#if yes then we should have gotten a scene like the fork stabbing scene in get away. big missed opportunity. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovingmyselfcore · 3 years

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Protect You

I promise as we move along more things will happen in each chapter and I’m not really sure what exactly this is but we’re moving forward so yay

Chapter II: My Sister’s Getting Married and I Get Drunk. It’s a good system

Every time I looked at Taryn all I could think about was the betrayal that came with discovering your twin was in a relationship with your boyfriend, and she had been for a while. I know that Vivi didn’t expect me to just ‘get over it’ but I could tell she wanted me to. She pushed me and Taryn as close together as she dared without risking my wrath as she called it. That gleam in her eyes when I would actually look Taryn in the eyes with something other than hate. She wanted her sisters back, I could understand that, but I doubted we could ever get back to where we were, once.

“Jude,” Taryn’s sing-song voice invaded my mind, curling around my brain and ruthlessly squeezing the sleep out of it.

Light flooded my eyes as she shoved my curtains open. “I noticed you didn’t wake up early like you always did.” Her mouth formed a delicate frown. I wanted to punch it.

“No,” I said, sitting up. “I didn’t have to go in today and recently I’ve been so exhausted I decided to sleep in,” I narrowed my eyes, “Until somebody ruined it.”

Taryn crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s my last day visiting, Jude. I thought you might want to spend it together.”

I just stared blankly at her.

Disappointment flashed across her face, “Fine. But hurry and get ready. I have news I’ve been scared to tell you, but Vivi convinced me I should.”

Now that caught my attention but I quickly schooled my face back to unconcerned.

Her mouth lifted slightly like she knew I wasn’t completely unaffected.

Without another word, she strode out of my room. I scowled at her back and stuck up my finger once she’d turned the corner.

I threw off the covers and reached for my phone.

I’d gotten a text from The Bomb.

Bomb: It’s been about a week since you started guarding Dain with us, we want to get closer. Come for drinks tonight.

Jude: I have a sister thing tonight, I can’t.

My finger hovered over the send button before I pressed it. I don’t know why I didn’t accept. Going for drinks with them sounded like it would be much more fun than what was awaiting me at this very moment.

I groaned and tossed my phone on my bed, moving for my closet.

I walked towards the living room and was immediately assaulted. My little brother, Oak threw himself at me, wrapping his tiny arms around my hips.

“Hi, buddy,” I murmured.

“I’ve missed you, Jude!” I leaned down and picked him up, swinging him around my body, relishing in his giggles.

“Jude,” I set him down at the sound of Oriana’s voice. She stood in the doorway, eyes flitting in every direction like she was looking for the nearest exit. I knew the feeling. She pursed her lips. “The family is waiting.” Not our. Never our. She still didn’t like me. Hadn’t ever. She’d slowly warmed up to Taryn and even Vivi over the years but every time she was in a room alone with me she looked like she would rather claw her own eyes out.

I nodded, peering around her to see Vivi, Taryn, and Madoc in the living room. I wouldn’t ask why they were here. I wouldn’t give Oriana the satisfaction.

I sat next to Vivi, pulling Oak into my lap. I didn’t miss the quick look Oriana shot me as she settled down, angled towards me as if to pull him away. I held him tighter.

“Jude. I have something very big to tell you.” Taryn’s voice held a forced lightness.

She shifted uncomfortably, twisting her hands in her lap, drawing my attention to them. Or more specifically, what was on them. A single finger, specifically.

Something in me twisted. “You’re marrying him.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded and I squeezed Oak. “Good for you.” I transported Oak onto Vivi’s lap, he went willingly, wrapping his arms around her neck as she tickled his sides.

Even the sounds of his laughter and the humming of the furnace and every other appliance in our house could not help what felt like a deafening silence blanketing the room.

I nodded to myself, making to stand. “Good for you,” I repeated.

“The engagement party is in two weeks. I’d like for you to be there.” Her eyes shone as she looked up at me and that something twisted again.

“Sure.” I found myself saying. “I’ll be there.”

Everyone was still staring at me so I announced, “I’m going to get breakfast from that cafe down the street.”

“Bring me some scones!” Vivi called after me as I shoved my phone in my back pocket, threw my coat on, and walked out the door.

“Sure!” I called back as I slammed the door closed behind me.

~~~~~~~

I sat in the cafe, at a table against the wall occasionally sipping my coffee and picking at my muffin.

I didn’t love him. I’d figured that out pretty easily after the initial ordeal all went down. I was definitely more hurt by her betrayal than his. Actually, I was never that hung up over him. So why did I hate the idea of her marrying him so badly? Well, it wouldn’t. I took a deep breath forcing myself to do one of my best talents. I took my feelings and wrapped a thick wool blanket over them, rolled them over an invisible hill, and pushed them off the edge.

I stabbed my muffin with a plastic fork and slumped in my seat, closed my eyes, and tried to let the classical music drown out the world.

“My sweet nemesis,” A voice purred. “How lovely to see you here.”

My eyes flew open, Cardan was standing above me.

He grinned as my surprise morphed into a glare.

He peered around the cafe carefully before shrugging off his coat, probably something Italian and worth more than my life, and sat down in the seat across from mine.

My eyes lifted instinctively and I saw someone slide into a seat nearby. His security guard, probably. He followed my eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. “I couldn’t get rid of them all.”

I rolled my eyes, “They’re here to protect you, you know.”

“But you’re here,” He smirked. “You’re all the protection I need.”

Something in my brain woke up. “I’m what you need protection from,” I snarled.

“There she is.”

“What do you want, Cardan?”

He lifted a hand to his heart and pouted. “Come on, dear. You can’t expect me to only be here because of you.”

I raised my eyebrows and looked around the cafe, neutral tones, plants, a generally calm environment. I looked back at Cardan, glitter smeared across his eyelids, winged eyeliner painstakingly applied to perfection, midnight-black curls in disarray. Breath smelling of wine and something else I wasn’t sure I wanted to identify.

I scoffed. “Right. This is definitely your scene.”

He grinned again, “Not really yours either, Jude.”

I shrugged, “I needed to escape.” I was shocked at the honesty and for a second it appeared he was too.

“From what?” He asked.

I rolled my eyes and stabbed my muffin again. He watched with a small smile. “Like you care.”

“I do, actually.” He leaned forward, resting on his forearms and I found myself leaning slightly forward too. “Tell me your troubles.” He was close enough I could see his clear eyes. He was looking at me like he really did want to know, so I told him.

“Taryn is marrying Locke.”

“Yes.” He said. “This is news?”

I furrowed my brows. “This isn’t?”

“He told me he was going to do it quite a bit ago, but that doesn’t matter. Why does this trouble you?” Something I couldn’t decipher flashed across his face and his voice got tight. “Do you love him?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Good, he’s not good enough for you.” The sincerity in his tone caught me off guard and I went quiet. He did too.

We sat there in silence, watching each other. “Jude.” His voice was quiet.

“Yes?”

“Be careful.”

I sat up straighter, “What do you mean?”

He glanced around, his eyes flitting from the security cameras to his own guard and back again. “With my brother.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Maybe, but getting involved with him. With us, in the way that you are,” His voice was strained. “Just, be careful.”

“What are you talking about?” I demanded.

He sucked in a breath. “I can’t, Jude. Just,”

He stood up and shrugged his coat back on. He hadn’t met my eyes, he was still watching everything and everyone around us.

“Be careful. Or you’re going to get hurt. Badly.”

~~~~~~~

Cardan’s warning stirred something in me, something that caused me to, as soon as he was out of the cafe with his security in tow, pick up my phone and text the Bomb.

Jude: Is that offer for drinks still open?

Bomb: Definitely

Jude: Just tell me the time and place. I’ll be there.

~~~~~~~

“What made you decide to come?” Bomb - or, as I just found out, Lilliver - asked as I waved down the bartender for a refill.

I shifted in my seat.

“Nothing good, then?” Ghost - Garrett - asked.

I looked at him and he grimaced, “Your body language is screaming at me.”

I let out a noise between a laugh and a groan.

“Spill, girlie.” Roach - Van - demanded.

“I just found out my twin sister is marrying my high school boyfriend.”

Van whistled, low.

“Damn,” Lilliver said.

“Oh,” I said. “It gets worse.”

I explained to them how Locke had been with Taryn longer than he’d been with me, but the two of them were in a secret relationship. And Taryn knew about me and him the whole time.

“How’d you find out?” Van’s speech was slurred as he leaned forward. He sloshed his drink and Lilliver slid away gracefully to avoid the spill.

“Oh,” I sighed, resting my head in my hands and letting out a humorless laugh. “He told me.”

Garrett leaned forward then, eyebrows raising. “So he grew a conscience?”

I shook my head, rolling my eyes.”Of course not. He just thought he had me deep enough in his grasp that he could.” I brought my hand to my chest as if to contain the hiccup. It didn’t work. “He thought he could keep dating both of us.”

“What the fuck.” Lilliver said, Van and Garrett, echoing the sentiment.

“Wait,” Lilliver held up her hands in a pause motion. “I’m drunk so I’m kinda slow right now but, Locke.” She waved her fingers. “Isn’t that one of Cardan’s friends?”

Van looked like she’d just explained why the sky was blue. He looked at me for confirmation.

I nodded, taking a deep drink. “That’s how I met the Greenbriars. Cardan and I were in the same grade. Vivi and Rhyia are close.”

“So you were in the same circle?”

I laughed, “God no. Exact opposite ‘circles’. Cardan and I declared each other sworn enemies day one, Valerian and Nicasia despised me on sight and Locke for the most part had stayed out of it.”

“Until he decided to date you both just to see if he could.”

“Yeah,” I sighed.

“Did Cardan and the others know?”

“Kind of?” I shrugged. “I’ve never been clear on how much Valerian knew. But, Nicasia found out he was dating one of us and told Cardan.” My voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “Neither of them liked it very much.” Van snorted. “Locke decided to out me and him to the school,” I waved my drink through the air. “We dated publicly for a little while and then at senior prom I found out what was going on with him and my sister. The rest is history.”

Lilliver winced, “Prom?”

“Oh yeah,” I said and grinned. “Great memories.”

Garrett looked at me sympathetically, “I’m sure.”

“Oh!” I declared, accidentally slapping Van in the arm, “I got into a physical fight with Taryn after, too.”

“Did you win?” Lilliver asked and at my grin and smug nod she cackled. “Atta girl.”

I hiccuped and set my drink down. “I’m going to dance,” I announced and wormed out onto the dance floor.

I danced for what felt like hours, the music had burrowed into my blood, my bones. I couldn’t stop. People were passing me drinks and more that I can’t even remember. The world was a blur. Somewhere, I recognized familiar voices but I drowned everything out aside from the pumping in my ears.

I know I threw up on some girl at some point because a high-pitched voice was yelling at me, I couldn’t make out a single word she said but almost immediately after a hand wrapped around my upper arm. “Come on, Jude. You have to go home.”

I resisted but clearly, I wasn’t coordinated enough to fight back because their grip only tightened. “Stop fighting,” The voice hissed, pulling me through the groups of people, I opened my mouth to call out for someone, anyone but my voice was caught in my throat. “It’s just me.”

“Cardan?” My voice came out in a whisper and the world sharpened.

It was Cardan, he was holding me tight against him as we exited the club. He looked down at me with an indecipherable look in his eyes. “Some guys were watching you, and you'd already had enough to drink. I’m taking you home.” His voice was harsh.

“I can take care of myself.” I spat, finding the strength to pull away from him, but he kept his hand on my arm.

“I know you can, Jude.”

"Dain's going to kill me for getting this drunk when I'm supposed to be on call isn't he?"

Cardan's silence was answer enough.

"Are you sure you don't love him?" Cardan asked suddenly.

"Who?" I furrowed my brows. "Dain?"

"Well, I certainly I hope you don't love Dain. But I'm talking about Locke."

I tried to look at him but he wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'm sure. Why?"

His grip tightened. "Getting basically blackout drunk the night you're told he's marrying your sister is on the more on the extreme side of the scale."

I laughed despite myself. "I don't love Locke. But even if I did, why do you care?"

"I don't," He snarled.

I hummed, "You can let go of me now, I can walk."

He snorted, "Sure you can." Suddenly he released my arm and I stumbled, throwing my arms out for balance.

Cardan crossed his arms, watching me, amused while I stumbled on the sidewalk like an infant.

I flipped him off but it was the wrong move. It took my concentration from keeping upright and I stumbled sideways just enough to slam into a streetlight.

I winced and my hand flew to my head. Cardan stepped forward slowly but lunged when my knees buckled and I collapsed.

"That's going to be a wicked bruise," He grinned down at me.

My eyes were heavy as he swept me into his arms, “I’ll kill you. You and I both know I can.”

I felt myself being lowered into his car but he didn’t let go. Settling us both into the backseat, I felt his laugh more than I heard it. “I know, Jude.”

The last thing I heard before I passed out was him giving his personal driver my address.

Tag: Let me know if you want to stay on the tag list for this. I wasn’t sure but I tagged you anyway :)

@foreverscreaming @ladyofbloodandroses

#the folk of the air #protect you au #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #qon #tcp #tfota #tfota fanfic #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #judecardan #twk #hthkoelths

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maybeimamuppet · 3 years

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someone gets hurt

“Janis! Janis!” Cady calls, rushing up to her at the end of the school day.

“Babe, you good?” Janis asks worriedly as her girlfriend barrels into her.

Cady nods rapidly. “Yes! Principal Duvall just told me I’m the valedictorian!”

Janis gasps, wrapping her in a hug. “You are? Oh my god, baby! That’s great! I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Cady giggles from in her embrace. “Are you staying to paint today?”

“Yeah, you want to come?” Janis asks, plotting in her head. Cady has worked so hard this year, she deserves to be valedictorian, arbitrary as the title is. Janis should do something.

“Always,” Cady grins, leaning up for a kiss and taking her hand to lead them to the art rooms. “How is Damian?”

“He’s fine, it’s just a sprain. Texted me earlier high off his ass on painkillers though, that was funny,” Janis chuckles. “Said there was a dragon in his mashed potatoes.”

“Janis! Don’t laugh at him, you know he has a phobia of broken bones. He’s lucky it was just a sprain. Poor guy,” Cady chides.

“He fell down the stairs! I’m allowed to laugh,” Janis defends.

They’d decided to have lunch in the auditorium today, just for fun. Damian had finished eating early and showed off some complicated choreography from his college audition cuts. He’d absolutely nailed them, but during his bows and basking in the applause of his friends, had fallen down the stairs and sprained his foot. He’d fallen into a panic attack, thinking he had broken it, and was taken to the hospital almost immediately.

“He’s your best friend! I’m gonna tell him you laughed,” Cady threatens.

Janis snorts. “You little narc. Go ahead, he laughed at me when I broke my tailbone when we went roller skating.”

“Hmph. Who are you texting?”

Janis had pulled out her phone to text Regina. She loves throwing parties and giving gifts, she might have some ideas for something Janis could do to surprise Cady.

“Uh, my mom. I actually can’t stay today, uhm... Jules is... sick. I have to go help my mom take care of her,” Janis lies through her teeth.

“Oh. Okay. Do you need me to get her anything?” Cady asks, miraculously not having noticed. She struggles reading people sometimes.

“No, don’t worry about it, baby. It’s just a cold, but she gets really whiny and stuff whenever she’s sick,” Janis explains. That’s true, at least.

“Poor thing. Tell her I hope she feels better soon. I’m going to go visit Damian,” Cady says, popping up on her tippy toes to kiss her goodbye.

“Okay, baby. Tell him I said hi,” Janis responds, kissing her back. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Good luck,” Cady says back.

“Thanks,” Janis chuckles.

————-

“Hi, Dame,” Cady says sadly as she knocks on the door of his hospital room.

“Hey, Cads!” Damian says.

Cady chuckles as she comes to sit by his bed. “You sound better.”

“I got, like, hella painkillers a while ago. Went on some fun daydreams,” Damian replies. “Not high anymore though.”

“Good, I don’t know if I could handle you all hopped up,” Cady giggles. “Janis said you texted her something about a dragon in your mashed potatoes while she was in math class.”

“I did? Oh god, she’s never gonna let me live that down,” Damian sighs. “Oh well.”

“I’ll make her go easy on you,” Cady says confidently, pulling out an activity book she had made during study hall. “I made this for you. I know it’s a little childish, but I figured you might want something to do.”

“Aww! Thanks, Caddy. Ooh, connect the dots,” Damian responds as he flips through it. “What’s the matter?”

Cady turns from where she’s standing, frowning as she looks out the window. His view goes across the street, looking over a coffee shop. Janis lied? She’s in the shop, sitting with... Regina George. Hm. They’re laughing at something.

“Huh? Oh, nothing, don’t worry about it,” Cady says through grit teeth, coming back to his side and trying to hide her seething jealousy. He doesn’t need that right now. “So, how long are you stuck in here?”

“I get out tonight, once they’re totally sure I’m not reacting to anything they’ve given me,” Damian replies. “I’m not going to be in school for about a week, though. I’m not supposed to walk even with crutches until then.”

“You poor thing,” Cady responds as she rolls her shoulders to get rid of the tension. “I’ll visit you as much as I can, but I just got a huge English project that’s gonna take me a while.”

Damian pats her hand comfortingly. “I get it, Cads, don’t worry about it. I have this cool book to work on.”

Cady chuckles. “I’ll send other people to come keep you company on the days I can’t. And you have Pippa in the meantime.”

Damian laughs outright at that. His french bulldog doesn’t make a great caregiver. “Thanks, little slice.”

“Anytime.”

—————

“So how was Julie?” Cady asks during her daily morning meet-up with Janis on Monday. She wants to hear what Janis has to say, now that she knows she lied.

Janis doesn’t even look up from her phone, tapping away texts to... someone. Probably Regina. “Hm? Oh, she was fine, thanks. Just needed a rest. How was Damian?”

“He was fine,” Cady huffs. Janis had lied again. Janis hums noncommittally. “He went on a quest to fight dragons with a fairy princess and took me. I was an elf. You should really come next time. He’s a wizard, you know. I’m surprised you didn’t notice before. The doctor even had an enchanted sword.”

“Good for him,” Janis replies, having taken in nothing. The bell rings then, making them both jump. “Oh shit. Have a good day, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cady responds, blinking in surprise at the quick kiss pressed to her lips before Janis runs to class. What the hell is going on with her?

Janis continues acting oddly into the next day. She’s not at lunch on Tuesday, and neither is Regina. Cady plops her tray of meatloaf on the table and sits down with a huff, startling Gretchen and Karen.

“You okay, Cady?” Gretchen asks worriedly. “You look tense.”

Cady stabs her meatloaf so hard that a few of the tines snap off her plastic fork. “Peachy. Has Regina told you guys anything? About what she’s been up to lately? Janis has been acting so weird, and I think Regina is part of it.”

“Um, no,” Karen lies. Regina had told them the plan to surprise Cady, so they actually knew everything. They had been sworn to secrecy.

“Yeah, we don’t know anything,” Gretchen piggybacks. “How has Janis been acting weird?”

“She... she lied to me,” Cady answers, realizing this may be more serious than she had originally thought. “I got chosen as valedictorian, I thought maybe we could go have dinner or something to celebrate after we visited Damian, but she said her sister was sick. But she wasn’t, Janis was in the coffee shop with Regina.”

“With Regina? Are you sure?” Karen responds. “Regina was with us Friday. And they still, like, totally aren’t friends. X emoji.”

“It was definitely Janis, at least,” Cady says sadly. “I guess it might not have been Regina. But how many other platinum blondes that wear full designer outfits would Janis know? Maybe it was before you guys hung out.”

“That is totally strange,” Gretchen responds, anxious about lying. She tries to change the subject quickly. “Has Janis done anything else weird?”

Cady takes the bait. “She wouldn’t stop texting yesterday, or this morning. I don’t know who she was talking to, but she didn’t even listen to me. I made up some story about Damian and I fighting dragons and she just said ‘good for him’.”

“Dragons? That’s so fetch,” Karen responds. “I want to meet a dragon. It’s one of my life goals, sunrise emoji.”

“Karen, sweetie, no. She said she made it up, remember? Dragons aren’t real,” Gretchen says quietly, squeezing her hand.

“That’s not fetch,” Karen huffs, going quiet.

“I know, sweetie. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry too much, Cady,” Gretchen says as she tries to comfort her girlfriend. “Janis is, like, head over heels for you. It’ll work out.”

“It better,” Cady grumbles. “Oh, hey, can you guys pop in to see Damian after school? Just for a little while, make sure he’s okay? I told him I’d have people drop by on days I couldn’t go see him.”

“Why can’t you go?” Gretchen asks, genuinely curious.

“I got this English project Friday, I have to work on it. I’m supposed to pick a career I want in the future and make a presentation about it, and it has to be five minutes long! I don’t even know what I want to do for a job,” Cady sighs.

“You can do it, Cady, you’re super smart,” Karen pipes up again. “Notebook emoji. But, like, shrug emoji, would Damian even want to see us?”

“Why wouldn’t he want to see you? He really likes you guys now. You’re not mean to him or Janis anymore, he doesn’t have anything against you guys anymore,” Cady says sadly. “You guys don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but he’d love to see you. You’re his friends.”

Of course we’ll go, we don’t have anything going on,” Gretchen responds. They need to fill him in on the plan, anyway.

“Oh, thank you,” Cady breathes with relief. “I owe you one.”

“It’s fine, Cady. Good luck with your project,” Gretchen says.

“Ugh,” Cady grumbles at the reminder, slamming her head into the table.

————-

By Wednesday afternoon, Cady is at her wits end. She hasn’t slept in two days researching for her project, and Janis still won’t pay attention to her. She’d gotten confirmation that it had been Regina with Janis at the coffee shop, so Gretchen and Karen had also lied to her face.

She heads to the art rooms after school to watch Janis paint, needing a break from her own thoughts. Even if she is a bit angry with Janis. Maybe this will patch things up.

Cady loves watching Janis paint. She loves the cute way her brow furrows and her tongue pokes out to the side whenever she tries to focus, the way every stroke of the brush seems to have a purpose. Janis can create gorgeous scenes just from her mind, as if the brush in her hand is simply an extension of her imagination. Cady loves watching a few simple sketches or swipes of her paintbrush turn to incredible works of art.

Cady’s tried to paint with her a few times, only succeeding in creating a blotchy mess of colors and a few vague shapes, but Janis always cheered her on and pointed out the things she had done well. Cady decided she likes watching Janis paint more than doing it herself, but they have painting mini-dates from time to time that they both enjoy immensely.

She opens the door quietly when she finally reaches the classroom, in hopes of surprising her girlfriend. She winds up getting the surprise herself, finding none other than Regina talking to Janis. Again. Regina is sitting haughtily on the counter, facing Cady but not looking at her. There’s a strangely excited glint in her eyes. Janis is leaning against a desk facing Regina, so her back is to Cady.

They’re awfully close together, Cady thinks as her face falls and her chest burns with envy. She thanks her lucky stars they haven’t spotted her yet, allowing her to eavesdrop for a second. She tries desperately to tamp down the voice growling ‘get away from my girlfriend’ in her head. There has to be some explanation.

Cady can’t quite pick up most of their conversation, but she does hear Regina say, “Cady’s not going to find out, Janis,” and lean closer.

That’s all she needs to hear. She feels herself let out a harsh sob, turning on her heel and running from the room. Janis whirls around just before the door slams shut behind her. “Caddy! Shit,” she calls as she breaks into a sprint after her. “Baby, please wait, let me explain!”

“What the fuck is there to explain, Janis?!” Cady yells at her, walking backwards for a second. “Just leave me alone. Go to her, I hope she makes you happy.” And with that, she turns and continues running.

“Baby, please,” Janis begs, reaching for her. Cady doesn’t turn back around.

Cady winds up running the whole mile back to her house without noticing, ignoring the worried calls of her parents as she barrels up the stairs to her bedroom, throwing her backpack off and burrowing under her covers. Her chest is starting to hurt with how hard she’s sobbing. Maybe she’s feeling her heart breaking.

How could I be so stupid with love again? Of course Janis would pick Regina over me. Regina has every American standard of beauty down pat, and a good personality now. What do I have?

She hears her phone pinging frantically, looking to see texts flooding in from Janis and Regina, both begging her to let Janis explain. She flips it to silent after sending her parents a text, letting them know to turn Janis away should she turn up at any point.

How could they do this to me? I understand why Janis chose her, but how could she be so cruel? Regina is supposed to be nicer now, how could she do this? It’s fucking Aaron all over again. I caught feelings for Janis and she snatched her away. And Janis... did she ever love me? How could she do this?

She rolls onto her side and soaks her pillow in tears, deciding she gets the decision to swear off of dating now.

Janis loses Cady as she reaches the main doors, panting with exertion. She turns to head back to the classroom to grab her bag.

“Janis, I’m so sorry, I had no idea she was there or I wouldn’t have phrased it like that,” Regina bursts out as soon as she enters, looking near tears.

“Reg, it... it’ll be fine. It has to be. I’ll go find her and try to explain again, I guess. Better to ruin the surprise than have her think I’m cheating on her,” Janis says in response, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and moving quickly back towards the door.

Regina sighs heavily. “Okay, good luck. I’ll text her too. God, she looked so... broken.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Reggie. Later,” Janis calls over her shoulder, hurrying towards the entrance to the building.

She pulls her phone from her pocket as she walks to Cady’s house, figuring that must be where she’s gone.

Jellybean: caddy that wasn’t what it looked like i promise

Jellybean: are you okay??

Jellybean: please let me explain

Jellybean: caddy you know me you know i wouldn’t do that to you please

Jellybean: baby??

Cady hasn’t answered or even read any of her messages by the time Janis is knocking on the door.

“Cady says she doesn’t want to see you,” Cady’s mother says harshly, protective of her cub.

“Mrs. Heron, please, I need to explain. She didn’t see what she thought she did,” Janis begs.

Mrs. Heron sighs. “Janis, I want to believe you, but Cady has been hurt by this Regina girl before. You need to leave, give her time. I’ll tell her you came by.”

She closes the door before Janis can get another word out. Give her time, Janis thinks as she walks to Damian’s house next, seething with anger.

Cady’s father wakes her up just before dinner, softly stroking her hair. She must have cried herself to sleep.

“Janis came by,” he says carefully. “Your mother sent her away like you asked.”

Cady immediately bursts into tears at the mention of her now ex-girlfriend. “I don’t wanna see her again. I want to switch schools.”

“Shh, binti. You’re a month away from graduation, you’re not switching schools. But you can stay home tomorrow. What happened?”

Cady cries harder. “Janis was-was talking to Regina in the art room and-and they were so close together and then Janis said something and R-Regina said that-that I wouldn’t find out about it,” she wails into his shoulder.

“Shh, ndege wangu mdogo wa wimbo. Did you hear what it was you wouldn’t find out about?” Her father hushes.

“She’s cheating on me! With Regina,” Cady sobs. “What else could it be?”

“Did you hear them say that? Or see them do anything?”

“No,” she admits shyly.

“Then you don’t know. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions, you’re going to jump into your grave one of these times,” her father chides gently. “You don’t have to today, or even anytime soon, but you should hear Janis out at some point, let her explain.”

“Fine,” Cady sniffs. “But what is she hiding? Janis tells me everything.”

“That I don’t know, binti. You take some time to think. I’ll bring up your dinner.” And with a forehead kiss, her father leaves her alone.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what?” Damian asks hastily, interrupting Janis. “Start again and slow down.”

“Caddy found me talking to Regina and now she thinks I’m cheating. She said she didn’t want to see me and won’t even read my texts,” she growls.

“Wow. That’s... out of character for her,” Damian says in shock.

“I know! I don’t know what to do, she won’t let me explain anything,” Janis huffs, terrified she might lose her girlfriend over something so stupid. “And now I’m wondering what the hell she really thinks of me. If she can’t trust me enough to know I would never cheat on her, especially with Regina fucking George, then should we even be together?”

“That’s a fair point, I guess,” Damian admits. “But that really doesn’t sound like Caddy. Something else has to be going on.”

Janis sighs, trying to get herself back under control. She can’t even figure out why she’s so angry. “Can you talk to her?”

Damian looks meaningfully at his wounded foot, but eventually can’t resist the urge to help his platonic soulmate. “I can try, I guess. Maybe convince her to hear you out. But I can’t explain what happened or get her to forgive you. You have to do that.”

“Fine,” Janis huffs. “Just make sure she’s okay.”

“She will be, Jan, don’t worry. I’ll text her, see if she can come over tomorrow,” Damian comforts.

“Thanks, D.”

————-

Cady warily checks her phone when she wakes up the next morning, surprised when she sees her most recent text is from Damian.

Big Slice: Do you wanna come hang out with me after school today?? Pippa is not performing her caregiver duties well enough

She sighs. It’s almost definitely a trap, Damian is Janis’ best friend. That thought gives her pause. If she and Janis break up for good, will she lose her friendship with Damian? And since Regina is involved, will Gretchen and Karen stop being her friends, too? If she doesn’t go talk to Damian, she might go back to being totally alone for the third time in two years.

Little Slice: Yeah, I’ll come. I’ll be over around noon. My parents made me take a mental health day.

Big Slice: 📷

Little Slice: Wait, Janis won’t be there, will she?

Big Slice: Nope just us :) She went to school and has to babysit Juju after

Little Slice: Good.

Cady hauls herself out of bed with a great deal of effort, surprised to see it’s already eleven. She trudges down the stairs still in her pajamas for breakfast, staring out the window at absolutely nothing as she munches on her cereal.

Climbing back up the stairs feels like she’s climbing Kilimanjaro again, but she manages and resists the urge to flop back into bed. She doesn’t even have the energy to brush her hair, tying it up into a knot and spraying a little extra perfume on in place of a shower.

She grabs her phone after she tugs on a sweatshirt and some leggings, texting her dad to tell him she’s going to see Damian.

Cady perks up a little on her walk over, the sun giving her some energy. She has a spare key, so lets herself into Damian’s house and heads to his bedroom.

“Hey, Cads, how are you?” Damian asks when he turns to look at her. Janis clearly told him everything, but he’s pretending not to know.

“Fine,” Cady whispers. She can feel tears burning in her eyes and knows if she tries to speak she’ll start crying. Damian doesn’t need her problems on top of his own and Janis’.

“No, you’re not,” Damian says, reaching for her. “Come tell me your troubles.”

“You have your own problems, you don’t need to hear mine,” Cady mumbles.

“Bitch, please, I live for drama. I’ve been holed up here for almost a week, give me something to do,” Damian begs.

Cady gives in to the cuddling urge, sliding in beside him and resting her head on his shoulder. She heaves a sigh to try and keep the tears at bay, to no avail.

“Did Janis tell you?” She says, choking out a sob immediately after.

Damian sits up to hold her better. “Yes, but I want to hear your side of things too.”

Cady sobs harder. “She was-was talking to-to-to Regina in the art room, and R-Regina looked... excited about something and then Janis said something to h-her and Regina said that-that I wouldn’t find out about it.”

“So what do you think they meant by that?” Damian hums sadly, rubbing her back.

“Are they t-together? Is she cheat-cheating on me?” Cady whimpers.

“Let’s work through this together, hm? You remember how Janis acted when she had a crush on you, yeah?” Damian asks, continuing when she nods. “Disaster lesbian. Has she been acting like that around Regina?”

“No,” Cady sniffles. “But-but she could be meeting her when I don’t know about it, and hiding it when-when I’m around.”

“That’s another thing. Has Janis been lying to you about where she is, or acting suspicious?” Damian asks comfortingly.

Cady is about to say no before she remembers Friday. “Yeah,” she wails. “On-on Friday, she said Juliana was sick... b-but when I was at the ho-hospital with you she w-went to that coffee sh-shop with Regina.”

“Okay, so we have one suspicious thing, I’ll admit that is weird,” Damian says, scolding Janis internally. “Has she done anything else?”

Cady sniffles as she pauses to think. “She won’t l-listen to me any-anymore. She spent all day Monday and Tuesday t-tex-texting somebody and didn’t hear anything I said, and then-then she missed lunch. She did-did yesterday, t-too.”

“That’s some bullshit,” Damian calls. “She shouldn’t be doing that, I’ll talk to her about that. Okay, so a few things. Back to our checklist. Has Janis stopped saying things like ‘I love you’ or giving you kisses and cuddles and stuff?”

“No,” Cady sobs. She misses that, so much. And it’s only been a day. “She hasn’t.”

“Has Janis ever willingly wanted to spend a long amount of time with Regina? In the entire time you’ve known them? Even now that Reggie is a decent human?” Damian asks, looking at her meaningfully.

“No,” Cady admits. “Not unless one of us is around.”

“So does it make sense for them to be together?”

“No,” she sniffles. “But what if she’s with somebody else?”

“Who would she be with?” He asks.

Cady stops to think. The only other lesbian Janis knows well is Sonja Acquino, and she had gotten a girlfriend over winter break. Girls at school still tended to avoid Janis. Unless she met someone outside of school, there’s nobody she could possibly be with. Cady spends most of her time outside of school with Janis, and Janis would’ve told her if she had met a fellow gay.

Cady processes this realization and bursts into sobs anew. “God, I’m so stupid. Is Janis mad at me?”

“No, little slice, no. Janis has been acting weird, you had every right to be suspicious. Janis isn’t mad, either. She’s frustrated that you won’t talk to her, and she’s upset that you think she would do something like that. But I think once you both take a couple days to process and regroup, you should hear her out and make her hear you out, and then you’ll be fine. You two are so fucking grossly in love, you’re gonna make it through this.”

“Thank you,” Cady sniffs. “For listening. I would’ve understood if you took her side. You’re such a good friend.”

“Thanks, Cads,” Damian chuckles. “I try. But really, I’m friends with both of you; I’m talking to you because I want to. You both have shit happening that you’re not telling the other one about; once you clear the air there won’t even be sides to this. And besides, you’re Pippa’s favorite auntie. We can’t let you get away.”

Cady gives a watery chuckle at that, wiping the tears from under her eyes. “God, I’m such a mess.”

“Bitch, you’re fine. Until, like, five minutes ago you thought you had your second major heartbreak in two years,” Damian chastises gently. “We have ice cream in the freezer, can you go get it for us please?”

“Yes,” Cady says, kissing his cheek and grabbing a tissue from the box on his dresser. “I’ll be right back.”

She hears the clacking of small claws following her down the hallway to the kitchen, turning to see the sweet little squished face of Damian’s french bulldog.

“Hi Pip,” she says in her baby voice. “How are you, puppies?” Pippa wiggles excitedly when Cady picks her up, scrambling to lick the tear tracks from her cheeks. “Oh, thank you. Have you been taking good care of Damian?”

She bursts out laughing when Damian calls “No!” from his room, apparently having overheard their conversation.

“Well that can’t be right, your little face could heal any injury,” Cady says as she sets the dog down. She opens the freezer, grabbing two pints of ice cream and some spoons from the drawer before heading back to Damian.

“Pippa would be a terrible nurse,” Damian says when she comes back. “She keeps tripping me every time I try to go to the bathroom.”

Cady giggles. “She’s doing her best, be nice. Here’s your ice cream.”

“Thank youuuuu,” Damian sings. “Now, what should we watch to get your mind off of things?”

Cady crawls back into bed next to him, helping Pippa up as she stands on her hind legs to see what they’re doing. “Have you found any new bootlegs?”

“Ooh, yeah, actually. I’ve had a lot of time to look,” Damian answers, grabbing his laptop from his nightstand and a flash drive from the drawer. “I found a really good quality one of The Lion King, do you want to watch that?”

Cady’s eyes go wide as she opens her ice cream and she nods excitedly. “I’ve just been watching videos of this monkey who’s best friends with a duck on repeat. It kept making me cry harder because they’re so cute. Your plan sounds better.”

“You are the biggest dork I know, I love you dearly,” Damian responds, bringing up the right file. “Alright, time to see some puppet elephants and shit.”

Cady cuddles into his side as the video starts, with Pippa resting protectively at their feet.

“Is Janis okay?” she asks quietly after they finish.

“Yes, she’s okay. She’ll be better after you two talk, but she’s fine,” Damian responds comfortingly. “I found one of Frozen too, do you want to watch that?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

She stays over through dinner, watching musicals and playing card games with Damian to pass the time. He makes her promise to shower and clean her inevitably messy room when she gets home, and turn her phone back on.

She keeps her promises and heads to bed, feeling much more secure in her relationships than she did a few hours prior.

————-

Janis stays home from school on Friday, having woken up even angrier than she had the day before.

Her therapist in middle school had told her to find a constructive way to deal with anger, since she had a tendency to cause either severe property damage or accidental damage to herself with her impulse decisions. Damian had had to explain her way out of trouble several times.

So, Janis had taken up yarn crafts. She would knit or cross-stitch or crochet, finding the repetitive motions soothing. Plus, a lot of the tools were quite sharp, making her feel like she had weapons.

She’s aggressively working on embroidering new designs on her jacket right around the time she’s supposed to be in school, when none other than Damian comes barreling into her room, as if he’d felt a disturbance in the force and had come to make sure she’s okay.

“Phone,” he says immediately when he sees her face and choice of activity, hobbling over on his crutches and holding out a hand for it.

“Why?” Janis grumbles but shuts it off and hands it over regardless.

“So you don’t do something on it that you’ll regret later. Internet is permanent. You wanna go throw rocks in the pond?” He asks, as if she’s a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

“Can you do that? You’re not even supposed to be on crutches yet,” Janis asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You know damn well I would saw my legs off for you, I’m fine taking a little longer to heal. Plus, I got cleared by the doctor yesterday, so yes I am supposed to be on crutches yet,” he says childishly as he sticks his tongue out at her. “Are we going or not?”

“Yeah,” Janis mumbles, throwing off her covers to go get dressed.

Luckily, Damian’s unhurt foot is the one he needs to drive, so he can still do so safely. He lets Janis play her Angory Times playlist on the way there, which is just a lot of loud, shouty songs one right after another. Damian normally hates this kind of music, but Janis can see him actively trying to be supportive and let her continue.

Fortunately for him, the pond isn’t too far away, and Janis sees him breathe a sigh of relief when he shuts the car off and the noise stops. Damian grabs his crutches from the backseat and heads off, Janis stalking after him.

She bends to pick up rocks on her way, also grabbing the ones Damian points to. His are for skipping, small and flat and smooth. Hers are just for throwing, heavy ones that will make a good splash when they’re hurtled into the water.

Once their respective collections are amassed, they stand next to one another on the shore and go at it. Janis feels her anger chipping away as she chucks her rocks like baseballs into the murky water, delighting in the splashes echoing around them.

This is part of why she loves Damian so much. He knows exactly what to do to make her feel better in any possible scenario, and is perfectly content to do something as stupid as throw rocks into a creek with her in complete silence. On a sprained foot, no less.

“Nice,” she pants when Damian gets six skips in a row with one of his.

“Thanks,” Damian huffs back. “How many fish d’you think we’ve concussed so far?”

Janis laughs at that, hurtling her last rock as hard as she can. It hurts her shoulder a little, but lands almost halfway across the pond. “I don’t think fish can live in this water, honestly.”

“You’re probably right. Feeling better?” Damian asks, skipping his last stone. Four skips isn’t bad.

“Yeah. Can we get coffee?” Janis asks, trying to catch her breath.

“Yeah. Come on.”

Once Janis has her iced coffee and Damian has his latte, they find a bench to sit on and just watch the world go by for a while.

“So, are you ready to talk about why I had to take you to go chuck rocks into the pond?” Damian asks gently.

Janis sighs. “I just... I want to know what she’s thinking. I thought she trusted me, that we trusted each other. If she can’t believe that I wouldn’t do that to the point of completely cutting me off at the first slightly suspicious thing, then do we even... have a relationship?”

Damian doesn’t say anything, just takes her hand and squeezes it to encourage her to continue.

“Like... what else is going on with her? What is she not telling me? I just-I just don’t know what she needs. I’ve never felt so disconnected from her before. I’m-I’m scared.” Janis murmurs.

Damian hums sadly. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah,” Janis mumbles.

“I really don’t think this is happening because Cady doesn’t trust you. I think it’s happening because she doesn’t trust herself.” Damian responds. “She was a wreck when she came over yesterday, she had obviously been crying and hadn’t showered, things like that. Her hair wasn’t even brushed. When Aaron got back with Regina she got hot and did our whole revenge party thing.”

Janis takes her turn to listen, letting him continue.

“Cady grew up with lions and shit. If she thought you were cheating on her she should’ve been angry, not sad. Just based on who she is as a person. There’s something more happening.”

Janis thinks on what he’s said for a second. “Doesn’t trust herself? What do you mean? Doesn’t trust herself not to cheat on me?”

“No, no,” Damian says hastily. He pauses, trying to figure out how to word his point. “I don’t think Cady thinks she deserves you. She doesn’t trust herself to be what you want or need.”

“Am I that bad of a girlfriend? How could she think that? Why wouldn’t she tell me she was feeling like that?” Janis asks, trying to hold back the tears burning her eyes.

“Because you might have told her she was right. You and I know you would never do that, and I think she knows that too. But her anxiety about it overrode her rationality for a while. Cady has a lot going on. And no, you’re not a terrible girlfriend. You’re a pretty good one, actually. This is your first argument, it’s understandable,” Damian comforts.

“I just... I don’t want to lose her. And this is so stupid, why can’t I just-just stop being so angry?” Janis grits out.

“I think it’s fair for you to be angry, honestly. Cady didn’t mean for it to be, but this is kind of an attack on your character. She accused you of cheating,” Damian replies, wrapping and arm around her shoulders.

“I guess. Feels shitty,” Janis mumbles, leaning to rest her head on his shoulder.

“It’s meant to. But try to think of how she’s feeling, too,” Damian says as he rests his cheek on her head. “I had to explain to her why it didn’t make sense for you to cheat, and when it finally sank in the first thing she asked was if you were angry at her. For even thinking you would do that.”

That finally gets the tears from Janis, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes as she feels any lingering anger directed at Cady fade into nothing. “God, Caddy. What do I do, Damian?”

“For now, finish your coffee. She invited you to explain tomorrow, yeah?” Damian asks. Janis nods. “Okay, so tomorrow go over and... do something. I know you didn’t technically do anything wrong, but maybe apologize for... how she took it, I guess? You were acting kind of shady. Make sure she knows you would never cheat, tell her she can trust you, stuff like that. Just take everything one step at a time.”

“Okay,” Janis sniffles. “Is-was she okay?”

“Not at first, I’ll be honest,” Damian replies. “She said she had been watching videos of this monkey and duck who are best friends to try to cheer herself up, and I had to watch two bootlegs with her to even see her smile. But once we had a chat and stuff she seemed a lot more secure. Confident. She’ll probably apologize before you even get a chance.”

Janis gives a watery chuckle at the mention of the inter-species friendship videos. “That’s my girl. Thanks for checking on her.”

“Caddy said the same things. She wanted to know if you were okay, said thanks for even thinking about her.”

“I miss her so much,” Janis sniffs.

Damian takes her hand again. “And that’s how I know this is going to work out. You’re both upset with each other, and yet all both of you can think about is making up so you can be together again.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so. Y’all are the most disgustingly loving couple I know, you both look at the other like they hung the stars. You two are going to be fine.”

“Okay. I love you,” Janis responds, wiping her tears with her sleeve.

“I love you too. You wanna go play with the birds at the pet store?” Damian asks, hauling himself back onto his crutches.

“You know me too well,” Janis replies with a small grin, following him back to his car.

————-

On Saturday, Cady tells Janis she can come over to finally have a talk. Janis decides to come in through the window for dramatic effect, nearly falling out of the tree she has to climb to do so until Cady hauls her in safely.

“What the hell, Janis? It’s pouring with rain, why didn’t you come in through the door? You could’ve broken your neck,” Cady insists like a worried mother, leaving to fetch her a towel. It’s strange, not immediately pulling her in for a kiss or hug. She doesn’t like it.

“I didn’t, though, and that’s the key,” Janis says, rubbing the towel over her hair quickly. Once that’s done she gestures for Cady to sit on her bed, sitting across from her criss-cross applesauce. She takes a breath to prepare herself, but Cady speaks before she can.

“Janis, I’m so sorry. I don’t-I don’t know what I was thinking, I should’ve known you’d never do that, especially with Regina. I hadn’t slept in two days, I was so irrational,” she bursts out rapidly.

“Hey, Caddy, shh. I’m supposed to be apologizing to you. I understand how that whole thing with Regina might have looked to you, so I’m sorry for that, first of all,” Janis says. “I’m sorry I ever made you think I would do that to you. I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you’re not enough for me. I love you. I need you to know I would never even think about cheating. It’s important we trust each other with stuff like that, from now on.”

Cady nods. “I do, I know you would never do that. I trust you, it’s just... Jesus, I don’t even know,” She sighs, burying her face in her hands.

“Cads, hey. Can I touch you?” Janis asks gently, taking her hands when Cady gives a nod and squeezing them. She hates this, it feels like they’re back at square one of their relationship. Maybe they are. “What’s going on?”

“I know Regina has worked on herself, a lot, and I hate feeling like this. But she took Aaron away right when she found out I liked him. What would’ve stopped her from doing it with you?”

“Me,” Janis insists. “I would have stopped it.”

“But what if she’s better for you?!” Cady asks pleadingly. “Regina could take care of you. She’s pretty, and nice now. She’s rich, and smart, and she can do art and stuff too. What- what do I have? I’m just some homeschooled weirdo from Kenya who doesn’t understand people and won’t shut up about math. I-I’m autistic, that’s gonna be hard to deal with sometimes, and in terms of looks I’m not anything special. I want you to have someone who makes you happy. You deserve someone like her. Someone.... someone better.”

“I don’t give a hot, crispy, Kentucky fried fuck what you think I deserve. I know what I want, and I want you. I want my Caddy, my Peanut, my Butterfly,” Janis says passionately, cupping her cheeks and looking into her eyes. “I want your pretty blue eyes and your red hair that smells like cherries and your freckles I can find constellations in. I want my math nerd who does calculus for fun and who can’t do art to save her life but tries anyway because she knows it’ll make me smile. I want my animal lover who makes friends with the squirrels in the woods and didn’t notice a deer followed her on her walk to my house, my girl who can tell me facts I never needed to know about lions and fun stories about Africa. You make me happy. I want you, baby. Nobody else.”

Cady throws herself at Janis, knocking her backwards onto the bed and locking their lips together. Janis kisses her back just as hard, gripping her waist so hard Cady can feel bruises forming. She doesn’t care. She’s flooded with relief at the familiar waxy texture of Janis’ lipstick, the comforting smell of vanilla from her soft skin and the safe feeling of being held in her arms. She pulls back for a split second to breathe before diving back in, gasping as Janis nips her lip and twines their tongues together.

When they finally pull back, Janis just cups Cady’s face to look at her, lips swollen and two-toned hair wild around her. “I’m so sorry,” Cady says, pulling back to sit again and burying herself in Janis’ shoulder when she follows. “I hated fighting, I love you, I’m sorry.”

“The only thing you have to be sorry for is not telling me you were feeling that way. This is only gonna work if we both feel okay about ourselves, and tell each other when we don’t. I’m sorry for not talking with you about this kind of thing sooner. This whole relationship needs to be based on trust and talking to each other, okay?”

Cady nods. “Okay. We both take care of each other?”

“Exactly, my girl,” Janis confirms, grinning as Cady kisses her cheeks. “But ourselves, too.”

“Have you ever felt like this? With me?” Cady asks gently.

“Of course. I wonder every day what I did to deserve you. I was so jealous the whole time you were with Aaron, and I thought you were way out of my league for a long time,” Janis responds, chuckling when Cady pulls back to look at her incredulously. “You’re so beautiful, and so smart. You were queen of the school for a good while, I thought you would at least want someone as smart as you, if not as nice and pretty. When we first got together I spent a lot of time wondering why you didn’t pick Kevin or even Regina over me.”

“Then I’m sorry too. You’re what I want, I love you. I love the way you always smell like paint, I love the one little chunk of hair that always slips into your face,” Cady says, brushing it behind Janis’ ear. “I love the way you’re so tough and strong and yet you cry over the snake food at the pet store and try to steal the dwarf hamsters every time we go. I love how you never let my feet touch the ground when we’re together, and how you seem so cold but give the warmest hugs and softest kisses. I love how you’re the only person who regularly asks for stories about Kenya and never tells me to be quiet, and how you let me ramble about math and at least pretend to be interested even though you don’t understand what I’m on about. I love that you let me call you stupid little nicknames even though it ‘goes against your image’. I love that you’re so passionate about everything, that you care so much about what’s important to you and aren’t afraid to let people know it. I. Love. You. So much. Promise me you’ll tell me if you feel that way again.”

“I promise, baby. I love you too,” Janis responds with tears in her eyes. Cady clings to her tightly, happy they seem to be okay again. They sit like that for a short while, content to be holding each other again.

“Janis?” Cady asks quietly after a moment.

“Yes, Princess?” Janis responds, opening her eyes again.

“What have you been talking with Regina about?”

Janis chuckles, kissing her cheek. “I’ve been trying to come up with something to surprise you with, to celebrate you being valedictorian. Reggie likes party planning and stuff, I thought she might have some ideas.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh my god, I’m so stupid,” Cady chuckles. Janis flicks her gently.

“Hey, no you’re not. You’re the valedictorian, for fucks sake. And I did not go about any of this correctly.”

“I didn’t either, I don’t blame you. But you don’t have to get me anything, Jayjay,” Cady mumbles sheepishly as she nuzzles back into Janis.

“I know I don’t have to, I want to,” Janis replies. “You’ve worked so hard, you deserve something.”

“What have you guys come up with?” Cady asks.

“Regina wants to throw you some kind of party, but that’s all we’ve gotten so far. I’m trying to talk her out of some sort of rager,” Janis answers.

“Oh, that sounds fun. But yeah, I don’t want anything big or crazy,” Cady says.

“What do you want? Since it’s not a surprise anymore. Might as well get your input,” Janis says in response.

Cady thinks for a while. “I dunno. Something with food. Maybe outside if it’s a nice day. I trust your judgement.”

“A dangerous choice,” Janis chuckles.

“I know,” Cady giggles. “But really. As long as it’s not anything crazy or expensive I don’t mind what you choose to do.”

“Okay. I can work with that. I love you,” Janis says.

“I love you too. I missed you,” Cady says.

“I missed you too, baby,” Janis responds. “Was torture without you.”

“We really have to do something for Damian, too,” Cady hums thoughtfully. “I would’ve totally spiraled without him.”

“God, yeah, me too,” Janis says. “You think of something to get him, we’ll give it to him on the same day we do your little bash.”

“Okay,” Cady giggles. She goes quiet for a long moment before piping up again. “Janis?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you help me with my English project?”

“Yes,” Janis laughs. “Of course.”

“Thank god.”

————-

“Hey, Cady, can we talk?” Regina stops her in the hallway on her way to study hall.

“Oh god, Regina! Sorry, you scared me. Uh, yeah, are you okay with talking in the bathroom?”

Regina grimaces, but nods. Cady follows her in.

“Regina, I’m sorry, I should never have accused you of trying to steal Janis,” Cady apologizes. “You’ve worked so much on being nicer, and it really shows, I’m sorry I ever thought you would still do something like that.”

“Whoa, Cady,” Regina says. “Um, it’s... fine. I wasn’t expecting you to apologize. I wanted to apologize, I should have been more careful with how Janis and I were meeting and stuff. I don’t know if she’s talked to you yet, but she would never cheat on you, especially with me. I think she still hates me. Please forgive Janis, none of this was her fault.”

“Gina, hey,” Cady comforts. “Janis and I talked this weekend, we’re back together. Everything is okay. We’ve all learned some very valuable lessons. I forgive you.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Regina sighs. “The universe has felt out of balance since you broke up. I was wondering what you guys were going to do to me that could be worse than the Kälteen bars.”

“I’m still sorry about those,” Cady mumbles sheepishly. “Let’s just, like... talk about stuff, in the future? Stop having to have moments like this?”

“Agreed,” Regina says. “You want to hug it out, don’t you?” Cady nods. “Fine. Thirty seconds.”

“I’ll take it,” Cady says happily. “I’ll make a hugger out of you yet.”

————-

“Jayjay!” Cady calls, leaping on Janis from behind.

“Jesus fuck! Caddy! Don’t do that,” Janis yelps as she turns around.

“Hi,” Cady says, grinning up at her. “I sowwy.”

Janis glares at her. “You’re forgiven. For a kiss.”

Cady happily obliges, reaching her arms around Janis’ neck as she leans up to kiss her sweetly. “Better?”

“For now,” Janis says, pecking her gently again. “Do you want to work on your project? I’ve been freed from planning your little shindig for the day, Regina wanted to go see Damian.”

“Aww, that’s nice of her. I definitely need your help, it’s due on Friday and I only have a couple slides,” Cady says.

“Tits. You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Cady says, lacing their fingers together as Janis leads her to her truck.

Janis flops onto Cady’s bed when they arrive, reaching for her laptop to see what Cady has so far. She bursts out laughing when she sees the only slide Cady’s made.

“What’s so funny?” Cady asks. She’d been pretty sleep deprived by the time she actually got around to putting it together, but thought she had done a pretty good job.

“Did you proofread this at all?” Janis says in between fits of laughter.

“I hadn’t slept in two days at the time, but yes,” Cady replies, almost offended.

“Baby, this just says ‘I’m so tired. Please god let me sleep.’ over and over with a bunch of typos,” Janis says breathlessly, wiping tears of laughter from under her eyes.

“Oh. Oops,” Cady replies. Apparently she’s made less progress than she had thought.

“Next time, pace yourself. You need to sleep, Butterfly,” Janis says, reaching for her. Cady comes to sit on her lap.

“So, what career do you want to do this project on? It’s supposed to be what you want to do when you grow up, right?” Janis asks, holding her close.

“Yeah,” Cady mumbles. “But... I don’t know what I want to do.”

“Oh, baby, that’s okay. I don’t know either,” Janis comforts. “Do you have any ideas of jobs you want?”

“My parents want me to go into zoology, like them,” Cady replies. “And I’ve been... wondering if I should go into medicine. Like Rhys wanted to. Since he couldn’t himself.”

“But what do you want to do?” Janis asks. “I think it’s great that you’re considering medicine for your brother, but if it’s not what you really want then you shouldn’t force yourself into it.”

“I kind of want to teach math,” Cady mumbles shyly. “Like, to college or high school kids. Maybe get my PhD in math and stuff. I think math is fun, I want to help other people have fun with it too.”

“You would be such a good teacher, baby,” Janis comforts, kissing her cheek. “You should absolutely do that if it’s what you want. You’ll be successful enough to make your parents happy, and be doing something you’re interested in. That’s a great fit for you.”

Cady looks more than a little relieved at that, but realizes something. “I’d feel guilty though. I promised I’d become a doctor for Rhys when he died. I just... don’t really want to anymore. I don’t think I’d be very good at it.”

“Butterfly, Rhys would want you to be happy with whatever you choose to do. You already honor him every day just by existing. You’re so smart, and kind, and beautiful. I know you’re already making him proud, you don’t owe him anything else,” Janis reminds her. She never met Rhys, but from everything she’s heard about him she just made a true statement.

“Thank you, Jayjay. I guess if I did get my PhD I’d technically be a doctor,” Cady jokes. “I’ll decide later, I have a couple years.”

“That you do. Unfortunately, becoming a math teacher doesn’t make for a very interesting project, though, so maybe pick a fake career and we’ll look into that,” Janis says.

“I did actually want to be a zoologist when I was really little, we could do that,” Cady says.

“Sounds like a plan,” Janis replies as she kisses her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cady responds. “Can we just make out instead?”

“Tempting,” Janis says. “You get one minute of kissing for every half hour.”

“Fine.”

————-

“Hey, Cady, can you go to the mall with us after school today?” Gretchen asks, flanked by Karen.

“Yeah,” Cady responds. “Is this related at all to-“

“No!” Karen insists before she can finish.

“Karen, sweetie, she knows she’s having some kind of party. She just doesn’t know what’s happening specifically,” Gretchen says quietly.

“Oh yeah,” Karen says. “Then yes. They’re going shopping for supplies today and told us to distract you. Confetti emoji.”

“Ah,” Cady giggles. “Yeah, I can go. I’ll meet you guys by the main doors after school?”

“Caucasian thumbs up!” Karen responds, pulling Gretchen away.

“Yeah, we’ll be there!”

“Okay, Sarkisian, what’s this wonderful idea you’ve had?” Regina asks.

“A picnic!” Janis says excitedly. “She wants something with food and something outside. We’ll have a picnic in the park.”

“That... actually doesn’t sound terrible,” Regina says. “So what do we need?”

“A big-ass blanket,” Janis responds as they enter a party store. “And food. And Caddy loves balloons, but we should get those on the day.”

“Who’s gonna make the food, Jan?” Regina asks.

“Jules can, she loves to cook. She’s been wanting to practice stuff anyway,” Janis responds, looking at their selections of plates.

“How is she?” Regina asks quietly. She hasn’t seen Juliana since she and Janis were twelve.

“She’s good,” Janis answers. “Tall as shit, little evil genius. She’s super smart and sarcastic and stuff. She’s big into writing now, too. How’s Kylie been?”

“I... She... I’m...” Regina stutters. “She’s a good kid, but she’s turning into a little version of me. I’m trying to stop her before she gets to where I was.”

Janis hums sadly. “Well, at least you’re a better role model for her now. And you’re both getting the help you need. Kylie was the sweetest little thing last time I saw her, I don’t think she can get to your level.”

“I hope not,” Regina mumbles. “Cady likes yellow, right? We could do white and yellow, that would be cute.”

Janis gets the sense they’re done talking about their families for a reason, now. “Yeah, yellow is her favorite. We could go buy some white sheets from somewhere for cheap and then do yellow plates and shit.”

“Done. I’m buying,” Regina says, grabbing several packs of plates and napkins.

“No! She’s my girlfriend,” Janis protests. “I’m paying.”

“Jan, just let me have this.”

“Fine. ‘S your money,” Janis grumbles.

“Thank you.”

“Hmph.”

Cady, unfortunately, has study hall as her last class of the day in the English wing, so she has to rush to meet Gretchen and Karen by the entrance to the school.

She’s so excited to be spending time with them that she almost runs past them, managing to slow down just before she barrels into Gretchen.

“Hi, sorry,” she says breathlessly. “Who’s driving?”

“I will,” Gretchen offers. Riding with other drivers tends to make her anxious.

“I call shotgun!” Karen calls, already heading to the car. That leaves Cady in the back, which she doesn’t mind.

They put their backpacks in the trunk and hop in, Karen dancing along in her seat to the radio. Cady texts Damian on the ride there, since he had an appointment to check on his foot today. He’d been back in school starting that week, but was still stuck on crutches.

Little Slice: How was the doctor????

Big Slice: Good! I don’t have to use crutches anymore, I just have to wear a boot and go easy on it

Big Slice: No dancing for a while :(

Little Slice: Aw :((( You’ll be back to dancing soon though!!

Little Slice: And yay no more crutches!!!!!!!!!

Big Slice: Yeah now Pippa can’t trip me lmao

Big Slice: Wait aren’t you at the mall??

Little Slice: Yeah, we just got here. I just wanted to check on you 📷

Big Slice: Aw, thanks Cads

Big Slice: Go have fun I’m all good

Little Slice: Okay. Love you 🥰

Big Slice: Love you too, go eat pretzels 🥨

Little Slice: 📷🥨

She chuckles and shuts her phone off, following after her friends into the mall. “Are you guys wanting anything in particular or are we just here for fun?”

“Both!” Karen cheers. “We should totally buy you an outfit for your party. But I also want frozen yogurt.”

“Oh, I didn’t bring any money,” Cady remembers. “But you guys should have fun, I’ll just hang around.”

“No, it’s our treat. We haven’t paid anything for your party,” Gretchen says.

“You guys don’t have to do that,” Cady mumbles. She’s slightly embarrassed by all the attention she’s been getting lately.

“Money bag emoji, let us buy you stuff, Cady. We’re both pretty rich,” Karen says.

“Yeah, come on. Frozen yogurt and one outfit from, like, Forever 21 or something isn’t that expensive anyway, Cades,” Gretchen adds.

“Okay, fine,” Cady begrudgingly agrees. “Let’s do yogurt first, I’m hungry.”

Karen takes both their hands and hauls them towards her favorite shop.

Once they’re sufficiently full of yogurt and toppings, they head to find an outfit for Cady. Gretchen wanders off for a second, leaving Karen and Cady to browse some racks. She comes back with a beautiful white sundress, patterned with yellow flowers.

She shyly approaches Cady, offering the dress. “What do you think of this?”

“Oh, Gretch, this is so pretty! Let me go try it on, it’s beautiful,” Cady squeals, rushing towards the changing rooms. It’s a soft cotton, with a pretty tight bodice and a skirt that flares at her waist, and ends just above her knees. Gretchen seems to have remembered her sizes from their plastic days, the dress fits perfectly.

She opens the curtain to go show her friends, both of them clapping happily and squealing as she spins around. It’s different than it was when they went shopping last year. She can tell their reactions are genuine, rather than just trying to appease her.

“What do you think?” Gretchen asks shyly.

“Gretch, it’s perfect. It’s so soft,” Cady says, looking at herself in the mirror. It has short sleeves, so she might get a little chilly, but she can steal a jacket from Janis. “And, I can wear it to graduation too. It’s beautiful.”

“Oh, good,” Gretchen breathes. She’s working on not needing quite so much external validation, but it’s a slow process.

“You look hot,” Karen adds, making Cady laugh.

“Thanks,” She says, kicking up a heel. “Do you guys want to come over? Watch a movie or something?”

“Totally, that would be fetch,” Gretchen says.

“I’m so glad you still say fetch,” Cady giggles. “Let’s go!”

—————-

A few days later, Janis is typing the final few slides of Cady’s project as her girlfriend lays in her lap and dictates.

“And... you’re done,” Janis says as she enters the last few words. “Now we just need to proofread it and cite your sources.”

“Mmh,” Cady whines. “I hate citing stuff.”

“I hate it too,” Janis says, leaning down to kiss her gently. Cady rests a hand on the back of her head, keeping her close and kissing her back. Janis gives in for a second, before she resists and pulls back. “Stop trying to seduce me into letting you slack off, Peanut.”

“Fine,” Cady huffs as she sits up, still in Janis’ lap as she enters all her sources. “There.”

Janis turns her around to face her. “Good job, baby.”

“Thank you for helping me,” Cady says contently as she nuzzles into her. “I love you.”

“I love you too. So much,” Janis hums. “Have you thought of anything to get for Damian, by the way?”

“A couple things,” Cady says. “He mentioned something when you guys were telling me about Phillip last year, um... an... uh-“

“Edible arrangement?” Janis asks with a chuckle, remembering the story.

“Yeah! What are those?” Cady asks.

“They’re like flower bouquets but they’re made of fruit, so you can eat them,” Janis replies.

“Oh. We could make one of those? Does he like them?”

“That would be cute,” Janis says. “He likes fruit a lot, I don’t see why he wouldn’t like one. They can’t be too hard to make.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll jinx us,” Cady jokes. “We should decorate a little vase to put it in, too.”

“Sounds like a plan, Butterfly,” Janis says. “Are you excited for Sunday?” She and Regina had finally gathered everything they would need, and decided to have the picnic on Sunday so Juliana would have Saturday to prep the food, with the assistance of Regina and their moms.

“Yes! I can’t wait to see what you guys came up with,” Cady says happily. “I know it’ll be perfect.”

“Good,” Janis says as she leans in to kiss her. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Cady teases.

“No way. I love you most.”

“Well... I love you... moster.” Cady stumbles, making them both laugh.

“Okay, fine, you win for today,” Janis chuckles.

“Ha! I win,” Cady says. “My prize is cuddles.”

“I can live with that.”

——————-

Sunday finally rolls around, and Janis is shaking with excitement. She’d spent the day before with Cady, putting together Damian’s thank you gift while Regina and Juliana spent the day cooking at her house.

She and Cady had both wound up absolutely covered in paint from trying to decorate the vase they had picked, and painted a Broadway stage on. Once they had scrubbed most of it off, they decided to start prepping the fruit, neither of them quite understanding how to turn a cantaloupe into a flower. Eventually they got the hang of it, putting together a rather lovely arrangement. Damian would like it, at least.

Cady had mischievously decided to chuck a melon ball at Janis once they had finished putting everything together, so Janis had thrown a grape back. Eventually every piece of the extra fruit they had had been thrown at someone, and they had a delicious mess to clean up.

Her jacket had also gone missing, which was slightly concerning. She had planned on wearing it to the picnic as well, but is wearing a backup since it never turned up.

“Janny. Breathe,” Juliana demands. as Janis is frantically running around trying to make sure everything is in place. They’d bought cheap white sheets and stitched them together to make a massive blanket, which is spread over the soft grass, and bought yellow balloons which are weighing the blanket down at the corners.

Juliana had truly gone all out, prepping almost all of Cady’s favorite foods. All sorts of sandwiches, chocolate covered strawberries, a cheese board, pink lemonade, and even an adorable froggy cake.

“Okay,” Janis says as she teases a deep breath. “You really did a great job, kid, this stuff looks great.”

Julie beams up at her as Janis pulls her into a hug. “Thanks, Janny.”

“Yeah, Jan, chill. Everything’s fine, just wait for your girl,” Regina says, adjusting a bunch of balloons.

“Okay.”

She doesn’t have to wait long, as Damian shows up about ten minutes later with her blindfolded girlfriend in tow. So that’s where her jacket had gone.

He leads Cady to a good place, where she can see the whole spread, before he unties her blindfold.

Cady gasps excitedly, taking everything in for a split second before she runs to jump into Janis’ arms. Janis spins her around as Cady giggles happily, grinning down at her. She pulls Janis down into a kiss as soon as she’s on her feet again, wrapping her arms around her neck and pressing the lips together sweetly.

“Janis, this is beautiful, I love it,” she says as soon as they break apart. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby,” Janis says quietly, leaning down to kiss her again. They only remember they’re not alone when everyone starts making gagging noises, Juliana somehow already on Damian’s back. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cady whispers, giving her one more peck before going to thank Regina and Julie. Regina begrudgingly accepts a hug, and Julie grins happily as Cady wraps her in a tight hug and kisses her cheek. Once that’s been handled she looks around a little more, smiling widely. “Should we give Damian his thing now?”

“Sure,” Janis says, heading to grab it as Damian does a lazy waltz with her sister. He only has to wear the boot for a few more weeks, luckily. “Dame!”

“What? Aww!” He squeals when they hold out his homemade fruit bouquet. “This is so cute.”

“It’s a thank you present, for telling us we were both being idiots but in a nice way,” Janis replies. “Neither of us want to think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there to talk us down.”

“Aww. I should become a marriage counselor, if I get this kind of stuff every time,” Damian says, eating one of the melon flowers. He gasps with exaggerated drama as they both lean in to smooch one of his cheeks at the same time, pressing a hand over his heart.

“Thanks, Damian,” Cady giggles.

“You’re welcome. When do we get to eat?” Damian asks, cradling his bouquet.

“Once everyone else shows up,” Regina answers, coming over to join their conversation. “Speak of the devil.”

Cady peeks around Damian to see who else has arrived, going to greet the Mathletes, along with Karen and Gretchen with a hug.

She spends the picnic chatting with everyone, but also spends a lot of it stuck close to Janis. She’s either hugging her, in her lap, or holding her hand throughout the whole thing. It’s cute.

Cady and Janis stay behind after everyone else goes home to clean up, deciding to have a moment to themselves first. The sun went down a while ago, so they cuddle up on the blanket and look at the stars.

“I love you,” Cady says quietly after a while, rolling on top of Janis.

“I love you too,” Janis responds as she pulls her down into a kiss. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Cady whispers, ghosting the words over Janis’ lips. “Today was perfect.”

“I’m glad,” Janis says. “Now kiss me.”

Cady obliges, cupping her face to kiss her as Janis rests her hands on her waist. Janis flicks her tongue at the seam of her lips, moaning quietly when Cady lets her in and their tongues meet.

They both know they should get to work soon, but for now their responsibilities are allowed to fade into the background. The picnic was wonderful, but not quite worth almost losing one another.

They lose the world in each other, tasting the universe on each other’s lips as the stars twinkle just for them above their heads.

All is well.

hope you enjoyed! this was a prompt fill for Hayeena and Aubrey_Plaza_Stole_HappiestSeason on ao3.

also, translation for the Swahili: ndege wangu mdogo wa wimbo: my little songbird. I have no idea if its accurate, I don't speak Swahili.

requests are still open! please leave them either here, on my ao3 or on my wattpad. all are the same handle, maybeimamuppet.

lots of love,

ezzy

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #regina george #gretchen wieners #karen smith #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway

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creativeskullcreations · 3 years

Text

Outside chapter 25: What Comes Next

And here it is, the final chapter. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but more on that in the next chapter. Also can anyone guess who the sequel will involve? There's a hint, though it'll be a while before I get to it.

Stacy chopped the vegetables for the upcoming stir-fry as Scout watched from the other side of the sink. Will was working on measuring out the rice, hopeful that this time it would be the right amount. Scout hoped for another rice-explosion.

Rice cooker started, Will washed his hands and headed down into the basement. Nick and Riley sat in cages along the back wall, tied up and gagged. Riley glared at him as he approached, but Nick stared into space, unmoving and unseeing. Will came up to the cage and poked the Puppet's face with a pen, and on finding no reaction took the artist out of his cage, manually closing his eyes as he went.

Will laid the body on the table, untying him an removing the gag before wrapping him up like a mummy. Wrapped up in fabric and bound with silver infused rope, he was laid gently into a velvet lined box, that was closed and locked up tight with a key and code. It was placed on top of the box that held Mortimer, right next to the one that held Daisy. Right next to the many other boxes lining the wall.

Will finished checking in with the other dolls and toys, finding no change or escape attempts. He went to leave, but stopped first to look at Riley. She was obviously tired, no longer struggling against the ropes that bound her. Instead she opted to give a death glare, which he returned with a steady stare.

"You're next, you know." He told her quietly. "Don't worry, you won't get a different treatment from the others." She just glared harder, and he went back upstairs, heading back for the kitchen.

"Nick's gone dormant." He told Stacy quietly as she cooked the vegetables and rice in a pan. She frowned and nodded, but didn't reply beyond that. Scout was on the table, messing with the forks, and neither of them wanted to bring it to her attention. As he went on to stop the Puppet from her tower building, Stacy breathed a sigh of relief.

'Three down, just one more left.' She sighed in relief as she scooped the food onto four plates. 'It's almost over, then.' She set them up on the table while Will went off to find Canon. He returned quickly, no Puppet in sight.

"Yeah she's still up there, and not coming back down. But she did yell at me to go away this time, so I think we're making progress." He said, taking a seat. Stacy dumped the food that would've been Canon's into a tupperware before taking her own seat.

Scout, true to form, had already started stuffing her face. She stopped briefly, swallowing her mouthful with some difficulty. "I don't even know why you fucking bother. If she wants to be miserable, let her be miserable. Better than having her bothering me all the time." Another scoop of rice went into her mouth. "Why are we eating this again? It's fucking gross."

"We have to have at least two nights where we eat real food." Stacy told her. "It's healthy."

"It's. Gross." Scout repeated. "Didn't you make a cake? Where is it?"

"Cake comes after dinner. Eat your rice." Will told her. And, with some grumbling, the Puppet continued to shovel the stir-fry into her mouth.

"My Dad wants me to come home for Thanksgiving." Stacy said, after a few minutes of silent eating. "I think I should probably go this time, rather than just call."

"Might be a good idea." Will agreed. "Doesn't Danny need to, uh, do something anyways?"

"That's another reason I'm going. And why Scout is coming too."

"What? Ew no I don't wanna go." She dropped down into the chair behind her. "I like this house."

"It's just for a few days. Besides, I want you to meet my brother. It's important."

"How important? Also isn't he the one who can't hear? That's weird." Scout commented, peering over the edge of the table like some sort of gremlin.

"Yes, and yes he is weird but not because he's deaf." A pause, as Stacy realized something. "So don't tell him that that's why he's weird."

The two stared at each other, long enough that Will sighed and reached over to pull the Puppet back up onto the table. "Finish your food so we can get to the cake already." He grumbled, stabbing into a larger piece of carrot. "Also has Lisa gotten back to you on that project she's working?"

"Not yet, but apparently it's been more difficult than she thought. Neither Stitch or Bonzai are cooperating, and Scout doesn't even want to know what she's working on." Stacy side-eyed her Puppet, who glared right back.

"I want no part of that crazy bitch's plans!" She insisted, and was met with two sighs.

"You don't even know what it is." Will pointed out, and got a handful of rice in the face for his trouble.

"I don't fucking care. It involves fabric, and I don't fucking trust her!" She went to grab another handful of rice, only to find her plate gone, and Stacy halfway to the sink with it and the other two plates.

"Who wants some cake?" She asked with false cheer, holding the pan and a knife up. Scout cheered, and Will just sighed, though with a small smile.

-----

Lisa sighed heavily, pulling at her hair as she stared down at her notes. Nothing seemed to be working, though not like she could even test her theories with nobody cooperating with her. Even Stitch, who had agreed to help, and been swayed into not helping by Bonzai.

Finally, she stood and swept the notes into a folder, shelving it for the time being. She had classes to plan for next year, and should probably get on that. She grabbed a fresh notebook and opened it up. 'I wonder is Stitch would be willing to come with a few days out of the week.' She thought as she started on the plans. 'She's not that creepy, and isn't as loud as the others. And kids always love a Puppet.'

A light smile crossed her face as she thought of vague scenarios and sketched in small notes on where the Puppet could fit. She wasn't sure if her supervisor would even allow it, but it was nice to fantasize. Unfortunately, her fantasies were soon broken by a loud crash from the living room.

'Oh what did those three do now?" She stood and left her study, to find the little train Mason had set up crashed into a wall. Her roommate was doubled over laughing behind a camera, while Stitch and Bonzai were arguing. She leaned against the wall, watching the scene.

"I hope you got some good shots, cause it's time to clean this up." She told them, and instantly he sobered up.

"Aw, come on Lees, they love the train. Just look!" He pointed to the two Puppets, of which Stitch was actively strangling her brother.

"It looks like they're trying to kill each other." She leaned down, scooping the Puppets into her arms. "Besides it's gonna be time for bed soon, and I don't want to trip over this again tomorrow morning."

"Ugh, fine." He pulled his phone out and snapped some pics so he could put it back together later. He then started grabbing track pieces and putting them into a nearby bin. Bonzai let out his own groan, just now noticing what was going on.

"Hey wait don't put it away!" He struggled, but couldn't break Lisa's hold on him. "I wasn't done with that! Stop!"

"Ah but my Host has spoken. You are done with it." Stitch intoned smugly, to be met with a hard glare. He was ignored as Lisa carried them to what had been a guest room, but was now set up as their room. Not much had really changed about it, save for there being more toys and some kids' books around. It was mostly a temporary place for them, that had become permanent.

"You guys really gotta clean this place up." The blonde muttered as she stepped over things to put them in the bed. Bonzai tried to escape the second he was let go, but Lisa grabbed him again and almost forcibly tucked him in beside his sister. He crossed his arms and sulked while Stitch looked far too happy to be fussed over like that.

"Glad you're enjoying this humiliation." He muttered.

"It is only humiliating if you dislike such actions." Stitch whispered back as she watched her Host put away some of their things. "Personally, I feel like this was an optimal outcome. Look at her, cleaning for us."

"Well I wasn't done playing with Mason." He grumbled, just loud enough that Lisa heard.

"What were you guys doing, anyways. I saw Mason had his camera set up." She said, coming to sit down on the bed with them.

"We were making a movie! With fun action sequences and a train chase!" Bonzai told her excitedly. "It was totally awesome!"

"He told us he would put it on the internet when he was finished." Stitch told her, and Lisa frowned briefly before covering it up.

"That sounds so cool!" She said. "I can't wait to watch the finished thing. I bet it's gonna be awesome!"

"Hell yeah it is!" Bonzai agreed, and received a small pat on the head for it. He quickly brushed her hand away while she gave Stitch an identical pat, then stood to leave. Turning the light off as she went, she made sure the door was tightly shut before heading back to the living room.

She took a deep breath. "You're going to put them on YouTube?!" She whisper-shouted with a squeak.

"Uh, yeah? I'm not gonna make a whole ass movie just to let it sit in the camera." Mason told her, putting the last of the track pieces in the box.

"You can't do that! What if somebody sees? Oh man we're gonna get in so much trouble!"

"Lisa, relax. Stacy made a whole TikTok account for Scout, and nothing's happened to them." He pointed out.

"That's Stacy though! She has, like, supernatural luck or something! We're gonna get caught and they'll be taken away!"

"Look, Lisa, it'll be fine. And besides, the movie's not done yet. There's plenty of time to see if Scout gets caught because of TikTok or not." He grinned, which faded at the hard look Lisa was giving him.

"If anything happens to anyone because you put that video on YouTube, you're dead." She told him, but he just grinned back.

"Fair enough." He said. "But don't worry so much. It'll be fine, I'm sure of it!"

-----

Sammy walked into his half-dark apartment, not bothering to turn on any other lights. His backpack fell to the floor with a heavy thump as he wandered into the kitchen for a soda from the fridge. Drink gotten, he opened it up as he wandered into the living room, sitting on the couch and lighting up a joint.

He blew out a mouthful of smoke, barely noticing as Bit appeared on the couch. She crawled over to lay her head in his lap, letting out small coughs occasionally. He stroked her hair absentmindedly, slowing down as his mind drifted with the smoke.

"You need to stop doing that." Bit mumbled, coughing again as Sammy finally passed into a weed fueled haze. She got no reply, so she sighed unhappily.

She'd been expecting something... more with Sammy once they got back. And her siblings seemed to have gotten that, even if Canon was being a weird bitch about it. But all she got was a Host that left her alone for days at a time, only to come home and smoke himself into oblivion. And then he'd leave again the very next morning.

He didn't talk or play with her like the other Hosts did with her siblings. It was almost enough to bring her to tears when she was left alone in the dark apartment. Almost. She never actually cried from it(not like she'd admit it, anyways).

She was tired of the taste and stench of the smoke, however. It made her cough, and smelled worse than anything in the Studio. She wished he could get through one day without smoking. She knew that the next time they all met up, she was going to stink.

-----

Stacy brushed her hair, sitting on the bed next to Scout, who was deep into playing an old Gameboy that had been found in a box. As soon as her hair had been tied back into a braid, she lifted the Puppet into her lap and gave her hair a few quick strokes with the brush.

"Okay, it's bedtime now. Save the game and turn it off." Stacy said, putting the brush away. She unhooked her prosthetic and set it down beside the bed, in easy reach for the next morning.

"Can't save can't pause gotta keep playing." Scout mumbled. Her Host sighed before grabbing the game and pausing it, then plugging it into the charger on the side-table. The Puppet reached for it, but was held in place as Stacy turned off the light and laid down.

"Bedtime is now, Scout. Will's already asleep." She muttered as she settled down, and Scout finally stopped fighting it. Stacy would go limp soon enough, anyways, and then Scout could go back to playing.

And, just as predicted, once Stacy was fully asleep it was easy to squirm out of her loose grasp and grab the Gameboy. She settled into the corner of the room to play, when she noticed a light go by the open door.

Too low to the ground to be anything but Canon, Scout eased through the gap between the door and door-frame. She followed her eldest sister to the kitchen, just in time to see her pull the tupperware of gross rice out of the fridge. It landed on the floor with a thump and she pulled the lid off to shove the cold leftovers into her mouth.

"You know that tastes better warm, right?" Scout asked, and Canon jumped, then hunched over her food and glared at her sister.

"Shut up and go back to your Host!" She hissed before chomping down on another mouthful of food. Hunger satisfied for now, she put the lid back on and hefted the container back into the fridge. She then closed the door, plunging the kitchen back into darkness.

"C'mon Canon, Will's worried about you. I think." Scout scratched her head. "It's honestly hard to tell with him sometimes."

"I. Don't. Care." Canon said simply, pushing past Scout in order to get back to her hiding place.

"But he's your Host!" The elder sister paused, leaving Scout feeling safe to continue. "Everyone else likes their Hosts! Did... did something happen or-"

"Just because the rest of you are happy to be pets doesn't mean I am." She stated. "They'll all get bored of you eventually, so don't drag me into your delusions." And then she vanished, leaving Scout with a rebuttal dying on her lips.

"Well, fine then! Be a bitch, see if I care!" She grumbled as she made her way back to the bedroom in the dark. She Jumped onto the bed, crawling under the blanket and up against Stacy.

"We're not fucking pets." Scout muttered. "They care about us. Stacy cares about me. I know she does." She sniffed, burying her face under the covers. "Why does she have to be such a bitch about it?"

-----

Somewhere far away, in a different, rainy city, sat a small building. Out of that building, through the boards covering the door, a tiny figure made of wood squeezed out, dragging an envelope with him. Holding it over his head, he raced to the nearby mailbox sitting at the corner. It took some work, but he was able to climb up and stuff the letter he was carrying inside.

And just in time, too, as a flash of lightning showed a stark white figure about the size of a child standing just inside the doorway. Thin strings wormed their way out through the boards, attaching themselves to the puppet's limbs. It screamed, a high-pitched, sharp sound as he was dragged back inside.

The rain continued to fall as the city slept on, completely unaware.

#outside #hello puppets #fanfiction #scout #canon #stitch #bonzai #bit #riley ruckuc #nick nack #stacy stein #will carson #lisa montgamery #mason kamiya #sammy davis

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pregnant-piggy · 4 years

Text

Secret Summer - part II

George Weasley x reader

Words: 3100

Warnings: my English? (cuz I found some mistakes in the previous part)

part one

A/N: So I wanted to post this yesterday but school and mental breakdowns are not the best combination. Specially not with exams all month. Anyway, have fun and I love ya!

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The rain was falling down on you but you didn't stop. You didn't even dare to look over your shoulder to see if George was still in the rain behind you. Something between you had broken. And it hurt, a hollow feeling spread in your chest. It got you numb, too sad and angry to cry.

You didn't know what George was to you right now. Did you break up? Was it just a fight? A fight that would lead to a break-up? You feared it was, but a part of you was relieved. This conversation had to happen eventually and at least you now knew where George was standing. The question was, where were you?

The wet ground sucked on your feet as you walked up the Weasley's land. On your way to the front door you tried to come up with excuses. In your concentration you kicked a gnome right in his face and he ran away cursing. It gave you some satisfaction but didn't help your problem. You didn't want to wait for George to return, but you also didn't want to worry the Weasleys.

However, you were completely soaked by now and started to shiver. You ran up the three steps to the back door and stepped into the kitchen. Hermione and Harry were sitting at the dining table and looked up when you entered. A similar expression of surprise appeared on both their faces, but where Hermione’s turned into worry, Harry's just stayed the same.

‘Are you alright? What happened?’ Hermione asked as she rushed over to you.

‘Was cold... decided to turn back...’ you muttered but when Hermione got closer you whispered: ‘I got into a fight with George and I don't know what to do.’ Your voice was shaking from emotion.

‘It's okay, we'll figure it out,’ Hermione whispered back and she put her arm around you. ‘But first we need to get you into something dry.’

She took you up the stairs to the bathroom. You were still feeling numb. Hermione helped you take you off your shoes.

‘I'll go to your room to get you dry clothes, maybe you should take a shower and relax,’ she proposed and you nodded; a shower sounded nice.

Hermione left the room and you started to undress and stepped in the shower. While the hot water fell down on your shoulders you thought back of your fight. George's empty eyes flew around in your mind. His words echoed in your head.

Was it true that he didn't want to tell his family because he was dating you? You were the reason, the one thing that made him keep all of it to himself?

The bathroom door opened and Hermione stepped in. You turned off the shower and grabbed a towel.

‘I told the others you are back because you were cold,’ Hermione said.

‘That's a good excuse,’ you mumbled while putting on your clothes.

Back in your room you fell on your bed. The pillow smelled like George and the numbness disappeared to make room for sadness. The tears started and didn't stop. Hermione pat you on your back.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked and suddenly you found yourself telling her everything. About how you met, how you kept your relationship a secret at Hogwarts and how hard it was for you not to be able to just go to your boyfriend whenever you wanted.

‘But I was fine with it. I trusted George and never thought it was me why he didn't want to tell,’ you told her.

Hermione shook her head. ‘That's not the reason. You know how I found out it is you he is dating? The way he looks at you... I just cannot describe it. His eyes are filled with hope and love and when you look back at him, the biggest smile appears on his face and his cheeks turn red. Believe me, you are not the reason why he doesn't want to tell.’

‘But what is?’ you asked desperate.

‘You should ask him and let him explain.’

- -- -

For the first time this stay at the Burrow, you were not expecting any company. George had ignored you at dinner completely and you had returned to your room right after, saying you didn't feel so good. The last thing you were in the mood for was a whole family wanting to talk with you.

But things we want the most, happen at the times we least expect them. While you were staring out the window someone knocked on your door.

‘Come in,’ you said thinking it was Hermione or Ginny. So when George's head came from the shadow you were shocked. You sat up in your bed and pulled up your legs to your chest. George stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed.

Silence filled the room until you broke it. ‘I'm sorry,’ you blurted out. ‘I know you don't want to tell your family for whatever the reason is. I misinterpreted your words and I thought that I- I was the reason...’

‘You're not the reason,’ George said and he sat down next to you. He took your hands. ‘(Y/N), I love you more than anything in the world.’

‘But why? Why won't you tell them?’

‘If I tell them, it's not our little secret anymore, I have to share you with everyone else. My family loves you, you know that, and when I tell them they will interfere with it. I'm afraid I will lose you, (Y/N). And I can't lose you.’

‘You will never lose me, love. I am all yours.’ George nodded and you put your arms around him. ‘If you're not ready, then we don't have to tell. But no matter what your family thinks or does, I love you.’ You planted a kiss on his lips. ‘I love every single thing about you. Your nose, your freckles, the way you light up when you tell a joke, your fingers, your enthusiasm, the cringe nicknames you give me... I could go on all night,’ you whispered and George wrapped his arms around you. He pulled you on top of him kissing you deep.

‘Then do,’ he whispered in your ear.

And you did; the whole night was filled with telling what you loved about each other. The love that you felt was almost touchable. All your insecurities came by and none of them seemed important at that moment. All that mattered were you and George, in that moment, without the interrupting from others, without opinions. Just you and him, in perfect harmony.

Every touch that he planted on your skin was soft and delicate, yet it showed how much he needed you. You gave in to this touches and soon the talking faded. It seemed like a scene from a film, everything was perfect. The sheets were light and soft, the stars in the sky bright and the room dark and safe. It was a mess of skin on skin, lingering fingers and passionate kisses.

- -- -

The next days were better than any other so far. You still didn't show anything, but the secret kisses in hallways when no one was around and holding hands when no one saw it, made up for it. With just one look you could communicate to George when you wanted to talk to him or just hold him.

The days were filled with games and happy chatter. The sun was shining again and most of the days were spent outside. From Quidditch to un-gnoming the garden to water fights to falling asleep in the sun with your head in George's lap, under the guise of being close friends. The water fights usually led to passionate make-out sessions in the shadow of the house. And every time you looked into your boyfriend's eyes you were reminded of that wonderful night and when you thought back of it, you got butterflies again.

- -- -

Everything was perfect and that was why it came as a shock.

Breakfast had been excellent every day and this day wasn't any different. You had gotten up later than usual. George had stayed late and you didn't fall asleep until an hour before sunrise. So when you stepped into the kitchen you weren't surprised to find everyone else, but Mr Weasley, who had gone to work, and George there. You sat down next to Fred and Ron and Mrs Weasley gave you a plate with waffles and bacon.

You dicussed with the others what you were going to do today and halfway though your tea it was decided to go to the village.

It seemed to be a normal day, just like any other. But the expectations were nothing with the reality.

Ten minutes after you sat down George entered the kitchen. Fred had stood up to bring his plate to the sink and George walked to the only empty seat, that seat, the seat next to you. However, instead of sitting down and following the rhythm of all the other mornings, George, before taking his place on the chair, bend over to you and kissed you.

‘Goodmorning, love,’ he said and turned to his plate with food, like nothing had happened. You were frozen in your seat, feeling the burning desire left by George's kiss on your lips.

Everyone else at the table was even more shocked than you. Ginny's eyes were so wide open, they could fall out of their sockets. Ron was stabbing himself with his fork and Harry next to him had his fork with food in front of his mouth but was watching George. Hermione and Fred however were both smiling.

The best reaction was undoubtedly the one from Mrs Weasley. In a span of fifteen seconds her face went from shock to confusion to realisation to joy.

The only one not affected was George. He was still eating his breakfast calm. You were unsure if it was a mistake or he actually planned for this. No matter, you were happy there was no more hiding from now on.

George's cheeks were red and he looked at you from the corner of his eyes. You shot him a smile and squeezed his leg under the table.

Ron was the first one to break the silence. ‘Is (Y/N) your... girlfriend?’

‘Has been for the past five months,’ George answered simply and took a sip from his orange juice. He kept looking at Ron until this one averted his eyes.

‘And no one knew?’ Harry asked. He had lowered his fork, but his face expression was still the same.

You nodded. ‘No one apart from Fred and since a few days Hermione.'

‘Hermione! You knew?!’ Ron cried and turned to his friend.

‘Yes and I am surprised you haven't! They haven't been able to keep their hands of each other since I came here!’

You and George both turned red at her words. Ron scoffed and shook his head.

Mrs Weasley, who hadn't said anything so far, moved in her chair. ‘I knew there was something going on between the two of you,’ she admitted. ‘But I didn't expect you to be dating for so long! Why didn't you tell us?’

George shook his head and muttered something incomprehensible.

‘We wanted to tell you in person and thus we waited for the summer vacation,’ you lied.

‘But you have been here for two weeks!’ Ginny said.

‘We just couldn't really find a right moment,’ you replied. ‘Until now, apparently,’ you added, more to George than to the others in the kitchen.

A grin appeared on his face and he looked up to his family at the table. He looked confident now it was out there.

‘So we're still on for the trip?’ he asked and poured himself a glass of orange juice.

Agreeing mumbles came from the people at the table while they continued to eat their breakfast, still thinking about what just had happened.

- -- -

You tried to talk to George, but Hermione and, mostly, Ginny were keeping you busy. Arm in arm with the two girls you followed the four boys to the village. They kept asking you about George and you patiently answered all their questions.

At walking into the main street, the four boys turned around to you, Hermione and Ginny, who were whispering and giggling as you told them about the first date George took you on. You looked up innocent to your boyfriend when you said his name a little too loud. His eyebrow rised and you gave him a sweet smile, that didn't answer his unspoken question. Ginny and Hermione also looked at George and giggled loudly.

‘Oh, don't worry babe,’ you said playful. ‘I only told them about your dinosaur-pyjamas!’

George’s head turned red and he muttered something incomprehensible. Laughing you took his arm and pulled him with you. He followed you but not before sending his brothers an angry glare for their chuckles.

‘What did you tell them?’ George asked insecure.

You smiled. ‘Really, nothing embarrassing. Besides we all have seen your pyjamas already.’ You reminded him of three days ago when he had forgotten there were other people in his house and he had entered the kitchen in his pyjamas.

‘Oh, yeah. I had forgotten about that,’ George mumbled.

The whole day is spent in the village. While the boys went to an old muggle magic shop, you and the girls sat down at the bakery. All with a steaming cup of tea and a raspberry doughnut in front of you, you told them about your last day at school.

‘Wait, you're the girl!’ Ginny exclaimed. ‘So that's why you weren't enthusiastic about the plan to intercept his letters.’

‘That's how Hermione found out,’ you said.

‘Why didn't you tell me?’ Ginny asked you waving with her pink glazed pastry.

‘I wanted to but George didn't,’ you answered while lowering her hand go prevent the doughnut from flying across the room. ‘He was afraid that he would lose me to you.’

‘How could he think that?’

‘Well, we are sitting here with (Y/N) while her boyfriend is off doing... whatever,’ Hermione pointed out.

‘Yes, but even if he hadn't told today we still would have sat here. Just talking about other things,’ Ginny said.

Hermione could only hum in response.

There fell a comfortable silence in the bakery that was interrupted by Fred and Ron, who were banging on the glass. Hermione choked in her tea and you hit your elbow painfully on the back of your chair in shock.

The boys entered and pulled chairs away from other tables to sit beside you. You were rubbing your elbow while patting Hermione on her back. Fred ordered a round of coffee, since there wasn't much else to order.

‘Why couldn't you have gone to the pub?’ he whined watching the waiter walk away.

‘Because we didn't expect our peaceful tea party to be intruded by four boys,’ you pointed out and took a bite of your doughnut.

Beside you George's eyes followed the pink pastry in your hand. You turned to him and held the doughnut in front of his mouth. He opened his mouth and bit a piece off. Around the table Ginny, Hermione and Fred ‘awh-ed', though Fred sarcastically, and Harry and Ron cringed.

‘Shut it,’ you said and ate the last piece of your doughnut.

The waiter came back a few minutes later with the coffee. George placed a protecting hand on your leg when the waiter looked a little too long at you. You took it and squeezed it, yet George wouldn't let go until the waiter had disappeared.

After the coffee it was time to go back home. The walk was the end of a perfect day. Though you really had enjoyed the secrecy, you liked this better. You could now look at George without fearing anyone would suspect anything. Now, you could hold his hand or put your arm around him. You didn't know what had gotten into George this morning but you were thankful for it.

When you arrived at the Burrow, Mr Weasley was home too. He glared at you with such piercing eyes you figured Mrs Weasley had told him. But he said nothing to you. He did however take George apart for a while after dinner and when the latter came back the colour of his face matched the banner of Gryffindor, so red he was. He sat down next to you and you rested your head on his shoulder.

‘So did you get the talk?’ you teased.

George was staring at the fire and it took him a while before he realised you had said anything.

‘What?’ he asked.

You chuckled. ‘Nothing, babe.’ You lifted your head and kissed him softly.

‘Hey! HEY!’ Ron cried and you looked at him. ‘I'm fine with you being his girlfriend and everything. But quit the kissing please!’

You stared at him and kept looking at him while you planted another kiss on George’s lips. Ron's face turned red and Harry laughed at his friend.

‘Shut up!’ Ron said and threw a pillow at Harry.

You watched Harry and Ron throw pillows back and forth until your eyes closed. Comfortable in George's arms and by the heat of the fireplace, you dozed off.

- -- -

You woke up in the dark. And in a bed. With someone in it.

You looked around the room. The curtains were closed so there was no light at all in the room. Next to you, you recognized George’s features. He was facing you, but his face was buried in the pillow.

Careful you changed your position to face George. He stirred at your movements and you shushed him.

‘Go back to sleep,’ you whispered and stroked his hair.

But George's eyes were open now and he was watching you. A smile broke on his sleepy face. You decided that, now he was awake, you should ask him about last morning.

‘Hmm, I hadn't really planned it,’ George answered. ‘I just saw you and you looked so pretty with your sleepy eyes and red cheeks I just had to kiss you.’

Even in the dark your blush could be seen.

‘I love you, George,’ you whispered and kissed him.

‘I love you too,’ he replied between kisses. ‘And-' he cupped your face with his hands and held you right in front of his ‘-I can stay here all night now! No more sneaking around!’

You buried your face in George's neck and hummed satisfied. This summer would be the best ever.

#george weasley x reader #george x reader #george weasley #george weasley imagine #harry potter x reader #weasley twins #harry potter #george weasley x y/n

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stray-tori · 3 years

Text

TPN S02E08 - Initial Thoughts (anime-only)

Reaction Vid: Google Drive

I’m here, finally! Let me just say, I’m glad to see some more positivity around ahh- Not that anyone isn’t allowed to feel negatively about it, I do have my problems too of course! But it’s just nice when things are epic and liked by people :)

I don’t think I can really separate it into topics this time so I’ll just kind of... go through it by chronological order this time! With “.” paragraphs separating thoughts :)

Norman figuring out that there’s at least one other person taking tests because he’s left-handed and the code scan thing is placed on the right when he put it down left is such a nice, unspoken execution!

also. Zaziee :(

also, what do we think is happening in this room? are those just... dead subjects that they feed to demons or...? experimenting with how certain manipulated humans will affect demons eating them?

(also they just flipped Norman’s walk here, so his curl is on the wrong side. not blaming them or anything, I just noticed. I hope the staff is doing okay :<)

also, idk if my brain is melting but when Norman was like "I just need a detonator" and then he focuses on that king chess piece before the explosion, is the implication that the king piece was the detonator? :D

I do like the few subtle hints we do get just from the scenes (like the left hand/right hand thing and the cube communication) but I feel like I'm missing some connecting pieces here, even with knowing Smee was there and supporting him. It’s weird because I feel like the left-hand thing was really nicely done and digestible and the fork thing is presumably checking out how many cameras there are (even if still a little obvious) - but the explosion? Maybe I’m just stupid haha- it had to be Smee helping, right? I just would have liked more hints (but maybe I’m too small brain rn).

I'm a little confused because Peter said "the era of James as the gatekeeper has ended" (paraphrased), so he’s the gatekeeper right? And Norman was so concerned about the gatekeeper last episode, to the point that I felt like it was a point largely against the "using the gate in GF" plan (aside from uncertainty about the gates and the human world, of course) - but it's literally just a human then? I thought it was gonna be some epic demon or magic concept or something, but it's just that dude pff- whats the dude gonna do against the murder squad? :D Ig he has the farm/demon forces behind him but those would exist either way (and Norman must have considered that), so why is he in particular such a big deal/threat? Is he that ultra big brain? Not big brain enough to have prevented Norman’s escape anyway.

Or maybe he’s just 6 moves ahead and waiting for Norman to lead him back to the hideout that was referenced a few episodes ago where Norman brings all the stolen kids -- but I feel like that’s such a... roundabout way of capturing the GF kids. Plus, that should be Isabella’s doing, if anything. So yeah. Confused about that a bit.

I love the parallel how in ep1 Ray running from the pursuers and Emma collapsing was the whole thing about like, not taking it all upon yourself -- and now Emma (who mirrored Ray’s exact run through the forest) got help with Ray jumping in and also later Sonju, conveniently timed as usual haha.

(negativity) It’s a nice parallel, though i would have preferred if Ray had run again and Emma had gotten the shot - it’d still carry around the same message (”then vs now”) but please I beg you give Emma one (1) cool bow shot - or I’ll steal your animation and do it myself >:”(

(ik she got the hunting shot which was slow and cool but idk)

The animation was so pretty. I loved Norman on the cliff and the wind animation, and the MUSIC when the town raid happened and how everything was framed and the goddamn MUSIC???? DID I MENTION THE MUSIC.

Also Norman’s expression and that shot where he realizes Vyrk has the blood condition and sweeps in for a stab.

It was pretty brutal and I appreciate that they showed it. It’s just... really pretty overall and- yes. thank you. love goes out to the staff. god knows they need some. and money. please give them more money.

I also like how with how the episode set up the whole, "are you god?" - "I'll be a god or devil" thing, and then when Vyrk asks "are you a human?", my friend joked he'd answer "no, i'm god" and then we joked a bit about his silence. But in hindsight, I really appreciate those jokes, because it made me realize: for a different kind of character, that WOULD have been the perfect setup to have a badass response but that silence was probably on purpose and I can’t really explain it but I just like how that makes the through-line in the episode even stronger and also kind of connects with his wavering?? I can’t explain but I LIKE IT.

(slightly negative) It's a little bit funny that the parallel didn't occur to him until it was thrown in his face, but I think that's what dissociation and just being observed in one's plan does.

Plus I do get what they're going for, and it was pretty dang emotional. A little on the nose maybe but- yee.

It works well as an eye opener to tear down the mental wall between the two groups. He's also never really been in contact with demons equally before afaik so, I shall accept it. Not that currently killing them all makes him equal in power dynamic right now, but I mean like, in a way where he truly, in real life, got to see that they’re similar -- he made comparisons to humans last episode, so clearly he wasn’t completely unaware. He’s smart, he knew what he was doing would make him seem like a devil to the demons. He probably just numbed himself to it until something that could break those walls down happened, ie the Emma thing.

I feel like it could have worked too if her name wasn’t Emma, but he probably wouldn’t have paused for as long and the voiced lines couldn’t have been given the time needed to make them hit as strongly - but I do think just a line that sounds really similar to what they talked about in GF could have been enough too - but again, that would have potentially taken too long down the exchange between the two.

It also doesn’t seem completely random since the old guy also reacted to Emma’s name before and everything so. Overall, I’m willing to suspend my disbelief - even if it IS funny that the family naming went from Vyrk to... Emma :D (though demons do get old so I suppose that makes sense haha)

I also wonder how this will impact Norman going forward. Even if he decides for the GF plan now (likely, we don’t have much time), he still did that and even if they return all the degenerated demons with Mujika’s, Sonju’s and Vyrk’s help... I doubt those who were already eaten and killed, can be saved. So that blood is on his hands forever now, likely hurting even more now that he feels personally impacted by it and not just... knows he’s doing something bad.

The anime definitely doesn’t have the time to delve into that sadly but that’s,,, very good angst.

week 3 of asking where is Isabella- (I mean I am GLAD that she didn’t show up at the temple- yET - because that’d just make them leaving them there worse but fudshjsd- Is she actually just waiting for them to come for the gate what’s happening ahahaha-)

I also don’t know if I mentioned this in my last episode thoughts or not, but I do still believe the gate stuff could have been revealed more incrementally? Like have James include that tidbit of info, please. If we know gates exist, then at least now it isn’t such an extreme change of information to know: “there are gates. yes where you were sent WAS a gate, but they’ve been destroyed. oh and another gate is in GF!” like HOLD UP-

I wonder if we’ll ever see the hideout that Cislo or Vincent referenced... I’m sure that’d be lots of random children designs so probably not but,, I am really curious how and if they’ll take all those kids. Norman did say he wants freedom for all cattle children. but with no large scale plan anymore, I’m not sure if that’s gonna work. If any human stays behind, as I’ve often talked about before, the cycle just starts anew and I’m really curious if TPN will go for a morally grey ending like that.

Unless the whole “evil-blood” religion works out this time when the high class is gone. but even Sonju is already in part a counter-example so... we’ll see I suppose.

I really loved this episode though! If the anime continues this trend to the finish line, it’ll stay a wonky 7 for me :) (quality wise, you guys know my tpn brainrot won’t make me truly hate it pff- tpn love too big-)

#tpn anime #tpn s2 #tpn #tpn anime-only #tpn norman #tori talks #tori has opinions #tpn anime spoilers #tpn s02e08 spoilers

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parseisflat · 3 years

Note

prompt 9- "remember that thing you told me not to do?” for hp, any of your otps are fine with it, just write whichever one you want

Ginny stared at the door in growing apprehension. “You’re sure your mum’s not gonna, like, murder me?”

Pansy laughed, pulling a few strands from Ginny’s ponytail to elegantly frame her face. “If anything I should be worried for them,” she said, but Ginny’s forehead was still wrinkled in worry, so she dropped a quick kiss on her girlfriend’s cheek. “Really, it’ll be fine,” she reassured. “Just don’t bring up politics, and you’re golden.”

Ginny nodded to herself, took in a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.

Pansy’s mother answered the door with a wide smile on her face and pulled Ginny into a hug. “Welcome, Ginevra! Pansy’s told me so much about you!”

Ginny’s eyes were wide and slightly panicked. “Oh?” she squeaked.

Mother let out a loud, fake laugh and led them into the dining room. Pansy squeezed Ginny’s hand reassuringly - this was already going far better than she’d hoped.

She had gone to dinner at the Weasley’s a week ago, and she’d felt about as out of place as Ginny probably felt here. Pansy’s parents loved to show off their wealth with excessive extravagance, which was why their dining table was about twenty feet long and illuminated by a sparkling chandelier overhead. It was already filled with fancy dishes, placed by their many House Elves.

The Burrow had been the exact opposite, of course: small, homey, and warm. Pansy had expected to be treated with cold glances and fake laughs. What she had gotten instead was a knitted sweater and a second family.

Ginny sat in her seat, laughing brightly at father’s awful jokes and brightening the room more than the gaudy chandelier ever could. She’d been stressing out all week about meeting Pansy’s proper, Pureblood parents, but Pansy was certain she was the more nervous one of the two. She had a mansion filled with material goods, but the Weasleys had a home.

Pansy excused herself to go to the loo about halfway through dessert. She spent a few minutes adjusting her hair in the mirror, letting the soft, cheesy smile she’d been tamping down all evening finally surface. She’d expected a tense but polite evening; Ginny could charm anyone, of course: she was the head Chaser for the Harpies, half the country was already in love with her. But her parents had never had good things to say about people like the Weasleys in the past… and Pansy was nothing if not realistic.

Yet somehow, halfway through Ginny’s lively retelling of her brothers’ shenanigans at school, father had let out a real, bellowing laugh. Even mother was letting out a few drunken giggles, something neither of her parents ever let themselves do in front of company. Ginny, of course, remained oblivious to what this meant, but Pansy could only watch the scene with wide eyes. In the strange, performative language of the Parkinsons, genuine laughter was worth gold: this was how they expressed acceptance.

She didn’t want to be boring, but the fact that her parents - the Parkinson family - loved Ginny even half as much as Pansy did, had her on cloud nine.

This was why she probably shouldn’t have been surprised when she walked back into the room and was greeted with a sight that made her stop dead in her tracks.

Ginny looked about ready to sink into the floor. Mother was grinding her teeth; Father, looking at Mother in apprehension. One House Elf was hovering in the kitchen, as if ready to intervene at any moment.

The room was deadly silent.

“Hi Pans! Remember that thing you told me not to do?” Ginny smiled sheepishly, face redder than her hair. “Yeah, um.” She surveyed the room once, twice, then turned back to face Pansy with a grimace. “I did it?” she whispered.

Pansy narrowed her eyes, then took a cautious seat. “Is everything alright?”

Father’s words came out tight, as if it was physically paining him to keep his composure. “Pansy dear,” he said. “You know that Merlin’s not real, right?”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, letting the words sink in. “Are we really having this discussion again?”

Mother looked like she could stab someone with her fork, considering how tightly she was gripping it. “Yes, Pansy. We are,” she said in a clipped tone.

“All I said was ‘Merlin’s beard’, I’m sorry,” Ginny said, swiveling to Pansy with wide eyes clearly signaling help. “I didn’t mean any offense.”

“Merlin isn’t real,” Father repeated. “Those damn fools at Hogwarts will tell you otherwise, but it’s brainwashing, and we as Parkinsons do not stand for it.” Mother didn’t even look scandalized at his use of the word ‘damn’, that was how far gone she was.

Ginny looked like her soul was physically leaving her body. “Oh. Right. Of course.”

Pansy slowly stood and pulled Ginny out of her seat as well. This was their cue to leave. “Well, as invigorating as this debate always is,” she laughed nervously. “Ginny left the oven on! You know how she is, haha.”

Mother smiled a little too wide, finally releasing her death grip on the silverware, and saw them out the door with a batch of cookies - since when did she know how to use an oven? - to go. She hugged them both on the way out, and Father gave them firm handshakes, and then they were out in the snow, free from the clutches of the hate-inducing Parkinson Merlin Argument.

“Your parents are truly an enigma,” Ginny murmured as they walked quickly down the driveway. They apparated away before Pansy even had a chance to respond.

“I told you not to bring up politics,” Pansy giggled when they finally got home, kissing her - still very red - girlfriend before putting away her coat. “I was thinking more blood purity, Wizarding War type shit. How was that even remotely political?”

“I dunno, but they got, like, really mad about that,” Ginny laughed, looking over her shoulder nervously. “Please don’t leave for the bathroom next time. I’m a Blood Traitor heathen, I did not know how to handle that.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and pulled a bottle of wine out of a cupboard. They’d earned a few more drinks before bed. “Oh please, you did just as well as anyone could. Pureblood parents are all a little deranged, dealing with their bullshit every now and then is healthy!”

The kitchen was quiet for a moment, filled only with the clinking of the wine glasses and the soft sound of their breathing. Then-

“Wait,” Pansy looked up abruptly. “Did you say ‘next time’?”

Ginny bit her lip. “Well, you know,” she shrugged, but her eyes were shining. “I’m willing to put up with deranged parents every now and then if it means I get to keep you.”

Pansy dove at her girlfriend, pulling her into the tightest hug imaginable and only let go when the tears in her eyes had cleared away. “I’ll put up with messy Weasley boys too, you know,” she said casually, but the smile on her face gave her away.

“Yeah, I love you too, weirdo,” Ginny said. The events of the evening were already catching up to Pansy, and the wine was truly dreadful, but as the light of their small kitchen caught on Ginny’s hair, she realized something.

Pansy was more content than she’d been in years: more importantly, Pansy was finally home.

(send me prompts!)

#tysm for the prompt anon whoever you are i would die for you #blood purist fanatics have adjacent energy to like. anti vax karens and shit so my brain was like hey what if they just didnt believe in #a wizard who is canonically like really famous and you know uhh real #anyways i hope you enjoy this #annie writes #annie original #ginsy #ginny weasley #ginny #pansy parkinson #pansy #hp #fanfic #obligatory onslaught of general tags etc etc #hp femslash

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sattdinsistapotatis · 5 years

Text

SEAL TEAM- Whumptober fic

#2 Explosion and #4 Human shield

Fandom: SEAL TEAM

Whumpee: Clay Spenser (and a little Mikey)

Word count: 2234

“Clay takes Jason’s son Mikey out for lunch when a bomb goes off inside the mall, Clay saves Mikey and gets hurt in the process”

“So…what do you think?” Mikey asks with his mouth full of blueberry pancakes and Clay shoves a tissue to his face to stop it all from falling it out, “I think I’ve just found my new favorite place,” he answers happily and takes another bite. He’d been a bit worried when Jason asked him to watch Mikey for a couple of hours, especially because he’d have to fix him lunch, and Clay really didn’t want to poison Jason’s kid and burn down his kitchen. Luckily Mikey knew exactly where to go.

Mikey grabs the syrup bottle and goes to pour more onto his already dripping pancakes when someone yells loudly from somewhere outside of the diner, with a frown Clay puts his fork down and stands up to check.

There’s a woman standing in the middle of the mall right outside of the diner and she’s shouting like there’s no tomorrow, Clays about to turn around and tell Mikey that the poor woman’s probably drunk when he catches sight of something all too familiar to him in her hand and before Mikey can get a word out Clay’s throwing himself on top of him and tackling them both to the ground. Not even a second later the bomb goes off and everything around them plummets into chaos. Tables fly left and right and the sound of glass being broken surrounds them.

Something heavy lands on top of them and a stabbing pain shoots through Clay’s neck, a second later something warm travels down Clay’s front and onto Mikey’s shirt and face. They stay put for a while, in case there’s a second bomb, but when nothing happens for a while and everything around them begins to stop falling or breaking, Clay jumps into action.

“Mikey, you alright!” he asks frantically, probably way too loudly as well but he can’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears and the shouts of pain from all the people around them. “Mikey!” the boy in question groans under him and manages to mumble a weak yes and Clay begins to lift himself off to check for himself.

He finds the task difficult as it turns out that the weight on top of him is a body. He rolls to the side and as soon as the man is off of him, he rolls back to check on Mikey, “where’s all this blood coming from, Mikey?” he practically yells and Mikey, eyes blown wide and terrified, points to Clay’s neck. Immediately a hand flies up to check and he feels how the back of his neck is sticky with blood, he wipes it on his pants and smiles reassuringly at Mikey. He’ll take care of that later.

“We’re gonna be okay kid,” he assures Mikey and grabs him by the cheeks, “I need you to hold onto me, okay?” when Mikey nods he grabs him from under the armpits and lifts him off the floor and into his arms, “keep your eyes closed, okay little guy? No peeking”

“No peeking,” the small voice says right beside his ear and Clay gives him a squeeze before he begins to maneuver around the broken chairs and tables inside the diner, and he’s extra careful not to step on any of the bodies strewn across the floor. When he walks past a dead pregnant woman he puts a hand on the back of Mikey’s neck and pushes him deeper into his neck, there’s no way he’s letting him see this. They make their way to the windows which have been blown out by the blast and Clay hauls himself through one of them and hits the grass outside.

Already he can see ambulances, firemen, and police pulling up to the scene and he begins to run straight for one of the ambulances, desperate to have them check Mikey over.

“Hey!” he yells and catches the attention of a paramedic unloading a stretcher, “hey! I need help!” the paramedic sprints forward, his partner not far behind, and Clay lowers Mikey to the ground, “you gotta let them check that you’re okay, buddy,” he tells him in what he hopes is a comforting voice, but his heart almost breaks when he sees the tears running down Mikey’s cheeks.

“Hey, you’re okay, we’re both okay,” he shushes gently and wipes the tears away, “they gotta make sure you’re not hurt,” he explains and Mikey hiccups but nods understandingly. The paramedic puts a hand on Mikey’s shoulder and begins to steer him towards the ambulance, but not before saying, “you should let my partner check you over, sir,” but Clay waves dismissively. “I’m fine,” he answers automatically, but as he moves to follow them to the ambulance he begins to feel faint, “I’m okay,” he tries to reassure them, “just make sure that he’s-“ he trails off as an overwhelming dizzy spell takes over and the last thing he hears are the desperate calls of the paramedics, “sir! Sir, can you hear me? Sir-“

A knock on the door interrupts whatever commander Shaw was about to say and every head in the room turns to the door, a woman peeks her head in, “I’m sorry to disturb you but there’s been an incident at the Dayton mall and we’re sending military personnel to aid.”

“What kind of incident?” Blackburn asks and the woman’s face turns grim, “a bomb,” she answers and Jason’s out of his seat before she’s even done, “I gotta go,” he says and commander Shaw sneers, “we have enough capable people to send for you to be able to sit this one out, we do have a meeting to fini-“

“My son is at that mall,” and without waiting for an answer he runs out the door, the only thing on his mind is the safety of his son. He pulls out his phone and pulls up Clay’s contact. He presses call and waits for the all too familiar voice to pick up but when the call goes to voicemail the pit in his stomach grows.

-Call me as soon as you get this

Just as he presses send his phone lights up with an incoming call, but it isn’t from Clay. “Is this Jason Hayes I’m speaking to?” the man on the other side of the line asks and Jason answers hastily, “I have your son here at St Marshall’s Hospital, I believe he’d like to speak with you,” there’s a rustling on the other side of the line before the small voice of his son is heard, “dad,” it’s all Jason needs and he practically collapses in relief. “Mikey! Oh god, Mikey, are you okay?”

“I-I’m okay dad, w-where are y-you?”

“I’m on my way buddy, I’ll be there soon,” he unlocks his car and practically throws himself inside, “where’s uncle Clay? Is he with you?” he’s about to curse the kid out for leaving his child alone but the next words from Mikey has him reconsidering that thought, “I-I don’t know w-where he is, h-he was really h-hurt, dad,” Jason’s foot hits the gas pedal and he speeds out of the parking lot.

He probably breaks a couple of speeding limits on his way to the hospital but all he wants to do is wrap his son in his arms and never let go, “I h-have to hang u-up dad, other’s n-need to use t-the phone.”

Jason tries to pretend the shakiness of his son’s voice isn’t breaking his heart, “okay buddy, I’ll be there as fast as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” and before he has the time to say goodbye the line cuts off. Without hesitation he calls Ray.

“Hey Jase, how’s it-“

“Have you heard the news?”

There’s a pause on the other side of the line before Ray’s voice interrupts it, “no, what’s going on?”

“A bomb went off at the Dayton mall, Mikey’s at St Marshall’s hospital but he’s fine, I don’t know where Spenser is though but apparently, he’s hurt,”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, how soon can you be here?”

“Give me twenty minutes,” and with that Jason hangs up.

He pulls up to the hospital not long after and practically runs out of his car, the E.R is a mess and there are people everywhere, injured and screaming and crying and it’s not something Jason hasn’t seen before, but he’s never seen it at home. Not like this.

“Mikey!” he yells into the crowd of people who are all looking for missing loved ones, “Mikey!” he calls again and suddenly there’s a body tightly wrapped around him and hanging on for dear life, “dad!” Mikey cries and Jason’s arms close around him. “I got you, I got you,” he mumbles both to reassure Mikey but also himself, he doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost him.

“Uncle Clay g-got really hurt, he p-passed out and then t-they took him a-away!” Jason closes his eyes and gives himself a moment to breathe out, of course the kid gets hurt, of course he does. “Did they say where they were taking him?” he asks calmly as to not frighten Mikey even more, “M-Marshall’s,” that’s a start, he’s somewhere in this hospital, I can work with that. But first, Mikey.

“And you? You’re okay?” only then does he take notice of the bandage on the back of Mikey’s head and the blood on the front of his shirt, “it’s not m-mine, it’s Clay’s,” Mikey mumbles as he sees his dad’s gaze on his shirt.

“And your head?” Jason chooses to ignore the large amount of blood on Mikey’s shirt, his thoughts are of no good to his terrified son, “I hit it when u-uncle Clay p-pushed me to the g-ground, but I’m a-alright,” tears begin to trail down Mikey’s cheeks again and Jason quickly wipes them away with his thumbs and soothingly caresses Mikey’s cheeks. “I’m sure he’s oka-“

“Jason!” Ray sprints through the doors followed by Naima who quickly runs up and hugs Mikey close to her, “anything new?” Jason wipes a hand across his face and sighs heavily, “Mikey’s alright, a little banged up but okay, Clay’s somewhere in the hospital but I haven’t gotten around to asking, have you called the others?” Ray nods, “yeah, they’re on their way.”

“You should take Mikey home, Jason,” Naima says and just as Jason opens his mouth she interrupts, “your son needs you right now, we’ll stay here and look for Clay,” and while Jason doesn’t want to leave the hospital without knowing that Clay’s safe he knows he needs to focus on his son first and foremost. So, he closes his mouth and nods, with a grateful look towards Naima he grabs Mikey’s hand and says, “call me as soon as you find him,” and without another word he leads him out of the chaotic E.R.

The first thing Clay notices as he wakes up is that he’s cold. His chest is exposed and his blanket only reaches up to his waist, he goes to pull it up and finds that the action causes his body tense out of pain, a groan escapes his mouth and he immediately hears a chair drag across the floor and footsteps approach him. “Looks like goldilocks finally decided to grace us with his presence,” and Clay groans again, this time not out of pain but confusion, what the hell is Sonny doing here? And where exactly is here?

“You with us?” Trent too? What’d I do this time?

“Spenser?” Jason? Oh fuck, Mikey. “M-Mikey?” his voice feels dry as the Sahara and he succumbs to a coughing fit just as the name leaves his lips. As he moves with every cough he feels as if someone’s repeatedly stabbing him in the back and whimpers out of pain, “you hurting?” Trent quickly asks and before Clay can answer he’s already pressed the button to notify the nurse.

“Mikey’s fine, he’s at home resting, mom and Emma are with him,” Jason answers and Clay doesn’t think he’s ever felt so relieved before in his entire life, but the relief is short-lived as he remembers exactly who’s kid Mikey is.

“J-Jase, I-I’m sorry-” Jason holds up a hand to stop him and Clay immediately does, “you have nothing to apologize for.”

This doesn’t make any sense to Clay, he put Jason’s kid in danger so why isn’t he angry with him? “He told me what you did, he told me you saved his life, told me you covered him with your own body, so I’ll say it again, you have nothing to apologize for,” Clay wants to argue with him, wants to tell him that if he hadn’t agree to get waffles for lunch they’d never been at the mall and they’d never gotten blown up in the first place, but the pain from his back and neck is overwhelming him and he can’t seem to form a coherent sentence.

“You got bits of everything in your back there, little brother, some table, bit of a chair, someone’s cross necklace, ironically,” ah, that explains the pain Clay thinks as he listens to Sonny’s familiar drawl, “get some rest, kid,” Jason tells him and Clay feels compelled to listen, “we’ll be here when you wake up.” The last words he hears are, “I’ll try to sneak Cerberus in,” and Clay falls asleep with a smile on his face, he’s missed that dog.

Thank you for reading!

#whumptober2019 #no.2 #no.4 #seal team #clay spenser #explosion #human shield #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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wmhalliwell · 5 years

Note

14 eliot/hardison/parker

(also requested by an anon!)

Parker slid into the chair at the high table and Hardison followed suit.

“Do you see him?” Parker asked.

Hardison craned his head around. “No–yes.” He lifted his arm just in case Eliot missed them.

Among the shinning, polished wood rafters, thick hunk of a bar set up and the soft and subtle indie country music playing from hidden speakers, Eliot fit right in. He walked over to them, plates balanced on his arms.

“Hey!” Parker said, smiling and eyeing the plates.

Eliot returned her greeting and slid the three plates onto the table.

“Man, you know we live above a restaurant,” Hardison mentioned, though he was mildly intrigued by the food on the plate. It didn’t have Eliot’s signature presentation but it looked good.

“And a bar,” Parker peeped.

“Yeah, yeah, and Chef needed a night off,” Eliot said, mild amusement and ease making a home on his face, loosening up his shoulders and shaking off his usual stiff and composed stature.

Parker and Hardison shared a glance.

“What?” Eliot pointed between the two of them. “That look, what was that?”

“It was nothing!” Parker squeaked, noisily shaking her silverware out of her cloth napkin.

“That was a distinct look.”

Hardison broke first, chuckling a little bit. “We’re keeping a tally of how often you talk about yourself in the third person.”

Eliot scowled. “I do not.”

“You just did, man! Look, it’s not like you do it a lot. It just happens. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Eliot scoffed and pointed at them again, this time a jab in the air. “Stay here. I’m gettin’ drinks.”

Hardison and Parker chuckled together at the table and poked and exclaimed about their meal. When not on a case, Eliot pretty much fed them every night, so they were used to it. He rarely paid for someone else’s food for them though. It was a surprise.

The restaurant was trying so hard to be like some hip pub, but this was Oregan, so it was constantly trying to outdo itself with new trends. It also meant that the crowd was an odd mix of transplanted residents from all over the country, mostly all around the trio’s age.

Which included some assholes.

One of which came around from the bar and sidled up to Parker, clearly drunk but coherent enough to speak–for the most part.

“Hey there,” he said, leaning close.

“How about no there,” Parker retorted, her hand itching for her knife. Or fork. She had gotten ahold of her stabbing habit by now but old habits died hard.

“Oh, come on,” the drunk said.

“Excuse me,” Hardison said, eyes hardened toward the man. “You should mind your own damn business, man.”

The drunk blinked. “Oh shit.” He didn’t look apologetic, cartoonishly lifting his hand to his mouth. “Didn’t realize you were here with…with…”

Eliot cleared his throat behind the guy. Even with three glasses cradled in his hands, he looked menacing. It was all in the eyes. “Read the room, pal.”

The guy drained the rest of the dark liquid in the bottom of his glass to give himself time to think of a reply. “C’mon. I’m just trying here. Give me a break.”

“Don’t think so.”

“You…you should get it. She’s hot!”

Eliot’s upper lip twitched nearly into a snarl. Hardison and Parker sat back in their chairs, anticipating.

“She–you!” The drunken swung around and touched Parker’s shoulder. “You deserve a night with me. Not this dude.” He squinted his eyes at the logo embossed on Hardison’s t-shirt. “What is that?” he muttered.

Eliot slowly placed the three drinks onto the tabletop. His voice was even and careful as he spoke. “You better watch how you talk to them in front of me,” he said, offering a warning.

Parker bit her bottom lip and Hardison rested his chin in his hand, waiting for the scene to unfold in front of them with a mixture of intrigue and expectation.

The drunk frowned and turned, squinting at Eliot. “What? This ain’t about you man.” He went to push Eliot’s shoulder like a goddamn idiot and found himself with a twisted shoulder and his face in the bar within seconds.

He started actually weeping and Eliot took his hands off of him with a grimace, wiping his hands on his shirt. “Just…get outta here, man. Not even worth it,” he muttered, shaking his head. The drunk took his advice and stumbled out of the place, holding his shoulder and sniffling.

The pub quickly resumed it’s chatter like nothing happened.

Parker had a massive grin on her face when he joined them at the table.

His face flushed a little as he reached for his drink. “What?” he mumbled into the glass.

“Aw, Eliot,” she said, clapping a little and grabbing her own drink, though she just swirled it around but didn’t drink from it. “Dinner and a show.”

“Please,” Eliot scoffed, though they could tell he was pleased with himself.

“It was cool,” Hardison joined in. “I mean, I was about to pop the guy but then you were there so y’know I just…sat and let you do your thing, man.”

Eliot chuckled and patted one of Hardison’s arms that had fallen against the table. “Yeah, sure.”

Parker smiled and took a sip of the white wine he’d brought and then gently kicked his leg under the table.

“Okay, both of you stop,” Eliot said finally, tapping the table on either side of his plate with his fingertips. “Stop lookin’ at me like that and just eat your damned food.”

send me a prompt # and OTP!

#megmyers #leverage #eliot x parker x hardison #leverage fanfiction #mine #**#date night :')

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longclawislightbringer · 5 years

Text

Arya Stark and the Green-Eyed Monster Chapter Four: Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop

Rating: T

Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Elinor Tyrell/Gendry Waters, Arya Stark/Trystane Martell, background Jon Snow/Sansa Stark

Characters: Arya Stark, Gendry Waters, Daenerys Targaryen, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Elinor Tyrell, Hot Pie, Trystane Martell

Summary: Gendry spends his Hogsmeade visit with Elinor at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.

Here I am, still updating this fic late. Lol. Here’s the original author’s note:

Surprise! I'm still alive.

I'm still riding high from last Sunday's Gendrya scenes, which were everything I never knew I wanted. Of course, they had to give us such lovely interactions with all the characters before they destroy everything this week lol.

But anyway, if you want some pining before our collective imminent deaths on Sunday night, I'm your girl. This chapter is in Gendry's point of view. I hope you guys like it. ;)

As always, thanks to to the wonderful sansapotter for beta-reading. I'd also like to take a moment to thank everyone that has commented, bookmarked, or given kudos to this fic. Seeing all your thoughts and reactions really makes my day. If you've got the time, let me know what you think.

Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five.

Also on AO3.

Chapter Four: Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop

Gendry gazed out beyond the towering cakes that clogged the window display through the frosted window panes of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop onto the streets of Hogsmeade. Fresh snow blanketed the sleepy village in a sea of sparkling white. A few straggling couples wandered through the street, waiting for tables to open up at the most popular establishments. Gendry spotted his friend Jon exiting Honeyduke's with Sansa. Still no sign of Arya. Gendry sighed, turning his attention back to the laminated menu in front of him.

“Thanks for doing this, by the way. I know it must be hard.”

Lowering his menu, he peered across the table at Elinor.

“I can’t say that enough,” Elinor continued, placing her menu down. “My break-up with Alyn almost destroyed me, but even if this doesn’t end the way I want it to, I’m glad to have met you, and Arya and Hot Pie too.” She squeezed his hand.

"You're welcome," Gendry responded before glancing around the tea shop. Students occupied every nook and cranny of the cramped shop floor. "It sure is crowded today."

“It’s always packed this time of year.” Elinor examined her pink nails.

A slender waitress sidled up to their table which was tucked in the front corner of the tea shop next to the window. “Welcome to Madam Puddifoot’s. My name’s Ros, and I’ll be your server today. Can I get you guys something to start off?”

"I'll have the rose tea and some strawberry shortcake, thank you," Elinor flashed her a dazzling smile.

“And for you?” Ros turned to Gendry.

"Earl Grey and almond cake, please," Gendry answered. Ros scribbled their orders down in a notepad before relieving them of their menus. As she disappeared into the kitchen, Gendry scanned the crowded restaurant again. His gaze landed on a suspicious couple seated near the back of the restaurant that he suspected were Robb and Dany, though it was hard to tell given their ill-fitting wigs and oversized sunglasses. A flash of silvery blonde hair peeked out from behind the girl's wig. A thick red mustache, obviously magicked into existence, covered the boy’s upper lip. Gendry narrowed his eyes at the odd couple. They both waved at him and gave him two thumbs up.

“Why are Robb and Dany sitting in the back corner in disguise?” Gendry whispered across the table.

"Dany said something about ‘moral support' and making sure everything went according to plan when I talked to her this morning," Elinor replied. "But yes, it is a little strange that they’re in such bad disguises.” She examined the odd couple even closer. “Those sunglasses are a little overkill.”

Ros appeared at the table with a tray balanced on her hand, blocking their view of Robb and Dany. "There you are.” She placed a delicate pink teacup and saucer in front of Elinor, before putting a matching set in front of Gendry. "Rose and Earl Grey teas." She completed the set by placing a pitcher of milk in the center of the table between them and then handed them each a slice of cake. “Let me know if you need anything else.” With that, Ros moved onto the next table.

Elinor dropped a spoon of sugar into her steaming cup as Gendry stabbed his almond cake with his fork. The moist cake melted in his mouth, the almond colliding with a hint of vanilla.

“This cake is delicious,” Gendry moaned.

"I know," Elinor sighed. "If this place weren't such a couples spot I'd probably be in here every Hogsmeade trip for the strawberry shortcake alone."

In his periphery, Robb gestured frantically at the door. Gendry raised a quizzical brow as he took a sip of his tea.

“The signal!” Elinor exclaimed. She whipped her head toward the front door. “Alyn must be coming in. Quick, grab my hand.” Gendry almost choked on his tea when she snatched his free hand, holding it tightly. “He’s got one of those dreadful Frey girls on his arm, ugh.” Frowning, she glared daggers at her ex-boyfriend’s unsuspecting date.

“Which one?” Gendry asked, placing his teacup back on its saucer.

Elinor shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.” Her gaze followed Alyn and his date as they trailed after the hostess through the restaurant to one of the tables in the back near Robb and Dany. Alyn held a chair out for the Frey girl. He looked up for a moment, his gaze falling on Elinor.

“Eep,” Elinor squeaked, flushing with anger or longing, Gendry couldn’t tell which, and ducked behind her teacup. Gendry watched the scene with interest, still holding Elinor’s hand. Alyn whispered something in his date’s ear before walking toward them.

“Oh my seven, he’s coming over here!” Elinor panicked, her fingers tensing. She put down her teacup and began to fiddle with a strand of her hair. “What do we do?”

"We follow the plan." Gendry gave her hand a squeeze. "You've got this. You're the best chaser on Slytherin—you've gotten the quaffle past me more times than I can count. You're a great girl, and if he can't see that, then it's his loss."

“You’re right,” she gave him a small smile as she put her hand down.

“Now remember, we’re madly in love,” he winked.

Elinor winked back, letting out a loud chuckle just as Alyn reached their table. He cleared his throat to get their attention. “Elinor, Gendry,” he nodded.

“Oh, hello Alyn,” Elinor greeted him coolly. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I heard a rumor you replaced me; I was just coming to see if it was true.”

"Well, obviously it's false," Elinor snarked, "since Gendry is a much better boyfriend than you ever were." She stroked Gendry's hand, gazing lovingly at his face for good measure.

“Do you love him?” Alyn crossed his gangly arms over his chest, trying to puff it out in an effort to not look like an overgrown beanpole. It wasn’t working.

Elinor froze, unsure how to answer such a question.

“I don’t think that’s your question to ask anymore,” Gendry interjected, fixing Alyn with his iciest glare. “Unless you’ve got something to say to her?”

Alyn gaped like a fish. At last, he uncrossed his arms.

“You’re right,” he said. “I never did deserve you, Elinor; I hope he makes you happy.” He shifted his weight, his gaze drifting to the floor. “Guess I’d better get back to my date. See you around.” With one last longing glance at Elinor, Alyn pivoted back toward his own table.

Elinor waited until he made it to his table before bursting into laughter.

“Did you see his face?” She chortled, slapping the table. “The plan is working perfectly. You,” she raised her teacup to him, “are an excellent actor, my dear fake boyfriend. That bit of overprotectiveness was an excellent touch.”

“Thanks.” They clinked their teacups together.

Ros swung past their table again, carrying a tray of dirty dishes. “I hope everything’s to your liking.”

“Everything is excellent,” Elinor responded.

“Great; here’s the check. I’ll be by to collect it later.” She dropped a tied scroll of parchment on the table. Elinor reached for her purse, but Gendry stopped her hand.

“I’ve got this.” He pulled a few jangling coins from his pocket, dumping them on top of the table.

The bell above the door to the teashop tinkled merrily as Ros sauntered away, heralding the arrival of another couple seeking a warm pot of tea and respite from the cold. Trystane Martell entered the shop, laughing as he stamped the snow off his boots. Arya followed in behind him, her face alight with the biggest smile Gendry had seen from her in weeks. It sent a dagger straight through his heart. While she divested herself of her winter cloak, Arya looked at the restaurant’s various patrons. When she noticed Gendry and Elinor, she froze; her smile disappeared.

“What is it?” Elinor asked.

“It’s Arya. On a date.”

Elinor turned around to wave hello. In response, Arya gave a weak smile before returning to her date. The hostess led them to the last empty table near the door.

“I’m the worst friend. Why can’t I be happy for her?”

Elinor paused, twirling her fork as she ruminated. At length, she said, “You're in love with her, aren't you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Gendry sighed, stabbing his almond cake with more force than necessary. “It doesn't really matter, though; Arya will never see me as anything but a friend.” He popped the cake in his mouth.

“I wouldn't be too sure about that.”

"Clearly she doesn't since she's here with Trystane." He shoveled in another mouthful of cake.

“Gendry, you dolt!” Elinor smacked his arm. “I know I said to keep it a secret, but maybe you should tell her that we're not actually together.”

Gendry paused, fork halfway between his plate and his mouth.

“This charade’s gone on long enough as it is. I was going to suggest we ’break-up’ next week and tell everyone we decided it would be better to stay friends anyway, now that we’ve lasted a while.”

“Are you sure Alyn will want you back?” Gendry took a sip of tea. It would get cold if he didn’t drink it fast enough.

“No, but that doesn’t really matter now. I’m not going to spend my life pining after someone who doesn’t want me. But you,” she poked him in the chest, “you definitely need to tell Arya how you feel.”

“Alright.”

A chair scraped across the floor elsewhere in the shop. The entire restaurant fell silent as they turned to see what the problem was. Arya stood up abruptly, face purple.

“You … you… jerk!” Arya screamed, her fists clenched. Gendry knew that look; he had been on the receiving end many a time. Arya snatched her teacup from the table, hurling the steaming liquid at Trystane’s chest. Without another word, she yanked her cloak off her chair, slinging it over her shoulders as she darted out the front door. The bell above the door rang violently.

Trystane blinked, pulling at his wet sweater.

“I’m going after her,” Gendry told Elinor as he pushed his chair back. Pushing past tables of gobsmack patrons, he whipped on his own cloak.

The bell chimed as he stepped outside into the cold winter air. The freshly fallen snow crunched under his feet. He followed Arya's tracks in the snow down the main street until he lost them among the scuffle. The biting wind nipped his nose, chilling him. He pulled his cloak tighter.

Jon rounded the nearest street corner, arm in arm with Sansa. Gendry jogged up to them.

“Have either of you seen Arya?” he asked.

Sansa pointed down a side road. “I think I saw her running down that way. Is something wrong?”

“Of course,” Gendry whispered to himself as the realization dawned on him. “I’m about to find out,” he told Sansa. He took off at a run down the road that led to the Shrieking Shack. Close-knit houses lined the street at the beginning but began to thin out as he approached the end of the way. The shrieking shack rose up in the distance, past the fence at the end of the road. Arya curled up against the gate, her face hiding behind her knees and a curtain of dark brown hair. At the sound of his footsteps, Arya looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Oh, it’s you,” she sniffled, quickly rubbing the tears from her face. “If you tell anyone you saw me crying, I’ll kill you.”

Gendry laughed.

“My lips are sealed.” He dropped down next to her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“I know you can handle it yourself, but if you ever need me to beat someone up, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Arya smiled faintly. Gendry stood up, holding out a hand.

“Come on; let’s get back inside where it’s warm.”

He hefted her up by her icy hand.

“Thanks.”

They walked back down the road in silence, shoulders almost touching. Gendry flexed his hand, itching to hold hers, but put it in his pocket at the last second. The alleyway opened onto a larger street lined with quaint cottages, each blanketed with a cap of pristine snow. A lopsided snowman occupied the corner of the lawn of the last house on the street, where it crossed onto the main road. Gendry laughed.

“That snowman kind of looks like Professor Varys, doesn’t it?” he said, pausing in front of it.

“You’re right,” Arya chuckled. "I feel like it's going to quiz me on the best methods of Occlumency."

“Miss Stark,” Gendry put on his best Varys impression, “what is the difference between—”

Trystane Martell barrelled around the corner, coming to a stop in front of them with a sheepish expression on his face. Arya tensed behind him. Gendry took a protective step forward, blocking Trystane from her view.

“Martell.” Gendry crossed his arms.

“Gendry,” Trystane blanched. “Hi.” He peeked around Gendry’s shoulder at Arya. “Arya, can we talk—” glancing up at Gendry’s stony expression, he gulped before adding, “—alone? I need to apologize.”

Arya answered after a long pause. “I guess.”

"Are you sure?" Gendry asked. "I can still punch him if you want me to."

“It’ll be fine, Gendry,” Arya scoffed, although her eyes told a different story. “Besides, if he messes up again I’ll just punch him myself.”

Trystane smiled faintly.

"Alright," Gendry answered. "I'll be back at the tea shop if you need me."

Arya nodded before following Trystane down the snow-covered street toward the Three Broomsticks. Gendry watched them as Trystane disappeared inside the pub first. Turning around, Arya motioned for him to leave. Gendry nodded. She smiled before heading inside.

With a heavy sigh, Gendry trudged back toward Madam Puddifoot’s and his fake girlfriend, desperately hoping that next week’s break-up wouldn’t be too late.

#gendrya #arya stark #gendry waters #my fic #hogwarts au #jonsa #BUT IT'S IN THE BACKGROUND #daenerys the matchmaker #robb the matchmaker #asatgem #arya stark and the green-eyed monster #madam puddifoot's tea shop

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alya-bug · 7 years

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The Best Kind Of Friends Chapter 2

Chat Noir finds himself falling for Alya, who loves Marinette, who is just confused. Relationship shenanigans ensue.

This chapter is very slightly nsfw, but still definitely within the T rating.

Chapter 2: Adrien is a confused, desperate dork.

Adrien was embarrassed when he saw Alya the next day at school. It was always weird interacting with his friends as Chat Noir, but he had gotten used to hanging out with Alya like that. He enjoyed Alya’s company, but he pretty much never got a chance to hang out with her just by themselves when they were at school. That was why he came back after those first interviews. She was just really fun to hang out with.

But after last night, he couldn’t help but blush when he saw her.

He knew she was just joking around with the talk of superhero threesomes. She joked about things like that all the time. It was just what she did.

But when a super pretty girl says that she wants to have a threesome with you and your longtime crush, you pay attention to that. It was perfectly reasonable to dwell on it and imagine it while taking a shower. It was also perfectly understandable that he would feel awkward when he saw her again.

She looked really great today too. The weather was getting hotter and she was dressed for it in a tight t-shirt and shorts. They really accentuated her curves as she walked by his desk, and he had quickly looked away. He had to keep Alya from seeing his face was burning, and to prevent himself from gawking.

He had always been aware that Alya was a very attractive girl. Her full curves, flowing curls, and wide smile made her undeniably beautiful. He knew this when she had been dating Nino, and he knew this now...but now it was different. Now he saw that she was hot.

He was familiar with attractive women. He was a model, and he had spent his youth surrounded by some of the most beautiful women in the world. He wasn’t going to act all pure and pretend he never noticed any to them sexually. He did. They were extremely sexy women, and they knew it, but none of them had affected him the way Ladybug did. Ladybug had completely defined his sexual awakening. Maybe it was because of his romantic feelings for her, but he found everything she did to be so sexy that he could barely handle it. There had been days when he had to duck out of patrol early because he was too aroused by the way she would move, laugh, and talk.

He was used to having that sort of reaction to Ladybug, but reacting that way to Alya was new...new and a little distressing.

He shook his head. It was just because she said she would have sex with him. It was just a normal reaction. Nothing to worry about.

“Hey, Adrien.” Alya said, tapping him on the head with a pencil.

He turned around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. “Hruh?” he said, unintelligibly.

“Wanna join us for lunch? Or are you busy?” She asked.

“No! I mean, yes! I’m not busy.” He blushed. “Lunch would be great.”

Alya giggled and nudged Marinette. Adrien turned away in embarrassment.

“You okay, dude?” Nino asked. “You seem a little tense.”

Just realizing how hot your ex girlfriend is. No big deal. He pushed aside that though. Nino and Alya’s relationship ended on good terms, and they hung out all the time, but he was not sure if that was the most appropriate thing to say.

“I’m fine,” he said, swallowing his conflicted feelings. “I’m, uh, just hungry.”

More like thirsty. He groaned internally. That was bad, even for him.

Alya laughed. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re going to lunch, isn’t it?” Her laugh was so open and earnest, unreserved. She was always so unrestrained, unlike him. He admired that about her.

They chose their regular cafe, just a couple of block away from the school. Back in college they ate at Marinette’s bakery a lot, but the lycee was slightly further away so they had branched out to a few cafes. Adrien was always glad when he could hang out with them at lunch.

Today, however, he wasn’t sure if he made the right choice in joining them. Alya walked ahead with Marinette, chatting about what club they wanted to go to for Alya’s upcoming birthday, her full hips swinging while she walked. She didn’t normally walk with such a seductive motion, her behind hypnotizing him with every step, did she? It must be the heels. Alya didn’t normally wear heels after all. Even just small wedges like the ones she wore today would create an exaggerated hip motion. Anyone would look good like that.

“So, what do you think?” Nino asked.

“Huh?” Adrien turned to see Nino looking at him expectantly.

“I said ‘what did you think of the track I sent you last night?’. You just said that you listened to it.” Nino was almost laughing.

Adrien vaguely remembered nodding at something Nino had said, “Uh. . .”

He hadn’t actually had time to listen to the track Nino had sent him. His stomach twisted nervously. He was being a bad friend.

Nino punched him lightly on the shoulder. “It’s fine, dude. You were clearly distracted.”

Adrien blushed. “I wasn’t been too obvious was I?”

Alya glanced back. “What are you boys talking about?”

Nino laughed and responded before Adrien could stop him. “Just how lovely our lady friends are.”

Marinette giggled nervously and Alya flipped her hair, striking an exaggerated pose. “Of course. That is a topic that clearly needs to be discussed more.”

She blew them each a kiss.

Adrien felt his heart skip a beat.

The cafe was more crowded than usual, but they were still able to find a comfy table by the window.

The topic on everyone’s lips was Alya’s upcoming birthday. She was finally turning 18 like the rest of them, and they had plans to go to a classy nightclub. The club they had in mind was one that Alya had been wanting to go to for a while, but it had a strict age limit.

“Should we go to dinner before?” Alya asked eagerly.

“Sure, anywhere you want to go?” Adrien had already made sure that he was free that night, so he wanted to make sure he could spend as much time with Alya as he could -- with all of his friends... because they were his friends.

“I don’t know,” she scrunched up her face, “There are too many good places to eat.”

“What about that new Lebanese place you mentioned you wanted to go to?” Marinette suggested.

“That might be good,” Alya mused. Just then the waiter came with their food. “I’m not sure if I want to try somewhere new or go to an old favorite, you know?”

Nino swallowed a bite of his sandwich. “Shouldn’t we go somewhere near the club? So we don’t have to walk very far?”

“Good point.” Alya took a sip of her cafe au lait and Adrien couldn’t help but watch her lips as they parted to let the liquid through. Damn, he needed to stop being creepy. Alya was just a friend. He should save the creepy pining for Ladybug. “The Lebanese place is pretty far away.”

“Isn’t the place we went to with Alix and Kim nearby? The one with the really good pasta?” Marinette suggested, attempting to stab the grape in her salad with a fork.

“You mean the one they almost got us kicked out of?” Alya laughed. “I’m not sure if I am ready to show my face there again.”

Adrien grinned at that. Alya had made almost as big of a scene as their classmates in her attempt to get them to simmer down. She always made her opinions known, that’s for sure. “What about that trendy tapas place? You mentioned wanting to go there and it’s in the area.”

“That place is like, ridiculously expensive.” she said, dipping her bread into her soup.

Adrien grinned. “You forget, I’m stupidly rich and love treating my friends on their birthdays.” He winked. He was always a little embarrassed when he channeled Chat in his daily life, but it was frequently hard to not flirt with Alya, even before this freight train of attraction hit him.

“That is true.” She laughed and bit off a hunk of bread.

“We promise we love you for more than your money.” Marinette said with joking reassurance.

“Maybe you do!” Alya said, mouth still full of bread. She nudged Marinette, who blushed.

“Hey, at least I can buy my friends somehow.” Adrien used to be more insecure about people only liking him for his money and fame, but three years with Nino as his best friend got rid of that idea.

Alya’s eyes lit up with an idea and Adrien’s heart sped up, hoping she would share the devious workings of her brain. She downed the rest of her cafe au lait, chugging it it for several seconds before the cup was empty. “Oh, look at this.” She looked at her cup in feigned surprise. “I guess I have to get another drink. Nino, come with me.” She grabbed Nino by the arm, dragging him away from the table.

“God dammit, Alya.” Marinette muttered, stabbing her salad violently.

“Why did she leave?” Adrien asked, trying to prevent an awkward silence from falling over the table. He was pretty used to Alya’s flighty behavior but it bothered him a little. Maybe because she dragged Nino along? Were they getting back together? Nino never told him why they broke up in the first place. But no, Nino was just telling him about someone that he met on his DJ gig that he wanted to ask out. And it was stupid to feel jealous when she was just his friend.

Marinette sighed. “She’s just . . . being Alya. Don’t worry about it.”

He laughed. Alya was quite a character. “She a good friend though, for all her eccentricities.”

Marinette smile was warm and she blushed. “Yeah, she’s pretty great.”

The silence stretched between them but Adrien felt less anxious than he normally did. Maybe it was just relief that he was wasn’t being overwhelmed with sexual (romantic?) interest. Marinette was definitely just a friend and friends were good and safe and didn’t surprise you.

“Have you been working on any new designs?” he asked. Marinette was always less awkward when she was talking about fashion. And he was always willing to listen because she was really, really talented.

“Well. . .” She looked around quickly and pulled out her sketchbook. “I’m working on a present for Alya. It is mostly done but here’s the design.” She flipped to a sketch of a dress. “I have the basic form made, I just need to make the straps and do a little detailing on the .”

He could tell that the dress would be stunning on Alya. It was tight and short and he felt himself growing warm imaging her in it. “It’s . . . sexy.”

Marinette blushed. “Uh, yeah, well, Alya’s the one who’ll be wearing it so yeah.” She flipped to another page, one that showed several designs for small purses. “This is something else I’m working on. I’ve been wanting to replace my purse for a while now.”

By the time Alya and Nino returned, they were in an animated discussion about fabric weight. Alya had a strange look on her face, a confusing mixture of disappointment and relief.

#alyadrinette #alyadrienette #alyadrien #alyanette #adrinette #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #my fanfic

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elfnerdherder · 7 years

Text

Where the Wicked Walk: Ch. 9

You can read Chapter 9 on Ao3 Here. (Can we believe this is already on Chapter 9?)

Check out my Patreon and join the team! Early releases, fun facts and behind the scenes access to the characters!

Chapter 9: The Visionary (The Assignation)

Lloyd Bowman woke up in a hospital much the same way that a drunk does –confused, nauseas, and with movements just sluggish enough that they slopped about and ultimately settled restlessly against sheets boasting a ridiculously low thread count. Government edition, from the feel of it. His eyes flicked and listed about the ceiling as he breathed, counting specks in the tiles. Hospitals on television always showed people waking with violence, swinging about as they ripped tubes and needles from their body in a frenzy, but Lloyd wasn’t much for dramatics when his body felt both like it were floating and also as though it were made of lead. Even if he wanted to be dramatic, he didn’t have the strength for it.

He was alive, though. He marked the echoing, chirping sound of his heartrate on the machine and managed a slow, steady nod. He was alive. Being dead wouldn’t feel this damn bad.

There was a steady, pressing ache near the center of his core, and he knew without having to look that it was where he’d been stabbed. If he was stronger, he’d have ripped the blankets back to dig at the bandage, really and truly see just where that woman had gotten a hook into him, but he couldn’t. Lloyd blinked, and he recalled the sensation, a ripple of shock followed by the sense of his insides trying to fall out, a pressure tight on his skin and muscle that made a violent burn rub raw through his veins. He tried to shake his head to dispel the memory, cloying and painful, but the tube shoved down his throat made it difficult. He groaned, low and agonized.

Oh, good!

He wasn’t found until a few minutes later, when a nurse came in to check his vitals. At his open eyes and calm, steady breathing, she paged a doctor and began the uncomfortable task of removing the tube from down his throat, massaging it with gentle, clinical attention. He allowed it because even though it was invasive and mildly embarrassing, it also soothed the ache in his jaw from the angle. She was just doing her job, same as Jack was just doing his job, same as Lloyd had only been trying to do his job when a pretty woman in the crowd ultimately tried to kill him for doing his job.

Oh, good!

He cringed, and the nurse misunderstood it.

“Are you in pain, Agent Bowman?” she asked.

He managed to shake his head. Normally, he’d have something for this, a joke to lessen the tension that sat in the room like an ugly, obtrusive toad. He’d have to test his voice, see if it was as ugly and wretched as the rest of him likely looked.

“I need…to make a call,” he said, and yup; hoarse and scratchy. Lovely.

“We’ll have a doctor in here so that we can discuss what’s happened and how we’re going to move forward, but first I just want to say that you’re safe, Agent Bowman, and you’re doing just fine,” the nurse informed him. “After we see exactly where you’re at, we can think about that call.”

If he was a grouchier man, he’d have protested. Bowman wasn’t much like Price during a stressful case, though, so he lay stretched out in his hospital bed and waited. He waited while a doctor came in so that she could explain just what’d happened to him. A linoleum knife wasn’t the best of weapons to use for an attack, but it had certainly gotten through his skin, his muscle, and his intestinal lining well enough, she said. Surgery was touch and go, but he pulled through, and wasn’t that something to celebrate?

Are you Agent Bowman?

His chart was looking excellent –he was going to heal just wonderfully, the doctor said.

Oh, good!

“Thank you,” he managed after she asked if he had any questions. “I appreciate your hard work in saving me.”

“That’s our job, Agent Bowman.”

“If I could just…make a call, though. My cell phone should be with my things?” At the doctor’s confused expression, he continued, “I’d like to call my family and hear their voices.”

“No one’s charged it,” the nurse said, presenting him with his phone. Her nails were unpainted, although she did sport a sensible, rubber watch on one hand. “I hope it’s not dead.”

“Thank you.”

It was an old military edition phone, a ‘relic’ among phones, but he loved it all the same. Unlike smartphones, whose batteries burned while struggling under the weight of running a computer in their tiny frame, his flip phone lasted for days before dying. At his assurances that he could make the call alone, the nurse administered his pain medicine and they left him to it, thumbing through the contacts before he found the one that he needed.

Oh, good!

“Hello?” their disembodied voice was firm, curt, and to the point. Lloyd hadn’t realized just how much he was looking forward to hearing it until he relaxed into his pillows, a sigh breaking past his lips. God, he was tired. Being awake like this was tiring.

“I’m glad you answered.”

“Agent Bowman? What number are you calling from?”

“My personal phone, not my work phone,” he said, and at the beginning of their questions, he cleared his throat weakly to cut them off. “I know you’re worried, but I don’t have much time. I think…I think I got the girl that did this, so Jack will have her in custody, but I need to ask you to do something for me.”

“Wait, you mean you haven’t called Crawford yet?” they asked, and their tone lowered to censure. “You wake up from a fatal stab wound, and the first thing you do is call me to talk about work?”

“Not a lot of time, I don’t think,” he replied, and he resisted the urge to lift his blanket so that he could see just what his stomach looked like. Reason told him that it’d be bandaged, and he wasn’t going to work at peeling that off just to take a gander. “The girl that stabbed me was targeting me specifically. She asked who I was.”

Are you Agent Bowman?

“She was tasked to attack you, then? A job, not random chance?”

“Another jab at Jack, probably, to take his trusted men out.”

Oh, good!

“Do you think that-”

“I think Price and Zeller are probably in danger, too, but if it gets out that I’m alive, they’re going to come for me. One thing I gleaned from his writing in that letter to Jack –you’ll have to get a hold of that and read it, tell me what you think –”

“I really shouldn’t be surprised with you thinking of work at a time like this –”

“–he’s thorough. He won’t like my loose end because it’s supposed to hurt Jack, cripple him. With Agent Dolarhyde one of his own, we…can’t take chances about who is working this case. We can’t just bring in agents that we don’t have complete background checks and clearance on.”

“I’m not your department, Lloyd.”

“No, but you’re the department we should be using. I worked with you on that FLDS raid in the early investigations. You know what you’re doing around cults. I deciphered their manifestos and tone in writing, you kicked down their door and saved hundreds of children.”

“You think it’s a cult?”

Oh, good!

“Yes. The tone, the actions…the disregard for personal survival in the wake of the orders from their leader…I think Zeller and Price are in danger, too.”

“Why wouldn’t he just go for Crawford?”

“It’s not suffering if Jack dies too soon,” Lloyd replied. The medicine was making his mind foggy, tossed about before settling in a sort of entropy. It reminded him of smoking pot in college, how he could just take a hit and lay back on the couch for hours after, lazy. Listless. “I’m not much in the way of…doing anything right now that requires physical movement, so I need your help.”

“I can get a safe house set up, if it will make you feel more comfortable. Or we can place agents there that –”

“No agents,” he cut off, probably harsher than intended. His deep voice was oftentimes loud, boisterous. He lowered it, tried to soften it around the concerns that tried to poke holes in the calm of the pain medicine. “If we want to do this right, we need to take me off of the table completely. That’s why I’m calling you, not Jack.”

“…Just what is it that you want me to do?”

“I need you to kill me, Agent Starling,” Lloyd Bowman said and he smiled wryly as he looked back up to the scuffs and stains of the aged hospital ceiling. “I need you to kill me off, and I need you to go save Jack from himself.”

You’re so sly, but so am I.

Francis visited him in the evening to bring him his food.

He didn’t try to coax him to leave his room the way that Beverly tried to. In truth, Francis Dolarhyde seemed to be the only person thus far that wasn’t intent on asking him to ‘just…’

He wasn’t quite sure what that meant, that Ex-Agent Francis Dolarhyde of all people desired nothing of him. He did his job, therefore he expected Will to do his job. It seemed to be more along the lines of a cause and effect, a system in place where every gear turned into another, creating a working and cohesive machine.

The job everyone asked him of, though…

Dolarhyde set a tray down on the desk, adjusting the fork and knife on either side. Wine was filled in the bottom portion of the glass, a white whose color turned ocher in the lamplight. Poised beside the bed as he was, Will tracked the careful motions of him, the unassuming nature of each bend and creak of his bones.

“Did Jack talk about me a lot?” Will asked, unable to help himself. “When he asked you to guard me?”

He paused beside the desk, a hand coming to rest on the back of the chair next to it. His flat, intent stare didn’t pierce the way that Hannibal’s did, but it was a fixated expression none-the-less. It told far more about him than anything else had, in truth.

“Yes, Mr. Graham.”

“What’d he say?”

Francis took his time gathering his answer. Drifting through the doorway, the sound of dinner downstairs punctuated his slow and unrushed collection of thoughts, like he had to sift through each one to find the right words to say. Will didn’t rush him, merely watched. Merely tried to understand. He felt like he’d break himself, trying to understand.

“He said that you had a troubled past,” he said at last. “You didn’t want pity, but he wished that he could have given you the sort of quiet that every other person seemed to be able to enjoy. Normal problems, like a late payment on a credit card, or expired milk.”

“He trusted you.”

“He did.”

“And you ultimately betrayed him.”

The look Francis Dolarhyde gave him would keep him awake for most of the night. “I was never loyal to him. He may have thought so, but that was not the case.”

“Just what are your loyalties? Where do they lie?”

He smiled very faintly, the scar from his cleft pallet making it crooked and altogether untrustworthy. “My loyalties lie with Dr. Lecter, you, and this house we have made a home.”

His conviction was absolute, unwavering. Just beyond his expression was utmost belief, an unquestioning faith that wasn’t so much blind as much as it rang true with the proof in his actions. When Will had nothing more to say, he made his way to the door and paused in it the frame of it, hand grasping the doorknob to close it. He glanced back to Will, and the oddest of expressions crossed over his face, a cross between mild discomfort and honest hope.

“Here, Mr. Graham, you won’t even have to worry over late payments and credit cards. We’ve created a place where the peace Jack Crawford sought so diligently for you can finally be achieved.”

Abigail sat next to the boy from breakfast that evening, after dinner.

It wasn’t so much a meeting as it was a time for everyone to gather in one of the large, formal rooms so that they could socialize –half of what kept their group together was the communication, the understanding. Now that Dr. Lecter was there, there was also a special part of every other evening where he’d give a devotional of sorts, something to share with them that showed his own personal traits and behaviors that he’d gained through honing in on his deadly capabilities. Sometimes, he even spoke with reverence the way it’d felt like to kill.

“You’re…Jacob, right?” she asked, sitting down.

“I am.” He flashed her a smile, hands occupied with a glass of orange juice. “Abigail?”

“Yes.”

“I always love this time of night,” he said, glancing about the room. “Back home, we’d have never had something like this. Family time wasn’t exactly our thing.”

“What was it instead?” she wondered. Her tone was gentle, probing without being nosy.

Jacob let out a bark of laughter. “Dad was watching the game with a few beers, mom was probably in the kitchen on the phone with her friend and a bottle of wine.”

“What did you do?”

That part wasn’t so easily shared. He turned the glass about in his hands before he took a sip, wiping his mouth distractedly.

“I don’t think that they noticed when I left,” he said instead, after watching a few people enter the room to sit down. “You can’t really call it running away at this point when I’m nineteen, can you?”

“Legally, no.” Abigail assured him.

“I’d say it’s more of a ‘not my problem’ situation where they’re concerned. They probably think that I went to college, since the semester started a few months after I left. After I was able to contact you guys, I made my peace. They won’t notice that I’ve really disappeared until it’s time for Thanksgiving, I think.”

“You brought your computer with you?”

“No, but I destroyed the hard drive before I left. Cell phone tossed somewhere like I was headed for New York.”

Jacob was clever enough, it looked like. Abigail shared with him a kind, flitting smile before she looked over to the rest of the people walking in. She marked her three other problems to deal with, noted their facial expressions and mannerisms as they sat down. Two of them were easy fixes, and they already appeared to be placated and part of the fold once more.

One of them, though…

“It’s your dad that you walk around with sometimes, right?” Jacob asked. He finished his orange juice and set the cup on a coaster.

“Who else would it be?” she asked with a snort.

“I don’t know…an uncle? A…” Jacob floundered for a moment before he shrugged. “I’ve seen weirder couples.”

The thought made her nauseas, dinner going sour in her gut. “…Definitely my father. Not one of those weirder couples.”

“That’s cool,” he said, and that flirty smile appeared again.

He seemed nice enough, she decided, as he chatted with her about bands and music that he liked. He’d brought his CD’s –was that too cheesy? Too old school? He’d brought a Gameboy as well because he didn’t want to risk any electronic that could connect to the internet, in case that somehow made a difference in security. It didn’t, but she didn’t want to burst his bubble about having to leave his Nintendo Switch behind. He was thoughtful like that, and the more he spoke to her, the more Abigail wanted him to be an easy fix, just like two of the others.

When Hannibal came in, the companionable conversations among everyone quieted, stilted to hushed murmurs that folded smoothly into silence. For those that’d been there for years, this was something they’d been waiting for –it was one thing to believe in someone, to look to them for guidance. Abigail glanced about the room attentively, noting those that were there even before her, when Francis and Matthew first began their mission. They’d believed in nothing but the shared words between Francis to Hannibal, then back to them. They’d hoped for things without even being able to see him in his glory.

Here they were, though.

“I much prefer evenings like these than evenings in the Baltimore State Hospital,” he said, and everyone laughed, warm and lovely with the feeling of wine he’d graciously shared with them at dinner. Even Abigail got to have a glass. “There, the tales of my actions were psychoanalyzed, cross-examined for what the deeper nuances meant. They couldn’t appreciate the art of it, nor did they care for what it truly symbolized. I didn’t share much with them, as you could surmise.”

“Sir?” someone asked, and standing poised before the fire, Hannibal looked somewhat god-like, if a god were to live in the modern day and dressed like a successful businessman. Flames licked about his neatly pressed suit, a delightful backdrop to his intent, focused stare. “Is…is it true about Nate?”

The worry was apparent on the faces of everyone, a tautness at the skin around their eyes. Abigail worried over her lip and looked to Hannibal, frowning.

“While he and Alyss were dispatched to take care of Agent Lloyed Bowman, he was killed in the line of duty,” Hannibal said at length. His face wore grief with ease as he looked at each and every person, mouth twisted down regretfully. “Alyss was taken for questioning at a secure facility. Mr. Dolarhyde is working diligently to try and see just which prison she’s being detained in, that we could potentially free her.”

People reacted differently to death. Each and every person experienced it in some unique, fundamental way, and it always fascinated Abigail to see. Beside her, Josh reached and took her hand, holding onto it tightly as he fought to hold back whatever emotion struggled to reach his face. Others openly wept, heads dipping down to tissues dabbed half-heartedly at reddened eyes.

Even Hannibal Lecter, powerful and capable as he was, shed a tear and wiped the track of it from his cheek.

Abigail was certain that there was something wrong with her, that she felt no impulse to cry for Nate and Alyss. In reality, her thoughts were centered on their failure and just what that meant for Hannibal’s carefully laid plans. She’d cried for her mother, buckled into the passenger seat of their Subaru as they headed towards the rendezvous point where she finally got to see Francis for the first time, but she’d known her mother. Her death was a necessity, but she certainly didn’t enjoy it.

“One thing we must take with us is Nate’s vitality and life,” he said, and as people contained and took hold of their emotions, he smiled gently. “Those of us in this house that take these great risks to carry out the plans of everyone, they take risk and reward and clutch them in the same fist. They understand just how fragile the balance of life truly is, the way that it tips in either direction with the barest of nudges. Nate had an honest grasp, and with his actions, he became something of a god, didn’t he? In taking control of his situation, he was able to make it to this home so that they couldn’t take the car and glean from it our secrets.”

Heads nodded, bobbed with understanding.

“As we study how fickle the aspect of life and death are…each of us, I think, knows in our own way the scales that do not always tip to us. We have to take control of it, be as powerful and capable as destiny. The only thing in this world that is certain is death. How we come to it, though, is what makes us powerful.”

Someone raised their hand, and at his gracious nod of acquiescence, she said, “Three days ago, Dr. Lecter, the roof of a church in Oregon fell on thirteen teenagers and two adults during their mutual. Every single one died.”

“Within God’s own home, they did not escape,” Hannibal murmured.

“Did God feel good about that?” another asked.

“I think he felt powerful,” he replied, and heads bobbed in agreement. “Humans try to attach human emotion to a being that is considered omnipotent, but his behaviors are not so easy. There is no good or evil in nature, and nature is what God made. There is balance, action and reaction, and animals that survive due to their ingenuity and desire for that survival. God felt powerful dropping that roof on his followers, just as God felt powerful in watching Nate react and behave in a situation that did not favor him. By his own hand, Nate died.”

Abigail loved the feeling that came with his words, the honest sense of logic and the intoxicating taste of just how capable that made her. God was neither good nor bad; he simply was, and he simply did. That is something of how it’d felt to kill her own mother. She saw an opportunity to escape from beneath her father’s gaze, and the price was her mother’s life.

She’d have liked to say she regretted it, but that would make her something of a liar. A quick glance about the room told her that no, her father wasn’t present. He was off on watch duty, ensuring that the perimeter would stay safe from those that sought to take this paradise from them.

Thanks to Hannibal Lecter, he’d be so busy he’d never have a chance to ‘honor’ her the way he did eight other girls.

“Tonight, I want us to honor Nate,” Hannibal said, and at a motion from him, a few people walked into the living room in order to divvy out glasses of wine, as red and bright as the color of blood. Abigail wasn’t much a drinker, but she could appreciate the time he’d taken to get the color choice right. “One of our own has fallen trying to bring to fruition our goals, hopes, and aspirations. He saw what was necessary to survive, and he took his life into his own hands and chose to Make it more than what it was.”

“To Nate!” someone cried out.

“To The Red Death!” another chimed in.

“To their success, that although Nate fell and Alyss was detained, Agent Lloyd Bowman is now a crutch to Agent Jack Crawford rather than an aid,” said Hannibal, and someone clapped heartily to that.

“The Red Death,” Abigail murmured, hushed. She accepted two glasses and passed one to Jacob, who looked distinctly uncomfortable as he accepted it. His orange juice glass lay empty on the table, taking up the only coaster.

“What do you think?” she asked him, quietly.

He looked unsure of how to answer that, and when everyone lifted their glasses in the air, he mimicked them, teeth worrying over his bottom lip.

“To Nate and The Red Death,” Hannibal said grandly, and he tipped his head back to drink from his glass.

Every other person in the room drank in unison, save Jacob beside Abigail who hesitated a bit too long before following suit.

It was somewhat of a disappointment, in truth, to see him hesitate so assuredly. When Hannibal met her gaze over the rim of his wine glass, she knew that she was supposed to shake her head, a sign that Jacob would have to be dealt with, and soon.

She thought of the care he’d taken when he’d left home, though, to make sure to bring things that couldn’t compromise their location or safety, the way he’d spoken bitterly of parents that took to the drink rather than look after their son. Unlike the one that was a lost cause, Abigail wondered if she could maybe just show him the way, the path that would ultimately lead him to a greater purpose and happiness, then they could spare him and utilize his cleverness rather than waste it with his end.

Rather than give the sign to Hannibal that not all was well, she smiled at him from her seat beside Jacob, and she took a long gulp of her wine, savoring the sour and dry taste as it lingered on the back of her tongue. It felt rebellious, drinking at her age.

“We should hang out,” she told him once Hannibal looked away.

He smiled, quirky and more than a little awkward.

“Yeah…I think I’d like that,” he said, and he took a quick sip of wine to hide the way his voice cracked a bit at the thought.

There were exactly 32 other Will Graham’s in the United States of America, four of which were females: Billy Graham, Willow Graham, Wilhelmina Graham, and Wilma Graham. The rest were male or non-gender specific.

The next day, by approximately 2:00 P.M. eastern time, every single one of them would be found dead by various means ranging from being pushed in front of a moving train to being found in their bathtub with a breezeblock on their chest.

Where each body was found, a small message would also be found:

And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all

Of course, for the body thrown in front of the train, the message was found five miles before the train stopped. It takes time to stop trains, after all.

A special and lovely thanks to my patrons: @hanfangrahamk @matildaparacosm @starlit-catastrophe @sylarana Heather Feather, Duhaunt6, and Superlurk!

#LiaS scribbles #where the wicked walk #hannibal #hannigram #hannibal fanfic #hannibal au #hannibal soulmate au #the following au #someone help will graham #francis dolarhyde #not you dude you're no help

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nh935 · 4 years

Text

Creepy America, Episode 11: Monday

Creepy America Episode 11 Monday Jackson, Mississippi

My grandmother had a saying: “a life well lived is a life with a lot of scars.” She fully understood what that meant. Both of her parents died in the Holocaust. She almost did as well. And once all that was behind her, she had to uproot her life and move to America, knowing no one, having no one to turn to, struggling to make ends meet.

She did it, though. And she never got bitter. Never complained. I always remember her smiling, happy, joking, laughing. When I asked her how she could be so upbeat in the face of all that darkness, she’d say “oh, those are just scars. I got them. Everyone does. But there’s a whole lot more of me than there are of them.”

I never fully understood that. I still don’t. And I really don’t know what it says about me that I don’t have scars.

Scars are things that healed. They may hurt, but not as much as they once did. So I don’t have scars. I have wounds. I have things that still cut deep, that still pain me as much as they did when I first think about them: Sam and the Alone place, Thorn, Zed, The Terrible Trivia Test…

...Zoey....

And Timothy Chapman’s Mondays. That wound still bleeds as fresh as ever.

***

I was getting real sick of the South.

To be fair, no matter how long I spent on the road, I never felt at home anywhere other than the Midwest. North Eastern cities are baffling labyrinths. The West Coast is simply strange. Plain States are big empties populated by winds, and the South West is more of the same.

But the South is just plain hostile. Outside of the king of venom that is New York City, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten less friendly welcomes than deep South rural towns. Their legendary hospitality only applies once you know somebody; if you don’t have that, you’re an outsider, plain and simple.

And remember, we had to interview these people. The idea for “Faces of America” was to pull from everywhere, deep South included. But they refused to bite. Everyone was suspicious that we were with somebody, or spying on them, or trying to pull an elaborate con, so it was slammed doors or chased off all around. We did manage to find a few outliers, including some amazingly sweet and generous individuals. And if you could get your foot in the door and convince others to introduce you around, man did the tune change. But it still wasn’t as much as we were hoping for.

During that time, we used Jackson as a sort of safe ground to retreat to. I wish I was joking, but after the sheriff of an extremely small town started to follow us around, we figured that heading out after we overstayed our welcome wasn’t such a bad idea, and the relative anonymity of a big city helped with that.

“I still don’t get it,” Zoey complained as she stabbed more hashbrowns. We were at Huddle House, which was located just outside the city and was slowly becoming our favorite place to eat. “Aren’t there any places around here that won’t give us the ‘move along’ treatment?”

I shrugged. “Small towns are small towns, I guess. If they see a stranger, their first thought is ‘why’?”

“Hmph,” she replied. “Well they need to lighten up a little. Maybe let them know that the Civil War is over.”

I choked on my coffee. “Jeez Zoe. Comments like that definitely won’t help.”

She slid a fork full of potatoes into her mouth and began to stab more. “Well, I’m frustrated. We’ve only got five, maybe ten minutes of stuff to put in for this section when I was hoping for at least a half hour more. And I’m tired of being stared at like a bug in a microscope LIKE YOU ARE!” she finished, violently pointing at the other side of the diner.

I followed her finger to a middle-aged white guy, somewhere between thirty and forty, with thinning black hair, glasses and a crumpled gray suit and tie. He was staring wide-eyed at the two of us, as if we were aliens from outer space.

He continued to stare for a good three seconds more, before awkwardly shifting his gaze back to the plate in front of him.

Zoey groaned. “Please tell me we’re leaving soon.”

I fished out the crumpled itinerary. “Well, Alabama is next, then Georgia, then Florida…”

Zoey perked up.

“...then back to Mississippi.”

She slumped her head on the table and extended her fork towards me. “Do you think you can jab this into my ear so hard it kills me?”

I gently took the fork and placed it next to my plate. “I think somebody’s burnt out. I know we just got a new episode ready, but do you want to put ‘Faces’ on the backburner and work on the next ‘Creepy America’?”

She looked up at me. “I suppose that does sound better than suicide by silverware.” She sighed, stood up, stretched, and walked over to the front counter with me to pay the bill.

“Do we have any leads?” she asked as I exchanged cash.

“Well, we did have that mirror,” I replied. “The Myrtles Plantation in Mississippi. It wasn’t too bad of a drive the last time I checked.”

“Hmm.” As we walked out of the door, she glanced over her shoulder.

“What is it?”

“That weird guy sure is causing a scene.”

I turned and looked back. Inside of the diner, the crumpled businessman was rushing out, pushing past waitresses and leaving his food unpaid for.

“Wonder what his problem is,” I said.

Zoey shrugged. “Maybe he just forgot the ‘dine’ part of ‘dine-and-dash.’”

“You don’t think we should follow up on it?”

“What’s there to follow up on? Nothing ever comes from the crazy ones.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

We kept walking on in silence for a while, turning the corner to get to the parking lot, until Zoey suddenly stepped close to me. “We’re being followed. Crazy guy.”

I looked back. The man in the wrinkled suit rounded the corner in a hurry and stopped as soon as he saw me watching him, instead making a big show of observing the area around him.

Zoey jabbed me in the side. “Don’t stare. Keep walking.”

I picked up the pace again.

“Who the hell is he?” Zoey muttered.

“Not Archangel,” I answered. “He sucks at this too much.”

“That’s not assuring. Not professional isn’t the same as not dangerous.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“Turn down this next alley and hide.” Zoey said in a harsh whisper. “If he tries anything, we jump him.”

My stomach turned a bit at that statement, but I turned down the darkened side street without saying anything. Once there, I flattened myself behind the wall of the right building while Zoey crouched behind the dumpster.

A minute later, the man bolted in, panting and out of breath. “Where did…” he wheezed. He spun around in a circle, then widened his eyes when he saw me.

“You!” he gasped.

Zoey leaped forward and tackled him, shoving both of them onto the ground. It was hardly a fair fight, seeing as how he was a winded forty-year-old and Zoey was still in her spry twenties, so it didn’t last very long. Once he was down, Zoey scrambled back to her feet and put a foot on his chest, keeping him there.

“Why are you following us!?” she demanded.

“I’m sorry, I just thought maybe you knew something or were something because I’d never seen you before today…” His words continued into more meaningless babble.

I raised an eyebrow. “He’s really not making any sense.”

“Yeah,” Zoey agreed, “maybe we should call someone…”

“No!” The man exclaimed. “Please don’t I…” He closed his eyes and swallowed. “My name is Timothy Chapman. I’ve been living the same Monday for almost twenty years. Every day is the same date. Every day, the exact same things happen.”

He opened his eyes and stared at us. “Except you two. You two are different. I’ve never seen you before, so you have to be part of this. Please…” he begged, “please get me to Tuesday.”

***

Timothy Chapman (“please, just Tim” he told us,) was staying at a Motel 6 outside of town. After pleading for a while, we agreed to meet him there and hear him out, but once we had entered the lobby, Zoey grabbed my arm and forced me to stay behind for a second.

“What are we doing here? He’s obviously nuts!” Zoey hissed. “And the dangerous kind, too!”

“Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “We’ve seen crazier things. Hell, we’ve done crazier things.”

“But reliving the same day over and over?”

“It makes sense, given what we’ve seen.”

Zoey stared at me in disbelief.

“You remember what I was talking about at the Monolith?” I asked. “About secret pockets of space and time?”

She thought for a second, then turned back to the hallway where Tim was waiting. “So… what? You think he’s trapped in one of these secret pockets of time?”

“Exactly.”

Zoey shook her head. “Then why would we be any different?”

“I think…” I stopped to choose my words. “I think that maybe when we used that terminal, we de-syched ourselves from the normal time stream. Everyone else here may be trapped linearly, but we now exist outside of that linearity, even if we’re still going in the same direction.”

Zoey groaned and rubbed her temples. “Fine, I don’t get it, but…” she looked back at me, “tell me the truth Liam: do you actually believe this could happen?”

I met her gaze. “With what we’ve seen? A thousand times yes.”

She nodded. “Fine. We’ll at least hear him out then.”

***

Tim’s room was the normal fare for a motel: bed, bathroom, desk. It didn’t look like he had been living there long, though: the bed was still neat and made and a solitary, unopened suitcase sat next to it. He had to have just checked in, I figured, which was weird considering that he had rattled off the directions without any hesitation whatsoever.

Tim sat down on the bed and looked at us sheepishly. “So, um, I guess you need to hear about what happened to me now, huh?”

Zoey shot me a look of impatience.

I silently asked her to wait it out with my eyes.

She sighed. “If you would. And, you don’t mind us recording this, do you?”

“No, not at all.”

Zoey pointed at me and I started up the camcorder.

Tim cleared his throat. “My name is Timothy Chapman. I’m 23…”

Zoey and I glanced at each other.

“...and every day, I live the exact same Monday.”

“What do you mean by ‘the exact same Monday’?” Zoey asked.

“I mean the exact same Monday,” he insisted. “February Seventeenth, 2016. The date never changes. I go to sleep, I wake up, it’s still the seventeenth. And every single day, the exact same things happen over and over and over again. Here,” he jumped up and ran over to the window, “let me show you.”

We walked over to the window and watched.

“In twelve seconds, you’re going to see a tall woman with blonde hair walking a big white dog. In fifteen, a hispanic man with a reflective vest is going to come from the opposite direction.”

I pointed the camera at the window and waited. Sure enough, a tall blonde woman showed up, walking a poodle. A moment later, a man with a neon yellow vest passed her.

Zoey cleared her throat. “That’s not exactly…”

“We’re good, thank you!” Tim interrupted.

We stared at him.

“No housekeeping?” a muffled voice asked from behind the room door.

“No housekeeping,” he yelled, then looked back at us.

“And how do we know that this isn’t some elaborate prank?” Zoey asked.

He sighed. “Go outside and travel one block east, towards the gas station. On the corner, there’ll be a man with sunglasses arguing with a teenage kid standing next to a red ferrari that’s been rear-ended by a white station wagon. Go see, just,” he looked down at his watch, “please hurry. We’re running out of Monday.”

Zoey and I glanced at each other, then silently walked out of the hotel and down the block he told us to. There, parked behind a stop sign, was a smashed cherry red ferrari, back end rammed into by an old, white station wagon. Standing next to it was an angry white guy alternating between screaming into a cell phone and screaming at a teenage boy, head in hands, sitting on the curb.

“Now way he could arrange that,” Zoey said. “I guess he’s legitimate.”

“So now what?” I asked.

Zoey held her hands out. “That’s on you. I do people, you do weird.”

“Since when?”

“Since you saved me from the blood curse.”

“Mmmph,” I grumbled.

“C’mon,” Zoey goaded me, “don’t tell me you haven’t been obsessively thinking over this already.”

I paused. “You know, he looks awfully old for 23.”

***

When we got back to the room, Tim had the door propped open, pacing back and forth inside. Once he saw that we were there, his eyes immediately lit up. “You saw it, right?! You know I’m telling the truth now, right?!”

“Yes yes, we saw it.” I motioned for him to sit back down on the bed. “Can I ask you some questions?”

“Of course!” He sat down on the mattress and leaned forward, far enough to be in danger of falling off.

“You said you were 23.”

“Yes, I am,” he confirmed. “Or maybe, I was. I’m still aging.”

I furrowed my brow. “At the exact same rate?”

“Yes.”

“But, that would mean…”

He gave me a sad smile. “6,198 Mondays. Almost seventeen years in the exact same day.”

I slowly nodded. “The aging, is that why you move out of your house every morning?”

He looked down at the packed suitcase at his feet. “At first, it wasn’t really noticeable. But my wife, Kaitlyn, she started to say things. Asking me if I was sick, or if I was stressed out at work. After a while, she stopped recognizing me and started freaking out in, attacking me and asking me what I did with her husband, so I started sneaking out of my house in the morning and come here.”

“So you wake up in your own bed every morning?”

“Yeah. No matter what happens.”

“What about… physical harm?”

“You mean…” he mimed putting a gun to his head.

“Yeah,” I admitted.

“Tried several times. Never seems to work. I just wake up back in bed.”

Zoey gave me a sideways glance. “You’ve got an idea, Liam. I can see it.”

“I don’t know if it’s an exact match, but the terminal…”

“Right. Good thinking.” Zoey checked her watch. “Do you know how far it is from here?”

“About two and a half hours.”

Tim’s eyes bounced between the two of us. “What? What is it?”

“You stay here and explain it to him,” I told Zoey. “I’m going to bring the car up.”

“Right,” Zoey said, sitting down next to Tim. “Don’t worry Mr. Chapman, we’re going to fix this soon. I promise.”

***

It took me all of five minutes to get to the car, unlock the door, and slide into the passenger seat. Once there, I cracked my knuckles and slid the key into the ignition. “Right,” I said out loud to myself, “time to use this knowledge to do some good for once.”

A soft click-clack answered me. “Hello Foster.”

I glanced up into the rearview mirror. Behind me was a large tan man dressed in a black suit and trench coat, shiny aviator glasses covering his face.

“Thorn,” I whispered, “what are you doing here?”

“Just came to ask what a bright young man such as yourself is doing leaving the fine city of Jackson.” His hand moved up an inch and the black of his pistol became visible in the reflection.

“You already know, don’t you?”

He scoffed. “Of course I already know. We’ve been watching you since Bethesda. The question is, what are you doing trying to head back to the access terminal?”

“My guess is that you already know the answer to that one, too.”

“Yeah I do. What is it with you kids these days? Being famous isn’t enough, you want to be heroes too?”

I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “So what are going to do? Kill me?”

He chuckled. “Course not. If I wanted you dead, I would have put a bomb in your car engine. Or took you out with a sniper already. Or brought something heavier than a silenced .22 when I decided to take potshots at your RV. No, I’m here to warn you.”

“About what?”

“That if it was up to me, you would be dead.” He brought the gun up to my ear, tickling it. “Anderson thinks you’re harmless. That when push comes to shove, you’ll play ball. But I’ve been doing this for a while, Foster, and I know what a crusader looks like. You won’t quit, not until everyone and everything around you has been burnt to the ground in the name of your little quest. And you want to know why I know this?”

I stayed silent.

“Because I was part of the team that had to fix that access terminal. Quite the mess, Foster. It was going all kinds of apeshit. And that didn’t have to happen. You could have done the smart thing and walked away. You didn’t have to play with keys. But you did, because you felt you needed to know, and you caused damage that you couldn’t comprehend and that I don’t have time to explain.

“So here’s your one chance to prove me wrong: stay in Jackson, and forget that terminal exists”

“No can do.” I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I’ve got someone in there who needs it.”

He pressed the gun closer. “You willing to stake your life on that?”

I nodded.

“What about the life of Ms. Hammersham?”

I tried to respond, but my throat went dry.

Slowly, I took my hands away from the steering wheel.

He gave another soft laugh. “That’s what I thought.” He opened up the back door and stepped out. “Think about that the next time you want to play hero, Foster. And remember, I’ll be watching.”

***

The walk back from the car to the motel was the longest walk of my life.

***

I stepped into Tim’s room to find Zoey and him waiting, suitcase slung over one shoulder.

“Alright, ready?” Zoey asked.

I shook my head.

Zoey’s furrowed her brow. “What’s…”

“We can’t use the terminal,” I replied.

“But…”

I stared and shook my head again.

Tim collapsed backwards, into the bed. “Bu… what now? If we can’t…”

“I promised I’d help you, and I’m going to keep that promise.” I sat down at the writing desk and pulled out my phone, Googling ‘Jackson MS missing persons.’ “Tim, you said you’ve been re-living the same Monday, right?”

He looked up at me with watery, red eyes. “Yes?”

“Do you remember Sunday?”

“That was so long ago.”

“Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen,” I whispered to myself. “That’s below the national average.”

Tim looked up at me. “Huh?”

“Nothing, just tell me about Sunday.”

He looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes. “I… was excited for the new promotion at Parkway. We both were. I had worked hard to get it. Monday was supposed to be the first day, but…” he scrunched his face up, “...Kaitlyn had to go to her Mom’s and I went to the museum…”

“Museum?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Eyes still closed, he blushed a bit. “The Mississippi Art Museum. It’s kind of an interesting place.”

As I opened up Google again, Zoey leaned over my shoulder. “What are you looking for?”

“Jackson Mississippi has roughly the national average of missing people, which suggests that whatever happened to Tim hasn’t been here for long; it moved in recently. And if the last place he went was the Art Museum…”

I opened up the museum page and scrolled down to exhibits, continuing until I found , ‘Garretson’s Tempus Fugit Collection. NEW!’ Once there, I clicked open a gallery to showcase dozens of clockwork figures, animals, buildings, and humans made out of gears and metal scrap.

Zoey squinted at the text line at the top. “In this sculpture collection, Garretson, better known by his alias ‘Mind Over Matter’, demonstrates the fleeting nature of time with these interactable sculptures made out of repurposed scrap…”

Hearing those words, Tim came over and peered at my phone as well. “That’s it! I was looking at those!”

“Interactable, huh?” I flicked through the gallery pages until I came across a gray box with the words ‘Oops! We’re sorry, but it appears this image link is broken!’

I pointed at a small winged ‘A’ in the corner.

“No way…” Zoey whispered.

Tim looked back and forth between us. “What? What is it?”

“A sign that something shouldn’t have been there, and telling people like us to stay away.” I flipped from there to Twitter, clicking on the search box and typing in #MississippiArtMuseum.

“What are you doing now?” Zoey asked.

“Hoping,” I replied. Not seeing what I wanted, I hit search again and typed in #MindOverMatter.

“Hoping for what?” Zoey continued.

“That Anderson was right when he said that Archangel can’t catch everything.”

Half a page down, I found what I was looking for: a woman posing for a selfie with a clockwork old man with a cane. A sculpture that definitely hadn’t been part of the original gallery images.

“I remember that one!” Tim said, practically bouncing. “That one came with a handle that you would spin to make it move!”

I opened the picture up and zoomed in a tiny bit, over to where a wooden handle was attached to a thin metal gear. Alongside one section of it, cut into the metal itself, were the letters “WONDERLAND CONTROL GEAR 136-A.”

“Wonderland again,” Zoey whispered.

“What’s Wonderland?” Tim asked.

“Not sure,” I answered, “but everytime we run into it, freaky stuff starts happening.”

“Hang on,” Zoey interuptted, “if this is what put him in a time-loop, why haven’t these other people been affected?”

I scratched my head. “Again, no idea. But if this thing caused it, this thing can fix it.”

“But if Archangel already found it…”

“...then it’s gone, yeah.” I tilted my head back to the two of them. “But even so, I don’t think it’s gone gone. My guess is that they couldn’t move something like that too quickly, especially if it was potentially dangerous. So it’s most likely still there.”

“So all we have to do is break into a museum protecting priceless pieces of art,” Zoey grimaced. “Great.”

Tim stood up straight. “I can help with that.”

***

Tim told us to meet him at the museum at five in the evening; that would be the ‘easiest time’ to get in. That gave us a couple hours to drive around and do our best to case the place out, even though we really had no idea what we were looking for.

After our third time around, we saw Tim stepping out of a yellow taxi cab, so I swung into a parking space and stepped out to meet him.

“Are you ready?” he asked us.

“Sure, but…” I took a glance back at the building, “I don’t think there’s anyway in. That place is locked up tight.”

“You leave that to me,” he declared, striding around to a side door labeled ‘employees only.’

I turned to Zoey. She shrugged and started following him. I hurried to catch up.

As soon as we reached the door, it swung open to reveal a large, muscular black man in a kevlar vest with “SECURITY” written on it. He stopped and looked at us in bewilderment. “What the…”

“Shh… it’s okay Carl,” Tim interrupted.

The other guy took a step back. “How do you…”

“Melissa sent me.” He put a hand on his shoulder. “She’s ready for you to come home.”

I winced and stepped back a bit, ready for the man to clock Tim straight in the face.

The other guy drew himself up…

...and started crying.

“I can’t” he mumbled, tears coming down his cheeks. “That night, what I said…”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tim consoled him, “it’s okay. I know that you’re still hurting, but she’s hurting too, man, You both need to heal… together.”

“She really wants me back?” he asked.

Tim just silently nodded.

The man ran out, shouting “thank you!”s all the way across the parking lot.

We stared at Tim.

“I take it this isn’t your first time breaking in here?” I finally asked.

“After a few Mondays, you start seeing what you can get away with.” He waved us forward into the open doorway. “Follow my lead.”

We did, trailing on his heels as he moved from white stucco hallway to white stucco hallway, too fast for me to discern any pattern behind it. I could barely keep up with him, much less take time to process my surroundings.

Suddenly, he stuck his arm out and crouched low, forcing us to follow suit. Ahead of us, around a corner, was a chest-high wall and windows that reached up to the room’s ceiling, forming a small room, and inside, a red-headed man in another “SECURITY” vest was seated, reading a magazine of some kind.

“What now?” I whispered.

Tim looked at his watch. “Seventeen seconds and the Miller kid comes out.”

Zoey tapped my shoulder. I turned around and shrugged back.

“Son of a bitch!” the guard shouted. He stood up and bolted out of the room, leaving the door to the guard-house wide open.

Tim slunk out and into the guard house with us behind. Once inside, I turned the camera to the computer monitor there, showing a teenager running away and the guard close behind. Framing the chase was a large wall with scarlet spray paint dripping down the side.

“Here.” I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to the source. Tim was holding out a plastic keycard. “This should open all the doors. The PIN is 8161.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, grabbing it. “So where do we go now?”

“I have no idea,” Tim admitted. “Usually I’m here to screw around, not find things.”

“Right then,” I sat down at the computer and started hitting keys. “How long do we have until that guard gets back?”

“Thirteen minutes, give or take 30 seconds.”

I clicked through files until I found one labeled “DIRECTORY.” I opened it and scrolled through the pdf it brought up. “Temporary storage. That sounds like what we want… Wing B, Sublevel One.”

Tim leaned over my shoulder and studied the document with me. “We’re on Sublevel One right now. Wing B is a right, then a left, a left, then straight.”

“How about we just follow you?” Zoey suggested. Tim nodded and barrelled down the hallways, forcing us to run in order to keep up. He dashed down three intersections like he was being chased and abruptly stopped at the fourth, holding his arm out and causing us to almost trip and fall as we stopped as well.

A young man pushing a trash can and a mop glided past us, headphones blaring with music and eyes focused on empty space.

After another minute more, Tim waved and we continued moving down the hallway, this time at a brisk walk instead of an all-out run.

The hallway we were following turned right one more time and emptied out into a long corridor with a large, blue letter “B” painted on the side. Down the walls were dozens upon dozens of doors, each with a small, wire-meshed glass window set into the center and a keycard reader and number pad set above the handle.

“Wing B,” Tim announced.

Zoey spun around the passage. “There has to be at least 50 doors here!”

“Better get started,” I moved to the closest one on my left, slid the card Tim had given me through, and punched in ‘8161.’ Once I did, the door gave a tiny beep and I swung it open to reveal a small room filled with crates and hand-dollies.

I heard Tim mutter “the pin is 0115” behind me. A minute later, Zoey was by my side, sliding a card through and punching in keys while the sound of Tim opening doors continued behind me. I leap-frogged over Zoey and continued down the line, the three of us accessing rooms as fast as we could.

When I opened the twelfth down, a life-sized, flat sculpture of an old, hunched-over man composed out of rusted sheet metal and large, interlocked pieces of scrap and gears stood in the center of the room, a paper sheet reading “DO NOT TOUCH UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES” taped onto it. Following the arm down, the area where the hand rested on the cane had a large wooden handle on it, and attached to the handle was a long, thin gear that read “WONDERLAND CONTROL GEAR 136-A.”

“Guys” I shouted, “I found it!”

Silence.

I turned around. Zoey was gone. As was Tim.

I walked around, seeing the doors they had been searching through swung open, but no sign of the other two. “Tim?” I asked in a harsh whisper, trying to grab their attention without revealing ourselves. “Zoey?”

They didn’t answer.

But something else did.

THERE GOES LIAM. ONE OF GOD’S OWN PROTOTYPES. TOO WEIRD TO LIVE, TO RARE TO DIE.

My blood ran cold. I slowly stepped back into the room with the sculpture. There, perched on top of it like some kind of demented angel, was Sam, green hoodie, jeans, boots and all, perched on top of the metal head and grabbed on with both its hands and feet. Two large, black wings of pure shadow extended from behind its shoulders, filling the entire top half of the room and those damnable shining pinpricks of eyes and crazy, twisted grin were visible in the blackness of his hood.

“Go away.” It barely came out as a whisper.

It cocked its head. WHAT WAS THAT?

“I said go away!” This time, I managed to shout it.

IS THAT ANY WAY TO TALK TO YOUR MESSIAH?

“Leave me alone! I didn’t ask for your help, or your baptism, or…”

FUNNY. There was a rush of darkness and all of a sudden it was in front of me. It happened so fast I startled backwards and fell over, letting Sam leer over me. YOU’VE USED MY GIFT SEVERAL TIMES WITH NO ISSUES WHATSOEVER.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I said, trying to get back up.

As I sat up, he reached over and covered my face with a large, dirt-caked hand. My vision went black, then faded back into view with me sitting in the darkened RV, Zoey collapsed into a chair in front of me. “I just… I just wish there was a way to fight back,” she sighed.

“Archangel,” I said to myself. “This was the night they talked to us.” But that’s not what came out of my mouth. What came out of my mouth was what I said when I had a sudden flash of insight:

“We can. They’re afraid of ‘Creepy America.’ They’re afraid of this show.”

The colors twisted and blurred until Zoey and I were standing on top of a large desert rock, black terminal with green letters in front of me.

“No, it can’t be,” I thought to myself.

“Wonderland access terminal,” past-me said. “Wonderland. Wonderland. Worlds of… Hey Zoey, you don’t think…”

The scene faded to black and my vision returned as Sam’s hairy, dirty hand lifted from my face.

“You…” I stammered.

I TOLD YOU LIAM, Sam leaned closer to me until its face was only inches away from mine, I AM A MUSE. I AM HERE TO INSPIRE YOU TO DO GREAT WORKS. ALL YOU NEED ARE A COUPLE OF HINTS.

“I don’t want them!” I turned around and crawled away, then scrambled back to my feet.

OH REALLY? EVEN IF I WERE TO TELL YOU SOMETHING LIKE… HOW TO CORRECTLY TURN A WONDERLAND GEAR?

I stopped, then slowly spun back. Sam was leaning against the statue, gently caressing the gear with the wooden handle. MR. WONDERLAND DOES MAKE SUCH INTRICATE TOYS. BUT HE RARELY INCLUDES THE INSTRUCTION MANUAL. He stood back up and stepped forward, offering a hand to me. BUT I AM AN OPEN BOOK. I AM THE ALMIGHTY WIKI OF ALL THINGS: KNOWN, UNKNOWN, SECRET, COMPLEX, OCCULT. ACCEPT MY PENTECOST, LIAM, AND YOU CAN DO MUCH MORE THAN SIMPLY RESUME THE CLOCK OF A TOCK-STUCK MORTAL. YOU COULD OPEN DOORS TO OTHER WORLDS, ASCEND TO NEW REALMS, REWRITE REALITY ITSELF. JUST TAKE MY HAND….

I stopped.

I reached out my hand…

Sam’s eyes grew larger.

...and slapped its arm away.

“I don’t know what you are,” I growled, “but you’re wrong. I can feel it. I’m never joining you, Sam. So feel free to take your little pentecost and shove it.”

Its grin downturned into a grimace and its eyes slanted into rage. YOU… ARROGANT! It reeled back and shoved me with both arms, throwing me to the ground and sliding me into the wall behind me hard, hard enough to hurt.

“Liam!” Zoey appeared in my vision, bent down next to me.

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

Tim looked at me, then back to where I just was. “What the hell just happened?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I grabbed my side and hobbled back towards the room.

“‘Ey Bobby!” A staticky voice crackled near Tim. “You hear something near B Wing? Over.”

Tim pulled out a large walkie talkie from his jacket pocket and clicked it on. “It’s this damn art piece, Jamie. It’s hooked up to some kind of video clip and I can’t shut it off! Over.”

The walkie talkie laughed. “Artists, right? Over.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim replied. “Now quit yammering so I can figure out how to shut it up, Over and out.” Tim then turned back to me, panic in his eyes. “We’ve got to hurry. We’ve only got about a half hour left before the night crew comes and starts moving pieces around from here.”

“Don’t worry,” I grabbed onto the door and creaked it back open, revealing the sculpture and the handled gear attached to it, “I found it.”

Tim stepped in and began to walk around the it. “So this is the thing that got me stuck in Monday?” He sounded unconvinced.

“100 percent,” I said. “Time never works right when Wonderland is around.”

He grabbed the handle and moved it back and forth. “So what do I do?”

“Well, what did you do with it on Sunday?” Zoey asked.

He blushed. “I don’t remember.”

“Not at all?” I asked.

“It was a long time ago!” Tim protested.

There was a sharp bang from the other end of the hallway. The three of us scooted back into the room and I moved the door back, almost closed but open just enough to hear out of.

“Tim,” I whispered, “what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he stammered. “This has never happened before.”

There was the click-click-click of two sets of footsteps, then it stopped.

“I don’t see why this has to be done tonight…” one voice whined.

“Circumstances changed,” a deeper, familiar voice replied. “We need to get it out of here before interested parties steal it.”

Zoey tapped me on the shoulder. “Is that…”

“Thorn,” I finished quietly. “He must have decided to move the sculpture sooner after talking to me.”

“Talking to?” Zoey hissed.

I looked back at Tim. “I’m going to go out and make a distraction.”

Zoey squeezed my shoulder. “We’re.”

I started to say something, but Zoey just squeezed tighter. “Not the time to argue,” she said.

“Fine,” I sighed. “We’re going to go out and make a distraction. You stay here and experiment with the gear. Get yourself unstuck.”

“Alright. See you at my hotel room,” he smiled, “on Tuesday.”

I nodded back, then turned to Zoey. “Ready?”

“Depends,” she replied. “What’s the plan?”

“I was just going to run out and make him chase me.”

She smirked. “Think I can manage that.”

“Okay. One, and two, and three!” Zoey and I barreled out of the room, hitting the door so hard it flew around its hinge and slammed into the adjacent wall, clipping both Thorn and the headphoned janitor I had seen earlier. The janitor immediately fell over, but Thorn rolled back with the motion, bringing his arm up and pistol raised as he did so. “Foster, stop!”

“Split up,” Zoey panted. She went left and I went right. Back towards the guard shack, I realized.

I heard running footsteps, much faster than my own, stop at the intersection, then squeak and chase my path. I pushed further and dove into the guard shack, curling myself up underneath the desk.

The footsteps continued, then stopped. I heard the soft tinks of the pistol being handled as Thorn began moving slowly across the area, scanning for me.

I summoned all of my willpower and held my breath. The action inflamed my already burning lungs and turned my heartbeat into a roar.

C’mon, I mentally urged, we have to be close to thirteen minutes.

As if on cue, footsteps from the other side of the hallway sounded off, then stopped. “What the…” the voice of the security guard muttered.

“Stand down!” Thorn shouted. “I’m a member of Archangel!”

“A whowhatnow?” The guard raised something else tinky up. “Hands up! Drop the gun!”

“I’m with Archangel! Protocall Five!”

The guard brought his walkie-talkie to life with a click-beep. “Robison, call the police right now. We have someone who’s armed and dangerous, possibly insane.”

Thorn mirrored the action with his own click-beep. “Copy base, I am in pursuit of the assets, about to be detained by local law. Permission to terminate obstacle.”

The air turned deadly quiet.

“Denied,” a radio voice sounded next to Thorn. I couldn’t quite be sure, but it sounded like Anderson. “Allow yourself to be taken in.”

“Sir,” Thorn insisted, “the assets…”

“Are to be allowed to escape,” the maybe-Anderson interrupted. “We’ve told you before: they are to be given a certain degree of trust. Comply with law enforcement and consider this your punishment for disobeying orders. We will pick you up in the morning.”

The silence resumed.

Something clattered to the ground where Thorn was.

Carefully, I crawled out of my hiding spot and back the way I came. As I did, I watched Thorn stare daggers through his reflective aviators, scowling as he laid flat on the ground, hands behind his head.

***

It took another hour of sneaking around and making distractions to get out of there, an hour I’ll skip for the sake of time. Once I did, though, I found Zoey waiting for me in the parking lot. Without a word, we got into our car, drove back to the Motel 6, and headed into Tim’s room, door still unlocked and opened from when we had left.

Still silent, we sat on the bed, waiting for Thorn to come back. We sat like that for hours, not moving, not talking, until finally, Zoey looked down at her phone. “Where the hell is he?” she complained. “It’s after midnight.”

We waited a minute longer.

“He’s still in Monday,” I realized.

Zoey glared at me. “Don’t say that. He’s… he probably got caught in the museum, and they put him in jail. Or back home, or…”

I stood up and moved over to the writing desk. A solitary piece of paper sat there, covered in tiny, neat letters.

“That… wasn’t there before,” Zoey said.

I picked it up and began to read out loud:

“Liam and Zoey,

“I hope this letter manages to find you. I can only pray that these words, unlike myself, manage to find a way to get to tomorrow. It’s funny, or pathetic, I can’t say which, that at my dying hour all I can think about is you. Not my wife, or my parents, or all the friends who will wonder about me when I’m gone. No, instead, all I can think about are the two strange kids who, in one Monday in a million, found me and tried to help.

“The gear didn’t work. I don’t know why. I’ve tried a million times since, but nothing ever happens, no matter what I do. I’m sure that if you were here with me, you could explain to me how to use it, but that’s no use now. I used to be angry at you, but years later, I realize that you were just doing the best you could. Perhaps not even you knew how the gear worked, and you were just grasping at straws, like me.

“I’ve seen your work, by the way. Good stuff. I’d ask you how you do the effects, but… well, I think we both know the answer.

“I can feel my body give way as I write this. Far too many Mondays, I fear. My frame has become one of an old man, so please, consider this my Will. Remember me. The others won’t. Not Katherine. Not those who knew me. I’ll be vanished. But you, you two, who knew what happened, remember me. And keep working at it. Help others, if you can. Nobody deserves this.

“Nobody deserves this.

“Sincerely,

“Timothy Chapman”

“Well, maybe, if we get that gear, we can go back,” Zoey said, tears in the corners of her eyes. “Right, Liam? I mean…”

I hung my head.

The conversation ended.

***

“Liam, c’mon, it’s time to move on.”

It was two days later. I was seated at Huddle House, staring blankly at the spot where we had first seen Tim. Sprawled out at my booth was a large poster:

HAVE YOU SEEN ME?

TIMOTHY CHAPMAN, 23

150 LBS. 5’8”

REWARD FOR ANY INFORMATION

PLEASE CALL KAITLYN CHAPMAN:

And a picture of a much younger, much happier Tim than I had ever known.

“I know it hurts,” Zoey said, “but we have to move on. We can’t beat ourselves up every time we have a loss like this.”

“At any given time, around 90,000 people are missing in the United States,” I muttered numbly.

Zoey looked at me confused. “What did you say?”

“My mantra as of late.” I buried my face in my hands. “What are we doing, Zoey? Everytime we try to help, we just make it worse.”

“Don’t say that,” she whispered. “We’ve had our good moments. Millie, and Red Like Roses…”

“And Greg and Sims and Tim.” I sat back up. “We can’t save one person. Not one.”

“Liam, we’re not gods. There’s only so much you can do…”

“Wrong.”

Zoey sighed and sat down at the seat across from me. “No, Liam, we exhausted all our options.”

“No we didn’t,” I insisted. “We had something we knew would work. The terminal. But Thorn came. Intimidated me. Convinced me not to go. And then…” I swallowed, “and then, Sam came. Offered to tell me how to work the gear. But I was scared. Again. And I said no, and…”

“Hush,” Zoey commanded me. She paused, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper and handed it to me.

I took it and read the top. “Raven’s Riddle. A spell for learning secrets. Dominis Enim Novit Omnia.” I looked back up to Zoey. “Is this…”

“One of Jenny’s spells, yeah,” she confirmed.

“I thought we burned them all.”

“Me too, but this was lodged under some stuff. We must have missed it when we were rounding the papers up.” She took the paper back. “I was going to get rid of it, and then Tim happened. And I turned it over and over in my hands, thinking about how much easier it would be if I could just use it once.”

I stayed silent, watching the paper.

“And you know what?” Zoey took the spell and ripped it into pieces.

“We could have used that,” I said.

Zoey shook her head. “No, we couldn’t. Liam, this… world, we keep finding, it’s not right. It’s… consuming. And the first thing we need to do is make sure it doesn’t consume us. I want to help people just as much as you do, but we can’t do that dead. Or screwed over by spells. Or under the influence of whatever a dark pentecost is.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that Monday sucked. Tim should be here. But we need to be here also, and we can’t kill ourselves for the sake of one person. If we go, nobody fights this fight anymore.” She gave me a sad smile. “That alone is worth sticking around for. So… hero responsibly, okay?”

I stayed quiet, then nodded.

“Okay,” Zoey said. “We’ll win. Eventually. Trust me.”

I don’t if I believed her then. All I know is that I don’t believe her now.

#short story #series #creepy america #horror #weird fiction #cosmic horror

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