#“we're out of toilet paper” is another one

[enbypotat53]

I mean.. this is after episode 18 dropped, but hey, this seems fun! Why the heck not :P (EDIT - I didn't read the rules properly, that's on me, spoilers will be deleted from my answer or reworded to be vague!)

(Also I'm proofreading, and.. jeez. Take a shot every time I say "for sure" 💀)

Favourite character/s?

Well, if we're going for contestants only, my favourite from each season would be Paintbrush, Fan, and Silver Spoon! But my actual top 3 are Paintbrush, Mepad, and Baseball :3 💙

Favourite season?

Season 2 for sure! It's how I found II in the first place, and it's undoubtedly had the biggest impact on me as a whole! (And that finale was PHENOMINAL!)

Favourite episode/s?

FOR SURE either S2 EP12, or any of the movie acts. I have a DEEP personal connection with Alternate Reality Show, as Painty's coming out scene made me realise I was trans! It's also when I started to REALLY ship Lightbrush. And the movie is just.. wow. Couldn't have asked for a better conclusion if I tried.

Favourite scene/s?

Ough.. that's a toughie. Paintbrush's coming out scene is an obvious one, as well as Knife and Suitcase being deleted in EP17. From season 3... I'm not entirely sure! The Nickloon hug was a cute one though :3 (I had an answer for episode 18 too, but I cut it for spoiler reasons. I'll post my EP18 answers seperately if anyone wants them!)

Favourite team?

The Bright Lights for sure! Both S2 teams are great, but c'mon! Ya gotta love the Lights!

Favourite ship/s or friendships?

Hooh boy I could go on for hours about my favourite ships and why, but I'll spare y'all the essay and just list a top 10. (No particular order!)

Ships - Lightbrush, Knifecase, Basenickloon, Fantube, Silvercandle, Tacosoapmic, Toipad, Payjay, Marshbowpple, Comedy Gold

A character you'd like to know more about?

Honestly? Probably the Creatorbots! I know we had the Q&A stream, but the Meeple products are just so intriguing, and although they kinda... exploded, I'd like to see more of them! (Plus goose J.U.S.T.I.N is adorable lol)

Favourite non-contestant?

Mepad for sure! He cares so much for the contestants, and he's just overall such a sweet guy! 💙💙

Favourite voice for a character/favourite VA?

Hmm.. top 10 favourite voices would probably be Lightbulb, Knife, Paper, Cobs, Taco, Mepad, Toilet, Paintbrush, Springy, and Fan!

As for VAs.. top 3 - Jazzy Oliver, Justin Chapman, and Joshua Waters! (I'm sensing a theme here..)

Jazzy is an AMAZING singer, and she is the PERFECT voice for Painty! Her voice for them sounds so determined and upbeat - absolutely the right vibe for them! Plus, her streams are always so fun to be in :3

Joshua does a PHENOMINAL job in voicing Cobs! His (Cobs') voice is such a perfect mix of slimy, kinda bratty, yet intimidating, and it works SO well. Plus, just. I've said this before, but the fact that I feel PHYSICAL RAGE when hearing Cobs speak to Mephone and the contestants? So good. And Josh himself is super chill! Definitely seems like a great guy! :)

Justin's voices are just. Mwah. Chef's kiss. The absolute RANGE they have?? It's SO impressive - I'm jealous! They manage to keep a fun yet unique vibe for every character they voice, and that's hard to do! If I didn't know already, I probably wouldn't believe you if you told me Mepad, Goo, Knife, Silver Spoon, and Paper were voiced by the same person. SERIOUSLY impressive stuff, and I don't think there's a single character they voice that I dislike! They just make them so fun! Plus, Justin themself is a great person. Very genuine, very upbeat, just such a positive guy overall! 💙💙

Favourite song/s?

Well, as I've said before, Just Like Me is probably my favourite song, mostly because of sentimental meaning! There IS another one thay could probably take it down a peg, though.. (or at least share its place!)

If you could go to any location in the show, where would it be?

Hmm.. probably Cabby's library or Hotel OJ! Both seem like super chill places to be, and I'd love to see the contestants!

Favourite AUs?

Lab Rats AU FOR SURE. Made by @ask-lab-rats, the II characters are kids who were born/kidnapped into experimentation by Cobs! It's SUPER unique, and very well drawn, too! Plus, the storyline is great, it really keeps you hooked! :D 💙

How were you introduced to II?

Oh jeez, it's been at least 9 or 10 years so I can't QUITE remember, but I think I found it alongside BFDI! I watched the second season, and loved every bit of it!

What's a crossover you'd love to see?

Hmm.. inside the OSC, probably another dark show like The Nightly Manor or ONE. It'd be interesting to see how they'd interact, honestly! Outside.. not sure! I guess if I had to go with my other current hyperfix, Detroit Become Human would be kinda fun! And ngl it'd be VERY funny to see Kamski and Cobs interact lol

If you could get any merch, what would it be?

For SURE one of the plushies, the sticker sheet, or the blanket! I'm VERY tempted to ask for the blanket honestly, but £40 is a LOTTA money, so.. 👉👈

Would you recommend the show to friends/family?

I mean. Considering I've been begging my friends/siblings to watch the show, and the fact that I JUST watched the movie with my ma? I'd say it's a solid yes

What would you want to see more from the show that didn't happen?

(Again, spoilers, I'll post it if anyone wants the answer!)

How much does II mean to you?

Honestly? So damn much. More than I can possibly describe. I owe my own path of self-discovery to this show, and I've found so many amazing people through this community. The characters mean everything to me, and I'm genuinely so grateful to everyone I've met in the OSC. Plus, the love people have shown for my fanart and analyses means a lot! I'm honestly just a random guy on the internet rambling about his favourite show, but I've found a family here. The journey's been a long one, but for sure an amazing one. I'm looking forward to seeing AE's future projects, whether it be II-related, or something else, and I'm so glad to see the show get the conclusion it deserves. Thanks so much, II crew. You made my childhood a special one. 💙💙

As for who I wanted to win, I was personally rooting for Knife! But as the movie went on, I found I wouldn't have minded either way. I won't spoil ofc, but I'm satisfied with who won. They deserved it :)

It’s finished! Welcome to II-blr’s…

PRE-II18 MINI-Q&A!

A set of 18 QUESTIONS celebrating 18 EPISODES that I’ve prepared for the entire fandom!!! Reblogs are definitely appreciated! As a bonus, you can go into my ask box and ask me any of the questions that *I* made!

You can answer as many questions as you want! Answer one, two, or maybe all of them!

There are no right or wrong answers! Everyone in the II fandom is welcome! (just no rule-breaking responses, please!)

STRICTLY NO LEAKS OR SPOILERS FOR THE UPCOMING EPISODE!!! Please be respectful to those who weren’t able to see the the theatrical releases! (including myself!)

Transcript + Description:

1. Favorite character/s? (bonus: give one that debuted in each season)

Everyone in the fandom has this character that they love a tiny bit over the others. Who is YOUR favorite character? Or characters, if you have many.

2. Favorite season? (S1, S2 or S3?)

Between Inanimate Insanity, Inanimate Insanity 2 and Inanimate Insanity Invitational, which one of them did you like the most, and why? Is it their charm? Their artstyle and animation? Or is it because you enjoy it the most? There’s no wrong answers!

3. Favorite episode? (bonus: give one from each season)

Inanimate Insanity has 54 (about to be 55!) episodes in total! (not including S1 Ep. 5.5.) Out of all those episodes, which one did you enjoy the most, and why?

4. Favorite scene/s? (bonus: give one from each season)

Every episode is made out of SCENES! Was there a specific scene that you really liked, and why? From the emotions, the voice direction, your connection to the scene, or ALL OF THEM?

5. Favorite team? (across all seasons?)

Between Season One’s Team Epic and Team Chicken Leg, Season Two’s Bright Lights and Grand Slams, and Invitational’s (Old OR New) Sinkers, Thinkers and Pinkers, which among all these teams were the best among the rest?

6. Favorite ship/s and/or friendship/s?

You can’t have a fandom without ships! What are YOUR favorite ships? If romantic pairs aren’t your thing, give some friendships that you really loved.

7. A character you’d like to know more about?

With all the characters within the show, we’ve been dying to know more about the characters that didn’t get as much screentime as the others! Who do YOU want to know more about?

8. Favorite non-contestant? (Host, Co-Host, Misc., etc.)

Let’s give some love to those who don’t partake in the game! Your favorite non-contestant could also be the same as your favorite character! They could be hosts, co-hosts, background characters, other Meeple products— HECK, maybe Steve Cobs himself! There are a lot of characters out there that aren’t in the premises of the game.

9. Favorite voice for a character / favorite voice actor?

Let’s give some love to our beloved crew members who made the show possible! There was DEFINITELY that one character who you really like solely from their voice. Who is your favorite voice for a character, or your favorite voice actor?

10. Favorite song/s?

Let’s get musical! Without the people behind the music of II, these bangers would’ve never been possible! What is a song from the show that you’d put on repeat?

11. If you’d like to go to any location in the show, where would it be?

From the mysterious underground Gemory Cave to the Meeple Headquarters found in the sky, the world of II is endless! Maybe you want to go to a contest area to try a few challenges yourself. Or you want to relax and explore Hotel OJ!

12. Favorite canon divergence / AUs in the fandom (if any)

Now let’s give some love to our artists and writers in this very app! There’s a lot of awesome alternate universes in this fandom. (heck, I have an AU myself! the WTI au! check it out pspspspsps /nf) What are some alternate scenarios you’ve thought of that would make a GREAT AU? Or maybe some existing ones that you’ve followed for a while now?

13. How were you introduced to I.I.?

Were you introduced to the show when you were a child? Or maybe you’ve just learned about it pretty recently? Everyone starts somewhere!

14. What is a crossover (any crossover!) that you’d love to see?

We all have interests outside of II. Let it be shows, games, movies, books, or other interests! Even if it would absolutely NEVER happen in reality, what media do you think should have a crossover or collaboration with the show?

15. If you could get any merch you want, what are you getting?

Imagine this. You have won a raffle, and your prize is ANYTHING YOU WANT that has been sold during II’s runtime! Let it be t-shirts or mugs that aren’t being sold anymore, plushies that got sold out or on sale right now, or all the cool merch that is being sold this holiday season! Heck, you can ask for a merch item that hasn’t existed yet! Like your favorite character that doesn’t have a plushie yet! What are YOU getting?

16. Would you recommend the show to your friends/family?

Maybe you’re too shy to show it to people you’re close to, and that’s fine! But would you recommend the show to others?

17. What do you want to see more from the show that didn’t happen?

This is related to the AU question! Maybe it could be a scenario that happens after the movie, or a look into the daily lives of the contestants. Let’s hope that after II18, we’ll still have post-movie content…

18. How much does I.I. mean to you?

This fandom has grown to be a vast space full of talented creators big and small. You may have made a friend or two, maybe you just joined the fandom. There are no wrong answers. What is Inanimate Insanity to you? It could be as small as a simple show you’re interested in, or as big as the show having changed your life.

Thank you for reading through! Reblogs appreciated of course! To prove that you’ve read through the whole post…

[bean-writes]

In the words of Abraham Lincoln, "Hello."

[hood-ex]

My dad was Bruce-ing again today.

Dad: Where are your keys? I'm gonna go put more air in your tire.

Me: I already filled it up this week.

Dad: Oh okay.

Dad goes upstairs for a second and comes back with a bag in his hand.

Dad: Here, take this poncho and put it in your glove compartment. In case you have to pull over in the rain, put it on so other cars can see you.

So then I took my new bright ass orange poncho to my car, bypassing the three water bottles my dad had stuffed in the door pocket as well as the emergency phone battery pack charger he stuffed in another pocket.

[archangeldyke-all]

Ciao amore, just finished writing down an idea for fake hating with sevika. Not fake dating- fake hating. Sevika and reader being all like enemies in public, but then behind closed doors 🤭🤭

Would love to see you do something with this as well bc I know your take is just gonna be 😚🤌🏽 chefs kiss good fr

I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS

men and minors dni

'the last drop' and 'the eye of zaun' have been in a feud for years.

one is owned by vander, one is owned by silco. they've been trying to put each other out of business since their bitter divorce five years ago. the two bars sit across the street from one another, and the owners live in the apartments on top, their four children swapping homes every week.

a lot of locals take the feud really seriously-- there are frequent brawls in the middle of the street when patrons cross paths. vander's customers are all 'old farts', and silco's are all 'trendy punks,' so there's always some kind of issue that's got both bars up in arms and upset.

you try not to get involved. you just keep your head down, wipe down tables, and collect tips.

if you'd known that the man interviewing you was in some kind of lifelong psycho-sexual feud with his ex-husband, you wouldn't have taken the fucking job-- but here you are.

the door to the last drop slams open and you jump, turning around to watch vander storm into the bar. "i'm gonna fuckin' kill him!" he shouts.

at the bar where she's eating maraschino cherries by the handful, jinx scoffs. "you say that every day, pops."

"you tell your father that if he ever tries to steal my fucking cocktail napkins again i'll strangle him." vander huffs. then he turns, and points at you. "rookie." he grunts.

you roll your eyes. "yeah?"

"go across the street and steal all their toilet paper. jinx, go with her."

"i got homework, pops!" jinx groans, desperate for any reason to get out of her dads' constant scheming.

"fine, go alone. take it all!" he demands.

you just shrug and prop your broom up, happy to have a reason to take a break. you'll take a roll or two, but leave enough for the customers to wipe their asses. you're not a monster.

sneaking into the eye of the city is easy, thieram gives just as many fucks about the feud as you do-- which is none. you grab a trashbag from the janitor's closet, then head into the womens' room, ready to begin your thievery.

you get about three rolls in your trash bag before the door swings open, and sevika bursts into laughter.

"what're you doing?" she asks.

you smile from where you're breaking into the next toilet paper dispenser. "you guys stole our napkins? so we're taking your toilet paper. don't worry, i left the stash in the janitor's closet there for you." you say.

sevika snorts and flicks the bolt on the women's room, helping you off the ground and pulling her in your arms. "hey, baby." she greets.

you smile and kiss her lips. "hi, sev." you whisper.

"it's gonna be a long fucking night for us. it's their anniversary." she says.

you groan, burying your head against your girlfriend's shoulder.

you didn't mean to fall in love with your should-be nemisis, what with sevika being silco's bartender and you being vander's. but-- neither of you have any personal stakes in the beef, and your attraction was impossible to deny, and one night as the two of you were trying to impress your respective bosses by shit talking one another, you ended up charming each other, making one another laugh at the insults you threw either way-- and by the time your bosses were leaving to pick the kids up from their after school activities, you and sevika were exchanging numbers.

and now, you're in love, and you're trying your very best not to let anyone know.

"it's surprising that the kids are all so well-adjusted given how stupid their dads are." you mumble. sevika laughs.

"you crashing at mine after work tonight or should i go to yours?"

"depends on what you want for dinner. yours is closer to that chinese place, but we could get italian if we go to mine."

"ooh, fuck, pasta sounds so fucking good. let's go to yours." sevika says. you smile and kiss her lips.

"sounds like a date, baby." you giggle.

just as you're about to leave her arms and head to the men's room to complete your stealth mission, the handle starts to rattle.

"who is it?" sevika calls, panicked.

"i gotta pee!" jinx calls through the door.

"it's not your week here!" sevika screams. she looks at you with a wild expression, both of you trying to figure out an alibi to explain toe jinx why you're locked in a bathroom together.

"pops ran outta cherries so i came here for more. lemme in!" she squeals.

sevika huffs, shrugs helplessly, kisses your cheek, then throws you over her shoulder. you yelp, and start struggling in her grasp.

she throws the door open and glares down at jinx. "i caught this rat spying on the last drop! stealing all our toilet paper!" she growls, jostling you on her shoulder. you muffle your giggles with your hand.

"lemme go you asshole!" you whine, wiggling in her arms, pinching her ass a bit. she jumps, and you bite back your grin.

"ugh, i don't care!" jinx whines. "get outta my way, i gotta go!" she shoves sevika to the side, then runs into the bathroom.

sevika sets you back down in the center of the bar.

"quick thinking." you giggle. sevika's still blushing from the pinch you'd gotten in on her ass, and you kiss her pink cheek. "see you later, baby." you whisper just as silco pushes into the bar.

you jump away from sevika, sprinting out of the bar like you're making a great getaway, and she chases after you, screaming to silco about your horrible theft.

vander berates you for only managing to steal three rolls, but you smile for the rest of the night.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp

[meetmymouth]

leave the door open...

The dishwasher makes a weird noise as Harry presses the button, and she lets out a sigh, wiping her hands on her joggers much to Harry's dismay. There's a few seconds where they just stare at each other, and he lets out a chuckle, turning behind so he can put the kettle on.

It'd only been six months.

Two months during him on tour that they'd been in a relationship, and four months post tour–and four weeks of living together in his London flat–. She knew him for a few years, having met in New York through mutual friends, including her short-term-girlfriend at the time, so living with him, or being with him hasn't been too different.

She loved it.

They both did, especially now that he was off tour.

They argued over silly things, like who would cook that night, or the temperature of the room, or how she forgets to unload the dishwasher– 'the light tells you when it's done, babe', 'well I don't come in the kitchen and look at the bloody dishwasher so excuse me for forgetting a couple of times, Harry'.

They've never been one of those couples who felt very shy around each other. Perhaps it's to do with the fact that they're both confident in their relationship, and the fact that they're very laid back.

After a night out with her girlfriends couple of weeks ago, she presents a new 'conflict' in their relationship: Farting.

She'd found him sitting in bed after coming in, glasses on as he typed away on his laptop. After a few kisses, cuddles, and a few more kisses, she looks up at him with determination in her eyes.

"What?"

"Why do you never fart around me?"

"What?" Harry had laughed. In fact, she had to wait for him to calm down for more than ten minutes.

Harry had continued, face confused but still chuckling. "Where is this coming from?"

"Michael farted after the third-month mark. So did Nick. And Jen."

"Baby, are you upset that I... don't fart?"

"I'm sure you do!" She'd waved her arms around. "But never around me, Harry. Are you embarassed? Are you not comfortable with me? What is it?"

"You're– baby," he'd held her hands to his chest. "I love you. I guess I just... don't really fart?"

"What?"

"I mean, I might've done it couple of times when we're asleep or rather... when you're asleep. I didn't– why have you never farted around me then, hm?"

And that was it.

They'd laugh about it, and it was over.

It was silly.

Now, though, Harry really enjoyed being 'nasty' around her.

He's such a boy when he farts in bed, under the covers, and threatens to lift up the covers since 'you wanted me to fart so bad'.

Another thing he's been doing lately is, leaving the door ajar when he's in the toilet.

Now, she wouldn't mind if he was just weeing.

Or doing something else– anything else other than... number two.

It's not that she minds it, it's... she's rather confused.

So, with the kettle on, she gets their favourite mugs out, and Harry excuses himself to go to the toilet.

She knows why, because she'd figured his toilet habits out by now.

Every night around this time, he would be in the toilet for about ten minutes.

He goes, not without kissing her on the lips, and she can't help but laugh when she doesn't hear the door shut properly.

Five minutes pass, and she looks at their empty mugs, wanting to pour the water when he's back.

She's about to call for him when he beats her to it.

"Baby?"

"Yeah?" She looks in the direction of the downstairs toilet, as if she would see him.

"I need toilet paper."

"Fuck sake, Harry–" she puts her phone down on the counter, and walks upstairs, and grabs a few before making her way downstairs.

She stops in front of the door.

"Helloooooo," Harry drawls. "I need to wipe my ass."

"Why do you leave the door open like that?" She thinks out loud.

Harry lets out a groan. "Baby give me the toilet paper."

"Ahh, bet it stinks in there, H."

"Come on."

She goes inside, and hands him one.

Can't help but laugh at the sight of him just sitting there, hair messy and forehead extra-shiny.

"Okay," she pauses.

"Okay... I'll wipe my ass now if you just... y'know?" Harry looks up at her.

She realises how vulnerable he is at the moment.

"I could easily punch your dick right now," she murmurs, leaning against the door, and it closes shut with a click.

"You're so– why would you even say that– baby I fucking need to wipe my ass, just leave."

"No, I think this," she lets out a laugh when she notices him opening the toilet paper. "This is a level up in our relationship! I've never been inside the toilet while you poo."

"Farting and now pooing, you're so fucking weird. Okay, I'll–"

They just stare at each other for a moment before Harry lets out a sigh.

"I don't know how to do– please don't look."

"You've never wiped your ass?"

"Babe, what the fuck, of course I have," Harry says, through gritted teeth. "Just never in front of an audience!"

"Why do you leave the door ajar, then, you twat!"

"It makes me feel less lonely when I can properly hear you do things around the flat, for fuck's sake, just–" he moves his hand. "Just don't look."

She laughs, feeling a bit sorry for him. "Okay, I'm sorry, wait– I'll leave. I'm really sorry, I now realise this is... weird," she laughs, and turns around, hand on the door handle.

"No– don't leave."

"What?"

"Ah, fuck, we're so disgusting as a couple," he laughs.

She leans against the door, but her eyes are focused on the tiles.

She waits until she hears the flush.

"I can't believe you wanted to watch me wipe my ass," Harry finds her gaze in the mirror.

"It's not– wow, that sounds so creepy, please don't ever say that. I didn't want to watch you–" she shudders visibly. "Please don't say that, wow."

"Creepy?" He laughs, wiping his hands before he turns to her, and grabs her cheeks, smushing them. "Disgusting more like."

"Okay, please don't kiss me– you just done a huge poo and it's very stuffy in here–"

"Oh, fuck off, get out!"

[queenofhearts7378]

Tucker and Spud Appreciation: An essay by me apparently.

Tucker leaned back in his chair, “-and that's why we're no longer welcome at that gas station.”

Spud had a wide eyed look of wonder, “Woah man…….That takes some skill.”

“Thank you!” Tucker gestured wildly on his side of the screen. “Sam called me and Danny menaces but she's the one who brought the mace!”

Spud nodded. “It really was a team effort.” He flipped through his notebook, “Anyways how’s the progress on your side? I managed to crack into some uh, supplies and shipment invoices?”

Spud wrote down some notes, before clicking through a couple of the unlocked files on his computer, squinting at the screen.

Tucker groaned as his chair hit the ground, “Man I keep telling the guys hacking isn't like the movies make it out to be. Like yeah, if I got a back door planted I can get in and out no problem. But straight up hacking a new system?”

“The problems with being the smart ones on the team,” Spud said.

“I managed to get some payroll documents, and some employee work times I think?” Tucker blew a raspberry as he typed a few more lines of code, “All fake names. I doubt a place employs 23 different J. Doe's.”

“John, Jane, Janet, Jake, Joseph, Josie,” Spud recited.

Tucker snorted, “Yeah pretty much.”

Spud hummed before something dinged on his side, “Huh. That might be something.”

Tucker cracked his knuckles, “Share with me?”

Spud copied a few of the files before sending them over. “Hang on, I gotta check something.”

Tucker saw Spud disappear off the side of the screen, but could hear him rooting through some papers.

He looked over the information, scrolling through the various invoices. “Dude what are you seeing that I'm not? It's just the shipping invoices for a bunch of different places.”

Spud came back carrying five different notebooks, of varying sizes. “You may be better at hacking, but I'm better with the information man.”

He waved one of the notebooks, “I started helping Jake keep track of the various magic communities around, you know, to help with his duties when they kicked up.”

“Dude, that is so baller of you.”

“Heh, thanks.” He cracked open the notebook and pulled a highlighter out of a cup. He started marking the notebook as he scrolled through the files. “Anyways, I thought I recognized a couple of the areas some of the buildings were placed in annnnnnnd…..”

Spud furrowed his brow and grabbed another notebook, flipping it through it real quick. “What are some of those shipments carrying?”

Tucker started scrolling through his own files, “Uhhhh looks like…..lots of metal and rubber. Toilet paper, paper towels, napkins, and a frankly concerning amount of coffee. Office supplies, like so much office supplies and-”

Tucker winced. “Oh man, and a lot of chemicals I recognize from the Fenton's lab.”

“Yeah but see this?” Spud frowned as he tapped the screen, “These shipments are labeled as various different glass equipment shipments. And it's doubled every other month or so.”

“Could be they're using a lot of the equipment.” Tucker said, “We know they're testing facilities. But you wouldn't be singling those out if that were the case.”

“It's the fact it's double shipments of glass, so the handling of them would be different from most supplies to handle the fragile equipment. And the extra shipments have different weights to them as opposed to the originals they're copying.”

“That sounds super sus.”

“Yeah. What makes it more sus is the fact that the sketchy glass shipments originate from B.U.G.S facilities, rather than outside suppliers like the office supplies and the original glass shipments. Now it could be explained as them having the shipments sent to a warehouse, before dishing it out to other nearby facilities, but there's no record or paper trail that shows that. From what I can tell, the sketchy shipments just appear in the records, before being sent out to a different facility, where it immediately disappears.”

Tucker leaned back, suddenly aware that they were stumbling over something bad. “And considering what we know about them, after the guys stumbled across that one……”

Spud stared at the files on screen, “It could just be magical artifacts. But the more likely explanation is they're catching magical creatures.”

The two of them sat in a heavy silence for a moment.

“How sure of this are you?” Tucker asked. “I mean, the magical world would notice the disappearances right? They would have got a hold of Jake or Lao Shi or someone.”

Spud shook his head and held up his notebook. “All the facilities manage to fall near a cluster of magical communities, that's what I was checking. And like I said, the shipments originate in one facility and then get shipped to a completely different one. Never the same one consecutively, and it's spaced out over years. If a bunch of creatures goes missing, yeah someone's going to notice.”

“But if just one goes missing,” Tucker continued, “It's just an unrelated tragedy.”

Spud set down his highlighter and rubbed his eyes, “And it's not impossible. The Huntsclan has managed to kidnap several magical creatures at once for years for their hunting games.”

“Ugh!” Tucker shuddered. “I do not like the implications of that.”

“Yeah, Jake got caught once. There were about four or five others with him, and they were all misfits to their species, and not well liked so most of their neighbors and families just assumed they ran off or had unfortunate accidents.”

“That's……”

“Yeah.”

Tucker stared at his computer, something twisting in his stomach as he stared at all the locked files he still hadn't managed to get into.

“We can't tell them.”

Spud snapped his head up to look at Tucker incredulously, “What?!?! We have to!”

Tucker shook his head frantically, “We can't. You know the guys as well as I do, we tell them what we found and they're going to go tackle the places right away. This is so much bigger than we thought and in so many places. They barely got out last time and that was with the element of surprise and them not knowing about what they can do.”

“It's basically the same as the GIW! You guys deal with them all the time!”

“It's not the same! The GIW have a single base, with maybe 20 guys working there! I've been tracking them and their branch since they first showed up in Amity and they don't go anywhere else. This is the only branch of the GIW. They barely manage to capture the little blobs or ectopusses, and even then those ghosts escape on their own before I even get the alert about them!”

Tucker pushed away from the desk to start pacing across his floor. “These guys have buildings across the country! That one building had about 50 people working for it and that's not even going into all their bosses. They've been operating for years without anybody catching on! And we don't know what they're capable of! They had something that blocked Danny’s powers, and we still don't know what did it. This is so much bigger than what we usually deal with. We have to wait, get some more information, get some more help-”

“Yeah, like telling everybody!” Spud yelled, “This shouldn't even be an argument, Tucker!”

Tucker stared at the floor, pulling his hat down to where Spud couldn't see his eyes. He was silent for a moment.

“......If we tell them right now, they'll get in over their heads and they'll get hurt and I can't-” Tucker's voice broke.

He took a breath, rubbing his face before looking back at Spud. “I am not sending Danny into a place where they'd turn him into a lab rat.”

“Tucker-”

“All I'm saying is we have to wait.” Tucker interrupted. “We wait, we get more info, we try and get the magical communities more wary around those areas.”

“I don't want to lie to them.”

“I know. Ancients, I know.” Tucker crossed his arms, “But we gotta be smart about this. Are you with me Spud?”

Spud let out a sigh as he slumped in his chair. “... Yeah. Yeah I'm with ya. Let the record show I hate this though.”

“You and me both.” Tucker muttered, “Anyways, plans?”

“You keep hacking into the information.” Spud said. “Send me everything you get and I'll start cross-referencing with the known magical communities when I get them. In the meantime I'll talk to Fu Dawg. He's got a ton of connections and can start spreading the word.”

“What about Lao Shi?”

“I'll talk to him, but I want some more information first.”

“You don't think he'll believe you?”

“No he will. But he'll want to take it straight to the Dragon Council.” Spud scoffed, “It's them I'm worried about.”

The two of them sat there for a moment before Spud said, “This sucks.”

Tucker started giggling, “Understatement man. But we got this. Someone has to protect those losers.”

“Heck yeah man!” Spud held up a fist to the camera, and Tucker did the same as the two of them did their virtual secret handshake.

Someone had to have the heroes’ backs after all.

[odinsblog]

“How do you enjoy life as the world burns? When the planet is on fire, and the country is falling apart, and the cops shoot another teenager, and half your neighbors are getting evicted or deported, and Bill Maher is still speaking out loud on television, what do you do? I go to the water park with my nephew Miles.

Miles is 12 years old. He is a brilliant, bow-legged troublemaker. I love him despite the fact that he's 12 and still has a rat tail. It's really not that cute anymore, dude. We're not related by blood, but Miles' dad, Kevin, is like a brother to me. So Miles calls me Uncle Josh.

Uncle Josh, when are we going to the Warriors game? Uncle Josh, will you show me how to open that car with a hanger again? Uncle Josh, Uncle Josh, since I'm half Black and half Asian, does that make me Blazian? No, Miles, that makes you Oakland.

It's August, and it's hot, which for the Bay Area, means anything above 67. Today, it's 91. I'm over at Kevin and Miles' place, sitting in no AC, in our tank tops and boxers, watching Key and Peele.

I say, guys, we gotta go somewhere to cool off. Cooler than the movie theater, cooler than the mall, I'm gonna take us to East Bay's water world. Miles' face lights up. But then Kevin says, I don't know you guys. I mean, those water parks, you know, they're so wasteful.

My man Kevin is the worst kind of Bay Area environmentalist. He's that type of dude who will come over your house and use the bathroom, not flush, but instead write a note on your toilet paper telling you how much water he just saved you. That's a true story.

I say, Kevin, it's so hot out here, I could fry an egg on your face, which I will if we don't go to East Bay Water World. Miles says, please dad. I say, please dad.

Kevin says, fine. Go have fun at the park, but take my car. It's a hybrid.

I grab the keys and soon me and Miles are driving through Oakland. We pass by the Trilingual Liquor Store, the farmer's market that accepts food stamps and we make our way through the tunnel and the hills. We emerge on the other side in the valley.

The further we get from the coast, the ground is drier and drier, browner and browner. The only green is the manicured lawns of the suburbs, the golf courses, the empty field of the sprawling county jail. And then we see it and we arrive at our Mecca, our oasis in the California desert, East Bay Water World. And it's even more beautiful than I imagined. There's four wave pools, there's a 50-foot water park, the air smells like chlorine and sunscreen and funnel cake. Delicious.

Miles' mouth is wide, staring at all these things he's never seen before. Carnival games, Dippin Dots, girls in bikinis, Uncle Josh, this place is awesome. I know, Miles. I know.

We go and we jump in the wave pool, we float down the lazy river, we spin through the whitewater rapids until we're totally drenched, grinning ear to ear and surprisingly thirsty. So I go to the funnel cake vendor for something to drink.

Can I get a bottle of water, please? He says, no problem. That'll be $7. $7 for a bottle of water? He looks at the bottle. It says, and he literally read off the bottle, it says this here is bottled and purified up near Lake Tahoe.

This is California water. California water. I buy two bottles and walk back to where Miles is pointing up towards the sky. I follow his gaze and then I see it. There, staring down at us from the tallest point in the park is the biggest water slide I've ever seen. The tallest slide in Northern California, the Annihilator.

The Annihilator is a seven-story, 80-foot freefall drop down all in just under five seconds. It's one of those slides that's so vertical, your back comes off the ride when you go down, so you feel like if you lean over just a little bit, you're done. It's the type of slide that's illegal in 27 states and most of the European Union, but hey, this is California.

I look and see Miles. His mouth is watering in anticipation. We go and get in line.

Now, the worst part of the Annihilator isn't the ride down. That's only five seconds. The worst part is the 30-minute wait in line, standing in the stairs watching and hearing every kid go down the slide, hearing every scream, every shriek, every, oh, sweet baby, Purple Jesus. The That's a direct quote from a nine-year-old. Shout out to Purple Jesus.

Miles is nervous. His hand is clenching the railing. Uncle Josh, is this thing safe?

Before I can answer, I hear a voice shouting from the top of the stairs, Hands up! Put your hands up!

Hands up!

It's the lifeguard, a tall white teenager in red shorts. He's yelling at the girl about to go down the slide. I'm telling you, it's way more fun if you put your hands up.

And the words hit me like a tsunami. It's August, two weeks after Ferguson, after Mike Brown. After those words, hands up became the calling cry for a movement.

In Missouri, people are putting their hands up to protest the police murdering another black boy in America. In California, I'm watching kids put their hands up as they go down a water slide called the Annihilator, and my nephew asks me if it's safe here. It's August in America.

In Detroit, they're shutting off poor people's water. California is suffocating of thirst. Half of my friends are putting buckets of ice over their faces on Facebook. Israel is bombing water treatment plants in Gaza, and in America, we have water parks in the desert. Industrial Almond Farms in the desert, prisons in the desert, my family, me and my nephew right here in the desert looking for anything that could be called an oasis. And Miles asked me if it's safe here.

What am I supposed to tell him?

I don't want to lie to my nephew. I want him to know that yes, some people will always see him as a threat, but I also want him to laugh and play and go get on this crazy ass waterslide.

How do you enjoy life as the world is burning? How do you teach your nephew to hate the park but love the ride? The thing is called the Annihilator. I think it might be trying to tell us something.

And now we're next in line. A girl with blonde pigtails is shaking her head. The lifeguard says, it's okay, you don't have to do it.

She backs away and now Miles is up.

He steps to the edge of the slide, puts his feet in the rushing water.

I can see the brown hills in the distance, Oakland and all its beautiful contradictions waiting on the other side. I wave at Miles, say, you got this. You got this, dude.

And he waves back at me, and when he does, he lets go of the railing. His hand shoots up in the air and the rushing water carries him away. He lets go. He shoots out and disappears over the edge. My nephew!

I rush to the side and look over, and there's Miles at the bottom of the slide, safe and alive and pulling up his bathing suit. He jumps up and runs to get back in line, and the cycle continues. Water, blood, life, death, and maybe rebirth.

I'm still on the top platform of the slide.

I walk to the edge, look down at California, lift my hands, and let go.”

—Mr. Josh Healey

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest Halloween - Wrath

Summary: An eye for an eye, or better yet, an egg for an egg.

Word Count: 1313

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Friendship, humor, teenage angst, Freak #3 is named Dave in this universe, bullying, emotional outburst, revenge, typical Halloween pranks, Hopper needing to put his Sheriff pants on (still ACAB)

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn't start on the first day, you can still participate.

Tagging @the-unforgivenn @1lostsoul0fishbowl upon request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Saturday, October 26th 1985

The members of Corroded Coffin weren't strangers when it came to being bullied.

They'd heard all of the "don't let it bother yous" and "they'll stop if you ignore its." But when things never got better...well...that just meant they never got better.

At least they had each other.

Especially on the Saturday before Halloween.

They had practice leading up to their usual Tuesday gig at the Hideout. Gareth's mom had gotten into the holiday spirit, providing the boys with apple cider and a bowl of candy corn, not to mention bat earrings that she couldn't help but show off.

They excitedly chattered about plans for their special Halloween performance and even added the Monster Mash to their set.

It was all good fun.

Until a bunch of assholes crashed the session.

Oh, or as they better known, Gareth's neighbors.

He lived in a pretty nice neighborhood. Not Loch Nora, no, but the kind of neighborhood where everyone had a welcome mat and were expected to take off your shoes before going in. A neighborhood full of two car garages and a fenced in back yards and an above ground pool every now and then.

Most neighbors put up with the noise once a week, but there were always the few who hated it. Coincidentally, those stragglers included some kids at school who always gave them grief.

"Well if it isn't the freaks playing Dungeons and Douchebags."

"You guys getting ready to sacrifice virgins in the woods next week?"

"That means they need to sacrifice Emerson, doesn't it?"

The jabs were usually met with middle fingers or tongues or a crude joke about "your mom."

What the group of metalheads weren't expecting today was the barrage of eggs that Andy and his pals threw at them.

One egg splattered against Gareth's drum kit, another got into the frets of Dave's base, one hit Jeff's face, and then two matted into Eddie's hair.

The jocks had the good sense to run away, chuckling and high-fiving, before their victims could react.

All four of the boys cleaned up the mess with their heads hung and jaws clenched. The rest of practice was canceled, in favor of going to Family Video and getting a few scary movies.

Eddie just had to go home and shower first.

Or so they thought.

By the time he returned, it was dark, and when they jogged out to the van, they were met with a surprise.

"Uh, hey Ed," Jeff frowned as he climbed in and saw a pile of bags from Bradleys. "You forget your groceries back here or something?"

"What is all of this shit?" Dave questioned and nosily looked inside.

Shaving cream, squeezy cheese, toilet paper, a head of cabbage, and bars of soap.

"Change of plans boys!" Eddie announced as he shifted the van into drive. "Everyone buckle in, it's Revenge of the Nerds tonight."

He had a great plan--tp-ing houses, egging cars, leaving little surprises in mailboxes--and nothing that could really be traced back to them. Just good old Halloween pranks.

"Everyone's allowed to be a dick to us," Eddie explained. "But we have to just sit back and be little angels? Otherwise we turn into monstrous villains? No sir."

"Yeah, why do we just have to sit back and take it?" Gareth agreed.

"This'll be our chance to destroy them!" Dave cackled, implying his dibs on several rolls of toilet paper.

"Destroy is a strong word there," Jeff, ever the voice of reason, interjected.

"Yeah, we're not out for destruction," Eddie agreed and then tilted his head back and forth. "Except maybe smashing a few pumpkins. And I might have a few small--Jeff, don't give me that look--small fireworks leftover from the 4th of July that we can fuck someone's mailbox up if we're up for it."

There was silence in the van.

"So are we up for it?" Eddie looked at them all expectantly, only to be met with cheers and claps on the shoulder.

It was a great night.

TP-ing the Miller's house. Egging the Johnson's.

Drawing dicks and the hairiest balls on Jason Carver's car windows with soap.

Wrapping Steve Harrington's car with cling wrap.

Anyone who ever made the boys feel like they were weirdos, freaks, less than, were targets.

They even had a special surprise for good old Higgins.

"Best forty bucks I ever spent," Eddie cackled as he sprinkled instant mashed potatoes onto the lawn.

"It's like the opposite of the Grinch," Gareth snorted as he sprayed shaving cream into the mailbox. "Wish we had some dog poop though."

"One of us could take a shit on his porch," Dave snickered.

They all stifled their laughs as they continued their mischief.

It all went by, seemingly, without a hitch, and they headed home with big smiles.

Eddie even offered to stop by DQ to celebrate.

But there was no celebration, because as they turned out of a neighborhood that Eddie's van certainly didn't belong in, they got the surprise of police lights and a tell tale whoop whoop.

And chaos reigned.

"What do we do?"

"Do you think it's Callahan?"

"I can't go to jail! Do you think they'll take a plea?"

Thankfully Hopper appeared once they pulled over.

How many times had Hop let them off the hook with just a slap on the wrist and maybe the confiscation of their weed? Too many times to count. None of it was officially on any record; even they knew how much their sheriff hated paperwork.

There was that one incident on the steps of town hall though...

"Munson," the older man sighed as the window was rolled down. "Am I gonna have to call your uncle tonight?"

"Depends on what you pulled me over for," Eddie responded, cocksure.

Hop leaned his head in and looked at the other boys, who wore varying expressions of nervousness and terror.

"What were you kids doing tonight?" he asked and leaned back.

"Just taking a drive," Eddie shrugged.

"Uh huh," Hop nodded. "Any parties?"

"We just had band practice tonight, we're going to get some ice cream."

"There any weed in here?"

"Maybe a joint in the glovebox. If I give it to you, are we free to go?"

"Is that a bribe?" Hopper shot him a stern glare and then dropped the pretense with a sigh. "Got a call from old Mrs. Bengston. Said she saw some shadowy figures defacing a neighbors house. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

Immediately, all the boys froze.

Hop snorted with a quiet thought so muttered under his breath.

"I'm gonna give you boys a little warning," he leaned into the window once more and shot them all stern glares. He reached out his hand and pointed to the glove box, and Eddie was quick to reach over and grab the little plastic baggie with a leftover joint out and place it in the older man's hand. That baggie disappeared back out the window, never to be seen again. "And some advice."

They all nodded.

"You should wait until Halloween night exactly if you're gonna play pranks. Then it's good, clean fun. Not vandalism."

The van was suddenly inundated with "yes sir" and "we'd never" from all four boys overlapping voices.

Hopper nodded, patted his hand on the window sill, and was about to walk away, when he stopped. He leaned into the window again and slid his hand into the unfastened breast pocket of Eddie's vest, then extracted the little packet of M-150s.

"You're good kids," he said with finality. "Stay safe out there."

He walked away and the boys all waited until he was gone to let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Hey guys," Dave began nervously. "Remember when I said one of us could shit on Higgins' porch? You think it's too late to go back?"

[fuck-customers]

So I just recently lost my job for something that wasn't my fault! :) TLDR: Left when my shift was over, thinking the next guy on shift was already there. He wasn't so I got fired for it.

For context: I've worked in a store with only 5 coworkers (including the owner) for a few years now. The owner has been coming by less and less often and had the back fixed up like someone was moving in, so I kind of figured he was getting ready to sell the store. I asked several times over the course of about 6 months if he was going to sell and every time he would say no. Then one day a guy MOVES IN to the back room and the owner tells me he's the new boss.

Ok fine, I think. Am I fired then? He says no, the new guy needs us four to stay on and show him how to run the business. I keep working my shifts that week like usual and show the new guy how the store works. The next week the owner texts us to let us know the new guy decided he wanted to get rid of everyone and hire new staff. I actually argue with him about this because I asked MULTIPLE TIMES if he was selling, and if I was out of a job, AND HE KEPT SAYING NO. Now if he fires me with no warning I'm fucked. He actually agrees that we can keep working our normal hours for another month, THEN we're getting laid off. Ok that's still some bullshit, but it gives me time to find something else.

I guess the new guy was upset that he didn't get to get rid of us right away like he wanted, so he doesn't even speak to me when I'm there working. I show up to open the store at 7am and stay there till 3 when he takes over. He doesn't even get out of bed most days until noon (I know because I can hear when his alarm goes off). So I get used to him not speaking to me. I also get used to him going outside and hiding behind our dumpster to smoke weed.

One day, just 20 minutes before my shift is over, he strolls right by me without saying a word, as usual, and I see on the camera that he goes behind the dumpster. I figure he's smoking weed and forget about him because I'm busy with customers. 20 minutes later I look on the camera and can't see him, but his car is still there. So I shoot him a text saying I'm going home and leave.

Not 5 minutes later, before I've even got home, my phone starts ringing. I ignore it thinking I'll call whoever it is back when I get home, but they call again. And again. And again. And again. So I pull over and answer and it's the owner SCREAMING AT ME that I left the store unlocked. I told him the new guy was there, and he said no, he got someone to pick him up and went to Malwart. I say ok, I'm still close I'll drive back down there and lock it, he yells NO YOU'RE FIRED and just keeps screaming and screaming and screaming- so I blocked him.

Went down there the next day to grab some cleaning supplies and toilet paper I bought for the store and dropped my keys off. Fuck that place, it is not MY FAULT his new favorite employee forgot when his shift started and left without telling anyone.

Also, the 4 people besides the owner who worked there were 3 women and 1 man. I later heard this new guy fired the other 2 women and ended up keeping the 1 man, who was by far the WORST of us. He never did any cleaning or stocking, and I've had customers tell me he sits in his car with the door locked for hours at a time. They're gonna run that business into the ground for sure.

Posted by admin Rodney

[the-offside-rule]

Trent Alexander Arnold (Liverpool) - Jolly

Day 11 of Christmas

Trent had walked down the stairs with his training back and kitted out in his usual Liverpool attire. He chucked his training bag at the door and walked towards the kitchen to see his girlfriend and her younger half brother Charlie. Charlie's parents both worked early hours and very rarely could bring Charlie to school so Y/n took it among herself to bring the youngest of her family to school instead. And so, every morning at half past six, the doorbell would go off and Y/n's stepdad would drop off Charlie and head to work. It didn't bother either of them much, but their favourite hobby was the Elf on the Shelf and making him do all kinds of mischievous stuff whilst Charlie wasn't there.

Trent walked into the kitchen and looked around confused. No one was there except Charlie eating his toast with a cup of tea in his Liverpool mug. "Well Charlie, how's it going?" Trent asked as he walked past the kid and patted his head. “Uncle Trent, how's it going?” Charlie asked as he stared at his Elf at the table. “Everything's fine. Why?” Trent asked walking over to the teapot. "This stupid Elf." He replied. "He won't stop fucking moving."

"I don't think your sister would appreciate you cursing now, or your mum." Trent said as he poured himself a cup of tea. "I don't care. I don't like this Elf." He mumbled. "What'd he even do?" Trent asked. "Oh my god, he did so much bad stuff!" Y/n's brother began. "He unrolled like five rolls of toilet roll last night, and then he went and broke my favourite lego set! I might have to rebuild it before I go back to mum after school." Charlie sighed. "Where's your sister?" Trent asked. "She's just doing some washing. Then we're going to school." Charlie replied. "Yeah sound."

Y/n had such a long day at work that she simply just fell asleep as soon as she dropped onto her bed and by the time she woke up again, the curtains were closed and she was tucked in. Trent must've come home. She got out of bed and walked downstairs seeing the living room light on. She peeked in and spotted Trent putting plastic pieces of lego onto what looked like a mini Annfield. "Hi?" Trent looked up and smiled. "Well, missus. I've some dinner ready for you whenever you want it." Trent said. "What are you doing up so late?" Y/n asked as she looked around the living room and spotted her boyfriend scanning through instructions. "Just helping Jolly with a lego set." Trent replied. She looked confused. "Jolly? As in Charlie's Elf?" Trent nodded. "Yeah, he broke one today so I helped him rebuild Charlie's one and I'm making him make one for tomorrow."

"You know how my mum feels about gifts before Christmas." Y/n said. "Yeah, but it's fun. And it was kinda my idea to break the lego set last night." Y/n nodded. "I'll write a little letter or something to go it with." Y/n said as she sat down beside him and pulled out a piece of paper. She began writing as Trent sat quietly mumbling to himself. "I don't have this piece." Trent muttered. "It's in the wrong place." Y/n said picking it off the tray and placing it where it was meant to go. Trent simply looked back at his girlfriend and an idea sprung to mind. "Do you wanna just help me with it so we can both go to bed?" Y/n and Trent stayed up for another hour finishing the set before they placed both lego sets on the table with Jolly and his note and headed to bed, only imagining what Charlie was going to say.

The morning after, Y/n had to call into work earlier which meant this was the first time Trent was in charge of morning duty. He eagerly anticipated the doorbell ringing and when he did, he practically opened it immediately. Trent greeted Charlie's dad before letting Charlie in and getting started eith his morning. "How are you today, boss?" Trent asked, taking Charlie's backpack off him. "Pretty good, Trentski. I-" He gasped as he saw the kitchen table. His broken lego set now fixed and a brand new Anfield lego set. "Oh my god! This is unreal!" Charlie squealed as he ran up to it. It was only when he got closer he spotted his Elf with a little note. He opened it and began reading the scribbly writing.

I wanted to say sorry for accidentally breaking your lego yesterday, so I fixed your one and asked Santa to bring you Anfield to say sorry!

Jolly

"This is sick!" Charlie laughed. "Yeah? Didn't even see it. Must have been magic." Trent said as he plated up breakfast. "Is toast, eggs and bacon alright for you, lad?" Trent asked. "Yeah course." Charlie replied. "Are you dropping me off today? Dad said you were." Charlie asked. "I am indeed, boss. Y/n had to go to work early today." Trent explained. "I don't mind. My friends all wonder what car you drive." Trent chuckled. "Range Rover Sport, but they'll see it today anyway." Trent said as he placed the breakfast and a smaller cup of tea in front of Charlie. "Thanks, Uncle Trent." He didn't know what it was, but he felt his heart strings being played. Maybe it was the fact Charlie had called him Uncle. "No bother, lad."

[kangals]

Kep report card for month 5! I can’t believe he’s already been here for that long that is insane to me. he’s a fetus.

food (drive, appetite, sensitivity): 🟢  only food he won’t eat so far is pickles

leash walking: 🟡/🟢 a little bit pull-y especially on walks with both dogs, he does chill out eventually after enough reminders. just one of those things that need to be worked on regularly while he grows.

sleeping: 🟢 - sleeps great overnight and during work hours. is a maniac from 5-10pm, but i'll take that tbh.

crating: 🟢 - i think we've conquered the crate issues! been using it a lot with the hot weather and when i check on him he's not always sleeping soundly but if he is awake he's not panting or barking or seeming stressed, just a bit bored. he's not ever going to be a dog that voluntarily naps in a crate, but he doesn't tantrum and that's all i need,

potty training: 🟢/🟡 tentatively - tentatively - i think he's doing really well. hasn't had an accident indoors in over a month. i'm not willing to call him fully housebroken just yet, but if he goes another month without accidents i think we can!

general training: 🟢 clever boy, starting a new class this week too

manners: 🟡 jumps on people and steals things (his bloodlust for toilet paper is staggering), but nothing unmanageable

grooming: 🟢/🟡 pretty good, still wiggly about brushing but i'll wear him down eventually

cars: 🟢 /🟡 good at riding in the car, but has started the annoying habit of barking at ppl/dogs that walk past the car which i hate and we're working on.

outings/socialization: 🟢 havent been able to do much with the heat, but likes adventures. did great overnight at my parents' house!

other dogs: 🟢 really good, he's a doofy puppy but he's good at taking corrections without taking offense.

other people: 🟢 FRIEND. FRIEND KEPPY.

small animals: 🟢 /🟡 i hesitate to give him a yellow here, he's really good with cats, but he's becoming a bit obsessive about chasing squirrels/rabbits/birds a bit lately. i don't think its problematic, assuming it doesnt escalate.

puberty: 🟢 he's not really showing any bad behaviors yet, only thing i can see is that he pees 5-6 times on walks instead of just once. has lifted his leg like twice.

no reds this month! he really does have a great personality, he's a nice mix of active and smart + easy companion. which is how a collie should be! it helps that he's not nearly as vocal or independent as stellina was at this age, even if he is a bit more opinionated in other ways. he's either going to be a super good dog forever, or adolesence is going to hit him like a freight train at some point, idk. we'll see!

[janedoeswriting]

The Way The Wind Blows (Stiles x OC) Chapter Six

Description: Rhiannon finds herself trapped within her guilty pleasure tv show— Teen Wolf. Now, she must choose which path to take… one that leads back home, and another that follows uncertain adventure.

Tags: extreme slow burn, frienemies to lovers, fix it fic, canon change, actions have consequences.

TW: angst, fluff, sexual harassment, anxiety, depression, obsession, domestic violence, manipulation, etc. Just please do not read if you are sensitive to difficult subjects.

(Hotel California by Eagles) **Note: I mean, duh.

It kind of felt foolish that they were on a bus going to a cross country meet. Stiles was restless. Between the tension of what had happened the night prior and everything that was going on, Stiles knew that they could be doing more productive things. For example: mourning the death of Derek. Another example: tracking down the Darach that has sacrificed a whopping six people so far.

Another example nagged at the back of Stiles' mind, but he didn't want to think about it. Rhiannon had already been plaguing his mind for nine days. Since she disappeared, he'd both discovered the root of the enemy- being a dark druid- and spent an inordinate amount of time trying anything he could to investigate her disappearance.

His father was doing the same-- working hours longer than Stiles had ever seen his father undertake.

Last night both Scott and Derek's pack had attempted to battle Deucalion and the alphas. It wasn't successful, and the remnant tension of it lingered in the bus like a rotting stench with no source.

Quizzing Scott on vocabulary was at least a welcome distraction to keep his mind off of everything that had occured. It almost worked.

"Okay next word-- incongruous." Stiles said.

"Um.. Can you use it in a sentence?" Scott asked. Stiles knew better than anything that Scott's mind had been just as equally distracted. This was a poor attempt as satiating the pain that persisted. "Yes-Yes I can. It's completely incongruous that we're sitting on a bus right now on our way to some stupid cross country meet after what just happened. Incongruous."

Scott sighed deeply. "Out of place. Ridiculous. Absurd."

"Perfect. Okay next word, umm...," Stiles couldn't keep his anxiety to speak about it suppressed any longer. "Darach. Darach, it's a noun."

Scott gave him a look.

"We have to talk about it sometime, okay? And we're gonna be stuck in this thing for like five hours so why not?"

Scott closed his eyes and leaned against the window. Stiles looked at him incredulously, but he knew he was getting nowhere so he turned back to the tablet and cleared his throat. "Alright, next word..."

--

After the crime, Rhiannon drove for a couple hours before it set in that she had to stop somewhere as soon as she could. Not only was she running low on gas, but she couldn't very well be seen in public covered in crusty dried blood.

She pulled over twice before she finally found an abandoned gas station. Both of the previous ones either had bathrooms inside or someone pumping gas. Thankfully, this one was not only virtually abandoned, but the bathroom was both on the outside and unlocked.

It took her about forty minutes to quickly scrub herself clean. She had grabbed a change of Austin's clothes that she'd found in his duffle bag in the back seat. She used the hand soap in the bathroom to wash her hair in the sink, and cleaned the rest of her body with paper towels. She scrubbed at her hands vigorously until they were raw and nothing was caked under her fingernails any longer.

She finally used the toilet and left for the truck, wet paper towels in hand. She used these to wipe any dried blood off the door handle and steering wheel. Finally, she tossed out her bloody clothes and paper towels into the garbage can and pulled up to the pump.

She found Austin's credit card and held her breath as she swiped. It worked, and she quickly shoved the diesel pump into the tank. She leaned against the car, running her hands through her wet hair and sighing.

She couldn't risk being spotted, but she was starving. If she didn't get food now in this abandoned gas station, then she would have to stop when it was daylight out, which would be a horrible mistake.

Rhiannon sucked in a breath and made her decision. She would just have to keep her head down and hope she wasn't noticed. She grabbed the cowboy hat that was on the dashboard and plopped it on her head. She almost felt guilty for wearing a dead man's clothes. But the image of his milky white eyes and sharp eerie grin banished any sympathy she had for Austin at all. She walked into the gas station and the door binged at her entry.

It was illuminated in cool toned lights and all the fridges were lit up lining the wall. It was a tiny space, but jam packed with rows of items from top to bottom. A clerk was secluded behind a glass wall and mountains of tobacco products, scratch offs, and porno mags. It was an older women, aging poorly with greying hair. She was sitting down and looked ready to fall asleep. She didn't even so much as glance up at Rhiannon's entry. This was a promising sign. Rhiannon ducked her head and walked down the snack aisle. She grabbed bags of chips and candy and some water from within a refrigerator. Her hands were full, and she came up to the counter and quietly set it all down. The woman finally looked up at her. An ashtray full of cigarette buds sat next to her. Rhiannon longed for another cigarette-- she had chain smoked the entire pack of camels dry. But she had no ID and didn't want to risk it.

The clerk began to non ceremoniously scan the goods, but Rhiannon shifted under the weight of the woman's appraising gaze.

"You're not from here, are ya?" she asked. Her voice was weathered, like she had been yelling loudly earlier. Or smoking for thirty years. Rhiannon shook her head, pretending to be very interested in their selection of lighters. "You look... familiar." the woman said.

Rhiannon's stomach dropped, but she kept her composure. The woman finished bagging her things. Rhiannon shrugged, and dared to look into the woman's eyes not wanting to be too suspicious.

To Rhiannon's horror, a look of recognition settled on the woman's features. She went calm and numb in the face in a way that almost scared her as much as Austin's transformation into a monster had.

Her eyes widened and showed the entire whites of them. Rhiannon stepped back.

"You're hands... Your hands are red. Your face is red."

Rhiannon felt like the ground had moved under her feat. She knows. This woman knows what I did.

Rhiannon's fight or flight kicked in and she lunged for the plastic bag, ready to bolt out the door without paying.

The woman was too quick, and she grabbed her wrist-- the one that was already bruised and sore from when Austin had almost broken it. "You must return to Beacon Hills. You must find Scott McCall." There was no time for confusion, but the woman continued as Rhiannon fought hard to tug at her arm. "Rhiannon Watson. FIND SCOTT MCCALL."

The woman screamed this last statement, and Rhiannon did the only thing she could think of. She leaned down and bit the woman's hand as hard as she could. The woman finally let Rhiannon go, and she dashed out the door. The cowboy hat flew off her head in the process, and she barely had taken the gas pump out of the tank and left it abandoned on the ground before she got in her car and slammed the door. She tossed the bag of food into the passenger seat and struggled to put the keys into the ignition.

Just then, a gut-wrenching ear-splitting scream like nothing she had ever heard before erupted into the air. Rhiannon dropped the keys and held her ears, squeezing her eyes shut and crouching down. Rhiannon thought it was a gunshot momentarily, but when she sat up to look outside she found the entire gas station windows had shattered. By some miracle, the car windows remained in tact. Rhiannon grabbed the keys, and this time she started the car swiftly and peeled out of the gas station back onto the highway as fast as she could.

Rhiannon didn't stop shaking or driving twenty over the speed limit for another half hour. Finally, as the ringing in her ears began to subside, she slowed her pace and took several calming breaths. Her mind was reeling, and she looked at herself in the rear view mirror. She looked shell shocked- which is exactly how she felt- and her ears had a line of blood trailing out of them and down her neck. Rhiannon grabbed a dirty sock from the backseat and quickly wiped the blood away. The woman's words rang in her ears still. Eventually, she pulled over at an exit and closed her eyes, resting her forehead on the steering wheel with her eyes squeezed shut. Find Scott McCall. So that was it. The warning of a banshee. The scream of death.

She grabbed the road map from within the glove compartment, longing for her cell phone. It was confusing and difficult to drive without GPS. She traced the lines on the map using an old red pen. The ink led straight back in the opposite direction and ended right on a dot labeled 'Beacon Hills'.

Fuck.

--

Stiles was pretty proud of himself for his ingenious idea of getting Jared to vomit. His plan had worked-- they had no choice but to pull over at the rest stop.

But the state of Scott certainly didn't allow him any time for pride. His worry grew with every moan that Scott uttered. He and Allison carried him over their shoulders into the men's restroom as quickly as they could with Lydia closely following to try and block anyone from seeing them.

Rhiannon groaned. The uncomfortable sensation of light in her eyes ushered her to consciousness.

Sleeping in the truck wasn't ideal, but it certainly was better than being found as a missing person. She had driven all night, and found a secluded truck stop to park in and sleep. Thankfully, no cops or suspicious people had been there when she arrived in the wee hours of the morning. She had made it back into California, but was still a good ways from Beacon Hills. She had only gotten about four hours of sleep, she realized, as she checked Austin's watch that read 12:15.

It was noon, and trying to sleep during the day and drive at night wasn't working.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes and groaning. Her hair was a mess and she felt like she'd slept on a pile of rocks. Her muscles were sore from both taking down a monster multiple times stronger than her and from sleeping in the car. Her morning breath was awful after all of yesterday's cigarettes and downing a bag of potato chips. She grimaced as her eyes adjusted to the California sun.

People swarmed the parking lot, and it was full of cars and trucks. She was all of a sudden much more awake, and ducked down, hoping nobody saw her. She was still a missing person, and in a stolen truck. And had killed a person-- who knew how long it would take for that murder to be traced back to her.

A big yellow school bus caught her eye as she peeked up just enough to observe the grotesque amount of people. A school bus?, she thought in confusion.

To her utter horror, students filed out in throngs coughing and waving their hands over their faces in clear disgust. A man was screaming out the window. Beacon Hills High School was stamped on the side of it. Rhiannon sucked in a short breath and ducked, pressing her back against the door as she crouched on the cramped floor. Fuck fuck fuck.

Rhiannon dared to steal another peek.

Her eyes searched the crowd of people. Rhiannon's stomach did another flip. There, Allison and Stiles held up a very horrible looking Scott McCall as Lydia looked around trying to block him from anyone's view. Rhiannon ducked down again. Find Scott McCall.

Fuck. She didn't want to find him so fast. She thought back to what episode this was. A school bus at a truck stop. Scott was dying. Derek "died". They were going to a haunted motel. Fuck. Rhiannon did a double take as she caught sight of a police officer on the other side of the truck. He hadn't caught sight of her yet, but he was patrolling around with a scrutinous gaze.

Rhiannon cursed, reached over to grab her bag-- the only evidence she had been in this truck (other than her fingerprints everywhere), and opened the drivers side door behind her to slip out as discreetly as possible. She blended in with the crowd of teenagers well, but was still getting strange looks from other students.

Thankfully-- none of them recognized her because she hadn't attended school. Still, her face was plastered on the news and it wouldn't be long before a stray student connected some dots. She ducked into the girls bathroom and found the handicapped stall.

Her appearance was horrible. She looked pale, and run down. Her hair was a mess, and purple circles hung under her bloodshot eyes. She quickly ran her hands through the tangles and made herself look somewhat better. She grabbed her toothbrush and ran it over her teeth and tongue without any toothpaste, and then begrudgingly took some gulps of water from the sink. It tasted like mold and metal, but Rhiannon swallowed it anyway.

Finally, she stepped out of the stall. A crowd of girls swarmed the sink mirrors and a que was forming for the bathroom. She ducked out with her head down and hands clutching her bag. She walked past students lingering around. A group of boys passed by muttering, and she caught someone saying "Closed for cleaning?" and another complaining about walking to the other side of the building to use the other bathroom.

Rhiannon hesitated, and then sighed and chucked her bag into the bottom of an outdoor trash can. It wasn't exactly ideal, but she didn't want to look like a run away when she ran into Stiles again-- not if she wanted to keep her place as Mr. Stilinski's foster daughter. And if a banshee had warned her to keep close to Scott McCall, staying at the Stilinski's was her best bet.

She approached the men's bathroom with a deep breath. The door was locked. She banged on it. "Closed for cleaning!" A voice shouted on the other side. It was clearly Lydia. Rhiannon banged again, harder. "We're closed!" Another voice sounded very loudly and angrily. Stiles. "Go. Away!"

Rhiannon sucked in a breath and despite her hammering heart, she banged again, harder and longer. She didn't stop until the door swung open violently.

"Go to-," Stiles began with a very harsh tone, but immediately caught in his throat at the sight of her. She looked up at him with weary eyes, but didn't have time to stand around and let someone see them. She pushed her way in and shut and locked the door behind her.

When she turned back, Lydia and Scott were gaping at her. Allison would have stared in shock too if Scott didn't grunt, and she turned back to him with a worry-struck expression.

Rhiannon didn't know how to approach this situation other than,

"Hi."

"Rhiannon?" Stiles asked, and something of relief and confusion both combined in his voice.

"Stiles." She said, but stepped by him to where Scott and Allison were crouching on the floor. "How is he?" she asked, lifting the shirt. The sight was putrid and disgusting. The jagged wound was growing blacker by the second and oozing with blood.

Rhiannon couldn't face Stiles, but she could do this.

"Rhiannon." Stiles said, more firmly this time as if he was realizing something. Rhiannon ignored him.

"Allison, grab some needle and thread. You need to stitch him up."

"What?!" Allison demanded. "You need to stitch him up. He isn't in his right mind. If he thinks he's healing, he will." She said, meeting Allison's gaze. They hadn't even properly introduced themselves, and Rhiannon was reaching for their trust. Willing it into reality.

"Trust me." she demanded. Allison stood, and moved to her bag. Rhiannon looked back up at Stiles, who was staring at her like a ghost.

"Get another shirt from Scott's bag."

Stiles didn't move, just stared. "What are you-?"

"Do it!" Rhiannon demanded. "Stiles, I'll explain everything later. Just go."

Rhiannon turned to Lydia. "Make sure the bus doesn't leave."

Lydia was appraising her in a similar way that Stiles was, but she didn't hesitate like he did. She grabbed Stiles' arm and dragged him out the door. Rhiannon walked up and locked it again as Allison used a lighter to sterelize the needle.

"How did you- How do you know what's wrong with him?" Allison asked, taking the thread and crouching down to Scott. Rhiannon shook her head, but said, "I can't explain how, I just do."

This seemed to be enough for Allison. She begged Scott to stay awake for a moment even when he complained he was tired. Rhiannon heard the fear in her shaky voice. She took the thread and attempted to push it through the eye of the needle. Her hands were shaking profusely, and Scott's groans and nodding head weren't helping. He was dying by the second.

"Come on." Allison begged, but it wasn't working. She couldn't do it. Allison squeezed her eyes shut. It dawned on Rhiannon what she was going through. "Your mom isn't here." Rhiannon said gently. Allison looked at her in shock as tears ran down her face. "Your mom isn't here. Take a deep breath." Rhiannon said, and Allison did so, desperately clinging to Rhiannon's calming voice. "You can do it, Allison." Allison turned back, taking another deep breath, and focused. A moment later, it was done. She desperately began to stitch him up and reminded Scott to stay awake.

Just as Scott was nodding to sleep, Rhiannon said his name. "Scott, stay awake."

And he did. Allison finished up the stitching, and Scott came too. "It's my fault." he said. Allison breathed a sigh of relief and clung onto those eyes that were growing more lively by the second. The wound was stitched up expertly, and Scott looked down at it. "Did you do that?" he asked Allison. She was the only person in the world to him in that moment.

Rhiannon stepped back, letting them have their moment. Stiles banged on the door, and Rhiannon wrenched it open as he rushed in with Scott's bag and a shirt in hand. He brushed by her, but Rhiannon saw him meet her eyes and he seemed struck again by the reality. She was there. She was really there.

He handed the shirt to Allison, who immediately helped him dress and stand. Stiles dropped Scott's bag and turned back to Rhiannon.

His eyes said everything. Explain. Now. Rhiannon sucked in a breath and said, "I'll explain everything in a minute, but right now I have to-," she started with Stiles fast on her heels as she left the bathroom and then stopped in her tracks. The cop had brought a friend, and now they were inspecting the empty red truck together. Fuck. Stiles grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. "No, explain now."

Rhiannon glanced at the bus, where Lydia was desperately trying to convince Coach to keep the bus there just a few minutes longer. Rhiannon looked back to Stiles, grabbing his hand and removing it from her arm. "Fine. On the bus." Rhiannon said, and turned to help Allison carry Scott. Scott did a double take, and looked at her in dizzy surprise. He looked infinitely better than he had just moments ago.

"Rhi?" He asked as they made their way there. "Nice to see you, too." she said back.

--

"So your telling me you got kidnapped, escaped, stole his truck, and just happened to see us at this random rest stop on the side of the road?" Stiles asked on the bus. Rhiannon was actually glad they were in a public setting where Stiles had to keep his voice down, so he wouldn't yell at her.

Rhiannon nodded. Stiles was fully turned toward her, but Rhiannon faced forward in the seat next to him. Lydia was in the seat in front and looking back, listening to the story with just as much skepticism that Stiles had. Allison sat behind them, but she was too worried about Scott's dozing figure to pay them any mind at all.

Rhiannon didn't want to say it, but she didn't exactly have a choice. She had made the decision on the way back to Beacon Hills. "It was a wendigo."

Both Lydia and Stiles sat up a bit more, their attention sharpening. She glanced at Stiles, and then to Lydia. "He tried to eat me."

Lydia blinked at her, and Stiles' mouth hung open.

"A what?"

"Whats a wendigo?" Lydia bit out the question like Rhi had just walked out of crazy town. It didn't seem Lydia was warming up to Rhiannon well, and it made sense. They had only very briefly met, and all of a sudden Rhiannon showed up after nine days missing acting like she ran the place.

"It's a supernatural creature that feeds on human flesh." They both stared at her. "Like you actually believe that werewolves are the only supernatural beings that exist. Is Jackson being a giant lizard not enough to buy that wendigos are real?"

"How do you know about Jackson?" Lydia bit out sharply in a low whisper. Rhiannon looked her in the eye and could feel Stiles' stare burning into her. "Listen-- I know things. I know probably more than you know-," This was so true it was unbearable, but she continued. "I know you've been hearing strange voices. Finding bodies."

This shut Lydia up. Stiles grabbed Rhiannon's arm, but she didn't look at him. "How do you know that?" Stiles asked, a burning in his voice.

She glanced at him, looked down at her hands, and then back to Lydia. She had factored in the repercussions of what she was about to do over and over in her mind on the drive there. But she had already decided to do it, and there was no going back now.

Not after they knew that she knew about the supernatural, and everything that had happened the past few days.

"I don't know how I know things--... I just- I just do."

"Oh thats helpful. How are we supposed to belive you?" Lydia asked, and it was true. "You don't have to. I'm not asking you to."

"Oh, so we're just supposed to go along believe you aren't the- .. the Darach?" Stiles said it like he was both trying not to believe it but also like he had no other choice than to think it was Rhiannon.

Finally, she met his eyes. "If you don't trust me, fine. I wouldn't trust me either. Lock me up, then. Watch me. Next time a person is sacrificed, you can blame yourself for not letting me help you."

Stiles sucked in a breath at this and let go of her arm, which he hadn't realized he was still holding. Rhiannon turned back to Lydia. "The only reason I'm here is because I ran into one of your kind, Lydia."

There was a short moment of horrified silence. "One of my kind?! I'm not--," Lydia started incredulously. The look Rhiannon gave her cut her short. "You're smarter than that, Lydia. You know you aren't human. Not really."

Lydia sucked in a sharp breath, as if she had received terrible news. Which, Rhiannon supposed, she had. She wasn't human, and that must have been a shock to hear.

"Listen-- I don't-.. I'm not sure of what I know. I do know things. From the past. And things that may happen. But it's all like a blurry memory. Like a book I read once that I know the plot of, but can't remember the details. Some things come to me, and some don't. I'm not saying I know what I am, or if I can even tell you how to stop the Darach. All I know is that I can help you."

They sat in a heavy silence for a long time as they took in the information. Something had shifted in Stiles. He felt betrayed. How could she go missing for nine days, with himself and worse his father at fault? How could she just come back and know how to help Scott, know what Lydia was, and still expect them to trust her? He didn't. He didn't trust her, and that was all he knew. She was a liar, and something was off. "What..." Lydia said, and couldn't get the words out. Rhiannon put her hand on the seat in front of her and met the teenage girl's eyes. "You're a banshee, Lydia. You predict death."

--

There was a distinct feeling of being unwanted. The sun was setting slowly, and after Rhiannon had broken the news to Lydia nobody seemed to want to interrogate her anymore. She could feel that Stiles and Lydia both wanted nothing to do with her. She took her hint, and quickly made her way to the only empty bus seat. It was fine. She didn't need to be their friend. It had felt good to help them, though. To help Scott. To tell Lydia the truth. That feeling had been squashed by the mood that weighed on her. She knew they didn't trust, or like her. Maybe she had screwed up by telling them. Then again she didn't exactly have a choice. This stupid bus was her only way back to Beacon Hills. That is, if she made it in one piece.

Rhiannon thought about everything that had happened while she stared out the window. How she had ran into two different supernatural creatures in her attempt to escape Beacon Hills. She morbidly thought that maybe she was the beacon now. A horrific voice in the back of her head said, Maybe you are. You traveled through worlds. Who knows what sort of things you've changed just by being here?

This excruciating time alone also gave her a moment to collect herself and decide what her next plan of action was. And to try and sort through her memories enough to try and know what was coming next. She knew they were going to that haunted motel. That Boyd would almost drown himself in the bath. Isaac would hide under the bed. Ethan tries to cut himself in half. And Scott would very nearly light himself on fire. Stiles had saved him, that time. Would she have to sit by and let him? What would be the best way to help them all without disrupting the timeline and causing some sort of change in plot? Did this mean she couldn't help them?

It all felt wrong and horrible. Watching a Tv show was one thing. But actually being there was different. The timeline was different in real life.

Rhiannon looked down at her hands. Despite the great plethora of distractions, she could still see it. The blood on them. The smell of it. The sound of gurgling. The fading of light. She shook her head as if this would help her banish her thoughts.

"Hey." A voice said. She jumped, and turned. It was Scott, she looked around to find the bus was already empty. How had that happened? "Scott. Sorry- I- I got distracted." she said. He smiled, his bag slumped over his shoulder. He looked perfectly healthy. And like he didn't hate her. Stiles must not have spoken to him yet. He nodded and she got up to follow.

"Ya know, you have some questions to answer." Scott said, and to her horror when they stepped off the bus Stiles, Lydia, and Allison were waiting and watching her. She tried not to grimace and lolled her head to the side as if she were gravely inconvenienced by this. Which she was. It would require more lying. "Fine." She marched forward through them, and Stiles did a double take and caught up to her.

"You can't just-- walk away." he demanded. Rhiannon looked to him with a raised brow as the rest began to follow. "I'm not? Unless you want to talk about werewolves in the open parking lot," Rhi turned to Scott. "What room?" she asked.

Stiles stopped walking while the rest continued. He threw his hands up in exasperation and ran to catch up.

--

Rhiannon had been struggling to start this conversation for the past five minutes. They all sat on the beds, watching her pace until Allison evidently became fed up and said, "Wellll..."

Rhiannon sighed and turned to them. "Okay. Here goes."

She knew she couldn't tell the full truth, but she'd planned for this.

"Derek isn't dead."

The room went silent and Scott leaned forward in surprise. Evidently he at least believe her. The sceptical looks on the rest of them were enough to tell her she had to prove herself.

"Okay, okay. Maybe I need to start from somewhere better," Rhiannon said.

"I know things. Things about you all that nobody else knows. I don't know everything, of course, but- I do know some things. Like, for example, Allison-- I know you're family makes silver bullets with your family crest inscribed in them. You made silver arrowheads instead." She said, gesturing to her. Allison was taken aback by this, and the rest turned to her in confusion. Allison nodded. Evidently nobody else knew this fact about her.

"And, Lydia. Your grandmother's nickname for you when you were little was Ariel." Lydia blinked in shock at Rhiannon. Stiles stood up, as if this was too much, but Rhiannon laid eyes on him next.

"You had a hallucination at Lydia's party last year. It was your dad." But that was all she said about it, not wanting to bring up painful details of that memory to the attention of the room.

Stiles stepped back, and fell on the bed staring at her in disbelief. Rhiannon turned to Scott, but he looked more surprised by anything.

"The night Peter bit you, you dropped your inhaler. You haven't needed it since."

Rhiannon let them all marinate in these tidbits of information that nobody else knew about them. These pieces of truth that she hoped would convince them to trust her. Of course, Stiles didn't. "And what, do you think this makes us think your not the Darach?!" He demanded, standing up again.

"Derek is alive. He went to Jennifer's house, and she helped stitch him up. He's gonna be okay--," she started, but didn't know what to say about Jennifer. Could she tell them? Would it be okay?

She let the silence marinate. "You don't have to believe me now. That's fine. But you do have to know that we aren't safe here. Lydia- you have a bad feeling right? One you can't explain?" Lydia looked to her like Rhiannon was speaking to the choir and she desperately needed help. Rhiannon nodded at her reassuringly. "You're right, Lydia. This place is dangerous. We have to get out."

"Am I the only one who thinks this is totally insane?" Stiles demanded. "You just appear out of nowhere, saying all this stuff after you conveniently arrived to town right before the killings, and we're supposed to believe you aren't the Darach?"

Rhiannon had to admit, he had a point. She tried not to let his cold attitude hurt her feelings. "Doesn't seem like you have much of a choice right now, given that every werewolf in this place- Scott included- are about to have suicide-inducing hallucinations."

"WHAt are you TALking about?!" Stiles demanded. Rhiannon threw her hands up and turned, not believing this. She was telling the truth but he didn't believe her, and she had no way to prove the truth. "Fine." She finally said, and sat in the chair in the corner, crossed her legs and arms.

"I'll wait."

"You'll what?!"

"I'll. Wait."

She glared at him, and he glared at her back until his frustration peaked and he gave a yell and stormed out of the room. Scott quickly followed. Rhiannon huffed and turned her head, glaring at the back of the TV. She felt eyes on her and awkwardly turned to Lydia and Allison's attentive gazes. Lydia was appraising her, and Allison was watching her like she didn't quite know wether to ask her more questions or run away.

"What is a- a banshee?" Lydia finally asked, clearly not able to hold in her frustration. Rhiannon looked at her and her stony expression softened in sympathy.

"It's not a bad thing Lydia. It might be scary sometimes, but you can use it for good. It means that you know things that others don't."

"Like you?" "No." Rhiannon said quickly. "No, not like me. Your's are... different. And you can change the things you find out. You predict death, but that doesn't mean you can't stop it."

Lydia took the information in and seemed to turn it over in her mind. "Your scream helps. Sometimes you might... have the urge to just scream out your frustration or all the noise in your head. It can be dangerous if you don't learn how to control your power."

"My power?" Lydia questioned. Allion touched her friends shoulder and smiled at her. "Don't worry, Lydia. We can look into it when we get back."

"Deaton will be able to help you." Rhiannon added. "Much more than I can."

Lydia stood and walked to the bathroom to take a moment to herself. To Rhiannon's surprise Allison spoke to her.

"You knew about my mother. That I-- That I see her sometimes."

Rhiannon nodded.

"You also knew how to help Scott." Allison added. Rhiannon sighed and leaned her elbows on her knees, wringing her hands.

"I want to help Scott. I want to help all of you. I don't know if I can. I don't think I was supposed to, but... I can't not help you. It wouldn't be right." Rhiannon confessed, and it felt so relieving to get those thoughts off her chest.

"I know it may not feel like it right now," Allison said, with a gentle smile and soft gaze, "but you did do the right thing." Rhiannon smiled at her but it was more grim. She hesitated for a moment, but said the words.

"I know who it is. The dark druid." Allison was taken aback, but her attention sharpened.

Lydia had appeared from the bathroom and stepped forward, also listening attentively. Rhiannon looked at both of them. "It's Jennifer Blake. Your english teacher. She's performing a ritual-- to make her powers stronger. She's manipulated the events of tonight to try and get rid of the werewolves. To get them out of her way so she could continue her plan."

"So far, she's sacrificed Virgins and Warriors. Next, she'll try and do Healers, then Philosophers, and finally Guardians. With every threefold death her powers get stronger. She'll eventually be strong enough."

"Strong enough to do what?" Allison asked urgently.

"To kill Deucalion, and the pack of Alphas."

"Well, who is it?!" Lydia demanded. "Whose the first healer?" Rhiannon put her head in her hands. "That's the thing-- I don't know. I've been trying to remember but, it's like I said earlier. I can't remember some of the small details."

"Small details? Someone is going to die!" Lydia exclaimed.

Rhiannon could help the glare that she shot her. "Isn't it kind of your job to find out who's going to die next?" Lydia withrew sharply at the blow.

"That's if you're right about me." She said, but the room was heavy with the truth. There was something strange about Lydia. About her ability to predict death. To hear voices and ghosts.

"You know I'm not wrong. And if my powers only extend so far, then your's can fill in the gaps." Rhiannon concluded. It was pretty easy to pretend like her memories of a tv show were actually powers of predicting the future and knowing the past. And maybe they kind of were. Maybe she was some supernatural creature-- one that could travers the multiverse.

Lydia lifted her hand and turned her head, her eyes going distant as if she were trying to listen to something.

"What?" Allison asked. "Shh." Lydia said quickly as she craned her head to listen. She slowly approached the air vent above the bed, and lifted her ear to listen.

Lydia stepped back in a rush, her hand to her mouth. She desperately turned to them. "Did you hear that?!" She looked deeply disturbed.

"Hear what?" Allison asked. "The two people in the other room. They shot each other!" Lydia said, panic thick in her voice as the led the way out of the room. The two other girls followed closely behind her.

When they burst into the room and turned on the lights, they discovered it was deeply underway of a total reconstruction. Tools, drop cloths, and lumber took up the space of the room. Rhiannon gritted her teeth, noticing the very saw that Ethan would later try to use to cut himself in half.

"We have to find Ethan. We have to find all of them." Rhiannon said. Her voice was growing thinner and wearier by the second, and Lydia's shock and fear was enough to cause Allison to adopt the same level of urgency. "Allison, what is your great uncle's name?

"Great uncle-... uhh Alexander?" She asked. Rhiannon nodded. "And do you know how he died?"

"I-I don't know. My dad never talked about it."

Rhiannon nodded and looked to Lydia.

"Lydia, you aren't wrong about what you just heard. Grab the bible in the side table," she said, gesturing to the drawer. Lydia did quickly but was visibly confused.

Rhiannon took it and quickly flipped the front cover till an article fell from the book. Rhiannon crouched and grabbed it, holding up the title. 'Couple commits double suicide at Motel Glen Capri'

They both inhaled sharply.

"This motel is haunted. Allison, your great uncle was bit by Deucalion. He came here and killed himself so he would never turn into a werewolf. This motel has been haunted ever since, and any werewolf that steps foot here is in danger of being next." Rhiannon explained.

It was a lot to take in, but to Allison's credit she processed the information quickly. And unlike the boys, Lydia and Allison seemed to trust what she was saying now.

"Scott's in danger, isn't he?" she asked.

Rhiannon nodded. "And so is Isaac and Boyd. And Ethan. We have to get them out of this place before it's too late."

Allison nodded, serious like she was on a mission. Rhiannon was struck with the thought-- How does she do it? She's so strong and level-headed. Lydia's panicked expression moreso matched how Rhiannon was feeling.

"Here is what I know: Boyd is going to try and drown himself in bathtub, using a safe to weigh his body down under the water. Ethan is going to come in here and try to use that saw," she pointed to it "to cut himself in half." The two girls made horrified faces, but Rhiannon continued hurriedly.

"Isaac is hiding under his bed having a panic attack. And Scott... he covers himself in gasoline and tried to light himself on fire. Stiles saves him. Actually, he saves everyone." Rhiannon looked down at the floor in shame. She shouldn't have fought with him earlier. She shouldn't have let Scott and Stiles get seperated from them.

"We have to find Scott." Allison said with combined worry and determination. Lydia nodded. "We can split up and try to help them." "They won't be in their right minds. Only heat will help them."

"Heat?" Lydia asked.

"Burning them snapped them out of it. Like pain is the only solution. There were flares...? I don't remember where you got them from, but they worked."

"The bus. It has emergency flares." Lydia said. Rhiannon nodded, and they met eyes. This was it. Where Rhiannon's memory failed, Lydia filled in the gaps. In that moment, Rhiannon felt a connection pass between them. A mutual understanding.

"I'll go find Scott and Stiles. Lydia, you go to the bus and get the flares. Rhiannon, find Ethan." Allison barked out orders military-style.

Rhiannon nodded and pulled the lighter from Autin's cigarettes out of her pocket. She felt quite lucky that she had kept it.

They all turned and began to walk out of the room and ran straight into Stiles.

"Stiles? What are you doing, where's Scott?" Allison demanded. Stiles read the fear and urgency radiating off of all three of the girls.

"In our room, why?" Lydia cut by him and ran for the bus.

"What's going on?!" Stiles demanded.

"Take me to your room, now." Allison said.

Stiles looked to Rhiannon in both question and anger. That was when it happened.

Ethan was quiet and distant when he approached them. He didn't say a word and his eyes were glassy. He was gone.

Rhiannon stepped forward, struggling to make the lighter catch flame. He shoved her to the side as she tried to block his entrance to the room. His strength was too powerful, and Rhiannon was thrown to the side so hard she caught air. Thankfully, Stiles caught her just in time. She grabbed onto him desperately but her lighter had flown out of her hand and into the parking lot.

Allison acted quickly and ran into the room after Ethan, and Rhiannon did the same as soon as she got her footing. The sound of a saw turning on. Rhiannon's heart leapt into her throat. Allison grabbed onto his arm, and Rhiannon ran forward to help. Thankfully, Stiles reacted quickly too and grabbed his other arm. "The heater!" Rhiannon exclaimed. Allison and Stiles didn't seem to need any further instruction.

They used all their strength to throw him into it. He landed harshly and exclaimed in pain as the smell of burning flesh wafted into the room. In the process, the saw was thrown to the floor along with Stiles. Rhiannon's body reacted before her mind could, and she grabbed his arm. His face came within inches of the saw. She used her body weight pulled him up. The saw came to a stop, and Stiles stared at it in disbelief, looking back up at Rhiannon, who still held him desperately.

They were all breathing heavily and Ethan staggered back. "What just happened?!" He demanded.

"Get back to your room and stay there." Allison demanded as Rhiannon helped Stiles to his feet. "What the fuck?!" Stiles demanded. He was breathing heavily and shaking. "They're hallucinating Stiles. They've been poisoned by wolfsbane-- all of them."

"We have to find Scott." Allison said, more urgently now. Stiles nodded, and looked to Rhiannon. "I'll go find Isaac and Boyd. What room are they in?" She asked.

Thankfully, Stiles told her.

As they ran out the door, Lydia had made it back with two flares in hand. Rhiannon grabbed one and so did Allison. "Come on," Rhiannon said, and Lydia followed her to Boyd and Isaac's room. Stiles and Allison ran the opposite direction to find Scott.

When they got there, the door was open. Boyd was standing in the bathroom, holding the safe and about to step into the bath. As Rhi ran, she ripped off the cap of the flare and struck it hard.

It lit on the first try, and she made to Boyd who had two feet in the bathtub. She used it like a weapon and pressed it into his side. The safe dropped with a loud THUD and he let out a roar of pain. When he turned, his eyes were aglow and canines sharp. He came to, and looked around in confusion.

"What's going on?" He demanded.

Rhiannon turned and handed Lydia the flare. "Under the bed," she inscructed and turned back to Boyd. He looked in better shape, and had stepped out of the water.

"Wolfsbane. You're gonna be okay."

A yelp sounded in the bedroom and they rushed out, finding Isaac standing up from the floor and Lydia crouching down, still holding the flare even though it had gone out. She looked to Rhiannon and Boyd.

"You okay?" Rhiannon asked Isaac. He eventually nodded, but looked shell-shocked.

"We have to find Scott." Lydia said, standing up.

The two boys followed them out as they rushed to Scott's room. When they burst inside, Rhiannon let out a breath of relief when she found Allison clutching Scott in her grasp as she held him. Stiles was holding a still-lit flare.

After a few moments of that sweet relief, Rhiannon turned and walked out of the room. She thought about how thankful she was that they had gotten there before he'd gotten his hands on any gasoline. About how all of them were safe, and okay. Stiles had followed her out without her even noticing. She could really go for a cigarette. He looked at her as she leaned against a pillar, calming her breaths. "You saved them." Stiles said. That was all he said. Rhiannon finally turned and looked at him. "I wouldn't have been able to without Lydia or Allison."

She looked to where Lydia stood watching her in the doorframe, and Isaac and Boyd who were both doing the same now. Rhi stood back up. "Come on, let's get your stuff. It's gonna be a long night's sleep on the bus."

--

Rhiannon hadn't been mentally prepared for Stiles grabbing her arm and pulling her to the side as they loaded up into the yellow school bus. But she didn't protest-- she was too worn out.

"My dad thinks you were kidnapped. So did I." he said.

Rhiannon shrugged, but knew this wouldn't be enough so she said, "I wasn't lying about the wendigo, if that's what you're asking."

"Did you run away?" He asked. There was hurt in his voice, and for the first time Rhiannon considered that Stiles might have blamed himself after she had disappeared. At the time, she had been so angry with him that it didn't matter.

She thought about telling him what she had planned to tell the police upon her return to Beacon Hills. The story she had rehearsed over and over in her mind.

She decided against it when she looked into those brown eyes.

"I- I thought that Beacon Hills was dangerous. And it is..." she said, before continuing. "I tried to get out. I didn't want to hurt your dad. Or you. I- I didn't really think about anyone but myself. I just didn't want to get caught up in all this supernatural business and get myself killed. But it seems like the supernatural business just followed me anyway. I ran into a woman after I escaped Austin-- the wendigo."

His eyes told her he needed an explanation. "I thought he was a regular person, but he, uh. He wasn't. And then I saw this woman. She told me--... she told me to come back to Beacon Hills. To find Scott McCall. I think... I think that's the only way I can stay alive in this world."

She looked up at him before he could get a word out and quickly said. "You can't tell your dad."

"I know," he started, but she interrupted.

"No, you can't tell him I ran away. I... I know it's a lot to ask. You already have to lie to him so much about all this." and she gestured around, referring to the supernatural world. "I know it isn't easy for you. But I don't want him to think I ran away because of him. He was good to me. He took me in without question when he didn't have to. I didn't want to leave, but I was scared of what would happen if I stayed. And it wasn't his fault, or yours."

He sucked in a breath, listening despite clearly wanting to say something. She continued. "I want to stay with you."

This statement was totally awkward, and Rhiannon quickly followed up. "I mean with your dad, and at your house. I think... I think I was supposed to. Like how I think I'm supposed to help you now. Like there's a reason I'm here."

"You can't lie to police. They'll know."

No they won't, I've done it before. But she didn't say this thought.

"I want to try. I'll come up with a story. I'll tell the FBI agents it isn't your dad's fault. That I want to stay. But I need you to help me."

She waited in anticipation. He eventually nodded slowly. "Fine. But only because you saved my friend's lives. And I'm still not buying that you aren't the Darach."

Rhiannon held up her hands. "I don't doubt it. I'll tell you everything I know." Not everything, but he doesn't have to know that.

Stiles sighed.

"By the way, the wolfsbane is in Coach's whistle. Next chance you get, get rid of it."

Stiles nodded begrudgingly, and they boarded the bus.

"So is anyone gonna tell us who that is?" Isaac asked, gesturing to Rhiannon.

--

When they got off the bus, the police were waiting. Rhiannon had told Stiles to call his dad and tell him that Stiles had found her. Upon sight of Mr. Stilinski, she was caught off guard by a hug. Mr. Stilinski grabbed her and his son and pulled them in tightly. Rhiannon hesitated, and then sunk into the embrace. It felt good to actually have someone who was happy and relieved to see her.

When they pulled apart, he inspected her. She must have looked as ragged and dirty and smelly as she felt because his face was etched with worry. He then turned to his son, holding his face and neck in one hand and clapping him on the shoulder in the other with a proud sort of smile that only a father could muster for his son. "Good job, son."

Stiles blushed and looked down bashfully. "I didn't mean to find her. I was on a cross country trip."

Rhiannon smiled and elbowed him in the side playfully. "He did though."

"Actually, we have a few questions about that." an FBI agent said, stepping in much less friendly than Mr. Stilinski had. Rhiannon nodded, expecting this. "You too," they added to Stiles, who had begun to step away. Rhiannon looked to Stiles and sent him a reassuring smile, and Stiles in turn nodded back. They'd discussed the plan on the ride there, and knew they would both have to answer questions. It took a couple hours of questioning. The entire time Rhiannon had demanded from both the agents and CPS that she stay under the care of the Sheriff, who she said was the most fit to protect her after the events of her 'kidnapping'.

She covered the events that had occured, continuing to stick as close to the truth as possible. She didn't disclose the gory details of her murder, or of her running away. She instead claimed he'd apprehended her in the street with a cloth to her mouth, and when she came to she was riding in a car, tied up and gagged. She described a story of how she escaped from the truck when they had pulled over off the highway.

"I ran through a ditch. I fell, but kept running. There wasn't anything around-- not even a gas station. I didn't know where I was. I kept screaming for help. I thought maybe there had to be someone around. But it was nighttime. He pulled around and cut me off with his truck. I tried to run around it but he grabbed me by the wrist."

She held the bruised and swollen wrist in her hand as she spoke. Everyone in the room was eating it up, looking at her with sympathetic eyes. Especially when she dipped into the memory of the real terror she had felt during Austin's attack. His bloodthirsty stare with those soulless empty eyes. The teeth dripping with drool. Head cocking to the side as he cornered his prey.

She let the feeling bubble to the surface, and didn't have to fake the terror that came with it. "He had a knife. I-I kneed him... between the legs. He let go of me so I grabbed his head and brought it down onto my other knee. He was on the ground. His face was bloody, and he dropped the knife. I grabbed it. He started to try and come up again so I- so I stabbed him... Right here," she pointed to the crook of the neck. It wasn't true, she had stabbed him through the neck, but the details didn't matter.

"I was bloody, but I ran to the truck. I was scared he would get back up again, so I drove off down the highway. In the opposite direction we came from. I didn't have a phone, or know where I was going. I was going to pull over, but I saw a sign that said Beacon Hills on it. I didn't know how far it would be. I ended up driving for a long time. I got tired, though. I almost fell asleep on the highway. I stopped at the next rest stop I could. There weren't any cars, and I was too scared to get out, so I fell asleep in the truck.

When I woke up, it was daytime. There was a school bus, and that's when I saw Stiles and Scott and their friends."

"Your friends didn't want to call the police?" One of them asked.

"I asked them not to. I wanted Stiles to call his dad. The rest of the police don't matter."

They all glanced at each other. She had said this last part with a bit of venom.

Sheriff Stilinski himself had been asked to sit this testimony out due to his interfering biases, but Rhiannon refused to speak unless he was in the room. He said, "Rhiannon, I know you've been through a lot, but if you're ever in trouble you should contact the authorities. They're here to help you."

"No, your here to help me. Stiles is here to help me. They just hold me in little rooms and ask me questions I've answered a million times. They treat me like I'm crazy."

Her adamant biases in favor of Sheriff Stilinski and his son were purposeful. They weren't necessarily false-- she did like them. But she needed to make it clear that she had no intention of cooperating if the sheriff wasn't involved.

She had to make it clear that the only person who could help her was Sheriff Stilinski.

It took hours. Stiles and Rhiannon were both kept separate. Stiles' questioning seemed to go well though, because at the end of the day Rhiannon had returned to the Stilinski household after a hospital visit and some strict lecturing from both CPS and the sheriff himself.

The FBI had immersed themselves in the new investigation of Austin. Rhiannon had both given falsified and biased information about him. They had found the truck, which matched her story. But she wanted their discoveries to end there. If his body was found... she wouldn't know what to do.

It was a long night, and when Rhiannon finally thought it was over she heard a knock at her door. She crept over and opened it an inch. Stiles stood there with pursed lips.

"What?" She asked.

"Let me in."

"That's inappropriate."

"You owe me an explanation if I just-," he harsly whispered, "lied to the FBI for you."

Rhiannon could see in his eyes that he wasn't backing down. She stepped aside and he shoved his way through, closing the door behind him very quietly.

"Didn't your dad tell you that you weren't allowed to come into my room?" She asked him.

"How do you know that?" He demanded.

"I didn't. But now I do."

He gave her an exasperated look but gestured his hands around for her to speak. He was so expressive that Rhiannon knew what he was thinking at just about all times. She sighed and sat on her bed. The comforter was fluffy, which she normally didn't like, but ever since she'd begun living there she had grown fond of it. Stiles stood, but she waited for him to finally sit on the bed next to her.

"Listen-- I don't know what I am. I don't know how I got here or what I'm doing here. All I know is I can help you and your pack."

Saying it felt silly, but he didn't cringe so she continued. "For example, I know who the Darach is."

He held on to her words. "It's your english teacher. Jennifer Blake."

He blinked at her and she spoke so he didn't have to. She told him everything that she'd told Lydia and Allison the night before. About the sacrifices, and how she didn't remember details. About Lydia's powers and how they could use them to try and find out who the next victim was.

"The veterinarian that Scott works for? Deaton. He's an emissary. Well Jennifer used to be an emissary too. For a different pack. The female alpha? The one with the claws and is always barefoot?"

Stiles nodded.

"Well, she didn't kill Jennifer. And after she survived, Jennifer decided to take it upon herself to get revenge on them. Deucalion in particular. With each trio of sacrifices, she gains different powers. And with the next round-- the healers? She'll gain that power. The power of accelerated healing. And when she finishes all of them, she'll be powerful enough to kill Deucalion."

Stiles processed the information and Rhi could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind. "We'll need to talk to Deaton. He'll know more about everything than I will. He'll be able to help Lydia hone her powers. Maybe he'll even know something about where I came from and what I am."

She said this last bit knowing that it was the partial truth. Of course, she wasn't a supernatural creature, but maybe he had heard of people traversing time and space.

Maybe he was the key to getting her back. The key was here in Beacon Hills all along. Stiles took in this information slowly. Which was funny to watch, because Rhiannon didn't even know Stiles could sit still for so long. Finally, he said, "Okay. Tomorrow, we'll talk to Deaton."

==

Notes: Thank you! I love seeing you guys interact with my posts. I'm glad she's back at Beacon Hills now. Six episodes into season three already. You guys are getting a little taste of the 'fix it' aspect of this fic. Rhi's got a lot of opportunities to change things, so I'm excited to pan that out. The gif at the top is how I imagine Rhiannon to look-- grey eyes and brunette hair. She's a model named Andreea Diaconu. Obv I've had her and others describe her looks to be insanely beautiful so it only makes sense she looks like a model.

PART SEVEN

[cringefailprincess]

So I needed to go to the hardware store for parts, because my toilets have been leaking for weeks. I have no car and buses don't run that early on sundays, so I had to bike it, a mere twenty minutes trip.

I rose early again and set about unscrewing everything i could on the faulty toilets, put the old and messy parts in my backpack for reference, and i asked my phone to tell me the way to the store.

Now, on paper, that's a straight line, though part of it is a one way road that doesn't serve my purpose on this side of the trip. I already knew I'd have to take a different direction on this portion. I get my bike out of the building, and well. It's a grey, foggy morning. I can barely see to the nearby crossing, and there's no light on my bike, so. I suppose we'll just follow my phone's instructions.

I take the side road.

It starts with a street I've never taken before, so I'm cautious. I am aware that people driving won't see me fast enough, but this early, there doesn't seem to be anyone out yet. The way is easy enough, and with the slight cold that lingers, it's a pleasure to bike. I go on a straight line, which should be parallel to the direct road.

Then I have to make a turn. That's another city street, though more suburban. No one is out here either. It's grey, but it's not that dark ; all lights are turned off. I go on my merry way, take a turn between big buildings that sprouted in the mist, and get to my first snag, because this doesn't look like the map. I must have gone left when I should have gone right ; I do that a lot, and I don't check my phone at every intersection. No matter ; recalculate a route, please !

I get biking. Three streets later, fully stuck in the washed out suburban sprawl, the signs don't match the map I have. I have gotten lost in straight lines before, so I sigh, and ask for a recalculation.

Now, the result I get has significantly more turns, which I don't fully understand, but I'll just focus harder. Luckily, I still haven't crossed path with anyone, so it should be fine if I have to make abrupt turns.

I try to follow the road better, make out street names, but half of the signs are missing. The fog doesn't seem to be lifting.

My phone says to go down the street ; in front of me is no street, but a forest path. I check again, but the map doesn't seem to mention a forest. I stare, and stare, at the grey woods in front of me, and I conclude that, well. Disappearing into mysterious woods, swallowed by the mist, never to be seen again, actually IS one of the ways I'd pick to go. Here's to hoping they never find my body !!!

I go into the woods.

I bike for a while. Actually, we're way over the twenty minutes this trip is supposed to take, but I've gotten turned around so much, who can say ?

I startle a bird that startles me. It's a magpie.

Five minutes into the forest path, a moving shape frightens me, but I think it's only a man. He's gone by the time I reach the crossroad, and my phone tells me to keep going, straight line.

I emerge into a village.

Weird. Haven't seen that church before.

I turn to take a better look at it ; my phone beeps in warning, I am taking a wrong turn again. I can't seem to reach the church, though ; and really, it's weird that no one is out, no one at all. I ask out loud, Well !! Is this the Lonely or what ? But, of course, no one answers.

I recalculate the route. On my right. Straight line.

I try to, but the road keeps twisting.

Recalculate.

Damn, I really can't follow directions, huh !

Recalculate.

How did I miss an entire street.

Recalculate.

I am getting closer, though. And I'm lucky I still have service, though none of the people I messaged replied yet (that's normal, it's early, on a sunday morning), so I'm not really lost.

A car passes me, making me jump and swerve.

Huh.

Rising from the mist, the bulky green of the hardware store glooms and sulks, turning its back on me. I bike around it, legs on fire, get off and tie my bicycle next to the entrance.

I go inside. It's clear, and bright, and noisy. My phone pings with texts. A salesman asks if he can help me.

Huh. Guess I made it.

I look outside, into the grey, into the quicksilver. It's bleak, and it's silent, but it cannot enter.

I turn to the salesman, and I tell him I got a fucked up toilet.

[choke-me-joey]

For @quinnyfairy Secret Santa Event...surprise @quinnyfairy I’m your secret santa!

Prompt is 'Freezing fingers' from @creativepromptsforwriting

Joseph Quinn x reader

Content warning: rpf (don't like don't read), swearing, a lil fluffy, a lil smutty

It's a Saturday morning in December, and Joe is home for Christmas. After months of being in different countries for weeks, sometimes even months at a time, he was finally home for a solid few weeks at least. Which meant lazy weekend lie-ins and cuddles in bed until whatever the hell time you felt like.

You wake up before him, unsurprisingly. The jet lag and general insanity of the last few weeks had caught up with him and he'd finally conked out at 2am. He was snoring softly, laid on his back with one arm flung over his face. You roll over and snuggle into him, and even in his sleep he holds you close, turning his face to rest on top of your head. You glimpse at the clock on his bedside table and it reads 9am. You yawn and settle back down, allowing your eyes to slip shut once more.

The next thing you know, Joe is kissing your head softly.

"Mm?" You grumble, cracking one eye open. He's out of bed and dressed, bundled up in his jeans and jumper with his thick winter coat on. He smiles at you.

"Morning, beautiful. We're out of teabags so I'm just gonna nip to the shop and grab some, okay?" Joe says softly, stroking a hand over your hair.

"Mm, I'll go," you say, voice thick with sleep as you sit up and stretch. "Get back into bed."

Joe captures your lips in another soft kiss.

"Shh, lie back down, okay? It's snowing and I know you're like Bambi on ice in the snow, so it'll be quicker for me to go. It's only round the corner, I won't be long."

"You'll come back to bed after?" You ask, settling back down into the warm duvet, on his side of the bed.

"I'll come back to bed after, with tea." He smiles and you nod, pulling him down to youfor another kiss. This one is deeper, longer, and you hope he gets the message behind it. He does after you nibble at his bottom lip. "Oh, I'll definitely come back to bed after. The tea might have to wait."

"Fine by me," you smile. He pecks your lips for a final time before leaving the bedroom. "Oh, babe, we need milk too. And bread. And toilet paper."

Joe sticks his head back into the bedroom, a cheeky grin across his face.

"Want me to just drive to Tesco and do a grocery shop while I'm at it, yeah?"

"Shut up, I was supposed to go yesterday but you had other plans." You smile throwing his pyjama shirt at him.

"And those other plans were so much better than going to Tesco." He winks, before disappearing into the hallway. A few moments later, you hear the flat door open and close, and you get comfy in the bed, scrolling through Instagram on your phone, occasionally watching the snow falling outside your bedroom window.

Joe returns about 25 minutes later and you hear him bashing his boots against the wall outside your flat door to get rid of excess snow before opening the door. By the time he comes back into the bedroom, he's dressed only in a tshirt and boxers, having discarded the rest of his clothes somewhere in the flat, probably the living room. You giggle as he stands at the bottom of the bed and peels his shirt off, pinging it at you. You throw it back at him, making him laugh.

"Oi, cheeky." He tuts in a mock scold. You roll your eyes playfully. You throw the duvet off yourself, and he jumps back into bed practically on top of you, and once you pull the duvet back over you both, his mouth finds yours in a deep, eager kiss. His lips are cold but they quickly warm against your own.

"Pants off, Quinn." You mumble, skating your fingernails up and down the muscles in his back.

"You too, Y/L/N," he retorts before kissing you again, and you each manage to shuffle out of your underwear without breaking the kiss. His hand reaches between your legs and swipes up your pussy, the bitter cold of his fingers making you shriek.

"Jesus, Joe! Your fucking fingers are freezing!" You flinch and dig your nails into his back, making him laugh loudly.

"Ow, fuck, ow! Okay okay, I'm sorry!" Joe laughs, grabbing your hands as you both crease. Once you've calmed your giggles, he leans in to kiss you, mumbling against your lips "I know how I can warm them up though, yeah?"

His fingers come down to your pussy once more, and you hiss but don't claw him this time. He finally presses his soft lips to yours as he pushes a finger into you. It's cold at first but that only adds to the sensation, and you moan softly. "Better?"

"More," you keen, arching into him. He slips another finger inside you, crooking them to stroke your G-spot. You reciprocate by wrapping your hand around his cock and stroking him, lubricating his shaft with some of your arousal and some of the precum that had escaped the slit of his cock.

It's not rushed; the two of you lay there, mouths moving lazily against each other, using your hands on one another. Joe's thumb brushes over your clit and you sharply inhale.

"Still fucking cold."

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 17.1 - dancing in the dark

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (angst, language, graphic sexual content)

Word Count: 2400

☾

I get up in the evenin' And I ain't got nothin' to say I come home in the mornin' I go to bed feelin' the same way

☾

May 16, 1984 - junior year

"Toilet paper?"

"Check."

"Eggs?"

"Check."

"Red lipstick?"

"Check," Robin answered, then lifted an eyebrow at her sister. "Wait, what do we need the lipstick for?"

Eddie butted in between the two Buckley girls from the back seat of your father's work truck. "Perhaps if I wear lipstick I'll be less recognizable?"

You snorted, both hands on the wheel. "I don't think a disguise is necessary. Honestly, if you get caught, what else do you have to lose at this point?"

The brown eyed boy sat back in his seat, shoulders slumping in a mild sense of defeat. You still hadn't really talked to him since showing up on his doorstep with Robin. You were quite clearly on a mission and having fun with your sister, but Eddie knew you well enough that you were still far from happy with his fireworks show.

At this point, he just felt lucky that you wanted to include him in whatever plan you cooked up.

And Eddie thought Robin was quirky. Like if you took all the seriousness and cynicism away from you, added a dash of band geek, BAM! Robin Buckley. Eddie found her perpetual lack of coordination and rambling sentences to be entertaining. 

On the same note, though, he was intimidated by her scrutinizing gaze on him - they hadn't really spent time together yet, just simple greetings in passing at school when he was with you. 

Eddie still had yet to properly meet your father, upon your request.

I think that's something that can wait a while, yeah?

Hawkins was empty this late at night and all three of you buzzed with anxiety. "Borrowing" your dad's work truck was a good idea, but also a risky one. The construction company's name on the side of it was a little more recognizable that Eddie was comfortable with.

But it was better than taking Eddie's van. He was always noticed wherever he went.

"How do you guys know where Higgins lives, anyways?" he questioned, poking through a toolbox that was in the back seat with him.

You peered at him through the rearview mirror, your shining eyes glowing under the street lights.

"Robin knows a girl, who knows a guy, who knew a girl that dated his son."

"Well that's a goddamn soap opera if I've ever heard one," Eddie mumbled, then leaned forward towards Robin. "Cheers, criminals?"

Eddie popped the top off a beer bottle, startling the two girls in the front seat. You slammed on the brakes. Snapping your head to glare at him, Eddie held a look of innocence in his eyes, a beer in one hand and a random tool he used to open it in the other.

"Did you seriously bring a whole six pack with you? How did I not notice that?"

"You were too busy stealing all of my toilet paper. Look, there's two for each of us," he held out the open beer for one of you to take, fiddling with the lid of another one.

Robin took it from his hand immediately. You stared at her in shock. 

"Hey now, don't look at me like that. He lit a car on fire yesterday. We just stole our dad's work truck… to go vandalize our principal's home," she took a swig of the beer, wincing at the taste. "Might as well continue breaking laws as long as we're having fun, right?"

Sighing, you nodded at your younger sister. "Touché. But save mine for later, would you? Drinking and driving isn't on my list of crimes this evening."

Eddie and Robin tapped their beers together with a sharp clink, then proceeded to race each other to the bottoms of their bottles. 

The truck pulled onto Higgins' street. You parked in a dark area underneath a large oak tree. You turned to your accomplices with a grin.

"Are you ready, bitches?"

☾

I ain't nothin' but tired Man, I'm just tired and bored with myself Hey there, baby, I could use just a little help

☾

The trio looked upon your handiwork, sweet revenge coursing through your veins.

Toilet paper covered Higgins' trees, lawn, and lampposts. Eggs were artistically scattered over the brick front of the house - Eddie specifically recommended not to egg any windows so that you wouldn't draw attention from anyone inside with noise.

Robin stifled a giggle with her palm. "Guys… that was fun as hell."

"I concur," Eddie said, hands on his hips.

You couldn't help but smile at your two favorite people. "Ditto."

When you were almost back to the truck, you stopped suddenly. "Wait! I almost forgot." Then you bolted away. "Wait here!" you whispered at them frantically.

Eddie side-eyed Robin as they watched you run up to Higgins' mailbox.

"Uh, so Robin, you think she’s gonna hate me forever? For what happened yesterday?"

Clicking her tongue for a moment, Robin stared at her feet as she replied. "I don't think she's capable of hating you." 

The Munson boy next to her felt a pang in his heart at her response, and was unable to find his own.

Then she chuckled. "But good luck with the dirty looks she'll give you every time you light a match around her. She can be really scary sometimes."

"It's her eyes, right?" Eddie said with a laugh. "Aggressive."

Robin patted him on the back. "Just don't try to blow yourself up again anytime soon, and I'm sure you'll be just fine in her books. She loves you, you know?"

"Does she?"

"Isn't it kinda obvious?" Robin pointed at you, who was now jogging back to the pair. "She’s never been a rule breaker like this before. Not until she met your dumb ass."

Before Eddie had a chance to process Robin's words, you ran up to them.

"Guys, let's roll! I saw a light come on in Higgins' house," and then you ran past them, out of breath and cackling wildly.

As you drove past the principal's defaced home, Eddie snuck a glance at the once bright, white mailbox. 

In red lipstick, you had written "ASS of '84" in swirling, fantastic letters.

☾

You can't start a fire You can't start a fire without a spark This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancin' in the dark

☾

As you neared the center of town, you felt chills up your spine when Eddie's quiet voice sounded from behind you.

"Come stay with me tonight?"

You fidgeted in your seat. You would pick Eddie's soft bed over your own any other day. But now you were conflicted. 

"I have to take Robin home. And the truck. She can't drive it home alone," you explained, mumbling towards the back seat. 

You glanced at Robin, who was enjoying her second beer and looking out of the window at the passing businesses of downtown Hawkins.

But Eddie wasn't going to back down. "So? I'll come with you, then. Sneak me into your bedroom, I'll be your little secret."

"Do you want to die at the hands of Richard Buckley?"

"Darling, I'd die any day just to spend another night with you."

You had never allowed him to stay the night at your house before. You tried your best to avoid Eddie and your father crossing paths at all costs, usually only having Eddie in your room on days when your father was working late.

A bit of anger flashed in your mind, wondering why Kate was allowed to stay the night. You couldn't hold the anger for long, though. Over the last few months of awkward dinners, both you and Robin had begun to realize that Kate wasn't all that bad, even if she had a horrible taste in men.

And now, as you could feel your boyfriend's heated eyes on you from the back seat, a gut feeling told you that you weren't ready to say goodnight to him just yet.

"Fine, just this once."

"You know I can hear everything, right? You idiots are loud and the radio isn't even on," Robin gestured wildly with her hands. "I'd say 'get a room', but it sounds like you're about to do that. Gross."

Uncontrollable laughter bubbled up in your chest, adrenaline still pumping through your veins from the mischief you unleashed on the principal of Hawkins High School.

It must have been contagious, because Robin smirked at her sister.

"I'll help you sneak him in. Maybe one day you'll help me sneak in someone, too."

With a quick wink and the signature interlocking of your pinky fingers, you nodded knowingly at Robin as you pulled the truck into the driveway of your home.

☾

Stay on the streets of this town And they'll be carvin' you up alright They say you gotta stay hungry Hey baby, I'm just about starvin' tonight

☾

"Do you need me to wash your clothes or anything? For school tomorrow?"

You searched through your dresser drawers, finally finding a clean pair of oversized shorts that you had previously stolen from his room. You threw them at Eddie, who caught them with an uncomfortable look on his face.

"Sunshine… hate to break it to you, but I'm kinda done for the year. They suspended me for the last two weeks of school."

"Oh."

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding the disappointment on your face. "I think I might just say 'fuck it', you know? Drop out, get a job with my uncle. Eulin is never going to pass me… or Ms. O'Donnell. Definitely not Higgins. What's the point in trying senior year again?"

Your eyes were sad. Though still sweet and deep as a pot of honey, your voice seemed smaller than usual.

"You should try again… for me. We could graduate together." You picked at your fingers, not meeting his eyes.

Eddie Munson didn't need any convincing. It was clear how much it meant to you. 

"Jesus, babe, no need to beg," he joked. "You already begged me enough just to stay here tonight."

The small smile that crept up on your lips made his entire night. Sure, he royally fucked up with the fireworks. But you were still here. You took him to get his childish revenge on Higgins. You wanted him to graduate with you. 

Maybe there was still hope for a fairytale ending, making it out of Hawkins with you by his side.

Never really ceasing to surprise him, you pulled off your jeans and sat on the edge of your neatly made bed, spreading your knees just a few inches.

"Enough talking, if that's okay?"

Eddie was already hard. But he purposely hesitated.

"Messing up a bed this pretty seems like quite the sin, you know."

Tilting your head back, you scoffed. "Says the boy with the stained mattress!"

"My uncle gave me that bed, I have no idea where those stains came from!"

"Sure." Then you bit your lip, looking behind him in the dim bedroom. "Lock the door already, will you?"

Again, he didn't need any convincing. He pushed the lock closed on your bedroom door, seeing it shine in the hazy light emanating from your closet. 

The brown eyed boy dropped to his knees in front of you, grasping your calves and pulling you to the edge of the bed.

He ran his hand over your belly, then hooked his fingers underneath the elastic of your underwear… he said a quick, sarcastic prayer for his devilish conscience, then pulled the underwear down. 

In the darkness, your hair hung around your sleepy face, making it difficult to read your expression. Eddie didn't mind it, though. He just wanted to feel you, love you, hear you… taste you.

Both of your hands ran across his neck, your nails slowly exploring his skin, then down to the collar of his shirt. He took the subtle hint and pulled it off, discarding it on the floor. The dark piece of fabric looked out of place in your immaculate pink bedroom.

Eddie could feel the warmth radiating off the skin of your stomach, your inner thighs. He grabbed your knee and then ran his hand upwards, stopping when he felt your hips.

He didn't even contemplate his actions for a single second - Eddie knew exactly what you wanted. Pressing one hand against your backside, he pulled your hips forcefully towards his mouth. Your flesh held remnants of what smelled like rose-scented soap and sweat.

His tongue traced the hot crevice between your thigh and the wetness already pooling between your legs. Immediately, your back arched, almost collapsing your body like a little fractured marionette.

He was the puppet master.

The tension in the air snapped. Like a buzzing telephone wire on a scorching summer day - Eddie felt a fire being lit in his groin, guiding him as if he was a man possessed.

Self-control being a thing in the past, Eddie grabbed hard onto your ass, and you leaned back as you held onto his head. He tasted you, fully, unabashedly, exploring you like you were an undiscovered wonder of the world. His tongue circled your most sensitive areas as you whimpered, knees trembling.

You squirmed further and further up the bed like a cat in heat. He yanked your hips back to the edge of the mattress. You grabbed one of your pillows and held it over your mouth.

His fingers traced an arc along the underside of your breasts, barely visible under the fabric that separated them. It took everything in him not to fully undress himself.

His cock was hard, straining against his jeans. But there wasn't anything that would stop him from making you come into his mouth.

Eddie didn't think he had ever tasted something so real, so human, in his entire life. The sweat, the salt, the unique taste of you. 

He controlled the speed at which you finished - dragging it out as long as he could. The more your body tensed up at his actions, the more satisfied he felt. Your legs curled around his head like a vice grip from heaven.

Afterwards, sitting back on the floor before you, his face was wet. His lips were swollen. 

He could see your figure splayed out on the bed. Shameless and spent.

☾

I'm dyin' for some action I'm sick of sittin' 'round here tryin' to write this book I need a love reaction Come on now, baby, gimme just one look

You can't start a fire Sittin' 'round cryin' over a broken heart This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancin' in the dark

☾

(song lyrics credit: "Dancing in the Dark" by Bruce Springsteen)

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[deathbecomesthem]

Gunshy - EIG Chapter 6 | 3.8K

Record shop Eddie Munson x AFAB Reader

Warnings: Period typical homophobia, sexism, yearning, smut. The Reader is being stalked, not by Eddie. Parental drug abuse.

A/N: A panic attack, comfort. Some very sweet sweetness between the reader and Eddie. A couple of paragraphs inside the mind of our stalker that may be disturbing for some folks.

A/N 2: I really thought this chapter had been uploaded to Tumblr already, but I can't find it. It's been on AO3 for some time. I'm working on a new chapter right now, so I decided to make sure we're up to date here also.

---

You shrink yourself down that first day. You walk on the balls of your feet. You slowly close doors. You shower quickly. You do every dish you see sitting on the counter when you pass through the kitchen, and sweep the floors while you’re at it. If there’s one thing that your mother impressed upon you in your youth, it was that going unnoticed is a virtue. You can’t be a bother if you do everything just right, and you don’t want Eddie to be bothered by you.

The toilet paper is low in the bathroom. There’s none in the spot under the sink where you keep your own. There’s none in the small closet next to the bathroom door. Eddie’s in the kitchen, you can hear a cabinet open and close. A small beep - probably the coffee pot - and shuffling steps. You bite your lip and consider asking him if he has more toilet paper squirreled away somewhere, and decide against it. You’ll run down the street and pick some up.

You know you can’t get past Eddie without him seeing you, but you stoop lower and put your head down. You have the day off, but you’ve been up for hours. Eddie’s just getting up now, and you wonder if he’ll head down to the shop soon. When you round the corner to pass by the kitchen, you see him sitting at the small table in the corner by the window. His face is focused on something he spies through the glass. His eyebrows are drawn together, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head. His flannel shirt looks soft and well worn, and you fight the urge to walk up and feel the fabric between your fingers. Your skin prickles, a cold sweat breaks across your forehead - all you can do is stand there and look at him.

“Morning.” Eddie’s hoarse voice speaks out to you. You can feel your skin begin to heat up knowing that he could feel your gaze on him. “There’s coffee in the pot if you want any. I know you’ve been up for a while, though.”

He knows you’ve been up for a while. Dread. You were too loud sitting in your room. Maybe the light of the lamp at your bedside drifted down the hallway and creeped through the crack in his doorframe. Maybe it was the shower. You should have waited until you knew he was already out of bed. How could you be so stupid?

“Oh god, I’m sorry.” You can hear the wet quality to your voice, and you swallow back a lump of nothing stuck in your airway. “I should’ve been more quiet.”

Eddie turns to look at you now. Confusion is written over his features, he’s trying to work out what he’s said to set you on the verge of tears. You look like a cat, back pressed against the wall. No, not like a cat - like a kicked dog waiting for another. Eddie rises to his feet in a swift motion that makes you draw back even more. Your breath is coming too fast now, your chest is tightening up.

“Woah, woah,” he moves quickly to rest a hand on your shoulder. He’s bringing you back to earth, he’s trying to hold you in place for a moment. “You could run around this apartment like a bull in a china shop and I wouldn’t hear it. I just noticed you already made coffee this morning.”

His reassurances are muffled in your ears, the wall of panic closing you off from him despite him physically grasping your skin. He knows you’re too far gone when he sees your hand frozen in an unnatural way. You’re hyperventilating, so he does what he’s done before. He guides you to the ground, not trusting the steadiness of your feet to make it to the couch on the other side of the kitchen.

Eddie’s sitting on the tile floor next to you, an arm around your shoulders. He has a hand in the center of your chest attempting to focus your breathing to follow his own. His hand is firm, moving with the rise and fall of his own chest. It’s a guiding light pulling you out of the darkness. Even when you match his breath, your hands are still pulled tight, an invisible cord wrapped around them.

“You’re ok. Breathe with me. Focus on my voice.” Eddie’s voice is calm and sure, and it steadies you, even as your body starts to shake.

“I think I’m having a stroke.” You hear yourself say these words, but it feels like a voice separate from your own body. You’re holding your hands up to show him. It hurts, having them bound tightly this way.

“Not a stroke, no. Not that.” Eddie takes your wrists in his hands and begins to work a thumb in each palm. “You’re having a panic attack. You’ll be ok. Your breathing messes up the oxygen in your body, and your hands just need a minute to relax.”

It’s not what he’s saying that matters, but the way he says it. It’s reassuring, having him down on the floor with you, feeling his touch. You can feel the muscles begin to loosen, allowing the shaking to take control of your entire body. You’re freezing, teeth chattering, chin vibrating.

“I’m freezing.” This time your voice sounds like your own, and you’re glad for that.

“Alright, what kind of host would I be if I let you freeze on my kitchen floor. Couch or bed?” Eddie stands up and pulls you up by the armpits like a child. A pang of embarrassment runs through you, and hot tears begin to leak from your eyes. “You know what? Couch. I want you close for a while.”

You float to the couch, Eddie’s arm wrapped around your waist while your hand holds the wall. Your hip is stiff and aching. You let him lay you down and cover you with a blanket. You wish he would hold you tightly. Wrap himself around you and let you feel the warmth radiate from his chest. Feel his heartbeat and the rhythm of his breathing. But you settle for an absentminded stroke of your head, and the warmth of his eyes searching your face. All at once, you remember something that seems very important.

“Eddie, I was gonna go get some toilet paper. You’re almost out.” You tell him, an earnest and concerned relay of important information. It doesn’t seem silly at all to you, but you’ll deeply regret it later when your mind is clearer.

“Oh, toilet paper? I’ve got a whole case down in the shop. Don’t worry, Sweetheart.” Eddie’s desire to comfort you is overwhelming, and he indulges himself with a kiss to your forehead, allowing himself to breathe in the scent of your skin before pulling away. “You can always just ask me. This is your home too, you belong here.”

—

Eddie had planned to talk to you about Steve and Nancy visiting in 2 days, but the panic attack in the kitchen gives him pause. He’s ready to call them both and tell them to fuck off, but he knows that’s a pointless idea. They’re coming, and any attempts to stop them will be met with a more intrusive experience for everyone.

He spends the midday on the phone calling area hotels for pricing while he keeps an eye on your sleeping form in his small living room. God, he wants to lay on that couch with you, and wrap you up in his arms. He can’t do that, not while you’re a walking and talking exposed nerve. You deserve a place to rest and heal, and he’s happy to give it to you. You’re already precious to him, a kind and tender soul whose skin has been toughened through years of pain and mistreatment. He swallows the thoughts that creep into his mind when he thinks too hard about you, when he lets himself imagine something that isn’t real - at least not yet.

He hears you stir under the blanket he spread over you. It’s a comfort to him every night, and he wants it to be a comfort for you now. He wants it to be the hug that he can’t bring himself to give you. He wants it to soothe your pain, and make you feel safe in his home. He wants it to hold you because he cannot. And it does hold you. You are surrounded by Eddie, covered in the blanket that he sleeps with every night. It smells of his skin, and you breathe it in. It’s an intimate thing, even with your bodies in separate rooms. You will leave a bit of yourself on the soft fabric, and Eddie will smell it when he rests his head tonight.

Eddie keeps his voice low when someone finally answers the phone at the motel half a block from the record shop. A little place that rents by day, week, or month depending on the needs of its clientele. It’s not bad, he’d taken a tour of a room before he secured his apartment above the shop. Clean and quiet, and he’ll even foot the bill if it gives him peace of mind. He hashes out the details with the old man on the other end of the line, and is pleasantly surprised to find out that the weekly cost on two rooms during the summer months is less than half of what it would be in the last place he lived. He’s giddy with relief, and chatting with the old man in the way Eddie does, forgetting completely that he’s supposed to be keeping quiet.

“Alright, man. I’ll be down in about an hour or so with - what? Cash, check, or money order?” Eddie pauses, waiting to hear the answer come through the telephone line. You’re leaning against the doorframe, watching the way he absentmindedly taps the pencil he’s holding against the small pad of paper sitting on the table in front him. “Yeah, for sure, cash is king. I’ll see you soon.”

“Wheeling and dealing, Edward?” You ask as Eddie hangs the receiver in its cradle. He jumps a little, unaccustomed to having someone else in his living space. You’re so quiet, and he was so fixed on the task at hand, he’d momentarily forgotten you were here with him.

“Mmm, yes.” Eddie recovers quickly, and a warm smile spreads across his face when he sees you looking sleepy but no worse for the wear. “Feeling better? Want some water? I can make you some food if you’re hungry.”

“I’m ok,” you’re already breezing past him to grab a glass cup from the drying rack next to the sink, “I’ll eat a banana or something. I’m sorry for what happened. I’m the worst house guest.”

Eddie closes his eyes, considering what he can say that wouldn’t push too hard one way or the other. It’s been so long since he’s been around someone so skittish. Like a cat afraid of its own shadow and all he wants is to hear your contented purr.

“I need you to try really hard to look at this place as yours too.” Eddie cuts off your scoff before you can bite back at him, “I’m serious. I owe you more than a room, all that work you’ve done downstairs. Please.”

The earnestness of his voice draws your gaze to him. He’s telling you the truth, it’s written on his face. He doesn’t just owe you, he wants you here. And it hits like a ton of bricks - he wants you. The thought has been existing in your mind since the first moment you heard his voice, that maybe this could be someone to you, but you never really allowed yourself to consider his thoughts might mirror your own.

“Ok, Eddie.” Your words come out quietly, not wanting to break the tension that’s building in the space between your bodies. You decide to shorten the distance. You decide to do something that isn’t wholly in your nature, but will convince him that you understand. You move into his space, and wrap an arm around his waist, and lay your head on his chest. His arms hang loosely around you, and you both sway.

—

“That purple house on the corner,” you point it out to Eddie. He’s strolling slowly beside you, conscientious about your slower gait, “is where Ms. Jamison lives. She’s totally fine with folks in the neighborhood digging around in her garden. She always ends up with way too many tomatoes and cucumbers, but she loves getting her fingers in the dirt.”

“I don’t know, I think I should probably meet the lady before I go swiping her veggies.” The back of Eddie’s hand brushes against the back of yours, and not for the first time. He’s willing to continue the ruse, that he isn’t asking without using words if he can hold your hand. It takes you back to a more innocent age, and your belly feels warm. “Maybe you can introduce me sometime? I can send some records her way in exchange for produce.”

“Mmm. Yeah. She’s going to like you, you’re just her type,” Eddie giggles low in his chest, but it stops immediately when you put your hand in his and squeeze. “You can laugh, Eddie, but her husband was in an MC all the way up til the day he died.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks. He looked out towards the purple house with dark purple trim contemplatively for a second before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Is she still single?”

Your giggles are music to his ears. His breath tickled your skin and made you shiver, but the thought of Eddie bringing flowers to the 70 year old woman that lives on the corner is too much for you. Your giggles turn into the kind of laughter that has you bent over, and makes your belly ache. And then Eddie’s giggles start, and the two of you are holding hands and laughing like children in the middle of Columbus Street.

Finally, you wipe the tears from your eyes with the back of your hand, and stand up straight. It hits you like a ton of bricks, a need that you don’t want to deprive yourself of. So you crook your finger to get Eddie to lean down and come face to face with you so you can impart whatever wisdom you have for him.

You let go of his hand so you can hold him with both palms, running a thumb lightly across the angry red mark on his left cheek before you go up on your toes. And you kiss him. Lips against lips, you give him a moment to decide how to react before you open your mouth a little in invitation. He doesn’t pull away, he snakes an arm around your waist, fingers gripping your side, and he kisses you back. Firm and soft, his tongue swipes at your lip and you open up. Deepen the kiss. By the time you finally pull your mouths apart, your knees are weak.

Instead of holding hands, Eddie keeps an arm around your waist for the duration of the walk to the deli for lunch. He thinks he may never let you go again.

—

Neither of you knew when you shared your first kiss that there were eyes on you. It’s no surprise that in the middle of a sunny summer day, someone would notice people kissing in the street. Most would smile at the sight, and go about their day. But not the person sitting inside the tattoo parlor across the street. A wave of sadness roiled through his guts. The sound of Danny’s voice was suddenly drowned out by a ringing in his ears.

That stupid slut.

He watched your forms move down the street and away from his view, Eddie’s arm holding you. Eddie Munson. He was supposed to be a friend. At least he knows where you are now. The big house has been empty. James spent a good part of last night in your bed. Your scent lingered on your pillow, and it eased his sadness to be amongst your things.

James smiles and nods at Danny, agreeing to god knows what, before hopping down from the stool behind the counter. He felt weightless as he moved into the back of the shop and into the small bathroom. It still smells like shit from Danny’s most recent visit, but James barely registers it. He runs cold water over his neck and then stands and looks in the mirror.

Don’t cry. Don’t.

He gives his face a hard slap, and then splashes water on his face to cool down. He needs to pull it together. It’s not his fault you’re such a slut. It’s not his fault you can’t see what’s right in front of your face.

—

“I gotta tell you something, and I don’t want you to freak out.” Eddie’s sitting across you in the corner booth of the deli, a soup spoon pointing at you. He has a serious look on his face, but it doesn’t ring true. You bite back your smile and run the toe of your sneaker against the back of his calf.

“I won’t freak out. What, do you have a wife in another state or something?” You ask, and then take a giant bite out of your roast beef sandwich, never taking your eyes off Eddie. God, he’s so pretty. You can’t wait to get him alone for a few minutes. The kiss you shared still lingers on your lips. You want more.

“No wife. No.” Eddie leans back, and you can see that he too can’t keep a smile off his face. You’re like teenagers on a first date. “A couple of my friends are coming into town in a few days.” Your face begins to fall, and Eddie’s quick to add, “I booked them at the University Inn for their stay. Don’t worry about that. I just wanted you to know they’ll be around, and they’re kind of a lot.”

You nod and consider the situation over another big bite of your sandwich. You run your toe against the back of his calf to reassure him that it’s ok while you mill it over in your head. How bad can it be? Meeting Eddie’s friends will be alright, and you can make yourself scarce. His place is comforting, and the little room you’re staying in is perfect. You’re safe with Eddie, you can be safe with his friends too.

“Ok. Just don’t be surprised if I hide. New people make me nervous. But, make sure they know they can come to the coffee shop anytime while they’re in town, on me. I want to make a good impression.” You take a final mouthful of sandwich and wipe away bits of mayonnaise and mustard from the corner of your mouth, and wash it down with a big gulp of water. Eddie can’t get over the way you eat. There’s no self consciousness there, and it makes him smile.

He doesn’t tell you that he’s already discussed you with Nancy. He thinks it will be alright. You’re amazing, and thoughtful. You’re an absolute delight. Steve and Nancy will love you. How could they not? He does.

—

The rest of the day is spent in the record shop, the two of you putting away as many boxes as possible. You’re newly motivated to get the work done knowing Eddie’s friends will be here soon, and one of them is his business partner. You feel a sudden need to make sure that you impress them. That you show your worth through the work of your hands. Plus, you want Eddie to be able to show off the place.

It’s dark out when you both decide to call it quits. Tomorrow is another day off from the coffee shop, so you know you can spend a lot of time in the record shop with Eddie. It should scare you, knowing that this man has somehow creeped into every inch of your life, but it doesn’t. You want more. And you’re letting yourself want it without listening to the voice in your head that tells you shouldn’t let someone in like this.

Walking up the stairs to Eddie’s apartment, following behind his tall and lean frame, butterflies erupt in your gut. Your fingers tingle. The short hair on your scalp stands on end. You hear and feel everything. You look at his back and imagine what the skin underneath the leather feels like. Warm, no doubt, and soft. He fumbles his keyring when he pulls them out of the front pocket of his jeans, and you think he feels it too. The nervous energy. The tension.

The door swings open, and he extends his arm out in an “after you gesture”. You walk over to the kitchen counter, and turn. You rest your hands on the counter behind you, and wait to see what’s next. If there’s anything next, or if you’re going to head to bed with dozens of butterflies flitting around your insides. Eddie stands at the door, his back to you, for a moment after he clicks the deadbolt and chain lock.

He turns, eyes cast to the floor and says, “So. Uh, do you want to watch a movie, or-” he finally meets your eyes and sighs, “-Jesus Christ, I don’t know how to handle this at all.” His eyes are wide, and he emphasizes his statement with a hand sweeping in front of him.

“This is new for me too. It’s not every day I’m put into this situation, believe it or not.” You push off the counter and head towards Eddie. You’re pulled to him, closing the distance feels natural and right. You’ve decided that, with Eddie, you’re going to do what’s right.

“Yeah. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing or anything. I’m cool with whatever you want, ya know?” Eddie’s voice is quiet, and he’s watching you move towards him, eyes focused on your lips. “I don’t want to fuck any of this up, and I know you’re dealing with a lot of shit. I don’t want to be one more thing to deal with.”

“I’m not dealing with you, Eddie.” You’re finally close enough to touch him, so you do. You reach your hand up to his hair to twist a curl that hangs at the side of his face. You watch it spring off your finger and sigh. “I really like you, and honestly - that is refreshing.”

“I really like you too,” Eddie says. And then you’re kissing again. You’re tasting. You’re open wide, and letting this man fill you up with something you didn’t think you could have. You’re happy to find that when your hand sneaks beneath the cotton of his black shirt, the skin between his shoulders is both very warm and very soft.