim away from the grim mood affected by the movies. Almost.

When they settle down into bed an hour later, Tim snuggled between the two of them–all of Dick’s limbs wrapped around him and Jason drooling onto his shoulder–the sick feeling, mental and physical, doesn’t budge. Tim spends the rest of the night staring up at the dark ceiling, mind circling the imagery of the movie in endless spirals. He closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep when Dick gets up at 4:30 to pee, and again at 5:15 when Jay startles awake for a few seconds at the sound of a car alarm blaring down on the street. When they all get up at nine the next morning, neither Dick nor Jason seems to be the wiser to his deception.

Tim spends the next day exhausted, but makes up for it with a jam packed schedule–keeping busy always helps–and copious amounts of caffeine. That night he goes out for a quick patrol, then turns in early, hoping to make up for lost sleep.

He can’t. He’s still awake, his mind bombarding him with the images of a decapitated zombie child crawling toward a screaming young woman in the grey rain as “mama, mama” whistles in the wind; the sounds of a man sobbing as he clutches his dead partner in the snow–her womb torn out messily–and the smells he imagines a child clinging to their mother’s green, long-dismembered corpse would experience when Dick comes in at three AM. He’s still awake–and pretending he’s not with every Bat-trained skill he has–when Jay comes in a half hour later.

He’s seen just as bad in real life–and how messed up is it to say that?–but here the imagery is also accompanied by such a deep sense of sorrow, lasting pain and depression. Lives, minds, souls ruined. He’s still wide awake as dawn begins to light the sky. He extricates himself from their sleepy dogpile while Jason and Dick are still in the deepest stages of sleep and heads down to the gym to get a few hours of training in to pump him up for another exhausting day.

He struggles through day two, barely functioning as he makes his way into night three. He volunteers to stay on comms for the night, citing some bullshit excuse about a sore ankle he wants to rest to keep Dick from worrying and Jason from asking too many questions. He stays up late, working on case docs, hoping that if works himself to utter exhaustion that he can just pass out at dawn. He tells Dick and Jay he’s doing it to make up for not going out, and they seem worried, but he promises he’ll rest in the morning.

He doesn’t. Daylight doesn’t bring any relief from the wild thoughts and images that pop into his head any time he tries to quiet his mind. He pretends to nap on the couch until Jay and Dick leave, then goes into Wayne Enterprises and works late.

He goes out as Red Robin that night–night four–but turns in early after he gets a call from Alfred asking about unexpected telemetry from the vitals sensors in his suit–racing pulse, high rate of respiration. He excuses himself with claims that he’s in a bit of pain from his “sore” ankle. It’s a lie. His body and his mind are hitting their natural limits, his anxiety levels increasing and his organs screaming for rest. He meditates for the rest of the night, feeling somewhat refreshed the next morning.

Day four is like a bizarre dream, time zooming past or crawling by in fits and starts. He loses his appetite and even coffee starts to lose its appeal, the smell of it making his stomach twist. By five PM swears the shadows at the corner of his office have started to ooze toward him and he jumps at every little sound.

That night he skips dinner, disables all telemetry in his suit, and goes out for solo patrol. Just a loop around his territory. Then he’ll stop, take a sedative, and pass out for twelve to fifteen hours. Sweat it out as the drugs force him to stay under no matter what nightmares may come.

His patrol is patchy, if that makes any sense. Some moments he is clearly aware of where he is and what he’s doing, and then there are whole stretches of time that are total blanks. Halfway through his loop he gets sidetracked to a neighborhood outside his scope after he hears about of a drug deal going down outside a middle school.

He handles the would-be dealers–high schoolers dealing to middle schoolers who were lucky Red Robin caught wind of the deal before Red Hood did–then retires to the roof of the school for a breather. He sits down between two AC units and lets his head fall back against one for a few moments…

—

Tim slowly comes awake to the sounds of quiet conversation around him, gentle fingers combing through his hair, and a soft bed under him. He blinks his eyes open, squinting in confusion at the overhead light of the room he shares with Jay and Dick. Who left the lights on? Wait, why is he in his uniform? Did he forget to take it off before he dropped into bed?

“Dick. Dick, shut up a second, I think he’s coming around. Tim? Timmy? You with us?”

Tim turns his head to the side with a grimace. His neck is sore like he slept hanging off the side of the bed half the night.

“J-Jay?”

The hand leaves his hair and Tim turns his head minutely to see Dick sitting beside him on the bed, running both hands through his own hair, expression a blend of relief and worry.

“Holy cow, Tim, you scared the crap out of us. What were you thinking?” Dick demands of him. Tim blinks, confused.

“Whoa, whoa, ease up, Dickie, give 'im a sec to reboot, 'kay?” Jason chides, settling down near Tim’s bare feet–-oh, someone removed his boots, gauntlets, belts and cape and unzipped the collar of his suit. He rubs a soothing circles into the arch of one foot. “Hey, Timbo, you know where you are?”

“The 'partment,” Tim answers slowly. Did he hit his head on patrol?

“Yeah. You know what time it is?”

Tim blinks. It’s dark outside, so he knows it’s nighttime, but when he tries to think back to the last time he remembers he can’t get it straight. He was on patrol? Which patrol? He can’t remember. Did he get drugged? Shot?

“No? You know what day it is?”

He doesn’t. He starts to panic. What happened to him? He tries to sit up.

“Easy, Tim. Just rest for a minute,” Dick soothes, easing him back down with a hand on one shoulder. Tim flops back, heart racing. He’s missing something, something important, something awful he should remember.

“Breathe, Tim, don’t force yourself,” Jason chides. Dick’s hand returns to his hair and Jason lies down beside him, now rubbing circles into his exposed hand.

Dark spots cloud his vision and he starts to shake. Why can’t he remember? Now that he’s more aware, why do his joints ache and his limbs feel like they’ve been filled with cement? Why does he feel so cold? Is he dying? Is he dead?

“Jay, he’s hyperventilating.”

“No shit. Timmy? Tim? Breathe with me okay?”

“Breathe with Jason, Tim. Nice and slow.”

“Hey, fo– on m–”

“Ti–”

Their voices fade out along with the sensation of fingers feeling for a pulse and hands pulling off his suit. Darkness fills his vision until there is nothing left but the darkness.

—

When Tim comes around again it’s with a hiss for the bright overhead lighting of the Batcave’s med bay. You’d think with all their resources they’d invest in a light dimmer at some point.

“There he is. Rise and shine, Timbo,” Jason’s voice calls from his left. He groans and tries to squeeze his eyes closed.

“Ah, ah, ah, no falling asleep again until you endure the wrath of Big Bird and Alfie. They’ve got a lot of choice words for you, Babybird,” Jason chides, squeezing his hand. Tim tries to curl onto his opposite side but freezes with a gasp when a sharp twinge in his right arm informs him of the IV inserted there. The numb, slightly clammy feeling on his right index finger speaks to the presence of a pulse oximeter clip. Did he get injured, he wonders?

No. Bit by bit, Tim’s head clears and snatches of memory come back to him. He’d been on patrol. He stopped to rest. No dinner. No sleep. Wayne Enterprises. Disabled telemetry. Solo patrol. The teenaged dealers. A middle school.

Disabled telemetry. Shit.

“H-how long was I out?” Tim asks, croaking around the dryness of his throat. He turns back to Jay in time to see Alfred and Dick walk into med bay, expressions stern and relieved in equal measure. Jason snorts at whatever expression Tim makes in response to theirs.

“About a day, in and out of it,” Alfred replies smoothly, voice cool and unamused as he raises the back of the bed to help Tim sit up. “You gave Masters Dick and Jason quite the fright, not to mention myself, going out alone and under the radar the way you did. I thought we had taught you better than that, Master Timothy.”

Tim shrinks in on himself. You know you’re in trouble with Alfred when he calls you by your full first name. “Sorry, Alfred. Dick. Jason. I haven’t really been myself the past couple of days,” he admits, thinking back on the past week. He cringes internally as he thinks about their last free day and all the stupid things he did in the resulting funk.

“I imagine you wouldn’t be, skipping meals until you passed out from exhaustion,” Alfred lectures sternly as he deftly removes the IV and pulse oximeter. Dick looks sad and disappointed. Jason looks unconvinced.

Tim shakes his head. “I wasn’t skipping meals - mostly - I just wasn’t sleeping very much.”

Dick raises his eyebrows. “Define 'very much’? Why weren’t you sleeping?”

“Uhhhh, well… not at all?” Tim replies shrugging with an apologetic grimace. Alfred shakes his head as he leaves med bay and Jason’s eyes blow wide. Dick makes a sound of indignation.

“Not at all?!” Jason echoes. “What the hell, Babybird? What were you thinking!”

Tim scrubs his hands over his face and deliberately ignores the question in favor of asking one of his own. “What happened? I remember stopping to rest on the roof of Parkview Middle and then briefly waking up back at the apartment.” He looks around the med bay then takes stock of himself. He feels fine now, but he vaguely remember feeling like he was dying the last time he was fully conscious. “Did I get hurt?”

Dick doesn’t look happy about the redirect, but shakes his head and takes a seat on the edge of the gurney. “Well, after me and Jay got home at four AM, realized you weren’t there, and found your suit was missing, we called Alfred and Babs to see if you’d been out that night.

"Alfred said he hadn’t heard from you, and neither had Babs, but she eventually tagged you in a couple of surveillance feeds along your route. We tried to call you on comms: nothing. Then Babs tried to find you on live surveillance: still nothing.” Dick’s expression is dark and his eyes drill holes into Tim.

“We were freakin’ out, Timmers,” Jason continues. “Like, did you get hurt? Did you get kidnapped? We tried to check your telemetry and got fuck all. No vitals, no location. Dickie here was nearly shittin’ himself thinking you’d gone and gotten yourself killed or somethin’”

Tim’s face heats up in shame.

“In the end we pulled out the nuclear option and activated your subdermal GPS beacon,” he explains, gesturing to the stretch of skin on Tim’s arm under which the small capsule resided, a measure they all–Bruce included–agreed to take in order to avoid situations just like this one.

“We found you on some random-ass roof four blocks off your route, passed the fuck out. When we tried to check on you, you nearly cleaned Dickie’s clock, kicked me in the cup–it still hurt, even with the cup, so thanks for that–then tried to throw yourself off the roof. After we got you to calm down and wake up a bit, you seemed to recognize us, understand where you were, and we escorted you home.

"Everything was fine until we got into the apartment, at which point you threw yourself across our bed, cowl up and belts on, and passed out again,” Jason explained, rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness of it. “You weren’t outwardly bleeding and your pupils reacted appropriately to light, so we thought you were just a little tired or whatever. When you woke up again, you were disoriented as fuck and freaking out. Then you went completely non-responsive and we freaked out. We brought you down here just to make sure you didn’t have a brain bleed or a punctured lung or something.

"A million scans and some bloodwork later and Alfie concluded you that probably hadn’t been taking care of yourself,” Jason concludes, pinning Tim with a severe look of his own. “And now we’re hearing from you that you haven’t been sleeping?  Cough it up, Timbo. How long?”

Tim clears his throat and shifts his legs restlessly.  “About five days.”

“Five days!” Dick exclaims, jumping up from the end of the gurney. He rounds to the other side, across from Jason. “Why?”

Tim shrugs and looks away. “I dunno, I just haven’t been able to fall asleep. I couldn’t shut my brain off.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you had insomnia?” Dick asks.

Tim shrugs again. “What would you be able to do about it?”

“Make sure you didn’t do something stupid like stay up all night filing reports or go on patrol with all your tracers turned off, probably,” Jason replies wryly. He stands up, bracketing Tim between himself and Dick. He narrows his eyes.

“You know, I can tell when you’re keeping something from us, Timbo. Spit it out. What’s been so heavy on your mind that it hasn’t let you get a wink of sleep for nearly a week?”

Tim tenses and curls in on himself subconsciously. “Nothing. It’s not important.”

Jason laughs mirthlessly and Dick frowns. “If it’s important enough for you to lose sleep over it, then it’s important to us,” Jason insists.

Tim mumbles under his breath, avoiding eye contact.

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles a little louder.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, Timbelina,” Jason belts loudly into his ear.

“It’s your damn horror, movies okay!? I couldn’t sleep after we marathoned that trilogy on our night off,” Tim shouts back, scooting down the bed and throwing off the sheet. He swings his legs over the side, stands up, and only sways a little as the room swims around him for a second.

“The movies? They scared you?” Dick asks uncertainly as he steadies Tim with hand around his upper arm.

Tim shakes him off. “No, they’re just depressing as fuck. We see enough horrible stuff in our line of work, so sue me if watching it presented in a way intended to be emotionally gripping as possible puts me in a bit of a funk.”

He moves for the doorway, pretending not to be embarrassed that his ass is hanging out of the back of his hospital gown, only to be stopped by Dick darting in front of him, closely followed by Jason. They’re both watching him with concern, worry, and a tinge of guilt. Tim deflates. This was exactly what he hoped to avoid.

“Babe. You never told us they bothered you,” Dick starts while Jason says, “A bit of a funk? It must really bother you if it’s keeping you up for days.” They look at each other, then Dick nods to Jason. Tim sighs.

“What’s really going on, Tim,” Jason asks.

“That’s really all it is,” Tim replies, crossing his arms. “We watched the movies, I didn’t sleep that night and then it kind of snowballed from there, the sleep dep feeding the funk.” Looking at it objectively, after a good night’s rest, he can admit that the situation never should have escalated past that first morning; he should have taken a sedative and a day off right then and there to avoid falling deep into the funk.

“Is it really that bad? Why didn’t you tell us you don’t like scary movies?” Dick asked, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. Tim groaned.

“It’s really not a big deal. Not usually. They don’t scare me, they just kind of… I dunno, haunt my thoughts for a while afterwards. You know how it goes; I overthink everything,” Tim admits, waving a hand dismissively. “And I didn’t tell you guys because I didn’t feel like being made fun of for being 'too scared to watch a scary movie’. Who would have believed me if I said they’re not scary, just emotionally disturbing?”

Dick opens his mouth like he’s going to object but Tim cuts him off. “No, don’t even try to tell me that you would. Look at Jay, at least he’s honest with himself.”

They both look at Jason, who is nodding along, looking chagrined. “Yeah, I’ll admit, if you’d said something, I probably would have teased you about it.” He gives Tim a look Tim can’t decipher. “You’re an odd one, Timbo, but there’s no arguing with the results. If it bothers you, it bothers you, whether it’s frightening or not. But if it bothers you so much, then why watch with us? You could have just told us you don’t like horror and gone to bed.”

“And not spend time with you guys?” Tim asks incredulously. “We get one night off together every two weeks, and you think I would just give that up and go to bed alone?” He shakes his head at them. “I put up with it because I wanted to spend time with you guys and I wanted you guys to do something you both enjoy. I didn’t want to be the wet blanket in the room that put a stop to that.”

Both Jason and Dick’s faces fall on hearing this, and in that moment Tim is done with this conversation. He tries to skirt around them, but Jason blocks his path.

“Move, Jason, I need to pee.” He does. IVs are great and all, but sleeping for twenty four hours through one, maybe two liters of fluids equals one very full bladder. He’s grateful Alfred didn’t stoop to inserting a urinary catheter just to punish him, even if it would have done him a favor in this one thing.

Jason crosses his arms obstinately.

“I will pee on you,” Tim warns.

Dick steps between them and places his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “Tim, it means a lot to us that you would put our enjoyment above your own, but it hurts a little to think you don’t trust us enough to let us know when something’s bothering you.”

“What Dick said,” Jason seconds. “Yeah, we’d probably tease you at first, but eventually we’d get that horror makes you uncomfortable and picked something else to do. We care about you just as much you care about us, ya know?”

Tim looks away, uncomfortable.

“Look, we’re not trying to blame the victim here, we’re just saying give us a chance next time, okay?” Jason clarifies, tone softening. “We deserve the opportunity to prove ourselves assholes or saints for ourselves, yeah?”

Tim snorts softly. “Yeah.”

They smile and Dick draws them both into a hug, sandwiching Tim between them. “Good. And we’re sorry, Tim. We should have noticed you weren’t having a good time and asked.”

“You did,” Tim admits, “But I told you I was 'just tired’ and you guys bought it. That’s on me.”

“Yeah, well, dealing with you–the guy who lies to Batman–we should have pressed the issue no matter how convincing you were,” Jason replies, pressing his face into Tim’s hair. “And you shouldn’t feel like we won’t take you seriously. That’s mostly my bad for teasing you so much.”

Tim presses his face into Jason’s chest and shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Dick says softly at his back. “But it will be.” Tim feels Jason smile into his hair and nod. He lets them hold him tight and close for a long minute.

“And no more horror movies around Timmy!” Dick exclaims belatedly, making Tim and Jason laugh.

“Definitely. We’ll save it for our solo dates, right Dickie?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Okay, this was nice and all,” Tim begins, squirming a little, “but I wasn’t kidding earlier; someone needs to let go now or I’m going to pee on Jason.”

“Eh, I’m fine with that,” Dick replies lightly.

“Dick, you dick!” Jason shoots back, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Stop making me laugh! I’m really going to pee on him!”

#my writing #christmasriverswrites #jaydicktim #spooktober 2019 #saf's spooktober prompts #polyamory #ot3 #my writing in the raw: barely edited #organic and covered in typos #does spellcheck count as editing? #tw brief mentions of gore #tw horror #tw sleep deprivation #tw panic attack #this is how I personally feel about horror movies; they don't scare me but i go into this horrible headspace and sometimes i just can't stop #thinking about how awful life can be sometimes #how messed up some psychological states get #it's not just horror; i don't like to watch a lot of fiction and non-fiction crime shows for the same reasons--i just overthink *everything* #maybe it's just me and i'm a weirdo but for the sake of fiction tim will be weird with me on this #this is four THOUSAND words. when. where. why. HOW. did that happen. it was supposed to be 800 max. *facepalm* #i betcha with the ''keep reading'' i'll get like 8 notes max #prove me wrong tumblr

[aarontalksmusic-blog]

A Top 30 Horror Movies

This is Halloween! This is Halloween! There are a lot of awesome horror movies, but I picked just 30 that qualify as my favorites. 

#30 - The Conjuring

So this movie isn’t perfect. The last 20-30 minutes kinda turn into a mess as the demon gets more confrontational. But, the first 90 minutes are a near perfect slow build of tension and smart visual storytelling. All the actors do a good job, even the kids. This movie has insured I never play Hide and Clap.

#29 - Paranormal Activity 2

In my opinion superior to the (still pretty good) original, PA2 moves faster than its predecessor and uses the audience’s curiosity against them in interesting ways. You’re always looking to the edges of the screen for something or someone out of place, and as the movie progresses, that curiosity rattles the nerves more and more.

#28 - The Hills Have Eyes (2006)

One of the only modern horror remakes that improves and expands on the original. The Hills Have Eyes hit when I was a junior in high school. It is gleefully gorey and deranged. People die in awful ways, and the protagonist (seen above) spends most of the last half hour drenched in blood. It’s a lot of fun if you’re into that sort of thing.

#27 - Event Horizon

Space Horror is a hard genre to get right. Event Horizon knocks it out of the park by getting the slow build right. There are gruesome and bloody images from time to time, but the majority of the movie is built on tension and dread. Having Sam Neill and Laurence Fishburne leading the cast adds some dramatic weight to the proceedings.

#26 - The VVitch

The GOAT 17th Century rural horror movie. This movie gets real weird and leaves a lot up to the audience’s imagination. The less said about it the better if you haven’t seen it. But, even for the 2010s renaissance of horror, this one stands out.

#25 - Hereditary

This is a list of my favorite horror movies, not the scariest. If it were “scariest” this would be top 10, maybe top 5. The second half of this movie is some of the most uncomfortable and relentlessly horrifying storytelling I’ve ever seen. Across just two feature films, Director Ari Aster has proved himself a master of the horror genre. We’re all worse off for it.

#24 - Return of the Living Dead

The first movie on this list that is more funny than scary, Return of the Living Dead is laugh out loud hilarious at times. Somehow, it still manages to be a more effective zombie movie than most serious ones. Great punk rock soundtrack and highly quotable, this is great for people who scare a little too easily.

#23 - Friday the 13th Part 2

Basically improving on the original in every way, Friday the 13th Part 2 is iconic even without Jason’s hockey mask making an appearance. The killer instead keeps a lumpy bag over his head the whole time. The movie lets you know early on that its going to be ridiculous, when the Part 2 logo literally smashes through the Friday the 13th title card. Great representation of the slasher genre.

#22 - Suspiria (2018)

I’m a sucker for lore in movies, and Suspiria is full to the brim with details that expand on the world. Led by great performances from Tilda Swinton and Dakota Johnson, the movie is highly intelligent and occasionally brutally violent. The fact that the director’s prior movie was “Call Me By Your Name” shows that he’s a talented filmmaker no matter the genre.

#21 - Halloween (1978)

Michael Myers is iconic. The music is iconic. Jamie Lee Curtis is an all-time great horror leading lady. Halloween is a must watch for horror genre fans. 

#20 - Get Out

This movie is so well written it won an Oscar. Get Out is both hilarious and brutally tense. The acting is awesome across the board. Who knew Jordan Peele would use his comedy talent to make a career in scary movies? 

#19 - Shaun of the Dead

A classic comedy filled with so many jokes that it takes about 3 watches to catch them all. Not scary in the least, but uniquely playful in the genre. Also made Simon Pegg a star. Nothing but greatness here.

#18 - The Descent

I’ll always remember my first watch of this movie. It slaps you in the face with trauma in the first 5 minutes. Then spends three quarters of an hour building tension and claustrophobia before suddenly becoming a solid monster feature. Though it fizzles a little at the end with some wtf moments, the first 3/4ths are very effecting.

#17 - Nightmare on Elm Street

Nightmare on Elm Street is just a cool as hell idea for a horror movie. It takes the occasional predictability of Halloween or Friday the 13th and flips it. The kills are inventive and visually interesting, the effects are very cool, and you get to see Johnny Depp get brutally murdered. win-win-win.

#16 - Saw

Saw came out at a perfect age for me. Seeing this movie at 16 was a great experience. Even as the sequels got worse and worse, the whodunnit nature of the original held up. People were literally drowning in gore by Saw 3, but this is a solid movie that knows when to tone things down. Great watch.

#15 - Evil Dead 2

By turns hilarious and unsettling, watching Evil Dead 2 allows the viewer to marvel at the special effects done on a shoestring budget. Bruce Campbell is an absurd and talented physical actor, and singlehandedly carries this movie into the hall of fame.

#14 - IT Chapter 1

Chopping the 1,000 page Stephen King book in half allowed the first half of the IT saga to thrive. Bill Skarsgard is a fantastic Pennywise, and the child actors all do well. A slightly repetitive series of scares keeps this one from perfection (and would be the downfall of Part 2), but its still an amazing peak of the genre.

#13 - Dawn of the Dead (2004)

Fast zombies. Zack Snyder directing before his head got too big. Hilarious musical cues. Apocalyptic imagery. This movie is one of the best of the zombie genre.

#12 - Fright Night (1985)

One of the most simply fun movies on this list, Fright Night is straight out of the mid 80s. It never takes itself too seriously, but it still has some good scares sprinkled in. An essential vampire movie, and the remake with Colin Farrell wasn’t half bad either.

#11 - The Omen (1976)

One of my early favorites, The Omen is another lore filled film that gradually ramps up the twists until the dramatic finale. Probably one of the least scary films on my list, its built on Gregory Peck being a great actor and a few pretty messed up deaths.

#10 - An American Werewolf in London

Another favorite from childhood, this is the best the werewolf genre has to offer. Made by John Landis who also did Animal House and Blues Brothers, American Werewolf balances 80s level of gore with award winning special effects and clever music (every song featured has moon in the title).

#9 - It Follows

One of the newest (and most original) movies on the list, It Follows is one of a kind. It’s terrifying, has great cinematography and halfway through the movie you have absolutely no clue how it will end. Must see.

#8 - Midsommar

This is absolute newest film on the list, and one I’m anxious to rewatch. Midsommar sets itself apart by being 95% in broad daylight and providing a wealth of backstory to the “bad guys”. Also Florence Pugh shows that she is an amazingly skilled actress, particularly in the final 10 minutes.

#7 - The Exorcist

^That guy is scary. He’s also only in the movie for like 3 seconds. Obviously this is a classic. If you haven’t seen it and like horror at all, it will still amaze you, almost 50 years later. I would’ve loved to be a fly on the wall when it was in theaters watching people lose their minds. Still a masterpiece of the genre.

#6 - The Blair Witch Project

I watched The Blair Witch Project for the first time alone in my room at age...I believe 14. That was a mistake. While the mistakes of the hikers become a bit hilarious on multiple rewatches, the night scenes are still tense af. The last 15 minutes are uniquely terror-inducing. Everybody’s seen this one, but if you haven’t, maybe watch it with the lights on?

#5 - The Evil Dead (2013)

This movie is one of the most intense and relentless horror movies ever. Nail guns, rusty knives, a turkey carver, a chainsaw, a machete: people get literally ripped apart in this movie. But, here’s the thing, its really really fun to watch. You’ll be out of breath when its over, but still.

#4 - Cabin in the Woods

Cabin in the Woods isn’t THAT scary. It flirts with scary. It has some shocking and frightening moments But mostly its a shitload of fun that plays on every trope of the horror genre. It also has one of my favorite final moments of any film on this list.

#3 - The Thing

Underappreciated upon its release, The Thing has become the standard by which body horror is measured. Its delightfully paranoid and lets the audience sit and think as gruesome deaths pile up. 

#2 - Alien

One of the first movies to terrify me, Alien is one of the greatest horror movies ever made. The monster design is iconic. The kills and set pieces are one of a kind. It has a kick ass female heroine played by Sigourney Weaver. What more do you want?

and finally

#1 - The Shining

YEAHHHHHHH Here’s a brief list of iconic Shining scenes: - An elevator full of blood - The old woman in room 237 - All work and no play make Jack a dull boy - The snowy hedge maze - Here’s Johnny - Danny’s vision of the twins - The house of horrors finale featuring the man in bear costume featured above and of course - REDRUM This movie is a masterpiece, made by one of the greatest directors of all time, starring one of the greatest actors of all time and based on one of the scariest books by the defining horror author of our time. Its damn near perfect.

[babydontherdme]

Tusk Part 2- Frat Parties are the Absolute Worst

Fandom- The Order

Pairing- Eventual ....???

Warnings- implied assault attempt. Werewolf stuff. That’s it. 

“Honestly, you didn’t strike me as the microbio type,” I stated, casting a glance over at Tara. She sat at her desk as she finished reviewing a powerpoint, grinning slightly at my statement. “Guess I’m just full of surprises,” she chuckled, shutting her laptop. Strolling over to the mirror of the dorm room, she reached and turned on the attached lights. She took a dramatic bow.

“Now, get over here. You can’t draw a straight line for shit, and I think you would look great with winged eyeliner,” She instructed.  I sighed, feigning exhaustion. Dragging my desk chair over, I sat down in it right before the mirror. Tara leaned back, hand on her chin as she examined me. Seeming satisfied with her plan, she dug into her makeup bag and got to work.

“So how did you get into paleontology?” She asked, quickly covering my face with some liquid. Makeup wasn’t my forte, I ended up making more of a mess of my face than I started with. Tara was bound and determined to see me through the struggle.

“Honestly, Jurassic Park.” I replied.

“Oh, so you wanted to dig up dinosaurs?”

“Yes, but now I want to dig up plants.”

Tara cast a confused glance at me before turning and getting different tools. “How do you go from being interested in dinosaurs to plants? I think it would be more fun with animals. Close your eyes now.”

“I know it sounds lame, but I loved my Botany class back at my community college.” Shutting my eyes, I continued “Besides, for research reasons. Plants are so much easier. Animals can move around and mess up the picture of an ecosystem. Plants are rooted in one space and don’t deceive you.”

Tara gave a hum of acknowledgement. “Never thought of it that way. Now open your eyes but look to your left.”

After several more minutes, Tara stepped back. Giving a quick glance over and moving my head several times, she smiled. “Looks good. Now what heels are you wearing with that dress.”

“So, it’s been a week… you know which frat houses to avoid by now, right?” I asked Tara as we down the Greek street. One frat house in particular sported a homemade sign made out of someone’s bedsheets, stating Freshman Daughter Dropoff. Gag. Puke.

“I don’t party that much,” Tara scoffed, rolling her eyes in amusement. “But I think I have a pretty good idea. Fear not, I will never leave you astray; my dearest roomie.”

She pointed to a dark grey house further down the street.

“That one there. See? Not total scum.”

It was around 11:30 pm when I felt my social battery reach reserve levels. I had been sitting in a corner for a bit now, hoping to see Tara appear after we split paths. But she hadn’t. I grabbed my phone and quickly typed out: Where are you?

Time passed further and no response or sighting of Tara. Sighing, I got up from my claimed spot. The house was packed with people talking and laughing, the sound of chatter almost drowning out the song that was playing in the background.

Stalked in the forest too close to hide I'll be upon you by the moonlight side Do do do do do do do dodo do do do dodo High blood drumming on your skin it's so tight You feel my heat I'm just a moment behind Do do do do do do do dodo do do do dodo

Making my way through the living room, I stuck my head into the kitchen. No, still not there. Maybe she was upstairs? Turning back around, I shuffled between the same social clumps I just managed to get through to get to the staircase.

In touch with the ground I'm on the huntdown after you Scent and a sound I'm lost and I'm found And I'm hungry like the wolf Strut on a line it's discord and rhyme I howl and I whine I'm after you Mouth is alive all running inside And I'm hungry like the wolf

I had to admit; I wasn’t expecting to hear Duran Duran at a frat party. But I was not exactly complaining. My trip upstairs was short due to the amount of bedrooms occupied for recreational use. I concluded that Tara would have at least sent me a quick victory text if that were the case. I made my way back downstairs.

I stepped off the porch, the song and chatter becoming a dull thud contained within the house. I checked my phone again, just in case. Still no response.

“Hey, it’s…Sorrel right?”

My head popped up at the mention of my name. Before me was Lilith, a classmate of mine from Evolutionary Biology. When there are only ten people in the class, you learn names pretty quickly. Draped over her was…Randall?

“Yeah. Hi Lilith. How are you?” I asked, flicking my eyes away from my confused gaze at Randall.

“I’m good. This is my boyfriend Randall,” she stated, Randall giving a short wave when his name was said. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m just trying to find my roommate. I haven’t seen her for a few hours and it’s radio silence as far as texting,” I said, biting my lip. I hated to admit I was worried, especially if it was for nothing. After all, Tara and I were adults. We could drink without faking IDs. Surely that meant I didn’t have to lose my mind over one unanswered text…right?

“Hey if you’re worried, we can help you look for her. Besides, safety in numbers.” Randall offered. He opened his mouth to continue when we all jumped at the sound of a shriek coming from the park. Randall and Lilith gave each other a knowing look, before breaking out into sprinting towards the shriek.

“Sorrel, stay here. We’ll be back!” Randall shouted over his shoulder.

“Wait, no! I’m coming with!” I retorted, trying to run after them. I stumbled, curse these death trap heels. Kicking my shoes off, I grabbed them and proceeded to run barefoot after Randall and Lilith. My feet would hate me tomorrow, but I had a bad feeling about this.

Eventually I caught up to where Randall and Lilith had stopped. I had no idea how both of them could run so fast, were they on the track team? Panting, I slowed down as I got to where they were standing and evaluating…Tara?

Tara stood between them, slightly swaying and hunched over. But the bottom half of her body seemed to be the opposite, stiff. I approached and my eyes cast down to her feet. Instead of the heels she had chatted my ear off about, all I saw were…roots?

“Tara? Oh man, what the fuck is going on? What’s with your feet?” I sputtered, quickening my pace to a slight jog. Randall and Lilith turned towards me as I spoke. Randall groaned and slumped his shoulders, rolling his eyes.

“I told you to stay put Sorrel,” He griped. His hand caught my shoulder and prevented me from getting closer to Tara. “Listen, I know you want to help but we’ve got this. Besides we don’t know exactly what type of…. thing, we’re dealing with here. So, you should stay back.”

I wanted to snap something back at him, what kind of nonsense was he spouting? But all I would look at was the roots that came up from the earth and twisted around Tara’s calves, rendering her immobile. What on earth was this? Lilith crouched down to get a closer look, an angry grimace crossing her face. She and Randall both stiffened and looked back towards the woods.

A few seconds later, I heard the noise that they had apparently heard. Two guys came out of the brush with smirks on their faces. Randall quickly stepped in front of me as Lilith did the same with Tara.

“Geez, can’t a guy do any magic without somebody interrupting the fun?” the taller one goaded. The second one brought out a blade and sliced the palm of his hand open, clenching it tightly as the blood ran down his forearm. He looked like he was muttering something, but what?

My focus on the two strangers broke as I heard a rumble, a growl coming from…Lilith? I watched in awe as her veins darkened and her eyes lit up. Wait... were her eyes glowing?! I found myself being backed further away by Randall, as my awe turned into horror. Lilith’s body was contorting, but before I could figure out the transformation, a bipedal canid burst towards the two strangers, pinning down the one with the bloody palm.

The snarky tall one screamed, before running away. Just as quickly as Lilith, Randall also transformed into the same type of creature and pursuing him. I quickly made my way to Tara, who was still swaying in a trance. This was not the kind of night I expected when Tara asked me to go to some party with her.

I heard a crackle come from below, I looked down to see the roots untangling from amongst themselves. Once straightened out, they receded back into the ground. Without the strange form of support, Tara collapsed. I jumped forward and caught her, preventing her from dropping face first into the ground. My ears registered no more commotion; monster or human. Tara mumbled nonsense in my arms as I shivered from the cold and my terror. What the hell was all of this.

I heard the movement of brush and saw Randall exiting from the tree line. He was partially dressed in pants and shoes. As he walked closer, he managed to pull the hoodie he was holding over his head and onto his body. The wolf, I mean Lilith, followed him. He turned to her and stuck out his tongue.

“Remember when you made fun of me for putting out clothes caches? Who’s the loser now?” he gloated. Lilith pinned her ears and growled at him.

“Um…excuse me?” I pleaded. They both looked at me, as if just now remembering that I bore witness to what had just transpired. Randall walked over and kneeled, looking closely at Tara.

“There’s a reason why I told you to stay back, but I guess we can explain on the way back to our house.” He took Tara from my arms and hoisted her up, looking at me expectedly. “She needs a certain type of help.”

“What kind of help? The kind that removes magical tree roots from your feet?” I snapped back, still bewildered by the whole event.

“Oh, so you know it’s magic! Good, you will catch on quickly.” Randall smiled. Lilith rolled her eyes and grumbled. Randall continued, “I’ll explain when we fix her. I promise. But she has to go to our place, because we have the supplies.”

“Fine,” I sighed. At this point I would go anywhere with them, considering the ass-kicking they just served those two creeps. Standing up, I grabbed my heels and stared at Randall. “Just don’t lock me in your basement, make me put lotion on my skin, none of that serial killer shit.”

“You’ll get along fine,” Randall smiled, adjusting Tara in his arms. “This way, it’s not too far from here.” He started walking further out into the woods. I turned to Lilith, who nodded her head as if to tell me to go ahead. I followed Randall, and Lilith fell in pace behind me.

#the order #the order netflix #theorder #fanfiction #the order fanfiction #randall carpio #randall carpio x ofc #hamish duke #hamish duke x ofc #lilith bathory #knights of st christopher #the knights of saint christopher

[heller-obama]

Operation Newsboy

I totally didn’t have time to publish this last night or this morning so I just decided to post both this chapter and the next one tonight. Also I start school tomorrow so these might be the last of the regular updates.

Oh, and when I was writing this story, the POV kinda sorta just changed from third person to first person and??? I think it works better??? So yeah sorry about that I was not about to rewrite the whole first part in first person.

Here’s the prologue, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, and chapter four if you hadn’t read them

Chapter Five

Words: 2,086

Warnings: the author is a lazy little shit, no others really (just wait till the next chapter)

Editing: the usual grammarly and read-through combo

***#***

The day went on. No (possibly) magical time assassins trying to murder a kid. Nothing that special happened.

Except for the fact that I was really hungry. By the time all of the papers were sold, I was nearly swaying on my feet like I was tipsy.

I was standing with Davey, Les, and Jack, and the latter was trying to make plans for the brothers.

Honestly, I was completely spaced out, trying to figure out how to cover all the boys tomorrow during the strike. I overheard Jack’s voice, sounding slightly uncomfortable, surprised, and off-put. “Oh, youse got folks, huh?” I could tell he thought they were orphans.

Les, innocent Les, spoke next. “Doesn’t everyone?”

I saw Jack shift nervously, and Davey said something quietly to his little brother.

Davey looked at me and Jack, with something between pity and uncertainty. Of course, he thought I was an orphan because no one told him I wasn’t. Heck, I hadn’t told anyone anything, so I could say I never lied. I just omitted stuff that was semi-important.

“Our dad tangled with the delivery truck on the job. Messed up his leg bad, so they laid him off. That’s how come we had to find work.” Davey explained, with his specialty mixture of pity and uncertainty clear.

Jack looked uncomfortable, like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Oh, ye-yeah, that makes sense. To-too bad about your dad, though.”

Davey had that look in his eyes that I was sure Jack saw a lot: the oh-you’re-poor-lemme-help-you look. “Look, why don’t you come home with us for dinner? Both of you. Our folks’ll be happy to have you.”

“Mom’s a great cook!” Les blurted.

I wouldn’t have minded it at all, especially if it involved food, but Jack looked like a deer in headlights.

“Ah, thanks for the invite. But I-I just remembered, I got plans with a fella! He’s probably waitin’ on me right now.” He looked at me, and it was as if his entire body screamed HELP!

I, stupidly, wasn’t looking for anyone suspicious. The only few minutes out of the day I wasn’t looking…

“Is that the guy you’re meeting?” Les yelled.

I looked to where the kid was pointing, and my (empty) stomach plummeted. There was a suspicious-looking guy, slightly resembling a mean pitbull with a mustache who was out looking for blood.

“Kelly!” Pitbull growled. Well, that rules out some anonymous time assassin, at least, I thought. It’s just your friendly neighborhood…pitbull…thug.

Jack’s face turned to one of terror. “Run for it!” He said to me and the two brothers.

We ran, me trailing behind to protect the boys who were so important to history. Sure, they might’ve gotten away originally, but with two time travelers on the table, all bets were off.

We kept on it, ducking and dodging through streets and alleyways, the early evening punctured with the Pitbull’s distant calls of “This way, officer!”, “Get him!”, or the insanely common “Jack Kelly!”

Finally, after ducking through a back door, Wally found himself in what appeared to be the backstage of a theatre.

“Slow down, I think we lost them.” Jack heaved. Davey and Les looked totally out of breath as well. I wasn’t that out of breath, because of my speedster reasons, but I pretended not to be that out of breath as to not raise any red flags.

“Does someone want to tell me why I’m running?” Davey protested, glaring at me. “I got no one chasing me. Who was that guy, anyway?” I shrugged. I mean, I honestly didn’t know.

“That there was Snyder the Spider. A real sweetie,” Jack said, with a level of disgust he didn’t think was possible.

“I thought he was more of a pitbull,” I said. Les smiled, but Jack wasn’t having it.

“He runs a jail for underage kids called The Refuge. The more kids he brings in, the more the city pays him. The problem is, all of that money goes straight into his own pocket. Just do yourself a favor. Stay clear of him and The Refuge.” Jack looked almost haunted as well as disgusted, and I wondered if he had spent time there.

A lady walked by below us. “Hey, you up there! Shoo! No kids allowed in the theatre!” I thought we were busted before Jack spoke up, all hints of Snyder and his unpleasantness gone from his face.

“Not even me, Ms. Medda?” He called charmingly.

She put her hands on her hips. “Jack Kelly?”

“Yeah!”

“Man of mystery! Come down here and give me a hug!” She called, clearly happy to see Jack.

He ran down and gave the lady, Ms. Medda, a hug. I made a mental note that, when he wanted, Jack could be really charming, inspiring, or threatening, depending on the person. You did not want to be on any side but his good side. Jack kept talking to Ms. Medda, charming her.

“Boys!” Jack said. “May I present to you Ms. Medda Larkin, the greatest star on the Bowery today. She also owns the joint.”

“The only thing I own is the mortgage,” she joked.

When I turned around, I saw Les, bent over double, gaping at two of the dancers.

Davey tapped Les on the back. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Are you blind?” Les retorted. “She got no clothes on!”

I hid a smile. I mean, I knew that 1899 fashion was a bit--scratch that, a lot--more conservative than 2018 fashion, but little Les was just so dumbstruck at the fact that the ladies were wearing just leggings and some kind of leotard. Oh, God, I thought, if only he walked around in the 21st century for even an hour…

“That’s her costume.”

“But I can see her legs!” Les sounded like he’d never seen a lady’s leg before. Although, in all honesty, he probably hadn’t.

“Well, step out of his way so’s he can get a better look.” Ms. Medda said. The performers struck a pose, revealing more of the tight leggings. Ms. Medda continued to say something about theatre being educational, but I wasn’t really listening, making sure no one was watching us.

Suddenly, a man with a mustache came running in. “Ms. Medda! You’re on!” He shouted.

“I am?” Ms. Medda said. “How am I doing?” She looked at the mustache guy, and then scoffed, and then looked at us, and we started laughing. “Boys, lock the door and stay all night. You’re with Ms. Medda now.”

We followed her to the curtains, Les and Davey watching from behind the curtain, but Jack and I snagged two seats. Ms. Medda continued to sing about being rich, but I wasn’t paying much attention to the words. Again. Oh, us millennials and our attention spans, I thought jokingly. But it was because Ms. Medda had an amazing voice. When the song was over, Jack gave a standing ovation, and I did, too. I mean, she did hide us from the cops. Well, I guess they weren’t cops. Abusive prison wardens?

“And now, gents,” she called, “let’s have a big hand for the Bowery Beauties!”

“Hey, Wally,” Jack said, poking me. “Look who’s here.” He pointed up to what looked like a theatre balcony.

I looked up and saw a lady sitting inside. “Wasn’t that the girl you were hitting on earlier?”

“Oh, yeah.” He had a stupid grin on his face. He ran up to Ms. Medda, who was now off-stage. They conversed quietly, and then Jack ran up to the ladder to the little balcony and climbed in.

I couldn’t hear them, but as they talked, Jack’s face varied from cheeky to downright flirty, and the girl mostly looked either uncomfortable or mocking. I smiled. She’s gonna have fun with Jack, I thought.

I watched the two of them, not exactly sure how it was going to play out. Well, until the girl yelled: “Do you mind?”

Some guy in the audience rapped his cane on the structure. “Pipe down up there!”

“You got in for free!” Ms. Medda called. “At least pay attention!”

Jack whisper-shouted something down, probably something along the lines of I’m sorry.

And then he, of course, started serenading her. Of course, he did. And…was he drawing something, too? I shook my head. Jack Kelly, the romantic. Who’d have thunk?

The song went along…and so did my attention. I have issues, I thought.

When the song(both Jack’s and the ladies’) Jack snuck down the ladder, not before leaving something on a chair.

He practically skipped over to Davey, Les, and I. After the brothers left, on our way back to the Lodge, then he started to boast about his serenading epicness.

“Did’ya see that? I’s got her hooked!” Jack whooped.

“You sure did, pal,” I said. Suddenly, the smell of a bakery wafted into my nose. “Hey, Jack? What’s that smell?”

Jack grinned. “Oh, that’s the Cooks’. Yep, they’s called the Cooks and they cook. If you’re hungry”--I could’ve sworn he heard my stomach growling--“they sometimes gives us a loaf of bread.”

“Well, I think you know the answer to that question, Jack,” I said. I fingered the dollars I took from the Waverider before dragging Jack to the street. There was about $20, which was a lot in this era, especially for the newsies. It was for an emergency, but if this wasn’t, I didn’t know what would constitute an emergency anymore. Jack started moving into the store, but I put a hand out in front of him. “Lemme try. They don’t know me.”

Jack shrugged. “Have at ‘em.”

I walked into the store, slipping my cap into my bag. A newsie with 20 bucks would raise all kinds of alarms. I walked up to the front, where a young girl was sitting, looking quite bored.

“How can I help you today?” She asked, looking like I was the most interesting thing that had happened to her all day.

I looked behind her at the vast shelves of baked goods, breads and pastries galore. “Uh, can I have ten loaves of bread? And one of the pumpkin loaves?”

The girl’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “You got money to pay for it?”

“Yeah.” She gave me a once-over, like ‘why can this kid afford ten loaves of bread?’ Then she shrugged. Business was business.

“$2.50.” She said, gathering the load of loaves.

I pulled out some money and gave it to her.

I just really hoped she didn’t pay much attention to the dates on the bills.

She handed me the loaves, and I put each in my bag. “Thanks,” I said, and flashed a smile at the girl. She just nodded.

I walked outside to where Jack was waiting. He looked at me and only saw the emptiness of my hands.

“Ah, youse struck out, huh? Well, sometimes they’s just want the Jack…” He trailed off when I patted my bulging bag. “No way.”

I smirked. “Yes, way. Ten loaves of bread, and one pumpkin loaf.”

“How’d you…?”

“She just was begging for business. I don’t think they sold a thing all day.”

“Good on youse! We’s’ll eat good tonight!” Jack whooped, patting me on the back.

We walked back to the Lodge, Jack’s arm around my shoulder. By the time we got back, the sun was nearly set. As soon as we opened the door, the newsies were on us.

“Where were youse?”

“We’s been waitin’!”

“We’s thought Snyder got youse!”

Jack held up his hands, and they all quieted down. “Now, me and Speedy was busy.” He took my bag of bread from my hands. “Seems ol’ Speedy ‘ere has got a bit of charm!” The shouts rang out again.

“Is that bread?”

“WOAH!”

“Did’ya steal that?”

“FOOD!”

“A’IGHT!” Jack yelled. “All of youse get some! Obviously!”

Jack and I distributed the some of the bread to the newsies, and only after we finished did Jack take any. I assumed that was normal, knowing Jack.

The boys all got a large chunk of bread, and against Jack and I’s protests, the boys insisted we share a whole loaf.

That night, all of the newsboys at the Newsboy Lodging House went to bed with full stomachs.

I hope that doesn’t screw with the timeline.

You know what? Screw the timeline. Just seeing the joy on those kids’ faces when they realized they didn’t have to go to sleep hungry was enough.

#Jamie writes stuff #operation newsboy #newsies #jack kelly #Katherine plumber #medda larkin #legends of tomorrow #Wally west #fanfic #fanfiction #writeblr

[littlemarvelfics]

Come Back... Chapter Seven

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: about 2,100 Warnings: cheating mention, drinking kinda

A/N: Hello hello! There’s gonna be a second note at the bottom so check that out as well. Thank you as always for reading. Shoot me your comments or tag requests here. And check out the series masterlist here or my main masterlist here. Thanks y’all!

Previous Chapter

You pulled yourself from Josh’s embrace.

“Why are you here?”

“Why wouldn't I be? You wanted to spend time together right? Well, I'm here. Let's spend time together,” he responded.

You felt everyone's eyes on you as you battled what to do. Not wanting to cause a scene, you rolled your eyes and walked over to where Clint and Natasha were throwing darts. You could feel Bucky's eyes watching you but when you turned to look at him, he looked away.

The night continued on that way for a while, Josh seemingly always on his phone until you moved closer to Bucky, then he would suddenly be by your side, draping himself all over you. You could smell on his breath that he was drinking and from his movements, you could tell that he was already drunk.

You walked over to the bar and Josh followed behind quickly. You leaned over the bar and ordered yourself a Jack and Coke. Josh had set his phone down on the bar to get his wallet out and you happened to glance down. There, plain as day, you saw a texted from someone called ‘Alyssa’.

“Hey baby done with the gf yet? Come home to meeeee”

You could see that there was a picture attached to the message but you had no interest in seeing what it was. Josh looked over at you and he instantly knew something was wrong. Tears were forming in your eyes and you wouldn't look directly at Josh. He reached out and touched your arm.

“Baby? What's wrong?”

You slapped his hand away.

“Don't you fucking touch me. Who the hell is Alyssa?” You hissed.

“Who?”

“Don't you dare try and play fucking dumb with me! Who the fuck is Alyssa?”

“She's a girl I know.”

“And just how well do you know her?”

Josh started to answer but you cut him off.

“How long have you been screwing her behind my back?”

Josh sighed.

“A few months.”

“A few months? So all those nights with the guys? All those nights I was waiting in OUR apartment for you to come home, you were fucking her?”

“Yes but baby, I love you! She was a mistake. She didn't mean anything. I just slipped up. Me and you we started fighting and I slipped up. I made a mistake baby, please don't overreact.”

“I can’t do this right now,” you mumbled, turning to leave the bar.

You knew your group of friends were confused as you jogged towards the exit, you could explain to them later but you heard Josh calling to you as he followed you out. You just needed to be away from everyone else at that moment. Maybe some fresh air would clear your head. You weren't looking when you walked out the door, crashing straight into Bucky who grabbed your arms so you wouldn't topple over.

When you looked up at Bucky with tears in your eyes and running down your cheeks, his grip tightened on you.

“Y/N, doll what happened? Are you okay?”

You shook your head and tried to answer.

“I… um…. Josh he… and I…” you stuttered out.

He didn't hesitate before pulling you into his chest, holding you close in an attempt to calm you down. You heard a scoff behind you.  

“Of course. Of course, you run to him.”

Bucky pulled away from you and protectively moved you behind him.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” he said sternly.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to Y/N,” Josh replied.

By this point, Steve and Peggy had come outside to see if they could check up on you. Peggy spotted you with your head resting on Bucky’s back and a death grip on his hand. She rushed over.

“Y/N, sweetie, what's wrong?”

“Nothing!” Josh interrupted. “She's just being dramatic like usual! Y/N get in the car and let’s go!”

Bucky started to respond but Peggy beat him to it.

“I'm not talking to you, you sniveling little shit, so shut your goddamn mouth.”

She turned back to you and starting rubbing your back trying to get you to talk.

“He’s… he's been cheating on me,” you whispered.

That was all Bucky needed to hear. Steve saw the look in his best friend’s eyes and knew things were about to go from bad to worse quickly.

“Y/N, Peggy, let’s go back inside for a minute.”

You shook your head and pressed in closer to Bucky. He felt your resistance and turned around, putting his hands on your shoulders and leaning down to your eye level.

“Y/N, I need you to go inside with Steve and Peg okay?”

You started to protest when Bucky cut you off.

“Please, doll. We both know I gotta do this.”

You looked into his blue eyes and nodded slightly. Bucky looked over to Steve who put his arm around your shoulders and guided you back into the bar.

Steve sat you on a stool not too far from the door and grabbed you a glass of water. A few moments later, you heard shouting coming from outside and feet shuffling on the concrete. You knew exactly what Bucky was doing. He had never been a violent person. Bucky would never hit someone for anything they did to him. But God help them if they did anything to someone he cared about.

Not long after the shouting started, there was no more noise coming from outside. Bucky came bursting through the bar door, chest heaving and looking around frantically. When his eyes landed on you he walked over quickly, settling his bruised hands on your arms.

“Are you okay sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I just don't wanna be here anymore,” you sighed.

“Okay, I’m taking you back though.”

You just nodded and jumped off your bar stool. You quickly hugged Peggy and Steve while apologizing for the mess. They quickly brushed it off and said they would see you at the wedding tomorrow. Bucky kept his hand on your lower back as he guided you over to the truck he had been driving while you had his Jeep. He opened the passenger door for you and waited for you to slide in. You hesitated.

“Buck? I don't wanna be alone tonight.”

He smiled.

“Alright doll, come back to my place.”

You settled into the car with Bucky and he started driving. The radio was playing softly in the background and you smiled. The song that was playing was the same one that you and Bucky had your first ‘real’ kiss to all those years ago. You glanced over at Bucky and judging from the smirk on his face, he had been thinking about the same thing.

It didn't take long for you to arrive at Bucky's home. It was a beautiful smaller house, painted a light gray with white trim. The yard was neatly kept and you expected the inside looked the same. You were proven right when Bucky opened the door and gestured for you to go inside. He said something about getting clothes and left you alone to wander around. You looked at the books on his living room table, the art hanging on the walls before you spotted a mantle full of pictures. Some were newer and some were older, Bucky had pictures of his family and friends and upon closer inspection, he also had a picture of the two of you up.

It was at a bonfire, although you couldn't remember much about that exact night- they had all started to blend together through the years. You did remember how you and Bucky had become the subject of this particular photo. Wanda, always a sucker for anything vintage, had gotten a Polaroid camera earlier in the week and had spent most o the night snapping pictures of everyone. This picture was a little on the blurry side but you could tell it was you and Bucky. You were sitting on a bench together, you face tucked into his chest, laughing at something someone had said and there was no doubt about it, the boy in that photo was in love with that girl. He was looking down at you and grinning. Even though the blur of the photo you could see it in his eyes. He was madly in love with you.

“That's my favorite picture of us,” Bucky commented, making you jump since you didn't hear him come up behind you.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “It’s really nice.”

“Here,” Bucky said, handing you a pile of his clothes. “I thought you might want something to change into so you were a little more comfortable. The bathroom is around the corner if you don't wanna get naked in my living room.”

You chuckled and mumbled a ‘thanks’ before heading in the direction Bucky had indicated. As you walked into the bathroom, you faced the mirror and took in your reflection. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying, your makeup was running everywhere and your hair was a mess from running your fingers through it. You sighed deeply. How had things gotten this bad? You knew Josh wasn't the best guy anymore but you didn't think he would cheat on you. Deciding not to dwell on it, you splashed some water on your face and used a few tissues to try and remove your makeup. You looked in one of Bucky’s drawers and found a hair tie so you pulled your hair back and up out of your face. You changed into the clothes Bucky had given you, a soft old tee shirt and sweatpants, then headed back out to find him.

He was sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He was wearing sweatpants similar to yours and tank top which drew your attention to the scarring on his left shoulder that you hadn't seen before. Bucky noticed you observing him.

“Happened when I was overseas. A blast went up, burned my shoulder pretty bad. Could've been worse though,” he said to answer your silent question.

You moved across the room and sat down facing him, tucking your legs underneath you. You glanced at the TV and noticed a rerun of Friends was on.

“How are you doing?” You started. “After coming back from all that I mean.”

“It was really bad when I first came back. I had night terror almost every night. I still have them sometimes, and my anxiety is probably a lot worse than when we were kids. I don't think any of it will ever completely go away but I've learned to cope.”

“I’m so sorry Buck. God, I just abandoned you. All of you. But you went to war and I just never checked on you or Steve.”

“Hey don't apologize for that. I hurt you and you had every right to be mad at me. I know I don't deserve a second chance with you. Even if it’s just as friends.”

“I said before all is forgiven, Buck. I meant it. Everything just got so messed up. I left this town and maybe I left part of myself here,” you sighed.

“Can I ask you something? Two something's actually?”

You nodded.  

“Why’d you quit writing? You were so talented Y/N. And why did you ever start dating that prick?”

“I don't know why I stopped writing. I told myself and everyone else it was a money thing. And that's at least a little true but it was more than that. I think I was so scared of failing that I just never tried. Because you can't fail at something if you never try to succeed at it,” you answered honestly. “As for Josh… he wasn't always this bad. He was so sweet until we moved in together and I thought that maybe that was just what happened to people who lived together. And maybe I started believing all the stuff he was telling me. So I stayed. Because it was easier than facing the fact that I met the love of my life when I was eight and I had already lost him.”

Bucky had taken your hand while you were speaking and with his free hand he wiped away the stray tears that had begun to fall. You leaned into his touch and smiled a little. Bucky leaned in towards you and. You reciprocated his gesture. Just before your lips were about to meet, there was a pounding at his front door.

Bucky sighed and shook his head.

“Hold that thought doll.”

You watched as Bucky got up off the couch and walked over to answer the door.

“James Barnes?” A gruff voice asked.

“Yeah, that's me. Can I help you?”

You couldn't see who Bucky was talking to but you could hear the confusion in his voice.

“You need to come with us. You’re under arrest.”

Next Chapter

A/N(2): CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT THIS ENDING?! What do you guy think is gonna happen to Buck? Let’s chat!

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[boarix]

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part XIII

Let Me Go

Trigger warnings: canon language/violence/gun, drug and alcohol use. Suggestive/mature content

Bloody mess warning!

Game spoilers!

Please enjoy

 “My dad’s old Highwayman would’ve come in handy right about now. Are we sure we’re still on ninety-five? I figured there would be a little more asphalt than this. ”

A week out from Sanctuary, Wraith’s caravan had been traveling in almost nonstop rain and the road was thick with mud.

“Was that a truck? I’d think we’d need some big tires for this slop, ya feel me?”

“Nothing can stop a Highwayman!” Wraith did her best impression of the spokesperson but then frowned to herself when she realized she was the only person to have actually ever heard the original commercial.

“I’d rather have a vertibird… fly above all… nngh… stupid… wet… CRAP!” Falling over sideways, MacCready lay defeated and motionless as the ever helpful Dogmeat licked his face.

Deacon fished him out, smiling at the cork-like pop, “No thank you, I’d rather not.”

“How long, in a car would this trip have taken anyway?” Hancock crouched slightly, “You want me to give you a piggyback ride, MacCready?”

“Naw man, I’m all gross and… oh… very funny.”

Laughing at them, Wraith snapped her fingers, “I don’t even have the heart to tell you. A Blitz would have gotten us there like that.” She smiled as she reminisced, “Plus they had those really cool gull-wing doors!”

“What kinda doors?”

Raising her arms out to either side, Wraith bent her elbows and spread her fingers like pinions on a wing, “Like this.”

“I know what it means, sunshine. Wanted to see if you’d make a silly pose.”

“I’m not silly! I’m a majestic shorebird.”

A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as Deacon enjoyed listening to and occasionally joining the trio’s banter. However, while maintaining the Harley character he had to be careful about breaking into his establish Deacon-the-funny-guy routine; laughing too loud or too frequently. Successfully gaining enough muscle mass to almost completely change his physicality, along with a full, red beard and without his glasses, he was completely unrecognizable even since Valentine’s wedding. Hancock, MacCready and Wraith had been consistent with calling him by his alter ego and he along with the five synth refugees all remained safely anonymous.

“Yes general, this is the highway. Behold your tax dollars at work.”

“Well… I’m gonna write my congressman…” Wraith slowed to walk next to Deacon, letting Hancock and MacCready move ahead. “Are we going to be able to stop in Baltimore? Or… whatever it’s called now. Or do we have to skip it like Philly?”

“There’s not a whole lot to see if we do stop; there’s some small trading stations that pop up in the summer but we might be early yet.” Deacon’s smile broadened as Hancock, noticing Dogmeat struggling in the mud, hefted the pup and carried him against his chest like a child, “We might have left too early in general… General. I haven’t seen spring rain like this in ten years.”

“Are we… talking about the weather like old people?”

“The weather will do more than… dampen our spirits. Time is a concern.”

“We wouldn’t want to get sick… being under the weather would slow us down.”

“If L&L sent a party after us… their rain of terror would…”

“Ugh, no! That’s stretching.” Wraith play-punched his arm.

“Oh? Couldn’t think of another one? I guess I won that round.”

Careful! Harley wouldn’t be this familiar. Tune it back…

Making note of the sudden shift in Deacon’s body language and tucking her chin, Wraith whispered her concern from the corner of her mouth, “L&L, huh? I thought you found the last two…”

“Later.”

 MacCready had found a small rise that was relatively dry and despite the fact that it was still a good two hours until sunset, the caravan stopped for the night. After making sure the brahmin were sound, everyone was being fed and watch shifts were selected, Wraith broke away to meet with Deacon.

“Hey, that’s my trick!”

Wraith doubted that she had actually been able to sneak up on him. “You’re being kind.” Folding her slender legs under her, she propped her back against a wretched-looking tree, “How much will you tell me?”

Seating himself on the opposite side of the trunk, Deacon’s voice was low, “My contact in Underworld is Tulip. Captain Sally and The Bruiser are still at large.”

“I thought Hancock’s network had found them.”

“Shit happens.”

Not for the first time, Wraith berated herself for leaving the Railroad, “I should have stayed. Should have finished…”

“Not everything that happened or will happen is your fault, Pippa. Fuck’s sake!” Genuinely annoyed, Deacon leaned around the oak to glare at her, “Dial down your ego for two seconds and you’ll realize the Earth doesn’t fucking revolve around you!”

“Holy shit! What the fuck was that for?!”

With Wraith’s angry frown inches from his own, Deacon had an impulse to kiss her. Letting the image carry him away for far longer than was healthy, he felt heat on his face.

Shit! FUCK! SHITFUCKDAMN!

“…are you?” Clearing her throat, Wraith sat back on her heels, “What was that? Please, tell me what…”

“No, Wraith.” In one fluid motion, Deacon rose to his feet, turned and melted away into the evening shadows.

 The insects were becoming a problem. The rains had finally let up but the further south the caravan progressed the warmer it got and the swarms of bugs were insufferable. Ranging in size from annoying to lethal there was a growing concern over the amount of ammunition being spent.

“Goddamn bugs!” Hancock seemed especially agitated and would routinely spend his daily allotment of shells, “Someone take my gun from me; I can’t help myself!”

“You could always just stab them…”

“Hey, that’s right!” Brandishing his beloved combat knife, the ghoul licked the blade with a mad light in his eyes.

“Or, or you could take some Day-tripper and we could strap you to a brahimn for the rest of the trip.”

Hancock made a show of being torn between ending all bug life at the end of his knife, or enjoying a nice high, “Gee, Harley how will I ever choose?”

Surprised that he would play along, Deacon’s confusion mounted when the lanky mayor draped an arm across his shoulders, “What’s got you so… friendly?”

“Wraith’s been lower than brahmin udders since she snuck away to chat at ya.” Hancock pulled the other man close to whisper in his ear, “And you’ve been even lower, brother. You kids feuding or what?”

Alarmed to know that his mood was affecting his body language, he straightened his back. Feeling uncomfortable under the ghoul’s arm, mostly because he enjoyed the contact, Deacon shrugged and was able to side-step away. He chuckled, “Damn, you are just as dangerous as she is.” Still feeling the weight of Hancock’s touch and angry that he had liked it, he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “I told her about the L&L setbacks; the false intel… more or less.”

“You tell her ‘bout the mole? About how I killed that fucker?”

“No Mr. Mayor, I didn’t. Because she’s not supposed to have to know about the Railroad and where I’m at or about whatever it is that I’m doing. I’m trying to give her one less fight and one less worry.”

“Well, you’re doing it wrong. Lyin’ has never worked with her.”

Annoyed, Deacon talked through his teeth, “Well, how exactly would you go about it?”

“Fuck if I know.” Folding his arms behind his head, Hancock walked away while whistling Keep a Knockin’.

 Hancock was whimpering. It wasn’t unusual for him to battle his demons in his sleep but it still made Wraith’s heart hurt. She pulled him closer to her and his eyes opened briefly. He smiled, thankful to be rescued and he laid his head against her chest.

“Fighting ninjas again?”

“Heh. Not this time, sunshine.” He yawned and nuzzled her breasts through her shirt, “MacCready and Dogmeat still on watch?”

“Yeah. I’ve gotta get up soon. We’ll do a swap-out so you won’t be alone for long.”

“Stay with me for a couple more minutes.” His voice carried a surprisingly high level of anxiety.

She kissed his head, “A bad one, huh? I can stay a little longer.”

“I’ve told you I love you, right?” His voice wavered, almost as if he had been crying.

“Yes, of course!” She squeezed him tightly, “And I love you. What was it?”

“Don’t wanna trouble you with it.”

“It’s no trouble. It was just a dream, right?”

“I… MacCready didn’t want to leave th’ Capital and you decided to stay with him. I… I lost you both.”

  “That you, Wraith?” MacCready was staring intently through his night scope, “You picking up anything on your fancy wristwatch?”

“No. Why?”

“I… my neck hairs are up… I don’t see anything but…”

“You feel.”

Lowering his scope, MacCready’s shoulders slumped, “That’s from that book again, isn’t it? You enormous nerd.”

Wraith gave Dogmeat a pat, “Puppy here seems to be relaxed.” She stuck her hand in MacCready’s back pocket to give his butt a squeeze, “Now, now. We have been through this; if you know what I’m talking about then you’re just as big a nerd.”

Returning the scope to his eye, he pretended not to notice her hand, “Darn it! I feel like I’m being stalked. Harley isn’t out there being a… messing around, right?”

“He’s out and about but he’s taking this all very seriously.” She checked her Pip-boy again, “I still don’t see anything. You sure it’s not just a case of the jitters? Tell you what; I’ll go do a quick sweep. The bad vibes are coming from the east, right? Hang tight.”

Moving silently through the scrub, Wraith calmed her mind for peak focus. Stopping every few yards, she strained her ears to listen for any minute change in the night sounds around her. Crisscrossing back and forth, she moved east until she reached a swamp and ran out of solid ground. Slowly standing in the moon-cast shadow of a large bolder, she held her breath and closed her eyes.

You never thought that maybe Mac would want to stay. You never thought that up until a couple of years ago his whole life had been in the Capital Wasteland and maybe he prefers it. What if Duncan refuses to leave and Mac doesn’t want to traumatize him by forcing him? What if Carol and Greta convince him not to take his son? What if he had been in love with Morningstar and when he sees her he’ll realize that you’re not as good? What if…

Dangerously close to hyperventilating, Wraith was able to snap herself back… just as the deathclaw hit her.

 “Light, GET SOME GODDAMN LIGHT OUT THERE!”

“How?! We don’t have a generator with us, Mayor Hancock!”

As soon as he heard the deathclaw’s roar, MacCready had raised the alarm and he and the dog sprinted off into the night. Now, Hancock was left to organize the pursuit and was terrified that his nightmare was coming true.

“Lanterns! Torches! Fucking sake! Let’s GO!” When Deacon made as if to follow, Hancock stabbed his finger at him, “Not you! Stay and protect the camp.”

His jaw clenched as he ground his teeth but he complied.

 Get up! Getupgetupgetup!

Able to gather her legs beneath her despite her lungs being devoid of air, Wraith ducked and dodged as the monster did its best to bifurcate her. She felt hot blood streaming down her face and she realized she had forgotten her armored hood back at camp.

I am such a shitshow!

The moon was full and so afforded her enough light to evade the monster’s swinging talons. Injured as she was, Wraith knew that she would tire quickly and needed to get on the offense. She expected that her companions would hear the beast’s bellow and attempt to come to her aid but she had traveled fairly far from camp. Even with the moon’s light it would take time to find her. Options seemed to be limited…

I need to slow it down. I don’t know how deep the swamp is but if I can get it stuck in the mud…

Weaving through a small copse of trees, she gained enough distance to grab a syringe of med-X and the bottle of Buffout from her pack. Bolstered by the chems, she unsheathed Kremvh’s Tooth and sprinted straight at the creature. Diving between its legs, she slashed its Achilles tendon as she passed and rolled to her feet behind it. Ducking under its tail as it spun around to pursue her, she sprinted for the water.

Leaping to a fallen tree, Wraith ran along its length and turned to mark the deathclaw’s progress. It seemed oblivious to the fact that its left foot hung by a strip of hide and she watched in horror as it gathered itself to jump to her log.

I’m drowning here! The only way this could be worse is if there were two…

A second deathclaw bellowed from her left.

Oh. Swell.

 Trying to keep up with Dogmeat, MacCready paid no mind to the branches whipping across his face. He was terribly worried that he hadn’t heard gun shots and he was attempting to convince himself that it was because she preferred melee weapons and not because she had been killed.

Has she lost her mind? Didn’t she learn anything from the last time?!

Man and dog rounded the bolder just in time to see the second deathclaw rear back and bellow its challenge. They then both watched in horror as the injured deathclaw leaped to Wraith’s log. She was catapulted through to air to land with an enormous splash, where she sank like a stone into the swamp’s dark waters.

Snarling as viciously as Dogmeat, MacCready quickly doubled back and climbed the bolder. Rifle in hand he sent shot after shot to the second deathclaw’s right knee as Dogmeat led it in circles around the rock’s base. The sniper cut through the beast’s leg like a lumberjack felling a tree and it collapsed heavily to its side. Dogmeat continued to worry it, preventing it from getting up and MacCready changed his target to the monster’s left knee. As soon as it was destroyed, the former merc whistled the canine away and tossed a grenade; finishing it off.

 Although her flight had been ungainly, Wraith had seen the deathclaw coming and so had been able to steel herself before being launched into the water. Unable to see through the silt, she swam to the bottom and headed back toward the shore, hoping to flank her foe.

The deathclaw had somehow tracked her progress and so dragged itself through the muddy water after her. Wraith surfaced right next to it and it lunged at her with its mouth open. Pulling her .44, she unloaded a full clip into its gaping maw. Her angle was bad however and so even though the wounds she inflicted would prove to be mortal, the monster wasn’t dead yet.

Frantically doing the backstroke, she was able to find footing enough to leap at the deathclaw with her blade leading the way. Landing heavily on its head she pushed the dagger through its upper jaw and pinned its mouth closed, roaring defiantly into its face.

The deathclaw plunged and shook; crow-hopping to try and dislodge her. With one hand on her weapon and the other on one of its horns, Wraith held on for dear life as the monster thrashed. Her substantial strength still augmented by the Buffout, it should have come to no great shock when the creatures horn came away in her hand. Losing her grip on her weapon’s blood-splattered hilt, she was once again flung into the water.

Moonlight reflected through the great spray of blood, clearly defining its crimson hue. The deathclaw stood with its head raised and arms spread wide, almost as if it was appealing to the moon for mercy. Then with a deep, mortal groan it fell dead.

MacCready stood motionless in complete shock. When Wraith surfaced, sputtering and cursing he realized he had been holding his breath, “Are… ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“GrrrrrrrAWWRRR!” Splashing and growling, Wraith kicked at the beast’s head before retrieving her dagger. Then, suddenly spent, she flopped onto her back in the mud, “Ugh. I think so.”

Dogmeat ran to her and setting his nose to her head wound, whiffled unhappily.

Wraith sheathed her weapon and reached up to run her fingers through the dog’s neck ruff, “I’m okay buddy. I… I think.”

“NO! YOU ARE NOT! YOU ARE BLEEDING!” MacCready had his med kit out in a flash.

“You have a flare gun, right? Do that first, okay?”

 The relief Hancock felt when he saw the flare was dashed when he saw MacCready hovering over Wraith as she lay on the ground. Unconsciously gripping his chest over his heart, he walked with slow, heavy steps to stand next to Dogmeat. “MacCready…”

Taken aback by Hancock’s stricken look, the young man waved his hands, “She’s alive! She’s a crazy monster but she’s alive.”

“Who’s a monster?!”

“Have you ever seen yourself fight?” MacCready bent to kiss her, his slight shiver evidence of his fear, “My knock-out, monster woman…”

Hancock kneeled in the mud and placed a hand on Wraith’s blood-caked forehead, “Did you pick a fight with two deathclaws all by yer lonesome?”

“No… I’m ashamed to admit they got the drop on me.”

“I distracted you. Got in yer head. Shouldn’t have told you ‘bout that dream.”

“It’s not your fault! Don’t… just don’t, please.” Wraith caught MacCready’s hand, “Don’t bother stitching me up; I have a couple of derma-fuses at the camp.” She sat up as the young man bound her head. “It’s a shame Bear isn’t with us; I’d have him skin these two… deathclaw armor would be super cool.”

“The one I got was an albino too. That’s pretty rare.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Hancock turned to one of the Minutemen escorts, “How ‘bout it Lloyd, you wanna help me set yer general up with some swanky new threads?”

“Do you have the right kind of knives for that?”

Placing his hand on his chest as if she had given him the greatest of insults, Hancock raised his voice to a falsetto, “Do I have the right kind of knives? ME?! You’re asking ME?!”

 It was the last night before the caravan reached the designated rendezvous at relay tower Kx-B8-11. MacCready and Wraith lay together in her bedroll and a nervous Wraith had not slept at all. Her mind was tormenting her with Hancock’s dream and she couldn’t shake the image of MacCready’s back moving further and further away from them.

“Wraith, you keep sighing…”

“Oops, sorry!”

Gathering her gently into his arms, MacCready kissed her temple, “What’s the matter?”

“What’s Morningstar like? Fahrenheit calls her a ‘beautiful giant’ but I don’t think it’s a complement.”

“No, probably not.” MacCready laughed, “It’s accurate though. She’s about as tall as Hancock but like two of him across. Maybe three…”

“Were the two of you friends?”

“No...” The pregnant pause suggested otherwise and it was his turn to sigh, “Maybe… It’s kinda complicated.”

“Tell me a story, Mac.”

“Sure, fine. It’s not like I’m gonna get any sleep anyway.”

“Yay.”

“Nyx is a nosy, goody two-shoes. She’s a busybody who can’t seem to leave sh… stuff alone.” He rolled away from her onto his back and stuck an arm behind his head. “She came to Little Lamplight so she could get into a vault. I helped her out and then I couldn’t get rid of her. She said that she owed us. I told her to… leave us alone.”

“You told her to fuck off?” She could see him smile in the dark.

“Verbatim.” His smile grew larger, “She didn’t listen, of course. She would bring supplies; food and clothes and stuff. When I turned sixteen and left she offered me a job but I was… stupid and told her ‘no thank you’.”

“Fuck off, part two?”

“Yeah. I thought I could make more money, faster with the Gunners. Looking back… I acted like such a idiot kid.”

“Mac, you were sixteen! That is a kid.”

“Not in the wasteland.” His smile gone, he looked sadly backward in time, “Then I found out that she had cleared Lamplight out and set up an orphanage in Megaton. I was so angry… but I don’t know why. Honestly, it was pretty amazing what she did for those kids. She gave them a chance to be... well… kids. That didn’t stop me though. I went and told her exactly what she should do with herself.”

“The return of fuck off, part three the sequel?”

“After Duncan was born, Lucy…” MacCready swallowed, hard, “Lucy said I needed to make peace with her. I… refused.” A rim of moisture gathered at the corner of his eye, “I was still being…” Unable to continue, a large tear traveled down his cheek.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to keep going.”

He sniffled and reached out to pull Wraith to his chest, “No, it’s okay. After I lost Lucy, I got… dark. I would drop Duncan off at Underworld and take missions that… I don’t think Charon would’ve done.”

“Charon is Morningstar’s… bodyguard? Actually I’m not sure what their relationship is.”

“Complicated. I think at one point she owned him. They might be a couple but I honestly don’t know.”

“Owned?! Like… not like a slave?!”

“Like I said, complicated.”

“Oh… no.”

“After Duncan got sick I promised him that if he could hold out until I got a cure, that I would be a better person. I finally went to Nyx. She never even hesitated, just came to help me as if we were best pals. I took it completely wrong, like she was using this as another opportunity to show how much better she is. Ugh, I was such a bastard!”

“Stop being so hard on yourself.”

“You don’t understand. If you knew all the things I’ve done…”

“Hancock says that too. You both know perfectly well all the horrible stuff I’ve done.”

MacCready shifted himself and sat up, taking Wraith by the shoulders and looking in her eyes, “You two are different. You guys did that stuff to help other people. You both made sacrifices and hard decisions so that they could be saved. I did terrible things because I hated everything. I was joking when I called you a monster. I’m the monster.”

Matching his stare, Wraith cupped his cheek with her hand, “I don’t know if you’d ever want to tell me everything but I want you to know that I would listen. I love you. I always will.” She kissed him and gently set her forehead against his.

They sat that way, quietly for a few seconds until MacCready pulled slightly back. He stared, smiling into her eyes. His look morphed from adoration to lasciviousness and he ran his hands from her shoulders down her back.  Setting his lips against hers in a needful kiss, he tucked a hand in the waistband of her jeans to squeeze her butt.

“Mmmm, Mac… We have to… stop…” As her lover’s hands and mouth traveled across her body, Wraith barely had the presence of mind to protest.

“Think so? I can be quiet. I can be good and quiet.”

“Huugh… It’s even… more fun… oh mmmm… when you’re loud…”

 “Beacon has been activated… Harley.” Wraith was genuinely regretful at not being able to make a rhyme.

“Acknowledged, general. The Morningstar escort should arrive in less than twenty-four hours. Was there anything else?”

“No. Thank you soldier, you are dismissed.”

Wraith frowned as she watched him walk away. She had made several attempts, during the last days of travel, to engage with Deacon. She understood the need for his alter ego but was disappointed that he was no longer allowing himself to be friendly.

I make jokes and laugh with all my people. Probably more than what’s appropriate but… This is so different than any other mission. He’s so different… even from when we left Diamond City.

 “General, Morningstar has been spotted. She should be here in about twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Lloyd.”

The sun had barely risen the following morning but Wraith had been up all night. Both Hancock and MacCready had tried to calm her but her anxiety had turned Nyx Morningstar into some sort of boyfriend-eating gorgon.

And then she was come.

At well over six feet, she was perhaps the tallest woman Wraith would ever see. Morningstar wore heavy combat gear with a custom, lion-like helmet that was heavily inspired by gladiatorial armor. Lifting an arm, she waved as her group crested the hill. When she removed her helm her impressive mane of blue-black hair poured forth like liquid night. Her large, gold eyes smiled in a truly friendly manner as they surveyed Wraith’s group.

“Hey there, butt face.”  

MacCready stood, flanked by Hancock on his left and Wraith on his right, “Hey mungo.” Swaggering up, he stuck out a hand. Nyx clasped it firmly, then to his shock, pulled him to her and swept him off his feet to spin around in a whirling bear hug, “AAAAAAHHHH! PUT ME DOWN, YOU BEHEMOTH!”

After a couple more revolutions, she set him back on his feet, “I’m sorry R.J. It’s just so good to see you!” She turned her sun-beam smile onto Hancock and offered him her hand. “John Hancock, you old raisin! How are you?!”

Shaking her hand firmly he smiled, “Still sweet and wrinkly! You’re impressive as always, Morningstar. Speaking of impressive, may I have the pleasure of introducing Wraith, General of the Minutemen?”

Wraith lifted her chin and secured her face into her best I-need-to-win-over-this-jury smile, “I’m honored to meet you, Morningstar.”

“The honor is mine. And please, call me Nyx.”

“Only if you will call me Wraith.” Wraith turned her attention to the silent, tall sentinel standing slightly behind Nyx, “And you must be Charon. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” The entire hill top seemed to freeze as Wraith extended her hand to the mountainous ghoul.

To everyone’s shock he took her hand and offered her the tiniest of quarter grins, “The pleasure is mine.” Charon then turned slightly to Nyx with a slightly larger, tiny grin and a wink.

When Nyx saw Dogmeat her eyes widened and she took a knee, “Hello old man.”

The German shepherd sat and placed his paws on her leg. The two stayed in silent communion for several seconds before woman and dog rose to their feet.

Turning back to Wraith, Nyx was all business, “We should move soon. It would only be natural for my group to assist yours breaking camp. Lots of moving bodies can be confusing to those who may be watching.”

It suddenly occurred to Wraith that six of Nyx’s group very closely resembled Deacon and his five synth refugees. Nodding, she joined the throng of people and brahmin. Then, completely imperceptible to an outside observer, the two groups swapped costumes, as if by magic.

As the large caravan headed south, Nyx and Wraith walked together. Wraith’s mind was a whirl of questions but afraid that she’d be a pest, wasn’t sure where to start.

“Danse isn’t with you.”

Wraith jumped slightly, startled by the broken silence “No. I did ask him if he would like to come but I think he feels this chapter of his life is closed. Did you know him?”

“I know everyone.” Nyx’s smile somehow softened the egotistical declaration, “Not well, but I did meet him before Maxson whisked him away. I have a letter for him from former scribe Haylen.”

“Ah. She did end up quitting then.” Wraith somehow felt even more awkward, “You might find this a strange question but, is she… okay?”

“Wraith, to be clear; I am connected to the BOS but I myself am not an active member. I have an understanding with the elder. To be blunt, they owe me. A lot. As such, they understand that certain towns, settlements and people, are under my protection. Places like Underworld. People like the ghouls living in and around the Capital Wasteland. People like my super mutant friend, Fawkes. People like Haylen.”

The large women had unconsciously picked up her pace and Wraith had to practically jog to keep up with her, “Did they threaten her?!”

“Not at all. That whole… debacle, was a huge embarrassment and setback for the Brotherhood. You remain public enemy number one but Haylen will be fine. I have her doing medical research for me and she seems to be happy.”

“Speaking of medical research, I have a gift for you.” Wraith, eager to change the subject, passed her a derma-fuse, “It’s Institute tech designed to close lacerations.”

Nyx’s eyes took on a greedy gleam as she accepted the device, “Fascinating! How does it work?”

“I don’t actually know how it works but what it does is localized cellular regeneration. Dermis only, hence the name. I actually brought you two; one to use…”

“And one to ruin, trying to figure out how to make more?” The two women shared a laugh.

“Well, glad to see you are getting along.” Returning to the group after scouting ahead, MacCready flashed them a roguish grin.

“What of it, R.J? Why wouldn’t we? I happen to be a super-fun person!”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, right. What were you two talking about?”

“About how you’re a huge dork.”

“Oh, I’m huge alright. In all the right places!”

“Does that explain your enormous head?”

“Big brain.”

“I think you mean big ego.”

Despite the harsh volley of words, MacCready seemed to be enjoying himself, “Well, you would be the expert on gigantism and egos.”

Wraith, feeling out of place, dropped back to her more normal walking pace. Suddenly finding herself side by side with Charon, her feeling of awkwardness intensified to new heights.

“So, I assume this is normal? For them, I mean.”

“Yes.”

“Not to say it isn’t funny.”

“Sure.”

“Well. I um… guess I’ll go check on… brahmin stuff.”

 Wraith’s passage through the Capital Wasteland left her feeling nostalgic and sad. The ruins of The Mall were particularly emotional. Her nerves frayed by the journey and the imminent face-to-face with Duncan, she held Hancock’s arm as they walked.

“You’re gonna be fine, sunshine.” The ghoul kissed the back of her hand, “We’ll be back, all together in Sanctuary before you know it. One big, happy family; lots of weird aunts and uncles for the kids.”

MacCready sought them out just before passing through Underworld’s doors. “Whew! Here we go.”

The caravan members distributed themselves between The Chop Shop and Underworld Outfitters as MacCready, Hancock, Dogmeat and Wraith climbed the stairs to Carol’s.  Just beyond the door, flanked by his ghoulette aunts stood Duncan.

“Daddy!” Giggling, the small boy threw himself into his father’s open arms. “Daddy I’m a big boy! I poop in the potty and can come with you now! Auty Carol says so! Daddy… are you ‘kay? Daddy?”

MacCready had tried his best to hold back his tears, afraid that his crying might confuse or scare his son. Caught somewhere between sobbing and laughing he was making strange noises in his throat, almost as if he was being strangled.

“It’s ‘kay, daddy. Crying is ‘kay too.” Duncan had pulled back slightly and was now patting his father’s tear streaked cheek, “Daddy, does your tummy hurt?”

“He’s just very happy to see you, honey.” Tears ran down Carol’s face as well, “I’m Carol, you must be Wraith and Hancock. This is my wife Greta. Welcome to Underworld.” The ghoulette did a double-take, “Is that… that can’t possibly… Dogmeat?!”

“Look, Daddy! There’s a doggy! It’s a good puppy?”

“He’s… yeah buddy. He’s the best puppy.”

  Deacon sat at a barstool waiting for Tulip. After their tearful reunion, MacCready and company had settled down for the night and he had separated himself to wait for his contact to close her store.

“Do you have a Geiger counter?”

“Mine’s in the shop.”

“Harley, everything is all set. The packages will be distributed by Morningstar’s courier service starting tomorrow.”

“Well, all things considered that went remarkably smooth. Kinda waiting on the other shoe…”

“It’s funny you should say that. I need your help.” Tulip lowered her voice and set her hand suggestively on Deacon’s thy. “Follow me back to the shop.”

Maintaining character, Deacon slung his arm around the ghoulette’s shoulders and leaned into her as if too drunk to walk straight, “Ohboy, I thought you’d never ashk me!”

Morningstar’s imposing presence seemed to fill the store and she leaned toward Deacon with a predatory look that reminded him of a hunting lioness, “The L&L gang is here! They’ve killed Watts.”

“Victoria…” Deacon’s mind whirled, “Who’s running the show?”

“I want you to.”

It made perfect sense. He hated it. His mind reeled back from it, “Why can’t you…”

“Don’t do that. You know why!” Nyx folded her powerful arms, “I’m way too high profile. It wouldn’t have to be permanent. We need you to whip us in to shape like you did for the Commonwealth branch. Tulip has her hands full and,” She cast an apologetic glance to the ghoulette, “she has no leadership experience. It’s you. Take a protégé if you want. Train them… but it’s you.”

“You… you got me over a barrel.”

“I promised General Wraith that I would make sure Duncan MacCready makes it safely back to Sanctuary. I will not go back on my word. I will go… you will stay.” Her eyes softened at the pain in Deacon’s pale blue eyes, “I know you and Watts went way back. I’m sorry to throw this at you now but it just happened a couple of days ago.”

“Hancock’s network had been closing in. We knew they left but we had been misdirected north. Goddamn it…”

“You’ll do a lot of good for us here. I will make sure you’re provided all necessary resources.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” Squaring his shoulders, Deacon turned to leave, “No time like the present. I’ll be off to…”

“Headquarters are still at the late, great Manya Vargas’s. Let me know when you change location… cause I know you will.”

“You’re not going to say goodbye.” All three flinched as Wraith stepped out of the shadows.

Nyx turned and took a menacing step, hands raised and ready to attack, “Bad move, General…”

“Wait! Wraith is Railroad! Or… she was…” Deacon placed himself between them, “Whisper! Wraith was Whisper!”

Nyx calmed immediately. Looking back and forth between them, she seemed to have an epiphany, “Let’s go back to the bar for a bit, Tulip.”

“Fine. If you two fight, don’t go wreaking up my shop!”

The silence was heavy, like the pressure before a thunderstorm.

Don’t… Wraith, don’t…

“Am I a child to you? Do you honestly believe you can protect me from… why wouldn’t you have told me? Hell, lie to me about the reason but fucking tell me that you’re leaving!” Wraith still had her fists clenched.

“You’re giving me permission to lie?”

Don’t… I can’t…

“I...” She seemed to deflate before his eyes, “I guess you’ve always come and go as you please.”

“You told me to leave. You told me once…”

“That was a mistake! I fucked up. Had I known better what I was doing…”

“No! You were right! You did everything and more for the Railroad… for me. You were done. Turning your focus to the Minutemen was the best decision you could have made. Just look at everything you’ve accomplished!”

Wraith shook her head, “Look at all the lives I’ve ended…”

“STOP FUCKING DOING THAT!” Deacon’s eyes flashed fire and he took an unconscious step toward her, “STOP! Don’t belittle yourself. You are the single greatest thing that’s happened to the Commonwealth… and to me.”

“You… you have no intention of coming back. Do you?” Tears streamed down her face.

“You don’t need me, Wraith. You have to let me go.”

“You’re like my brother! We… you’re my family.”

“The time has come for us to part ways.”

She lifted her arms as if to embrace him but he backed away.

Don’t hug me Wraith. I’ll… I’ll shatter. I’ll break if you hold me.

“You… you’re my friend. I love you, Deacon.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“You don’t know me, Philippa. My name is not Deacon.” His face empty of emotion, the nameless man turned his back, opened the door and walked away.

Lie. Lie. Lie.

  Thank you so much for reading! Like what you read? Looking for more? Please search my Wraith in the Ruins tag in my bio. There is a link-tree master post with all of the chapters. Questions/comments/concerns, my ask is open (anon too). I appreciate any feedback. =^..^=

#wraith in the ruins #fallout 4 #fallout fanfic #john hancock #rj maccready #fallout deacon #fallout hancock #maccready romance fanfic #hancock romance fanfic #deacon fanfic #fo4 hancock #fo4 maccready #fo4 deacon #fo4 companions #fallout 3 #the lone wanderer #fallout dogmeat

[emilyplaysotome]

Chapter 5 - From Good to Bad

Catch up on Chapter 1 - 4 here! (or just Chapter 4)

A leopard cannot change his spots and it would seem that Soryu Oh was destined to be on the wrong side of the law.

There was no ski mask, no hiding of features - just the man I’d known for some time looming over me in a similar fashion to how he’d once stood over me in his suite, as I cowered beneath him on a couch back at the fictional Tres Spades. His hair was slicked back and I found myself frozen beneath him, unclear as to why he was resorting to petty thievery.

“Hurry the fuck up!” He yelled as the train began to slow into Queensboro plaza.

“Ok…ok…I’m just going to reach for my wallet…”

Soryu’s eyes darted and he clicked his tongue in an irritated fashion.

“Shit!”

I held my wallet out to no one as I caught his back running towards an adjacent car. In my own, two NYPD officers barreled through the doors at the opposite end and began to chase him. It all happened so quickly that I barely could process what had transpired, but as the train pulled into the station I realized that the doors refused to open. After a short commotion in the empty train car next door, I watched as the subway finally allowed people on and off, and Soryu was escorted out in handcuffs by a plain clothed officer.

“Are you ok miss?” asked an African American cop. He stood at least 6 feet tall and peered down at me with a concerned expression.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

He handed me his card and I took it.

Terek Bishop was a detective at the NYPD. He was quite striking, with handsome features, short cropped hair and a clean-shaven face. He was the type of officer that broke the pot belly, doughnut eating stereotype and instead had the body of pro athlete with an intellectual sharpness that comes with outsmarting criminals on a daily basis.

He told me that the man who had moments ago held me up had been terrorizing the trains at night and made me sit on the platform at Queensboro Plaza as he took an official statement from me. After a good 15 minutes of talking, he finished his report and noted that I would most likely be called in as a witness against Soryu.

It never crossed his mind that I knew the man who had momentarily forgotten about me or his past life in this world. I was happy that Soryu had been apprehended yet if he was to end up in jail I had absolutely no clue as to how exactly I’d get that kiss. It was unlikely that I’d be able to meet Soryu through a dating app considering he was a criminal and seeing as how I had no idea insofar as how one schedules a conjugal visit, I could feel the king laughing at me from his invisible vantage point.

My face flushed as Terek took down my information and my mind started to run away with itself. Luckily he didn’t seem to notice and instead noted that someone from his unit would get in touch.

“Sorry for keeping you out so late ma’am,” he said politely and I found myself stopping him with the realization that Soryu wasn’t the only one Terek might be able to help me locate.

“You don’t happen to work with a Jin Namba?” I asked cautiously. “I think he’s NYPD as well…”

Terek shook his head with a smile and said, “We’re a large organization ma’am. Name sounds familiar but I don’t think I know him. You a friend of his?”

“Something like that.”

“You could call the main switchboard but that’s about the best I can do for you.”

“The switchboard?”

“Yeah, hold on. Hey Fuller?”

Terek spoke into his walky and I heard a static-y type of sound before the man on the other end of the line provided me with a phone number. Terek told me I could give it a call and be put in touch with an officer, should Jin Namba be NYPD.

I thanked him, well aware of the fact that I didn’t know if the king had left Jin’s profession intact or if he’d turned him into something else entirely. Coupled with the fact that even if he was still NYPD, I couldn’t just call him on a professional line and ask him out on a date.

Regardless though, these were questions best handled after a good night sleep and being keenly aware that the clock was nearing 1 am on a work night, I needed to get to Meg’s and get myself to bed.

The next day I rolled in to the office overtired and with a latte the size of my head.

For the most part being a manager meant not being subjected to the same sort of scrutiny when it came to arrival and departure times at work. However, maintaining an atmosphere built on “fairness” meant that I upheld the expectations set for my underlings. I wanted to roll in late but instead I dragged my haggard ass outta bed and was in my office by 9:30 knowing full well that I was an example for the junior employees that tended to go out more often than I did these days.

I had hoped to get through the morning with as little human interaction as possible, but as luck would have it Anita decided to pay me a visit around 10 AM. She was one of my few real friends at the office, seeing as how we were both senior level people and often found ourselves stuck on different iterations of “manager island”. She was an executive creative director, and with a twinkle in her eye she plopped herself down and announced that they were pitching for a new account.

“Do you remember when we did all that work for Marriott?”

“Vaguely - why do you ask?”

“A much, much sexier hospitality brand is coming down the pike for a pitch in a month and I’m looking for all those consumer testimonials you did.”

“Hmm.”

I could feel my metaphorical feet dragging as I waded through my old files and Anita knew me well enough to smirk and ask, “What did you get up to last night?”

“Oh, not much.”

“That’s not what this seems like…”

“I had a date if you must know.”

“A date?” She asked with a perplexed expression, “but wait…you and…”

It was then that I’d realized I’d messed up. I hadn’t really wanted to talk about our breakup seeing as how I wanted to believe I’d get the opportunity to see him again and figure out my feelings once and for all. As stressful as this new game was, I hoped that it would allow me to solidify what I wanted and get it but I hadn’t really wanted to broadcast the journey to those in my real life.

“Please, keep it on the DL,” I said. “I’m still hoping we’ll get back together.”

“So you went out with him?”

“Not exactly…”

“Noami…I’m not judging, just confused.”

“It’s a long story that I don’t feel like getting into,” I said quickly. “And I found the presentation. Should I slack it to you?”

Anita nodded and said, “Thanks. And if you ever want to talk I’m here. I won’t push, just saying.”

“I appreciate that.”

Anita left and I found myself thinking about Meg’s return and the fact that I was mostly on my own. I spent a good portion of the day trying to figure out how I could loosely explain my dilemma to friends, but other than Leon I had a hard time believing anyone in this world could comprehend what had happened to me during my time down the otome rabbit hole. I found myself thinking of those last few days when all I wanted was my New York friends to offer their advice and support on what man I should take back to this world, yet now that I was home I had no way of leaning on them.

I trudged through as much work as I could handle and around 4 pm decided that I was mentally done for the day. Luckily for me, that meant laying low in my office having no pending meetings and most of my department busy with their assigned work.

As I once had in an otome cafe, I pulled out a new notebook and wrote the names of the men I was looking for in order to help get some sense of organization or a plan. I’d fallen into a date with Hiroshi, but having met Soryu once more realized that I couldn’t just keep swiping and hope to run into these men. I’d need to be slightly proactive and hope that the king had preserved some of their defining characteristics considering there were traces of the men they had been in both Soryu and Hiroshi.

At the moment I figured outside of waiting for my park date with Hiroshi on Saturday, I could follow up with Terek and feign some story of wanting to look Soryu in the eyes and confront the man who had accosted me on the train. For Jin, I could call the NYPD switchboard and confirm whether or not he was an employee. If he was, I’d have to concoct a story to meet up with him and if he wasn’t I’d cross that bridge when I got there. Hijikata and Zyglavis’ whereabouts remained a complete mystery at the moment and I jotted down a few clues and interests ranging from martial arts to chocolate cake.

Taking into account the size of New York City, the exercise felt far more futile than it had back in otome-ville where I’d had the upper hand. Even though you’d think I’d have the home game advantage considering we were in New York, the vastness of the city left me feeling like I was attempting to locate a bunch of golden needles in a dirty, rat infested haystack.

With these men I’d have to cross my fingers and hope we’d cross paths on an app, while researching hot new spots that may have opened up and attracted them.

Then, there was the last man that the king summoned who at the moment remained a total mystery. When he had noted this fact I initially thought the man in question might be Shunichiro Tachibana and I’d be lying if my heart hadn’t been hopeful of this fact. Zyglavis never knew, but I continued to play Shun’s routes from time to time seeing as how Irresistible Mistakes never had the issues that the other games had upon my return to this world. However, as I mustered up the courage to launch the game with the hope that Shun’s route would be mysteriously unavailable, I couldn’t help but think that was far too easy considering how duplicitous the king was…

…and when Shun’s route loaded without issue, I could feel my heart sink.

If I was being honest (and somehow the king’s games always forced me to take a long, hard look in the mirror), Shun and Hijikata were always the two that I questioned saying goodbye to. With Hijikata, I didn’t have a choice to explore where that relationship could leave as I was taken back to the future before it could unfold. Shun, on the other hand, was someone who had always matched well with me on paper and it was nothing more than a fleeting gut feeling that made me leave him behind.

It may sound ridiculous, but I was jealous of his MC whenever I’d read his stories and as a result, that emotion that bubbled up made me question why it was that I had deemed him not my match. He really would have been the most perfect boyfriend, and having played more and more of his routes I realized that I’d gone with someone I had more information about over someone I was getting to know. His dismissal haunted me more and more as Zyglavis and I had a harder time being together and I often wondered how he would have handled his jealousy.

Now it was clear to me that we would not be getting a second chance to find out, and despite being at work that realization did not prevent tears from welling up in my eyes. I was happy that most of the office had headed home, but there were enough of my employees left that I attempted to compose myself as I hid behind my monitor.

By the time I’d finally composed myself, I was in an empty office and had little choice but to go back to Meg’s and pack in anticipation of returning home this weekend. She was set to return tomorrow evening and we discussed having dinner together before I went back to my empty studio on the Upper East Side.

I was surprised at how hard I was taking the news that Shun was most likely not the mystery man brought here from the otome world, and convinced that I needed to cheer up pushed myself to recover with a yummy dinner and marathon of Vanderpump Rules. Naturally, it’s the moments of feigned positivity when the universe decides to throw another gut punch and though one could argue it was my fault for having my attention on my phone instead of the street in front of me I accidentally careened into a beautiful woman.

I didn’t mean for her to topple over in such a dramatic fashion, but she looked up at me stunned with large doe-like eyes as her long legs were sprawled out on the pavement. Before I could off her an apology or my hand for that matter, a familiar man flew out of the restaurant she’d been waiting in front of and rushed up to her.

“Are you ok?” He asked.

“I think so.”

“Someone could have gotten hurt as a result of your carelessness!” he chided, confirming my suspicions and adding to what was already proving to be a downer of a day.

Zyglavis’ not only had a girlfriend, but she appeared to be everything that I was not.

Read Chapter 6

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[trans-shuichisaihara]

the first chapter of “Empathy without Sympathy”, aka the linked emotions oumota au! bonus points if you can tell who’s linked w/ each other aside from the obvious lmao (also it’s a bit longer than the stuff I normally post so I went ahead and linked it below)

read on AO3

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

He woke up with a deep unease brewing in the back of his mind. The type that tore across his entire body, constricting his muscles and leaving him shaky and nauseous. Kaito groaned, curling in on himself. That action was quickly reversed as the smell of blood hit his nose; a dark patch sat in the corner of his pillow where he’d spent parts of the night coughing into.

What a crappy way to start the morning.

Mentally berating himself for his weakness, he forced himself up, dragging his tired body to the bathroom to clean up. Fuck, why was he so fucking tense? He scowled at his reflection in the mirror, splashing water onto his face to resist the pull of negativity (and to clean the bits of blood off, but he didn’t want to think about that). Deep breathes, don’t cough, inhale, exhale. Everything was fine.

It calmed down, only to rise again with the morning announcement. He grit his teeth, trying to push down the sudden fear rising in his body. Dammit. He wasn’t scared of those stupid fucking bears. Thankfully this attack passed almost as soon as it came, though leaving him tired nonetheless. He felt a swell of empathy for Shuichi; it was clear from how he quivered like a leaf that he suffered from some sorta chronic anxiety issues, and dealing with this on a regular basis? Fuck, that had to be hell.

Though, the situation they were in was probably an even worse hell. He sighed, tossing his jacket on and leaving for breakfast, greeting a downtrodden Shuichi after a few minutes of lingering around. That wasn't surprising; the murders of Angie and Chabashira and the trial that had followed the day before had been rough on the entire group.

He herded his sidekick towards the cafeteria, pushing any distracting thoughts to the side. It’d be bad if he made the others worry; weakness from him would lead to fear in the group. He was the leader figure after all, so he had to keep everyone together to avoid another murder.

Of course, Ouma had to make that difficult. Even without the dark mood lingering over the hall, him opening his lying mouth was always a pain. At least he wasn’t moping like the rest of the group, though Kaito couldn’t say if that was from a lack of concern or what.

On a positive note, Yumeno was attempting to stand strong. If he didn’t have his hands full with Shuichi and Harumaki and his coughing, maybe he’d invite her to train with them. She could use someone to guide her along, even if Chabashira had given her a big push forward with her final words.

As he was finishing off his miso soup and attempting to nudge Shuichi into eating more of his eggs, Gonta finally lumbered in, worry written clear as day on his face. As he explained the addition to the writing in the courtyard, Kaito felt bad that he was finding himself bored with the turn of events. Was his training regiment just not enough to keep his ambitious mind focused? Maybe they were missing something, something that could snap his mind back into gear. He was Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars; he wouldn’t allow himself to become disheartened.

Just as he was jerking himself back into reality, Monokuma decided it was time to make his post-trial appearance. Stupid fucker and his stupid kubs, acting as if getting to access new areas was worth the lives of their friends. Disgust swelled in him at the very sight. It didn’t help that Ouma was acting all buddy-buddy with them.

Monophanie held up a stone and a paintbrush to the group, eagerly declaring them to be the latest keys before turning to her brother. “Come on, Monotaro; give them the third item.”

He tilted his head. “Huh? What item? I don’t have nothing!”

She gasped. “You lost it?! That was the motive!” She hit him upside the head with the frying pan again. Guh, he was tired of this stupid comedy routine.

“Oh, a motive?” Ouma sounded interested. “How disappointing, the game won’t be exciting without a motive.” He grinned. “But maybe that means I won’t get murdered after all!”

“Can you shut the hell up,” Kaito grumbled, though he had to admit he was relieved. He glanced towards the others; Shuichi looked deep in thought, eyebrows knitted as he looked to the silent Monokuma.

Who wasn’t silent for much longer, as he chuckled. “Oh, that old thing? I think it was dropped somewhere, but whatever! I got a better idea for a motive, so I enacted it right away! In fact...” His red eye flashed. “... some of you might be feeling it right now.”

Feeling? Kaito was no Ultimate Detective, but it didn’t take one to hear the implication that something had been done to their bodies. Was... Was whatever was making him cough the next motive? Were the rest of them sick too? A deep dread broke through his repressed emotions.

“What do you mean?” Harumaki asked, fixing the bear with a glare. They received no answer to her question, however, as Monokuma simply laughed at them and made his exit. The kubs hung around, though Monophanie was quick to follow her father’s lead, leaving her brother to the wolves. Not that he would be useful, with his convenient amnesia.

“Jeez, just forget about the stupid motive.” He scratched the back of his head, trying to appear nonchalant. “Let’s just go check out the new areas or whatever.”

“Hm, no, I don’t think so,” Ouma had to object, “I think I’m gonna go look for that third motive item; that sounds much more exciting!” Exciting? More like worrying; last time Ouma messed around with the motives, Hoshi learned that Harumaki had his motive video and watched it, leading to him choosing to give up his life to Toujou.

“I said,” Kaito repeated louder, “Forget about it.”

“Gee, who died and made you leader,” Ouma replied with a grin, dampening the mood further from the verbal attack. He clenched his fists, trying to hold himself back as a wave of anger followed the sadness.

“What's your fucking problem?!”

Ouma smirked, pulling his hands behind his head. “What’s your problem, Momota-chan? Are you that scared of what little ol’ me will do with Monokuma’s motive?” His expression quickly changed, big blobs of wetness filling the corners of his eyes. “I, I thought you trusted meeee!” He sobbed in his obviously fake way.

“Who’d trust a liar like you?”

The room was quiet as Ouma’s face returned to a more neutral expression. “Oh, well, I guess you’re right. That was a lie anyway.” Kaito bit down on his tongue as a stabbing pain hit his chest. “I’ll be going now; have fun with exploring!”

“Wait-!” Before he could stop him, Ouma ran out. Instinct forced him to run after, ignoring the others shouts.

It was probably a poor decision, he realized after a few minutes of “playing tag”. Just attempting to keep the other in view forced his body to its limit far too quickly. Frustration flooded him as he pushed himself harder, Ouma’s mocking jibes echoing back at him. This continued until he lost him somewhere on the 3rd floor, his chest throbbing in protest. He slumped onto one of the benches near Harumaki’s lab, glaring at his clenched fists and trying to hold down the cough threatening to rise. Why did he have to be like this? So... So weak.

... Now wasn't the time to sit around feeling sorry for himself. With a grunt, he pulled himself up, wandering up to the 4th floor. The place was still creepy as hell. He didn't linger long, especially when he discovered stairs leading up to the 5th floor. Shuichi must've unlocked it. His sidekick was becoming more reliable, thanks to his training of course.

And speaking of Shuichi, it didn’t take long to find him, along with Harumaki. The two of them were on the far side of the 5th floor, inside what appeared to be the Ultimate Detective’s lab. With the door left cracked open, he was able to catch bits of their conversation as he approached them.

“... only useful after it’s too late.” Shuichi hung his shoulders, eyes trailing along the floor in defeat.

Harumaki crossed her arms. “Why are you so gloomy all of a sudden? Do you want to die?”

He flinched. “You’d kill me just for that?!” Kaito snorted in amusement, before deciding it was as good of time as any to make his entry. After all, what kind of leader would he be if he didn’t step in to inspire him?

Once the ‘Shuichi pep talk’ session was concluded and he wandered off to go use the second item, Harumaki sighed. “He’s high maintenance. Not that he’s the only one; are you going to go look for Ouma again?”

He scratched the back of his head. “Prolly not. If he doesn’t want to be found, looking for him’ll just be a waste of time. I bet he’ll come running back when we find the Flashback Light.” He grinned. “So let’s get looking, Harumaki!”

She huffed. “Both him and you are a pain. Stop calling me that.”

They scoured the 5th floor, checking every nook and cranny on a level of thoroughness that would impress Shuichi. After some time searching in silence, Kaito got the feeling that Harumaki wanted to say something and turned to her expectantly. She stared back, before sighing again.

“So, what do you think the motive is?”

A paralyzing terror nipped at his nerves. “Uh, I, I dunno. Something to do with our bodies..?”

She glanced away. “I do feel a bit strange. Not sick or anything, but...” She hesitated. “Oddly excited? There’s nothing exciting me though.” She trailed off, running her fingers through one of her twintails.

“Huh, weird. Maybe it’s-” His eye caught on a distinct shape. “Oh, the Flashback Light!” He approached the pillar, finding it hanging on a nail far above the others reach. For him or Gonta, however, it would be easily obtained. “Great, let’s gather the others!”

Harumaki stayed silent for a long second. “Alright, fine.” Ah, was she upset with the sudden topic change? He’d have to make it up to her later.

The Flashback Light was horrifying.

Fire raining from the sky. Panicked screams, pushing, shoving, sobbing. The memories of dark times etched itself into his mind, into all their minds. He curled his hand into a fist on the table, using it to steady himself. The others were equally as unstable; Iruma shook until she fell into a chair, bringing her knees to her chest to assume the fetal position. Shuichi stood stock still, eyes wide with terror. Gonta started crying on the spot.

He had to take control of the situation. He knew that, yet his body would barely move. His chest felt like it was in a vice, terror constricting to the point he could barely breathe. His eyes languidly moved across the scared faces of his friends, until they met Ouma’s. Stone-faced, unreactive towards the chaos around him. Mask firmly in place. His lips split, corners turning up into a false smile.

An abyss opened up in Kaito’s chest, swallowing all the feelings the Flashback Light brought down into it until he was left with nothing but apathy. No, not apathy - Emptiness would be the better word. He felt numbingly empty, a dull ache leaving his body tingling.

“Fuck! I’m so fucking tired of this!” Iruma wailed, pulling his attention away. With her terror-filled shouts, the watergates opened, prompting conversation among the group about what they saw. The meteorites. The cult. The Gofer Project. It all sounded so surreal, but...

“It wouldn’t be so strange if something beyond common sense happened, would it?” Ouma pointed out, “I mean, with Monokuma and the Exisals, is anything really too far out there?” His conceited smirk both pissed him off and confused him.

“What are you getting at?”

“Hm? I’m not getting at anything,” he lied. Kaito scowled as he felt his interest in whatever Ouma was keeping to himself rise.

“Buncha BS,” he muttered in response, shaking his head. He couldn’t waste time indulging Ouma’s lies. “Anyway, don’t worry guys, I’m sure everything’s gonna turn out okay. We’ll find a way to escape this fucked up Killing Game and see with our own two eyes that everything’s fine!”

He clenched his fists, anger pumping in his veins. Out of the corner of his eye, Ouma slipped out of the cafeteria. Whatever. He could deal with him later.

“While I agree,” Kiibo hesitantly begun, “I think... I think I would like some time to myself to think about this. All this new information is, well, quite fatiguing to take in.”

Shit, yeah, the others did look pretty tired. He sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Guess you’re right. But don’t forget what I said, alright!” He might as well been talking to a brick wall as the others shuffled out, Iruma quivering and mumbling to herself while Yumeno dragged her feet, head hung. Shuichi went out the interior door back into the school by himself while Shirogane ducked into the kitchen.

“Um, Momota-kun,” Gonta spoke up as Harukawa was leaving, “If there is anything Gonta can do to help, just let Gonta know.” He pulled his glasses off, dragging his sleeve across his tear-streaked snotty face. “Gonta wanna be helpful to everyone, so he took manhole cover back off.”

He gave him a smile and pat on the back. “Hey, no need to cry man, you’re doin’ fine. I don’t think we’ll be challenging the underground passage again though.”

Gonta slumped. “O-Oh. Gonta think more of how he can help then.” He turned to leave as well, prompting Kaito to shout encouragements into his back. Damn, what a mess. His chest was burning after all that stress.

Guess it was time for a bathroom break.

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