#like I vaguely remember that it took me a couple years to branch out again in terms of what I ate and how much I was able to handle

[gloomysoup]

when the world stops turning (my heart stops beating) - pt. 2

so i decided not to be TOO mean and keep writing this... there will be at least one more part, maybe more, i haven't decided yet. honestly i'm just playing it by ear and seeing how far my brain chooses to take it. so here we go!!

ao3 pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

cw: drugs, drug abuse, illusions to overdose, minor character death, dissociation, hospitals, illusions to child neglect (i think that's it but please let me know if i missed anything)

Eddie hated hospitals.

He sat in the waiting room with his bandmates and their tour manager, thinking about the first time he ever had to go to the hospital.

He was seven years old. His mom had been self-medicating really badly again, floating through their house like a ghost. Pale and lifeless in a way she often was those days. His dad was always out of the house, claiming he was working. Eddie had always been suspicious of that, never sure exactly what kind of work he was doing. His dad never said what his job was, but Eddie knew he had a long history with criminal activity. Wayne had taken him out to the park that day for a couple hours in an effort to get him out of the house.

The nearby park had this line of trees by the pond, set off several feet from the playground itself. Eddie liked to climb those trees when he was a kid. He liked the way the bark felt, digging sharply into his palms. He liked feeling the wind blow, the leaves brushing against his face. It made him feel free. The scary parts of the world couldn't reach him in the treetops. Earthly fears stayed near the ground, tethered to the dirt while he put as much distance between them as he could. Wayne had warned Eddie not to climb too high. Eddie should've listened.

He climbed a few branches up on the tallest tree. His favorite tree to climb. He sat on one of the thicker branches, back against the trunk. He watched the leaves waving in the wind above him. His brain still itched with ground thoughts, so he climbed higher. He kept going until he wasn't worried about his mom anymore. He kept going until his head was blissfully empty of those stupid anxieties. He was finally free.

And then he was falling.

Eddie doesn't remember much of what happened. Wayne says a branch broke unexpectedly, giving way beneath his weight with a loud snap. He hit the ground and passed out. Wayne took him to the hospital, where the doctors said he was lucky. A fall like that and all he had was a broken arm. They put his left arm in a cast and kept him for a few hours of observation, just to be safe. They were worried about a brain injury, or internal bleeding. Wayne called his mom, to let her know what happened, but Eddie always assumed she was too drugged out to understand. She never showed up. Wayne stayed with him the whole time, trying to keep him entertained and distracted. The doctor had given Eddie something to help with the pain, but it didn't help with his dislike of hospitals. He hated sitting in a sterile, white hospital room. His nose burned with the smell of bleach and lemon-scented floor cleaner. He didn't know why they used that stuff. It was overwhelming. He couldn't escape the ground thoughts if he was tethered to the ground.

Once he was finally released, Wayne took him to the pharmacy to pick up his new prescription. Pain meds; take one as needed while the break heals— those mysteriously went missing only three days later, and Eddie suffered in silence from then on. Then Wayne took him home, where his mom was asleep on the couch and his dad was fuming. Eddie vaguely remembers laying in his bed while Wayne and his dad argued in the living room. He isn't sure what they argued about; Wayne never told him and always changed the subject if Eddie asked. He assumed it was about the hospital. Hospital bills aren't cheap.

He wasn't allowed to visit his mom when she was in the hospital. Wayne said she needed space to get better. He knows Wayne just didn't want him around all of that. The hospital always kept him from his mom in one way or another. And then there was the spring of ‘86. It only further solidified his hatred of hospitals. Confined to the lumpy, scratchy hospital bed for weeks. Beeping machines and lemon-scented floor cleaner. Sticky patches and wires that always tangled. Itchy IVs and sharp needles and drugs that made him float just on the edge of too far. He didn't like those. Reminded him too much of his mom.

And now here he was, sitting in the dull waiting room of a hospital in New York. He felt numb. Tears still rolled silently down his cheeks, though he wasn't sure how he had any left. He was completely unaware of the passage of time. It could've been minutes or days, and he wouldn't have noticed. He couldn't stop thinking about his mom. He hadn't thought about her this much in years.

“Eddie?” He looked up at Gareth, but he was barely seeing him. “I'm going to go call Wayne, let him know what's happening. Do you want to come talk to him?”

Eddie blinked slowly a few times, his eyes still glassy. He didn't answer. All he did was stare, unseeing and silent. Gareth sighed, shooting Jeff and Grant a look.

Jeff frowned, also standing. “I should call Robin. She should know too.”

“Go,” Grant said, nodding toward the phones. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Their tour manager was talking to a nurse a few feet away. Eddie couldn't hear what they were saying. He didn't know how this could've happened. He didn't understand how he missed this.

His thoughts wandered back to the day Wayne found out he was selling.

Eddie sat on the front step, watching Wayne and Hopper talking in the yard. Wayne was frowning, nodding along to whatever Hopper said. Eddie knew he was mad. Why wouldn't he be? Eddie was illegally selling drugs, and just got caught by the chief for it. Luckily, Hopper was in a good enough mood just to give him a warning and a ride home. Made him promise he wasn't going to do it anymore. They both knew that was a lie.

When Hopper got back in his cruiser and drove away, Eddie watched Wayne take a breath before he turned around. Eddie shrank back at the look his uncle gave him.

“Wayne, I-”

“Hush up.” Eddie shut up instantly. “You're gonna listen close, understood?” Eddie nodded. “Jim was kind enough to let you off this time, but he won't be next time. There better not be a next time.”

“But, Wayne, I-”

“No buts.” Wayne gave him another look. Eddie knew he was disappointed. He hated disappointing Wayne. Hated it even more than he hated making Wayne mad. His uncle had always done so much for him. The least he could've done was not cause trouble. “Drugs are a dangerous thing, Ed. I know you know that.”

He did know, is the thing. He knew better than most people just how dangerous drugs were. Drugs tore his family apart. Drugs killed his mother. Drugs were the main reason Eddie lived with Wayne at all.

Eddie looked down at his hands, fiddling with one of his rings. He didn't have all that many yet. “I just wanted to help with the bills,” he said softly.

Wayne sighed and sat next to him on the rickety steps. Eddie slid over to make room. “You ain't gotta worry ‘bout no damn bills, Ed. That's for me to take care of. You just gotta be a kid.”

Eddie frowned. “I just thought that, maybe, if I could help, you wouldn't have to work so hard. I know taking care of me is a lot of extra money.” He paused. “I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment.”

Burden. That's what he wants to say. Disappointment is what comes out. Maybe that's for the better.

“You're not a disappointment, Ed. I just don't want you endin' up like your mama, that's all. And while I do appreciate you wantin’ to help, I don't need ya to. I'm perfectly capable of takin’ care of us. You're fifteen, Ed. Be a kid, for Christ’s sake. Don't worry ‘bout anythin’ else yet.”

From that day on, Eddie stayed away from anything harder than weed or the occasional shrooms. He made a promise to himself that he'd stay away from it. For Wayne. For his mom. Wayne knew he kept selling, but they didn't talk about it. The K he intended on selling Chrissy that fateful night was a fluke. A one-off. It was something extra Rick had given him before he got locked away. Eddie hadn't even intended on selling it at all; he was just going to keep it hidden away until Rick got out, and then he'd give it back.

After Chrissy, Eddie didn't touch anything for a long time. When the band got themselves a record deal, when they started going out to parties to network with more of the industry, Eddie started smoking weed again. He never touched anything more than that. He knew better. He worried about his bandmates falling to the same vices that killed his mom, even though they also stayed away from it. Her ghost still haunted him. It kept him hypervigilant. He was always watching for addictive behaviors.

So how did he not see it?

How long had Steve been falling down that path without Eddie even knowing?

He should've known.

Eddie blinked, and Gareth was standing in front of him with a bottle of water. When had he come back?

“Eddie, you gotta drink something,” Gareth said gently, holding the open bottle toward him. Eddie pulled his knees tightly to his chest and shook his head. Gareth sighed and sat next to him in the uncomfortable hospital chairs.

That was another thing Eddie hated about hospitals. Everything was uncomfortable. The chairs, the beds, the wires and tubes. IVs itched and the gowns crinkled weirdly. It was a sensory hellscape, truthfully. How did anyone handle it?

“Eddie.” He blinked again, looking beside him. Gareth was still holding the bottle toward him. “Come on, man. At least a little bit. We're worried about you.”

Eddie took the bottle, but his hands were shaking so much he could barely keep a grasp on it. He forced it toward his mouth, his throat burning as the cool water slipped past his lips. He gave it back to Gareth. He looked like he wanted Eddie to drink more, but took the bottle anyway.

“Are you…” Gareth started, but his sentence fell off as he seemed to search for the correct word. “Obviously not okay. That'd be stupid. Of course you aren't okay. I don't know what I was even thinking.” He looked over at Eddie, his rambling cut off.

Gareth always rambled when he was anxious. Worried. It didn't happen all that often. Gareth was pretty laid back, never worked up about much. The exact opposite of Steve. Steve worried about everything. Steve rambled a lot, like Robin. God, Robin. Eddie should talk to her. They hadn't had time lately to call. She was probably worried. Eddie could easily bet she'd been rambling a lot lately. Then again, Robin always rambled. She wasn't like Gareth, who only rambled when he was worried about something or someone. Speaking of Gareth, he was sitting there staring at Eddie with that worried little pinch in his brows. Eddie should answer. He should, but he can't. His tongue feels like lead in his mouth. It won't form shapes or push air through his lips. It won't do anything it's supposed to do. It just sits there, heavy, making it impossible for Eddie to say something, anything.

“Eddie?” Gareth waved a hand in front of him. Eddie blinked. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

Eddie thought hard. Gareth’s mouth had definitely been moving just a few moments before, but anything after the ramble was lost on him. He had no clue what he had said. He shook his head. Gareth sighed.

“I talked to Wayne.”

Oh. Wayne.

God, Eddie didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand, he needed Wayne. The man was a solid figure in the storm of Eddie’s life. He had always been there. He never walked away like Eddie’s dad. Eddie wanted little more than to curl up on the lumpy couch with Wayne like he had after his mom died. On the other hand, Eddie didn't want Wayne to know about any of this. He didn't want Wayne to have to live through this again. He didn't want Wayne to feel like he had to deal with Eddie again.

“He said he’ll try to catch the next flight out.”

Eddie’s head snapped up, eyes wide. He quickly shook his head back and forth, so hard that his neck popped and his hair flung across his face. Wayne couldn't come. He shouldn't have to. He would have to call out of work. Wayne never calls out of work. Eddie didn't want to be the reason he started. He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He couldn't force his tongue to move. His lips failed to form the letters and syllables required to speak.

It was then that their tour manager approached, looking somber. Like he had bad news. Eddie wanted to be anywhere else. He wanted to go back; back to when things were simple and Steve wasn't dying. He wanted to go back to being a kid and stop his mom. He just wanted this to stop.

“Eddie, he's alive.”

Eddie hated that instead of being relieved, his heart crumbled.

Steve was alive, but at what cost?

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

tag list: @acowardinmordor @mugloversonly @djohawke @hallucinatedjosten @geekyfifi @current-steddie-brainrot

i tagged people who either asked to be tagged or showed interest in wanting more but lemme know if you wanna be added! like i said, there will be at least one more part, but probably more than that tbh

hope you've enjoyed !!

#tw drugs #tw drug abuse #tw overdose #gloomysoup #gloomysoup writes #gloomysoup writing #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #steddie fics #steddie au #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington angst #steve stranger things #eddie x steve #eddie stranger things #rockstar!eddie munson

[skylarstark4826]

It all started with memories and counting. Mawey's birthday had been a few days ago, which made her parents and brother celebrate, happy that she was growing strong and healthy, but also remembering when she was born.

-I remember clearly - Varang commented to her husband - all the pain of childbirth and anticipation, but our little girl has been here, for 4 years.

-That means... it's been 5 years since we met - Miles realized - I didn't even realize how quickly it went by.

-So it also means that your wedding anniversary has already passed - Spider, participating in the conversation, added - are you going to do something special?

-Wedding anniversary? - the concept was foreign to Varang.

-Yes, it's a kind of human thing - Spider said vaguely.

When no response came from her boy, the olo'eyktan looked to her consort.

-It's the same logic as a birth - he explained - to celebrate and remember the day we got married, couples usually go out together, to have fun.

-You should do this - their son suggested - don't get me wrong, but you deserve a good rest from the hard work you do here.

-That's an excellent idea, my boy - Varang's face lit up just thinking about it - it's been a while since your father and I have had time alone.

-As far as I'm concerned, we can go tomorrow - Miles agreed immediately.

-But Mawey, would you take care of your sister, Spider? - his stepmother wanted to know.

-Of course, just go and have fun - recommended the young man.

-Okay, we'll leave tomorrow - she shared a confidential smile with her husband, excited about what was to come.

This time, they crossed the island, going to a little explored side that not even Varang knew so well. She hoped that exploring the place a bit would also be part of the fun.

They arrived there at dusk and the first thing Miles thought of was setting up a tent, where he and his wife could sleep and take shelter.

The exploration began when the two looked for tree branches and sharpened them to become thinner as needed. They assembled the structure together and then Varang covered it with the fabric she brought, also spreading a mat inside the tent.

-Are you tired or do you have energy for a game? - she proposed, with an amazed mischievous smile on her face.

-Game, huh? - he put a hand on his chin, thoughtful, but entering into the proposal - I know what I can expect from your... games.

-I promise this will be new - she slenderly approached him, holding his back with one hand, but touching his tail with the other.

Somewhat suspiciously, Miles turned to see what she was doing. Very quickly, his wife tied a strip of vine to his tail.

-What is this? - he narrowed his eyes at her.

-Don't be like that, you can tie one to my tail too - she turned her back, offering that part of her body freely.

She handed him another strip of vine and, as strange as he found it, he tied it to her tail.

-It's very simple - Varang resumed, getting into a fighting position - the first to take the vine wins.

-Now I understand what you're getting at - your husband laughed, leaning forward, in an attack position - can we start?

-Now! -Varang shouted and started at him, trying to reach his back, but Miles blocked her by the ribs, trying to reach the vine right away, but she took two steps back.

She tried to go around to the left, but Miles dodged again and ended up slipping. When he felt his wife's hand on his tail, he turned around, grabbing her wrist. Taking advantage, Miles lifted her by the waist with ease and threw her over his shoulder. Finally, he took the vine away from her, winning the game.

-Argh, I want a rematch! - she declared, punching him lightly on the back.

Miles took two steps, completely ignoring her, but then she got off his shoulders, jumping in front of him. She pushed him around the waist, making him fall to the ground at once, hitting his back hard.

-Calm down, sweetie - he panted, trying to get some air.

She decided to be more delicate now. While Miles' chest was still rising up and down rapidly, his wife leaned over him. Her lips touched his, but they didn't fold into a kiss. Instead, she moved quickly, choosing to kiss just above his navel, moving up slowly, delicately with each kiss she placed until he reached her neck. His breathing calmed down, and she laid her head on his abdomen, stretching her arms, she was so comfortable.

-You really are crazy... - Miles confessed his thoughts, laughing afterwards.

-Crazy? - she stood up to look at him, holding his chin - My mental health is good, it's my way of having fun with you.

Miles just watched her for a moment, her loose hair was blowing in the wind, her eyes sparkled with mischief, her thin lips half-open. It was the most beautiful creature he had ever met.

-You're crazy - he reaffirmed, but as a term of endearment - but on top of that you make me crazy about you.

-Did I drive you crazy? - she ran a finger over her face - I certainly want to mess with you with my games, but I don't think I can drive you crazy, your sanity is fine to me.

-It's an expression, babydoll - he explained, holding and kissing her hand - me being crazy about you means I'm completely in love with you, you being who you are just makes me want you more.

-Even after 5 years? - she asked, laughing afterwards.

-Even after 5 years-he kissed her quickly-I want 10 more-one more kiss-15-and another-20, a lifetime with you.

-Me too, my beloved - she lay down on him again and kissed him.

She pinned her knees to the floor, around Miles' hips, placed her elbows around his head, trapping him between her body.

-What are you doing now? -her husband dared to ask.

-Another crazy game - she replied.

Varang released himself onto Miles' chest, clinging to him tightly, moving to the side. All he had to do was hold on tight to her and follow the rhythm, making them both roll across the sand until they reached the water.

Varang laughed when he felt the water wash over them.

-Alright, smart girl - your consort decided to have his own rematch - here's a little of my games.

He stood up at once and held her in his lap, carrying her into the tent. This time, he got on top of her, kissing her freely. Now, Varang was surrendered and followed her husband's games. The two would follow each other's gestures of affection throughout the life Eywa allowed them to lead.

#quarang #quaritchxvarang #quaritch x varang #varang x quaritch #recom miles quaritch x varang #miles quaritch #na'vi quaritch #varang #recom quaritch #colonel quaritch #avatar quaritch #varitch

[afieldinengland]

Sweetest one, how wonderful and strange it is to read and watch you experience Richard II! I remember it vaguely from my literature course in high school, but my memory was dim, so it was very nice to revisit the play in a different light (and through my lover's eyes, too!) so thank you for that!

Yes, winter is closing in, and we cannot (and shouldn't, it being a natural and regular part of the year) avoid it. Certain leaning is understood and I see you're doing well in that regard, with no anguish or suffering, with all the gentleness of nature changing in a circle.

Your recent Richardposting is doubly wonderful, as it should be obvious I do enjoy my boy-kings and boy-princes a little mad and wild!

Apologies for disappearing for a little while, I've had some health problems that are not very serious in the physical sense, but take some time and planning - things as simple as finding a day I can have some tests and doctor's visits get hard with my moving out within a couple of days. I managed it, though, I am happy to report that, and I am also ready to hold my fair satyr in my arms again and run to the forest with him, the run and our closeness keeping us both warm - feverish, even! Oh, a thousand kisses flying your way, most beautiful miracle of a boy! - HWA

oh, my dearest, joyful spirit, most sacred one, what a relief it is to hear from you!! welcome back, honeyheart— i did wonder what might have happened, and what might have stopped your letters for a little while. to address the most serious aspect of your letter first, back-to-front, oh, lover, an illness? most unfortunate one, how terrible!! i am glad that they are not physically serious— please, there is no need to apologise, i am glad you took the time to manage it, and are now feeling well enough to write again 💓 oh, if only i could be there, to help however you would need me to!! take your satyr in your arms, sunlit one, let us return to the woods renewed even as autumn grows cold and strange around us— i am sure pan and all his attendant fauns would crown you with the most wondrous leaves and early holly-berries of the season, all haws and branch…. haha, well, perhaps shakespeare really has gotten to me, beloved companion, i am simply so overjoyed to see you back, and to see you as well as can be. a thousand kisses to you, too, delightful one!! how proud i am, that you have been so courageous in the face of sickness. and i have been quite moved by richard ii, yes— i had never read it before, like all five of the plays selected on this module, and it has had the most profound effect on me. like so many things, it seems to have come into my life at exactly the right time…. all things in a circle, indeed, the winter truly is in the air now, strange and laughing, a young king. and myself a boy-king and a boy-prince, lover, do you think so? what a golden thing to be called, what a joy— haha, i can’t lie, i really do like such names. dear, gentle love, still convalescing, will you sit in the warm with your lover for a while? oh, that i could make you tea, and let you sleep awhile at my side, together under the smiles of gods

#answered #dear dear love— wondrous love!! hello hello— welcome back #herb wine anon

[fruitcoops]

Hi Eve! Could you maybe write something like Sirius having a majorly stressful week and he's been on edge all day and he finally decides to go talk to Heather if only to just let it all out. By the time he comes home he's exhausted but Remus is all ready for him, and he's greeted with the sight of Remus in a nice little heap of blankets and pillows piled up on their sofa with a Disney movie ready to play and all his favourite snacks lined up on the coffee table. And Sirius of course just about dissolves into a puddle of affection and gratitude because Loops 🥰🥰🥰

It's honestly concerning how much fluff I write. Oh, well! This is such a cute idea and I'll never pass up an opportunity to write soft Coops <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“So, you’ve started baking?” Heather looked up as Sirius nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. It still smelled a little like Remus from the last time he stole it, but not nearly enough to drown him in comfort. “That’s awesome. If you don’t mind, can I ask why you chose that as a hobby?”

“It’s—” Stupid. He bit the words back at the last second; Heather never liked self-deprecation, and they had been working on positive self-talk for…as long as Sirius could remember, really. “Uh, I helped Re’s mom make a pie over the holidays and I just have good memories associated with it, I guess.”

Heather jotted something down, her soft smile never faltering. She was wearing a sweater the same color as her name—it was distilled comfort, and Sirius felt some of the tension release from his back. “You said you do it when you’re stressed, right?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does the rhythm help, or is it something else?”

He stared at his hands, rubbing his thumb over the callus from his favorite spatula that was beginning to form. “I think…” he trailed off and bit his lower lip. Honesty always wins. Why do you like it so much? “The rhythm helps quiet my head down, yeah. And it smells like home. And—and if I do it right, I can’t screw it up.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“If I follow the recipe, it works. Every time. I can read the instructions as many times as I need to, and I can focus on that until everything up here—” He gestured vaguely toward his head. “—shuts up for a bit.”

Heather nodded; the room was quiet for a moment while she wrote before she settled into her chair and let out a slow breath. “I’m really happy you started doing this, Sirius.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. We’ve talked about finding healthy amounts of control and tethers in your daily life, and from what you’ve said, this makes you happy in addition to helping you calm down. What do you do with everything you make?”

He shrugged. “Give it away, mostly. It’s healthier than store-bought stuff, and the guys like it. Re and I can’t eat it all ourselves.”

“How often do you stress bake?”

“Oh, probably three or four times a week.”

Shit, shit, shit. Heather’s eyebrows crept upward. “Oh?”

“…yes.” Can’t take it back now.

“Okay.” She made a quick mark on her clipboard—for the hundredth time, Sirius wished he could snatch it and run. “Interesting. Why are you so stressed?”

“It’s not like that all the time,” he said quickly. “Just over the past couple weeks.”

“What’s been going on?”

“Everything?” he said. It sounded more like a question. Heather made another note. “It’s—well, Jules got the flu two months ago and Re wasn’t sleeping because he was worried, so I got nervous and started staying up later so I’d be tired, but then I got bored and worried about both of them so I texted Hope about her pie recipe—"

“Sirius,” Heather interrupted gently. He closed his mouth and tucked his hands into his sleeves, palms itching. “Deep breaths, then tell me what’s been going on these past couple weeks specifically that was stressing you out.”

He obliged, counting ten before speaking again as his brain stopped feeling like someone poured pop rocks into it. “Right. So, this whole habit thing started two months ago, and we’re getting closer to you-know-what—”

“The playoffs?”

He made a quiet noise of distress and tapped the wood of the chair. “Oui, that. There’s a lot of pressure from last year, and when my friends are stressed, I get stressed, and baking is easy and fun so I just…didn’t stop. A lot of things are happening right now, and this feels like the only one I can control.”

“There you go,” she said with a proud smile. “Thank you.”

“What did I do?”

“You’re being more open and honest with yourself. It’s good to see.” She crossed one leg over the other and leaned slightly forward. “You’re a really, really good captain, Sirius. You are so in-tune with the other people in your life, but you’ve got to remember to step back and do things for yourself sometimes. Right now, baking is your stress relief because you can’t control your friends’ lives or emotional states. Try to find more things like that.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Are you diagnosing me with ‘needs a hobby’?”

“In a sense, yes. You have done an incredible job over the past few months of letting your world revolve around things other than hockey. Branching out to baking was an excellent choice. Now it’s time to find other things that give you similar comfort, okay?”

“Alright.”

“Fantastic. Let’s brainstorm.”

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

Sirius dropped his bag next to the shoe rack and immediately leaned back against the door, closing his eyes with a sigh. Therapy was always exhausting, but usually in a good way. Already, he could feel the weight of the last three weeks lifting off his shoulders. “I’m home!” he called.

Remus materialized from the living room and padded over in his fuzzy socks, planting a kiss on each of Sirius’ cheeks. “You look tired. Good or bad?”

“Good,” he assured him. “We worked on finding a hobby.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently, baking every other day isn’t a great long-term coping mechanism.”

Remus kissed him lightly on the lips. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”

Sirius pulled back with a frown. “I thought you liked my baking.”

“I do. I also worry about how much space we have in our kitchen, and how much you sleep.” He gave Sirius a squeeze around the waist and patted his hip. “Now c’mere, I have a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?” Sirius asked warily as he allowed himself to be pulled toward the living room. “Do we have company?”

“Does Hattie count?”

The dog in question barked when they entered the room, though she was buried beneath a mountain of blankets and only her nose and tail stuck out. In the hour and a half Sirius had been gone, the living room had transformed into a massive fort—the couch cushions were propped up around a nest of pillows and blankets, and low amber light fell over everything from the side table lamp. It radiated coziness and warmth; he felt the last bits of his exhaustion settle into contentment. “Wow.”

Remus beamed at him. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” He cupped his face in his hands and nudged their noses together. “And I love you. So much. I’m going to go rinse off and change, but can we cuddle afterward?”

“What do you think this is for?” Remus teased. “You took my sweatshirt.”

“It’s too big for you anyway.”

“How long until I find it in my laundry pile because it doesn’t smell like me anymore?”

Sirius pretended to think for a moment, though he couldn’t keep his smile down as happiness bubbled through every vein. “Tomorrow.”

“Go take your shower,” Remus laughed, then kissed him once again. “I’ll see if I have anything else that’ll fit you.”

#sirius black #remus lupin #hattie #heather #sweater weather #coops #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #therapy #baking

[finaledenialist]

okay eveyone please stop yelling at me in the tags that you want to sue me for therapy money, here, quick, grab a happy ending (also yes, i am shamelessly tagging you @lobotomycastiel because this is all your fault:

When the Empty spits him out he doesn't know where he is or what year it is. He looks around and well, this is certainly Earth and it's still existing

There is nothing for you back there.

But he has no clue how much time has passed. He looks around. It seems to be a field in the middle of nowhere. In the distance he sees a bunch of trees. They look like they are slowly changing colours, they are not bright red yet but the browns and yellows are already showing; the sun is warm and birght but the temperature is not what could be described as hot. It's early autumn.

There is nothing for you back there.

He shakes the words echoing in his mind and starts walking towards the slowly setting sun in search of a road. After a couple of miles he finds it but there are no cars, there is nothing but the silence of a lazy evening, and he is worried. No cars on the road doesn't immediately mean that it has been years, he thinks, maybe it's just one of those long forgotten roads that lead to nowhere, one of those he ended up on when he had to leave the bunker. It's been hours until he hitched a ride back then, maybe this was a similar case.

He walked until the night fell, and then he just kept on walking, because what else was he suposed to do, finding comfort in the fact that at least the world still somehow existed. But how many years it has been? He put one foot in front of the other in total darkness and suddenly he noticed a shadow. It was definitely his shadow, and the night was starless, moon hidden safely behind the clouds; but if there was a shadow then there also had to be... A light?

He turned around and he let out the deepest sight of relief when he saw two front lights of a car driving in his direction. He stood there, wonderstruck. That's how Noah must heave felt like when he saw the returning dove, carrying an olive branch after days with no sight of land, he thought as he waved at the driver.

This time he catches a ride much sooner than the last time, but he doesn't want to think about it. The car looks old, but normal-old, he saw these kind of cars before, the radio plays a song he vaguely remembers, but he's too afraid to ask the driver what year is it; it would make things weird and he needs this ride more than anything. He navigates his way through the small talk, yeah, I just got lost in the woods, yes just take me to the nearest town and I got it from there, please and thank you so much for your kindness, he adds. The driver is an older man who looks tired and they spend the rest of the ride in silence.

He doesn't know the town’s name but he notices a phone booth, hidden in the alley; it's dark but the booth's light shines like a beacon and he feels like he found an oasis on a desert. He has no money, but there is a sticker that has the town's name written on it, along with some emergency numbers. It also says that if you press the correct combination of zeroes and hashes you might get a chance to call someone and that person would be charged for the call. So at least that problem is solved.

But what if

there is nothing for you back there?

He wants to call Dean. He wants to more than anything, but he ends up staring at the numbers and not daring to make the call. What if no one answers, what if they are all long dead and gone? What if the only thing he hears is silence? There is a little screen next to the keyboard that tells the hour, it's almost 2 a.m., and despite claiming that he is already saved to the Empty's face just hours ago, he feels completely lost.

It's 3:24 a.m., when he finally taps Dean's number on the old, worn out keyboard, desperately clutches onto the phone, closes his eyes and fucking prays.

There is signal.

And after the third one, there is also an answer.

After he manages to tell Dean where he is and that yes, I am fine, I am somehow, again, back, he hangs up and he just breaks. He steps out of the booth, breathes in the cold autumn air that smells like rain and dirt, and starts to cry. He didn't mean to, he wasn't supposed to feel anything that deeply, he wasn't supposed to feel anything at all, really, but he feels, he feels like the crushing weight on his back was just lifted, disappeared, and now all he has to do is just wait and then, then everything will be okay. He looks at the starless sky and the tears just run down his cheeks freely, because he was given yet another chance, undeserved and probably one-too-many, but that didn't matter, because he was alive, and Dean and Sam were alive and that's all that mattered.

He heard the approaching car before he saw the shadows casted by the impala's lights on the pavement. He would recognize the sound anywhere; after all he spent a lot of hours in that car, in the passenger seat, in the backseat...

He took another breath and quickly wiped his face with his sleeves. When he heard the car's door opening, he slowly turned around and saw them. Dean and Sam. Dean looking at him like he was witnessing a revelation and the shock on Sam's face. They looked just like he remembered them. Maybe that much time didn't pass after all.

'How long was I gone?', he manages to ask.

'Too damn long', Dean answers immediately and Sam's jaw drops.

'I don't know what to say', Sam says, and the little smile starts to make it's way on his face.

'I do', Dean says and takes a step, and then the second one, towards Cas, and suddenly Dean holds him, embraces him, like that one time in Purgatory years ago. 'I missed you so damn much, Cas', Dean's whisper is meant only for the two of them.

Suddenly there is a cry. A child's cry. Dean makes a step back and looks at Cas. He looks exhausted, Cas judges by the bags under Dean's eyes, but Dean smiles, the widest smile Cas has ever seen and says:

'We have a child to raise, Cas.'

It's Thursday and everything is alright again.

#baby jack truthing #widower arc #here here it's okay guys enough of this angst

[write-r-die]

Prisoner - Part 17

March 1067, Norman Conquest of England 

Masterlist

A/N: Drama!!

gif from demivampirew

For the first time in a long time, Thomasin felt safe.

Henry made her promise never to remove the pendant he gave her. It seemed terribly important to him, though Thomasin didn’t know why. Still, she agreed without question.

Henry never did shout at her. He didn’t like being angry, especially with someone he loved. Instead, he sat his wife down like a child and looked very deeply into her grey eyes while simply telling her she would never disobey him again, nor would she disagree with him in public. She was welcome to shout and scream and call him all sorts of names when they were alone together, but their situation was precarious. They had to present a united front so no one – just Lawrence, really – would think to pit them against each other.

Lawrence, though, seemed the same as ever. Maybe even scarier. He always had that awful grin on his face. He never got red; that’s what really worried both Henry and Tom. He was too calm, too self-assured. He planned out what he would do to them; now they were stuck in fear until he decided to act. It had only been a week since the wedding, and there was no telling how long Lawrence would wait. But he wasn’t a patient man.

Henry didn’t let Thomasin see his fear over Lawrence’s retribution. Since the wedding, she’d become all soft and willing. He thought she showed something akin to vulnerability. When they were alone, she would sit on his lap or press herself right against his side. They needed to be touching when they went to sleep, either with Henry spooning against her back or Thomasin lounging across his chest. She demanded his attention and affection. Henry obliged her, even going beyond. He’d kiss her in public when he thought no one was looking. She didn’t even mind.

He met her vulnerability with steady confidence. He’d sworn to look after her more times than he could count, and now that she was finally allowing it, he didn’t want to show any weakness. That was what husbands did for their wives – they remained strong and sure.

Henry asked a baron sailing back to Normandy to deliver the message to his family that he was wed; he was quite sure his mother would cry upon hearing the news.

“Should we send someone to tell your family?” he asked that night as he and Tom lay in the dark together. He was pressed tightly against Thomasin’s back. She used one of his arms as a pillow, and his free hand roamed over her body.

“I haven’t got a family,” Thomasin replied.

Henry nuzzled her rosy gold hair. “Yes, you do.” He kissed the back of her neck and sighed into her hair. “And you’ll never be rid of me.”

**

When the king finally summoned Henry, it wasn’t to chastise him. If he did mean to shout at Henry, it was low on his list of things to do. Henry found himself in something of a war council among other barons and knights of high praise.

“It is time to execute the Saxons,” William announced. “I’ve kept them alive for too long. It will embolden other rebels to attack if they believe I won’t kill them.”

“The rebels are all but gone,” a middle-aged baron said. “Even that young baron from the north has disappeared.” He looked at Henry from the corner of his eye; everyone knew he was referring to Hammond.

“Permanent imprisonment is not much better than death,” another put in. 

“All the same,” said the king. “The surviving Saxon prisoners will be put to death by hanging this afternoon. I expect you all to bear witness.”

“What about our wives?” a knight asked. Henry was grateful someone other than him asked the question. “Should they attend?”

William shook his head. “Tis no sight for a woman’s eyes.” He took a deep breath before declaring, “It is warm enough now to travel. We will hunt down the other rebels. If we cannot capture or kill them, we will at least run them out of England and keep them in exile for the rest of their lives.”

The men started shuffling out, murmuring to each other about the Saxon threat. Henry lagged behind the crowd, too lost in his thoughts to keep a fast pace. He was so distracted that he didn’t even notice when Lawrence sidled up beside him.

Lawrence made a sound like a sigh. “I do hope poor Tom won’t be too broken up over Cerdic’s execution.”

Henry felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. How did he find out about Thomasin’s relationship with Cerdic? How much did he know about it? What execution? Was that why the barons and knights were gathering?

But the true source of his fury was the fact that Lawrence had referred to his wife as Tom.

Lawrence looked at Henry from the corner of his eye. “Are you broken up, dear Henry?”

He turned his gaze to the other man, a savage look in his eyes. “You will never speak my wife’s name again. Do you understand me?”

Lawrence bowed his head in mock apology before moving along.

Henry paused in a nook in the corridor and ran his hand over his face. Damn.

Coming to England was like stepping in dog shit that one could never quite wipe away. Meeting Thomasin was like stepping in dog shit. One bad thing followed another like a cloying stink with that poor girl.

No, Henry realized. Thomasin meeting him when the troubles started.

***

Thomasin was grateful that Henry had been able to spend both his days and his nights with her. She knew it could not last forever, but she was sad all the same when he was called away, no doubt to discuss matters of war.

Now she would have to spend her days embroidering with other ladies or pursuing some other womanly hobby. She was never terribly good at that, though. At one point, her governess simply gave up trying to make Thomasin a proper lady. Her father let her have free reign of the estate so long as someone was always nearby and she returned to the keep by dark.

She imagined having a similar arrangement with Henry, but they first needed an estate of their own. Everyone assumed the king would give them the estate Thomasin grew up in, but she secretly hoped he would not. It would be haunted, at least for her, and she was sure she would never feel comfortable there. It wasn’t her home anymore. Just another conquered fortress.

The couple spoke a little of returning to Normandy so Tom could meet Henry’s family and there were some vague mentions of estates near his brothers that might be suitable for their needs, but they hadn’t had a real conversation about it.  What they wanted didn’t matter; William would likely keep Henry in England to fight his endless war against Thomasin’s way of life. Maybe they would be dismissed in a few years when things were calmer.

She would have to figure out how to spend her days. Her only true friend at court was Elaine, but the healer was often busy during the day. Thomasin accompanied her on a meeting with an elderly baroness with a horrifying rash; she would never do so again. 

She was returning from a brisk walk when she nearly crashed into her husband and his friends on their way out.

“Henry!” Thomasin bounced forward and grabbed onto his hand. She waited for him to kiss her while Charlie and Roger were pretending not to look. She knew something was wrong when he didn’t. “Are you well?”

Henry’s expression was as hard as it had been the day Thomasin tried to escape from him. She resisted the urge to step back. “Thomasin, go back to our rooms. Wait for me there.”

His clear agitation alarmed her; she spoke as calmly as she could. “Is something amiss?”

“Do as I say. I’ll be along soon.” He turned to Kal. “You go with her.”

Something must be truly wrong if Henry was willing to part with his shadow, even for an hour or two. Thomasin’s eyes flickered to Charlie for some hint of what was happening, but his expression was as stony as ever. Roger hadn’t stopped when Thomasin intercepted them so she could not look to him for clues.

She glanced at Henry one more time. He didn’t look all right. She wanted an explanation here and now, but she remembered her promise not to disobey him in public. Staying and demanding something from him would certainly count as disobedience. “Of course,” Thomasin said, forcing a mild tone of voice. She gave a shallow curtsey. 

She was chattering to Kal as they walked up a tight staircase when she heard a ruckus outside. There were no windows in the stairwell, only thin slats from which archers inside the castle could shoot at enemy soldiers in case of an attack, but they would do. 

Thomasin rocked up on her tiptoes to peer through one of them. There was a large cluster of men spread out across the field. They stood in clumps of three or four, talking among themselves as a handful of servants erected some makeshift structure she couldn’t quite make out. Perhaps if she had something to stand on, she would be able to see more clearly . . .

Kal made a grumbling sound. 

“I don’t mean to ignore you, Kal,” Thomasin said. “I just want to see what’s going on.” 

She never thought it unusual for one to speak to one’s pets, and Henry regularly held complex conversations with the bear, so she wasn’t embarrassed to talk to him in public as other women might be.

Thomasin pushed up a little further and caught a glimpse of fresh scaffolding, then of a handful of shackled men making their way over to it. The Saxon prisoners were finally being executed, then. Thomasin couldn’t blame Henry for not telling her. He was only trying to protect her.

She was about to turn away when she glimpsed a familiar silhouette and an even more familiar red beard. She squinted into the fading light as the hangman put a rope around the Saxon’s thick neck. 

She hated that neck. She once joked to Justina that she’d like to strangle him, but his neck was as sturdy as a thick branch on a tree. She’d only tire herself out trying to kill him.

Cerdic.

Thomasin was so shocked and upset that she pushed away from the window too hard and fell backwards; Kal softened her fall somewhat.

For a moment she couldn’t move or even draw in a lungful of air. Kal was breathing in right in her face, but she didn’t care. She felt removed from somehow, as if she weren’t truly in her body.

Cerdic was a ridiculous oaf, but she’d known him all her life. She’d cared for him not as a lover or brother or even a friend, but in the way a woman was expected to care for her husband-to-be. And he was all that was left of her life before.

It was easier when she thought he was dead, that he’d died in the fray along with most of the other Saxon men. She’d grieved him in her own strange way and put his memory behind her, but now everything swelled up again and tightened her throat. 

This was the last straw. She was strong but she wasn't made of ice. There was only so much someone could endure before they broke.

And Thomasin truly did break.

She ran to her rooms barely holding back tears. Her throat was sore with the effort of holding in sobs and her hands were shaking so hard that she almost couldn’t open the latch on the door to the antechamber. 

She barely made it through the antechamber and into the bedroom before she fell apart. She slammed the bedroom door before Kal could follow and fell forward on her hands and knees into the rushes scattered on the floor; she couldn’t hold herself together a moment longer, not even long enough to reach the bed. She began to weep so hard that she could barely breathe. She made choked, ugly sobbing sounds she couldn’t control that shook her shoulders as snot and tears ran down her face.

Kal whined and scratched at the door, desperate to comfort his mother.

Thomasin kicked the door hard enough to shake the hinges. “Go away!” she shrieked. Her throat was already raw.

She was too tired to move anymore, even to get into bed. She fell to her side and curled in on herself, shivering like a dog left outside in a storm, still whimpering and gasping for breath. 

***

Henry stood with Charlie and Roger as they waited for the executions to begin.

“You look unwell,” Henry remarked to his brother-by-law.

Roger heaved a sigh. “It’s always said when something beautiful dies.” 

“What, the men?” Charlie asked.

Roger turned to face his friends. “Their lives. Their spirits.” Their physical forms, too, of course. 

“That’s the nature of conquest,” Charlie said. “The old ways must end for the new ones to begin. If people cannot accept change . . .” He shrugged.

“I do not like the end part. You must feel some grief on behalf of Thomasin, Henry,” Roger said. “I cannot imagine. . .” he trailed off.

“I didn’t tell her,” Henry said. 

“She’ll find out,” Charlie said neutrally. He still didn’t like Thomasin by any stretch of the imagination, but he was coming to accept her. “Assuming she hasn’t already.”

Henry knew that, knew it would be better to tell her himself. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“I know,” he said. 

***

Cerdic had no last words – or if he did, Henry didn’t hear them. 

The men were strung up all at once, the nooses looped around their necks and the wooden bench kicked out from under them. A crueler king might have removed their heads one by one to heighten their fear, but William just wanted the business done with. He’d likely cut their heads off afterwards to mount on spikes near the city gates, though.

Henry left the first moment he could. Thomasin was probably fuming quietly in their room, probably repeatedly stabbing herself in the finger as she furiously embroidered something or other.  He hoped so. 

Charlie was right: Thomasin had probably found out about the executions somehow. He prayed that she didn’t know Cerdic was among the dead. He wasn’t sure what reaction to expect.

He tried to enter the antechamber quietly, but the room was deathly silent; every small sound he made seemed to echo. The first thing he saw was Kal stretched out in front of the door that led to the bedroom, his chin resting on top of his paws. He looked downright pensive.

“Kal.”

The dog leapt to attention as Henry knelt to scratch his ear.

“Good boy,” Henry murmured.

Kal whined, trying to communicate that something was wrong with Thomasin. He’d been guarding her as best as he could, but she wouldn’t let him into the bedroom.

Henry scratched Kal one more time before steeling himself. He opened the bedroom door. His wife lay on her side on the floor, still sniffling and hiccupping from weeping.

“Tom?” he knelt on the ground beside her. 

She moved her head the slightest bit to look up at him with bloodshot eyes. “You knew that Cerdic was here. That he was alive.” She was too exhausted to inject an accusatory tone into her raspy voice.

Henry took a deep breath. A lock of her rosy golden hair had gotten free of its braid; he gently tucked it behind her ear. “Yes.”

Her chin quivered as her eyes filled with tears. She shut them and turned away. “It was easier when . . .”

“I know.”

Her chin still moved. “I wish William had never come to England,” she said, voice high and tight. “I wish I’d never laid eyes on a Norman.”

Henry took a deep breath. “Tom, you can’t blame every Norm –”

“Yes I can!” She shouted, jumping to her feet. Henry stood, too. On the other side of the door, Kal whimpered. “It’s your fault! You came here and you took what wasn't yours and you killed the men and raped the women. My country is dead!” Her voice cracked. “I have nothing left! You took everything from me!”

Henry’s voice was low but strong. “You have me.”

“I don’t want you!” she shouted. Her words cut Henry like the blade of a knife. “You or your bastard king and your merciless countrymen! I wish I’d never met you! I – I –” 

I want to go home. 

“Enough, Tom,” said Henry. “You’ll give yourself a fit.” Thomasin reached for the back of her neck; Henry caught her hands in his and stopped her before she even touched the necklace’s clasp. “Don’t,” he said softly. 

Thomasin shoved away from him so hard she nearly fell backwards. Henry, who had the build of a stone wall, hardly budged. That made her so furious that she slapped him – tried to, anyway. Henry caught her wrist in his hand and used it to tug her close. 

“Let go!” she shouted. “Henry, let me go!”

But he held her to his chest and would not unlock his grip. She kept shoving and hitting him until he finally released her – only to capture her again.

Somehow, she was suddenly lying back on the bed, her wrists firmly locked in Henry’s grasp as he pinned them above her head. He hovered over her on his knees, locking her legs between his strong thighs to make sure she didn’t try to kick him in her anger.

“Thomasin, enough!” he shouted.

Exhausted, she finally gave up the fight. She sank limp against the bed and started to weep. 

She’d never cried in front of him before, Henry thought. He wasn’t even sure if she cried when she was wounded on the road. There were tears in her eyes on their wedding night and the day she tried to escape from him in the forest, but he didn’t think they ever spilled over.

He couldn’t stand to watch but he couldn’t look away. Thomasin needed him now. She was in mourning – for her father, her former betrothed, her relationships with her siblings, her country. She was mourning her own life, too, and what it might have been if William had never come.

“I hate you,” Thomasin whimpered through her tears.

“No, you don’t.” Her husband’s voice was tired but kind as he released her wrists and climbed off of her.

Her eyes were already shut; her outburst at Henry and fit of emotion after seeing Cerdic hanged drained her of all energy and she was on the very edge of sleep. “I hate you, Henry,” she insisted weakly. 

Henry knew she wasn’t sincere, that she was just speaking out of anger, but the words still stung him all the same.

It wouldn’t hurt him at all if she’d just say out loud that she loved him. He only needed to hear it once. None of her accusations or insults would bother him if he knew beyond a doubt that she loved him even half as much as he loved her. With those words, he’d be invincible.

But she didn’t say it. Maybe she never would. She loved him, Henry was sure of it, but she was too proud to admit it.

Tom’s tears had slowed and turned from sobs to sniffles to deep, loud breathing.

Henry stayed beside her in bed, both of them still fully dressed, and soon drifted off. She turned to him in her sleep, unconsciously taking her rightful place in his arms and against his chest. Henry didn’t wake; his body knew instinctively to put his arms around her.

#henry cavill #the cavillry #rpf #prisoner #medieval romance #romance #fluff #the tudors #Charles Brandon #duke of suffolk #the witcher #geralt of rivia #the white wolf #superman #man of steel #DC Universe #justice league #zack snyder #netflix #hbomax #Immortals #Theseus #mission impossible #fallout #MI6 #Nomis #night hunter #Walter Marshall #august walker #the cold light of day

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH134

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 134: The Dream of the Holy Nun (XXIV)

The night was heavy and all was silent.

The shaking of the earth hadn’t stopped, and it was getting stronger and more frequent.

This field, which had been dead for many years, was slowly collapsing, just like his world.

Holding Qi Leren’s body, Ning Zhou walked on the stone stairs of the former site of the Vatican and went down step by step, from the cloud to the ground, from heaven to hell.

The night wind brought back memories. Once, those dull and tiny joys were buried in countless pains and hesitations. However, when death filtered out the impurities like gravel from sand, what remained was the sweet taste that made one feel excited.

But before he could even taste it carefully, he had turned to the final chapter of this surprise tragedy.

The Garden of the Holy Tomb was just around the corner.

In the corner of the cemetery, the huge tree stump with a diameter of more than two meters had already been hollowed out, and the remaining wood ring was covered with grass and blue and white fallen flowers, like a natural bed.

They’d come back here, the place he had used to take a nice nap, and where he had looked at him so warmly.

This time, he would sleep for a long time, and he would wait for a long time.

Maybe a part of his soul would stay here forever, with him who had died forever.

He carefully wiped the blood from Qi Leren’s face and hands. Once white and beautiful, his pampered hands were full of burns caused by the explosion and there were scars that had healed over from underground lake so long ago. From countless details, Ning Zhou had already outlined what happened in the church.

Isabel served the Devil of Fraud and her appearance could only represent one thing - the Devil of Fraud has entered this field, and his identity was beyond doubt.

The Devil had seduced his lover, but he’d refused.

The spilled Devil's blood in the church quietly told everything.

Betrayal or death.

He’d chosen death.

Why? Ning Zhou asked silently, Why choose death?

He’d clearly told him that living was always the most important thing.

He would rather see him drink the Devil's blood and be destined for hell. At least he could live. He could also hide this love that is not blessed by God in his heart, and draw a perfect full stop for everything. Anyway, for these unbelievers from different worlds, the positions of justice and evil weren’t clear, were they?

Maybe in the future, they would face each other because of their positions. He was willing to give up his life with his own hands to repay his sacrifice to him again and again.

Yes, he had chosen to die.

The night wind was cold, blowing petals off the branches of the surrounding trees, and the blue and white fallen flowers fell in a swirl. Just like that day when he’d slept quietly in the warm afternoon sunshine, but this time, he wouldn't wake up again.

The eagle quietly landed on the edge of this natural bed. It cocked its head, looked in puzzlement at Qi Leren who slept there, jumped to his side, rubbed his cold face with its beak, and then came to Ning Zhou's shoulder and rubbed his face.

The same cold, the same silence. The eagle whined, flapping its wings and flying away.

Ning Zhou had never felt so cold. Even when he was in that country where there was snow and ice all the year round, it had never been so cold, so cold that he couldn't weave a ring.

When this grass ring was woven and formed, Ning Zhou knelt down slowly by the stump and took Qi Leren's hand, just as he had done many times in his dreams.

But outside of these dreams, there was only this reality that was a thousand times more cruel.

He proposed to his dead lover, willing to spend the rest of his life to hold to a love that was not allowed by God, even if he would fall into hell after death and sink forever.

The wounded hand was as cold as ice, and the coldness of death had frozen his heart along the blood vessels. There seemed to be a wound that would never heal, and this wound would accompany his every heartbeat and accompany him through his life.

He put the ring on him instead of kissing his lips. Instead, he kissed every wound on his hand. He was as pious as he would be kissing the cross. All the hesitation, jealousy, disobedience, pain, and love that he’d once dared not admit were melted by the cruel death and turned into countless sharp arrows, which shot through his heart one by one.

The cruelest torture in the worldwais no match for the pain and suffering of this moment. And this despair would continue until he walked into the abyss of death.

In this decaying rotten stump under the unchanging starry sea, his lover was sleeping. The Milky Way rose above his head and fell to the west. The world gradually brightened and the stars were annihilated, the east gradually turned white, and dawn would soon arrive.

But maybe, it would never come.

　　&&&

The eagle hovered in the dawn wind.

After being sent back to the castle, he has been unconscious until now. Dr. Lu ran all the way to the old site of the Vatican. He couldn't find any of his companions and wandered around at a loss.

The eagle flew down from the sky and led Dr. Lu to the direction of the Garden of the Holy Tomb at the foot of the mountain. The nervous Dr. Lu followed it and came all the way to the place where they had had a picnic only a few days ago.

In the corner of the garden, he saw Ning Zhou. He stood in front of the broken stump with his back turned to him, and his back seemed to melt in the morning sun.

Delighted, Dr. Lu ran to him: "Ning Zhou! Ning Zhou! I finally found you. Why are you here? Where's Qi Leren? Where's Su He? Last night..."

His footsteps slowed down and his voice came to an abrupt end. Dr. Lu stared at the stump covered with grass and fallen flowers and his face instantly turned pale. He walked beside Ning Zhou as if sleepwalking, looking at the lifeless face of his former friend and the blood on his clothes. His mind went blank.

Dr. Lu held out his trembling hand, but as soon as he touched his cold neck, he took back his hand like he’d been given an electric shock and began to cry.

He realized that his friend would never come back.

The sun rose and dispelled the darkness of night, but the two people bathed in the warm sunshine did not feel the heat at all.

Time passed quietly and the funeral began and ended in silence. Ning Zhou couldn't even give a eulogy for him, because his lover was a non-believer.

But it was such a carefree non-believer that this devout believer had met briefly in this world, fell in love with quietly, and then been left by silently. The last words were "you must wait for me" with a smile before he’d left, and then "I love you" written in blood. Abandoning this body, their souls would neither meet in heaven nor in hell. They were not even people of the same world.

The dead were dead, but the living have to spend a long life remembering the cruelness of a love that had never started.

Dr. Lu's crying gradually quieted down, leaving only sobbing again and again.

The ground was still shaking, and it was becoming more and more frequent. The shaking earth had plunged the whole Holy City into panic. Even in the former site of the Vatican far away from the residential areas, they could vaguely hear the noise.

After standing for so long like a sculpture in front of the stump, Ning Zhou finally moved, and Dr. Lu watched anxiously as he took off the coat of his Holy See uniform and covered Qi Leren with it. It was then that he discovered that Ning Zhou’s waist was stained heavily with blood.

"You... Are you hurt? Let me help you... Help you treat it..." Dr. Lu trilled.

Ning Zhou silently shook his head and turned to the corner of the garden, where vast areas of wild roses were in full bloom, planted by Maria in those days. After more than 20 years, they grew tenaciously in the wind and rain.

He picked seven white wild roses. The hard stems covered with thorns bloodied his hands, but he seemed not to notice and took off the thorns one by one.

He walked up to him with the flowers in his hand. He slept in a tree stump covered with petals and bathed in warm sunshine. His memory couldn't help overlapping the past and present, but this time, he wouldn't open his eyes to meet his sight. But he would always remember the gentleness of that glance.

The pure white roses were placed on Qi Leren’s body, separated by the black Holy See uniform, and separated by life and death.

This really was a great distance.

The sun that had once lit up his life has set, and the rest of his life would be a long eternal night.

After such a short life, he had lost someone forever.

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PS: Although I don't usually write emotional dramas, this couple really has a special beauty. It's a bit like being fond of a beauty that is obviously taboo, but in the end, love triumphs over all beliefs and logic.

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#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

[ninak803]

Elitist Nightmares

Aaand I finished a new chapter! Yeeei!

@whataboutmyfries thank you, thank you, thank you ❤️❤️

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Psssst @sunflowerfox87 a new chapter!

Please read tags for CW!!

Chapter 7

Remus

The last days went by in a blur. Remus and Leo organized everything that needed to be organized, like a needle to draw blood and bleach to clean up the mess he was going to make.

Now they were both sitting in the car and Remus went through the plan step by step, so he won't forget anything.

“Okay, so I'll be waiting here for you.” Leo said, watching Remus carefully.

He felt Remus' tension; he was good at reading people, Remus had to admit. Working with him wasn't bad after all.

“Yeah. If I'm not back in two hours, something's gone wrong; get the hell out of here and contact O'Hara and Tremblay, they know what to do. Okay?”

Leo nodded.

“Good luck.” he said as Remus left the car.

For the third time, he sneaked through the Black’s mansion, that was two times more than he initially had intended, it had never happened to him before, but plans changed. Obviously.

When he opened Sirius' bedroom door, he was sitting on his bed, awake this time. He looked at Remus, whose heart beat faster out of nervousness. He closed the door behind him quietly and walked over to the other man.

“I thought you might have forgotten me.” Sirius said, his voice a bit teasing.

Remus rolled his eyes. This guy really was something, talking to his assassin like that.

“No, I did not.” Remus said and placed the things he had brought with him on the bed.

Sirius moved closer to get a better look.

“What's that for?” he asked and pointed at the blood drawing kit.

Remus raised his eyebrows.

“How did you think, I would get your blood without actually hurting you?”

Sirius looked at him with horror, his eyes wide.

“I… I didn’t think about it.” his voice was just a whisper.

Remus grinned at him a bit.

“You're afraid of needles.” he stated.

The other one shook his head.

“No, of course not. I just… don't like them, with their pointy ends and all.”

Now Remus had to laugh, Sirius was cute when he was like that.

“Don't worry, I know what I'm doing, I've done this before.”

And this wasn't exactly a lie, he had trained on how to draw blood with Leo for the last couple of days. The poor boy's arm was covered with bruises from it.

“Why do you know how to do this?”

Remus just shrugged vaguely and held out his arm.

“Give me your arm, please.”

He placed the tourniquet around Sirius' arm, took a pad, then disinfected his arm.

Sirius stared at him, following every move he made with watchful eyes.

“Okay… Please lean back and look at the ceiling.” Remus instructed.

He waited until Sirius did as he was told, then took the needle in his hand and looked at his arm to find the vein.

Sirius' breaths were rather fast and Remus looked at him.

“Tell me something. Something I don't know. Something good.”

Sirius looked into his eyes for a moment, then back at the ceiling when he started talking.

“Uhm… When we were still kids, Regulus and I had this place down the road. There is a small forest, I don't know if you know. It's really not large, but it's very nice and not many people go there. Well, it was pretty empty, I don't know what it's like now. I haven't been there in years… So we would go there when our parents were… When they were shit again. We would just run away and hide for a while, pretend that everything we see is ours. We built small hideouts with the branches and moss, had fights with sticks which we pretended were swords and we were some sort of knights…” he smiled at the thought.

“And everything was well for a moment.”

Sirius looked at Remus, then at his arm in surprise. He hadn't noticed the needle at all.

Remus smiled at him genuinely.

“That sounds like a good memory.” he agreed.

They were silent for a moment, Remus watching Sirius and Sirius watching his blood and Remus, smiling shyly at him.

“Please tell me when you start feeling dizzy.” he told Sirius, who nodded.

Sirius closed his eyes. His breathing was even, just a bit too fast, maybe.

“You wanna tell me something else?” Remus asked him.

A smile appeared on Sirius' face, his eyes still closed. Remus liked this smile. It was an honest one, a happy one.

“Hm, let me think for a moment.”

He bit his lip in concentration.

“Oh, okay, I have one. We have this lake in our garden, you probably know that, and in winter when it was frozen, Regulus and I went out there to skate. It was in the middle of the night, so our parents wouldn’t notice us. It was so freaking cold. Afterwards we made hot chocolate to get warm again.”

Sirius sighed.

“I miss those days… When he was still just my little brother and not my parents' meeple. Also, I’m feeling dizzy now.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, give me a moment.” Remus said.

He fumbled with the needle and pulled it away, then placed a band aid on Sirius' arm.

Remus reached for his bag, took some chocolate out and handed it to him.

“Eat. You'll feel better.”

He waited for a while and watched Sirius eat, then Remus got up and walked into the middle of the room. He spun around several times to look at the room to find the right spot for the crime scene, then he went to the wall where he first encountered him.

This would do.

He turned around to Sirius, who was watching him, Remus swallowed.

“Can you come over here for a second?”

Sirius walked to him and Remus pushed him against the wall, gently this time. He took his knife out and held it to his throat, without any pressure though, he didn't want to hurt him.

“This feels familiar.” Sirius said with a grin on his face.

“Yeah, I need to see how tall you are to prepare…” Remus trailed off.

“Do whatever you have to do.” Sirius shrugged.

After a moment, he let go of him again and started to prepare the fake crime scene. This took him a good while, Sirius watched him from his bed again. When he was pleased with the mess he made, he started scrubbing everything with the bleach he'd brought.

Sirius was standing next to him when he was done.

“You've missed a spot here.”

Remus nodded.

“I know, I did that on purpose. So they see you didn't just run away.”

Sirius looked at him.

“Smart.”

Remus grinned.

“Thanks.”

He cleaned himself up afterwards, then went back to Sirius, who looked sad.

“Come on. We have to go now. Leave your phone here.”

And they left the Black mansion together.

Sirius

They went to a white car, a blonde guy sitting in it. Remus opened the door for him and he got inside.

“Uh… Hi.” Sirius said to the blonde.

“Hi. Im Leo. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah. You too, I guess?”

They drove through the whole town, then parked in front of a small, rundown building.

“Welcome to your new home for the next couple of weeks.” Amber Eyes announced.

Sirius looked at it sceptically, but followed them up to the flat.

Inside it was slightly better. It wasn't the best flat he had ever seen, but at least it was clean.

So this was where he would stay now… Well, it could be worse, right? He could still be with his parents.

Remus looked at him, watching every step he made, so Sirius smiled at him.

“It's yours? Looks… nice.”

Remus laughed, he had detected the lie.

“Come on, I’ll show you where the bedroom is. You need some sleep.”

Sirius followed him into the bedroom. It was small; the bed fitted in there just so, a small wardrobe next to it.

“Take anything you need out of my wardrobe. My clothes might be too large for you, but it'll do for now. I'm in the living room, if you need anything. The bathroom is right next to the bedroom.”

Sirius nodded and Remus left him alone.

He sat down on the bed, moving his fingers over the blanket, then laid down fully clothed.

How was he supposed to sleep now? He had just faked his death and was now lying in the bed of a stranger, of someone who actually wanted to kill him, and he should just trust him now? No way.

His thoughts wandered to his brother and the fight they had only a couple of hours ago. He wished he could talk to him now, tell him he was sorry, tell him what was going to happen. When Regulus finds him gone, he would assume that he needed a day away from their family, like he did sometimes. But when he wouldn't come back in the afternoon, Regulus would know something was wrong. He will check his bedroom, find his phone and maybe the small blood spot, which Remus had left on the floor. The thought alone made Sirius heart hurt for his brother. Why did he have to do this to him?

He didn't care about his parents or their feelings, but he did care about his brother. Regulus was going to feel so damn awful.

Sirius swallowed hard and wiped away the tears. He would see his brother again. He knew it, but he was still sorry.

He closed his eyes, the touch of the soft blanket soothing him a little. He noticed a smell. He recognized it as Remus'; he remembered it clearly from the first day they had met. It shouldn't surprise him, it was his bedroom after all.

He snuggled deeper into the blanket and fell asleep despite everything.

---

Sirius startled awake. He was sweaty and his heart beat fast, because of the nightmare he just had. He swallowed, sat up and looked around. At first he didn't recognize the room he was in, but after a moment the events of the day sank in and he slowly calmed down again.

His parents weren't even close.

With an almost normal heartbeat, he got up and walked into the kitchen to get some water. A movement on the couch made Sirius stop. Remus was sleeping there, the blanket was thrown carelessly to the floor; he was sweating and his face looked painful, afraid.

So Sirius wasn't the only one with nightmares.

He walked over to the couch and sat down next to Remus, touching him gently on the shoulder to wake him up, and Remus shot upright immediately, his hands closing around Sirius neck.

Sirius held his hands up in defense, to show him he was unarmed and after a moment Remus let go of him, his eyes still scared.

“Fuck. Do you want to get yourself killed? Do not wake me up. Damn it.” he said, his voice hoarse.

Remus moved a hand through his hair, and Sirius watched him.

“You had a nightmare.” he said.

Remus shook his head.

“No, I didn't.”

“I get them too. I just had one.” he said silently.

Remus took a deep breath, then looked at Sirius with soft eyes and a small smile.

“You wanna talk about it?”

But Sirius shook his head.

“Neither do I.” Remus said, then got up from the couch.

“I don't think I can fall asleep now. You almost scared me to death.” he said.

Sirius had to laugh.

“Thanks for waking me up though…” Remus said, barely audible, then he cleared his throat and continued:

“I get myself some tea. Do you want one too? We could watch a movie or something… I mean, if you don't want to sleep again. If not, I promise you won't hear me, I won't wake you up.”

Sirius got up too.

“Tea and a movie sounds good, actually. I don't want to sleep at the moment, so… Some company would be nice, I guess? If you don't mind me…”

“Yeah, no, I don't mind.”

They stood next to each other awkwardly for a moment, then Remus left and went into the kitchen to make them some tea.

Finn

Logan was standing in the kitchen, talking on his phone apparently. Finn sat in the living room and could hear him talking to someone. He looked at Logan when the other boy came into sight again.

“I just got a call from Remus. He did it, he eliminated Black.” he sounded awestruck.

“Oh, wow.”

Logan nodded.

“Yeah. You remember this boy he took with him when he paid us a visit?”

Now it was Finn's turn to nod.

Of course he remembered Leo, he thought about him every day to be honest.

“Well, he is going to work with us now.”

Finn sat up straighter.

Well, that was some good news, right? He had wanted to see him again the moment he walked through their door with Remus. But now he had to work with him and with Logan. One boy he was in love with for years now and another one he was falling for already. Those weren’t the best circumstances. How was he supposed to stay sane?

Finn felt Logan's eyes on him, so he looked at him and smiled.

“Sounds good to me. He still needs to learn, right? We can show him a thing or two.”

Logan nodded.

“Yeah, that's actually what Remus just said to me. Leo will be here tomorrow morning at 6:30.”

Okay, so Finn had another night to think on how to handle this whole situation, not that he had many options.

“The newspapers did not cover his death yet, did they?” he asked to change the subject.

“No, it's just been a couple of hours.”

Finn nodded.

“Okay, well… We should check on Regulus and see how the security arrangements for him have changed. I guess things will be more complicated for us now.”

He got up and walked over to where Logan was standing, looking at him.

“Ouais…” he said.

Something was occupying him, Finn could see it on his face, his posture.

“Are you okay, Tremz?”

Logan looked him straight in the eye, Finn's breath hitched a second, but then Logan smiled at him and moved away.

“Yeah. Im okay. I'm just excited, I think. Everything is going to change now, isn't it?”

Finn nodded.

“That's why we're doing this. Come on, then.” he placed his hand on Logan's shoulder shortly as they left their apartment.

Finn knew Logan hadn’t told him the truth, but he also knew Logan; if he cornered him now, he would just shut down completely, so Finn let it go.

---

The next morning Finn was running up and down in his room, waiting for the doorbell to finally ring. He checked his watch for the hundredth time. 6:25 am.

He sighed and sat down on his bed. He didn't even know why he was so nervous. Well, no, he knew, but it still was stupid and annoying.

A moment later the bell finally rang, and Finn jumped up. He almost ran to the door and crashed into Logan, who already had his hand on the handle.

“Woah, slow down Harzy.” he said and opened the door.

And there he stood: Leo, tall, blonde, with friendly blue eyes and a dimpled smile on his face.

Finn's heart melted on the spot.

#wolfstar #harry potter #remus john lupin #remus lupin #remus x sirius #sirius black #sirius orion black #james potter #muggle au #lily evans #regulus black #assassin remus #tw needles #tw mention of blood #cw faking a crime scene #cw faking death #oknutzy

[nalax9]

The Forgotten Joy

Merry Christmas @hellzeldagirlsfanfic​   🎄🎄🎄  I’m your Secret Santa from @dmcsecretsanta​

Hope you enjoy this & happy holidays~!!

It's the first year you have a festive celebration with your lover. Vergil and you had a date for Christmas shopping, then you discovered his unpleasant childhood memories.

The blizzard winter this year is torturing. It’s less than a week before christmas but it’s rare that the weather is getting warmer today. You sit on the windowsill and have your tea, listening to some music while waiting for your lover. The ensemble of violin and piano are played by your neighbor, they do it every noon to help with their daughter’s practice. You follow the melody and hums. 

Not long after, you saw Vergil walking slowly toward your apartment. You both have a date today, christmas shopping. He beckons to you once he saw you. You smiled happily and waved to him, motioned to him to wait for you, and he nodded. You grab your keys, run downstairs to meet him. 

Vergil waits for you under the tree in the front yard, he hands you a red flower when he sees you. “Did you pluck it from somewhere?”  Vergil shook his head “Kyrie sent us some flowers to decorate the office. I picked it from there, she said its name is poinsettia and is widely used in Christmas.” “I see, thank you Vergil.”   You pin the flower on your scarf, the red poinsettia match well with the color of your scarf. 

“Shall we?”  Vergil offered his arm for you to grab on, just as you were about to lift, a pile of snow fell from the branches and fall on Vergil's head. “!!” Vergil startled. 

Then he wiped the falling snow off his head, some melted snow slid into his clothes, slide down his spine, make him shiver and sneeze. “Here, I got this.” You pass him a tissue and put a woolen hat on him, Vergil grunts and got annoyed for the hat suppressed his hair down. “Love, you mess up my hair.” “But you still looking good my dear, I love them, they matched your blue sweater.” Your compliment brought a faint blush to his cheeks. The woolen hat was woven by yourself, which is a pair with the scarf you gave him before. “Alright, let’s go.”  You two walked side by side through the snow-covered park and went to the market.

The streets are dressed up with christmas decorations and lights, it’s dazzling. There were booths selling ornaments, trees, decor goods, and also foods and beverages. There also street performers singing at the square. The two of you stroll around various booths and shops in the market, aiming to find some unique gifts for the kids of Nero's family, for each other and the crews too.

You drag Vergil to a booth that sells christmas attires. They have accessories such as elf socks, scarves, santa hats and many more displayed on the wooden board. You put a reindeer red nose and reindeer headband on him.

Vergil held an ugly sweater and wrap it on his neck, the sweater had a chubby santa body printed on it. He gave you a silly smile, there are some glitters on his cheeks.  “Looking good?” You burst a laugh by the silly attire of him. “You want this?” “Seeing you laughing so happily, I believe it’ll bring some joy to the kids too.”

Then, you stop by a booth, looking for some greetings card. You get attracted by their exquisite stationery and lost track with Vergil. When you find out, you immediately search for him in the crowd. You found him soon after you walked through a few booths. Vergil stood and stared at those cute ornaments, a music box held in his hand.

“Vergil?” “...” “Vergil?” You repeat “Oh..sorry..my love..I..got distracted..” “It’s alright, what are you looking at?” “I..don’t know..We..I..never celebrate Christmas…....” He went silent, the situation is a bit awkward for now, you try to break the ice.

“Let’s have a drink, my treat.”

Vergil follows you along to a cafe. You both take a rest in there and order some drinks, he is waiting for you to come back from the counter. While you wait for your orders at the bar counter, you see Vergil observing his surroundings. He smiles at you when his eyes meet you, makes you flustered. Vergil seems to like the atmosphere of the cafe. While listening to the music played in the cafe, he tapped his foot and hummed, he looked enjoyable and...relaxed. But he stops immediately when you are back with the drinks.

“There you go, berries tea and scones.” “What did you have?” He asked. “Mulled wine and brownies” Then, You ask tentatively. “So..uhm..did you mind telling me more..?” Vergil remains silent for a few seconds before speaking “Well...I vaguely remember there some people will walk around the neighborhood and sing a choir at your door?” “Christmas carols.” You answer “...uh...They never stop at our door......” He stared at his feet, gloomy “It's okay if you don’t want to continue this topic.” You worried “I’m alright…” He holds your hand, taps on your palm to reassures “Mother will sing to us when we practice the instruments. It seems important on this day, but we have never been invited for occasions... I had no idea what humans do on this day, and what is it for...would you mind to tell me more?”

Vergil let out a deep sigh after he vent his thoughts, his pose more relaxed than before. “Of course I can tell you more of the festive occasions..Honey, I’m sorry you've gone through these..but we can build our memorable moments together..from now..every moment.. ”  Your heart sank, all you want is him being happy.  “You are right..thank you for being with me, my love..” “Alright, let's have some dessert to cast away the bad mood.”  You pass him a scone.

Vergil ate the scone, and took a big sip of his tea. His face scrunched up and coughs after that. “What’s wrong?” “The tea is awful.” “Oh..you silly, you took my wine sweetheart.” *coughs coughs* “What?” “Here's your tea.” You switched the cups with Vergil “...Are you alright...Vergil?” “...I’m alright, just my face is burning hot..”  After that, you did observe Vergil  for a while, but you can’t tell how his condition is, he looks like he gonna doze off when he is not talking... “How about we go get some fresh air after this?” “oKAY” 

You two go back to the square and wander around, do some shopping, your arm hooked with Vergil and you slid your hand inside the pocket of his coat. Vergil caught you, his gloved fingers intertwined with yours and gave a firm grip. You blushed, you were surprised by his rare demeanor.

“Have you got everything you want?” He asked “Yeah...I got it all, how bout you?” He stops walking and ponders, someone interrupts him when he is about to answer your question.

“Hey!! The sweet couple there! Yes, you two! Wanna try some chocolates? It’s handmade!! We have hazelnut, almond, cherry, mint, caramel, toffee, and many more! Come, my friend, come try it!!”

The chocolate store worker is waving to you

“Do you want some?” Vergil asked. “Yup, let’s have a look.” You nod excitedly, jump, act like a child and drag him into the store, then you took a sample from the box, and put one into Vergil’s mouth. “How is it?” “...Dear...It..burns my tongue and throat…” “What??”

“Oh, that contains mint-infused vodka.” the seller said

“Sorry...Vergil, I was not aware it contained alcohol...” You apologize “Don’t be. It melts instantly in the mouth, the bitterness of cocoa blends well with the liquor, and the hints of the mint..not bad.” Vergil grabs one more chocolate and eats.. “Well..If you like it, I will buy some of it. I like toffee and orange.”  You took the packet and showed him. “Orange? That's weird than strawberry.” Vergil questioned. “I assure you they taste good. I have to go make the payment, be right back.” 

Before you leave the chocolate store, you ask again just to reassure his condition. “You good hun?”  Vergil nodded in reply, he is leaning against a pillar, his eyes look dull and redness on his cheeks, you can tell he is probably drunk. “Alright, let’s go home.” You straighten him up with a hand. “Wait..we haven’t bought all the things that we want... the tree..do we have va tree? That guy said we should have a pine for christmas.” Did he talk to a stranger? Yes, Vergil is drunk. He even mumbled while he talked.“Yes, we do have a small artificial tree.” “No, I want a pine tree...I can go cut one in the woods.”  He turned and walked in the opposite direction..to the woods... “Nope, we should go home, we'll talk about the tree later.”  You hold him to stop him from moving forward, it takes you some hard work and times, dragging a tall, big guy like him to get home. You keep yourself in mind, never, ever let him have alcoholic foods when you are outside.

You put Vergil in the couches once you reach home, and you have to change his damp clothes. “Take a rest, I’ll go get your clothes...” “No..stay...Don’t go.....” He grips your hand that is placed on his forehead, eyes staring at you like an innocent puppy. “Just for a while, I’ll be right back.” You lean on and kiss his forehead, Vergil grumbles incoherent words. After a moment, you back with his clean clothes, you sit at his side and pull off his sweater. While you work on his belt, Vergil pulls you into his embrace, his hand tugging a strand of your hair behind your ears, caresses your face. “Hey..you’re distracting me..”  You patted away his hands, but Vergil didn’t care. He sits up and holds you in his arms, kissing you.

The kiss is soft but passionate and his lips are moist and plump, you hold his head, pry open his mouth and slide your tongue inside, deepening the kiss. Vergil slowly lay you down on the couches, his tongue swiftly lapping in your mouth and his teeth gently grazing your lower lips. His hands roaming on your body, fingers swipe up and down on your spine. Then he moves to the front, unhook your bra and kneads your boobs, fingers pinching your hard,perky nipples. You get aroused and your skin burns hot under his touches. Your moans echoes in the dim and quiet living room. Vergil takes off your pants, his hands doing the work to get you ready for him. Vergil’s thumb rubs on your clit, his fingers swiftly moving inside your cunt. His moves are gentle, his needy mouth still lingering with yours, swallowing all your shuddering breath and moans. Vergil caressing your body, calling your name softly while he buried himself inside you, slowly rocking his hips, your legs clasp on his hips as his movement goes faster and faster, both of you reach your climax at the same time and he paints your walls white with his seeds.

Vergil falls asleep after that, he sleeps sounds in your embrace. You pull a sheet, cover-up and cuddle with him in the couches. “Goodnight, my dear.” 

You woke up in the middle of the night and heard a melody playing from a musical box.  “Sorry, did I wake you?” He noticed you are awake You shook your head “You bought it from the market?” He nodded and took you into his arms. “It’s the lullaby mother used to sing to us…do you like it?” “Yes” “...I feel excited about...Christmas.” “Me too, I can’t wait to see you wear that funny sweater.” You giggles, then plant a kiss on his cheeks “Should we get a tree?” He asked again “Let’s go buy a tree tomorrow, but no cutting from the woods...that’s illegal..” Vergil snorts “Alright, should we decorate the house with lights too?” “You’re motivated aren’t you? Okay, we’ll decorate both the office and house…”  *yawns* “Let’s put you to bed..”

Vergil hugs you and carries you to the bedroom, you cuddle up with him. Both of you had a small chat, guessing the reaction of the kids when they received the gifts,the reason of the gift you chose, how you wanted to decorate the trees..until you got really sleepy.. Vergil’s hand ruffles your hair, humming the same lullaby from the music box to coax you to sleep.  After you fell asleep, he whispered into your ears.

“I’m glad to have you with me. I love you.”

-End-

#Vergil #vergil x reader #vergil x you #devil may cry #DMC5 #dmcsecretsanta #mywriting #fluff #love

[halothenthehorns]

PROFESSOR TRELAWNEY'S PREDICTION

Harry was in such a giddy mood after the last chapter that it took him a little longer than usual to settle down and try to read, putting all of his delays on this one feeling, and refusing to admit that now that school was coming to an end, he knew he should remember something that he'd been ignoring all year.

Harry's euphoria at finally winning the Quidditch Cup lasted at least a week.

"Can't believe it didn't last for months," James beamed, still unable to knock the pride out of his voice, not that he was trying.

The rest of the school was in exactly the same mood, the beautiful weather out every window leaving all the students with fantasies of lounging around.

"But of course that's the time exams are set," Sirius muttered in disgust.

They couldn't though, as student exams began, and they were forced to make their brains concentrate,

"You're starting to give me flashbacks," Remus sighed, rubbing his forehead in that remembered pain.

despite the summer fast approaching. Even the Weasley twins had been caught studying,

James spazzed and then pretended to faint in shock, while Sirius 'broke down' crying about how he was so disappointed in them.

Lily and Harry couldn't help giggling along at the pair of them, while Remus looked about ready to join in except he couldn't do anything to theatrical with the baby in his lap.

which was fair considering they were about to take their O. W. L. s.

"Alright, I'll give them a pass for that," James nodded, coming out of it.

"Yes fine, just this once," Sirius nodded in agreement as he wiped his eyes.

Percy was getting ready to take his N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests),

"Really wish that was a joking title," Lily muttered in remembered disdain of how accurate it was.

and was now prone to telling off anyone and everyone who so much as made a peep disturbing him.

"Whelp, there goes that good mood of his, that he had for five seconds," Remus rolled his eyes.

He still wasn't as bad as Hermione.

"Oh bloody hell," James winced, remembering all over again the amount of tests that girl had to cope with.

Harry and Ron had long since given up asking how she was going to all of her classes,

"Still don't comprehend how you could give up on that," Sirius asked, knowing he'd pester the girl to no end until he got his answer.

"Don't I know it," Remus sighed, Sirius having pestered him to no end when he realized he'd been hiding something, and not having let up until he figured it out.

but they couldn't help but ask when they saw her schedule, which had two exams being taken place at once.

Lily went cross-eyed at the thought of one exam in the morning and one that evening, let alone double it!

Ron began the conversation very carefully, since she was known to explode when anyone spoke to her.

"Well can you blame her?" Harry asked with a bit of an edge, remembering those moments a little too well.

He asked if she was sure of these times, and Hermione had a mini freak out as she double checked them and said yes of course they were right.

"Right," Sirius said with a frown, drawing out the word past its normal syllable count. He wasn't questioning that part any more than before, just how she was bleeding doing it.

Harry asked if there was a point in asking how she was going to pull that off, and she told them no.

"That's when you ask again," James pointed out.

"And again," Sirius seconded.

"Until she's told you after the millionth time you ask," James concluded.

"Trust them on this," Remus said with a suffering sigh, "they have way too much experience on that front."

Then she asked if they'd seen her Arithmancy book, and Ron admitted he'd borrowed it for some fun,

"It's good he's branching out into subjects he isn't taking," Lily muttered, thinking he was quite brave to poke fun at her at a time like this.

though quietly enough she couldn't have heard. Harry got distracted by a note arriving via Hedwig from Hagrid.

They all perked up again, though without much hope. They all knew what was coming, as nothing had changed.

He read out that Buckbeak's appeal had been set for the last day of their exams.

"Guess that's kind of a good thing, you might could sneak out and see him," James muttered without any enthusiasm, knowing if they could they would have done it already.

Harry was still reading though, as the note said the Ministry was coming up here to do it,

"Ugh," Lily muttered in disdain, thinking that wasn't any kind of professional at all.

and they were bringing an executioner.

"Why, would Hagrid know that?" Remus asked, going just that little bit paler from shock at this blatant disregard of Hagrid's rights for his appeal.

"Maybe he does have a friend at the Ministry that warned him," Sirius said listlessly, the reason didn't matter, it still made him see red with anger.

"But, but that means," Lily tried to splutter, but she was so angry she couldn't get the words out. None of them needed her to, they all knew what this meant. The Ministry had set its mind, and that appeal had just turned into a literal execution, making it all the more ghastly that this was being done in Hagrid's house!

Ron was furious as he snapped they couldn't do that, just ignore all that reading he'd done for this appeal!

"You tell them that when they arrive," James nodded seriously, knowing this wouldn't be the only things he'd like to say to every one of those pompous, arrogant, gah he was so angry he was running out of insults in his own head!

Harry though had the strong feeling that they could, and would, as the Committee had already proven they'd do exactly as Lucius wanted.

"Sounds about right yeah," Sirius hissed, his hand starting to twitch like he wanted to curse Malfoy into oblivion right then. If Malfoy could get away with doing these types of things, what else did he have running for him at that Ministry!?

The younger Malfoy, who hadn't been nearly as public since that last game,

"Wish he'd stay that way forever," Remus snarled.

gained back some of his old attitude for this news.

"How, could, he, be, pleased, with, this!" Lily said slowly and carefully to stop herself from screaming at the top of her lungs, not with her infant still in the room anyways. It just blew her mind that he hadn't learned a damned thing, even after his cruel acts to Harry all year and her son had still won fairly, even after Hermione had taught him right how words could hurt and he'd gone right back to it! What would it take to make this boy see this wasn't okay?

He made it plenty obvious from his comments that he felt personally responsible for what was going to happen to the hippogriff, and couldn't be more pleased about it.

"I cannot begin to say just how wrong that is." James scowled, hoping against hope something could still be done, anything that would get this animal out of this putrid situation he didn't belong in. All this for a couple of scratches on his arm, when Malfoy had deserved that in the first place!

It was all Harry could do to stop himself imitating Hermione and hitting Malfoy in the face on these occasions.

"You have much more restraint than any of us," Remus nodded seriously.

"It vaguely helped he would most often do this with Snape around," Harry said morosely, his face making it clear that probably might not stop him again the next time he saw him.

The worst part of all was that because of the strict security still around, they had no chance to go see Hagrid, and couldn't sneak out because his cloak was still in the secret passage.

"You just going to leave that down there forever then?" James sighed, randomly wondering if the twins had come across it and perhaps taken it or anyone really, they couldn't be the only kids to know about it.

Harry did look like he was regretting this decision as well, he'd just been so upset and paranoid about being caught around that statue so many times that if anyone, Snape or at the time Lupin, caught him there again, he might lose something far more valuable to him then that Map, he couldn't have stood it if someone took his cloak away next. He still might have risked it though just to see Hagrid, but there was also the matter that he had no way of getting out of the castle with all of those securities, so it was a moot point in the end. Once he explained this to the others, they looked like they understood more, though as unhappy about it as Harry. Remus especially, though Harry had left his name out, Remus guessed it all the same.

Exams began and Harry's first was Transfiguration,

James couldn't help but perk up just a bit, wanting to know how his son had done in his old favorite class.

which didn't seem to go that well as the students came shuffling out comparing progress, asking if points were taken away for this or that.

"It didn't say what you did," James said swiftly.

Harry grimaced as he muttered, "mine had been the one to blow steam."

"Well that's not so bad," Sirius said bracingly, "if it had just waited another few seconds, no one would have even known and you'd have gotten full marks."

Harry gave him a friendly smile for the attempt, but his thoughts had been much like his fathers, and he'd been hoping that by now with his magic he may have gotten some sort of hint at what he might be best in. It certainly wasn't his father's old branch, which wasn't improving his mood.

Then there was Charms, where Harry put a bit too much oomph into his magic and accidentally used his Cheering Charm too strong on Ron, who had to be escorted out while he laughed himself silly and had to be calmed down to try his own.

Lily couldn't help a giggle herself, saying, "honestly I can't see you getting too bad off for that, at least you've shown you can do it."

Harry gave the expected laugh back, though still right on being annoyed that it clearly wasn't his mother's either. Despite how often they kept saying how much he was like them, he was still looking for some sort of connection to them back then even through these feeble means rather than possessions they'd once owned or even people. He had vividly remembered Ollivanders words about their strengths in magic, and the longer he didn't excel in one of these two the more it annoyed him.

Then it was off to study for Care of Magical Creatures,

"Well that one should be easy enough," Remus said lightly, noting like the others Harry's bad mood, but unclear why it was there. Since he wasn't saying it they assumed it had something to do with his memories, so he was still trying to keep things light as he finished, "all you did was study flobberworms all year, plus that one class where the fire salamanders came."

Harry nodded in agreement, forcing himself to shake away his problem which was probably just a stupid want, and focus on the here and now, where he could make plenty of connections to his parents.

which Hagrid made an ease of during the exam, since he was clearly preoccupied.

"Guess you can't rightly blame him," Sirius said in honest sympathy.

Their goal was to make sure their flobberworm was alive after an hour.

"Easiest exam ever!" Remus said with just a touch of envy, they'd never gotten off so easy in that class with Kettleburn, though upon reflection that may have been a good thing.

Since this creature survived fine when left alone,

"See, you did learn something in that class," James pointed out with chipper.

they had no problems with this and instead tried to comfort Hagrid. He was barely keeping himself together as he admitted that Buckbeak was starting to get restless from being tied down too long.

"That'll happen with any animal," Remus nodded sadly.

They didn't get long to think on it though as they had Potions next, which was a disaster.

"Can't even rightly blame you," Lily sighed. Harry couldn't help feeling disappointed in himself all over again, knowing that was his Mum's favorite subject now and wishing he could be better in it, not much he could do though with the teacher he had.

Harry's Confusing Concoction was far too runny,

"Does Snape make all of his exams an unintended joke?" Sirius couldn't help but demand, slightly amused as he remembered Harry's first year and his Forgetfulness Potion qualification.

and when Snape inspected it he wrote down what looked to be a zero.

"It's a bleeding miracle Harry hasn't failed every year with that kind of biased," James growled.

Then they had History of Magic, where Harry wrote as much as he could on all the information Florean Fortescue had given him on those witch-hunts,

"Always a good strategy," Lily nodded, "do the most with what you can, bullshit your way through what you don't."

Harry couldn't help a startled laugh, finding it more amusing as time went on his Mum was clearly relaxing and not being so uptight.

all the while wishing he could have some ice cream now in the boiling room.

"I wish they'd serve ice-cream with every exam," Sirius sighed, "it would certainly make me more willing to show up."

Their second to last exam was DADA.

That caused mixed emotions in all of them. They all still couldn't help but perk up whenever Remus was mentioned, he was clearly doing such a good job with the class and he had gone out of his way to take an interest in Harry's dementor problem. Then of course that lead to his more odd behaviors, and it left them confused all over again what on earth had happened to him this whole time. Had growing up alone and away from his friends really changed him that much? Twelve years was a long time, and none of them really felt like they had a right to judge if he had.

Remus was the only one who didn't agree with that last assessment, thinking that all the time in the world shouldn't have changed how he felt about Harry, wouldn't have done anything for his conviction of protecting and helping Sirius, but as they still had no new information on it, no one really said anything.

Lupin set up an interesting test for them, an obstacle course outside,

"You always did come up with the best ways to make that class fun," Harry told him fondly, his conviction that Professor Lupin was his favorite DADA teacher he ever had still holding true no matter what he learned of his personality on the side.

Remus offered him a wane smile for the compliment, before morosely turning back to the baby and half hoping he'd fade back out again soon, while still somehow trying to hold onto the flicker of hope that his future actions would properly be explained.

which Harry breezed through as he properly remembered every way to deal with every creature they'd learned about.

"Least I aced that one," Harry beamed, remembering his annoyance at his Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration grades again. So he hadn't blossomed in his parents best subjects, but he had in another. Their obvious praise at him now, as he'd clearly done that without Remus having given him any extra help, made them as proud as anything.

Ron had a little less luck, getting sidetracked by the hinkypunk,

"He got out alright though," he said unnecessarily, since Remus had still been around and had to get him out before he finished, "and he fought off the boggart just fine, so he still got really good marks."

and Hermione nearly got a perfect score as well, if it wasn't for her boggart.

Lily remembered back to when the boggart had first come up, and the girl's ire that she hadn't had a go. Lily had laughed then because this student didn't seem to need such practice.

She ran out screaming,

Then she blanched in shock along with everyone else at that reaction.

as she sobbed that McGonagall had been in there telling her that she'd failed every class.

They couldn't help it, all of the boys cracked up laughing. Lily tried to scowl at them, but then she remembered Ron's joke that this would actually be her boggart, and she couldn't help a light giggle of her own at how right he'd been. It still wasn't right to tease her, since she was stressed beyond all reason this year, but the fact that she really thought this still was laughable. Even with the extra workload, they'd still been under the impression she was top of her class in now literally every class.

Ron clearly wanted to laugh,

"Don't blame him," Sirius couldn't help but snicker one last time.

but he never got the chance as they left and went back around to the front of the school to find Cornelius Fudge.

"What's he doing there?" James grumbled, his despise of the Ministry nearly having reached the same level as Sirius'. First what had been done to his best mate, his brother, and now everything with Hagrid had put the justice system he'd been hoping to join at an all-time low.

He caught sight of Harry and greeted him, who responded back in kind while Hermione and Ron stayed hovering back, never having been on speaking terms with the Minister of Magic.

"Guess I can't blame them," Remus said with a wince, his own thoughts at the Minister being on the school grounds giving him his own spike of fear. He remembered back chapters ago about his worry of what he was getting let out, and possible retribution for his being around children. Would it reach all the way to the Minister of Magic, and Harry just hadn't heard about it because it had been handled quietly? He tried to keep himself calm by making a face at the baby, which worked effectively in making them both laugh, the others wondering why Remus' sounded so strained all of a sudden.

Fudge then explained to Harry that he was here as a witness for the Committee since apparently they were set to kill some hippogriff,

They may have already worked this out, but it didn't lessen their hatred of the situation any.

Sirius looked disgusted as he leaned back into the seat, grumbling, "I'm not even surprised at this point, bet they were all paid off to just skip that appeal."

Harry didn't want to believe it, but couldn't think of anything to argue the point either. No one even wanted to ask what the Minister was supposedly doing dealing with this low level type thing, the answer wouldn't make the act any better.

and since he'd had to come to Hogwarts anyways to check in on the Black situation, he offered.

And that didn't make anyone feel any better either.

Ron jumped in to ask if the appeal had happened, and Fudge looked confused as he told Ron it wasn't until later.

"Confused as to why anyone would question him," James said through clenched teeth, "or confused at how his own system is working!"

Ron pointed out that the hippogriff might not need a witness for an execution then, he could go free.

"I honestly want to cry at how sincere he's being," Lily ground out, looking the opposite of tears she was so frustrated by this wrongdoing.

Fudge didn't have a chance to respond as he was joined on the steps by an old wizard and a man fingering an axe.

"Merlin could they be any crueler about this!" Lily howled in outrage. Showing up to Hagrid's front door with that! At this point she wouldn't even be surprised if they didn't do this the humane way, and just simply lopped off the creature's head while Hagrid was watching and then walk away like that was okay!

"Can't believe the Minister himself is there, they're so blatantly-" James had to click his jaw shut to stop his own voice from rising in pure frustration of this continued mess.

Ron tried to say something, but Hermione cut him off by giving him a subtle kick.

"Please tell me Hermione isn't really going to stick up for this," Sirius asked with something remarkably close to hatred.

"No," Harry snapped back at once, "she'll tell in a second, but she'd never after all she did to try and stop it."

Sirius backed down at once, he'd still been unable to stop himself from drawing a lot of parallels to that hippogriffs situation and what he was envisioning as his own, but now when he replayed that, it had been crueler than he meant.

What really bothered him was that Harry kept watching him with a frown in place, and Sirius wasn't really sure why. Harry had been looking at him a lot like that through the whole book, it was that same plagued face that meant he really wanted to remember something. The fact that Sirius still feared for his own futures sanity and Harry couldn't answer that wasn't helping anything.

When the three had left, Ron demanded to know why she'd stopped him, and Hermione explained that as his Dad worked for Fudge, it wasn't a good idea for him to go yelling at his boss.

"Well, damn," Lily finally got out after chewing on that for a moment, "guess she's got a point."

"Guess it wouldn't have been worth it," James agreed with a suffering sigh.

Hermione tried to say that so long as Hagrid kept his cool, there wouldn't be a need for an execution.

Harry's tone as he read that made it clear that Hermione hadn't meant that any more than they did.

She didn't sound any more sure of it then they felt.

"Why does this crap keep happening to you at the worst of times?" Remus grumbled to no one.

Harry's and Ron's last exam was Divination,

"Least this should be another cakewalk," Sirius offered, anything to keep Harry from shooting him looks. Was it just him, or were those going up in frequency every time Buckbeak was mentioned?

and they made their way unhappily to her tower to find the other students trying to do some last minute reviewing.

"What are they even studying?" Lily asked in wonder. "All we've heard in that class is make it up as you go along."

Harry just shrugged, he'd tried his hardest not to take that class seriously after his first lesson, it hadn't always worked, but he didn't think that was going to change.

They found Neville looking down in confusion at his own book at the section for crystal balls and asked them if they'd ever seen anything in that class?

"Think I found a fly trapped in there once," Harry muttered without any enthusiasm, his skin starting to itch all over. Something, it was definitely that feeling rising up in him again. Something was about to happen...

Ron said no while constantly glancing at his watch, counting down the time to Buckbeak's appeal.

"If she's going in alphabetic order, the boys might not even make it down there in time even if they were going to sneak," James moaned, thinking Trelawney was probably going to take forever.

She was calling the students up one by one, and when Neville came back down from his turn and Harry asked what had happened, Neville refused to tell as Trelawney had told him if he did he'd have an accident.

"Oh for the love of," Lily huffed, more than at her wits end between the fate of Buckbeak and now this teacher on top of it was putting her in quite the foul mood. Now she was still picking on Neville on top of everything!

Ron scoffed that was convenient, and admitted that he was starting to think Hermione was probably right about their teacher,

"Starting to?" Remus rolled his eyes, even with the proof that he did know she was a Seer, she still annoyed him to no end, and didn't really think she should be indulged.

she was a fake. Harry agreed without any real care, still watching his own watch, now set at two.

"Least it's going faster than I thought," James muttered, Harry and Ron's actions clearly meant that this time they may really go for it and be with Hagrid right then, which was surely needed.

Parvati came down next, telling the boys that her's had gone wonderfully as Trelawney had told her she could be a real Seer,

"Don't," Sirius told Lily, taking great pleasure in cutting her off for once. "Leave the kid be."

She huffed but held her tongue, to his surprise.

then waltzed off to join her friend. Ron was called next,

They noticed that obviously this wasn't in any order, so they kind of wondered how she was picking, but it didn't really matter, she could have just been doing it randomly to keep them on their toes.

and Ron made a face as he left, leaving Harry alone.

"Why do I get a bad feeling about leaving him for last?" Lily sighed, thinking Harry may well spend an entire hour now trying to be convinced there was some death dog after him.

When he did come back down, Ron finally told Harry that all he'd had to do was look in a crystal ball, but he hadn't seen a thing so he'd just made something up on the spot, though he didn't know if she'd believed it.

"Well clearly you need some help from Lavender," Sirius smirked, now he clearly wasn't the only one watching Harry, whom the longer he read the more strained his voice was getting.

Harry couldn't help it though, he just knew something was about to happen, and it was making his headache like no other.

Harry said he'd meet him back in their dorm as he went up for his turn, going upstairs to find Ron's described setup.

"Well Ron had the right idea," James sighed, "I'm pretty sure all you've got to do is make something up on the spot and you might get away with it."

"Still can't believe you didn't drop when you had the chance," Lily muttered.

She greeted Harry and had him take a seat, telling him to take his time for something to come to him. Harry watched the white swirls within the glass, but nothing was happening.

"I think I'd be a little more worried if it did," Remus said honestly with a twitch of his lips, then frowned when Harry hardly reacted. He hadn't been this stressed in a while now, so for him to be acting like this meant something really big was about to happen...in Trelawney's room...

When the silence continued, she prompted him,

"Thought she said he could take his time," Lily rolled her eyes.

and Harry began describing the first thing that came to mind, Buckbeak. Trelawney was very interested, asking if this hippogriff still had its head?

Sirius couldn't help a little gag, what a horrid thing to ask him! They'd all said all they could on this matter though, so it really wouldn't do any good to keep at it now.

Harry said yes at once, and Trelawney tried to coax a different answer out of him, asking if perhaps an axe was hovering above him?

"Bloody hell I think she's enjoying herself." James groaned, starting to look a little green from that description, coupled with how much the teacher seemed to be enjoying herself trying to get Harry to picture this gruesome sight.

Harry snapped no, and instead wistfully said it was flying away.

Harry dearly wished this had been what was bothering him, it certainly gave him a seconds moment of relief which could possibly mean that he was right, but he got about as long to think on it before his headache returned with such a force he could hardly read the words, meaning he hadn't yet gotten to the part that needed saying to make this go away.

Trelawney was disappointed as she told him that would have to be all and excused him. Harry got up and turned to leave, when he heard from behind him a deep rasping voice say 'it will happen tonight.' Harry spun back on the spot to find his teacher sagged over in her chair, her eyes open but gazing on nothing, her mouth half hinged open.

"Is, she having a fit or something?" Lily couldn't help but ask with genuine worry, but Harry paid her no mind as the moment had come, and he read in a hurried breath.

Harry wondered if she was having a fit, she was twitching all over and growing color in her cheeks, but before he could think to do anything she said again in the same heavy voice she'd never used before:

"THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT... BEFORE MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT... WILL SET OUT... TO REJOIN... HIS MASTER..."

The instant relief of pressure Harry finally got as he sighed at that memory being restored to him was ruined the second he heard the noise.

Sirius felt himself blackout for the span of a few seconds before he lunged off of the couch and looked like he was going to sprint out the door. James wasn't giving him a chance, lashing hold of his arm so tight Sirius yelped in pain, but it clearly didn't register as he sobbed, "oh god, oh bloody hell, oh Merlin, what did I do-"

Remus smacked him then, hard. It didn't seem to do anything though, Sirius was shaking so hard he was likely to bite his tongue off, and it wasn't too hard to picture what his eyes might look like in twelve years, they were just slightly tinged with madness now as he stuttered out, "twelve years! Who, who else could that mean, oh please just kill me now, I don't want to know what I did!"

He made such a horrid noise, like an animal slowly dying, as he tried to wrench his arm free and cover his ears, starting to curl in on himself. The one thing he'd ever cared about most in his life, and he had done something to get his family killed! He'd gotten James and Lily killed, he'd caused Peter to die, he'd been the cause of Harry's whole life turning into a raging shit storm every other month, all because he'd done something that he didn't think he could bear finding out about anymore. Whatever it was would never justify what that Seer had just called him. A servant, someone who had clearly made all of this possible!

How long he stayed out of it as his life literally felt like it was crashing in around him he didn't know. So many things he'd been trying to repress since he'd heard his bleeding name in that paper were drowning him all over again, and he didn't even care about how he'd been framed for murdering those people because he clearly deserved that sentence in Azkaban, it didn't matter why he left because he shouldn't have, he deserved every last second of it.

He'd thought it had been himself crying at first, but then something inside of him twitched as a new noise entered. Harry was wailing at the top of his lungs, and that same instinct that had driven him to comfort James and Remus through all of these horrid things they kept hearing about reawoke, drowning out whatever he was feeling and helping him to bottle it up and shove it far away as he looked around in confusion to the howling child who was being uneasily held in the arms of his future self.

That thought would give anyone's head a whirl, but that's what was happening. Harry stood tall and proud as his father, cradling his own infant self with clear unease, but that may have been because he kept throwing fearful looks over in his direction. Harry kept walking towards the stairs and back, like he wanted to leave and get the baby out of the room, but couldn't bring himself to do it because he kept circling back and watching Sirius with wide and fear filled eyes.

It took several thick swallows before the rest of the room came back into focus. James nearly had him smothered into his chest he was hugging him so hard, muttering over and over again that he could never blame him, while clearly trying to talk Remus and Lily out of putting some sort of spell on him that would force him to relax.

Both were shaking so hard it was a miracle they were on their feet, but they were watching him with such wide eyed concern it nearly shamed him as much as the aching hatred for himself had.

Here he was, making this all about him, when clearly there were more important things to worry about.

He tried to pull away, but James's arms only tightened all the more, so Sirius tried to muffle out, "I can't breathe," whereas in reality he was only really sucking in air because of the reassurance that through all of this, James still couldn't find it in himself to hate him. James had gotten everything he wanted out of life through the girl of his dreams and his baby, and still when it was shoved in his face that Sirius had been the cause of taking it all away his brother had refused to show him anything but insistence that he'd never believe it for a second.

It nearly reduced him to tears all over again, but he was being persistent now as he tried to wiggle free, now more determined than ever to save these lives no matter the cost to him. He'd find out what he'd done and take his punishment happily if it meant saving their lives. He finally got himself free only to meet the darkest of hazel eyes, making it clear Sirius had nearly scared the living daylights out of him, literally, but the moment he was out of those arms Lily had marched over and sat down beside him.

She grabbed his face and made sure he was looking into those ever green eyes as she told him with the utmost conviction, "it's going to be alright. We'll never let that happen to you." Personally she was still a little stunned herself, as she'd never seen him break down before. Sirius had always held himself as a proud man who only let the world see just how good he knew he was. While in the years that she'd fallen for James and gotten to know Sirius more properly as the brother he'd become, she still couldn't ever have believed he was capable of this severe a reaction to something he must know just wasn't possible.

He gave a sullen nod as she released him, gave him a quick kiss on the brow, then scampered over to her son/ sons and did her best to soothe both of them who were equally freaking out, one just more vocally than the other.

Remus flopped down in her empty seat and looked torn between wanting to kill Sirius for giving him a heart attack or hugging him and never letting him go like James had been trying. He settled on all of their fallback, making a joke. "Please give us a warning next time before you go into shock."

Sirius desperately tried for a smile he just didn't feel, because on the inside he was still a shriveled up mess. He may have gotten his emotions under control enough to save face, but he now knew without a shadow of a doubt that dead little part of him wouldn't come back. This was more proof than any he'd ever had before, and still he couldn't do anything about it. Feeling like a lost child, he unfurled himself but couldn't bring himself to lean away from James who still had his shoulder pressed into his. Remus copied that a moment later by leaning into him as well, and though feeling squished, it was pretty much all that was keeping him in place.

Lily and Harry walked properly back in then, Lily cradling her now much more complacent charge. She looked for a moment like she was going to hand him over to his Godfather, but Sirius couldn't help but turn his face away, feeling like he should never have the right to hold that baby again.

Lily would have vehemently disagreed and told him in alphabetical order how stupid that was, but while being squashed like he was he couldn't have carried on the act if he wanted to, so she relented, for now.

Harry looked the most sheepish of all, like he wanted to apologize for this whole mess and go give Sirius a hug himself to reassure him all would be okay, but the words failed him even before he could put them together. The more this carried on, the more he knew this day was the most important of his young life. Something happened on the day of Buckbeak's supposed execution, it involved Trelawney's prediction, and it involved Sirius Black. Whatever it was though would not sit in his mind for any length of time for him to understand how it all fit together, so he was sure if he began to start and try to do anything about it he'd pay dearly and the last thing his family needed was another episode.

Still he hesitated before picking up the book, like he was waiting for permission from someone to say it really was all going to be okay which came from Sirius himself, without any of his usual warmth. "Go on, get it over with."

Harry couldn't help a frown, he still sounded so desolate like at any moment an executioner was going to show up for him, but his friends on either side of him looked so fierce like they'd murder Voldemort himself before they let that happen, Harry didn't argue the point.

Before Harry could even think on that, Trelawney came back to herself with a start, muttering about how she must have dozed off for a moment.

Harry really didn't think at this point he could be any more surprised, the harsh reaction from his Godfather because of that mess left him with only an inkling of shock that she clearly had no idea what she'd just done, unless she was faking it, which Harry really doubted.

When Harry remained frozen in shock, and Trelawney asked what was wrong, Harry tried to tell her what she'd just told him about the servant of the Dark Lord.

Lily grimaced, to be perfectly honest when Harry had read out the return of the Dark Lord bit, that had been what she'd been caught on, until her brother began having a panic attack. Now no one even dared to venture what that could mean for their Harry. None of them knew how Seers actually worked, was it possible this was all wrong, or could somehow be stopped?

With Sirius' eyes closed and his head flopped back against the couch like he was still wishing he could start his gravestone, no one was going to linger on it.

Trelawney told Harry he was being ridiculous, she would never begin to try and predict such a thing.

Remus felt something twitch in his mouth, like he wanted to make a joke at her expense that she held that kind of restraint, but considering he was far more worried on making sure Sirius kept breathing it just wasn't coming out.

Harry stumbled away, his mind winding like the staircase, trying to figure out if his teacher had just made a real prediction.

'Oh, of that we've no doubts' James sighed, his mind still flying in every direction possible, and he wasn't going to stop until he landed on the proper meaning for that prediction which did not involve his best friend.

He tried to think of something else, like she'd been faking it for an end of year trick.

'Could explain why the other students were so freaked out and wouldn't talk' Harry couldn't help but think, trying desperately to put his mind on any more pleasant topic, but the horrible silence that still lingered wasn't leaving a lot of room, and Harry couldn't bring himself to be the one to break it. Plus he knew deep down that wasn't true, or he was sure he wouldn't have reacted so strongly to it.

When he did get back to the main castle he hardly noticed the people walking past him for the outside, laughing and joking about school finally being over.

'Once, just once, can't Harry have some peace in that place' was Sirius' first real coherent thought as he zoned in and out of the story lifelessly, still considering it a viable option to slink out of the house when no one was watching, which didn't seem to be happening any time soon.

He found his two friends in their normal place in Gryffindor tower, but before he could tell them what Trelawney had said, the words died at the look on their faces.

'How can something else have happened in the fifteen minutes since the last bomb?' Lily wanted to snap, feeling like her nerves were about to be frayed right out of her body as she cradled her son all the closer.

Ron explained that Buckbeak had lost.

"Oh," was softly echoed through the room with one glaring left out. It's not like they'd forgotten per say, but Sirius' plight had sort of made it fade back into their mind. Now that it was back in the foreground, they just didn't know what to say. What could they say? What had been done was wrong, and the government doing this wasn't encouraging. It started with the unfair trial of the hippogriff, but the corruption could possibly keep going up until someday someone else got an unfair trial and a beheading because the right bribe was paid off to get rid of a person. Harry hadn't thought it was possible to feel worse, and realized he was wrong as he forced himself to keep going.

Hagrid had sent another letter, explaining that the execution would take place at sunset, but he didn't want them coming down to see it happen.

"I don't want Hagrid to see it," Lily grumbled softly under her breath, the first real time someone had spoken up making them all give a little start, but the baby seemed to enjoy the voice again as he made a gurgling noise watching his mother's face.

Harry said he still wanted to go, he wouldn't just let his friend sit around on his own waiting for this to happen.

James made sure Harry could see his pride filled smile, knowing he'd do and say the same thing in a heartbeat. Screw the rules, his friend needed support. Since his own friend was acting vaguely comatose, James leaned into his shoulder with a little more pressure.

Ron pointed out they had no way to get there, and Hermione asked where he'd hidden away his cloak. Harry told her, then said he didn't dare go and get it because if Snape caught him there he'd be in serious trouble.

Harry paused expectantly, never having been more grateful for his choice of words, but there was no comeback. They were all growing more worried the longer this carried on, Remus even reaching over and pressing his hand into Sirius' nose just to make sure air was still coming out.

Sirius did respond by pushing the hand away, but he still wouldn't meet anyone's eyes.

Hermione asked for the spell that would activate the witch hump, and Harry told her but then tried to protest, which she ignored by walking out.

"What were you even going to say?" Lily asked, starting to feel a little jittery. She'd grown so used to the boys interrupting near constantly that the prolonged silence was starting to give her the creeps.

"But you shouldn't be caught there either," Harry responded, his own worry at the situation still at hand. Of course they both knew Remus and James were just at a loss for words, in no mood to be playful, teasing, or anything when their friend was acting the way he was, so until Sirius snapped out of it this could last for a bit.

Ron asked if she'd really gone to get it?

'Be a little worried if she went to the kitchens' James wanted to mock, though kept his mouth shut and still half hoping Sirius would say that instead.

Indeed she had, returning some time later with the cloak tucked down her front. Ron was in awe, saying first with Malfoy then Trelawney, now this, what had gotten into her?

'She's making sure no one messes with her friends without her doing something about it' Sirius realized, wanting to smile and praise the girl aloud, but the words got lost somewhere on the way out. He was torn between wanting to get the attention off of him, a foreign concept itself, and the beginnings of bubbling warmth that his family really was standing by him even through this foulest of revelations. If the way he could return the favor was getting the mood back to where it should be, then so be it. He now determined he'd have to work this out of himself at the next chance. He tried to sit up more properly but still being sandwiched all he really accomplished was giving the two half cautious looks as they eyed him hopefully for finally giving a real sign of life, but Harry may not have noticed as he'd kept going.

Hermione looked pleased at the praise as they went downstairs, hid themselves away in a room and waited for the last set of footsteps to scurry away and a door slammed before they were all clear.

Harry couldn't help a startled little blink, the smallest of feelings inside his gut telling him to pay attention to that, but he was far more focused on ignoring another mounting feeling. It wasn't fair it was happening so soon after the last one, but he never did get to decide when this happened, and as the sun continued sinking down, he was absolutely positive this night was an important one in his life.

They all tucked up under the cloak and made their way unseen down to Hagrid's, who let them in despite saying they shouldn't have come.

"I'll weep the day he does close the door in your face."

Maybe Sirius said that a little too loudly, maybe his voice cracked and he still looked more wretched than he had in his life, but the attempt finally gave all of them the release they'd so sorely needed that the vile escaping the room was nearly visible.

Hagrid was somehow acting even worse than before, though this time he wasn't crying, he looked so lost the tears had been easier.

Lily couldn't help her lip trembling a bit like she was fixing to cry for him. It just wasn't right, no matter how many times she said it or thought it she could never say it enough that what was happening to him shouldn't be. Between Hagrid and Sirius her maternal instincts were going haywire in wanting to comfort her friends, but unable to do anything she instead settled on smoothing out her sons hair and never growing tired of the way it stuck right back up.

He tried to offer to make them some tea while explaining that Buckbeak was getting in his last sunlight out in his pumpkin patch, then he dropped the milk jug which broke on the floor.

The others all thought that the strain coloring Harry's voice was because of his stress for Hagrid, which was a part, but they didn't know Harry was forcefully fighting back another memory blast already. How was this possible, happening twice in the span of a few minutes, but he had no control as a tempo began at his temple from the pain of a sharp memory fixing to be returned.

Hermione instead began to clean it up and replace it, while Harry asked if Dumbledore could do anything to fix this? Hagrid explained that Malfoy had set it up despite the headmasters try, and as Macnair was an old friend of Malfoy's no one could do anything.

'Macnair was a Death Eater,' that thought trickled through all of the Order members, as they tried their best to keep a roster and suspicions had been going on for ages about him implicated in several deaths. Well that didn't improve anyone's mood, as it only confirmed yet another Death Eater was still out and about in those times, working for the Ministry.

Dumbledore was coming down to be with Hagrid though when it happened.

"Aww," Lily coed, she was willing to put her suspicions and annoyances at the headmaster's actions aside momentarily when it came to her son and Sirius just for that moment that Dumbledore truly was trying to be there for his friend like Harry.

Harry promised they'd stay to, but Hagrid wouldn't allow it, saying Harry didn't need to be in anymore trouble.

Sirius was so sick of hearing that he was yet another cause of problem in his Godson's life, he considered trying to get up and leave again, but since he was basically a sandwich between his two friends who didn't look like they were moving any time soon, he just tallied that up to another thing he could use as his excuse later when he really did leave for good. He was already planning it out in his mind, the moment he got the chance he'd make a break for the door and he'd disappear before he caused this blight of events for his family. They may try to stop him, why he wasn't sure at this point, but he could throw these types of things at them and make a break for it while he was sure they'd be hesitating.

Hermione was crying over in the kitchen as she found another jug of milk, but then she screeched in shock and nearly dropped that one to as she exclaimed she'd found Scabbers.

"What?"

That was the most random thing that could have been said right then, that it actually distracted everyone in that moment from anything else. Harry forced himself to keep reading, to confirm Hermione was right, though everything in him told him she was.

They all stopped to stare at her, and she came over to the table and had to fight for a moment before the rodent came sliding out.

Harry made a funny rasping noise of disgust as James lit up with equal amounts of confusion and laughter as he praised, "oh that's great. Can't imagine what on earth happened-"

"Don't," Harry moaned, cutting him off and shocking as he clutched at his head, tears nearly streaming down his eyes as he pleaded, "don't say that, it's not right."

Lily turned concerned at once, wrapping an arm around him protectively as she asked, "Harry what's the matter?"

Remus couldn't help giving him an odd look mixed with the beginnings of fear for Harry, worried he was dealing with too much having such another painful memory returning so soon, as he asked, "yeah, you should be happy Ron's rat-" but then his own voice failed him, and he started blinking when something clicked. Since the very first time Scabbers had been mentioned, Harry got this odd little act around him about his best friends pet, frowning or something similar though he'd never been properly able to explain why. The description of that particular rat, bloody hell it did match the same one he looked at more than any other rat in his life, and Scabbers had a missing finger, just like...

"Oi, Moony," James was waving his hand in front of his friends face, saying, "yoo-hoo, blanked out on us mate. You figured out Harry's problem. Quite the show that Crookshanks never did, eh?"

Remus had to clear his throat hard for a moment before forcing a goofy smile onto his face, he was being ridiculous of course, it was a coincidence. Which, which he didn't believe in... shaking his head hard he said, "err, right, no sorry, ah, let's keep going."

Lily looked utterly annoyed at that, as she felt they were brushing this pain off a little too lightly, but then she took a good look at Remus' lined features, and how the momentary news had already worn off and Sirius was right back to being lackluster, and she also knew better that Harry couldn't have explained what was really bothering him anyways without suffering for it, so she didn't argue the matter, only increased her hold on her son as he flickered through a few pages as he'd lost his place. He seemed less eager than anyone to go on though, because while that had been the memory return his brain had been warning him about, the pressure still hadn't fully left! What about this day could be causing him more pain from this one afternoon then he'd felt any times previously? Now he knew it had something to do with Scabbers...and Buckbeak, and Trelawney's prediction, and Sirius, but the puzzle pieces refused to fit together, and he had no more of an idea for the ending then anyone.

Ron was just as shocked as anyone as he asked his rat what he was doing here?

"That's a very good question," Lily grumbled, finding this more unbelievable the longer she heard about it. Scabbers was alive this whole time! That fight between Ron and Hermione should never have even happened! It was odd though, that the little pet had pulled something like this off, since he was sick and usually was never mentioned anywhere but in Ron's pockets. How had he wound up in Hagrid's of all places?

He snatched up the squirming rodent, who looked terrible. He was thin as could go, with very large bald spots,

Remus couldn't help but wince, having heard a few tales about animals looking for somewhere to burrow up to die, had Scabbers just been doing that? His physical description clearly meant he was living towards the end of his life, obviously he was just being paranoid, it was just fate being all the cruller to him that he had tried to see his absent friend in a common garden rat.

and still he was trying to fight away from Ron, who held tight trying to convince his pet there were no cats around.

They all frowned at that, finding Scabbers bound of energy kind of sad, like maybe he was trying to put up one last fight before his old body gave out. It was rather odd he seemed so insistent in being away from Ron of all people, shouldn't he recognize his owner's voice?

They didn't get any time to think on it when Hagrid glanced out the window and saw the others approaching, and he told them they had to leave now. He opened up the back door and led them out to where Buckbeak was clearly on edge as he watched them all and flapped his wings in agitation.

That caused a shiver in all corners of the room, it wasn't too hard to imagine that the poor beast did get a feeling for what was coming for him, as intelligent as he was.

The three tried to give one last protest, saying they'd tell what had really happened, but Hagrid wouldn't have it and told them to go.

The combination of Hagrid doing his damndest to keep them out of trouble even while his beloved pet was about to be murdered in front of his eyes gave all of them a ball sitting tight in their throat, wanting to argue on the side of the kids and say this couldn't be true, more grateful than ever Harry at least had someone like Hagrid who wouldn't let them stick around to see it.

There was nothing more they could do, and despite it being the last thing they wanted, they all tucked back under the cloak and began to leave, Ron slowing them down slightly. Hermione begged him to hurry, she couldn't stand to watch this.

"You and me both," Lily nodded, bringing her son up to lay up on her shoulder like she was going to burp him, but really just keeping him as close to her as possible. He soon began amusing himself by grabbing hold of her thick red hair instead, and Lily almost enjoyed the momentary distraction of untangling his good grip while forcing herself to keep listening.

Ron though was having some issues, they were only halfway back to the castle but his rat was still forcing its way with all of its might out of his pocket, now trying to bite the hand Ron was using to keep him in place.

This was so random that no one could really think what could be going on anymore. The emotional turmoil of the group felt like they'd been going chapter after chapter about Harry nearly dying all day again, when really they were all just exhausted mentally from hearing about all of these bad things happening around Harry.

Below them they heard the sound of men talking, and despite Scabbers loud squeaking protest, they heard quite clearly the thud of an axe.

Harry didn't really get that out without nearly stuttering himself into silence, closing his eyes hard for a moment and trying to process what he'd just read, while something else in him told him to keep going. Sucking in a deep breath, he looked around to find the others looked just as shocked as he did, the build up to that unfair act having finally been carried through not making it any easier to hear. Unwilling to let himself freeze up now though, Harry finished.

Hermione's knees began shaking as she whispered she just couldn't believe they'd done it.

Then he closed the book and put it aside, indicating the chapter was done, but needing a moment before he could keep hearing anything. He wasn't the only one.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #James Potter #Lily Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #PoA #Marauders

[cecilspeaks]

176 - The Autumn Specter

Lips are the toes of the face. Welcome to Night Vale.

[spooky theme song]

It’s Halloween again, Night Vale, my favorite day of the year. As a kid, my mother used to dress my sister Abby and I in homemade costumes and take us door to door, vaguely threatening our neighbors until they gave us candy. When I was a teenager, I got a little old for trick-or-treating, so I started going to haunted houses with my friends. A lot of those haunted houses were kind of predictable with all their chain saw killers and Victorian ghost children singing nursery rhymes, who would follow you home and sing by your bed for months afterwards, but they always got to me. I loved the emotional rush of being scared. I still do. Of course, I don’t go out much to haunted houses, but I still love good old fashioned scary stories. I thought today would be a great day to share some of my favorites with you. I had my new intern, James, put together a few spooky tales that are perfect for putting you into Halloween mood.

But first, let’s have a look at the Community Calendar. This Saturday night at the New Old Night Vale Opera House, is the annual costume gala. This event is the Opera House’s largest fundraiser and one of the most prestigious costume contests in the region. A panel of judges will be on hand to determine the best costume at the ball. Last year’s winners were Joel Eisenberg and his partner Danny Jimenez, who dressed in a tandem outfit of a stegosaurus. I was there, listeners, and it was impressive! The creature was so realistic-looking. The craftsmanship of the costume was top notch, but listen, I have to confess I’m always more into high concept creativity rather than realistic details when it comes to costumes. Like I remember the 2015 gala, when Amal Shamun came dressed up as the concept of ennui. She made herself 12 feet tall, dressed in a taupe long coat, and created a constant drizzling rain inside the ball room. Anyone who looked at her got super sad and wanted a hug. But Joel and Danny’s stegosaurus was fine.

Sunday afternoon is the fall craft sale in Old Town Night Vale. An inscrutable maze of stalls showcasing the finest products from our town’s artisans. There will be cultural events for children, like finger painting classes, puppet shows, and a visit from the Autumn Specter. The Autumn Specter returns. It comes to collect its crops, with its great and sharp sickle. [creepily] It will harvest every ripe soul in Night Vale, the Autumn Specter is hungryyyy! It is Octoberr and it is timme to feeeeeee-duh.

Hey James, this Community Calendar doesn’t seem right, it’s just a bunch of stuff about the Autumn Specter. Also this font size, what-what is this 32 point? That’s just much too large. And it’s printed in red ink and that is a waste of our color toner, James. Eww, eww! This red ink is still really damp. OK, plus there’s nothing about start and end times of the craft fair, or anything about the food trucks, like if the Autumn Specter is hungry, surely it wants some falafel or Korean barbeque or tacos. James, could you just redo this story? James? James? [clears throat] Well, listeners, I don’t know where James went. Um, I can hear him breathing, but I don’t see him anywhere. Yeah, it’s fine, let’s just get onto our first spooky story.

[static, old-fashioned music] One quiet moonless night, not long ago and not so far away, a teenage girl sat in a house that was not her own. It was the home of Tony and Sheila McDowell. The girl was their babysitter, and she had just put the two young McDowell children down to sleep. The girl watched TV alone in the dark living room, only the bluish flicker of a scary movie illuminating her face. The phone rang abrupt and loud, startling her. She raised the receiver to her ear. “Hello?” she said with a slight quiver. “Have you checked on the children?” came a raspy voice. The babysitter ran quickly upstairs, opening the door of the kids’ bedroom. She flicked on the light, and there they were, fast asleep. She went back to her movie, but the phone rang again. “Haave youuu checked on the childrennn?” came the same voice, only more sinister. The babysitter again hurried upstairs, opened the door, turned on the light, and saw the children still asleep. The caller called again and again and again. “Have you checked on the children?” The babysitter, so scared, barely able to move, hung up the phone before the voice could finish its repeated query. When the phone rang once again, she answered and shouted: “Stop calling me!” But this time, it was a different voice. The person on this occasion said: “Ma’am, this is the police. We’ve traced the call. The call is coming from inside the house. Get out, get out!” The babysitter panicked and started to run, but then she remembered: she never called the police! How would they know to even trace the call? So she crept fearfully upstairs to the children’s room, and the phone was ringing again, the clamoring bell igniting her fright. And she cracked open the door and she saw- She saw the young McDowell boy and his little brother hunched over a phone and giggling! They were pranking her, and she felt relieved but embarrassed. And she told them to stop fooling around and go to sleep. And they all shared a good laugh.

Let’s have a look now at traffic. [papers rustling] Um.. OK, well I don’t seem to have a traffic report from intern James. Also James isn’t here right now, because I sent him out to go pick up lunch a few m- Oh, hey James, James, James, James – wait, why are you standing in the control booth? You were supposed to go get lunch and also I’ve asked you a couple of times not to wear that burlap bag over your head. I mean yes it looks great, with the Jack o’ Lantern face drawn onto it, I mean the mouth is a bit lopsided and the eyes are a tad uneven,  you know kinda flat and emotionless, but all in all it’s a cool look, but it’s decidedly not allowed in Station Management’s dress code. Oh, you’re holing a knife, too! So did you get- did you already get that lunch then? Well if that- if that’s the case, you don’t need to cut my sandwich in half, I’ll-I’ll take it whole. And also I need that traffic report, thanks. James? What are you waiting for, the Autumn Specter to do it for you? [chuckles] Hop to it! James?

[clears throat] Well, while James is working on that, let’s get back to my favorite spooky Halloween stories. This one isn’t a story so much as a fun Halloween game. The legend of Bloody Mary.

According to the lore, if you turn off all the lights, and stare into a mirror, repeating “Bloody Mary” three times in a row, she will appear and tear your face off! I’ve never tried this because I don’t own any mirrors, but my husband Carlos conducted this very experiment in his science lab. He said he darkened the room and repeated the name and nothing happened for a long time. But then a figure of a woman appeared, silvery gray and shimmering, and she approached Carlos slowly, her hollow white eyes never blinking. She brought her face only inches from Carlos and said: “Are you for real?” And Carlos said yes, he was indeed – real. And Bloody Mary said: “OK because this time of year, I just get a bunch of giggling, screaming teenagers, and I’m really tired of ripping off their faces for no pay whatsoever!” And Carlos gave her some resources for starting a union and she thanked him and she offered to tear his face off in exchange for the consulting, but Carlos said no, he liked his face, and wisher her luck. Night Vale, pay your malevolent spirits! They’re overworked especially around Halloween. And a 20 per cent gratuity for poltergeists, phantasms, revenants, and ghosts is standard.

And now for t- what the, oh you- [papers rustling] Wait, OK. You know, I thought intern James had handed the traffic report to me, but this is just a piece of parchment with a 9-pointed star seemingly drawn by a finger dripped in blood. And then there are a series of ancient runes scrawled around the outer edges. Now I took runic in college. I mean, most of my friends took Spanish as their language, but I thought living here in the American Southwest, it would be more useful to study ancient Scandinavian and Germanic alphabets. And from what I can make out, these are a message about the return of the Autumn Specter. Ugh, alright. OK. I love that intern James loooves Halloween and whatever this the Autumn Specter is. In fact, James is still in the break room right now construction a sacred totem out of ash tree branches and twine. He’s been muttering to himself all day in a language that I don’t recognize, and the only words I can understand are “Autumn Specter”. But I still have neither my traffic report nor my lunch! Wait, do you think James is… Naah, put it out or you mind, Cecil.

Let’s tell another spooky Halloween story. There once was a beautiful young woman who wore a green ribbon around her neck. She won the affection of a handsome young man. They fell in love and one day the boy asked the girl why she always wore a green ribbon around her neck. She would not tell him. One day the man and the woman were to become husband and wife. In her white bridal dress, the woman still wore her green ribbon. The man asked her on their wedding night if he could untie the green ribbon, but even on the  most intimate of evenings, she said no, and he respected her answer. But he longed to know what she was hiding behind the ribbon. Through the years, the man asked the wife again about the ribbon, but she never removed it, nor answered his questions about it. She only warned him that he would not like what he saw if she were to remove it. He asked less and less, but his curiosity grew and grew. And they became old, very old, and they knew their time left was short. The man asked one more time: “My dearest wife, love of my life, tell me that I may remove the green ribbon from around your neck.” And the old woman said: “My adoring groom, here in our room after all these many years, yes you may. But I caution you, as I have many times before, that you shall not like what your eyes behold.” The man hesitated, but finally reached his weakened, wrinkled fingers to the green bow along her nape. And he tentatively pulled the ribbon, and suddenly it unfurled, falling from her neck, and the man gasped. Upon her neck was a series of ornate letters spelling out “GOTH LIFE”. The woman said: “I got this tattoo in high school but kind of outgrew it and it’s super embarrassing.” And the man replied: “It is for sure weird, but also pretty cool. I like it.” And she never wore the green ribbon again.

You know, listeners, I’d love to bring you that traffic report, but right now, um, I’m facing something much more urgent and more dire. My studio door has opened on its own, and as I turned around, I could see down the long faintly lit corridor of our offices. And at the end of the hallway stands a figure, and he wears a Jack o’ Lantern mask, his head crooked to one side like a dog asking a question or like a hanged man, or both. And it is intern James, and he holds a long knife and he walks, he walks slowly toward me. And he is speaking at first in a mutter, but now louder, a strange shout in an obscure tongue like a magician casting a wicked spell, and he is moving much faster toward me, like a limping run, and his blade is raised high, and James is not an intern, Night Vale, bu the Autumn Specter itself come to reap my soul!

But before he does that, Let me take you to the weather.

[“Welterweight” by Nels Andrews. https://nelsandrews.bandcamp.com/]

So. During the weather, I went to human resources and requested a file on intern James. Oh I’m fine, by the way, and James is not the Autumn Specter, but I’ll get to that. So I found a copy of James’ résumé and cover letter for the position of radio station intern. His application was originally submitted in 1845. “That’s almost two centuries ago!” I exclaimed, but according to HR, they’re pretty backlogged on the intern apps. “What are you gonna do, we get to them when we get to them,” they said from the bottom of their abandoned well. Paperclipped to James’ application was a wrinkled and yellowed news clipping from the Night Vale °Daily Journal, and the article says that James died on Halloween night in 1849 when he was hit by a train. I then went to the hall of public records and found that our radio station was built in 1950, atop the very train tracks where James met hi send. James’ soul has been wandering the halls and offices of our radio station ever since. For all James ever wanted was to be a radio intern. To serve the listening community, to lift high the voice of journalistic truth. And it was his death that led to the shutdown of those train tracks and the eventual construction of a new station home, and the building we still use now. So I was wrong about James. He was an intern, after all, and not a malevolent Halloween spirit.

But I was right that the Autumn Specter had come for me. For when I turned to see James running down the hill, I did not notice the Autumn Specter behind me, with its bony hands and scarecrow mouth, and I did not notice its soul reaping sickle, which it had raised high above its oversized head and stick thin body. And James had given his life for the building of our radio station, and in death, gave his soul for the very same cause. And James threw himself upon the Autumn Specter, and he tried to stab the Specter’s neck and chest, but it-it- it did nothing. And the Spectre pushed James aside and then turned its black coal eyes upon me. And it raised its curved blade once again and swung! I tried to duck, but was too slow. And just as the sickle’s edge reached my face, James dove in front of it and vanished in a burst of white flame, as he was struck. And the room was empty and the Autumn Specter was gone too.

To the family and friends of intern James, he was… an OK intern. Not always on  top of his writing deadlines, but he literally sacrificed his soul for our radio station. I can’t bring you a traffic report today, but I will live to bring you one tomorrow.  If we find a new intern. And HR tells me that we have hundreds of candidates, although  most of them are not yet aware that they are candidates.

Stay tuned next for our new cooking competition show, “Flay Bobby Flay”.

And as always, Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: The road to hell is paved with cobblestone. It’s super bumpy, not at all comfortable, and really bad for your car’s suspension.

#wtnv #Welcome to Night Vale #welcome to night vale transcirpts #episode 176 #the autumn specter #sorry i misspeled it as spectre

[mosylufanfic]

“If we’re going to keep ending up in life-or-death situations, trust that I will save you every single time.” killervibe

I know how much you HATE angst, my friend, but . . . ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also Caitlin has a house now. Because I say so.

Promise Kept

The rain pattered on her umbrella. Caitlin focused on the sound, which was not at all like the rain option on the white-noise machine in her bedroom. She wished she were there, listening to her white-noise machine, wrapped in her blankets, alone in the dark.

Not here, at the cemetery, listening to the last words of the funeral service.

The rain started coming down harder, and she focused on the water running off the polished wooden surface of the casket as it waited to be lowered into the ground. She remembered standing like this at another funeral, the wind cutting cold through her thin dress coat, Cisco's warm bulk next to her under the umbrella.

Now she was alone under the umbrella, and Cisco was in the casket. Which was now being lowered into the ground. She found her breath strangled in her throat. Cisco would hate that. Hate being buried, where he couldn't move, couldn't breathe . . .

Someone nudged her. She focused with a jolt, and Iris held out a rose, dripping rainwater.

Right.

Right. They were supposed to . . . 

She took it and a thorn that the florist had missed jabbed her thumb, a bright spark of pain in the middle of the grey numbness. She almost dropped it, but managed to fling it instead, vaguely in the direction of the casket. It hit the edge of the open grave and tumbled onto the wooden top with a splat. 

She let out a breath that was almost a sob. She wanted the flower back. She wanted to do it over again. Better.

She wanted to do so many things over again, better.

People were starting to leave. The funeral was done, and they were turning and leaving Cisco there, in the casket, in the soggy ground, alone.

**

If the funeral had been bad, the reception afterward was worse. Caitlin sat on a hard chair in the corner of the room, holding a sandwich and a cookie for the sake of having something to do with her hands. She wasn't hungry. She hadn't been hungry since -

"How did it happen?"

"Some kind of accident. Nobody's really clear."

"God, how awful. He was so young."

"His whole life ahead of him."

"His poor mother. She had two healthy sons and lost them both."

Caitlin looked up, across the room. Cisco's mom was weeping again, another woman holding her. A sister, maybe. One of Cisco's aunts. 

She lurched up from her chair and grabbed her coat. She couldn't stay here, listening to people speculating on what had happened, when she knew it was all her fault.

She was out the door and heading to her car when someone called out, "Caitlin, wait."

She stopped and turned. Cecile came up to her, eyes kind. "Are you going?"

She nodded jerkily. 

The other woman took her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Nobody blames you."

She twisted out of her comforting grasp. "They should." 

**

He'd told her once, “If we’re going to keep ending up in life-or-death situations, trust that I will save you every single time.”

SHe couldn't remember the occasion. It had been a couple of years ago after they started helping Barry with the Flash, and she'd gotten into some kind of danger, and Cisco had gotten her out of it.

She remembered his expression, though, smiling but serious. A promise.

At the time, she'd smiled back and hugged him. She should have stopped him. Should have told him, If rescuing me would mean your death, don't do it. Promise me. Don't ever do it. 

But she hadn't, and he had, and now . . .

She went through the motions of getting showered and changed for bed as if she were a robot. The rain still drummed on the roof, occasionally punctuated by a sulky roll of thunder. Huddled under her blankets, she shivered. She'd been cold since the cemetery, although she rarely got cold anymore. 

She picked up a book and tried to read herself to sleep, but the words slid and twisted out of her mind. After three attempts at the same page of a book she'd read at least ten times before, she gave up and switched off the light.

After Ronnie had died, all she'd wanted to do was sleep. But now, the comfort of unconsciousness eluded her. She lay curled under her weighted blanket, staring into the dark, grief throbbing inside her like a broken tooth.

The rain was coming down harder now. She focused on the storm, on counting the seconds between the flickers of brightness and the roll of thunder. They were getting closer. The teeth of the storm must be right over - 

KER-CRASH

For an instant, her whole bedroom lit up white and simultaneously, a crack of thunder rattled her bones.

In the next instant, light and noise were both gone and she was lying in the dark again, listening to the rain, eyes wide.

Then a huge creaking crash just outside her window brought her upright.  "What - " she said aloud, reaching for her reading lamp. But the room remained dark, even when she twisted the switch again and then a third time.

Dammit. She must have lost power.

She fumbled around for her phone, unhooking it from the dead charger, and kicked her blankets aside. Making her way to the window, she leaned on the glass and squinted out into the storm. 

"Dammit," she said aloud. She couldn't make out anything clearly through the rain.

She stuffed her bare feet into a pair of rain boots and grabbed her raincoat from its hook by the side door. Taking the strong flashlight that Cisco had given her when she'd moved in, she opened the back door and peered out, squinting through the rain. 

Oh, no, it was the whole tree.

The lightning had split it down the middle, both sides tipping away from each other, a small fire among its leaves getting rapidly doused by the rain. She swore for the third time and started to step off the porch to get a closer look. 

A hand clamped around her upper arm and a voice shouted in her ear Stop!

She dropped the flashlight and froze. Had she heard -

No. 

It wasn't possible. 

Somehow, her flashlight hadn't gone out when she dropped it, and the beam of light speared across the yard, rain glinting as it fell through.

It rested cockeyed on the steps at her feet, but as she watched, it rolled. Just a little. Just enough to make the beam sweep slowly across her yard, finally coming to rest in the branches of the tree - 

And the thick, broken power line tangled in them, deadly as a black mamba.

She stared at it for ten seconds, heart beating in her throat. She looked down at the flashlight. 

No. Too much of it was metal, and her fingers might brush the ground when she picked it up. Best not to risk it. 

Very, very carefully, she shuffled backward into her house, calculating the distance from her door to the downed power line. Thirty feet? Maybe forty? She shuffled backward a few more steps just to be safe and collapsed into a kitchen chair.

She reached in the pockets of her raincoat and fumbled out her phone, looking up a number on the internet before dialing. 

"Central City Gas and Power,"  said the voice on the other end. "How can I help you tonight?"

"Hello," she said, her voice very level. "My name is Caitlin Snow, I live at 648 Bonneville Way, and one of my trees was struck by lightning about five minutes ago. When it went down, it took a power line with it."

"Did you touch it, ma'am?"

"No. No, I didn't."

"Okay. Is the tree or the power line in the road?"

"I don't - I'm not sure. Mostly in my yard, I think. My power is out, though."

"Yes, I'm seeing an outage in that whole area. Do you have children or pets?"

"No."

"Okay. Due to safety regulations, we won't be able to get somebody out there until this storm passes. Might be tomorrow morning. Are you going to be okay overnight?"

"Yes. I have emergency candles."

"Stay at least thirty-five feet away from the power line and the tree. in fact, I'd stay out of your yard completely. Even seemingly dead power lines can deliver lethal doses of electricity, and you don't even have to be touching it."

"Yes, yes. I know. I have - I had a friend who worked with electricity a lot and he always made sure I knew all that. I'll stay inside." 

She hung up and texted her neighbors about the tree. Then she set her phone face down on the table and stared into the darkness.

Without all the various lights and indicators, and no street lights beaming in from outside, the dark was velvety and all-encompassing. But after a few moments, her eyes adjusted enough to register variations in the depth that resolved into washed-out shades of her kitchen. The white of her microwave, the paleness of her counter, the darkness of the other chairs around the table. 

She registered motion out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned her head, it was just the curtains at her kitchen window. Fluttering.

But the air conditioning had gone out with the rest of the power.

She breathed in and out. "Who's there?"

Frost shifted under her skin, but for some reason, she pushed her powered side down. There had been something about that hand, that voice . . . 

She swallowed twice and on the second time, managed to say, "Who's there? Why did you stop me?"

For a moment, the dappled shadows by the kitchen window could have been a human form. An achingly familiar human form . . . 

I made a promise, remember?

FINIS

#Caitlin Snow #Cisco Ramon #killervibe #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #celebration prompt party #cw death #angst #grief #the flash #hedgiwithapen

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 25

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-24 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: Crying baby and darkness, drug mention and grief. That is all.

It’s Labyrinth time! We catch up with Charlotte and Arthur as they make a very startling and disturbing revelation.

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

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: POOR THING

         “I wandered for… Oh… I don’t even know how long. Wishing I could be home again- feeling so guilty for how I treated Arch… Thinking about you as well- I mean, I forgot you, Arty! How does a sister forget her little brother overnight- and for months!?”

        “It’s not your fault, really.” Arthur said, “besides, with the way we left things, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting me gone.”

        There was an island countertop dividing them that Charlotte stared up at him from. An amount of betrayal crossed her browbone.

        “How could you think that? I still care about you. I always have! But what I did, I did for Arch. It wasn’t safe for them to be around you when…”

        “When I was high? Or when I was dealing?” Arthur finished, admittedly. “Well, I guess that’s one gift that came from this terrifying place. There’s no coke in hell. It forced me to get clean and gave me a clear head… I suppose I should have thanked Lyrem before…”

        He sighed, “not that it matters much now.”

        There was a bout of silence.

        “There’s a baby here,” he continued, shooting his sister a look to indicate that she ought to elaborate for him.

        “Yes. Rosanna, I think is her name. At some point during my aimless wandering, I came upon the house, and the light, and… her.” She pointed her eyes to the ceiling. “She was all alone, and crying. Poor thing. I have no idea how long she’s been here.”

        “You have everything you need,” Arthur commented, sitting up from the stool and winced as his leg still ached. “There is nothing else in the labyrinth- I was lucky to come across a door to Hades and Persephone. That was the only reason I was able to get out and back to Earth.”

        “I’m sorry, who?”

        “You heard me right the first time,” Arthur spoke directly. He fiddled with the pictures sitting upon baby grand piano.  The images were blurry, like vague reconstructions of photographs without any identifiable subjects… except one. He picked up the photo in its faux oak frame and furrowed his brows.

        “I’ve seen her before.”

        Charlotte followed him to the parlour, noting the photo in his hand.

        “It’s the only clear one in this place. It’s… like I’ve been stuck in a dollhouse. Everything is fake, or a simple vague memory of what this place once was. I don’t understand it. I wish I did.”

        Arthur’s head spun with theories. The pink elephant onesie, the blue starred baby blanket, the soother he found at the bottom of the bins…

        “This could be her house… I saw a photo- not this one, but a photo with the same woman, standing over a birthday cake in the back room of Mystics. She was about the same age, I think.”

        “In Mystics?” her mind burned with the sudden reminder of the grotesque shop owner and hissed. “Arch told me about Lyrem… How he used to have a wife that worked with him. That’s why they were hired. She was gone. I wonder if she’s here somewhere, lost or… dead?”

         “Did Lyrem ever mention having children?” Arthur asked.

        Charlotte shook her head. “I’ve only spoken to him a couple of times, but he never talked about family.”

        Arthur looked to the phone hanging off the kitchen wall with the long beige winding cord attached to it. The appliances weren’t new by any means and the style of the house, with its hardwood, and updated linoleum areas caused his mind to stir.

        “Mom’s house,” he said. “In Knoxville… It was brand new when she moved in. Do you remember the year?”

        “’85, I think,” she confirmed. “Why?”

        “She had the same stereo system, brand new too,” he mentioned, pointing off to the opposite wall where the unit sat beneath a Panasonic television set.

        “You’re right, she did, didn’t she?” Charlotte agreed, “I’ve already tried to play it- it only repeats A Spoonful of Sugar from Mary Poppins… Hold on…

        Let’s say the earliest Rosanna could have been born was 1985, that means”-

        “Well, it’s more than reasonable to assume that”-

        Rosanna started crying over their heads. Both Charlotte and Arthur were thinking the same thing. Lyrem had thrown his own daughter into the Labyrinth as a baby, and never once thought of her again.

        Charlotte broke herself off from the chilling realization and pulled a bottle of milk from the island counter that wasn’t there before. Arthur stared at her oddly.

        “It just keeps refilling,” she explained, shaking it up in her hands. “It’s like everything just resets once she wakes up… And she never stops crying.”

        Arthur followed his sister back up the stairs again. This time, to investigate the rooms. The nursery was quaint and painted in a calming lilac. A sunflower was painted on the ceiling around the light fixture. The small inconsistencies in the shape of the petals caused Arthur to assume it was done without a stencil. Probably by someone who was very excited to welcome their child into the world. A slim acoustic guitar sat in the corner, and a small wicker chair right next to it.

        He wrinkled his nose as he moved around the room. The scent of a baby’s bottom made him gag. Charlotte didn’t seem to care.

        “Lightweight,” she taunted after him.

        Arthur proceeded to the master bedroom across the hall. It was stark. Everything was placed in an orderly fashion throughout which was not a cohesive pattern for the rest of the house. The sheets were perfectly tucked, the pillows, untouched and undented. To the left side, there was a set of glasses and a yellow book. There was a scribble on the front of it, as though it was meant to be English, but it wasn’t convincing to a literate person.

        A lamp on either side of their bed, a window, off to the right that overlooked the front yard and a trembling aspen whose branches swayed in the breeze also gave the impression that this was a house that only belonged in someone’s dream. It was perfect.

        He opened the dresser drawers only to find nothing inside. He found the closet door next, that was set into the wall. There were shirts, all the same color of cream button ups with flared collars, and a few dark pants hung neatly beside them. This had to be Lyrem’s. But where were his wife’s things? Where were his photos?

        Why did Rosanna only remember bits and pieces of the house? And more than that, how the hell did she create all of this? She was only a baby. She couldn’t have been more than a year old.

        These were questions that needed answering one day. But for now, Arthur had to remember that he was still in the middle of his task. He needed to bring Charlotte back to Earth and he needed to find Arch.

        He glanced to the empty doorway. Charlotte was humming a song from their childhood. A sweet and mournful tune as she fed them from the bottle in the room over, he could hear her whisper the melody���s words-

“Goodnight, goodnight sweet child,

Why don't you dream with the angels,

To forget for awhile.

To forget of the life,

That's been handed to you

Where everything's real,

Yet nothing is true”-

        Arthur wondered how easily Rosanna would be able to travel. He didn’t have much experience with young children, but he knew that even in the best circumstances they could be a challenge to bring along anywhere- especially if one wanted to remain quiet.

        He turned his back on them, and raised his hand. Hades had given him the Abysmal Flame to help him kill Lyrem, and it had come in handy when faced with Paimon.

        Maybe it would help them find a way out of here.

        Thinking back to that moment- where that power rushed through his head and into his hands and lit up his bowie knife with blue flames- he could feel it again.

        “Come on,” Arthur started. Encouraging himself to feel the same rage, to feel the same force as before that had lit Paimon up blue. He almost had it… In front of him, in the closet, a pool of darkness formed. He watched it closely become larger and larger until it was about the size of a basketball.

        “Come on, come on, come on…”

        “Arthur?”

        His concentration broke, and he turned, the void closed instantly. Charlotte’s face was red with panic, sheer terror, but not about him or what he had done.

        Rosanna was gone. The baby blanket laid in Charlotte’s elbows with nothing else inside. Though, now, Arthur could see the faint yellow embroidery of her name on the outside edge.

        “W-what happened to her?” Charlotte shook.

        Arthur put himself in front of her, and looked around, like he expected to find Rosanna simply lying on the ground or hiding beside a banister.

        “I- I don’t know. Has she ever vanished before?”

        Charlotte shook her head tearfully and shook out the blanket. Maybe she’d just hiding in one of the wrinkles. Charlotte placed a hand over her mouth and cried out. Her back fell into the door jam as she crouched into a ball on the floor.

        “No. No! I-I can’t do it again! I can’t lose my baby again!”

        Seeing her this way was crushing. He bent down, and placed an arm around her shoulders.

        “You haven’t lost your baby…” he spoke calmly. “Arch is still out there and they are waiting for you. They’re waiting for us to find them… For now, we need to keep it together, for their sake. We need to bring them home- together.”

        Charlotte continued to weep. The thought of facing more heartbreak was unbearable, but Arthur was right. She needed to find her child. Her real child. While she took her time recovering, Arthur removed himself from her side. He was able to create an opening. Leading to where, he didn’t know, but it worked, and to him that was a success.

        The room darkened, like a rain cloud passed in front of the sun. The tweeting birds fell silent. He looked outside, only to find the darkness of the labyrinth closing in on them very quickly. Without Rosanna here, there was nothing left to be remembered.

        “Char! Grab hold of me!” He rushed to her side. “The Labyrinth is erasing the house. Hold onto me and don’t let go!”

        Charlotte did as he said and soon enough, they were both consumed by the deep and dreadful darkness.

-

-

 -

  -

   -

    -

     -

      -

        A blue flame, small but visible, sat in the center of Arthur’s palm. Charlotte clinged to his other arm as he concentrated. He could feel his created void grow larger and larger around them until he saw a very familiar and spritely looking face staring down at them from above and nothing else.

        “Persephone,” Arthur greeted her with a relieved and exasperated smile. “Long time, no see.”

#It's labyrinth time baby! #mystics by alpaca #alpaca ocs #new chapter #fiction #writing #writeblr #whumpblr #whump #urban fantasy #horror #tw darkness #tw drug mention #memory whump #psychological whump #tw lost ocs #whump blog #writers of tumblr #story #original fiction #readers of tumblr #reading #thriller #horror fic #thriller fic

[cosmic-hearts]

castles in the air | lee donghyuck | epilogue

lee donghyuck x female reader 

genre; enemies-to-lovers, friendship, romance, fluff, angst

warnings; none

foreword; in which you might be a real-life princess with a prince promised to you right from the start, but you won’t be getting your happy ever after. 

<< previous 

2 years later 

Fairy lights illuminate the darkened streets of Hongdae, and everywhere you go, you see groups of friends trooping about and couples huddled close together. For a moment, you feel a bitter pang of loneliness, conscious of how glaringly isolated you appear, but then you tell yourself that you’re walking with a purpose, and you’re not meant to be milling aimlessly about like these carefree youngsters around you. 

Just like it always has been. 

You remember when you were younger, you wished you could chill with friends in a cafe in Hongdae, the neighbourhood brimming with the vitality of youthful hearts. But you were always either busy studying or attending social functions, and you hung out more with adults than people your age. Of course, there was a time when you acted like a normal teenager for once; you went to a high school party, got stuck in a musty closet with a boy who had an angelic voice, and you got so wasted that said boy had to haul your drunk ass home. 

You went to cafes with him; he dirtied your favourite bag, but he got you a new one to make up for it. He sang you songs on the hood of his car, beneath the cloak of stars that sheltered you both. He took you to prom and told you that you were pretty; you had never seen him so shy before. He kissed you once, breathing starlight into your soul and fire into your veins. And he even gave you a song, wrote a melody into your heart that you find yourself humming occasionally, till this very day. 

You pull your scarf tighter around your neck as a gust of chilly air blows across your cheek, sweeping up the fallen leaves scattered across the sidewalk. All that’s left of the boy now are nothing more than bittersweet memories, a silent echo of what could have been. You don’t like to dwell on it too much; there’s simply no point. You’d stopped building castles in the air ages ago. 

But you’d never stopped hoping, with all your heart, that he’s finally managed to build his own castles for real. 

You cast a quick glance at your watch, jolting yourself back to reality; you had been sent by your parents to check up on the new branch of their fashion company they just had opened up at Hongdae. You are now slowly learning the ropes of running their company, getting ready to take over. You’re not sure if this is truly what you want in life—you wish you had Donghyuck’s firm innate passion for something—but for now, it gives you a vague sense of fulfilment, which is sufficient. Maybe one day you’ll find something of your own that ignites a spark within you and burns so brightly that you’ll have no choice but to pursue it in reckless, passionate abandon. 

As you walk with quickened steps and renewed purpose, the heels of your boots clacking rhythmically on the pavement, you begin to notice more and more buskers lining the street, each with crowds of people surrounding them. Most are dancing; there are a couple singers as well, and even a rapper at the end of the street. 

You’re about to turn the corner when a familiar melody halts you right in your tracks.

And it’s not just the melody; it’s that honeyed, saccharine voice you’d once thought was a celestial gift from the heavens. That voice you wanted to have on loop forever because it was too precious and beautiful to ever let go. 

Lee Donghyuck’s voice.

True enough, he sits on a high stool a few feet away, eyes closed as he sings to a small crowd around him. But he looks so immersed in his own little world that you think it’s more likely he’s singing to himself rather than performing to anyone else.

Bathed in the vivid glow of passion and completely in his own element, moonlight irradiating the planes of his face, he’s just so beautiful.

He has glossy purple hair now, and it’s tucked messily under a black cap. His fingers are closed tight around a mic in his hands as he belts out the lyrics to ‘Beautiful Time’. 

Your song. The song he wrote just for you. 

Hearing it live is truly a surreal experience. Your hands tremble slightly; you clutch your bag just a little tighter.

It’s all worth it, and you’re so glad. Seeing him like this, you know you made the right choice back then.

The song ends, and everyone breaks out into applause. It is just like that day in the cafe, when Donghyuck sang and everyone fell right under his spell, entranced by the sound of his voice. 

“Thank you,” Donghyuck says bashfully, smiling at the floor and rubbing his neck. “Actually, I wrote this song for my friend. It’s been really long since I last saw her, and… well, I really miss her.”

Your heart just about stops right there. 

“I was about to give up singing, but she was the one who persuaded me not to. And I’ll be forever grateful to her for that.”

“I hope that wherever she is, she’s happy, and I hope she always will be.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek; you wipe it away hastily. 

“All right,” Donghyuck says, grabbing the mic again. “It’s time for the last song of tonight. I hope all of you will enjoy it.”

You want, more than anything, to stay and listen to this last song, but you know that once you do that, you won’t be able to move on with your life and do what you’re supposed to do. You’ll fall in too deep, and there will be no escape this time. Donghyuck’s voice just has that power over you.

No, Donghyuck has that power over you.

So you clutch resolutely onto your Prada bag, steal one last longing look at the boy who’s held your heart hostage, and walk away.

—

Donghyuck’s about to start the last song of the night when he notices someone lurking at the edge of the audience, turning away to walk off, presumably to the next busker.

More specifically, he notices the bag the person is carrying; it is filled with pastel hues of pink, purple and blue, with a shiny triangular Prada logo right smack in the centre. It is all too strikingly familiar. 

Because he chose those colours himself. And he chose the customised design, which means that the bag can belong only to one person.

A surge of adrenaline pumps through Donghyuck’s veins; he gets up from his stool and takes off into the night, startling the little crowd around him. But he could care less.

The past two years, he’s never stopped thinking about you. He’d broken up with Sohui shortly after the prom he took you to, and he was planning to tell you just that on the night of your birthday. That you two didn’t need that stupid contract anymore, not when he thinks his heart might have finally found its home. That when he kissed you, it was like the stars aligned and he felt constellations erupt in the universe of his soul. That he was sorry for ever hating you, and he’d make it up to you in any way you wanted. But then you abruptly ended it all, cutting off all forms of contact with him and destroying all the castles he’d built in the air.

He figured you probably would never feel the same way as he did.

But that didn’t stop him from writing, singing, and dreaming about you. After all, you told him to chase his dreams, and he wouldn’t stop doing that, not for the world.

And now, you’re right there within his grasp. He’s not letting you slip away from him again.

It doesn’t take him long to catch up to you. Before you can walk any further, he grabs your wrist and you whirl around in response.

It’s really you. You look just as ethereal as ever, with your hair a moonlit cascade down your back, eyes sparkling like stars amid sundown.

“Y/N,” he breathes, just as your eyes widen at the sight of the boy you’d resolved to erase from your life standing right before you.

And it is at that moment that the castles in the air come alive.

—

a/n; aaand that’s a wrap!! tysm for all the support and the comments hehe <3 i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it !! peace out, stay safe and healthy yall ^^ till next time :) 

#lee donghyuck #lee donghyuck imagines #lee donghyuck scenarios #lee donghyuck fluff #lee donghyuck angst #nct dream #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 soft hours #nct dream fanfiction #nct haechan #haechan scenarios #haechan nct #haechan fluff #haechan fanfic #lee donghyuck fanfic #nct dream fanfic

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH113

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 113: The Dream of the Holy Nun (III)

The abandoned church was located at the border of the Twilight Township, an area deserted and overgrown with weeds.

From a distance, the dilapidated church, which was about to be overtaken by the sparse woods, seemed to be frozen in the sunset, gradually broken under the wheel of years, and finally forgotten.

At the edge of the roof, a string-thin moon was bathed in the sunset. Qi Leren recalled that the day when he received the task in the Nightmare Game, there was also such a string-thin moon hanging in the twilight.

Qi Leren took a deep breath, stepped on the rubble, and walked to the church.

The door of the church had been in disrepair for a long time and opened with a gentle push. The breeze from the door aroused the settled dust, sending it flying under the golden red afterglow. The image of the game overlapped with this scene, both familiar and unfamiliar. The image of the computer screen in his memory became a real scene at this moment, giving a feeling of absurdity.

Through the rows of pews, Qi Leren came to the depths of the church.

There were two doors here, one to the left and one to the right.

At that time, Qi Leren had randomly chosen the door to the right and walked along the forest path. He’d come to a cemetery, where he had received a mission to go to the Holy City. The reason why he’d known this mission was special was that the mission’s text colour in the game was different from other tasks.

As a save scummer, Qi Leren had actually saved files when choosing to go left or right, but after entering the right door and receiving the task, he didn't reload the file but instead continued the game. The NPC Rudd had told him that he and his comrade-in-arms Arnold were eroded by the Devil’s energy after the Battle of the Holy City and their fighting power had declined, so they didn't have the strength to return to the Holy City. Now, the Holy City is shrouded in fog, but Arnold has a mission item which would allow people to pass through the fog and enter the Holy City. He hoped that players could dispel the fog and let the people trapped in the Holy City be free.

At that time, Qi Leren hadn't known much about the Holy City. After getting the task items, he’d rushed to the Holy City and then died for the first time in this game, getting a Bad Ending…

Qi Leren looked at these two identical doors carefully. They were embedded in the wall from left to right, waiting for his choice.

Qi Leren knew that he should make a decision quickly. If he caught up now, he might still catch the man who took away the drunken NPC and even take over the task before him. But so what? If the other party, like him, had played the Nightmare Game in the real world and happened to trigger the main task, then his secret was no longer only his secret…

Therefore, it was important to leave this kind of responsibility to others.

But…

A faint unwillingness made him hesitate.

Qi Leren helplessly felt that this tangled situation was probably retribution for his rare procrastination... Although him dragging out triggering this task hadn’t been from laziness, but because he was thinking of his own safety.

Forget it, he would go to the left door this time. The choice was always his Qi Leren turned away from the door on the right and went straight to the wooden door on the left.

The wooden door was pushed away. Ahead was a sparse forest shrouded in sunset, weeds covering the gravel path on the ground, and Qi Leren easily identified the path and headed into the forest. In the setting sun, the wind blew this barren woods, far away from the factories that roared all day long. The air in this area was fresh and the sound of insects, birds, wind, and bats' flying turned into a natural music in the ear.

Qi Leren walked forward with his heart in his hand. As he walked deeper and deeper, the forest in front of him gradually grew thick. In the deep twilit scene, he vaguely saw the high and low tombstones in the misty clearing ahead, and a hazy figure in the fog.

His foot stepped on the wet ground, and the dead branches were broken. The birds in the branches sang, and the man turned around.

The open space in the forest, the worn tombstones on the wet soil, and the man in the sunset… were like a story and a dream.

"Ning, Ning Zhou?" Qi Leren swallowed. He never expected to see him here.

Ning Zhou, wearing a cloak, looked at him quietly. The soft sunset blurred the blue in his eyes, and Qi Leren couldn't help but think that he saw tenderness. But in the blink of an eye, those eyes were frozen by rational coldness, leaving only empty calm.

"Why are you here?" Qi Leren couldn't help but ask.

Ning Zhou backed away a little, revealing the tombstone behind him, which was well maintained unlike those around it that had been damaged and broken. It had a name engraved on it - Maria.

Qi Leren suddenly remembered Ning Zhou's life experiences. His mother was a hierophant of the Holy See, and his father was from the first group of players to enter the game... He was raised by his mother, and after Maria died he was sent to the Holy See in Neverland and embarked on the same path as Maria.

He remembered what Chen Baiqi had said. The thirteen-year-old Ning Zhou couldn't even learn a holy light cure. Even if he went to the Holy See, he wasn’t able to learn magic well…

What was Ning Zhou like as a child? Maybe he also had the same experiences as ordinary children, and grew up freely and happily in the sunset… until Maria died.

Qi Leren hesitated for a moment and walked silently to Ning Zhou's side. There was no photo on Maria's tombstone. There was nothing but a name. It was hard to imagine that a field master should finally be silent in such a deserted churchyard.

"She always wanted to go back," NingZhou suddenly said.

Since just now, Qi Leren had been waiting for Ning Zhou to say something, but he didn't expect Ning Zhou to talk about Maria's wishes.

"Go back to the Holy City?" he asked in a low voice.

Ning Zhou nodded shallowly: "But she had been unable to go back and dared not to."

Although he didn't know the reason, a feeling of melancholy welled up in Qi Leren's mind. He was almost sure that Maria was the Holy Nun who had never been named in the Nightmare Game.

After the Holy City’s enchantment collapsed, the Holy See withdrew from the Holy City. She stayed behind and used a mysterious method to protect the people in the Holy City. Now Qi Leren knew that this power should be called a "field", but at that time, the game did not describe this method figuratively, instead describing it as "The Dream of the Holy Nun".

This Holy Nun, who was unwilling to give up the Holy City, broke out with amazing power. She was favored by the gods and pulled everything in the Holy City into her own "Dream". The Dream suppressed the raging demons and made them unable to harm human beings. Even the Devil was killed by this Dream and slept deep in the cathedral.

However, the Holy Nun finally collapsed herself, and when she died, her Dream would not be woken again. Her Dream imprisoned both human beings and demons, and even the Old Devil who had invaded the human world for the first time was imprisoned in her Dream.

Maybe even her own soul had been forgotten there.

The surviving walking dead was finally defeated by time, and her bones were buried deep in the soil.

However, Qi Leren knew that until the moment before her death, she still wanted to go back and personally end the "Dream" she had created in order to let the people trapped in the Dream return to reality. However, she had been weak for too long, lingering on her deathbed for more than ten years, and finally returned to heaven.

At this moment, Qi Leren wanted to do something for her and for him…

"Do you want to go back to the Holy City?" Qi Leren asked him.

Ning Zhou nodded silently.

"Then leave it to me!" Qi Leren showed a happy smile to him. It seemed that it was a very happy thing to be able to help Ning Zhou. This was indeed the case. "I happen to know how to get to the Holy City. As long as I find something, I can pass through the fog outside the Holy City. So let's go to the Holy City together!"

The breeze was harmonious, the afterglow was tender, and Ning Zhou, who stood in the deserted cemetery, did not ask him how he knew how to get through the fog, nor how to get the key item. He just nodded his head without doubt.

He shouldn't have agreed. Ning Zhou knew this clearly. Every step closer was a step toward the abyss; to stay one more second was to drink poison to quench his thirst. In the depths of his heart, her appearance has faded away, but his appearance has become more and more vivid. Meeting again and again was like a colorful brush that filled his outline with color, and he was about to come out of the painting.

The demon lurking in his soul lured him with moving words, which made him hesitate, doubt, shake, and drowned him in sin.

God wanted his followers to love their own kind, men, women, old people, and young children alike.

God praised love and blessed couples who were united by love, but God did not allow men to fall in love with men and women to fall in love with women.

Man's love could not exceed that of the Lord. Only the Lord loved everyone.

Therefore, he should restrain himself and stay away from him, but his inner desire and yearning couldn't be suppressed. Just like after the long extreme night in Neverland, when he and the other followers had stood on the glacier, singing and chanting against the cold wind, waiting for the first sunshine after the endless night. At that moment, the joy and yearning in his heart came from his soul and was irresistible.

He could only say to himself: This is the last time.

-----

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#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

[reversecreek]

clicks onto the dash wearing kitten heels n coyly holding my bang....... hi. me again. it took me so long to select a gif to use on cricket’s intro n i settled on this one bc he looks so unsure abt his smile n it’s rly his essence <3 u can find his pinterest board here n his (work in progress) spotify playlist here. hmu to plot!!! 

* alex wolff, cis male + he/him | you know cricket donahue, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, all of their life, on and off? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to should have known better by sufjan stevens like, a million times this year, which slipping on wet leaves to photograph a tree struck alight by lightning, delivering a tedtalk to your own reflection to hype yourself up to buy groceries, hiding your hands inside of your sleeves in case you grew an impromptu megan fox thumb overnight thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 1st, so they’re a libra, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her )

HISTORY:

cricket ws born to a couple tht lived in lilac ridge. their trailer was tucked closest to the woods n always fell under the shade. it was like the leaves wanted to pretend they were a perpetual hanging cloud on the family n that was kind of fitting. their only reason fr having him in the first place was a kind of shrugged like........... we’re under the income bracket we’d get child benefits so why not! may as well try it to rake in some extra cash! needless to say they didn’t rly think it thru or anticipate all of the responsibilities tht came w children n wound up seeing him as an extremely large burden n boy didn’t he know it!

(child neglect & abuse tw) i’ll try to keep this part vague n brief but things were Not Good for cricket growing up. people in lilac ridge didn’t like his parents n it was for a gd reason. he remembers foggy things. being little n wandering around combing the grass with a stick to search for wrappers to suck on bc he was hungry. feeling uneasy when the front door opened. finding out his name was cricket bc the insects used to crawl into their trailer thru the vents n his parents liked to squish them into the carpet -- his mum told him as much once. i think this says a lot. to excessively trim the fat of the story he wound up entering the system at around 8 after his latest and most serious hospital visit. his parents hd to deal w the authorities n last he heard they bounced to evade charges.

(anxiety & violence & trauma tw) cricket sustained a few lifelong injuries from his time in lilac ridge. his knee didn’t heal right which meant he had (n still has to this day) a limp n he’s partially deaf in one ear. he’s always been an incredibly insecure n anxious person so this mde him rly self conscious going into a strange n new environment tht wld b difficult fr any kid to adjust to, nvm w these added worries. he jst felt like something weird to ogle at honestly. he probably wld have felt like that no matter where he was or what he looked like. he cld be in a huge hall of 200 people all wearing the same uniform n he’d still feel like the odd one out. needless to say this didn’t rly help him make friends

cricket’s coping mechanisms were romanticising the things tht other people found ugly or embarrassing or painfully ordinary. he liked it when the rain hit clunky drops against school windows n forbid everyone from playing outside bc he could feel the vibrations through the rubber soles of his shoes n it was a little bit like hearing all of the world at once fr just a moment. he liked medieval fantasy lore about stout gnomes w crumbs in their beards n cheeks red from ale. he liked fallen nests with the remnants of hatched eggs still dirty from the branches n soil they’d hit on the way down. he liked the way the sunlight leaked thru the leaves of the trees in the woods and how, when he sat very still, he could tune into the ringing that was always in his ear n pretend it was coming from the same place, that light thru the leaves, that the angels were trying to talk to him.

he spent a lot of time in the red room at his high skl (i’m begging u this is not a 50 shades reference) (after googling i jst realised it’s called a darkroom bt i’m leaving this fr the sake of sexy bimbo authenticity) n felt quite at home in there. he borrowed a camera whenever he cld (maybe he did yearbook) n photography became his way of immortalising the world as the romanticised version he wanted it to be. his memories were bad bt his photos were beautiful. maybe if he took enough they’d paste over n bleed into each other. maybe bad cld be replaced w beautiful if he tried his very best.

he got placed into fostering w a family once bt apparently didn’t meet the vibe check of their tastes so he wound up returning to the group home he’d initially been placed in. overall this is where he grew up n he aged out the system rather than getting adopted. there was a sense of floundering/isolation/not feeling gd enough in tht bt cricket made do the best he knew how. 

that said there were some gd points! (shocking i kno bc his life hs been so fking bleak so far bt please it’s ok........) (is it?) (🤔). basically he interned as an assistant at this local photography studio during high skl working under this kind of whimsical yet endearing old man. suspected wizard possibly in cricket’s eyes, as an avid fantasy genre reader. for one of his bdays said old man / his boss bought him his very own film camera n cricket cried bc he’d never been bought a bday gift. this ws rly embarrassing bc this old man didn’t know how to emote n neither did cricket so he ws jst sort of sat wiping his eyes n sniffling saying he wasn’t crying as the old man pretended to suddenly clean his lenses. when cricket graduated he offered him a full time position there. they do like. wedding photographs n family portraits n all kinds of things...... pay isn’t huge bt it’s something n he Loves taking photos so it’s sexy <3

PERSONALITY:

SUCH an anxious person it’s actually unreal. overthinks absolutely everything he’s ever said. one morning he might hv put green socks on n for the rest of the day he’s nervously looking around like omggggggg they’re all looking at my socks probably thinking im a little green sock boy thinking i’m a fool n a jester this is all everyone’s probably thinking about i hv to hide my green socks..... even tho literally no-one cares

once saw a girl eating a chicken wing n in his head was like ok she likes chicken good future gift idea..... n turned up at her house with an entire rotisserie chicken

probably thinks WAY too hard abt what to write in bday cards n googles like generic ideas that he can use.... u open a card from cricket n it always says smthn weird like “Warmest wishes and love on your birthday and always!” or “You deserve everything happy. Wishing you that all year long!” tht he got off google

nervously fiddles w things a lot. literally anything. his hair. the cuffs of his sleeves. a thread on his bag. u name it

struggles w eye contact sometimes............ it’s like. he wants to talk to ppl n make friends bt he’s honestly so bad at it. he’s fumbling thru life like a nervous headless chicken

ALWAYS has his camera on him. like always. will tke a photo of u bc he thinks u look nice then be like im so sorry im so sorry...... bowing his head shakily holding his camera bc he doesn’t even kno what possessed him he jst thought it’d be a nice photograph bt boundaries exist. probably breathes very heavily over this later in his room panicking thinking he nw seems like hannibal lecter

probably more confident online bc he has time to think abt what he says more.......... i can see him hving a group of online friends tht he’s more confident w. honestly he’s pretty witty at heart he jst has a hard time verbalising things so ppl overlook him sometimes bt once u get to know him more / he’s more comfy he can b a funny little man.....

loves photographs where he cuts something out of them. loves missing spaces n voids. thinks it’s a rly interesting concept when something that isn’t there becomes the focus of a photograph where everything else is. probably loses his mind fr a collage like a front row 1d stan. likes experimenting w light n perception. pretty artistic honestly hs probably made a stop motion film in the past bc that’s just an extended form of photography in his mind bt i doubt he showed anyone

ummm...... very sweet bt like. he reminds me a lot of this quote. “he had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise.” feel like tht sums him up quite nicely

WANTED CONNECTIONS

someone he met at a wedding: cricket probably ws forced to photograph a wedding fr his boss one time n it cld b interesting as a place to meet from that....... like. i can imagine either it being rly awkward maybe he accidentally spilled a drink on ur muse n was stuttering rly apologetic n it ws just a train wreck. or mayb they took pity on him or even (in a shocking turn of events) a shine to him n invited him to drink n dance. omgggg the thought of cricket trying to dance makes me wna die n probably mkes cricket wna hyperventilate bt idk maybe he went wild n let loose. mayb they wound up damaging the camera somehow. mayb they had to scramble to get another one n ur muse covered the cost n it was a strange late night excursion tht cricket thought about a lot since. cricket probably vowed to pay them bk somehow no matter what. idk. we can work things out. lots of diff options here. doesn’t have to b a wedding either can b any event tht required a photographer

ppl he went to school w: pretty self explanatory i suppose...... maybe they were frm completely different worlds..... mayb ur muse was popular n cricket was definitely not but they got paired fr an assignment n had to work on a project together....... mayb cricket asked ur muse on a date one time n it was completely embarrassing bc he didn’t realise they had a bf n it haunts cricket at night still bc he’s rly dramatic.... mayb ur muse felt sry fr him n ate lunch w him n inducted him into their group like a lost puppy finding a home.... world’s our oyster

neighbours from his brief time at lilac ridge: not to reference taylor swift but i’m gna reference taylor swift n say we cld do a seven inspired plot here. sighs a little..... then sighs a lot. he was here ages 0-8 so idk. we cld work out childhood plots perhaps....

sickening simp: i mean.............. cricket probably gets crushes on ppl so easily like just. anyone who’s the slightest bit nice to him.................. he’s a disgrace. ok i take it back. bt also please get it together freak............... i didn’t say that. he’d probably b extra nice to this person n try n pay close attention to things they liked so he cld get them little gifts. just a bit embarrassing n lovestruck bless his heart. wldn’t expect anything back tho honestly that just isn’t something he tends to do.

let’s go gays: cricket’s bi but he probably was rly in his head abt liking boys n tried to sort of squash it internally during his younger yrs...... i think he’s more comfy w it now MAYBE idk bt back then i picture him having a friend tht ws kind of like. similarly loserish as him perhaps (no offence to ur muse potentially filling this plot or cricket bt let’s face the facts) n they’d hang out n play games a lot n one time it jst kind of happened n he was like............. *struts in looking around sharply* What going on here? except not. bc it’s cricket. more like *shambles in looking around anxiously* What’s, uh... What’s... the happenings? S--... I’m sorry. (immediate apology for saying what’s the happenings bc nobody talks like that n it was an impulsive panic bc he didn’t know what else to say)

those who grew up in the system w him: maybe at the group home or i’d also like the family that fostered him n said sayonara. honestly i imagine the parents just thought he ws a bit too much of a handful / had too much baggage which is rly quite merciless n terrible but. if u think that aligns w ur muses home situation hmu......

um. can’t think of more bt just anything honestly. jst go wild.......

#irvingintro #abuse tw #neglect tw #trauma tw #anxiety tw #violence tw #DOES A LITTLE JIG #admittedly i didnt include a formative moments section like my other intros bc idk what kind of superpowers i was inhaling the fumes of #for those intros but #i'm a mere mortal now.