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strangersteddierthings · 4 months

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No Regrets - Part Five

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

This beautiful fic cover you see below was made by the fantastic, wonderful and lovely @skepsiss <3 Thanks so much!!! I'm still crying about it.

He jolts backwards, the burning in his chest hurts, it fucking hurts but- but it doesn't? He pulls in a deep, shaking breath and feels no pain.

"Steve?" Nancy asks from off to his right, so he turns to look at her. She looks concerned, and scared in a way he hasn't seen her in years. (Except it's not years, is it? Not anymore, or not right now?) "Are you okay?"

He shakes his head before digging his palms into his eyes. He's dying, dying, dying- he's dead, he has to be. The Storms are so toxic and he-

"Steve," Robin's voice is accompanied by her hands around his wrists. She pulls his hands from his eyes and he lets her. He blinks at her worried face. "Steve, what just happened?"

"I-I was. I think... give me a moment" Steve says. Robin nods once, a confirmation, but she doesn't move away or release his wrists.

He pulls in another deep breath and closes his eyes to think. He's trying to remember. He thinks he promised to explain everything after... after Pennhurst? Yes, he remembers. Promised that after Robin and Nancy got back from their trip to Pennhurst, he'd tell them everything he knows. It's... it is after, now.

It was yesterday that Robin and Nancy went to Pennhurst and spoke to Creel. They learned about Creel, and the music. They still got found out as fakes; Steve didn't remember what caused them to be discovered last time to be able to warn them against it this time.

He still ended up being bullied into driving Max around. This time, though, he already had an hour-long loop of Running Up That Hill in his car. They'd let Max go to speak to Billy alone, like last time. The boys paced around the car and this time, when they realize that Max isn't responding, Steve's already loading the tape into the cassette player. He shoves it into Lukas's hands and tells him to put it on Max, press play, and to not stop begging her to come back until she is.

Steve saw he had questions, but Max was more important. She floated, and fell, and Lucas had caught her. Then...?

Oh, right. Then, he did explain, yesterday evening, after everyone had crowded into the Wheeler's basement. Went over Vecna winning, Hawkins becoming ground zero for the apocalypse. Talks about a future with a lot of loss, but won't say who, as well as the slow decay of the air and earth. That you could breathe the air for small moments of time, but long exposure would make you sick. That even though they'd finally killed Vecna in 1989, too much damage had been done, too many gates opened, kept opening with every new death by demo-creature. El alone would never be able to close off all the gates. They were working on trying to create a reverse of the machine below Starcourt, meant to close gates instead of open, but the world would probably be a complete wasteland before they could complete it.

No one had reacted well to the news, but the yelling was a minimum, which had been a pleasant surprise.

In the end, Steve had told them they needed more people, more help. That he was going to tell Wayne about the Upside Down.

He opens his eyes, now, and looks around. The place is small, familiar almost. Wood paneling and- The Munson's home. They're in Eddie's home. Because last night Steve had come over. He'd come over and told Wayne everything because he couldn't do this again. Not alone, not as the only responsible adult.

The Wayne in the future had been so willing to help, when Hawkins ripped open at its seams, and Wayne in the present was the same. He didn't- he didn't even call Steve crazy. He'd said he believed Steve, that some government lady told him they were going to pay for him to be in a hotel since his home was an active crime scene, but Wayne'd refused. Eddie wouldn't know where to call when he got out, and what if he just showed up and Wayne was gone- well, Wayne found that unacceptable.

Now, Wayne should be his way back from Indy in Eddie's recovered van with the Byers and Mike, and they're here waiting on a call from Eddie.

Steve's not dying, or, he's not anymore? Or maybe he is, and this is just. What the end is like? Getting to put an end to your regrets or something.

Whatever. It doesn't really matter what or why or even how. He knows what is in store for the future if they don't stop Vecna today.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm back," Steve says, opening his eyes to look at Robin.

She scrunches her brow. "Back?"

"Back from the future," Steve gives her a lopsided grin and in return she squints at him, leaning in real close to his face like the closer she is the more of his mind she'll be able to read.

"You're a different Steve. Again."

"What?" Nancy asks.

"Again?" Steve asks.

Robin scrutinizes his face some more before backing off, just a few inches. "Yeah. It was- Saturday, when you just walked out of our shift after Dustin and Max showed up, you were different then. Not. It was- you know how we were just talking about how if only we could combine, our love life problems would be fixed?"

Steve does, but only after having to think about it for a moment. It was so long ago, but it wasn't. Not for the Steve he's replaced, not for Robin in front of him. "Yeah. I remember."

"It's like I didn't realize how much we'd already combined until we weren't anymore. It was like... like you were a completely different person. I thought it was just, maybe, a reaction to learning the Upside Down was back. But you got different. More haunted."

"You noticed a difference?"

Robin scoffs, "of course I did. You're you but it was. This whole week it's been like... each day brings a new you. With different quirks. Except yesterday was still all the same old-new you so I thought- I thought maybe we'd succeeded. Fixed whatever it was that needed changed because you hadn't changed. But we haven't yet. 'Cause you're back."

Steve shakes his head. "No. No, we haven't. But this time- we'll have the manpower."

"No, I mean, I just-" Robin huffs, falling back onto her butt rather than staying in an uncomfortable crouch. "I just noticed, is all."

"Are we making it better," Nancy asks, "or worse?"

Steve looks from Robin to Nancy. "I-I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know. I don't- I don't know what we've changed. Or if it's been for the better. Because I don't remember."

"Oh," Nancy says with a nod, the look on her face morphing to one Steve knows means she's working out the puzzle of it all. He'll leave her to it.

His attention turns back to Robin, who has her head tipped back, looking at the unopened gate on the roof of the trailer. It definitely cannot be mistaken for water damage anymore. "What are you thinking about?"

Robin tips her head back down to look at Steve. "Exactly that."

"What?"

"Sorry," she says with a frown, "I was just thinking about how we can't- we don't really read each other's minds anymore. I know we should be worrying more about the end of the world but I'm just, just being selfish. Worrying about our friendship."

"You are the only constant in my life, Robin Buckley," Steve confesses, a fierceness to his tone he doesn't even recognize. "You have been, and always will be, the person I need in my life to bother even living it. I swear to God, Robbie, that if anything ever happens to you, I will walk into traffic."

Robin lets out a laugh. "That's a bit extreme."

Steve shoots Nancy a look; he can see she's in her own world. He stands then, offering a hand to Robin to pull her up. "Come on. I have something to tell you. A soulmate secret."

Robin's eyes light up with delight and he pulls her from the ground before leading her to the only place they can get privacy. Eddie's room.

It's two steps into the room that Steve realizes he's never seen Eddie's room before. Or, if he had, the memory of it is lost with the time line it happened in. In Steve's memory, the front half of Eddie's home gets obliterated, and when Eddie and Wayne went back to gather the things that survived the gate opening, Dustin, Mike, and Lucas had gone with the help pack it up. Steve had been helping fortify the high school.

It seems ridiculous, to be hit with the thought of never having seen Eddie's room, with the threat of the apocalypse still looming.

"Alright, secret time," Robin sounds delighted, and her voice pulls him from his thoughts. She shuts the door and turns, eyeing the bed skeptically. "Hmm, standing room only I think."

Steve huffs out a laugh as he takes in the mess of a room, a room that looks lived in and shows Eddie's personality and the things he cares about. Nothing at all like his own room at the Harrington house; perfectly clean and matching and devoid of anything distinctly Steve. "Like you ever make your bed."

The noise Robin makes is clearly offended, and she smacks his arm lightly with the back of her hand, "uncalled for! Unprovoked, even!"

"Yeah, well, you're judging a guy who's been in jail this past 48-ish hours. Not like he had time to tidy up," Steve says.

"I think the state of his bed -whole room, really- is not because he didn't come home to clean up. In fact, I think he just lives like this."

"At least his room looks lived in. I mean, look at all of this on the walls. You think he drew these?" Steve says, hand reach out to brush against a drawing tacked to the wall nearest him.

"Your room could look lived in, too, if you weren't afraid of a few tack holes," Robin replies, crossing the room. Steve watches her go, approaching the mirror and the guitar mounted in front of it. She examines the guitar before picking up the red yoyo atop the amp.

"And here you were worried about not being able to read my mind anymore."

She turns to him and gives him a quick, genuine smile before turning her attention back to the yoyo. "So, what's the soulmate secret? You really good with a yoyo?"

"What? No. I didn't even know that was in here," Steve says.

"I thought you knew the future," Robin teases as she gets the yoyo to successfully fling from her palm and back into her grasp. She makes a little pleased noise before she creeps around the room, gawking at all of Eddie's things.

"I know one, specific future that we are trying to change, if you'll remember. I didn't know you could yoyo."

"Neither did I- oh my God, there's an Alf costume in his closet!"

"A what- no, nevermind. You can snoop and-"

"I'm not a snoop."

"-and listen as the same time, so I just. I'm gonna say something and please know that I have had five years to figure this all out, and also know that the apocalypse has a way of putting things into perspective."

"Mhmm," Robin hums an acknowledgement as she moves back to where she picked up the yoyo. "Why does he have a pepper shaker in his room?"

Steve ignores her, choosing to believe that was just her thinking out loud and not actually asking him. "Actually, the apocalypse was full of surprises. And I mean, beyond the surprises one might expect. Like, so many of our old teachers are survival experts. Did you ever have Mr. Clark, that guy- wait, no. I had something I wanted to tell you."

The phone starts ringing in the living room. Nancy's out there, though, so neither of them move to the door.

"Anyway, this feels so... why am I so nervous about this? I mean, I've already told you once, but, uh, I. I'm a little worried, scared?"

"Hey, whoa," Robin has dropped her investigation and turned fully back to Steve. "What is it?"

"I like Eddie," Steve blurts, needing to get the words out. "I like Eddie, and I died so now I think this is my only shot, like last last shot but I don't even know if he'll still like me back and I'm, like, ridiculously nervous to see him because, and this is the soulmate secret part because-"

"Whoa, what, what!!? Did you just say died?"

"- you cannot tell anyone, but I'm the reason he's been in jail. I called Hawkins PD and told them where they could find Eddie, 'cause if he was in jail then he couldn't be blamed for Fred's murder, but I've never had to fess up to that because, like, Hawkins exploding and life becoming an actual nightmare for years made it not important. Like, what's a criminal record in the face of no surviving government?"

Robin is staring at him, eyes wide and face slightly pale and it's now that Steve thinks that, maybe, he's not doing as well with everything as he thought he might be.

"Am I... okay?" Steve asks himself out loud, and that has Robin throwing herself across the room to clutch at Steve, drag him into a crushing hug. He hugs back, trembling and finding it hard to breath.

"No, no I don't think you are," Robin whispers, squeezing tight.

"Hey, that was- oh!" Nancy says as she flings the bedroom door open. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"It's just a hug," Robin says.

"Right. Umm, the phone was Officer Callahan. We can go pick up Eddie."

"Right," Steve says, pulling away from the hug and pulling himself together. He can have his mental break down tomorrow. "Let's go get Eddie."

Provided if that, this time when he closes his eyes to rest, he'll wake up here and not. Well, either in the future or not at all.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @a-little-unsteddie @sevenmerrymagpies @steviesummer @queenie-ofthe-void @mycatsstolemybiscuit @lololol-1234 @synonym-for-strange @tchackdaw

#steddie #my fic #time travel au #apocalypse au #butterfly effect au #i adore the scene of robin steve and nancy up in nancys room as they discuss going to pennhurst #because robins just in the background going through all of nancys things like thats a completely socially acceptable thing to do #so of course shes gonna do that to eddies room.#also *I* know Alf wasn't out yet but they put the costume in there anyway so in this universe Alf came out in '85 instead of '86 #*grumbling to self* thisll be short i said. only like 4 parts i said. well im a goddamn liar arent i???

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fastcardotmp3 · 6 months

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(I really wanted to have my apocalypse ronance fic done by Halloween and that's simply not happening, so have this little guy instead <3) ronance; horror filmmaker!Nancy; future fic; 1k words

Over the course of the ‘90s, a collection of unconnected but similarly themed horror movies are made and released.

Minuscule budgets and narrow theater releases, they don’t go very far at first. In fact, they don’t go anywhere for a couple of decades, only gaining traction with a DVD release and a flash in the pan of a cult following.

They aren’t sequels of each other, these movies, but they have a great deal in common to the point where in the early 2010s an online community starts connecting not just themes, but also characters whose names may not align even though their stories do, a haunted town or house or swimming pool which might as well all be the same version of Hell.

Each cover boasts a promise of fake blood and big screams but never gets across the great deal of sincerity tucked between cuts in the film strips, no, it’s up to audiences to find that.

And eventually? They do.

No one knows who N.W. Holland is, the name listed as director and writer and producer and on and on endlessly into the credits, a pseudonym from the looks of it and one which stopped being used around the new millennium if IMDb is to be trusted. They talk about them though, this mysterious figure who made four films which are considered life affirming or changing to any number of fans.

They debate gender and political affiliation and whether or not they went to film school or just figured it out on the job. They talk about the tells in their writing and try and find them in newer movies with different directors, trying to catch their mystery in the real world beyond those four films.

They seek and search and wonder and bite each other’s heads off and still all the while…

All the while Nancy Wheeler stays in the shadows.

“You have to do it.”

“No, I don’t,” she shakes her head definitively, leaning against the kitchen counter in a modest two bedroom home in central Indianapolis.

“Come on, Nance!” Robin laughs all sharp with disbelief, the sheaf of papers clutched in one hand fluttering in the wind created by her gestures. “Look at this! I mean look at it.”

“I’ve seen it,” Nancy shrugs, turns to set her mug down and give herself a refill from the carafe behind her, effectively turning her back on both Robin and this conversation.

The sound Robin makes in response is a familiar one, that sort of fond frustration when Nancy is being intentionally obtuse about something coming out in a huff of air.

“Nancy.”

“It did what it was supposed to!” Nancy says with no shortage of indignation, but she also knows, no lacking in anxious unsteadiness either. “That’s why I let you read it, because it’s— it’s a final product as-is.”

“You and I both know that isn’t true,” Robin says, gentler this time, holding those endlessly heavy pages between them like they weigh nothing.

Although, Robin has always been good at that, hasn’t she? Taking Nancy’s baggage for what it is and storing it securely and carefully on her shoulders?

Robin Buckley is a thing of wonder, the way she wormed into Nancy’s heart and life, made a cozy little home there long before Nancy herself even realized. It was like waking up, the day Nancy started to understand what they were, years behind the times as far as Robin was concerned but finally having gotten enough of the rot out of her system by way of four movies about a best friend lost too soon and the girl who failed to save her.

(The horror of the final girl, that's what the forums call it. Nancy just calls it Hawkins.)

Nancy loves her and Nancy knows her and being known in return is something she is still, twenty-five years on, learning to cope with, but it’s just.

“It’s been fifteen years since I made a movie, Robin,” she exhales, heavy as she slumps back against the counter again with her arms crossed like she’s sixteen and protecting her soft bits again. Maybe she always will be.

“It’s been fifteen hours since you wrote one,” Robin drops the screenplay on the table to her right in a punctuating smack! of a sound.

“I just had to get it out of my system,” Nancy breathes down towards her feet, even as Robin steps closer, steps into her space, steps right up in front of her, “it’s not like the others, I don’t need to say this one out loud.”

“Nance,” Robin breathes, guiding Nancy’s gaze up to meet hers with hands on her cheeks, thumbs tracing just beneath her eyes, the thin frames of her glasses. “This is the one you need to say out loud the most.”

Nancy’s eyes sting. Her arms unwrap so her hands can fall to grip at Robin’s waist.

There’s a community online who would likely agree, but it’s not their opinions which Nancy cares about in this moment. Just Robin. Just the way Robin sees it in black and white right there on the page, typed on the same typewriter she’d used on the first one in 1991.

“It’s been so long, it’s so obvious I haven’t written in so long.”

“Sure,” Robin shrugs, wiping a stray tear before it even makes it to Nancy’s cheek and smiling like there’s joy to be had here, “but that’s the point. I can see it, all that time between the last one and this one.”

“Because this one isn’t as scary?” Nancy scoffs, but Robin just holds her more firmly and leans in until their foreheads touch.

“Because in this one you forgive yourself.”

Nancy cries. She sobs, standing in the kitchen of the home she’s built with this woman, just an hour from the town where her childhood was stolen from her, but a joyful home despite it all.

She breaks down and lets herself be held on this day, because what they both know is that it’ll start tomorrow.

There is a community online that’s been searching for more stories from N.W. Holland for decades, and they’ve never found them because they didn’t exist.

One year from now, a script folded and paged through and dog eared will turn into exactly what they’re looking for, but it will take some time for them to realize.

It’s finally her story, complete in its resolution and its forgiveness, after all.

It’s only right it finally bares her name.

#dot post #dot fic #ronance #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #nancy wheeler horror writer i will never let you go tbh #happy almost halloweeeeen!

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 28 days

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Nancy was running, and she could feel the wind whipping through her hair as she did so. Her heart was pounding, and she could feel the rush of blood in her ears. The monster was coming closer and closer. Oh no. What was she going to do? There was nowhere else to hide. Nancy quickly dove behind a tree, and she could see Steve across the yard. He had the same idea. He sat behind the tree and put his fingers to his lips. Nancy's eyes widened as she saw the monster come up behind Steve and pounced. He was slammed to the ground.

"I got you, Daddy!" The monster shrieked.

"Well, damn," Steve cursed.

The monster, of course, was their daughter, Barb Wheeler. Four years old and already as fierce as her mother, or so Steve says. They adopted her when she was a baby. Nancy was both an investigative reporter and a PI. Still is. She had found the baby in a dumpster when she had been working a case. As soon as she held the baby, Nancy knew. The girl was hers. As Erica Sinclair would say, they were just the facts.

"Mama! Daddy said a no-no word!" Barb exclaimed.

"Well, we can't let him get away with that," Nancy said, her eyes twinkling.

Barb frowned thoughtfully, her dark brown curls dancing in the wind. She was very proud of her hair. It had taken forever to grow it out. She had seen the pictures from when she was two, and she had been extremely balding. Apparently, she didn't much care to see her scalp, and she set her hair free every chance she got.

"His turn to be the monster," Barb declared.

"That seems fair," Nancy said.

And so, it was Steve who was chasing them around the yard now. Everyone was laughing and smiling, high-pitched squeals filling the yard. After the week that she had, Nancy needed this time with her family. It took a while for Nancy to enjoy the feeling of running and not being chased by monsters, but now here she was. . . Having it all. If there's one thing she learned about surviving an almost apocalypse, it is that careers can die just like people, and she had learned to be able to cherish them all. If the world had ended. . .no one would need a journalist. No one would need the truth if there was no one around to hear it. . .but people were important to being able to survive in a world that threatened to kill them. That was something to protect, especially if it's the people you loved. Yes, journalism was important, but it couldn't exist without the people and their stories. That was the fundamental truth. It was something she held onto when she was in the same foxhole with Steve and the others.

"Mommy! The monster is going to get me!" Barb shrieked.

"I'll save you, baby," Nancy laughed.

She pounced on Steve, straddling his waist. She put the wooden stick to his chest. It was her sword or so said her daughter.

"Oh, no, whatever will I do," Steve said mockingly.

"Suffer," Nancy said and pressed the stick into his chest.

Steve groaned, closed his eyes, and stuck out his tongue.

"Yay! Mommy slayed the monster!" Barb exclaimed. "Daddy, you're free now. Mommy saved you from the monster!"

"Oh, thank god," Steve said, and he opened his eyes.

"You can just call me Nancy," she smirked.

"However will I thank you?" Steve asked.

Nancy smiled and leaned down to kiss him.

"No, mommy! No kisses for Daddy. Only ouce cream!" Barb exclaimed.

Nancy pulled back and laughed with Steve.

"Sorry, honey, no kisses for you. Only ouce cream," Nancy said.

"I heard. Well, you heard the lady. We can't celebrate your victory without ouce cream," Steve said.

Nancy got off of him and helped him up. He picked Barb up and tossed her in the air before settling her on his hip. Nancy took his free hand, still loving the way her hand fit into his after all these years. They went inside, walking down the hallway towards the kitchen. The hallway was filled with pictures of their family. There were some taken right after the fall of Vecna. Max was sitting in her wheelchair, being hugged by both Jane and Lucas. She still can't really walk all that well now, still using a cane and thick glasses to see with. There were pictures of Eddie and Chrissy, the newest members of their group, followed by Robin and Vickie. Then came the kids' graduation with pictures of Nancy and Steve with the kids. Of course, intermingled with the pictures of their family were pictures of Nancy with the first Barb, the one Nancy held dearly in her heart. There were pictures of Nancy and Steve at the kids' weddings, then at their own. A picture of them on a group date with Jonathan, Argyle, Robin, Vickie, Eddie, and Chrissy. Then, of course, were the pictures of Steve becoming a teacher. . .Nancy opening her PI office. The last few pictures were Nancy and Steve with their daughter.

"We've had a great life, haven't we?" Steve asked.

"Definitely," Nancy grinned.

Nancy gazed fondly at the picture of their wedding, grinning as Barb put her finger on Nancy's image. Standing next to her was Karen. There was still some distance between them in the photo. It was crazy to think that Karen hadn't almost shown up to her own wedding. She liked Steve, sure, but she never thought that Nancy and Steve fit well together. Seeing Steve with Nancy, she had projected her own troublesome marriage onto them. Sure, Nancy thought the same for a while. . .the sound of Barb and Jonathan's voices intermingling in her head. After Barb died, it had headed into that direction, and if they hadn't broken up, if they hadn't had some time apart, then she was sure it would have stayed that way. Her relationship with Jonathan was something she still cherished, but he fell for Argyle, and she had fallen for Steve again. As much as Karen wanted it to work out with Jonathan, it would have ended in resentment rather than the friendship that came with it when they broke it off.

When Karen heard about Nancy getting back with Steve, she assumed that it was them picking up where they left off rather than the new relationship that formed between them. The first few times Karen had asked if she was sure about Steve, it hadn't annoyed Nancy so much until she did it constantly and tried to talk Nancy out of it. She thought that Steve would hold her back from her dreams, but Steve had been supportive, and surprisingly, it had been Ted who had been supportive of her relationship with Steve. It was Steve who helped make her dream a reality, and in turn, Nancy helped him figure out what he wanted out of life. It was Nancy who told him he would be a great teacher, and it was Nancy who helped get him into college with the support of their friends. Nancy and Steve had become better versions of themselves when they got back together. When Karen told Nancy that she shouldn't let anything hold her back, including children, Nancy snapped because she had been hurt by what Karen said.

"Don't blame us for your unhappiness, mother! If you want to change things, then do it," Nancy had yelled at her. "If you don't want to see me marry the man that I love, then don't bother coming."

It was Ted who talked sense into Karen, and it was Ted who drew up the divorce papers. Karen had loved Ted, but it hadn't been enough to save her marriage, and she finally saw what Nancy had been trying to tell her. Her love for Jonathan hadn't been enough either. The divorce had been what made Karen realize that she had been holding herself back, and it surprised everyone when she showed up to the wedding with Susan. It was funny when Mike realized that Max was now their step sister, and he bitched with Max about it for a while. Although Holly had been extremely happy that she had another sister and Mike really was happy about it. . .he just showed his love differently, much in the way that Max did. Karen's relationship with Ted had gotten better, as did her relationship with her kids. They were all much happier for it.

"Did you get lost there?" Steve asked.

"I was just thinking about how funny life works out sometimes," Nancy said.

"Well, Mrs. Wheeler, our daughter is getting all pouty. She's not saying it, but I think she really wants ice cream," Steve said.

"Let's go, Mr. Harrington-Wheeler," Nancy said and paused and laughed. "After all this time, I still can't believe you kept my name."

"It did what I wanted to. . .piss off Mike, but then I ended up really liking it," Steve admitted.

Nancy laughed and walked into the kitchen with them. She immediately got to work scooping the strawberry ice cream that they all liked. It took Steve a while, but after going a long time with not eating ice cream, Steve liked it again. Strawberry was a favorite of all of theirs, as it turns out. They sat at the table, enjoying their ice cream. Little Barb proudly showed off her ice cream beard, smearing it around her mouth as she giggled. After finishing up their ice cream, Nancy sat Barb on the counter and cleaned her face as Steve washed their dishes.

"Mommy?" Barb asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can we get a dog?" She asked.

"Hmm, I don't know. A dog is a lot of responsibility," Nancy said.

"We can do a test with Auntie Max's and Lucas's doggy. You love tests, mommy," Barb said as she swung her legs.

"Wow, she sure does know how to manipulate you, Nance," Steve smirked.

Nancy playfully glared at him. Steve knew she's been wanting a dog herself. Nancy stared at Barb. There was no reason to say no. Their daughter was a pretty good kid, and a dog wouldn't just be a good way to teach her responsibility. It would be a good way to teach her how to treat another living being. She knew Barb, too, and she knew that their kid would treat the dog as part of the family. And what a way to teach her to help out then by rescuing a dog. It would be a lot of work in raising a kid and a dog in the house, but they were smart enough to be careful. A test run would be a good idea to do first. Nancy could feel Steve’s eyes on hers. He always loved watching her think.

"Alright, we test it out first, but if it doesn't go well, do you think you can wait until you're older? Will you be able to be a big girl?" Nancy asked.

"Of course, mommy. I'm always a big girl. . . Except for spiders," Barb shuddered and buried her face in her mother's chest.

"Don't scare yourself, honey," Steve said and kissed her head. "How about a story?"

"Not Charlotte's Web! Talking spider," Barb whispered. "Ooh, Auntie Jane's book!"

After graduating college, Jane went on to write children's books. . .giving hope to children who don't have any. Most of the proceeds went to abused children like herself, and she spent a lot of it working as a social worker to find better homes for children like herself. Her family couldn't be prouder of her. Jane's work and Nancy's work tended to cross paths occasionally when her cases involved children. It was also Will who did the illustrations for her book, and he had been quite eager to help her get her children's book series off the ground. The younger members of the Party were also in talks with Steve and Eddie about opening a youth shelter. Nancy was quite eager to help out with it too.

"You're not getting tired of reading Auntie Jane's book over and over again?" Steve asked teasingly. "I think this is our second copy that we wore out."

"I'll stop when it stops being good," Barb replied.

"That's fair," Steve said.

"Come on!"

Barb went into her room, grabbed the book, and plopped down on the couch. Her parents followed her every movement and watched in amusement when she patted the spots beside her.

"I don't know, Steve, should we read to her? She is being pretty demanding," Nancy said.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," she said sincerely. "Will you please read to me?"

"That's better," Steve said and grabbed his glasses case off the coffee table, pulling the glasses out before slipping them on. "Stop it."

Nancy had been staring at him pretty intently.

"Stop what?" Nancy asked innocently. "It's not my fault you look so cute."

Steve blushed and rolled his eyes before settling next to their daughter. Nancy sat down on Barb's other side. Barb popped her thumb into her mouth as she settled into her mother's side and started twirling a lock of Nancy's hair around her finger. Steve smiled softly at them before beginning to read. Once they all had a little nap, they played some more outside, and Nancy enjoyed every single moment of being silly with her family. They headed inside once it was time for dinner. Steve was the cook in the family because it was no secret that Nancy was terrible at it, and Barb's Play-Doh spaghetti was just as bad. So, as Steve cooked, Nancy curled with her daughter as they watched TV. Later, when dinner and bathtime were done, they put their daughter to bed. Nancy was curling up with Steve this time.

"Steve?" She asked.

"Yeah?"

"Am I a good mother?" Nancy asked softly.

"What? Yeah, of course, you are!" Steve exclaimed. "What brought this on?"

"It's just something someone said at work," Nancy said.

"What?" Steve asked, and he sighed softly. "You don't have to say if you don't want to, but I'm always here for you."

"I know," Nancy said softly. "They said that I'm too cold to be a mother and that it's reckless of me to be in such a dangerous position while I have a kid."

"They're assholes, Nance. What they call cold is what many others consider to be professional in the workplace, and it's also what's helped many people get the help they need. You're not cold. You're determined. You have to the biggest heart of anyone I have ever met, and it's what guides you into helping find the truth for other people. As for your job, you always manage to separate it from your home life except for that one time. Barb wouldn't have the home or the very loving mother that she does now if it hadn't been for your job, putting you where you needed to be," Steve said. "She's lucky to have you."

"It's just a lot of people can't see me as a mom," Nancy said.

"Well, you can't really seem like anything. I mean, looking at us, a lot of people just assume that we're the straightest people alive," Steve smirked. "We both know that's not true. They're wrong about us and these assholes are wrong about you."

"You always know how to make me feel better. We're lucky to have you too, you know," Nancy whispered.

"Yeah?" Steve smirked.

Nancy climbed into Steve’s lap and kissed him. He smiled against her lips, returning the kiss rather eagerly. She pulled away, rubbing his chest.

"I think it's time for Mommy and Daddy to play," Nancy said.

"You are going to play outside without me?" Barb's voice came from down the entrance.

Nancy turned around to find Barb standing there in her Scooby-Doo pajamas and clutching the stuffed Scooby she got from Uncle Dustin.

"No, honey, never without you," Nancy said. "What are you doing up?"

Barb's tiny feet slapped against the hardwood as she ran to the couch and climbed upon it. She looked at Nancy with her chocolate brown eyes blown wide and her bottom lip trembling.

"There was a spider in my room," Barb whispered. "Mommy, can we move?"

"No, we can't move because there's a spider in your room," Nancy laughed.

"I saw it go into your room when I was running," Barb said.

"Hey, Nance. . .can we move?" Steve whispered.

Nancy laughed. Barb stared at them for a moment before deciding on something.

"I can be brave," Barb said stubbornly. "Night, night!"

"Good luck, baby!" Steve called out.

A moment later, they heard the pitter pattering of her feet as she ran back into into the living room.

"I'm not ready! I'm not ready! I'm not ready!" Barb screamed.

She threw herself into her parents' arms, hugging them tightly. Nancy hugged her daughter, kissing her head.

"It's okay to be scared, and it's okay not to be ready," Nancy said.

"Yeah, you'll get there eventually. You always do," Steve said.

Barb sighed against Steve’s chest.

"What if the spiders lay eggs in my nose, and I have to take care of the babies?" Barb asked. "I'm not ready, mama. Let's wait to get a dog."

"Okay, whatever you want," Nancy said softly. "Whenever you're ready. And if you ever decide not to get a dog, we'll support you then, too. It's your choice, baby."

They ended up pulling out the sofa bed and piling on that with Barb lying between them. Barb snuggled in close to Nancy, her hand over her heart, while Nancy rubbed her back.

"You're enjoying this just a little bit, aren't you?" Steve teased Nancy.

"Well, it won't be long now before she grows out of this. I'm taking all the snuggles I can get," Nancy said.

Steve smiled and snuggled in close to them, throwing his arm around them. He pressed his cheek against Barb's hair and sighed in contentment, closing his eyes. His eyes snapped open.

"Oh God. . . Nance, what if the spider lays eggs in my nose and I have to take care of their babies?" Steve asked.

"We'll take care of your little nose babies together. . .and hey, more kids to take on vacation in our RV," Nancy giggled.

"Hilarious," Steve said dryly.

"I thought so."

Nancy closed her eyes and smiled, feeling Steve’s loving gaze on her. Sometimes, it felt like a dream, like it was all too good to be true, even when they fought like a normal couple. Maybe it was the feeling of safety that seemed like a dream. After everything they've been through, it was hard to believe that they could finally just live instead of just surviving. They got here together and forged their dreams together. A wave of comfort washed over her, filling her entire being and overwhelming her heart. Nothing could take this dream away from them. She'd fight to keep it. She felt Steve’s hand on her back, and she knew he would too. Safe. They're safe.

#stranger things #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #nancy wheeler x steve harrington #stancy #stancy is endgame #bisexual steve harrington #pansexual nancy wheeler #otp: unambiguous sign of true love #you're an idiot steve harrington #you're beautiful nancy wheeler #stranger things fanfiction #rueleigh writes

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musicalchaos07 · 1 year

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A little Jancy season 5 scenario ficlet:

“Are we seriously going to talk about this right now?” Jonathan shouts, digging the axe into another vine. “Well yea, Jonathan, if we’re going to die I'd like to know” Nancy counters, reloading her gun “I never said I didn't!” he defends, providing her coverage. “No, you just trashed all our plans” she accuses, firing off a shot “I can't believe we're doing this” He complains, swinging the axe again “What was your plan exactly!?” she questions sarcastically, swapping the shotgun for something more practical. “I don't know I didn't have one” Jonathan admits, throwing his hands up. “Clearly!” “What do you want me to say exactly?” “Duck” Nancy informs “What?” he questions, confused “DUCK!” she shouts, taking aim. Jonathan complies in the nick of time, as Nancy sprays bullets into the monster. “You never even asked what I wanted, you just dragged me along like always” he accuses, taking a swing at a demobat “Like Always!?” she protests “Yes like always, Jonathan let’s go hunt a monster, Jonathan let’s burn down the lab, Jonathan let’s investigate these rats even though we could get fired” He mocks, adding fuel to the fire “Yea well you went along with it” Nancy reminds him. “Yea and maybe that’s the problem” He argues “OH you are unbelievable” she screams “Nance” he calls “Do you seriously think I don’t know when you’re lying?” she contends “Nancy” he tries again “Or when you’re pushing me away for some bullshit noble reason” She chides “Nancy!” “And what I’m just supposed to ditch you, settle for some boring guy, and end up like my parents?!” she hypothesizes “NANCY!!” he shouts panicked Jonathan tackles her to the ground, cradling the back of her head. She feels more than sees the fire. She holds him a little tighter, reminded of how close to death they actually are this time. The fire dies down and cold snaps back almost instantaneously and he lifts his head quickly to look at her. “Are you ok? Are you ok?” He questions anxiously She nods in response and pulls him back down, desperate to keep him in the safety of her arms. “I don’t know what I’m doing” he confesses quietly into her neck. “Deja vu” she snarks “I’m serious, I can’t lose you” Jonathan clarifies, pulling up to look her in the eye again. “You won’t” she promises, knowing she can’t really keep it. “I mean if- ” he starts “Do you want to break up?” she cuts him off “No. But I don’t want to hold you back” he worries “You think I'd let you?” She quizzes, raising an eyebrow “No, but… I don’t know… I’m just… scared” he admits “Me too” she confesses “Yea?” “Yea.” “I guess we could figure it out together” Jonathan offers, moving some stray hairs out of her face. “I guess we could,” she agrees, taking his left hand and linking it with hers. Jonathan seals their compromise with a kiss, cradling her head gently and pushing their scars together. Nancy loses herself in it, in him, temporarily forgetting that it’s the end of the world. All that exists is them, their love for each other, and this moment. “Seriously?!? In the middle of an apocalypse!?!” Will shouts at them disgusted “Gross” Mike yells “That’s true love my dudes” Argyle comments “Or shared trauma” Jonathan jokes to her softly “I love you too” Nancy responds, with a small laugh “C’mon Wheeler, save the world first, make out later” He instructs, offering a hand to help her up “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent multitasker, Byers” she quips with a grin “I’m well aware” he states, with a look she can’t help but smile at before raising onto her tiptoes to give him another quick kiss.

#everyone say thank you miss swift #I told y'all I could do it #it's rough but it's done #shared trauma = I love you #<- argue with the wall #anyways #they're in love and stupid #Them making out on the ground during the apocalypse is very important to me #also a cameo from grossed out byler #Stranger Things #Jancy #Jancy fic #st 5 #Jancy endgame #Jonathan Byers #Nancy Wheeler

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thexgrayxlady · 3 years

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Notes: This is a purely self-indulgent and very lighthearted AU and if I’m the only one who is enjoying themselves with it, that’s all that really matters. TBCH I’m not sure where I’m going with it and I know this isn’t very good or perfectly in character, but I’m having a good time and it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything, so I’m okay with it if I’m just writing a messy little crash into hello.

The Universe Won’t Wait for You

Outside the ruined temple, dark clouds gathered and howling winds carried the metallic tang of summer storms. Heady incense drifted from inside, where the flicker of braziers cast statues of forgotten gods in stark chiaroscuro. Yet, under the wind and crackle of flames, the air hung still and silent, charged with the promise of lightning.

The jungle crept up around the ancient stones. Gnarled vines threatened to drag the crumbling archway back into its depths. Fragments of cracked and chipping mosaics peered through the leaves, their tiles scattered across the floor with the trees’ detritus.

The roof had long since caved in and the once gilt friezes lining the main hall were now washed almost smooth. The faceless figures posed in the uncanny silence, leading the way to the sanctuary.

At the altar, a group of very annoyed people stood over the unconscious leader of a dragon cult and his scattered cards, having narrowly averted the end of the world for the third time in as many months. The timing was inconvenient for everybody involved and it was universally agreed upon that it would have been better if these assholes had waited until next weekend to try and destroy the world.

“So if we beat the megalomaniac of the week, why isn’t the portal going away?” Tea asked, vaguely gesturing to the swirling silvery distortion above the altar.

“I keep telling you nerds it’s not a portal.” Although against his will and his better judgement, the geek squad had grown on Seto Kaiba like E. coli on room temperature meat, he would still sooner saw off his own hands with a rusty spoon than admit it.

“We could always leave it alone,” Bakura said, disdainfully looking over one of the cultist’s discarded scrolls before rerolling it. “His Latin was terrible. It probably won’t do anything.”

“It won’t do anything because it’s a not a portal.” Their group would have it found it infinitely more worrying if he didn’t insist that the latest near apocalypse had a logical explanation. As of late, he’d settled on saying that anything he couldn’t immediately explain wasn’t magic, just science they didn’t understand yet. Everyone might have appreciated this a bit more if not for how often they had to deal with the fallout of his attempts to understand the science. “Watch.”

He picked up one of the scattered cards (rare, but only good for niche dragon decks and he would notadmit that he would have found this clown’s cards useful) and tossed it towards the floating mass. It passed through without incident and collided with the back wall.

“Wheeler could make something more convincing.” He rolled his eyes. This entire escapade had been a nuisance. He still wasn’t sure how he’d been talked into it. The others certainly hadn’t just mentioned that they needed a ride.

“Yeah, these guys tried to take our dragons cards and dragged us out here to show us some crappy holograms,” Joey replied.

“You would believe a bunch of delusional lunatics.”

Yugi paused checking on the cult leader and decided to head this off before it became serious.

“Guys, stop fighting!” he said, his voice quiet and gentle, yet brokering very little argument. When he realized that Kaiba was gearing up for an argument, he added, “You’re wasting time and the sooner we figure this thing out, the sooner we can leave.”

“Whatever,” he said, turning dramatically, letting his coat flare behind him. “I’m going to figure out what’s going on because some of us have jobs to get back to.”

“You’re self-employed!” the blond shot after him.

While he examined a pile of rubble on the far wall for a projector or an off switch, the others looked over the altar and scrolls. He was just about to shift some stones out of the way when lightning split the sky.

The portal flared and spun wildly. Roaring thunder followed close behind and a glowing thing shot from the portal before it collapsed upon itself as if it had never existed.

“Kaiba look out!” Yugi shouted. “That thing’s headed straight for…”

“It’s a hologram,” he shouted back, gesturing dismissively at the thing barreling towards him without actually looking at it. “It’s not like it can hurt…”

The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, his ears ringing, and struggling for a full breath.

When he regained enough sense to figure out what was going on around him, he realized that his arms were wrapped around something warm and solid. The thing thrummed under his hands, like working on an ungrounded circuit. He came around to a curtain of white and a pair of horribly familiar blue eyes.

The woman shot back, her fingers splayed across his chest, her face contorting in stunned confusion. She started to speak, her voice raspy and quiet, stumbling over words in a language he didn’t understand. Yet even without knowing the words, he got the sentiment.

“What. The. Fuck.”

This couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be real. He must have cracked his head when he hit the ground. She had to be a hallucination or a hologram or…he didn’t know, he couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out what specific kind of nonsense was going on.

Somewhere off in the distance, the nerds said something, but it was like listening under water. And as much as he wanted to shout at them to shut up so he could focus, the words stuck in his throat.

He knew her. From that trip to Egypt. Her name was…

No. No.

This wasn’t happening. The world didn’t work this way. People did not just fall out of holes in the sky. He’d been dragged kicking and screaming into accepting that maybe the supernatural bullshit that followed him around possibly had some merit, but thiswas a step too far.

None of this made any sense. Kis…She was impossible. You couldn’t just fling someone through space and time with badly mangled Latin. It took energy. It took machinery. Complex math, things that went beep, big red buttons that gave the nerds heart attacks when he pushed them.

(But these idiots were trying to summon a dragon, weren’t they?)

This violated so many different laws of physics. There must be another explanation. He just had to keep calm and think of it. His heart hammered against his chest. Every time he almost had a grasp on this, he caught her eyes, and any theory beyond rote denial slipped away.

She couldn’t be real. He’d barely thought of her since that trip. Whatever, whoever, she was, it was the past. It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. He had to focus on figuring out how the hell some loser cultists managed time travel with some incense and dead lizards, no if they managed time travel some incense and dead lizards, when, despite his disregard for the laws of men and gods, even he was still mostly beholden to thermodynamics.

They probably hadn’t. There had to be something in the incense.

Still, the logical part of his brain told him that even his best holograms didn’t feel this real and there was no logical way they knew what she looked like. Her heartbeat fluttered under his hands. She smelled like prison grime and ozone and petrichor.

So a hallucination then. But everyone else kept talking. He still couldn’t really hear them, but maybe they could see her too. Or that was just another facet of his concussed delusion. But if this was a hallucination, then why couldn’t he understand her? He’d never hallucinated in a language he didn’t understand before.

Not a hologram. Not a hallucination. Where did that leave him? Flat on his back on a cold stone floor with a dead woman straddling his waist and the growing certainty that he would never live this down.

Again, she leaned in, her head tilted to the side. Time slowed as she brought a hand to his face and his heart beat too steady to be truly calm as she studied him. She was so small. He could easily throw her off and get away, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even look away as the world shrank down to just the two of them.

She didn’t look quite the same as in the memory. She didn’t seem half so fragile. Her long, pale hair was tangled and her face prematurely lined. Her dress was more a collection of mismatched patches than an actual garment. Bruises and scars bloomed along her arms and collarbone amid patches of thick, almost scaly looking skin.

He wondered if the memory, vision, whatever it was, was accurate. How much of what he knew about her was true? How much had been made up by someone who’d never met her to fit her role in the game? Did it even matter? He was his own person, why should he care about her just because of a supposed connection to the Blue Eyes White Dragon?

Yet despite everything going on, she seemed alert and curious, determined to figure out what exactly just happened, whereas he had to remind himself to keep breathing.

Just before her rough, calloused fingers brushed his jaw, a jolt of static leapt between them. She reeled back, her pupils snapping into narrow slits. Thin, cracking lips curled back over sharp teeth in an inhuman hiss. Her shoulders flexed and he half expected wings to unfurl from her back.

Then she must have caught sight of the others because she shrank back, trembling. A horrible charge built under his hands. He willed himself move just enough to let go.

She scrambled away, breathing in sharp, hissing gasps. Upon reaching the far wall, she shot up a crumbling pillar and crouched as far back on the bottom ledge of a frieze as she could manage and stared down in horror as the first few drops of rain fell through the broken ceiling.

He stared back, the concussed or drugged or shocked daze lifting just enough to drag himself to a sitting position.

She was impossible. But her eyes were electric bright and she’d felt like a damn live wire in his hands. He hadn’t figured out the physics behind this yet, but he understood one thing.

Kisara was very real.

#Gray writes stuff #Kisara #Blueshipping #seto kaiba #AU: this might as well happen #I know this isn't that good but it's been so long since i've finished anything IDGAF #I'm effectively posting a warm up piece but i'm kind of alright with it #also kaiba is exactly what im looking for in a cosmic chewtoy

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

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Starcrossed Losers 2.IV (Josh Wheeler xF!Reader)

A/N: I’m sorry it took me so long omg I’m the worst. Let me know if I forgot to tag you or if you wanna be tagged -Danny

Words: 2,022

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to me!

I guess you're all expecting me to say something about what happened. I should, after all, I hid this piece of information from you, not that I owe it to you, but I guess it's confusing...

'More than just a dream...'

Josh and I are still holding hands while we start the tour, and I wish I could say I was feeling bad about it but to be honest I'm still way too drunk on the bliss to be ashamed. I felt bad though, I did promise Nathan a date before everything went to hell. As a matter of fact, he was going to be my homecoming date.

Where to start? Perhaps you'd like to know who Nathan was in my group of friends? Easy.

*Throwback time*

Nathan was the 'popular' of our group. Do you know how there's always that one friend that seems to know everyone for really strange reasons? The one that 'knows a guy, that knows a guy, that has a cousin'... that's Nathan.

He was also the good looking guy of our group. I know I said Alex was attractive, but man, Nathan was the real deal, he had charisma and a great smile, try to beat that when you're sixteen and have zero social skills.

I didn't have a crush on him though, but it was a very well thought decision like I said before, I wasn't going to let someone close to me break my heart, and both Nathan and Alex were too close, so I buried those thoughts about him before I could even consider it.

I never had a thing for him until... well, until he asked me to homecoming. I never knew why he asked me, I mean sure we were good friends but he never tried to make a move (and this is not me being oblivious this is me saying Nathan never even commented on my looks not even once). While I do remember having said to him something along the lines of "you're so pretty you annoy me" one night while I was completely shitfaced.

He laughed it off then, not bringing it up to tease me the next morning. He knew he was attractive and I certainly used to dream about dashing men like him coming to take me out for a ride or a movie, but I never thought that it'd be him the one who would ask me out.

'All the days I waited for you You know the ones who said I'd never find someone like you'

Then the end of the world happened and we never went to homecoming, yet we remained on the same group until one day he just vanished. No notes, no nothing. He left. He was also the first one to go, followed by Aria, then Phillip, then Lily, until we were just Maya, Alex and I, you know the rest.

We heard about Nathan a few weeks later though, the first loner on Glendale (Josh was very good at keeping a low profile, we didn't know he was by himself) and I thought it was a great idea to do the same, you know, follow the loner's path until I had Katie back... and you know how that turned out.

My point is, how was I supposed to know he was going to come back and still ask me for a date? What kind of person does that?

"Here we have the Cheeramazon division," Josh pointed to the sports section of the mall. "We teach sign language for those who are interested in learning, it's also handy for communicating while we're outside on a Ghoulie area..."

"Why're they here?" Nathan asked in a voice that was completely unlike him. "I mean, I know their old place got trashed but why haven't they looked for a new place?"

"They don't have enough people or resources," I replied. "They'll wait here until enough girls decide to join them or until they get enough food to survive on their own."

"And you guys are okay with that?"

"Good relationships with old tribes are everything," I shrugged. "We want to keep it friendly with everyone, we don't want to start another war."

"Really? Because you seemed ready to go out and set houses on fire five minutes ago," Josh replied sternly.

"That's different!" I scoff. "Those kids need our help and you know it!"

"What kids?" Nathan asked in curiosity.

"Are you familiar with the AV club?" I ask him.

"The kids with the podcast?"

"Exactly! They've been kidnapped and I've been trying to convince my tribe to go out and look for them but they refuse–"

"Because we're barely recovering from Triumph," Josh interrupted. "Listen Y/N, we can't be heroes fighting against some kids in suits..."

"Here we have the gamer's layer," I continue, forcing them to leave the subject. "But you don't have to write that down, they're leaving in a few days to their old cave. Been here to help us with some tech stuff..."

"Those over there are the X-jocks," Josh points over a couple of kids playing and exercising at the other side of the mall, "they followed Turbo after he was kicked out. They're no longer Jocks, but they don't want to be called Daybreakers either."

"They don't wanna mingle with all the weirdos, apparently," I roll my eyes.

"We have a healers division, which is coordinated by Y/N," Josh puts a hand on my shoulder and smiles. "She's great... a training division that Wesley and Turbo handle... Am I missing something?"

"The Daybreakers, which are lead by this loser," I look at Josh with a smirk. "He schedules our vigilance system, the hunts– Oh, and the weekly competitions."

"What are those about?"

"We organize tournaments and the awards are free days from working or having to go outside, stuff like that."

"Okay," Nathan nods, writing everything down. "I think that's all..."

"Cool," Someone calls Josh and he looks back at us. "Can you finish the tour on your own?"

"I– Yeah, okay," I reply anxiously. "See you in a while..."

Josh gives me a quick kiss and leaves to where he's needed, leaving me alone with Mister 'U-owe-me-a-date'.

"So..." I awkwardly start.

"I think I owe you an apology," He replies immediately.

"What?"

"I didn't know you and Josh... what I said was completely out of place anyway, who asks that kind of stuff to someone they haven't seen in months? I–"

"Nathan," I stop him, "It's okay, really, you didn't know, it's alright."

"I'm sorry," He repeats, this time calmer. "I ditch you and the group, I just... I don't know, I felt stuck..."

"I get that, we left too, eventually," I shrug. "Went to look for my sister, but... she died."

"Oh," He frowns. "I'm so sorry... was she–?"

"A Ghoulie, yeah," I sigh. "It's okay, I'm better now, I have this place and I have..."

"Josh..."

"I was going to say I have a sledgehammer, but sure," I joke.

He smiles and suddenly I remember why I used to like his smile so much. It really is quite dreamy.

'And you were out of my league All the things I believed You were just the right kind Yeah, you were more than just a dream'

"Those kids..." He mentions. "The AV club?"

"Yeah?" My heart jumps at the mention. "Do you know anything about them? Anything that could help?"

"No, but Josh mentioned kids in suits? I think I've seen them–"

"Y/N!" Josh runs back to us in a hurry. "They found them!"

"What? Who?"

"The AV Club!" He replies.

I try to walk over to the gamer's layer but Josh stops me.

"Wait," He holds me in place. "It's an X-Pug zone."

"That, or the kids in suits want us to believe it is," I point out, "Josh let me go! I want to know where it is!"

"We're not taking anyone there! You know we can't, Y/N! We don't have enough people, who knows how many of those are out there..."

I want to argue back but I know that Josh is right.

"Fine," I let go of his arms and he does the same with me. "Can I at least take a look? Maybe one day we'll go and... and just take a look..."

Josh doesn't need me to end the sentence though, he understands.

"Okay," He starts walking when Nathan speaks up.

"Can I see?"

We turn to see him, both wearing the same confused expression.

"It's just..." He moves his weight from one foot to the other. "I was telling Y/N that I've seen those kids before and maybe... I could talk to Sam, maybe she'd like to help?"

I look at Josh with my best puppy eyes and he sighs in defeat, nodding along.

"Fine..."

Nathan catches up with us and grins at me. What I shame I lost my chance with this guy, he looks like straight out of a fantasy, who knows, maybe he was the one meant to be with me if all this apocalypse stuff never happened in the first place...

'You were out of my league Got my heartbeat racing If I die, don't wake me 'Cause you are more than just a dream'

When we arrive Aria takes me directly to her laptop and points to the image in it. I hear her talk to Nathan for a moment while I see the streets and the directions and since I know the whole city by heart it takes me a minute to memorize the whole thing. I don't tell this to Josh, of course.

"Are you going to leave us alone now?" She asks irritatedly.

"Sure thing, you can leave during the night and I wouldn't even bat an eye at it," I reply, still looking at the screen. "Let me just..."

I pull out my phone and take a picture of the screen, is not perfect but it's quick and it's just in case. Josh gives me a warning look but I smile.

"Thank you for doing this," I step closer to him and put my arms around his neck. "See? It didn't kill us to find out, right?"

If I've learned anything in my short stupid life, is that flattery can take you places... and it distracts a boy's brain faster than anything else.

Josh smiles at me and I know I have his whole attention, so I quickly put my phone away.

"Anyway!" I break the spell and look at the gamers. "You guys did a good job, I'll leave you now. Nathan, let me walk you to the door..."

Halfway to the entrance, Nathan speaks.

"You're so not going to listen to what Josh told you to do. I know it, I can see it in your face."

"How long till I can hear from you and Sam?" I ask him in a business-like voice.

"A day, maybe two?"

"You think she'll help?"

"That if we can push Maya to a side."

"Don't mention my name and you'll have a bigger chance to succeed."

I stop at the door and turn to look at him decidedly.

"You have no idea how much this means to me."

"If you're risking your stay at the mall and your relationship with Josh, I assume a lot," He raises a brow.

"He won't kick me out for this," I roll my eyes.

"He's your leader, Y/N."

I remember that none of our feelings ever stopped Josh from kicking me out the first time. So he's not entirely wrong.

"Don't sweat it," Nathan shakes his head, "I'll do my best to keep everyone happy, just like you've been doing for the last few weeks. Consider this my thank you gift for all the hard work you've been doing, Vinchi."

"Oh," I cringe. "I don't really go by that nickname anymore..."

"Oh, sorry," He pouts. "Just Y/N, then?"

"Unless you have a new nickname for me," I grin.

Nathan tilts his head like he's considering what I'm saying.

"I'll think about it," He smiles.

"I'll see you in two days," I smile back.

'Yeah, you were more than just a dream...'

Taglist.

@letsbe-queer @slythermyg @loving-u-3000 @one-loud-mind

#twoidiots writing #daybreak fanfic #daybreak #josh wheeler #josh wheeler xreader #Starcrossed fic

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elexica · 3 years

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Second Chance Christmas {{ December 22 }}

Holiday shopping, Christmas cookies, and a movie marathon... and maybe a touch of actual communication?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/68577144#workskin

Full chapter under the read more.

Joey wandered downstairs at seven in the morning. He was surprised to see Kaiba inspecting the to-do list on his fridge in between long swigs from his KC branded mug.

“You haven’t finished holiday shopping?!” Kaiba’s panic-whisper sounded like he was really concerned about whether Christmas was ruined. His eye contact was almost frenetic.

“I thought I’d leave the kids with Serenity while I do the shopping, she’s supposed to be working the Christmas day shift at the hospital, so she was going to have a couple nights off… I mean it’s not…” Joey looked at the ceiling, as if he could avoid conflict if he didn’t meet the burning blue flames in his ex’s eyes. He steeled himself with a deep inhale. “It’s not as much of a production when you’re not here.”

The KC mug hit the kitchen island with not-insubstantial force. The fruit dish shook with the vibration, bananas swinging from the hook, and Joey tore his eyes from the ceiling to see the drops of black coffee that had hit the granite.

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” Kaiba asked, or rather hissed, without a questioning lilt in his voice.

Joey cracked his knuckles involuntarily. Instead of letting his fingers ball into fists, he jerked open the refrigerator door and yanked out the carton of orange juice.

“You’re a smart man. I’m sure you can guess.” Joey didn’t look away from the task at hand. He militantly focused on pouring orange juice into a tall clean glass.

And there was that sinister “Kaiba” gravel, every bit as menacing as it had ever been as he hissed over the kitchen counter, “Enlighten me.” He sounded like Yugi’s troubled teen nemesis again.

Joey flipped around, gripping the orange juice to keep himself from saying too much that he would regret. “Things are more mellow, now. It isn’t about going overboard to prove a point.”

Kaiba blinked, clearly expecting a harsher phrasing. “Is it now?”

“Yeah. When I was a kid I didn’t have much for Christmas and I came out just fine…” Here it comes, Joey thought, trying not to show the hesitation in his voice as he finished, “They don’t have to be spoiled rotten.”

Joey smirked as he said it. Commenting on their different parenting styles was a low blow, but it had been just too much fun. Joey thought regret would drop into his stomach, but it never hit. Instead, his heart jumped a little, the thrill of getting a rise out of Kaiba as seductive as ever.

“Spoiled?!” Kaiba’s voice lowered in volume and tone. Joey didn’t even try to suppress his mocking grin. Instead, he chugged the rest of his orange juice, slammed down the glass and bolted from the kitchen.

“Get back here!” Kaiba said. Tonally, it was a shout, but volume-wise? Neither of them wanted the kids to wake up quite yet, even though there were probably only minutes left on the clock in that regard.

Joey slid on his socks as he ran down the hallway, drifting as he took a sharp turn. Kaiba sprang to life, suddenly in hot pursuit.

Kaiba was fast, with those long, toned legs and that Terminator-like determination. But he hadn’t spent the last three years wrangling toddlers and chasing after Alexis, who just loved wandering off at the most inopportune times. Plus, while Kaiba had memorized the floor plan at one time, Joey was recently and intimately familiar with it.

The tie breaker was the stairs—with a carved bannister that had seen better days, days before Atticus had been allowed poster paint and before Alexis had taken a tap class. Finally, Joey’s socks gambit came to bite him in the ass as the smoothness of the glossy wooden stairs and the lack of traction from the socks caused him to slip. And that wave of tripping Joey collided into a scampering Kaiba, and the two of them tumbled down the stairs.

The resulting clatter woke the kids up.

. . .

The mall was a zoo—minus the organization. Children were everywhere, and somehow all screaming at once. Everyone looked stressed, perhaps the employees most of all. And Joey realized that he didn’t really have a strategy.

Leaving the kids home with Kaiba was a luxury, and he had sort of forgotten how nice it was to have back up childcare that wasn’t molded around Serenity’s shifts as an RN. It was sort of strange too, because it was one of the few things that was completely new.

Before they separated, Kaiba never watched the kids alone—they had a full staff for that.

Would they all have a miserable time? Joey smirked to himself as he strolled past another festive display—a family of mannequins in matching flannel pajamas. Being outnumbered by the kids could be quite a problem, and although Alexis had lone wolf tendencies, when they combined forces the two were quite powerful.

Joey idly imagined what sort of hell they might put Kaiba through as he shopped for some small things to put in their stockings. He was knocked out of his reverie by eyes fell upon a yo-yo display at the toy store.

After picking up a few small trinkets—and decidedly no yo-yo’s, Joey approached the cash register.

He was not pleased to find an unfamiliar credit card in his wallet. When did Kaiba even have the time to slip that in? Joey ran his thumb over the raised letters of his own name. Did Kaiba just have these lying around? In any case, Joey steadfastly refused to use it, tucking the heavy black card back into the recesses of his worn leather wallet.

He contemplated, momentarily, throwing it in one of the trash bins that he passed by, overflowing with spent holiday Starbucks cups and overly long receipts. But if someone did get ahold of it, they might ring up some charges that could look like Joey was actually using the card. It would ruin the integrity of the refutation.

But the little rectangular siren was hard to keep from his mind. Every time he made a purchase, there it was, tempting him to draw from an unlimited account. Snap shut the golden handcuffs again, the card whispered. Make everything easier.

But Joey Wheeler was a determined man. Detractors might use the phrase stubborn, but it didn’t matter which one was more accurate. When he had a plan, he stuck to it. To the bitter end. So even though he was pushing the admittedly fragile budget to it’s limits at the music store and on Cyber Angel card packs, it remained sealed away.

Until he passed a very sad looking fundraiser.

Joey considered, as he lingered past the charity drive seeking toys for a group home for teens in the Bronx, that he might put the card to use. He realized he seemed a little off, staring down the charity workers, who were dressed as unconvincing elves, with the big collection boxes.

Joey had a timetable. He had a not unimpressive list still remaining. But that fucking card was burning a hole in his pocket. It was practically radiating heat.

But he caved. He lost the battle with the black card when he emptied the local game shop’s entire stock of new model-duel disks and donated them. Joey was trembling as he signed them over, what the name of the donor would be.

He settled on anonymous and determined that he would cut the card into fifty pieces the second he got home and scatter the shards through the trash. The damn thing was too tempting.

By the time Joey pulled into the driveway and slammed open the front door, he was ready to fight about what had happened.

But his family wasn’t immediately in view. The lights in the kitchen were on, and Joey could hear soft classical covers of Christmas music and he thought he could make out the sound of Alexis laughing.

The wind was knocked out of him when he turned the corner to see Kaiba’s black turtleneck splattered with flour.

The whole kitchen had taken a beating. Flour hadn’t just tarnished Kaiba’s polished look—it had dusted the cabinets and part of the fridge Kaiba must not have realized how easily dry ingredients spray from the stand mixer if dropped in first.

The kitchen counters certainly were not spared from the ingredient massacre. The entire kitchen island was covered in flour, some spilled food dye—which Joey could already sense would never come out of the granite—and a surprising amount of raw egg.

Upon further inspection, Kaiba was actually the one least impacted by the ingredient apocalypse. There was sugar and frosting all over Alexis’s face—how, Joey might never know—and Atticus had managed to paint some of his hair blue with blue frosting.

“Alright. Cookies are decorated and prepared for Mr. Claus, fulfilling your contractual obligations,” Kaiba said resolutely, as if he had not turned their living space into a warzone. “What is next on the festive itinerary?”

“First rule of Christmas: you must get munk’d!” Atticus announced.

Joey knocked on the boundary wall of the kitchen to announce his arrival. He expected Kaiba to look much more surprised than he did. Instead, Kaiba’s affectionate attention merely pivoted between Atticus and Joey. It was warm and familial, and it sent a pang of heat and guilt and maybe something else down Joey’s spine.

“Next is getting this cleaned up, I think,” Joey said, finding himself in uncharted territory. It felt weird to be the responsible one out of him and Kaiba. He still wasn’t used to being the buzzkill parent, and he didn’t like it.

Kaiba could have said something mean—made some comment about would spoil the fun, but instead he nodded politely. “Yes,” Kaiba surveyed the room. “I think that would be the next step.”

While the kids groaned at the thought of helping with the chores component of the activity, Joey went to inspect the output.

Apparently, Kaiba had lead the kids through the process of making gingerbread men. Four were set aside and logically decorated to be their family: a stretched out one with blue blobs for eyes and a little black gel icing frown, a slightly more squished one with yellow on top in some sort of approximation of Joey’s hair, and two smaller ones representing each kid.

They really did look like a family.

“You can’t eat those ones,” Kaiba instructed from over Joey’s shoulder. Joey startled at the interruption. He hadn’t realized his ex had gotten so close, and was looming over him properly.

“I figured they might be a little special.”

“Frankly, I don’t know that I’m comfortable with Santa eating them. I’m a bit worried he’d just bite my head off, and leave him as an example to the others.”

Joey laughed.

“I don’t think Santa’s supposed to leave death threats to the cookies, Kaiba. But uh…” Joey reached for another plate which had not been as lovingly decorated. He tore the little head of a random gingerbread man with this teeth, and noted the nice flavor. Butter and molasses and a hint of cloves. He placed the decapitated body of the gingerbread man back down on the display plate. “This guy’ll scare the rest of ‘em straight.”

. . .

After everyone had gotten cleaned up and changed into pajamas (and Joey had discretely moved the gifts into the master bedroom closet), the family reconvened in the living room.

“Oto-san, are you ready for the greatest movies ever made?” Atticus announced. He seemed confident that his father wasn’t ready—and he was right. “Are you ready to get… ‘munk’d?”

Kaiba poked at his reading glasses and adjusted his laptop screen. He had been working on some spreadsheets or something, but his interest was obviously piqued.

Joey smiled. He knew exactly what Kaiba was in for, and he was going to savor it.

“Munk’d?” Kaiba repeated back carefully, as if he was worried it was a swear or a slur.

“Yeah!” Atticus grabbed the remote and deftly navigated the SmartTV through a few different apps before finding exactly what he was looking for. “It’s a quadrilogy.”

Kaiba slowly tiled his laptop screen down. “That’s not a word.”

“I have an inventive spirit, Oto-san!” Atticus’s smile beamed forward as he continued to queue the feature film. Without looking away from the screen, Atticus added, “Just like you.”

The soft smile that graced Kaiba’s features stung at Joey immediately. And it vanished at the first pitchy note of the CGI Alvin and the Chipmunks warbling through Daniel Powter’s 2005 hit, “Bad Day.”

“See, they’re kids, but they’re also rock stars!” Atticus enthused. Before Kaiba could get out any other response, Atticus cracked up at the vintage CGI creatures jumping into a muffin basket.

“It’s okay if you don’t like this one, Oto-san,” Alexis offered, hopping up on the couch on the other side. “They get better when they introduce the Chipettes in the Squeakquel.”

Joey wished he had photographed the resulting look of horror on Kaiba’s face.

Joey leaned back in his own arm chair, nursing a fresh mug of hot cocoa. “Quadrilogy, Kaiba. That means there are four of them.”

After the first movie, the kids we already starting to wear down a little. Kaiba had sat through the entire thing, undulating between puzzled and disturbed at the dated animation, the fact that the chipmunks had managed to get into and out of a dishwasher unharmed, and that the moral of the movie appeared to be that brothers should be very careful about who adopts them.

“This entire thing could have been prevented if the Chipmunks had just retained counsel before signing the relevant contracts,” Kaiba said dismissively.

Joey couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s about family, Kaiba.”

Any further discussion was cut off by the raucous opening music for the Squeakquel and ninety-ish minutes later, Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked.

It was a true Christmas miracle that the kids passed out on the couch before the start of Alvin and the Chipmunks 4: The Road Chip.

Joey met Kaiba’s slightly tired eyes. Admittedly, the ending of Chipwrecked was somewhat jarring. Frankly, the entire thing was more of a fever dream mixed with memes from 2011 than a sensible film. “Alright, I’ll take Alexis, if you can take Atticus?”

Kaiba nodded solemnly, accepting the delegation.

Alexis was usually pretty easy to get to sleep, though sometimes she was anxious from the day’s events, or too busy planning the next day to focus on getting to bed. Joey was not at all surprised that Kaiba was taking longer to get Atticus down for the night. He peered through the cracked door to see Atticus’s room illuminated by the little nightlight—shaped like a music note.

In the dim light, it was clear that Kaiba was sitting on the edge of Atticus’s bed. Atticus was all tucked in, holding his Red Eyes Black Dragon plushie, and gazing up at his father.

“And every night when you go to sleep…” Seto prompted, sounding almost like a strict teacher.

“I am loved,” Atticus replied.

“And every morning when you wake up?” Seto started the second part of the call and response.

“I am loved,” Atticus answered, “Oto-san, you don’t have to say it every night when you’re around! I know you love me.”

“It is important to me that you never doubt it, and never forget it. Even when I’m not around.” Joey’s heart could have melted in that second.

Atticus laughed. “You’re so sappy, Oto-san. I don’t know why Uncle Honda calls you a frozen bastard!”

Joey could barely muffle his reaction.

Kaiba’s face whipped around to the cracked open door. “Jounouchi?” He whispered harshly. But it was to no real effect. Joey was already lost to laughter, and dashed through the hallway. By the time Joey dared to retrace his steps back to Atticus’s door frame, Kaiba had vanished.

. . .

It was not hard to guess where Kaiba had retreated to. Joey pushed open the door of the study and was met with the increasingly familiar sight of his ex-husband in his oxblood leather chair, swirling a glass of expensive, aged, imported whiskey in his long fingers and staring at it like it held the secrets of the universe.

“I saw you with Atticus,” Joey offered, wandering into the study. He looked more at the full shelves of books than at his ex. Most of the volumes were in Japanese, but a select few were in English. Warren Buffet’s autobiography was open on his lap, but Joey was fairly sure he wasn’t actually reading it.

“Yes,” Kaiba answered, flipping the page. No, Joey was sure he hadn’t actually read it, his eyes never really left the swirling amber.

“And he musta overheard a call with Honda. It wasn’t on purpose or anything.”

Kaiba nodded wordlessly.

“You really do miss them, huh?” Joey asked, trying not to sound as nostalgic as he felt.

Kaiba’s face remained stoic, but he took a sip of the whiskey instead of answering. Only that asshole could make something so mundane utterly captivating. Joey hated that he would wait for a response as long as he needed to. Joey’s eyes searched the hand clasping the glass, and noted with a brutal sinking feeling, that the ring was off again.

“Why are you here, Jounouchi?” Kaiba asked finally.

“It’s my house, now. I can go anywhere I want,” Joey announced. Kaiba ignored this answer, and turned his head down to the book on his lap. He flipped another page.

Joey considered whether he should just leave, skip out on the argument, avoid it all and properly give up. Let his ex-husband drink his gross fancy liquor and read his boring book and luxuriate in the solitude as only Seto Kaiba could.

But it had been three years. Three years of not demanding answers. Three years with no clarity. So Joey broke the silence.

“Why didn’t you fight for me? For our family? Even for a second?” Joey felt the heat in his own voice, burning the back of his throat. That was how it was, fighting with Kaiba. A never ending battle of fire and ice.

Kaiba was silent, and took a long sip of the Japanese whiskey. He closed the book, which was more respect than Joey had anticipated.

“That’s what broke my heart, really.” Tears threatened to fall out of Joeys eyes as he said it. “That I told you that it was over, and you couldn’t spare one shred of anger, or sadness, or anything.” Joey hated the pleading tone in his own voice. “It felt like you had already dumped me.”

Kaiba raised his glance from the book cover, the amber glass, and instead looked him dead in the eye. Joey wondered if those blue eyes had always been so lifeless and hollow. “So, you wanted me to argue with you?”

“I don’t know,” Joey answered, running a hand through his messy blond hair. He hadn’t planned the whole argument out. Frankly, he hadf didn’t expect any response.

“Our children didn’t need to watch that,” Kaiba said.

“Watch what? A conversation? An argument? You think it would have been worse for them to hear their parents argue or yell once than… going through a whole fucking divorce?” Joey’s volume crept up and he was done controlling it.

Kaiba didn’t answer. He looked into the glass again, but didn’t lift it.

“Or what? What couldn’t they see? You actually respect my time? Respect me?” Joey wasn’t used to having the rhetorical upper hand, and he wasn’t going to waste it, gesticulating wildly. “I got no respect my whole life, I wasn’t gonna let my kids see me treated like that too.”

For all the theatrics, Kaiba scarcely responded.

“Watch it happen again,” Kaiba almost whispered. There was a ghostly quality to the statement, as if Kaiba neither meant to say it nor for Joey to hear it. Kaiba cleared his throat and started again. He brought his eyes back up to meet Joey’s.

“I learned that lesson a long time ago,” Kaiba’s jaw was clenched so tightly the words almost didn’t escape. “I’m not trying to be loved by someone who doesn’t love me.” Kaiba’s fingers twitched, as if he wanted to fiddle with something. But his control and focus wouldn’t let him give in.

For Joey’s part, he stood and tried to absorb these complete non-sequiturs.

“I can’t, and I won’t, try to force or trick you or anyone else into caring about me. I have paid dearly for that miscalculation before. I will not make the same mistake again.”

For all of the “slow” comments he had been subjected to over the years, Joey caught up quickly enough to what Kaiba was referring to. And he wasn’t going to let him play that card, get out of all responsibility because he had emotional constipation.

“You realize there’s a difference between someone asking you to be a better partner and… and not loving you anymore. Asking you to adjust some things instead of… never wanting to see you again. Things aren’t just black and white!” Joey answered.

“Divorce papers are black and white, Jounouchi.” Kaiba finally downed the rest of the glass, the lilt of his voice the same as a “check mate.”

Joey hated to be the first to raise his voice but that door had already been opened. He wasn’t going to be able to get the toothpaste back in the tube.

“Have you met you?! You wouldn’t listen to anything less! And I tried!” Joey shouted, hands raised defensively.

“I wasn’t going to stay where I wasn’t wanted, and you made it very clear that you didn’t want to be with me.” Kaiba didn’t answer with the same volume, but the intensity was raised and the harshness of his voice was jarring. His eyes narrowed like a hawk eying prey. “I didn’t change, for the record. I did not degrade or fail or alter in any way. No, I stayed exactly the same. You simply decided you did not want that anymore.”

“You’re damn right, I was sick of being disrespected. I spent a lot of time not wanting to feel that way anymore. And you really wouldn’t take my feelings into consideration. Was I supposed to tolerate that forever?” Joey’s volume increased with every clipped sentence.

Kaiba’s voice became more languid—as if he was more comfortable responding to the anger. He sounded somewhat like he was pondering his answer as he said it. Drunk on whiskey and a philosophical sense. “Isn’t that what you promised you would do? What unconditional love is supposed to be? Unconditional: without conditions. And yet, after years, suddenly you have conditions—"

“Excuse me?” Joey interrupted.

“You promised. That your love for me, for our family, was unconditional. And then, years later, you have a set of demands. That is the very essence of a condition.” Kaiba finished the glass with his scholarly speech, placing it next to the decanter. He shoved the book onto the side table as well.

“There’s a difference between not loving someone and wanting to be treated like your damn husband.” Kaiba’s tone rubbed off on him somewhat, as if it was a scholarly discussion about the terms of their marriage. Like if he could just explain it clearly enough, he could talk his husband back into their marriage.

Kaiba kept his hands busy pouring another glass. “Well you were right. You’re doing better now, aren’t you? Enjoying your work, the kids are fine. You proved it—you don’t need me at all. And you don’t want me. In three days, I’ll be gone, and you can go back to your better way of life.”

“It’s not—I’m not better now! I’m fine, things are fine, just different and—” Joey stuttered, hands defensively raised. “And, and having you here has been... It hasn’t made anything worse. It’s like you changed for the better.”

“I don’t change, Jounouchi. I am who I am.” Kaiba said, the cruel air of finality sounding as much like a business decision as anything else.

Joey’s eyes widened and he gestured wildly. “Fuck, Kaiba… Then what’s this?! You’ve made it for three days actually being… just, present. For once. Three years too late. Why? Why now and not then?”

Kaiba shrugged and looked away.

Joey closed the distance, looming over his ex-husband, perched in the chair. “I know why,” Joey said, menace in his voice. “It’s because you only respond to threats. Consequences. And now you know the consequences, so you’re getting your act together.”

Kaiba met his eyes, but looked brutally tired. “I am trying to give you what you want for a few days, Jounouchi. Call it a Christmas present to the father of my children.”

“You’re saying this is an act?”

He titled his head all the way back, eyes glued to the ceiling and thumb and forefinger pinching his nose bridge, just above the wire of his glasses. “I don’t know what this is, Jounouchi. Just be happy, or whatever, and leave me in peace.”

Joey really thought about leaving. He wanted to. But he wasn’t quite done, not really, and he’d been avoiding this fight for years. Joey never used to back down from a fight, and neither did Kaiba. It brought them to blows for years, and the avoidance of conflict had been more sickening than any gut-punch Joey had ever taken.

“I’m not gonna.” Joey said, simply. Hands on his hips, standing his ground.

Kaiba leaned up again, head snapping to attention, hand already on the crystal decanter. “What?”

“Leave. I’m not gonna do it. You can try to make me. I’m not done, alright?! You’re obviously not done,” Joey pushed forward, grabbing Kaiba’s wrist and pulling his hand off of the decanter. “Make it easy. Say you’ll be better, Kaiba.”

“I won’t do that. I don’t change, Jounouchi, because I can’t change.” Kaiba did nothing with his wrist, except allow it to go limp in Joey’s grasp. It was as if he was that confident in the strength of his words that he didn’t so much as care to tense a muscle. “I will ask you once more, nicely. Get out of my office.”

“No.” Joey dropped his wrist, and Kaiba retracted it into his lap. “You can change. You did. You just didn’t notice.” It felt good, Joey thought, being honest for once with this man that he used to love.

“I have work.”

“You don’t. They can’t fire you.” Joey got up in his face, so close he could smell Kaiba’s shampoo. Other than the soft sandalwood scent, it felt a bit like when he was riling up a rival high school bully back in Domino. “Fight me! Make me leave! You want me to go so bad? Then make me!”

Kaiba smirked, knowingly. Then he leaned his head back against the chair. His bangs fully eclipsed his eyes. “I won’t. I’ll just sleep here.” There it was again. The checkmate tenor.

“Fine!” Joey plopped down in the seat next to him, the velvet of his matching seat just soft enough. “Then I’ll sleep here too.”

If Kaiba shifted his eyes to check, Joey couldn’t tell under the thick brown bangs. In any case, the stubborn ass didn’t get up. He didn’t storm off or leave. He just stayed there, like a determined rock under Joey’s constant observation.

After about half an hour, Joey heard the even breathing pick up into a light snore.

In the morning, Kaiba awoke alone in the guest room, with no memory of how he got there.

#Violetshipping #puppyshipping #seto kaiba #Kaiba Seto #Jounouchi Katsuya #Joey Wheeler #fanfic #my fanfic #yugioh #ahhhhhhhhhhhh #i hope you like it this chapter is a lot #i was vibing though

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haberdashing · 4 years

Text

Hidden Away

Statement of Riley Parker regarding a hide-and-seek game played on their college’s campus.

on AO3

Statement of Riley Parker regarding a hide-and-seek game played on their college’s campus. Original statement given April 13th, 2019. Recording by Artemis Lee, archival assistant for the Usher Foundation.

Statement begins.

I think it’s important to start off by saying that this was a Saturday night, midterms had just ended, and most of us were drunk. I think that explains a lot of what we were thinking here. I know hide-and-seek is seen as a kid’s game, but when you’re hanging on campus with your friends, you’re bored, and you just want to let off some steam after a week of grueling exams... sometimes you get creative.

I wasn’t drunk, though. I don’t drink, never have. Alcoholism runs in my family, and I figured the best way to avoid it is to just not drink in the first place. Not that it’s really anyone’s business why I don’t drink, but when people get snotty about it, explaining that usually makes them back off a bit.

Crystal, though--Crystal Wheeler is her full name--she’s the one who suggested it, and she was drunk as a skunk at the time. Luis Vasquez was the one who suggested Old Bailey as the playing ground--he was drunk too--and it wasn’t long before we all went over there and started figuring out the rules.

There were eight of us playing--myself, Crystal, Luis, AJ, Bowie, Ben, Nessie, and Red; I could give you last names for everybody, but I really doubt they’d be of much help. The rules were simple: find a spot in Old Bailey and hide in it, wait for the seeker to find you, first one found is the seeker next if there’s time to play again, last one found gets bragging rights, leaving Old Bailey means you’re kicked from the game for good.

Old Bailey isn’t called that because there’s another Bailey to confuse it with, but because it’s really old--like, early 1800s old, oldest building on campus by far. It gets whatever classes or activities can’t fit somewhere else, pretty much, but for such a big building in the middle of campus, it’s really not used that often. And most importantly for our game, it’s got a lot of little nooks and crannies hidden away in it.

Ben volunteered to be the first seeker, and he gave us a full minute to go find our hiding spots since we needed time to be able to get there, and maybe even to figure out where it was we wanted to hide.

I knew where I was going the instant I started running, though. There’s a little room on the far end of the building from where Ben was counting that the choir uses for practice sometimes--I’m not in choir myself, but I found out about it when I helped them carry equipment in one time. The door to it’s kind of hidden away off to the side of a lecture hall, so unless you know it’s there, you’d probably pass by it and not even notice.

Once I got in the room, I noticed a wardrobe in the corner of the room, and when I opened it it turned out to be empty, so I had no doubt I’d be able to fit in it easily, if not comfortably. I climbed inside, got as comfortable as I could, and looked down at my glow-in-the-dark watch, which was already ticking away.

Tick. Tick. Tick. 12:01 AM. One minute passed. The seeker could stop counting and start looking.

I wasn’t worried about being the first one found. Even if Ben knew about this spot, it was on the wrong end of the building for that. I figured I had several minutes at least to hang in there, watch the clock, peer out through the slits in the doors to see if anyone was coming.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Thirty minutes passed.

Ben’d probably be getting close now, I figured--though I didn’t hear him, so maybe not, maybe I had a bit longer to wait. We’d never done this before, so it’s not like I had any real idea of how long it’d take. And like I said, it was a big building.

I started to wish I’d brought my phone with, but then, knowing my luck, it’d probably make some noise and give my spot away at exactly the wrong time. As it was, my watch seemed loud enough, though maybe that was just because there wasn’t anything else to make noise in there.

Tick. Tick. Tick. One hour passed.

I was getting a little achy--the wardrobe had enough room for me but not much to spare, so I was just standing inside it in kind of an awkward position, without much room to fidget around in there.

I had to be one of the last ones left, right? Maybe I’d even be the winner.

I could put up with a few aches and pains for a bit longer if it meant getting to lord it over my friends for ages to come.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Hour and a half passed.

This was getting ridiculous. My nose itched, and I had to pee, and I was bored as hell, and I hadn’t heard one single person come by this entire time.

Had they forgotten about me?

No, of course not. We were friends. They probably just overlooked the door to the room altogether. It was easy enough to do, after all.

...when I won the game, I was making them buy me food afterwards.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Two hours passed.

I kept coming back to the thought that my friends had forgotten about me, forgotten about the game entirely, forgotten that I was still hidden away in my little nook in Old Bailey. I didn’t want to believe it, but what else was there? Could two hours of searching really not be enough to find this room? I still hadn’t heard so much as a single footstep.

Then I started to wonder what would happen if that was the case. How long would it take for people to notice I was missing? Would somebody come use the room before then?

It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t checked whether I could get out of the wardrobe before stepping inside. What if I was trapped in there? What if it was locked? I could still see the room outside through those slits in the door, but I think I started hyperventilating a bit, because the air didn’t feel right in my lungs, and I wondered if the slits weren’t big enough, if I was going to suffocate to death in there and nobody would ever know-

It was exactly 2:36:13 according to my watch when I opened the wardrobe from the inside, taking a deep breath as I stepped out into the room beyond; the air wasn’t exactly fresh in there, but it was damn well better than inside the wardrobe, anyway.

I still didn’t hear a sound beyond the tick of my watch and my own breathing and heartbeat, but just getting out was enough to calm me down a little, convince me that I wasn’t going to die forgotten in an old choir wardrobe. Still, it took a few minutes before I got my bearings enough to start wandering around.

The part of me that just figured I was really good at hide-and-seek finally shut up for good when I opened the door to the choir room and entered the giant lecture hall it was connected to and still heard nothing. There was no way that seven mostly-drunk college kids searching for someone in an echo-y old building wouldn’t be making some kind of noise, but I couldn’t hear a thing. Not from people, anyway; I focused enough that I heard the hum of the electric lights, noticed a few gurgles from the plumbing system when I got a drink of water and stopped in the bathroom, but nothing that came from other people. I even looked down at the carpet to see if I could make out any footprints, but no such luck.

I walked... well, really it was more of a jog, to the other side of the building, where we’d all left our bags and phones and stuff just before the game started, but the only stuff there was mine. My phone wouldn’t turn on, even though I thought it’d still had 70% battery when we started, but at that point I wasn’t even surprised. I did, however, have a couple hard candies still buried in my bag--I tend to keep some kind of candy around just in case, especially since Nessie lives two doors down and she’s diabetic--and I ate one, thanking my past self for being so considerate.

The tiredness set in all at once, it seemed like. I’d chugged an energy drink while most of my friends were chugging alcoholic drinks, so it might’ve just been that wearing off, but suddenly I didn’t want to bother dragging myself back to my dorm and plugging in my phone and doing everything else I’d need to do before going to bed, I just wanted sleep, now. I saw some sort of a teacher’s lounge with a couch in it, and fuck, it wasn’t even an especially nice couch, just a beat-up old yellow thing that was lumpy as hell, but at that point it might as well have been sent by the gods as far as I was concerned.

I don’t remember the exact time, but I know it was a little after 3 according to my watch before I managed to get some sleep in.

When I checked my watch upon waking up, it was 9:47, the sun was shining, and I still didn’t hear a peep. Which didn’t surprise me that much, really--obviously my friends had ditched me, and I’d give them hell for it later.

But then I passed by a window. It was a beautiful day out, the sun was shining, the trees were swaying gently in the wind... and there was nobody outside.

Nobody rushing to or from the cafeteria. Nobody heading to or from their car. Nobody walking their dog, or feeding the feral cats on campus, or playing ultimate frisbee, or any of the usual things people would do on a nice Sunday morning. I didn’t even see any squirrels scampering about, and those things are usually all over campus.

My mind went to... some weird places there. Wondering if I’d missed the apocalypse or something. Maybe the Rapture. Not that I’m religious, but hell, what else was there?

I had the rest of my hard candies at that point, though that wasn’t quite enough to fill my stomach on its own. Just needed something to get my mind off things, I think, some kind of distraction.

I looked back at the lounge where I’d slept, figuring I’d make a note of it for later, maybe even thank the professor who took care of the spot for putting the couch there... I remember it was room 165, but there was no name on the door. Not a plaque, not a carving, not even a piece of paper saying the professor’s name.

There was a desk next to the couch, and I looked at the papers on it, not because it really mattered who this professor was in the greater scheme of things but because I just wanted to know, but all the papers were blank. Just ordinary white printer paper, stacked haphazardly on a desk to look like a normal professor’s workspace if you didn’t look too closely.

Not going to lie... I think I had a bit of a panic attack when I saw that. It just didn’t make sense, even with my half-formed theories about the apocalypse or the Rapture or whatnot. It wasn’t that everybody had vanished--it was more like nobody had ever been there to begin with, or that every sign of their existence had vanished with them except the building of Old Bailey itself. There was just me and my bag and that was it. Me against the world.

I really wish I’d brought my charger with me that night.

Then I figured, well, lights had worked fine the night before--and I flipped one on now, confirmed they were still working--so I might as well make my way back to my dorm room, charge my phone, get out my laptop, figure out what the hell it was I’d clearly missed. Leaving Old Bailey was still technically losing the game of hide-and-seek that I’d rightfully won, I guess, but that had long since stopped mattering to me. If I couldn’t have my friends with me, I at least wanted to know what happened to them.

According to my watch, it was 10:18 when I finally stepped outside Old Bailey.

The instant I stepped outside I heard a loud noise and I flinched, panicked a bit, covered my ears. It took me a minute to realize what the noise was.

It was my friends, all seven of them, standing outside the main door to Old Bailey, shouting my name. There was a police officer there, too; apparently they’d called him when I vanished, thought I might have gotten stuck somewhere. Guess they weren’t entirely wrong.

It was dark out, though. And according to all of their phones and watches and whatnot, it was only 2:36 in the morning, though my watch still showed that it was well after 10 AM.

The next time I went back in that building--with Red in tow, because I was not going back alone--I checked on what I remembered from my time in there. Not only could I not find the couch, I couldn’t find room 165; the numbers only go up to 149 before skipping to the 200s, apparently. The wardrobe was gone, too, and when I asked some choir kids about it, none of them remembered it being there.

There’s no big moral to this story, I don’t think, no way to tie it all up in a knot. I’ve always had a bit of an issue with anxiety, and that’s even worse now, as you might imagine. If I’ve learned anything, it’s just that the world is even weirder and scarier than I had imagined, and I could do without that knowledge, thanks. All I know is I’m never going back to Old Bailey alone, and I’m never playing another game of hide-and-seek in my life.

Statement ends.

#tma #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #statement fic #personal #my writing

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hartigays · 4 years

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2 for Harringrove ??

2. “The thought of losing you scares me.”

(these are supposed to be fluff prompts but we going ✈️ end of the world anyway bc i can)

it’s been six months, eight weeks, and four days since their plan at starcourt failed. six months, eight weeks, and four days since the sky turned black and red and the world grew cold. six months, eight weeks, and four days since the gate blew open and effectively ended the world as they knew it.

six months, eight weeks, and four days since billy almost died in a pool of black sludge on the grimy linoleum floors of starcourt mall.

he’s doing better. most of his wounds were shallow, save for the few that went deep enough to nearly take his life. but doc owens had a house full of supplies to suture billy up like frankenstein.

even after owens deemed him fit for travel, they stayed there for a while. billy and the rest of the party. holed up in owens’ house, trying to figure out just how they could possibly ride this out.

two weeks into their stay, they came late at night. the demo-dogs, a whole swarm of them. the group defended the house as best as they could, but it was a lost cause. they were out on the open road by the what used to be considered sunrise.

time has ceased to have any real meaning anymore, if they’re being honest. there’s no morning or night, just darkness and a cold that seeps deep into their bones and refuses to go away.

the line between the two dimensions has been all but erased. the upside down has consumed their world; swarms of demo-dogs prowl the frozen wasteland, the mind flayer takes more and more people for its army each day.

they keep running. from city to city, state to state, just barely escaping the mind flayer’s grasp each time.

the kids don’t smile much these days. el is tired more often than not, weakened and drained from the constant use of her gifts. joyce doesn’t have many soft, kind words to lend out anymore. hopper has distanced himself from everyone, both physically and emotionally. standing guard and pacing around in the night on the fringes of wherever they’ve made camp.

and steve. steve doesn’t smile softly anymore, doesn’t make his goofy jokes or try to cheer the kids up. he just grips onto his bat, wound tight and always at the ready, constantly on high alert.

billy is surprised, given his near-death experience, that he’s actually not the most fucked up person in this broken group. he supposes he was built more for a world like this than most. he’d hardened himself to the world they knew Before. this one just seems to make more sense for someone like him.

violence has run in his blood since he’d exited the womb. fighting monsters and suffering from hunger and exhaustion and living in a world devoid of warmth and happiness apparently just comes naturally to him.

that isn’t to say that billy doesn’t have a lot of regrets. he regrets not telling max that he loved her more, Before. it feels odd to say it now, like maybe he’d only be saying it because they could die at any given moment.

he regrets not going back to california to see his mom when he had the chance. he regrets being cruel to the kids he now spends every waking moment protecting. he regrets convincing himself to waste his time with someone like karen wheeler, something he only did to bury the ugly truth about himself and his desires.

billy certainly regrets not being kinder with steve.

it’d be easier, if he had. it’d be easier to tell steve now that he loves him. it’s another situation where it just seems forced, like he’s only deciding this now when there’s no one left to choose from.

that could never be the case, but billy can’t see steve thinking otherwise. it’s just. billy didn’t let himself feel it for so long. his love for steve crept up on him, from the moment they first met. there was just something about him. and the more his feelings grew, the more afraid he became. the more he lashed out and repressed how he felt.

it feels like a lost cause now. but billy doesn’t quite think things like that carry the weight of any real importance, not anymore. not when they have to fight every day just to stay alive. so, he focuses on that. on finding food, water, shelter. on protecting the party, one day at a time.

billy has had to do a lot of protecting today. they had to pull up stakes at their last camp, another demo-dog pack blowing through. they lost a lot of stuff in the process - food and water, mostly. the demo-dogs seem to learn rather quickly what items to destroy along with the people.

they drove for nearly three days before finding a dilapidated motel in a small nebraskan town. billy, steve, and nancy help hopper do a sweep and clear out any demo-dogs hiding in the shadows. they set up a perimeter not long after.

hopper takes billy and steve on a run into town for supplies. it’s been nearly picked clean by either other survivors, or demo-dogs. they’re still prowling the streets when they arrive.

needless to say, it doesn’t go very well.

billy has to see doc owens immediately upon their return; his arm was nearly shredded by a particularly nasty dog. steve had sprung in at the last moment, beating the ugly bastard off of billy with his bat. now, steve nearly paces a hole in the floor while owens works on stitching billy up.

he doesn’t know why steve is so wound up tonight. they got enough supplies to satiate the whole group, especially the kids. it was a good run.

they’re sharing a room at the motel. no one sleeps alone - it’s one of their cardinal rules. billy heads to it after they eat. steve follows after him and slams the door shut so hard it rattles on its hinges.

“the fuck, harrington?” billy hisses, sitting up in alarm. “you trying to bring a pack of dogs down on us like it’s fuckin’ judgment day?”

“you almost died again.” it’s said with an air of finality. like billy should’ve already known the cause of steve’s upset.

“that’s life now, pretty boy,” billy sighs, rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes. “you really should learn how to get used to that.”

steve cuts him a glare. “you don’t fucking get it, do you?”

there’s obviously something that billy is missing here. he doesn’t quite understand what steve is so bent out of shape about.

“obviously not,” billy says, standing and moving to slip his shirt off before climbing into bed.

he doesn’t quite make it back into the bed. steve marches over and grabs his arm, stopping him before he has the chance.

“i can’t - i can’t lose you too,” steve tells him, his voice breaking. “i can’t watch you die. i won’t. the thought of you not being here, losing you, it just. scares the fuck out of me.”

billy swallows around the lump that has mysteriously formed in his throat. he doesn’t brush steve off when his hand slides down his arm, until it can grasp billy’s and tangle their fingers together. he’s pretty sure he stops breathing, though.

“you won’t,” he says, finally. “who else would keep your pretty ass out of trouble?”

“billy, i’m serious. you can’t keep putting yourself in danger like that. like you did today,” steve begs, squeezing his hand tight.

“that dog would’ve killed you if i hadn’t.”

“yeah, but it almost killed you!” steve cries, releasing billy’s hand to throw his up in exasperation.

“oh, what, so i’m supposed to let you die and just protect myself instead?” billy snaps, his voice raising an octave. “fuck off with that shit. you think you can’t handle a world without me in it? how the fuck do you think i’d feel if i lost you? you ever fuckin’ consider that?”

he’s borderline shouting now, and steve slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with surprise. billy peels his hand off, taking a steady breath. laces their fingers together again.

“there’s never going to be a time where i don’t pick your life over mine,” billy tells him. “better get used to that, too.”

steve takes a deep breath of his own. he searches billy’s eyes, before squeezing his shut and leaning in. he rests his forehead against billy’s, just breathing together for a moment.

“i’m sorry,” steve says quietly, breaking the silence that has fallen between them.

“for what?” billy questions, his brows furrowing.

“for not doing this sooner.”

steve pulls him in and seals their mouths together. billy emits a soft noise of surprise, his eyes flying open. he feels frozen, like he’s not quite sure if this is really happening or not. but when steve starts to pull away, billy’s brain comes back online.

he yanks steve in closer, kissing him with every last bit of energy he has, and then some. steve’s hand leaves his, only for both of them to grasp onto billy’s shirt, fingers curling into the material. billy cradles steve’s face in his hands, holding him like he’s precious.

he kinda is, if billy hasn’t made that abundantly clear yet.

“i’m so fucking in love with you,” steve breathes when they break apart. “god, i can’t believe i haven’t said that until now. you’ve almost died like, five hundred times and i’ve never told you the most important thing that i could ever possibly say to anyone ever and -”

billy cuts him off, giving steve another kiss, this one warm and gentle. “it’s okay. i - yeah. i love you too. didn’t ever say it either.”

“guess that makes us both idiots.”

billy smiles running his fingers through steve’s hair. it’s long beyond reason, which is both sexy and dangerous.

“we need to cut this soon,” billy comments. “god forbid something grabs onto this damn mop while we’re out on a run.”

“i’ll let you cut mine if you let me trim your beard. it’s getting a little mangy,” steve offers, then makes a face. “god. is this what intimacy is in the apocalypse? cutting each other’s hair?”

billy snickers softly. “i think i have a few better ideas.”

“oh yeah? like what?”

taking steve’s hand, billy pulls him towards the bed farthest from the door, smiling softly. “i think it’d be better if i just showed you.”

steve pauses. and then, “oh, you mean right now?”

billy plops down on the mattress, reclining back on his elbows. he arches a brow. “what, you got somewhere to be, pretty boy?”

there’s only a split-second pause before steve is scrambling to straddle billy’s hips. steve smiles down at him, leaning down to kiss the tip of billy’s nose.

“nowhere but here, sweetheart.”

send me a number + a pairing!

#im very seriously thinking about turning this into a full blown fic #so much fun to write #thanks for the request 💕#harringrove #my fics #ask #anon

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rorykillmore · 4 years

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and this one is for @mikexxwheeler who asked for something with mike and villanelle, who were a BLAST to go back and write for since it’s been a while since we rped them together

merry christmas jace!!! consistently our friendship is one of the things that brightens up my life the most, and i wanted to tell you how much i appreciate you just... reaching out to me and maintaining that even during the times when we’re not actively writing together or anything. even if it’s just one of our silly memes or a joke about whatever crazy thing a politician did recently (or linking the star wars holiday special in its entirety, which of course we then proceed to drop everything and watch.) it always just. instantly lifts my mood to get a message from you, and being friends with you is one of the things i’ve treasured most over the years. as carrie fisher would say... [weird emotional musical number set to the tune of the star wars theme]

She’s not the kind of person who drops ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ into her internal monologue without actually preparing for the worst that could happen. She isn’t stupid.

“Are you sure you do not want to be seeing Star Wars, or something boys your age should like?” Villanelle asks conversationally as she and Mike wait in the concessions line outside the movie theater. “Apparently there’s a new one out.”

“Yeah, but I heard it sucks,” Mike tells her with thinly veiled disdain. “They made the main character, like, the granddaughter of Palpatine, or something.”

“Which one is Palpatine?” asks Villanelle, who hasn’t seen a Star Wars movie since she was about twelve. “Wait -- is he -- ?”

Mike nods grimly, and Villanelle throws back her head and cackles in abject disgust.

“It’s not funny. It’s gross.”

“It is really gross. I’m laughing as a coping mechanism.” Shaking off any unwanted thoughts of crusty old men fucking, Villanelle squints down at the ticket she’s holding. “So what is this movie we’re seeing? ‘Demons’?”

“Yeah, it’s a re-release of an old one. A horror movie, I think. It actually came out in like, 1985, I think, so I just missed it.”

Villanelle cocks her head thoughtfully to one side. “The horror movies that came out in the 80′s were the best. They were so campy and stupid.”

Mike laughs. “Yeah, I figured it’d be fun.” And then his smirk turns into a more genuine smile. “Thanks for coming with me.”

Villanelle shrugs and takes a sip of her soda. “This is what friends do, right?”

It isn’t as rhetorical a question as it sounds, but Villanelle is pretty sure of the answer, at least. Movie nights are nice, normal things that people do. Even she isn’t compelled to mess this up too badly in the course of only a couple of hours. So her aside, what could possibly go wrong?

They enter the theater together, snacks and drinks in hand, and Villanelle barely pays attention to the woman in the shiny silver mask who hisses “Ow!” as she accidentally cuts the side of her face.

---

Really, it’s no wonder that Mike barely had to bribe her to tag along. Villanelle likes movies. She’s always liked movies. And this one is the perfect combination of campy and gory, so she is comfortably enjoying herself right up until the scene where one of their characters cuts their face on a weird looking demon mask -- and proceeds to begin to turn into a demon themselves.

“You know, this is basically just a zombie movie,” Villanelle leans over to murmur to Mike. “They probably just called it ‘Demons’ because Italians are so Catholic.”

But Mike is busy frowning at the screen, surprisingly unimpressed by the gnarly display of body horror taking place in front of him. “Wasn’t there a lady out in the lobby who cut her face on a mask like that?”

“Was there?” Villanelle raises her eyebrows in surprise. She does vaguely remember it now that Mike has brought it up, but she shrugs. “Probably just part of the immersive experience.”

Teenagers. So easily spooked by movies like these.

“Hey. What the hell happened to Rosemary?” A guy in the row in front of them growls, stoking the fires of Mike’s unease.

“I’m pretty sure that was where she was sitting, too. She’s missing!”

It is a slightly... strange coincidence, but Villanelle only twists around in her seat briefly to make sure they’re not attracting any attention. “She probably just went to the bathroom. Relax.”

“Go check.”

“What?”

“Villanelle, if we’re about to get stuck in the middle of a demonic apocalypse, we’d better get a jump on it.”

Villanelle grimaces in irritation, but reminds herself that Mike has survived the odd supernatural possibly-apocalyptic scenario on occasion before. She needs a refill, anyway. “Fine. But you are coming with me.”

“I can’t go into the girls’ restroom,” Mike protests.

“You can wait outside. Just in case I get turned into a demon, and it’s up to you to warn the rest of the world.” Villanelle gets up and starts inching her way out of the aisle without waiting for an answer. It isn’t long before she hears Mike shuffling behind her, following as she knew he would, ever incapable of resisting a taste of adventure even if it is under completely ridiculous circumstances.

Villanelle never would have imagined she’d have anything in common with Mike Wheeler, of all people. But sometimes she thinks he’s been through so much that at the end of the day - even if he hasn’t yet admitted it to himself - he wouldn’t ever be able to settle for a normal life again either. So in that way, they are the same.

“Arm yourself,” Villanelle tells him as they reach the lobby, only half-joking. She gets a flat look in return, but then Mike does pick up a broom a janitor left propped up against the side of the wall, raising his eyebrows at her as if to say ‘happy?’

Villanelle gives him a cheeky little thumbs up before she steps into the women’s restroom. There is no need for her to arm herself, because - as always - she has come prepared, a knife strapped to her ankle, a tiny hand-sized pistol tucked into her jacket lining.

(She’s not the kind of person who drops ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ into her internal monologue without actually preparing for the worst that could happen. She isn’t stupid.)

But when she steps into restroom, everything seems calm, almost to her vague disappointment. What has she become, if she is very nearly craving the unlikely possibility of demonic mass hysteria? She misses the good old, simple days. When she was content to get her adrenaline rush by slashing a few throats, and never stretched her imagination unreasonable lengths beyond that.

There is a woman standing in front of one of the sink mirrors. Villanelle assumes she must be Rosemary, if the way she is dabbing at her face is any indication. The cut on the side of her cheek looks normal, and Villanelle decides she’ll just get a quick closer look before delivering the all-clear to Mike.

“Do you need a band-aid for that?” Villanelle asks, sidling up and quickly slipping into Girl Talk Mode. “I think I have one in my purse...”

“That’d be great,” Rosemary says with a relieved smile, and now that Villanelle is closer she notices... there’s an unusual amount of blood dripping down her jaw, for a wound that seems comparatively shallow. “It’s weird, I just can’t get it to stop bleeding.”

Fortunately, Villanelle hadn’t been bluffing, and really does have a bandage in her purse. She fishes it out and offers it to the other woman, watching closely as Rosemary uses it to cover the wound and...

...Within seconds, it bleeds right through.

Okay. That is definitely not normal.

“Mike?” Villanelle calls back out into the lobby. “I thiiink we have a problem.”

“What’s happening?” Mike calls back to her, but Villanelle doesn’t answer him right away. She’s too busy watching in growing, morbid fascination and disgust as the wound starts to pulse and throb, like there is something under Rosemary’s skin burrowing its way to the surface to get out.

“Mike,” she calls more insistently.

“What! I can’t come in there!”

“Oh my god, it’s not like there is a force field, or something --” But Villanelle’s retort breaks off into a horrified shriek as the wound on the side of Rosemary’s face explodes.

“Villanelle!”

This time, throwing all caution to the winds and evidently deciding that his dignity is not as important as Villanelle’s life, Mike comes rushing into the restroom just as Villanelle is flattening herself against the wall to avoid the worst of the oozing... pus... no, she does not want to even describe it internally.

“What’s happening to her?! Is she --”

Rosemary’s screams turn feral, and Villanelle has to interrupt Mike’s question to pull him out of the way as she slashes at him with... are those claws?

“It’s the movie! I fucking told you it was just like the movie!” Mike shouts. Rosemary rounds on them again with wild, animalistic yellow eyes, and Mike... promptly smacks her right in the face with the broom handle. Her neck snaps back at an unnatural angle.

“Ha!” Villanelle laughs, recovering in the midst of all this chaos. “Nice hit.”

“Thanks. Wait, I mean -- what do we do?!”

“Run?” Villanelle guesses, unsure if there is any way to actually kill this thing. Rosemary’s seems to be snapping her neck back to its normal position, and neither of them stayed in the theater long enough to know if the demons had any significant weaknesses.

Mike spares a moment to shoot her a frantic look. “But she’ll get out and spread the virus to other people!”

That sounds like their problem, Villanelle wants to say, although she supposes she can easily enough see how a supernatural pandemic might eventually become her problem as well.

Rosemary lets out an unearthly snarl and lunges forward again. It is not so much the threat of being scratched and turned, or at least dismembered, that makes Villanelle react (although that alone is obviously enough) -- as does the sight of her wide, gaping jaws. And all that slimy pus stuff she’s drooling everywhere.

“That is fucking disgusting,” Villanelle tells her, before pulling out her pistol and firing three close range shots into the woman’s head.

It... works. Effectively. As one might expect.

Rosemary stumbles back and falls into a pool of her own blood, twitching unpleasantly in what seems to be a round of dying spasms. Villanelle fires one more head shot, just to make sure.

“O-okay. I think you got her.” Mike sounds slightly shaken, and it’s only then that she remembers that she just brutally shot a person right in front of him. Then again, she is not really sure Rosemary counted as a ‘person’ at time time. Never the less, Villanelle lowers her gun and turns so that she’s at least half-obscuring Mike’s view of the body.

“That was kind of easy.” She scrunches her nose up a bit.

Mike takes another steadying breath, but he’s doing a better job of composing himself than she might have expected. “...Yeah. Uh. I think we maybe just... prevented an apocalypse?”

Villanelle considers that for a couple of seconds. It almost feels kind of anticlimactic. “Huh,” she finally says with a shrug. “Guess I will add it to my resume. Stop it at patient zero, that’s what I always say.” Or what she would always say, if she’d ever been involved in any humanity-threatening spread of disease before now.

“Is now a good time to say ‘I told you so?’” Mike quips in return, and Villanelle gives him a passive-aggressive (but also sort of playful) shoulder check as she passes on her way to the restroom’s exit.

“I guess we call the police. And they can call in Hazmat people to clean up the body, or something.” Already, she’s kind of wondering how exactly they’re going to explain the weird, meta experience of watching a movie and then having that movie repeat itself in real life. Then again, it’s probably par for the course for the cops around here, by now.

“Wait,” Mike says suddenly. “What about the mask?”

Ah. He’s right, she realizes, following his gaze over to the lobby display where the mask still sits. The apparent source of the virus, if the movie lore holds up.

“Well, we have gotten this far by being genre savvy, so I don’t think we should have it over to the police,” she muses.

“Yeah, no way. One of them’ll cut themselves while they’re joking around, or something, and infect the whole police station. Always happens.”

“So... we keep it?” Villanelle tries to run through some other, smarter possibilities in her head. “Burn it? Bury it? Throw it into a volcano? We could do that. There’s one out in the Prehistoric Wilds.”

Mike starts to grin, and Villanelle squints at him suspiciously. “What is so funny?”

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “Just... the volcano thing. It’s just like in Lord of the Rings.”

Villanelle pulls up short as their very first conversation comes ebbing back to her. Unexpectedly, what accompanies it is a trace of amused warmth. And she grins back at him briefly. “Guess we’ve come full circle.”

“We really have.”

Villanelle makes a note to get out of there before he remembers to make a communism joke.

#im not going to spoil what the concept of this fic actually is but when you read it #ask yourself: how could i not?#fic #christmas gifts #OH ALSO I ALMOST FORGOT #body horror cw #?????

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serendipitous-magic · 4 years

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What inspires you to write

Music! I listen to music near constantly (drives my family insane, especially since I’m living with them right now - they glare at me when I have earbuds in, which is always) and my brain just kind of automatically comes up with scenes that match the music. Sometimes things with characters I’ve been working with / thinking of lately (mine or other people’s), sometimes completely random scenes not really attached to specific characters, sometimes a “trailer,” etc. It’s pretty much how I daydream.

My brain is running scenes and stories and dialogue pretty much 24/7 - it’s just how I process and contextualize life - but especially when listening to music, that’s when I tend to spontaneously come up with my best scenes. And then, assuming I remember them, I’ll eventually write them down, or when working on a particular story I’ll suddenly think, “Oh, you know what? The one jailbreak scene that I was daydreaming with the Spirit soundtrack would fit here! I just have to substitute this character for the main character, and this character would fit as the person who gets left behind...” And I transplant the daydream-scene into the story where it fits.

For example, this Southwestern Crime Syndicate Gay Romance Story Idea came about almost entirely as a result of me walking around in circles listening to We R Who We R over and over (weird combination, I know... I don’t know how or why that happened) and stitching together a storyline out of the scenes I was daydreaming.

Visuals and images also really inspire me. It’s why I have so many pinterest boards. I’m a visual learner. I think images (photographs especially) carry so many connotations that we pick up on. It’s fascinating to me how you can tell such a detailed story through images alone - like, seeing a pinterest board and scrolling through it and being able to tell, “Oh, this is a story about a zombie apocalypse, and the main character is a bi girl with pink hair who might have lost her brother perhaps?” Or being able to tell a whole story through a moodboard. 9 pictures, put together, and you have this whole web of meanings and connotations that play off each other. It’s really cool. I’ve often inspired myself when I hit a snag or a writers’ block by just scrolling through pinterest boards.

Real life. I mean, duh. What writer doesn’t use their own experiences as inspiration for their writing? Although maybe it would be more accurate to say, what writer’s life experiences don’t creep into their stories, whether they want them to or not? I’ll often find myself referencing someone I know in real life as a guide for how a character should talk or move, whether I quite realize I’m doing that or not. Or, as another example, a lot of my personality and thoughts end up in my writing whether I mean it to or not.

For example, especially several years ago, I looked back at some of my writing and suddenly realized there was a common theme in much of it: the characters would often feel trapped, caged in, made helpless by their circumstances, desperate to escape somehow. This was a reflection of some shit that was going on in my own brain at the time, but I never sat down and said to myself, “Let’s write out my issues through my characters, shall we?”

Another example: take a look at this bit from The Red Envelope, when Mike is talking about his and El’s breakup, and keep in mind it was written and posted in early 2018:

“They just function much better as best friends. Siblings in everything but blood. Plus, El needed some time on her own to carve out her identity in a world that was relatively new and foreign to her. She needed to make her own name in school, and in the town, outside of just “Mike Wheeler’s quiet girlfriend from Sweden” or “That kid Chief Hopper adopted that may or may not be related to him, it’s unclear.” And more importantly than that, she needed to find herself, within herself, outside of the lab.

... It took him years to even figure out what was going on, and by then he was in a relationship with El, so he ignored it. Pushed it down. Pretended it didn’t exist, that everything was fine, that he wasn’t a freak that couldn’t choose a team. And he’s done a damn good job of ignoring it, if he does say so himself, except for that one night of confessions in El’s room with the TV on in the background and the door closed. He told her everything. She took his hands in hers, squeezed, and talked at length about the exact shade of Max’s hair. “

About a year after writing that (2019) was when I realized that I was, in fact, a lesbian, and I had to break up with my then-fiance (a guy). We are, now, best friends. It’s weird, though, how what went down with my ex-fiance sounds kinda familiar.

Podcasts, vlogs, and other “unscripted” interactions. Why? Dialogue. The way people talk to each other and interact very rarely sounds like “movie dialogue.” You know what I mean. When people talk, it’s not clean and put-together and polished. People start over in the middle of a sentence. They stutter, they use fillers. They weave in inside jokes. Often, close friends or couples will have their own mini-dialect - a sort of shorthand they’ve developed over the years that no one else really gets. Unless it’s a formal situation, where there’s a “script” of sorts, human language is often messy and contextual.

So, I love pieces of media with real, unscripted interactions. It’s a fantastic way to get a feel for how people talk and play and joke and interact in real life. My favorites have been Buzzfeed Unsolved (the banter is always pretty great), Jenna Marbles, The Adventure Zone, multi-player Let’s Plays (like Markiplier’s old Prop Hunt stuff - yes, I know that’s old news in internet time!), director commentary on movies where there’s at least two people commentating, and some of the least-awful Youtube vloggers like Tessa Violet’s old stuff or Nanalew. Behind-the-scenes videos for movies or shows are good as well. You could also be a creep and just listen to random people’s conversations around you (assuming we ever get out of quarantine), or take note of things your friends say. I’m guilty of having random notes in my phone of things my friends or family have said. For example:

“Either your ass just spoke or you butt-dialed someone.”

“And in a brazen act of cowardice, he put down the chopsticks in favor of a fork.”

“Did a bad. There’s a fruit loop in the fountain.”

Etc.

Anyway, those are a few ways that I get inspiration for my writing! I’m sure it’s not everything, but those are the prevalent ones that came to mind.

#asks #anon #my writing

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projectunwritten · 4 years

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Hunters of the Dead

Preface

I wrote this about 3 years ago; it was during this edgy stage of life and Ithought teenages and zombie apocalypses was literally the best thing ever.

My name is Michael banks Jr. I am responsible for the death of 3/4th’s of the planet earth population and this is my story …..

Chapter 1 origin

The government a reigning power over all of America they know everything, they see everyone. One day I did a simple math problem on my computer next thing my math equation became the answer to immortally or so they thought they able to biology creating and age a human body then it she started to reproduce on her own and it created them. The government was shattered then in their darkest hour they came. The giants attacked every major city around the world, once they killed people they would spit saliva on them and it turn them into zombies that the government was trying to cover didn’t stay hidden for too long. It created a pandemic now because I started this I’m going to end it. “Well then what are we waiting bikey time to kill.” Ashlyn said with a smirk. I looked around and see what people would think are just some kids in war…I see my team, my family, my zombie hunters and our killing spree has just begun.

Chapter 2 4/1/2016

6 hours ago….

A phone rings as an alarm goes off. “That’s my girl I whisper.” I answer the facetime “hey gorgeous” I say yawning. “Hey she says smiling. I turning on the TV while she talks about how Cassie stole her phone. “Morning lovebirds what happening” says Chris as he checks in on the face group along with lily. “Hi “lily says quietly. “Hey” Chris returns shyly with smile. “And u call them lovebirds.” Says Bridget”, she says laughing, “right mike …. Mike?” I turn to the camera in laptop, “Makenna, bridge their here.”(Mike) “What no, no where?”(Makenna) ‘’ new York, Chicago, Las Vegas, Seattle “(mike) “good there’s still time I’ll pack my bags “”what are talking about?” Lily asks “ okay don’t think you will believe me at first but 1 year ago me and Makenna were “studying” , I solved a simple math problem use a method she and I created. It was used to create zombies that’s grew into giants possessed by the souls of Nephilim. Now they are attacked major cities as their plague continues to grow.” Chris bursts into tears as Jacob and Ashlyn enter the chat. “Jacob initiated protocol z.” he raises his eyes in response “Umm ok, got mike I’ll be ready roll in ten minutes.” “You have 8.” I end the call as I stuff items in my book bag and grab my phone, my laptop, and chargers, and and a bunch of clothes. I jump off Terrence I look under the stairs and grab my metal bat and metal rods and start running. As I hear a scream by Chris place I grip tighter on the poles which I call “kalis” as I come to the ally and three guys all covered in blood looking as pale snow I can’t explain what during the fight I saw was red.

Chapter 3 Chris Tebich

My name is Chris Tebich and me along with others hunters are responsible for the death of 2/4th population of the planet earth this where my story began….

I screamed because my mean neighbor Mr. Jerkface just got his skull cracked open by two decomposing bodies. As several other join him staring at me. Then mike turns the he yell out something unearthly “prognostic!!” He charges at the first two bodies. Armed with two rods which seem to be bent into a point at the end. Which sticks up the bodies head smiling he rips them out? He throws me a sliver bat I bash my now dead neighbor upside the head but he gets back up keep hitting nothing happens he open his mouth at least 5 inches wide moaning I get ready to die and trip to the ground as a metal rod comes through his throat and the the body drops mike hands me a towel out of his bag. “Well that was fun” he says smiling. As I look back I see the other two bodies on the ground blood everywhere, and I think to myself holy crap… is the real mike … a psychopath

Chapter 4 destiny

We showed up at Jacob’s door I knocked on the door it’s open up by itself. A scream and a yell then a body tumbles downstairs. The body dead we run up to find Jacob with an axe and his mom behind him. “I told u that would come in handy “I say pointing at the axe. “Where’s your sibling and your dad?” “Dad took them to see grandma. “He replies. “Okay next we hit Stasia and Lilly.” I say looking at the two of them “ you two will go get lily, I got stasia ,mrs.lombardi u need pack a bag of whatever u need clothes, food ,water ,medicine ,and a weapon. Find the nearest shelter. A salvation army, a church, safe house, anywhere call your husband tell him you're safe and that Jacob is with me hunting. “ I say as she gets up looks in back of her closet in a box and reveals a gun. “ that’ll do , can you use it ?” She shoots two of them in the head. “Yeah” she says packing a bag. After she left Chris and Jacob to pick up Lily. And I went to get Stasia. I ran as fast as I could. As I stopped two men were at door. Mr. Wildes opens the door. “No!” I yell as an arrow slips past me into one of their head give me time bash the other one. I look back and see Chris with his bow and arrows. “Took you long enough!” Stasia says smiling.

Chapter 5 punishers

After sending the wiles on their way out of home town me, stasia, Chris went to Corey’s place to get his family out of town

As we walked down street we heard a gun fired I instantly was cover in a protective layer of goose bumps that trapped my emotions. I ran for the court Chris at my side and stasia a few feet behind. As I notice that Chris is not fast as he usually is I realized that it wasn’t him. I was get faster, pushed that thought to darkness that consumed my mind as I lost conscious as I saw Jacob yelling axe in hand with Chris removing and arrow from his quiver. Corey: I soon mike showed up all well u no what broke loose. I never seen him like this anger, fast, ruthless. Surrounded by some my friends; ex – girlfriend, and people generally knew it chaos . . . . And I loved it I yelled as I reload and headed into war. Lilly stabbed a walker behind me. I joined Chris as saw he was at his last arrow I threw him my baseball bat. He smiled as he smashed a walkers head. I shot three off them and that when everything got fuzzy.

Chapter 6 Uptown Funk

I woke up in a chair as Shiloh licked my face “down girl!” I shouted. “Hey don’t blame her for your narcasple “stasia said giving me a hand. S’mores and Maggie appeared with fluffy barking at them. “Fluffy their guests!! “ Chris says as he looks at me like a ghost, “hey mike’s up…. Christian turn that crap down!! “I listen as uptown funk by Mark Robinson feat. Bruno mars played through room “nooo!!!” I said running for the stereo I unplugged it, “how many songs did u play? “ I asked. “ just this “ Christian said “ check the windows and the back door “ I barked as I looked at the song’s stopped time frame 3 minutes and 37 second. I relaxed as Christian comes back “nothing’s out man” “why are you freaking out mike “Jacob asks as he cooked breakfast. “They can hear sound even our voices will attract them. The stereos and all the dogs here I’m surprised we're not dead yet. Everyone fell silent as they stared at my face. I hadn’t noticed till now I had blood of my hands. I looked at the transparent screen of my iPhone 6s+ the blood spatter of blood on my face

Chapter 7 survival

I hold my breath the darkened silence as I hear lily knocking on the door. I raise my head from the sink. Water dripping from my face. Lily shouts from outside the door “u ok in there? “. “Yeah I reply I grab the towel of the rack and wiped off my face. I opened the bathroom door. And get right to business. “I need answers ASAP #1. Chris Where’s urn folks and Bridgett #2. Is the van and 4 wheeler here #3? Stasia and Lilly Jacob and JJ u need to learn how to drive in 6 hours. My phone rings as it the screen stays pitch black at first think it’s an alarm but as pick up the phone up I realize its vibrating and grab the nearest knife located in my back pocket. I pick at the side of my case till it opens I reveal a second device an iPod 5 with words Haven lit up as she facetimes me as it connects Jacob where it came from? I explain that only a small group of people have the contact info to secret phone for emergency. It finally connects I hear Mary scream as a gun fires “Haven what’s happening!!” “ mike thank good please help us pastor Brian and Mr. G r dead we need help “ I hear the fear in her voice as the goosebumps return as response “ Five minutes “ and end the call. JJ hold down the fort Jacob, and Chris your with me grab the van we leave in 5. “Wow who died and made you leader “Chris retorts “Pastor Brian and Mr. Galante “I say as Chris staring at him. “Let’s rock Jacob “he says grabbing his coat and his mom’s keys.

Chapter 8 savage Awakening

A Coma that’s the only way I know how to explain as I rode in the back of Chris’ as Jacob drove down the street which he pretty decent driver. {Better than my “bus driver” dad that’s for sure} The van felt dark and comfort like kind of sleep u don’t want to wake up from. “We’re here” Jacob says I snap my eyes open as the goosebumps cover my face. Chris jumps out the car bat in hand guess it’s from his garage. Instantly we see half a dozen corpses. Jacob yells out “I got it! “As he lifts his axe. He gets closer and confirms my suspicion. He looks at the corpses and it’s Julie Pastor Brian's Wife and the one of the youth group leaders I saw that Jacob was in shock grabbed the bow and ran at Chris then I took an arrow from his Quiver and shot at Julie head. This snapped Jacob into reality or was it when Ben and Andrew came out the side door yelling at us to run. We ran for door making it in by the skin of our teeth. I look in the back to see David huddled in a corner “Ben?” I say looking at David “what happened?” “It was too much. Dad tried to run from them. But tripped and fell it pushed David forward as the door swung closed he watched as Andrew and Pastor Brian ripped him apart as they killed him. “ I’m sorry about your Dad Ben he was a good man” I said “ Hey we all have to die sometime a saw his eyes flicker a little as if a fire had just been started.

Chapter 9 Safe House Pt. 1 & 2

Part 1

I sat in the back with Ashley and David. Ashley sitting balled up in a corner scared out of her mind. On my Right side David looked out the window. I stared down at the floor and closed my eyes as I drifted into nothing. "Mike" I hear voice as I wake up I look up at Kayla "Haven and Kiva need you up front to get to your house" she says I slide past her as she takes her seat. As I reach the front I see Haven talking to Jacob over a walkie talkie. "Mike show us the way" she says. {'Mike we're following you'} “Kiva get off 5th take a right here on to Waterford Dr., it'll take about minute to get down there." I say "ok head down here ". We headed into my back all pull into parking lot next to our house {809 Four Seasons Drive}. "Everyone out getting into my house is our number one priority. Priority #2 not dying. “I said to the entire bus.” then we might want to do that know” Says Jacobs there are about 3 or so dozen Of THEM. "Well then Chris, Corey cover if you anything that's dead moving ... Shoot it." I say as the goosebumps come back. HAVEN: As Mike closed he his eyes I wondered what he was doing. Then he opened his eyes as I see his eyes dilate full of black nothingness, it scared me. “Let’s go “he says in a low but loud tone. We waste about 2 minutes standing around so by the time we got out they down at the end of the ally "Run!!!!!" I hear Parker say as we all run for mike's Garage. Mike punches in the code to his garage. As it rises he yells out "back door is open, GO!!!" I open the back door people pour inside. The only ones left are Mike, Ben, Marlon, Jacob, and Corey “Drop the Macho Act and get inside “I Barked at them. MIKE: heard what she said as we all backed into the garage. I saw David standing in the middle of the alley {" he wants to die"] with hesitation I ran for him" what are you doing”! Jacob shouted. I point at David standing least 10 ft. from a hoard of dead corpses. I unclicked the garage door "Ben, Marlon, Corey, Jacob be ready to shut the garage door shut as soon as we get in" And without waiting for a response. I ran as fast as I could. I picked up David and ran for the garage. With the one arm I wasn't using to carry him( who was surprise light and not restating )I slammed my trash cans on to the ground . I ran into the garage “Close it" I yelled. As they slammed the garage door closed I realigned the chain and we all took a rest then I got up. “Were not done yet.

Part 2

"Ok Ben and Alex move that couch in there onto window ", I say as we walk into the basement / downstairs area. “Got it “ben says without hesitation. He and Alex start to move the couch. “Marlon help me with hall desk upstairs " He follows me upstairs " Why are we moving all this Stuff ?" he asked me as we move the desk " Zombies come in pack small that maul and suffocate people. Large ones that knock down doors, Gates, and walls. We’re reinforcing the doors and downstairs windows, for precaution." I say he nods in approval. After the front door and downstairs windows were secure. And the Main TV was brought out my mom's room we monitored the news. I explain how the Media referred to it as an “OUTBREAK” because they don't know what's going on. “And you do?” Stephen says in disbelief “Yes, their dead corpses walking among us, bloodthirsty and savage. The only way to "CURE" them ..." " Is to kill THEM” Ben says as grips him knife he uses to cut an apple and chops through it. “Exactly " David saying his first all evening he and his brother stare at each other and I saw their savage awakening

#unwritten #pkstudios #HOTD

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ozma914 · 5 years

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Walking Dead/Smoky and The Bandit crossover fanfiction. No, really.

So, I saw a familiar semi trailer on an episode of The Walking Dead last year:

Turns out it is the very same trailer that was part of Bandit's semi (although if you ask me, it should have been called Snowman's semi, since he drove it through most of the movie). Well, that got my creative juices flowing. How did that trailer end up on the side of the road, during the zombie apocalypse? So I wrote the story, and you can find it on the newsletter: https://mailchi.mp/2abeb8e942f2/what-do-the-walking-dead-and-smokey-and-the-bandit-have-in-common? Which, for some reason, seemed to erase the comparison photo above after I sent it out. So people are saying, "What's that funny little icon, and what semi trailer are you talking about?" And I apparently can't edit my newsletter once it's sent, which kinda makes sense since it's been sent since (say that three times fast), so I'm posting it here, too. One of the fun things about fanfiction is that you can merge two worlds that would otherwise never exist. My old fanfiction can be found under Ozma914 over at fanfiction.net, and includes such things as a meeting between Doctor Who and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ONE LAST LONG HAUL

“Bandit, this is the Snowman. Looks like those deadheads got the highway backed up all the way up to the 360. C’mon back.”

Snowman released the mic before letting his frustration out with a series of curses. Not that anyone cared about cussing on the radio anymore, but old habits, and all. He braked the eighteen wheeler, looking for a way around the sea of walking dead that stretched across the two lane highway as far as the eye could see. Suggesting the herd stopped at the 360 mile marker was wishful thinking.

“Snowman, we’re working on it, son. But the interstate’s a no-go—full of parked cars to the Carolina state line. We gotta find a way through ‘em, even if you dent my rig.”

Well, then. Attracted by the truck’s rumbling diesel engine, the walkers had started moving his way. Snowman put the rig in reverse and started backing slowly, while considering his options. This was the part where he’d talk to Fred, if his poor old dog hadn’t passed away years ago. Maybe it was for the best.

He was down to an eighth of a tank. The trailer, still decorated from the glory days with its bandit and stagecoach décor, was empty after a failed supply run to the south. He could always abandon it and try to hike around the herd, to get back to his friends and family.

It would take forever.

For a moment Snowman rubbed his three day stubble, then picked up the mic again. “Bandit … you find a place for the group?”

“I did, but we used up about all our gas getting there. Safe place, Snowman—I already dropped off your wife and kids, they’re fine. Guy in charge there’s got a tiger. A real tiger! You gotta see it. I picked up some more friends, too.”

Snowman chuckled, but he also understood Bandit’s underlying meaning. He had to see it. Had to get there, and with their fuel about out, that would be their last stop. No more long hauls across the countryside. Well, they were getting too old for that, anyway.

But first he had to get there.

“Now, son, don’t do anything stupid. We’re on our way.”

“Heh. Bandit, son, I think ‘stupid’ and ‘get through’ might be connected.” Snowman backed up more, being careful to stay between the lines. No tow trucks, not anymore. After some mental calculations, he backed up another hundred feet. It was all about force versus control.

There were thousands of them, shambling toward him. Thousands. And what if they someday turned north, and headed toward his family’s new sanctuary?

“Bandit, you make sure they get taken care of, y’hear?”

“Snowman, now, we’re almost there--!”

Almost there in what? That light little Trans Am? It wouldn’t make it past the first row. Snowman checked his safety belt, jammed the truck into gear, and hit the gas.

As he worked through the gears, the empty truck picked up speed quickly. He barely even felt the first impacts, as bodies flew right and left, but soon the rig began to shudder and lose momentum. The steering wheel jerked as bodies piled up beneath the semi. Snowman gripped it harder, his foot still hard on the accelerator.

There were so many dead. He got only a glimpse of one before it hit the corner of the cab—the guy was a giant, probably this biggest man in Virginia, or maybe the whole Southeast. At least, that was the instant impression Snowman got of him—six foot eight easy, closing in on 400 pounds. He must have been an easy target for the walkers, but he looked freshly dead … or as close to fresh as the dead got, these days.

The giant disappeared, and the big rig veered to the right.

The steering wheel spun out of Snowman’s hands. Without the seatbelt he’d have been thrown across the cab, as the semi launched itself across a ditch and into a field. Cursing, he hauled the wheel to the left and hung on as the truck jounced its way back toward the road, losing speed way too fast.

Suddenly it surged forward—he’d lost the trailer in the grass behind him.

For a moment he thought he’d get control back, but now the engine began stuttering as he steered through a grassy area, looking for a good place to regain the pavement. When the front wheels hit the ditch again, they stayed there. Somehow he’d kept the truck upright, but as its engine went silent Snowman knew this was the end of the line.

He’d made it maybe three-quarters of the way through the herd. Now those that could still walk did, headed toward where they’d last seen noise and movement.

“Took a lot of 'em with us, though.” He had a knife, strapped to his belt. There was the metal bar by the door, the same one Bandit had used to check tire pressure since he hauled his first load, all those years ago. But when Snowman reached for it, it was gone, maybe bounced somewhere behind the seat. “Well, now.” Snowman scooped up the mic. “Bandit, this is the Snowman, you got your ears on?”

“Snowman, you keepin’ the sunny side up and the bloody side down?”

Snowman gave a short laugh. “Son, I’m still up, but the rig’s down for the count. Didn’t quite make it through that crowd of deadheads, they’re worse than hittin’ Atlanta at rush hour. Don’t think I’m gonna make our rendezvous.” So close. His hand closed over the knife hilt, but already the dead were approaching the cab door, clustering up by the dozens. At least Bandit and Frog would take care of his family.

Then he heard a sound he’d never imagined hearing again. A sound he used to hate.

A siren.

“What?” Far ahead, through spatters and streaks of blood on the truck windshield, red lights flashed. A truck engine roared as it plowed into the herd.

It moved forward relentlessly, the gore collecting on it blending with its red paint job. A fire truck.

“Okay, Snowman, if you can’t make the rendezvous, we’ll just have to bring the rendezvous to you. Ten-four?”

As the truck got closer Bandit’s grinning face—how did he keep that handsome mustache in this mess?—appeared behind the wheel. He had two passengers, a small female in the front and someone he couldn’t make out in the back. The truck knocked down the closest walkers, then stopped in line with the semi cab. Bandit had to keep a little distance to allow for door clearance, and a few walkers stumbled forward until the figure in the back opened his door and drew a revolver.

Holy crap. It can’t be.

“What are you waitin’ for, you sumbitch? Get your ass in the truck!” Hanging from the cab, Sheriff Buford T. Justice took one-handed aim and blew a hole in the nearest walker’s head. Three more shots, three more dead-on hits. Then he scooted across the back seat—pretty quickly, for someone his size—to give Snowman room.

It was an easy jump from semi to fire truck. Well, easy when you didn’t want to touch what was jumbled across the pavement between them.

As soon as the door closed, Bandit put the truck into reverse. His legendary driving ability served him well as he backed up in the same path he’d entered, using only the side mirrors to navigate. A few more walkers had stumbled into that route, but proved no problem for the fire engine’s powerful motor. Through it all, Bandit still had time to flash his friend a grin. “You all owe me for that truck!”

“But how--?” Snowman flailed his arm toward the uniformed man beside him, who he now realized had lost a lot of weight. “How--?”

Justice made a dismissive wave, then realized he still held the gun and holstered it. “You think the gol-durn apocalypse is gonna keep me from tracking you and the Bandit down?”

Snowman glanced at Frog--no, Carrie, since CB handles hadn't mattered for a long time. She'd turned to kneel on her seat so she could see them. He saw the sympathy in her eyes, which made him look at Justice more closely and see the hangdog look, the dark bags under his eyes. His hat was gone, his hair pure white. “Sheriff … um, where’s Junior?”

Justice made a scoffing noise. “After my wife passed on, Junior wasn’t worth a bag of hair.” He squared his shoulders. “He went down fightin’ though, I’ll give him that.”

“I’m sorry, Sheriff,” Carrie said. “He was a good boy.”

“Yeah, well. After that, seemed like there wasn’t anything left but pursuin’ you all. So that’s what I did.”

“You caught us, sure enough.” Having made it through the horde, Bandit turned the truck around and accelerated away. “We’ll be out of gas by the time we get back to that crazy king and his tiger, so looks like our chasing days are over.”

They were all silent for a moment, as the truck roared down the road. “Guess my wife will be glad about that,” Snowman finally said. “So, how did you find that place, anyway?”

Bandit laughed. “Got waved down by a guy who looks exactly like Jesus, he pointed us that way. Said we’d fit right in.”

“So—you let Jesus take the wheel?" Snowman couldn’t help laughing. "Ten-four."

"I'm not going down there. I hear zombies down there."

#writing fanfiction fanfic crossover WalkingDead SmokeyandTheBandit TWD

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yahoo-puck-daddy-blog · 6 years

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What We Learned: The NHL's other looming free agent apocalypse

Blake Wheeler will be difficult for the Jets to retain. (Jonathan Kozub/NHLI via Getty Images)

After all the attention that has been understandably paid to Toronto’s current and future salary cap situation, it got me thinking about other elite teams and what their cap situations look like going forward.

Obviously Tampa is going to have some big issues dealing with their roster, even before the potential addition of Erik Karlsson, simply because they have so many elite and very good players. They’re already close to a cap crunch of sorts, and next summer they will have to strike new deals for Nikita Kucherov, Yanni Gourde, Brayden Point, Anton Stralman, Slater Koekkoek, and Jake Dotchin, among other players.

It’s therefore likely that seismic changes are on the way for that roster, but this is something that’s already pretty broadly acknowledged league-wide. However, there’s another top team that is going to be staring down some serious issues in the future and could end up having to make some difficult decisions in short order.

Winnipeg currently has the lowest cap obligation in the league as of this writing (less than $52.7 million, giving them about $26.8 million to play with right now). As we await word of new contracts for seven restricted free agents. While most of them aren’t going to be too expensive, the new deals for Connor Hellebuyck and Jacob Trouba will likely be significant. Altogether you can expect those seven guys to pull perhaps $20 million against the cap, which leaves the Jets with plenty of room this year.

That is, one supposes, a benefit of finding a buyer for Steve Mason’s contract and Paul Stastny bouncing for Vegas with no replacement in sight except probably from within.

But it’s next year that’s the problem. The Jets will enter the 2019 offseason with about as much money in cap obligations as they have this year, but a good chunk of the core likely locked up long-term. However, they will also have to re-sign Patrik Laine and Kyle Connor among their RFAs, and both will probably be quite costly. Laine especially could potentially command at least Leon Draisaitl money, if not more (one supposes this depends heavily on what the Leafs give their pending RFAs). Again, these are deals the Jets can comfortably fit under the cap.

But it’s the UFAs that pose some serious problems. Can they reasonably afford to retain or find replacements for Blake Wheeler and Tyler Myers? You can say what you like about Myers’ contributions to the team, especially vis a vis his $5.5 million cap hit, but he’s at least a second-pair defenseman and those seem to be getting fairly expensive these days; you can probably get an upgrade at the same price point, but not as much as one might think, even if the cap goes up substantially again (which it probably won’t).

However, you absolutely won’t find a reasonable replacement for Wheeler, who’s a point-a-game guy and makes just $5.5 million against the cap. So the question becomes how much do you pay him, since he’ll be 32 to start the new deal, and what do you reasonably expect from him? Because if you’re committing multiple years and a raise to a player that far past 30, you might be in a bit of trouble sooner than later.

And while there will be a few intriguing UFA forwards potentially hitting the market that same summer (Tyler Seguin, Jeff Skinner, Jordan Eberle) the question, again, becomes what you pay those guys to hopefully be almost as good as Wheeler.

The issue for the Jets isn’t so much the salary cap as it is the fact that they’re a budget team. They have a small venue in a small market and have traditionally shied away from really approaching the cap ceiling. Last year they were more than $5 million short of it, and the season before that their obligations were about $6.5 million short. So the question becomes not only if the Jets will be able to keep those guys, but if they have the stomach to push that close to the cap ceiling (likely over $80 million at the very least) to do it. They have never exceeded $70 million in cap obligations, and though they probably will this year, one wonders if there’s a natural stopping point south of whatever the cap’s upper limit is.

If so, that creates some potentially uncomfortable questions for Kevin Cheveldayoff. On the one hand, the Jets are likely to be a top-five team in the league again this season and that carries with it the need to be as competitive as possible with an elite roster. But can this team really afford to potentially let Wheeler and/or Myers walk in free agency and get nothing in return?

There is only one bad contract on the roster that could be moveable, because that ill-advised Dmitry Kulikov deal expires after 2019-20 and you might be able to talk someone into taking your $4.33 million bottom-pair defender if you sweeten the pot or pull off a stunning con.

I don’t know that there’s a comfortable answer in what to do here, especially if there’s an internal budget that must be adhered to. You probably can’t trade a Wheeler-type player if you’re in the thick of a divisional title and potentially going after the Presidents’ Trophy. But if you keep him, don’t win the Cup, and then maybe have to let him walk in free agency, that’s going to be tough to deal with organizationally.

Again, you don’t often get multiple years of a guy scoring a point a game for just $5.6 million, so the Jets have enjoyed a significant luxury. They likely won’t get anything like it again in this league.

This is, to be sure, a rich man’s problem. When you have so many good players it becomes difficult to pay them all, it’s a lot better than the alternative. And Cheveldayoff has really put the Jets in a position where they have relatively few contracts on the books that could even be considered “iffy.”

How he maneuvers out of this fix will be pretty telling when it comes to the future of one of the best young teams in the league.

What We Learned

Anaheim Ducks: The Ducks’ power play wasn’t that good the past few years, but is it really something they can fix?

Arizona Coyotes: It’s good that we’re getting more stories about how it’s not easy to be a person of color and play this sport at a high level.

Boston Bruins: Yeah, pretty hard to disagree with this assessment.

Buffalo Sabres: Jack Eichel has been in the league too long to be able to change his number without also changing teams. It’s unacceptable.

Calgary Flames: If Spencer Foo makes the Flames’ roster, that’s probably not a good sign for the Flames’ depth.

Carolina Hurricanes: You really have to like that Calvin de Haan deal but at the same time, it’s not some sort of huge game-changer.

Chicago: Bowman hasn’t made a move to improve this team’s not-good defense, which seems like it’s not a good idea.

Colorado Avalanche: Where did anyone on earth get the idea that John Tavares might have even considered signing with Colorado? Come on.

Columbus Blue Jackets: That was a nice little extension for Boone Jenner. Can’t be mad at it.

Dallas Stars: If you get the chance to add Erik Karlsson, you take it regardless of what’s being asked. But Jeff Skinner wouldn’t be a bad consolation prize.

Detroit Red Wings: It’s possible that Filip Zadina would be able to play in the AHL if he doesn’t make the Red Wings roster, but he’ll probably make the Red Wings roster.

Edmonton Oilers: Who could have seen this Lucic deal turning into a nightmare on the day it was signed? No one!

Florida Panthers: The Panthers are gonna be a cap-limit team. Probably should have kept those Vegas guys, eh?

Los Angeles Kings: The Kings have invested in a startup with four employees and no headquarters that makes it cheaper to make good ice for hockey rinks. I’ll believe it when I see it.

Minnesota Wild: Remember when it used to be a big scandal to suggest the Wild didn’t have a lot of impact talent on the roster? Well…

Montreal Canadiens: This Shea Weber thing is so awful for the Canadiens and Marc Bergevin specifically. There are EIGHT years left on this guy’s deal.

Nashville Predators: The Preds just made a big free agency mistake.

New Jersey Devils: No. Next question.

New York Islanders: This is one of those “whether he likes it or not” things.

New York Rangers: A thing teams with cap space should always do is try to get in on trades as third-party negotiators, take on some salary and get picks and prospects out of it. Always use as much cap space as you can if it gets you something.

Ottawa Senators: This headline is bleak.

Philadelphia Flyers: Based on where Christian Folin went to college, this is a very savvy pickup.

Pittsburgh Penguins: Barring a bounceback year from Matt Murray (possible), the Pens are firmly outside the top five teams in the league but also probably somewhere solidly in the top eight.

San Jose Sharks: Nice little contract for Dylan DeMelo. Term and money look good for both sides.

St. Louis Blues: Dmitrij Jaskin never really panned out as expected, huh? He only had six goals last season.

Tampa Bay Lightning: Pretty amazing how fast you can go from “we might be done for the summer” to “we might trade for one of the best players alive.”

Toronto Maple Leafs: We’re still gonna act like the Leafs have the flexibility to trade for a defenseman of note, huh?

Vancouver Canucks: Im… improve the power play? Am I reading that right?

Vegas Golden Knights: I love this Colin Miller deal. Really good player signed cheap for his entire prime.

Washington Capitals: Real nervous to see how this Tom Wilson deal works out. It’s gonna be bonkers.

Winnipeg Jets: This is bold prognostication.

Gold Star Award

This is very nice from Vegas.

Minus of the Weekend

Just trade Karlsson already!!!

Perfect HFBoards Trade Proposal of the Week

User “xNogaitx” has it figured out.

To Montreal: Carl Hagelin (4M) Daniel Sprong (750k) 2019 1st round pick Conditional 2021 2nd round pick *

To Pittsburgh: Max Pacioretty (4.5M) – Retained 2M Paul Byron (1.16M)

Signoff

No mother, it’s just the Northern Lights.

Ryan Lambert is a Puck Daddy columnist. His email is here and his Twitter is here.

(All stats via Corsica unless otherwise noted.)

#_uuid:1ade93a4-6f4f-3361-98e8-1f1d29025cf5 #_revsp:21d636bb-8aa8-4731-9147-93a932d2b27a #_lmsid:a077000000CFoGyAAL #_author:Ryan Lambert

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Starcrossed Losers XVI (Josh Wheeler xReader)

A/N: This is when I tell you to be ready to get a tad sad.

Words: 5,605

Warnings: None!

Previous chapter // Next chapter

KJ is a fucking genius.

She knows things I didn’t even know were a thing, the info currency? Why would someone need those?

Then I thought about our situation and I went ‘Oh, that’s why’.

We have to cross half of the town to get to where we could find someone who could talk to a member of Turbo’s tribe. You better be sure I brought my skates and Katie with me (I named my hammer after my sister, you know, it helps me cope... sort of).

That also means we have to cross different tribe’s territories. The shortest road is through the uh, cowboys tribe thing... 4-H? I just realized how I said I know every inch of the city, I do, but the people in it? Not so much.

Tribes have expanded, I know the basic ones: Cheeramazons, Jocks, and the derivatives of the jocks. I know somewhere there are gamers, the cowboys and Kardashian... I know I’m missing lots and lots but is not really a big deal, I’m just a girl, I don’t have to know everything.

Anyway, 4-H accepts the food and allow us to go through their territory, fifteen minutes later we found ourselves on a narrow alley, in front of us there’s a big trailer box with videogames characters drawn all over it.

KJ knocks on it with a rock and a small compartment opens, a crossbow points directly to KJ’s head and we jump back.

The person inside speaks but I don’t understand what they say, KJ answers back and after a few, scary seconds, the crossbow disappears.

“That wasn’t Chinese,” says Josh.

“It’s Dothraki,” She answers simply, “I also know Na’vi, Elvish and a little Hebrew.”

She looks over her shoulder and shrugs.

“The JCC had a good preschool.”

Josh grins, clearly impressed by the girl’s abilities. I'm... astonished, to say the least. This girl is a box of surprises all around.

So the gate opens and KJ is the first one to enter, then me, then Josh. The room is dark and we can only see the helmet of the person in front of us. They slap KJ across the face and I gasp.

“You’ve got some nerve KJ, after the shit you pulled in Frogtown,” Says the person in a somehow robotic voice.

When they take off the helmet, I recognize the girl.

There’s a silence before KJ and her laugh, high fiving each other.

“Meet Aria Killigan and her elite strikeforce, The Game Overs.”

“I know who she is,” I tilt my head, smirking, “this is what you ended up doing after leaving?”

“Y/N?” Aria gives me a half-smile, “What are you doing with KJ?”

Aria and I weren’t the closest friends, but she used to sit with us during lunch and she’d spend the whole time fighting with Alex about crazy Star Wars theories. She was the one who introduced Stuart to us.

I remember her as a sharp, fun person. When the apocalypse happened she stayed with us a few days and one morning she was gone without explanation, I never heard from her again.

Until now, of course.

Inside there are three kids that were usually with her during free hours, playing on their phones. Unfortunately, I never learned any of their names, I don’t think they care, though. They didn’t even turn to look at us as we got in.

“These are assassins?” I hear Josh behind me, asking in what it sounds a skeptical tone, “You play videogames”

“We’re combat-ready unit. Check out our Ghoulie kill-count,” She points to a bunch of pictures of celebrities.

“Jonah Hill’s kind of an easy target,” Josh says.

“Fat Jonah Hill sure, but skinny Jonah Hill is agile AF”

“What were his last words?” Asks KJ.

“I’m friends with Brad Pitt,” Answers Aria.

“Of course,” KJ nods along.

“Can we focus on the plan for a moment?” I ask.

“You can’t be for real,” My friend scoffs, “this is like a ten-year-old’s birthday party playing games on Nerf mode.”

“We’re online in elite arenas,” Replies Aria, “the bombs didn’t knock out satellites. We’re playing across the globe: Korea, Norway, Brazil...”

“We’re not the only ones left,” KJ adds, “there’s a whole wide world”

“Is it... Is it the same everywhere?” Josh asks, “Like, just kids no adults or do they have adults like Baron Triumph and the Witch? Are there animals mutating? Do they know why this happened? Why the bombs went off of why we survived?”

I was expecting this to be everywhere, not gonna lie. Adults wouldn’t just give up California so easily to kids if that wasn’t the case.

Still, it breaks my heart. I feel like they’ve taken away all the possibilities I had to build my own life how I wanted, now the only thing I can aspire to have is enough food for the month and don’t get my scalp burnt with acid rain. Oh yeah, we have those now more than ever.

Aria rolls her eyes and looks at KJ and me.

“What’s the mission?”

“Liquidate Turbo Bro-Jock,” says KJ.

“Fuck off,” scoffs Aria, going back to her chair.

“Don’t get shook!” KJ exclaims.

“No,” She replies, “Highschool taught us one thing: there are winners and there are losers. The best way to live: don’t pick sides. That’s why gamers are anonymous.”

I used to agree with that philosophy. I was a loner with no strings attached that would stop me from survival. The thing is that I can’t stay away from the problem when the problem is after my head, specifically.

I can’t afford to step back and hope for forgiveness. I have to act.

“Don’t forget who pulled you out of the shit in Encino,” Huffs KJ, “you owe me. If you do this, you’re off my books”

“Listen, Aria, I know it sounds crazy but you wouldn’t be doing this on your own. I spent time with the jocks, I was their cleaning lady before Owen appeared and I know everything about the traps and secrets entrances but I can’t do it without someone helping us from inside. You think you can find one?”

Aria takes a moment to think, then sighs.

“Fine. We’ll help you,” She scoffs, Aria turns on her screen and we step closer, “we’ve been playing Overwatch with a Jock. His username is 5318008. This dude wants to kill Turbo for real.”

“He’s the one that’s gonna help us?” Asks Josh, looking at the screen.

“That’s the plan,” Aria shrugs, “our inside man should be online soon.”

“Okay,” I nod, “tell him that I’ll help. I mean, don’t tell him my name cause they surely won’t remember me but do tell him that there’s someone who knows their way in and only needs someone to make sure the hall will be empty when we get in”

“Sure,” Aria looks at me for a second, “I’m glad you’re alive, Y/N. Is Alex still with you?”

“He came back like a week ago, he’s fine,” I smile, “as annoying as ever... you know anything about Stuart?”

“I don’t know where he is,” She shrugs, “sorry I bailed on you, I simply didn’t feel like that was my place.”

“I understand, we weren’t perfect,” I sigh.

She leans her back against the seat and turns aggressively towards Josh.

“Hey, quit fogging up my screen, mouth breather!”

“Come,” Grumbles KJ, standing up and pulling Josh with her.

“I’ll leave you to it,” I tell her, “thank you, seriously.”

Aria has her eyes fixed on the screen.

When I get to where Josh and KJ are, I hear them arguing in hurried whispers.

“I had no idea any of this was here”

“Because you’re an epic noob.”

“I do fine, thank you,” Josh frowns.

“Doing fine is why you’re a noob,” She replies, “that goes for the both of you”

“Not fair,” I reply in a grumble, “I know how to defend myself”

“By hiding inside trash containers?”

“Better to be a liar, like you?” Josh is quick to ask.

“Don’t you get it?” She scoffs, “Moral codes are worth less than stale Cheetos.”

That I don’t agree. We don’t have any rules but it doesn’t mean I’ll be going full savage on people. I’m a good person! Adults fucked up the world because they were too busy ‘trying to survive’ on their cruel society by cheating and stepping on others, can’t they see how this is exactly the same shit?

“If you’re such a ninja then how come you were caught by Triumph?”

“First, that’s racist. And second, you were caught too.”

“It wasn’t our fault! The jocks had cornered us into an alley.”

“And I got us free,” Adds Josh.

“Because of me,” KJ scoffs.

“Why are you even helping us?” He frowns, “You don’t seem like the type who’d do something for nothing”

“I don’t,” She responds coldly.

That sends a shiver up my spine and causes me to stop their arguing.

“I get that you’ve been surviving on some kind of trading favors and collecting debts but can’t you see that’s the kind of issue that ended the world in the first place? I’m not saying we should form a circle and tell our biggest insecurities but maybe cut us some fucking slack, it’s us the ones that have been getting death threats”

“Turbo throws death threats to everyone. If you can’t handle it, maybe you shouldn’t be the leaders”

“You shouldn’t be threatening us with that,” I reply, now upset, “I don’t look like the killing type, but I assure you, I can get rid of nuisances. I have.”

KJ glares at me, for a second I think she’s gonna kick us out, tell us that she’s changed her mind and she’ll tell Aria to stop her search. Luckily for me, Aria speaks up.

“Yes!” She exclaims, “All right. 5318008 is on board. He’ll help us get inside the school. We move at 1700, full battle rattle. Tonight, we squelch Turbo Pokaski.”

“Cool,” I feel my hands getting colder, “nice! I need a moment.”

I get out, the skates don’t make it easier, so I step on a few feet by accident. I manage to leave the room and walk out to the narrow alley. I sit on an old tire and lean my face against my good hand.

Going back to school wasn’t on my plans for the summer, let alone killing Turbo. I know I kinda threatened KJ with killing her is she tries to kick us out of the mall but that was me trying to sound scary. I don’t kill people! I swore off killing after smashing my sister’s head, which sounds horrid enough.

Ghoulies don’t count, they don’t really feel and they’re no longer people. Turbo? That’s a whole different thing.

I need to calm myself down cause either if I want it or not it’s gonna happen, so my mind needs to be clear when the time comes.

Songs always calm me down. I try to think of one and my brain runs hurriedly through the folders and folders of songs I’ve learned through the years.

I’m a good person, so I’ll share the song with you.

“I wanna be a great one I wanna make a million dollars Making all my days count Clowning with my day ones...”

I slowly start to sing under my breath, my eyes tightly closed and my hands still cold as ice.

I don’t want to do this. This is all the adults’ fault. If it wasn’t because of their stupid nuclear war and their thirst for power I would still be going to school, normal as ever, spending time with my friends and planning my future.

I had a plan, you know? I was going to study to become an artist. I wanted to be rich and live in a small house in Europe where everyday the mornings would be soft and the nights cold but cozy. I was going to be the best of... of whatever I was supposed to be. Now I don’t have a plan.

Well, I do.

I’m about to kill a kid.

“You have a nice voice”

I jump and cut my singing instantly, looking over my shoulder with wide eyes.

“Josh, could you not do that when I’m on the verge of a breakdown?”

“A breakdown?” He raises a brow, “You know, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to”

“I have to,” I shake my head, “I’m the only one who knows the way in, I can’t let them down. Aria agreed to this only cause I’m taking the risk too.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand”

“They’ll understand shit,” I frown, “didn’t you hear KJ? As soon as we show weakness they’ll eat us. I can’t have that after all I’ve been through.”

“KJ was just bluffing, I’m sure she doesn’t have what it takes to lead the kids”

“And we do?” I huff, “Josh look at us, we’re unknown children. The only reason they respect and ‘trust us’ is because they think that what you did back with Triumph is what we do on the daily”

“You think they’ll turn on us?”

“If what KJ said is true and they have no morals, yes.”

Josh sits beside me, now he looks as affected as me.

“That’s why I have to go,” I continue, “if I take direct part on Turbo’s death, you and I will seem bulletproof. The guy that beat Triumph and the girl that killed Turbo? We’ll be safe for the rest of our lives... that’s something, considering I’ll have to stay here for the rest of my fucking existence.”

I see how he turns to look at me by the corner of my eye.

“I think that going over to kill Turbo is not the real reason why you’re upset.”

“This is not how I was planning to spend my teenage years,” I reply, “I feel like I’m the only person alive with common sense on the area and that means I’ll have to spend the rest of my life hiding from people if I don’t want to get killed for something as stupid as fake power.”

“That’s a bit unfair on the rest of us,” Josh scoffs, “what about Angelica and Alex? They’re good people. Alex came back because he cares about you and Angelica adores you and would do anything for you, even if she’s too stubborn to admit it. That’s the reason why she didn’t light Maya on fire, she has a flexible moral, but she’s loyal. Don’t listen to KJ. You’re not alone.”

“Can’t you see that’s exactly the problem?” I ask in exasperation, “If I were alone I could just disappear and try in a different city, I could move away”

“So you’re saying we’re stopping you from being happy?”

“I’m saying that I would give zero shits to loyalty and morals if I hadn’t met you in the first place. You ruined everything.”

This is the reason why I keep my mouth shut when I’m angry.

Josh looks at me in stunned silence, his face is one of innocent surprise at first, then he looks pissed.

“Let me make things easier for you,” He stands up and leaves.

No song can fix this now.

I stand up again, easing my breathing and checking my phone. It’s a quarter ‘til five, time to leave.

The Game Overs get out of their cave and Aria gives me a small mike.

“What’s this?”

“We have to be connected while we walk around the school looking for Turbo.”

“We’re gonna break the group?”

“We cover more areas like that”

“We’ll die faster like that”

“Just do as she says,” KJ interrupts me, “Aria knows what she’s doing.”

I look at Josh, searching for a sign that he supports me. He ignores me, arms crossed and avoiding my eyes.

I don’t have time for boy’s tantrums. What I said was wrong and it hurt him and I will apologize, but right now I just don’t have the time.

“Alright,” I say, putting the microphone on, “let’s go.”

“Good luck,” Says KJ.

It takes us exactly half an hour to arrive at the limits of the school. Aria stands next to me.

“Very well, Vinchi,” Aria tells me, “lead the way.”

“Please, don’t call me Vinchi,” I say, “what did the jock tell you?”

“He’s waiting for the lights to drop,” She says, “so you better tell us how to do that”

“Here,” I walk over to where the parking lot is, we have to move quietly, my skates are certainly loud but it looks like they’re on lockdown and no one’s outside.

It takes us a few minutes, but I manage to find the main power source and they’re quick to cut it. We walk over to the cafeteria’s back entrance and we enter quietly through the kitchen. I hear Aria talking through her microphone.

“Power is cut, username 5318008 said that we could find Turbo in Mrs. Fitz old class”

I stop moving.

“That’s not where he is”

“Everyone move into kill positions,” Aria ignores me.

They scatter around me.

“Aria!” I whisper-yell, “Aria, listen to me! Turbo’s room is the principal’s office, not Mrs. Fitz classroom! I cleaned it a thousand times-”

“Y/N, stop talking or they’ll find us!” Aria tells me through the mike, “Move!”

I have a bad feeling about this, but I can’t leave them alone.

“Shit,” I whisper once I’m out of the cafeteria, “Where are you?”

They’re really good, fast. I can’t see where they went.

Everyone tells me their positions, then Styx gets deadly quiet.

“Styx is fragged,” I hear Josh say.

“I knew it!” I respond, “Aria, this was a fucking trap.”

“Everyone hold their position,” She insists, “Y/N, don’t you dare try something outside the plan”

“Sorry, Aria,” I reply.

Of course, the next thing I do is quit the plan.

“Bronyboy is offline,” KJ says.

Okay, what the fuck do I do now? It looks like my fate is to fail forever in every plan I’ve ever made. So new plan: Improvise.

I hated when characters used to do that in movies or tv shows, like ‘Oh sure I’ll improvise and then everything will miraculously turn out better than expected’ cause you know that’s not true. You know as soon as you try to improvise, shit blows up and you end up losing. We are not good at improvising. That’s a recipe for disaster.

So I might as well try it, am I right? My life is a fucking mess already and Josh hates me, let’s go and die.

As I move through the halls my brain is almost melting, desperately trying to find a sort of plan B that could get us out.

“Something is wrong here, something is really fucking wrong.”

“I told you five minutes ago, this was a trap,” I growl, “User five-six-whatever lied to us. Now we have to get our asses outside!”

“You’re the last ones standing, guys,” Says Josh, referring to me and Killigan.

“Fuck! Turbo isn’t in Mrs. Fitz class, there’s just some scared kids in here...”

I hear hurried steps on my right and I move as fast as I can to the closest door... a janitor’s closet. I open it silently, closing the door behind me.

“Y/N, where are you?” Asks KJ.

Her voice comes out too loud and I rip the microphone away from my face, turning it off. This will surely make them think that I got caught, it doesn’t matter. It’s safer.

I hear Turbo’s grunts and hurried footsteps going to Mrs. Fitz classroom. I wait until I hear total silence again and get out of my hiding spot. I have my hammer with me, but I can’t take Turbo on my own.

I skate fast through the halls, I run into the room where they keep the unused weapons and an idea pops into my brain. If they don’t have spare weapons, they can’t fight as long.

When I enter everything is dark, but it’s empty. I knew it would be empty, I lived here you know, and they don’t really watch over unused things.

There’s a big bag where they put all the balls when they’re not playing. I empty it by throwing the balls away as fast as I can and I grab every crossbow, machete, and bats that crosses my way. When I feel like I have enough (and that is not too heavy for me to flee the scene) I turn around to leave.

I'm met with the point of a dart gun.

“Stay where you are,” The boy holding it warns me.

Apparently, today is the day I get to reunite with old acquaintances.

I recognize the voice immediately.

“Nathan?”

“Y/N?” He lowers the gun, “Holy shit, I thought you were dead!”

“I’m about to die,” I try to look as innocent as possible, “but if you so kindly let me get out...”

Nathan and I know each other since freshman year. We had a nice relationship while it lasted. He was the first guy to quit our group after the nuke, never actually joined our group. The first loner I met.

Nathan frowns, pointing the gun at me again.

“You know I can’t do that. If Turbo or Mona find out-”

“They don’t have to,” I say calmly, “you got here recently, didn’t you? I never saw you while I was here...”

“Uh, yeah that’s-that’s a fun story-”

“You’ll have to save it for later,” I cut him off, “let me go.”

“Y/N...”

“I can’t explain it right now, but I’m one of the mall kids and I need to put a stop to this stupid fight,” I say, now a bit more stressed, “please Nathan, if you ever actually liked me as a person you will let me go.”

I see him struggle with his own thoughts and for a moment I think, ‘There, that’s a guy that’s loyal to his tribe’ but it also makes me feel terrible cause if that’s true that means I’m dead.

Then he says:

“Follow me. Don’t make any sudden moves or noises, they’re about to turn on the power again so we have to get you out before that”

There, that’s a guy with good morals.

“You’re the best,” I sigh.

Now, I don’t have any reason to trust him, besides the fact that we used to be friends. According to KJ that’s all baby food now, if he’s bad he’ll give me away.

But he doesn’t. Nathan guides me to a back entrance, close to the basketball court and helps me carry the bag so we can move faster.

“If you’re trying to avoid a fight why are you stealing weapons?” He asks me.

“If he doesn’t have enough weapons he can’t send his tribe to war.”

“Yeah but... well, what are you gonna do with them?”

“We don’t have weapons back at the mall, we need to be prepared, to be fair your tribe attacked us first.”

“I wasn’t there during the fight. I stayed to look over the school”

“Well, you avoided an obvious defeat”

“You’re avoiding one now”

“No, I’m about to go back with a half-win. Turbo won’t even know who took the stuff.”

We stop close to the limits of the parking lot, here I can move on my own, it will take me a while since I’m only one tiny person carrying a huge bag with weapons but I’m outside. I made it out and I feel extremely guilty cause I left Aria behind.

“Nathan... Aria was part of the group that came with me, would you..? Could you make sure they don’t hurt her?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Nathan frowns, “don’t think I’ll make it, though. I’m just a nobody and it will look suspicious if I insist.”

“I understand. Thank you anyway,” I give him a quick hug before turning away.

“Y/N?” He asks once I’m halfway gone.

“Yes?” I look over my shoulder.

He gives me a small smile.

“It was nice seeing you again.”

Should I... no. We don’t need to go there tonight. Maybe one day, but not tonight.

“Yeah, I liked seeing you too,” I nod, turning back and skating away as fast as my legs allow.

Something feels different inside me. After being this close to dying cause I trusted in the words of a person I didn’t really know right away. Why did I trust them so easily?

More importantly, how can’t I trust Josh after all he’s done and after all we’ve been through? He’s good. He has nothing but good intentions with me, or at least that’s what I think.

Somehow during my way back, I realize it’s not about trust, nor about how many lies has he said during his life. It’s about how much I want to help him and how much that upsets me.

The stupid loyalty.

“What is life? What is love? What are lies? What is trust? What is everything?”

But does it really matter? Is it really worth it to live without a care in the world if that means I can’t be with Josh? If it means I have to stay alone when all I want to do is to hold his stupid hand, then I don’t think I want to keep my morals intact.

“Everything is nothing without you”

I want to worry, I want to build a tribe that I can rely on. I want to feel alive again, almost as if I had a plan for the rest of my life.

I have a plan.

“Running, I'm running I'm running outta patience I wanna be a great one”

Everything I knew about the apocalypse and its rules was wrong.

Sacrifices must be made when facing the end of the world.

But in my case, it’s not about abandoning relationships.

I have to let go of every fear I’ve ever had, I have to face them and say straight to their faces: I won’t indulge you anymore.

I'll think about Katie and look up to the sky, screaming that I’m sorry and that there’s no one in this world that I love as much as I loved her. That I was there to save my sister and I saved her the best way I could.

That everything I’ve done after the apocalypse would’ve made my parents proud because I never stopped being a good person, they raised me well. I’m the best healer in town.

And I must sacrifice my rough attitude for a second, and find someone to listen to how my day went, I’d like to be the lady in distress, one can admit she’s done all she can. I want to be able to ask for help with the certainty that people won’t stab me in the back for doing so.

When I reach the narrow alley my breathing is uneven and the bag feels heavier than before. I can barely hold it on my shoulder, my wrist is surely not happy about it.

“Who is that?!” KJ’s little head appears on the roof of the trailer, I can barely see. The nights are darker now.

“It’s me,” I gasp, desperately trying to catch my breath, “I made it out!”

“Y/N?!” I hear a second voice. Josh’s voice.

His head appears also in the roof.

“What the fuck are you doing up there?”

“I thought you had been killed!” He exclaims, ignoring my question, “What happened?”

“I cut communication so Turbo wouldn’t find me. I also stole his spare weapons so now we have our own arsenal, I guess...”

I hear someone jumping from the roof. I see Josh standing in front of me, no longer upset he stands there, avoiding any sort of contact. Five feet apart.

“I wanna throw my hands up Ready to be saved, yeah”

“I’ve had a really long day, Josh.”

“I know.”

“I’m ready to have a break,” I continue.

“You deserve it.”

I’ve never been good with this, I know words aren’t my best weapon, speeches aren’t my thing. Lately, though, actions have worked for me just fine (kicking out people, healing severed fingers, escaping from Highschools). I guess my best choice is to follow Josh’s advice and just... do it.

“What is life? What is love? (tell me, tell me, tell) What is time? What is choice? (I don't know) What is everything? Everything is nothing without you”

I move forward until I’m standing right in front of Josh, we stare at each other for a second and I don’t know what he’s thinking. Nonetheless, I have a plan.

I kiss him.

And he kisses back.

Even if you’re terrified cause things might go wrong, it’s hard to worry when the person you’re crushing on has his hands on your waist and he’s kissing you.

“I hope I am enough (I hope I am enough, oh) What is everything? Everything is nothing without you”

It feels like ages when we break apart, I’m still tired from the walk but I think I can manage a little weariness if Josh keeps hugging me like that.

“You stole all his spare weapons?” KJ asks suddenly, she’s walked up to where I dropped the bag and is looking at it.

Oh my god, I forgot she was here too, fuck, she’s gonna tell everyone about this now.

“Not all of them, I’m only one person and the bag could carry only like, half of the things in that room. But trust me, after a while it feels like you are carrying the whole room,” I move away from Josh, flushed red and feeling my heart going at a thousand per hour.

“Still, that’s impressive,” KJ nods, “I’m sorry I thought you weren’t good enough, it’s clear that you know what you’re doing.”

“Only half of the time,” I smiled awkwardly, “someone from inside did help me escape... an old friend.”

“I’ll put these inside,” She says. I can’t tell if she’s uncomfortable after what just happened or is genuinely just trying to help, “we’ll have to sleep here and then go back to the mall in the morning”

“Sounds good to me.”

KJ goes into the cave (as I’m now calling the Game Over’s place) and doesn’t come back out.

Josh softly grabs my forearm and pulls me close to him again, a sly smile on his face.

“She’s right, stealing their spare weapons was a smart move.”

“I was just trying to feel like it wasn’t a complete waste of time... the gamers are in danger because of us-”

“I know,” Josh sighs, affected by the results of our quest, “after you disconnected your camera Turbo caught Killigan. He said I had lost”

“We lost,” I shake my head, “we can’t put more people in danger, Josh. What are we going to do?”

“For now, the weapons you brought from the school will be useful,” He assures me, “they won’t give us advantaged but it will give us a chance to defend our place”

“I like the sound of that,” I smile, “not the possibility of a war, but the idea of having a place...”

“I thought you didn’t like having strings attached,” Josh mentions, in the most ‘innocent’ way.

“I changed my mind,” I admit, “I’m sorry for the things I said earlier, I was scared and anxious-”

“I understand, don’t worry,” He puts a strand of hair behind my ear and hugs me, “you don’t have to worry about me judging you for the things you do”

My heart melts at his words, but I have to make sure he knows it wasn’t right.

“Still, it was wrong and I shouldn’t have poured out all my stress onto you. I also lied. I love the fact that you found me cause everything that has happened after it has been amazing.”

“Everything?” He asks with a knowing smile.

“All of it,” I nod, softly touching his cheek, “did I ever tell you that I liked you back?”

“You didn’t. Well, you did mention having a massive crush and that you tried to confess in a song but-”

“I like you,” I interrupt him, smiling like an idiot.

“No shit,” Josh replies, “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Shut up, I know it took me long enough”

“I was willing to wait,” He shrugs, smiling.

I lean in for another kiss (now that I’m allowed to, I should do it as often as I can), he holds my waist a bit more tightly and I put my arms around his neck.

Most people hate when you narrate about ‘tongues battling for dominance’ and hands going up and down. I’ll just say it was a good kiss, it lifted all worries from my shoulders.

Momentarily, though.

KJ runs out of the cave and we jump back.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Didn’t you say Sam Dean was dead?”

“Yeah?”

“You should come in,” She replies.

Josh and I follow her back inside and I see Turbo’s face on the screen, but is only half of his face, the image it’s zoomed in so we can see the people behind him. I notice at the same time Josh does, and I bring my hands up to cover my mouth in silent horror.

As the great, classic meme would say:

This is the moment I knew, we fucked up.

“Sam?”

Taglist.

@letsbloodmagic @slythermyg @loving-u-3000

#twoidiots writing #daybreak fanfic #daybreak #josh wheeler #josh wheeler xreader #wesley fists #kj karen jane #eli cardashyan #angelica green #ms crumble #turbo bro jock

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