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onlysarah235678 · 3 years

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A Little Bit Part 12

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

A/N: Wow so never listen to me when I say how long it will take to update… A lot of stuff happens in this one. Mind the warnings. Who made my gif this time? Illuminated-blue of course ❤

Warnings: Brief physical assault, use of homophobic slurs, vague mentions of domestic violence and vomiting.

When you wake up Sunday morning you are immensely grateful that you don’t have to go into work until 11. You had stayed up until almost 2 in the morning on the phone with Billie. She had gone home after your walk, but she’d called you after she’d taken care of the kittens to check in. You still seemed a little down when she left, which was understandable, but she didn’t like it.

For this reason, as soon as she could, she called you just to talk and keep your mind off certain things. You both ended up getting into bed and chatting about nothing in particular for a couple of hours. Things stayed pretty tame, and talking to her definitely helped you relax. Still, you woke up a little on edge as you just sat in bed for a while. Almost an hour had gone by of you just sitting in bed on your phone when you hear Milo start up the stairs.

As quickly and quietly as possibly you lie back down and throw the covers over you. If Milo sees that you’re awake, he’ll bother you until you take him on a walk. You close your eyes and try to feign sleep for a little bit, but when Milo jumps up on your bed you realize you’ve lost.

Usually, he’ll sit in front of the bed and whine a little, or paw at you. If he knew you were up though, he would jump on the bed and then on you.

You really needed to teach Milo about sleeping in on Sundays.

As expected, your dog is already climbing on you and searching for your head. He liked to lick your face to wake you up, and you had to push him away as you groaned in disgust and defeat.

Guess you were getting up.

After changing into clothes that you wouldn’t mind seeing yourself in later, you lead Milo outside and away from your apartment building. You decide to take him a little farther than usual since you have more time before you need to get to work. He of course loves it, but you end up regretting not taking the time to check the ‘news’ for any updates on you and Billie.

You were on your phone for an hour, but it hadn’t even occurred to you that you should check on that. You really should know better by now. You walk down a street you’ve become familiar with because it has the bakery that you love. You are already thinking about donuts as you walk through the front doors still only half awake.

You smile at the woman behind the counter, muttering a quiet ‘hi’ before glancing over the menu. You only decide on the pastry you want before she speaks up. You didn’t hear what she is saying because your mind was fully on what to have for breakfast, so you frown in confusion before making the mistake of asking her to repeat herself.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

The redhead pulls her phone out of her pocket and presses a few buttons before showing you what she was talking about.

“Is this you?”

It takes you a second to realize what you’re looking at because the video isn’t very good. It was taken at night and it was kind of fuzzy and far away. Eventually you recognize Billie as she pulls away from you, and your eyes widen giving the woman the only answer she needed.

You leave without your pastry and you’re more than a little pissed as you pull out your phone to call Billie. You’re too distracted by the task at hand, that you don’t notice the car coming as you cross the road. The driver lays on the horn and you jump in surprise before scrambling back onto the sidewalk. You have a half grimace and half apologetic look on your face as the car passes you before you look both ways like an adult and try again. Luckily Milo was smarter than you and hadn’t even stepped out on to the street yet.

“Come on, Milo. Let’s try and figure out what’s going on.”

Billie is still in bed when you call her because it is Sunday after all. It’s Sunday and not even 9 am yet. Billie sighs before sitting up and reaching for her phone. Seeing that it’s you makes her smile, and she’s quick to answer it as she runs a hand through her hair.

“Good morning, Y/N.”

You smile immediately at the sleep you hear in Billie’s voice before sighing happily. You’re almost back to your apartment and Milo is picking up the pace because it’s breakfast time. Actually, it’s your breakfast time, but that doesn’t matter to him. He likes watching you eat because more often than not he gets some of whatever you’re eating. Not because you give it to him, but you tend to be an absentminded and messy eater.

“Morning, Billie. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

You nearly curse yourself for the tension you can hear in your own voice. You know that Billie will pick up on it and you just wait for her to ask.

She doesn’t waste any time at all. Not that you expected her to.

“It’s not a problem, sweetheart. Is everything alright?”

You can’t help but smile at the fact that you were right about Billie picking up on your stress. You didn’t want to ruin her day with this, but you didn’t want to hide it either. It didn’t even occur to you that she might have heard it from someone else either way.

You and Milo walk into your apartment building and you press the button for the elevator impatiently. You hit it another few times before sighing in defeat. You turn toward the stairwell at the end of the hall and head that way with Milo in tow.

“Apparently there is a video of us on the internet.”

You wait until you’re sure you have Billie’s attention before you tell her what you saw. It was a video from Friday night when you and Milo went to Billie’s place. As you describe the short video showing you sitting on the kitchen counter with Billie standing in between your legs, you open the door to the stairwell and let Milo go through first. When Billie asks how you found out about this, you tell her about how you went on a walk with Milo to your favorite bakery.

“Yeah, the woman working there told me, and I was so weirded out I didn’t even get my donut.”

Billie laughs at this as she smiles sympathetically. She knows how important your sugar is to you and she realizes you must have been pretty thrown off to leave without it. She waits until you’re done talking to Milo, apparently he’s going too fast for so early in the morning, before speaking up.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. That must have been uncomfortable.”

You laugh under your breath because it was very awkward for the three seconds you spend debating whether or not you should leave empty-handed. You opened your mouth to say this when you hear the door on the second floor open and you watch as someone walks out. You hold back your groan of annoyance because this person, your downstairs neighbor is a pain in the ass. He is a homophobic asshole who has no problem sharing his feelings with you every time you run into each other. Luckily this was only the third time since you started seeing Billie.

You start up the next flight of stairs until you remember that you haven’t responded to Billie. You smile before mentioning the end of your trip to the bakery.

“No, it was great. I--.”

Billie was just thinking about getting out of bed when you’re cut off mid-sentence. She frowns in confusion when she hears Milo start barking and a series of thuds as you drop the phone. You tumble down the stairs, hitting your head against the wall as you reach the bottom. You curse before looking up to see the blurry figure that just shoved you continue down the stairs like nothing happened. You realize a few seconds later that Milo’s following him.

“Milo, stop.”

It takes you a moment to regain your bearings and you cringe as you reach for your head. You’re sure you will have a nice bump forming pretty soon. With another groan, you get to your knees before you hiss in pain. Damn that hurt.

“Fuck you, Doug.”

You mutter this under your breath because your head hurts too much to speak any louder. You grit your teeth as you hear his response followed by the sound of Milo yelping.

“Screw you, dyke."

You sit up straight at the sound and feel your head swim as you look around frantically for Milo. You finally spot him shaking his head at the bottom of the stairs and you call him up quickly.

“Milo, come here, boy. Are you okay?”

You wait until Milo is close enough for you to reach out to him. You don’t see anything wrong with him, but you can’t be sure given how dazed you still feel. You sigh as you pull Milo closer to you until you can find where his leash is attached to his collar so you can grab it. You pull him closer before you attempt to get up.

The sound of Billie’s voice coming from somewhere reminds you that you were on the phone with her. You’d completely forgotten.

“Y/N? Are you there? Hello?”

You look around for your phone, but you don’t see it immediately. You move around Milo and frown when you still don’t see it. How far could it have gone? You manage to get to your feet using the wall for support before you take another look around. You finally find it down on the steps headed down to the first floor. You move too quickly to get it and you stumble over Milo before you manage to grab the hand rail with a curse.

“Fuck.”

You slowly kneel down to grab it before standing up again slowly. How it’s not broken you have no idea, but you’re not going to question it. You put the phone to your ear and tighten your hold on Milo’s leash. He’s leaning against you in a way that’s making you more unbalanced. You hurry to lean against the wall before you squeeze your eyes shut to try and recover enough to respond coherently.

“Y/N? What’s going on? Are you alright?”

You sigh again before you respond, your voice a little more telling than you were hoping it would be.

“Hi, sorry. I’m here. I just--.”

You’re not sure why you’re apologizing for someone pushing you down the fucking stairs and you roll your eyes at your stupidity. You don’t get to stumble through your explanation before Billie’s speaking again.

“What just happened, Y/N? Did you fall?”

You merely huff in annoyance as you start up the stairs. You decide not to take the next three flights and just make it to the second floor so you can take the elevator. You don’t trust yourself not to misstep. Especially since you’re on the phone.

“Yes. Well no. This asshole in my building pushed me.”

Billie isn’t sure that she heard you right. Well, no she knows she did because despite sounding ticked and winded, you spoke clearly. Instead, Billie’s trying to figure out who the fuck thought they could pull something like this. Looks like she had more than one person to sue.

“Are you alright? Did you get hurt?”

You finally make it to the top of the stairs and you groan as you lead Milo out into the hallway.

“I hit my head a little, but I’m fine.”

You walk down the hall and make it to the elevator before Billie speaks up. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed before her worried voice snaps your attention back to her.

“Do you need to go see a doctor?”

You’re already shaking your head because it’s past 9:00 and you have to get ready for work. You haven’t eaten yet and you feel yourself getting slightly cranky at the thought. You step into the elevator with Milo on your heels before pressing the button for your floor with a little more force than necessary.

“No, it’s okay, Billie. I’ll be fine. I have work soon anyway.”

Again, you don’t notice Billie’s silence because you’re concentrating on getting to your apartment so you can get something to eat. You don’t know that Billie is debating whether or not you are making the right decision. She doesn’t want to boss you around, but she’s worried that you’re more hurt than you let on. Finally, Billie sighs before she shakes her head in defeat. She’s reaching for a cigarette on her nightstand when she finally asks.

“Okay. Will you call me to check in?”

You smile despite the fact that you can’t promise when this will happen, but you’re all too willing to do this for her. Once your apartment door is opened you let Milo go before closing the door behind you with a nod.

“Of course, but don’t worry okay? I’ll be fine.”

After convincing Billie that you will call her when you get a chance, you get ready for work as you usually would. After making breakfast and drinking a little more than usual you feel pretty good. You take something for the headache you anticipate having before you get dressed and ready to go. Milo’s already waiting for you at the door and you put on his harness and leash before heading out.

You make it to work without incident. You put Milo in his kennel until lunch in a couple of hours before you head up to your office. You smile at the sight of the flowers still there before you put your stuff down and sigh in anticipation. The clinic doesn’t open for a bit so you have time to take a look and see what your day is going to consist of.

You sit down in front of your computer and turn it on. You kill time waiting for it to boot up by checking your phone again. You see that Billie texted you and you frown in confusion before just shrugging in indifference. You don’t know Doug’s last name, but you have plenty of descriptors you can give Billie. You’re too focused on figuring out your day to even think about why Billie would want that information.

Billie’s finally up and out of bed, ready to start the day. After checking on the kittens she hurries to get to work. She has Mickey in her lap as she’s working at the dining room table. She is emailing Jeff her media guru to figure out where this video came from. She assumed it was from the same tabloid that released the morning after story, but she couldn’t be sure. After she sends this, she double checks her phone to see if you texted back. She records everything you say about Doug, even the profanities in her computer in case she needs it for later.

Since she knows you don’t work tomorrow, she plans on dragging you to the doctor kicking and screaming if she has to. She can be just as stubborn as you are, and in this case, she doesn’t plan on giving in. Billie sighs in defeat before shutting her computer. She looks down at Mickey in her lap, and smiles as he responds to her scratches with a quiet purr. She hadn’t planned on doing much today, but now she feels like her entire day will just be worrying about you.

Against her better judgement, Billie decides to watch the video again. It’s only about 20 seconds, but she still finds it disturbing that someone had crept into her backyard without either of you noticing. As the video ends, she furrows her brows slightly as she recalls something peculiar that you hadn’t really explained to her.

You had just played off her concern with a smile and a joke as you normally did. However, Billie could tell that this was somehow related to something from your past that she didn’t know about. Something that had been significant enough for Milo to pick up on it. She didn’t know what to make of it, but she planned to find out. If there was something she could do to help you or reassure you, she would do it.

Lunchtime rolled around without anything too interesting happening in appointments or otherwise. You weren’t sure what to eat and were on your way downstairs when someone from reception came back to treatment with a box of donuts.

You eye them curiously when you notice the name on the box. They’re from that bakery you failed to get breakfast from this morning, but you don’t get a chance to ask before Erin arrives.

“Oh donuts! That’s awesome! Where’d they come from?”

Erin’s already reaching for the card before she realizes that it has your name on it. She and Marissa share a look that you miss as the latter hands the note to you.

“For you, Dr. Y/L/N.”

You only wonder for a second who it’s from before you recognize the handwriting. You smile at the sweet note before you open the box and your eyes grow dark.

You loved donuts.

You see a dozen of the most appetizing donuts you’ve ever laid eyes on and you almost reach out for them before you look to Marissa and Erin who are just watching you.

“Go ahead you two. I’ll get one in a second.”

You watch as the pair eyes the chocolate frosted, sprinkled and glazed donuts hungrily before you go wash your hands. You hear Erin groan from behind you and you smile once you finish up and turn back around to see her with only half a donut and satisfied look on her face that makes you want to laugh out loud.

“Your girlfriend is the best, doc.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but you’re caught off guard by this. You still couldn’t help but smile at the thought before you moved to grab a donut too. You’ll have to get some real food before you eat too many of these donuts, but for now you were going to enjoy yourself. So you just nod in response to Erin’s comment before taking a bite of chocolate.

You can’t hide the smug little smile that breaks across your face at the thought of being able to call Billie Dean your girlfriend.

“She definitely is.”

Billie is on the phone with Michelle when you call her. After ordering yourself a healthier lunch you retreat back up to your office with a slight grimace. Your head still hurts and you had about an hour before you could take anything else. So to pass the time you plan on finishing up some work and calling Billie to thank her and check in.

“Michelle, let me call you back, okay?”

After receiving an ‘ok’ in response, Billie answers your call with a smile. She had been wondering how you were doing and didn’t waste any time.

“Y/N. How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You smile widely before you lean back in your chair and close your eyes. You weren’t sure why you thought you wouldn’t have to answer this question immediately.

“Hi, Billie. I’m great thanks. I’ve eaten too many donuts and my head only hurts a little.”

Billie laughs as she thinks about this. She knows how much you like food, and it’s so cute to see you get so excited. She wishes she could have been there to see your face.

“I’m glad you liked them, but are you really feeling alright?”

For the next few minutes, you and Billie talk about what your days have consisted of so far. You mentioned how work was a little hectic, but not bad at all. You also only have about 4 hours left. You were surprised to hear that Billie was talking to her assistant about the video. Rather, you were surprised by the attention it was receiving.

“Wait, what? People think you were...?”

You trail off as you think back to the short clip that you’d seen this morning. It was just you and Billie kissing in her kitchen. Nothing special. Well, you thought it was special, but you didn’t know why anyone else cared. You definitely didn’t get what Billie was saying about people’s reactions.

“They thought I was forcing myself on you.”

You nearly laugh at this but you stop short because you recognize the tension underlying Billie’s words. She seems more concerned about this than you would have thought. Sure, it wasn’t a good thing to have people believing things like that about you, but Billie could make it right. She could release a statement or just wait until her interview.

“That’s ridiculous.”

You say this absentmindedly as you look to your slightly wilted flowers. They still smell great and you breathe in deeply just to get more of them. It isn’t until you hum to yourself that you realize that Billie hasn’t responded.

“Billie?”

The medium sighs as she tries to figure out how to mention what’s really bothering her without being too obvious. She knows that Michelle and Jeff can deal with any bad press this video gets. That’s not what she’s worried about at the moment.

“I know, Y/N. It just doesn’t look good.”

You nod at this because you’d already decided that it didn’t. Whoever thought they saw you running away from Billie didn’t understand what had really happened. You weren’t too keen on sharing what that was, but if Billie was worried, you’d figure out how to explain it without revealing too much.

You weren’t really ready to talk about that yet.

“I know, Billie, but it will be okay.”

Both you and Billie sit in silence for a few seconds. She thinks about how her attempt to get you to confess what really happened failed, while you decide whether or not to even mention it. You eventually fall back on your decision to be as honest as possible with Billie. The decision is made easier by the fact that Billie hasn’t judged you for your past yet, and you trust her enough to share this.

“You know that wasn’t it. Milo just…he was going to try to get you away from me.”

That was the truth, but definitely not really an explanation. Billie was smart enough to figure this out on her own, you were sure, so you were really just buying time to see how she reacted to you saying, or rather confirming her belief. You sigh as you cringe slightly before getting to the point when Billie doesn’t say anything.

“He’s just really protective of me, and he didn’t like you touching me. Even if I did.”

Billie smiles to herself at your words, and her mind’s already wandering to touching you again when you speak up. Billie hadn’t been expecting you to be so blunt, but she had always known that you were full of surprises. Good and bad. This wasn’t one of the good ones.

“Remember how I told you I got him from an ex? Well, she wasn’t the nicest.”

Erin was sitting up front in reception with Lindsey for the first real break she’s had all day. She was finishing up her donut when she peeked out the window to see that the same car that was here when she arrived this morning hadn’t left. They were just waiting around like always and Erin rolled her eyes as she looked to the blonde sitting next to her.

“Do you think they’ll ever give up, Lins?”

The blonde in question turns to where Erin is looking and simply sighs. It had only been a week of this, but it was getting old quickly. She felt bad for you because you honestly were just trying to do your own thing. You had just moved here and barely had a month under your belt when all of this happened.

“I don’t know, but I hope so.”

They both look for a few more seconds before Lindsey turns back to Erin with a curious look. She knows how much of a fan the brunette is of Billie Dean, so she’s really only asking for clarification. She shifts a little in her seat so she’s facing her friend.

“Hey, Erin. Have you seen that video?”

She and Erin were the only ones up here for now since Marissa is on lunch, and Mina was in the back so she didn’t need to worry about being overheard. Erin turns to Lindsey with a slight grimace before she nods in answer. There’s no point in lying because she knew that Lindsey knew her better than that. She just nodded again before sitting up and crossing her legs. She listens briefly to make sure that you were still upstairs before speaking.

“Yeah, I saw it before work. I don’t really--.”

She pauses as she thinks about what she saw and how out of context, it didn’t make a lot of sense. She’d blushed heavily at the sight of you and Billie so intimate, but almost as quickly, she’d been confused by how fast it ended. You’d practically flown off the counter toward something. The video had ended before she saw where you went, and despite watching it an embarrassing number of times, she didn’t know what to make of it.

“Yeah, I get what you mean.”

Erin turns to Lindsey in confusion because she wasn’t sure that Lindsey would know where her hesitation came from. She was surprised; however, when Lindsey practically said what she couldn’t find the words to articulate.

“It looked a little sketch at first, but there has to be an explanation, right?”

Erin nodded in agreement smiling as she started to come to your defense, but she was interrupted by the front door opening. She sat up assuming it was a client, but then she saw the delivery bag and she knew what it was. She stood up in anticipation before nodding when the man said the fake name you’d started using. You learned the first time a nosey employee asked too many questions that it was best to be as incognito as possible.

“Order for Misty Gish?”

Erin has to stop herself from laughing as she takes the bag with an appreciative smile. She doesn’t know how you come up with these things sometimes.

After telling Lindsey that she’ll be right back, Erin heads toward the stairs and up to the second floor. She doesn’t hear anything other than Mina in the back cleaning until she’s at the top of the stairs. Since you’re the only doctor working today, it’s pretty quiet upstairs and Erin can hear you talking to someone.

“No, she didn’t hit me. She just pushed me around for a while and Milo didn’t—oh hey Erin!”

Your chair comes to a stop mid-spin as the brunette appears in your doorway with your lunch. You smile widely as you take it from her with a muttered thank you, watching as Erin smiles apologetically before she starts to back out into the hall.

“Here you go. Sorry to interrupt.”

Erin would be lying if she said she hadn’t been listening to what you were saying. It raised a lot of questions that she wouldn’t dare to ask you.

You smile as you set the bag on your desk, having to move your phone that you had haphazardly thrown down when you saw Erin. You shake your head before mentioning offhandedly.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just talking to Billie. Thank you for this!”

Erin nods before she heads back downstairs with a contemplative look. She thought about what you had said to Billie before shaking her head. It wasn’t her business, but hopefully Billie was taking better care of you than this nameless woman.

Once Erin’s gone, you sigh before reaching for your phone with a smile.

“Sorry about that Billie, but I have food now.”

Billie laughs at this before rolling her eyes at the excitement she hears in your voice. She was glad that you were getting fed because you still had a while until you were done with work.

“I heard. I’m happy for you, sweetheart.”

You’re too excited about your food to roll your eyes at Billie’s teasing tone. You instead sigh again as you take a peek into the bag and sniff your food like a dog.

“Should I leave you two alone?’

This time you do roll your eyes and you laugh dryly at Billie’s words. You push your food away before shaking your head as you stand up to close the door. You probably should have done this before, but it was a little late now. Either way you knew that you hadn’t quite finished your explanation.

“Ha. Ha. Thanks, but I can wait until I finish telling you why Milo is my favorite dog to date.”

When your next appointment arrives, you’re not feeling any better despite having eaten. Your headache was getting worse instead of better and you’d already taken as much medicine for it as you could. You just had to power through the next few hours then you could go home and fall asleep watching something mindless.

You don’t realize how tired you are until you almost get bitten by a cat with an ear infection. You smile and eventually make it through the rest of the appointment unscathed. When they leave at 3:30 you are dreading your next appointment. You still feel tired no matter how much coffee you drink and you find out, as you try to work on your records, that you barely write a coherent sentence. You groan in annoyance as you delete the gibberish you’d written yet again before Erin comes back to let you know the next patient was ready for you.

You hold back another groan as you nod in acknowledgement before closing the note in front of you. You’re not sure any of what you’d written is right, but you can’t worry about that now. Your brain is just not working correctly at the moment.

“Is everything alright, Dr. Y/L/N?”

You’re lying through your teeth when you tell her you’re fine, but you manage a smile before you stand up to follow her. Your head spins a little, but you just take a second to steady yourself before continuing on. You walk into the exam room and introduce yourself to the owner and the adorable old golden that greets you by covering you with fur. You are glad this is just a wellness visit because as you do your exam and continue talking with the owner you feel yourself fading. You give Bernie his vaccines and answer any questions that Bernie’s owner has before you send the pair on their way.

You leave the room at an uncharacteristically slow pace before shutting the door behind you. You lean against the wall and close your eyes as you listen to the pounding of your pulse against your skull. You force yourself to take a deep breath but somehow this just makes it worse and you grimace in pain.

Water.

Maybe water would help stop your raging headache.

You start heading back toward treatment, but the second you open your eyes you feel disoriented. You groan before stopping at the door and closing your eyes once again. You manage to pull it open and stumble inside before heading toward the sink without looking.

“Woah, are you okay, doc?”

You don’t hear Mina as you brace your hands on the edge of the sink. You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to will away the pain but even that doesn’t work. In fact, this makes it much worse. Your pulse is deafening and you feel so nauseous just from the sound you think you might throw up.

By the time Mina makes it over to you, you’re shaking from the effort of staying upright. You don’t hear what Mina says, but when she reaches you to steady you, you double over and throw up into the sink, and on the floor. Mina’s quick to grab you as you start falling, and she curses before calling for help.

“Shit! Erin!? Somebody help me!”

It’s only a few seconds before Mina hears the sound of hurried footsteps. The door to treatment opens to reveal a wide-eyed and confused Erin who practically screams when she sees you on the floor unconscious.

“Shit! What happened?”

Mina shakes her head because she has no idea. She saw you dragging your feet a little bit today, but she thought it was because you were simply tired. She tried not to get into your personal business, but she figured your new relationship was to blame for your fatigue. This; however, this was something completely different.

“I don’t know, she just threw up and collapsed.”

Erin was already running for the phone when Marissa arrived. She was quick to ask Mina if she could help, and she grabbed your arm to search for your pulse while Mina left to find a stethoscope. Erin was looking on nervously as she spoke with the dispatcher frantically.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“We need an ambulance at Sunset vet clinic. Our doctor just passed out and she’s not waking up!”

Part 13

#american horror story #ahs #ahs fic #my fic #ahs murder house #ahs imagine #Billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard imagine #billie dean howard #a little bit #sorry for the cliff hanger!#:P

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albino-whumpee · 3 years

Text

First mistake

In which we learn Albus can´t see anything.

Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @twistedcaretaker

CW// Pet whump, dehumanization, defiant whumpee, migraines, whumpee as caretaker. Pretty mild one.

Days later, Albus was having a headache.

It was getting harder to read the reports or even his own notes, and his eyes weren´t taking lightly the increasing strain.

“Are you taking anything for that?” Sasha asked with cards and papers scattered around their table on the cafeteria.

Albus grunted “I can´t take medicine” he said squinting harder at his excel document. Re-reading it for the tenth time.

“You allergic?” Tony asked scratching his head before showing the boy the piece he was working on “Hey, what do you think of this?” Albus sighed, giving up on trying to understand.

“I don´t need them” The boy took a look at the man´s tablet and was marveled as always. But the colors made him stare away. Too vibrant for him “It´s good” he said closing his eyes for a second.

“Dude are you sure about that?” Sasha asked stopping the sound of rushed typing.

“I have gone through worse without them. I´m fine” he growled annoyed at her insistence “Why does this have last week´s numbers?” he showed her his tablet. She took a look and then directed an even more worried look at him.

“Because it´s last week report, Albus. I sent you the new version an hour ago” she explained making him look at her and then at the tablet.

“No, it´s version 8 right? It´s this one, look” he said feeling a tug on his chest when she shook her head and Tony stretched his neck.

“Ah, no it says right there it´s version 6″ the man said as Sasha pointed with her finger the number 6 at the top. Now more visible at the distance. “See?” the boy sighed before covering his face with his hand.

“Good thing you haven´t sent it to Zarai” Sasha tried to comfort him, but when he didn´t say anything both stared at him. “You didn´t…”

“No, not yet” he said making both sigh in relief. “I have two hours left at least” he said opening the mail app and downloading the correct document. Using index and middle to expand the screen and verify the file´s name.

Sasha looked at Tony and then back at the boy “No, it´s due in half”

“What?” The boy jumped and rushed to check on his notes. His breath growing quicker until he read the actual note and his heart skipped a beat. His eye trembled, before he let himself fall on the table covering his head in a quiet attempt to soothe himself from the anxiety.

He had had trouble reading back at the facility. They had partially erased that part of him before, only to reinstall it later as “costume training” as the handlers liked to call it. It had taken more than just a few hits on his right hand and on his thighs to learn to read and write again without passing out. Despite the white pain he had felt at the beginning, he had gotten used to the small burn at the back of his eyes.

His sight was blurry and even now making up letters up close was difficult sometimes. But he thought it would be fine as long as he squinted enough. He was slow because he always expanded the screen to read…

Was it really something so small, reason enough to get him fired? He shivered and hugged himself harder as he realized that it was enough. Ma´am had a long history of firing slow workers and he couldn´t let that happen.

He trembled at the thought of being returned to the white walls, with its freezing tiles and the muffled sounds of people screaming. The electricity ran through his limbs like a ghost´s caress.

Tony looked at Sasha and reached to tap on his shoulder. Only making him jump away “Hey, hey! It´s ok, Albus, hey, don´t worry man, let me help you with that” the words made Albus teary eyes look up at him at the exact moment Tony gave him his glasses.

The boy blinked a few seconds trying to accustom to the clear view. If just a bit blurry but definitely an improvement.

“Ah, just like I thought. Look here” he pointed to his tablet and he followed his finger to see the document with literal new eyes. “You can read them better right?” Albus nodded.

“Hah, welcome to the four eyes club” Sasha giggled as she went back to work “So you were cranky because your eyes hurt huh? You don´t need to go through pain if I can help it you know. I´ve got ibuprofen in my bag all the time”

“I´ve heard its normal for albinos to have poor sight, didn´t you use glasses before? Your eyes have that little...hm, tremble, you know?” Tony asked him, but he put the act as if he was too busy fixing the document to avoid answering. He didn´t know anyways and time was running out too fast for him to worry about the blinding pain from trying to summon memories kept under the fog.

“Thank you Tony, you´re a life saver” he said so meaning it more than the man could know “I´ll do anything to pay back the favor…just…need to finish this…” he wasn´t lying, but for his luck, he took it as a joke and allowed himself to focus in making his fingers fly on the screen. After Tony simply nodded and waited a few minutes, the man chuckled at the concentration face he put.

“You´re sticking your tongue out” he giggled taking a photo, just before he stood up to sprint to the printer down the hall.

“You´re done?!” Sasha and him yelled, jaw hanging open.

He took the paper and read it on his way back to the table “It took me an hour because I couldn´t see the numbers but now?” he smiled shaking the papers in his hands. “Thanks Tony! I´ll give them back later!” the albino shouted, trotting to his owner´s office.

“Good luck!” he managed to hear before he entered the elevator.

He recomposed as he entered the office. Only to find Zarai crying.

She quickly turned around to face the window wiping the tears off.

“M-Ma´am?” he asked, stepping inside and closing the door. “Are you…?”

“Where´s my report, Albus? You´re two minutes late” she cut him out with a husky voice. Albus shifted the papers on his hands.

“I´m sorry, ma´am”

“Knock on the door next time” her voice shifted to that of anger. The boy stared at the documents for a second, before laying them on her desk.

“I´m sorry, ma´am. I´ll do better next time” he replied in a low voice. He stood there twisting his fingers anxiously, until she turned to face him. Her face looked older, showing some signs of fatigue that didn´t have anything to do with work.

“It´s not like you have a choice right?” she said taking the papers and quickly passed them over to let her prodigious memory work as Albus kept his head down in submission. She put the document down and stared at him. “Are those Tony´s glasses?” Albus hadn´t noticed until now that he still had them on. It was comfortable seeing clearly, but he quickly put them on his pockets. “Why do you have them?”

“I, uh…” he stuttered thinking how to string the words together “He lent them to me”

One eyebrow shot up, “I can see that. Since when do you need glasses?” she asked with her brows in a knot. Albus swallowed, fearing he might have become an inconvenience. Undesirable. But he couldn´t ignore her.

“I´m not sure ma´am…” He managed to say.

“They didn´t say anything about bad vision… its recent then?” she mumbled to herself “Do you see well on those?” the question left him frozen.

“…yes, ma´am” he answered after a second. She nodded absent mindedly before standing up.

“Well, check where there´s an optic store and we will go after work. You have to give Tony back his glasses before he stamps himself against a wall” Albus stayed still as he realized she had joked with him. She gave him a look “Yes, I can try be funny sometimes too. I´m not made of ice” she wiggled her hands in a Duh- gesture. “You´ll have to pay for them yourself though. You can do that now” She proceeded to walk out the office for her evening smoke. “Thank you ma´am” he managed to say before she made a gesture as if to close the door but regretted at the last second. “Yes, ma´am?”

“Do you need a pill for that?” she asked leaning on the door frame.

“No, ma´am. I´m fine” he lied, putting a smile the woman didn´t fell for.

“I have ibuprofen on my purse. Take one, please” she ordered him before turning on her heels and closing the door.

The boy let out a sigh.

She was so hard to read.

—-

He stayed there for a while, searching for a place like she had ordered him to. But couldn´t stop thinking about her.

How he had found her crying.

It was true he had seen her gloomy and contemplative lately. More than usual. Definitely more emotional than normal. Hugging Momo and staring at the garden for a long time until she stood up and left to her room.

He wondered if it didn´t have anything to do with that weekend´s trip with Claude and Mister Robert. What was it? Why was she in so much pain?

Albus glanced at the photo on her desk. The one with the kids and Sann´s clone. He already had a hunch about what could it be, but… it wasn´t his place to ask and if she didn´t tell him, it wasn´t information he needed to know.

Browsing the internet the sudden realization he would be seeing Sann for the weekend popped on his head and made him blush. He looked at his hands and tried remembering the lady from the sign language video.

“My…” He pointed with his index at his chest and then pulled up both hands in front. Forming “H” with both hands and then ticking one above the other. “Name is…” then he formed each letter. Stumbling a bit between U and S. Sighing at the way he still needed practice to teach it to Sann.

He was breaking one of the most endorsed rule of the facility by thinking about him.

“Don´t get attached to the others”

But he wasn´t there anymore.

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scribblingfangirl · 3 years

Text

GLOWING IN THE DARK #0 | The Punisher - Billy Russo

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: What is this? A new Billy Russo series? Yes, yes it is and then from someone who has only written Jaskier from 'The Witcher' (if the few lousy fics even count) and one Daredevil drabble. I really enjoyed working my way through multiple Billy Russo fics here on tumblr. And while I do not agree with his character (he's an asshole and definitely not a 'cute' bad boy), I am in love with Ben Barnes (*cough* Prince Caspian, Logan Delos *cough*)… so that's a problem. This is why I wanted to throw my own take into the depths of tumblr. Now, I'm no US citizen so I have no clue how the military, goverment and all these institutions actually work, but thanks to my good friends Internet and Google I might have a chance to not totally… hmpf it. Anyway, there will probably be some MAJOR mistakes, so as this will be an Billy Russo AU anyway, just look at it like an entire AU in general, yeah? But then again: It's the marvel universe so anything's possible. Thank you in advance! However, if you wanna swing by my messages and correct me and/or help me? Yes please, let's chat and bring me up to speed on how everything works! :D Anyway enough rambling, let's start, shall we? I hope you enjoy this prologue! This is more of a warm-up to have some slight context, Billy will make his debut in the next part.

word count: ~ 1.4k

summary: A conversation on the way to the airport can lead to interesting new insights. (beginning of a Season1!BillyRusso AU)

warnings: language and there are some sentences that are waaaay to long, punctuation mistakes (in general just a weak English vocabulary)

| next part | - | series masterlist |

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The guy sitting under the tree behind the picnic table you and your friends were sitting at had been playing the same song for the past 20 minutes. Worst thing? 10 minutes into it he even started to sing it out loud, or rather, tried to do so. 'What an Asshole,' you thought groaning, shook your head and started to massage your temples. "That's not how I imagined my first day back in the States to be."

Maria, your best friend, giggled as she threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you into her side, patting your head mockingly. "What? Are you telling me the soldier boys over… well, wherever you're stationed don't have such angelic voices?"

"Don't know. Couldn't hear them over the purring of our birds. Though I guess they would have sounded the same. Like plucked chicken waiting for their death sentence."

"That's kinda what they are though…," you heard one of your friends mumble on the other side of the table. From the corner of your eye you saw how another one poked her elbow into her side.

Maria released you, seeing how the other ones had pained expressions on their faces as well and clapped her hands on the table. "Well. That won't work, will it?" She stood up, smiling and walked briskly to the man.

"Hey buddy. You know anything else? Because we're sick of hearing you butcher this one."

Joining your friends in laughing at Maria's comment you turned around and caught a glimpse of the man. Poor thing was turning beet red.

"Sorry ma'am. I'm trying to learn this new song."

"Struggling a bit, aren't we?"

"Yeah well, but I don't do requests. If you want one, it's going to cost you."

Three months. It didn't even take them three months after that first conversation to get pregnant and decide to spend the rest of their lives together. It was a beautiful little ceremony, rushed for sure, but perfect for both of them. It fitted right into their relationship. And what a relationship it was. You hated seeing the uncertainty in Maria's eyes now, but you all knew it would come to this. You liked to think that she was accustomed to this, having brought you to the airport multiple times. Yet, you knew this time would be different. She wasn't just bringing her best friend, she was also bringing her now-husband and soon to be father of her child.

"You know," you said as you heaved your duffel bag into the back of the car, "If any of you dares to make me this kid's godmother, or worse, aunt-"

"We'll have your eternal love and gratitude. We know Y/N, we know."

You jokingly glared at Maria before you opened the back door of the car and sat in the seat behind her. "Not what I was trying to get to, but I let you live in your little fantasy world. This way at least one of us can sleep peacefully at night." You regretted the words almost as soon as you said them. So you quickly added, "And you know what? I'll even add a promise of being the best godmother or aunt this kid could have if you call him Pete."

Maria started the car, her pregnant belly making it harder for her to manoeuvre, and shot you a quick look as she made sure that nobody was in the way while backing out of the driveway. "I am not going to call my baby after a bird."

"You're not going to call our child Sparrow or Robin? That's good to know, after all, it will be a Frank Jr.," Frank said, having only caught the latter part of your conversation as he had checked the door one last time before entering the car the moment it was on the road.

"Goddamn Frank… Old-fashioned are we? You do realize though that it ought to be Francis Jr. right?" You smirked as you leaned over and pinched his ear a little. "You're also going to make him sound like a banker or lawyer with that name. '

He grunted and swatted your hand away, turning to look out of the window. "Oh yeah, god forbid he has a safe job and can go home to his wife and kids every day."

Silence filled the car as you slowly slid back into your seat. There it was again. You leaned your head against the window and saw Maria searching for Frank's hand with her free one, holding on to him like a lifeline. After all, it was. Even the slightest touch counted now, as it would be well over a year until their hands would find each other again.

You sighed and watched the blurry landscape pass you by. You knew that you weren't ready for a relationship. You'd love to have one, envied Maria and Frank many times over the past three months but… You wouldn't be ready to leave it all behind, leave him behind. 'Get yourself a military man,' the people said. 'That would be worse,' you'd answer, 'The possibility of seeing him out there? It's slim.' It was already hard to stay in contact with the people you left behind. You couldn't imagine how it would be trying to catch up with another solider. And not knowing if he was still alive? If you'd be able to hug him as soon as you're back on friendly territory again? You pressed your lips together.

"What's the matter?" You met Maria's eyes in the little front mirror. "You seem lost in your thoughts."

You shook your head and sadly smiled at her. "Just thinking of how strong you both are. Sure there's no possibility of me convincing you to allow Francis Jr. to live as Pete instead?" You added the last part to raise the mood.

"What exactly is it with you and Pete? I don't really fancy to call my son after an amazing ex-lover of yours."

You smirked and turned to Frank. "As you know I'm a gunner on one of the UH-1Y Venoms the Marine acquired recently. Our callsign is Blackbird, but we all call him Pete." You stopped and furrowed your brows. "Not sure why actually. I guess the boys didn't like me having the honour of naming our bird and had to overpower me somehow."

"You choose the callsign Blackbird?"

"Yes sir." You did a little salute as well as you were able to in your seat belt. "Very proud of it. Inspired by me being a little bitch who loves shiny things, especially if those shiny things can cause explosions. The shiny things are the bullets," you added at Frank's confused face. "Because I shoot them at the targets to make them go boom?"

Frank grinned as he looked over to Maria. "You knew. That's why you've been pestering me into introducing her to Billy."

You raised your eyebrows and looked at Maria through the little mirror. "Wow hold on. Declaring me aunt of your child and trying to set me up with someone? Someone's gotta show you how to draw a line Maria!"

"Don't worry. I'll be sure to learn it together with my child. And as I recall it you made me the promise to make me sleep soundly at night, so don't start moaning at us. What you reckon Frank? You think you'll be able to meet up? Introduce her to Billy? Somewhere, somehow?"

"Na…," he muttered as he slid deeper into his seat, remembering again that you weren't going on a road trip but to the airport. "We're stationed in different parts of this goddamn mess. It'd be a big surprise if we ever met on the battlefield, right kid?."

"We're the same age Castle, but yeah. However, if we ever fly over your base I'll be sure to wave at you. And, who knows? If we do ever land near your base I'll let you introduce me to your buddy. If you managed to beat me in a friendly round of combat that is. Or else you'll call your son Pete."

"You guys are children," Maria muttered as she set the blinker to turn into the airport, but you and Frank grinned at each other and high-fived.

"Deal."

#billy russo x reader #billy russo one shot #billy russo oneshot #the punisher x reader #the punisher one shot #the punisher oneshot #billy russo #the punisher #billy russo x you #billy russo imagine #the punisher x you #the punisher imagine #my writing #viascribbles

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aliasimagines · 4 years

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The Cat's out of The Bag//Jason Todd

a/n: i suck at titles 🤷🏻‍♀️. Anyway hope you like it 💕

word count: 1130 (? At least i belive so, i checked it when I finished writing it at 3am but im just too lazy to do it agian)

requested by @im-hqlover

Jason and reader were trying to hide their relationship from other people at school, but somehow someone finds out and soon the whole school know about their relationship. (Maybe kinda angst and fluff too, because I love this combination.)

It was one of the first things you talked about as a couple. One of the first 'rules' that were set in the relationship. Neither of you made a big deal out of it, Jason completely understood and was very much okay with keeping it a secret.

It's not that you were embarrassed about dating Jason. But he was very popular. A lot of people from school had crushes on him. And you were kinda okay with that, because you knew that he trusted you, that he chose you, he wanted to be with you not anyone else. But maybe some people at school couldn't handle Jason being in a relationship so calmly?

Just thinking about it made you stress. So you didn't tell anyone. Okay maybe a few closer friends knew about it but noone you guys didn't trust. And it was cool, everything was going fine.

So when you walked into school one day, only to hear people whisper behind your back and to get stared at by everyone you had no idea what could have happened.

Until some girls walked up to you while you were still packing your books in your bag from your locker.

"You're Y/N, right?" you heard from behind you. You turned around to see Becky and her two side pieces friends. You noded confused. These three were like the Heathers of Gotham High.

"Yes..?"

"Is it true?" Becky asks now louder, her words drawing more attention from the passing by students. You had no idea what she was talking about. You had no idea why she would wanna talk to you of all people.

"What is?"

"You and Todd." added Chelsea, the girl on Becky's left. "I personally don't think so."

You gasped. What? How did they know?

"Todd? As in Jason? I don't even know him.." you tried, still caught off guard. The third girl, Sarah lifted her phone and held it out for you to see. On her phone the school tumblr was opened and there was a picture of you and Jason walked out of a bookstore hand in hand. The picture was blurry as you were only lit by street lamps and the store's sign. The picture was taken last night.

You cursed mentally. Someone from school must have seen you and upload this pic to the schools social media. You felt sick. All those whispers made sense now. You slammed your locker closed and left without a word. You ran to the one place were you knew noone would disturb you. The art classroom. You practically tore the door open and fell on the floor. Fortunately noone was in. You felt your thoughts getting louder and louder. It was getting so overwhelming you wanted to scream but you just went to hug your legs close to your chest. You could have sworn that the empty and half covered canvases were mocking you while thei finished pieces just rolled their nonexistent eyes.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breathing. You wish it wasn't a wednesday. Jason didn't have a first period on wednesdays. If he was here this whole thing would be so much easier. You could call him, sure. But between patrolling all night and studying for his finals in all his free time Jason needed all the sleep he could get. And he should wake up soon as it is almost 8am.

Somewhat calmer you took out your phone to maybe listen to some music that'll help you figure out how to get to class. I mean you knew you had to walk to your classroom in a few minutes but there was nothing else that you wanted to do less than that. But yes. Eventually you have to get up and go out. You bit your lips summoning all the courage as you heard the bell ringing.

You opened the door, peaking out if there was anyone on the corridors. When you saw none you hurried through the school with your head hanging low. You tried so hard not to make any noise, to sit on your chair without making a sound, to make yourself invisible. You tried so hard to focus on the teacher but every two minutes you heard someone whisper your name quickly followed by Jason's... You wished for a lifesaving bell instead you heard your phone buzzing slightly. Carefully you looked at the screen.

Jason wrote.

Quickly making up an excuse for the teacher about how you felt sick, which wasn't suspicious at all, you were out on the corridor once again.

Jason: 'I'm in the library. Can you get out of class?'

You: 'Already out, be there in a sec'

Entering the library you knew where to search him as the two of you met up there once or twice. You weren't wrong, behind a big shelf full of classic literature stood Jason leaning against the wall, clearly frustrated. As he saw you he pushed himself away from to wall and opened his arms. Without hesitation you hugged him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"I am so sorry, y/n." he whispered. "I came as soon as I saw the headlines."

You pulled away so you could look at him.

"The whats?"

"Headline.. Oh shit, you didn't see? It's all over the internet. Gotham Gazette has already written a damn article about it. Bruce is making calls at the moment but..."

"Oh my god..." you panicked. Not only the school but whole Gotham knew about yout relationship now. Great, and now you wanted to cry. Jason noticed and cupped your face.

"Please baby, I am so sorry. If I could I would erase that damn picture but... Ah no... I know it's overwhelming, it's okay, if you feel like crying I've got you okay?"

You noded and hugged him again.

"It's just... I know it's stupid but-" you took a deep breath" I'm just kind of afraid..? People been whispering since I'm here and school only started half an hour ago"

You looked at Jason and it made you hurt, you knew he felt guilty even though he had no reason to do so. Shaking, you took his hand.

"Jay it's not your fault, you can't do anything about it now." you said. He bit his bottom lip.

"I know.. I just hate seeing you so hurt."

"It's so much better now that I've got you here."

"It's gonna okay. We are in this crap together, alright? There might be some people who want to have a say in about our relationship, and yes some people might look at you with jealousy because they think they ever stood a change. But they don't because I love you . No one else. "

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd angst #jason todd one shot #jason todd fluff #teen! Jason todd #Behind This mask au #request #batboys x reader #batboys fluff #batboys angst #alias imagines #dc imagine #red hood imagine #dc one shot #i am so sleepy right now #😴

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madmadmilk · 4 years

Text

One After The One PART 2 | Tom Holland x Reader

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: If a fool knows they’re a fool, are they really a fool? (The answer is yes.) You weigh the pros and cons of meeting T, Blurry Boy, Tom-Holland-Imposter, but curiosity tips the scales.

Warnings: Cursing, Suspicion, some Hard to Swallow Pills, and a million blurry pics

Word Count: 6K grains of sand in your boots

“... What?”

You throat ran dry, and you’d be lying if several things didn’t just suddenly click in your mind. The pictures, or lack of pictures. “T.” His bio. It makes all makes total sense, and then it totally doesn’t.

None of that it made it any easier to believe the words coming out of her mouth.

“I… I think he’s using pictures of Tom Holland,” your friend exhales, repeating herself slowly.

…

This can’t be happening. You feel your brows furrow and face fall–– unsure of what to say or how to feel.

Tom Holland on Tinder?

No fucking way.

“... Who..? How..?” you reach up to scratch your eyebrow, hoping to stir up something to deflect her suggestions.

“You know, Spider-Man? We just watched him in that movie?” Liza starts slowly, then pretends to shoot webs, nearly bumping into her drink. “Thwip-thwip, yeah?”

You begin frown and shake your head, you wave away her hands.

“Yeah, uhm, yeah I know who he is. But there’s no way that’s––“

She gives you a knowing and cautious looking, tilting her head towards you in question. Her lower lip juts out and she pulls out her phone. You can assume she’s looking up pictures of the actor, and soon enough she has some glamour shot of him in a maroon suit.

He had glasses on. The same ones in that goddamn picture he had sent the other day.

That’s not...

You hold your phone search through your chats, scrolling past conversations and laughs, looking for that one picture. Your heads rest together as you swipe up slowly to show her the picture of him that he had sent… the one with the glasses.

There’s no way––

But you don’t say anything, solely waiting for her confirmation or denial.

“Friendly neighborhood romantic…” Liza mutters softly as she holds both phones closer to herself. “Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man…”

You take it from her and zoom in; sure enough, all those details fall into place.

Fuck.

You blink, comparing the smiles. They look identical.

But?

But Tom Holland is a A-list actor, smiley, pretty, bright and out of reach. You can’t even entertain the idea of meeting a ~celebrity~ through a shitty fucking dating app–– a hook-up one at that. It just doesn’t happen.

And the thought of him wanting to spend time with you?

“No… that’s not right,” you finally manage to say. “Uhm. It can’t be Tom.”

Upon saying that out loud, you catch yourself. You find yourself believing that it could have been him. So, it’s hard to say which part you were denying.

Liza does the critical thinking for you.

“I’m sorry, babe. This guy is lying to you.”

Liza looks at you with her big brown eyes, and you can see a little bit of pity. She nods slowly and turns away, leaving you with two phones in your hands and doubt in your heart.

“He’s using Tom Holland’s pictures, he’s not telling you the truth, and he’s not… offering you anything else about himself. You know?”

What?

You had gotten so comfortable with the idea of him, of “T.” Of “Blurry Boy,” his own person... and not with the reality of who he could be and what he’s doing to you.

The reality that he’s still really fucking suspicious, a stranger whose life and intentions you don’t actually know.

He’s definitely not Tom Holland, regretfully, and he’s probably not like any of the pictures he’s posted–– blurry, edited, whatever. And the conversations? Maybe it’s all a persona.

You don’t know a single thing about him.

Oh…

It stings more than you thought it would, even when you knew this was already a shaky start.

Liza watches you press your tongue to the side of your cheek, processing this with no argument or fight left. She feels bad having told you outright, but you both know that it’s what you would have wanted. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

She hugs your shoulders, as you slide her phone back towards her.

You let her hold you as you try to let the shame and shock pass.

Your phone pings softly on the table.

You read the message as it glows on your screen. You scoff as soon as you check it, because who else could it be?

BB: I bet you forgot to watch the episode lol

No.

You forgot you shouldn’t trust him.

…

BB: ?

BB: Hello?

BB: Hey, sorry idk if you’re busy or something right now. Just wondering how you were

BB: 👀

BB: Sorry, did I do something to make you mad?

Yes–– no. Yeah, kinda.

You pull down your phone screen, musing over the fact that more messages might appear. He’s sent something new every few hours since your talk with Liza earlier that day.

God, you’re glad you don’t have your read receipts on.

You spend some time lazing around in bed, hair up and out of your face, your pants crumpled and kicked on the floor nearby. You suck in your cheeks as you pick up your phone.

You’ve been cycling through social media all day–– not looking at anything in particular, but definitely avoiding texts from You Know Who.

You know what the messages say, you know that he’s wondering where you are and what you’re doing, but how do you face him after your fatal revelation with Liza? How do you recover? Well, you start by sorting out your buzzing thoughts….

First, you feel fucking embarrassed. There’s a burning, nauseous heat on your face, all because you didn’t realize those pictures were SO obviously fake, and that you were kinda into Whoever He Is.

Second, you feel righteous anger, for being dragged around even though he promised. Ha ha ha. He’s one hundred percent a stranger on the internet, alright. And you’re a fool for letting yourself get strung along.

But him using pictures of a well-known, well-loved, heavily-adored celebrity?? Isn’t that, like, really fucking bold? Embarrassing even?

(Almost as embarrassing as you not noticing this, but you don’t let yourself dwell on that part for too long)

The angel on your shoulder reasons that, “maybe he’s still the same person underneath this facade–– he just looks nothing like what he has posted. You could still like him no matter what he looked like, right?”

While the devil swoops in with some hard facts, laughing in pity, “A guy or person who conceals themselves with lies is not worth keeping at all.”

And in this case, you have to agree with that flaming hot truth. You’re ready to fold those fleeting feelings, shove them in a box, and kick ‘em to the curb along with that inner monologue–– but as you said in the very beginning… if you knew you were being fooled from the start, are you really getting hurt?

The goblin of curiosity pulls at your sleeve and offers this funny sentiment, “Knowing this and talking to him should be fine if you establish the fact that you know that ‘this’ isn’t real.”

And that’s where you are now, staring at your phone, at the multitude of double, triple, quadruple texts that have accumulated through the day. You exhale, and draft up a frail response.

You: hey, sorry. I was busy

His answer comes almost too soon even while you were approaching the later hours of a long day.

BB: Hey!, no, no it’s okay. Sorry if i freaked out, I was just worried

You: what, you missed me?

BB: something like that. You’re definitely the best reason I’m checking my phone nowadays, besides work

You: how sweet

BB: actually, I took your advice. I turned on Do Not Disturb at like 9. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders

You: that’s great!

BB: well, I know there’s going to be a shit ton to read in the morning, and I’m still stressed about that. But I guess I’ll get used to it. Gotta save time for myself! 😤🙏(praying emoji)

You: definitely

…

BB: hey, are you okay? You seem distant

You: yeah, no. I’m fine. Just a little tired

…

BB: haha, you’re obviously not. Are you still out? Or back home now?

You: I’m back home, but it’s been a long day

BB: oh, okay! You should head to bed then. Talk to you later?

You: yeah, I guess I should

BB: good night! Sleep tight 😊 (blush smile emoji)

You: good night

The next day goes by with a few more one-sided text exchanges. “Blurry Boy” was really single-handedly carrying each of those conversations–– and while they’re interesting and you’re still replying, you find it hard to bring yourself to believe any of it. It has no real weight anymore, to your life or in application.

You can’t stop thinking about the fact that he’s LYING to you. Straight to your fucking face.

You watch the conversations in the third person and are almost impressed with the lengths that he goes to keep up with the same story. No loss of momentum, the perfect amount of enthusiasm.

But by now, he must suspect something. The way he asks leading questions in an effort to get you to speak more.

Unfortunately for him, you can’t help but be cold in response.

What you don’t realize, is that you want him to ask you what was wrong, one more time. You don’t realize that you want an opportunity to be mad. You want him to give you the chance to be.

So, stop being so fucking nice, blurry boy.

Because you’re not fucking nice at all.

You ignore him for the evening, going out to run some errands so that your hands were actually busy. You silenced your phone as you wound down again for the night, only sparing it a glance at the last second.

There are a few messages waiting for you.

BB: hey, are we okay?

You: we?

BB: yeah, sorry if i’m jumping to conclusions but I’ve felt a little special here. If not, I get it. I’d just like to know

You: you’re definitely something

BB: what’s wrong?

You take a sharp inhale, tucking your hair behind your ears, and sitting up in bed to fully type out your feelings. Your opportunity to be angry is HERE, you can go off and spit words and fight––

You: you’re lying to me, right to my face. It was fine at first, but I still can’t wrap my head around why you’re doing this to me. It feels like we’re playing pretend and just ignoring the fact that there is NO TRUST here at all. I don’t know WHO you are and you haven’t given me any idea of who you could be! You’re using fake pictures and a fake name, and while it’s been fun… there’s nothing here. There’s nowhere “we” could go from here. If you want to continue, I’m going to need SOMETHING from you, if you expect anything from me

You drop your phone in your lap with a satisfying thump. You turn away, stretching and rolling your shoulders back in triumph.

Take that, “T.”

You shut your eyes as you imagine this mystery dude opening his phone to read out an arrow you’re shooting straight at this heart. (And it’s not the good kind). You can’t ignore that it hurts your own feelings it’s a little, not in a way that’s personal but…it’s hollowing. You didn’t know him personally, no, not at all, but a shade of it must have been real. There’s a real person in there, somewhere.

You see the message sit alone, untouched. There’s no bouncing dots like usual, no rapid silly response or praise or affection. And that’s annoying. And that’s annoying that that’s annoying.

But you got the last word in, so, what else can you ask for.

You nudge your phone further away, trying not to expect more. Siting in silence for a beat, pinching your cheeks. God, you hate this self-absorbed, attention-seeking behavior–– but you can’t help it.

You let out an exasperated whine, shaking your body to let go of the lingering vibes. You pick up your phone and snuggle back down into bed, ready to sleep after some idle scrolling.

You’re ready to not have to worry about this thrilling 5-day experience, sure to be embarrassed about it later but… maybe you can make a story out of it. Though, that would only come after a long wink and the accompaniment of alcohol. God, you don’t even want to think about how Liza has probably already told K… Ugh!

PING!

You scramble as you hear the shrill bell tone. Your phone is bouncing in your hands as you half sit-up again.

A message.

You want to ignore it–– but who are you kidding.

BB: can i call you?

…

You stare at it.

Is this an olive branch? Is he reaching out to you to show you that he really wants this? That he cares enough to finally share a fucking piece of himself?

Regardless, the call can only prove that he’s not the guy in the pictures. It’ll only show you that he’s just a guy. If that.

You rake your mind to remember what Tom Holland’s speaking voice sounded like, and immediately kick yourself for even thinking it could actually fucking be him. There’s just no fucking way.

But let’s see how far off this guy is.

You: only for a second.

Your heart thuds unevenly as you prepare yourself–– only you have no idea what to expect. There’s nothing to go off of.

And within the minute that you sent your message, your phone rings. A blank contact comes up, “Blurry Boy” in white letters. You listen to the shrill ringtone, only picking up before it ends.

“Hey.”

There it is, his voice for the first time. It’s sleepy and thick, croaky even. He doesn’t sound like the squeaky and lively Tom Holland you knew from the silver screen. Though, it’s a stretch to even compare the two at all.

“Hey,” you speak demurely. Cool, calm, collected. And you wait. You want him to bring it up himself.

“What, not excited about our first call?”

Your face warms at his straightforwardness–– briefly crumbling under the pressure. Over text you could easily sort yourself out, but here…. you couldn’t hesitate.

“Well, I’m just glad you don’t sound like a 16 year-old boy.”

He laughs breezily, slightly muffled through the phone.

“Hahaha, I told you. I’m 23.”

“Mhm, well the way your voice cracked there really proves it.”

“Hey, come on now.” He laughs again, and you can hear rustling sheets and the faint chatter of music.

His laugh is quite pleasant, raspy and boyish. Familiar even. You want to imagine that he’s wooed by your maturity and confidence, by the way that a lull settles. But it’s more likely that he’s gathering his thoughts, or collecting his courage.

“This…. doesn’t prove anything,” you start slowly. You purse your lips, nervous ticks coming alive even through the phone.

For the moment, you feel shy, but shove it when you remember that he’s lying.

“I still don’t know who you are––“

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry–– I can’t tell you yet, but I trust you.”

“Yeah, you’ve said something like that before.”

”Uhm, yeah–– I… I wanted to call you to show you that I’m real and I care about you.... and I wanted to hear your voice too.”

There was sincerity there, but you don’t let yourself fall for it.

“But how long will it be before I get to see your real face? –– Without meeting you in a dark alley all alone.”

“Hm?”

“My friends are convinced that … you’re lying to me. In more ways that one. With the profile, with the pictures, the name.”

“Oh–– you told you friends–– uhm... Do you think I’m lying?”

“Maybe not all of it, but It’s a big world out there. And–– I don’t know.”

“But seeing my face would clear it up for you?”

He breathes deeply, and you can hear him clear his throat. The sheets rustle again.

“It’d be a start.”

“Mhm.”

“Make or break it, actually,” you manage to chuckle, offering him that relief. You wonder if physical attraction would be a big factor— like obviously, it would be something but…. you’ve come to know him as a person. So, do you care?

(The answer is yes, you do care, but poetically, you could enjoy his company just like this.)

BUT he is lying; if it’s not about one thing, it’s the other.

“It would definitely make me feeling a little bit better. To know that you’re not a monster under the bed, or some creep–– arguable but still.”

“I told you, I’m hot. You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he laughs with a bit of edge, treading the line.

You laugh too, tension easing. He seems like an easygoing guy, willing to be the butt of a joke with confidence.

“That has a totally different effect, hearing you say that out loud. It’s still weird.”

“Well, what do you think I look like? Based off–– based off what you have.”

“Well, I hardly have anything so…. I don’t know. I want to say ‘tall, dark, and handsome,’ but I’m pretty sure you have… fair skin, brown hair and… nice shoulders? That’s all I got.”

“You’re 3 for 3 so far.”

“You’re just saying that.”

Pause.

“Sorry it’s taking so long.”

“Yeah, you’re weird.”

You’ve already flipped the a million possibilities of who he could be. Nothing would even surprise you anymore. But listening to his soothing voice has calmed you like the way his words always have. The conversation flows over you, and you slide deep into your bed.

You pull the covers up over your shoulders, swimming in your thoughts. It shouldn’t be that hard to reveal himself, should it? You’re both investing time into this–– reckless and blind as it may be. You would need to know eventually. You’re not being unreasonable.

Right?

“If…. If I show you my face, properly, will you keep it a secret?” There’s an anxious tone in his light voice. Every syllable ended with uncertainty, as if he didn’t believe what he was saying.

“If you want…? Why?”

“I just… you just need to. Please?”

“Yeah, uhm, I can do that.”

“Thank you,” and there he lets out an airy sigh of relief. You hear rustling again, as if he fell back on the bed. Ha?

You laugh in excitement at his small promise, you rub your eye with your knuckle as you tease,

“What, are you a celebrity or something?”

…

“How did you know?”

“Hahaha, shut uppp, T. I’m joking–– I just want to match a proper face to the person I’m talking to,” your laugh trails off. You swallow softly, “I have your voice now, so… help me piece it together now, please?”

He stays silent, making you second guess the sincerity that you just showed him. Before you can take it back he starts slow and quiet,

“If I do tell you who I am, would you go on a date with me?”

Your heart squeezes, and your clench your toes. This should be no surprise or celebration, to be honest, this is the point of it all. To find love, or at least the next lay.

“Well, that depends if you’re my type,” coy, coy, play it coy.

“I’m everybody’s type.” His voice rolls, deep, rough, ringing in your ears.

You blink, your cheek lifting in a half pointed smile. You return his tone,

“Ok, well, then I dare you. Show me.”

“I will. Are you free on Friday–– Tomorrow?”

“Already setting up a date? You’re getting waaaay ahead of yourself, dude.”

Pause.

“But yeah, sure, I might be free tomorrow.”

“Great,” he laughs at your switching moods. You feel that heat on your face again, shutting your eyes tight, and he offers a bit more,

“Meet me by the beach? 9 PM?”

You scoff softly, he’s pushing it. It’s a public space, kind of not. It’ll be cool, breezy, dark… secluded.

But you could easily let someone know where you’re gonna be, and when to expect you back. Fair enough?

“Hmmm, send me a picture of yourself and I’ll let you know if I can make it.”

“Huh?”

“Think of it as insurance. Or a sneak peak,” you laugh softly, turning your cheek to rub you nose against your pillow.

He lets out a long, dry chuckle, taking a deep breath. You can hear him settle and stretch himself out too, “First thing in the morning. And text me back.”

“Sure!”

“Then... I’ll leave you to it. Good night, Y/N. So lovely speaking to you.” His voice is so heavy and warm, so close to your ear.

You’re almost disappointed that he cut the conversation short. A dark cloud of doubt looms over; maybe he needs time to fabricate a believable photo, maybe he’s nervous, maybe he’s getting cold feet.

You stumble on on what to say as you snap yourself back–– the worrying could be saved for tomorrow. For now, you’ll both savor this short, sweet moment.

“Likewise. Good night, Blurry Boy.”

You hear him exhale softly, and pull the phone away from your ear. You look at it in your hands, feeling your lips purse. Your face is flushed hot, and your stomach flips in anticipation.

Tomorrow.

“No FUCKING way,”

You open your phone first thing in the morning and... low and behold… he actually fucking sent you a picture of Tom Holland. Like he really had the guts to fucking do it.

Come on, Blurry Boy.

This is not real. No way, no way, no fucking WAY.

You heart falls at the thought of losing this ~friendship~ or whatever it is. You put time into this and now its… kind of falling apart at the seams.

You hold your squished cheeks and spin on your heel, wondering if you should show it to Liza or Ry–– to share the incredulous feelings but… You remember The Promise.

It’s not that… big of a deal, especially since this scenario is fake as fuck, but you’d feel guilty. (damn.)

And also ashamed.

You straight up got fucking catfished.

Like he really had you in the snares.

There’s no way that he’s Tom Holland, and even if he “was” there’s no way that Tom would be in your city. And even though he’s a fucking liar–– keeping this a secret for another day or two… wouldn’t hurt anyone.

God.

You fall back onto your couch, legs hanging over the edge as you stare at the picture. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, wondering what to say…

The words come quick.

You: what the fuck, are you joking?

Come on, he had to be pulling your leg. Or expecting you to reply like that. You dont’ know what to think, especially when it takes him an hour or two to reply. Uncharacteristic of him.

BB: I’m really not

You: dude. Shut up. You’re not Tom Holland

BB: I am. And I can prove it. Come see me tonight, please

You have to scoff, nearly throwing your phone across the room. UHM, this has sirens and red flags written all over it. Akskdfdjhfad, like??? There aren’t even words to describe this frustration and obvious deceit.

You: Uhm, no no no. Call me right now

You were more than peeved now, honestly. He promised you honesty and some vulnerability, and this is just fucking stupid.

BB: I’m sorry, I really can’t. I’m out for work right now. Meetings all day. But I PROMISE you that I’m not lying.

Ok, funny. That’s exactly what a liar would say.

You don’t bother replying back, not sure what to even say besides, “Fuck you.” But you figure that silence might be more of a sting than any words you could conjure up.

How many tricks would you fall for? This is stupid, this isn’t fair. There’s nothing to redeem here, it’s over.

He can’t just drop a tremendous bombshell, and act like it’s real??

Who the fuck does he think he is?

There’s no way he’s fucking Spider-Man, dude.

There’s just no fucking way.

FRIDAY NIGHT, AROUND 6 PM

BB: So… what do you think? Will I see you later? 🤞 (fingers crossed emoji)

You: I can’t believe you’re still messaging me and making jokes. This is cruel, dude

BB: I know it seems crazy, but I’m not lying. I can explain everything! But in person would be the easiest way. I’m still running around the city, but meet me at 9

You: bullshit

BB: My name is Tom Holland. I’m taking a break in this city, and I’m looking for someone to spend time with. But I HAVE to lie low. And trust you and I want to see you and I want to spend time with you

You: You know this is fucking insanity right ?? I can’t trust you.

BB: I know, I’m sorry. But I’ll answer anything you want if you come see me

You: i don’t know

BB: well, will i see you later tonight?

…

BB: let me know if you can make it. I’ll be there regardless but…

…

BB: Hope you see you there, Y/N.

You put your phone down squinting. You’re down for taking risks and meeting new people and trying new things–– but this whole thing is just wrong. This is too unreal to even entertain. No matter how many times you say it… It won’t sink in.

He says he can’t call, he can’t send anymore pictures, he can’t facetime–– what’s with the grand reveal and security clearance?

He’s probably gonna eat your fucking face off, that’s why.

You look back at your feet, covered in fuzzy socks. Would you even get out of this blanket burrito to meet A Guy?

(Much less, a guy who definitely wants to wear your skin.)

It’s after classes and work and your social life, you don’t have anything planned for today. Your friends are off on dates with one another doing god knows what, and you’re at home comfy in your holey sweatpants with nothing but the warmth of your laptop and chatter of a TV show you haven’t been paying attention to.

Sigh.

There’s nothing to lose–– you chant over and over. Sometimes, that mentality is what gets you to move forward and try new things. Or gets you into trouble.

Haha.

We all know you’re going to get off your ass and go, but not before checking in with a few people. ‘Cos, you’re not entirely stupid.

“Time for a Tea Party,” you mumble to yourself. You resign to text the more rational of your friends, Liza and Ry.

Liza has the perfect amount of encouragement and honesty, while Ryan has the best common sense and gives expert.

Sorry, K, you’re too protective and sorry, Sam, you’re way to fucking chaotic.

GC: TEA PARTY

Liza: Ur actually going to MEET HIM??? 😱

Ry: you said you weren’t going to get into trouble

You: is he trouble?? Is this bad??

Ry: YES. he could be anyone. Do you even know what he looks like?

You: … not really. He hasn’t told me much about anything. But, this is like a chance to find out?

Liza: oh my god you should go. Just go and get it over with

Ry: I don’t know… this doesn’t sound like a great idea.

Liza: i guess, one of us could come with Y/N?

You: nah, I’ll be fine alone

Ry: you sure? We could hang out somewhere in the back or something

You: no, it’s okay. I’ll just let you now when I go and drop my location with you

Liza: Phew! This is going to be SO messy. I love it. Can’t wait to hear back from you.

Liza: If we hear back from you 👀 (side eye emoji)

You: Ha ha, this is my actual life you know??

Ry: you only live once

Liza: And pls live long enough to tell your friends what happens

You: so supportive

Liza: love you! Wear your cute undies just in case!

Ry: bring pepper spray

You: Got it

You’re thrown into a frenzy. It’s like 7:45 PM now, and you haven’t showered yet, you haven’t decided what you’re going to wear or how you’re going to get there–– and more importantly, you haven’t fucking texted him back yet.

And he hasn’t sent you anything else.

Oh, the mind games.

The way he’s making himself sad and vulnerable, but mysterious and coy.

While you get to choose to be the sucker, or the loser.

Lose, lose with great odds.

You turn on the shower, stepping into the warm steam to clear your mind.

It was made after all, you were going to meet him.

Yeah, you were going. But you still haven’t said anything.

You don’t want him to know–– so you could totally just walk the other way if you see something that you don’t like.

I mean, he knew what you looked like though. Hell, he even compared you to his ex-girlfriend, so… might as well keep the upper-hand and peer from the shadows first.

Or give yourself a head start to run away.

Though, running through sand would definitely be a big fucking obstacle.

You reach the end of the beach, standing atop beaten wooden stairs. The breeze stings your cheek, and it’s a lot colder than you thought it would be.

You’re wearing some dark high-waisted jeans and a simple pair of slip-on sneakers. You didn’t exactly know what “this” was, a date or a revelation or a sacrifice, so, naturally, you didn’t know what to wear.

Haha.

You hug yourself, your thin white billowy top fluttering lightly in the wind. Your fingers clutch at the flowery-embroidered designs on the sleeves, looking a lot like a pure maiden in distress. (Cos you sure as hell are.) You wore light makeup, and your hair was still a bit damp. The salty air was turning it coarse and wavy–– no complaints about that.

You paired this all with the bravest face you could muster

T, Blurry Boy, Tom Holland Imposter dropped this location with you, and figures that it’s on a secluded section of the beach.

You follow well-trodden paths, softly listening to music as you make your way. One earbud in. You should be thinking about a million things right now, but your mind is totally blank.

No expectations, nothing to go off of.

As you near your destination, you look out at the water. The ocean is dark and looming; you can hear her soft waves crash over your soft music. The moon casts a silvery glow, and you can’t see colors anymore. Just white, gray, and black. Shining and still.

It feels calm, like you’re watching a silent movie. Like you’re alone.

Only you’re not.

You see “him.”

A lone shape kicking sand with hands in their pockets. Their hood was up and back facing you.

Great.

You hang back in the distance, weighing your options. You could still leave–– fear fully settling in after you see an actual person where they said they would be. He seems… harmless enough, like a regular guy and–– ah, fuck.

He turns around.

You see him, seeing you.

He pauses, then leans forward to get a better look.

You freeze too, holding your breath.

There’s nowhere left to duck and hide. It’s just you and some piles of fucking sand.

And him.

Oh, god.

The figure raises their hand, fucking waving. Then they start moving towards you, picking their feet up high to trek over the sand.

Fucking hell, you could turn away now but you don’t. You let out a shrill, grating laugh and square up to meet him halfway.

Their shape isn’t getting any clearer–– especially now that they’re facing away from the moon. His face is shadowed and hard to see, but you get close enough to see him.

I––

“Hey!” he excited calls out, catching the shine of his smile…. And…. you’re speechless.

Jaw to the floor, eyes as wide as dinner plates, speechless.

He keeps talking, smiling with his eyes crinkled as he gets very very close to you. You could smell his musky cologne, mixed with ocean spray, and disbelief. His voice is low and coated with tired happiness,

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you came.”

His voice breaks at the end, broken in more ways that you can understand at this moment. You’re just so confused––??

He can’t stop grinning, eyebrows sloping downward as he lets out an airy sigh of relief. He looks up towards the sky for a moment, moonlight catching on his cheeks and nose. Glimmering.

Wait, wait, wait––

When he comes back, he does another thing you can barely wrap you head around–– he hugs you.

He reaches forward, giving you ample time to turn away (but you don’t), and hugs over your shoulders. You felt a human weight on you, the side of his hoodie smushing against your face.

And… you slowly hug back around his waist. Your left hand awkwardly pats his back as he mumbles,

“Sorry, this is too much. Sorry, God. Thank you.”

He doesn’t make any motion of moving away despite his words. You can feel his warmth, and slightly desperation in the embrace; something that feels a lot more intimate than you were prepared for.

“Thank you.”

“It… It’s okay,” you murmur back, doused in shock. And shock is better than terror, right?

You pull away, squinting your eyes and making a face. His hands fall off your shoulders, and quickly shove themselves into his pockets. He gives you a moment. A well needed moment. When you open yourself back up, your brain is able to process a few more things.

He’s standing there in some dark denim jeans, clad in converses, which seems like a horrible decision for the beach, a dark green hoodie pulled up over his head, another horrible decision when you’re meeting someone for the first time on a dark beach, and a denim jacket, enviable. His face is softened and friendly, lips pointed in a gracious smile, while his dark eyes twinkle even in the shade.

He senses your uncertainty as you eyes fan over his face. Your jaw was still hanging open too. He pulls his hood down, ruffling soft brown hair in an inadvertent dramatic reveal. Nice.

He scratches behind his ear, still wearing a gleeful expression,

“So… what do you think?”

What do you think???? What do you think about this situation?? His hair??? The entire man in front of you???

Or the fucking fact that he was who he SAID he was???

I can’t believe this is–– this is––

All manners and social cues and sense exit the building as you stammer brainlessly,

“You’re! You’re–– You’re Tom––”

He nods, confidently, you note. And tilts his head, locks falling over,

“I am.”

“You are.” You breath out, maybe smiling now, you’re not sure. You can’t exactly feel your face anymore.

Your head tilts in the same direction as his, your hair falling over your collar. His eyes follow those fallen strands, before locking back with yours,

“I’m Tom Holland. ‘I told you so,’ and it’s nice to formally meet you.”

Tom Holland.

The brunette bites his lip before smiling neatly as he gets close to your again. No personal space with this guy. He sticks a hand out for you to shake.

You’re looking from the outside in as you take his hand, bobbing softly. You’re trained on the sight of his thumb holding the side of your hand, rubbing softly.

You find your way back to his face.

Exactly like the movies.

The wind blows and he turns to the side, showing you the sharp cut of his jaw, and his eye-shut-tight expression.

Better, actually.

“H… Hey, Tom. Nice to meet you too,” you finally fumble. You shake your head slightly, trying to regain that calm, collected, confidence you practiced so hard on the way here. You want to say more, but you can’t fathom what would come next,

“Uhm, sorry, I’m… still processing.”

Tom nods, bobbing his whole body, as he takes a step forward. His smile points devilishly, way too easily. His eyebrows twitch before settling, as he lowers his head, hitting you with some sultry jaw-clenching and puppy dog eyes.

“Take your time.”

You laugh, tonguing your cheek. He does too, and you share a starry stare.

The waves crash in the distance, a white noise you were glad to have. A welcome distraction from your loudly beating heart. Something to close the gap of silence––

Only Tom couldn’t handle the lapse of quiet, after all, he gets paid $$$ by the minute. He starts conversationally, knowing exactly how to stir up your already swirling emotions.

Light, teasing, reeling you in, the brilliant boy flashes you a toothy grin and spares not a single ounce of chill,

“So… am I your type?”

Holy fucking fuck shit god damn.

You just got catfished by Tom Holland.

A/N: WELL, reader has been caught in the net. What do you think, is “Tom Holland” /our/ type? Adfasjdl, the whole concept of this is so funny lol. Can u imagine seeing the man you saw movies screens… waiting for you in person??? Unfathomable. Anyway, sorry the past two chapters have just been build up,, there’s gonna be a lot of mushy stuff coming up soon. Thanks for your patience!

It’s really hard to find time to write, but yeah taking smaller chunks like this makes it easier for me. Expect updates every 1-2 weeks, usually around Sat-Mon nights. Thanks so much for keeping up!

And you know what to do, please like and comment and reblog! It keeps me going :)

All my love,

Madmadmilk 🥰

** i do NOT keep up with a taglist. track #one after the one to keep up with the updates, or check out my masterlist! thanks!

928 notes · View notes

judgement-free-sideblog · 4 years

Text

Blood, tears and sea breeze

Warnings: ANGST, mental health issues, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of sex, substance abuse.

Summary: The not so peaceful town of Broadchurch face dead again, while Alec Hardy continues his journey to redemption will this school teacher be the key to solve the mystery or just another victim of the ever watching evilness that seems to reside in the town.

Hi!!! Long time without posting, work has been crazy, so many painful things, but I have a tiny space of time and I wanted to think about something else for a change, new chapter, more questions and so close to the end. I hope everyone is safe and healthy. Please take care of yourselves, mental health is so important, specially in times like this. We will get out of this, until then I send you a lot of love and hugs from here.

Atte: a still tired but more hopeful doctor

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Chapter 18: Reality

The stinging pain across your cheek somehow brought you back to reality, a reality that you had comfortably numbed away the moment the handcuffs closed around your wrists.

But reality could be tricky sometimes, because the brief stolen kisses on his livingroom, the innocent way he touched your face, and the hunger look on his eyes every night you escape to sleep alone in his room were part of reality, even when now they feel ages away, and numbing all the pain, all the desperation even those perfect moments was the best solution you could find, because the way the kindness evaporate from his eyes when he told you "Miss Y/L/N, you are under arrest for the murder of Jonathan Norbury" and was replaced for an empty void and disappointment in his voice, was enough to keep you from wanting to be in this reality.

But you were back, the echo of Ash words were hurting you, because she was wrong, you love them too, and you would have never wanted any of that trouble for them, she was wrong for believing that you wanted any of this, but she was right to call you all thos hurtful things, even when you were not sure of what you did you felt like you deserved it.

And what did you do? Did you really slept with Charlie? Charlie who was more like an awkward little brother that anything to you, did you really order him to ... kill Jonathan? Even thinking about it was to hard to process, you tried search for your bracelet again knowing to well it wasn't there, but your hands were handcuffed to the table and the more you pull from them the more they hurt, and the cold steel started to mark your wrists.

And somehow that pain kept you from blacking out, the thought of Alec angry and sad because of you alone in his house again, Ashley's words, and Jonathan's body on the floor, and you started crying, letting the pain wash out from your eyes, and then as your wrist started to bleed from the handcuffs clarity followed, you were not screaming as last time, because there was something you could not shake off your mind, something that was almost ridiculous, like the idea of even touching Charlie, and the sudden realization make you wanted to laugh, but you keep it quiet, because the pretty officer that had brought you in returned with a laptop and you didn't want to appear more disturbed than they already thought you were.

***************************************************

"Sugar?" Miller said offering a small bowl to Ashley Langford, she seemed stressed and there were a few wrinkles around her eyes and her hair looked less shiny than usual, somehow Miller thought, she looked more human.

"Oh no, it's fine thank you" she said and kept looking at the door. " I'm sorry for the way I acted, is just that my parents are very old and having the police coming and trash the place was..." she put the tea aside and covered her face with her hands before starting to cry. "How did this happened? My brother is an asswhole but he would never... oh god what did he do?" She cried again and Miller offered her a paper tissue.

"Miss Langford I'm so sorry for the inconvenience that this process is causing you, but I can't tell you any details about the investigation, we are going to need you to cooperate with us and told us everything about your brother relationship with Y/N" she said and the woman rise her look puzzled.

"I'm sorry, but I already know, everybody knows" she said and Miller was shocked to hear that. "It's all on the internet, a friend of mine send it to me this morning, I called Charlie and he gave me a very confusing response and I run to my parents house to question him about them, but they had already arrested him" she said and took her phone out of her purse to show her.

They were not the explicit videos that Ramos had found, but they left clear that Y/N and Charlie were together and they had killed Jonathan.

"What did your brother said?" Miller asked when a quick search on her social media let her know that maybe all of Broadchurch had seen Y/N confession.

"I don't know, he sounded confused, angry, he said That count thinks that because that old jock is shagging her now she can dump me she is crazier than I thought, we'll see how much he likes her after this" she was convinced he meant some of the girls he often meet at bars, but the truth was clear to Ellie.

A couple nights before, in the middle of the night Alec had texted her to meet on the piers, on their usual spot. And after some crafted lie to Brian she was there, ready to fight whatever demon was torturing his mind, however what she found was different, he had a quiet smile, looking at the waves, and enjoying the sound of the ocean in the night, if she didn't knew him any better she would have swear that he was humming a song.

"Having a good night sir?" She asked and sited next to him.

"Miller, do you think I'm bad at my job?" He asked and she kept trying to guess his train of thought, a sixth sense told her she already knew what was happening, but she didn't want it to be truth.

"Yes, you are a nightmare, what is happening?" She said humoring him and he became all serious.

"Just answer the bloody question Ellie" the use of her name let her know it was serious so she looked at the ocean for a a long moment before speaking.

"You are not, you are capable, witted, yes you are a nightmare, but you are quite good at your job" She said honestly.

"Do you trust my judgment?" He asked then almost in a whisper.

"Without a doubt sir" she said, and before he could reply and make her part of something that was clearly against the rules she stoped him. "I trust you would never jeopardize an active investigation, and that whatever choice you make on your... personal... life, would be after a deep and conscious consideration" she said looking deeply into his eyes.

"Ellie..." He started but he knew he should keep it quiet, this was for the best. "Thank you detective Miller"

"You are welcome sir, and if I may... I hope you are happy, and have a good night" she said, meaning every word, even when the pain was pushing to make her cry. "I will change the patrol on your house tomorrow, to someone more trustworthy, you know for safety" she said and walked away from the piers, leaving him with that stupid smile on his face.

And now all she could think off was him alone in his house angry at himself and she had the need to run to his side, but no, there was only one way out of this for him, without damaging his image more, and that was with a conviction on Y/N, so she took Ashley Langford declaration and it was now certain for her that Charles had posted those videos, the how he found out Y/N was involved with a certain scottish man was still a mystery but she was determined to find out.

***************************************************

But I like you and your cock better than Jonathan's, Charlie the sound of your voice coming from the laptop saying those things almost made you throw up, but you kept watching You should kill him already and we can leave this place, don't you think big boy? It was you, there was no doubt about it, it was you in a very ordinary and nasty room, acting like a drunk idiot, rubbing your almost naked body on Charles, who had the creepiest smug on his face and you wanted to slap that dump expression out of him, this was degrading and humiliating, but you were focused, as you had been the last few days, everything was more clear than it had been in the last year and your mind was running fast trying to focus on one sole detail.

You have seen at least four different videos of yourself and the dates on them click on your head with dumb fights with Jonathan, headaches or days that everything seemed blurry, and for a solid minute your mind start deviating and consider the idea that maybe you were actually guilty, that maybe this semi naked idiot was actually you, but before that ridiculous idea could consume you another stupid phrase out of Charlie's mouth made DC Ramos blush and made you remember something as DC Harford looked careful at you.

The last time you had blushed was a few days ago in Alec's couch, once you came back from the cliff and he turned up the heat since the both of you were wet from the rain that had made you run inside, kissing him had been a childish decision, and he kissing you back was just as bad, but now you were sitting on the couch covered with a blanket and holding a cup of tea, glad that Daze was god knows where and you could talk like adults.

"We shouldn't" you started, "I want to, I really do, but you are still leading the case, and I can't lie, and if someone asks me are you sleeping with detective Hardy I will say yes, and ..." You blush at the look he gave you and quickly hide your face away from his smile.

"Fine, you should lock your door tonight then" he said jokingly with a playful grin and for a moment you wonder were have this man been all this time.

"Sure detective, let's make dinner, I'm starving" you said and kissed him again, thinking at the moment that everything was alright, but now as agent Ramos looked uncomfortable away from you the little bubble of happiness was finally burst, and once again that anger make your memories come back to you the image of the night club cleared, the toothy grin of the man in the red shirt, finally had a name, and things became more and more focused and you looked up to DC Harford.

"Enough" You said a little more aggressive than expected, but they stopped looking at you with petty on their eyes if just for a moment. "I seen enough, what do you want to know?"

***************************************************

"Look everyone in Broadchurch is talking about you" Miller started showing Charles her phone with the edited videos "Are you going to keep pretending that you had nothing to do with this or are you finally going to talk?" She said and the authority on her voice irritated him.

"Where is the guy?" He asked looking at the empty chair next to her, but he had abandoned the erratic tone, and was talking quietly.

"In the other room talking to your girlfriend here" she said pointing at the pictures. "Whom I think will say everything so I will recomend you to start talking"

"No the little eye candy, the other one, the old one" he said and smiled when she change her stoic look. "I liked the guy, seems tough" he said with honesty and she repressed the impulse to sigh in relief.

"He is not working today" she said and tried to regain her pose. "He is loosing all the fun".

"Oh sad, because this is so entertaining" he said sarcastically "What do you expect me to say? I post them, she is suppose to be mourning, and sad, but no, the little cunt is so happy walking holding hands with some arse, well what can I expect right? She cheated on Jonathan, why wouldn't she cheat on me too" he said it upset at the thought of the woman seeing another men, and the whole situation became ridiculous to Miller, and at the same time something was not coming together.

"Did you saw her with someone else?" She asked cautiously, knowing too well that until the las four hours she had been enclosed in Hardy's house and if she ever leave his place was with him.

"I did, a couple days ago, acting like Jonathan was nothing to her, like I was nothing" He said, and she desperately needed to know if he was lying, because if he meant Alec he would have said it since the beginning, but if he meant someone else, who? Unless... maybe he was fabricating the whole thing.

"How was him?" She asked and without hesitation she add "I mean she has a type, Jonathan, you... another how did you call agent Ramos? Eye candy"

"Yeah" he said smiling sardonically "Some bloke, you know tall, black hair, I could take him down" it sounded rehearsed, and it became clear he was lying when he nervously add "Clean shaved bastard"

She was about to say something else when the door was opened and a nervous Harford came inside.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but we need you" she said and Miller followed her outside leaving a puzzled Charlie behind.

"What happened?" She asked and Katie looked at her feet uncomfortable "She still hasn't talked?"

"No, that's the problem, she talks but she says she doesn't remember anything..." she started

"Well she make this idiot kill her fiance I'm not surprised she wants to pretend it didn't happen" Miller say spiteful.

"No that's not the problem, she says she will confess, but only to you" she said and Miller was surprised to hear that.

"Absolutely no" she said calmly.

"I say that and she went silent again" I try everything, we even show her how those videos are running through all the town, by the way how the fuck that happened?" She said and show her a link send to her by her dad. "But she keeps asking for you"

Ellie remembered the last time she walked inside that particular interrogation room, a part of her wanted answers, but she feared she would act up against her, and ruin the case as she have done all those years ago, but no, Haedy needed her to fix this, so she make up her mind an asked Katie to leave her alone inside.

***************************************************

"Ellie" you said once she was sitted in front of you, "it may be in our best interest if you gave me 5 minutes before turning on that thing" you said looking at the tape recorder that Harford had turned off.

"Is Detective Miller, and why would I listen to you?" She said and her tone was not only dry and professional but also rude at some point.

"Because if you care about Alec as much as I do you may want to hear what I have to say first" you said and she raised her hand and you prepared to feel the pain in your face again but she only put the pictures of Jonathan's body and screenshots from the filthy videos in front of you.

"This is caring for him?" She said and this time was no longer any professionalism on her voice. "You have five minutes" she said finally.

"I didn't sleep with him" you said and she gave you an incredulous look "Alec," you said exasperated "I thought is better to let that out in the open, nothing happened, so he is safe on that end... and I have no intention of talking to a lawyer so you can rest" you said and her expression softened a little "where is he?" You couldn't help but ask.

"Alone in his house, probably wondering why did he trusted you" she spat at you "4 and a half minutes"

"Fine, I don't remember anything of this, ok? Completely blank, but I'm not an idiot I know how that sounds, and I won't play the victim, I will confess, to what is here to whatever agent Harford needs to put Charlie on jail, and me if I have to"

"And how are you so sure about Langford being guilty?" She asked.

"Because I remember now, the day I found him like this" you said pointing at the picture, I took the bus home and Charles was there, he put him there" you said since the images were flowing back to your mind, and you remembered, "I start screaming for help when I saw him, he said something about this being what I wanted, what I asked him to do all the time, and I fight him to run away and then I just remember his hand in my neck and the taste of something bitter he force down my throat and before everything went black again I saw him put my ring on his hand" you said and Ellie's eyes opened up drastically.

"The broken ring?" She said quietly.

"Yes, the next thing I remember was being in the front door reading Jonathan's letter, getting inside and freaking out over his body" you said very aware of how unrealistic all that sounded but she had to listen to you "He posted all this crap, but nothing about the parking lot, and I'm sure I fight that time, and this person that I don't remember is willing, drunk or drugged with a split personality or whatever, but she appeared to be ok with what is happening, then why will I need to scream, and run and fight on that car? What was different then, why did he needed to make a show out of Jonathan's dead, if he was so sure I wanted this, why did he have to make it all this big?" you said aware of the way that sounded but for some reason something on her eyes said she might believe you.

"I have no interest in understanding the train of thought of a lunatic" She Miller said trying to hide her own concerns "What is your point?"

"You are bsolutely right, but this was post right after we..." start dating? That sounded childish, we kiss? Sure Y/N rub it on her face "All I can think is that this is not over, and I can't let whatever else is coming affect Alec, so I'll confess so this ends quickly, but I need you to make sure he doesn't get dragged into this, I can't have that on me"

"Your time is up" she said and put out the note pad where you should write the declaration, completely ignoring your words.

"Ok, where should I start?" You said resigned.

"You are really going to confess?" She asked surprised and didn't turn the device on yet "why? If you really think there is more to it than the evidence, then why?"

"No matter how, I'm responsible for his dead, I might as well start paying, also this way I can make sure Alec's reputation and Ashley's life doesn't get more damaged for my mistakes" you said firmly.

"You really care about him huh?" She said and gave you a half smile. "I think I know exactly where you should start" she said and started writing instructions on the notepad, before you start speaking.

Tag list:

@allonsymexgirl @laciesaito @tf18unipups @dazedkrosupreme @timey-wimey-lovi @coffees-and-constellations @ladyaziraphale @acid-gurkerl @moonuvert @tennantious

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redmoonrises · 3 years

Text

i’ve been listening to way too many creepypastas.

@irrelevant-proxy-bitch as promised, my creepypasta sona/oc origin story. hopefully it meets the standards, heh

Genesis Caveat Origin

or, How I Became a Proxy

That thing is watching me again.

I first noticed it after a particularly boring day of school. I hadn’t paid attention in most of my classes, instead opting to scroll through Tumblr, mess around on Discord, and listen to Creepypasta readings on Youtube. I’m probably failing most of my classes at this point. I can’t bring myself to care. I can’t bring myself to care about much of anything these days. Fiction is the only thing that piques my interest, those made-up worlds are so much more entertaining than the boring one I’m stuck living in. That’s probably why I like writing so much, I can create and destroy whole worlds with no consequence to me, I can control everything and nothing, and it can be as entertaining as I want it to be.

I’m getting off-track. Sorry.

I’d been ignored all day, as per usual, so when I was walking home and felt someone watching me, I was confused and more than a little curious. I normally walk at a fairly quick pace, but I slowed my steps a little when I felt I was being watched. I turned to look behind me, but no one was there. The sidewalk was empty. Actually, the whole street was empty, which is what caused my anxiety to spike. There were no people, no cars, even the storefronts looked empty. I turned back forward and picked up my pace again, walking quickly all the way home. It wasn’t until I’d reached my front door that I realized the feeling of that stare had vanished the instant I’d turned around.

Since then, I’ve felt that stare every time I walk home from school.

After the first day, I didn’t bother looking back. Something told me I wouldn’t be able to see anyone if I did. I was more than a bit creeped out by the whole thing. Why was someone spying on me? How long had they been watching me before I noticed? I was half-convinced I’d been singled out because I’m a textbook wallflower- no one at school would know if I went missing, and they definitely wouldn’t care. If someone snatched me while I was on my way to school, my parents wouldn’t find out until I was late getting home, and by then their frantic calls to the school and police wouldn’t do a thing- I’d probably be long gone.

I guess I was right about that part, heh. Just not for the reasons I thought.

. . .

I’m getting ahead of myself. Where were we? Ah, right.

It’s the seventh day of me being stared at as I’m walking home from school. For the past week, caution won out over curiosity, and instead of trying to spot whoever’s stalking me, I’ve just gotten home as fast as I can. I also made a habit of texting my parents when I leave school- they know how long it’s supposed to take me to get home, so if I get kidnapped they’ll know sooner. Same as when I head to school in the mornings, because I’ve been feeling the gaze on me then too.

I think part of me always knew it wasn’t human.

Shit, sorry. Focus.

Anyway, walking home. Seventh day in a row. Blah blah blah. Only this time, my curiosity outweighed my caution. Maybe I was just so damn bored of the life I had, that I’d do anything to mix things up. Actually, I’m sure that’s what it was. Suffice to say, as I walked down the eerily empty street, this time I slowed my steps instead of speeding them up. Then I slowly turned my head to look behind me. And saw it. The thing that was stalking me. I only caught half a second’s glance before it vanished, but that was enough. The details flashed in my mind. Tall, freakishly so. Black suit, torn sleeves. Something like tentacles raised up behind it. And the face- no face. At least not that my mind allowed me to see.

Then it vanished.

I spun back forwards and sprinted the rest of the way home.

The minute I got home I locked myself in my bedroom, drawing the curtains closed and booting up my laptop. A barely comprehensible entry in the Google search bar was autocorrected in seconds, and with a shaking hand, I moved the mouse to click on the images tab. Photoshopped pictures, fanart, and blurry photos stared back at me.

“I knew it.”

Like I mentioned at the start of this narration, I listen to a lot of creepypasta readings on Youtube. So I’m familiar with some of the stories. Laughing Jack. Jeff the Killer. Lost Silver. So many others. And of course, the one that started it all.

Slenderman.

“Holy fuck.”

I was being stalked by Slenderman. Why? And why hadn’t he killed me? I needed answers. Luckily, the internet is a magnificent place. I curled up in my swivel chair and started typing away, searching up everything I could about Slenderman and his proxies. Even the stuff I already knew, I read or listened to again. I took in as much information as possible. It’s said that knowledge is power, and for some things, the more you know, the more danger you’re in. But in this case, well. I’d seen him. He knew I’d seen him. What did I have to lose?

The next time I look at my clock, it’s nearly five in the morning. I’d done about all the research my brain could handle, even with my hyperfixations running at full throttle. More info probably wouldn’t matter anyway.

I’d made my decision, my plan.

Now, to execute it.

I empty my backpack of school supplies and pulled out a Sharpie. Lowering the felt tip to the fabric on the inside of the backpack, I let out a slow breath. With things like this, power always came from belief, at least that’s what the stories told me. I’d seen him, I knew it was real, it was all real. Now that I knew that, anything was possible. The line between fiction and reality is blurring.

As an author, it’s my job to break it.

I scribble a phrase on the inside of the backpack and capped the sharpie. Then I reach over to one of the books I’d stacked in the ‘bring with’ pile and drop it in.

The book hit the bottom of the bag and vanished.

I grin and reach in, hand passing through a cool sort of veil. I feel around, grabbing the book, and pull it out. It worked. It worked! I giggle, flapping my free hand in excitement. Pocket dimension backpack, success!! I start piling the books into it, all the stories I will carry with me. Then my sketchbooks and drawing supplies. My laptop, chargers, wallet, phone, anything I think I might potentially need. Even some of the food and drinks I’d snuck into my room. My blankets and pillow. Some clothes I’d grown attached too. Hell, let’s bring my stuffed animals and collection of keepsakes too, why not? It can all fit! I empty my shelf of little knick-knacks into the backpack. Nearly everything that I can lift in my room has gone into that pack.

Now… to wait.

7am. I make my move.

I stand in front of the mirror in my room, looking myself over. I’m wearing an outfit I wear almost every day. Grey jacket with a red upside-down heart on the chest, grey shorts with red on the edges, boots, a long red scarf, and a pair of fingerless gloves. The only difference is that now, all my clothes have been altered by my newly discovered ability. I’m calling it “author powers” because that’s the closest I can get to properly explaining it. Now, my entire ensemble is fireproof, waterproof, and much harder to cut through that ordinary cloth. My boots are much more comfortable and molded to my feet. Everything fits just right.

Oh, one more thing. I pick up the blue-light glasses I’d left on my desk. I don’t even have to write on them to alter them, but it’s a fun little gimmick so I might just keep doing it. A couple lines on the glasses, and they’re suddenly much more useful. They’ll function as sunglasses now too, as well as a night vision and heat-seeking mode. And they’ll stay on my face without falling off. I push the glasses up my nose and look back into the mirror.

I guess the function wasn’t the only thing I altered. My ability has a lot to do with intentions.

Instead of glasses, I’m wearing a black mask with turquoise lenses. The mask only covers the upper half of my face. But that’s not the only thing that’s changed. Instead of my hair being the usual dirty-blonde and down to my shoulders, it’s pink, shorter and sorta spiked up- at least that’s the best way to describe it. Not spiked, that’s too sharp. But I can’t find another word right now, so we’ll stick with it. It was a transformation I hadn’t anticipated, but one that I’m sure to keep. I grin, showing teeth sharper than normal.

“This is gonna be fun.”

I hear someone in the kitchen. My dad, getting ready for the day. It’s Saturday, so he doesn’t have work. We don’t have a foster kid at the moment, so mom will be sleeping in. And my sister is still asleep in her bedroom. Perfect.

I raise a hand, seeing the black claws that now extend from the ends of my gloves. I’d been wondering how I’d get to a knife, but I guess now I won’t need one. I tighten the straps of my backpack and step out of my bedroom.

“Heh. Time to raise hell.”

Six days later. Thirteen days since this all started.

It took me for-fucking-ever to find the mansion. Even longer to get there with the burden I’m dragging along. But here I am. It looms over me, giving off the same creepy vibe I got from my stalker. I know he’s there, and he knows I’m here. Someone will answer the door soon, I don’t even have to knock.

The smell of blood isn’t as bad as I thought. I’m glad I made my clothes stain-proof, I’d hate to have to throw away my gloves. As I’m waiting, I tap my foot idly and inspect my fingers. I have a nasty habit of biting the skin around my fingernails, which shows even with my claws. Oh, there’s blood on my claws. Not quite dry, so I just lick it off. Huh, doesn’t taste that bad either.

Someone’s moving inside. I straighten up slightly, hand dropping to my side. I nudge one of the bodies next to me with a foot, then take a half-step away when an arm flops to the ground. I look back to the door, arms crossed (carefully, to avoid cutting myself) as I wait. The door finally creaks open, revealing someone I don’t recognize. I assume it’s one of the proxies, but it’s not one that I’ve read anything about. Only one way to find out.

“You’re one of his proxies, I assume?” Even my voice is different, with the mask. I like it.

The proxy laughs. “Fuck yeah, I’m the number one proxy bitch. But you can call me Irre.” She pronounced it like ‘eerie’, which I thought was fitting.

I snort with amusement and take a moment to look the proxy up and down. She has pale blue skin, long hair that faded from black into red, and silver eyes. She’s about my height, maybe an inch shorter, with a healthier-looking build than the almost-too-skinny twig stature I see every time I look in the mirror. She even looks to be about my age too, give or take a year. She gives off a chaotic sort of presence, but in a way that’s almost difficult to perceive. I’m reminded of my school days, blending into the background. After a few people told me my stare was creepy, even though I’d just been looking at them, I didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. Apparently I had an intensity others found unsettling, but only if they noticed me. I’m reminded of that with this proxy, only with chaotic energy instead. I smile slightly. We might just get along.

“Well, nice to meet you, number one proxy bitch,” I respond with a chuckle. “Speaking of proxies. Where do I sign up? I brought a peace offering.” An idle hand gesture draws her attention to the bodies sprawled next to me. Two bodies, carved up with precise markings, and very much dead. What remains of my parents. My claws had marked them, turned their corpses into a work of art. I’d saved the blood, bagged it and put it in my backpack. I might need it later.

Irre looks the bodies over and grins. “I think you’ll fit in just fine here. Course, that’s not my decision.” She glances back at the house. “The others will get curious soon. Last chance to turn back.”

“I’m not going back. Besides, he sought me out first,” I admit. “Took me awhile to figure it out. But I’m here now.”

She nod in understanding. “In that case… what’s your name?”

I grin, showing sharp teeth. “I am Genesis Caveat.”

#creepypasta #creepypasta oc #tw death #tw blood #gen writes

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delightfully-difficult-pirate · 4 years

Text

Freaky Friday the 14th (CSRR) (2/3)

AN: I intended to post the finale of this fic today, but I haven’t had the time to finish editing it all. So instead of not posting, I’m posting what I have as part 2 and next week I’ll get the rest of it posted as part 3. Sorry! Another thanks to @mariakov81 for her wonderful art that served as inspiration and has tested my writing abilities. And of course to @csrolereversal for organizing this event.

Rating: PG-13

Part 1 (art)

AO3: Ch1 Ch2

~*~

*BEEP*BEEP*BEEP*

Emma hated Killian’s alarm clock. It was an actual, physical alarm clock, and an ancient one at that. Well, ancient may be too strong of a word, but it was old. So old that she couldn’t plug her phone into it so that it played something other than the annoying buzzer as the alarm.

Buried beneath the covers, Emma reached out one arm and clumsily slapped the alarm clock until the sound ceased. She slowly lifted her arm and squinted at the clock.

7:15am.

So absorbed as she was trying to figure out why Killian had set the alarm for so early on a weekend, it took her a couple of moments until she realized that the arm holding the blankets up was not her own.

Except it was.

It was the arm that moved when she instinctively jerked it back in shock.

Freaked out, Emma tried to unbury herself from the bedcovers, but only tangled herself further. She continued to fight against them until she tumbled off the bed and onto the floor. Finally, she fought free, but when she tried to stand, she found it difficult. Her body felt disjoined and heavy and her head was pounding. Confused, she looked down at herself.

Emma was greeted with the sight of a bare, hairy chest that she was intimately acquainted with. Killian’s chest. She pulled on the waistband of the grey lounge pants. Definitely Killian’s penis.

“What the fuck?”

Killian’s sleep rough voice came from her… his… mouth.

How was this possible?

This had to be some freaky, weird dream.

People couldn’t just… switch bodies.

So what happened?

~*~

Killian woke slowly, confused. He could have sworn that he’d remembered to set his alarm the night before, but the light filtering through the closed blinds told him it was later than he normally woke up. His confusion deepened as he realized that he was in Emma’s apartment. He’d gone home last night, after the disastrous dinner. How had he ended up at Emma’s apartment, in Emma’s bed?

And why was everything blurry?

Killian roughly rubbed a hand across his face to help wake himself up and was shocked to not feel his signature scruff against his palm. Had he decided to shave last night, for some odd reason? He’d had a few more drinks after getting home and had defiantly been drunk by the time he’d gone to bed, but surely it hadn’t been enough for him to not remember shaving? And apparently make his way to his girlfriend’s apartment? It had been a long time since he’d been blackout drunk, but that would also explain why he still couldn’t see properly.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured in a voice not his own.

That woke Killian up and he shot straight up. He quickly scrambled out of bed and promptly fell flat onto the floor, his limbs not obeying. He heaved himself back up and stumbled his way toward the bathroom.

He was… Emma.

And he looked exhausted.

The underside of his… her… eyes were puffy, as if he’d… she’d… been crying.

The realization that Emma must have cried sometime after returning home from dinner was like a knife in his heart. That was his fault. Him and his stupid, ill-timed proposition.

Killian dropped his head forward.

“What have I done?”

Before he could spiral too far down that depressing line of thought, he heard Emma’s phone start to ring. He clumsily left the bathroom and spotted Emma’s cellphone on the bedside table, which showed a picture of himself relaxing on Emma’s bed and his name on the screen.

If he was in Emma’s body… she must be in his!

Killian scrambled across the bed and swiped across the screen to answer the call.

“Emma? Are you alright?” He inquired frantically.

The line was silent for a moment before he heard his own voice answer in reply.

“Killian, are you… me?”

He answered in the affirmative before repeating his question about how she was.

“I’m confused as fuck. What is going on?” She asked.

“I don’t know, Emma. But we are going to figure it out,” he told her, “I promise you, we will get this sorted.”

Emma’s voice quaked when she asked, “How?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he answered honestly. “Stay put. I’m going to head over there and we can figure this out, together.”

He could hear Emma breathing heavily on the other end of the call. Eventually, she replied, “Okay. That sounds good. I’ll get the coffee started. I feel like we’re going to need lot of it.”

~*~

Four hours later, Emma and Killian were in his living room doing research on how they could have swapped bodies. Killian was on the floor, surrounded by piles of books on mythology and legends. Most were from his own shelves, history nerd that he was, but some he had grabbed from the library on his way over.

It was weird, seeing herself from the outside, especially looking so academic. He was wearing her glasses, unwilling to risk any damage to her eyes by trying to put contact lenses in he’d said. They kept slipping down his nose due to a broken nose pad, which reminded her that she needed to get a new pair.

While Killian was in his element with the books, she was using her rusty internet sleuthing skills and was hunting down information online using keywords and search terms Killian suggested. Something that was frustratingly difficult with only one hand. Did they not make laptops or keyboards that were easier for one-handed individuals to use?

When another term brought her to a page about yet another mythological trickster, she asked, “Does every mythology have some sort of trickster god?”

Killian looked up from the book he was skimming, face thoughtful. “I believe so. Some even have multiple, in a way, with many entities representing different mischievous attributes. Pan would probably be the trickster of Greek mythology, but there is also Eris, the Goddess of discord. And Dionysis could be considered a bit of a trickster, being the deity of madness.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile at Killian’s thorough answer. Even though mythology wasn’t his area of study, he was a historian and always tried to give the most complete answer possible.

After answering, Killian looked contemplative. “Do you think we have been cursed by some sort of trickster?” He asked slowly.

Emma’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you?”

Killian scratched behind his ear, clearly embarrassed, but all Emma could concentrate on was how surreal it was to see her own body display Killian’s tick.

“We are obviously looking at some type of supernatural cause, as impossible as that seems, so it’s as good as an answer as any,” he eventually admitted.

Just as Emma was about to answer, her phone buzzed. It was her calendar app reminding her that she and Killian were supposed to meet Mary-Margaret and David for dinner and drinks that evening. She showed the notification to Killian, who blinked owlishly at it.

“We have to reschedule,” he simply stated.

Emma was shaking her head before he even finished. “Both of us can’t cancel.

They’ll know something is up and we’ll never hear the end of it until we tell them.”

“We could claim one of us isn’t feeling well,” he suggested hopefully.

“And Mary-Margaret will be over with soup within the hour,” she countered. After a moment, she continued, “Research is more you’re area, so I’ll go and make-up something to explain your absence.”

“Such as?”

She shrugged, her eyes on the website in front of her. “Maybe that we fought last night and you… well, me, technically… are not currently in the mood to see me, or rather you. The best lies are those with some basis in the truth, after all.”

The room was silent in the wake of her suggestion. Emma looked up from her computer to find Killian staring at her.

“Is that how this day would have gone, if we weren’t in this… unusual situation?” He asked, his voice soft.

Uncomfortable being under her own gaze, Emma shifted on the couch. “Possibly,” she admitted. “I probably would have called Mary-Margaret at some point. Asked for her advice on the situation.”

Killian continued to study her.

“And you?” She eventually asked. “I already know that you came home and drank half the bottle of rum David gave you for Christmas, so would you have just spent the day nursing the hangover?”

The hangover that she was still coping with, even after a substantial amount of water and numerous cups of coffee.

“Ah… yes. Sorry about that,” he apologized. “I was planning to invite you to Granny’s for breakfast, actually.”

“Really?”

Killian nodded solemnly. “I guess it would have been a fool’s hope that you would have been willing to meet after last night.”

Emma’s heart clenched painfully.

“Killian, I…” she started but her phone rang just as she did.

She was about to answer it before she remembered that she currently wasn’t herself and neither of them were in the habit of answering the other’s phones. She passed it to Killian, who grabbed it as if it were a snake about to bite him.

“Just… act like me?” She suggested hopefully.

Killian rolled his eyes before answering the call and putting it on speaker phone.

“Emma!” Mary-Margaret’s excited voice filled the room. “How are you this morning?”

“I’m fine, M. You?”

“I’m having a lovely day. Are you and Killian still meeting David and me tonight?”

“That was the plan.” Killian did a rather good job imitating her more succinct pattern of speech, Emma noted. Much better than she was at his.

“Excellent. Would 5:30pm work for the two of you?”

Killian looked at her for guidance. Emma signaled for him to answer, hoping he could come up with some reasonable explanation for his… her… absence.

“Actually, I’m feeling a bit tired today. I was thinking…” He started before being interrupted by their friend.

“Are you sick? Do you need me to bring you anything? I have some chicken noodle soup I made on Saturday.” Mary-Margaret was true to form, immediately offering all the comforts she could provide to a sick friend.

Killian looked startled and he struggled to interrupt Mary-Margaret. “No, I’m not sick,” he insisted. “I just didn’t sleep well, that is all.”

“Are you sure? It will only take thirty minutes or so for me to warm up some of the soup and bring it over,” Mary-Margaret insisted.

Killian stumbled over his words as he replied, “No, I really am fine, truly. 5:30pm works great. We’ll meet you at Granny’s.”

“Ok, great! See you both then!” After that, the call disconnected but Killian continued to stare at the phone.

“That didn’t go like I had hoped,” he eventually said.

Emma tried to remember if Killian had ever had the full force of Mary-Margaret’s protective nature turned on him before. She didn’t think so.

“Don’t worry about it. If we can’t find a solution to our… problem before dinner, we can just get them drunk enough that they won’t notice if anything is different about us.”

Killian looked dubious at her suggestion, but he couldn’t offer any other alternative plan. Now with a time limit, they both dove back into their research.

~*~

See you next week!

#Captain Swan AU #Captain Swan role reversal #CSRR #FFt14 #Lee writes

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icewindandboringhorror · 4 years

Photo

Another set of responding to asks lol.. As usual I have them numbered and will also write out the ask in the text, especially since the screencaps are all blurry and taken at various times/compiled together badly and probably hard to read ghghhggh..... answers under the read more ~

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

1. "Hi I don't mean to bother you at all, but I was wondering where you get your rocking horse shoes? (I think thats what they're called) I've been looking everywhere and I can't seem to find any :(( "

I don’t entirely remember, since I got them like 6 or 7 years ago.. I think maybe at some point that place ‘bodyline’ or something had some cheap ones? But I don’t see them on the site anymore, they were like $50 or $60. Now when I google it I can only find these insane like $600 ones from vivian westwood or whoever, or ones that are platform shoes but not necessarily the same type. Maybe you could find some on aliexpress or ebay or something? Usually you have to use weirdly specific search terms and look for a while, but you can often find stuff like that on those sites. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help!!!

2. "I've been sick for over a month and my doctor tested me - everything came back fine. After some discussion it appears that my ptsd symptoms came back and the stress on my body is making me fatigued, sick and dizzy. I don't want to say that this could be similar to you situation, but if you have a therapist or someone to talk to about any stresses/your sickness, it might help relieve the pressure a bit. Good luck, I'm so sorry you feel so unwell"

Thank you for sharing! Yeah, I think stress definitely plays a part in why I feel sick so often. Currently I’m not still having the same problem I was having a few months ago when you sent this, so that’s good at least!!

3. “Hi! Do you plan to ever have more sculptures for sale? Or would you do commissions? I haven't seen any in a while but wanted to buy one! :-O”

I have plenty that I want to sell, I guess it’s just hard for me to get set up. Since so much of the reason I procrastinate selling stuff is because I hate the stress of deciding on a price, I’ve thought for a while now that maybe I can just auction them (so I just set a base price, but people bid whatever they feel is fair and I don’t have to decide myself). But I’m just not sure of a good way to do that.. Ebay has auctions, but I don’t want random strangers buying them, I’d rather stick to just the pool of people who follow my art blog and are already familiar with my sculptures or etc. I could do them on here ?? (like, ‘reply to this post to bid, bids close 8am EST, whoever said the highest number sends the money through paypal and then I send the sculpture’ sort of thing???) But I’m not sure if it’s legal to sell stuff through tumblr, or if there could be any other problems with doing it so ‘unofficially’ like that.. I don’t know, I have a vague idea, I’m just having trouble deciding the best way to set up something! I do want to sell some soon though, if I live through the pandemic and anything ever goes back to normal, of course (I wouldn’t want to be having to leave the house to ship stuff in the mail right now).

As for commissions, I have actually done sculpture commissions for friends a few times, so I feel confident-ish that I’d be able to do something like that, but I also wouldn’t want to get overwhelmed since it takes a lot of work. Custom sculptures may also be more expensive, and again.. I always feel guilty and strange about pricing. I’ve thought about doing very limited sculpture commissions though (like, maybe just one at a time, first come first serve or something..?). If it seems like there’s actual interest in that sort of thing, I could definitely consider doing it in the future!

4. " *picks up that smol blue kid and throws them across the room* "

ghgh .. the smallness is an advantage... they could just skitter back down your arm like a tiny squirrel the second you tried to pick them up.. Ythrili survival strategy is to be too small to catch in the first place

(also forgive every sketch in this post, my screen that you can draw on broke, so I’m either drawing stuff in ms paint with a mouse, or drawing stuff on paper and coloring it in firealpaca also with a mouse ghghh.. not going to look Good)

5. "it sounds like you feel pressure to only post good content on the internet, and so you end up psyching yourself out of posting at all. Am I on the right track? "

Not necessarily, like I mentioned in the tags I think it’s more just that everything is complicated by my brain. I can’t just do something effortlessly. Whether it’s for an audience or not, I get caught up on every little detail and adding so much complexity to everything that all tasks take me longer than they take other people lol. I think I just tend to take everything very seriously??

Like for example, I’m often accused of ‘turning things into a discussion’ when someone was just intending to make an off-handed remark, because if someone is bringing up a topic to discuss, I end up engaging with it 100% and putting full effort into it, and it’s hard for me to be ‘’casual’’ about pretty much anything (so if someone was like ‘My day yesterday was a bit weird’ I wouldn’t be able to just respond ‘aw man, that sucks’, I would just be like ‘Weird how? what happened? what made it weird? Are you okay now? Are things still weird? Have you found a solution?’ etc. etc.). I was also bad at essays/open answer questions in school (despite usually being great at the class otherwise), because no matter how hard I tried to filter my speech and cut things out, I was always far too long-winded and would get almost too engaged with the topic and lose the clear cut thought organization and focus that you’re supposed to have I guess. Even like, playing video games or something that’s supposed to be relaxing, I can’t just ‘jump into them’ and do whatever, usually any game I play (large ones at least, small 25 minute point and click adventure games don’t count of course), I have 7 - 10 pages of notes, do hours of research, look up most of the main spoilers, plan out and organize exactly how I’m going to play it and this and that, etc. lol...

So, that personality trait carries over into posting things online as well, I can’t just type something out quickly and hit ‘post’ without a second thought. Social media is hard for me because you’re supposed to use it casually, but I spend a long time re-reading drafted posts, thinking about them, etc. etc., and end up never actually getting around to posting anything. It’s not that I’m perfectionist about it and want it to be ‘good’ or appear a certain way, it’s just that my mind becomes preoccupied with things I guess. I’m a natural information gatherer, part of my natural way of processing things is to learn everything possible before acting, and I want to make sure I’ve fully thought about everything always, and know as much as I can (so I wouldn’t want to publicly say something without giving it a lot of consideration first, or post a picture without really thinking about if I want to post it, what my reasons behind posting it are (like if I’m posting something just for a validation of a certain aspect of myself VS. genuinely because I like it, etc.), if a few months from now I’ll still like that I posted it, etc. lol.. even with like silly cat photos or something, I have to analyze it and be like ‘hmm.. will I still stand by this picture in 4 months? why am I posting it publicly vs, just keeping it privately to myself on my computer? what’s important about it?’ etc. etc. ghgjhgjh.. like.. shut up lol.)

ANYWAY, yeah, I don’t know if it’s about wanting online content to be “good”, as much as it’s just like... I take everything way too seriously and am detail-oriented, contemplative, and analytical to a fault, which means it just takes me 10x longer to do basic ‘’simple’’ things that it would for other people. Though I can still be quite quick-thinking and decisive (I don’t often waver back and forth between things too long), it’s usually because I have years of thinking about the same exact things behind me, so I already am very clear on my opinions on stuff, to a point. But when it’s new things I’m less familiar with (like playing a new game, or posting regularly online), I’m still in a phase where I guess I have to give it a lot of thought. I just process things in a different way than other people I guess? Or have some inherent inability to be brief/concise/careless? If you’ve ever read any of my worldbuilding posts (where I usually start off wanting to explain one thing but then have to derail into 400 other misc. details and explanations and it ends up being a novel), then maybe it’s more evident what I mean, where it’s just like... my natural manner of speaking is Too Much.. I guess? Even this answer is winding and rambly, and I feel like other people could have answered this ask in only a few sentences lol..

If any of that makes sense? I don’t know how to describe how I am lol.. I just know it's hard to me to use social media in this ~~casual effortless~~ way most people seem to, since my brain is just inherently incapable of anything ‘’casual’’ or ‘’effortless’’ lol.. T u T ;;

6. " Hi! I hope this isn't weird to say, I'm designing a race for my DND campaign and some of the aesthetics are a little bit inspired by some of your costumes and makeup designs. You're awesome and your art is awesome so thanks : ) "

Thanks so much, I appreciate it! It’s always cool to hear I can inspire people~

(I usually don’t include many compliments in these ask compilation posts, but I always try to include a few, just to let people know that even if I don’t respond to all of them I do see them, and appreciate it!)

7. ???

I ended up cropping out this ask and not answering because some of the content was questionable (the reason WHY/how they wanted to make the character) in a way that I didn’t feel like getting into a long thing about, but part of it was relevant to making OCs in my world, so I will just make a quick comment:

I do state that this is a closed world, so I don’t want anyone making OCs of my species or etc. at least not at this point. Once my game is finished (if ever lol), or I write a few books or something, then I feel it would be understandable if people like, made up a background story for their player character and thus maybe could have some form of OC in my world and etc.. So I may be more relaxed on this in the future as I create content that people naturally would want to engage with , but for now, I’m still a very tiny creator with a closed world and it just doesn’t feel the same as like.. making an oc based on some thing in a big TV series or something. My worldbuliding and etc. is still very personal to me. Unless we’re directly collaborating on things (like mentioned here (link) a bit), or you’re a personal friend of mine who’s gotten involved in the world with my own guidance (meaning I could tell you lore things you’d need to know to make it accurate, etc.), then I don’t feel it’s appropriate for strangers to do at this point.

Especially since I don’t even have enough world info out for people to be able to reference (most species have half-complete guides, I’ve only ever talked about like, one continent, etc.). There are so many necessary details which I have only in my head and have never typed out, so again, idk, it’d just be weird. I’m not okay with it until I have a lot more lore published, and maybe a few actual works out there that people can reference/stories/games/basis for OCs to exist in the first place. If that makes sense?

8. "Hey, is it ok to use your outfit posts as inspiration for a dnd character? I love them so much, you have such a unique way of combining crazy patterns and fabrics into something that gives off a good vibe”

Yes, that would be fine! Thank you for asking, and I appreciate the compliments~ Hopefully I can get back to posting that sort of thing more often lol.. I’ve gotten WAY off my routine and haven’t done many outfits lately.. aaa

9. "hi Luca! i just wanted to say i really love all of your costumes and fashions and dress ups, its all so cool and pretty and interesting. i actually wanna dress up for fun for myself, and now that i know about the bins i think i'll try to convince my mom to take me to similar places for cheap clothing pieces, since my mom is worried about how much all this costume stuff costs. anyway, please keep posting your cool and beautiful stuff! "

Thank you so much! I wish you luck with your costumes! Yeah, I think there’s a common idea in a lot of fashion communities (like with makeup, costumes, etc.) that you have to always have high quality things to look nice, and even if sometimes you can do more with a little extra money, really you can make anything look good with what you have if you just combine it right. As I’ve always been quite low income, being into fashion and stuff has be discouraging at times, that I couldn’t afford certain materials or items, but you just have to find a niche where what you’re able to do works. For example, a lot of even ‘cheap’ lolita style clothings are too expensive for me (like $30 - $50 for a dress??? then the more pricey ones can be over $100???) lol.. BUT, then stuff like mori kei, cult party kei, fantasy costumes, etc. you can do with nearly any fabric you can find, and it’s still just as fun and creative. Most of the outfits I take pictures of probably cost me no more than $1 - $10 for every single item combined. Obviously it depends on location - I have better access now that I live near a place like the bins, which I understand there may not be similar resources in small towns or etc. But even with generic thrift stores (which may not be as cheap as the bins), you can still find pretty good alternatives to all the money it costs to buy things brand new. There’s still some stuff I legit just can’t do because I don’t have access to the materials, but for the most part I can manage everything I’d like with $3 eye-shadows and 15 cent tattered curtain fabrics lol. You can still do really cool stuff on a pretty nonexistent budget!

10. “do you have any tips on growing your hair long? is it expensive to up keep? i wanna grow mine out but it grows so slow!”

Well, I know nothing about hair and am not a hair stylist or etc. so I really don’t have any tips lol?? And I think hair maintenance depends a lot on the type of hair you have, not everyone’s is the same. I assume we must have similar hair (my natural hair is thick kind of coarse very dark brown/black hair, which is a bit wavy in some parts but mostly straight, but most of my hair currently (aside from the overgrown roots at the top) is altered because of damage from bleaching and etc., it’s more brittle. so that’s what I’ll be referencing) if you’re asking me this instead of someone else, but just know that whatever I say may not apply to you.

Anyway, I really don’t do anything to my hair to make it grow or etc., it’s just that I’ve gone a long time without cutting it lol. I used to cut it all the time or change styles, and now I’ve kind of just left it for 5 or 6 years or so. Because of my mental illness I have trouble maintaining personal care and etc., so I do sometimes go a week or more without washing it, even though I’m trying to work that into my schedule more (luckily I don’t have stinky head, I’ve heard some people’s scalp oils and stuff can smell weird if left for too long, I have the privilege of being able to like.. skip on hygiene a lot without it severely impacting my ability to do things or etc. since it’s usually not obvious if I haven’t bathed in a week or two).

My cat also EATS HUMAN HAIR for some reason, so I have to keep it up all the time, so that when I shed it doesn’t actually just fall loose onto the ground lol. Literally all I do to my hair is just keep it in two braids at all times and wash it with normal shampoo and conditioner occasionally, when I can. I really only think it’s gotten long because I’ve been leaving it alone and not messing with it, not really because of anything I’ve done (like I don’t use fancy products on it or etc.) And because of that, no, it’s not really expensive! It absolutely WOULD be if I were like..a normal functioning person and I regularly bleached it and dyed it and put products on it and styled it and used shampoo and conditioner every 1-3 days on it and etc. lol.. But I guess because I don’t do anything to it to maintain it, I’m not spending money on hairspray or dye or shampoo or etc. I used to bleach it a lot and straighten it and use hairspray and stuff on it, and it seems healthier (at least on the new top parts) now that I’m just ... ignoring it basically lol. But I don’t really know what to do to make it grow faster! I’m bad at self-care, and even if I do costumes and stuff, I really am not into beauty and hair and nails and makeup and stuff, so I’m probably the wrong person to ask hghjhb.. My upkeep routine is just... eat and sleep. wash face with water daily.. do extra stuff if you can manage to despite your functioning issues, etc. I’m definitely not a Beauty Advice person, I barely brush my hair even once a week lol

11. "Maybe you should reduce the number of races if it's too overwhelming? A world can still be immersive with only a few races in it."

(sidenote - Not to be nitpicky, but I make a specific point that the groups of fantasy creatures I create are species, not ‘’races’’, even though it is a commonly used term in fantasy worldbuilding, I think it’s inaccurate/weird )

I know I don’t have to make so many different groups, but, I guess I just really want it to be a broad setting. Part of the point in creating Nanyevimi (aside from worldbuilding just being extremely fun and a hobby greatly suited to someone with my personality traits lol) is to have an established world that I can do anything within, a framework already built where it'd be super easy to just drop a character anywhere on the map and already have an idea of what their culture, background, experiences, etc. would be based on pre-existing details about that portion of the world, etc. But I also want it to be broad, and varied, where every area kind of has it’s own dynamics going on there, so if you’re in a different place, you get a different kind of story. (like in an elven alliance city, you’d be better suited to tell an adventure story centering around complicated local politics, or city life, or etc.. whereas out in some isolated mountains in the south, it’d be more suited for a mystery story about stumbling across ancient ruins, or running into a mysterious traveler, etc.)

Which I guess doesn’t matter much, since I'm better at setting, world design, character design, planning, and details than I am at plot, so I probably won’t actually ever do anything with it (god forbid I tried to write a book or something with my utter inability to be concise/brief in any imaginable way). I can craft settings/characters/history/world-details all day endlessly, never losing inspiration or etc, but my weak point is actually telling stories within those settings and formulating a solid plan, organizing plot structures long term and etc.. Setting up everything for something to happen/creating a place where many interesting premises could occur is fine, but then actually thinking of how those things should OCCUR, or how the set up should play out, is where I get kind of lost. I guess the ideal at some point would be to have people working with me, helping when writing stories in my world/outlining games/etc, to add more cohesion/structure and reign in the unfocused stream of ideas, but that’s very unlikely since I don’t have any close friends that are good at organizing or plotting either, etc. BUT anyway, even if I can’t ever manage to do anything with it, the whole “having a setting I can use for anything I want if anything ever comes up, which is already established and thus makes it much easier to formulate ideas because all the background work is already done for myself” thing is at least a nice goal.. in concept...theoretically lol..

And, it’s not really too overwhelming, I think the overwhelming part is actually just formatting and producing those ideas in a consumable form. It’s not hard for me to keep track of 20 different groups and make backgrounds and every imaginable detail for them, but it IS hard to actually take all that information that exists in my head, type it out as a worldbuilding post, format and organize it, draw pictures to go with it, etc. If I could just post long stream of consciousness style 300,000 word long posts with no paragraph breaks, 4000 typos, barely any punctuation, etc., then I’d have A LOT more world-building info publicly available (since that’s what all the initial documents on my computer look like lol), but that’s just so inaccessible it’d be pointless to have public in the first place. The hard part isn’t really coming up with or managing the information, it’s just... organizing it all, and finding a way to share it.

12. "oh PLEASE tell me what boing peach beverage the elf looks like"

a quick sketch of them.. mysterious peach (and other produce) salesman

13. "fun question: what are ur fashion pet-peeves?"

Well, basically none because I hate when people are rigid over Fashion Rules or etc. Like, people who take pictures of others in public because they “look weird” , or who constantly trash on what people are allowed to wear, what patterns can be mixed with others, etc. etc. I get that some stuff can look kind of bad sometimes, and it’s not that I think nobody is allowed to criticize fashion trends or etc. (especially if they’re legitimately problematic, like of course someone wearing a homophobic t-shirt or doing blackface should be criticized), but I mean just like... that sort of trivial bitter criticism that doesn’t do anything but make people feel bad about the way they look or make them afraid to dress in ways they feel comfortable. Like taking a picture of someone and posting it online to make fun of them because they wore socks with sandals, or bullying 14 year olds who just started doing makeup and haven’t totally gotten their look sorted out yet, etc. etc. (ESPECIALLY since this can often intersect with classism, racism, etc. if you really examine what people mock as 'ugly' or 'unacceptable' styles, it's often stuff like men wearing dresses/makeup, women not shaving, clothing associated with poverty (like wearing “”cheap”” clothes), physical traits commonly associated with poc, making fun of people who look a certain way likely due to mental illness (like fidgeting, dirty mismatched clothing, carrying stuffed animals or comfort items in public etc.), etc. etc.

I find costumes and makeup and outfits to be a very cool and fun way to express myself. So when people are complete freaks about it and set out to just relentlessly make others feel bad for no good reason, it’s like... obnoxious... How can you take something with so much potential and limit it and close others off and turn it into this rigid hateful thing, when it should be something that everyone is able to be passionate about and appreciate?? Outside appearance isn't everything, but it's a tool of expression for so many people and can relate to who they are as a person, people should never feel uncomfortable to be who they are or look how they look just because some dumbass rich person writing for a style magazine has the gall to declare some random thing to be 'Unfashionable' despite not having a genuinely creative bone in their body, or some bigot thinks that certain things are ‘ugly’ or ‘unprofessional’ due to their own mental associations, etc.

But anyway, I guess if I had to choose a few things that I just think look kind of odd to me personally/are generally off-putting...

--- the overdrawing lips thing when you can see the persons actual lip-line and it almost looks like they have two mouths or something? (if not done intentionally for costume makeup). It can look a little strange to me sometimes, like an optical illusion where you see multiple mouth lines at once?? idk like this?

--- freckles that are just round circles and really heavy and don’t look realistic (though again, I also realize this could just be the person’s first time drawing them on or something and I’m not mocking for lack of skill, etc. I just mean that it’s a little strange to look at, not actually BAD though) (and it can also be intentional, like for a cartoony costume look) ---- People adopting cutesy/childlike fashion and clothing and sexualizing it or using it as part of their sex/kink stuff.. I just feel like anything associated with children should not be sexualized..? If the first thing someone thinks when seeing children's school uniforms or frilly little girl’s doll dresses or whatever is that it could be a Hot Thing then hhh... like why is your brain making those connections lol.. People can dress how they want for whatever reasons they want, but that’s always personally creeped me out a little. Similar to our culture’s obsession with looking young being ‘hot’ (like a grown man wanting someone who’s a legal adult but still “looks 16″ or etc.), where it’s like.. okay, I guess yeah outwardly you can make that choice, and maybe aren’t directly causing harm, but.. the underlying tones of it and etc. still make it very unsettling to witness lol... ---- anything appropriated obviously, as well as fetishization or bastardization of cultures, like t-shirts with Japanese writing on them Just For Aesthetic, or taking certain culturally or religiously significant symbols or etc. and adopting them as ‘just a silly fashion’ thing when you’re actually being disrespectful, etc. ---- those shorts or whatever that go up extremely high on the hipbones always look a little weird to me lol, like they give a person funny proportions,

(you may have to right click open image in new window and zoom to see the text, but it’s like.. the blank space makes it look kind of weird to me? Like there’s too much where there’s just nothing going on? idk. That’s just my personal preference though, obviously I tend to lean towards busy designs lol)

That’s all I can think of though, like I said, I’m really not picky or judgy about fashion since I think people should be able to do whatever they want for the most part. I’m not like a “omg stripes should NEVER be worn with plaid!!” type person or something lol.

14. "Hey Luca! I love when you post about your world. Do you have a favorite species you've made up so far? Also, I hope you're holding up well during the crisis!"

AAaa thanks! I’m okay mostly. It’s distressing since because of my particular mental illness I already have constant paranoia and obsessions about health, so of course hearing about so much illness can be really triggering constantly and I’m preoccupied in never-ending anxiety spirals about mortality and etc. etc. etc. , but situationally, I’m just very thankful that nobody in my household has gotten sick yet and I desperately wish that will continue to be the case. *** *** ***

(ignore the *** *** *** , this is a text version of a physical compulsion (a hand movement) that I have to do when I mention certain topics lol.. the little man in my brain that controls my obsessive compulsive disorder says I must do certain things after saying or thinking certain things,, You Know How It Is )

And I really love worldbuilding questions, so thank you so much!!!!! Hghgh maybe it seems weird to favor any over the others, but of course I really like the Avirre'thel. Conceptually, I think their origin story and connection to ancient elves and their abilities and etc. put them in a really unique position in the broader world (some of the only truly immortal people to exist, the only people who can still decipher ancient elven texts in a way that makes sense, etc. etc.). Since Nanyevimi (my world) is really just a setting being built so that in the future I can set things within it (games, short stories, etc.), I think I'm drawn to the aspects of it that have the most potential to make interesting characters, and there are definitely a lot of pre-established dynamics with the Avirre'thel/in Navyete (their home country) as a whole that would make it an good place to set certain things, or a good group for a main character to be from, etc.

I do really like the Jhevona as a species overall too, even if I haven't developed them as much, they also kind of stand out as having some fairly unique features that put them in an interesting position in the world (being one of the most magically capable groups that exists but that also having downsides (health issues and infertility from magic exposure, etc.), how the necessity to keep control over their magic influences their culture, being some of the only natural shape-shifters, etc.). Within that, I REALLY love the Thastanri (a subspecies of Jhevona), like their connection to dreams, the Imkasyn, being one of the last few peoples in contact with real dragons, etc. etc. There are a lot of complex things going on in their area, so there’d be a lot of potential to tell a variety of stories or have interesting characters from that group.

AND, though it's supposed to be Unknown in the world so I won't talk about it just in case I ever write a book one day or something and need to preserve at least a FEW mysteries that I don't just outright explain in worldbuilding posts, Jhevona do have the most interesting origins of any species in my opinion. There are some things from before the timeline break sort of thing (where all recorded history was seemingly wiped and everyone had a big memory loss about 50,000 yrs ago) that people aren't aware of anymore... but Jhevona used to have a cool backstory and quite interesting function in society prior to that. There are some remnants in the genetics of the species and how their magic works (at least for certain groups) that kind of hint at how ancient Jhevona used to look and what they used to do, even though in the modern day things are very different.

15. "Top 10 songs you've been listening to lately?"

I don’t have a top 10 since I listen to everything for different reasons, and don’t have as deep a relationship with music the way some people do (like I don’t really have a favorite band or group I have a connection with that’s “gotten me through hard times”, or music I cry to/any songs that are specifically personally emotionally meaningful to me, etc., etc.), but here’s a quick playlist of a few favorite-ish things I’ve had in my head a lot recently -

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLPmQ4SZdFFHNkgKo7nAiEMgVvLcycX5Qc

the last song on the list specifically I’ve been replaying a lot for some reason, I guess since it’s good background music as there’s no words. Particularly the part that starts around like 38 seconds in, something about that melody reminds me of something distant, in a dreamlike way. The past few days I mostly alternate between that song, Outstanding, and And The Beat Goes On lol

16. " Do you ever sell sculptures? I really like that little fawn!"

Yeah, I hope to eventually! Like I mentioned in question number three, if I can set up some sort of way to do auctions or etc, then maybe I can sell that one!

17 & 18 : '"aaa yay!! i missed your outfits!!!" / "can I just say love ur outfits! They're so cool and inspire me to draw my ocs with new outfits > o < and I love your cat too, please give him a big ol pat!"

Thank you!!!! more compliments posted just to show I appreciate them lol, even if I don’t publicly respond to every one~ And, the Boyes appreciate the pats.. here is them.. big babbeys...

#it bothers me still that I didn't take all the screenshots the same way and there's different colors of nu #mbers and etc. lol.... but some of those are from 4 months ago or more and I had already deleted the original ask #from my inbox so I can't go rescreencap it to match the others..#this is the issue inherent in taking so long to answer things that I just respond in large batches lol #replies #okay also I know it's been months but... one of you has to like this post or at least show you read/interacted with my #response somehow because I cannot spend like 4-5 hours typing stuff for others if nobody will read it ghghg #( i know i make it take longer by being rambly and etc. but.. still...)#I'm sorry they sat in my inbox a long time and etc. but... also..... my pwecious time and effort #i hope at least one of the people I'm responding to sees that i did indeed reply to them lol

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shookethbrooketh · 5 years

Text

seven days

day one

summary: dan is stuck in the wrong timeline. one day, he kisses phil goodnight. the next morning, he’s completely alone. he doesn’t even recognize where he wakes up, and little details in the world around him have changed. he has no clue what’s happening or where to go next in an effort to fix it; all he knows is that he has to find phil.

genre: sci-fi, a lil bit of angst, happy ending

warnings: none (for now)

fic word count: 2.0k (but there will be more!) chapter word count: 2.0k

written for the @phandomreversebang ! inspired by the awesome moodboard by @maybeformepersonally ! beta’d (beginning to end) by @i-might-just-leave-soon !

a/n: i’ll be updating this fic every wednesday for the next six wednesdays, and then it’ll be finished (y’know, seven chapters)! after that i will, for the most part, retire from fic writing. thank you to everyone who’s supported my writing over the years!

read it on ao3

“I’m exhausted,” Dan said, stretching his lanky body as he clambered off the couch. He and Phil had just finished the Game of Thrones finale, and he was ready to fall over in bed. He put out a hand to pull Phil off the couch with him, and the two of them staggered sleepily into their bedroom, not even bothering to brush their teeth. They collapse into bed, and Dan barely gathers the effort to rotate towards Phil and plant a goodnight kiss on his forehead. That was their evening tradition: a kiss on the forehead before bed.

“Goodnight, Dan,” Phil muttered, the edges of his mouth twitching up peacefully as he acknowledged Dan’s kiss.

“Goodnight, Phil.”

That was the last thing Dan remembered. Of course, Dan remembered everything about Phil, but that was the last of it. He fell asleep beside Phil, the love of his life, and he woke up somewhere he couldn’t identify. At first, he simply panicked, concerned that he had been YouTuber-napped. Then he looked around the room and found pictures of himself. There were pictures of him with his family, pictures with his dog, Colin, and pictures with people he’d never seen before. The immediate fear dissipated into pure confusion; he didn’t remember taking any of those photos.

Dan peeled himself out of bed and picked up his phone. He tried to look at it, but it was blurry, even though it was right in front of his face. He blinked a few times, but he could tell this wasn’t the blur of sleep. Eventually, he noticed a pair of glasses sitting on the bedside table. He glanced around for a moment before cautiously picking up the glasses and putting them on. With them, he could see the phone perfectly. That was odd, he thought. He had never been farsighted before.

His phone looked strange as well. The screen was smaller, and his background was of a man he didn’t recognize. When he unlocked it, he found most of the same apps he had the night before, but when he went to Twitter, his verification was gone, and he found that he had only 934 followers. Dan was no longer a YouTuber.

Immediately Dan began to question what exactly he was, but at that point he had no care for such a thing. He threw himself into motion, throwing on a shirt he didn’t own and shorts he wouldn’t usually choose to buy. As he whirled through “his” apartment, Dan only cared about one thing: finding Phil.

He tore out of the building, not stopping to think. None of his movements made even a bit of sense; he jerked his head left and right, attempting desperately to figure out where he was and ignoring the map on his phone. His mind was so clouded by his confusion and fear that he had no logic left.

Dan took off aimlessly running down the street, a feat that was already uncommon for him, searching for anything familiar amidst the chaos. After a few minutes, he slumped into a bench and put his head in his hands.

“What in the absolute fuck is going on?” Dan whispered to himself. He threw his head back and ran his hands through his hair, which he suddenly realized was straight. That was impossible; he would never be able to wake up with straight hair.

After getting struck across the face with even more confusion, Dan finally managed to attempt to think about his situation. He looked himself up and down; the clothes he had picked up were all pastel pink. “What the hell? Is this some Opposite Day bullshit?” Dan swore again, unsure if he had the restraint at that point to utter a sentence without cursing.

A cab approached, and Dan decided to wave it over. He climbed in and told the driver to take him to his old address; maybe Phil would be there.

On the ride over, he pulled the small phone out of his back pocket and reopened Twitter. The account he opened up to appeared to be an aesthetic account devoted to the color pink. It had his name on it, but it certainly wasn’t his.

He switched to the search function and searched ‘phil lester.’ A full page of accounts popped up, but, on first glance, none of them appeared to be Phil. He looked through them each, to no avail. Social media didn’t appear to be helpful in this situation.

Before long, they were at his flat; they were much closer than Dan had anticipated. He paid the driver with money he found in the case of the phone, clambered out of the cab, and made his way up the stairs and to his door. He was sweating a bit after the walking; finally, he felt at home. As he knocked on the door, anxiety welled up in his stomach. Suddenly the door opened, and he found himself face to face with a very tall, very slightly dressed woman. “What do you want?” she said, a harsh tone to her voice. She clearly had yet to have her morning cup of coffee; it reminded him a bit of Phil.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but have you seen Phil Lester?”

“Nope,” she said, slamming the door in his face before he even had a chance to apologize again.

“Well, that was fun,” he said into the void. He backtracked down the stairs and realized that he’d sent the cab away. He took a deep breath, far more annoyed than the word annoyed could convey, and waited for another. Luckily, it came quickly, but the ride to their first London flat, which was his last guess as to where he’d find Phil, was a bit longer, so he still had to wait. He decided to take advantage of the time and explore the phone that had basically been dropped into his lap. As any normal Internet dweller would, he first searched through the camera roll. The majority of the camera roll appeared to be pictures for the pink Twitter account, but he’d find the occasional meme or selfie of him in all pastel clothes. He didn’t particularly enjoy it, but he supposed he could see why the fanfic writers seemed to take such a liking to it.

Suddenly, his mind shifted to the life he’d built with Phil as he realized everything was gone. Not only was his relationship with Phil gone, but the fanbase they’d built was gone too. He was certain all the people that made it up still existed, but it occurred to him for the first time that he no longer had any fans. There were no longer blogs, Instagram accounts, or group chats dedicated to him. It felt freeing, almost, but also deeply saddening. All the lives he’d impacted were suddenly the same as they’d have been had he chosen to never upload Hello Internet in the first place. His heart swelled with determination to find Phil and return to a universe where the two of them had built their own universe. Thinking back to all the people who had told him on tour that he and Phil had saved their lives, he knew he had no choice but to find Phil.

The taxi pulled up to their first London flat, and he couldn’t help but crack a smile looking at the building. He and Phil had grown so much in that apartment, and he still felt a bit as if it was his home. This time, being more realistic, he told the driver to wait before he made his way over to the apartment complex. He climbed another set of stairs that he was all too familiar with, and his body almost seemed to transport back four years as he relived his memories of that flat.

This time, he was a bit more optimistic as he knocked on the door. He took a deep breath and stood there for a moment, a combination of hope and fear filling his lungs as time passed. Finally, he realized nobody was going to answer the door, and put his head down as he made his way back down to the taxi.

Dan sighed and pulled up Maps to direct the driver back to the apartment he’d woken up in. Luckily, whatever stranger he had taken over the life of bothered to put “Home” into the app, because Dan hadn’t a clue how to get back to the building he’d ran from. He sat hopelessly, thinking of nothing at all until he arrived back at the apartment. He paid yet another driver with money that wasn’t even his and climbed even more stairs, only managing to find “his” flat because he’d left the door open in his frenzy.

He slammed the door closed and flopped onto the bed he’d rolled out of. He had only one more idea. He did a quick Google search and pulled up the only resource he had left: a London phone book. He found nearly as many ‘Phil Lester’s as he did on Twitter, but none of them had Phil’s phone number. Still, too suspicious to give up, he called each number. Some of them didn’t answer, but it was clear that none of the ones that did were Phil. Well, at least they weren’t his Phil.

Tears pooled in his eyes as he jerked forward. “Fuck, DAMNIT!” he shouted, throwing a punch into the mattress and then curling the sheets into his hand. “I don’t know what to do,” he said to no one at all.

The truth was that there was no one there to hear him, and it was the first time in Dan’s adult life that he’d been truly alone. Sure, Phil had left for a few days, but he always knew his life companion would return. Now, he had no clue if Phil even existed at all. He was completely alone, with no one to talk to and no one to direct him. He was like a lost child, but he was a fully functional adult in a timeline he didn’t recognize.

Really, this was just the existential crisis to end all existential crises waiting to happen. As if life, death, and time weren’t already scary enough, now he’s being thrown around like a rag doll with no significance from one timeline into another? There was so much to contemplate that he couldn’t even begin. He rolled over onto his stomach and made himself comfortable; it was going to be a long day.

Dan did, in fact, spend most of the day contemplating his existence, but he eventually laid eyes on a laptop that luckily had Netflix downloaded. It turned out that a new timeline had plenty of new shows. In this universe, Queer Eye contained five British lesbians. He couldn’t pass that up, could he?

After his third episode and plenty of tears, something in the credits caught Dan’s eye. “Wait,” he breathed out, fumbling to hit the “J” key and go back. He watched again, this time much closer, and slammed the space button to pause the show. On the screen in blaring letters was a header reading “Production Manager” and underneath it: “Phil Lester”.

Dan spasmed forward, nearly knocking the laptop off of the bed. “Holy shit!” he shouted. Sure, it was possible that he could simply be a different Phil Lester--it wasn’t like there weren’t way too many of them already--but Dan could feel it: this was his Phil.

Dan’s mind began racing; how could he use this information? He panickedly typed “phil lester uqeer eye” into Google, not caring about his own typos, and began scrolling. He found multiple websites that credited Phil for his work on the show, but not a single website told him any of Phil’s contact information. As he searched, time ticked late into the night. Dan usually stayed up long past midnight, but after a few hours straight of existential crisis, he was exhausted. Scrolling through multiple pages of Google searches can be quite boring, so Dan nodded off shortly before the night officially ended.

Sadly, however, there were a few things Dan didn’t know as he dozed off that evening. He didn’t know about the reminder on the phone he’d neglected all day making sure he, or the him that used to live in this timeline, didn’t forget about his first day on the production of Queer Eye. And he surely didn’t know that while he slept, as the clock struck midnight, the world began to change around him. It was like he slept in a protective bubble, holding him in place as the timeline disassembled and reassembled around his body. At 12:01, his entire universe had changed once again. Dan slept through that night in bliss ignorance until he was woken up and his world turned upside down once again.

“Daniel!”

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phic stuff #seven days #dong and ping #prb19

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ericmhe · 4 years

Text

A Story Rough Draft

“Peripheral” - working title

“Yes, I work at home, but I'm still working, you know,” Greg explained to his sister, trying to avoid having her kids dropped off on him again.

No one seemed to respect the basic premise, least of all his own family and it was kind of driving him crazy.

“Hang on, sounds like the mail's here.”

“See, you can just go get the mail as soon as it shows up. Why can't you look after your nephew and niece?”

“Because walking out to the mailbox is only a couple of minutes, and kids take hours of attention?”

“Come on, it would save me so much in babysitters.”

“And it could cost me my job,” he muttered as he opened the mailbox. Unfortunately, having to hold the phone up by clamping it between his face and shoulder meant it was right up against his mouth, and she actually heard what was meant to be an exasperated comment to himself.

He was enduring the aggrieved reaction as he walked back and flipped through the mail when it happened.

It was just in the corner of his eye, blurry and indistinct. Some kind of insect, or whatever centipedes would count as, at least a foot long. It sported far too many legs writhing about randomly, bizarrely asymmetrical with some limbs just far too long. He shouted as he jumped up, dropping his phone onto the concrete porch.

But the horrible writhing creature had vanished. It was just a harmless branch of a ground shrub, dried and browned. He felt his face get hot as he looked around, but fortunately none of the neighbors were out and he probably wasn't seen. He picked up the stick and threw it in the yard. Then he picked up the phone and tried to apologize.

Things were normal for a while, going from day to day taking care of his cat and dog, Sam and Fred. The names were an aborted joke he feared might be a little too nerdy. Working from the computer and fielding the odd phone call filled most of the day's work hours. Then one night, while he was brushing his teeth, a vague blurry reflection slid in the corner of his vision. A long body that looked covered in spikes. Wiggling antennae, and way too many legs for reason. He fought the reaction to jump away, but kept his body still, and only moved his eyes, trying to bring it into focus.

A ball of fuzz this time, some carpet threads and pet hair that had escaped the vacuum in a big unsightly clump. He threw it away and wondered what kind of mental disorder could be responsible for a recurring hallucination. He spent some time trying to search for hallucination symptoms on the internet with little luck. He fought the impulse for a bit but eventually took to forums and question websites trying to figure out if anyone else had similar experiences.

“What, some kind of bug? Like a spider?” some anonymous poster with a string of numbers asked on his thread.

“Try something more like 'Hell's most hardcore centipede' if you want a mental image.” he replied with a huff he knew full well no one would see online..

His work suffered the next couple of days from all the time inquiring online to no avail. Maybe he'd have to figure out a way to talk to someone in the mental health field. Get some drugs at least, provided it was affordable.

The third time, he was working. He tensed and drew his feet up into his chair. He would not acknowledge it. He would not. Would not. Bugs had too many limbs to start with, but the thing he could but couldn't quite see in the reflection of his monitor shamed even the most nightmarish millipede. Unlike a millipede's strange gait this thing had no sense of rhythmic motion, just flailing asymmetrical chaos.

Sweating, he forced himself to stare ahead and keep typing, ignoring the thing that seemed to be beside him. The reflection grew more frantic. His head began to ache, making reading his own writing impossible. He shut his eyes and kept typing. The headache grew worse, pulsing, with a steady drumbeat. His skin crawled, as if those writhing legs were just about to touch him. He couldn't stand any more; something was about to break... Fred barked his annoying high pitched yap.

His eyes flew open, but the flailing monstrosity reflected beside him was still there. He spun around in his chair. This time there wasn't even anything there to fool his eyes. The dog was indeed barking at nothing, just the wall behind him. Fred was lovable but dumb, he wasn't even pointed at where the bug thing had been.

“How are you going to protect anyone if you can't even tell where to bark?”

A few more incidents let him figure out some patterns. Ignoring it brought pain, and no medication he tried dulled it any, it only went away with time. Nothing seemed to change his condition, not changing his hours or diet or sleeping schedule. However it felt crazy to keep spinning around to try and catch glimpse of a nightmare bug that vanished in an instant. More likely it was never there at all, so why should he keep stopping his work for it? Maybe it was only for a few seconds, but damn it he didn't want to give in on principal.

Then again maybe he was just going crazy.

Then one day a political volunteer rung his doorbell to convince Greg to vote for a favored candidate in the upcoming primary. Greg wasn't really listening. surprised to find himself jealous of the man's eyebrows though they were partially hidden by his glasses and the glint catching on the reflection. His own eyebrows were balding, and this guy’s looked straight model worthy. He let the man talk at him for a while, guessing that most people would be prone to closing the door on his face and he hadn't seen anyone face to face himself for a while. In a way it was nice to be talked to, even about a topic he found boring. Now if there was a way to trade eyebrows, he'd vote for whoever this guy wanted.

He was trying to distract himself with these thoughts from the antics in his peripheral vision. He didn’t want to appear crazy. However when the operative looked up from his pamphlet, he shouted in surprise and threw his clipboard at the wall next to Greg's door.

“What the hell?!”

Greg, shocked, turned to look. Of course nothing was there. “What did you see?” he asked, heart pounding.

The man’s excellent eyebrows had disappeared into his hair. “Sorry. I thought,” but he trailed off.

“Was it something like a centipede?” Greg pressed.

But the man was still staring at the wall, looking confused and flushed. “Um. I should get going, quotas and stuff. Don’t forget to vote,” he called over his shoulder as he hurried down the stairs.

Greg at first felt exultant, and then terrified. It wasn't just in his head! So what the hell was it? He started to go back in and noticed the clipboard, picked it up and turned around to yell at the guy only to find he was already exiting the driveway in his car. Oh well, he'd hang on to it for a while in case he came back for it. He had other things to worry about. He suddenly remembered the thing disappearing when Sam hopped on the desk – at first he hadn't thought much of it, but maybe that meant being observed by anything would dispel its presence.

He resolved to find out and went to the store, bought some cameras, and got the largest storage he could afford and set them up around the house. They caught the thing on tape, sort of. Only in the spots out of the camera's focus did the thing appear, looking just as hazy and indistinct as did in his own vision. He even showed the footage around and everyone confirmed they saw something, but usually gave him a bit of grief for trying to hide a bad special effect and prank people.

It was real, a hundred percent confirmed, but it either would not or could not be captured as a clear image. It could only show up as an unclear one, in the field of view that was out of focus. If he just got a ton more cameras and covered his house with them so no spot in it was out of focus then it couldn't get to him. The venture would very expensive and time consuming. Power would be an issue, for now he would try setting up only in whatever room he was using that moment. He'd focus on his work room since he spent the most time there and had the most episodes, only the bathroom came close.

A couple of days went by and it seemed to have worked. No more creepy crawly nightmares scampering about on the edges of vision. There weren't any headaches yet, but they had been somewhat infrequent most of the time. It'd be a while longer before he was sure he'd thwarted them. The bug showed up alone sometimes, but the headache never happened without the bug so there must be some kind of connection. There were still unknowns, but he felt confident he had won. He set back to work hoping to make up for lost time. He pushed it so long he found himself falling asleep at his desk. He'd have to get up before he really dozed off. Just one more...

He knew he had to be somewhere to do something. The sensation was vague but compelling, driving him to a brisk walk. He rounded the corner around a building and was caught in the flash of a camera. The flash of light wasn't just disorientating because of the momentary vision impact but it actually burned. He jumped back around the corner, stunned by the burned flesh peeling away. He ran back in a hurry and took an alley, away from the crowds.

He came out alright and scanned the people in the street for any cameras. He ran along, wincing away from any flash of light he saw. He tried going down a back alley and nearly walked into a giant burning eyeball. Feeling vaguely disappointed in himself on some creative level he backed away, barely aware of his skin peeling away in a terrible burn.

Finally he was at his destination, but there was a line of people holding cameras making him pause. How could he get around that? Some of them were taking pictures of something, whatever it was it wasn't important, but it was forcing him to keep a distance. Even so the flashes of light were causing blisters here and there, deepening wounds and exposing bone as he tried to find a way around.

No good the whole area was blocked entirely. He decided to try risking it, but as he approached the whole crowd seemed to pivot towards him and start snapping pictures. He backed away trailing smoke and flakes of blackened skin. He finally realized he didn't feel the pain that he should. So, a dream then... what was so important though? It wasn't like any dream he'd ever had.

Greg's vision was blurry as his eyes opened and light from the monitor made him want to close them again. He'd fallen asleep in his computer desk in spite of himself. Well, his back was going to be out of it for the rest of the day. It might almost be a welcome distraction from the headache he had.

Headache?

When he first tried to open his eyes he found the action strangely difficult but with some effort he forced them to open and immediately saw his computer's monitor in sleep mode. In the 'black mirror' of the powered down computer screen he could see himself and … something else. Strangely none of his normal surroundings were reflected in the monitor, just a strange cluster of shapes that seemed to make no sense. It was like an escher painting come to life but worse somehow, the effort to focus on any one group of shapes only resulting in his gaze sliding away from it. He tried to turn away from it but found his neck wouldn't respond. Probably stiff from his nap. He could hear Fred whining and scratching at the door. He'd hardly noticed the noise before, it seemed to be drowned out by something whirling through his own thoughts. Wasn't that supposed to go the other way around?

He tried to use his feet to spin the chair but they wouldn't listen. Now he was getting worried. Still, the bizarre thing or things in the monitor couldn't be helping his headache. He tried pushing backwards, pleased to find that it worked but wondering why he couldn't move to the sides.

A wave of pain and nausea hit him with such force he wanted to reel, double over, physically react in some way, but for some reason he seemed to be stuck staring at the reflection in the monitor.

This felt far worse than it had ever been before.

Another wave, at least as strong as the first.

It felt like his head might split open as he struggled against the urge to vomit.

He looked around as much as his nearly immobile head would allow but saw no sign of the bug apparition.

Another wave hit. They seemed to keep getting stronger. Or his resistance was weakening. Maybe both.

He fell back as he started to stand up. What was happening? No bug to be seen, but this headache was something horrible. Why couldn't he turn? They areas around his eyes and ears started to feel wet. He intended to look around for something to dab at the area, or to find the bug, but his head stayed looking forward. 'How many marketers would pay blood sacrifices to claim such a captive audience? He wondered trying to take his mind off the pain and nausea with a quip to himself.

Another wave.

This time he actually seemed to slide from the chair some, but his head craned to keep the reflection of the monitor in sight. He struggled to push himself back up. He thought about the dreams, and crazy as it was... he went back to the desk and flipped one camera down, letting it record nothing but desk and dark.

Yet another wave and he started to slide from the chair again, nearly slamming his chin into his keyboard's resting spot.

He pushed himself back up shaking the whole while. He tried to reach for the monitor but his hands wouldn't reach that way. He could grab just about anything else though, so since he couldn't turn to look for the other camera, he settled for taking things from his desk and throwing them in the general direction he knew it was. Books, his coin tray, some old CDs. He was about to sadly start with his mouse and keyboard when he finally heard a clatter that sounded right.

The next wave of pain came instantly afterwards.

He hit his head on the desk, but the pain of that was lost in what was already happening. He shuffled backwards, leaning into his rolling chair, throwing the last few things on his desk behind him. Nothing happened. He made his way back as quickly as he could force himself until he hit the wall.

Another wave and his vision was going blurry. He couldn't even see himself in the monitor any more. The strange shapes were the only thing to be seen as they shifted around in mind-bending bizarre patterns.

The wet feeling increased and his back spasmed. He flailed against the wall wildly for a moment until he managed to get a hold of himself enough to push himself up. The last camera went down after a long moment of scrambling wildly trying to grab at his shelf and nearly immediately he saw the tangle of buggy limbs that had been haunting him.

It was the easiest thing in the world to turn and find nothing. He looked back at the monitor through the corner of his eye and only saw a normal monitor reflecting a faint gleam of light. He laughed.

How was it possible? The grotesque bug monster too horrific to look upon directly was the good guy of the scenario? Something worse constantly behind him...

He needed to get rid of the cameras after all. He really hoped he could find all the receipts...

One weekend when his sister brought her kids over they came running to their mother screaming and sobbing. They were unintelligible and confused their mother.

He knelt down to talk to them and asked, “was it a bug?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don't worry about it. It only looks scary.”

“Um...” the kids radiated uncertainty.

“Worry about what it's warning you about,” he smiled devilishly as his sister glared daggers at him.

“What is it?”

“You know how some people befriend crows? They give them food and the crows share shiny things? It's like they're friends, even if the crows are never pets. The bug creature is like that, I don't know what it gets from me, but it's always watching out for me. Us now I guess. So don't worry about it. I try to wave back sometimes, I like to think it likes it. I mean, it's waving at me all the time.”

His sister sighed, “I guess it's a good thing I didn't get you to start watching them after all.”

#monster #horror #horror story #short story #my writing

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edendaphne · 5 years

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“Discordant Sonata” Ch. 5

New chapter!

Read it here on Ao3

Read it here on Wattpad

CHAPTER 5: FERMATA

Glossary:

Clochette = little bell

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Mood Music: Hallelujah - Brian Crain cover)

It was just another Monday morning in the life of Nathalie Sancoeur. While she wouldn’t necessarily categorize herself as a morning person, she did prefer to wake up extra early to quietly watch the sun rise, her beloved cat Clochette lounging lazily on her lap, as well as enjoy the luxury of being able to get ready for the day at a leisurely pace.

Her daily routine of scrolling through the trending news on her tablet while sluggishly sipping on black coffee was uneventful as usual… until she began going through the Adrien Agreste hashtag, as she always did.

Clochette did not appreciate being violently sprayed with coffee. Nathalie coughed and sputtered, wiping her dripping mouth and nose. She grabbed the nearest available towel (which, as she discovered later, turned out to be not a towel but a pricy dry-clean only sweater) to clean her face and tablet with. Hopping off and looking back with what was surely the cat version of a sneer, Clochette walked away from a very confused Nathalie, who continued to gawk and sputter at the blurry photos of her charge, hand-in-hand with the one and only Ladybug.

Inhaling sharply and leaping out of her chair, Nathalie snatched her phone, first to dial Nadja Chamack’s number, followed by the Agrestes’ lawyer, hoping they could help her minimize the potential damage of this situation.

“Gabriel cannot find out about this,” she muttered to no one in particular, clutching the countertop with a white-knuckle grip.

A couple of hours later, Adrien sat at the Agrestes’ titanic dining room table anxiously poking at his breakfast, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sleep-deprivation from a night full of bad dreams (chronic nightmares were an unfortunate side effect of using his miraculous against its intended use) only amplified the maddening suspense.

Last night he’d been terrified to check the news, fretting that the photos from his date with Ladybug would undoubtedly be leaked onto the internet. There was no way he’d be lucky enough to escape that. He did, however, recall that none of the phones pointed at them had had their flash turned on, and therefore, there was a tiny possibility that the photos hadn’t turned out clear enough to confirm that it really was Ladybug and Adrien in the photos, and not some attention-seeking lookalikes. It was that tiny ray of hope which allowed him to fall into a fitful sleep.

A hope that was dashed when he checked his phone at 3am (having been jolted awake by a particularly vivid night terror). As a result, he spent the next few hours searching for more photos, filing claims and reports all over social media, hoping they would get taken down sometime before anyone he knew could find out, and had gotten no more sleep.

“Good morning, Adrien,” a stern female voice rang suddenly from the other side of the large dining hall.

Adrien suppressed a grimace. “Good morning, Nathalie.”

Nathalie paused, chewed on her lip as she stared at him without blinking, and then continued, “You have Chinese lessons at 6pm tonight as always. You also have an early morning photo shoot tomorrow with a 5am wake-up call, so be sure to set your alarm for the correct time. Your piano recital is this Saturday so don’t forget to get in some extra practice this week.”

Adrien stared back expectantly, wondering when the warning about his behavior and consequences would come. A weighty pause and an air of tension hovered over the two of them, and the lack of conversation turned awkward, so Adrien forced himself to say, "Sure."

Nathalie stared back, trying her best to maintain a professionally cool and nonchalant expression, although Adrien could tell she was struggling to remain her composure. Adrien fretted internally, wringing his hands under the table, wondering if she knew.

Of course she knows, this is Nathalie . But why hasn’t she said anything?!

After several seconds, which felt like he was held at the precipice of a roller coaster and waiting anxiously for the drop, Nathalie finally said, “That is all.” She added a quick, “Have a good day at your shoot,” before walking away briskly.

Adrien consciously had to stop his jaw from dropping.

“Th-thank you, Nathalie!” he managed to blurt out when she’d almost reached the door.

She stopped abruptly and looked back, her eyes full of an emotion he couldn’t place. There was an unspoken understanding floating in the air between them. A solidarity. An odd sort of pact forged through kinship, through a need to survive together as allies under hostile territory.

“You’re welcome,” she replied quietly and exited the room, leaving a very puzzled Adrien behind.

He sank into his chair like a deflating balloon, recovering from the pressure and anxiety of what he’d originally anticipated from this meeting. Any time there was something he’d be getting in trouble for, Nathalie was always kind enough to warn him beforehand. If she hadn’t mentioned anything to him (and he was positive that she knew who he’d been with the night before), it meant that Gabriel hadn’t found out and that she wasn’t going to tell him, since he relied on her to inform him of any news that might interest him.

This wasn’t the first time Nathalie had put her job on the line for Adrien. Why would she continue to risk her job, her position as his father’s confidante and right-hand-man, so to speak, on his behalf? She received nothing tangible from helping him; there wasn’t anything he’d be able to repay her with. No accruing of favors or debts to hold over his head or she would have said something already. Adrien knew she wasn’t happy working for them and yet she’d never resigned. Why was she still here after all the trouble the Agrestes had brought into her life?

Whatever the reason, Adrien was thankful. He let out a large sigh of relief, hoping that some of Ladybug’s legendary luck (which had apparently rubbed off on him last night) would stick around a little bit longer.

After finishing getting ready, Adrien opened the front door and was halfway across the threshold when he heard a stern voice call his name from inside the house. He spun around to see Gabriel, who had just exited his office. Adrien felt an unpleasant chill trickle down his spine, yet tried to keep his expression neutral.

“Good morning, Father,” he called back as casually as he could.

Gabriel approached until they were less than an arm’s length away and stared down at him through his glasses. Despite having almost reached his height, he still felt so large and imposing that Adrien couldn’t help but almost shake when he stood this close even after all these years.

“I could sense you last night,” Gabriel finally spoke. “What happened?”

Adrien felt his limbs freeze up. Of course his father had felt his distress when he’d had his claustrophobic attack he’d had in the closet with Ladybug the night before. To him, being able to detect strong emotions came as natural as breathing by this point.

“Oh, I- uhh... I was watching a horror movie,” he lied as nonchalantly as he could.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow and his mouth twisted into a disapproving frown.

Adrien wasn’t sure if he looked convinced or not. He continued, “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I’d forgotten how much I disliked scary movies, but I got really into the story and wanted to see what happened.” He forced himself to smile, but was pretty sure he probably just ended up looking like the grimacing face emoji.

Gabriel grunted slightly in acknowledgement. “See that it doesn’t happen again. You were fortunate I was already in bed and reading a book. The emotion from you last night was quite tempting, and I have often pondered whether you would make a more efficient akuma than you are as Chat Noir.”

Suppressing a flinch, Adrien replied dejectedly, “Understood.”

They went their separate ways quietly, having nothing left to say to each other. Adrien walked slowly, desperately attempting to squelch the negative emotions he was currently feeling so as to not alert his father again. A sense of restlessness and desperation had been slowly growing within him for a long while now, and yet he couldn’t place what it was trying to compel him to do. He wanted to disappear, to run far away to the other side of the world and never have to see his house, or even Paris, ever again.

Taking a deep breath, he reined himself in.

I need to calm down. Think, Adrien… Think about something good, think about something nice, think about something that makes you happy. Like puppies, or ice cream. Or...

Or her.

Adrien felt his throat dry up and he gulped down a thick lump. He allowed his mind to drift towards better memories, thinking of Ladybug and her gentle smile; of the way her slender arms felt when they embraced him, so comforting and warm, making him feel completely safe; of how she smelled of fresh spring flowers and rain, and of her sweet voice as she sang the tune he associated with unconditional love and acceptance because of his mother.

Unconsciously touching his cheek, he blushed as he yet again mentally replayed the moment when Ladybug had kissed him the night before and how it made his body feel like it was on fire. He caught himself wishing he would’ve been able to return the kiss, idly wondering how her soft skin would have felt against his lips instead…

His eyes flew open.

What am I saying?!

He shook his head quickly, having finally reached his chauffeur, definitively attempting to ignore the whirlwind of butterflies in his stomach as he entered the car and tried to mentally prepare himself (again) for the day ahead.

(Mood Music: Dance for Me Wallis - Abel Korzeniowski, W.E. Soundtrack

Ladybug ran across the rooftops, agitatedly searching for an elusive candy-themed akuma, whose presence only caused her stomach to growl that much louder.

Why does there have to be an akuma now ? It’s lunchtime!! Why does Hawkmoth want me to be hungry?! I just wanted my sandwich! Well, prepare to feel the wrath of a “hangry” Ladybug, you jerk!!

She swung across buildings casting worried glances down below. Left and right people had been turned into chocolate statues, which posed a major problem as it was a particularly warm day in August, so she didn’t have long before the the statues would begin to melt.

She needed to hurry and find this akuma.

Hearing a thunderous roar, she jumped down onto the pavement and sprinted toward the sound only to find the akumatized person pointing a humongous chocolate cannon at a little girl. Seperated from her parents, the girl screamed and ran, but there was no way she would be able to outrun the much larger man.

“Stop!! Don’t shoot, she’s just a kid!” Ladybug shouted, rushing towards them.

To Ladybug’s surprise, the akuma pointed its canon at the sky and fired. And yet it wasn’t a thick stream of chocolate as she had expected it to be.

“Are you serious?? Chocolate rain?! ” Ladybug huffed incredulously. Finally reaching the little girl, Ladybug pulled her close, spinning her yoyo upwards to shield them like an umbrella. She quipped, “Here’s how we’ll stay dry!”

“Then I’ll make others feel the pain!” the monster bellowed, conjuring up a wave of chocolate to ride on, using a gigantic chocolate bar as a surfboard, and sped towards a shopping center where people were still scrambling to evacuate.

“Hey, get back here!” Ladybug exclaimed, chasing after him. She called back at the little girl, pointing at a fabric store whose owners she knew. “Go inside that building over there with the blue sign! They’ll help you hide!” She watched flicked a glance over her shoulder to make sure the girl was heading to the building, then focused on the akuma.

Ladybug gradually closed the gap between her and the akuma, who was about a couple of blocks away roaring at the crowds. Before Ladybug could reach the akuma, something hit her hard from the side, sweeping her away and shoving her against the side of a building.

Wind knocked out of her and seeing stars, she barely registered what had just happened and struggled weakly to no avail. Thankfully, she’d managed to reflexively protect her neck from whatever hard metal weapon was pinning her down, which she subsequently tried to push away once she noticed its presence, but was too disoriented to succeed.

She groaned, blinking away the fuzziness in her vision and trying to identify her assailant. When she fully opened her eyes, she was met with a pair of bright green, iridescent ones, their unmistakable familiar glow sending a shiver up her spine.

“Chat…?” she rasped, aghast, feeling her stomach drop like an anvil. Staring wide-eyed and having been rendered speechless, her mind was filled with questions, but a single one stood out above all others.

Why?

Ladybug felt stupidly naive now, having let her guard down, foolishly inferring that just because Chat hadn’t shown up yet it might mean that her words had had an impact on him. How presumptuous of her to assume that with a few well meaning gestures she would be able to forge the beginnings of a friendship with someone who had been her enemy for years, how utterly arrogant she’d been.

She had tried so hard to not get her hopes up in regards to where Chat Noir’s allegiance would lie during the next akuma attack. And yet, now that that moment had finally arrived, she still felt woefully unprepared for the amount of hurt she was feeling.

Her chest heaved rapidly and she willed herself to fight back, desperately wanting to punch him, to kick him, to do anything other than to remain frozen under his grasp, and yet she couldn’t summon the strength. She knew she needed to. She had always been able to, putting aside whatever curiosity and worries she’d had about the boy under the mask to do her job. But for some reason this time was different. Had she compromised herself and her own competence in her ill-fated attempt to broker peace between them?

I can’t hurt him. I just can’t.

In the midst of her confusion, she began to plead hoarsely, “Chat, please, I--” But she was interrupted when he placed his fingertips gently on top of her lips. He leaned into her, the subtle yet alluring scent of leather and expensive cologne he always carried with him causing her insides to flutter. The world seemed to have stopped as he pressed up against her, and she could barely hear the commotion around them.

Chat Noir’s cheek lightly brushed against hers and she gasped softly, the confusingly pleasant contact producing goosebumps all over her body. He finally whispered, “The akuma’s in the mixing spoon inside his apron pocket. Watch out for his licorice net gun.”

He lingered for a few extra moments then pulled back, giving her one last indecipherable look, and as quickly as he appeared he was gone. Ladybug stood there, stupefied. All she could do was stare at him vaulting away like a shadow while everything else seemed to move in slow motion.

What the hell just happened?

The incident with the candy akuma was not a one-time occurrence. Chat Noir remained an indirect participant in the next few akuma battles, never staying in one place longer than it took for him to discreetly tackle or corner Ladybug, always making it look like they were fighting, and secretly whisper the location of the akumatized item, some advice or clue, and, on occasion, even a few words of caution.

But Adrien knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up forever. His father had said little about it but Adrien knew that he had noticed, and his excuses about having previous commitments and lessons to attend, or claiming to be concerned about civilian safety (Gabriel had always disdainfully scoffed at his attempts to protect those in immediate danger) would not hold up much longer. It was only a matter of time before Gabriel became truly suspicious.

All he needed was more time.

Somehow, in the midst of his busy schedule and extracurricular activities, for the last few weeks Adrien had begun to secretly research and study as much material as he could about magical artifacts (scarce as said information was), hoping to find some way where he and his father wouldn’t be at odds with Ladybug anymore, and everything could be solved neatly and without violence.

So far there he hadn’t found anything even remotely useful, and his morale was running low.

And so Adrien found himself underground as he often did, clutching a bouquet of pink carnations and standing by the glass capsule (he refused to call it a casket or coffin) that his mother resided in. Harsh, bright, fluorescent lights illuminated this giant underground chamber, which gave it a cold, clinical atmosphere, almost like a hospital room.

(Mood Music: True Colors - Brooklyn Duo cover)

He stood there for a while, taking in her appearance. Since she'd fallen into a death-like coma, she hadn't aged a single day, looking as radiant and beautiful as ever.

Just like he remembered her.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, tracing a finger over the cool, hard surface, speaking quietly and reverently, as if anything louder than a murmur would somehow cause her discomfort.

“It’s so good to see your face right now. So much has been happening lately.” He sighed, then busied himself, placing the fresh flowers in an ornate vase that sat on the table, throwing away the old bouquet into the wastebasket underneath it. “Father’s kept himself really busy and I hardly ever get to see him, even less than usual. We’re like strangers. Sometimes I feel like the real Gabriel Agreste got abducted by aliens years ago and the one we have now is some nefarious martian doppelganger.” He finished fiddling with the flowers and leaned against the capsule, speaking casually, “I mean, you know how he is, he’s never exactly been a cheery ray of sunshine; he’s always had an ornery side,” he chuckled softly.

“But now he’s…” He groaned with a grimace and rubbed the back of his neck. “Now he’s like... a black hole. Not a single spark or hint of light in him anymore. And he sucks your happiness away if you spend time around him. I’m not sure how Nathalie can deal with him every day. I don’t really understand what’s happened to him after all these years. I mean, I know he misses you, like always. But there’s gotta be something more. And I…” He paused, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “I don’t think he’s doing so well. Health-wise, that is.”

Taking a deep breath, he continued, “I walked in on him once a while back as he was having one of his coughing fits and... I saw the blood on the handkerchief. I ran up to him and asked to take him to a doctor but he waved it off, claiming it was just an old stain. And yet, ever since that day, he started using black handkerchiefs instead. He won’t tell me exactly how using his miraculous against Ladybug has been affecting him, but I know this is connected. I don’t know how much longer he can keep this up.” He paused, biting his lip. “I’m really worried about him,” he finally said. He was silent for a few minutes, absentmindedly cleaning a few fingerprints off the glass with his sleeve, trying to keep himself from imagining two caskets side by side.

Never in his life had he felt such heaviness, such sadness, such weariness as the kind he’d experienced this past year. His relationship with his father had deteriorated far worse than he’d ever thought possible. Gabriel’s explosive, violent, and often unpredictable outbursts had everyone around him constantly on edge. And although Adrien would hate to admit it, he was almost afraid of being in his own house. It had gotten to the point where he’d begun wearing a snug leather glove while he slept, so that he would get woken up if Gabriel ever attempted to remove his ring. It hadn’t happened thus far, but one could never be too careful around him nowadays. Something had to change, but he didn’t know what it was.

“Anyway, sorry, enough about that. Ummm,” He changed the subject, scrunching his face deep in thought. “Oh! School starts next week, so that’s pretty exciting! I get to see my friends every day instead of once every few weeks. You’d like them, mom, I know you would,” he rambled excitedly. “I’ve talked about them before. Nino, Alya, and--oh, I think you’d especially like Marinette. She’s a very artsy person, like you are. And she’s super nice. I wish you could meet them all. Someday, maybe...” He smiled sadly, wishing with all his heart that that day actually would come, and yet his hope continued to dwindle

“Oh, and…” Adrien turned his head away briefly and almost winced, like a kid who was about to get grounded. “There’s… someone else I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t know if she counts as a friend yet, but I… I’ve been spending some time with- um, with L-Ladybug,” he stammered. “D-don’t get upset though! I’m just trying to figure out how to help you and not have to fight her. There’s gotta be a way to do both. I just haven’t figured out how yet. I know it would probably be easier to keep doing what Father says and just steal her miraculous, but after all these years it still hasn’t worked and I’m… I don’t...” he trailed off, struggling to find the right words and his hands curling into fists.

Damn it. Why is this so hard?

He let out a big, shuddering sigh, curling in on himself. “I’m tired of fighting, mom. I’m just tired.” He knelt down by his mother’s feet, wearily sagging against the platform and placing a hand on it.

A few minutes passed. Adrien’s thumb stroked the side of her capsule wistfully, imagining how things were many years ago. He would sit on a plush, fluffy rug leaning into his mother’s legs as she tenderly stroked his head while sitting on her favorite sofa, and they would talk for hours.

“I’ve been hanging out with her. With Ladybug, that is,” he finally spoke. “I’ve gotten to know her a little bit. And every time I’m with her, it just hits me that she’s just… a normal girl. A normal girl who’s been granted huge powers, but still, just a girl. She’s not some creepy harpy with fangs who’ll gouge your eyes out with her claws, like Father always made her sound like. She’s…” He smiled fondly, the smile reaching his eyes for the first time that day. “She’s kind of cool, actually. She’s so different from what I ever expected her to be. She’s kind and funny, very friendly, and she’s really prett-- UMM, I mean--” His head shot up, eyes popping wide open. “She’s, uhhh…! She’s pretty neat.” He cleared his throat and fought the urge to unbutton his sweater, since it had suddenly gotten very warm in this large, empty hall.

“Anyway, uh…” He coughed once and continued, “I know I can trust her. I just want us all to get along, and I know she does too.” The side of his mouth quirked upwards and he looked up at Emilie. “It’ll be our little secret, okay?”

He stood and laid his upper half on top of the glass, draping an arm across the capsule and setting his head down upon the cold surface; it was as close to a hug as he was able to get from her.

He looked upon her frozen features with a small smile on his face and said softly, “I love you, Mom. I’ll visit you again soon, okay?”

Adrien made his way down the long platform, finally reaching the exit. He took one last look at the end of the chamber, the bright green of the vegetation in the manmade oasis contrasting starkly against the greys and blacks of the hall’s beams, pillars, and walls. He flicked off the lights and exited, the loud creak of the metal door echoing across the hall, which then became a silent tomb once more.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Enemies AU #Discordant Sonata #fanfiction #Eden writes

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