#the stragglers prologue

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Prologue

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, sports violence, blood probably, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Y’all I’m so excited for this series it’s not even funny!!! I hope you enjoy it as much as I am!

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You stare at the event on your calendar, willing it to disappear into the void. The words “staff meeting” glare back at you as you glance at the clock. Five more minutes. Maybe they’ll cancel. Maybe the sun will fall out of the sky. You nibble your lower lip before you can catch yourself. Your fingers worry the hem of your sweater, keeping time with the thundering of your heart. It’s fine. You’re okay. It’s just a staff meeting. After three years working at Acacia Academy, you’re more comfortable here than you’ve been in any job before, the product of time invested and the aid of a stable schedule, but sometimes you have days like this. Days when the pounding in your heart reaches your ears, echoing like the drum of an executioner signaling your imminent demise.

“Roadie?” Three minutes left and a familiar voice calls out your nickname. You force your lips to curl into a smile as you turn to the door of your currently empty classroom. Your colleague and perhaps your only work friend, Josie Fitch is leaning against the doorframe. She’s wearing the patient, sweet smile she’s always using on her rowdy fourth-grade class. “You ready to go? We have that staff meeting today, remember?” You nod, finding it harder to keep the smile on your face at the reminder of the meeting. Nevertheless, you force yourself to stand, smoothing a hand over your slacks before crossing the room to where Josie’s waiting. She slides her hand into yours, pulling you along after her to the teacher’s lounge and staff conference room.

When you reach the room, it’s already at least half full. Thankfully, Josie takes pity on you and slides into the last pair of chairs in the back of the room, leaving the seats at the front for the stragglers. Dan Jackson, the principal, is standing at the front of the room, hands clasped in front of him and a firm look on his face that makes you struggle not to fidget. Principal Jackson’s gaze drags over the room as the clock strikes three thirty and heaves a heavy sigh before clearing his throat.

“Regardless of attendance, let’s get started. After thoughtful consideration, the school will be implementing a new soft policy. In the face of our upcoming contract renewals and an effort to combat employee fraternization, we’ll be looking at relationship status as a qualification when deciding which contracts get renewed. While a stable relationship is not a hard requirement, as that’s not enforceable under the law, it will greatly help your case for re-employment. Your heart is beating so loudly in your ears that you can barely hear Principal Jackson as he continues. Josie seems to notice your distress and squeezes your hand gently. She doesn’t have anything to worry about since she’s been happily married for twelve years and she’s the mother of two beautiful children who are currently students at Acadia. Not for the first time, you wonder why you didn’t just take a job at a public school. You wouldn’t have to deal with these borderline illegal policies and all the politics that come with working for a private school that’s unregulated by a school board. Unfortunately, public schools are a nightmare for you. Hundreds of students, dozens of teachers, and large buildings make any kind of familiarity almost impossible. During your student teaching years, you worked in a public school and you were constantly on edge leading to your pivot into private schools. Sure the administration is almost always corrupt and the parents are entitled, but at least you know every one of your students and colleagues by name, and as long as you keep your head down, you stay out of trouble. And you’ve done exactly that. Despite the issues Principal Jackson’s speaking about regarding employee fraternization, you’ve been removed from that. No one pays you much attention. Well aside from Jeremy Dickinson.

Jeremy came to Acacia Academy the same year that you did and while you tend towards the fringes of social circles, he’s magnetic and constantly the center of attention. You have a sneaking suspicion that this meeting and new policy is actually a direct response to the negative side effects of said magnetism. Jeremy’s the one that gave you your nickname, Roadrunner or Roadie for short. You’re always dashing from place to place, trying to stay out of people’s way and he joked that you resembled the speedy cartoon character. Now more teachers refer to you by the nickname than by your real name and while it used to annoy you, you’ve taken to appreciating the kind of anonymity that the nickname gives you. If people want to see you as a caricature rather than a person, you’re alright with that as long as their eyes slide over you instead of lingering.

While you’ve been lost in your thoughts, the meeting has come to a close and you slump into your seat as the reality of your situation comes crashing down onto you. Josie’s giving you a concerned look that you do your best to ignore as you stand and head into the mass of people squeezing through the doorway, eager to head home for the day. Josie follows you but doesn’t speak up until you’re back in your classroom. “So, Roadie, what are your plans for the evening?” She’s deflecting, giving you the option to bring up the meeting yourself. You sigh heavily as you start to pack your belongings.

“Looking for a new job, apparently.” You answer with a hollow laugh. She frowns at that.

“You know that policy isn’t about you, right? That’s for people like Jeremy who can’t keep it in their pants. You’ve never dated anyone at school.” You’ve never dated anyone but that’s beside the point. Andrew St. James doesn’t count or so your high school therapist had assured you.

You shrug as you slide your laptop into your tote bag. “You heard Principal Jackson. He wants people in relationships working here. I’m not in a relationship, so I’m at a disadvantage.”

“So maybe you should get a boyfriend,” Josie suggests like it’s the easiest thing in the world and you feel a twinge of bitter jealousy in your chest. As if it’s that simple.

“That’s not going to happen.” You say with a tired shake of your head as you slide the bag onto your shoulder. Josie shrugs but lets the conversation drop.

“If you’re free tonight, you should come with us to the game.” Josie’s been trying to invite you to one of her husband’s games all season. Reuben Fitch is a winger for the newly formed San Diego Dogfighters hockey team here in San Diego. You don’t know the first thing about hockey and sports games are the last place you’d rather be so you’ve casually dodged the invitations over and over but today you’re simply too tired to keep shutting Josie down.

“Sure, why not.” You relent and Josie’s face lights up with excitement.

“Really?! Oh, that’s great, Roadie, the kids will be so excited that you’re coming! They keep begging me to bring you!” The Fitch kids, Jamie and Skylar attend Acacia Academy and thanks to your friendship with Josie and the fact that you’re Skylar’s teacher, you’re all thick as thieves. You’ve babysat for Reuben and Josie plenty of times, giving them some well-deserved time to themselves. As a hockey player, Reuben’s traveling for work almost as much as he’s home, and between that and wanting to be as present of a parent as possible he doesn’t have a lot of time to spend with his wife. Thankfully, Josie takes it in stride, leading her family with a poise you’re constantly impressed by while her husband is away and you’re more than willing to help where you can. While you’ve never been comfortable with your peers, you’ve always been comfortable with children. You think maybe it’s because they don’t expect you to be anything more than yourself. The younger the better in that respect and that’s why you teach kindergarten. Josie gives you the details for this evening, offering to drive you to the arena with them so you don’t have to bother with parking and you swallow hard as you make your way to your car trying to convince yourself that you haven’t just made a huge mistake.

***

You’re starting to wish you hadn’t taken up Josie on her offer. You’re sitting next to Skylar at the end of the row in case you need to make a quick escape. You’re up by the glass and the people in the next section are banging on it as the players zip around on the ice. The kids are caught up in the infectious energy buzzing through the Hard Deck arena. It’s got you dizzy with nerves. One of the Dogfighters slams one of the opposing team against the glass in front of you and you jump, stomach queasy. How anyone could enjoy watching let alone playing this sport is beyond you. You fiddle with the hem of your new sweatshirt that Josie insisted on getting you after the slightly chilly air in the arena was adding to your shivers. The Dogfighters logo is emblazoned on the olive green fabric and it’s ridiculously soft but that’s to be expected given its hefty price tag. You protested but Josie pointed out that she could probably get it discounted and maybe even reimbursed afterward due to her husband’s role on the team. The score is in the Dogfighters’ favor as the other team can’t seem to get on the board. Another player slams into the glass and you jump all over again, realizing this time it’s one of the opposing team shoving a Dogfighter. Despite the fact that he’s most likely going to wake up with an array of bruises you notice that he’s got a fierce grin on his face, dark eyes dancing dangerously as he pushes off the wall and giving chase to his assailant. You suppose you have to love the sport to play it for a living but you’re still struck by his expression long after the game has moved on.

***

The game ends with the Dogfighters shutting out Los Vegas 5-0 and the crowd is in good spirits pushing and shoving as they all try to exit the arena at once. You feel your body get shoved and jostled by a stray elbow and you stumble, righting yourself and realizing you’ve lost track of Josie and the kids. Panic climbs up your throat as you’re carried forward by the crowd as you whip your head from side to side, trying to find your group. You make it through the door and people jostle you every which way as you try and escape the crowd and find somewhere quiet to call Josie. You try to dull the panic as you fight against the stream of people, ducking down hallways, anything to get away from the crowds that are causing your heartbeat to echo in your ears yet again. Finally, you find yourself in some abandoned hallway and fish out your phone, cursing as you realize you don’t have service. You’re about to head back the way you came, anxiety pulsing through your veins when a voice startles you.

“Well, well, you’re definitely not supposed to be here.” You whip around, fear clenching your chest as you spot the man leaning against the wall. His posture is casual but his gaze is electric, curiosity dancing in dark brown eyes. You recognize him as the player you noticed earlier, the one who’d been thrown into the glass. He’s still in his equipment but he’s ditched the helmet, and now you have an unrestricted view of his face. He’s handsome, with a strong jaw and full lips that are currently pulled into a playful smirk. You stammer as you try to find your voice to explain what you’re doing here but he just chuckles, pushing off the wall and stalking towards you like a wolf approaching its prey. You’re pinned to the spot as he comes up, invading your personal space and you can smell the sweat on his skin and something else, a heady, spicier scent that tickles your nose. You’re sure you’re shaking like a leaf as he takes your chin in his hand, frozen from his brazen actions and unable to step away. His eyes search yours before his smirk widens.

“Lucky for you, beautiful, I like a girl who knows what she wants.” His eyes darken and you barely catch the glint in them before his mouth is on yours.

A/N: AAAAAAAAND WE’RE ON OUR WAY!! BUCKLE UP!!! If you’re not on the taglist and want to be, let me know!!!

#false confidence // sdd #fc // sdd #san diego dogfighters au #san diego dogfighters #san diego dogfighters hockey au #top gun maverick hockey au #tgm hockey au #top gun #top gun Maverick #TGM #javy machado #javy machado x reader #javy machado x you #javy coyote machado #javy coyote machado x you #javy coyote machado x reader #coyote x reader #coyote x you #no use of y/n

[steddieas-shegoes]

I didn’t feel like this post was enough of the Steve and Chrissy friendship so please enjoy the prologue ficlet I just spit out faster than a person actually can (please excuse typos!!!)

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

“You ever think about leaving this place?”

“What, Hawkins?”

“Yeah.”

Steve and Chrissy were hiding under the bleachers, waiting for the school to clear out for the day. This was only their second time hanging out together, but Steve hadn’t had this much fun in years.

“I guess. It just doesn’t seem like it’ll happen for me.”

They were sitting across from each other, whispering in case there were any stragglers in the gym, Chrissy still in her cheerleader uniform from practice and Steve freshly showered from basketball practice.

Jason had left with his friends a while ago, so there probably wasn’t much of a reason to stay hidden, but neither of them wanted to deal with him if he came back.

“I have to get out.”

She said it so seriously, Steve wasn’t sure how to respond at first.

Luckily, she continued to explain before he had to.

“If I stay, my future is picked out for me. I’ll graduate, marry Jason, work as a secretary somewhere and have two or three kids that I don’t want. I won’t even get to go to college.”

“Do you want to?”

Chrissy blushed and looked down.

“I wanna be a vet. But my mom told me I can’t. Too much school and she thinks Jason will find someone else and then I’ll be alone.”

“You could find someone at school! That’s so stupid. Your mom sounds stupid.”

Chrissy gave him a small smile in agreement.

“She thinks it’s the life I want.”

“Well, let’s say you get out of here and become a vet. What else does your life look like?”

“Hm.” She tapped her fingers against her knee, then beamed at him. “I’d marry Eddie Munson and he’d bring me backstage on his tours.”

This made Steve pause.

“Eddie Munson? Why him?”

“He’s amazing. He’s cute, and nice, and different. He wants to leave here and be someone. He’s brave.”

Steve agreed. Of course, he didn’t know how to say so without giving away that he’d had a crush on Eddie for months. That was new for him; liking men, admitting that he liked men, knowing the man he liked was Eddie.

Chrissy was looking at him expectantly. He didn’t know what to say.

“What do you think about him?”

Something about the way she asked set alarm bells off in his head. Nobody knew about him liking guys the way he liked girls. It wasn’t exactly safe for others to know.

“I mean, he seems a little odd. But yeah, he seems nice.”

She squinted her eyes at him before looking away, her eyes finding a spot behind him to focus on as she spoke.

“You know I have a cousin, Brad, who has a partner a lot like Eddie. He’s not allowed at family stuff, but I write him letters sometimes and he sends some to me through a friend.”

“Oh.”

“So if you maybe thought Eddie was cute too…”

“What? What makes you think I think he’s cute?”

“Hey, calm down. I was just saying if you liked him, I’d be a safe person to tell, that’s all.”

Steve’s body relaxed. He didn’t have to know Chrissy that well to know she wouldn’t lie about that.

“I-”

“You also don’t have to tell me or anyone. It’s up to you.”

“I do think he’s cute. In an annoying way.”

There. That wasn’t so bad.

Chrissy was smiling at him, reaching a hand over to his knee to squeeze it.

“You should ask him out.”

“What.”

Okay, Chrissy was a smart girl. Surely, she understood why he couldn’t do that.

“Yeah! I bet he’d say yes. Who wouldn’t?”

“Any guy I ask out!”

“Not Eddie. I’m pretty sure he’s into both.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Just a hunch,” Chrissy shrugged.

“Do you have evidence for your hunch or are you just hoping I get punched in the face?”

Chrissy rolled her eyes at his dramatics. Maybe he was being dramatic, but not that dramatic.

“Not exactly. I’ve just seen him at a bar that’s known for being a safe place for people who may swing in different directions.”

“And what were you doing there?” He raised a brow in question.

“I was testing a hunch.”

“You and your hunches.”

“I was right about this one!”

“And what was that hunch?”

“That I liked girls.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. Chrissy Cunningham was like him?

“Oh. So you’re…”

“Yeah. That’s how I guessed you were. And how I’m guessing that Eddie is too.”

“Maybe. I think you’d have a better shot, though.”

Chrissy shrugged. “I think you should ask him out at graduation.”

“What? Step on stage to get my diploma and declare my love? That sounds like a move he would do, not me.”

“No. But after. Maybe invite him to the diner to celebrate.”

“What about you?”

“What about me? I’ve got Jason. Eddie’s gonna be out of this place as soon as he can. He shouldn’t have to wait on me.”

“You have just as much of a shot with him as I do.”

Chrissy thought for a moment before she gave him a soft smile.

“I think you two have a chance at something. Pinky promise me you’ll try?”

Steve held out his pinky and latched it with Chrissy’s.

He would try for her, but he wouldn’t let himself consider a future with Eddie.

#steve harrington #chrissy cunningham #stranger things #tumblr drabbles #ficlet #part 2 but takes place before part 1 #part 1 is linked above

[lemmingthursday]

Here is le prologue, I hope its good and that whoever may find this post enjoys it. Let me know if it needs improving or changes.

Prologue: Mara

I stand in front of a settlement claimed by the rage of the Topearian military. The atmosphere is oppressive, a sort of poetic justice, I suppose, considering the massacre lying before me. The hot heavy sun beats down on me as the humid air seeps into my lungs, drowning me in its density. I take a slow deep breath, the sweet stench of rotting flesh mingling with the sweat drenching my body, and I take in the sights and sounds of the world surrounding me.

330 bodies are scattered across the plains, skin taut and peeling like amrimias in the sun. The flesh is bloated and oozing with a thick putrid decay; decay that’s only found after days and days of exposure to the intense Tepeshi seasons. Any blood that hadn’t evaporated had either stained the soft teal grass a deep jet black, or coated the tents in a thin, flaky crust. Most of the dead belong to the Eramare, and those who didn’t had died of the extreme heat that had enveloped the land, too grief-stricken to move, just frozen like statues, waiting for the gentle kiss of Death's blade. The Topearians never directly kill those they deem righteous. After the raids they always manage to do it themselves.

The rest of the Eramare joined me. They arrive with heavy carts loaded with the necessary funeral preparations- firewood, a red ochreous paint, sangri petals and various appliances to clean the bodies. We’re meticulous when it comes to the dead; we have to be. Cremation frees the soul, the paint spells out the story of the spirit and the flowers are a courtesy for the living. Each and every step is needed to show respect for the deceased and each and every step is needed to aid the Saints in Their judgement.

I look down on the dead body spilled out in front of me, and I can see that their dark skin is already stained with the art of their life.

“Their corpse is older than the others,” I lock my eyes on the splintered and charred firewood encompassing the body. “The group must have been attacked at their funeral.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“It’s effective.”

Azreal sighs. “We’re leaving right after the funeral, right?”

“Right. Speaking of, I’m trusting you with setting up the ceremony, I’m going to look for survivors.”

“What, why? I’m fine with taking charge, but you seriously think they let anyone live?” I slowly pull my gaze away from the dead body. “It’ll be a waste of your energy, just to save a couple stragglers who are probably going to die anyway. You’ve got to think of the bigger picture, Mara. Focus on our own people.”

“Things are rarely exclusive, Az, I’m going to do both. And-”

“Saints, Mar, please spare me the lecture.” Azreal pauses, looking hesitant, “I’m not a child,” he adds, mumbling.

I stare at him as he meanders back to the main group. I forget how young he is. Twenty-one. That’s a decade younger than me, anyway. Sighing, I turn back to the corpse and think back to the hundreds of lessons drilled into me as a child. I slow my breathing and focus my sight, absorbing every inch of the scene in front of me. Not just the charred and blackened body and split wooden logs or the subtle tracks in the damp dirt where the wood was dragged away by charging troops. Not just the squelching and squirming of the carrion worms as they burrow into the hot, decaying flesh hanging from the brittle, pearly bones of their meal. No, I see it all and more. Every single thing in my view, I see it, I feel it. Time fades away and everything becomes as clear as the morning sky. The vastness of the world. And in less than a moment, it all settles on one, single heartbeat-

#oc #original post #creative writing #writing #original character

[itscometothis]

Opening Lines

Tagged by @pia-bartolini! thanks babe :)

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (or however many you have) posted fics and see if there’s a pattern!

erm, one has a prologue so i'm including both because technically, the prologue is first but it feels like its own entity?

OLD AS YOUR OMENS: His throat burned, his shallow breaths causing sharp pains to rack his body as he flinched away from his mother and the poison she poured down his throat. (le prologue).

Regulus was positive he had ceased to exist. (le chapter one)

2. DRUMBEAT OF THE DAMNED: It didn’t happen all at once.

3. ALL THE STOPS: Harry wearily sank onto one of the barstools at the Leaky, joining the stragglers mostly known as the Pathetic Sods Who Have No Where To Go For Christmas.

4.. THE MAGIC OF MACARONS: Draco Malfoy eyed the cookie in front of him with narrowed, skeptical eyes.

5. IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE: “I’ll need you to repeat that.”

6. WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE PARIS: Hermione Granger, in order to avoid Azkaban, stalked her way down the streets of muggle London so she would not murder Rita Skeeter. 

7. A DIFFERENT SORT OF DREAD: Minerva McGonagall would never admit to having a favorite student. 

8. THE PLAN: Hermione Granger had had enough.

9. THE KNIFE: Merlin, this was awkward.

10. DARLING!: Kingsley Shacklebolt was a friend, Hermione reminded herself. She had to keep repeating this to herself as for some reason, Draco Malfoy was seated in the armchair across from her in the lounge next to the Minister’s office. 

So I left a couple things out: drabbles from LDWS, because they feel qualitiatively different as a style, and one of my fave fics of mine, Crime & Punishment, solely because the opening is a recitation of Draco's crimes in transcript form and it's a lot and played with medium. Innocent Monsters was, by that counting, number 11! That's wild, it doesn't feel like I post that much, but it's been 2.5 years since I posted that lil guy.

They're a bit all over the place, but I think the unifying theme here is I usually am trying to establish character/relatability pretty quickly. Relatability and character aren't precisely separate: Hermione is trying not to commit murder, I mean, who hasn't, right? Hermione's at her wit's end. Dying of awkwardness. It strikes the tone and the character's mood while revealing a bit about them.

But, as you move up the list to my two most recent - these are a bit different. I know, as a writer, that I was trying to evoke something of Peter and his betrayal with, 'it didn't happen all at once.' In that sense, it's on brand. This is the tricky thing about fanfic - if itw as OF and we didnt' know anything, it's just a reaction of 'what didn't?' and maybe 'and why do i care that it didn't?" but in fanfic - WHY did this SOB turn from Marauder to Death Eater? And it's Peter's conversational tone I keep throughout.

OaYO reflects its genre - action! - in the prologue. In the opener of Chapter One - a bit of an insistence that, at least from Reg's POV, he really thought he died. (and he did, not a spoiler, it's on the tin of the fic), but it confirms that Regulus thinks so too. It also, I hope, hints at the confusion/disorientation of his return.

Tagging @orangecoluredsky @acanadianmuggle @thebemoon @alptraumdaydream and anyone else who wants to play and hasn’t, already :)

#how do i tag

[hawthorneonarainyday]

Who We Are - Steve Harrington (2)

Prologue | Steve 1 | Eddie | Billy | Ian The two of them had been friends for twenty-two years now. They'd grown up right next to each other, casually holding hands for all their lives. What neither of them had ever considered, though, was that their relationship could ever be anything else. They were just them, Steve and her. Right? Attention! - This is the third part of 'Grey Overalls and Rainy Days' and 'Who We Are (1)'. Please read those first if you haven't yet! Information you might need ♥ ~ Word Count: 16.113 3rd Person (She/Her) Flashbacks will be presented in cursive, since tumblr doesn't really have the neatest typesetting system. In this chapter you will find: Rain, cursing, slow-burn childhood bestfriends to lovers, a lot of physical contact, canon tinkering, flashbacks, arguments, nightmares, comfort, lot's of kissing. There will be mentions of food and eating, blood, canon level violence, loss, grief, death, sex, trauma, bad parenting, cheating, misunderstandings Enjoy ♥

For most of Hawkins inhabitants, it was one normal night.

Cold and quiet, the air moist from the random bouts of rain that fell throughout the last few days, it trickled past the little towns’ population without a hitch. Few people were still awake at this hour, most exhausted from a weeks’ worth of work and everyday life. Families with small children and babies may have been the exception to that rule, at least whenever one of the little ones woke its parents with little, desperate screams for love, warmth and attention.

Another exception were those lucky people whose Friday night dates had gone over successfully, some huddled in their bedrooms on their own reminiscing over their new found love; others wrapped up together in a passionate tangle of limbs, hidden away from prying eyes.

Then there were the few people who were still working. The night shift, the owls of society; people that were easily forgotten by all the other larks. Instead of singing loudly and proudly, flapping their wings audibly to get wherever they needed to, the owls would glide through the night on silent wings. No hooting, not even the rustle of feathers could be heard as they were cooped up at their jobs, serving a few stragglers at diners, bars and gas stations or helping the hurt and elderly at hospitals, sanatoriums, and nursing homes. And, come morning, they would vanish just as silently; back into their homes for no one to find until night dawned again.

The last exception, perhaps the most unpleasant one of the lot, were people like her. People, who had been sleeping for a good few hours already, softly hidden under their duvets. The people who had started out with warm, pleasant dreams about their deepest desires only to watch them turn. The bright, healing light would turn red and suddenly everything looked dark and menacing. People would turn to threats, animals to monsters and panic would slam into them the second they noticed something was off. They would run, fight, try to survive but fail. Then, at the very last second, a moment before the inevitable happened, they would wake up with a fearful scream.

“NO.”

She sat up, teary eyed and hands balled to fists at her sides. Her breath was laboured and unsteady, similar to someone who’d run for their life. The room was dark - usually something she didn’t mind that now had turned into something to fear once more. It took her half a second, maybe less, to kick her duvets aside and stumble to the phone on the wall. She didn’t think about what she was doing, or else she would have hesitated. If she’d been thinking clearly, she’d known that a call like that was always a gamble and, more importantly, probably not necessary.

But she wasn’t thinking clearly.

Her mind was still haunted by what she’d just seen. Pictures of her friends, similar to actual events and yet so, so different. Her heart still hammered in her chest, threatening to burst through her rib cage, as she finished dialling and heard the usual tone. It beeped once, twice, three times and she felt dread crawl up her throat, probably accompanied by bile and maybe even her soul until finally finally someone picked up.

“…Hello…?” The voice on the other end was muffled by sleep, indicating that its owner had been deep asleep until a few moments prior.

“Steve?” She asked, noticing how her voice was laced with panic but unable to do anything about it. There was noise on the other end, a quick, surprised rustling, as Steve sat up straight in bed, triggered into hero-mode by the tone of her voice. “Steve, are you alright?���

“Am I- yes, of course, I’m alright. Are you alright? What happened, what’s up?” Relief flooded her system, dousing her panic and having her legs grow weak. She used her shoulders and the wall to keep herself standing, hands still cramped around the receiver. It was shaking, the cold plastic of the receiver in her hands tap tapping against her feverish skin again and again. It was relief, it was adrenaline and it was one more thing. Because relief wasn’t the only thing that washed over her. No, with it came shame.

Of course he was alright.

He was probably at home, maybe with some tired girl that was now eyeing him in confusion. What would happen to him there? Of course, of course, of course. She’d let her panic guide her again, despite being able to control it most nights. It was rare however, for a dream to feel so real. So desperately real that she woke up and couldn’t see the lines of real and fake.

“Hey, talk to me.” Steve said, his voice distorted by the phone and laced with worry. That, if anything, made her feel even worse. “Are you alright?”

She blinked a couple of times, tears rising in her eyes as she grappled for words - any words really.

“Yeah, I’m-I’m alright, I just…I had this-It’s just-“ She sobbed, unable to hold it back despite desperately trying to. “God, Steve, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I- I shouldn’t have called you in the middle of the night.” Nearly every word was torn apart by a desperate sob, so she wouldn’t have been surprised if Steve hadn’t understood a damn thing she was saying. But, apparently, he did. Because it wasn’t two seconds before she heard more rustling.

“I’m coming over.”

“Wait, no, Steve, you don’t-you don’t have to. I-I’m fine, I will be-“

“Ten minutes.” He didn’t even listen to any more of her protests. The line went dead.

Shit.

Still sobbing, she sank down to the floor beneath the telephone. Just like Steve had done eons ago, she let go of the receiver, causing it to jump up and dangle somewhere next to her head as she tried to slow down her tears. She felt stupid and childish for the amount of relief she had felt the moment Steve had confirmed that he was alright. Of course he was, god, what was she thinking? How much of an idiot could one person be? And Steve had been so calm about it. If it had been the other way around, she would probably have snapped at him and thrown the receiver down to go back to sleep.

Okay, that was a lie. It was far more likely that she would’ve hung up the phone and rushed out in PJ’s and slippers to drive her bike across town to the Harrington house, to the boy who was despairing much like she was right now.

Although, admittedly, it would have taken her far longer than it took him.

It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes when Steve unlocked her front door, his shoes already half kicked off by the time he’d relocked it behind him. Just like he’d secretly expected, she was still sitting beside the phone, curled up like a child and sobbing into her arms. She could hear his steps over her cheap floors, the soft tapping of socks against linoleum and then carpet. The dangling receiver was hung up with a soft ‘click’ before Steve crouched down before her.

Cold, familiar hands framed her face, carefully lifting it out of his hiding space. Steve sent her a semi-comforting smile when their eyes locked, worry still setting his brows in a deep frown. With his thumbs, he wiped some tears off her face; a gentle move that made her want to cry even more.

“Hey there, sweet girl.”

That was all he said.

He didn’t ask any questions; he didn’t demand any explanations. He just stayed there, one hand still stroking her cheeks as the other smoothed out her hair which, in turn, made her sob even harder. Steve sighed at the sight.

“I’m sorry.” The words were breathless, squeezed out between tears and shame.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay.” He said, gentle yet firm enough to have her stop. For a moment, he watched her sob on helplessly; but then he moved, leaving his crouch in favour of sitting down, his back against her bed. To do that, he had to let go of her face, grabbing her hand instead. Much like he’d done back in family video, he used his thumb to massage away any tension. He did so thoughtlessly, an unconscious effort to calm her down. Her eyes focused on their hands, the movement a welcome distraction.

“I had a dream.”

“I figured.” He didn’t ask what it was about.

She’d tell him anyway.

“You were in it.” Steve just hummed, encouraging her to keep going. She bit her lips for a second, debating whether she actually should. But she did, of course she did. “It was ’83 again.” Funnily enough, it was a year she rarely dreamed about – if ever. In the grand scheme of things, that year really hadn’t been all that bad. “Just as you did, you freaked out. Dragged me out of the Byers house and shoved me towards the car. And, of course, I was yelling at you.” ’83 was maybe not a totally horrible year, all things considered, but it hadn’t been a good year for the two of them.

They’d argued a lot.

About Steve ditching her for Nancy all the damn time, about her being ‘jealous’ over his ‘functional relationship’ and over him still being friends with Tommy and Carol, even after what they’d done to her. In the friendship of her and Steve, that year was a mess.

‘Well, why do I have to suffer just because you can’t pick your boy toys properly!?’ He’d said to her when she asked him why he was still hanging around their former friend group. ‘Honestly, what did you expect? You’ve known Tommy since middle school – he was always a dick. Your fault for going steady with him.’

Sure, he wasn’t wrong. She’d accepted Tommy despite knowing his character. But that didn’t mean she deserved to be cheated on, like he so unsubtly hinted. When she said nothing and just stared at him, he immediately realised what he’d said. His eyes widened at his own words and his mouth opened.

‘Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t-‘ He didn’t make it further, because she’d socked him straight in the face, just like her big brother had taught her. It would be days later that she’d find out how good a hit she’d landed. But right then, she just stared him down as he looked up at her in shock, a hand pressed to his eye.

‘You’re an ass, Steve Harrington.’ She’d spat, rage and hurt steeling her voice. And with that, she’d turned and left him, sitting at the quarry all on his own.

That day would be the last time they spoke for a good, couple of months. It wasn’t until Barb vanished from his yard that she’d finally found enough good will in herself to actually go and check on him. Not that that had meant she’d forgiven him, hell no. She’d basically yelled at him the whole time and he, the mean bitch he was back then, yelled back; neither of them able to tell each other how sorry they were and how much they’d missed each other. Because back then, that was who they were. Two dumb, stubborn kids.

She sighed and looked up at the Steve of ’89, older and nothing like the dick he’d been in high school. That was the Steve she’d always known, always seen in him. The kind and caring, slightly dorky version he’d nearly lost by pretending to be something else.

“And just like you did back then, you saw the lights flicker and froze. I immediately knew what you were going to do, so I tried to stop you, but you idiot didn’t listen.” When did he ever. “You just yelled ‘Nancy, Nancy’s in there!’ and ran back in. And I followed you - of course I did.” Steve nodded, the dream in line with what he remembered about that night. “But when I stumbled into the room, you didn’t have that damn bat.” A gaussian blur fell over her surroundings, tears rising once more. Her voice was frail when she went on, thinned by her effort not to sob again. “Jonathan still had it, but he was out cold and the Demogorgon was heading towards Nancy and you-“ Her voice broke, the sob finally freeing itself. “- you idiot jumped in between her and that thing, pulling one of your stupid hero moves without any weapon or armour.” She used her free hand to wipe her eyes roughly. “That thing, it just-it tore you apart, Steve, and there was nothing I could do. I went for the bat, I killed that thing, but by the time I was done you were already…you were bleeding so much. I couldn’t help you and you were barely conscious, gurgling up blood and shit-“ For a moment, she covered her eyes with her hand, trying and failing to push the image out of her mind. “I was panicking, because this…this couldn’t be it.” The same desperation she’d felt in her dream was now creeping up her chest. “It just- I couldn’t even tell you that I was sorry, for fucks sake. The last things you’d remember about me would be me giving you a black eye or me yelling and cursing at you. And I tried so hard to keep you alive, but you-you suddenly went all slack and stopped breathing.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “That was when I woke up. I should have known it was a dream, because shit, I wouldn’t be in this house if it had been real. I’d likely be- I don’t know, Mind Flayer goo or Demodog feed or whatever. But it-it felt so real, Steve. It felt so real, because it was such a tiny, seemingly meaningless difference that triggered such a different line of events, I just-I needed to make sure that you were okay.”

Steve was quiet for a moment after she’d finished, processing all that she’d said, before letting out a deep sigh. With gentle hands, he pulled her forwards and into his lap. His arms curled around her waist; a firm, grounding pressure. Her arms found their way around his neck all on their own and she pressed herself against the boy in an effort to remind herself that he was actually there. Wordlessly, he accepted her clinging and started to pat her back, merely a calm, rhythmic movement of his hand against her shoulders.

“I’m okay.” He said, his voice close to her ear. “I’m okay, sweet girl. It was just a dream.” Her breath stuttered at his words, unshed tears making it hard to breathe. “Just a dream.”

“I know.” She whispered back. “Now, I know. I knew the moment you answered your phone.”

“Good. Good job.” She didn’t know what exactly the good job was and she didn’t feel like asking either. Instead, she pressed herself closer to him, fingers brushing the hair on the back of his head. This close, all she could smell was Steve’s signature scent – sandalwood, lavender and just…just Steve.

It was a scent she always liked – she bought him the cologne that caused two thirds of it – but right then, on the floor of her tiny bedroom, it felt more important than ever. Enough, to have her inch that tiny bit closer, press her nose as close to his skin as she could and just breathe. In and out, in and out…

If you’d ask her later, she couldn’t have said why, but right then everything felt… different. More raw, more open, more important, more terrifying, more honest, more overwhelming – so, so overwhelming. His hands on her back, his chest against hers, his breath ghosting her skin, his scent all around her - all overwhelming to her already frayed nerves.

And yet there was a small, minuscule part of her that didn’t want to ever let go. It wanted to hold on to the boy forever, bask in this state of familiar and unknown, of overwhelming and calming and just breathe him in.

For a moment, a self-indulgent, selfish moment, she just did.

Even later, she wouldn’t be able to tell you who’d started it; whether it was a decision they’d both simultaneously made. Maybe it was Steve trying to comfort her in whatever way he could or maybe it was just her, instinctively seeking him out. All she knew, was that their lips met halfway and suddenly her senses, already overwhelmed by his presence, were flooded even more with all things Steve.

Their kiss was nothing like either of them could’ve imagined. Mainly because neither of them ever did - but if they had, it wouldn’t have been anything like this. There was no desperation or hunger; no hidden terror or huge feelings. No one was clinging to the other, no one was moving hurriedly, trying to get closer and closer before the inevitable end. There was no fire, there was no fear. Just…

Comfort.

This kiss was strangely comfortable. Their lips were moving against each other in the softest way, a new sensation that left a pleasant tingle in its wake. What should have felt nerve wrecking, terrifying, felt anything but. No, the kiss was filled with familiarity and warmth. Like they’d been here before, like they were coming home after a long time gone; welcoming and longful.

God, so longful.

A deep sense of longing replaced any possible adrenaline. It wasn’t quite… complete, though. The longing could have been for love, for each other, for intimacy or touch. There was no name to put to it yet. It was just there, having them both pull each other closer, having them deepen the kiss with no thought, just pure longing.

Underneath that kiss, she could feel all that was Steve. She could feel his kindness and consideration within every move. The smell, the taste, the way his tongue brushed her lips, all of that was so, so him that it felt like they’d kissed a million times before. And yet she never wanted it to end, wanted to keep exploring this new familiarity with him until they both ceased to exist. She wouldn’t have missed anything, as long as she could have this, have him.

Even so, the moment had to end.

It did with her reluctantly loosening the tight hold she had on him, slowly drawing back. Her forehead stayed against his for another moment, noses touching in the softest way, as they breathed each other in one more time. But eventually she eased back so she could see his face. His lips were a soft pink, clearly kiss-bitten, and his eyes were trained on her, black in the low light of her room. With careful fingers, she cradled his face in her hands; soft knuckles gliding over unshaven cheeks. A deep breath left Steve’s lips at her touch, both tired and comforting.

“I didn’t want you to come rushing all the way here.” Her voice was quiet, merely a soft whisper in the night. Under his eyes, there were dark circles; Thin skin darkened by long days and short nights. His breath hitched lightly when her fingers shifted, the tips of her fingers now curling into his hair as her thumbs drew softly over the darkened skin. Steve leaned into her hands a bit more, hot air washing over her fingers with every breath he took.

“I know.” He said, his fingers curling around her wrists, holding them in place. Steve’s hands were too warm; two burning bracelets pressed against her skin. Part of her wanted to shake them off, while the rest of her just revelled in the feeling. His dark eyes never left hers, both knowing that whatever moment they were having, whatever emotions were passing right then would be over as soon as they did. “But you needed me to.”

She did.

Because that was who she actually was.

***

No one mentioned that night after it had passed.

That should’ve been dreadful, horrifying, and uncomfortable – but it really wasn’t.

Steve had stayed the night, neither of them wanting to let go of the other. They’d moved to the bed, covered themselves with her duvet and fell asleep far too close. There were little reservations between the two, having shared a bed more often than anyone would like to believe. They knew each other’s quirks; she knew how to evade Steve’s grabby arms and how to stop him from hogging the blanket just as he knew how to keep her cold feet out of his area and how to get her to stop snoring with just his elbow. After that night, they just knew one thing more about each other. One less thing to be shy about.

The next morning, they’d downed a cup of coffee each; Steve close enough to bump her hip as they stood in pleasant silence. They’d gotten ready, Steve taking painstakingly long to do his hair and she yelling about it, and then he had driven her to work. The drive was spent bickering about who would drive her home later, seeing as Steve was working late. He went as far as making her promise she would ask one of her boys for a ride and only after that was he willing to let her go. She jogged the few steps inside, waved at him and he drove off into another rainy day.

It was the same as always.

 An old routine, repeated a hundred times over the years they’d known each other. There was nothing uncomfortable about any of it, no regrets, no talks to be had. There was nothing but her and Steve, exactly like they’d always been.

Maybe that was a good thing? It could be that the two of them had simply unlocked another level of platonic skinship and intimacy. That wouldn’t be the worst thing and honestly? It wouldn’t be surprising either. They’d always been extremely close, never afraid to hug, hold hands or touch each other in any way. Maybe kissing was just a new addition, a new stage to their ever-growing friendship.

Or, maybe, both of them somehow knew that it wasn’t yet the time. That, whatever had happened that night, was not yet ready; that there was something missing before they could put a name to it. And maybe, just maybe, they both knew that mentioning it too early, mentioning that kiss while the sun was out, would lead to shame and despair. That asking for answers, for clarification neither could give would have them stumble and fall.

Maybe they both knew, that patience was a virtue worth having.

So going about their days as usual didn’t hurt. It was nice to see that they could go back to what they were. Even as weeks passed, they could meet up, hang out alone or with their collective friends and just be themselves. She would still call Steve every night and ask about his day. He would still show up at her shop at random, completely unannounced, and yet always welcome.

In fact, that was what he did that day.

At noon, a couple of weeks after the nightmare, he’d kicked open the door to her shop like he owned the place. In his hand, a huge box of donuts for the hungry mechanics of Hawkins only repair shop. Tiny drops were covering the box from where it had been hit by another day’s rain – on the news, the weatherman kept telling them it would be over soon, that the everlasting rain would soon be gone, but for now they’d still have to make due – but the donuts itself were still deliciously warm. Steve had snagged them a few before her ravenous boys could devour them all, and now he was sitting on a table she’d repeatedly told him not to sit on and watched her work with mild interest.

And work she did.

One of the richer inhabitants of Hawkins, a neighbour of the Harringtons most likely, had booked in his car with mysterious ‘troubles’. Usually that wasn’t strange or worry-worthy at all. Few people knew what they were talking about when it came to cars, though many of them liked to act as if they did. But what the dude had ‘forgotten’ to mention was that his car was one of those imported fancy-ass cars that were more trouble than they were worth.

“Ah fucking shit.” She sighed and pushed her hair back. “This is a nightmare. An absolute fucking nightmare. I hate rich people. I hate them so much.”

“Oi.”

“You’re not rich, pretty boy. You work at family video.” Steve protested from behind, but she didn’t listen.  “Otherwise, I’d have you buy this car fresh and new to save me the god damn hassle.” Steve just snorted at her nagging, offering up a donut for her to bite. Obviously, she did, humming happily at the taste. It was simple yet pleasant, soft dough with a coating powdered sugar. For some reason, those exact donuts had always been her favourite while other people tended to label them as boring or too plain. But she loved them, maybe even too much.

“Come on, you already did so much…stuff.” He said, wiping some powdered sugar off her lips with his thumb. “I mean, you totally look like you know what you’re doing.” He pointed to the assortment of stuff, picking up a spark plug with two fingers. “Like, when you removed this thing? Total pro.” She rolled her eyes, plucking the spark plug out of his hands.

“This ‘thing’ is a spark plug. And it’s covered in coolant, idiot.” She grabbed one of the wet wipes she kept on hand to wipe his fingers and offered up her sleeve so he could dry them off. “Keep your phalanges off this stuff, or your hands will end up like mine.” He shrugged.

“At least then I look like I have a respectable job.”

“You do.”

“Oh sure, I rent out videos for a living – can’t get any more respectable than that.” She grinned as his fingers wrapped around her wrist, fingertips directly over her pulse point. Now, if they’d been paying attention, they would’ve noticed her boys throwing them suspicious glances. Everyone knew that a lot of Steve’s and her relationship was based on skinship, with both of them being on the touchier side, but lately, their casual skinship had reached new heights that hadn’t been lost on the people around them.

“Well, I do know something that might be a little more respectable than the honourable duty of rewinding tapes and restocking porn shelves.” The boy groaned, his head tipping back.

“Jesus, you’re more excited about that than I am.”

“Duh, I have to be excited for the two of us. You won’t, will you?” She cocked her head with a grin. “Nurse Steve?” He flicked her forehead and pushed her away.

“Yeah, yeah, cool yourself, dude, you’re getting oil on my jeans.” Whoops.

“Oups, sorry.” She stepped back. “But it’s not just oil, it’s coolant too.”

“Sure, and whatever else they smear inside a car then.” He shrugged and leaned back, gazing at the assortment of stuff she’d removed from the engine. “What exactly is wrong with that thing that you have to rip it apart like that?” She rolled her eyes, swatting his hands away.

“Don’t touch those, you’ll get them mixed up.” Steve was very talented at causing mild chaos. Which wasn’t all that bad, usually, but not then. Not with that car. “That baby” she pointed towards the car “has a major blown head gasket.” Steve winced. He may have known nothing about cars, seriously he barely knew how to change a tire, but he’d listened to her whine about head gaskets enough to know that those were nasty to deal with.

“Shit.”

“Yupp.” She sighed deeply. “And the moron has likely be driving around with it for quite some time. Ugh, I don’t even want to check for warpage. Might as well just get rid of that damn thing, she’s more coolant than oil at this point.” Why were people like that? The mechanics were pretty certain the moment Billy had moved the car inside for her, all eyeing it with a big sigh. It wasn’t even subtle. The poor thing was literally smoking like a god damn dragon and everybody should know that that wasn’t a good sign.

“But you can fix it?”

“Think so. Depends on how and if I can get the parts, because apparently American cars aren’t good enough for him.”

“German?”

“French.”

“Yikes.”

“Exactly. Getting the parts is not going to be fun, like, at all.” She leaned her head against his shoulder with a sigh. “And the cleaning…I hate the cleaning so much.” Mainly because it bored her to death. There was nothing fun about scrubbing a valve cover with some cleaner and a toothbrush. It was repetitive and messy. Steve chuckled, patting her head before shrugging his shoulder.

“Come on, sweet girl, take another bite and then get back to it. You can do it.” He held out the donut once more and took care of the sugar on her lips straight after. “And, you know what? Let Munson do the cleaning. Serves him right.” She grinned at that. Maybe she actually should, put the newbie to work where he couldn’t break anything. Still chewing, she went back to the car to keep disassembling it. “Oh, and we’re getting a new delivery soon.”

“Yeah?”

“Hmmh. And guess what’s on the list.” She perked up.

“Don’t tell me it’s-“

“’Working Girl’, yeah.” He watched her do a happy tippy tap from one foot to the other while unscrewing something out of view. “And Beetlejuice too.”

“That’s the one Robin likes, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, she’s been talking about watching it with us for ages now.” She nodded. It was absolutely true, since Robin had a not-so-secret obsession with Winona Ryder. Countless times had shared movie nights begun with ‘Square Dance’ – much to Steve’s dismay. And sure, he’d protested but Robin won each and every time.

“Well, when’s the delivery due?”

“Monday, like always.”

“Then how ‘bout a double feature on Friday? Robin, You, Me – my place.” He snorted.

“First: Why don’t I get to pick a movie?” Because he’d likely pick Top Gun again. And nothing against Tom Cruise, but god she couldn’t watch that one again. By now, she could play every part herself. A one women Top Gun. “Secondly: Friday the same week?”

“No, Steve. I meant November 27th 1991, please. That should be a Friday, right?” Steve sighed, shaking his head. Not that she saw that, she just knew.

“You know, you could’ve just said yes.”

“Stupid question, stupid answer, Steven.” He scoffed.

“Bite me.” Maybe she would, next time he offered up that donut. “I’m busy that Friday, so that’s a no for me.”

“What, busy on a Friday night?” Her brows rose as she tried really hard to loosen a nut. God, please. She didn’t want to ask Billy or Ian again. The boys always teased her if she did. “You got a hot date or what?”

“Yes, actually.” She nearly dropped the wrench and fumbled to catch it, before her head snapping towards him. He was still sitting there as she’d left him, fiddling around with something she was sure she’d asked him not to. But right now, that wasn’t important.

“What?” It didn’t come out as aggressive as one might think. Rather, mildly surprised. Extremely curious. Something like that.

“Yeah, uh…You know, Robin said that, uh, Chelsea – remember her?” She furrowed her brows, raking her mind for a Chelsea. Initially, there was nothing but after a moment, it clicked and the image of a girl with a choppy brown bob and kind brown eyes appeared before long.

“Uh…yeah, I think we met her…once? She’s the one with the brown bob, isn’t she?”

“Exactly, her.” He nodded, rubbing his hands together. “Robin told me that Chelsea mentioned that she thought I was kinda cute, so Robin offered to set us up.” Yeah, she could vividly imagine that conversation. Robin was quite the wannabe Cupid, if given the change. Both Steve and Chelsea probably didn’t know what hit them. “And, well, she did. So Friday it is.”

“Oh. Uh, okay. But what, uhm, what happened to ‘just wait and see’? I thought you wanted to do that. Take a break for a while.”

“Yeah, well, I guess that kinda counts, doesn’t it?” Did it though? Was two weeks really ‘waiting’? “I mean, it-it’s a really short wait, sure, but maybe me giving up was, you know, enough?” Well, she didn’t know about that. But she turned back to her car with a slight nod.

“Yeah. Maybe.” She shrugged. “It’s great, though, Steve. That you…found someone so quickly.” Didn’t feel great, though, for some reason. No, quite the opposite actually. She felt like she wanted to kick something.

“Yeah, yeah, no, really.” He said, nodding to himself behind her back. “I think so too.” She kept her eyes on the engine, focused on the stubborn nut. Annoyance was already settling in, most likely because she knew what would follow. Steve took no notice of her mood, too preoccupied with his usual rambling.

“And, you know, Chelsea, she, uh, she wants to be a dentist, I think. Honestly, I never listened to properly when Robin told me, but I think that’s what it was. And that’s, like, really cool isn’t it?”

“Super cool, Steve.” Inside her, something moved. It was something she’d felt every time when Steve got like this, all rambly about some girl, but she never felt it as strongly as she did now. It was something sticky and ugly crawling around, looking for a way out. And she knew, she just knew that she shouldn’t let it. Whatever that ugly feeling was, it had to stay caged in her ribs until she could figure it out.

“Right? That’s, like, a proper job. And, you know, she’s really smart too. Remember that theory she told us about, that, uh, parallel universe bullshit? That was super, uhm, profound.” God, was he just trying to find big words to describe her? She’d heard that theory and it was, in fact, bullshit. Nothing made sense about it, even Robin had said so. And she knew Steve had thought so too, shit, he’d told her himself.

But here he was, chatting on. Her brows kept dipping lower with every word he said, the ugly creature inside her chest fought harder to get out; leaving hot, angry residue wherever it stepped.

“And, yeah, well she is really pretty. Obviously.” That was actually true. Chelsea was extremely lovely to look at, all petite build and nice smiles. Way back, Robin and she had even made fun of Steve, because she was almost exactly Steve’s type. Her face might have been a lot softer than Nancy’s, specked with eyes the colour of hot chocolate, but the rest fit the bill well enough. The full brown hair, the petite body, a flawless porcelain complexion, the big eyes and even the clothes were all things Chelsea and Nancy had in common. Chelsea was much more agreeable and a lot nicer than the Wheeler princess, though, at least at a glance.

“I think that, with enough time and talk, she and I can probably get to know each other. You know, learn to see eye to eye and stuff. Well, we do kinda see eye to eye – at Robins birthday party we did agree that blue is a great colour on brunettes.” Steve blabbered on, not noticing that she had stopped reacting to anything he said. She was too focused on controlling her emotions, the anger that bubbled up around the ugly the longer his ramble went on. “But I mean on a more substantial topics than, uhm, colours. You know, with a little time and patience, she could even be…” However, the thing with caged creatures was that they grew angry. The longer they fought, the longer they stayed caged, the angrier they became.

And, eventually, the cage would break.

“Steve” she interrupted, slamming her hands onto the car frame “Can you shut up!?” Her head turned towards him, eyes glaring. “Just shut up for a god damn minute.” Steve, ever the rehabbed mean girl, bristled immediately at her tone and sat up straight.

“What are you getting all pissed for!?”

“I’m not getting ‘all pissed’!” He got off the table, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, obviously you are.” He snapped back, a hand gesturing towards her. “I mean, what-what’s wrong, what pissed in your breakfast?” The two were unaware that they’d drawn the attention of the other mechanics inside the shop, both too busy glaring at each other to see how a row of heads rose from popped hoods and from behind cars. And really? Even if she’d noticed, she was too annoyed to care.

“You know what?” She asked as she took a couple of steps towards him. “You did, Steve.” She stubbed her finger against his chest, something she knew he hated. “You did, because you’re doing it again.” Steve was scowling so hard, his brows almost turned into one.

“What do you mean by that? What am I doing ‘again’?” An unamused sound left her lips as she stared at him.

“Amping up a girl that you’ve met once.” He was always like this, like a child, running towards something that wasn’t certain. “You’ve met her once, Steve, one time for maybe two or three hours. Hours, during which Robin did most of the talking, by the way.” She shook her head. “You’re always like this. You-you’re projecting your hopes and dreams onto them, Steve, and they never meet your expectations. Honestly, at this point I don’t think you’ve really had feelings for any of them, you just talked yourself into having them!” Her scowl matched his, both almost sneering at each other like angry cats. “It’s ridiculous! I mean, take Chelsea.” She would probably feel bad later for using her as an example, but she was already the topic of conversation so it was just easy. “Like, how do you know she’s smart!? She could be the biggest idiot! You’ve met her once and talked to her for maybe five minutes – two of which were spent on deciding that the colour blue is great, apparently!” He opened his mouth, likely do disagree, but she didn’t let him. “Don’t try to tell me that it wasn’t like that, because I was there, Steve! Chelsea barely got a word out until Robin started talking.” The girl was really shy until she got to know someone, at least according to Robin herself. “And yet you’re sitting here, talking like you’ve known her for ages! Like she’s the best girl you’ve ever met! And if you really think she’s ‘the one’, great! I’m happy for you!” That was the thing. There was that pathetic bit of ugliness inside of her, the part that sneered when Steve said he had a date. But the rest of her wanted to be happy for him. She wanted him to be happy, to go on a good date, to finally find love. She wanted that more than anything. “But I don’t think you do, Steve.”

How could he? How could he actually believe that Chelsea could be ‘the one’ simply based on the fact that they would go on a stupid date? Love wasn’t supposed to work like that. It wasn’t supposed to be just…just trying to make do. And, for some reason, the boy who was desperate for love was the only one who’d yet to realise it. “This is not how this thing works, Steve. You can’t just…just go ahead and decide for yourself that ‘with enough work’ someone could become special to you.” People just…became special. If everyone could actually pick who they wanted to love there would be way less heartbreak. Just look at her! She never would’ve picked Tommy out of all the guys she’d known back then. She just started to like him. That was all.

“That’s not real love, Steve. It’s just you, imagining how you’d like this to go. It’s…it’s talking yourself into settling for someone you might not even want.” That was what she suspected, at least. Steve wasn’t blind, she knew that, and he was smarter than most people gave him credit for. Sure, he could be simple and he failed at anything that remotely involved maths and strategic thinking, but he was smart. He could understand more than others thought, and he could understand himself more than he liked to admit. he must have known every time; he must have known that the next date would fail again because Becky, Sarah, Caroline, Jessamine, Nicole, Bridgit, Laura and whoever else he’d taken out weren’t what he was looking for. That he’d once again fooled himself into a delusion of love.

But Steve Harrington was, more than anything, a stubborn bastard.

It was how he was raised. Stubborn perseverance, stubborn survival, stubbornly holding on to something he was about to lose. It made him resilient, but it tended to make him unreasonable at times, just as it did right now. She saw how he set his jaw, how he stared her down.

“So?”

“So?” She repeated, almost shocked. That was all he had to say? So? An unamused chuckle bubbled out of her chest, the ugly riding it like a steed. “So” she started, eyes trained on his “in a week, when you’ve been on your date.” Something in her was begging her to stop, to stop talking right now but she couldn’t. Once you’ve jumped off a cliff, nothing could stop your fall. “Will you come crawling to me again, crying because she isn’t the girl you made her out to be?” Steve’s face fell and her eyes widened in shock. “No, no no no, wait. I-Steve, I didn’t-“ He didn’t let her finish.

“You know what?” Steve was looking straight at her, anger and hurt clear in his voice. “Fuck you.”

He was gone before she got another word out, the door slamming shut behind him.

She was left standing, staring at where he’d just been standing, cursing her own damn mouth. Why didn’t she just shut up? God, how could she say any of that!?

“Fuck!” She kicked the table, pain immediately shooting up her leg. Things fell over, engine parts rolled off and scattered. She tuned towards the god damn car next, half a mind to beat it to pieces with nothing but a wrench, but someone was quicker.

Ian had caught her wrist a mere second after the thought popped up, peeling the wrench from her clenched hand with skilled fingers.

“Gimme that.” Was all he said. He threw the wrench towards Eddie – who fumbled very hard to catch it – and far away from her. Next he stepped aside, nodding towards the door. “Out.” She didn’t move, glaring up at the dark-haired mechanic. Who was he to tell her what to do? But Ian wasn’t having it, offering no reaction to her sharp glare. “Come on, move it.” He said, more emphasis this time and a hand on her shoulder that pushed her onwards and out the door. Maybe she would have fought back, had she not known it would be completely useless. She wasn’t weak, but Ian was really strong.

All of her boys were.

It was still early, barely past noon, so the sun was still going strong; Its beams defying the dark clouds that seemed to have permanently settled above Hawkins. For now, there was no rain. Pretty much only a matter of time, though. The grey sky seemed to be copying her mood perfectly, a visualisation of whatever was brewing inside her head.

Her thoughts were tripping over each other, anger turning to shame turning to dread. And not that tiny, unimportant dread you felt when you encountered a small spider or saw a goose gaze at you from afar. No, this was real dread, the kind that had your heart speed up and hammer against your chest.

But this wasn’t a fight or flight situation.

Ian placed her down onto the tire stack in front of the shop. No one really knew where this thing had come from or who’d put it there, but after days and days of ‘I’ll deal with this later’ they’d sort of accepted it as part of the shop. It was nice, like it belonged right there. Two stacks of four and then two tires, haphazardly thrown up next to the entrance. It gave this whole place a very lived in ambience and it provided them with a chair for when it was needed. Most of the time, she and the boys would use it when they were on their smoke break, arguing over who got to sit and who had to stand.

This time, there was no arguing though.

She just plunked down when he wanted her to, slumping in on herself. Blood was still rushing in her ears from the fight, anger still hot in her veins, while her head was filling more and more with dread. Her words were running through her mind, over and over again; an ouroboros of letters that seemed to endlessly spin and spin without ever tiring.

God, she’d hurt him. She’d hurt Steve.

Of all people, she’d said that shit to him. Was she insane? Fuck, usually she’d beat up anyone who dared to talk to him like that – which made this even worse because Steve likely knew that. He knew that she’d kick the shit out of every little shit stain that came at him like that because that was who she was. Steve wasn’t the only one who was fiercely protective of his people, of her. No, she could do that just as much and yet she’d basically told him he was an annoying, desperate, lonely little bitch.

That fact alone made her nauseous.

She must have made a weird noise, because suddenly a hand was placed on her head; long fingers gently tousling her hair. When she looked up, Ian was looking at her like he usually did. His light blue eyes calm and focused, a fresh cigarette hung between his lips. He tutted softly when he saw tears build in her eyes, his caressing never ceasing as he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket. Silently, he held it out to her.

The thing was old and faded by now, the hemming barely intact and the monogram stitched into it fraying here and there. It was clean and smelled of detergent, almost too strongly.

One of his siblings must’ve helped with the wash again.

“Don’t just stare at it, sweetheart.” She hesitated another moment, before taking it. Folding it carefully, she used it to wipe the tears that were threatening to overflow. It didn’t help much, the tears much quicker than her dabbing hands, but it was better than nothing.

“I’m going to get it dirty.”

“It’s a handkerchief. That’s what they’re made for.” She knew that he knew exactly what she was talking about, but she didn’t push it.

“I fucked up, didn’t I.” Ian, the ever-honest Ian, smiled softly before nodding.

“Yeah.” Her eyes fell shut, a sob nearly making its way past her lips. She tried not to let it, tried to keep it down. It wasn’t her place to cry. She’d been the one who hurt Steve, not the other way around. She didn’t get to cry about that.

Ian, however, was making it hard not to.

“It will be okay, you know?” He said, fingers still in her hair. It should’ve been annoying and patronising, she was older than him after all, and maybe she should have protested the gentle pats and strokes but…she liked it. She’d always liked it and Ian knew that too. So, she ignored the part of her that yelled ‘I’m a grown woman!’ and instead let herself enjoy his easy affection.

“Will it though?” She asked back. “Because I don’t know.” Maybe it would have been, had she not added that stupid last bit. She closed her eyes with a helpless sniffle. “Fuck, I didn’t even mean…Well, I meant a lot of it, because a lot of it is true but I didn’t mean…I basically told him that I mind when he comes to me if he needs it.” Don’t sob. Don’t sob. Don’t sob. It was slowly becoming a mantra, uselessly so. “And that’s not it, that’s never it. It’s-god. It’s Steve. My Steve. Of course he can come to me if he needs to. He can cry about everything, no matter how often he repeats himself, I don’t care.”

“I know.” Ian said, wiping her cheek with the back of his hand. The gesture was extremely brother-y and she felt her throat close up even more. Fuck, did he have to pull out the kind big brother thing every time? It made shit really difficult to suppress. “And he knows that, too. Just like he knows that you weren’t wrong.” Ian blew out some smoke and shrugged. “I like the guy, you know I do, but his desperate quest for love really is something.” It was. Steve and Nancy had broken up five years ago by now, and although Steve was great he hadn’t managed to find someone else to be with. It was always one-time things, maybe some flings but that was pretty much about it. “Who knows? Maybe it was exactly what he needed to hear.”

“…But there’s things one should say and things one shouldn’t. And this-“

“Is sometimes necessary.” Ian ended, flicking his cigarette into the water bucket next to them. “And everything else can be talked about. You know that best, don’t you, sweetheart?” Frowning, she looked up at him, which he acknowledged with a huffed laugh and a finger on her forehead, pressing against the skin directly above her furrowed brows. “What?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean ’83.”

“’83…?” She actually had to rack her brain, looking for what he was talking about. The Demogorgon, a lost Will Byers, the beginning of Stancy and the end of-oh. “Oh.” How could she have forgotten? She’d just thought about it the other day, the whole Your-Fault-For-Being-Cheated-On-Affair.

“Right. Oh.” Ian shrugged and used his thumb to flatten the crease between her brows. “If you could forgive him then, he should definitely be able to forgive you now.” Ian smirked, that signature lop-sided smile of his. “Sweetheart, everyone knows that you two will always have each other’s back. And nobody knows it like the two of you do.” One last time, he stroked over her hair before stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Trust that.”

With a deep sigh, she wiped her face one last time and used her fingers to neaten her hair as much as possible. Ian was already stepping towards the door, which she noted with a tired huff.

How typical. Job done; Ian gone. He was never one to linger and that hadn’t changed; likely wouldn’t ever. It was just very him. Give you a talk, help you feel better and then take off into the night, leaving you to your own thoughts. She shook her head with a smile, gazing at his back as he opened the door.

“Thanks, Ian.”

“Always, sweetheart.”

***

The next week passed by slowly.

Turns out, the weatherman was a lying bastard. The rain didn’t ease up, drowning small Hawkins in copious amounts each and every day. All year had been rather dry, at least for Indiana, and now mother nature seemed to be determined to make up for lost time by throwing buckets of rain down onto them each and every day. The fine people of Hawkins got used to it, umbrellas quickly turning into a staple accessory for both young and old.

All the rain didn’t really help lighten her mood.

If anything, it made it much worse. Most of her days were spend moody and brooding, every little task seemingly more inconvenient than ever. Her boys stayed far, keeping their usual jokes and bickering down while she was around. She felt bad. They shouldn’t have to scurry around her, not ever, but she was thankful all the same. It spared her from yelling at anyone simply because they were being annoying for fun. Well, mostly anyone. Eddie and his stumbling got dangerously close to a full-blown freak out once or twice. But he tried, she knew, and she did too.

Her evenings were regretfully empty without Steve or their shared bunch of friends. Not that there was any problem with them, Robin and Max would come over whenever she asked and she knew that. But it wasn’t the same. And she wouldn’t drack Robin into this, more than she likely already was. So, a lot of her nights were spent alone, which was fine for a day or two. She’d finally gotten around to finishing the taxes and cleaned out her office. Both tasks that needed to be done, but rarely held more appeal than going home to watch a movie or phone Steve.

Not now, though.

She started staying late every day, simply so that she wouldn’t have to sit around at home. Cleaning, sorting through trash, refiling her papers – anything that looked only slightly out of place was tackled with focus and determination. Determination to not go home until two in the morning, that is.

To not go home where everything was filled with Steve.

How had she never noticed how much of him was part of her home?

There were his clothes and his toothbrush, surely something that accumulated after too many sleepovers. Understandable. But it was more than just that.

There were his emergency glasses on her coffee table, right next to some magazines he liked. There was the Farrah Fawcett hairspray she definitely never used, his Fabergé shampoo and conditioner and a half empty bottle of his cologne on her shelf. His very own pair of slippers waited by the door and his pj’s hung over the edge of her bedroom chair. On the side table, she’d stashed a book of his – one of those Robin had bought for him. In the kitchen there were the condiments and cereal he liked as well as the powder blue mug he’d crowned as his very favourite.

So much of her home was Steve, had always been Steve.

And now that Steve himself was absent it became more and more evident. It felt like her own home was mocking her, trying to get her to call him and ask for his forgiveness. And she wanted to, she really did, but she didn’t…she didn’t want to impose. She didn’t want to ask too much too early of him. She’d hurt his feelings, so the least she could do was give him space. That was what he had done back then, right? Space was good, everyone needed space sometimes. Especially when someone was angry it was better to back off and let them breathe until they were ready to just…talk. Or so she hoped.

But the longer it took, the more miserable she felt.

At first, she just had trouble sleeping. That was to be expected, she tended to turn into an insomniac whenever things got just the slightest bit stressful, but it didn’t make it much nicer. Even when she got home late after a taxing day at work, she’d find herself lying in bed with her eyes forcefully shut in hopes of getting any amount of sleep. Some nights it worked, the continuous darkness finally dragging her down into a fitful slumber, but often she’d give up an hour in. She’d get up and wander into the living room, Tut hot on her heels, to take post by the window and stare outside. The cat would curl up in her lap, soon drifting off into his own feline dreams of mice and cheese with soft snores and she would just sit there, petting him gently as she stared at the moon.

The moon could be excellent company for the tired and sleepless.

During the day, when the moon was nowhere to be seen, she’d eat. She’d eat so much, even Riley started to respect the copious amounts she could stomach. Snacks, meals, anything. It was like throwing food into a deep dark well without ever being able to fill it up. It was just another bad habit, her body seemingly triggered into famine-mode whenever she was under stress, but she couldn’t help it. If she didn’t eat, her mood would only get worse and worse which was clearly not ideal. So, she ate, stuffing herself with bread, cereal and snacks whenever given the chance to.

Be it at work or at home, every ring of the phone had her jump. She’d tackle Billy aside before he could reach the phone, yell at Riley to let her answer it just on the off chance that it could be Steve. Every time it wasn’t him, however, she felt her shoulders slump. Disappointment grew heavy in her stomach, dragging down any prior excitement. She had quite the hard time keeping it out of her voice when it was customers or someone equally as important.

But, from what she’d heard, she wasn’t the only one.

Robin had visited her at work a few days in, taking in her mopey form with a groan.

“You both are pathetic.” She’d said, arms crossed and fingers drumming against the fabric of her jacket.

“What?”

“You and Steve.” To that, she could only sigh because honestly? They probably were.

“I know.”

“Do you?” Robin had asked, nodding towards the phone. “Then do you know that you’re both staring wistfully at the phone, too? Hell, if you’re sorry just call him and tell him that!”

“I am sorry. And I want to call him.” She’d told the other girl while brushing some stains out of the steering wheel of Joyce’ car. “But I…well. He might need more time. You know. I don’t want to force myself on him. In case he’s still angry.”

“I don’t think he’s been angry since day two!”

“You don’t know that.” Robin had let out a throaty, frustrated noise at that, slumping back into the chair.

“I take it back, please go back to being disgustingly close. Anything is better than this!” She’d yelled, ruffing up her hair in frustration.

Now, it was Saturday and she had a hard time finding any reason to stay at work any longer.

She’d cleaned better than ever - even sorted their tools and various knick knacks – and the shop was in pristine condition by now. Well, as pristine as a repair shop could ever be. There would always be a bit of dirt involved. So, what should she do to waste time with? Polish all their tools? Because, sure, that would take a lot of time, but maybe that was taking things a bit far. The boys would likely flip their shits when they’d walk in one morning, only to find every tool pristine and sparkling. They’d already been nagging her relentless cleaning, saying that they felt bad for making a mess of what she’d just so ‘lovingly’ tidied.

So, no. No polished wrenches.

For now.

If the silence between Steve and her lasted much longer, she couldn’t guarantee for anything anymore. Another day or two, fine, but the minute it crossed the two weeks mark she would be sitting right there, on the floor with a towel and a bunch of polishing cream and wipe away until she could see her own reflection in whatever hammer she was holding.

With a sigh, she wandered over to the window.

Outside, one of the ‘last’ promised downpours was going strong; thick drops of rain pitter pattering onto the gravelly car park out front. One could really believe they were in Mumbai and not Indiana, because this was starting to feel like a monsoon. Which, thinking about it, was probably something everyone who actually lived in Mumbai laughed about. Indiana was fairly wet compared to other states, but probably not yet monsoon wet.

Maybe she was being a tiny bit dramatic. But she hated rain, so, so much.

“Why did you choose to stay in this damn state again?” She huffed, looking out the window to check the puddles growing bigger and bigger. The shop phone rang and she, too preoccupied with intense hate, walked over while muttering on. “Should’ve moved to fucking Arizona when you had the chance.” Sighing, she picked up immediately rattling down the usual greeting. “…repair shop, what can I do for you on this lovely evening?”

“Hey.” Her breath hitched, heart stuttering for a second.

“Steve…?” It was spoken quietly, more air than wort. She could hear the disbelieve in her own voice and she didn’t like it one bit.

“…yeah. It’s me.” Steve cleared his throat. “I was- I tried calling your house but you didn’t pick up, so I figured you’d still be working and I just thought that maybe we-“

“I’m sorry.” Fuck. It had just come out; she didn’t want to jump him like that! God, couldn’t she be normal for once? No, she literally slapped the apology across his face, nice. Stupid, so stupid. She didn’t even know why he was calling; he could literally be about to tell her to go die in a ditch or something. But hey, sure, why not yell another sorry right across town? Idiot.

Steve was silent for an excruciatingly long moment.

She could almost hear the time pass by, like sand trickling through the thin waist of an hourglass. A soft hissing noise that made the small hairs on her arms stand up. But finally, he let out a deep breath.

“I know.” She felt herself deflate like a popped balloon; a weeks’ worth of tension draining right out of her with two simple words. “I know you are; I could tell the moment you realised what you’d said.” Something on the other end shifted, a soft swish that broke through the slight static. “And I’m sorry too.”

“What?” Her brows dipped. “What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything.”

“I could’ve called you earlier.” She snorted.

“You’re fine, Harrington.” What kind of bullshit, really... As if that was something to be sorry for. “You’ve got about five months and three weeks left to be angry. Well, that and a black eye. After that, I would’ve come for you – no matter what.” Steve huffed a weak laugh on the other end.

“You’ve been thinking about that time too, huh?” He sighed. “I was a dick.”

“You were. But you were sixteen, all sixteen-year-olds are dicks.” Smiling, she leaned against the wall, her fingers winding into the spiral cord. “I was a bitch and I’m twenty-three, so what’s my excuse?”

“You weren’t.”

“Sure was, Harrington. And I really am sorry.” She eyed her feet, the tip of her shoe painting invisible lines against the floor. “You can always come to me. Cry however much you want, I don’t give a shit. If necessary, I’ll wipe your Nancy-tears until we’re eighty-seven.” Steve snorted; the noise so familiar that her heart fluttered.

“If I’m still crying about Nancy at eighty-seven, you have my permission to shoot me.” She could feel her lips curl up in a stupidly happy smile. God, she’d missed him. It had been little over a week and she’d missed him so much that talking to him now turned her giddy. “Why are you still at work? It’s late.” Automatically, her eyes went to her watch and sure enough. It was almost eleven.

“Uh…Working?”

“You were hiding at work, weren’t you?”

“…Maybe?”

“Definitely.” Steve sighed and she heard something shingle. “I’ll come pick you up.”

“What!? No, Steve, it’s late and a quasi-monsoon is raging outside. Stay home, I’ll be fine.”

“All the more reason to pick you up. You’re on your bike, right?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, nope. I’m coming.”

“Steve-”

“I missed you.” Her mouth snapped shut, protest dying down immediately. “This week was fucking long and I’d like to pick up my best friend for food because I missed her. So, can said best friend please stop objecting?” Her heart did a stupid jumpy thing, thumping against her chest almost painfully. She cleared her throat to get rid of the tight feeling.

“Uhm…yeah. Okay, yeah, sure. I’ll wait.”

“Great. Be there in ten minutes.” He was about to hang up, but she stopped him.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you too.” Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead against the phone. “See you soon.”

“See you, sweet girl.”

***

The minute she sat in the passenger seat of Steve’s BMW, she wanted to cry.

It was only a moment, a small second of emotion rolling over her, but it was strong enough to have her stifle a gasp. Steve really had only needed ten minutes to come and pick her up, barely enough time to visit the loo and get her bag, and even just seeing the burgundy car roll up her shops car park nearly turned her emotional.

Her hand was trembling a tiny bit when she pulled the doorhandle, a motion that stopped the moment she saw Steve. The boy looked like he always did – it had only been a week or so, but it had felt so long – with his brown floppy hair and those stupid polo shirts that were just so distinctly him. His hair was a bit messier than usual, though that could have been the weathers’ fault. What wasn’t though, were the black lines underneath his eyes. He had massive dark circles, something that was likely mirrored on her face. Nights had been short that week, it seems. For both of them.

Neither of them said anything as she got in, both just sending each other silly smiles and a soft bump of their shoulders.

It was a relaxed silence, both knowing that there were things that needed to be addressed but also knowing that it could wait for a moment. Right then, both just wanted to ease back into their easy routine, find footing in a place that had felt unsure for the last couple of days.

The car itself smelled like Steve – lavender, sandalwood, and boy. It was a warm, comforting scent that had her want to curl up and do nothing for at least another week. Just drink up a weeks’ worth of peace, quiet and Steve. Rain was still thrumming rhythmically against the windshield, now a little less annoying than before, as Steve put the car into gear and drove off. He didn’t offer any information on where they were headed and she didn’t ask.

She didn’t need to.

Fleetwood Mac trickled out of the radio, filling the silence with soft music. The streets were mostly empty at this time of night, the only thing slowing their journey being the many traffic lights. The windows of Hawkins inhabitants were dark, only a few TV screens flickering in the most interesting colours.

Steve’s finger was tapping against the steering wheel, led by the rhythm of the blinking indicator. When he noticed her watching him, he raised his brows in question, to which she just smiled and shook her head. Steve smiled back and she turned to look out the blurry window. Everything looked the same outside, the same old Hawkins, but the blurred lines made it seem completely different. She had to concentrate to see, concentrate to recognise the places she grew up around. It felt odd yet normal, like maybe she’d done this before.

She probably had.  

The sound of the handbrake pulled her out of her reverie.

Steve had parked at Rosemary’s Diner, of course in his favourite spot. Way back, when they first started getting there with a car, Steve had chosen the spot because it was where everyone could see his car easily. He’d been a show off, that Harrington. Of course, the interest in that waned rather quickly. She was sure that by now, he was just used to parking right there. Steve pulled the keys from the ignition with more flourish than usual and got out of the car, a movement not unnoticed by her.

The asphalt resembled black glass as the lights of traffic and people were glistening both around and beneath them; their shine caught in the water on the worn asphalt. Flashes of red and yellow, stark and soft white reflected off the grey stone. With every drop, the reflections moved, lights dancing beneath her trainers with every step. Part of her wanted to stop and stare, just take in the sights of the car park that were so distinctly different.

Every light brought the town some resemblance of beauty, something fascinating to look at in a place that so rarely changed. Just how little it needed to make something look…new. Beautiful, even.

It was fascinating, wasn’t it?

This was the very same place it had always been, just drenched in rain. That’s it. And yet it helped her appreciate the town she was born and raised in in a completely different way. She could see more than just cracks in the ground, more than just roads worn down by frequent use of people who’d never left this place for more than a day.

All it took was some water.

Were all changes this simple, at least in their essence? Was a change really nothing more than just this, water haphazardly spilled over a street? Everyone knew that changes felt heavy, at least most of the time. They filled people with fear, invoking anxiety about whatever the future may hold. People panicked and fought against them, sometimes so hard they ruined themselves - and yet it was just this? Just rain that fell and suddenly everything was a bit different?

Even this one, the rain, had felt incredibly heavy to her. She’d been so moody, so put off by heavens everlasting tears and now look at what it gave her.

Beauty.

Beauty in the mundane.

Maybe all changes were like that. Maybe they just felt heavy, felt stifling and unsafe. Perhaps changes just seemed large, but in reality they weren’t. Change could have just been this, a quiet obstruction that caused discomfort but never enough to actually matter. It blurred the lines for a moment and then it was already over and none of it mattered anymore. It was just feelings, just something clouded in instincts.

Maybe change was like that, quiet and quick. Different, yet the same. Maybe it was all just…water on a road.

Just that.

The inside of Rosemarys Diner was brightly lit, almost blindingly so. She blinked a couple of times as they entered, forcing her eyes to readjust quickly. Not that she really needed to see where she was going to find her way in here. This Diner never changed.

It felt strangely timeless, at least most days. The checkered floor tiles Steve was strolling down, well-worn and cracked in all the same places. Burgundy leather seats, cracked and ripped enough to hiss familiarly whenever someone sank into them. Waitresses, clad in a pale-yellow uniform, complete with white aprons and shoes.

Everything stayed the same.

But today, it felt strangely different as well.

As she and Steve sank down in their favourite booth, second to last by the window, she saw how far the big crack on his seat had progressed all of a sudden. It used to be short, barely reaching her line of sight, and now it was nearly touching the top of the backrest. She could see how the line right beneath her foot had become more visible, the sharp cracked lines worn down by shoes and dirt over the years.

It was the same diner, and yet it felt so, so different.

Doreen came up to their table, smiling brightly as always, her braids pulled up into a ponytail at the back of her head. She looked very much like herself, the very same waitress that had been here when they first entered the diner all those years ago. For the first time, however, she could see the lines her face had gained over the last ten years. Her face had changed bit by bit, so subtly that it went unnoticed by everyone else but she could see it so, so clearly. Doreen had aged, the last chubbiness of youth had left her face. She’d grown out of her lipstick and bubble-gum phase, no longer the bratty teen that used to work here to earn money for college.

No, Doreen had become an adult somewhere over the last years.

Steve ordered their usual, leaning back in his seat with a big sigh. Her eyes wandered towards the window, the outside too dark to see anything; Especially with the bright lights of the Diner above her. Instead, she looked at her own tired face. She’d looked at herself in that very window hundreds of times before, used it to apply lipstick and mascara as well as to wipe away tear streaks and sauce. This very window had watched her grow up, and right then it felt as if she was looking at a memory. Like her own eleven year old self was staring back at her, wearing a scruffy shirt and jeans combo, roughed up from spending the day in the forest with Steve.

“What are you staring at yourself for?” The boy asked, leaning on the table while eyeing the counter.

She took one more look at herself, todays one that was still in her ugly grey overall, stained by dirt and oil. Her hair was messy after a day’s work and her eyes were surrounded by dark circles that had indicated her week hadn’t been going well.

“You could have told me that I look like crap.” She said, turning to Steve. The boys’ brows furrowed as he turned towards her, taking her in with one long look.

“You look like you always do.” Her lips curled up at his words, something that had him scowl a bit harder.

“I do?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” With a smile, she took in the boy sitting in front of her; the same honey eyed boy that she’d known all her life.

He was sitting right there, his seat positioned so that he could keep an eye on the whole room. She could remember the brunette boy he’d been all those years ago, explaining to her that he liked to watch what people were doing. He’d been all gangly limbs and thin joints then, a resilient but weak boy whose parents were cold and neglectful. People didn’t care much for him, the boy too short and dorky to be cool just yet.

Much like now, the Steve of ’78 didn’t have a lot of people that loved him. But those who did, those who saw who he was, were everything he needed. He’d battle their bullies without batting an eye, despite surely losing the fight. The Steve of ’78 was already just as protective as the Steve of ’89, fearlessly charging ahead whenever he deemed it necessary. The Steve that had fought Russians and the supernatural, swinging that bat of his like a battle axe to protect a gaggle of kids, was already there.

He just needed to grow into him.

On first glance, there was little of the young boy left in the Steve of ‘89. The gangly arms and legs were gone, now turned into the limbs of a grown man. He was no longer thin and scruffy, years of basketball and fights helping him to become more defined. She was no longer a head taller than him, no longer needing to look down at him. His shorts had been exchanged for jeans; his dirty trainers exchanged for neat white sneakers.

But if she looked closely, he was still very much the same. The same warm brown eyes, the same expressive eyebrows, the same floppy hair. He still had that scar from when broke his arm while climbing the tree in her father’s backyard, silver with age now. His laugh was still the same, he still narrowed his eyes with every grin and he still gesticulated a lot when he was upset or excited.

He was still very much her Steve.

“You’re being weird. Are you okay?” He asked, plucking the pickles off his burger,and exchanging them for one of her tomatoes with just two fingers.

“I’m great, Steve.” He eyed her like a hawk, worry pulling at his features.

“Are you sure? Is there something you need to say?” She shook her head, grabbing a tissue to wipe some sauce off his fingers.

“I’m fine. I promise I’ll talk when I have something to say, but right now I’m perfect.” Steve looked at her for another moment, but nodded. He didn’t really believe her, she knew, but he chose to give her room to breathe. Just like he’d always done. “Do you need to say something before we eat, though?”

“Yeah.” He said, fiddling with her hand. It was something he used to do a lot when they were younger, fiddling with her hand when he was nervous. She didn’t realise he’d kept that habit even today. “You were right.” A frown pulled at her features.

“About what?”

“About Chelsea and I not being...it, I guess.” Steve sighed, leaning back in his seat while holding on to her hand. “I went on that date and I hated it.” He focused on their hands; eyes hidden slightly behind a strand of hair. “She’s nice and all, but she barely talked. I know she’s shy, Robin told me, but god. Maybe I’m not patient enough for that.”

“I’m sorry.” She was. Despite everything, despite all the things she’d said she actually wanted him to be happy. She really really did. If there was just one person that deserved to be loved, it was him.

“It’s okay.” It looked like he meant it. “Anyway, you were right with that…and pretty much everything else you said. I do amp them up, I do, uh…project or whatever. I know I do.” His hand tightened around hers, a pressure she returned comfortingly. “It’s stupid. But I just…” He broke off as she interlocked her fingers with his.

“I know.” Steve’s head tipped back, eyes closing as he smiled. He looked exhausted doing that. Once more, she squeezed his hand comfortingly.

“Of course you do.”

With that, they went about their food. She started with the fries, Steve with his burger before switching. The burger was the same as always, delicious, and exactly the way she liked it. The fries were perfectly crisp and hot, the mayonnaise clinging to them deliciously. While they ate, they talked about their weeks, sharing whatever they felt the other should know. Turns out, it wasn’t much for either of them. Robin hadn’t been wrong in saying that the two of them spend most their time close to a phone, waiting for a sign that told them it was okay to call the other.

When she asked Steve why today had been the day, he’d just shrugged.

“I missed you and I was fed up with waiting.”

Simple as that, it seems.

Steve threw some cash on the table after their dinner and the two of them left. Neither knew where exactly they were headed, but they’d find out. They always did, didn’t they? Outside, the rain was still going strong, if not even stronger than before. Thick, cold drops were splashing down, filling the air with blur and noise. Had she compared the rain earlier with a monsoon, would this probably be the end of the world.

Water stood high on the road, the already overburdened gutters finally giving in. From afar, it looked more like a shallow stream than a street, water moving along the length of it without mercy. Wind was shaking leaves and trees, enough to look scary but likely not to actually to do any harm. Or so she hoped. Steve’s car was parked regrettably far away, at least for these weather conditions, and the two of them stood under the awning before the diner, hesitating.

“Shit.” Steve pushed back his hair. “It’s not going to stop soon, is it?” 

“The weatherman said it would.”

“It won’t ever stop then.” He groaned. “That guy is always wrong.” She chuckled. It was true, the weatherman had terrible luck with his forecasts for quite some time now and it was getting harder and harder to trust him. Steve grabbed her hand. “Okay, we’re gonna run for it. Ready?”

“Always.” He grinned at her and then they were jogging along, rushing towards the burgundy swimming out there in the giant puddle that had been the car park.

She shrieked when water got into her shoes, the soft fabric hungrily drinking up the cold wet fluid and becoming heavier with each step. The hems of her overall and Steve’s jeans didn’t fare any better, water mercilessly soaking them the moment they came in contact. Still falling, the rain was cold where it hit them; icy splatters of water bursting against their skin and dousing them within just a few steps. Goosebumps rose on both their arms, only one of the many indicators of how cold it actually was.

Honestly, they could have wandered over to the car slowly and nothing would have changed. By the time they reached Steve’s car, they were soaked to the bone. Her thick overall was heavy with rain and started to cling and rub against her skin uncomfortably. Steve’s shirt looked a few shades darker than before and both of them had to squint to keep rain from running into their eyes.

“Shit, keys! Keys!” Steve hissed when they reached the back of his car. Keeping one hand in hers, he started to grapple for the car keys in his jeans. As always, they caught on the fabric and he struggled to get them out any further. The jeans being as wet as they were didn’t help; soaked jeans fabric suddenly no longer smooth to the touch. “Shit, why didn’t we think of that!?”

“It’s your car!” She yelled back, giggling at his glare as cold rain running down her face. It clung to her lips and lashes no matter how often she wiped her face. The boy kept struggling, even dropping his wallet in his fight to loosen the key ring from a snaggy thread. She heard him curse as she dove down, snagging the poor wet thing from its nightmarish bath.

“Shit, those damn tight ass jeans.” He cursed and she laughed, a surprised sound that he’d later admit to secretly really liking. A car passed by them, the headlights hitting them for just a moment. A couple of seconds of light, barely even enough time to blink, and her laughter died down. It had just been a moment, a tiny moment that shouldn’t matter.

And yet that moment was enough.

When she saw Steve standing there, dripping with rain and doused in the light of a stranger’s headlights, her breath hitched. Her shoulders slumped as she took him in, the boy she’d known all her life, with rain drops dripping down his chin and nose and a fierce frown set on his face. Her thoughts slowed, everything that wasn’t him shifting to the back for now. Nothing mattered anymore, be it rain or wet clothes or the cold. Not even the water running into her eyes.

Because right there, hair plastered to his head by the rain, struggling for his damn keys while holding onto her hand she noticed something she should’ve known before. Or maybe she did. Maybe she did know and she just never realised it, never understood what it meant.

Honestly, it wasn’t important. the order of why and when and how didn’t matter. Nothing did.

Nothing but him.

Because Steve was beautiful.

Not handsome, not pretty. Beautiful. When the light reflected off of him, even with his hair plastered against his forehead, he looked beautiful. Perfect, even. His eyes were not merely honeyed, no, they were radiant. They were warm and brilliant, like embers of a long summers’ campfire; comforting like hot chocolate on a cold winters’ night. Nothing, not even his current scowl, could take that away from him.

Steve was beautiful.

And not because he was handsome either. Which he was, of course. Those eyes, the hair, the nose and everything else about him looked good. She’s always known that, ever since they were just two young teens in a world too big and too small at the same time, laden with responsibilities they shouldn’t have had. She knew he was handsome, but it wasn’t just that.

No, Steve wasn’t beautiful because of his face.

He was beautiful because he was Steve.

He was Steve, with all his boyish charm and easy conversations; his hero complex and the bravery to match it. The Steve that had gone above and beyond for a tween boy he barely knew because it was the right thing to do; who greeted the same kid with specialised, dorky handshakes no matter how dumb it looked.

It was her Steve, with all of his big heart and empty home.

Her Steve. The boy she’d met when he was only just born, still in his mother’s arms. He was the beautiful boy who climbed trees with her; who tried to beat up every single of her bullies no matter how tall or old they were. Her beautiful boy, who’d watch movies with her despite saying he didn’t want to; who never once judged her fear of driving. He was the boy who understood her when even she herself didn’t. He came running in the middle of the night, simply because she called. Because he knew she needed him there.

He was the very boy that had been hurt and scarred by so many and survived. He’d held onto love when he was abandoned, onto positivity when he was hurt and scarred. He’d fought, kicking and screaming, with foolish determination against those who wanted to take those things from him. He was the very boy who always stood in the front lines of every battle, because he’d rather get hurt than watch his people suffer.

The boy who only cried when there was no one to hear him, who acted strong when he wasn’t.

He was just Steve.

So how could he not be beautiful?

“Jesus, finally!” Steve sighed, holding up the keys for her to see and nodding towards the car. “Move it, come on!” He let go of her hand, turning towards the car but she grabbed his wrist, keeping him in place. Dark brows dipped as he turned back towards her, features contorted in surprised worry. “What, what is it?”

“I love you.”

The keys fell from his hands, hitting the ground with a subdued splash. This time no one was diving for them, the object forgotten the second it was let go of. Wind whipped through their wet hair, cold and merciless, but neither of them did anything but stare. Steve’s eyes were opened wide, shoulders slack as he stared at her like he was waiting for something more. Something, she didn’t know how to give him.

“What?” He asked, voice barely audible over the rain. She didn’t need to hear him, though, because she knew. She knew, because it was him. Because this was who they were. Open, Withdrawn, Disbelieving and yet hopeful, this was all them.

“I love you.” Moving slowly, she interlocked their fingers. Steve’s eyes flicked towards their hands and back to her face, something between shock and confusion clouding his eyes. Like he didn’t understand what was going on, what she was saying or why this was happening right then. But there, in the car park of their very favourite diner, she chose to wait. Of course she could’ve elaborated, she could’ve explained and rushed him on. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. No, she waited for him, for him to catch up with what she was saying.

Just as he’d been waiting for her.

When she looked back at everything right then, it was so, so clear. All he’d been doing was waiting. He’d waited for everyone and everything - for his parents and the world to accept him, for someone to love, for anyone to see him for who he was.

Steve Harrington had spent all his life waiting for everyone else.

So now it was his turn. His turn to take his time, the worlds turn to wait.

“Why?”

Why.

She huffed a tiny laugh, shaking her head at his disbelieve. 

How should she tell him? Tell him that his ‘why’ was all they’d seen, all they’d done and all they’d become over the years? Tell him that ‘why’ was everything and nothing. It was Steve and it was her, formless yet there. It was woven deep into the reality she called home. How did one turn all that was, is, could and would be into a simple answer the other could understand?

She didn’t know. But she was determined to try.

“Because it’s you.”

His hand was trembling in hers, whether that was because of the cold or the things she was saying she didn’t know. Maybe it was a bit of both. She covered his hands with hers, shielding it from everything she possibly could for just a moment. “Because this is who you are and this is who I am.” It was that simple. Her knuckles ran over his cheek as she smiled and his breath stuttered. “I love you because you’re you, Steve Harrington.”

It was easy to pin point the exact moment Steve was hit by realisation. His face spoke more words than any mouth before, at least to her.

The car was cold against her back as Steve pressed her against it, but she didn’t even care. All that mattered was Steve and everything he was, surrounding her in a way she never wanted to miss again. The boy himself was warm against her front, his lips on hers with that same sense of familiarity she’d felt before. Warm fingers were curling around her wrist while hers were clinging to the wet fabric of his shirt.

Once again, kissing Steve was like coming home. Warm and familiar, loving and beloved. Like she’d been gone for many many years, out exploring the world, before finally stepping over the treshhold to her own space. The one space where she could just exist without expectations, live without being questioned. Where her being her was more than enough.

But maybe that wasn’t home at all.

Maybe that was just Steve.

It made sense, a whole lot of sense. Hadn’t she just realised how much of her home was Steve? How much of him was there even when he himself was not? Maybe the feeling she’d come to know as ‘home’ was Steve, had always been Steve. Maybe it would always be Steve. Because, if that was it, if that was what home felt like, she never wanted to leave ever again.

The kiss lasted for a tiny eternity, much too long for where they were and how it had come be, yet far too short all the same. Neither truly wanted to let go of the other, the opposite seeming much more inviting. She would have loved to stay there, right there in the pouring rain, and get lost in Steve and Steve alone.

But later would do just as fine.

Steve was the one who broke it first, her boy drawing back to look at her with kiss bitten lips and wide eyes. Eyes, that might have been teary, she wasn’t all too sure; Not with the rain clinging to his lashes and cheeks. Holding eye contact, she smiled up at him; gauging his reaction. And who knows, maybe that was it. Perhaps her stare was too much, too intense for her fractured boy. For all one knew, it could have been the realisation that the thing he had been looking for, what he’d been searching for all these years, had been right there, right next to him all along.

Whatever it was, it was too much.

Steve’s face crumpled, the boy buckling into her. Cooing softly, she pulled him close, letting him bury his face against her neck. With a smile, she looped her arms around his back, nose pressed to his temple. Her boy was trembling with as she breathed him in, fingers digging into her side. She basked in the warm smell of Steve, everywhere now that they were so close, and ran her fingers slowly up and down his shaking shoulders.

“It’s okay.” She whispered into his ear, nose caressing the side of his face. “I’m here. I love you. I’m here, it’s okay. Take your time.” Her whispers were nothing coherent, really. Hushed affirmations; soft encouraging for her crying boy. Just something to ground him, to help him keep breathing as he sobbed silently. Shaky puffs of breath hot ghosted her neck as he kept breathing.

It took a moment for him to regain his composure, his breathing evening out more and more; each exhale allowing more frustration, more overwhelm, more regret, simply more of any emotion he currently felt to leave his body. Behind it left a tired boy with red rimmed eyes, that drew back slowly to look at her once more.

Her hands found his cheeks, cradling his face in her hands as she smiled up at him. The touch seemed to soften him completely, her boy melting into her hold more and more with every brush of her thumb. His eyes were shimmering with emotion, all hope and fear and love, which caused her own vision to become blurry.

“I love you.”

Gentle fingers were brushing up her arms; caressing her cold skin so softly that her eyes fell shut. Steve didn’t stop, his hands moving onwards without ceasing.

“Why?” Eyes fluttering back open, she gazed at him with a smile that held just the slightest bit of tease. Steve huffed a shaky laugh and rolled his eyes, a reaction so familiar and typical that she had to stifle a giggle. Instead, she used her finger tips to comb a wet strand of hair out of his forehead, his eyes fluttering like they always did.

“Because this is who we are.” Tears trickled down her cheeks as she nodded along, his face still cradled in her hands. Steve was now circling her wrists, fingers directly over her pulsepoint and eyes trained on her

“Yeah.” Later, he would tell her how brilliant, how radiant her smile had been right then. How much of that moment was based just on that, at least to him. “This is who we are.”

Even later, neither Steve nor her would be able to tell you who kissed the other first. Maybe it had been a decision they’d both made at the same time or perhaps they knew each other well enough to know what the other would do. Neither of them could tell, neither of them cared.

One thing she did know, however, was that she would never hate the rain again. She couldn’t, not after this. Sure, it was a hassle and sure it was grey and moody just as it always had been. Except now, it was theirs.

From that day on, rain would turn into a fond memory for the two of them, something they’d remember even many years later. Like everything they’d seen over the years; like the tree’s they’d climbed and the diner they frequented; like burgundy BMW’s and large elevators, like movies and demogorgons, like arguments and laughter, desperation and comfort, like love and loss…It would remain forever, changing them just as quietly as water on a late night’s road.

On that day, right in front of Rosemary’s diner, the smell of rain was woven into the fabric that made up their story. The feeling of rain drops became part of what made them Steve and her.

Rain became part of everything they would ever be.

Because this was exactly who they were.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic

[mythandlaur]

Code: July Day 12 - Hopeless

There's no way I'm getting all the ones I want to done in July at this point, so you'll probably see a few stragglers posted in the next couple weeks.

This one's based on the prologue of the fangame IFSCL, but since the whole story isn't out yet I've kind of taken my own spin on it. The premise should mostly explain itself, at least.

And no, I'm not doubling this up with day 30's prompt, because I want to actually show them being happy for that one.

...

13-04-2010

If you could live your life over again, what would you do differently?

It was one of those lofty questions you only got in philosophy questions or as essay prompts to judge your character. Jeremie had always hated that, the kind of question that has no right answer, a problem with no solution. It always leaves him flailing trying to figure out what he's supposed to say in response--he's much more comfortable with math and science, where things aren't necessarily simpler, but every consistent action has a specific result. Two plus two always equals four. Baking soda and vinegar always makes carbon dioxide.

Even in the quantum sciences where there was far more uncertainty, he still held the belief that it all fit into a paradigm people just hadn't figured out yet. Time moves in a straight line, unless it doesn't, according to some rule that hadn't yet been discovered.

Computers, most of all. If you delete something (really delete it, not just your grandma wiping the Recycle Bin), it should be irretrievable.

If you could do things over again. It was supposed to be a hypothetical. But all the laws he knows have already fallen to pieces--and behind it, he's forced to face that question in a terrifyingly real way.

It's hard for him to read the flickering blue display on the screen across the room with one of his glasses' lenses rendered a useless conflagration of spiderweb cracks. 30...20 seconds left, maybe? Jeremie could've force-executed the special RTTP immediately, of course, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to enter the last command. Did that make him a coward? It's not like an extra minute would make much of a difference.

Maybe he should've known this was coming the moment he'd looked into the news article, and the strange events that had immediately followed.

Dr. Hugh Tyron found dead in his home...asphyxiated...no signs of struggle...under posthumous investigation for cyberterrorism and possession of confidential documents and technology. The name had struck Jeremie as vaguely familiar, like he'd seen it in passing, and a bit of digging revealed a paper trail perfectly parallel to Waldo Schaeffer and the other members of Project Carthage he'd managed to identify.

Immediately after the article, those other members began dying one after another, in either a set of serial murders or horrific accidents usually involving power lines or out-of-control industrial equipment.

Mr. Delmas had, out of the blue, sent a friendly email to Jeremie asking about info security--apparently, the Kadic school records had been breached and he was concerned about student safety, but had no idea where to start in upgrading their outdated systems.

A fire had broken out at the old Renault factory, putting it back on the city's radar and resuming talks of demolition.

A prolonged blackout had struck the entire city of Valence, France, where Jeremie's parents lived and where he would've still been at the time if he hadn't left for college in America a couple of weeks early.

Twelve times, they'd tried again to destroy it. Twelve times, they'd succeeded, but got less and less of a reprieve, had less and less hope. It only figured that number thirteen was the unlucky one.

And now, here he is, running the last resort RTTP, one so extreme none of them would remember anything once all was said and done. He wouldn't be doing it if he was completely hopeless--he was sure there had to have been something they could've done to prevent this outcome, maybe when XANA was weaker. But it's not like he'll be able to do much to change things, just relying on their scattered half-memories to guide them down another path. It's a long shot, but maybe it'll work. He has to believe that.

Jeremie wishes he'd had time to leave something behind for his younger self, a message or a bit of advice or something, but there's no way something like that would survive a RTTP as big as this one anyway, so he's left simply speculating to pass the last few seconds. He's probably going to miss his own perspective the most--because XANA had been big, yes, but so many things had seemed equally as big and scary back then when they just weren't, things as simple as talking to his friends or having a crush or telling the truth--dear god, he's going to have to come out all over again isn't he--

Maybe...maybe he would tell himself to spend more time with them, not to just save it for a later he hadn't been sure was coming. Not to get so worked up over little things, because he only ever got so annoyed because he was scared. Tell them more, in general. Several incidents could've been avoided like that.

Like William. That's one of the things that was obvious in hindsight--he wasn't angry at William, only a tiny bit of it had ever been at William. It was a whole mess of mistakes on everyone's part, but it wasn't William's fault that Jeremie had spent an entire summer break sulking and come back full of spite.

Yeah, Jeremie thinks, that's definitely one thing he'd want to change. He'd devirtualize William instead of freezing up and yelling at him uselessly. Maybe they'd be a little closer at the end.

He sees the counter hit single digits. He considers telling Yumi, on the other side of the door to the busted cargo elevator behind him, but decides against it. The whine from the mainframe, this time loud enough to be clearly audible two floors up, should be enough of an indicator.

Aelita's stuck upstairs. He wishes he could call her. He hopes she understands. He hopes that she can hope alongside him, because she's always been like that, even on her worst days.

Really, if anyone's going to figure out what's going on and how to stop XANA this time, it's going to be her, out of sheer stubbornness if nothing else. He can't hope to match that.

The whine reaches a fever pitch, but the air doesn't grow thick like he's used to it doing. He can move perfectly fine, without time seeming to slow to a crawl while his brain runs too fast to keep up.

A white light springs from the center of the laboratory, and Jeremie shields his eyes--but not fast enough to miss a flicker in the air in front of him.

It...is him, he realizes as he peeks out from in between his fingers. Younger and dumber and looking like he's staring into an oncoming train, but definitely himself. The elder tries to scramble to his feet, tries to wave a greeting, think of something to say, I'm sorry, I forgive you--but before he can get a word out his world goes green, then white in a shower of painful sparks.

09-10-2003

Jeremie lurches backwards, the weight of his own backpack nearly sending him tumbling. He grips onto the side of the bridge to steady himself and takes a moment to catch the breath he'd suddenly lost.

What had that been just now, on the other side of the bridge, looking at him?

He rubs his eyes with the heel of a hand, glancing over to where he'd seen it, but...the stranger who'd been standing there is nowhere to be seen.

"What was that?...I really need to get some sleep."

For a moment, he looks over his shoulder, considering going back and telling Maya. But--that's dumb, what's he even supposed to say to her, that he'd had a weird dream? He hadn't even explained those to her properly yet. Besides, once he got the remote connection set up, he would be able to talk to her whenever he wanted--and as of right now, he'd be in enough trouble if he got caught outside of the dorms.

He ignores the chill down his spine, or the sudden weight on his shoulders, as he hops down the ladder to the waterways where he'd parked his scooter.

(A boy sits bolt upright, whipping his head around towards the other bed in his room with a long-since-dulled venom on his tongue for being woken up--but then he remembers that he's never had a roommate.)

(A girl presses her ear to her doorway, but she doesn't hear her parents arguing. So why can't she sleep? She checks her phone out of habit, but that's stupid. No one ever calls her. And--she likes it that way, doesn't she?)

(A boy--or at least they think they must be a boy, at the time--scrambles about trying to keep a small, hyperactive dog from destroying a hotel room so he can get a few seconds of peace to call his family and let him know he'd gotten there safe, despite already knowing the call's going to go to voicemail. He really hopes whoever he's rooming with will be cool about dogs.)

(An older boy's in the middle of writing his twenty-sixth love letter that night when his stomach suddenly drops out from under him and his eyes sting with frustrated tears. He sits back in his chair, stares out the window, and decides he's done enough work on his little project for one night.)

(A virtual girl lies on her back and stares up towards the vanishing point of the datastream far above, suddenly convinced that there must be an infinite amount of life to live beyond it, despite having no evidence. She does not know that world. She has never known it. So how can she miss it with such ferocity?)

(And a blond with broken glasses opens his eyes to find white as far as he can see, except for a line at the horizon where a rainbow sits like a smeary soap bubble, as if the light itself has slowed enough to split into its constituent colors--or, perhaps, he was moving too fast. He slumps down against a door that isn't there anymore, realizing abruptly that he is both Schrodinger and the cat, in one place and time and another, existing and not existing.

He settles in for a millisecond that will last an eternity. But perhaps, if he goes unobserved, he can be in that other place, just for a moment.

And if that's right, he vows to do whatever he can to fix the odds, this time.)

#code lyoko #codejuly23 #i admit this is a weird one but i mostly wrote it for my rp homies who are using this verse #shoutout to them

[thewapolls]

now to take care of some stragglers... For reference I' a'm aiming to cover all the random encounters in all the prologue dungeons, and then I'll take a break. If I continue past that or not... well see...

Oops I went and posted this with the trivia and no poll at first...

AIPEROS aka AYPEROS is another funky one that really got the short end of the stick with localization, winding up as AIPELOSS in the English version of WA1. Another classic demon of the Ars Goetia and Pseudomonarchia Daemonum. Some depictions show him as a cross between a lion and a goose, which seems to be the root of the WA1 design.

Initially misromanized as ALFASE, the name is in fact that of the demon MALPHAS, which it was corrected to in Code F. Like AIPEROS a name shared in both Ars Goetia and Pseudomonarchia Daemonum. Typically depicted as a raven that can turn into a man, hence sharing AIPEROS's vaguely humanoid bird model.

STIRGE is a neat pull from Dungeons & Dragons, a classic monster original to the RPG, but one fairly often forgotten in the modern era. The design itself though has less in common with the D&D design and more in common with the facehugger from Ridley Scott's ALIEN.

ASSASSIN BUG, while actually Assassin Bugs are a thing, I'm assuming from context that this monster is supposed to be the D&D Assassin Bug. Like the ALIEN Facehugger, the D&D Assassin Bug was known to lay eggs in live prey for the babies to gestate inside, and eventually eat their way out of.

GOHM I have no idea what this monster is supposed to be. I mean, some kind of cockroach or cicada man, obviously, but the name seems random. (There's a monster with the same name in a single episode of the old Dengeki Sentai Changeman tokusatsu series? There's a character with the name who is also a beetle in Zatch Bell? But I can't find any sensible link between any of those. It feels like because the Zatchbell Gohm is also a bug that there must be some shared root reference between the two, but it eludes me.)

GALEION same deal as GOHM. No clue what's in this one other than being another roach man. Seems to be the Japanese phonetics for Galleon, like the the type of ship? That gives me nothing...

#wild arms

[hyperfigations]

No One Escapes From Life Alive

Prologue

Summary: Dylan Lenivy survived North Kill's only tragedy, coming out of it with a lifetime of trauma. Luckily, his imaginary friend, Silas, is there to help him through the pain. Attached at the hip for years in his childhood, Dylan thought that he couldn't live without Silas. Until an accident forced him to leave his imaginary friend behind. After a teenhood filled with nonstop therapy sessions, Dylan is finally ready to leave North Kill behind to go to college with his bestfriend, Kaitlyn. College is messy... to say the least. Good thing, a grown Silas comes back to help. Help with college, help to win the heart of the broody loner guy in his photography class, and help him become as blasé as he possibly can. But with the resurrection of the old imaginary pal, Dylan must face the dark, bloody past that comes with Silas.

A/N: OKAYYYYYYY, I'm not great at writing horror but here it is! A Daniel Isn't Real Quarry AU!!! I really hope you guys like it and I would love, love, love to hear your thoughts and see if you all want more!

Word Count: 2,240

TW: Suicide, Gore, Murder, Death

Chapter 1

Read on AO3 or Read More:

When Travis Hackett went into work today, he wasn’t expecting to work a homicide.

The damp asphalt caught the light of the street lamps on Nightingale Avenue, the golden light meeting the red and blue of his flashing lights. The North Kill Deputy reached for the gear stick to put the car into park, unprepared for what he was about to walk into. An icy breeze greeted the cop as he stepped out of his car. There was a certain evil in the air as he approached the house, and for a split moment he considered calling for back-up. It was quite a small house, but it looked threatening under the full, yellow moon. Shadows on the lawn dragged toward the cop’s feet, as if it was reaching out to him. Beckoning him to come closer. 

  Nothing like that ever happened in the small town of North Kill, New York. It was a mostly peaceful town that occasionally got a few stragglers that strayed from the main highway. Everyone knew everyone in their town. And no one expected the other to be capable of murder. The Hackett’s always kept the town quiet, whether it was the local monopoly they had over the North Kill businesses or protecting the town, they kept a tight grip to keep their home’s excellent reputation. A reputation they held for generations, but it was destroyed in just a single, insignificant night. Just one night was all it took to make North Kill live up to its name.

The call he had received this late in the night, when he was the only one on duty, made Travis think it was a prank. And when he heard the soft-spoken voice on the other line, it made him think that maybe that thought wasn’t unreasonable. Kids liked to play pranks, right?

“North Kill Police Department, how may I help-”

“Deputy Hackett?” A tiny, little voice had squeaked out. 

That edge in the kid’s voice sent shivers crawling down his spine. If this was a prank, this kid was an amazing actor. But it didn’t take long for Travis to realize that this wasn’t the case.

“Yes, it’s me. Who’s callin?”

 “Um… I-It’s uh.. Dylan?”

“...Dylan Lenivy?” Travis suddenly recognized the scared, hushed voice. The child’s voice carried a rattle that the Deputy could only assume was fear.

“Yes sir’,” The kid sputtered out. Travis’ lips thinned, the grip on the phone tightening.

Travis knew the Lenivy Family, not well, besides the occasional run-into downtown or poker nights. His younger brother knew them far better than he had, considering Dylan was a camper at the Hackett's Quarry Summer Camp. The kid wasn’t exactly shy, but he also wasn’t out there. In fact, he usually stayed by himself during activities, besides when his little friend Kaitlyn dragged him to socialize with others. Dylan was a bright, polite child who rarely ever found himself in any kind of trouble, that was something Travis was sure of. 

The Deputy's voice came out calmly, but the dread that filled the air made worry blossom in his chest, “What can I do you for, son?”

“Well… I uh… um…”

“Son, I need to know if everything is okay? I can’t help you if you don't tell me anything, okay?”

Dylan was 8-years old. The boy wasn’t exactly the bravest, but he was the smartest kid Travis had ever met. He would’ve never called the police for a non legitimate reason.

“Okay,” The kid had mumbled, breathing out a shaky breath. “It’s my dad…”

“What’s wrong with your dad Dylan,”

“I think he’s dead.”

Travis’ heart dropped into his stomach. 

What did he mean he was dead? The way he said it made it even more bone-chilling. Dylan’s voice was still and cautious. He was obviously afraid but his voice carried a calmness to it. 

It had to be shock, that was the only thing that could explain it.

“What do ya mean-?” Travis managed to finally force out. 

It was hard to not let his emotions get the better of him, considering nothing like this ever happens. Not in his town. Travis couldn’t stop thinking about how he had talked to Brian Lenivy just yesterday morning when he had gotten his morning coffee, before they both headed to work. They laughed together over a dark, hot brew trying to stay warm in the crisp air of this small mountain town. 

“He’s lying on the ground, he’s not breathing… I think he’s bleeding–Yeah, he’s bleeding a lot…”

Fuck. The closer he got to the house, the more his stomach twisted in knots.

Travis’ knuckles went white holding the police station phone, the quietness of the station finally hitting him. At this moment, he had really wished someone was here with him. Hank would've known what to do...

“Alright son, can you tell me anything else? Like what happened?”

“Y-yes sir’…” Dylan wavered, white noise crackling low through the line. “I was asleep… but then I heard some loud bangs from the- from the-”

Dylan was fading off, his voice getting more and more afraid. More unsure. “D-deputy?” He choked out, and Travis could just imagine his poor face contorted in terror. “T-there’s another body… in the kitchen.”

“Another body?”

“I don’t know who that is…”

“What does he look like son?”

“I don’t… I don’t want to get close to it s-sir’,”

Travis didn’t blame him. He was a kid after all, and it’s obvious he’s seen enough tonight. “Yeah. Yeah okay, I’m on my way Dylan. You need to go to a bathroom, or your room and lock yourself in there, alright?”

His left hand reached for the round, gold door knob as his right reached for the gun in his holster. 

“O-okay… I just have to find Newton…”

Travis shook his head, “W-what?”

“My cat… He’s probably so scared, he hates loud noises.”

“No, no. Dylan you need to hide, okay? Once I get there, I’ll find… Newton.”

“But–”

“Dylan, I’m sorry. This is non-negotiable. Get somewhere safe, now.” Travis regretted the stern approach he had taken with the boy, but he needed to get the kid somewhere safe. Just until he could get there.

When Travis opened the door, the scent of iron along with a hint of wet dog hit him like a truck. He bit his tongue to stop himself from gagging. He stepped further into the pitch dark house, but the minute his foot made contact with the wooden floorboard, he heard a sickening crunch under his boot followed by the nastiest, gushiest squish. His eyes closed shut tightly, the grip on his gun stiffening. 

With his free hand Travis grabs the flashlight on his belt, clicking it on. He didn’t want to look at what he had just stepped on. He knew in his heart whatever it was, wasn't good. It scared him to death, but slowly he lowered the light down to whatever was underneath him. 

             As he lifted his foot up, whatever it was crackled from the release of the pressure. He saw a gooey, red like slime string up from the floor to the bottom of his boot.

             It took a second to even realize what he was even looking at. It was a pile of red, seeping mush. Peaking out of the disgusting pile was fragments of white fur and bits and pieces of what looked like animal bone. Then it hit him.

He had kept his promise… 

He found Newton.

Newton was completely ripped into pieces, torn apart. Bite marks made the edges of what remained of Newton ragged. Travis’ mouth curved downward.

"What in Sam Hill…." He groaned, staring at the pile with a new sense of urgency. He had to find that Lenivy kid. 

“Dylan? It’s Deputy Hackett!” He called out to the kid, his heart beating against his ribcage harshly. 

He had no clue what was happening, and he hated not knowing. It didn’t help that the kid wasn’t answering him. He prayed to god, who he didn’t even believe in, that he was safe. 

Travis cautiously continued to travel deeper into the deathly quiet home. The light from his torch tore through the darkness, brightening every piece of furniture it hit. Every shadow that conjured up behind said furniture made Deputy Hackett just a little more nervous. 

Through the heavy air, he could hear his heartbeat bash heavier against his chest. It was like every bone in his body was telling him to run away. But he couldn't. He'd be damned if he didn't find Dylan safe and sound. That was his number one priority. With that in mind, he forced himself past the living room, toward the kitchen. The dire need to run out of this terrible place clawing at his stomach turning more and more crucial. 

His body turned to the side, avoiding the dining room table as he made his way toward the archway of the kitchen. The rotting smell of old eggs haunted the air. And that other smell too… wet dog. God. If Travis wasn't so fixated on the mission at hand, he probably would've thrown up. 

Travis' anxiety had risen tenfold the closer he got to the kitchen. He could hear in the back of his mind a voice… one that had started off as a voice he was familiar with. One that he could safely say was his own. 

Leave.

It said...

Leave.

The voice had grown colder.

More wicked.

Then it laughed.

            Fear struck Travis' heart. He looked around the dining room hastily with his light. 

            His dismay was causing an illusion, he finally decided. But that conclusion hadn't sat right with him. But for his sake, he had forced himself to believe so. 

             Quickly, he inhaled the putrid aroma of the home as a wake up call. He couldn't be distracted. Not right now.

              But the stench had not been what brought him back from being distracted by the cackle in the night. 

              The circular glow that radiated from the flashlight in his hand had hit something. Something that looked like the outline of rugged, old penny loafers. They were offset brown with worn out soles… shoes that anyone in North Kill would associate with none other than Mr.Lenivy…

               He always wore those dirty old things… He loved them for some god-known reason. No one knew why but he would've rather died than throw them out and replace them. 

                 Slowly, the ring of light made its way up the body, revealing more and more blood. Bile climbed up, burning the insides of his throat. A bitter taste spread over his taste buds as saliva began to build in his mouth. 

                  His head….

                  Mr.Lenivy's head was split into bits. As if someone shoved a shotgun into his mouth and pulled the trigger. Pieces of blood and brain were splattered against the tan carpet. If it weren't for his torn up loafers or the typical, basic collared shirt he wore, there was no way he could've recognized this to be Mr.Lenivy.

                   The curses on Travis' gall covered tongue refused to slip through his lips. His eyes were wide as he stood there in horror. 

                    Shakily, his hand raised the light toward the archway of the kitchen. And there it was.

                    The other body… it was sprawled out on the checkered kitchen floor, looking quite similar to Dylan's dad. His head was blown into a sloppy mess but the difference was that he had no distinguishable features that would separate him from the ordinary man. He wore a dark hoodie with dark blue jeans. In his hands he held a large shotgun that was faced toward his own head. The only thing Travis could tell from the distance he kept was his skin.

                     Travis Hackett knew that was a weird thing to notice but it was the only thing that stood out. His skin was almost… white in color. And he didn't think caucasian but literal white. Like a sheet of printer paper. Unmarked. Unflawed. Pure white. 

                        Mentally he noted that as he breathed in slowly, trying to stay as calm as possible.

                       "Dylan?!" He called out again. The name ripped through his dry, scratchy throat. 

                       Once again, nothing was heard in reply. Until a moment of stillness had passed, a moment that felt like hours, Travis could make out what sounded like small whispers. Discreetly, he followed them.

                       "What if it's Deputy Hackett though???" 

                      "I promise you that he's here to help… he's always been nice to me."

                       The hushed whispers got louder as he went through the carpeted corridor. It was easy to tell that they were coming from behind the last door in the hallway. The door had a sign that said 'Dylan' in bright big letters. It had been decorated with cartoony planets and stars. Travis crept closer to the door as he heard a stern whisper say: "Mr.Hackett is one of the good guys, Silas. He's gonna help." 

                        "Dylan Lenivy?" The deputy said as softly as he could manage. "It's Deputy Hackett, you… you can come out, okay?"

                         "SEE! I TOLD YOU IT WAS HIM!" 

                         Loud but small footsteps approached the closed door. With a click, the door swung open and there he was.

                          Dylan Lenivy stared up at Travis with dark, sparkling eyes. They held a certain exhaustion but he could tell that Dylan was ready to be, in a word, "saved." 

#the quarry #hacketteers #hacketts quarry #dylan leviny #horror #ryan ezrahler #daniel isnt real #miles robbins #The Quarry AU #Ryan x Dylan #Radioheads #until dawn #travis hackett #the hackett family #jacob custos #laura kearney #max brinly #emma mountebank #abigail blyg #nick furcillo #the quarry fanfiction #the quarry angst #angst

[tapioca-puddingg]

Two, the Goddess of Kindness: A Drakengard 3 Analysis

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

Yoooo. I'm back again. It's been a while since the last post. Been getting kinda busy lately. If you're new here, my name is Taro and I post memes and character analysis discussions. This is my Seven Deadly Sins/Seven Heavenly Virtues series for Drakengard 3. Be sure to check out the other analyses I did for Five, Four, and Three. Go ahead and leave a follow as well if you enjoy these discussions and would like to be notified when I post more! With that out of the way, let's get onto Two, the Goddess of Kindness.

"Throughout the endless war, the kind Intoner gathered up orphans across the land and cared for them. She didn't have any parents of her own, so she wanted to help others escape the misery that she herself had known. And through it all, her one true love was always at her side. This is the story of a certain couple. A couple that strove endlessly to support each other."

INTRO TO TWO

Two is the third eldest Intoner sister and the ruler of the Land of Sands. Her personality is a stark contrast from that of most of her sisters: Five being self-indulgent and self-centered, Four being wildly insecure and judgmental, and Three being unhinged and immoral. Instead, Two has a bright and cheerful disposition and is shown to be highly empathetic and kindhearted. And she also has a knack for cooking. She genuinely loves the orphaned children under her care, and she doesn't hide the fact that she is madly in love with her disciple, Cent.

NOVELLA

I know, I know, I'm going in a different order this time around. I just feel like it made more sense to go chronologically. Anyways, the novella takes place sometime before the events of the game, as per usual. Two, Cent and the children are living in the underground shrine that One tasked them with protecting.

On this particular day, she plans to make a home-cooked meal for Cent and the children. Cent wonders about which Intoner has the best cooking, and Two describes their individual cooking styles: Five cooks odd monsters and creatures that people normally wouldn't (and probably shouldn't) consume, on top of the fact that her meals tend to be unhealthy. Four's cooking is bland because she doesn't use any seasonings in her dishes for nutritional reasons. And Three doesn't bother chopping up vegetables and leaves them whole. So she decides that One is the best cook. Cent points out the how bizarre their cooking styles are and that thought never crosses Two's mind. This shows how she sees the good in people, but it also shows her naiveté. More on that later.

This story doesn't have anything to do with the main game. In my opinion, it just further illustrates who Two is as a person; a wholesome, kind young woman that truly cares about others. From her children, to her soldiers, to the citizens of the Land of Sands, she always does her best to help others.

TWO'S PROLOGUE & MAIN GAME

I'm combining these two into one section because both stories intertwine with one another.

So the first time we see Two is in the beginning of Drakengard 3, accompanied by her other sisters. The five of them fight Zero after she declares that she wants to kill them all and take their power. At first, Two seems happy to see her. But after they begin fighting, she tells Zero that she has to pack for a trip and that she doesn't have time to fight. Her tone of voice sounded annoyed as she said this, but that's my opinion.

At some point after her confrontation with Zero, she and Cent get tasked by One to clear out some monsters. They begin in the Land of Mountains and then go to in the Land of Forests. A lot of their dialogue is lovey-dovey banter, but here's some lines that stick out to me:

"If you say it, it must be true!" -Two to Cent

"Oh cent, you're so strong! You've got power AND beauty. You're just perfect!" - Two to Cent again

As well as this conversation:

Two: They seem kind of...weak and worn out.

Cent:  Well they ARE stragglers. Most are pretty badly hurt.

Two: Maybe we should try healing them. You know? Like we did with those orphans?

Cent: I'm afraid we can't do that, Lady Two. You understand why I did that right? Why I harnessed the power of your song? Why I used it to cure the orphans and strengthen our soldiers?

Two: Because you're kind.

Cent: ...No. I did it because I wanted them to protect you. And in order to do that, they had to be healthier. Stronger. I strove to forge them into a mighty shield for you, my lady. It had nothing to do with kindness.

Two: That's not true! You're super kind! You're my gentle prince!

These lines illustrate a major flaw in her character, and that is that she idealizes Cent. She blindly believes everything that he says (which is later confirmed by Zero) and refuses to believe that Cent did something that wasn't out of the kindness of his heart. It doesn't seem like she wants to see him as a flawed or less than innocent. And that kind of blind faith and loyalty can leave someone in an undoubtedly vulnerable position. But I suppose this is how one might view their partner in their first relationship, right?

After a short rest, Cent is informed by Decadus via letter that the Cathedral City is in danger. Two is immediately worried about the children, so the couple hurriedly make their way over there. They are forced to fight their way through their own soldiers that have gone berserk, but not without Two lamenting over their situation. Cent reveals that he used the power of Two's song when he healed the children and the soldiers, which is the source of this corruption. This devastates Two and she blames herself for this tragedy, but Cent tries to reassure her that this was all his doing.

As they make their way inside the Hidden Cathedral and fight through more soldiers and skulls, Two's mental state begins to deteriorate the further they go in. By this point, Cent is really trying (and failing) to get Two to calm down.

At last, they arrive at the final chamber to find a homonculus, which is an amalgamation of the corrupted children. Two is understandably hysterical as she realizes what this creature is. Unfortunately, the couple is forced to kill the homonculus. What makes this worse is the fact that the children are still crying out from within the creature. Which means that they're still semi-sentient.

"By the end of the battle, the Intoner's spirit had been shattered. The broken shards fell deep into darkness...doomed never to return. This is the story of a couple deeply in love. The story of a foolish couple. The story...of a couple ruined beyond repair"

Took the words right out of my mouth. Having to kill the children that she so deeply cared for broke her spirit beyond repair. And she couldn't cope. This event gives context as to why Two is in such a zombified state when we next encounter her in the main game. Zero also states that you need to have a strong mind in order to keep from being corrupted by the power of song (by the flower, rather). This explains why the soldiers all lost their minds. Two shows up briefly in Branch B, but, in my opinion, this marks the end of her story.

CENT

I just want to use this section to briefly talk about Cent. He's a tough nut to crack and hard to understand. I spent quite a bit of time internally debating about whether or not his love for Two was genuine. I wasn't sure if he was pretending to love her in order to keep her happy or perhaps he just wanted to use her power. After Mikhail killed Two, Cent was awfully calm about it. I would've expected him to fly into rage after the woman he loved just got killed in front of him.

Unrelated, but he also behaves differently around others as opposed to when he's with Two. When he interacts with Zero and her party, he has this air of pompousness to him and is obnoxious. Even in his novella, he still internally strokes his own ego.However, he's rather serious and protective when he's with Two.

The way he says "I'm just a big idiot right?", to Zero after Mikhail kills Two almost makes it seem as though he's purposefully playing the fool. As for what purpose that would possibly serve is beyond me. Despite that, he remains loyal to Two in Branch B and D, so it seems as though his feelings for her are indeed genuine.

COLOR THEORY (BLUE)

This segment is where we discuss color theory as it relates to the character. Two's main color obviously being blue.

Some positive traits of blue can include, peace, tranquility, honesty, reliability, trust, and intelligence. While these traits definitely are spot on, I perceive her more as a pink or an orange personality type. A pink personality type being known for its sensitivity and empathy, while orange being known for its passion and energy.

However, some negative traits include conservatism, sadness or depression, coldness or aloofness, fragility, and predictability. The positive traits are what she showed before the tragedy, and she identifies with some of the negative ones after the tragedy.

NOVELLA IMAGE

I don't think there's too much to say about the image. Two is being surrounded by the people that she loves; she's being embraced by Cent, her lover, with her dear children close to her.

THE FINAL SONG

Last thing I wanna talk about before I get out of here and that's her dance in the Final Song. Because she's an even-numbered Intoner, her movements are symmetrical. She's the only intoner besides Zero that dances to her own theme. The choreography for her dance is beautiful and passionate. Her movements are wide and kind of wild. Her arms always end up stopping in front of her chest, her heart. No matter where she moves, she always returns to her heart. After reaching her heart, she moves her arms outwards. It's like she's giving out her love and her compassion. Her undying love for Cent. And the love that she holds for her children. She was always willing to help others in need. She's a giver rather than a taker and her dance is a reflection of that.

TLDR/AFTERTHOUGHT

Two was a kindhearted, yet naïve Intoner who was in love with her protective and suave disciple, Cent. She was loved and admired by the orphaned children that she took care of. In an attempt secure Two's safety in the future, the disciple would end up inadvertently misusing her power. The couple grossly underestimated just how much power Two's songs had and suffered greatly for it, as well as the victims that were killed in the process. Two's mind never recovered from this tragedy.

Phew! And that's a wrap, folks. Seriously, thanks to everyone that has been supporting these posts. I appreciate that you guys give me the time of day. As usual, I encourage you to leave your thoughts and opinions below. Not sure when I'll start on One's analysis, but you can be sure that I'm gonna finish all the drakengard 3 ladies. This Taro signing off, and this has been my two cents (bah-dum-tss!). Until next time! 💙

#drakengard 3 #drakengard #yoko taro #videogamewomen #square enix #intoners #intoner two #analysis #sorry if this one was underwhelming #thanks for the support

[scandi-rose]

1066, Strangers from a foreign land

Summary: It’s all happening so fast, everyone’s leaving, and these people talk strange and Arthur sobbing so much it seems like he won’t ever stop. Henry the eldest brother of the England twins gets left his Father’s parting wish for him to care for his younger brother.

Word count: 498

Prologue: 

Little legs sprint as fast as they can carry them, The sound of hooves behind them, thudding over the muddy path, metal rattling as in time to the horse’s canter. An older brother carries a younger one, bundled in a green cloak, hood pulled over his head.

The harbour is in sight as the stragglers cry out ahead of them,  massive striped sail billowing in the wind. The churning water bobbed the boat, tossing it like it weighs nothing. A man with bright blonde hair stands on the dock. And his vision starts to blur, eyes sticking with the rain and tears.

“Papa! Papa! Wait for us!” Cries the boy holding the blonde blond to his higher and he tries running faster. The burns and couches down on reflex as opening for them..

Hiding his face in his father’s chest as the man’s arms close around, he hears a throat clear. “ skatter,  skatter I..” He and his brother are pulled close by Papa. “I’m sorry Far can’t take you.” 

The smaller boy wiggles free and latches on to the man. “Far, No, No...Don’t go...I’ll be good I promise...” The smaller blonde child cries rubbing his face against the man’s chest.

“Arthur,  Skatter, you are good min skatter “ He shakes his cradling the smaller brother shielding him bet he could from the rain  Rubbing his brother’s back. The elder child clings to his legs head ducked; hearing the horse getting closer still.

He looks up at Papa when he feels his hand on the back of his head “Henry, look after your brother. “ He whimpers as his father pulls him into the hug with the sobbing Arthur..

“B-But Papa, you belong here with Arthur and me.” The strangled sound from his father h looks up as his tears stream like a burst river. Papa shakes his head but the tears reappear as quick as he can wipe them away.

He reaches down clasping a hand on his shoulder. “Henry Far doesn’t want to, but he has to” He looks back at the boat for a moment. “Just like when Far got you from Alistair, remember?”” he asks and Arthur screams shaking his head.

“Pappa was there...Uh huh, Noo, no, no,” Pappa was the other man the strange with red-blonde hair and violet eyes. Henry has always liked Fr much more.

“Calm down Artie please.” Pleads Far has a horse stops moving as Henry freezes The wet thudding sound and the metal clunking against metal. The man speaks a weird tongue and Arthur screams his protests even louder.

“Far, Noo, Do-n’t go pl-please F-Far Please don..” Henry grabs the screams child as he watches his father board the boat.

“Look after Arthur! I’m sorry!” from what Henry can make out, he’s wiping his face free of tears again. 

Henry squishes Arthur as close to him as possible and crouches down pulling his own cloak over his head to hide from the rain as much as he can.

#2p england #hws england #hws denmark #historical #nationverse #1ps and 2ps coexist #2p norway mentioned #2p england is Henry

[urbancowboyjoel]

Bite The Hand | Joel Miller x f!afab!reader

Bite The Hand: Chapter One

Prologue | Read on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Bite The Hand Playlist

When Tess doesn’t show up for sewage duty, you seek out Joel for answers.

Word Count: ~6.1k

A/N: And the journey begins... also, I genuinely have no clue what post-apocalyptic sewage maintenance entails/looks like, so please let me have my creative freedom and overlook the inaccuracies lol

Warnings/Tags: n/a (refer to masterlist for complete series warnings & tags)

Bite The Hand: Chapter One

The morning sun shone brightly in your eyes as you casually strolled toward the entrance of the sewage tunnel. Your eyes were still heavy with exhaustion and your legs seemed to drag with each step you took, fatigued and sore from the previous day's intensive labor. The streets of the Boston QZ were nearly empty, as they typically were at the crack of dawn; primarily occupied by soldiers heading for morning patrols and other military duties, with only a handful of civilian stragglers lingering around, sticking close to the walls and keeping their heads down. 

While most civilian duties didn't start this early, sewage maintenance was the one in particular that the overseeing soldiers preferred to complete early and move on with their day. Meanwhile, those actually carrying out the maintenance duties would spend the remainder of their morning scrubbing themselves clean, if they even cared to, before heading off to their evening work. That was only if there were any slots available. 

Sewage maintenance was the shittiest job quite literally. It also happened to be the job with the highest ration card payout, making it more appealing to those desperate enough to take any shifts FEDRA had to offer. Regardless of the payout, it was still not a highly sought after duty with many people putting their pride over survival. You on the other hand…your name was consistently at the top of the list each and every week. 

You didn’t necessarily need the ration cards given your unique position within the QZ, however, it proved to be quite advantageous in your underground dealings with fellow QZ residents and FEDRA soldiers. The extra cards provided a valuable buffer for negotiations when necessary, as well as served as a safety net when unexpected emergencies popped up. The additional earnings also allowed you to acquire a greater variety of higher-quality supplies for trading with outsiders from the surrounding cities, expanding your clientele to your advantage.

A group of soldiers, all no older than their mid-20s, just like yourself, were laughing amongst themselves outside the metal gate that led to the tunnels. You were familiar with most of them, having done deals with them at some point or another. Some you knew better than others for various reasons. However, they typically disregarded you, anxious that the things you’ve done for them would come to light. 

Your eyes fixated on them as you approached the opposite side of the fence to wait for Tess; as per usual, your presence to them seemingly went unnoticed. Normally, Tess would be the one waiting for you, however from what she told you last week, she and Joel have been doing more and more deals, working tirelessly day and night. Supposedly they had a pretty huge deal go south recently and she was stuck doing damage control while Joel was busy tracking down those who had wronged them. With this in mind, her tardiness didn’t come to you as a surprise.

Neither Tess nor yourself delved too deeply into the specifics of your respective runs, only name dropping here and there, giving casual warnings on areas and people to stay away from. Despite the general lack of discussion in that regard, there seemed to be an unspoken understanding between the two of you, which is why your bond grew so strong over the past year or so. 

As you glanced at your watch, with ten minutes remaining until the job was set to begin, you sensed a presence come up behind you. Their heat radiated against your cold limbs, making the hair on your arms stand erect, catching on the fabric of your thin and weathered flannel shirt.

“I didn’t expect to see you around today,’ the man’s voice was coarse and laced with sarcasm. A faint smile started to form on your face, but you promptly pressed your lips together to prevent it from manifesting completely.

You rolled your eyes, ensuring the timing was just right for him to witness the reaction you intended for him to see as you turned to face him. The soldier looked down at you with a broad, toothy grin. His dark, curly hair appeared to absorb the sunlight that cast a sliver of light upon the two of you, while his deep brown eyes transformed into a soft bronze hue. It was hard to maintain your straight face as you marveled over him, but you forced yourself to as your fingertips bit into the palms of your hands.

“Roman, always a pleasure,” you responded in a syrupy-sweet tone, with traces of sarcasm lingering heavily in your words. His dimples deepened as his smile grew wider. “I’m sure you’ll thoroughly enjoy watching me shovel shit all morning.” 

Roman let out a brief chuckle, one side of his mouth tugging as his cheek took on a hint of pink. “Well, I’m sure you won’t have to worry about that. You know us; we barely venture past the door, let alone come far enough to watch you all,” he teased. “But, if it’ll make you feel better, I can turn around.” 

“Mmm,” you hummed, sticking your tongue in your cheek. “You're a brave man admitting that to someone like me. Now correct me if I’m wrong, isn’t it your job to observe us?”

He let out another melodious laugh. “I know you won’t tell,” he said, looking down at his fiddling thumbs, contemplating whether to extend a hand towards you or maintain the narrow distance.

“Brave and confident,” As the last bit of playful banter left your lips, laughter emanated from the group on the other side of the gate and your subtle smile dropped to a frown. 

Leaning to the side of Roman and peering around his body, you narrowed your eyes, shooting a glare at the eavesdropping soldiers. Some immediately ceased their snickering, while the others covered their mouths and turned away from you. 

Straightening, you redirected your glare towards Roman. “I suppose the means you told them then,” you spoke in a noticeably quieter tone, your expression authentically serious. He briefly turned away from you, looking at his buddies. Without uttering another word, they promptly vanished into the tunnels, the heavy metal door slamming with a loud thud.

At the same time Roman turned away, you glanced at your watch once more, realizing only a couple minutes remained and Tess had yet to arrive. A thought crossed your mind: perhaps she went inside already? However, you doubted the possibility. After all, who would willingly stay in there longer than necessary? Moreover, it seemed rather out of character for her to not wait for you. You let out an uneasy sigh. 

“Don’t think I had to say much; we were quite… loud, wouldn’t you agree?” He hushed his voice to match yours as he turned back, a breathy chuckle escaping at the end. “And the thin walls…” When you eventually lifted your gaze into his brown eyes, a slight smile formed on your lips. You tried to suppress it by biting your bottom lip but couldn’t entirely succeed. He responded with a gentle smile. “Can I drop by later? Maybe for dinner or… anything really. I just would like to see you outside of work duties and late night drop ins.” His question made your heart flutter, and for some reason, it embarrassed you. 

It wasn’t your usual practice to sleep with FEDRA soldiers, especially those that you knew from doing trades. However, Roman was different, it was a unique situation. And in this lonely world, there were moments when filling that void felt comforting. Eventually, you gave in to the feeling, and Roman just so happened to be there at the time.

At times, the connection with Roman felt genuine–the emotions, the intimacy, the love, the way he looked at you with a hint of something deeper in his eyes. You frequently had to stop yourself from having such thoughts, reminding yourself that both of you were merely two lonely individuals just trying to survive a chaotic reality. In this world, there was no room for love; it was simply an escape, just pure lust to distract from everything around you, even if it was just for half an hour or so. 

You took a moment to reflect on the question, running the tip of your tongue over the grooves of the roof of your mouth. Thoughts of your late-night visits to each other’s apartments flooded your mind quite frequently; more often than you’d care to admit. 

“I’m not sure, Rom,” you mumbled, glazing down at your boots and shaking your head; a few strands of hair slipped out from behind your ear. Your eyes fixated on the torn tips of your boots, with some metal brackets that held the laces missing.

Roman gently grabbed your forearm, pulling you closer to him; you didn’t object to the gesture. The sensation of his calloused palms caused a shock to run right through your core. “If it’s because of them, they–they don’t think anything of it,” Roman hastily replied, his eyes growing intense. He glanced over his shoulder, allowing a loose sigh to escape his lips. “They were just messing around, I promise. I didn’t say anything to them,” his eyes widened, the familiar glimmer appearing once again. “I wouldn’t want to jeopardize this.” A small scoff escaped you as he made the final statement, prompting a confused twitch of his eyebrow.

“This? What is this? ” You voiced the question, even though it was primarily intended for your own contemplation. A brief silence hung between the two of you. Roman allied his hand to glide down the side of your arm, entwining his fingers with yours. 

“What–” he started to speak but was abruptly cut off. His head snapped in the direction of the voice, eyebrows knitted together in a deep furrow.

“Cruz, duty’s starting,” the voice reverberated from within the tunnel. Roman released an irritated sigh, releasing your hand with hesitance. Avoiding eye contact, he pivoted on his heel, placing his hand between your shoulder blades. 

Without exchanging any further words or glances, the two of you entered the sewage tunnel. The humidity and stench hit you with an intense force, prompting your nostrils to flare in response. You had to muster all your strength not to show any physical reaction. 

Seated behind the table, one of the soldiers passed you a set of work gloves, safety glasses, and a shovel, with some hardened brown matter adhered to the wooden post like cement. The mere appearance of it stirred a sensation of nausea deep within you. As you walked over to the rest of the rest of the unfortunate ones desperate enough to do this, you yanked the piece of fabric tied around your neck up over your mouth and nose and began shoveling at the sluggish piles of God knows what. 

A large portion of your mind remained fixated on the situation with Roman, causing you to entirely overlook Tess and her absence.

The entire time you made a conscious effort to divert your thoughts from the unpleasantry of shoveling literal shit. Instead, you focused on recent deals you had negotiated, strategizing how to execute them, devising timelines, and considering the most effective order to complete the deals. You thought about Roman, switching between self-deprecation for your feelings and entertaining the idea of what it might be like to be with him. Your mind eventually wandered to the numerous nights you've shared, not wanting them to end. You envisioned his sweat trickling down his bare chest onto yours, the way his curls stuck to his forehead, and how his muscles subtly shifted beneath his skin with every movement and thrust.  Engrossed in these thoughts, you entered a state of complete autopilot.

The soldiers assigned to supervise the cleanup typically stayed just beyond the entrance. Despite being repeatedly instructed to stay within a ten-foot radius of the workers to ensure the cleanup met standards and everyone behaved appropriately, they consistently disregarded this instruction. You couldn't entirely fault them, either.

According to Roman, they simply stood there and engaged in conversation until all the workers would return. Occasionally, they placed bets about comical things, such as betting on which civilian would be most likely to return covered in shit or who might cause the most trouble when distributing ration cards. You could never tell if Roman found it genuinely amusing or if he considered it as absurd as you did. You preferred to believe the latter, but perhaps he was clever enough to appear indifferent about it in your presence.

As you turned the corner, now completely disappearing out of the soldiers’ sight, you encountered the sequence of shallow side alleys leading to the primary piping tunnels. Taking a moment to pause, you glanced over your shoulder. No one was behind you; the rest of the group ambled ahead. The tunnels, usually quiet because of people's thoroughly diminished pride, seemed even quieter than usual today.

Tossing some of the residual sludge towards the center of the tunnel, you approached the initial side alley on your right. It was the only one with a functioning light, albeit it was on its last legs. The light flickered consistently, just as it had done last week when Tess hastily pushed you into it.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, the word escaping in a brief and abrupt manner.

You broke into a run, swiftly catching up to the small group of individuals that showed up today. Most cursed at you as you passed them, only stopping for a short moment to check their faces. The last person at the front of the group was an elderly man, probably in his late 60’s. He shot you a stern glare as your eyes met his.

"Anyone up ahead?" The words emerged breathy and muffled as you gestured with your covered chin toward the end of the tunnel. He narrowed his eyes at you briefly before giving a slight shake of his head, then returned to his work. Turning in the opposite direction, you began heading back. It was unusual for Tess to miss your coordinated duty day, especially without informing you beforehand.

Everything blurred as you hurried back to the entrance, your mind wholly preoccupied with recalling Tess's words in the alley just last week. Your heart thumped wildly against the walls of your chest, desperately hoping she followed through with her promise to reconsider the run.

“I’ve got a run coming up in a day or two, wanna join?” Tess asked in a hushed voice, a faint smirk gracing her face. “Huge payout, you’ll get half.” 

"Half?" You confirmed, almost exasperated by her offer. Turning your head, you heard a pair of wet footsteps echo past the alley. Your stomach dropped, although you knew the soldiers rarely ventured much farther than the entrance and no one else would care enough to stop and ask what the two of you were doing. "What's the catch, Tess?" Your tone turned sour as you frowned, suspecting there had to be something.

"Listen—" Her voice raised slightly, and you closed your eyes, exhaling a huff of air through your nostrils.

"I don't like the sound of that," you cut in, shifting all your weight onto the shovel and resting your chin on the top of one of your hands. She took a step closer, her serious expression evident under the flickering dim light.

"No, it's not... it's not bad." Her tone shifted. You stood facing her, fingering the hem of Roman's long-sleeve shirt—the one you mistakenly grabbed instead of your own as you hurried out of his apartment earlier that morning. "It's across the city in Richmond. I have a contact out there who can exchange some equipment for a stockpile of guns. I happen to have another contact here who urgently needs guns. They've promised a year's worth of ration cards in exchange, and–and that would be huge for me, even half would be enough to get Joel and me what we need."

"A year? You don't think they're bluffing?" you inquired, skeptical of the legitimacy of the offer.

"I know they're not. C’mon, I could use someone like you out there." As the lights flickered, the desperation in her eyes became more apparent than before. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you contemplated the offer. A break from sewage maintenance would be nice–just for a month or two and focus purely on trades.

"That's incredibly risky, Tess," you finally voiced. A silence lingered between the two of you; Tess continued to stare at you, hoping you'd change your mind, while you stared at the ground, so close to giving in. "What does Joel say?"

"Joel?" His name seemed almost foreign coming out of her mouth. You didn't know much about the guy, other than the fact that most smugglers were afraid of him and the few pieces of unimportant information Tess occasionally let slip into conversation. "He... he doesn’t want to risk it."

"Perhaps you should reconsider it, then." The words felt painful as they left your throat. Yet, you'd prefer her to be a little upset than somewhere dead.

You were met with more silence from Tess. She was now looking at the ground, the stick of her shovel cradled in the nook of her elbow, with both hands on her hips. You knew how significant this deal was for her—the clients, the payout. Even receiving half would be sufficient to alleviate some of the burden she carried. However, it didn't alter the fact that traveling to that part of the city was a death sentence in itself.

"If you can wait another day, I'll go, okay?" Your voice sounded strained. Whether you went or not, she would do this. You knew Tess well enough to know that. "I need to finish up a deal with Nathan, then we can go."

A sickening sensation washed over you when she didn't respond. Tess didn't even look up from the ground; she stood completely still. "No... no, I think I'll reconsider," her words emerged slowly, prompting your eyebrows to rise. Without another word, she brushed past you, her shoulders slightly rounded, and returned to work.

The soldiers appeared to snap to attention at the sound of your wet footsteps under the damp concrete floor. Your breathing was labored and heavy due to a mixture of physical activity and emotional turmoil. They exchanged glances among themselves, none quite certain about what to do. You knew they wouldn't shoot or arrest you, but you weren't necessarily certain they would let you go scot-free.

"What are you—" One of the soldiers, you believed his name was Henry, stepped in front of you. You didn't pause to acknowledge him; that was the last thing on your mind. As you blew past him, your shoulder collided with his, nearly toppling him over by the force. "If you leave now, you won't get your pay." His voice seemed uncertain, devoid of any authority. “ What do we do?” He redirected his attention to his comrades.

Setting down your shovel and returning the provided supplies to the table, you exited the tunnel through the heavy metal door, the sudden bright light nearly blinding you. Raising your hand to your forehead, you shaded your eyes.

The gate emitted a loud squeal as you pushed it open, the metallic sound echoing against the tall surrounding buildings. The noise drew the attention of two soldiers standing near the alley that led back to the street. They didn't attempt to conceal their skeptical looks as you walked toward them. Your chest tightened as one of them took a step towards you; their exchanged words were unintelligible, but based on their expressions, you knew you were about to be confronted with numerous questions.

"Moore, fall back," Roman called out to the approaching soldier, the gate squeaking once again as he pushed against it. Glancing back at him, your eyes showed nothing in particular as your mind remained solely focused on finding Joel and hoping he knew where Tess was. "Hey, hey, slow down." The sound of gravel crunching under boots filled the air as he jogged to catch up with you. Roman grabbed at your shoulder, causing you to come to an abrupt stop. "Is everything okay?"

“I don’t… I don’t feel good, I just need to lay down.” Your words didn’t sound convincing by any means, but you didn’t necessarily need them to be. Roman was loyal enough to cover for you whether he knew the truth or not. “Please don’t say anything.”

His eyes widened as he stared down at you, a glimmer of panic evident. Confusion twisted your face as you glanced behind you, waiting for him to say something. Wiping his hands down the front of his FEDRA-distributed uniform shirt, he took a few steps closer, closing the distance between the two of you.

"You don't think—" he whispered, leaning toward you. Your eyes shot open as you realized the reason for his reaction. “Because we–we’ve been careful.

“No, no, Roman, definitely not.” Instant relief flooded through him. “But I need you to cover for me okay? Don’t ask me why, just do it… please. ” As soon as he nodded in confirmation, you turned on your heel heading towards the street.

“I’ll stop by later when I get off,” Roman shouted after you, seemingly not caring if anyone else around heard. His voice faded the farther you got. 

Now, he was the last thing on your mind.

You swiftly passed through the now crowded street, walking fast enough to reach Tess' apartment within a reasonable timeframe, but not so fast as to raise suspicion from the soldiers patrolling the streets. Running would signify trouble to them, and the last thing you needed was to be stopped, taken in for questioning, and subjected to whatever else they might feel compelled to do. There, Roman couldn't cover for you.

People halted, shooting you dirty looks and cursing as you bumped into them. 

Approaching the front of the apartment building in Area 4, a group of teenagers hanging out by the entrance suddenly seemed to become interested in you. Quickly catching on, you slowed your pace and loosened your posture, while simultaneously pretending you hadn’t realized. They seemed to form a circle around you as you neared the steps, and one of the larger boys positioned himself in front of the door, blocking your path. The young punk grinned at you, revealing a mouthful of rotting teeth. Staring directly into his eyes, you countered with a smug, annoyed expression while ignoring the others.

"Say lady, I haven't seen you around here before," he said, glancing from side to side, making eye contact with his pals as they closed in. You observed those around you, noticing some were a bit smaller, others a bit bigger, but they were all teens, some appeared to be literal children. You had dealt with people worse than a handful of punks with nothing better to do than start shit for entertainment.

"Congratulations on your observation skills, FEDRA could really use you on patrols. Can you move now?" you responded amusingly, taking a couple of steps toward the door. A few of the boys snickered.

"Geez lady, I meant it as a compliment." The boy looked you up and down as you descended one step, leaving only one stair between the two of you. Rolling your eyes, waiting for the opportunity to move past him. "What's your business here?"

You let out a small laugh, a bewildered smile appearing on your face. "I only answer to FEDRA. Move ." Your voice remained unwavering and firm. Today was not the day to mess with you—no day was, truly, but especially not today, not when Tess was potentially in danger.

"I'm sure you do, lady," his voice rose an octave, revealing his true youth, and you flinched, feeling the muscles in your neck tighten. The words struck a chord within you, sending pure fire and rage through your veins. If you had no self-control, you would have thrown him down the stairs, sending him toppling over his even younger friends.

"Kevin! " The high-pitched screech of a lady echoed from above. Fear quickly filled the boy’s eyes as everyone turned their attention upward. A slender woman with gaunt cheeks peered out from the window. Her eyes resembled an endless abyss of darkness, and even from the fourth story, the emptiness within them was noticeable. Looking back at the teen, his complexion had gone ashen, he grimaced as he continued staring at the woman. He eventually shrugged as to say what? “Get your ass up here, right now, and do not make me come down there and drag you up those fucking stairs again.”

A few passersby halted in their tracks, drawn by the angered mother, before eventually moving on. Meanwhile, the boy’s so-called friends engaged in hushed conversations among themselves, punctuated by the occasional laughter.

"Mommy's calling, Kev," you quipped, and he quickly redirected his focus toward you. Clearly embarrassed, he flung the door open with such force that the front side smacked against the brick building. The others who still lingered let out boisterous bursts of laughter.

You halted the door with the palm of your hand as it started to swing back. Kevin's footsteps, fueled by a mix of anger and embarrassment, reverberated throughout the building. The echoes of his heavy steps were accompanied by a symphony of coughs, hushed whispers, and the distant cries of a baby from one of the levels above. This was your first time stepping foot in this section of apartments. Cracks ran up the walls and you followed the lines with your eyes as they spiderwebbed out across the ceiling; chunks of plaster had crumbled away, revealing the inner parts of the framework. A dense layer of dust and dirt had settled on the floor, with the damp corners transforming into a mud-like substance. You thought your building was a shithole, but this one certainly shifted your perspective. If the hallways were this bad, you could only imagine the condition of the actual apartments.

Tess and you never disclosed the exact details of your residences within the Boston QZ. There were small references scattered throughout your conversations: a shared connection residing in her building, a tidbit of valuable intel picked up from a soldier in yours, Tess frequently mentioned an entrance to a tunnel system in her basement, and you revealed a vulnerability in the wall behind your place—a FEDRA-secured spot discreet enough to go unnoticed yet fragile enough for someone with the right knowledge to exploit. Tess had told you just enough information for you to assume she lived in Area 4. 

Uncertain of Joel's whereabouts, you pondered the possibility that he ended up going with Tess. However, one thing was clear: erring on the side of caution seemed wiser. Plus, the prospect of a day spent in anticipation had a certain appeal, certainly better than your other options.

Upon returning to the building's entrance and starting to ascend the steps, a voice captured your attention. "What brings you to this part of the QZ?" The tone carried a blend of amusement and genuine curiosity.

"Hannah, what... where have you been?" Your heart sank as you turned and examined her face. In a different world, you might have embraced her, shedding tears of joy at her mere existence. But this was not that kind of world. “I thought you were dead.” Your voice became eerily quiet as your throat began to burn. 

“Got sent to the hole for a week…then a month.” She replied, the bruised swelling on her cheek evidence of her troublesome ordeal. “Turns out those FEDRA bastards aren’t all talk.” Her mouth curved into a frown, and her voice took on a small, almost melancholic tone. The implications of her words made your stomach twist into a tight knot.

“I’m sorry. You just got out?” you inquired, tracing your thumbnail along the pad of your index finger. She nodded before heading toward the stairs on the opposite side of the hallway. With a quick motion of her head, she gestured for you to follow her. You wondered: Perhaps she would know where Tess lives.

The two of you ascended the narrow staircase in silence. The nature of your usual conversations was not suitable for casual hallway talk, especially with the ever-attentive ears around.

“Seriously though, what are you doing here?” In a hushed tone, Hannah asked when you reached the third floor of the building, glancing nervously over her shoulder. Your hamstrings throbbed from the steps, and a wave of dizziness washed over you due to your lack of nutrition. You waited for the small child accompanied by an elderly lady to pass by, allowing them to create some distance before responding.

“I’m looking for Tess, you wouldn’t happen to know which unit is hers.” Your voice quivered unmistakably as the words escaped your lips. The moment you uttered her name, Hannah halted, fixating on you with a vacant expression. She rubbed her lips together a few times before releasing a nervous sigh.

“Why?” The word came out like a tautly pulled string, resonating deep with tension.

“It’s not–it’s not like that I promise.” The desperation grew stronger when you realized Hannah, in fact, knew where she lived. “I can’t tell you much, you know how it is. I haven’t seen her in a week and I’m worried, okay? I just want to make sure she’s okay, or at least try and see if Joel knows.”

Hannah scoffed, a wince accompanying the smile that graced her face as her bruised cheek lifted. “Good luck with Joel. But- uh…” She let your voice trail off as if she were contemplating. “They’re on the fourth floor, room 402. It’s down the hall from the stairs, second room on the left. If I find out you–”

“Hannah, I promise.” You cut her off before she could finish. Her look softened as you both came up to her door. “I owe you one, seriously.”

She nodded a few times, lingering in the doorway of her apartment, avoiding eye contact with you. Uncertain of what else to say, you offered her a pitiful smile before turning away and heading back towards the stairs. “Hey,” Hannah yelled out to you as you walked away, causing you to turn back toward her. She glanced around cautiously before locking eyes with you. “If you go out again, be careful. Things are really… they’re getting bad.” Her voice barely reached your ears. With a single nod, you turned away, the sound of the door clicking and locking behind you.

The peephole seemed to stare back at you as you stood in front of the door. Almost ten minutes had passed since you found the apartment–room 402. The initial few minutes were occupied by your hand hesitating in mid-air, contemplating whether to knock. The past several minutes were spent pacing the vacant, dark hallway. You weren’t afraid of what was behind the door, despite the things you’ve heard about Joel, you harbored no fear for him. Your hesitation stemmed from what you might find out once that door opens.

You released a forced exhale through your nose, embarrassment and foolishness swelling within your chest. Using the meaty side of your fist, you pounded against the door three times. You took a step back, biting your lip in anticipation. Your ears strained as you tried to catch any indication of someone behind the door. After a few minutes passed with no response, you decided it wouldn't hurt to try one more time— one last attempt before you staked out on the ground and waited for someone to return, hopefully soon.

Again, you pounded on the door three times, this time a bit louder and with more force. Before taking a step back, you tried twisting the door knob, just to check–it was locked, as you expected it to be. A lot of people didn’t care, leaving their doors unlocked, but Tess had more at stake, and she was well aware of that.

Your attention sharpened at the sound of something falling inside the apartment. Leaning in, you pressed your ear against the door, furrowing your brows as you strained to concentrate on the muffled noises within. The muted murmur of a man's voice and the persistent scraping of wood against wood resonated in your ears. The vibrations from approaching footsteps reverberated through the ground, growing louder as the person neared the door causing you to straighten once again.

A gust of wind hit you as the door swung open, revealing a middle-aged man, his hair dark and wavy with whisps of gray and a patchy salt and pepper beard; you assumed this was Joel. “What?” His voice, laden with grogginess and hostility, carried a biting edge within that single word, nearly causing you to flinch. He wasn't looking at you; it seemed as though he was staring right through you. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. 

As he reached to close the door, his hand curling around its edge, you took a single step forward. “You know where Tess is?” Your words were calm yet firm, just as you intended. You could see the cords of muscles in his forearm strain as he halted the movement of the door.

"What do ya want with Tess?" His question almost sounded like a test, his eyes narrowing at you as he leaned against the doorframe. Glancing in your peripheral vision, you suddenly realized how isolated you actually were; the fear of the Joel Miller amongst the smugglers began to seep through your veins, making you feel awfully small.

Straightening your posture and tilting your chin up, you looked him in his eyes. You couldn’t tell if his eyes were dark as night, or if his pupils were simply dilated to hell. “Haven’t seen her the past week, just wanted to make sure all was good.” You responded, aiming for a neutral tone to avoid sounding too overbearing. 

Joel ran his tongue over the front of his top teeth, looking you up and down with a gaze as hard as stone. Nothing was behind those eyes of his, which made your stomach twist and turn. You’ve dealt with a lot of different kinds of people over the last several long and grueling years, enough to learn that someone having nothing behind their eyes, is not a good sign. 

To your surprise, he allowed the door to swing open, its weight pulling it toward the back wall. Without uttering a word, he turned away. Taking it as an unspoken invitation, you entered, surveying the apartment before you. It was somewhat as you had imagined—dimly lit and dilapidated, but undeniably lived in.

The rotting wooden floor planks creaked under your steps as you crossed the threshold. He gestured toward the table, just past the door, indicating a chair. Walking deeper into the apartment, he headed to the kitchen, grabbing something off the counter. Pulling out the chair to face him, you observed the muscles in his back shifting under the dark green button-down. His elbow peeked out through a worn part of the shirt.

“So, do you know what she’s up to or not?” Urgency slipped into your words, evident enough for Joel to turn toward you, leaning against the edge of the counter. In one hand he held a glass bottle of liquor, in the other was an empty glass. For a moment, he stared at you, and you stared back, hardening your eyes.

“She’ll be back in a bit, she had some job this morning.” He replied rather cooly as he stared into the bottom of the shallow glass. He blew into it to clear any dust that had settled. A sense of relief washed over you, however, a bit of confusion manifested. Some job? You thought, wondering why she dipped in sewage and didn’t tell you beforehand. 

Tapping the tips of your fingers one by one softly on the table, you realized the piles of pills on the table, some in baggies, others scattered messily along the surface. Your eyebrows knitted together, the sun catching on the glass of empty bottles gleamed in your eye. Pills and alcohol. The sound of Joel belching caused your attention to flick back to him, his dilated pupils making sense. 

“Mind if I wait here for her, we’ve got some urgent business to discuss.” You watched him carefully as he poured some of the liquor into the glass, throwing it back in one swallow.

He shook his head. “Be my guest.” His tone was sarcastic, sliding the glass onto the table as he passed you, making way for the bed that was just past the living room area.

Bite The Hand: Chapter Two

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Skyline Gang. Chapter 33

Prologue: click HERE

Chapter 32: click HERE

Epilogue: click HERE

I hate writing ends XD

I suck at writing them…

All the staff had gone home, along with any stragglers. While they left, everyone learned that it had been a week since Dawn invaded. That was roughly about when everyone and Rainbow showed up too, at least a day or so after it happened. Whatever trick the old Skyline Gang leader did, it worked incredibly fast. It was quite impressive in all honesty. When the park was mostly empty, everyone was left to their own devices.

Exploring a little more, Dude found that there was an outdoor basketball/football court, an extra building for larger stage shows, and a swimming pool. There was also a beach nearby. There was more to see, but maybe for another time. Right now, Dude had too much on his mind. George’s conversation with him was still repeating in his head. On a lighter note, he got a little more about this “Skyline Gang”. They sounded like they could be entertainers here, but there was more under the surface. Keeping people safe? Protecting them? What were they? Superheroes? George made it sound like it was possible. And this was where they lived as well. Those rooms that Dude and his friends been staying in were in the main building (also known as the Pavilion according to the Redcoats that he was able to quickly speak with). So did the Skyline Gang have those rooms too. So then why were the rooms accommodating to him and his friends? It was like with the kitchens being stocked up magically daily. There had to be magic in that building somewhere. It would explain some things.

On a more dim note, there wasn’t that much known about Dawn. There were still pressing questions about her and her motives. Ruling the world? If she did that, it would make sense. But taking over a theme park that apparently had magic? While it made some sense, there was still no sense in the madness. It wasn’t like she extended her powers to the town or the rest of the world. She had the chance to try and do much worse than she already did. Did she have some kind of limit? Or did she just not care? This was just confusing. Nothing made sense in the madness. The problem was that no one would explain more about the Skyline. The wounds were still fresh, so it was understandable if no one wanted to talk during this time. However, questions continue to be raised, but none were answered.

Take things one day at a time. Let time heal. Eventually the answers will come to them. Just be patient.

“Dude? Sprout and I found something.” Candi suddenly appeared. Walking beside her was Sprout. They were both carrying something in their arms. It looked like notebooks and some stationary items.

“What is it?” Dude asked, raising an eyebrow at the items that the two were holding.

“We went to one of the gift shops and grabbed a couple of things.” Sprout explained, gesturing to the items.

“I hope you two paid for it.” Dude said, crossing his arms.

“We did!” Candi insisted. Then she faltered a little. “Well…more like we forced them to take our money. Staff said that it was free for us. But that’s besides the point! Take a look!” The stuff was free to him and his friends? That didn’t feel right. Shaking that thought off, Dude carefully took one of the notebooks. If he remembered correctly, most of them were blank with no special features on it other than colour. However, the moment he laid eyes on the cover, he dropped the notebook in surprise.

“That’s us!” He exclaimed, pointing at the object. 

“Yeah! Somehow, we’re all over a lot of the merch in the shop!” Sprout shouted, bending down to pick up the discarded notebook. He wiped it off on his dungaree leg before looking at the CGI printed version of him and his friends. “One minute everything was blank!”

“Now they aren’t!” Candi continued, showing a pick pencil case that had her image and name printed on it. “How is this possible?”

“That’s a good question…” Dude muttered, scratching his head.

“What’s going on?” Bud asked. He was joined by Mimi. They both explored different parts of the park and met in the middle. Rather than keep exploring, they decided to meet up with everyone else. Only Pip and Rainbow were still galavanting somewhere. Pip was probably looking for music to explore and play around with, while Rainbow was exploring his new territory.

“Mimi! Bud! Look!” Candi declared, holding up her bundle.

“Is that…us?” Bud asked slowly, deeply examining one of the notebooks, just as Dude had done.

“Yep! We’ve got our own merch now.” Sprout grinned, nodding his head so fast that his hat almost fell off his head.

“Don’t I look fabulous!” Mimi hummed, delicately fussing at her hair.

“Mimi, that’s besides the point here.” Bud sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Something or someone mass produced these somehow with our faces on them.”

Mimi’s smile dropped at that realisation. Sprout and Candi’s minor excitement also faded. Bud’s words were true, but a couple of things still didn’t make any sense. Despite the Skyline being free for a few hours now, there was no way that any normal person could’ve produced these items so rapidly with everyone printed on them. And it was kind of scary of how fast it had happened. Magic still had a part to play here, there was no other explanation for this. Something really was strange around here. As much as Dude hated to admit it, this was stranger than when Dawn first showed up.

“By the way, Dude. Sprout and I saw you talking to a Redcoat.” Candi suddenly brought up. It was time to change tactics.

“Yeah, I was.” Dude sighed.

“What did he say?” Bud asked, intrigued.

“Did he tell you how we can go home?” Candi interjected, almost dropping the items in her hands.

“I don’t think even the staff know.” Dude sighed again, wishing he had better news. “George looked quite baffled when I explained what happened at the start.”

“So, we can’t go home?” Candi asked, shoulders slumping.

“Maybe not yet Candi.” Sprout spoke up, trying to make the situation more hopeful. It didn’t do much. There was a hole inside everyone. They were still too far from home and there was no way back. There had to be one. They’ll have to find it on their own. There was no way that they could stay here forever, not when they have families waiting for them.

“So, what now?” Mimi asked, wanting to find some kind of solution.

“I guess…I guess we just take this as it comes.” Bud offered. It wasn’t much, but it was still the truth.

“Guys!” Pip’s voice shot out of the blue. It was enough to make Bud flinch since it was that sudden. Everyone turned to see her running towards them. Since she wasn’t there for the confusion and bad news, she had a wide smile plastered on her face. “I’m writing some songs, right now!”

“Why?” Candi asked, tilting her head so curiously.

“I spoke to a Redcoat earlier!” Pip grinned, coming to a giddy stop. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, as if she was getting ready to be launched into the sky. “They expect us to put on shows and music and such! I’m not wasting this opportunity to start my music career! You guys can sing, right?!”

Unsure voices rose from the group. Mimi was excited about being on stage. She can finally be a star. However, she didn’t know if she should just dive in just as excitedly as Pip was. Sprout was in a very similar position. Having his own act at his dad’s circus was a dream, but his confidence had been knocked down after his last moments with his only blood relative. He only won the challenge just by a fluke. Candi shifted uncomfortably. She hadn’t had any experience in being on stage at any point in her life. So this was something that she’ll have to get used to. Bud was extremely unwilling. He was convinced that his anxiety would be a hindrance. He’ll try, but he can’t guarantee any good results. Dude felt like he was offered to be part of Pip’s band all over again. Like Bud, he’ll try it out, but he didn’t want to cause any problems if he can’t do it. He again recalled George mentioning that the Skyline Gang from before would be like entertainers here. This was something that he and his friends are probably expected to do as well. Maybe with some practice before a real show would help.

“This can’t get any stranger.” Dude grumbled, rubbing his face.

“Dude!”

“Yes?” Dude sighed, looking at everyone.

“We didn’t say anything.” Sprout shrugged. Dude blinked, looking at everyone else for a confirmation. None of them offered it. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t recognise that voice.

“Dude!” The voice repeated, followed by a small bark. Hearing it again, the teens all faced the same direction. Rainbow was sitting a few ft from them. His long tongue dangled out of his mouth as he panted excitedly. He was shifting from paw to paw, rearing to go when he was either ready or called for. However, he was on his own. There was no human next to him. No one else could’ve called out for Dude. But that voice did come from where Rainbow was.

“Rainbow?” Dude asked, not sure what to expect. Rainbow immediately jumped up, landing almost delicately on his four paws.

“House! House!” He barked, waving a paw in a certain direction. The humans in front of him were immediately stunned. They didn’t have a chance to say anything as the canine suddenly ran off.

“Did Rainbow just speak?!” Bud exclaimed, saying the question that was on everyone’s mind. Why could Rainbow suddenly speak?! Another unexpected gift from the Skyline?! This just keeps getting more and more baffling.

“Rainbow! Slow down, boy!” Dude commanded, running off. He chased after Rainbow with everyone else following him.

“Are we ignoring the fact that the dog can speak?!” Bud shouted, taking up the rear. No one answered him. They were more focused on chasing after Rainbow. The dog dashed so fast that Dude was struggling to keep up. And he was the fastest runner in this group. Rainbow seemed to not pay any attention. He was just running as fast as he could go. He was so excited and couldn’t stop and wait for anything. By time he stopped, Dude literally crashed into him. In an undignified manner, he fell over, barely having enough time to stop his face from hitting the pavement. He winced as his hands became grazed and Rainbow licked his face as an apology. The teens stared up at where Rainbow had led them.

Standing before them was a large house. It was Victorian styled. It came with two floors, with a third being the attic. It was painted white and seemed to be quite old. It was still maintained with picture perfect window frames and door with pristine clean windows. The door even came with a large doggie door for Rainbow. The curtains were drawn, concealing the inside of the house. It made everyone wonder more about what was hiding inside it. A small fence stood at the front where a rainbow painted mail box. There was a taller fence running around to the back of the house. It worked to conceal the garden in the back. Perfect privacy for the teens to chill out and keep away from prying eyes.

Bud decided to take the initiative. Without much thinking he approached the mail box, and carefully opened it. He really shouldn’t be snooping around other people’s mail. However, he had a hypothesis, and if he was right, there shouldn’t be any issues. While they didn’t like the idea of snooping either, none of the others stopped him. Their uneasy silence just encouraged him a little. He reached in, albeit hesitantly, and pulled out a small brown envelope. It wasn’t addressed to anyone, leaving it open for some random person to take it. It was heavy, and Bud could feel small hard objects inside it. He carefully opened it and tipped out the contents into his hand. One by one, seven keys fell into his open hand. Red, yellow, pink, green, blue, purple and grey. All but the grey one had names on them. Their names. Everyone had their own key with their names on their colour coordinated key, in the same style as their outfits displayed them.

“Guess we’re here to stay for now.” Bud concluded, handing each key out to everyone. The house belonged to them. This place was theirs. There was no ifs or buts about it. At least now they can actually wake up in a hide of their own and not be suffocated in the bedrooms in the Pavilion.

“At least we’ve got each other, right?” Candi asked, glancing at everyone expectantly.

“You’ve got that right. This gang sticks together.” Dude smiled, ignoring the state of his grazed hands while he stood.

“Gang? I like that.” Pip repeated with a grin.

“I do keep hearing Skyline Gang from almost everyone. I surmise that they mean us.” Bud brought up, slipping his key into one of his pockets.

“Dawn called the previous group that too.” Mimi recalled, shuddering a little as she remembered that moment.

“Then that’s what we’ll call ourselves.” Dude concluded, bringing in as much hope as he could. “And we’ll find our own way home, somehow.”

“Then let’s make the most of what we’ve got.” Sprout smiled brightly. “I like being with you all. And I want to spend time with you without the threat of death looming over our heads.” As Sprout made an evil gesture, everyone else laughed with him. This wasn’t the ending that they wanted. This isn’t the home that they wanted to return to. But in a strange way, they have something better. They were all alone in the moments before they were brought here. Now they had their own special bond with one another. Maybe that was all that they needed for the time being.

“Cosmic!” Bud suddenly exclaimed, checking his watch. His voice was so abrupt that it made everyone jump out of their skin.

“What’s wrong?” Mimi asked, unappreciative of the sudden shout.

“Not wrong! Right!” Bud declared, jumping up and down so much that he almost tripped over. He pouted wildly at the screen on his watch. “I’ve got a signal! I just sent a message to an acquaintance! It just went through! Wherever we are, we still have a connection to home! We can let everyone that we know and love that we’re okay!”

Was it really true?! Could they really contact their families?! Everyone suddenly forgot their moment of mixing sadness and hope. They dove right into their pockets, looking for their devices. They all kept their phones on them, in case of emergencies. For those that didn’t have them at the start of the day, they were able to quickly grab them one at a time after things had somewhat settled a little. Dude didn’t know what to expect when checking his phone. It was still working perfectly. It unlocked and he was greeted with a tidal wave of messages and missed calls. All from his family. Even his grandmother and she hated text messaging. They were all frantic messages, asking him where he was and if he was safe. It broke his heart, but he was still confused. He had a direct link to home.

How was this possible?

Who cares?!

Dude’s fingers had never typed so fast before in his life.

Hey Mum and Dad

Sorry I disappeared suddenly. It’s a long story. I’m safe, and I’ve made some great friends that I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. And we’re at this place. Kind of like Earth but different. Parallel world I think. I’ll send a photo of us. I don’t know when I’m coming home, but I promise I’ll see you again one day. I’ll contact you as much as I can. Stay safe.

I love you both.

Dude.

Dude hit send so fast that he wondered how his screen wasn’t cracked. He held his breath, waiting to see if the message would go through or not. He prayed that it would. After being away from home like this, he needed this to work. He trusted Bud’s words, but he needed to see it for himself properly. There was a small sound, signalling that the message was sent. A huge weight had been lifted off of Dude’s shoulders. He couldn’t have been more happy. He glanced around. Sprout looked unsure but forced a small smile. Mimi was beaming from ear to ear. Pip was doing a small bounce, hugging her phone close to her. Candi was smiling but wiped her tears of joy in order to save face. Bud was focused but held a spark in his eye as he sent his own message. Rainbow was bouncing back and forth between everyone, taking in their reactions.

They might not be able to go home yet, but this can help with staying in touch so they’re not forgotten by those they love.

“Selfie!” Mimi suddenly cheered, holding up her phone in pride. Dude smiled a little, making a subtle joke that Mimi might be psychic since he promised to send a photo. “Everyone gather around!”

“Mimi, may I?” Bud asked, holding out a hand.

“Oh…um sure.” Mimi said, uncertain as she passed her phone to Bud. She assumed that since he was the tallest, he might be able to get the angle better for the selfie. Instead, he pulled out a small box and set it on the ground. He gently pulled Rainbows back as he went to sniff it. He accessed an app on his watch and in a few taps, the small box morphed into a drone. Everyone watched as it flew up and had a small phone holder pop out from underneath. Delicately, Bud attached the phone to the drone, making sure that it was safely secure. He had set the camera to selfie mode, so everyone can make sure that they are in the frame.

“There we are. Now you don’t need to hold it awkwardly.” Bud beamed, looking very pleased with himself.

“Thanks Bud! This is fabulous! Just need to set the timer.” Mimi beamed back. She fiddled with the phone a little, making sure that she didn’t knock the drone or get her hair caught in the blades. Ten seconds should be enough. She stepped back with everyone and they all rushed into position. As it got to the end of the countdown, Mimi cheered out one more thing: “Say Skyline!”

“Skyline!”

Time for some new adventures in the Skyline…

#skyline gang #skyline gang butlins #skyline gang fanfic

[pumpkinclan]

PumpkinClan Moon 0: Prologue

The fluffy gray tabby awoke with a start, opening his eyes to find himself in a curious location. Although the moon hung in the night sky, stars glistening, the ground beneath his paws seemed to radiate a sort of warmth that was unfamiliar to him. He stood up, unsteady, shaking his head at his surroundings. A beautiful grove met his gaze, huge oak trees stretching as high as he could see, the scent of prey around every corner, beds of colorful flowers and herbs, and the ground littered with odd objects that the tabby didn't recognize. They were round and orange, with stems and leaves protruding from them. The tabby padded over to one, curious as to how it seemingly hung from the vines scattered across the grove. He prodded at it with its paw, startled to hear a purr of amusement as he did so.

"Who's there?" the tabby called, confused. He turned around, and let out a gasp of shock upon seeing a black-and-white she-cat standing behind him. She held his gaze, a gleam in her narrowed eyes. The tabby knew this she-cat. He knew her very well. And he didn't think he'd ever see her again. At least...not for a while. "Bloomstar," he breathed, rushing towards her to greet her properly. "Is it really you? It feels like it's been moons!"

As the she-cat purred, touching her nose to the tabby's, the tom couldn't help but realize how different his former leader looked. Before her death, Bloomstar had looked frail, thin, and weak, barely anything more than skin and bones. Her fur had clung to her frame, and she constantly looked like she was lost in a daze. Her death had been long, and painful. But now, she stood with her head held high, with bright eyes and a neatly groomed pelt - a pelt that almost seemed to shine in the moonlight.

Death...

The tabby blinked. "Oh. I understand now. This is StarClan, isn't it? I died."

Bloomstar sighed. "Yes, Leafheart, you did. You died from the same terrible sickness that led to my end as well. Fortunately, you will be the last. Shortly after your death, Galespeck found a cure. It won't be easy to get over it, and our once great Clan has been reduced to almost nothing, but I have faith. Bitterspeck will make a good leader. In fact, she'll be visiting here soon, to receive her nine lives."

"So...this is really StarClan?" Leafheart mewed, glancing around. "It is beautiful...but it's not what I expected."

"We view StarClan as how our camp used to look: before the Twolegs, before the droughts, before sickness and starving and hard times. Back when our home was beautiful, and we were strong and feared. Now our home is nothing but a dirty wasteland." Bloomstar spat out the words, speaking of their old home as if she'd seen it herself.

"I guess this is a pumpkin, then?" Leafheart asked, gesturing towards the orange object. Bloomstar purred.

"Quite right, Leafheart. A shame that the plant we were named for no longer grows in our territory. Maybe one day, they'll find their way back to us." Bloomstar shook out her fur, then nodded to Leafheart. "Come; it's time you met the others, and took your place upon the ranks of StarClan. We cannot stand reminiscing on the past forever."

Leafheart wanted to argue that Bloomstar was doing more "reminiscing" than he was, but he still had that instinct to immediately obey his leader. As Bloomstar padded away from the grove, Leafheart followed, feeling as though his own fur was beginning to shine with starlight.

-

Hello there, and welcome to PumpkinClan!

PumpkinClan, once a group of proud, beautiful cats who boasted their fine territory and large number of warriors, has been reduced to nothing but a few stragglers in a dump. However, this small Clan refuses to die, and no matter how many tragedies hit them, they'll always keep kicking!

PumpkinClan is a Clan I'm playing through on ClanGen (find them over at @ officialclangen), and I thought it'd be fun to give them a complete narrative and chronicle their journey over here on Tumblr.

Updates will be very infrequent as I am about to go on a trip and I have school, so just expect this to continue - whenever I feel like it!

I hope you enjoy reading about my Clan's silly stories and escapades! You can find my main over at @brainrotgobrr!

#clangen #pumpkinclan #moons #leafheart #bloomstar #stories #moon 0

[eristic-kaleidoscope]

Eggs and Bakey! - Ch1 Motive 1/2

Ah… three days had passed. Between the stress of some of the VR sessions (haunted house the primary cause), and the arguments over the group chat, it was hard to call everything ‘peaceful,’ yet… Well it was hard to say it was any more unusual than the prologue to your experience here, and there were lighter moments to pad the time between as well. However, by the morning of the fourth day, you realized that… According to the rules, SOMETHING was supposed to happen.

8 AM sharp, the PA gave a soft ‘beep’ of notification that it was on. For the heavier sleepers, as promised before, their beds were rustled to wake them up. Regardless of what you were doing in the moment, your attention was properly called to your oh-so-gracious scientists with the morning summons.

“Rise and shine! Wakey wakey! We’ve got a surprise for you all to shaky shaky things up, isn’t that right, Callie?”

An’s voice was immediately recognizable, too loud for this time of morning. Well… Where were you all headed this time, huh? Calluna immediately answered the question, finalizing the thought.

“Yes, indeed. Everyone please make your way to the Museum within the next 15 minutes, and our next phase for you all will begin. Don’t delay, as doing so will count as a violation of the rules. 15 minutes should give you plenty of time to dress yourselves, if nothing else.”

You stopped whatever you were doing, got yourself ready, and began the march to the museum. 18 bodies, squeezing through a hallway with limited space, it seemed like the hallways could only fit about three people side-by-side at once width-wise, so… the bumper-to-bumper traffic made for an awkward trip for some of the later arrivals. Though… notably, one door from a dorm room seemed to be missing by the time the last stragglers left the area. Why only one?

Nonetheless, the museum was plenty large enough to fit the entire group as you all filed in neatly, An and Callie both standing beside the anatomical organs puzzle within the area. An appeared to be dismantling it, piece by piece, as they snickered to themself, having a grand old time. Something about the action was morbid. Calluna on the other hand stood prim and proper as ever (or most times), though she didn’t seem to be trying to stop An from doing as she liked in any way either.

#chapter1 #analalava #calluna

[favoniuscodex]

the art of modernity [ prologue ]

prologue - jueyun karst

pairing: xiao x gn!reader warnings: canon-typical violence mention words: ~1.8k words fic masterlist [ prev ] - [ next ]

chapter summary: you drag four of your closest friends to jueyun karst to chase after possible traces of the adepti. none of them expect for you to actually find any, but hey, anything is possible, right?

a/n: can't believe 'making xiao eat a chicken nugget and french fries' is becoming an actual fic but here we are. enjoy !! :D

when you had asked yanfei the legal repercussions of disrupting jueyun karst, the entire brunch table had looked at you as if you had grown a third eye. kaeya had sat down the third mimosa he had been nursing, while childe had actually stopped speaking for once. yanfei giggled with intrigue and keqing had stared at you with an expression that screamed are you serious right now?

yet somehow, you had ended up in keqing's overcrowded car and made a road trip to fuel your farfetched dreams. sure, like any kid growing up, you had read percy jackson and the archons, but, unlike most kids, you had taken the myths of the archons seriously. shrines and ruins still sung praises of their names, but most liyuean mythology was treated as having no greater value than old folk tales. the world had moved on past the need of teyvat's expansive pantheon of the elemental archons, visions, and celestia, yet some scholars sought to prove the existence of the old gods. most of the time, their efforts were fruitless.

you, of course, were no scholar. you were simply a dumbass who graduated college and decided in their post-college/pre-settled life panic to go traverse the treacherous lands of jueyun karst. as prosperous as liyue was, jueyun karst still remained heavily untouched as there were areas that even rich moguls were scared to get their grubby hands on. why turn the beautiful mountains and swirling lakes into sprawling shopping centers if the entire area was rumored to be cursed anyways? so, the country had turned jueyun karst into a protected area in the form of a national park.

but now, with your car full of three and a half dumbasses (keqing certainly doesn't count and yanfei is only halfway to idiocy), you had decided to certainly ignore the title of protected area. you had full intentions of disrupting whatever you could get your grimy hands on. you wanted to see the adepti in action and, if others called you crazy for it, then so be it.

"gods, where even are we?" kaeya asks. his tone lacks the annoyance you would expect from childe nor the worried-yet-still-composed nature you would expect from keqing's words. so, you shrug him off with a simple wave of your hand.

"not really sure, but there's enough of us out here that we won't die, right?" you ask and kaeya stares at you blankly before turning to look behind the two of you at the three stragglers.

"keqing!" he calls, realizing that you are of no help. "where are we?"

keqing huffs as she approaches the two of you while yanfei and childe stagger behind her, both acting tired despite being some of the most athletic people you know. in typical keqing fashion, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a compass. kaeya stares as the compass needle spins around aimlessly in her hand, its connection clearly disrupted by some force in the area.

"oh gods, what does that mean? we're going to die. we're going to die out here," childe deadpans, panic creeping into his voice. yanfei swats him playfully on the arm before he can begin his usual theatrics, knowing full and well how childe loves living in the spotlight.

"dying in a protected national park is illegal," yanfei adds and kaeya stares at her with a baffled expression.

"what? are the police going to arrest a corpse?" kaeya asks incredulously and yanfei folds her arms over her chest, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"didn't you want to be a cop at one point? shouldn't you be aware as to how arresting procedures work?" yanfei asks and kaeya recoils at her question.

"no, i was considering going into military like my dad. i don't wanna be a cop," kaeya shoots back and childe jokingly gags once he hears the word 'military'.

"military? yuck," childe says and becomes the next recipient to receive childe's incredulous gaze.

"didn't you literally join the fatui for two years?" kaeya asks but childe shakes his head.

"not like you have any proof," the ginger-haired man shoots back.

"i can easily acquire proof?" kaeya says, but keqing clears her throat loudly before the two men can engage in a full showdown of words.

"c'mon, guys, we have bigger problems to solve than childe's blatant lies," keqing redirects the conversation with ease but not before kaeya lets out a triumphant hmph at keqing's words. "like figuring out why this compass isn't working and figuring out how to get back because it doesn't work."

"ooh, maybe it's not working because there are ghosts nearby," childe says, but before yanfei and kaeya can engage with his dumbassery once more, you interject.

"it's likely just elemental energy or adeptal energy. i know you guys probably don't believe in them, but this is said to be the former realm of the adepti. wouldn't be surprised if there are traces of them left!" you say, voice far too cheery for the implication of your words. kaeya only shrugs at the suggestion that gods are watching over you as you travel through the park, yanfei only looks intrigued in a nearly-dangerous way, keqing looks nonplussed due to her strong belief that the gods no longer exist, and childe looks absolutely terrified yet is trying to act like he isn't.

"anyways," you continue. "maybe there's a domain!"

"ancient liyuean law forbids unauthorized entrance into domains without proper licensure from the adventurer's guild," yanfei says, as if knowing ancient law is a completely normal activity for a twenty-something-year-old.

"what is a domain?" keqing and kaeya ask at the same time before glancing at each other.

"i'm... not sure. pretty sure they have like... ancient monsters and stuff," you confess and, for the first time today, childe perks up excitedly, eagerly taking a step closer to you.

"monsters? like those uh... hollychirls? whatever they're called? how big do you think they are?" childe asks with an excited glimmer in his eyes.

"weren't you just worried about dying?" keqing asks, but childe ignores her question.

"so like... we're trying to find this domain, right?" childe asks, confused. "what are we looking for?"

"i don't really see why a domain would have adepti traces so we're probably better off looking for something else," you say and yanfei perks up.

"like that?" she asks, pointing off at something glowing faintly orange in the distance. you squint slightly in an attempt to better look at it, but you're unable to distinguish what exactly yanfei as pointing at.

"we might as well go see what that is," keqing says and you're slightly surprised for the purple-haired girl to suggest such a thing, but you figure she's just trying to find a place where her compass actually works. the spinning dial isn't too much of a concern for you since you're in no rush to leave, but the friends you've brought along aren't quite as keen on discovering the secrets of the adepti as you are, so you follow the herd as they begin to move over to the glowing orange light.

the five of you climb down, approaching what soon reveals itself as a stone pillar with a glowing chunk of cor lapis on top. it's certainly nothing new and is probably a protected relic, yet no guards are stationed in front of it. it's almost certainly been discovered before, so why isn't it..?

"oh, isn't this area usually flooded?" yanfei asks and everyone turns to stare at her.

"you've been here before?" keqing asks and you wonder to yourself when these people will stop asking questions and instead keep looking for hints.

"you guys haven't traveled to jueyun karst before?" yanfei asks, confused. "yeah, this area's usually flooded with water. i've never seen that thing before."

if it's usually flooded, then it was likely discovered before, but not relocated, you think to yourself and immediately break out in a sprint towards the cor lapis tower. sure, it was about the height of you, with the cubic chunk on top reaching the height of your head, yet you were more than satisfied with looking at the carvings on the side. childe is the first to catch up with you, using his long legs to match your pace. he sighs as you finally stop and watches as you frantically begin poking and prodding at the pillar.

"are you sure that's a good idea?" he asks, nervously. "what if it's a mechanism or something?"

"what's the worst that could happen?" you ask and childe sputters over his words.

"a lot of things!" childe insists, yet kaeya, keqing, and yanfei's joined arrival interrupts him from making an even bigger fuss.

"try putting your palm flat on the diamond," yanfei suggests and you take a step back. with a steady hand, you lays her palm flat against the side of the pillar, in which a diamond has been engraved onto its surface. around the group of you, the remnants of water begin to glow orange as the pillar emits an even stronger, unnatural glow of energy. the pillar begins to vibrate rapidly and yanfei lets out a small, knowing laugh while the rest of you watch, wide-eyed and confused by the moving pillar.

yet, all that happens is that the cor lapis situated on the top of the pillar falls off, landing on the side of the pillar with a resounding crack. the four of your friends immediately move over to look at the now shattered chunk of cor lapis on the ground, yet you gravitate towards the stone pillar. on the spot where the cor lapis fell, a single name is etched into the stone, as if this pillar is supposed to mark a specific area.

"'xiao'?" you breathe, reading off the word on the pillar.

"what's xi-" kaeya begins, glancing over at you, but before he can finish, a flash of green appears on the opposite side of your friends. your lips part in shock as you watch the deity appear before you. a mask rests on his face and a polearm rests in his hand, yet despite his disguised face, you can sense the anger rolling off his form in waves. his green hair ruffles in the wind as his free hand reaches up to lower his mask. infuriated amber eyes pierce into yours, but the adeptus speaks before you can.

"i am adeptus xiao. how dare you mortals infringe upon jueyun karst and disrupt my land?" xiao seethes and, for once, all five of you are silent as the yaksha points his polearm at you.

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[house-of-galathynius]

Help Our Souls - Chapter One: Aelin

Prologue

~

2k words 

~

Song of the chapter: Burning House - Cam

~

Aelin smiled as she blew out the twenty-two candles that had been carefully placed on the cake in front of her. 

She was surrounded by her closest friends and family as she celebrated another birthday. She had never loved the excitement that everyone seemed to have at her being another year older. But this year her father had guilted her; claiming her mother would not want her to miss out on another celebration. She had huffed and tried not to argue with him about it— but it was something that was all too common between the two of them. 

She had finally — albeit reluctantly— agreed to a small gathering and nothing more. Her father had exclaimed he would get right to work on organising something. He had jumped eagerly into party planning mode, and Aelin had tried not to cringe at some of the ideas he had spouted. She was trying harder to be patient with her father so she let him think he knew her well. 

Although to her surprise he had not been completely off with his planning. 

He had flown her on their private jet to a small airport in Italy. It wasn’t until they landed that she recognised where they were, and she had managed a warm smile at her father and hugged him in a thank you. 

A couple of hours drive from the airport sat one of her family’s summer homes. This one was tucked away in the Tuscan countryside, the property surrounded by vineyards and rolling green hills. The May sunshine was basking down on them, the trees rustling with the soft breeze. 

Despite Rhoe’s success in the location, they had pulled up and the driveway was full of friends and family— some of whom she had not seen in years— and Aelin really tried her best not to cringe. Despite her initial dislike of the number of people who were there, she had managed a smile and politely greeted them anyway, thanking them for coming all that way.

She was stolen from her thoughts when her friend shouted,“make a wish, Aelin!”, Lysandra was bouncing up and down excitedly as she spoke. 

Aelin managed a smile back and looked around at everyone. Her father was watching her, his arm around his new wife, who was trying not to look bored. Everyone else seemed unaware of her hesitant joy and were clinking their champagne glasses together as she blew out the flames. 

Each candle that went out felt like a piece of her was extinguishing too. She smiled at everyone anyway, clinking her own glass against theirs. 

Someone asked her what she wished for and she shrugged, exclaiming it would never come true if she told. 

What they didn’t know was her wish had been the same every year since she was ten years old. 

She wished her mother could be here. 

It was a miserable wish and she knew it was never going to come true. Her mother had died twelve years ago and nothing on this earth would ever be able to bring her back. But Aelin had this childish hope it could still happen, and so every year as she blew out those candles her heart ached just that little bit extra. 

~ 

The party had lasted hours upon hours. People were drinking heavily and she could still hear the last of the stragglers outside by the pool, drinking the last drops of wine, laughing amongst themselves. 

She had snuck away an hour before, dragging Chaol up with her, needing a release. 

It’s where she found herself now, Chaol having just rolled off of her, his breaths still heavy. He threw the used condom into the trash and then turned back to her.

She didn’t make eye contact as she moved to the end of the bed and sat up, bringing a blanket up around her shoulders. She could hear Chaol shuffling behind her, but she didn’t turn around. Even as she felt him crawl across the bed to come and sit behind her. 

“I love you, Aelin.” She turned to look at him and she hesitated. Chaol had never meant to be more than just a fling, a summer romance that started and ended in Rifthold. But here he was, naked in her bed, two years later. 

She had met him through Dorian. She had been visiting Rifthold to see one of her oldest friends and Dorian had been quick to introduce the two of them to each other. Aelin had been struggling to come to terms with the ending of her previous relationship and Chaol had not been looking for anything serious, the perfect distraction. 

The two of them hit it off quickly and with no other plans she decided to stay. It helped that the sex had been good too. And a couple of weeks turned into a couple of months. Aelin ended up staying until the end of her summer vacation, only returning to Orynth when she had to start university. And when Aelin had been about to go through security at the airport, Chaol had grabbed her hand and asked if they could still see each other and she had agreed… and now here they were. 

She felt bad really. She tried to love him. She convinced herself that he was good for her and that she could make herself fall in love with him eventually. But she didn’t— couldn’t— love Chaol. Not the way that he loved her. But she was lonely, she was so desperately lonely, and being with Chaol was a brief escape from it. 

“Aelin? Did you hear what I said?” He kissed her shoulder and let his hand run down her front, his hand grazing over her breast. 

She nodded lightly and turned to Chaol, who was watching her intently. “I have to go clean up.” She let the blanket drop from her shoulders as she stood… Chaol had seen it all plenty of times. She tiptoed to the adjoining bathroom and turned the shower on. 

She heard the light taps of feet behind her and didn’t turn around when Chaol came to stand behind her. 

“Aelin?”

She shivered as the breeze from the open balcony doors made its way into the bathroom and she stepped into the hot steamy shower. Chaol followed her in there too, his arms coming around her waist, tugging her into him. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He kissed the spot between her neck and shoulder and she tried to break from his embrace. 

“I’m fine, Chaol.” She snapped a bit too aggressively. 

He let her go and stepped back. The shower was big enough that he was able to leave a significant gap between them. 

“I say I love you and this is how you act?” He let out a laugh of disbelief. “I know you’ve been through some shit, but we’ve been together for two years. I don’t think it’s weird that I’m saying this to you.” 

She stayed facing the wall, rubbing shampoo into her hair. 

“Can you face me when I’m trying to talk to you?” 

She halted her washing and slowly turned around. Chaol’s hands were balled into fists, but his face held a sadness that struck Aelin. 

She barely managed to find her voice as she spoke. “I’m sorry.” 

“Have you ever loved me?” He watched her closely as she opened and closed her mouth and then lightly shook her head. 

“I wanted to Chaol. When we decided to keep seeing each other I thought that I could eventually love you.” The water dripped down her face and she was glad for it as it hid the tears that were sliding down her cheeks. “I never meant to hurt you. You know that.” 

“I don’t know anything. You basically just admitted to stringing me along for two years. Most people would end things once they realised that there were no feelings there.” 

“There are feelings! Chaol I care about you a lot. I just—“ she sniffed. “Maybe… I don’t know. I don’t think I’m capable of loving anyone.” 

“Is this because of your mum, Sam or Arobynn?”

Aelin flinched at the last name and then felt the burning anger rising up. “Do not.” 

“He fucked you up real good, didn’t he?” 

She couldn’t see straight as Chaol spoke. Her body felt numb as she looked at him. “Get the fuck out. You’re a fucking asshole, Chaol.” 

He laughed bitterly. “At least I’m not an emotionless bitch.” 

Chaol stepped from the shower and Aelin didn’t move until she heard the slam of her bedroom door closing. She cursed because she knew it would wake people up, but she didn’t have the energy to fully care as she slipped down onto the floor of the shower. Her legs curling into her chest, her arms wrapping around them. She let the first sob out and the dam had burst. 

~ 

The next morning there was no sign of Chaol or Dorian. All that she found was a note beneath her bedroom door saying that they had to leave and that Dorian would call her. 

She scrunched the note up and threw it in the trash. She spied the used condoms and rage filled her as she kicked the bin over before collapsing onto her bed. 

“Aelin…?” Lysandra’s soft voice called through the door. 

Aelin didn’t reply as Lysandra came in anyway, resting on the side of the bed, a hand going to Aelin’s back. 

“What happened?” 

It felt like this was constantly her life. She messes something up and Lysandra was always there as the comforting friend who tries to clean up everything. If Aelin wasn’t feeling so hungover she might have been able to feel a little more guilt.

She peered over at Lysandra. “Me. I happened.” She groaned before rolling over. She stared up at the ceiling. “Chaol told me he loved me and I couldn’t say it back. We fought and he’s gone.” 

Lysandra sighed and laid down beside her, taking Aelin’s hand in her own. “He wasn’t the guy for you anyway.” 

Aelin snorted. “I’m starting to think that no guy is the guy for me.” 

“There’s someone out there, Aelin. You just have to be patient.” 

Aelin looked at her friend again and warmed at the kindness she held in her eyes. Aelin was more than grateful for Lysandra, she felt bad that she was such a disaster.

The two of them were quiet. The only sound was the pottering of people downstairs and the chirping of birds outside. The Tuscan countryside was peaceful and Aelin liked that more than anything. 

“He brought up Arobynn.” Aelin was quiet as she spoke. 

Lysandra sucked in a breath. “What did he say?” 

Aelin tried to keep in her shaky breaths, tried to slow her rapidly beating heart. “He told me I was fucked up because of what he’d done.” She sat up. “I should’ve never told him about it.” 

Lysandra followed Aelin out the balcony. She was quiet as she let Aelin talk. 

“You’d think that being the only child in one of the richest families in Terrasen would mean my life would be happier than this.” 

Lysandra stroked her back. “You’ve had things happen to you that have had a lasting effect on who you are. You can’t blame yourself for it.”

Aelin snorted. “I can blame myself for getting involved with Arobynn.” 

Lysandra shrugged. “He lied to you about a lot of things, making you think he was someone else… and when he knew he had you, he changed. It’s not your fault.” Lysandra put her arm around her and pulled her back inside. “Come on. Aedion is making pancakes and we were going to spend the day lounging by the pool.” 

Aelin shoved her dark thoughts far down inside herself. She didn’t think about the absence of Chaol and Dorian and she didn’t think about Arobynn or Sam or her mother. She didn’t even acknowledge the snide comments coming from her new step-mother. 

But as she sat by the pool, the blue sky above her and the warm sun on her skin, she promised herself things were going to change. 

~

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