#'we need this done by tomorrow and it's not done yet but we'll finish it because we have no choice'

[newtness532]

i know that graduating one semester later is not that big of a deal and i haven't made any plans about what comes next so it doesnt even make a difference. so why does it feel just so terrible

[mongeese]

I finally watched the Rick Perry documentary and it's so fun to see how similar their work process and stressors are to my work in an astrophysics lab (specifically a lab which deploys people and equipment to remote locations). Like people expect there to be such a big divide between art and science but really we've both got deadlines to meet and we're both perpetually behind schedule and we both joke with our coworkers and we're both so passionate about what we do and we both find misery and joy in our work in equal measure. everything is the same everywhere and this is a good thing

[livvyofthelake]

the need to invent a paper that i can actually write.

[misfit0789]

Miserable

Alessia Russo x Reader

Summary: R is tired of being left out at work so they talk to Alessia about it.

Word count: ~ 1k words

Warnings: Shitty bosses, other than that none

Just a short one while I work on a couple longer fics.

Y/n POV

"Y/n, I'll see you at the party tomorrow, right? The one we got for finishing that training?" I look up from the report I'm working on to see my supervisor leaning on my desk. I push back my chair and lean back in my seat looking at him.

"I never knew there was a party even happening. I knew there was a possibility of one but not that one was happening," I say confused. He looks at me surprised.

"Really? I'll forward you the invite," He stands and returns to his desk. I roll my chair back to face my computer and open my email waiting for the invite to arrive in my inbox. I refresh the page and open the email once it loads. I scoff lightly when I see the invite was originally sent two weeks ago.

Seriously? This is the third time I've been left off something in two weeks!

"Thanks for sending it over. I was one of the first done with the training I'm confused how I was missed on the invite." I call back to him as my desk cube is in front of him only separated by the divider.

"I'm not sure, but at least you have it now," he says going back to what he was doing. I sigh and go back to the report.

Later that afternoon…

I sat in the last meeting of the day with my supervisor and other team members who are in the office and not remote today. I open my OneNote to capture the notes from today's meeting before looking up as the lead for the meeting begins to speak.

"So, in out meeting from the other day we discussed-" I immediately stop listening when the other meeting is mentioned the notes long forgotten.

I was never in another meeting with these people. I thought this was the first one.

This is getting ridiculous. I have been fere for over a year and I have been left out of almost everything that has to do with this project and yet they expect me to know what is going on. I'm over it.

I sit quietly and patiently wait for the end of the day so I can go home.

Time Skip

"Babe! You're home!" I smile hearing the voice of my girlfriend of five years.

"Hi, my love," I set my computer bag down on the bench by the door and open my arms to catch her as she runs to me from the kitchen. I wrap my arms around her body tucking my head into her neck, as her arms wrap around my neck holding me close to her. I let out a sigh of relief in her arms tightening my hold on her waist. She holds me having a sense that I need this.

"Rough day?" She whispers into the quiet between us. I nod, she turns her head pressing a kiss to my head. "Why don’t you go freshen up, we'll order take out and spend the night in bed. I nod again and reluctantly release her from my hold before moving towards our ensuite to shower and change.

Once I was showered and changed into an old college t shirt and basketball shorts. I walk into our room to see Alessia in an old jersey of mine from when I played softball in high school and a pair of underwear. She is sat leaning against the headboard, bags from my favorite takeout place in front of her, Law and Order SVU queued up on the TV in our room. I slowly move towards my side of the bed before flopping face down into the mattress.

"What happened today, baby? I've never seen you this bad after work," Alessia asks running her fingers through my hair. I take a minute before I turn onto my side, propping my head up on my arm to look up at her.

"Remember how a few weeks ago I told you that the team was told if we completed all the training before the other teams, they'd give us a pizza party?" She nods, "Well apparently we did that and were given the party, which is tomorrow but they sent the original invite two weeks ago. And now there was other meetings besides the one they sent me to today about the project that they have not included me on. I was lost the entire meeting on what they were talking about because it was a continuation of the previous meetings. I have been with this company for over a year, and they have been excluding me from the start! My supervisor is an ass and won't tell me anything, and he seems to be avoiding me at all costs. Anytime I ask anyone on the team a question they act as if talking to me or helping me is some big inconvenience for them. I just can't take it anymore." I proclaim, dropping onto my back. I lay my arms over my eyes and release a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry baby," I feel the shift in the bed as she moves closer before feeling her hand splay across my chest. "This job was only temporary until you had everything together to be able to open the café. It's all about done now, so tomorrow call them and tell them you quit. We have enough savings to work with until we have money coming in from the café. The girls and I will help in any way that we can. There is no sense in you staying somewhere you are miserable," I remove my arms from my face to look at Alessia. When we make eye contact, she offers me a reassuring smile before she leans down to capture my lips in a kiss. I place my hands on her waist and maneuver her to be straddling my hips.

"What would I ever do without you in my life?" I whisper into the air between us once we part. She chuckles and presses another kiss to my lips before answering.

"Probably live a miserable life," I chuckle and nod before wrapping my arms around her, holding her to me as she buries her head in my neck pressing light kisses there. I let out a sigh knowing that things are going to change for the better.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: This week is killing me.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Sunday sees your second day in your new position. As you send off your letter of resignation to the agency, you can't help the coil that winds tight in your stomach. There's no going back now.

You close out of the several templates you Googled in your efforts. It's the one thing you know how to do. Willa, the friendly librarian who checked out the PC for you, always said, if you can Google, you can figure it out. Still, you feel like there's so much you don't know that you're not sure a search engine can answer.

You close the laptop and take both your phones with you into the hallway. You have to go check out that gazebo and figure out if you need to make a call about it. Oh, and the fridge was beeping when you filled your bottle, you have to call the maintenance number that flashed up too.

That makes you even more anxious. You've never really been the sort for phone calls. You never had anyone to talk to and everything else was easier done in person. Well, you'll have to muddle through. Work isn't supposed to be fun or easy.

As you near the staircase, your flip chimes. You juggle to answer the right phone. The slim touchscreen is set only to buzz, an option not available on the clumsy burner. You answer the call as you stop on the top stair.

The woman on the other end asks for you by name. You confirm your identity as you hear familiar noises in the background. She's a nurse from the downtown hospital.

“I'm calling to confirm your father's discharge tomorrow at noon,” she says over the rustle of paper and clack of keys, “we'll need the bed so if there is any delay, another day would be added to the invoice.”

“I understand, I'll be there, erm… noon. Tomorrow,” you don't have your notebook so you key a reminder into the other phone. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course, miss, we would recommend you arrive earlier. We have some resources and counseling available on what you can expect getting the patient settled at home,” she continues, “nine would be ideal. I'll be able to add a note for the doctor to check in as well.”

“Oh, yes, I can do that,” you squeak, “thank you.”

“Alright then, I have all that logged. You have a good day.”

“You too,” you utter before the line dies.

Phone calls weren't too bad. You think you did okay with that one. Then again, you didn't think! You're supposed to work tomorrow. Mr. Laufeyson said you could take Wednesday off, and tomorrow is only Monday.

You close the flip phone and stare at it. Oh boy. You really don't want to spoil this. Just the mention of the coming invoice underlines your desperation. You need the money. Your dad needs it.

“Are you finished?” Mr. Laufeyson's timbre drawls from down the hall. You glance over as he stands just in the doorway of his study. You gulp.

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson. I didn't mean to disturb–”

“Yet you did,” he insists.

“I was only going to check–”

“Not my concern so long as it's done,” he waves you off, “an important call, I assume, to make such a racket.”

“Mr. Laufeyson, um,” you shove the phones away, one in each of your pockets. “I… could I have the day tomorrow? Instead of Wednesday. My father is getting out of the hospital and–”

“The day? What time?” He snips as he approaches with decisive steps.

“Well, I'm supposed to go at nine,” you explain, “I'll come in Wednesday still.”

“You will come in tomorrow, after all that,” he says. “You can work later then.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, but my father will need help getting settled–”

“Figure it out. You agreed to this schedule–”

“I did but–” you stop yourself as his eyes flare, “I will be here in the afternoon, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“You will be. In the appropriate attire, I expect,” he snarls and spins to strut back to his office, swinging the door shut sharply.

You waver at the hard slam. You didn't mean to anger him. You can't help that your father needs you. You thought Mr. Laufeyson would be more understanding, after all, he's the one who pointed out how much you needed the money.

🧹

Your father shoos you away as you try to help him sit. He lets go of the walker and flops back with a grunt, his oxygen tank clinking against the aid’s metal leg. He coughs and snatches around blindly on the cushion for the remote. You retrieve it from the folding table beside him and put it in his hand.

That agitates him further as he growls and jams down the button to turn on the television. You yawn and back away. You still have a full day left ahead of you, and what feels like one behind you. You spent the night doing some last minute tidying to make sure everything is read for your father.

“Smokes,” he snaps his fingers and hacks.

“Er,” you hesitate. You go to find the half-crushed pack you found with him on the floor. You knew better than to throw it out. You return to him, clutching the package nervously, “Dr. Shearer said–”

“Give it to me,” he demands.

You relent and obey. He’s been doubly miserable than before. You feel like an annoying gnat buzzing around his head as he tries to swat you away.

“I made you meals for the weak. They’re all labeled in the fridge–”

“I’m not a goddamn kid,” he scowls and takes the lighter from the folding table.

“I know, but–”

“But I’m home. You probably hate that,” he sneers, “you’d be happy if I died in that hospital.”

You’re taken aback by the accusation. You gasp and shake your head, “of course not, I’m happy you’re here. That you’re alive–”

“Painfully,” he snorts darkly, “the fuck you keep me here for?”

You take a breath and frown. Your eyes tinge and your cheeks pinch, “because you're my dad… and I love you,” you croak.

He doesn’t reply as he pulls out a cigarette and moves the tube from below his nose. You watch him, waiting. He lights the smoke and sucks on it eagerly. You drop your head and give a shrug.

“I gotta go to work,” you say, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Don’t be slamming around when you come in,” he dusts ash over the freshly vacuumed carpet, “doctor said I needa sleep.”

“I won’t,” you promise and back away.

As you leave the room, your chest plummets in dread. You think of coming home, of finding him like you did before, laying on the floor, lifeless. You sniff and swipe away the speckling of tears. More than you want him to love you, you want him to love himself. You don’t just want him to want you around, you want him to be around.

🧹

You hurry up to Mr. Laufeyson’s gate with your kit and water bottle jostling. You fumble around until you find the smartphone and bring up the digits to punch into the code box. You buzz through and shuffle inside. You set off on your usual path around the back.

You stop at the rear door and try to untangle the strap of the water bottle from your kit. Your hand lingers on the front of the ballooning shirt. You still haven’t gone to look for clothes so you did your best with what you had. One of your father’s forgotten button-ups and a pair of pants that could pass in an office. It’s ill-fitting and scratch but better than jeans.

You get inside and leave your kit in the closet. Today’s a cleaning day but you have a few things to check off the schedule first. With your water bottle bouncing on your hip, you go upstairs and scurry down to the library.

As you enter, you’re surprised to discover the space less than empty. You apologise aloud and choke on the word, ‘mister’. It isn’t the house’s single resident as you expect, no, this figure could not be more different than Mr. Laufeyson. You recognise them, from the dinner.

The blond man faces you as he stands by the window, the drapes open to add the peculiarity of the situation. Like the man, the space is golden with sunlight. You lean back on your heel as you clutch the door handle.

“Hello,” he grins as he greets you in a playful demeanour. You can’t answer. You don’t know if you should. 

Is it rule one; don’t speak unless permitted; or the other rule, do not disturb my guests. You can’t figure out the riddle so you languish in perplexity.

“Aren’t you a sweet little lamb,” he muses as he steps away from the window, placing his hands on the back of the dimpled leather chair. His large hands. If you thought Mr. Laufeyson was tall, this man is even taller and twice as wide. “I remember you. The sweet maid.”

You blink. Where is Mr. Laufeyson? You can’t speak. You’re too terrified; not just of the strange man but of the one you know by name. Your employer would be unhappy to know you spoke out of turn.

“Have you seen my brother at all?” He prompts disregarding your stagnant silence. “Has he spoken of me? His brother? I'm Thor.”

You look down at your hand on the door handle.

“And what is your name?” He asks.

You don’t answer. You know it’s not right but you have no other choice. You pull the door shut and close the man in. You retreat in a half-sprint and barrel back down the stairs. You trip at the bottom and barely save yourself from stumbling to your knees.

You latch onto the banister post to keep your balance and catch your breath. You hear the door above. Oh no, would he follow you? Another door clicks and you look up to find a shadow on the other side of the frosted glass framed in the front entrance.

Mr. Laufeyson steps inside coolly, unbothered as swings the door shut and tugs on the lapel of his suit jacket. His eyes fall on you and he scuffs on his sole, tilting his head in curiosity. You didn’t realise he hadn’t even been there. You look at the ceiling with wide eyes; so how was the other man inside?

“Well, there you are,” he says matter-of-factly, “this place is sore in need of a dusting–”

Laufeyson is interrupted by a clamour of footsteps above. You let go of the banister and sidle away as his green eyes flick to the top to the staircase. You shy away and listen as the man descends in a series of thunder thumps. You turn to peek down the hall, wanting to hide in your chores.

“Stay,” Laufeyson commands. You turn back to him as he points at your feet. You stop in place and sway. He faces his visitor as he comes to the bottom stair, “brother, what is the meaning of this intrusion?”

“Can I not come see my baby brother?” The other man; the stranger; his brother, called Thor, booms.

“You may, when you warn me of it,” Laufeyson rebuffs.

“Ah, don’t be so grim,” Thor claps his shoulders and is swiftly shrugged off, “this place is always so dark. I hope you don’t mind, I opened a few windows.”

“I do mind,” Laufeyson says, “you do always presume.”

“And you are always offer such a warm welcome,” he tries to tap Laufeyson’s cheek but is batted away. The dark of the brothers backs up with a scoff. “Ah, and there she is. I was only just coming to find the little maid. She rushed off so suddenly–”

“You don’t need to bother with her,” Laufeyson dismissed with a slice of his hand through the air, “maid,” he points at you again, “back to work.”

You lean back on your heel, ready to disappear.

“Ah, don’t be so rude, brother. She is sweet. You get more bees with honey–”

“Do not tell me how to run my house,” Laufeyson growls, an edge in his voice you’ve never heard before. Dangerous and dark.

“Is she not doing you a service? A please would be appropriate–”

“You are not mother. I don’t need you to mind my manners,” Laufeyson girds and nears his brother, unflinching even as he comes up a few inches short of chest to chest, “nor do you need to worry for my staff. She does not take orders from you.”

“And I suppose that’s all she gets from you,” Thor chuckles.

You furrow your brow, stunned by their spat. You’re not quite sure what that last bit meant. You work for Mr. Laufeyson so of course he would tell you what to do. And why are they so volatile? They’re brothers. You don’t have any siblings but you always wanted one. So that you had a friend. So you weren’t alone. 

“Maid, go,” Laufeyson repeats, “now.”

Your eyes widen and you nod. You quickly turn and rush down the hall to the closet. You’re shaking as you try to sort out one phone from the other and find the old list of tasks. You can hardly steady your hands to get a pair of gloves on.

You take your time in the back of the house as you hear the men’s footfalls climb the staircase. You let your nerves settle just a little. You’re alone, for now, and your mission is simple. Clean and stay unseen.

[keen-li]

FOR ME

So you're in the studio with chan working on his album/song

And you're in the booth sampling vocals for him.

"Babe I need you to sample a moan for me" he says so casually.

You're surprised " what?... chan-"

"Why don't you ask someone else to do it or get it off the Web... or something I don't know" you feel awkward with everyone's eyes on you, there aren't many people in the room but you still feel nervous.

It's not like you didn't want to. But you didn't know how to do it, or how to do it right.

"Why would I do that when you're just here. Plus if I ask someone else they would make me pay" he says watching you through the glass. Bold of him to assume you wouldn't make him pay.

You look at the other producer in the room feeling awkward.

"Come on I know you can" he says voice low

Chan prepares to record and you sigh, "okay fine I'll try" you give in.

"Come on baby do it for me?" He jokingly pleds.

Did I mention you were the only female there. Chan told you'd sample some vocals and you'd be done.

But you're here sampling moans for him.

"Okay give me a real strong one" he says smirking knowing damn well that you don't know how to.

You record about five times and his unsatisfied.

And you can see the other guys laugh and mumble something.

They've caught chan's attention "what's funny?" He says sternly

They can't even respond. Chan turns back to you.

"Let's try one more time,love."

The name gives you butterflies. You sigh "chan I can't do this... ask some else. Plus im uncomfortable" you say the last part in a whisper.

Chan turn to the people in the studio "you can go home we'll continue tomorrow" they don't argue and leave.

And now your alone with chan. You were confused why they had left because you couldn't hear what he said.

"Why did they leave?"

He doesn't respond. There is some silence and you turn to grab you bottle and drink some water.

You turn back. "Chan can I leave now?" You don't see him were you you last saw him.

"Chan?"

"cha-" before you finish. You see from the corner of your eye the room's door opens.

And it's chan. You're confused

"what ar-... can I go home now?"

"We haven't recorded the moan yet" he approaches you

"No you can... face the mic" he demands, you don't have energy to argue so you do as he says. There's a moment of silence, and you want to turn and see what his doing.

"Chan I can't" you say growing shy under his stareBefore you do it you feel his hands on your hips and he kisses your shoulder.

He trails his wet kisses up your neck. And you melt holding back a moan.

"Chan...what are you doing?" You find the energy to ask him and you fight your moans as his hand run up to cup your boobs. You moan

"Were recording the moan."

_____

I hope the mistake is fixed :)

[themultifandomgal]

Arthur Shelby- Call The Midwife

I was requested to do a request based on call the midwife. I couldn't choose just one character and one story line from call the midwife so I've done one for each. They will all be out over the next few weeks.

Inspired by season 2 episode 4

Falling pregnant was something Arthur and I were very excited about. A year after we married we knew that we wanted a baby. So here I am  now nearly 9 months pregnant. Groaning I sit down on our shared bed after going to the bathroom for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. Arthur puts his arms around me and rubs my large stomach

"How's my boy doing in there?"

"Making me need a piss every 5 minutes" I chuckle "Arthur?"

"Hmm"

"Esme said we should speak to the midwife about the baby not moving much. Said her lot she could feel kicking. I haven't felt him kick once"

"I'm sure he's alright in there, but we can speak to the midwife tomorrow if you'd like"

"Thank you Arthur"

"Anythin for you dear" Arthur helps me to lay down properly in bed, placing the bed sheets over me and I quickly fall asleep.

Sometime during the night I wake up to awful pains in my stomach. Waking Arthur up I tell him to go and call the midwife.

What feeling like hours pass and I'm pacing the bedroom huffing and puffing

"There here" Arthur finally says and in walks the midwife I've been seeing since falling pregnant

"Sister, thank god your here" I breath out just as another pain hits me

"How are you doing?"

"I feel terrible, look at me"

"Well it's not a beauty contest. Now let's take a look at you" the midwife says helping me on to the bed. She lifts my legs up and takes a look at me "well it looks like we're going to be waiting for a little bit. Your not quite ready yet"

"Oh god I want this over" I shout

"And it will be soon and you'll have a perfect little baby in your arms"

"Your the father I'm guessing"

"Yes sister"

"We'll time for you to leave. Go heat up some water. This is woman's business" with that Arthur leaves the room looking panicked.

Hours later the Sister checks me again and tells me that I'm ready to push

"Now on the next pain I want you to give me a really big push. Ok?"

"I don't think I can. It hurts so bad"

"I know it does but just keep thinking about this little one being in your arm. Ok right" as the pains hit I push with all my might "ok I want you to wait a minute and when the next contraction hits I want you to push really hard" I pause, panting out of breath. Another contraction hits and I start pushing again "keep going almost there"

"I can't"

"Yes you can. Baby is nearly here" finally I feel the baby leave my body, but there's no crying at first

"My baby, is he ok?"

"Come on little one" I here the midwife say and tears start to form, but once a cry is hear I breathe a sigh of relief "I'm just going to clean him"

"Is it a boy?" I ask

"Girl"

"A girl" i mutter smiling. There's a knock on the door and in walks Arthur "it's a girl Arthur"

"Mr Shelby we haven't quite finished in here. YN hasn't delivered the after birth yet"

"He can stay I don't mind"

"Erm well in that case. Mr and Mrs Shelby I need to speak to you both"

"What's wrong?" Arthur asks frowning

"Baby's had some complications"

"What's that supposed to mean. What's wrong with my daughter?" Arthur demands

"She's got a problem with her back"

"What kind of problem?" I ask worried

"Let me call for a doctor who can explain it to you"

"Spina bifida?" I repeat making sure I've heard the doctor correctly

"Yes"

"But most children with this condition don't make it past their 3rd birthday"

"Only if their condition is accompanied with other things. I want to take the baby to the London general"

"My wife and I haven't even held her yet"

"Arthur it's ok" I say placing my hand on his arm

"Your both welcome to visit whenever you'd like and once we're happy with babies progress then you will be able to bring her home"

"Thank you doctor. Sister" with that I watch them take mine and Arthur's daughter away. I can tell Arthur is feeling many mixed emotions, anger, hurt, upset, confusion. I lean my head on his shoulder

"What if she...." Arthur finally says, his voice cracking trying not to cry

"We have to have faith Arthur"

"Faith. We should name her faith"

"I love that name"

[peachymilkandcream]

My Husband, My Monster|Part 2|William Afton x Wife!Reader

(A/N: Part 2 is here! I've honestly had such a good time writing this so far, part of me is kind of happy to not have a technical storyline to stick to so strongly like Break Me Slowly. I'm trying my best to keep these to once a week but we'll see how well we do with Christmas coming up. Also I'm not sure how long this fic will be, apparently more movies are coming out so once it's finished I might just make some oneshots inspired off of them but we'll see. Enjoy and don't hesitate to hope in my inbox for requests!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, power imbalance, age difference, manipulation, mind breaking, yandere themes, yandere behaviours, domestic violence, misogyny, violence, William’s a warning himself, etc.

=============================================

A person's first job was always a memorable part of their life, truly learning how to become an adult and gain valuable experience. And one hell of a experience it was.

The first shift had been great, William had taken her under his wing, showing her the ropes and ensuring that she understood her position. The atmosphere of work was lovely, friendly and playful and she got to interact with children which she loved. Each section of the diner was a wonder of mechanical feats, animatronics who came to life all because her boss was an ingenious man. Ketchup stains and the occasional milkshake spill were well worth the experience of it all.

"Well done for your first day, I hope everything didn't scare you off just yet."

She smiles, taking a moment to rest her feet after the long day. "Yeah, I knew going in there would be some level of chaos, it'll be fine."

"So in that case I'll see you tomorrow at eight sharp?"

There's a pause. "In the morning?"

"Of course, although it's common to be here a few minutes early."

"Well- sir- I have class that morning-"

"And I need you here. There's the most to do in the morning."

"I understand I just think I can't make it-"

William frowns. "I thought you could be flexible."

"Well I can but-"

"No it's alright, I see how it is. I'm counting on you and yet you're not here to back it up."

She chews her lip, she never could stand letting people down. "But class-"

"At the end of the day schooling won't get you everywhere you need, job experience is what's important."

There's a long moment of pause, considering her options. "Well- I suppose I can skip one class, one of my friends can take notes for me."

Now William brightens. "There we go, I knew I could count on you." His hand lands on her shoulder, keeping it there for a touch longer than usual to let it sink in.

Her smile is tight and forced, clearly a bit annoyed at having to miss one of her classes, but that she would come to grips with soon enough. =============================================

The next day ends similar to the first, hard work and exhaustion, stains and slight discomfort. Moments of rest spoiled when her boss slid her the paper copy of her indefinite schedule.

"These are all mornings-"

"Of course, it seems like that's where you're the best suited and it's where I need you the most. Why, is that a problem?"

"Did I forget to give you my class schedule? All my classes are mornings."

William shrugs. "I'm not sure what to say, I'm sure you can get by on notes."

"I'll get in trouble-"

"Oh you've never been to higher schooling, I have, don't worry it will be fine. All that really matters is that you know the material for tests and quizzes. That's all."

She shifts uncomfortably, as if deciding whether or not to argue the point further or if she should believe him.

Finally she nods, accepting. "I suppose you're right, it'll work out in the end."

============================================

Weeks went on like this, William working her to near collapse, giving her little time for friends and family and no time for school. The exhaustion was affecting her grades surely, since she always complained about not finishing an assignment on time.

It was inevitable when she came to him and told him of dropping out.

"You had to drop out? Why?" He asked innocently.

"My grades went down too far, and I just couldn't seem to focus or find interest in the course anymore. It was for the best to just quit before I spent too much money."

"That's such a shame."

She shrugs and gives a sad smile. "It's probably for the best, if I couldn't handle the schooling I wouldn't have handled the field."

He can't help but press further. "What do your parents think about this? They paid your tuition yes?"

"They're not happy at all, which is why I have to give in my two week notice."

This gave him pause, annoyance and confusion causing him to frown. "Two week notice? I would think you'd need a job more than ever now."

She shakes her head. "My parents are moving me away, they're convinced the reason I fail is because of my friends so they believe if I'm separated from them then I'll get my career."

All of his hard work was being threatened now, he had to think fast. "You're really going to give up your entire friend group because your parents are trying to order their grown daughter around?" He shakes his head. "I wouldn't allow that if I were you."

"But what can I do? I have no where to go, I can't afford my own place even at full time pay."

William pauses for a few moments for effect. "Well, I hate to see young futures go to waste, and since my heart goes out to those in need, I would be willing to help you afford an apartment. I'll get you to make it up to me in other ways, have you work some more or something, nothing to worry about."

"You'd really do that for me?" Her eyes shine with admiration.

"Of course, I care for all of my employees, and bright young minds need independence to thrive."

"Oh thank you thank you thank you!" Her smile is so big and bright, completely oblivious to the looming clouds threatening her happiness.

[blowingcookies]

day 6 - cha eunwoo x reader - drugs (medical ones) part 1

'Did my baby finish her studying?'

We were walking by the water, hand in hand. It was such a beautiful day, but all I could see was the beautiful man beside me.

His question made me pause. He pulled us to a stop, and bent his head down a bit. His dark eyes searched mine.

'No Eunwoo, not yet. Only got through the antibacterials, some fluids...'

I had a prescribing exam coming up. As a resident doctor, it was important for validation purposes. Cha Eunwoo was my main cheerleader; he wanted to be a doctor himself when he was younger, but kpop and kdramas found him instead. He was so proud of me, and I did my best to not let him down.

He pulled me close with one arm around my hips, and pulled my head back by my hair in a surprisingly rough move for him.

'Put aside your worries, and start again tomorrow. You have worked so hard, just keep going, doctor.'

He pulled me in for a passionate kiss, and I simply melted into his tall, muscular body. I felt his hand at my hip bunching up my cotton dress, and his clever fingers seeking out the edges of my underwear.

Just as I was about to lose my mind, he pulled back.

'Not yet, darling. I'll take you home, you'll get some much needed rest, and we'll see how far we get depending on how much you get done.'

I groaned but nodded. What would I do without my oppa?

~~~~~~~

This is closely mirroring my study prep! Ahhh writing these one shots genuinely are such excellent motivation. 😁 Thank you to everyone who's reading them!

[givemea-dam-break]

Hello! I love your work!! If possible, could you do a Lockwoodxreader story where the reader has to rescue Lockwood from some peril and comfort him through the aftermath please?

a/n: ahhhhh yes absolutely! i'm so glad you like my writing, so i can only hope I've done your request justice!

warnings: minor injury detail gn reader

"I'm going to kill you. I'm going to take my rapier, and I'm going to run you through."

"No point in telling me your murder plans. Now I know exactly what you're going to do. And, might I ask why exactly you want to kill me?"

You mutter some very insulting things under your breath before saying, "Because we currently have two Type Twos waiting down the hall for us, when this was meant to be a simple Type One job, hence why Lucy and George are back at home, relaxing and probably drinking my tea."

Lockwood looks over his shoulder at you, offering up that infuriating smile. "We'll be fine. We've dealt with worse together. Remember the ghost of Eleanor Hart?"

"Eleanor Hart was a Visitor whose only purpose for haunting her old house was because her cat had died and she never buried it."

"And, yet, she still tried to kill us, but we defeated her."

"You're not helping your case, Lockwood," you growl. "We should postpone for tonight, come back tomorrow with Lucy and George."

"No," Lockwood says, keeping his rapier steady in front of him. "I'll distract them, and you find the source."

You want to scream at him, but you keep your voice light. The Visitors are already getting agitated. "And what are your ideas of what the source is? These are two murder victims, judging by the gunshot wounds in their chests, but I don't think the goddamn gun will be the source if it's even here."

"Well, it's your job to find that out. Ready?"

"No, Lockwood, let's take a minute to think about -"

Before you've even finished your sentence, Lockwood leaps out of the iron circle and sprints towards the ghosts, capturing their attention. He darts into one of the rooms - the massive lounge - and you can hear the banging of exploding salt bombs as you hurry over.

Your Sight isn't your greatest Talent, but it's enough for you to see faint deathglows in the study, just beside each other. As the sound of Lockwood's battle increases, you creep into the room, placing your hand on the ground between the glows.

Echoes of voices fill your ears, the words unintelligible, but the tones clear enough: anger, insecurity, rivalry. Something about a competition where something went wrong - one betrayed the other. A gunshot, followed immediately by another, so loud that it knocks you off your feet.

"They killed each other?" you murmur, frowning. "So what would the source be...?"

Lockwood yells in the other room, and you jump to your feet, clutching your rapier tightly. You need to figure out what the source is and fast.

"(name), hurry!"

Panic flares in your chest, but you bury it down.

You don't think, you just run through to the Lounge.

Lockwood is stumbling, holding his side as if in pain. His rapier is in his left hand rather than his right, which looks like it's bleeding. He throws a salt bomb - his last - at the spirit on the left, and it dissipates, reforming over to the side a little, and... there.

A portrait hangs on the wall, depicting a beautiful woman. It's not a modern painting by any standards, but it's no more than a few decades old, and it clicks.

The men, the Visitors, had been fighting over her and, in a fit of rage when one sabotaged their competition to win her heart, the other drew his gun. Both were armed, and both shot each other, killing the other instantly. You want to roll your eyes at the stupidity, but you have more pressing matters.

Lockwood slashes at one of the ghosts with his rapier, but he's weaker with his left hand. The spirit draws nearer, reaching out a spectral hand as the other circles around to the side.

"Lockwood, duck!" you shout.

You throw a salt bomb at the spectre on the right, momentarily getting rid of it, and leap forward, cutting through the other with your rapier. When you reach Lockwood, he's panting heavily and limping as he moves. There's a look in his eyes, a glimpse of doubt and regret, and it spurs you on. You toss him your remaining salt bombs.

"Watch my back. We left the silver net in the hall."

Without giving him a chance to respond, you slice through the newly formed ghosts and tear the portrait off the wall. It's heavier than you expected - probably because of its massive frame - but you know that your guess was right. The ghosts wail with rage, following you as you sprint away with the portrait.

The hall seems longer than you remember, and you're sure you would've been ghost touched if not for Lockwood throwing salt bombs to protect your retreat. Your heart is hammering in your chest, and it hurts a little to breathe, but you can't stop. Your feet slide, and you crash into the wall, cracking your head on the old brick, but you manage to make it to the iron circle and fish out the silver net from the duffle bag, wrapping the large portrait in it.

Immediately, the hall becomes silent, and the Visitors disappear. All you can hear is your gasps for breath and the limping footsteps of Lockwood before he slides to the ground beside you, leaning against the wall.

"You okay?" you ask, turning to look at him, shaking off the wave of dizziness that occurs.

"Always."

You frown at him, shuffling closer on your knees until you kneel beside him. Gently, you pry his hand off his left side, eternally grateful to find that there's no blood. His right arm is trembling in your grip, possibly overextended or whacked on something.

"This will hurt," you warn before pressing your hands onto his left side.

Lockwood grits his teeth as you feel around his ribs. They're swelling a little, and they're obviously sore, but nothing feels broken. It's a similar process for his arm, probably sprained, and you sit back on your heels, breathing a sigh of relief.

"You're alright," you say softly. "Nothing broken, but you'll be sore and probably bruised for a little while. What happened?

He takes a deep breath, shifting slightly. "Threw me across the room, whacked against the fireplace."

You try for a smile. "Well, you're okay. I'm okay, it's all good."

"You're bleeding," he says with a frown. "(name) -"

Gingerly, you touch the side of your head, fingers coming back red and sticky. You don't remember hitting the wall that hard.

"I'm alright," you say. "Just a scrape."

All of a sudden, his fingers are gently brushing your hairline just beside the cut, brows furrowed and lips parted. Something in your heart squeezes at the sight of his worry.

"Lockwood, I'm alright. I promise."

"I'm stupid," he says, his hand travelling down your face slowly, cautiously, until his hand cups your cheek. Instinctively, you lean into his touch, ignoring the warmth of your face. "You were right, we should've left and come back tomorrow."

Your hand grips his, intertwining fingers. "Hey, yeah, you were a bit stupid, and I'm still tempted to run you through, but we're alive. We've done it."

"You've done it."

"Okay, I might've secured the source, but I wouldn't have been able to do that without you lobbing salt bombs at the Visitors."

His eyes are angry, but not at you, at himself. In the dim lighting of the hallway, he's awfully pale, and the faint bags under his eyes seem so much darker. From the corner of your eye, you might've believed him to be a ghost himself.

"Listen," you say. "It's done. It's over. We're alive, yeah? We're alive, Lockwood."

He hesitates, looking up at you with eyes you could just fall into. "But, what if it had gone wrong? You're all I - I can't lose you."

You turn your head in his hand, pressing a light kiss to his palm. "It didn't go wrong. You haven't lost me, see? I'm alive, I'm breathing, and I'm going to take you home and make you a nice cup of tea, then I'll put you on bed rest for a couple of days."

His pulse beats fast in his palm, and you could probably chalk it down to the adrenaline rush you always feel during a case fading off, but some part of you feels triumphant - a little action on your part flustered him.

"Let's go home, yeah?" you say, squeezing his hand softly. "I'll get you all patched up and fed."

"And will you -" Vulnerability flashes in his eyes, something you've rarely ever seen from him before. "Will you stay with me?"

Your heart flutters in your chest. "As long as you want, Lockwood."

His hand moves from your cheek to brush through your salt-encrusted hair, and a little, slightly smug, smile plays at his lips.

"There's the Lockwood I love, eh?" you murmur before blanching. Did you just say...?

Lockwood has a similar reaction, his jaw becoming slack as he stares at you. Your face feels hot.

"Um." You stand abruptly. "Come on, let's get you home."

You grasp his arms gently, pulling him to his feet and looping one of his arms over your shoulders. As you begin walking, all you can hear is your heartbeat pounding in your chest, deafening.

"Did you mean that?" Lockwood says, free of his typical charming tone. No, now he sounds... nervous?

Trying to act nonchalant, you shrug. "Maybe."

"Maybe, huh?"

He laughs, and the tension writhing in your stomach eases. His laugh is contagious, and, soon, you're laughing together, shouldering your bags as you trudge out of the abandoned mansion.

Something in your chest feels at ease from the absence of Lockwood's rejection. Part of you wonders if he feels the same, but the other part waves it off. You're both injured and probably out of it, right?

"I feel the same, for what it's worth."

Those four words, god, they're enough to make your knees weak and set off fireworks in your blood. You can't help the grin that parts your lips.

"Good," is all you can say.

Maybe it's the head injury, but you swear you can feel the gentle press of lips on the top of your head as you step back out into the outside world.

[tgrailwar-zero]

What is the point of sealing?

GIL: "The point where the infamous Interlopers were sealed. It's the point where Rogue Servants tend to be summoned, using the land as a catalyst."

You asked for two rooms, as SIDURI bowed her head appreciatively.

SIDURI: "Two rooms, understood. Gil, if you could help get those ready, I need to finish up in the kitchen."

GIL: "You all just hang tight down here, okay?"

The two left, leaving you at your own devices.

You looked around, as the conversation within the tavern picked up somewhat.

ANXIOUS WOMAN: "So, have you seen the announcement?"

SHARP-EARED WOMAN: "You're talking about that 'Warriors of Salvation' thing? Please don't tell me you're taking that announcement seriously."

ANXIOUS WOMAN: "Well… not exactly, but they're saying some pretty heavy stuff… and what if fighting starts? I don't think we can take another Origin War…"

Another patron spoke up, slamming his hand against a table.

BEASTLY MAN: "Incomin' war this, incomin' war that! It's a bunch of nonsense! The Solar Cell hasn't had a conflict since the Admiral arrived to spice things up, and that got settled lickity-split! All we gotta do is the trust in the Divinity!"

QUIET GIRL: "Uuhh…"

SHARP-EARED WOMAN: "Oh, hush. You're disturbing everyone else. Just because this place is usually pretty vacant, doesn't mean you can shout. No offense, Miss Siduri!"

SIDURI: "None taken!"

--You heard her call out from the back.

CONFIDENT MAN: "Right. Let's be realistic. It's just a bunch of conspiracy crap. The Heavenly Divinity isn't going to swallow us up and destroy our world. It's the same sort of trash like 'the Interlopers have broken from the Priestess' seal' or 'Lady Quetzalcoatl was killed in combat'. It's just more nonsense to add to the pile."

BEASTLY MAN: "Of course! They're just a bunch of punks. By tomorrow morning, we'll have an announcement saying that they were handled and scooped up, and we can all get back to our lives. All this doom and gloom will be done with!"

GIUSEPPE: "I guess Lady Cleopatra couldn't keep the tensions of conflict under wraps forever… information travels rather quickly here."

MUSASHI: "But to them, the war hasn't even started yet… I wonder if Izou and Duryodhana are doing alright."

KUKULKAN: "It's like we're living in two different worlds... best-case scenario, they don't overlap..."

NERO: "Hrm…"

CONSTANTINE: "You've noticed something, Antecessor?"

NERO: "Yes… The wedding dress that girl's wearing… it's gorgeous! I wish to know more about it. Perhaps I'll ask for her tailor once we get settled for the night, if she's staying here."

SALIERI: "More importantly, Charlemagne seems to be making moves."

The large, beastly man slammed his cup down, before pointing towards you and your group.

BEASTLY MAN: "You all, you pack of young'uns! What do you think? This whole 'Salvation Warrior' thing is a whole crock of shit, right? Hell, the Priestess won't even need to get involved, maybe we just send the whale at 'em, eh?!"

CONFIDENT MAN: "Can you be any louder?! Stop screaming, dammit!"

[takeariskao3]

Can we get a pining harry snippet from your slytherin au 🥺

omg YESSSS original fic: my hand's at risk (i fold)

ask me anything!

"No, no!" Harry blew his whistle and pulled his broom around to face his Chasers. "You have to block her at mid-field. If Gi--"

"Potter," Malfoy snarled. "I swear to God, if you say her name one more time--"

"If Ginny Weasley," Harry growled back impatiently, "breaks through, then that leaves Malfoy as our only defense. Which we know from last year, gives us absolutely no chance."

Draco scowled. "Appreciate the vote of confidence."

"Just trying to adequately prepare," sniped Harry. "I seem to be the only one."

Candice and Anastasia both mumbled some choice words under their breath and floated back to the other side of the pitch to begin the drill all over again. Andrew followed, but at least he had the good sense to look sheepish. Harry reminded himself to take it easy on the fourth year.

"Burke! Loughty!" Harry shouted to the two Beaters. "Let's try something else to make it interesting."

"Actually," Cam nodded to the ground as he approached. "Looks like our time's up."

Harry followed his line of sight to see a group of people in crimson robes filing out onto the pitch. He checked his watch, then swore.

"Alright," he conceded. "I guess that's it for today. We'll go again tomorrow morning at the same time."

The other six players all groaned half-heartedly about practicing on a Sunday morning, but had the foresight to finish their complaining before reaching the ground.

A few snide comments and cutting glares were tossed back and forth as the opponents passed each other to and from the pitch. The first Quidditch match of the year was only two weeks away and it was safe to say tensions were high.

"Hey, Weasley?" Malfoy drawled. "Figured out how to guard all three hoops yet?"

"That's three more than you can--" Ron shot back.

Harry shoved Draco between the shoulder blades to keep him moving, but he couldn't resist a peek out of the corner of his eye at the smallest person bringing up the rear of scarlet and gold.

She had her copper hair piled high atop her head and a playbook beneath one arm. The golden glow of morning made the freckles on her nose stand out more than usual.

To his absolute horror, she caught his eye and smirked.

"Potter," she nodded.

"Weasley," Harry clipped in response.

She pulled to a stop as he knelt down to return the snitch he'd caught earlier to it's spot in the practice chest.

"Good practice?"

Harry frowned up at her genuine tone of voice. "It was fine."

She hummed, a mischievous glint to her eye. "So, they finally invented a drill you can run that will keep you conscious during an entire match?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry straightened to his full height. He'd grown a few inches in the last six month or so, and he felt a little pang of satisfaction go through him as Ginny Weasley had to tip her head back to maintain eye contact.

Or maybe that was a pang of longing. He couldn't quite tell the difference anymore.

Harry got lost in her warm brown eyes for a moment, until she blinked and shifted her weight awkwardly.

Alarm leaked into his bloodstream as he realized she was waiting for him to reply, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what he'd been about to say.

"The...er-" Harry stammered. "One of the bludgers is acting sluggish. Probably needs to go to Madam Hooch when you're done."

"Thanks for the head's up," Ginny quirked a derisive eyebrow. "Now get off my pitch."

He snorted.

She didn't wait for him to leave, but jogged toward the middle of the stadium and hopped on her broom to lead warm ups. Harry's eyes followed her progress up towards the rest of the Gryffindor's for a beat too long.

Thankfully, no one was around to notice.

[jq37]

.....fuck. Ok, so the simple answer is Cassandra's going Nightmare King. But that "she's at my side once more" thing gives me hope that this is something else and not entirely Kristens fault. Could be the Elf side of Galacaea reacting badly to the Wolf side gaining prominence and she's trying to grab for any piece of her old self to gain a controlling foothold. On the lighter side of things, Kristen believing she's a full-on actual political candidate and trying to give a speech to steel-workers was gut-bustingly hilarious. Less light-hearted, Adaine needs to stop attacking her financial woes as a teenager and start attacking it as a wizard adventurer. And lose the crap job, a 40% discount is not worth those 8 hours she's losing every shift. She can get a lot more done with that time. But she's a kid who's trying to solve this on her own instead of the common sense move of reaching out to adults who know more. Siobhan commits to the bit, I'll give her that. Bizarely, Gorgugs 400% course load is actually is the most solvable problem. Get Digby and Wilma to tutor him and help him speedrun through the Freshman and Sophomore material and then play catch-up on the Junior year material. He might have drop the Owl Bears, he needs those hours. Fig is killing it so hard in all her classes, it would be fucking hilarious if she's the Bad Kid who graduates as valedictorian. This one ran long, sorry about that.

OK, my quick thoughts on everything before I sit down to write this recap tomorrow (I finished my notes today--geez these JY eps are LONG):

Kristen: Wild that the thing Kristen has chosen to go all in on is her high school bid for class president and not *gestures vaguely* literally anything else. Funny, but wild. My best guess until we have more info is that this is an "As above so below" thing because the wizards getting ripped and aggressive is super random except for the fact that the main things that Kristen has been doing in the past few months is getting ripped and being aggressive to Cass. But we're working with incomplete info so we'll see.

Adaine: Girl, take Aelwyn's chest of rubies and sell it for cash and buy stuff with that! Or better yet, use your Oracle/general divination powers to figure out the lotto numbers/stock futures and exploit that! Honestly, even killing your mom is a better plan that working at Fantasy Auntie Anne's!

Gorgug: :( Hang in there buddy. It's wild when everyone else is dealing with kind fantasy problems--even Adaine's thing is tinged with Fantasy what with the absurdity of the items she needs to get--and Gorgug is just dealing with…a completely regular school problem. That's rough man. I personally feel like I'd try to join a club or something to show off my skills rather than doing it on the books if this requires a 400% course load but I hope he can make it work. Though, it would also be interesting for them to do a, "There's no shame in trying and failing," storyline because man that's just so much work and that's an important thing to learn.

Fabian: If you want Adaine to be at your party then give her some of your massive pile of gold so she doesn't have to work a crappy mall job. The girl is filtering gold flecks out of discounted booze and you know that because you're the one who gave her permission to do it. Either help her or don't be sulky when she can't make your shrimp party!

Fig: Fig as surprise valedictorian has the same energy as Annie realizing she and Shirley are neck in neck for the position even though Annie is the type A control freak (this is a Community ref for anyone who's like whomst?). That would be so funny. But also, it wouldn't be crazy! Fig was super preppy before she decided to be punk. I wouldn't be surprised if her grades were always good and she's also passionate about everything she does. If she wasn't set on sticking it to the man, she'd be so so so solid.

Riz: You didn't mention him but I wanted to give him a section anyway. Hi Riz :)

OK, that's it for now. Can't wait for next ep! (And no worries about this ask being long. I like getting long D20 Asks!)

[invisibleraven]

confessing feelings when you think the other is asleep, peterpatterlina

Apparently tumblr posted this half way through writing, so please make sure you read the one with tags to get the full story!

"Thanks again for letting me stay guys," Luke said as he set his bag down on the bed.

"You know it's never a problem dude," Reggie replied. "It wasn't like we were let you live out on the streets while they fumigate your building."

"Let either of us know if you want anything," Julie offered. "Supper's in twenty, so get settled and we can eat."

Luke shot them a thumbs up but sighed as the door closed. It's not that he didn't appreciate Reg and Jules putting him up, but given his notebooks was full of half-finished songs about how deeply in love with them he was, he could have gone for another option.

Unforetunately, Alex and Willie were out of town, his relationship with his folks was still testy even though the band had a signed contract and the first album almost done. Flynn was in the middle of finals, and Carrie was doing a phone free weekend with her dad.

That left Luke with little recourse but to stay with his two crushes.

It was only for the weekend-he had survived longer on the tour bus with them. But on the tour buss they had gotten sick of each other, so it was acceptable to retreat for as much alone time as they could. Here he couldn't use that excuse.

Hell he could probably tell them how he felt-it probably wouldn't go horribly. But it would be awkward for a time as they tried not to lead him on and he tried to get over these feelings, like he hadn't been trying to do just that practically since they got together.

He had always found both Reggie and Julie attractive-who wouldn't? He knew he could easily fall in love with them, but figured friendship was more important. But they had gotten together in senior year, and Luke suddenly realized that he wanted to be a part of them. It had hit him like a flash of lightning, and the feeling hadn't faded.

He didn't think they suspected-they still acted the same towards him-as tactile and kind as ever. But every touch, every smile, every note they sang captured his heart even more.

He refused to say it though-he couldn't bear to lose anyone else that loved him after the rejection from his folks. He would suffer through until he died if needed just to keep even the platonic love they offered him over nothing at all.

Dinner was lovely-Julie had a talent for cooking-and the three of them always had something to talk about, laugh over, or turn into a song.

Julie and Reggie turned in early-they were planning on visiting Ray and Carlos the next day and had volunteered to make breakfast.

"You stay up as long as you want though," Julie encouraged him. "Sleep in tomorrow, raid the fridge and whatever. We'll probably be back before supper."

"You want me to cook?" aksed Luke.

"You mean order a pizza?" Reggie chuckled. "Sure thing."

Luke scowled a little, but then had to laugh himself-he was a notoriously bad cook, and he knew it. He was a decent baker, but he had to be in the mood to whip up a batch of his famous brownies.

The two of them went up, but Luke kept himself busy for a bit-rifling through the books, but not finding anything he wanted to read, channel surfing but only finding talk shows, and eventually he headed upstairs himself, content to strum on his guitar a while.

He was working on a song-yet another about how he felt about his friends, and this one was close to being done. The rest were half finished dreams and semi-formed sentences that cluttered up his pages. This one though...

He tuned up his six string, and began to strum, finding the right chord progression, playing the opening, and then let the words ring out.

My heart is all but ripped in two Half for him, and the other for you I couldn't choose but I never could Couldn't love the way they say I should

Maybe it's greedy to love you both But I can swear here, under oath That you've captured me heart and soul Need the two of you to feel whole

Love is love is love so they say Couldn't have it any other way Three may be a lot for all but few But I know I won't be complete without you two.

Luke stopped there, smiling at what he had so far.

"That's beautiful babe," Reggie said from the doorway.

"Where's the rest?" Julie asked, wrapped around Reggie.

"I-it's not done yet," Luke admitted. "How much did you hear? I thought you were asleep."

"Kinda hard to sleep when you're being serenaded," Reggie said with a chuckle. "Worth missing the sleep."

"Who's it for?" Julie teased.

"You know," Luke said, blushing hard.

"Well I have to say we feel the same," Reggie said, sitting on one side of Luke, Julie the other.

"And we'd be honoured to help you finish the song so it has a happy ending," Julie said, squeezing his hand.

"We always do write better together," Luke admitted. "Are you sure though?"

The kisses he got in response were answer enough, and the song ended up being their first hit. And by the time it had gone triple platinum a few years later, Luke had his own spot in their home-with Reggie and Julie on either side of him, the three of them singing their children to sleep with the song that had brought them together.

[tiannasfanfic]

A Corroded Coffin Christmas

Eddie Munson x Reader (Angst)

| Paparazzi | Eddie & Steddie Masterlist | AO3 Link

Summary: A look at two different Christmas Eve's with Corroded Coffin front man, Eddie Munson, and his longtime partner, Y/N L/N; One near the beginning of their careers and one near the end.

Rating: General Audiences

Author Note: Gender neutral Reader, they/them pronouns. rockstar!Eddie Munson x Reader. A holiday blend of angst and fluff, with a dash of humor. This is a followup to "Paparazzi" but can be read as a standalone story.

CW: Social alcohol use; referenced character death (no details); grief; mentions of unpleasant medical diagnosis (no details or specific illness mentioned).

Word Count: 3,862

Eddie Munson Taglist: @eddie-swhore

Tuesday, December 24th, 1987

After Corroded Coffin finished their set at The Hideout, Eddie had one drink with the guys and then booked it home rather than stick around to hang out like he normally would.

Despite the fact that their normal gig night fell on Christmas Eve this year, you had insisted they hit the stage anyway.

“I can work on getting things done until you get back,” you told Eddie, gesturing around at the inside of the trailer. “But you need to be out there at the bar getting seen on the nights people expect to see you.”

Since you were technically their manager, and were speaking from that position right now, they couldn’t really argue.

What Eddie could do, however, is make sure he got home as quick as he could to help out. Luckily, the weather had been decent and there was hardly any traffic this late on Christmas Eve, so he got home fairly quickly. He was soon pulling into Forest Hills and parking next your car outside the trailer. It was just the two of you tonight since Uncle Wayne had volunteered to work for some double time in addition to holiday pay. Eddie quickly grabbed his guitar and amp out of the back of his van, then headed inside.

In the living room, Gremlins was playing on the tv, and it looked like you were about to start wrapping presents. You had cleared off a large space in the middle of the floor and had all the paper and supplies you needed out. He tucked his amp and guitar away in one corner of the room for the party tomorrow, then finally got his coat and shoes off. Since he hadn’t seen any sign of you by then, he began to wonder if you might need help finding all the presents.

As he started to make his way down the hall and got further away from the sound of the tv, he could hear you moving around in the bedroom. He was just passing by the bathroom when, out of nowhere, you started singing.

“Sleigh bells ring are you listening?” you sang. “In the land, snow is glistening.”

Eddie came to a stop outside the bedroom. Looking in, he could see you standing just inside the closet on a step stool, rummaging around on the top shelf with your back to the door. He smiled, not announcing his presence yet so he could listen in.

“A beautiful sight,” you continued singing, unaware of your audience. “But I’ll be happy tonight, when I find fucking packing tape.”

Eddie quickly put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Now he wanted to stay quiet to hear how this updated version went.

“Gone away is the bluebird,” you sang, a slightly irritated tone creeping into your voice now as you started searching a different section of the shelf. “Here to stay is a new bird, but he can move along, with his happy little song, until I find the fucking packing tape.”

Eddie clenched his lips tightly together behind his hand.

“In the meadow, we can build a snowman,” you sang as you came down the stepladder and set it aside, your back still to the door. “We'll pretend that he is Parson Brown. He'll say, ‘Are ya wrapping?’ I’ll say, ‘No man, but you can do the job if you want to clown."

Along with keeping in the tune of Winter Wonderland, what made this whole thing absolutely perfect was how your tone just got progressively more annoyed sounding the further you got into the song, which matched the lyrics you were improvising as you were singing.

“Later on, I’ll conspire,” you sang, bending down to pick up some blankets to replace them back on the shelf. “As I dream by the fire, to face unafraid, the mess that I’ve made, trying to find the fucking packing tape.”

By this point, Eddie’s shoulders were starting to shake as he tried to keep quiet. He was leaning against the doorframe with his free hand as if for balance.

“In the meadow, we can build a snowman,” you continued singing, your hands now on your hips, looking around in the closet from where you were standing. “We'll pretend that he is Parson Brown. He'll say, ‘Are ya done yet?’ I’ll say, ‘No, man! But you and I are about to go a couple rounds!’"

You started to turn around, and Eddie ducked to the side, standing just out of sight next to the door.

“Later on, I’ll conspire,” you sang, and your voice started traveling towards the other side of the room away from the closet. “As I dream by the fire, to face unafraid, the mess that I made, trying to find the fucking packing tape.”

When you didn’t continue after a few seconds, Eddie peeked around the corner to see you rummaging through one of the dresser drawers. He grinned, stepped into the room finally and started clapping.

Startled, you jumped into an upright position, and whirled around. Seeing Eddie, you chuckled and bowed to him.

“Thank you, thank you,” you said, standing and then bowing again to the other side of the room. “I’m here all week. Try the barbecue special and don’t forget to tip the wait staff.”

Eddie laughed, shaking his head as he made his way across the room to you. Coming to stand in front of you, he took your face in his hands and softly kissed you.

“How was the show?” you asked once he had pulled away.

“Really good, actually!” Eddie said, then beamed. “We had about a dozen drunks tonight!”

A bright smile lit up your face.

“That’s awesome!” you said, hugging him tightly. “I was hoping for that. The holidays can be really hard for some people and bars always see an uptick in profits this time of year.”

“I swear,” Eddie said, returning your hug just as tightly, then pulled back a little to gaze at you fondly. “Beauty, brains and sexy as fuck? I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You laughed, a soft blush coloring your cheeks as you let him go to turn back to the dresser.

“Not that many brains tonight, I’m afraid,” you said, as you started hunting through the drawer again. “Have you seen that three pack of packing tape I bought the other day? It ran off on me.”

Since you needed the packing tape in order to box up a few presents before wrapping them, you were at a standstill until it could be found.

Even though Eddie started to help you look for it, it took a little over half an hour before the tape was found.

You both felt like idiots when you realized it had been sitting in the middle of the coffee table, in plain sight, the entire time.

Tuesday, December 24th, 2013

“Thank you, Indianapolis!!! You’ve been amazing!”

The decibel level inside The Vogue Theater surged to new heights as Eddie spoke to the crowd. Even standing just off stage to watch the show like you normally did, you had to cover your ears at the noise.

One of these days, you would remember to start wearing earplugs.

It was the end of another successful concert, the final stop on a small, ten city tour called A Corroded Coffin Christmas. Since the tour focused on smaller venues than the ones of old, they were cozy and intimate in comparison, though still large and respectable in their own right.

After their episode of Behind the Music aired in 2006, the band had enjoyed a major resurgence in popularity. That special launched Corroded Coffin even more into the mainstream than even the movie soundtrack they had done several years prior. Everyone wanted them now. While the guys jumped from network to network doing guest appearances, their old albums saw a new surge in sales. New albums became instant successes, soaring through the charts like never before. Venue directors and festival organizers were regularly contacting you to book them for gigs, not to mention all of the invitations to PR events and award shows. Even this tour had been an enormous success, with every single show selling out within hours of the tickets going on sale, a new record for the guys

Everything you all worked so hard for had finally come true. All five of you were finally living your dream lives. It was perfect.

Well. Almost.

The man who set it all in motion wasn’t there to celebrate with you.

In 2005, Corroded Coffin’s longtime manager, Joe Reed, unexpectedly passed away.

Over the last twenty-two years since that chance meeting at a dive bar in Indianapolis, Joe had become a proper father figure to you all. Already a veteran in management when he became Corroded Coffin’s manager, he was truly one of the good ones. In an industry where most managers were employed by the labels themselves in order to look out for their own self-interests, Joe always put his client’s needs first. He refused to work directly for any label because of that, preferring to stay independently employed even if it meant having fewer clients. The clients he did have were more like family to him and he treated them as such. While at times there was only so much he could do when the executives had terrible ideas, such as when the first label wanted you and Eddie to end your relationship, he always tried to deescalate the situation as much as possible.

But it wasn’t just the guys who felt the loss. Over the years, you and Joe had also grown very close. Since you were so involved with the band, he always considered you apart of it just as much as the guys did. Impressed with the work you had done managing the band with absolutely no experience, Joe took you under his wing as soon as you all moved to Los Angeles. He was an amazing mentor, keeping you involved in the management of Corroded Coffin from day one.

Sometimes the death of a good manager can spell certain doom for a band. But, in this case, at the time of Joe’s passing, he had a clear successor. You were easily able to step back into the managerial role with no fuss. It was a seamless transition, for both the band and the label.

However, regardless of how much the label trusted you with the management of Corroded Coffin, you still had to talk them into it when the guys wanted to do an album full of heavy metal versions of classic holiday songs.

Despite the fact the guys only planned to adapt non-denominational songs and write a couple new ones for it, heavy metal covers were a pretty niche market at that point. The executives couldn’t see how an album like that could ever be popular. But after you pointed out how some executives said the same thing about the Trans-Siberian Orchestra at first, AND Metallica’s S&M, they decided to give it some more thought.

Ultimately, considering neither Joe nor you ever steered them wrong, they green lit the album, allowing the guy’s full creative control over the project.

And, once again, the worries of the executives were for nothing. The album was an enormous success. The fans absolutely loved it.

Initially, a holiday tour wasn’t anything that had been considered since touring during the holidays can sometimes be a logistical nightmare. But after both Jeff and Gareth’s wife received some shocking news from their respective doctors, it became clear the band would need to take an indefinite hiatus soon. Before that happened, Jeff suggested they hit the road together one last time.

The tour kicked off on December 1st with a very relaxed schedule, allowing plenty of time between each show to give Jeff enough time to properly rest since he tired easily. The ten cities were personally chosen by the band from some of their favorite stops. Indianapolis was the final destination since everyone always came back here during the holidays to visit family and friends. Nick’s oldest, Ronny, toured with the band as a backup guitarist in case Jeff needed to sit out for any of the shows, which he ended up doing for two out of the ten.

Now it was Christmas Eve, the last tour about over.

There was just one more song to play, a solo encore Eddie had specially planned for tonight’s show. You actually had no idea what he was up to, which meant it was something new he wrote for you. Eddie liked to do that sometimes, surprise you at a concert with a new song. Luckily, he never tried to get you on stage, content just to look over at you where you stood offstage. The crowd ate it up every single time. They never grew tired of Eddie talking about you during concerts.

Once the four took their bows and said goodbye to the audience, Eddie stepped back up to the microphone as the other three headed off stage.

“Let’s hear it one more time for Nick, Jeff and Gareth!”

When you didn’t think it was possible for the crowd to get any louder, they proved you wrong.

After another round of hugs offstage with you, Nick and Ronny accompanied Jeff back to the dressing room while Gareth stayed with you to watch the end of the show.

“Tonight, I thought I’d do a little something different for our encore,” Eddie said, pausing as he took the strap of the guitar from around his neck to gaze out into the crowd. “If that’s alright with you all?”

The response from the crowd indicated they were more than okay with it.

Two stagehands came out at that point to swap Eddie’s electric guitar for one of his acoustics, then set up a tall wooden stool and guitar mic for him. Once Eddie took a seat on the stool, they made sure both mic stands were at the proper height, then made their way off stage.

“That was Dave and Bill, part of our fantastic road crew. I don’t know what we would do without them. Let’s hear it for Dave and Bill!”

The crowd went just as crazy for Dave and Bill as they did for the band.

Gareth threw his arm over your shoulders to pull you in for a friendly half hug. You wrapped your arm around his waist in kind. The two of you stood like that, heads tilted towards one another to lean against each other in that way close friends have.

“Now, for our final song of the night,” Eddie said, softly strumming the guitar in no discernible rhythm. “I’m going to play you something that is brand new.”

The crowd liked the sound of that.

“In fact, it’s so new that it has never been recorded or even played live before.”

The crowd definitely liked the sound of that.

“But!” Eddie said and stopped his strumming to hold up a finger. “Not only that, but this song also comes with a story.”

The crowd went wild. If there was one thing audiences loved more than music, it was the stories that sometimes came with them. This was something Corroded Coffin fans especially enjoyed since Eddie could make a trip down to the corner store sound like an epic adventure.

Once Eddie began telling his story, the audience was enthralled.

“As I’m sure some of you know,” Eddie said. “Last year, my unc-“

He had to stop then for a moment, his eyes shifting down to the stage before closing. You could see him starting to take some deep breaths.

The venue was so quiet, you could’ve heard a pin drop.

Finally, Eddie lifted his gaze back to the crowd.

“Rather, my dad, passed away.”

You and Gareth exchanged curious, yet worried, glances.

This was the first time Eddie had spoken publicly about Uncle Wayne since his passing. With both of his father figures now gone, he had spent much of the last year feeling lost and alone. Some days were better than others, but there was a lot of healing to do still. You both were looking forward to being out of the spotlight again, had even been talking of suggesting one to the guys even before all the sad news came down.

As much as you wanted some time away from the business, you wished it could’ve come under better circumstances.

“After that, Y/N and I spent quite a bit of time down in Hawkins,” Eddie said, continuing his story. “While we were sorting through everything in the house, I discovered he’d hung onto a few boxes of my stuff that I had left behind when we moved up here to the big city.” He half grinned at the audience. “He actually held onto all of this crap for over twenty years. Parents, am I right?”

This got a chuckle out of the audience, as well as you and Gareth.

“I finally got around to going through them a couple months back, and in one box was about a dozen notebooks filled with songs I wrote a long time ago but forgot about.”

At this point, the crowd went wild.

“Don’t get excited, most of these were just badly written love songs to Y/N,” Eddie continued, then had to pause as the crowd cheered again. “Trust me, they are absolutely horrible, you wouldn’t want to hear them.”

The crowd disagreed and made this known, which made Eddie grin.

“However, there was one song in particular I’d written down that caught my eye. Funnily enough though, it wasn’t me that wrote it. It was Y/N.”

The crowd made noises of curiosity as Gareth looked down at you.

“I didn’t know you wrote a song,” he said.

“I didn’t either,” you replied, chuckling.

Now your curiosity was definitely piqued. It was like Eddie sensed this, as he looked over at you two just then and mischievously winked.

“Now, Y/N probably doesn’t remember writing this song,” he continued into his mic. “I know I didn’t at first. But once I read it, everything came back to me.”

The crowd was happy to hear this.

And so, Eddie proceeded to tell the story of your last Christmas in Hawkins.

Since the five of you had the move to Indianapolis planned just a few weeks into the new year, you wanted to do something with your friends in Hawkins before you left. So, on Christmas Day, you and Eddie were hosting a party.

But, in true Y/N and Eddie fashion, while the two of you were tremendously excited about the party you were throwing, you put everything off until it was almost too late, including what little shopping you could afford.

Technically, it was your fault this year for putting it off. You had gotten so distracted with planning a move for people that you had completely forgotten about Christmas until two days beforehand.

As Eddie told the story, the memories of the night floated up to the surface in your mind.

That Christmas Eve had been so hectic.

While you insisted that the band play their show like any other Tuesday, you were in a panic as soon as Eddie left for The Hideout. You had no idea how even the two of you together were going to get everything done, much less you working at it by yourself for a few hours. There was so much left to do still, like cleaning and wrapping presents, plus everything in between.

But the more you thought back on it, the more confused you got. You barely had the time to remember your own name at the time, much less write a song.

“After the show, I hightailed it back to the trailer,” he said. “Y/N was back in the bedroom and, luckily for all of us, didn’t hear me get home. If they had, then I wouldn’t have been treated to their own personal rendition of Winter Wonderland.”

Now you were really wracking your brain. You couldn’t remember singing anything either.

Eddie began strumming his guitar again, this time playing the chords of the aforementioned holiday song.

“Now, at first, when they started singing it,” he continued. “It sounded like the normal version. You all know the one.”

The crowd indicated they did.

“But I quickly realized that this wasn’t the case. Luckily for all of us though, later that night, I remembered to write it down I wouldn’t forget about it. Which I did anyway.”

Eddie shrugged sheepishly and grinned, earning laughs from the crowd, you, and Gareth.

Then he turned to look over at you and Gareth, his playful grin softening into a warm smile at the sight of his soulmate and one of men he considered a brother.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said. “I love you.”

It took a while before Eddie could even start the song. The crowd went absolutely insane at his words of affection for you. Finally, the crowd quieted down enough so he could begin.

He started the song over on his guitar, playing the beginning as a long intro before stepping back up to the mic and starting to sing.

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

In the land, snow is glistening.

A beautiful sight,

But I’ll be happy tonight

When I find the fucking packing tape.

Your laughter joined Gareth’s and the crowds as the more of the memories of that Christmas Eve came back to you.

While you still couldn’t remember singing, you now remembered losing the packing taping and how aggravated you had been as you tore apart the bedroom looking for it.

In the end, everything had worked out. Once Eddie got home, and the packing tape had been found, the rest of night was easy. He got more of your list done while you wrapped presents, and you got to bed way earlier than expected. All your worry had been for nothing, everything turned out beautifully on Christmas Day just as Eddie assured you it would.

As Eddie got to the final lines of the song, the crowd was singing along to the part about finding the packing tape.

Once the music trailed off with the final notes, the noise in The Vogue Theater rose in a satisfied clamor. Eddie took a bow, then gestured offstage to where you were standing.

“Let’s hear it for Y/N!” he yelled into the microphone.

The noise became deafening as the crowd showed you their appreciation. Eddie took a step back from the mic, letting his guitar hang from his neck as he joined the applause.

Eddie grinned over at you, and you couldn’t help but grin back, your face a bright shade of red.

Even though he was trying to make this moment about you, you couldn’t help but be severely proud of all five of you right then.

Tonight marked the end of an era, but tomorrow one would begin anew.

You could only hope this one would be much kinder to you all.

[summerlycoris]

Is it really a birthday party if you wake up in a hospital?

chapter 9- innatentive signs on the wall.

Current chapter- AO3 link

Chronological timeline- tumblr link

********

Mom: Good morning Cassie. How have you been going up there? Have you made any friends? 

Cassie: Yeah. I guess. I've met this girl, called Siobhan. We're not exactly friends yet, but we've been talking recently. How about you?

Mom: I've been doing well. I’m sending you these texts, to let you know I'll be up tomorrow. Remember that brace for your leg they talked about, at the hospital? I've managed to book you in, for it to be casted. 

Mom: I’ll also be up on the 9th, to see how you are going at rehab. I know you’re still disappointed about that ghost tour- so after your sessions, we can go out somewhere special, if you want?

Cassie: That’d be so cool! Thank you! Could we go to the zoo? There's some animals I'd like to see there.

Mom: Yes, I can take you to the zoo. If you're good at rehab. I'll be checking with Mrs Morrison so please behave, okay?

Cassie: Okay.

________

If Cassie could feel the plaster going onto her left leg, she was sure she'd hate it. Because she hated the feel of gross, sticky things.

The orthopedist had started a while ago, putting the bandage over the stockinette and wrapping it all the way up her leg. And now, it was getting soaked, so it could become a cast. She needed to keep it straight. With her ankle at a ninety- degree angle, which is really hard to do when that leg is the one that keeps wanting to spasm.

The only good thing was that her Mom was there, sitting beside her, and that she'd been told about this before she'd even gone up to Salt Lake City. 

She'd been approved for a leg brace back at the St George Children's hospital. It would help keep her stable, and help her walk on it. That's what the cast was for. She'd only need to stay still for a little bit longer…

"Once this dries, we'll cut it off you, okay?" Said the orthopedist. He must've seen the squeamish look on her face, even though Cassie had been trying to hide it. She nodded. Mom squeezed her hand. 

"Starbright, after we're done here, did you want to go visit Petr? He's still living up here, and I think it'd be good for you to see him." Mom asked.

Cassie wasn't sure. Petr- Uncle Miskovsky- was Gregory's dad. He was nice, but Cassie barely knew him. He'd been too sick to spend much time with her and Gregory.

She knew he'd want to ask about Gregory. Because he always did. He'd ask if Gregory had gotten back into contact with her, and her Mom, anytime they talked to him. And she didn't know if she could pretend that she still missed him, in the same way she had before everything. All her feelings about Gregory were… complicated now. 

She wasn't sure what to say, until Mom spoke up again. "I think you should come with me, to visit him. He's gone through some of the same things you have. He can give you some advice."

And that made sense. Kinda? Last time she'd seen him, he'd been using a wheelchair to get around. His legs couldn't stay steady underneath him anymore.

Though, his situation was different to hers... Cassie was hopefully going to get better. Or at least, not worse. But Uncle Miskovsky wasn't going to have that luck. She'd only really known him for four years, and had seen him get worse over time. 

But maybe those differences weren't a big deal? Because she'd learnt some stuff off Lawrence, and his situation was different to hers too. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

The orthopedist was drawing a line up her cast. So this is nearly over?

Mom stayed with her as the cast finished drying, and was cut away. It didn't take long. But it was difficult. Mostly because her foot did not want to stay at a ninety- degree angle long enough for it to dry. And her knee kept wanting to bend. It was uncomfortable at best. Painful at worst. The medication was helping- this could be worse. But that didn’t make this good.  

"Well, Cassie. We'll see about making this brace, and sending it to you in about a week." The orthopedist said to her, then turned to Marcela. "Do you want this sent to your house, or will she still be in Salt Lake City?"

"Her rehab would be great. That way, they can teach her how to use it." Mom said.

Cassie put her left moonboot back on, for now. 

_________

Over a year ago, Uncle Miskovsky had lived with Auntie and Gregory. Then Gregory went missing. Then Auntie did. Now, he lives up here in an assisted living center. 

She'd heard whispers between him and her Mom before he'd left. He could have stayed in Hurricane. Or even St George. But he didn't want to. 

‘Everywhere I look, I see them , Marcela. I can't take it. ’

It had taken them a while to get to the assisted living facility. Cassie wasn't used to transferring in and out of the car yet, and her Mom wasn't used to folding and unfolding the chair. 

Luckily, she was able to convince Mom to not push her. “Mom, I'm fine. Besides, the more practice I get, the better.”

When they checked the front desk, the receptionist told them he wasn't currently in his room, but pointed out that he liked to play Bingo today. She gave them some directions to follow, leading down a well lit maze of corridors. There were plenty of windows, and plenty of people walking through, that Cassie sometimes had to swerve to avoid. Everytime that happened, she could catch Mom giving her a weird look.

They got to the Bingo hall, and saw Uncle Miskovsky, through the open doorway separating them from the bingo round. Cassie could hear the host from inside, calling out numbers. After a few, it looked like some elderly lady got a bingo, because she jumped up and started waving her arm frantically. Cassie couldn't help but giggle. An old man, sitting next to Uncle Miskovsky, poked his shoulder, and pointed towards Cassie and Mom. He waved, and made moves to leave the bingo table. Until Mom waved him down ‘ It's okay, we'll wait for you.’ She mouthed. He seemed to understand, chatting with the man, not hearable over the loud calling of numbers.

He wasn't that much older than Cassie's Mom. Maybe ten years older, at most. But he looked like he was, with wrinkles and worry lines running through his face and his pale hands. He hadn't looked like that before Gregory went missing. Before his family had gone missing, Uncle Miskovsky had looked like an older version of Gregory. Same brown hair, but with light blue eyes. Now… He still did. But even older, and sicker. His hair had a lot more gray speckled through it than before. 

Cassie and Mom went to sit at a nearby set of lounge chairs, and a coffee table, waiting for the round to finish.

Once the round ended, he came out after the crowd dispersed, and over to them. "Ah, Marcela. You brought some good luck with you today! I won fifty dollars after seeing you and Cassie." His chair looked built up around him, and was drivable using a joystick, like what the arcade machines had.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that Petr. Have they been treating you well here?" Mom asked, getting up to give him a hug. 

"Things have been great. I've got company, and a roof over my head. What more could I ask for?" He said it with a smile. But Cassie caught an undercurrent of bitterness through that statement. Mom patted him on the shoulder, and went back to sit in her chair. 

He turned to Cassie, looking her over. And she braced herself for an awkward question like 'how'd you do that to yourself?' or 'are you going to get better?'

Or 'has Gregory got in touch with you yet?'

"Cassie, did you know your shoes are mismatched? Is this one of those youth fashion trends?" He said, barely holding in a laugh. 

She blinked in confusion. "Oh- no, this isn't a fashion trend… yet. But it could be- I'm a bit of a trendsetter." She joked. And then he really did laugh. It was a quiet laugh, but then Petr was a quiet man, even though he could be boisterous. He just didn't have enough air to speak loudly anymore. "But, uh. Yeah. I've still got a moon boot on- used to have two, but my right leg's better now. So I can have a regular shoe for that one."

She looked down at her shoe. It was a new red sneaker, that Mom must’ve brought her recently. It was a little big on her, and kind of plain. But pretty enough, with sparkles on the sides and black laces.

She wondered where her Roxy light ups had gone. Mom’s probably left them at home, in case I lose them. Or maybe she’s trying to get the light up function working again?

(They’d given up the ghost after Monty knocked her into the sewerage pipe.)

"That makes sense. I heard from your mother what happened to you." Please don't pity me- "did you have fun on your adventure?"

" Petr! Don't encourage her." Mom said, giving him a half-hearted slap on the hand. He gave her one back, and laughed. 

"Seriously though- I remember being a teenager. One time, I went with my friends to explore an abandoned school. It was an adventure I'll never forget. Some experiences are worth every consequence."

Mom rolled her eyes. "And what, pray tell, were the consequences of that ?"

He slumped down a little in his chair. "We got locked in by accident. Got stuck there for two days before someone heard us screaming and called for help. It was a really interesting… conversation with our mothers afterwards, let me tell you. But it was still worth it! Even if I can still feel the welts forty years on."

Cassie couldn't help but laugh at that. Then remembered- he'd asked her a question. "Um. I'm not sure if I'd call it fun. But it was… interesting? It was pretty scary- like going through a haunted house. Except the monsters were real-" She realized just as she said it, that she shouldn't have included that part. She hadn't told Mom about the animatronics chasing her down. 

" 'Monster s ?' Wasn't there just one person pretending to be Gregory?" Mom asked.

Cassie fidgeted with a loose bit of hair. "Well, yeah. There was only one person chasing me… but the animatronics were following me around. And they looked really scary. They were just trying to help, but I got scared and ran away from them." That was only kind of a lie. Compounding on another lie. Eventually it'll start charging interest. The animatronics were trying to help her- help her to avoid releasing the monster. They just had a very scary, potentially lethal, way of going about it.

Mom squished up her mouth, clearly suspicious. But she didn't say anything. 

"Well, Cassie-" Uncle Miskovsky started- "I'm just glad you got out of there okay."

" Okay?! Petr, she nearly died of sepsis . She's stuck in a wheelchair -" 

"She doesn't look stuck to me-" he said, looking over at Cassie. She couldn't help but slump down slightly in her seat, about as far as her brace would allow it. 

Mom clicked her tongue in frustration. "Well yes, but you know what I mean . Her life's going to be so different now… what will the other kids at her school think? She's already had issues about bullying in the past-"

She couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm gonna go, um, get a drink. I'll see you both soon." She fought to keep the undercurrent of bitterness to just an undercurrent. Pushing herself backwards, and away from all of that .

"Cassie- I'll go with you-" Mom started, standing up from her chair.

"No- I'm a big girl, I know where the cafe is. Have fun catching up. I'll see you soon." She waved, with a plastered-on grin. Then she left, before anyone else could start up.

________

That was so. Freaking. Embarrassing .

She hadn't gone to the cafe. She had instead rolled around the common areas of the center. Seeing people, some walking around, some pushing themselves in a chair, or pushing a walker. Some who needed to be pushed. They looked at her. She looked at them. But, hopefully, not judgmentally. They looked at her because she was a stranger. She looked at them because they were strangers.

Cassie had her watch on. It'd only been a few minutes since she'd left. But if she took too long, Mom would ring her asking where she'd gone. 

She didn't want to go back just yet, though. Just to listen to them talking about her, like she wasn't even there. Like she couldn't hear Mom ragging her out. Acting as if her life was over-

All Cassie wanted was… she didn't really know. It was hard to put into words. No more pity? For her feelings on this to matter?

How did she feel about this?

…

I'm not dead. And I'm not stuck in bed anymore. This is the closest to freedom I've had in a while. I'd prefer to be okay. But this isn't so bad. It's just different?

She shook her head. She'd stopped in the middle of the room, and people were now looking at her not because she was a stranger, but because she was acting strange .

Cassie bit the inside of her cheek, and decided that now would be a good time to get that drink. She'd cooled off a little, at least.

Hopefully, by the time I go back, she'll be done with that subject…

She had her purse with her- which had her pocket money, and her expired playpass in it. Not that that would be useful here- she just couldn't toss it away. 

Should I get a drink for Mom and Uncle Miskovsky? It'll make my leaving look less like a tantrum…

So she decided- she didn't know exactly what Uncle Miskovsky liked, but had seen him and Mom catching up for coffee in the past. So she'd just get two coffees for them. 

The cafe looked pretty sleek, and modern. Very few tables- presumably most things brought there would be taken out into the common areas, or back to residents rooms. 

The only issue with the cafe is one that Cassie was still getting used to- she wouldn't be tall enough to see over the counter properly anymore. She'd always been short- she got that from her Dad. And her Mom- but now she was even shorter than usual. And it didn't matter much at the rehab clinic- because most surfaces were lowered more for children- but it mattered here. 

She got into line, and waited for her turn. Deciding on what kind of drink she'd like, and sorting out her money. She could see the clerk taking orders and jotting them down while humming under her breath. Once Cassie got to the very end, she sat in front of the counter. She could only just see over the top of the counter. But everything was at a diagonal, due to the angle. Cassie couldn't even see the clerk.

And it looked like she couldn't see her either. "Sir, did you want to order?"

Cassie couldn't see the man behind her, but could hear him- "Sorry, young lady. But there's an even younger lady in front of me."

Cassie spoke up quickly, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. She waved her hand above her head. "Sorry- I'm here. Can you see me?"

Now she could see the clerk, as she leaned over the counter. "Oh dear! Sorry, we don't normally have kids here. What would you like, dear?"

"Could I get a hot chocolate, and two coffees please? One black, one with half milk?" She was pretty sure Uncle Miskovsky drank his with milk. 

The clerk agreed, Cassie paid- a surprising amount for three drinks, honestly. What a ripoff… and then waited off to the side for them to be made. 

She checked her phone. It'd only been maybe ten minutes since she left in a huff. And she'd be back soon, just needed to wait a little longer.

She texted Andy and Lawrence for a bit, before hearing her order called out. She went to grab them and realized a second issue- how was she going to carry them back? 

She hadnt had to worry too much at the center- she could carry one drink by alternating hands. But this was three drinks. And hot drinks too. Just holding one in each hand burnt. And her hands were pretty tough. Cassie was only wearing short-shorts today. No leggings- they would've gotten wrecked earlier. So she couldn't even put two between her legs. 

She winced just imagining how much trying to get these drinks back would hurt.

However, she got an idea for how to deal with this. Because she’d seen some of the other kids at Rehab do it to get around.

She just hoped it’d work for her. 

"Would you like a hand with those? It's a lot for one person to carry." The clerk asked, as she placed another order on the bench. 

"Do you have any trays I can put these in please?" Cassie asked. The clerk nodded, and came back with a little square tray. Just the kind made of cardboard, with slots for the drinks.

"Do you want me to get someone to carry it for you?" She asked, as Cassie added the drinks into the tray. She tested out how well she could keep its balance in one hand, before shaking her head.

"I think I'll be okay. I'll come back if I need any help. Thank you."

The clerk nodded, and went back to serving other customers. Meanwhile, Cassie started heading back. 

In theory, she could just kick out her footrests, and use her feet to scoot forward. In reality, doing that left her sitting awkwardly in the chair- and led to the tlso brace hurting her, reminding her she wasn’t supposed to slouch backwards like that. 

So that wasn’t an option. But there was another option. 

She’d seen other kids do it. Hold something in one hand, and push themselves with the other.

It wasn't easy. But that didn't bother Cassie much. Because there was a rhythm to it- push a little on one side, swap hands, then push on the other side. Rinse and repeat. It would take her a while, but she was slowly making her way back to where Mom and Uncle Miskovsky were.

Once she got back to them, the only issue was, the door that had previously been propped open separating the common spaces, was now shut. It was one of the doors that swings both ways when pressed. So she could force her way through. 

Maybe. 

Except she could hear faint talking. 

Mom and Uncle Miskovsky were on the other side of that door. Not far away from it. She could hear them talking-

"Do you think she really saw him, Marcela? If he's there, maybe he's trying to come home…"

"Maybe, Petr. But I didn't see Gregory at all. I think… I think Cassie was just very lonely, and still a little out of it. Prolonged sedation can lead to hallucinations afterwards. And her sedation was… very prolonged."

… They're still talking about me?! 

"... Are you okay? After all that, I mean."

Oh. This is one of those kinds of conversations. The really heavy kinds. 

Cassie felt weird listening in now.

A sob. A quiet noise followed. "No. No I'm really not - I've been so selfish. And I nearly lost her because of it."

Cassie wanted to ask why . Luckily, Uncle Miskovsky did. And Mom answered. "I thought I could handle it. 'Just a few years working at the Youth Crisis Center. Until my classes take off. Until the class action succeeds. Until Sam comes back. ' But he's not coming back, Petr. He's never coming back. He's-” that sentence ended in a loud sob, and didn't resume afterwards. “And the class action keeps being stalled by FazEnt- so we can’t even get any compensation for Sam’s death. My classes are doing okay- but not well enough. Never well enough-"

"Marcela-"

"I feel like I'm slowly drowning out at sea. And those classes are the lifering I'm clinging to. But I can't cling to it- I nearly let my daughter drown to save my own skin. Does… does that make sense?"

“It does - but you're being too harsh on yourself-”

“How can you say that?! If anything, I'm not being harsh enough- ”

“How can you say that?! There's no way you could've known something like this would've happened. How were you to know that someone would target Cassie like this?”

For a while, there was nothing said. And Cassie just sat there. Holding onto the tray with both hands. Feeling completely useless. 

But then Mom spoke up, in a whisper. Barely hearable through the door.

“I should have known, because someone targeted Sam. Someone targeted Jemima. Gregory. Someone has it in for us- someone has it in for you, too…”

Silence. 

And then Cassie knocked on the door.

“Hey, Mom? Could you let me in, please?”

She could hear a chair shifting against the tiled floor, and footsteps. Then the door opened towards Cassie- she had to quickly push herself out of the way.

And she could see Mom. With a smile plastered to her face. Pretending nothing had happened. Except Cassie could see the puffiness around her eyes. 

“I brought back some coffee- the one on the left is yours, and the one on the right is for Uncle Miskovsky. The one at the back is mine.” Cassie said, holding out the coffee tray. Mom grabbed the tray carefully out of her hands, and held the door open so that Cassie could come back in.

“Hey, Cassie. Thank you for the drink.” Uncle Miskovsky said, as she wheeled back to where he sat. Mom walked back in, behind her, and gave out the drinks. Passing the hot chocolate back to Cassie. 

It felt warm in her hands. Strange against the chill in her blood.

Mom spoke up first, once everyone had sat down. “Cassie, I'm sorry for worrying you earlier. The kids at school… you're going to be just fine . I'll make sure of it.” She leant forward in her chair, cupping her hands over Cassie's hands holding the drink. “And I’ve heard some great things about your progress at rehab- you'll be back on your feet before you know it!” She said this to Cassie, ostensibly. But she was looking towards Uncle Miskovsky out of the corner of her eye. 

He was also periodically flicking his eyes over to Mom, though he was pretending to be focused on Cassie. “Exactly- things will be back to normal before you know it.”

She could feel a weird tension between the both of them.

This is a huge game of charades. And I know what's behind everyones headband. 

Denial.

Three could play at that game.

“Yeah. I'm going to be fine.”

________

The next few days at the rehab center weren’t that different to her first week there. Physical therapy. Occupational therapy. Group therapy. School. 

But Cassie had been making progress. Shed gotten better at using the wheelchair, and at standing and walking in the gait trainer. Being able to take more of her own weight. Rebecca had even congratulated her on it-

“You've been putting in some great work, Cassie. If you keep this up, we may be able to get you using crutches at least part of the time, before you go home.”

She couldn't help but feel proud of that. Because she had been working really hard to get anywhere with this. And it now seemed to be paying off. 

Heck, she even made some progress with school. She still had some issues with math, but had bounced back a bit in english, art, and science. She’d recently got a B+ on a test about reading comprehension. She just had to show her Mom.

Most importantly, for Cassie, she'd gotten better at standing up by herself. She was able to stand, leaning against a nearby wall or table. Even if it still hurt to do that for too long. 

And she’d gotten permission to go out bowling on the weekend. 

‘It’s accessible, so you’ll be able to bowl with everyone. And it shouldn’t be too busy, so it won’t be dangerous for you to stand occasionally.’

Needless to say, Cassie felt like she was on cloud nine.

Especially because she was helping paint Annette’s nails, in a vibrant pink color. While Annette told her about some stuff she’d been seeing on the fazfans forum.

They’d been talking about just basic things, until Annette brought up something real.

“... The admins have been cracking down recently. On DM’s. Because of the… do you know what's been going on down in Hurricane?”

Cassie nodded. I know, all right.  

Annette continued. “From the pinned post, they're planning on just. Getting rid of that function altogether, and deleting any old DM’s. This sucks- I might not be a huge fan of the shows or games anymore. But I’ve made some good friends there. Some of them are all the way on the other side of the world… and I know Mom won’t let me give them my phone number. So once the DM’s are gone, It’s gonna be so much harder to talk to them.”

“That does suck.” Cassie said, finishing up painting the nails of one hand. She gestured for Annette to pass the other hand over, for their final coat. “Me and my Dad would sometimes send each other messages… if I was at home, and he was at work over school holidays. Or just whenever they made us use a computer at school- it was one of the only good sites not blocked by the school's IT guys.”

Those were fairly bittersweet memories. Of her and her Dad sending silly messages about Freddy’s characters, about rumors. Anything really…

“... And now they’re planning on getting rid of the messages?” Cassie sighed. “Mom banned me from going on the internet. And especially on the forum-” Annette didn’t interrupt to ask why , which Cassie appreciated. “-so I can’t even try to screenshot the messages when I get home.”

Annette gave her a funny look, and quickly looked around. Cassie was tempted to ask what was up, until Annette leaned in close- “You could use one of the computers here. To get onto the forum, I mean.”

Cassie tilted her head. “They have computers here? That we can use?”

“Yeah. They have them for the IT classes, if I remember right…”

Cassie's shoulders drooped, and she stopped painting Annette’s last finger. “one problem- I’m not in the IT class.” She didn’t have a login for the PC’s.

“I am.” Annette whispered. And Cassie’s hopes rose again. “I’ll lend you my login, if you don't do anything funny.”

“Of course I won't- thank you, Annette!” She resumed painting her nails, finishing it off, and leaving the hand to dry like the other. 

“No problem, no problem. Once my nails are dry, I’ll help you out, okay?” 

Cassie nodded, and capped Annette's nail polish bottle, putting it back in her little make up kit. 

________

It felt odd to be sitting in front of a computer again, once Annette had put in her password. She’d sat to the side, keeping an eye on things, while Cassie brought up the browser and went to the forum. 

Immediately, she was hit with a small sense of nostalgia. This site had been made back in the early 2000’s, or so her Dad had said. And it looked it- it hadn’t updated much at all, except to add the Glamrock’s to the site banner. 

She was sure, if she went far enough back in the archives, she could find some of her Dad’s post from when he was young.

Cassie went to put her username and password in, before turning to Annette. Who was watching her intently. “Um. Could you shut your eyes for a second?” She asked her. 

Annette’s eyes went wide with realization, and she laughed before looking away. “You know I have my own account, right? I don't need yours!” She joked. 

Cassie grinned, as she put in her password, and clicked to log in. The computer ran slowly, to load the sign in page. Must have bad internet here , Cassie thought, as the site took its time to load. 

It loaded, eventually. But not the sign in page.

Cassie’s hopes fell. And she sat there in shock.

“... Yikes, you must've messed up . The mods don’t just ban for nothing.” Annette said, looking back over Cassie’s shoulder. 

While Cassie wracked her brain, trying to figure out why . Could she have done something before her ‘accident’?

The last comment I left was about Roxy’s old attraction at the Hurricane Mega Pizzaplex, back when it was open. I didn’t swear, or do anything wrong, so why…

“I don't get it. I didn’t do anything!” She told Annette about her most recent comments- all unobjectionable. “And I haven't even been on the forum in about two months! This doesn't make sense…”

Cassie felt like her heart was breaking. She’d thought she stood a chance of getting those old messages. But she’d already lost that chance. Maybe she’d never had it to begin with.

Annette looked at her with pity in her eyes. Cassie wished she wouldn’t - “Maybe you could send them an email? It might’ve been a mistake.”

“Maybe…” Cassie murmured. She doubted she'd get a response back, but it seemed like the only thing she could do. 

She found the email address on the FAQ page. In case anyone was having technical difficulties. Copied it, then opened up her email. 

Her email account was completely full of unread emails. Most of them spam. She groaned internally, and thought I’ll deal with all that later- this is more important.  

So she put fingers to keyboard. And got started. 

“ Hello. 

“My account, RoxysBiggestFan11, was banned recently, and I don’t know why. I’ve been sick for a while- I was in hospital from the eleventh of August, and haven't been online. So I’m not sure what I could’ve done wrong. 

“Whatever I’ve done wrong, I’m happy to say sorry, or do whatever else is needed. I just want to see some old messages from my Dad. 

“Thank you for your help- Cassie.”

She’d taken her time writing this out, and hoped it sounded polite. And that they would want to help her at least get the messages back. 

All she could do was send the message, and hope. 

She logged out of her email, and gave the computer back to Annette. In case she wanted to use it. “I’m sorry this is happening to you, Cassie.” She said, as she logged out of the computer completely. 

Cassie wasn’t sure how to respond to that. So she changed the subject. 

“How are your nails going?”

********

Authors note-

Not much to say here- I'm trying to keep things medically accurate. If you spot something that's wrong- please tell me.

The title is from Ghost and Pals, Reckless Battery Burns.