#(those are all technically described so gonna again tag just in case)

[lincolndjarin]

Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 2

chapter two : beware the jabberwock

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : took a while to get out but here is chapter two !!! i have a lot of fun writing this fic bc the pacing is so much different than bks but i'm excited to get this chapter out bc i loved writing it so much and i'm so happy that people enjoy this fic so far !!

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 15.1k (i'm so sorry idk what happened)

summary : new relationships are tricky, especially when your boyfriend likes to disappear for several days with no explanation.

warnings, etc. : dub con?? i'm gonna tag this with that because the sex is like weird in this?? a lot of it is angry or reluctant from one participant at times so i'm gonna tag it just in case, soulmates au, no outbreak au, language, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, fear, feeling of being stalked, feeling of being watched, me making up things regarding the embalming process, animal death, graphic description of the mortuary process, menstruation, derealization (sort of), smut, oral f!recieving, p in v, biting, just like a lot of mouth stuff lmao, cum eating, rough sex, degradation, sort of dumbification, joel is a bit beastly, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praise, use of the pet name bunny, nightmares, periods, menstruation, joel is a terrible boyfriend, angry sex, injury, blood, blood drinking, manipulation, not a/b/o but something i made up that is sort of along those lines??, body horror, monsters, predator & prey dynamic, a lot of stuff happens this chap so i might have missed some sorry!!, no physical description of reader but joel is described as being abnormally strong and does pick reader up, there is no actual fucking of a monster yet we can't just do that right out the gate it's a thriller it destroys the thrill if they fuck immediately, that being said; this is a monster fucker fic - proceed accordingly

comments and reblogs are appreciated!

You don’t sleep well after your dream.

Just staring up at the ceiling until the sun is starting to shine through the windows. 

Not that you’ve been sleeping well recently to begin with. And Joel suddenly feels less safe, the grip of his arms around you feels more like it’s trapping you rather than protecting you.

It’s Joel. 

Just take a deep breath. 

It’s Joel. Joel Miller. Sweet, handsome, kind, Joel Miller. Joel who came back, even though you assumed you’d never hear from him again. 

It was nothing more than a dream. 

Stop making up monsters. 

You slip out of his arms, quietly making your way over to the fridge to try and find something to make for breakfast. You haven’t gone shopping in a while, all you’ve got is half a loaf of bread and a few eggs. Good enough. Clicking the stove on you set a pan down, cracking the eggs with a small sizzle as they hit the metal. 

“Up already?” You didn’t hear him wake but when you turn he’s propped up on an elbow watching you. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Not technically a lie. 

“Are you okay?” He sits up a bit and you can feel him sizing you up. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

You aren’t really. 

But you can’t really tell him why, so why bother. 

He stretches his arms above his head as he gets up, making his way over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting his head on your shoulder as you flip the eggs. 

“Hungry?” You’re desperate to think about anything but your dreams, as you speak his grip around your waist tightens. 

“I could eat.” You shudder for several reasons as his teeth graze your neck before nipping at you. 

“These should be done in a few minutes, I just gotta make the toast.” You laugh softly as the scruff of his beard brushes against you. 

He makes it too easy to forget your fears. 

“Mhmm.” The vibrations from his humming make you gasp, nearly dropping the spatula in your hand as he squeezes you for a moment. You work around his advances, putting the bread in the toaster as one of his hands slips under your shirt. 

“How many do you want?” You hold up the bread in front of him, trying to get him to pay attention but it’s getting difficult to stay focused on your task when something is currently pressing against your ass. 

“I think I’m fine with just this.” He squeezes the bare flesh of your torso making you yelp a bit as his hand drifts further up. 

“What happened to your third date rule?” He groans as you reach over to the stove, turning the burner off to keep the eggs from burning before turning around in his arms, your back pressed against the counter. 

“We should go to dinner tonight.” He smiles before leaning forward to kiss you but you put a hand between his mouth and yours. 

“What makes you think I’ve forgiven you enough to warrant another date?”

He pouts. His bottom lip sticking out a bit as he frowns. 

“Wouldn’t matter if I did anyway, it would only be the second date.” You shrug. 

“Last night was the second date.” He says rather matter of factly. 

“That didn’t count.” You can’t help the smile that threatens to form on your as his frown deepens. 

“So you wanna wait for two more dates.” 

Definitely not.

“Tonight?” For a brief moment you try and think of anything else you might be doing but you don’t exactly have a social life here in Honey. 

“S’gotta be, I’m spending tomorrow with Ellie and then I’ll be busy with work, gotta catch up on some things.”

Why would he need to catch up if he’s been busy all week?

“Tonight works.” Even after what he put you through you still feel the strangest pull towards him, dragging him to the table with you as you set down a couple plates. 

“I’ll be here at eight?” He sits, an accomplished look on his face. 

“Works for me.”

You have an uneventful breakfast. 

Neither one of you talks about his disappearing act. And eventually he has to leave for work and so do you, so he gets his things together once you eat.

“Get dressed, I’ll drive you to Maria’s, I gotta pick up Tommy anyway.” He takes a sip of whatever juice you had left over in the fridge as you nod, finding something clean to wear before following him out to the truck. 

He makes it too easy.

He smiles like everything is fine and he holds your hand as he drives.

“Have a good day at work.” You return his smile and he leans across the truck cab to kiss your forehead.

“You too, I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” You wave at him as you walk up to the house, Tommy’s just leaving, giving you a pat on the back as he passes you before jumping in the truck with his brother. With a weak smile you watch them go. 

There are no bodies today.

It’s a paperwork day for both of you. You know Maria’s dying to ask about what happened but she never does, just staring up at you every once in a while, always looking like she’s about to say something before choosing not to. 

You decide to throw her a bone. 

“I’m having dinner with Joel tonight.” You can’t ignore the surprised smile on her face. 

“I’m glad you two seem to be getting along.”

“Yeah, apparently he got caught up in his work for a few days.” You try and get a reaction out of her but she goes emotionless, giving you only a hum in response. 

You don’t try to start another conversation after that until you say good night at the end of your shift. Giving her a small wave before stepping into the misty evening air. 

You keep your eyes on the trees the entire walk home but nothing seems out of sorts and before you know it you’re safe in the camper.

You’re dressed and ready to go when the truck pulls up. You aren’t sure where exactly you’re supposed to be going but you’re ready nonetheless, deciding on just jeans and a plain tshirt. What you aren’t expecting is when Joel steps out of the truck with grocery bags and a grin plastered on his face.

“I thought we could cook together.” He says as he makes his way up the steps inside. 

“You know how to cook?” You try not to sound as surprised as you are but he just laughs. 

“I have two kids. I know how to cook.” He sets the bag on the counter and you open it, he’s brought bread, cheese, and cans of tomato soup. 

“What exactly do you plan on cooking?”

“Grilled cheese.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and any worries you had about tonight go out the window. 

“You really went all out for tonight.” You raise your eyebrows at him.

He nods, searching through the cabinets for a pan and a pot. 

“When you said cook together you meant you cook and I watch, right?” You lift yourself up onto the counter as he lights the stove. 

“Obviously.” He sets everything down and you watch him fish around the top of the fridge for a few seconds before pulling down a rather dusty old radio. “I knew she had one somewhere.” He grins as he sets it down beside you, plugging it in and fidgeting with the knobs until the static turns into music. 

You don’t recognize the song that plays but he does, as he hums along, opening the two cans, emptying them into the pot. 

You had been so nervous about tonight, nightmares aside, you had expected a totally different Joel, the kind of person who ignores you for a week and expects immediate forgiveness. But instead he continues to be just Joel. Joel, who’s very presence lulls you into an overpowering sense of comfort. The moment he stepped inside the camper the entire space became heavy with his cologne, everything smells like the forest, as if you’re surrounded by pine trees and not the four walls around you. 

“We should do something this week.” He turns to you as he butters the bread, setting it in the pan with a quiet sizzle. 

“Don’t you have work, and Ellie?” You tear open the plastic wrapper on the cheese, handing him a few slices. 

“I do, but I can get Tommy to watch her for a night.” He tosses them down onto the bread before opening a drawer, riffling around until he finds a spatula. 

You hum along to the music with him when the song changes to something familiar, watching him cook. 

He looks at home with you, like he belongs right here. 

You both laugh your way through dinner, it’s outrageous how charming he can be, he tells you about the house he’s building, and how his brother ordered the wrong kind of cement. (You didn’t know there was a wrong kind.) And he tells you about how Ellie’s picked up some curse words, apparently there’s quite an argument happening between the Millers regarding who she learned them from. 

You’ve always been hesitant to talk about work, especially on dates because you never know how people are going to react. Not everyone has the same relationship with death that you have. So when he says, how has working for Maria been? You aren’t exactly sure what to say. 

“It’s good.” 

“That’s it? It’s good?” He looks up at you, giving you that lopsided fucking smirk and you can’t help but just melt at the sight of it. 

“We’ve been… busy, lots of work the last few days, now we’re just funeral planning, this week we’ve got a funeral pretty much everyday, Maria’s swamped.” 

“What made you choose this line of work?”

You never really know how to answer that question. 

“Because I like to play with dead things.” Never gets the laugh you hope for, and the real answer just makes you sad.  

“I like to fix things.” You instinctively break eye contact, staring down at an uneven floor board you’d never noticed before under the table. “I like knowing that I can help people in that way, to fix them one last time.” 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, when you look back up at him he simply looks at you with something that resembles yearning. 

“That’s nice.” 

You’re glad he thinks so. 

He takes the dishes, rinsing them in the sink despite your protests. 

Your palms are getting clammy. 

This is, by his count, your third date. 

Is it weird that this feels scheduled? It was different when you’d brought him home after your first date, that felt natural, your body innately wanted to be with him. How do you even start this kind of thing when it feels so planned? You both know what you want but it feels strange to just outright say, so is this the part where we have sex? 

He dries his hands on his jeans and clears his throat as he turns back to you, holding his hand out, you aren’t really sure what he’s doing until he pulls you up from your seat, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

It isn’t the kind of song you can slow dance to, it’s fast and upbeat.

But as far as you can tell, Joel isn’t the kind of guy who dances in the first place, so you bring your free hand up to his shoulder and join him in his attempts to dance. 

I heat up, I can't cool down

You got me spinning

There isn’t a lot of floor space in the camper but he makes it work by holding you close and mostly just spinning you as he nods along to the music.

'Round and 'round

'Round and 'round and 'round it goes

If his goal was to put you at ease then it’s working, any remaining nerves you have fizzled out completely. You laugh in earnest, not out of fear, as he bumps his nose against yours. 

Where it stops nobody knows

Every time you call my name

I heat up like a burning flame

Burning flame full of desire

Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher

He keeps his forehead flush with yours as you continue to sway your hips back and forth to the beat, the both of you laughing and spinning, you watch curiously as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. 

Abra abracadabra

I wanna reach out and grab ya

Abra abracadabra

Abracadabra

With a satisfied sigh he opens his eyes, his gaze going from simple infatuation to something darker. When the song ends he pulls you close, so you’re chest to chest and reaches over, turning down the radio. 

“So…” You can’t stop smiling as you stare at him through your lashes. 

“So.” He gently guides you, his hands on your hips as he walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. 

“I’ve got a long day tomorrow, I should probably get some sleep.” You give him an exaggerated yawn and point at the bed, plastering a mock apologetic look on your face. 

“You’re really funny.” He leans down to give you a chaste kiss before picking you up. His strength is still a wonder to you. 

The way he throws you down onto your bed makes you erupt into a fit of giggles but he certainly isn’t laughing anymore as he drags you by your ankles to the edge of the mattress, a look of concentration on his face now. 

“Joel!” You shriek as you hear the tearing of the zipper on your jeans. 

“M’sorry.” He grumbles, making no effort to slow down as he tugs them down. 

He doesn’t sound sorry.

“It’s a zipper, just unzip it for Christ's sake.” His sudden change in demeanor leaves you a little breathless, in the blink of an eye he’s gone from remarkably gentle to practically unhinged.

“S’too late for that.” He groans softly as he kneels on the camper floor, throwing your legs over his shoulders. 

“You owe me a new pair-” Your voice trails off into a stuttered moan as his mouth latches onto the front of your panties, dragging his tongue over the wet spot that’s been forming all night. 

“We can go to the mall sometime this week.” He mumbles against your cunt before you feel his teeth grazing the fabric before tearing it apart completely. 

“Jesus, Joel!” Instinctively your hands grip his hair as he buries his face between your legs. 

How sharp are his teeth? 

He’s all consuming. Like he’s trying to lay claim to every single part of you. And he’s loud, it’s a good thing you don’t have neighbors. Lewd slurping noises as he laps at your dripping hole like it’s his fucking job. 

He flattens his tongue, dragging it through your folds, for a moment you aren’t sure what he’s doing, but it feels fucking amazing. The way his tongue moves in and out of you, occasionally drawing a lazy circle around your clit, it isn’t like anything anyones ever done before. It takes you a moment to realize that he isn’t necessarily trying to make you feel good (despite the effect it may be having on you,) you’re pretty sure he’s tasting you. 

Drinking you in. If he’s trying to get you off it’s only because he wants more. 

“S’ so sweet.” He mumbles against your thigh, biting the meat there making you cry out a bit before he returns to his work between your legs. 

“Joel- fuck, Joel please.” You manage to stutter out between gasps, when did he become so gruff? You never could have predicted that he would be like this in bed, his grip on you is certain to leave bruises and you can barely think straight after just a few minutes with his head between your thighs. The noises he makes as his lips wrap around your clit are down right pornagraphic. Your vision is starting to go white around the edges as he does the first gentle thing since he started, sucking that bundle of nerves almost lazily. Through shuttered breaths you manage to mumble out his name a few more times your vision whites out completely. 

You’re a little surprised at how quickly he manages to pull an orgasm from you, your skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat as you sit up, pulling him up by his hair as you crash your lips against his, tasting your own slick on his tongue. He moves so feverishly as you feel his hands spreading you again, teasing your entrance with two fingers before slowly pushing them in. 

“Joel- oh my god-” He silences your rambling with his mouth again, swallowing your groan once he’s knuckle deep inside you. His brows furrow in concentration as he starts to pump them in and out of you. “P-please.” You stammer out. 

It’s such a sharp contrast to the Joel you’re used to, he’s so… unruly. 

“So fucking tight.” He mutters before grinding his palm against your clit, pulling another series of gasps from your throat. “Such a pretty, tight, wet cunt.” He whispers against your jaw and you feel a third finger pushing into you. 

You hadn’t expected him to be so vulgar, turns out he’s only all southern manners outside of the bedroom. You’re starting to see stars all over again as you feel the stretch of his thick fingers, he nips at your jaw before pressing them in deep, focusing on grinding the heel of his palm into your clit until you’re soaking his hand, hands tugging at his hair as a second orgasm is ripped out of you with a shudder. Your head falls back with a noisy whine, you can’t decide if you want more or less, his touch burns your skin but you feel so cold without it.  

“Please, please Joel.” You exhale the words, scratching lightly at his shoulders with a whine. 

“Tell me what you want.” His voice is lower than ever and you watch as he unzips his jeans, shoving them off and taking his cock in between his fingers, still slick with your release. Your eyes go wide as he strokes himself a few times, he’s thick, hefty, you’re trying not to stare slack-jawed at the way he fills his own hand.  You grab the bottom of his shirt, pulling it off in an attempt to feel more of his skin against you.

“Fuck me… please.” You tack on the please at the end hoping he doesn’t make you wait much longer as you gawk at his pretty tan skin. You don’t even know where to look, you run your fingers through the coarse sprinkle of black and gray hair on his chest as he crawls further up the bed to hover above you.

He takes your thighs, pushing them up against your stomach, his eyes dark with something reminiscent of hunger. You hook your own arms around your knees to keep yourself in that position as he takes hold of his cock once more, guiding himself into you with a strangled groan.

“Christ…” He mumbles under his breath as he slides just the tip of himself in, your own breath hitching at the size of him. He tilts head town, pressing a soft kiss to your chin. 

He splays his palms out on your thighs, leveraging himself as he carefully rocks his hips back and forth, slowly working himself into you. The camper fills with the sounds of your collective noises. Joel is loud. Grunting and growling as he fully buries himself in your heat. 

He scans your face for signs of distress, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, the tiniest sting from the stretch pulls a whine out of you but you only nod as he stares into your eyes. 

“More, Joel.”

Once he has your approval he starts moving, setting a pace that for a few thrusts is slow before picking up. Quickly becoming downright brutal, every slam of his pelvis against yours drives his cock deeper into you. He feels as if he was made for this, he’s just big enough that it doesn’t hurt, simply an overwhelming feeling of fullness. 

Your body begins to tense up all over again, you wrap your arms around his torso as much as you can in this position, scratching at his back. He leans forward, going in for a kiss before moving around your face, kissing your jaw, forehead, nose, and temples. When he kisses the apples of your cheeks you feel his tongue darting out. 

Did he just lick up a tear? 

He snaps his hips forward, disrupting your train of thought, his teeth barred as he does so, eyes fixed on every one of your reactions. He’s practically snarling as you let your head fall back against the mattress, the head of his cock driving into your g-spot.

“Wanna come again already, bunny?” You make a real spectacle of yourself, hooking your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper. “Greedy little thing…”

“Joel please-”

“Joel please.” He mocks. “Is that all you can say now?” You keen softly but he only grins as you tighten around him. 

“P-please…” You squeak out as he snaps hips forward once more. 

“Come again, I wanna feel this pretty cunt come.” He snarls against your neck, leaving a trail of bites until he reaches your shoulder, a particularly harsh bite has you crying out.

“Joel!” You grit your teeth, a wave of heat washes over you as you come one last time, you feel his tongue dragging across the bite mark. 

It’s all so close to being painful.

Your stomach aches from the overstimulation, and you register a faint stinging feeling when he laps at the bite. Your walls clench around him, strangling his cock, and his hands instantly leave your legs, gripping the sheets instead.  

“Fuck, fuck.” He barely pulls out in time, coming on your stomach. You reach down in your haze, scooping some of his load onto your finger before sliding them between your lips. 

Fucking salted caramel. 

Sweet and sticky on your tongue. 

He pants above you, watching with an intoxicated look as you dip your fingers into his cum over and over again until your stomach is bare.

He nudges his nose against yours, rubbing every part of his face against you for a few minutes. It’s wildly intimate and you're once again a little taken aback by his sudden tone shift. 

“Was that okay?” He drawls, once again searching your face for any indication that you might not be. 

You nod, beaming up at him and letting him rest the bridge of his nose on yours for a few moments more before you slip out of his arms, stepping into the bathroom. You relieve yourself before going to sort yourself out in the mirror. 

You’re bleeding. 

Where he bit you, two mirroring crescents, red and angry on your shoulder, leaking blood. 

“Shit.” You grab a handful of toilet paper, wiping it clean before rinsing it in the sink and returning to him.  

“Everything okay?” He’s pulled his boxers on, tossing you his shirt which you’re eager to put on. You don’t want him to see the bite. 

“Everything’s fine.” You crawl back up into the bed beside him. 

He stays the night, pulling you to his chest and caging you in with his arms. 

And you aren’t haunted by dreams. 

In the morning a part of you worries he’ll disappear all over again, you’re a little surprised when he texts you just a few minutes after he drives off.  [ can’t wait to see you again soon bunny ]

Joel follows through on his promise. 

A few days later he picks you up from work and drives you to the outlet mall about an hour away, saying he needs to get some stuff for Ellie as well. Apparently she likes to throw plates so he wants to find the kind that suction onto the table. As he drives the radio plays a country song you don’t recognize which he hums along to as you watch the trees outside the window. 

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about my aunt.” He turns the music down once you start speaking. 

“Darlene? You probably know her better than I do.” He doesn’t seem very eager to talk about her but it only makes you want to know more. 

“Doubt it. All I know about her is that she wasn’t close with anyone in my family.”

“You weren’t close? But she left you her camper.”

“That’s why I need to know anything you might know about her, I know nothing.” He seems hesitant and you’re worried if you keep pushing it he won’t tell you anything at all. 

“She was a lonely old woman, had me fix things for her often, I honestly think she just wanted company.” His voice softens a bit as he says it. 

“She didn’t have friends here in Honey?” 

“Not that I know of, she was a bit of a shut in, sweetest woman I’ve ever met, just a bit… skittish. She worked from home and I’m pretty sure someone delivered her groceries. The only time I ever saw her outside was when I was fixing her roof and she sat in a lawn chair to talk to me while I did.” 

“She worked from home?” 

“Yeah, something on her laptop, I’m not entirely sure.” You’ve never seen a laptop. 

You’ve been living in the camper for nearly six months and you’ve never seen a laptop. 

But that’s not what interests you the most right now. 

“What do you mean by skittish?” You’re trying to gauge his reaction but he doesn’t seem to have one. 

“Maybe skittish isn’t the right word. Eccentric? Some of the kids in town called her ditzy Darlene.” His expression sours as he says it. 

“That’s horrible.”

“It was.”

“Why?” He seems more reluctant than ever but now you’re just upset on behalf of the woman who left you everything.

“She fed into a lot of the legends around town, and didn't seem to have any hobbies outside of monster hunting.”

“Monster hunting?”

“She was the only local who went to the gift shops, searching for a monster she swears she saw.”

Sounds familiar.

“Did she ever find any?” 

“Monsters?” He laughs. “Not that I know of.”

“Did you think she was crazy?”

“I think she was lonely, and I think when you spend that much time alone your mind can wander.”

“But did you think she was crazy?” 

“No.” He puts an end to the conversation by putting the truck in park. You hadn’t even realized you were there, the outlet mall is so small. His southern manners remain persistent as he jogs around the truck to open your door for you, holding onto you to provide balance as you hop out.

You aren’t sure where anything is so you just follow him, taking his hand in yours as you walk. He takes you into a clothing store you don’t recognize the name of and waits patiently as you try on a few different pairs of jeans. It’s been quite some time since you’ve bought new clothes so you get a few pairs, you’re worried it’s boring for him to just wait outside the changing room but when you walk out with three pairs slung over your arm he still looks happy as can be. When you go to pay he opens his wallet, silencing your protests with a reminder that it’s his fault you needed new jeans in the first place. 

After that he takes his time, the two of you walk hand in hand through each store, he doesn’t even look around most of them, seemingly content with just spending time with you. 

He manages to find a few rubber bowls with suction cup bottoms for Ellie as well as some spanish flashcards and you decide to get a pair of blue hiking boots, if you’re gonna be walking everywhere you might as well be comfortable. 

At the last store you stop at you find a nice perfume, spraying a bit into the air and inhaling. It reminds you of springtime, it’s light, floral, but when Joel catches a whiff of it he scrunches his nose up. 

“You don’t like it?” You set the bottle back down. 

“I like the way you smell now.” You frown, trying to remember what shampoo and body wash you’ve been using. If you recall correctly it’s just some generic brand you’d bought ages ago. 

“I didn’t know you spoke spanish?” You remark, pointing at the bag containing the cards, opting to just change the subject rather than give yourself a headache trying to remember. 

“I don’t, but Sarah does and she’s been insisting I teach Ellie while she’s gone, something about it being better if she’s bilingual.”

“I think that’s sweet.” You swing your arms a bit, keeping his hand in yours as he walks you out of the store and in the direction of the truck. 

“Of course you think it’s sweet, you're not the one with two daughters who will be using their secret language against you.” He takes his keys from his pocket, clicking the unlock button. 

“It’s not a secret language, if your baby can learn it then I’m sure you can.” He helps you up into the truck once more, shutting the door behind you.

It’s almost comically difficult to keep your hands off him when you’re alone, especially now that you have a taste for him. Even just being in the truck with the windows up is suffocating, the smell of his aftershave or his laundry detergent drives you mad the moment you’re stuck in an enclosed space with him. 

You slide across the truck so you’re in the middle seat as he pulls out of the parking lot. It’s like you feel sick when you aren’t touching him, like you’re suffering from this barely noticeable nausea and you don’t realize you were even dealing with it until it’s gone. 

You watch curiously as he keeps one hand on the wheel and brings the other to rest on your thigh. His shoulders relax the moment he does, his frown lines smooth themselves out a bit. 

He’s just so warm, and he’s so nice to be near. Today he smells like a candle you used to have, something you lit around Christmas time. He smells like cookies and peppermint. 

You can’t help but turn your head a bit, trying to discreetly inhale the scent of his jacket.

To say that Joel Miller becomes the perfect boyfriend would be an understatement. 

He drives you to work, he sends you flowers, (which gets confusing in a funeral home.) he holds open doors, and he always texts you back. 

Quite literally everything gets better once he’s back in your life. 

You don’t get anymore mangled bodies, only a few from the nursing home and one from a nearby hospital, it’s mostly just funeral planning these days. You see Joel daily, Maria and Tommy seem a little surprised every time he dotes on you and you can’t help but wonder what he’s done to earn such a reaction, but he’s so sweet you hardly care. Between both of you working and him having a toddler you’re shocked he makes as much time for you as he does. You see him every morning when he takes you into work but he also insists on seeing you twice a week, whether it’s going out, or ordering in, or just dragging him into your bed, he always makes time for you. 

You even spend a little time with Ellie. Joel spends a lot of time with her at the funeral home so you often see her in little doses, she seems indifferent towards you which worries you until you realize she acts that way towards everyone but her father. It’s remarkable to watch him with her, he’s soft with you but with her it’s something else entirely. She sticks to him like glue and you’ve never once seen him look bothered by that fact, you assume she’d get bored just sitting in his arms but she never does. He likes to tell her jokes and you aren’t even sure she understands them but without fail she bursts into a fit of giggles every time he gets to the punchline. 

It’s good with him, everything is easier. Everything just sort of makes sense with Joel and for the first time in a long time everything feels right. 

Until the morning you wake up, a sticky feeling between your legs and an ache in your belly.

“Shit.” You roll out of bed, quickly shedding your clothes, tossing them into the laundry bin before texting Joel.

[ hot date idea for us, you drive me to the laundromat and then watch me do my laundry ] 

Setting your phone down you hop into the shower, washing away the blood with a groan, you spend far too long under the water, when you finally step out and check your phone you’re running late, you pull open the curtains a bit to see if Joel’s already waiting for you but much to your confusion you aren’t met with the familiar sight of the truck.

You had never really discussed him driving you to work; it was just something he’d started doing, you probably shouldn’t have expected it to be a permanent thing. 

You haphazardly pull yourself together, tossing on whatever looks clean before grabbing your phone and bag, rushing out the door. 

The cool morning air stings your face as you quickly walk down the familiar gravel driveway towards the home, you’re already preparing your excuse for why you’re so late but Maria doesn’t even notice as you step into the office, she’s busy on a call.

You recognize the look on her face, she’s talking to a family. You step inside, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from her desk as you wait. She seems to be at the end of the conversation. 

You couldn’t be more grateful that she takes care of telling the families. You’ve never been good at that kind of thing. She hangs up with a gentle, goodbye, smiling up at you as you try and imagine a situation in which your job was to deliver such terrible news. 

The ache in your stomach snaps you back to reality. 

Fuck. You forgot to bring anything.

“Any chance you have a pad?” You give her an apologetic look.

Based on her expression you’d think you’d just asked her for a lung. Several emotions flash across her face in an instant, but mostly she looks like someone who just solved a riddle that had been plaguing them for quite some time. She snaps out of it quickly though, giving you a curt nod. 

“Of course, let me just run upstairs.”

It’s an older man, graying and wearing what is obviously hiking gear.

Poor guy. 

He’s torn apart, the worst you’ve seen so far, his limbs have all been individually torn off, they lay, separated from the rest of him on the table. 

It’s an open casket so you’re gonna be down here all day. 

You text Joel one last time before setting your phone down. 

[ gonna be pretty busy all day, got another bear attack, i’ll call you when i’m on my way home. ] 

With that you get to work, putting on your gown and gloves, and starting at the torn clothes. It’s hard to figure out where his clothes start and his skin ends with the condition his body is in but you manage to cut him out of everything so you can properly assess the damage. 

You’re getting used to seeing these messy wounds, the sight of torn flesh. It should be a pretty easy job all things considered. He’ll be in a suit so you’ll just reattach everything and no one will ever have to see the extent of his wounds. 

You check everything twice, making sure that you’ve got the left and right correct before you start sewing things back up. You try to mimic the way you saw Maria do it, careful and practiced stitches.

You finish the legs easily enough, both had been ripped off just above the knee, you’re about to start on the arms when you drop the needle in surprise. 

How didn’t you realize this before? 

You’ve been preparing these bodies for weeks now and you’ve never once noticed one harrowing detail. You’re used to tending to bodies that have already seen a pathologist. Bodies with their organs in a bag, with their blood drained, ready to be prepared for a funeral or cremation. And you’ve been so focused on doing a good job to impress Maria that you’ve failed to take note of the most obvious thing before you. 

There’s no blood. 

None of the bodies you’ve tended to from the bear attacks have blood, all of their organs remain intact but because Maria declares cause of death you know she doesn’t drain them. You’ve drained everyone who hasn’t been sent in from a bear attack. 

Maybe Maria drained them before you got in.

But that isn’t possible, you know that, you’d have seen the equipment, and you’ve gotten bodies straight from the scene, already drained. 

You reach over to grab a scalpel off the table. 

You shouldn’t do this. You could probably be fired for it, but as long as no one finds out you’ll be fine. All the damage to this cadaver has been done to its limbs, so hypothetically, if you were to slice open his chest you would see blood, dried or otherwise. 

So you do just that. 

You carve out a small, clean, incision vertically on his sternum. 

Nothing. 

You’ve got a pen flashlight that you shine into his chest cavity only to find his organs. Dry. 

He’s been completely drained of his blood. 

You stitch him up quickly, finishing the job as swiftly as possible before running up the stairs, mumbling a rushed excuse to Maria before running the entire way home. 

Joel doesn’t text you back. 

This isn’t happening, not again, he wouldn’t do this again. 

You feel like you’re gonna be sick. 

An image flashes through your mind. 

Joel.

Lips curled back in a snarl. 

No. That wasn’t real, it was just a dream. Although the line between the two has been getting blurrier. 

Joel isn’t out there draining people of their blood, that’s absurd, even if he goes missing and those dates happen to coincide with the days that you get bloodless corpses. 

It’s a coincidence. 

Or it isn’t. 

Maybe for one second you should just let yourself consider the possibility that something is terribly wrong. 

You thoroughly check the two bodies you get the next day. 

They come in together, a couple from out of state hiking in the park. Neither one of them bleeds. 

The day after that you wake up early and walk to the funeral home as the sun rises. You watch the hearse wheel in the body, and you make sure you’re the first person to see her. 

A tragically beautiful woman who appears to be in her late forties, maybe early fifties. 

None of her wounds are bloody, and when you open her chest cavity it’s like someone drank her insides with a straw. 

You’re nearly at your breaking point, nothing you’re looking at makes any sense. 

You spend that night in bed, unable to sleep as you try and figure out what the hell is going on. 

Joel doesn’t answer your calls. 

He doesn’t respond to your several angry texts. 

And something deep down within you tells you that asking Maria would be a mistake. 

You’re completely alone on this. 

So you call Maria and you tell her that you’re sick and won’t be in tomorrow. Then you look up the bus schedule in and out of town.

The bus comes in and out of Honey twice, every other day. Lucky for you, today is one of the days the bus will be there in the morning, and return in the evening. 

The bus stop is empty when you arrive, the misty morning air clings to your skin as you stare out into the surrounding forest. 

Something is out there. 

And you’re gonna find out what it is.

You can’t keep being afraid, this is your home now, and you won’t be driven away by some imaginary monster. 

It starts to drizzle when you look out the window of the bus, watching Honey disappear behind you. 

You have a plan. 

Well sort of. 

You’re going to find some literature on the subject. You’re sick of feeling crazy so you’re going to prove yourself right. Something is very wrong in Honey, and monster or not, you’re going to figure it out. 

You don’t catch the name of the town you end up in, you just get off at the stop that looks the most tourist friendly, assuming that there has to be a book store somewhere in town. 

You only have to walk main street for a few minutes before you find it. 

It’s a quaint little shop tucked in between an attorney's office and a gift shop. 

Betty’s Books

Dimly lit and jam packed wall to wall with books, a small elderly woman sits behind the counter, reading a Stephen King novel. 

“Excuse me?” You clear your throat as she looks up at you over her wiry glasses. 

“How can I help you?” Her smile is warm, it fills the entire shop with an aura of comfort. 

You’re going to sound ridiculous. And the moment you do this you’ll be speaking it into existence. 

You don’t have any other options. 

“Do you have anything on local urban legends?” You try not to sound too ashamed but her smile never falters as she points. 

“Back left corner, dear.” 

“Thank you.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.” She’s already buried her nose back in her book before you turn towards the rest of the shop. 

You begin searching the shelves for anything that could possibly help you, there’s several different books on bigfoot and the loch ness monster. There are a lot of empty spaces between books and you have to assume that this is what most tourists are buying. 

People in search of ghosts and myths. 

Are you any better than them? 

Running out into the darkness, looking for a monster you very well may have made up. 

You look through a few more options before finally settling on a thick, leather bound book, you pull it from its place and stare down at the embossed cover. 

A Beginners Guide to Cryptozoology : West Virginian Monsters 

You aren’t going to find a better place to start. 

You move back towards the front, stopping in front of the children's section.

Lullabies & Poems for Bedtime 

A rabbit with a pocket watch, asleep under a tree, adorns the cover. 

Ellie might like that. 

Even if you’re madder than hell at her father. 

You grab the little white book, setting both onto the counter, paying before stepping out into the rain. You’ve got hours until the bus back to Honey returns so you quickly make your way to a diner across the street, keeping the books tucked into your jacket. 

A little bell chimes as you push the door open, sitting yourself at one of the free booths you set the books down on the table. 

The waitress brings you coffee and water as you set your jacket aside, you order a plate of fries just to give you something to do as you watch the rain on the diner windows for a bit. 

Eventually you know you can’t put it off anymore so you open up the book and sit back, taking care to read every single page, not wanting to miss a thing. 

The first thing you learn is that there are a startling number of unnamed monsters. 

It covers the basics in the first few chapters, mothman, bigfoot, chupacabra, and werewolves, but the second half of the book is entirely monsters with no names, only ink drawing accompanying the descriptions. For a while you find nothing, eventually ordering a milkshake which you sip as you skim the pages.

After two hours you’re about to give up when you stumble across a page that finally shows something familiar. 

A drawing of a body, mangled, with wounds you recognize. 

Five slashes across the chest, both arms completely torn off. 

This creature is thought to reside only in heavily wooded areas, it was speculated to be located in the southern United States for several decades before disappearing completely. 

Since then people have claimed to have seen this creature in many different locations although the majority seem to be centralized to the east coast of North America, resembling a lich, or a wendigo. 

When you turn the page the illustration of the monster stares back at you. 

It’s hard to make out what’s what and it looks mostly like inky scribbles but within those lines you see the creature you’ve been imagining. Long, sharp limbs, massive shoulders, and a face almost reminiscent of a humans, everything is just… distorted. 

While technically unnamed, there are many unique pieces of folklore attached to this specific creature. Witnesses claim to have seen this monster transform from human to creature and vice versa, as if they walk among us in their free time. 

What sets the creature apart from many other creatures of this variety is their affinity for humans. More often than not we’ve gotten reports of these creatures seeking out human mates.

We have several different claims from people saying they’ve seen the transformation happen right before their very eyes. One man claimed to have watched his sister in law turn at Thanksgiving dinner. Another says that he saw a cousin's boyfriend disappear into the woods during a wedding, transforming into a beast as he did. 

According to old legends there is thought to be a connection between these creatures and their mates, quite literally bonding them in blood. The males are believed to be linked to their human mates menstrual cycles; if they have one, the females are linked to their own. There are many different descriptions of what this means for human mates. Some believe that when this creature comes in contact with their mate that they permanently revert to their human forms. Others believe they’re hunger for flesh only grows after coming in contact with them.

But most believe that they eat their mate. Plain and simple. That their blood is more potent to them than anyone else’s, so much so that any love they may harbor for them is irrelevant, they are simply blinded by their bloodlust. 

Its victims often resemble that of an animal attack. Bodies torn apart, mangled, often believers of this legend are ‘disproven’ because of this fact, but there is always one thing that separates this creature's kills from that of an animal. Animals who eat their victims will do exactly that, eat them, this creature does no such thing, while it does massacre its victims it will rarely consume its flesh, preferring the taste of blood. 

There have been no confirmed sightings of these creatures and we have been unable to trace its origins or obtain any photographic evidence, maybe it really is just an animal. 

Monster or bear? It’s up to you.

It’s up to you. 

You slam the book shut.

It’s nonsense. 

Joel isn’t some blood drinking, period monster. But you came all this way, looking for a monster, and seemingly you’ve found it. 

You pick up the little book for Ellie, taking a sip of your coffee. 

Maybe it’ll make you feel better. 

You open it to find a familiar little song on the inside of the cover.

I know you,

I walked with you once upon a dream. 

You flip through it, mostly admiring the beautiful illustrations, they look like watercolors. There’s a frog with a crown, princesses with flowing gowns and witches grinning up at you from the pages. It isn’t until some random page in the middle that you actually stop to read the poem. The drawing accompanying this one isn’t colorful, only black ink, a drastic change from everything so far. 

Jabberwocky

By: Lewis Carroll 

It unsettles you to look at so you focus on the words instead. You know this creature, it’s from Alice in Wonderland. The poem is whimsical, you can imagine a child finding it rather entertaining should a parent read it with enthusiasm. You don’t have a parent reading it to you though, you’re alone, staring at the lines that have caught your eye. 

Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

No more books today. 

When you check your phone there are no new notifications. So Joel is either a terrible boyfriend or a potential murderer. 

How comforting. 

Fuck it. 

You click on his contact.

[ TEXT ME BACK RIGHT NOW. OR WE’RE THROUGH. ] 

Monsters aren’t real. 

Joel Miller is just the worst boyfriend (soon to be ex-boyfriend) on the planet. 

It doesn’t help that you catch a glimpse of a tampon wrapper in your bag when you throw your phone back into it. 

It’s a coincidence. 

You can’t say anything to anyone about this, how would it look if ditzy Darlene’s niece showed up and started spinning stories of her own? You can’t do it, you know exactly what people would say. They’d say it ran in the family and they’d find a reason to be cruel to her even in death. 

So you take the bus home in silence. 

For the next few days barely speak to Maria other than polite greetings, you’re certain she doesn’t notice, both of you are swamped. You’ve got a body everyday the rest of the week and she’s up to her neck in paperwork. 

And Joel never texts.

Maria’s juggling Ellie and trying to fill out papers when you get in the next morning. 

“Thank god you’re here, can you run upstairs and grab something for me, there’s a little makeup bag on the counter in the bathroom, I forgot it earlier and I’m waiting on a phone call regarding the couple we had.” 

“Of course.” You set your things down before reaching for Ellie. “Here, let me take her so you can do that.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.” Almost as if on cue the phone rings the moment she says it. You head towards the stairs, the toddler in your arms scrunches up her face as if trying to recall your identity. 

“You know me, silly, I’m friends with your daddy.” At the mention of her father she seems to relax and you open the door at the top of the stairs. 

You’ve never actually been in this part of the house before, you’ve always stayed in the business section. You don’t get a chance to look around, the bathroom is the first door on your left. A bag the size of a pencil box is on the counter, you hand it to Ellie, her little hands play with the bag as you carefully bounce her in your arms. 

“Do you know where your daddy is?” You poke her in the belly making her smile at you for the first time. “Not gonna snitch?” You tickle her side, earning a tiny giggle. You let her play with the zipper as you bring her back downstairs. “Any bodies today?” You yell as you descend the stairs. 

“Had a cremation from the home this morning, I’ve just got a lot of papers, I’m planning six funerals simultaneously right now.” 

Six massacred corpses in six days. 

“Where’s Tommy?” Ellie puts up a bit of a fight for the bag but you set it down on the desk just in time to watch Marias grip on her pen tighten. 

Yikes. Must be a sore spot right now. 

“He’s got a work thing, left me with that little monster.” She uses the pen to point at the toddler who’s already starting to get antsy in your arms. 

If you’ve got no bodies today you might as well offer to help.

“I can watch Ellie if you’d like.” 

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Of course not, want me to keep her upstairs? I’m sure you don’t want me watching her in the basement.” You laugh a little as she nods. 

“You really are a lifesaver, I don’t know how I managed without you.” 

“Oh stop, you clearly did just fine before I came along.” Your face gets a bit hot at the compliment. 

“I’ll be up in a few hours once I finish up here, you two have fun.” She doesn’t give any instruction beyond that so you just take Ellie back upstairs. You haven’t spent much time with her beyond the small interactions in passing but you know she doesn’t like doing nothing unless it’s with Joel. She’s trying to get out of your arms the second you’re at the top of the stairs. You set her down in the entryway and she’s already running into the kitchen. 

You don’t want to snoop but you actually get to take a good look around as Ellie settles in front of a pile of notebooks and a mess of crayons on the kitchen floor. It’s a pretty open floor plan, the kitchen and living room are all one big room and from the looks of it they must watch Ellie often, an outsider would assume they have a child of their own. A play pen is set up on the floor of the living room and toys are scattered everywhere. 

“Are you hungry, sweetie? Do you want something to eat?” There’s different snacks on the counter as you walk over to where she’s playing. 

“Yes please.” Her voice is clear and high pitched, you’re actually a little surprised, you didn’t even know she could talk, she’s always silent when you’re around. There’s an assortment of different things on the counter so you just find something that’s already open. Handing her a little container of apple puffs, she doesn’t look up from her drawings, just blindly reaching over and grabbing a handful as you sit at the counter to watch over her. 

She’s a very well behaved baby all things considered. 

You have to stop her from drawing on the walls a few times and at one point she stuffed a handful of food between the couch cushions but other than that she’s rather relaxed. She sits and draws mostly, only occasionally getting up and doing a few laps around the room before returning to her papers. 

At one point she makes her way to where you’re sitting, slapping your leg to get your attention until you pick her up, she points to the window above the sink and when you take her there she simply stares out at the trees. 

She’s focused on the woods as you watch her expression, her face is oddly serious. 

After a few minutes you set her down, unease filling your body. She doesn’t seem to mind though as she runs back to her drawings, you return to the counter, checking your phone for a few minutes until she appears in your peripherals once more, tapping your leg again, handing you one of her drawings. 

At several different moments this week you’ve thought that you’ve reached your breaking point. 

None of those compare to how you feel when you pick up the paper Ellie had been scribbling on. 

It’s crude and mostly indiscernible but you know exactly what you’re looking at. 

A monster. 

A broad shouldered, sharp toothed, crayon monster. 

You stare at the little girl, trying to keep your composure as you pick her up, setting her in your lap and pointing at the mess of scribbles on the page. 

You feel crazier than ever, asking a toddler for help but no one else is around and you’re running out of options. 

“Can you tell me what that is, sweetie? What did you draw?” You hand her the drawing back which she crumples a bit in her fist before setting it on the counter, you point again at the creature. “Ellie, honey, can you tell me what this is please?” You’re doing your best to keep calm as she kicks her legs a bit before staring up at you with a frown. 

“Daddy?” For someone so small she speaks so loudly and clearly, but you just shake your head. 

“I know, honey, you want your daddy, I wish I knew where he was but you’re stuck with me today.” You smooth out her hair a bit as she scrunches up her face, looking rather upset. 

“Tío.” She points down at the drawing before looking back at you for approval, you just smile. You feel like an idiot. Asking a child for help. A child who can barely speak. 

“It’s okay, you’re too little to understand.” You hold her under one arm as you walk around the counter to the fridge. “How about I get you some juice.” 

You find a clean sippy cup, pouring her some apple juice before setting her back down, handing her the cup and searching through your bag. 

“I almost forgot, I got you a present.” She perks up immediately, setting her cup down as you hold the little white book out towards her.

“Thanks!” Her eyes light up as she takes it from you, it’s one of the few times you’ve seen her smile without her father being in the room, sitting on the floor before looking back up at you, tapping the spot next to her until you sit as well. 

“Do you want me to read it to you?” You watch as she sets it down in front of her, she’s surprisingly gentle as she flips open the cover. 

“No thank you.” She’s enraptured by the illustrations, not caring for the text, laying down on her stomach, and sitting up on her elbows as she slowly flips through the pages, her eyes wide as she points out everything she sees to you. You rub her back, nodding along, you’re mostly just happy that she’s excited. 

She kicks her feet as she explains the big red bird on the page to you. After a few more minutes of her babbling she turns the page again.

Jabberwocky 

She giggles wildly as she points at the page and suddenly you’re filled with dread all over again. She’s positively captivated by the drawing, refusing to turn to a different page when you urge her to move on.

You don’t speak again until Maria comes upstairs to check on her, when you do it’s to tell her you aren’t feeling well, and you’re going home.

You’re going on a monster hunt. 

There’s nothing left to do. You need to soothe your fears before you lose it completely and you aren’t going to stare at the trees and wonder for the rest of your life. 

You stop at one of the tourist traps in town, you need supplies for tonight. 

A camera. 

It’s an easy in and out stop. You buy a polaroid camera, and several packs of film. 

No one will believe you otherwise, you’ll be ridiculed the same way they did Darlene. You think of her as you walk back home, what if she was right about everything? She spent her life in fear of a monster no one believed in and they mocked her for it, and at the end of the day she might have been right. 

Maybe the monster is real and it isn’t Joel. 

Either way you’re going into the woods tonight. Your backpack is packed with the essentials, your water bottle, camera, an extra film pack, one of the knives from the kitchen (wrapped in a towel,) and a flashlight. 

Once you’re packed you put your boots and jacket on and head out. 

It’s like everything quiets down the moment you step outside. The forest hums, beckoning you in, and how could you refuse such an offer? 

You manage to keep your hands steady as you flip the switch on your flashlight, stepping into the trees. It feels so much colder now than it did when you were walking home. 

With dusk settling the sun is no longer there to keep you warm or to guide your way. You haven’t actually seen much of the forest, so you decide to walk in a straight line to avoid getting lost as you carefully step over a tangle of roots. As a child you loved nothing more than playing in the woods behind your house. But after just half an hour in these woods you suddenly resent the trees, they no longer bring you any comfort as you carry on into the cold dark night. You’re just about to give up and turn back around when suddenly something changes.  

Without warning and with seemingly no cause you feel a chill rush through your body, your hair standing on end. Your blood runs cold and you hear a sound you’re all too familiar with at this point. 

The tearing sound rips through the air. 

Your instincts tell you that you’ve become prey rather suddenly in this situation but you can’t turn back now, not when you can prove to yourself that you aren’t losing it. 

As quietly as possible you reach back into your pack, grabbing the camera already loaded with film and holding it in your free hand. The beam coming from your flashlight trembles slightly as you carry on towards the noise. 

It’s louder than it ever was in the dreams. In the dreams it was subdued, almost as if you subconsciously knew that it couldn’t hurt you. As you carry onward you can’t help but wonder if you’re just imagining it at this point. It doesn’t seem to get louder as you walk. It simply fills the air completely, you’re being directed purely by your instincts. You know it’s this way as you move forward a few more steps. 

You scan the trees with your light, seeing nothing out of the ordinary until you finally see it. Your finger instinctively flips off your flashlight. 

You almost didn’t catch it. 

But your legs keep moving and you get closer and closer to the hunched figure. 

It’s hard to describe, like your eyes don’t want to accept what you’re seeing. A voice in the back of your mind tells you that you’re getting too close but you can’t seem to stop yourself as you carry on until you can get a good look at it. 

You can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as you realize it isn’t Joel. But that relief only lasts a moment as you see what you’re actually dealing with. 

You aren’t sure how big it is. It’s big. That much is clear but it’s crouched down, it’s almost human, it may have once been human. You’re having trouble making out most of it in only the moonlight. It’s less broad than the illustrations you’ve seen, almost slim, with how close you are now you can see that it’s eating. 

A buck, one of the biggest ones you’ve ever seen is splayed out across some rocks. It’s stomach has been ripped open. You watch, with morbid fascination as it digs its maw deeper into the gore. 

How curious, it’s wearing clothes. Or at least the remains of some clothing, a bit of fabric clings to its crooked spine, it wears the tattered collar of a shirt like a necklace. Navy blue sweatpants stretch around the creature's waist, the fabric pulled taut, it looks like they make it just past its knees. The elastic around the ankles has snapped. 

The funniest part of all of this is that you feel nothing but fear for the creature. You aren’t disgusted and you certainly don’t hate it. You’re just afraid, so afraid that before you can slap your hand over your mouth you burst into a peal of laughter. 

Fuck. 

It all happens so fast, you aren’t ready in the slightest to be face to face with it and suddenly you are, purely on instinct your hand twitches and with the flash of the camera you get a single moment to stare at it. 

It’s so close to being human.

It’s mouth is too big, a blood soaked tongue falling past a row of jagged, pointed teeth. It’s almost like someone stretched out a person's face like it was made of clay. And it’s male. Intricate branching horns stretch out from under the hair crowning its head. 

“The doe’s don’t have antlers.”

Your dad was a hunter, you know your antlers,  you aren’t exactly sure but if it was a deer it would be a thirteen pointer. You should run, you’re about to but then you finally look it in the eye, just as the final remnants of the camera flash flicker out. 

There is something worse than hunger, or thirst, or rage in its eyes, if that was all there was you could scream or cry. But this leaves you frozen in place. 

Recognition. 

Like it knows you. 

And the moment it recognizes you it snarls, an ear-piercing sound that rips through the quiet of the forest, blood spewing from its maw at you, flecks of crimson tint your clothes and hands as your eyes go wide.

It’s a good thing your legs move faster than your brain, you’re already sprinting away from the creature. 

You lose your flashlight almost immediately but you know where you’re going, you couldn’t be more thankful for your decision to go in a straight line. You don’t stop moving, running blindly back the way you came, never once daring to look behind you. 

You know it’s there, you can hear it, and you can feel it. 

Its breath is hot on your heels, you can hear the branches splintering directly behind you. Everything is a blur, stray branches sting your exposed skin but you don’t stop, you can’t, your muscles ache as you push onward, keeping your hands out in front of you to guide you through the darkness until you finally see the road up ahead. 

You’re nearly there, almost feeling relief, almost. 

An icy hand wraps around your ankle, you’re yanked backwards before you can process what’s going on, your back dragging across the forest floor and in an instant you’re beneath it. 

This is it. 

You wanted a monster, you got one. And now you’re going to die for it. It snarls as its maw falls open, you’re face to face with a row of shimmering, gore smeared teeth. This is it. 

He smells like cinnamon. 

It tilts its head ninety degrees, its jaw closing in on your throat as you close your eyes, tears now flow freely down your face and finally you can’t contain your terror anymore. 

You scream. 

A trembling shriek falling from your lips and much to your confusion a killing blow never comes. After one more shuddering breath you open your eyes only to find you’re just staring up at the trees. You sit up, still out of breath. 

He’s a few feet away now. 

Thrashing around frantically as he stumbles backwards. As if your scream had upset him. He bellows, his twisted hands clutching his skull like he’s angry with himself. You cover your ears instinctively when it snarls in pain.

He can’t help it. 

You’re scrambling to your feet once more, giving him one final glance, you look into each other's eyes.

“Run.” 

It speaks. 

You break into a sprint once more, not daring to stop until your feet touch pavement. You don’t get the sense that you’re being followed anymore but you’re still in shambles. The adrenaline is slowly starting to fizzle out and you’re painfully aware of the wound you sustained during that encounter. Your ankle is torn up, two deep gashes from where it grabbed you are bleeding an alarming amount. You stumble, the sight of it making you nauseous. 

You get a moment's respite and you manage to compose yourself enough to retrieve your phone from your pocket. Walking backwards, keeping your eyes on the forest as you slowly continue to back away. In your desperation your blood stained fingertips frantically swipe across your phone screen, you don’t realize until it’s too late that you’re calling the only person who isn’t going to answer. 

Yet when you bring the phone to your ear you hear a click. 

“Joel?” You can’t fucking believe it. He actually picked up. 

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?” He can definitely hear the panic in your voice. 

You just break down.

“I’m by the road, on the way from Maria’s to my camper, I- I need you to come get me, please, it’s- it’s following me, but I think I lost it please, Joel.” You’re in hysterics as you catch a glimpse of one of the few streetlights down the road. You hear the sound of keys and you swear you hear Maria saying something in the background but you’re too frenzied to focus on that. 

“Who’s following you? Stay right there m’on my way.” You can hear the truck starting in the background as you keep running, not daring to stop even though it doesn’t feel like you’re being pursued anymore. 

“The monster… in the woods… it’s not a bear Joel.” You’re out of breath when you finally stop, standing in the middle of the road underneath the street lamp, spinning around to try and somehow keep an eye on all of the darkness around you. 

“Stay where you are, I’ll be there in two minutes, okay? Stay right where you are.” You’re about to beg him to hurry when the line goes dead. 

You must look like a mad woman. Standing in the middle of the street, covered in blood, and spinning in circles to try and keep an eye on every single direction as you listen for any signs of movement. 

Your heartbeat never slows, you can hear it pounding in the crushing silence that surrounds you. 

It only takes a few minutes before you see headlights approaching in the distance. You don’t even let the truck come to a full stop as you open the door and jump in, closing it behind you as you scramble towards Joel as if he could protect you from the goliath you saw in the darkness. 

“Drive! Now Joel, go!” You yell as he accelerates just to the point of following the speed limit as he heads towards your camper. 

“Bunny, please, calm down.” He wraps the hand that isn’t on the steering wheel around you but you shove him off, sliding back to the other side of the truck. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Joel, not after what I just went through, I saw it, a real monster grabbed me.” You’re stumbling over your words, trying to get them out as quickly as possible.

“Slow down, just tell me what happened.”

“I told you on the phone, I just found a fucking monster, Joel, that’s what happened.”

He’s gone silent now.

He probably thinks you’re crazy. 

That’s fine. You know you aren’t, you saw it, watched it feed. There’s deer blood on your boots. 

“You didn’t see a monster.” When you look he’s shaking worse than you are. You don’t dare turn your head further but you watch in your peripheral as he grips the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. 

He’s lying. 

Why would he lie? 

“I did, I took a-.” You reach into your bag and your stomach fills with dread as you realize you dropped the camera. 

“You didn’t. You’ve been spending too much time alone, and you shouldn’t be going out in the woods by yourself to begin with.” 

“And who’s fault is it that I’ve been alone?” You snap.

He doesn’t have a response to that. And you don’t have anything else to say, not like he’d believe you if you did. You should probably break up with him, for several reasons. 

Except you can’t. 

If you do, how will you stop people from being needlessly murdered? He may not be the monster, but he knows something, and you need to find out what it is. 

So you’ll ‘forgive’ him. Again. Because you need to get to the bottom of this.

And maybe, despite it all, you’re still terribly attached to him. He keeps disappearing, without warning and with halfhearted excuses as to why and all you can think about right now is how badly you missed him, and how badly you need him.  

“Does Tommy have Ellie tonight?” You mumble, trying not to sound too irritated. 

“I was stopping in to see her before leaving her with Maria for the night when you called.”

“Why?”

“I was gonna come over here and apologize.” He sounds just as sincere as he did last time but you still scoff.

“What’s the excuse this time?” When you turn to scowl at him he looks guilty.

“I was out of town on a work trip.”

“And you couldn’t answer your phone.”

“I forgot my charger at home.”

It’s a preconceived lie. You’re certain of it based on how quick he replies, and it’s not even a good one. He could have borrowed a coworker's phone or bought a new charger; it wouldn't have been difficult. But he doesn’t want you to know where he really was. 

Every bit of this confuses you. 

You saw something in the woods, but it wasn’t Joel? Joel was with Ellie and then he was with you, he couldn’t have been slaughtering lost hikers. It doesn’t make sense. One thing is for certain though, and it’s that you can’t break up with Joel until you know what's going on or more people are going to be killed by that thing you saw in the woods. You aren’t really sure what to call it, but you know that you found the thing that’s been killing. 

And he knows something about it. 

He had no reason to get as rattled as he did if he didn't know something about what you saw. So you can’t break up with him, not until you figure this all out. Until then you just have to play the part of a clueless, loving girlfriend. Which shouldn’t be too hard considering the fact that for some reason there is still a sick and twisted attraction to him despite everything you know, settling in your stomach. You bite your tongue, going the rest of the short drive in silence. When he finally pulls up to the camper the engine goes quiet as he turns the key. You had no intention of inviting him in but you won’t stop him if he follows. 

You slam the truck door shut, stomping up to the door, his footsteps following close behind. 

“Let’s talk about this.” He reaches for your arm as you’re unlocking the door but you just shove him off. You leave it open, kicking your shoes off as you slip out of your jacket as you flip on the lights. 

“I don’t want to talk.” He shuts the door behind him, you note that he locks it behind him. 

How presumptuous. 

Correct, but presumptuous. 

“You’re clearly upset, bunny.” He kneels down, untying his own boots before kicking them off. You glare down at him until he stands, trying to pull you into his arms but you just shove him away again. His eyes go wide as he takes you in.

Based on his reaction you really must be quite a sight. 

“Jesus, you’re a mess.” He looks genuinely concerned but you brush it off. 

“Thanks.” You scoff but when you look down you realize you’ve been leaving a trail of blood in your wake. 

“Do you have a first aid kit?” You should send him away. Tend to yourself and go to bed, but instead you just point to the cabinet containing the kit, sitting on the table as he retrieves it, tossing it down beside you. He doesn’t ask what happened, grimacing as he lifts your leg to examine your ankle.

He doesn’t need to ask, he knows what happened. 

He tends to your wounds in silence. You wince as he wipes the lacerations on your ankle, they look bad enough that you consider just going to the hospital but he doesn’t seem too worried. They’re just shallow enough that you don’t think you’ll need stitches. 

You don’t watch as he sprays it with antiseptic, quickly wrapping it in a layer of gauze and then bandages. 

When he’s finished you’re ready to get angry with him all over again but the moment you open your mouth to yell at him he grabs you by the chin, taking a clean piece of gauze and gently dabbing the thin cuts that litter your face. 

You stare up at the ceiling light, refusing to meet his gaze. 

He tends to every one of them, taking extra care as he smears ointment on each one. When he’s finished he takes anything bloodied and gathers it in his hand, standing to toss them into the bin under the sink. You don’t turn, but out of the corner of your eye you see him bring his hand to his mouth. 

Your blood.

He tasted your blood. 

You can feel the bile rising in your throat but you just swallow it back down. 

“Now we can talk.” He makes his way back over to you but you just shake your head. 

“I already told you, I don’t wanna talk.” 

“Bunny-” He takes another step towards you. 

“Shut up.” 

“Don’t be like that.” There’s real remorse in his eyes, you might even feel bad if you didn’t know that he was lying to you. 

“Shut. Up.” You push him so he stumbles back onto the bed. “I’m not crazy.” He props himself up on his elbows to look at you as you say it.

“I know.” He sounds almost apologetic. 

“Take your clothes off.” You mumble, already tossing your shirt to the side. 

“Are you sure?” 

You’re sure that he knows what’s out there in the woods and he isn’t telling you. 

“I am.” You kick your jeans off to emphasize your point. You know he won’t deny you this. Whatever sick, unexplainable force pulls you into his arms affects him as it does you. You don’t just want him, you need him. 

You hadn’t realized it until he’d disappeared again, but now you couldn’t be more aware. It’s as if your entire life you’ve felt wrong. You’ve been in a state of discomfort for as long as you can remember, like a vital part of you was missing. But you got used to it, and you learned to live with the odd sensation of never feeling like you're in the right place, nowhere ever felt like home. 

Joel feels like home, in a sort of twisted way. 

From the moment you first saw him everything cleared up. It was like you had finally found your center of balance, and when he disappeared he took all of that with him. 

This is more than just attraction. 

With that he tugs his flannel off, you grab the bottom of his shirt, impatiently pulling it up over his head, not wanting to look him in the eyes, you stare at his shoulders as you climb up onto the bed, straddling his lap. 

“I really think we should talk-” He starts again so you reach behind yourself, unclasping your bra, glaring at him as you let it drop.

“Then talk.” 

He looks at you like you’re something to eat. 

“That’s not fair.” He finally manages to pull his gaze off of your chest, looking you in the eyes, his pupils swallowing his irises leaving you to stare into the darkness of his eyes.  

“There’s nothing to talk about, you went away for work and you forgot your phone charger.” You reach between the two of you to remove his belt, tossing it behind him on the bed before trying to unzip his jeans. “It was just an unfortunate series of circumstances.” You grumble before lifting yourself off his lap so he can shove his jeans off.

He’s glaring at you now. Good. He should know that you’re challenging him. Everything from this point on is a game, you just have to catch him in a lie. You grind down against the straining fabric of his boxers, hands on his shoulders to balance yourself as you rub yourself against his clothed erection, drawing a hiss from between his teeth. Before you know it his hands are gripping the hem of your panties. 

“Go on Joel, rip them off. I know you’re plenty capable.” You say it like the accusation it is. He’s strong enough to do a lot of things, you aren’t sure if tearing a person in half is one of those things but you’re determined to find out. He knows what you’re implying but he does it anyway, grabbing the fabric on either side of your hips and easily tearing them to shreds. 

“You don’t know what you do to me.” He murmurs, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours. 

You do. 

He does the same to you. A carnal desire, your most basic human instincts are reduced to nothing the moment your skin is against his. 

You don’t waste any time, slipping your hand under the waistband of his underwear, watching his cock spring free, slapping against his stomach. You unceremoniously spit in your hand before taking him in your fist, watching his jaw go slack as you rake your nails against the underside of his cock, feeling him twitch in your hand. You keep your eyes trained on his face as you notch him at your entrance, tilting your head to the side as you hesitate. 

The veins in his neck jut out as you slide the head of his cock over your clit, hissing softly as you do. 

He’s purposefully showing restraint. 

He clutches the sheets, his knuckles go pale and you can’t help but wonder if he isn’t touching you because he’s worried he’ll hurt you. 

“Fuck me, Joel.” You lean forward, biting his stupidly plush bottom lip. He doesn’t move his hands from where they are and you can’t help but scowl against his mouth.   

He’s holding back. 

He knows exactly what you’re doing and he’s trying to prove you wrong. How long has he been holding back?

In one sharp motion you slide down on his cock, forcing an obscene moan out of yourself, but it isn’t loud enough to cover the ripping sound. Your eyes wander downward, his are rolled back but all you can focus on now is your torn bed sheets in his clenched fist. 

Holy hell.

“Fuck. Me.” You rasp out, lifting your hips again before dropping them back down. His head falls forward this time, his mouth latching onto your shoulder, muffling his growl.

You know that growl. 

“Fuck me or leave, Joel.” You take his face in your hand, roughly pulling him back so he’s eye to eye with you.

You heard that growl in the woods less than an hour ago. 

“You’re playing with fire, bunny.” He glares at you but you just stare right back. 

“I won’t say it again.” You give him one last warning and he finally brings his hands to your hips, with a grunt he lifts you up, slamming you back down on his cock, you can feel him brushing against your cervix as you cry out. 

At his age he shouldn’t be able to do that. 

He does it again, moving you like a ragdoll up and down on his length, a lewd squelching fills the air, egging him on. He tilts his head down, his teeth scrape against your breast, and you can hear a roar building in his throat. He fucks you like a fleshlight, moving you effortlessly up and down on his cock, your chest bouncing with each thrust.

He shouldn’t be able to do any of this.

Neither one of you speaks, you can feel the camper swaying ever so slightly as he slams into you, thrusting his hips up to meet yours as he pulls you down onto him. 

He makes it look effortless. 

Another growl rips through the air and you know neither one of you is gonna last long if he keeps going at this pace. He hammers into your sensitive spots with every thrust, your clit rubbing against the dark curls along his pelvis.

He’s merciless with the force at which he moves you, he’s started nipping at your shoulder and you know he’s close as they get harder and harder. You finally feel him break the skin and just like that he’s lifting you off of him, his mouth clamped down on your flesh, you feel his cum between your legs as he finishes on your folds. The sensation of him slipping out of you sends you over the edge right along with him, your stomach tightening as you groan, letting your head fall forward onto him.

You feel better already. 

Not good, just better. 

He manages to keep you both upright for a few more moments before collapsing down on the mattress with you in his arms. 

And then it’s just quiet.

Until the mattress squeaks as you get up. Wiping yourself off with a towel and turning the lights off before returning to bed without a word. He’s the one who finally breaks the silence.  

“If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

 “You can stay.” You mumble, rolling over to face away from him. 

It’s better if you know where he is. 

That’s what you tell yourself. 

It’s easier to swallow that excuse than the truth, that you can’t shake the terror from your encounter with the creature and now amount of fucking is going to change that. You don’t want to be alone, no matter how angry you are. He doesn’t seem to take the hint though, snaking his arm under yours and pulling you to his chest. 

You start to push him away but you feel a wave of calm wash over you when he does so you just settle back against him. You close your eyes, praying sleep might come but all you see in the darkness is that open maw closing in on you. 

You know that growl. 

It isn’t Joel. It can’t be Joel, he was with Ellie and then he was with you. 

It wasn’t Joel.

You’re more than used to waking up in the woods at this point. Monsters and men torment you in your dreams whenever they get the chance to. 

But tonight is different. 

You don’t feel the cold, wetness of the forest floor on your back before you open your eyes. Instead you only feel steel, you make an attempt to sit up on instinct but you can’t. In a panic you open your eyes to find yourself cuffed to the cadaver carrier from Marias basement. 

This can’t be happening. 

This is the kind of dream you get after your first body. 

You’ve had this dream, years ago when you’d just started studying mortuary sciences. Although now it feels worse, more ominous than it had previously. 

That probably has to do with the fact that you can’t move. 

In response to that petrifying thought you begin to uselessly tug on the cuffs, your ankles and wrists attached to the cold unforgiving steel of the table you’ve sewn countless bodies back together on. 

You don’t strap cadavers down, there’s no need to. 

The door swings open and you’re thankfully able to sit up enough to watch Maria and Joel walk in, solemn looks on both of their faces. 

You open your mouth to call for help but something stops you.

No.

No, no, no.

Your jaw is wired shut. 

The sudden realization makes you gag as you shake the table with the force of your panic. 

Maria is always thorough, your mouth is full of cotton.

They act as if you’re as lifeless as any other corpse as they stand beside you, despite your muffled screaming, tears immediately flowing from your eyes as you feel your throat constrict around the cotton.  

“What happened to her?” He sounds so far gone even though he only stands a few feet away. 

“You know what happened to her.” Marias sorrow turns to a look of resentment as she turns to Joel. 

“Bear attack.” He says it more to himself than to her. 

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You never do.” Her voice is full of a hatred you haven’t ever heard in reality. 

She looks at you with a pity you’ve had on your own face before. It’s the same look you give every corpse on a table.  

You follow Maria’s gaze down at your body and find your chest sliced open, the inside dry. 

And then you wake up. 

Of course Joel is there when you sit up in bed with a strangled cry, a fresh flood of tears falling down your face. 

“Bunny?” His groggy, sleep ridden voice resembles a growl, sending you backwards away from him, your back hitting where the mattress meets the camper wall. He’s already up, he moves towards you but the moment you flinch away from he stops. “Are you okay? What hap-“

“Don’t come any closer.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Thankfully he doesn’t move towards you, he holds his hands up ever so slowly. He’s acting like you’re a cornered animal. 

You can’t seem to find your voice. Every single logical and rational part of your body and mind tell you to get as far away from him as possible. To fight tooth and nail to get past him, to run away and never look back. You’d never get away with that though, he’s too deeply rooted in you already. He’s made for you. Sculpted by the gods to be everything you’ve ever wanted all in one neat little salt and pepper package, served up to you on a silver platter.  

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He inches forward a bit but the way you pull your legs up against your chest, trying to make yourself smaller makes him move back. “It’s okay, it’s just me.” 

Yeah Joel, that's the problem.  

a/n : i have such mixed feeling abt this chap but whatever i really like it so ?? idk

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[v1le-punk]

This gave me a physical euphoria-

An intrulogical fic where Logan overhears Roman and Deceit trying to figure out how to get Thomas to see how great Remus can be, and he sneaks into Remus' room to grab one of his stories. He fixes the mistakes and just subtly places it in Thomas' room. It may take awhile but he reads it; it's rather morbid and strange so he thinks it's Joan's, but he likes it despite Patton's dislike on it.... Then Logan spills the beans. Metaphorically. 💚💙 Idk I feel like I could describe this better...

I really, really hope you enjoy reading this just as much fun as I had writing it-

Warnings: Morally-gray/somewhat unsympathetic Patton (your interpretation really, implied he just doesn’t like anything Remus does); Descriptions of violence, torture; mentions of blood, death, and human experiments (but none of these are concerning any of the sides or Thomas); please lmk if I need to add anything else!

Masterpost 

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

Logan paced his room, mind racing as he processed everything he had overheard. He hadn't even meant to overhear, he just did because Roman is loud as hell when he gets passionate about a subject.

To finally get Thomas to see Remus's true worth... It'd take a lot more than just getting Remus to disguise himself, or take one of his ideas and pass it off as Roman's. Patton would surely find some way to discourage both of those, and it'd be difficult to convince Thomas at all to listen to Remus after it. Maybe Deceit could momentarily silence Patton, so he wouldn't be able to interject?

Logan shook his head. That wouldn't work either. Thomas still wouldn't be convinced, he'd just be reminded of Remus's introduction and no matter how great Remus's idea, he still would probably reject it. And that alone wouldn't get Thomas to appreciate Remus at all, even if it did work.

"Hey Moonstone!" Logan jumped as Remus opened his door, grinning wide at his boyfriend. Logan returned the smile with a soft one of his own, opening his arms. Remus immediately clung to Logan, holding onto him tightly.

Logan ran his fingers through Remus's hair. "Something I can help you with?" He asked. Normally Remus only barged into Logan's room if he was feeling down. Remus shook his head, pressing a kiss to Logan's jaw.

"Just kind of want to cuddle, if you're free?" Remus hummed, pulling away slightly to look at Logan. Logan smiled just a bit more, leaning forward and closing the small gap between them. Remus melted into Logan, his own arms moving up and around Logan's neck.

They didn't pull apart as Logan guided them to the bed, and they only broke apart when they had to get comfortable. Remus laughed lightly, snuggling close to Logan and resting his head on Logan's chest. Remus loved hearing and feeling Logan's heart beat, it reminded him that this was real.

"Hey Cephy?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

Remus laughed again, pressing closer to Logan. "I love you too," he said as his eyes closed. Remus was asleep soon after that.

Logan waited until Remus had fallen into a deep sleep to move. It took about an hour, which he didn't mind. He loved just holding Remus, running his fingers through his hair or tracing circles on Remus's back. Remus always looked so peaceful when sleeping, and Logan was happy Remus trusted him enough to be so vulnerable.

Pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Remus's head, Logan wormed his way out of Remus's arms. Remus curled into the pillows instead, still looking content and Logan relaxed, knowing he hadn't disturbed the side. After pulling a blanket over Remus, Logan finally left his room.

He wandered down the hall to Remus's, and he opened the door. He could hear Patton downstairs singing as he made dinner, and guessed the others were either asleep in their own rooms or just doing their own activities. Once Remus's door closed, all the sound seemed to vanish.

Remus's room was a wreck, but an organized wreck. Remus had a system, despite Roman complaining that it was just an excuse to leave his room messy. Logan believed Remus, though, because if you knew where to look for things then you could easily find it.

He made his way to Remus's desk, careful to avoid stepping on any papers or crafts Remus had made. If it was on the floor, it was an idea Remus would return to soon.

Once at the desk, Logan began to look for a certain story Remus had read to him a few months ago. As Remus had slept, an idea had popped into Logan's mind, although it was one of those long-term ideas. It could work, despite how much gore was in the story and the emotional trauma the characters are put through... Logan thought Thomas might actually enjoy reading it.

Getting the story and making it look like a published book were the easy parts, though. The hardest part would be making it appear in the real world, and make sure Thomas could actually see all the pages. It takes a lot of energy to do something such as keep a book materialized for who knows how long. But Logan was willing to do it. Of course, he'd be sure to approach Deceit and Roman later to be sure they didn't do anything stupid as Logan prepared.

Logan smiled triumphantly once he found the story, and he went back to his room. Logan didn't need to edit the story too much, just the occasional spelling error that slipped past the first few edits. He reread it as Remus slept under his covers. It was one of Remus's favorite stories, one he was really proud of, and to Logan's luck had made a few copies. This meant Remus possibly wouldn't notice the missing manuscript, and even if he did, Logan could explain. He just didn't want to get Remus's hopes up so early on, and also didn't want him accidentally telling Thomas before he actually read the story.

He spent most of Remus's nap creating the actual book to put on Thomas's shelf, texting Roman for help with the cover after briefly explaining his idea (he also didn't want Roman to accidentally reveal everything too early- the only secrets Roman was really good at keeping were his secret insecurities). Roman was ecstatic to help and apparently set to work right after Logan briefly explained the plot of the story.

Logan placed the almost-finished book in one of his own desk drawers, and climbed into bed again with Remus. Remus shifted, making a sound that Logan assumed was out of content, and clung to Logan once again. Logan wrapped his arms around Remus, pulling him closer before letting his own eyes drift shut. Soon, Logan had also slipped into a deep slumber, only being woken up three hours later for dinner.

-

The book cover Roman had shown him was gorgeous, in Logan's mind. And he was surprised Roman had done it so willingly in the first place, since it was so far from Roman's comfort zone. A hospital with blood dripping from the windows, the main character looking as innocent as Remus portrayed him to be. And as a much smaller detail, corpses lining the base of the hospital in awkward positions, as though they had jumped from the stories above.

Logan combined the cover and the book about a few days later, and rose up in Thomas's apartment. Thomas was in his room, getting ready for the day, which meant Logan could go unnoticed since Thomas was still finding the energy to leave the warmth of his bed.

He appeared in the living room and walked over to the small bookshelf Thomas had. With any luck, Logan could persuade Thomas sometime soon to pick up reading in his spare time.

Logan slipped the book onto the shelf, making sure it didn't look too out of place. He could feel the energy it took out of him to keep it there, keep it just really existing in this world. He just hoped it would stay that way, so when Thomas read it, he could actually see the damn story.

He sunk out without being caught, rising up in his room but quickly going to the commons when he heard Patton call for breakfast.

-

It took Thomas almost an entire month to finally notice the book, pulling it off his shelf as he was cleaning. He didn't recognize the title, not the author. Ignoring the heavy amount of blood on the cover, Thomas turned the book in his hands, reading over the synopsis. He tilted his head. It seemed... Interesting.

Maybe Joan had accidentally put it there, and had just forgotten they'd left his book. That happened on numerous occasions before. Normally Thomas would just leave the book alone and give it back to Joan once they visited again, but something about this one caught his interest.

He settled down on the couch, knowing Patton would probably be very uncomfortable with this book. But that didn't phase Thomas as much as he thought it would. And so, he opened the book to the first chapter, getting more comfortable.

It didn't take long for Thomas to get invested in the story. It was being told from the point of view of a child, Thomas assumed the boy on the cover, and where the child grew up. The hospital, located in an abandoned town. His parents did experiments on the town's residents, all of whom had been checked into the hospital years ago. No one was allowed to leave, and anyone who died in the experiments were just dropped out the windows.

The child wasn't as innocent as he looked, though. Not how he sounded, and Thomas soon realized that when he 'played' with the 'patients' to supposedly cheer them up, the child was only torturing them more. Dress up was wrapping chains around necks and crushing windpipes, playing pirates meant he stabbed someone's eye out and gave them an eye patch made from a large screw or chopping off their hand to give them a hook, and cooking meant slicing various parts of the victim off and adding the parts to a 'soup'.

The thing was they couldn't go outside, though. And the boy ends up outside halfway through the story.

Thomas couldn't believe how much he actually enjoyed reading the book, just waiting to see what the boy did next after finally getting out of the hospital, how his parents would react. The town turned out to not be completely abandoned, and the remaining residents upon seeing the boy... It was just a bunch of interesting interactions.

He spent the entire night reading, even reading a bit into the morning until he closed the book with wide eyes. His stomach growled, and Thomas realized he hadn't eaten dinner the day before. Half-awake, he went to make himself some toast as he pondered the events of the book.

Thomas went to sleep on the couch soon after breakfast, exhaustion finally overpowering the rush that came with reading a new book. And he woke up early in the evening when Patton was trying to get hip up, wanting to have a talk about Thomas's recent choice.

He rubbed his eyes, noticing the other sides as well. Thomas quickly sprung to his feet, stretching his arms as he walked to take his place at the center of the room.

"Pat, you wanted to talk?" Thomas asked, turning to face his moral side. Patton looked very unhappy, which was to be expected. Remus seemed to be bouncing in his peripheral, a nervous grin on his face.

"Before that, can we talk about the book?" Remus asked, promoting Thomas to fully look at him. Thomas tilted his head.

"What about it?"

"Did you like it?" Remus seemed almost hopeful, clasping his hands together and pulling at his fingers anxiously. He would recognize the story Thomas had been reading from anywhere, since when Thomas was reading the words from the pages played throughout the mindscape like an intercom and Remus knew the story by heart.

Thomas smiled, because of course Remus would be excited about that kind of gruesome story. "I did, actually. It had compelling characters, an interesting plot and setting, and also the descriptions... They were horrifying, but in a pleasant way? Like, the kind of feeling you'd get when reading whump fanfiction or something."

Remus's shoulders relaxed and he bounced a bit faster, laughing to himself at Thomas's response. "Brilliant!" Was all he said as he tried and failed to calm himself down. Thomas turned back to Patton and crossed his arms, seeing the look of utter disapproval on Patton's face, missing Logan's smile of relief.

"I'm going to assume you hated it, though?"

"Of course I did! It was awful!" Patton threw his arms in the air. "It was about murder! And torture! How could you like a story like that, Thomas?!"

Thomas shrugged. "It's fictional, Patton. I don't condone anything that happened in it. You would know if I did."

"Just because it's fictional doesn't make it right!"

"That was the point of the story though, right? That everything the main character was doing and thinking was wrong, despite the environment he grew up in and how he wouldn't know right from wrong?" Roman asked, leaning against the wall as he watched Remus finally calm down his excitement. Remus grinned at him.

"But he liked reading it. What does that say about Thomas?!"

"Many people read things they don't like, Patton. Thomas's friends like playing games involving horror and murderers, but they're not murderers themselves, are they?"

"But Thomas had never liked reading these things in the first place!"

"You mean you've never, right?" Deceit interjected, leaning against the banister. "Thomas has liked some morbid books in the past though, because of some of our own influences. Like the original material the Disney movies were all based off."

Patton looked at a loss for words, and turned to look at Virgil. "Surely you didn't like it, Virge. It was really gruesome, right, and isn't it worrying that Thomas likes it?"

Virgil shrugged. "I didn't mind it. I gotta agree, it was definitely gruesome, but it was still a good story." Virgil flashed a smile at Remus. "I could also see someone making a wicked movie out of it."

Remus's eyes widened at the idea, his smile only growing.

"So, overall Thomas, you wouldn't be opposed to reading stories similar to that one?" Logan asked, folding one arm across his chest as he pushed up his glasses with his other hand.

"I wouldn't be opposed to it, no."

"And what about possibly creating skits with darker themes like it, maybe for a side channel of sorts?"

Thomas's eyes lit up. "Oooh, that'd definitely be an interesting channel! And I could reach a wider audience, right?" He deflated a little. "But I doubt I could make anything like that story and actually pull it off."

"I don't see why not. After all, your own mind created the story."

Thomas frowned. "What?"

"The story, it was Remus's. You can create things as good as that story, if you merely gave Remus a chance to show you what he can do."

Thomas's eyes widened at that, and he turned back to Remus. "That's why you were so excited?!"

Remus nodded, still feeling giddy as he rocked on his heels. It took a moment for him to find his words. "I'm really really happy you liked that one- it was one of the first in a series and it's my favorite and I just-" Remus cut himself off, flapping his hands and trying to laugh off the nerves creeping back up now that Thomas knew. "You don't have to listen to Logan, Thomas, but the fact that you even considered the idea is good enough for me!"

"You wrote that." Thomas stared at his duke with wide eyes. "Really?"

Remus nodded again, and Thomas ran a hand through his already messy hair. He bit his lip, glancing briefly at the obviously unhappy Patton.

Eh, screw it, Thomas thought. "Could I see some more of your ideas, then, or do you need time to brainstorm?"

Remus could've fainted if he didn't suddenly have a job to do.

-

After they had all sunk out, Thomas deciding he needed more sleep, Remus tackled Logan to the floor. Tears of pure joy were streaming down Remus's cheeks as he buried his face in Logan's shoulder, laughing almost hysterically.

Logan caught his breath, wrapping his arm around Remus tightly and holding him closer. "You alright?" Logan asked once Remus had stopped laughing as loudly. The others had vacated to their own rooms, leaving just them two on the common room floor. Remus leaned up to press a kiss to Logan's lips, holding onto the logical side for dear life.

"Thank you, Lolo, thank you," he whispered against Logan's lips. Logan held Remus closer, moving to wipe away Remus's tears. He smiled softly at Remus, caressing his cheek lightly.

"For you, my love, anything."

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

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[wiypt-writes]

Sunny Side Up

Summary: Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right? And for Mike, there’s no better way to start it than by eating his favourite thing, ever.

Pairing: Mike Weiss x Reader

Warnings: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Brief mentions of drug addiction- nothing graphic. Language!

A/N: So this was what popped into my head after seeing @imanuglywombat​ post that damned latest Sex Position as part of her downright filthy and wonderful “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “The Special Breakfast”. See here for more information. And you can totally blame @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for this one. I wasn’t gonna write it but…yeah, I did. Sorry not sorry.  I’ve tried to make the reader as non-descript and as inclusive as I can but I don’t usually do reader x fics so I apologise if it hasn’t quite hit the mark.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader.  By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Tagged my permanent tag list.

Main Masterlist

********

“No, that’s not the same, at all.” Mike’s voice drifted up the hallway of you house as you closed the door behind you, shutting out the bitter January wind that has descended over Dover. “Yeah, well they signed up to the terms so....”

You glanced at your watch, it wasn’t even seven-AM yet and he was already on to someone about the current case he was working. But then, that was Mike all over. An addict, only now you were glad to say the only thing flooding his system was adrenaline and passion for his work.

You hung your jacket up on the pegs by the door, unwrapped your woollen scarf from round your neck and placed that over the hook above your jacket and then reached down to unzip you boots, before toeing them off. Your sock clad feet padded down the wooden floor of the hall towards the kitchen and you walked in to see Mike was bent over a file on the island in the middle, already dressed for the office.

“Clause ninety-one, paragraph twenty, sub-bullet two. Yup. We’ll present that to them today, give them chance to respond.” He paused for a moment, his head turning to you, a warm smile spreading across his face as you leaned over for a quick peck before you headed to the fridge for a soda. “Yeah. Okay, no problem, see you about half eight.”

With that he placed the cordless phone down and turned to face you.

“Morning, Baby.” He grinned, before he nodded to the Diet Coke in your hand. “Interesting choice of drink for breakfast.”

“Technically it’s not my breakfast time.” You shrugged back. “More like dinner, I suppose.”

Mike chuckled as he crossed to space towards you, his hands falling to your hips before he bent down and brushed his lips against yours in a hardly there kiss. “Good shift?”

“A heart attack, car accident, two broken legs, couple of flu cases and a shit tonne of idiotic drunks, the finest Delaware has to offer.” You shrugged. “Usual shit.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Dr Y/L/N”

“Lucky for you I do, or we’d have never met.”

“And I’d be dead.”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, swallowing a little. The memory of that night almost eighteen months ago was still raw. If you hadn’t stopped by at Mike’s that evening following an argument the pair of you had earlier in the day, you’d never have found him almost dead from an overdose. It had been a long road to recovery, and whilst nothing was ever proven, Mike and Paul were convinced that it was something to do with the safety needle case they had been working. Despite the fact that there was enough heroin in his system to stop his heart, Mike swore blind to you he hadn’t taken anything but a few lines that night, and there was something about the way he said it that made you believe him. And so did Paul.

The authorities never managed to prove anything, but there was one good thing to come out of it. When you had broken down and told Mike how scared you’d been that he was going to die and that you couldn’t cope anymore with the constant fear that one day he would kill himself for real, it gave Mike the final kick he needed because he didn’t want to lose you.

So he got clean. And this time he did it for good.

It wasn’t easy, for either of you. Once he was medically fit enough, Mike had been placed on a programme at a Rehab Centre, whereby he saw no one bar trained medical specialists and councillors for six weeks. It felt like the longest six weeks of your life but he did it. And when you went to pick him up, you instantly burst into tears at how different he looked, how better he looked, how healthy he looked.

The road to recovery is a long one, paved with temptations, you knew that being a Doctor. And whilst Mike knew and understood his triggers thanks to his programme, those temptations met him everywhere, especially because he knew exactly where and how to get his fix. So the pair of you agreed to take a fresh start. You traded Texas for Delaware, the State you were originally from, and you were beyond proud to be able to honestly state that Mike Weiss had been clean now for eighteen months. Well, apart from alcohol that is. But even that was enjoyed in moderation, and to be honest, you’d rather him sit at home with a glass or two of bourbon each night that sticking fuck knows what into his veins.

You cocked your head to one side as his hands flexed on your hip and he gave you a little side smile. “Sorry. Oh, hey guess who I got a call from?”

“Who?” You asked as he stepped back, grinning.

“The Alligator Farm. Snappy’s got himself a lady friend. They’re gonna send me some photos and stuff.”

You smiled, giving up that beloved alligator had been a hard sell to Mike. “That’s great.”

“Yeah. Oh and Paul was thinking of coming over with the family in the spring. I said they could stay here, I know it’ll be a squeeze but is that okay?”

“Course it is.” You reached up to cup his cheek. “It’ll be lovely to see them again.”

Mike smiled and dropped another kiss to your lips, this one slightly stronger before you pat his chest as he rest his forehead against yours.

“I need to go shower.”

“Want me to come join you?” He asked, eyebrow raised and you smiled.

“As good as that sounds there’s something else I want more.”

“Oh yeah?” He grinned, his eyes flickering down to the buttons on your blouse and you laughed.

“Calm down, Stud. I want pancakes and bacon, I don’t give a shit what time it’s supposed to be for me.”

Mike groaned as you moved away from where you’d been stood with your back to the large, stainless steel fridge and headed out of the room. He watched you go, the gently sway of your hips in your well fitted black pants made his groin twitch. He was half tempted to fuck your demands and go and jump you in the shower whether you wanted him to or not, but he’d seen the flicker your face had given when you’d described how your twelve-hour shift had gone down. Despite your blasé tone, he knew you too well and understood exactly how tired and stressed you were feeling. So, instead, he turned his attention to making breakfast.

Something he prided himself on was his cooking ability. He’d picked it up pretty fast since you’d moved here, he found it was a welcome distraction, so much so you very rarely made meals now, bar when you insisted on doing a roast which he never argued against.  Within fifteen minutes he had a stack of pancakes, bacon, eggs- sunny side up, as you preferred- all laid out on the island and ready for you to help yourself to. He’d just poured you an orange juice when you walked back into the kitchen, hair piled on your head in a messy bun, wrapped in a dressing gown and he was pleased to see you looked relaxed.

“Oh, Mikey, this looks great!” You smiled as he wrapped an arm round you, kissing your head. He watched as you helped yourself to a huge plateful before making your way over to the table and sitting down with a sigh. Mike tucked his tie into his shirt to avoid it dropping into his food and plated himself a helping up before he sat down at the place next to you, cracking his neck slightly. The pair of you chatted about the day ahead, which for you consisted of sleeping until it was time to get up for your next shift, Mike’s contained a meeting with a company who he was currently in the process of negotiating a settlement with on behalf of a client. When you’d finished, Mike made to clear away the dishes but you gently placed your hand on his arm and stood up, insisting on doing it as he’d cooked.

When you returned to the table, Mike pushed his chair back slightly and patted his knee.

“Come ‘ere.” He smiled softly and you grinned, settling yourself on his lap sideways, your arm looping round his shoulder, fingers gently playing with his suspenders. He gave a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your head, happy to simply be close to you for a moment.

“You doing okay?” You asked and he smiled, your words carrying that hidden meaning- ‘Do you want a fix, today?’

“I’m good, Babes.” He pulled back to look at you. “I promise.”

Smiling you gently placed your lips on his in a soft kiss, which soon became heated as Mike’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. He was pleased when you reciprocated, opening your mouth slightly to allow him in. He could taste the sweetness of the syrup on you from your pancakes and, as your tongue gently swirled against his, he let out a little groan from the back of his throat and he felt you smile.

“How long till you have to be in the office?” Your voice was lower than you’d intended, betraying exactly what you had in mind and Mike grinned at you, pulling back a little, as he glanced up at the clock.

“Just over forty-five minutes, why?”

You bit your lip, fingers toying once more with his suspenders which were clipped to the waistband of his light, grey trousers and sat over a maroon shirt, set off with a black tie. “Do I gotta spell it out to you, Weiss?”

“No, I just like hearing you beg.” A cheeky glint flashed in his eyes and you gave a snort.

“I do not beg.”

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow and in a swift moment he stood up, causing you to give a shriek of a giggle as he sat you on the table in front of him. “I bet,” he pushed on your shoulders causing you to rest your weight on your elbows as he loomed over you, gently reaching for the tie on your robe, “that I can have you singing my name and begging for more,” his hands made quick work of the knot and pulled it open, before his fingers slid up the front, opening it to leave you bare in front of him, “in less than five minutes flat.”

“Less than five minutes?” You looked up at him, his eyes blown with lust and you smirked. “You’re so full of shit.”

He wasn’t though, you knew full well that you were the one full of shit. Mike had on many an occasion had you crying his name in less time than it took you to sing a verse of the National Anthem, and he knew it as the cocky expression on his face showed.

“Oh, Baby Girl.” He chuckled, bending over, his mouth brushing against that spot on your neck, the bristles of his short beard scratching your skin. “Have you learnt nothing, yet?”

“Only that you’re a cocky little bastard.” You tried to keep your voice level but it didn’t work. Your words came out a shaky whisper as one of his hands gently splayed on your stomach and brushed up your body to your sternum as he peppered hot, opened mouthed kisses across your collar bone, before his lips ghosted up your neck, over your chin and his mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss as his hand palmed at your breast. As he rolled your nipple between his finger and thumb you gave a moan and he smirked against your mouth.

Suddenly, he was gone from over you and you frowned, missing his sudden presence and you propped yourself up on your elbows to see him settling back in the chair by the table.

“Mike, what the-“

You were cut off as he reached over, grabbing your ass and hoisting your pelvis up, pulling you towards him. Before you could register what was going on, your legs were over his shoulders and you just caught a glimpse of his face, as he quirked an eyebrow at you, lips curled upwards in that maddeningly smug bastard grin, before his mouth was trailing up the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, Jesus.” You let out a little groan as he neared the place you now desperately wanted him and he chuckled.

“No, just me.”

“Fuck off you-“ But whatever it was you were going to call him flew from your mind as his tongue licked up your sex, and grazed against your clit, teasing it with quick, hardly there flicks which, you were ashamed to say, had you riled up something feral. His hands palmed at your ass, his fingers curling round the outside of your thighs as he quickened his movements, his mouth expertly devouring you, tongue flicking into your entrance as his lips circled that sensitive nub, giving a suck that made you cry out, your back arching off the table, pushing yourself further onto his face.

Mike let out a chuckle which vibrated exquisitely against you and you gasped again, your hands slapping onto the cool surface of the table, fingernails feeling the grain of the wood as he upped his efforts dramatically, lips and tongue teasing you in a way that was so delectable it was teetering along that fine line between pain and pleasure. His mouth expertly devoured every inch of you, from your inner and outer pussy lips to the depths of your walls, tongue fucking you like you he was starving, despite the breakfast the pair of you had eaten moments ago.

“Fuck, Mike, I need…” Your voice was croaky, the words sounded far off as they bounced around your lust addled brain and once again he chuckled.

“I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah you arrogant sh-oooh fuck!” You cried as he gently nipped your clit. “Shit!”

You were willing yourself to remain grounded, wanting to prove him wrong but you couldn’t. You couldn’t fight the urge you felt to ride over the edge which was building like a fire inside you. When his mouth was over you completely once more, tongue deep, you felt him move one of his hands and his thumb pressed against your clit, before the pressure eased off and his tongue slipped away.

"Okay, okay you win, Mike, please for the love of God!” You groaned and with a final, maddeningly smug chuckle he dove back in, only this time when you felt your orgasm brewing he didn’t stop. One of your hands flew to his hair, pulling lightly on his soft, spiky strands and he gave a growl as you tugged, his efforts doubling once more as his beard scratched against your sensitive pussy and inner thighs. The coil in your belly was tightening, your entire body quivered and with a final flick of his tongue you gave a cry as your orgasm crashed over you. Your toes curled into his back just below his shoulders, your own back arched as your walls clamped down over nothing, the room fading out as everything went silent and the lights erupted in front of your eyes, your entire body feeling like you were floating.

Mike grinned, guiding you through your release before he stood up, pulling you further to the end of the table as he undid the flies on his trousers, freeing his painfully hard erection. The swollen head of his dick gently swirled around your folds before he buried himself inside you, groaning as he felt you fluttering around him in the after throes of your orgasm. You let out a low groan and finally opened your eyes, looking up at him as he pounded into you, fully clothed, those fucking suspenders that drove you wild still looped over his shoulders.  

He slid one, large hand under your back and pulled you up causing you to cry out as he drove deeper into you, his hand on the base of your back pulling you up and towards him as he dipped his head to give you a dirty, sloppy kiss whilst he rolled and thrust into you. Then His lips moved down, nipping at your neck, his breath hot on your ear as your head fell back, a low moan rumbling in his throat.

“God, I love seeing you like this, fucking wrecked all because of me.” His panted words made you groan even more as the heat in your groin was beginning to mount again. “Makes me higher than any fucking drug ever could.”

His thrusts continued, hard, deep, and you felt his dick throbbing inside you as he drove up against your spot, his lips back on yours as he kissed you hard, swallowing the pants and whimpers you were making as you began to teeter on that cliff edge again. With a deep roll of his hips you let out a low wail and came, once more, your core spasmed around him as your entire body tingled, and that was enough for him to follow you. With a powerful thrust he stiffened, a low grunt stuttering from his lips as he pulsed inside of you, his hips growing sloppy before they stopped completely. His chest heaving, he pressed his forehead to yours, the pair of you gasping for breath as you came down from your high.

“Shit, Mike.” You managed to stutter as he grinned, his lips meeting yours in a soft peck. “That was…”

“Yeah, I was pretty good.” He chuckled and you slapped his arm as he moved and pulled out of you. You straightened your robe and stood up, wincing as you felt his release trickled down your inner thigh.

“I need another shower.” You grumbled, before you glanced at his crotch, the damp patch where he’d pressed against you was clear as day. “And you should probably change your trousers.”

Mike glanced down before his eyes met you, and he shrugged. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll go into the office like this and then every time I see it I’ll be reminded exactly what a damned good breakfast I had this morning.”

You blinked before you shook your head, scoffing. “You’re gross.”

He laughed. “You love it, Sweetheart.”

“I love you.” You corrected, your hands sliding up over his shoulders and he smiled, a pure, innocent smile that made him look like a schoolboy before he took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, pulling away, his nose bumping against yours.

“I love you too.” He whispered, his eyes locking onto yours. “Now go, before I decide to play hooky for the day.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Weiss.” You smirked, before with one final quick peck you left the room.

Mike watched you go, before he ran his hands through his hair and turned to glance around the kitchen, his eyes falling to the table he’d just fucked you senseless on.

He should probably clean that before he went to work…

[hintsofhoney]

Friends With Benefits

Pairing(s): Dom!Dean Winchester x F!Sub!Reader x Dom!Sam Winchester

Summary: You're being a brat after Sam and Dean saved your ass on a hunt and they're more than a little fed up with your attitude.

Tags: 18+, threesome (no Wincest), rough sex, spanking, oral (male receiving), fingering, double penetration, Eiffel tower, dirty talk, dom/dub, sir kink, this is literally the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written I’m looking back over the tags like 👁👄👁

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Episode 8.15 (Man’s Best Friend With Benefits) inspired this literally like 8-ish months ago? And it’s just been sitting in my WIPs folder for that long. So I went ahead and finished it and I’m literally sweating. WHY IS MY BRAIN LIKE THIS? SHE IS SO DEPRAVED. 

You can also read me on Ao3!

SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

You were filled with rage as you followed the brothers into the motel room that the three of you were sharing.

“WHAT THE HELL?” You yelled, as you closed the door behind you. “The two of you have to stop treating me like a child!” The hunt that you all had just gotten back from was a successful one, no thanks to you. Sam and Dean were having a hard time letting you lead the way when it came to hunting, and this was technically your hunt. You found the case, you read the lore, you even paid for the motel room.

“Hey, we saved your ass,” Dean said nonchalantly, ignoring your tantrum completely. Sam was doing the same as he began packing up his duffle bag.

“I was fine! I would have seen him!” You said, in reference to the vamp that would have probably turned you had Dean not beheaded him first. You knew they saved your ass; you were just mad that they were even there to save it. Per your plan, they were supposed to raid the inside of the nest while you took care of the outside. Dean saving your ass meant that, as usual, the two of them totally ignored your plans. They had absolutely no respect for you as a hunter, and it was making your blood boil. You took a deep breath and began making your way towards Dean, who was now standing next to Sam, both of them smiling cockily as you stormed over to them. You jabbed your finger into Dean’s chest, your face inches away from his. “You listen here, Dean. I know you saved my life, okay? I am grateful for it. But I am so sick and tired of you – and you,” you said, pointing to Sam, before jabbing your finger back into Dean’s chest, “ignoring my plans. The two of you never listen to me and I swear to God, if either of you do it again, it will not end well for you,” you finished sternly. You looked at Dean for a response, only to see an expression on his face that was hard to describe. “What?” You spat.

“That was incredibly hot,” Dean mumbled. You rolled your eyes and looked at Sam, who tended to be the more serious one in these situations.

“It was pretty hot,” he shrugged.

“You two are fucking impossible,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest in disbelief. They still weren’t taking you seriously.

“Hey, watch your attitude,” Dean warned, giving you a look.

“And if I don’t? What are you gonna do about it?” You retorted. You would usually never talk back to Dean like this; you’d be over his knee in a heartbeat had the two of you been alone. The two of you weren’t exclusive; you just helped one another scratch those itches on occasion. Okay, maybe it was more like three to four times a week. Better than risking an STD with some random stranger at a bar, right? Plus, Dean knew what you liked. He knew how to please you, and you trusted him to dominate you – which was something he loved to do. However, he’d never done it in front of Sam, which is why you weren’t concerned with Dean’s warning. It’s not like he was going to pull you over his knee in front of his brother. Not that Sam didn’t know about the arrangement that the two of you had.

“Y/N,” Dean warned again.

“No, both of you can fuck all the way off,” you spat.

“HEY!” Sam bellowed, catching you off guard. You took a few steps back as you watched the giant come towards you, a look in his normally kind eyes that you had never seen before. It wasn’t anger it was… it was the same look that Dean got when you had pushed him a little too far. “Listen to me,” Sam hissed, as he stopped inches in front of you, bending down a little to get on your eye-level. You gulped. You had always thought Sam was attractive – that was undeniable. You weren’t sure what was in the Winchester genes, but God damn – it wasn’t fair. You had never thought about sex with Sam, though. You were always so preoccupied with the older Winchester; you didn’t really have time or reason to think of the younger one in that way. However, with the air of dominance he was giving off… only inches away from your face… yeah, you were definitely thinking about sex with Sam. “You better lose the fucking attitude, Y/N, or I swear to God I’ll pull you over my knee if he doesn’t,” Sam growled, pointing to his brother who was watching with a smirk on his face. Your clit pulsed at the thought of both of them dominating you.

“Oh, will you, now?” You asked, both sass and intrigue in your tone. You fully intended on pushing him as far as you could.

“I’d tread carefully, Y/N. He’s a lot less forgiving than me,” Dean said, amusement lining his voice. He knew you’d ignore him. He knew you’d continue pushing. You turned to look at Dean.

“Shut up,” you snapped, Dean’s eyebrows raising in response. You were in for it now.

“Yeah, you’re done. Come here. Now,” Dean ordered, pointing to the ground in front of him. You rolled your eyes – another thing that you were sure you’d regret doing later, but right now you were having too much fun – and pushed your way past the taller Winchester to come to stand in front of the shorter one. Dean looked at Sam over your shoulder and nodded slightly, as if he was giving him permission to do something, which you were sure you’d find out about shortly. Dean turned his attention back to you, lust and dominance in his eyes. You could feel the heat in your core begin to rise just with that one look. Dean huffed as he pushed you down to your knees and a smile spread across your face. You had no idea what to expect, but you were excited. “Take my belt off and bring it to Sam,” Dean commanded. You obeyed, beginning to regret being such a brat. You’d been spanked by Dean plenty, and sure, you didn’t mind it. You loved it, actually. But Dean knew your limits. He knew how hard or soft to hit, he knew what spots hurt more than others – Sam didn’t. And if Sam was going to be the one punishing you – with a belt – you only hoped that he didn’t hit as hard as it looked like he could hit. You took Dean’s belt off and stood up, walking over to Sam, who was now sitting on the edge bed. You placed the leather in his outstretched palm and he patted his knee, signaling you to bend over it. You did as you were told, feeling your pussy begin to clench around nothing.

“You know,” Sam began, rubbing your denim-clad ass with his large hand, “Dean and I saved your ass, right? And being a brat isn’t really the best way to go about thanking us, wouldn’t you agree?” Sam asked, getting Dean’s belt ready.

“Yes,” you replied, the smile was audible in your voice. Dean suddenly appeared in front of you, his nose almost touching yours as he grabbed under your chin with his hand, his fingernails digging crescent moons into your cheeks.

“You address him the same way you address me, do you understand?” Dean growled.

“Yes, sir,” you gulped. You wiped the smile off your face but the excitement within you only grew. You were both terrified and looking forward to what was about to happen to you.

“How many do you think she needs, Dean?” Sam asked, now dragging the leather along your backside. At least you were still wearing jeans – not that they’d last very long. Dean let go of your face and stood up straight, leaving your field of vision.

“I’d start with 20 at this point, and if it still seems like she needs more then we can add on from there. How does that sound?” Dean asked you. You nodded in response, your mind reeling with the thought of 20 swats with the damn belt. You shouldn’t have been such a brat. You felt the brothers look at each other and shake their heads before you realized that you had forgot to respond verbally. You looked behind you and watched as Dean pulled your jeans and panties off in one swift motion. Sam noticed you watching and grabbed your head, forcing you to look down at the floor.

“Speak when spoken to. Make it 30, Sammy. Does that sound fair?” Dean asked.

“Yes, sir,” you replied. You could feel your juices leaking out of you as you waited anxiously for the first hit. You winced at the sting that the leather strap left on your bare ass. You knew Sam was only warming up; he wasn’t hitting as hard as you felt like he could. Dean came back around into your field of vision again as Sam delivered another spank to your ass. Dean grabbed your chin and made you look up at him, being that his crotch was what was at your eye-level at this position.

“Take them off,” Dean commanded, motioning to his jeans. You quickly obeyed, Dean’s cock springing up as soon as you had let his jeans fall to his ankles. You smiled devilishly as you wrapped your hand around the base. You loved Dean’s cock. It was your favorite part of him; and he knew how to use it so well. You clenched your legs together as Sam gave you another lick with the belt. “Open,” Dean ordered, softly smacking your face. You smiled and let go of his dick, opening wide for Dean to shove his cock in your mouth, almost hitting the back of your throat. Sam gave you another smack with the belt, much harder than the last however many you had received, and you lurched forward taking all of Dean in your mouth. You suppressed a gag as Dean wrapped a hand in your hair, holding you down on his cock. This gave you time to feel how on fire your ass actually was; you had no idea how many swats Sam had delivered but you weren’t sure how many more you could take. “What are we at Sammy?” Dean asked his brother casually, as if his cock wasn’t buried deep in your throat.

“Twenty,” Sam replied. Ten more. You could take ten more.

“Count the last ten,” Dean commanded. He hadn’t moved, he was just holding you there, down on his cock, letting you taste him, and you were sure that your juices were running down your thighs at this point. Sam spanked you again, and you let out a “one” to the best of your ability. Dean didn’t loosen his grip on your head one bit. After the eighth hit, you had tears welling up in your eyes, partly from the spanking and partly from the fact that it was hard to breath with Dean’s entire cock in your mouth and you had to keep suppressing a gag. Another hit came down and you mumbled a “nine”, followed by another as you felt a tear run down your cheek and managed to get out a “ten”. “Good girl,” Dean praised. He finally began to move in and out of your mouth slowly, and you felt Sam put the belt on the bed and start to rub your sore ass. Sam spread your cheeks, leaning over to look in between your soaked folds.

“She’s so wet, Dean,” Sam smiled, sliding a finger in between your folds. You looked up at Dean as his cock continued to slide in and out of your mouth, pleading him with your eyes to do something about your wetness. Dean just smirked.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” Dean asked, continuing to slowly thrust in and out of your mouth. You tried to manage a “yes sir”, but Dean wasn’t stopping so it came out muffled. You lunged forward as Sam stuck a finger in you, taking all of Dean again. Fuck, it felt good. Dean and Sam both pumped in and out of you at opposite times, making it so that one of your holes was always filled, but never both. Sam added another finger and you moaned, only for it to be muffled by Deans cock hitting the back of your throat. Suddenly, Sam slid out from under you, forcing you to get on your knees if you wanted to keep Deans cock in your mouth, which you did. “Already, Sammy?” Dean asked his brother, as if everything was normal and you weren’t even in the room.

“Hey, you get to fuck her all the time. It’s been months for me, man. I mean, look at her,” Sam said, taking off his jeans and boxers. Dean looked down at you as you continued to suck him off, pulling you off of his cock by your hair and coming down to his knees on the floor in front of you. Dean pushed you down on all fours and placed his cock right back in your mouth. Your cunt was now fully exposed to Sam, who you could feel get on his knees behind you.

“I’m finishing with her pussy if you’re getting a turn at it first,” Dean remarked.

“Fine,” Sam replied as he rubbed your clit with his fingers, causing you to moan.

“Ah, fuck, keep making her moan,” Dean said, throwing his head back. The sound of them having a conversation without even acknowledging you between them made your pussy clench. It was by far the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced – being their little fuck toy. Dean moved his hands to your back, pulling your shirt up so he could unhook your bra and make it easier for him to reach your nipples, which he then attended to by pinching and rubbing them lightly. You moaned again, muffled from Dean’s cock still in your mouth, and as you did so, Sam teased your entrance, which made you gasp around Dean’s dick. “Fuck, that’s so hot,” Dean said, acknowledging you for the first time in a while, earning a shiver from you. Sam finally entered you, forcing you to gag on Dean’s cock in the process.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, Y/N. Is my brother fucking you hard enough?” Sam teased, earning a glare from Dean as he continued to pound into you. You muffled a “yes sir” with Dean’s cock still in your mouth.

“You love when your mouth is full of cock, don’t you?” Dean asked, finally giving you a break from sucking as he pulled his member from your mouth and grabbed a fistful of your hair, tapping his cock on your cheek, rubbing your spit around. Sam continued to thrust into you mercilessly, making it hard for you to reply, but you did.

“Yes, sir,” you replied with a devious smile – you weren’t lying. You did love it.

“Alright, my turn,” Dean said to his brother, as he pulled your hair back forcing you to look up at him, “He’s loosened you up for me, so you better show him how thankful you are while he’s over here, got it? And then maybe we’ll let you come tonight,” he said sternly, his face close to yours.

“Yes, sir,” you smiled, ready to show Sam what your mouth could do. The boys switch positions and Dean wasted no time ramming into you, earning a yelp from your lips. Sam smirked and grabbed your chin, bringing your face closer to his cock, which was roughly the same size as Dean’s, but a little bit longer. You opened your mouth for him, wanting nothing more than to taste his dick covered in your juices. You let Sam fuck your mouth, hitting the back of your throat every time, saliva spilling out of the corners of your lips. You had never experienced anything like what you were experiencing now. Dean and Sam filling you at the same time was so fucking sexy, you could have came from the thought of it alone. Sam pulled his cock out of your mouth with a pop, lightly slapping your face with it.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam began, although his eyes were on you, “You think she’d be able to handle both of us?” Your eyes grew wide at the thought of both of your holes being filled and you felt your pussy contract around Dean’s cock with excitement.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Dean asked, “You wanna take both of us in these pretty little holes?” You nodded enthusiastically, smiling up at Sam who was smirking down at you. “Get the lube,” Dean said to his brother, and Sam nodded as he got up from his knees to go look through Dean’s backpack for the liquid. Dean pulled out of you and you whimpered at the emptiness. “Strip the rest of your clothes and get on the bed,” Dean commanded, with a firm smack to one of your sore cheeks. You winced at the pain but you listened, discarding your remaining clothes – your t-shirt and unhooked bra – and laying on the bed on your side. Sam came back with lube in hand and the brothers laid on either side of you, Dean facing you and Sam behind you. Dean watched himself guide his cock back into your pussy as he slightly lifted one of your legs for better access, forcing a moan from you. He silenced you with his lips, his tongue entering your mouth. You felt Sam behind you rubbing lube around your hole, and you couldn’t wait for both of them to be inside you again. Sam finally lined his cock up with your back entrance, teasing you with the tip of it.

“Beg for it,” Sam whispered into your ear. You could have came right then. You felt the coil in your abdomen tighten, and Sam wasn’t even inside you yet.

“Please, please fuck me! Please, sir!” You begged, hoping that it would suffice. Sam slowly pushed himself into you, eventually finding the alternating rhythm that Dean was in. You felt as though you were floating on air; you were certain that nothing had ever felt this good in your life. You moaned loudly only to be silenced by Dean sticking two of his fingers in your mouth and demanding you to suck. You obeyed, scared to make either of them upset with you; you didn’t want them to ever stop. Sam reached around from behind you and began pinching and rubbing your erect nipples. You were going to cum soon and Dean must have felt your pussy clench and figured out that you were on the edge.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ cum before we do. And don’t you dare do it without asking,” Dean said sternly, looking you right in the eyes. You nodded and continued to suck on Dean’s fingers, wishing there was a third brother who could fill your mouth with another cock. You felt Sam and Dean’s thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier, their grunting becoming breathier, and you knew they were both about to come undone. At the same time. Inside you. It took everything you had not to cum at the thought, and as your pussy tightened around Dean’s cock, it was enough to send him over the edge, Sam following shortly after. You felt their warm ropes of cum fill up both of your holes, and with a little help from Dean’s fingers on your clit and Sam’s continued nipple play, the coil inside you was about half a second away from snapping.

“May I please come, sir?” You mumbled through Dean’s fingers that were still in your mouth, glancing at both of them.

“What? Sorry, couldn’t understand you,” Dean smirked, taking his fingers out of your mouth.

“May I please come, sir!?” You repeated, much more desperate this time as you were already holding your orgasm off and the brothers had not stopped moving their fingers. Dean chuckled under his breath at your neediness.

“Go ahead, cum for us,” Dean ordered, but you were already coming before he could finish his sentence. “Go ahead” was all you had to hear. Your orgasm ripped through you as you shouted expletives and came around Dean’s cock, your muscles clenching around both of the cocks inside of you. Sam and Dean continued playing with you until you rode out your orgasm, heavy breaths coming from all three of you as they pulled out of you and laid beside you once you had finished. As you came down from your high, you winced at the pain that was starting to make itself known on your ass and you realized that it’d probably be a week or so before you’d be able to sit or walk properly again. Regardless, it wasn’t going to stop you from being a brat. No, if anything… you were about to test your limits.

[wild-aloof-rebel]

Some Favorite Fics from 2020

Like last year, I want to end 2020 by highlighting some fics that have become favorites over the last twelve months. Before I dive into it though, I just want to take a minute to send some love to all of the authors writing in this fandom.

As of the end of 2019, there were about 8.8 million words of fic on AO3 for this fandom. This year, more than 450 authors have added another 15 million more. That’s so incredibly impressive, especially in a year this difficult. Thank you, thank you, thank you to every single person who contributed to that, whether you wrote one fic or a hundred, a drabble or a novel. Thank you for giving this fandom the gift of your creativity and voice. Your work is so, so appreciated, and you’ve helped to create joy in a year where it was often in short supply. 💗💗💗

*

Okay, on to the fics. I’ve limited myself to no more than one work for any individual author to spread the love around as much as possible, and I’ve bumped up the number to 25 this time around because there was just too much fic this year for me to cut it down any further. 

So here we go. These are 25 fics I loved this year, and what I love about them...

Your heart is keeping time with me by yourbuttervoicedbeau • rated E • 33k+ confession before i start: i’ve never actually seen 50 first dates. but i thought this AU based on it was delightful. patrick’s love for david is so big, right from the start, and i love seeing david lean into trusting himself (and patrick) over and over again

will this ever get old? by startswithhope • rated T • <1k i just like seeing them domestic and soft and happy, okay? and while most of dee’s fics are like that, this particular one is a fave because of them thinking about their future and how they’ll change over the years but love each other right on through

Just to Hold the Hands I Love by DesignatedGrape • rated T • 20k+ it’s like a warm christmas hug, full of musical trolling, gentle pining, domestic nights in, and careful attention to fashion details, which are all absolutely the kinds of things i appreciate

A Case of You by DoubleL27 • rated T • 6k+ patrick is an absolute menace in exactly the way you would expect every valentine’s day. it’s funny and sweet and ends with them in exactly the kind of future we all want for them

Dulce by another_Hero • rated T • 1k+ original characters can be hard to do right. they have to be compelling enough to fit in with these characters we already know so well, and dulce is the kind of character who grabs you from the start. the whole series is lovely, but this first interaction with ronnie is my favorite of them

Tea-Kettle Love by ArabellaStrange • rated G • 5k+ even though this coda to “the pitch” isn’t technically canon compliant now, it still feels a lot like it is. it’s about the sacrifices we are and aren’t willing to make for the people we love, taking the new york discussion into more depth than we get in the show and still arriving in largely the same place

Vanquished by Codswallop • rated G • 3k+ if you’re looking for soft, fluffy sickfic, this is not it, lol. patrick is sick here but won’t let anyone take care of him. he’s stubborn and basically minor chaos ensues. it’s funny and sweet but not schmaltzy. the characterization is 👌, and it feels like the kind of thing that fits perfectly into the world of the show

To Come Out the Other Side by unfolded73 • rated T • 4k+ • warning for major character death i don’t want to read sad things about david and patrick very often, but sometimes the mood strikes. this one is definitely sad right from the start, but there’s hope and resilience through grief, and i think this year especially, there’s something to be said for stories that can make you feel like there is still good to be found after the bad

Hold Me Like You’ll Never Let Me Go by moodlighting • rated T • 21k+ i never would have thought that a fic would make me WANT to be trapped in an airport, but it’s 2020 and anything is possible, lol. this is what meet cute dreams are made of

Your mother keeps a spreadsheet by upbeat • rated G • 3k+ obviously i love a good spreadsheet, so this one was up my alley from the start, lol. but really it’s moira and patrick bonding through the cataloguing of her wigs (and all the stories that go with them) that makes this one an easy favorite

keep me in the pulses, keep me in the sound by dinnfameron • rated G • 2k+ this sweet little slice of a summer vacation made me ache to be with friends. plus, sometimes you just need some overwhelmingly happy david rose. he deserves it, and so do we

eggs and the flour, no higher power by withkissesfour • rated T • 1k+ i’m pretty sure this fic is the definition of sweet, in more ways than one. it’s a short piece, but the writing is lush and indulgent in all the right places, just like the cakes being described

sustineo by rockinhamburger • rated E • 10k+ before i was even done reading this fic, i wanted another 50k words set in this universe. the conversation between david and patrick is sharp in all the right ways, and because this david has such a hard shell to crack after being hurt in such a horrible and heartbreaking way, it’s that much more satisfying watching patrick break through it

All-Natural Care, Locally Sourced by Siria • rated T • 2k+ siria’s fics are always funny, with banter that’s so perfectly on point, and that’s certainly true here. but there are also care packages and photos and just so much love. it’s a perfect balance, just like the show

hold on to me as you go by helvetica_upstart • rated T • 3k+ i love a good look at just how long patrick has been head over heels in love with david and how much he was in this for life all along. this fic does just that through the framework of times that they saw their new house before they bought it, and it’s everything that you would want that concept to be and more

Exposed Brick by swat117 • rated M • 9k+ this is such a lovely look at david and patrick a few years into their marriage, steady in all the right ways, even when old fears try to rise up between them. it gives david a chance to be the solid and supportive one in the relationship, something i never get tired of reading

We Could Turn the World to Gold by middyblue • rated T • 27k+ as someone who also did c25k at one point, i def empathize with david’s plight in this fic, lol. as much fun as that part of the story is, it’s really the house and everything related to that part of the story that makes this a favorite in my book. this was posted very early in s6, so it’s not the house from canon, but it’s beautiful either way to see them so excited about building their future together there

Waiting on the Day by High-Seas-Swan • rated E • 22k+ this is another fic that makes me absolutely ache for things i couldn’t have this year, namely my favorite local brewery and all the nights spent there with friends. beyond that, it’s just a very sweet AU, and the scene with their first kiss and the rest of that night live in my head rent free

Pot o’ Gold by ahurston • rated E • 22k+ where is the leprechaun/love of my life who’s gonna take me out to eat all of the best foods that my city has to offer? this one is a slow burn but their relationship is so much fun to read right from the start that you definitely don’t mind taking your time getting there. also, the palm reading scene. good grief.

there is no design by the_hodag • rated T • 12k+ this fic gives us a look at some of david’s art, and all the loneliness and love that inspires it. it’s poignant and painful and hopeful and sweet in turn, and i think it does a marvelous job of capturing so many of the facets of david’s past that have made him who he is

A Little Broken, A Little New by nameless_bliss • rated G • 3k+ i’ve read this fic several times now, and david and johnny having a conversation about their own relationship through the guise of talking about patrick and his parents never fails to make me cry

Une très bonne table dans sa catégorie by cromarty • rated T • 23k+ just the concept of this one alone would have sold me on it—like, hello? michelin reviewer and chef? sign me the fuck up—but it’s written with the kind of attention to detail i always expect from claire’s writing, and the fact that it practically starts with a first kiss but then pulls back makes for a delicious dynamic as they build a friendship over that foundational attraction, both tempering and intensifying the wait for them to find their way back into each others’ arms

happy golden days of yore by blueink3 • rated E • 17k+ i literally stopped in the middle of this fic, sat down on my kitchen floor, and had a good cry. i hate thinking about them ending up divorced in the first place, but even as exes, they’re so careful and gentle with one another and so, so clearly still in a forever kind of love. that makes it bearable to see them apart because even if it weren’t tagged for a happy ending, there’s such a feeling of inevitability to it, you know exactly how it’s going to end and just get to enjoy the devastating ride it takes to get there

Fifteen Hundred Miles by MoreHuman • rated M • 30k+ this is one of those fics where everything comes together just right and achieves a perfect balance of introspection and action, courage and fear, despair and hope, forthright honesty and cautious reservation... MoreHuman makes it all look easy, which says so much about all the care that had to have gone into the planning and writing. this fic does everything well, and it’s an absolute pleasure to read from start to end

840 Havenwood Road E by Distractivate • rated E • 10k+ we barely see david and patrick’s new house in the show, so it shouldn’t be possible for me to be as emotional about it as this fic makes me, every single time i read it. but it’s the home they chose, the place they decided to build a life together, and getting to see flashes of that life through the years and how much love they clearly had for each other within those four walls just makes me cry again and again

[fuckspn]

fuckspn’s mini deancas fic rec

i said a few days ago that i would write a mini fic rec list, and here it is! i tried to limit it to fics i hadn’t seen on other rec lists before, but there are a few that i couldn’t resist adding even though everyone and their mother recommends them. there’s a whole section for “dean pulls cas out of the empty” fix-it fics because i know what the fuck i’m about. also literally all of these are deancas because i don’t read any other type of supernatural fic, and they all have happy endings because i’m not reading supernatural fanfiction to make myself sad.

a quick disclaimer before we start: i generally don’t like explicit sex scenes in fic unless i feel like they’re really narratively earned, realistic, in-character, and necessary to the emotional arc of the story. so while there are explicit fics in here, all but the last two on the list are sufficiently character- and plot-driven that you can skip the sex scenes entirely if you want.

Finale Fix-Its:

(they’ll never break) the shape we take by ~ME~ (Teen, 9k) Yes, this is my own fic, but listen, I wouldn’t have written it if it didn’t hit what I wanted to see in a fix-it! I’m not gonna make any promises as to whether or not you’ll like it, but I do, and that’s what matters here. Read it if you want to see basically every wrong prediction about the finale rolled up into one fic, if you wish they’d kept the Empty as a morally neutral outsider instead of a villain, or if you just like somewhat uncanny, slippery dream logic and gratuitous callbacks. Also even though idk if I’ll ever finish or publish it, I’m working on a fluffy domestic follow-up featuring, among other things, fixes for both Jack and Billie’s endings. I’m just saying that so if you read this fic you know that even though it’s not mentioned, Jack does come back and get to be a normal toddler with his two dads.

my heart a compass by lagaudiere (Teen, 10k) Again, I REALLY hope you like uncanny, slippery dream logic because that’s in this fic too! Cas POV is such a rare and difficult thing and I think lagaudiere nails it. Literally my only complaint about this fic is that at one point Cas imagines Jack having missing baby teeth at age 4 and my immediate reaction was to worry about why Jack would be missing teeth that young. This is because my brain is broken. Your brain is presumably not broken in the same way mine is, so you should enjoy this fic fine.

The World At Large by cenotaphy (General, 4.9k) This fic is so sexy because cenotaphy was like “hey what if there were actual stakes for Dean in the Empty besides the threat of losing the love of his life? Like what if he had a time limit? What if he got fucking stabbed?” and then somehow turned it into the softest little thing about how much all the characters love each other. Truly incredible artistic decisions made here. Despite being relatively short and deancas-centric, Sam and Jack get a lot of screentime here too and they’re absolutely delightful. Tbh you should probably read all of cenotaphy’s season 15 fix-its but if you’re only gonna read one, make it this. (Or Bring Home, but I’ve seen that one on so many rec lists that I think statistically everyone on Earth has read it.)

Other:

You And Your Husband by mikaylamazing (General, 17.9k) 5+1, Dean and Cas getting mistaken for a couple, 80% fluff then 10% angst that genuinely hit me like a gut punch then 10% fluff again. Dean and Cas are at PEAK old married couple in this fic. Yeah they bitch at each other constantly, but they also will tool around the country in their car like a couple of retirees and Dean will indulge Cas’ random flights of fancy even when they’re for something he hates, like the original Starbucks at Pike Place Market. (I’m with Dean on this one.)

Command Me To Be Well by prosopopeya (Explicit, 28k) Not gonna lie, this one hits the “angst with a happy ending” trope hard. The author is NOT fucking around with the warning for internalized homophobia, and I damn near cried at how Dean and Cas clearly loved each other and wanted to be together but just couldn’t because Dean’s psychological hangups were hurting them both. But not only does the happy ending come, the fic luxuriates in it—this is no band-aid slapped over the end, they genuinely fix their shit. Also, this fic has my favorite “Dean coming out to Sam” scene I’ve ever read.

Bring Up the Deep by deathbanjo (Explicit, 22.6k) Okay. Listen. Yes, this is the fic I was talking about the other day, with the tags that make it sound way kinkier than it actually is. And yes, technically this fic does contain dom/sub undertones and sex pollen. But look at me—hey, look at me. This fic owns. It’s a horror case fic, so it’s mainly plot (and three brief sex scenes, but two of those are part of the plot). The monster is genuinely creepy and creative, the supporting characters are enjoyable to read about, the setting is well-drawn, and the ending is something I’m still digesting but in a very enjoyable way. As far as the kinky tags go, the fic basically plays out like Dean and Cas (who are in an established, albeit new, relationship) are slightly randier than normal due to case weirdness: the dom/sub undertones are so light that I barely noticed them, the “sex pollen” is a deliberately unnerving plot device, and both Dean and Cas have nuanced emotional reactions to the whole situation that they are allowed to process and talk through with each other. I’ve never read A Complete Kingdom and never will, but if you’ve ever wanted a Deancas horror casefic set in coastal Maine that won’t leave you a shattered husk of a human being, Bring Up the Deep is for you!

Though The Course May Change by imogenbynight (Explicit, 51.5k) I’ve seen this one on a number of rec lists, but I couldn’t not include it because it’s just so fun. Another case fic involving Dean and Cas staying in a cabin in a rainy, semi-isolated location surrounded by colorful OCs, but this time the only horror is the prospect of fake-dating the guy you’re secretly actually in love with. It’s a delightful read.

More Than Ever by Sass_Master (Explicit, 20.2k) Canon-divergent fic from 2015 about Cas choosing to become human and Dean being a real bitch about it. It’s very fun, but I’m mainly recommending it because it’s part 1 of a series and therefore provides the necessary backstory/buildup for the next fic on this list.

You’re There by Sass_Master (Explicit, 11.5k) This is part 3 of the same series (part 2 is not required reading, it’s just a short explicit fic set in between these two fics), and while most of it is about sex, it’s also a fucking A+, 10/10, award-worthy character study of Dean and his internal relationship to his sexuality. Literally I was reading it going, “That’s it! That’s the Dean Winchester who lives in my head!”

till the juice runs by deathbanjo (Explicit, 8.4k) The epic saga of Dean’s terrible knockoff-Grindr hookups while Cas waits at home for him like if you could see that I’m the one who understands you been here all along so why can’t you see you belong w— Listen, I’ll be honest here, this fic is completely not my usual speed (lots of sex, relatively light—but not nonexistent!—romance, zero Big Emotions), so it doesn’t have much in common with any other fics on this list besides a rotating cast of fun OCs. It is, however, the single funniest fucking deancas fic I’ve ever read in my life. Fun minigame: count how many times one of Dean’s hookups is described as having messy dark hair and/or blue eyes.

[danger-xylophones]

Major Buir (Plo Koon x reader)

{masterlist}

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Unedited, Plo Koon trying to flirt but not quite understanding how to make the swoon, Wolffe being the embarrassed son, potential second hand embarrassment for the reader because I think that Plo is very sweet but is not well versed in the art of flirting. Clones being dumb and cute. Angry Wolffe, potential fluff overload-I got a little carried away. 

Notes: Yeeee it’s my first time writing for Plo-would it be wrong to tag?...I’m gonna do it. @a-dorin , I would like to thank you for inspiring me to write this. I find myself steadily becoming a Plo simp and your fics have only accelerated my downward spiral. 

Also, this was only supposed to be about 1.5k words...woops

……………………………………

“From this, we can conclude that the remnants of the Ehterium cluster supernova would provide a suitable route around this Separatist controlled rat’s nest.” You sniffed carefully and lowered the pointer to tap against the ground but it landed on your foot. Swiftly, you moved it again so it actually tapped against the durasteel floor of the briefing room. A few chuckles slipped from the gathered cloned men and Jedi generals currently scanning over your notes on the holomap that had witnessed the little slip-up. “Though I can understand the hesitance-which is why I have also taken the liberty of charting a different course around the cluster entirely. It would take much longer though and would put you in more danger in the long run as you’d be exposed and out of range for too...long.” You trailed off, suddenly self-conscious of the overuse of the word ‘long’. Even though you’d worked for the GAR since the start of the clone wars (and technically before that if you counted all the academy training) you’d never gotten the hang of the ‘intimidating analytics and tactician officer’ schtick despite trying. You were often compared to a little mouse in the academy-even when you were wielding a blaster. But that hardly mattered when you were one of the top tacticians in the army and the Jedi were very kind to you. Especially General Plo Koon. He was incredibly patient with you as you adjusted to life with the 104th after being transferred from the 205th and he gave off this very warm and loving vibe. 

And thankfully your new general was among the Jedi present-calmly looking at you with hands clasped behind his back, respectfully silent as the other masters muttered over the maps you’d provided. You met his eyes uncertainly. While it wasn’t like this was your first time pitching a new tactic to a general it was the first time you’d ever pitched an idea to so many people (eight, to be exact) that were so high ranking. The room was currently occupied by yourself, Depa Billaba, Obi Wan Kenobi, Cody, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, Commander Wolffe, and Plo Koon and while none of them were ever rude to you it was hard to not be intimidated. You weren’t the one that had to go through with this plan-they did. They were the ones in danger. Sure, you could lose your job but they could lose their lives. So, you looked to Plo Koon as he would be sure to tell you what he thought. 

Perhaps he was so open with you because he could read you better than anyone else? He always knew what you were thinking and knew exactly what to say to help you. If you were honest, it was no wonder why you two were fast friends. And it wasn’t a surprise when you realized that certain feelings had crept up on you. Although you had resigned yourself to never act on them for both of your sakes there was no helping the admiration that prompted you to value the Kel Dor’s opinion over anyone else’s. And just like so many times before, it seemed like Plo knew this for he offered a single nod to you when your eyes met. The tension fled from your shoulders instantly as a silent sigh of relief slipped from you. Plo Koon approved. You had done good. He knew how hard you had worked on the new plans and could cite several instances where he had stumbled upon you slumped over your desk as the testimony to your dedication. Each time the Kel Dor quietly lifted you to your feet and encouraged you to leave the work for the next day as he escorted you back to your quarters. Once the two of you got there, he’d always, always place a secure hand on your shoulder with a squeeze that just barely made his talons dig into your greys as he bid you goodnight before sweeping away with one last order to get some sleep tossed over his shoulder. It was similar small gestures like those that gave you hope that were your situations different-he being a normal citizen like you and not a Jedi with no trace of war-that maybe something could happen. But alas…

“I must say, Major, I do believe you’ve outdone yourself.” Kenobi was the first among the Jedi to speak with one hand clasping his chin and the other clasping his elbow in typical Obi Wan fashion as he scanned over the details once more. 

You dipped your head with a carefully practiced, “thank you, General” as your immediate reply though deep inside, your pride swelled. This was possibly your most ambitious plan yet and one that had presented significant challenges. While you were a good tactician, your strong suits lie in terrestrial combat and not space. It felt great to be validated. 

“Yes but…” Depa Billaba began with her arms dutifully crossed over her chest as she scrutinized further, “what are we to do about this asteroid field that cuts through our path?” The Jedi asked calmly and you brightened at the mention of it because you had banged your head against it every which way. The asteroid field was the one thing you couldn’t accurately account for as the data you had received on it initially had been outdated. And you explained as much to her. 

“However, I am happy to tell you that I may have found a way to...acount for this hazard.” You cleared your throat and leaned over the console to zoom in on the area in question. “This asteroid field is large, messy, and problematic, and had you asked me how to avoid it earlier I wouldn’t have had an answer. But, I think that the best course of action is to separate-to make it look as though the three of you-” you pointed to the generals you were specifying, “are escorting Depa Billaba till she comes in range with the nearby medical station. That way if any Separatists follow you, you can still maintain the element of surprise because I know that if we can make General Billaba’s starship appear vulnerable that they will go for it. Worst case scenario, you dust off the guns a little preemptively. Best case-” again, you clicked another button that revealed a dotted red path through the holo projection, “you can use the asteroids as extra cover while you navigate through this path.” You paused a moment, eyes shifting to gauge the reactions of everyone. From across the table, your eyes met with Commander Wolffe’s who raised an eyebrow at you. “Clone intelligence has informed me that this path might be outdated as well but we will be active on the comms to offer guidance through the field as you go.” Commander Wolffe gave a firm nod and, again, the Jedi and clones retreated inwards to try and think of any situations that they would need to be prepared for. In the weighted silence that followed, you were keenly aware of Plo Koon drawing closer to you as he methodically circled the console before you. His hands remained clasped behind his back the entire time and you couldn’t help but watch him as he approached. 

He came to a stop right next to you-close enough for your arms to brush and for his warmth to seep through the fabric of your greys. Plo Koon remained quiet for a little longer, leaving you more time to fight the instinct that told you to lean closer to him before he moved his arms. His taloned hand brushed the back of your own and his vambrace bumped your forearm as he brought his arms up to cross over his torso. You couldn’t help but dwell on the feeling of even that minuscule contact which almost caused you to miss the compliment he paid your way. 

“Uh...th-thank you, General.” You coughed into your fist in a not so subtle way to correct your stutter. “But really, my plan is only good because my data was good. You should really thank your men that got me the information.” 

The Kel Dor made a huffing sound that would have sounded like a laugh if not for the heavy overlay from his mask. “Believe me, Major, I will but you do deserve some of the credit.” He stressed, even going so far as to grasp your shoulder very briefly. You could still feel the imprint of his touch when he moved his hand away. 

“Anakin, you’re being unusually quiet.” Obi Wan saved you from further implosion as he addressed his former padawan. You and Plo Koon both turned your attention back to the other occupants in the room and you were unsettled to find General Skywalker’s eyebrows furrowed in scrutiny as he glanced between you and the Jedi Master. Perhaps more alarming though was Wolffe’s face. He was staring at Plo Koon with what you could only describe as a bug-eyed look. 

“Just thinking, master.” Skywalker eventually answered. Your jaw tensed in uncertainty though the younger man said nothing more regarding the visual dissection of your interaction. 

The meeting continued for a few more minutes with you working to finalize the more minute details and to take measures to establish backup plans that would most likely be abandoned by the Jedi at the first sign of conflict and the Jedi began to disperse with their own CO’s. Eventually, that left just you, Wolffe, and Plo Koon. At the first sign that the meeting was adjourned, you began to pack your things up and to log off the computers but instead of leaving you to your own devices like you thought he would, Plo Koon remained with you. He casually waited at the console you had left him at with his hands clasped before his diaphragm, a common gesture for him you’d noticed, while Wolffe awkwardly hovered near the door. 

“Was there anything else you needed, General?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder at the Kel Dor. He stood up straight and approached with light footsteps. 

“Not particularly, Major, but I would like to congratulate you once again on another excellently thought out plan.” Plo Koon’s voice was as calm as it ever was but there was something there-a slight lilt you weren’t familiar with or maybe it was better described as a squeak? Slowly spinning on your heel, you turned to face him. 

“Well,...thank you, General. It...It’s my job.” A part of you swore at your inability to take a compliment properly while the other parts were all focused on Plo Koon. Sure, he’d complimented you on your plans before (he did during the meeting) but he had always reserved the more serious praise for after the missions and the debriefings. He’d never stayed after the preliminary meetings. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer if you called me Plo Koon-it feels far too impersonal to be addressed as ‘general’ outside of meetings.” The Kel Dor explained with a raised hand to stop you from saying anything else till he had said his piece. 

You blinked. Once. Twice. Before eventually sliding your gaze over to Wolffe who had a hand clasped over his eyes. That gesture only added kindling to the confused fire as you returned to the man in front of you. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss-his mask looked in place and to your knowledge, he hadn’t been in the medbay recently. “As...whatever you wish...Plo.” You swallowed, his name-something you’d said in your head thousands of times before-felt foreign on your tongue. “You can of course call me ‘Y/n’...then.” You offered uncertainly. 

“Of course,” he echoed with a nod. “I’ve always thought your name fitting.” 

“Thank you…?” You asked uncertainly. 

“I just mean that it is a strong name and you bear it well.” 

“...” Again, you couldn’t help but look over at Wolffe who had taken his face in his hands in what could only be described as a picture of absolute mortification. His helmet was awkwardly squished into his chest as he shook his head from side to side, lips moving as he formed words you couldn’t hear from where you stood. “I...uh...I like your name too, Plo. It’s gentle…?” You tried as you returned your attention to the Kel Dor and raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. 

He brightened, back straightening up as he continued to regard you. “Thank you, I’m rather fond of it myself.” A silence fell over the two of you-horribly tense and laced with an awkward air you had no way of dissipating anytime soon. Averting your eyes from the Jedi, you rolled your lips in and bit them as you fished for something else to say. 

“Is...are you sure there wasn’t anything you needed, General?” You finally asked after shifting on your feet for the third time. 

Plo Koon shook his head, less in a form of denial and more like he was trying to shake himself out of a stupor before answering. “I’m positive but while we’re on the subject of names I feel it is important for me to inform you of the new one circulating amongst my men.” 

You raised your eyebrow at the Jedi, not missing the way Wolffe froze entirely. “A new name for me or…?” 

“For you.” Plo nodded. “It seems as though they’ve taken a liking to calling you ‘Major Buir’.” There was something in his voice that told you he was smiling (or the Kel Dor equivalent of smiling) beneath his anti-ox mask. 

“Buir?” You questioned as your mind raced to dig up a definition for the Mando’a word you’d heard assigned to the Jedi on multiple occasions. “As in what the Wolfpack calls you?” 

“Indeed. Are you familiar with Mando’a?” 

“After fighting alongside the clones?-of course, but I’m afraid most of the terms I know relate to fighting, tactics, or swearing.” You explained promptly with a glance to Wolffe at the mention of his language-the clone in question looked frozen in his spot and it seemed like he was no longer alone as you could swear you saw the familiar red hair of Boost and the silver of Sinker ducking behind the doorway. 

Plo Koon suddenly leaned forward, getting closer to your height as his voice dropped to just above a whisper. “Buir is Mando’a for ‘parent’, Y/n.” Immediately, it felt as though someone had locked you in carbonite-your heart was still warm as it surged with affection for the men of the 104th yet at the same time your body felt the familiar frozen tingle that so often accompanied the sensation of treading through uncharted territory. You were keenly aware of Plo Koon’s proximity and the way your heart sped as a result. In an attempt to combat this you took a deep breath to steady yourself and regain control over your vocal chords. But that was a mistake as Plo’s natural scent infiltrated your senses. He smelled of leather and fresh air, of tea tree and some other piquant scent you couldn’t name that you knew was the remnant of one of the contraband candles he had hidden aboard the ship. It was so him-something the standard issue GAR soap couldn’t hide-that it overwhelmed you in an instant and you found yourself leaning closer. He, a flame, and you, a moth. 

Your lips parted slightly as your face relaxed and you swore that you’d never felt calmer. It felt like someone was wrapping you in a hug; you felt safe, wanted, and adored. “But...if they call you that and are now calling me that…” you began through the sudden dwam your mind floated in. The pieces were starting to fall into place. “Then...General Plo Koon,” your voice suddenly became firm as you forced yourself to step back, “Are you trying to flirt with me?” 

Plo Koon straightened up, his hands finding their usual resting place crossed in front of his stomach. “I am. Was it not obvious?” He asked, his held tilting to the left just slightly. 

You briefly thought back to the somewhat strange string of compliments he’d paid you that lead up to this. “Uh...no, not really.” You explained quickly, eyes now flickering around the room in an attempt to come up with a reply to this revelation. 

“Hmm.” Plo Koon hummed. “My apologies then. Boost encouraged me to be forward-perhaps it was not enough?” You blinked up at him, gaping like a fish-if that was Plo being forward then you wouldn’t have stood a chance if he had taken a subtle route. 

Before you could say anything though, Wolffe’s explosive voice cut through the briefing room as he rounded on Boost. “You told him to do what?!” The commander barked at his red-headed brother who had long since abandoned hiding behind the doorway and was now standing tall with his chest slightly puffed. 

“Oh come on, Vod, we both know the General likes ‘em! And Major Buir wasn’t going to pick up on it anytime soon. I was just trying to help!” He huffed back, practically getting in Wolffe’s face. 

“Meddling isn’t helping, Boost!” 

“I dunno-seemed pretty effective, Commander.” Sinker chimed in. 

Wolffe wheeled on him next. “Don’t tell me you were in on this too!” The one-eyed clone seethed. “If you weren’t my brother I’d-”

“Boys!” You snapped, having heard enough. The three brothers stopped immediately and turned to you; each one bore a similarly sheepish grin. With a shake of your head, you turned back to Plo who had watched on in amusement. “Plo, I’m flattered but...what about your code? I know attachments are dangerous and I wouldn’t want to be the reason you-” 

The Jedi master raised a hand. “My dear, attachments aren’t dangerous. It is how they can be used against a Jedi that is.” 

“I don’t follow.” You tried only for Plo to shake his head. 

“Yes, you do.” The Kel Dor dropped to your height again. “Y/n, if attachments themselves were dangerous Jedi would also be forbidden from being compassionate.” You were stricken silent, painfully aware of the three pairs of eyes currently fixated on the two of you. “But even if they were, I’d still find you worth the risk.” Your heart melted, a soft ‘Plo’ slipping past your lips that made the Kel Dor incline his head. “I know you care for me too, Y/n, so...are you willing to be with me?” 

You bit your lip in thought, a smile creeping across your face as you looked up at the Jedi. “I’m guessing there’s no talking you out of this?” 

“You may try but my feelings will persist.” Plo countered immediately-a lightness to his voice you hadn’t heard before. 

You chuckled briefly and let your gaze slide over to the three clones now curiously peering at the two of you. You took in their identical faces and the imploring looks each one was giving you. When had the Wolfpack wormed their way into your heart? Probably around the same time their general did. You turned back to Plo Koon. “I say...of course,” You smiled and slipped onto your toes to wrap your arms around the Kel Dor’s neck. He returned the embrace with a low hum, his arms slipping around your waist, “ner Jetti.” You could hear whooping and hollering from the entrance to the briefing room. 

……………………………………………………..

The barracks were dark and crowded later that night-many of the men from the 104th had all crammed into one room to watch the holofilm you’d smuggled onto the starship. It had been about three weeks since the fateful meeting that led to the union of you and General Plo Koon and each day had brought a new development in your aliit as word of your relationship spread. For the most part, none of the men were surprised-some even commenting on how Plo Koon was apparently unable to tear his eyes off of you during meetings, holocalls, or your brief but frequent trips to the base on Coruscant. But there were a few who weren��t expecting it at all. 

But everyone you’d told had been supportive. And now as you sat curled into Plo Koon’s side with clones draped all around you as most dozed off in the peaceful barracks you could safely say that you’d found where you belong. 

A tug on your arm pulled you away from the nearly impossible to hear holofilm (the few soldiers that were still awake had turned the volume down so they could let their brothers sleep) and to the clone currently barely awake with his head on your lap. “What is it, Boost?” You asked in a whisper, keenly aware of the sleeping Sinker and Wolffe on Plo’s other side. Still, your voice managed to catch the Jedi’s attention as he turned his head towards the two you. 

The red head stared up at you blearily, a yawn interrupting him before he began speaking. “I just wanted to say that I’m happy you and general buir are together now. And that I’m glad I could help.” 

A breathy laugh escaped you that Plo helped quiet with a hand over your mouth. He dipped his head to gesture at Wolffe who grumbled and curled closer to Sinker in his sleep. In retaliation, you batted his hand away and rolled your eyes at the Kel Dor before looking back at the sleepy man. “I am too, Boost. Thank you.” You answered fondly, letting your head fall against Plo’s shoulder. 

“Like I said-” he cut off to yawn, “happy to help...major...buir.” Boost trailed off as his eyes closed and he wormed his way closer to you. 

You smiled. “Thank you, ner ad’ika.” As Boost officially fell victim to dream land you turned towards Plo who had watched the exchange carefully. The same feeling of being hugged, of being safe, wanted, and loved infiltrated your senses but you now recognized it as Plo’s signature. Still bearing that soft painted smile, you pressed your forehead to his. A final whisper of thank you slipped from you as you resigned yourself to stay in that moment forever. 

[sole-cuore-amore-e-droga]

Bulgaria brings a mentally reassuring anthem to Rotterdam 2021

I’ve said so that VICTORIA herself sort of agreed to have done “Tears Getting Sober” if she was allowed to, but for one I have to thank that EBU said that the artists can’t have their 2020 songs back? You’ll see why when I get to the review after two boring paragraphs of text with technical info, for the country that is Bulgaria!

ARTIST & ENTRY INFO

Victoria Georgieva (or VICTORIA, but I can’t be arsed to continuously capitalize her name so I’ll just say Victoria from now on) was born a singer, for she started to sing at the age 11, went to a specific school of angel voices (no really that’s what it was called), and tried to go to the X Factor while a liiiiiittle too young until realizing that she needed to wait for a few years, and wait a few years she did, and went on to the X Factor again.

She didn’t win, but she still got to sign a contract and sing some stuff in Bulgarian before she decided to rebrand, started singing in English, and completely decided that ballads is her style. She cannot really do upbeat most of the time. So you can’t really have a bop from her in the future. (Well except that there’s a couple of songs in her discography that I personally classify as “bops” but they’re more like... idek sad bops?? but they can be danced to, but I get her, she doesn’t do anything that’s more loud and upbeat and clubby and summery kind of - in short, nothing you can go “YAAASSSS QUEEEEEN” over to.)

The entry she ended up singing, “Growing Up Is Getting Old”, is what I can describe to be about overcoming the emotional twists and turns inside of you as you grow older, because as it turns out, it ain’t what you thought it would be - but if you push just a little further, you realize that if you’re growing up, maybe the life isn’t so bad, afterall - you are able to get up. Somehow. It was written as part of Boris-Milanov-led songwriting camp held during summer, and a lot of people seemed to be a part of it because multiple different folk have songwriting credits on the potential Bulgarian entries this year.

REVIEW

Let’s get this out of the way immediately. I prefer “Growing Up Is Getting Old” to “Tears Getting Sober”. The former sounds a lot less irritatingly underwhelming and a lot more positively overwhelming you with warm emotions and sunglow. “Tears Getting Sober” was a song I could never really connect with - maaaaybe the last chorus is much better on there, but it doesn’t do much for me either, I guess.

Their 2021 forray however is a much different kind of thing - once again, going for lyrical non-cliches, Victoria tells a tale about her inner turmoils and continuing in life, in a way that’s personal to her and also kind of relatable to all of us. We all have these moments of fear and anxiety and nervous systems aching. If only there was someone who’d tell us that we’re worth saving... thanks a lot Victoria, you’re the MVP. Filling in the void that Netherlands from last year had brought us but not anymore - another personal song about getting old and having those kind of feelings inside - and doing a great job at taking the baton in the right way (even with featuring the word “grow” in both of the titles, neat coincidence).

Not only the lyrics feel like a hug, the song just emulates ray of sunshine and golden glitter coming down from the sky, Molly Sanden style. The violins in the G major key playing so precisely, building up momentum throughout the entire song, slowly but surely - starting with the ticking clock in the first verse that may have subtle violin in there; and the first chorus is just so simple piano, and then the second chorus has a tinge of electronic something, and the last chorus goes full in with the backing vocals boosting the song, after Victoria performs the quite magnificent bridge... now I don’t have synesthesia but I associate music keys with colors, and to me G major would always come across as something yellow or orange - “Growing Up Is Getting Old” is a perfect example of why’s that for me. And obviously, Victoria’s love for harmony-humming (even if there’s just one instance of it after she sings “star crossed soul”) complements the song to a T.

And it turned out to be a much better choice than last year’s. Maybe finally a female ballad I am getting behind.

Now I wanna know why the bookies don’t appreciate THIS entry as much as last year?

Granted, now it’s 2021 and the environment is so much different, and the songs have changed, and the dynamics have changed, and now there’s suddenly more competition at stake. And for Bulgaria it fares quite much more underwhelmingly - well, at this moment they’re like 6th, which isn’t bad, but there’s a lack of sung praises coming its way, not quite a feat that “Tears Getting Sober” actually achieved, being the bookies fave right before the cancellation of last year. In general the year has been pretty dry for the previous winner picks like Iceland, Lithuania and this, but I can’t say that the previous winner bets from 2020 are all that dead either? Though I gotta say that Bulgaria wasn’t gonna win 2020 anyway, so it’s a lose-lose in this case.

Also I just can’t at that music video being a little dramatic at the beginning, with the cancellation of Eurovision being presented as if it were a worldwide disaster during which we all shall lock ourselves into bunkers and wait until the better days, eventhough the panini is not war and war supplies kit is not just enough to survive it. But it seems like that the world is quite literally falling apart, as evidenced by Victoria going through all kinds of pathways away from her living room, meeting a  (presumably) mini version of her somewhere in between, and literally surrounded by the shaking environment by the last moments of the song

before we realize it was just reality recursing from the TV’s point of view that Victoria was watching all along, and then she leaves the living room again, but in her world, everything is normal and she could just go wherever she wants by car. Even I can’t come up with a storyline ending that’s somewhat intertwined and all plot-twisty and more confusing than that. But props to her team I guess

Approval factor: Let’s say I somewhat approve this message. Follow-up factor: For the sake of argument let me just say that Bulgaria is moving on a great path, eventhough the former entry leaves me cold, at least the current entry keeps me warm at all times, like a cup of cocoa and a good blanket. Please Bulgaria, never run out of sponsors. Qualification factor: I’ve seen one or two people throw around the “surprise NQ” tag for this song and I don’t get why??? There’s no way that the tense atmosphere of semifinal 2 would sure-fire-ly kill Bulgaria, even if they have a lot less chances to win this year than they had the last one. There can be some shock NQs indeed though, and if there are, I am paging... uhhhhh Finland? Idk why but you might see what I mean if I ever get around to reviewing “Dark Side”. Bulgaria? Never. It may not win the semi but it will cradle around the top 7 somehow.

INTERNAL NF CORNER

That’s right, Bulgaria managed to do both.

At the time when one other of Bulgaria’s songs got released, within the *Special* Eurovision September 1st-onwards range, people naturally succumbed to their primal instinct of asking whether that’s her Eurovision song... only for Vic to probably announce this early on that no, it’s just *one* of potential ESC entries she’s harbouring. And the remaining potential ones were all on her debut EP. Who actually got a more well-orchestrated schedule for everyone to follow, and yet, people were much more keen to cling on the first EP song out of the gate, “Imaginary Friend”. Now I get that the fans of that song were super upset at the revelation that IF is not going, but it is a technically strong song for the sake of being a technically strong song, and I don’t want to think that Victoria is only forced to choose the songs that can win for her, so she’s such a sweetheart for gravitating towards a song she could dearly care about. So props to her team saving the initial winner for last to be revealed, lol.

Though wasn’t her personal favourite a Billie-Eilish-lite-upbeat-kinda-track Phantom Pain?

Which was also my personal favourite?

Look, I know that favouring the only non-ballad in the whole lineup (well “Ugly Cry” is also not quite a ballad but its beat is kinda so-so, so I tend to ignore it) is kinda sus, also, y’all are sick to death to Billie Eilish comparisons, but I do believe that Billie would never be able to do an “Imaginary Friend” while Victoria could do a “Lovely”. This makes me remember the cover art of Billie’s debut album where she sits on her bed, dressed in white, and so is Victoria on this very MV, with strange shit going on behind her in the mirror. To the mirror, her reflection acts creepy, back again.

The other 2 I don’t feel like caring about enough, sure they got their cred, sure there’s one entry properly crediting Milanov (who seems to not have an actual entry this year that’s purely attributed to *him*, as opposed to 3 last year, 2 of which were performed by acts that returned this year????), sure there’s the funny thing about having a funeral song where out of this and Finland only Austria managed to send a quote unquote “funeral” song, but I think the funeral song would’ve sounded better if the pre-section of it on the “Phantom Pain” video was THE “funeral” song itself, and not whatever was that other funeral song.

In between there was a public sort of survey where people could submit feedback and positive words to Vic’s choices to help her decide - I didn’t get to vote but I feel fine with the winner eitherway, and that counts for something! And the end result was revealed at the very end of Victoria’s very own rooftop concert.

The colors on the circle thingy of this, they were meant to symbolize all Bulgarian entries up to Victoria’s 2nd one, in pictograms that kind of reminded me of Coldplay attributing every song on ‘Mylo Xyloto’ its own little symbol.

The concert was not only full of music and also adverts for the inaugural sponsor iCard (that also included some element of foreshadow in between the suspense, you’ll see why), but also the Bulgarian folk talking before each song, saying all the positive nice words they can for Vic; that she’s talented, and that they were so excited that Bulgaria was doing well in the odds last year prior to cancellation, bla bla bla... also some people were proud of voting for Bulgaria outside Bulgaia, and they made puns about the forthcoming songs on the concert that they were introducing, and so on, and there was also someone called Dara, whom I really want to be sent by Bulgaria one day to show off that they’re not afraid of doing trashy-esque bops that don’t necessarily win

Also they reminded me that Lucy from No Angels (aka the sole reason Bulgaria 12′d Germany in 2008) still exists.

Also Azis.

There was also an intermission where Eurovision 2021 acts could say all the nice words to Victoria on their own part. And several artists chose to... how shall I put it... use up their several seconds rather interestingly. Like how The Roop would say something real quick only to delve into more of their usual “let’s dance, let’s discoteque! *hand scissors* ;P” self-promo, and Senhit carelessly being allowed to say whatever she wants in Italian without subtitles <3 Sorry sis, they’re only given to people from another white-green-red flag-color country.

About the iCard foreshadow... so there’s their advert about Victoria waiting in the line to get something in the Soft Vocals Store, and people ahead of her giving her money the standard oldfashioned way, and the old lady at the counter is... slow, to say the least. After a good amount of time spent waffling around, Victoria finally pulls out the iCard application and pays for the imaginary items she wants, then narrates some stuff about said application, and a Eurovision entry of hers plays when the old lady is at home, spending time in front of TV enjoying the music. Before the concert, the song that played was “Tears Getting Sober”. The advert played once more before Victoria’s big entry decision and entry MV reveal, and in place of the 2020 entry, “Growing Up Is Getting Old” was the one that sounded out loud... Now you may think that there were attempts at some sort of spoilage here, but after that ad before the concert EP NF result, there was this other advert starring Victoria that played “Imaginary Friend” at the end, a last-ditch effort to trick viewers into going “see? just because that ad played the chosen song doesn’t mean it’s the chosen song!! this song could as well be a chosen song as well!!” yeah no shut up GUIGO IS the chosen song kthxbyebye.

ANY LAST WORDS?

Having said all that praise, I actually have “Growing Up Is Getting Old” fairly low on my ranking. It’s just because the year is so damn good and I have a lot more songs to care about more than this, but I appreciate the gesture that this singer is sending very much. Good luck on your road to conquer Europe, Victory-ia, I’m sure you get the best of the experience and all, because you would deserve it.

[tiesandtea]

THE LONDON SUEDE - interview with Simon Gilbert (1997)

Interview Featuring Drummer Simon Gilbert, Who Is Actually a Nice Guy Unspoiled by Success

By Daiv Whaley, MOO Mag. Archived here.

One of MOO's many mottos: "When you can't interview the main member of the band, grab the drummer. He's always starved for attention." Daiv Whaley talks with The London Suede’s beatmaster Simon Gilbert.

MOO: Alright, so Suede has returned to the airwaves after a two-year absence with Coming Up. What's different about this one? Simon: Well, it's a lot more direct and easier to listen to than, certainly, Dog Man Star; a lot more rhythm-based ... MOO: Which is great for a drummer! Simon: Oh yeah, it's great for me -- we spent about six weeks just doing the drum tracks; we took a lot more time than we normally do. Plus, it's got a lot of keyboards on it cuz we've got a new keyboard player, Neil, who's my cousin. MOO: Um ... was that a riddle? Or an interview question? I don't know who your cousin is -- I'm supposed to be asking the questions! Simon: No, Neil is my cousin.

Hugely entertaining, 20/10. Full interview under the cut.

When British upstarts-with-attitude Suede first burst onto the fertile London music scene in the early 90s, they were note only performing and recording a statement against the tranced and lethargic shoegazer scene (remember My Bloody Valentine, all you mod listeners?), but also fueling frontman Brett Anderson's love-affair with all things glam-rockish; i.e. Bowie, T-Rex, leather posturings, androgyny, ass-shaking audience flirtation, and potent pop rock. Melody Maker, the "Big Ben" of English music culture, even named them "best new band" of 1992. Then, they changed their name to the London Suede due to technicalities, got all arty on Dog Man Star, and performed a submarine dive from public view as Oasis and Brit-pop rose to the surface of the toilet ... er ... the pond of the microcosm which is the British rock scene, though several critics credit Suede as being the forerunners of Brit-pop, anyway. Now it's 1997, and the London Suede have risen again to deliver their third full release, Coming Up. Whether the "coming up" refers to Suede's bank account figures or a vomitous reaction from their fans at their new sound is a subject MOO's Daiv Whaley tries to discover, oh-so-politely, as he chats with drummer Simon Gilbert, all the way from the gray shores of England.

MOO: Alright, so Suede has returned to the airwaves after a two-year absence with Coming Up. What's different about this one?

Simon: Well, it's a lot more direct and easier to listen to than, certainly, Dog Man Star; a lot more rhythm-based ...

MOO: Which is great for a drummer!

Simon: Oh yeah, it's great for me -- we spent about six weeks just doing the drum tracks; we took a lot more time than we normally do. Plus, it's got a lot of keyboards on it cuz we've got a new keyboard player, Neil, who's my cousin.

MOO: Um ... was that a riddle? Or an interview question? I don't know who your cousin is -- I'm supposed to be asking the questions!

Simon: No, Neil is my cousin.

MOO: Oh, sorry.

Simon: So, we have some very good pop songs on it -- there's going to be five singles, and we could have done seven or eight, to be honest. It's just a much more accessible album, and it's opening people's ears who haven't been listening to Suede before, particularly in Europe and Britain. We're selling a lot more records than we ever have before.

MOO: That's riffing.

Simon: Yes, it is riffing.

MOO: So then, is Suede a pop band or a rock band?

Simon: We're a prock band!

MOO: My fave songs on your discs are always the audio-experimenia ones, like "Dandy's Speeding," "Introducing the Band" or "Moving" ...

Simon: That's one of the first tunes we ever recorded! We don't play it live anymore -- the drum bit's too fast for me nowadays.

MOO: Well, those types of songs really seem to distance you from the more plebeian, predictable, 90s-modrock types of bands. Are those kinds of songs written with that type of production in mind?

Simon: Well, "Introducing the Band" certainly was -- it was one of the last tracks we recorded for Dog Man Star, and after we heard it, we just thought, "What was that?" But it was intentional to make it a bit weird.

MOO: Did Brian Eno approach the band about doing an incredibly long version of the tune ...

Simon: That incredibly long, incredibly boring version? No, we approached him for some bizarre reason, I don't know why. I'm not criticizing the bloke -- he does amazing work, but at the end of the day, all we were left with was the reverb; he took everything else out but the echo ... I was expecting a little bit more of the original version -- I bet there's not one person in the fucking country who's played the whole thing all the way through. I know I haven't!

MOO: Yuk yuk. Your former guitarist and co-songwriter Bernard Butler ...

Simon: Bernard Buttocks!

MOO: ... exited Suede after recording Dog Man Star and has been replaced by the very young Richard Oakes. What, is he 19 now?

Simon: No, he's actually 20 now and getting up in the double digits!

MOO: This is the first disc he's done with Suede. Was he up to the task?

Simon: More so than we'd ever expected, to be honest. We did a few demos before the album and after three or four, it was just no problem with him at all. Easy peasey! For someone so young and so inexperienced, I don't know how he did it, but he did.

MOO: Did you just say "easy peasey"? Never mind, what about this new keyboardist? Some cynics say that when a guitar band takes on a keyboardist, the band's death knell has begun, and now your own cousin, Neil Codling, is an official Suedester. "Codling," what a great last name.

Simon: Yeah, Codling, like in "molly codling." Have you heard that expression?

MOO: Yes, I studied English literature, with a minor in advanced cybernetic design.

Simon: Hmmnn. But about those cynics, they're wrong, at least in Suede's case -- Neil has done nothing but improve upon what we can do and the limits we can reach on our albums. Also, live, our sound is so much fuller. And we can still fuckin' rock out as well. Now, if we got a brass section, that might kill a band.

MOO: I've heard that Bowie is a fan? Has the band had any dealings with him as of yet?

Simon: Yes, he is. Um, we played with him last summer, in Spain, in the Pyrenees Mountains. He requested we play and we opened for him and he watched the whole gig from the sidestage, which was a bit nerve-racking. But yes, he's a big fan and he's fifty years old now.

MOO: Rockstar, painter, actor and Suede fan ... What more can you ask?

Simon: Not very much!

MOO: Speaking of playing live, you guys toured America for Dog Man Star -- how would you say a US audience compares to a British crowd?

Simon: Well, it really depends. I couldn't really generalize that much, because in L.A. or someplace like San Francisco, they're probably wilder than a British audience, but then you look at some place in Texas ... they sort of spit on us, they don't really like us there. It's a bit different in America, but there are some parts of it where it feels like you could be in London.

MOO: So, I take it while you're almost worshipped in Britain, America really hasn't caught on yet?

Simon: Hasn't caught on yet ... we're not saying we're giving up on it at all, but we're just playing it by ear. I believe that's the expression for it. We're gonna come over and do 10 dates and see how the album is received, but there's no real point in banging your head against a brick wall. If America on the whole doesn't get it, then fair enough, but I really hope they do, cuz it's a great album, a lot more America-friendly as well.

MOO: I've read Brett describe the band as being "political." I know Suede had been involved in the animal rights movement, and gay rights, and freedom issues. Do you find American music to be more or less politically-motivated on the whole than British stuff?

Simon: Well, I'd say that quote was probably taken out of context ... We're a political band in a human sense, not in a government politics kind of way. Yeah, we'll stand up in the House of Parliament and say, "This is wrong and blah blah blah," and we'll protest like that, but in the songs, there's no political manifesto of any kind -- it's purely human "politics" in our music. As for American bands, I really can't say ... I'm very stuck in the 60s and 70s in terms of music, and I don't really ask myself if this or that band is American or British, but rather, are they good or bad bands?

MOO: There's been a bit of a buzz in the US over the Brit-pop scene -- particularly Oasis and Blur. Where does Suede seem to fit into that whole genre, anyway?

Simon: Blur? They're shitty. Oasis is actually pretty good. Suede doesn't really fit into that scene at all; it was lucky we were away when it sort of kicked-off, and luckily we weren't lumped into that whole thing, cuz now the scene is dead, there's no such thing as Brit-pop anymore in England, and when a scene dies off, all the bands die off with it. So America, don't bother with it. It's really just the media sticking another tag on some scene -- it's useless crap, really.

MOO: Okay, how about the whole androgyny/bisexuality slant of a lot of Suede's songs -- if it's not just image-mongering to get attention ...

Simon: No, it's not.

MOO: So, why is Suede so revelatory about their sexual preferences?

Simon: Because the people we hang around with ... we hang around with each other, we're all friends, and the other people who come from lots of different areas of society, and at the end of the day everyone's aware of sexuality and the different types of sexuality, and consequently Brett writes about the people we hang around with and the way we live. It's just about being open and honest, really.

MOO: Right -- skinstorms together and all that.

Simon: Exactly; singing about things that other people don't sing about -- we don't sing about birds and flowers and the sky and things like that.

MOO: Speaking about singing -- there's lots of stories and rumors about your Brett Anderson. He seems like a real character.

Simon: All the stories are probably true!

MOO: Considering he'll probably never see this interview, what do you have to say about Mr. Anderson?

Simon: About Mr. Anderson? He's become one of my best friends; he's perceived as being aloof and stuff like that, but at the end of the day, he's one of the most genuine people I know. He's a lovely bloke, that's my honest opinion, and make sure he doesn't see that or I'll become really embarrassed.

MOO: Last question. Before '92, critics and clubs seemed to hate you. Then, you end up on the cover of Melody Maker, your disc goes to number one and beats out Depeche Mode, and you're big-time rock stars. What happened?

Simon: Well, that Melody Maker cover did help, let's be honest.

MOO: The power of the press!

Simon: Yeah. But even before that ... I don't know what happened. We played at this place called the Falcon in Camden, which is a famous sort of indie hangout. We played there one weekend to, like, eight people. Then the next weekend we played there again and the place was packed. All these stars came down there, people like Morrissey, and things just started to happen. I really don't know what happened -- I think people really got bored with the scene at the time, there was a lot of techno and shoegazey stuff going on and the indie scene was boring. We kind of laid that stuff to rest when we got going. There were people who I think were bored with not seeing real entertainers up on stage, and we were a band that was entertaining, which might have been why people didn't like us at the time -- they were so used to seeing the shoegazing stuff going on.

MOO: Yeah, let's look at our sneakers for an hour and play guitars!

Simon: Right, how entertaining is that? Might as well just sit at home and listen to their records.

MOO: And the rest is history, as they say.

Simon: Yeah, something like that.

[wowweeharrystyles]

Part 9 | The Jumpsuit, Falling & (more) Ripped Trousers | 6.1k words

Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Masterlist

a/n: I hope y’all are doing what you need to during this crazy time. All the love to you all !!! 💕also...a little bit of niall in this part... go stream HBW !!! 

The loud knock on the door causes Harry and Aurora to jump and scramble to sit up on the couch. 

“Heard there’s a curly headed boy in here!” 

A once blonde, now brunette head pops into the doorway. If the irish accent wasn’t enough to give away who it was, his face surely does. Aurora messes with her hair and Harry wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, trying their best to compose themselves. They had made their way back to Harry’s dressing room from the empty arena before Harry was to be pulled away for training, soundcheck and all the usual pre show prep. One thing led to another and the episode of Friends Aurora had pressed play on was long forgotten. 

“Niall!” Harry exclaims, jumping off the couch. He hugs his old friend as Aurora is frozen on the couch. Harry hadn’t even mentioned the possibility of Niall coming to the show tonight. It didn’t even cross Aurora’s mind that in Dublin (duh), that Niall might be in attendance. A deer in headlights describes Aurora best at this moment. “Haven’t seen ‘ur hair this messy in ages! Who do you have here with you?” Niall jokes, his laugh filling the space. When Harry steps out of the doorway to invite Niall in, he fixes his hair and Niall’s laughter stops. Niall lets out a surprised “Oh,” with a small laugh. 

“Uh, Niall, this is Ror- uh, Aurora,” he corrects himself, a dopey smile forming on his face.

“Lovely to meet you, Aurora,” Niall offers a hand out to her. 

“Wasn’t how I was intending to introduce the 2 of you, but here we are,” Harry adds. 

“Uh, great to meet you as well, Niall,” Aurora says as she stands up. She shakes his hand. “Harry, you could’ve said he was coming,” Aurora comments directly to Harry. 

“It wasn’t for sure yet and I kind of wanted it to be a surprise,” Harry tells Aurora. 

“A surprise?” Niall questions. “For Aurora?” He continues to question as he gestures to Aurora, a small look of confusion on his face. 

“Ugg,” Aurora groans, to no one in particular, “Harry, please don’t.” 

“Hey, if you’re going to rub in my face that you were once a ‘Niall girl’,” he uses air quotes to pester her more, “then I’m going to have some fun with it.” Niall’s laugh echoes off the walls of the dressing room. 

“I’m gonna need more of a story behind this,” Niall says through bouts of laughter. 

Aurora groans again, rolling her eyes at Harry before turning back to Niall. “Wish we could've had this conversation over some drinks, but here we are.” 

“We could get drinks right now, I know where the bar is,” Niall adds. 

“I’m technically working… so drinking is a no,” 

“But making out on the couch is fine?” Harry asks through a chuckle, Niall’s laugh joins in. 

“Oh god, the 2 of you together is really gonna be like this huh?” 

“Like what?” Harry asks. 

“You 2 picking on me and just overall, chaotic.” The 2 former bandmates shrug their shoulders when they make eye contact. 

“Anyways,” Niall circles back to the original request, “I need the story. Correct me if I’m wrong, but did Harry say ‘Niall girl’?” 

“He sure did. I made the mistake to share that I once had One Direction posters on my wall growing up. Definitely pumped Harry’s ego a bit and I had to bring it down by informing him that I was a quote unquote a Niall Girl back then.” Aurora sighs and then laughs at the face Niall is making at Harry. “Ni, you don’t have a chance anymore, so stop even entertaining the thought in your head,” Harry says as he tosses an arm around Aurora’s shoulders. 

“How much does it kill you that she had posters of me in her room?” Niall asks Harry. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Harry states with a straight face. 

“Can we not talk about any of this anymore?” Aurora questions, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment still. Both Harry and Niall’s laughter fill the room once again and Aurora can’t help but smile at the 2 old friends. 

Harry ushers them both to the empty couch and chairs to sit back down. Niall opts for the chair after grabbing a sparkling water from the fridge under the vanity counter. Niall seems carefree and comfortable. Harry doesn’t talk much about being in the band or the other guys much. It’s not that he avoids it at all costs. If it comes up he’ll talk but he doesn’t volunteer the conversation himself. Aurora does know that he keeps in touch with Niall the most. She had caught him giggling at something on his phone recently and when she asked what it was all he said was that Niall sent him a joke. 

“I’ve seen the suits you’ve got our boy Harold in, they’re incredible, really,” Niall comments to Aurora. 

“Oh, yeah, I only helped pick some of them out, thanks though,” Aurora says shyly. 

“Don’t do that,” Harry interrupts. “You’ve done more than that.” Aurora only blushes slightly and shakes her head. 

“Getting him in clothes is the hardest part, honestly,” Niall comments. 

“Why does everyone say that?” Aurora questions. “Gemma made the same comment and Lambert alluded to it as well.” 

“Harry over here was barely dressed half the time and would put up a fight when he was told to put pants or a shirt on for anything. Quite a show off back in the day,” Niall shares. 

Aurora laughs, “Well, I haven’t had much trouble.” 

“Think there’s something more in it for him when he listens,” Niall says. 

Harry rolls his eyes at Niall. An alarm rings from Harry’s phone. 

“I’ve gotta head to sound check, wanna come with, Ni?” Harry asks as he stands up. Niall agrees to join and the 2 boys stand up to leave.

“Have a good sound check,” Aurora says before pressing a kiss to his lips quickly. “Niall, seriously it was great meeting you. I’m assuming you’re staying for the show?” He nods, “Great, I’ll see you later then.” 

“Great to meet you too. See you later, Aurora,” Niall says, his blue eyes bright and his irish accent strong. 

| | | | |

Harry’s dressing room becomes a common room tonight and by the time Harry has to get ready, his whole band is in here. Niall’s tagged along with Harry since he got here earlier and Aurora has enjoyed the commotion for once. Niall is sharing a story about one of the many shows they had done together when Aurora finishes prepping Harry’s jumpsuit for the show. She joins Sarah on the couch while waiting for Harry to be done with Ayae. 

“He falls flat on his arse,” Niall continues telling the story. “In front of a sold out arena. No idea what he even tripped on or anything, to this day.” 

“Hey!” Harry interrupts. “There was a loose flap on the stage!” He defends. 

“Buddy, I really don’t think there was, but keep telling people that if it makes you feel better.” Harry rolls his eyes at Niall. 

“Ror, I’m ready!” Harry says as he walks towards the wardrobe cases. Aurora gets off the couch to help get him into the jumpsuit. 

“Hey, Mully just messaged saying he was here,” Niall says to Harry. “I’m gonna go find him.” Harry and Niall hug for a moment, a few pats on the back, Niall wishing him good luck. Aurora smiles at the two. No love was lost between them. Though Aurora doesn’t know everything about what that time was like, she's grateful that behind all the rumors and drama Harry and Niall still get along like they did when they first met on the X Factor. She’s most grateful for the fact that Harry has someone who understands it all. Someone who can relate to him and someone to share those memories with. She’s supportive and understands what she can but she wasn’t there. 

Harry’s band, Ayae and Helene follow Niall out the door leaving Aurora and Harry alone, just as it happens every night. 

“Okay, here ya go,” Aurora says as she hands off the jump suit to Harry. He steps into the jumpsuit and pulls the sleeves up on his shoulders. He lets out a grunt when he goes to button it close. “What?” Aurora asks with a look of worry on her face. 

“Uhm, fits a bit tighter than it did last,” Harry says slowly. 

“Oh no…. Can you close it?” 

“I mean, yeah, I think it’ll be fine, just not as roomy as it was for the Late Late Show.” Harry fastens the buttons up the front and adjusts the fabric in a few spots before he looks up to Aurora. 

“Turn around for me,” she directs to inspect that it’s still okay to perform in. As he turns around Aurora’s jaw drops, “Oh.” The jumpsuit certainly fits tighter than it did last. “Uh, is it comfortable?” She stutters out. 

“Uh yeah,” Harry moves around a bit. “Does it look okay?” 

“Honest?” 

“Well, yeah,” Harry says, slightly confused.

“So uh, it definitely fits tighter… but it looks really good.” It’s all that Aurora can say. Her brain actually cannot form anymore full sentences. It’s not that the jump suit looked bad when he wore it for the Kiwi performance on the Late Late Show almost a year ago, it’s just that it looks better than it did. Harry turns to Aurora to try to figure out what she’s thinking. 

“What?” Harry asks when Aurora’s face is unreadable. He chuckles a little when her cheeks turn a light shade of pink under his gaze. 

“Well your ass looks great.”

“Rory!” Harry yells, almost startled by the comment coming from her. 

“What?! It’s the truth!” She says with a short laugh. “Let’s just say all those training sessions are doing their job.” Harry shakes his head, a small huff coming out of his mouth before a dimple inducing smile covers his face. He’s drawn towards Aurora and the look in her eyes. He can’t put his finger on it. When he gets his hands around her waist, instinctively he pulls her as close as she can get to him. Her hands grab on his shoulders and then slide down to his biceps. She lets out a small giggle as Harry presses his face into her neck, his lips landing on the soft skin below her ear. Aurora moves her hands to his chest to push him away from her to get him to stop tickling her neck with the soft touch of his lips. Pressing up to her toes, she kisses him square on the lips quickly before she pulls away from his hold. “Just don’t stop training.”

She pretends like nothing has happened and goes to grab Harry’s socks and shoes. She openly watches him as he puts them on. She follows him into the large, echoey bathroom as she always does. Hopping onto the counter she watches as he goes through his routine. 

“So what’d you think of Niall?” Harry asks curiously, his face reads a hint of caution but also approval. Being the one member he has stayed in contact with the most, he’s hoping she likes him as much as he does. He’s also nervous. He’d be lying if he said the image of Aurora’s childhood bedroom with Niall’s face plastered on the walls wasn’t haunting his mind. 

Aurora can see his brain churning as he asks the question and she smiles a little at the almost nervous look that is now on his face. “Crazy to meet him if I’m honest,” she shrugs. She sees Harry take a deep breath, his shoulders rising but not falling when he breathes out a shallow breath. “I’m glad you’ve kept in contact with him.” Aurora’s trying to direct the conversation to be about Niall and Harry not Niall and Aurora. She can tell he’s thinking too much. “Harry?” He hums at her as he finishes brushing his teeth. “You know, even though I had posters of Niall on my walls, I did take them down a long time ago. My mom found them in the back of my closet and they were there for a reason.” She sighs. He thinks too much and there’s reasons he thinks too much. She just doesn’t know why yet, but that conversation is for another day. “Babe,” at the pet name, Harry looks at her, “Niall wasn’t the one who took care of me when I burned my arm with a steamer. He doesn’t bring me coffee exactly how I like it or flirt with me by getting me new sneakers,” she laughs lightly. “He doesn’t make me laugh on a daily basis or know exactly when I could use a hug.” Now Aurora has hopped off the counter and is standing next to Harry, looking at him in the mirror. “He’s not you. He never will be no matter what. I may have had posters of him on my walls 4 years ago but that doesn’t matter anymore.” Aurora turns to face Harry and he follows her movement so they’re face to face now. She tucks a rogue curl back into place before continuing. “You’re all that matters, okay? I’m here, with you, yeah? Please stop thinking so much,” she pleads. Harry nods minutely. A small smile appears on his face, the cliche twinkle is back in his eye and he uses one hand to pull Aurora’s face to his, kissing her softly. 

“You know I get in my head a lot,” Harry says quietly when they pull apart from each other. Aurora offers a small smile and sighs at him. 

“I know, but you need to talk to me about it. Tell me when something isn’t sitting right, tell me anything. I can read you pretty well but I can only do so much.” 

“Promise I’ll work on it as long as you promise me you’re a Harry girl now,” he mocks. Aurora groans as she pulls away from his hold.

“You know, you’re really good at ruining the moment?” She jokes as she walks back to the main part of the dressing room. 

“You can’t deny you don’t adore it!” Harry yells back. She laughs and it echoes through both rooms and it makes Harry smile. 

Aurora turns around when she hears him walk back through the door. There’s still a ghost of a smile on his face when he looks at her. She huffs, unable to form a thought when she goes to give the last look on his jumpsuit.

“What?” Harry questions, a sparkle in his eye. 

“Nothing,” she brushes her thoughts away. Harry raises an eyebrow at her in question. “You look really good,” she admits with a shrug before turning away from him. She starts to pick up a few things to put away but Harry is quick to grab her waist and turn her around. She only sees the smile that’s covered his face for a moment before his lips are on hers. 

| | | | |

Everyone has been spending the extra days off at the hotel’s private pool. They nap and read and just enjoy the time off. Harry and Aurora are sitting on a cushion covered wooden sectional that sits in the corner of the pool area covered by large yellow and white umbrellas. Regardless of the heat, Aurora snuggled into Harry’s side, his feet crossed at the ankle, propped up on the bench in front of them and his arm around her shoulders. He has one of his woven fedoras on and sunglasses covering his eyes. Aurora traces over the butterfly tattoo on his stomach, idly as he hums and rests his head on top of hers. 

“This is nice,” he repeats for the hundredth time this afternoon. Aurora giggles in response. Harry turns his head and places a soft kiss to her hair. Harry starts humming again. 

“Is that a new one?” Aurora asks. 

“Ahhh not yet, just a little melody that’s been stuck in my head.” 

“Are you writing for the next album?” She asks as she reaches for his cross necklace. Aurora fiddles with it between her thumb and pointer finger. 

“Not purposefully. I’ll write whatever comes to me or record a voice note or something so I can use it later if I want. But not really thinking about the next album yet. I want to enjoy the tour and the first album more before I get into the next ” he shares, looking down at her. 

“That makes sense. It seemed like it was always a quick turnaround for the band. Must be nice to enjoy it all and not have to think about the next thing when you’ve just started the first thing. ” She drops the necklace and her hand slides up the side of his neck and stops at his jawline. Aurora’s fingers trace lightly over the harshness of it.

“Yeah it’s been nice, more enjoyable” he smiles down at her. “Not that it wasn’t enjoyable-” 

“Don’t have to explain yourself, I understand what you’re saying.” Aurora’s fingers don’t leave his jawline, only grip it harder to bring his face down to hers. His breath fans out across her face before his lips land on hers. She smiles when he pulls away for a brief moment. He mirrors her smile before going in to kiss her again. Between their smiles and the small giggles coming from both of them, they barely can connect their lips. 

It’s when they’re laying in the same spot later, cold margaritas on the table nearby, the sun setting off in the distance when Aurora gets a glimpse of Harry that makes her heart swell. His face is soft as he enjoys the view. A tint of red covers the top of his cheeks and nose, the sun having made a mark. Everything feels so normal, so mundane. Three full days spent in the Australian sun has only made Aurora’s heart grow fonder of the curly headed boy that she’s tucked into. With nothing to do but enjoy each other’s company, laugh with their friends and soak up the sun, she’s had a lot of time to think about everything. She’s thought about how thankful she is that this is her life, that while working, this is the break she gets to take, that her job is to dress the man she’s falling in love with. She’s thought about that last part a lot. She’s not sure she’s falling in love with him so much as already fallen in love with him. She’s there. She fell and she fell hard and she’s there. She’s fallen so hard that a small glimpse of him in the light of the sunset is enough to make her want to give her whole self to him. 

Aurora thinks about it the whole way back to the hotel room. Harry even asks why she’s so quiet. When she responds with “just thinking” he doesn’t stop the questioning there. 

“Ror,” he whispers. 

“What? You’re the only one who can think too much?” Aurora jokes as they walk into the elevator.

Harry sighs as a small smile ghosts his face, “what’re you thinking about, love?” 

“Uhm, can I tell you once I’ve figured it out?” 

Harry angles his body towards her so he can see her face completely. He pulls her closer to him with the hand that is at her waist. He kisses the top of her cheek then her temple. “Sure,” he says quietly, “just don’t go making up stories in that pretty little head of yours, okay?” Aurora nods. 

Once they get back to the hotel room both of them take their turns to shower and get ready for bed. Aurora’s sitting on the bed, Harry’s rolling stone tshirt on and scrolling through her phone when Harry walks out of the bathroom. 

“Did you call your mum?” he asks. Aurora mentioned that she wanted to when he hopped into the shower. 

“Mom was asleep, but I called Leila,” Aurora explains. 

“How is your sister?” He asks as he wrings out his hair with the towel one last time, tossing it back in the bathroom. 

“Good…” she answers broadly, not totally focused on the conversation. 

“Ror, you’re still thinking hard about something.” 

“Yeah, no, I know. Promise I’m fine. Leila helped a bit.” Harry gives her a questioning look as he sits down on the bed with her. “I’m still trying to work it out in my head, okay?” He nods slowly at her. “We’re fine. I promise we are. Nothing to worry about,” she explains as she reaches for him. She’s endeared by the caring look in his eyes. He looks rested and calm and his skin has tanned a bit.

She pulls him into her rather than finding her spot tucked into his side. His hair is still damp and she knows if she touches it too much it’ll go all frizzy. So instead, she smoothes it down so it doesn’t tickle her neck too much. He willingly wraps his arms around her torso, his legs automatically finding her bare ones underneath the sheets and weaving with them. Subconsciously she starts to trace the ink that litters his arm. 

“Ready for the show tomorrow?” Aurora asks after some silence. 

“Yeah,” he answers slowly. 

“Is it hard to go back to touringn after a small break?” She asks, curious. She always hated going back to school or work after long weekends or short trips. His job is different but it’s work, all the same. 

“Uhm, it normally is a bit hard yeah, but feels a bit different now, this time.” 

“What’d you mean by that?” 

“It’s all a bit different now, used to be such a routine, go home for a few days or family and friends would come to me when I had a few days. It was always so hard when they left and I had to get back to work. Not that-”

“Not that you didn’t enjoy it,” Aurora finishes for him. 

“I say that a lot, huh?” 

“Don’t need to explain it to me, remember? I understand.” Harry sighs at Aurora’s words and lets his hand that's sitting on her hip find the hem of his t-shirt she’s wearing and slid underneath. He gives the skin at her hip a light squeeze before he lets the heat from his hand radiate on the skin there and rub circles into her flesh haphazardly. 

“Right, well it was hard then cause I’d have to say goodbye and it was always for an unknown amount of time. I should’ve been going back to work well rested but I would stay up for hours in the night dreading having to leave or them leaving me.” Harry stops his movements and wraps his arms around Aurora tighter, his face burying itself in Aurora’s neck and breathing in the smell of her shampoo. He pulls his head away only for a moment to share the rest of his explanation. “But it’s different now because it’s my tour and it isn’t how it used to be and I’ve got you with me. And as long as you’re not planning on going anywhere I don't’ have to dread going back to work cause you’ll be there too.” 

| | | | |

Aurora decides to watch from the mix tonight in Melbourne and by the time Harry makes his way to the Bstage she doesn’t regret the choice at all. Harry can spot her any night, but tonight is different. He catches a glimpse of her as he walks up the metal stairs, Mitch following not far behind. She still has on the black and white floral jacket. The one he wore years ago. The one he gave her, while sitting on the very stage he’s walking up. Only the stage was in an arena in a different continent. His smile mocked the glimmer of the gold foil on his suit and shined right up until the moment he focused on the next song. 

“One, two, three, four,” he almost whispers into the mic. Mitch starts to play the guitar and Aurora’s heart swells when Harry starts singing ‘Sweet Creature.’ 

If anyone would ask Aurora what her favourite song of Harry’s is she’d probably end up listing the whole album. Right now though, her favourite is ‘Sweet Creature.’ If it were actually possible, his vocals would melt her heart into nothing. There’s something about it stripped down like this, it’s the most similar to how he sings when he’s on his own, when he’s with Aurora. It's the most similar to how he sounds when he’s in the shower or when he’s getting ready in the mornings. He’ll sing his current and old favourites and sometimes mess around with the melody of some of his own. 

“You will bring me home,” he belts. “Sweet creature, sweet creature, when I run out of road,” he sings with his eyes closed, full heart and soul poured into each note. He lets the audience sing the next line. As Mitch’s guitar fills the speakers on its own and the audience screams louder, Aurora can tell Harry is trying to avoid turning in her direction but he can’t fight it. He turns his head to where she’s standing. She watches as his jaw softens. His eyes search the small section he knows Aurora’s standing in. When he finds her, a smile appears on his face. A dimple and the crinkles at his eyes follow the turn of his lips. His eyes twinkle. Maybe from the lights. Maybe it’s the result of the emotion of the song. Maybe it’s because he’s just seen the girl he’s in love with, singing along to his own song, in his old jacket with a look on her face that could be described as nothing short of absolute adoration. 

He doesn’t linger long. He knows that he can’t stare at her from the stage forever and his cue is coming soon for the last line of the song. 

“You will bring me home,” his voice sounds through the speakers, deep and clear. It rattles Aurora’s chest a bit. 

Harry thanks Mitch and grabs his own guitar, now solo on the small stage. Even though Aurora can’t pick one favourite from Harry’s album she could give you at least her top 5 favourite One Direction songs. ‘If I Could Fly’ is without a doubt in the top 5. Aurora does think Harry’s version on his own is the best version of it. Every night she’s thoroughly entertained when Harry tries to quiet the audience before he asks them to sing the chorus for him. She can’t help but take on the smile that appears on his face when the entire audience is singing, in unison, the song he poured his heart into years ago. 

As the song comes to an end and the opening of ‘Anna’ begins, Aurora’s eyes follow Harry as he walks down the stairs and back up the path that is littered with flowers and sparkles and signs and fans yelling his name. She sees the pile of flowers that sit on top of a crate at the edge of the mix near the bstage stairs and smiles. She can’t help but think how lucky she is to be standing here, wearing the Gucci jacket of dreams, getting to dress the rockstar that has just tossed his planet painted guitar over his chest and falling in love with him all at the same time. 

| | | | |

The golden Calvin Klein suit is the last Aurora can take, she thinks. He screams sunshine in this. Just like that day in Amsterdam - so many things go back to that day in Amsterdam - the bright golden colour of the suit has the same effect that the yellow t-shirt did. 

Aurora's tucked up in the corner of the couch in Harry’s dressing room. Harry is sitting in the chair in front of the vanity mirror, Ayae fixing his curls after Harry messed them up a few minutes ago. She can’t stop catching his eyes in the mirror and they both laugh quietly each time. When his hair is back in place and Harry thanks Ayae, he walks to where Aurora is on the couch. He raises an eyebrow up at her. 

“You know,” Aurora starts, “there’s this thing,” she laughs nervously. “I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s gonna sound crazy, but you’re-you’re like,” she pauses before continuing, “sunshine. My own personal sunshine.” Harry tries to hide a smile as he places his hand on top of Aurora’s that is resting on her knee. He bends down and presses a kiss to the top of Aurora’s head. 

“Don’t sound crazy to me, love. If I look like sunshine to you, then I'm your sunshine.” 

Aurora pulls her hand out from underneath Harry's and grabs his face with both of them. She locks eyes with him for a short moment before pulling him down for a kiss. 

| | | | |

Aurora and Helene are laughing while looking through the photos Helene took during the show tonight in Sydney. Some of the photos of Harry are quite entertaining to say the least. 

“This one!” Aurora yells when Helene clicks to the next photo. “You have to post this one.” Helene laughs at Aurora’s eagerness. “It’s perfect.” 

“Oh is it?” Helene pesters. 

“His hair looks incredible. The lighting is perfect,” Aurora compliments. “And- and,” she stutters out, “he looks like sunshine.” 

“You’re really in love with him, huh?” Helene asks with a newly serious tone. Aurora smiles at her before sighing. 

“I mean, yeah,” she shrugs as if it’s not that scary. As if being in love with the world's biggest pop star isn’t something to be scared of. Like it’s not this terrifying idea, cause it’s not. At least not right at this moment. 

He’s her sunshine and she’s in love. 

| | | | |

“Do not tell me that was the sound of something ripping!” Aurora yells from across the large backstage space in Brisbane. She doesn’t dare to turn around to see the chaos that is happening surrounding the ping pong tables. She takes a deep breath as silence fills the room. Silence apart from Harry's laugh, that is. 

“Oh, Rory,” Harry calls through fits of laughter. 

When Aurora turns around her jaw drops and she has to force herself to take a deep breath so she doesn’t yell. 

“15 minutes!” calls the stage manager. Aurora’s heart sinks before it starts to beat rapidly. 

“Fucking hell,” she whispers to herself. “Take them off, I gotta fix ‘em,” she tells Harry as she reaches into her bag to find a needle and black thread. 

“I’ll just put a different pair on. It’s fine,” Harry says as he walks towards Aurora. 

“It’s not fine Harry. I’d have to steam another pair of pants, which will take more time than we have and anyways, we don’t have any other options. We only packed what was needed for the Australia shows.” Aurora is frustrated. 15 minutes before the show? Really?

“Oh,” is all Harry lets out as he slips out of the ripped pants. 

“You just had to be doing trick shots right before the show, huh?” Aurora half laughs, half scolds as she sits down to stitch the rip up the inside of the leg of his pants. 

“Sorry, Ror,” he offers as he begins to watch her get to work but his name is called back at the ping pong tables and he runs back to his game. 

“Should probably put your shirt and jacket on at least!” Aurora calls after him, not looking up. “Won’t have a minute to spare once they're finished!” She doesn’t look up, too focused on the work at hand. It’s not till she hears the band and stage crew cheer not 2 minutes later that she looks up. 

Harry’s standing at one end of the ping pong table with only his boxers and tall black socks on, a look of pride covering his face. The paddle outstretched in one hand and he’s taking in the cheers as he does on stage. 

Now Aurora’s angry. Here she is doing her job, trying to fix the pants Harry has ripped almost the entire length of while Harry is off, still playing around, now 10 minutes till the show is supposed to begin. 

“Rory!” he sings. “How’s my girl doing over here?” 

“Not your girl right now,” she says shortly. She doesn’t look up to him. She just keeps focusing on weaving the thread in and out of the black fabric. She does see his feet stop in its place, just at the edge of her range of sight. Backstage begins to quiet down a bit. 

Harry’s band gathers at the stage door ready to go when they're told to do so. There’s murmurs from the stage crew as they get everything ready. Aurora takes a deep breath to try and calm the shakiness in her hands. 

“Ror, why’re you shaking?” Harry whispers. Aurora hears the click of Helene’s camera. 

“Trying to fix your pants, less than 10 minutes till the show,” she answers quickly. 

“I can go on stage late, it’s fine. Take your time, love.” 

“Harry, please, I’m not your girl right now, I'm not ‘love’, I’m trying to do my job. Just let me fix these, I’ll call you when they’re ready. Now, go put on your tank and jacket, please.” Aurora isn’t messing around and Harry’s figured that out now.

“Yeah, okay,” he says solemnly. “Pushing start time by 10 minutes!” the stage manager announces instead of giving the 5 minute warning. “Officially, 15 minutes till new start time!

Although Aurora is angry with Harry for ripping his pants in the first place and now pushing back the show to accommodate her she relaxes a bit and her hands calm down. 

A few minute pass and when she knots the final stitch she calls for Harry. Standing up from her spot she turns the pants right side out. When she finally looks away from the pants she sees Harry standing in front of her, the top half of his body much more covered than the bottom half. 

“Thank you” he whispers to Aurora as he takes his pants from her. “I’m sorry,” he says as he buttons them close. When she meets his eyes she can’t help but smile softly at him. She sighs heavily, weaving the needle that’s still in her hand on the shoulder of her shirt, just like her mom always does. 

“Out of all the suits to rip before the show it was the simple black Givency one. Really?” Aurora messes with the collar of his jacket quickly, pulling it so it sits evenly on his shoulders. “Gotta respect me when I’m working okay? I’m here to be your ‘Head of Wardrobe’ first.” Harry nods, understanding. “I know the line is blurry, but when I’m trying to fix your clothes in a timely manner and you’re acting like a spoiled rockstar, you gotta check yourself. I’ll be your girlfriend after the show and we can laugh about how you ripped the entire inside seam of your pants then. Right now, though, I’m annoyed and a little angry. You shouldn’t have been playing ping pong like that in your suit in the first place, but I am not your mother, so, yeah.” Aurora shakes her head. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry offers again. 

“Thank you, but it’s fine. We’ll figure this out eventually,’ Aurora shrugs. “You’re all set. Good luck,” she says as she pushes him towards the stage door. 

“Be my girl for a minute?” Aurora’s eyebrows furrow at the question. “Just want a good luck kiss,” he explains.

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Aurora says challengingly. 

“You’re not making the line any clearer,” he challenges back. 

“Shut up and let me kiss you,” Aurora states as she grabs his face in both of her hands. His hands find a grip on her waist before dipping his head down and meeting their lips lightly. He lets one hand drop, the other smoothing around her waist so he can hold her whole body with the one. He presses another kiss to her lips before he pulls away. He grabs her waist tightly once more and presses a kiss to her cheek. 

She watches as the sound manager sets up his in-ear and weaves it through the back of his jacket. Harry adjusts the cords and the piece in his ear quickly and spares a last look at Aurora who’s standing where he left her, arms now crossed against her chest, smiling back at him. He mirrors her bright smile for a quick moment before turning around and disappearing through the doors.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Developments & Discoveries

A JSE Fanfic

Alright guys, this are a lot of different scenes in this story, but they really just follow a few “storylines.” But big things happen. First, Chase finds out some good news. Laurens and Schneep talk again, yay! And we learn more about our antagonist, Anti. The fic itself isn’t any longer than my usual ones, but there’s a lot packed in here. Guess I was excited to return to this world, haha. Enjoy, guys :)

You can find the other stories under the pw timeline tag!

Chase woke up at two in the afternoon. Well technically, he was awake at twelve, but lied in bed for another couple hours before actually getting up. “Oh my gooood.” He squeezed his eyes shut and covered them with his hands. Why couldn’t he get up at a normal time lately? At least today he had an excuse because he had the kids over yesterday. Saturdays to Mondays, that was the agreement. And Stacy wasn’t ready to renegotiate it.

They’d talked about that last night, when she came to pick them up. “Chase, I know this isn’t...ideal,” she said in a low voice. “But look around. Your fridge is empty, things are scattered around the house in a mess, and, please correct me if I’m wrong, but I...haven’t heard anything about a job or anything.” She sighed. “It’s not even really up to me, you know. Courts.”

“No, no, I get it,” Chase had replied. “It makes sense.”

“We can work things out once things are more settled.”

Well, now he was lying in bed and feeling bad, which was a step down from lying in a bed feeling tired, so he decided to get up and shower. It had been a while since that happened, and he couldn’t go to his one outing he’d planned today like that. He rolled out of bed, took a quick shower, ate a Pop-Tart for breakfast, and he felt a little better.

It really did make sense to have the kids spend most of their time with their mom. Chase knew he hadn’t exactly been...kept-together recently. And by “recently,” he meant for about the past two years. Sophie and Nick needed a parent who could actually put energy into raising them. He could do that, eventually. If he worked on it. “Positive thoughts, Chasey boy,” he said under his breath. “Be optimistic.” 

Okay, that was enough of that for now. He had something to do. But before he did that, he checked his phone for any texts. Marvin sent a video of Luna and Ragamuffin being cute, that was nice. Nothing else. Alright, no more stalling. He grabbed his jacket and cap and headed out to the car.

——————

He stepped into the hospital just as visiting hours were starting. By now he had hospital check-in routines down to muscle memory. He was signing his name on the check-in clipboard when he was interrupted by a loud voice: “Ah, Mr. Brody! Good to see you again.”

Chase jumped a bit, then turned around. “Oh. Hi, Dr. Emerson.”

The doctor was a tall man with a thick beard. Chase had always thought he looked more like a Viking than one of the city’s best...well, he couldn’t remember what exact field the doctor was a specialist in, all he knew was it had something to do with whatever had gone wrong with Jack. Brains or nerves or something. “So soon, huh?” Dr. Emerson said, chuckling. “No, I understand.”

“Uhhh...” Was Chase missing something? The last time he’d been here was two weeks ago. “O...kay?”

“Well, don’t show too much enthusiasm.” Dr. Emerson raised an eyebrow. “Are you still confused, then?”

“Confused about wh—I mean I am confused, because I don’t know what to be confused about.” That was starting to sound less and less like a word.

“Ah.” Emerson’s smile faltered. “Do you not remember what I told you yesterday?”

“I wasn’t here yesterday,” Chase said, his voice slowly rising as nerves creeped up on him. “What are you talking about?”

Now Emerson looked as baffled as Chase felt. “I...think there’s been some misunderstanding here.”

“Y’know, I’m gonna, uh, go to Jack’s room.” Chase started walking away, down the hall towards the ICU wing. “You can, uh, come with me and tell me what happened yesterday while we go.”

Emerson followed. As the two of them waited at the elevator, he started explaining. “Well, about this time yesterday, you walked in, checked in just like you did, and went up to the room.” The elevator arrived with a ding, and the two of them stepped inside. Chase pressed the button for the third floor and listened as the doctor continued. “Of course, I only assume this part, since you wrote your name on the visitor’s slip. I was already in the room, and that’s when I told you about the change in Jack’s condition—”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Chase shouted.

“My god, man, you can be loud when you want,” Emerson said, taking a step away. “Anyway, yes, his GCS score went up.”

“I...don’t know what that means,” Chase said, staring at him in shock. The elevator dinged again, but he didn’t even step out.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Emerson said. He made an ‘after you’ gesture, and Chase finally stepped out, now following Emerson as he walked down a familiar hallway. “Then you said you would look it up later, and I left you with Jack.”

“None of this happened,” Chase said, clenching his shaking hands into fists. “This did not happen, I-I was busy all day yesterday.”

“Well, could it have been one of your friends?” Emerson asked. “You do all look similar, don’t you? Though I don’t understand why he’d pretend to be you.”

Chase fell silent. He knew that neither Marvin or JJ would do something like that. But there was someone who might. Anti. In fact, hadn’t Anti done the same thing once before? Pretended to be Marvin visiting the hospital? But why? Jack didn’t have anything to do with any of this. He had no idea what Anti was planning, and that led his mind to the worst case scenarios.

They arrived at Room 309, and Chase reached forward to open the door. “Oh wait,” Dr. Emerson interrupted, placing a hand on the door. “I should probably tell you about the changes. I would have yesterday, but you—or, er, your friend saw first.”

“Okay, so what are theys?” Chase asked. “These changes. What’s a GCS? Is that some sort of fancy brain wave or something?”

Emerson chuckled. “No, it’s not actually anything in the body. GCS stands for Glasgow Coma Scale, it’s a way to describe someone’s level of consciousness after brain trauma. I suppose I’ve been so used to talking about it with others in the department that I forgot I had to explain it.”

“Yes, that would be appreciated,” Chase prompted.

“Well, the GCS measures three factors: eye opening, verbal response, and motor response. Each of these are measured on a scale, and when combined there’s a highest possible score of 15. Mr. McLoughlin’s has recently raised from the lowest possible score, three, to a five.”

“And that’s good,” Chase clarified.

“Yes, it is very good.” Emerson smiled. “I’ll be honest with you, Chase, it’s been over a year, and things weren’t looking good for Jack’s recovery. This is a huge development.”

Chase nodded. “R...right.” He grabbed the doorknob and swung it open, stepping inside. 

The room looked the same as ever. Jack looked the same as ever. Chase hesitated, then walked up next to the bed. And then the difference was clear. At the sound of approaching footsteps, Jack opened his eyes.

Chase had to stop and process what he was looking at. His eyes were open. He was looking at him. “I...oh my god.” He covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh my god, Jack?”

“He can’t respond, Chase.” Emerson walked up next to him. “He hasn’t reacted to anything verbally or through motion. Just the eyes, and it’s not spontaneous. Only to sound.”

“Oh.” Chase nodded, slowly lowering his hand. “Can he hear us?”

“Well, we have no way of knowing,” Emerson explained. “It could only be an automatic response, he could be hearing us but not comprehending what we say, or he could be listening to everything.” He paused. “You understand that a GCS score of five is still very low, yes? Anything below an eight is still considered to be a coma.”

“Right...” Chase took another step closer, reaching down to touch Jack’s hand. Still, it was an improvement, and at this point, he’d take any sign of change for the better. It had been so long since he last saw his friend smile...talked to him...perhaps eventually, he’d be able to do that again. But as the hopeful thought arose, it was brought back down by a sinking feeling. He looked over at Emerson. “Hey doc, this is important. I didn’t come to visit yesterday. My friends didn’t either. There’s...” he hesitated. “There’s someone else. He’s been following us, a-and I don’t know what he wants, but it’s most likely not...good.”

Emerson turned pale. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah, the police know about this guy.” Even though he hadn’t told them that he thought Anti was stalking them...well, at least they knew he existed. He wasn’t sure if he should tell them, after all, he didn’t have much proof. “So you have to be careful, okay? I-I’ll tell my friends, we need to find a way for you to make sure it’s us and not him...” He looked back down at Jack. Nobody was more vulnerable than someone in a coma.

“I’ll wait outside, we can discuss this later,” Emerson said. “After you’re done here.”

Chase nodded. Emerson left, footsteps retreating, and Chase didn’t turn around as he heard the door shut. He squeezed Jack’s hand tighter. “Sorry you got caught up in this,” he muttered. “I don’t know what he’d want from you. I mean, Anti popped up in our lives after you went through all this. Or, well, JJ knew him.” He pulls over the chair, sitting down. “Yeah, uh, this Anti guy. He’s bad news. He kidnapped Schneep, and like...all those bad things I told you about, that he was accused of, it was actually Anti, and Schneep got framed. I guess it’s easy to scapegoat a guy who can’t even confirm he really saw you.” He paused. “He’s got Jackie too. The police are looking for him, so I guess there’s a better chance of finding Jackie now that they know where he is. Also. The craziest thing about this is that Anti is JJ’s brother.” He laughed dryly. “God, what a coincidence, huh? Maybe fate does exist. And it’s a dick.”

He goes quiet, watching Jack. After a few minutes of silence, his eyes started to close. “Y’know I really do hope you can hear me, and you’re listening,” Chase said. Jack’s eyes automatically opened wide again. “Because then you could tell us what Anti was doing here yesterday. It would be...I guess it would make me feel a bit better, to at least know.” He took a deep breath. “But you know what? It’s gonna be okay. Eventually. It might take a while, and I’ll be honest, right now is kind of sucky, but it’s gonna get better eventually. Y’know what you used to say, positive mental attitude. The viewers are really liking that, by the way. They still miss you, of course, but I’m keeping on. But on the track of positivity, at least Schneep’s first doctor is back, so he’ll be okay, I think. Marvin’s doing good, too. JJ...well, he was freaking out a bit, about Anti...I don’t want to make assumptions, but at best, they didn’t get along, and now he’s here, so it would freak anyone out. But he’s doing a bit better, I think. Yeah. It’s all getting better. Slowly.” He blinked furiously. “For everyone else. That...that’s great.”

For a moment, he thinks he feels Jack’s fingers move. Not like they were squeezing his hand, but a movement nonetheless. He looks down, surprised, but he doesn’t think anything’s changed. Maybe he imagined it. But in any case...“Hah. Y’know I can practically hear you giving me a lecture on self-care. Yeah, I’m trying, bro. Still in a bit of a gray spot. I really am happy that everyone else is doing good, it just kinda sucks when you’re in that gray spot, you know? But I am great and I’ll get through it. Yeah.” He didn’t really believe that, but Marvin had told him that saying positive things about yourself was the first step to believing them. “I just...miss you, Jack. Don’t want anything to happen to you.”

For the rest of the visit, he goes quiet, watching the heart monitor rise and fall. Things were crazy, but it would be fine. It would be.

—————— 

Dr. Laurens had rescheduled her sessions to be later in the day. Because quite frankly, she wanted to sleep in. And judging by the records Newson had left, the past sessions had gone all over the place in terms of what time they took place, so it wasn’t like she was interrupting a schedule. It was shortly before five o’clock when she met up with Oliver and they headed to Room 1010.

When Laurens opened the door, she saw Schneep was standing up and pacing the length of the back wall. Oliver handed her the paper cup with the medication inside, then went over to stand in the corner and try to attract as little attention as was possible for someone over six feet tall. Laurens nodded encouragingly, and walked forward. “Schneep?” She said, putting a confident tone in her voice. “Are you ready?”

Schneep jumped, and whirled around. Wariness faded away to happiness. “So it is you,” he said. “You are back. Unless this is not real too...”

“No, it’s real,” Laurens said, smiling. “I’m back. Dr. Newson won’t be handling your case anymore.” She’d actually briefly passed Newson when coming in, but hadn’t really stopped to chat. Newson briefly mentioned having an appointment with her lawyer after leaving, but Laurens hadn’t pushed. She already knew about the lawsuit anyway.

“Oh thank god,” Schneep said, relieved. “She was not...helpful.”

“That is the least you could say,” Laurens muttered. “Anyway, before we get started, I need you to...well, there’s this.” She set the paper cup down on the table.

Schneep paled, backing up. “No no no no, I have a clear head, I have energy, I will not—”

“There are no sedatives in this,” Laurens hurried to say. “I promise.” It was messed up that she had to clarify that. “It shouldn’t have that effect, and if it does, please let me know so that I can change it.” Schneep didn’t move any closer. “Dr. Newson had you taking an improper medication with much too high a dosage, so you’ll have to slowly ease off it and onto a medication that should be better.”

Schneep hesitated for a moment longer before stepping forward, picking up the paper cup, and swallowing the pill inside in one gulp. “If this is not...” He trailed off.

“It’ll be fine,” Laurens said reassuringly. “If it isn’t, you have to tell me so I can fix it, okay. Now.” She sat down on the room’s chair. “I think it’s important to give you an update.” She waited for Schneep to sit on the bed before continuing. “So, it appears as though I’ve been misunderstanding your condition. In that you actually have two of them.”

“Oh?” Schneep blinked, genuinely surprised.

“Yes.” Laurens automatically reached for her journal, before remembering that she’d given it to Oliver. He’d told her yesterday that he gave it to Schneep’s friend Chase, and she had yet to ask him for it back. She was now working with some loose sheets of paper, which she spread on the table. “You are aware of your schizoaffective disorder, but now that I know more about what’s happened to you, I believe you also have some post-traumatic stress disorder.”

Schneep paused. “Ah.”

She waited for a stronger reaction, but didn't receive one. “Yes. So that will change our approach from now on.”

“Alright,” Schneep said slowly. “Is there medication for it?”

“We’re still focusing on getting you off the last one,” Laurens explained. “But perhaps I could give you some anti—” Schneep flinched “—anxiety medication later. But it can’t be treated solely with that. You understand that, right?”

Schneep nodded slowly. “What happened to your arm?”

“A-ah...well...” Laurens hesitated. “Obviously I broke it. Dislocated my wrist, too.”

“How?”

“Well...” Laurens hesitated. She didn’t know what effect it would have on Schneep if he knew everything that happened with her and Anti and Jackie. The last thing she wanted right now was to upset him. And besides, she didn’t really want to talk about it anyway. “I’ll tell you some other time, okay? For now, I want to focus on you.” She shuffled her papers. “Schneep...there’s no way to ease into this that won’t alarm you, so I’m just going to say it. Do you know Anti?”

The effect was immediate. Schneep jumped, scooting backwards on the bed. “Do not say the name!”

“Why not?” Laurens asked. “You told me once that this would give him power, right? That giving him attention would make him stronger?”

Schneep nodded, looking significantly paler.

“Well, here’s where things are difficult, Schneep,” she said patiently. “I believe that he’s a major source of trauma for you.” Because why wouldn’t he be? Laurens remembered all the things Jackie had told her about what happened to the two of them, and that would give anyone trauma. “And we need to work that out, yeah? But we can’t do that if we can’t talk about him. So. Here’s what I’m thinking. We’ll be as indirect as possible. I’ll ask you about him, and you can give answers that are as short or as long as you see fit. If at any moment you feel like we are getting...you know, too close to giving him influence, tell me and we will stop. Does that work?”

He didn’t answer for a long time, shaking slightly, eyes darting around as if looking for something. Then he nodded slowly.

“Great.” Again, Laurens wished she had her journal full of notes. It would be a lot easier to reference past events. But she was stuck with this. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you said before that An—sorry, that he makes you hurt people. Am I right?”

Schneep nodded, starting to rock softly.

That made sense with what she knew. “Does he physically take control of you? How does this happen?”

“He...” Schneep’s voice cracked. “He puts...th-thoughts in my head...a-and makes me want...to...”

And that sounded familiar. Laurens made a note of that. “So...you have thoughts about wanting to hurt people, and this is caused by him?” This sounded like some form of intrusive or otherwise unwanted thoughts, and combined with his hallucinations and delusions, he believed Anti to be behind them.

Schneep nodded. “O-or he...he would say—tell me to do something horrible, and if I did—did not do it, he would do so-something worse.”

“But you clearly don’t want to hurt anyone, right?” Laurens asked.

“No!” Schneep protested. “I never—never! I-I may be angry with some people, maybe fight, but the th-things he makes me—” He buried his head in folded arms, taking deep breaths.

“Do you want us to stop?” Laurens asked gently.

He nodded without looking up.

“Schneep.” Laurens leaned forward. She waited until he looked at her before continuing. “You know this is not your fault, right? You’ve said that to me before. Any thoughts, any actions you may have done, it is not your fault.”

“I know that,” Schneep sounded a bit irritated. “I know that, i-it is him, I just—I still worry, I still...feel...”

“I know,” Laurens said softly. “Which is why I’m going to try to give you some ways to deal with this, okay? Some ways to cope.”

“That would be...appreciated,” he muttered.

“Good. Let’s begin.” This would be a good starting point, but that’s what it was, a starting point. Laurens could already see a long path ahead. The main problem here being that Anti wasn’t actually making any of these thoughts appear in Schneep’s head. But that had to come later down the road. There was still a lot to do before that.

—————— 

“Hey. Wake up.”

Jackie felt something kick his side and he winced, opening his eyes. Anti was standing in front of him, looking down. He stared up at him, tensed, waiting.

“Good,” Anti nodded. “It’s time to eat. Sit up straight.”

Jackie hurried to sit up, the movement making his spine crack. He’d taken to slouching, which probably wasn’t good for his posture when he was tied to a table leg.

Anti huffed, a bit impatient. He kneeled down next to Jackie, reaching around behind him. Jackie stiffened, very deliberately not moving even as he felt the handcuffs unlock. He’d tried to run once before. Schneep had encouraged it, almost demanded that Jackie get out even if it meant leaving him behind. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d listened. And he’d almost made it out of the house. But Anti caught him right at the end, and he hadn’t been happy. Jackie was pretty sure he had some burn scars on his arm from that day. And now, in such close quarters with Anti, who hadn’t left the apartment except for once yesterday, he didn’t want to risk it.

“Alright,” Anti muttered. He’d cuffed Jackie’s right arm to the table leg, letting his left one be free. Now he stood up, grabbing a plate and cup from the table, which he set down on the floor next to Jackie. A sandwich and a glass of milk. It would do. Anti sat down on the nearest chair and pulled out his phone, glancing at Jackie every few seconds. Jackie didn’t respond, just pulled out the gag and started eating. He should hurry.

All was silent for a few minutes. Until: “Wait, what?” Anti sat up straight, eyes scanning his phone again. “That’s—ugh.” He tapped the screen a couple times, then dialed a number and held the phone to his ear. Jackie could hear it ringing from here. The moment the call was picked up, Anti started talking. “Yeah, hi, it’s me. What the fuck?” There were the faint hints of a voice on the other end. “What, did you think I’d just forget your number? No. Now what the fuck is this on the website?” Anti paused. “I think you do know what I’m talking about. I told you, I don’t do repeats.” The voice on the other end sounded angry. “Well if he survived three stab wounds, I’d say he’s earned the right to live. Besides, he hasn’t told anyone, has he? That would’ve been on the news.” Pause. “I don’t do refunds either.”

Jackie couldn’t help but be intrigued. What was he talking about? It sounded like someone hired Anti as some sort of hitman. Was that what he did in his spare time? Or maybe that was his job and this serial killer stuff was just a fun side project for him. Jackie shuddered at the thought of it.

“Well boo-fuckity-hoo for you.” Anti drawled. “Look, I get not wanting loose ends, but I’m done here. I’m busy, I have shit to do, and the cops know about me now.” A long pause as the voice on the other end talked for a while. Anti raised an eyebrow. “Give me two hundred pounds right now and I’ll consider it.” Loud shouting from the other end. “Don’t give me that shit, that’s spare change for you. Tell you what, I’ll check out the guy’s house, too.” Pause. “Yeah, if I decide I want to.” Long pause. “Great. What’s the address again?” Short pause. “No, I didn’t, that would be insane. It was a lot easier to ambush him while he was out. What’s the address.” Another pause. Anti’s eyes suddenly widened. “Wait, really?” The other voice said something angry. “It’s none of your business. But I’m checking my account now, if the number doesn’t go up by two hundred in the next five minutes, I’m not even gonna think about it.” He hung up the call unceremoniously, and started swiping about on the phone screen again.

Well that was...interesting. Jackie stared at Anti as he seemed to wait for something, eyes glued to his phone. After a short while, he grinned, and looked away, immediately seeing Jackie. He glared. “What’re you looking at, hoodie?”

Jackie flinched and looked away, stuffing the last bit of sandwich into his mouth.

“That’s what I thought.” Anti stood up and disappeared through a doorway, into what Jackie assumed was the bedroom area. A few minutes later he returned, wearing a gray hoodie with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He crouched on the floor next to Jackie. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?” He chuckled. “No, of course not.” He grabbed Jackie’s wrist and yanked it around the table leg, causing him to cry out. Click. The handcuffs were back in place. Before Jackie could even process that, Anti was shoving the gag back in his mouth, sudden enough to make him choke a bit. “Of course, if you’re not here when I get back...” Anti didn’t have to finish that sentence.

After a moment of staring into Jackie’s eyes, making sure he got the point, Anti stood up and headed out, slamming the front door behind him.

Jackie flinched, then exhaled slowly, squeezing his eyes shut. Alone. Anti would be back soon, of course, but he’d enjoy this while it lasted. Trying to relax as much as he was able while in this awkward position, he tried to drift away in the relieving silence.

—————— 

Anti knew this address.

He drove there, parking some ways away and walking the rest of the way. The neighborhood immediately looked familiar, and by the time he reached the address, he knew where he was going, and wasn’t surprised to stop outside the house of Marvin Maher.

Marvin wasn’t someone he was particularly interested in. He knew enough to get a grasp on him...which was admittedly a lot. 28 years old, Irish, currently unemployed, no living relatives aside from his grandmother, has two cats and a snake, and was a practicing Wiccan. Though those were just the facts. In personality, Marvin was stubborn, loud, very visible with his emotions, and had some difficulty in social situations. 

And again, though that was a lot, Anti wasn’t particularly interested in him. Not compared to the other one, Chase. Ironic, considering that for all intents and purposes, Chase lived a much less exciting life. He didn’t go anywhere, had an ex-wife and kids, and ran two YouTube channels for “work:” his own channel, BroAverage, and the one that belonged to his coma-bound friend,  jacksepticeye. Perhaps it was the fact that he was so ordinary, stuck in this extraordinary situation, that fascinated him.

But he wasn’t here to find out more about Chase. Anti wasn’t usually one to try again on a job, since it increased his chance of being found, and anonymity was his greatest shield. He’d only decided to consider it due to already being known to the police in this city—a fact that he cursed that doctor lady for every day since she escaped. But now, realizing who his target was made this much more interesting.

Anti circled around the house, scouting it. Looking into the rooms, it appeared empty. All the windows were locked pretty securely, as was the front door...but not so much the side door. He twisted the knob and pulled it open. It looked like a chest of drawers had been pressed against the door from the other side, perhaps to prevent it from opening. He chuckled. This door had a spring hinge; it swung both ways. It also didn’t appear to have a functioning lock. Good, he was happy he didn’t have to pick his way inside and risk someone noticing that.

He pushed the chest of drawers to the side and entered the house, finding himself at the end of a hallway with a door to the left and right. Once inside, he carefully pulled the door shut and replaced the drawers; he could find another exit. The hall opened up into a living room. Anti walked down, careful to tread only where the carpet was worn down so his footsteps wouldn’t stand out. The living room was about normal, its main feature being the snake terrarium. He stared at the snake inside for a bit, but it appeared to be asleep. Huh, he didn’t know snakes could be purple. Mentally making a note to look that up later, he noticed another hallway branching off the living room, and was about to head there when something caught his eye.

A turquoise notebook was lying on the coffee table, looking quite out of place with the rest of Marvin’s decorations. Odd. Was that someone else’s? Anti frowned, and idly picked it up, skimming the pages. There was something tucked inside...a plastic keycard? He looked over the handwritten notes, not paying much attention until he saw a familiar name: Schneep.

He immediately started paying attention to this journal. What was this? He flipped back to the beginning, seeing a name written on the inside cover: Dr. Rya Laurens.

That doctor lady. Anti narrowed his eyes. Was this her notebook? Why did Marvin have it? What was in it? Was he mentioned in it anywhere?

He took his backpack off his shoulders and slid the notebook and its keycard inside. And then he looked up, and happened to glance out the window. Luckily he did in time, because he saw people coming up the front path.

Instinct kicked in and he looked around for the nearest exit. The back window. It only had a latch to lock it. Quickly he ran over, threw it open, and jumped outside, closing it behind him. Now in the backyard, he stayed low, backing up.

Once he was pressed against the fence of the house behind this one, Anti dared to straighten just enough to look through the window into the living room. It appeared as though Marvin had come home. He’d also brought a friend, the only one of the group that he didn’t actually know the name of. That annoyed him. But he just hadn’t seen the others with him that often, and looking up Chase and Marvin on social media, this guy didn’t appear in many photos, and the ones he did show up in never mentioned him by name or tagged an account. All he knew about this last friend was that he had a nice mustache and spoke BSL.

He watched as Marvin set a folder down on the coffee table, apparently not noticing the missing notebook. Marvin started talking with his friend, the two of them signing quickly. Anti huffed. God, it had been so long since he’d had to understand sign language. Not since—Anti stiffened, and pushed that thought away.

The point was, now this group would be forcing him to relearn it. He watched the two inside have an animated conversation, picking up the word ‘doctor’ a lot. It didn’t seem like an argument, but it was very...passionate. Expressions changed rapidly. Marvin made a sign, the letter J twice in a row—

Anti froze, staring. Not caring if he was visible.

He had to have imagined that, didn’t he? Marvin couldn’t have just made that sign. But no, he’d seen that, clear as day. But maybe...maybe the sign meant something different in this context. It couldn’t be…

He looked more closely at the friend he didn’t know the name of. This whole group looked similar, looked like him. That was weird, but it didn’t...didn’t mean...

The friend leaned forward, and something silver flashed. A silver disk on a matching chain around his neck. Anti stared at it, and reached up to where he wore a similar disk on a chain. He’d recognize that anywhere. It wasn’t just a silver circle, it was a watch, and he now grabbed his tightly.

Well, it wasn’t his, technically. It was his brother’s.

—————— 

“So how do names work in sign language, then?” Aneirin asked. “Are you supposed to sign them all out? With letters?”

Jameson picked up his pencil and started writing, showing him the result. Goodness, no, that would take forever. There are these things called name signs, which are unique sign combinations for people. Those are their names.

They were sitting in the living room of Aneirin’s house, legs pulled up onto the old sofa he’d gotten from the side of the road. It was in pretty good condition, for one that had a ‘Free’ sign taped to it. Eighteen and a homeowner would’ve been impressive for anyone else, but Aneirin had sped through the steps to getting it, knowing he needed a place to stay as soon as possible. He was sure that if the realtor knew where he’d gotten the money to pay for it, he never would’ve sold it to him.

“Okay, so what would mine be, then?” Aneirin asked, spreading out along the length of the sofa. “Do I get to choose it?”

Jameson considered this, and Aneirin watched him silently. His little brother was sixteen, and very thin and small, pulling into the corner of the sofa like he was trying to take up as little space as possible. Well, I think I have an idea for what I could call you. You can tell me if you don’t like it. He made the sign for the letter A, and followed it with another sign, curling his hands into fists and rubbing them against each other.

“Well, it depends on what it means,” Aneirin joked.

Jameson chuckled a bit. It’s just the letter A followed by the sign for “brother.”

“Oh.” Aneirin gasped softly. Then a wide smile broke across his face. “Yeah, I like that.” He paused. “Do you have one?”

Yes! I chose one, but no one’s ever used it. He signed the letter J twice.

Aneirin blinked. “That’s it? That’s just...JJ.”

Well it’s my initials, Jameson pointed out. I like the sound of it.

“Okay,” Aneirin said slowly. He copied the sign. “But when would I ever need to call you that? Instead of just saying it.”

You are saying it, just in sign, Jameson wrote. But I thought that, if you can’t talk after a bad seizing, you could use BSL.

“Uh...no, I don’t think so.” Aneirin frowned. “The problem is that after a seizure I’m confused. It’s not that I can’t talk because my muscles don’t work, but cause I don’t know where the fuck I am.”

Oh. Well, think about it, Jameson said. You need to at least learn it to understand me.

“Yeah, I know.” Aneirin smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be easy.”

—————— 

“Jamie! Don’t walk away from me!”

Jameson whirled on him. Don’t call me that!

“What? Jamie?” Aneirin blinked. “That’s your name!”

It’s a nickname, Jameson signed furiously. And it’s a childish one.

“Oh, what, I can’t call my little brother a nickname now?” Aneirin scoffed.

That’s not just it! Jameson protested. I’m not a kid, Aneirin! I’m twenty-one years old, I am an adult, and you don’t treat me like it.

“Okay, yes, legally that’s true,” Aneirin said. “But there’s more to being an adult than age. There’s experience. I mean, look at you. You can’t drive, you don’t have a job, you’ve never dated anyone. There’s just a lot that you don’t understand.”

I don’t know how to drive because you never taught me! Jameson stepped up to Aneirin, throwing his hands in his face. I don’t have a job because you won’t let me get one! And you’ve never dated anyone either, so I don’t see how you can say anything about that. And even if you had, you turn away every guy I’m interested in. You go through my messages to make sure I don’t say anything “inappropriate” in my own private messages! I need to live my own life, Aneirin.

“I...” Aneirin was at a loss for words. He couldn’t remember the last time Jameson had gotten this angry, and it was never directed at him. “Look, you’re...twenty-one is still pretty young, and with your condition—”

You’re only two years older than me, Jameson signed sharply. And don’t talk to me about how my disability means I can’t handle most jobs, I’m sick of hearing it from you. You can’t expect me to help you dispose of a body and at the same time say I couldn’t deal with working in an office. And it’s absurd that you involve me in the former in the FIRST PLACE!

Aneirin shook his head silently. What was there to say to this? What was there to say when his little brother was angry with him? With words failing, he fell upon action. And he started crying.

Jameson’s expression, previously so furious, turned to shock. Aneirin didn’t cry. Nothing ever seemed to phase him. The sight was concerning. No no, don’t—it’s okay, it’s fine, Jameson hurried to sign.

“I just—just don’t want anything—I just want you to be safe,” Aneirin gasped, vision blurring with tears. “I’m trying—trying to make sure you’re safe, a-and happy, and...am I failing? Am I a bad brother?”

No, you’re a good brother, Jameson reassured him. You just...made some mistakes.

“I’m just—th-this is dangerous, what I do.” Aneirin looked down, hiding his eyes in his hands. “People could—could come after you, to get to me, and—and I can’t let that happen, Jamie, JJ, I can’t—I’m sorry if you think I’m stifling you or something, I just—”

Hey, it’s fine, it’s fine. Really. I just...had some things to get off my chest. Jameson put his hands on Aneirin’s shoulders reassuringly and smiled.

“Are you sure?” Aneirin asked, wiping his eyes.

Yes, it’s fine, Jameson signed. We can talk this over later, work things out. I’m sorry for upsetting you.

“It’s alright, JJ,” Anti said, smiling.

—————— 

It really should’ve been obvious from the start. What were the odds of him running into someone else who looked like him and spoke BSL? But the possibility hadn’t even occurred to Anti. Because for four years now, he’d thought his brother Jamie had been dead.

But he was wrong. Jameson wasn’t dead. Jameson was alive, and friends with Chase and Marvin and probably involved with all this, all Anti’s plans.

Anti backed up, then turned around and jumped over the fence into the house behind Marvin’s. He took off in a run.

——————

The door slammed open, and Jackie startled awake. Anti stormed in, furious. Jackie tried not to cry out when his attention turned towards him, backing up as best as he was able.

“You.” Anti grabbed Jackie by the front of the hoodie and pulled out his gag. “Tell me this. Do you know a man named Jameson Jackson?”

Jameson? Jackie’s heart stopped. What did Anti want with him?

“Answer me!” Anti threw him backwards, and Jackie’s head slammed against the table with a painful crack. “Tell me if you know him or I’ll cut your fingers off one by one.”

“I do, I do,” Jackie gasped. “I know him.”

“How?” Anti demanded. “How do you know him?”

“We—we met him last October,” Jackie explained. “Marvin met him. At the theatre. They started talking, and—and we all met him.”

Anti stared at him a while longer, then suddenly let go, dropping him to the floor. Jackie felt his heart racing. He turned and watched Anti pacing the length of the room.

“Not expecting this,” Anti was muttering. “Unexpected—unexpected variable. Can’t control this. Can’t control for this.” He reached up and grabbed the watch around his neck. “It’ll work. Work around it. Work around—Jamie.” The last word was strong with emotion. 

Anti hurried out of the room into the bedroom, slamming the door shut. Jackie flinched. What was Anti planning? It...couldn’t be good for anyone. Especially not Jameson.

Well he couldn’t do anything about it in his current position. He was just worried about surviving. So Jackie tried to put it out of his mind. Yet...there was one thing he couldn’t forget. Had he been imagining it, or had there been tears in Anti’s eyes?

[hoedameron]

but before i go looking in the tags, let’s talk about my latest gifsets!

what a worker bee i was both yesterday and today with prodigal son AND loki <3 never have i created so many gifs in a short amount of time it’s a damn miracle that my photoshop didn’t straight up cough up blood and keel over. alas, us bitches are stronger than that! if this post gets flagged because of the scenes i included....that would just mean that i made the right decision to exclude those scenes ajsdksajkldsa

malcolm stabbing martin

when the episode finally downloaded, i took a peek at the ending before it aired to see how it all ends (just in case it doesn’t get renewed </3). GOSH, was i just in a TIZZY when i saw this happen and i couldn’t tell my dad what i saw because we were straight up watching the show as it aired. anyways, keeping my secret knowledge, i got to work on making this gifset. i missed a huge chunk of the episode bc it took me over TWO hours to make the six gif set. i was really torn on the “artistic” approach aka which scene to gif and which to leave out. because i saw the ending before anything else, i couldn’t play it out loud and i didn’t have my headphones to listen so i was like FREE FORMING THE SUBTITLES. plus the captions weren’t synced up so it was really hard to decipher what was being said :( 

i really thought i would be able to create the set before 9 but i was running into unforeseen issues such as the subtitle problem, which on top of that, like i said earlier, my photoshop is c/racked and janky so....you catch my drift. i was actually going to gif the bisexual moment in the cafe which i think would’ve been MUCH easier but i jumped the gun and wanted to make the gifs of the shocking ending. funny part about that is the shocking part wasn’t even included in my set (malcolm driving the knife into martin) because i felt like the scene was too short...anyways, let’s talk about the positives:

i really do like the coloring of this one. i used a psd that i’ve used before and luckily it’s meant for outdoor scenes with greenery so the gif really popped. sharpening, buddy ole pal, love you sm. the caption was kinda last minute but i hoped to save it with the gradient. cropping was a bitch because for some reason, it takes forever when you’ve made multiple gifs beforehand (cache innit) pero we pulled through! i actually started not saving the psd files to try and save time which is very unusual for me pero i was getting frustrated with photoshop so i was like y’know what....so i just gave up entirely and stopped saving. i do save when i’m taking my time but jeez, it’s a bad habit. i like saving the psd file because i never know if there is a mistake i missed in post and when i go to publish it, it’s blatant and it needs to be fixed. please, save your psd files idc if it takes up space u can just delete them later. IT HELPS !! TRUST ME!!

first & “last” appearance

i actually premade gifs for this gifset! unfortunately, i didn’t realize that three of the five gifs were the wrong size (pictured above) because i flipped the ratio. instead of 268 x 250, i made them 250 x 268. i don’t know HOW i managed to fuck that up but luckily i saved the psd files (wink, wink) so the coloring was still intact. i think i had to restart photoshop or it was getting too late so i picked it back up in the morning. sucks that i had to remake the entire gif from scratch but we will take some wins xx

coloring is the same with the previous gifset (listen....it’s a good coloring) and i actually did have an alternative coloring that was very warm pero i didn’t end up using it. almost melted the two with the “last” appearance of gil but ultimately didn’t go through with it. also i was thinking of using baby malcolm as the first appearance because technically, that IS his first appearance in the show but i was like...just use adult malcolm lol. also i know that scene of dani isn’t the “first” but the first scene she has goes really quick and she is planked by gil so there isn’t much of a solo (even though this scene isn’t much of a solo either pero it’s better than the former). the lighting is weird in this episode and my coloring tried their best :/ i know gifmakers make each gif a diff coloring pero i’m lazy okay and looking to be time effiencent. another slight tangent is that i actually queued the post for the morning but since i woke up to a storm, i was like, i’m here so i’ll publish it myself.

other than that...i didn’t run into any other problem. i was actually hesitant to make the caption that because i wasn’t sure how to really describe the team. i have poor memory so if there was ever an official name, i do not remember it. i did a quick google search pero it turned up nothing. i stuck with “dream team” because, well, that’s what they are. plus i didn’t want to tarnish the gifset with any mentions of p/olice (i was thinking about putting sumn along the lines of ‘the nypd team’) so DREAM TEAM IT IS because it’s true! you cannot have the show without these five! also, i should’ve used quotations on “last” because there is a bunch of talk about a renewal pero...just in case... sorry y’all :/

odinson brothers parallels

this was made in the spur of the moment. i saw that the teaser trailer with shirtless loki dropped in hd, i came A-RUNNING! it was posted like 47 minutes after the fact and i was like...somebody probably already made a gifset of the scene so i was like...gosh, to make the gifset or not all the while i was trying to download the video. trying because again, this was in the middle of a storm so my wifi was acting up and wasn’t at its strongest (whatever that may be). so i was getting frustrated because neither cc nor 4kdownloader was downloading this small one minute clip. that’s when i knew i was gonna be too late to make the loki gifset so i was like whatever ig...

then i had an idea.

i love parallels so luckily it hit me that this paralleled with thor and how his hair got chopped off. so, i knew i had ragnarok downloaded and got to work <3 wasn’t sure what dimensions to use so i went with 268 x 268 to make perfect squares. because the loki scene was short, i could only make three so i was like..okay, i can work with this. three for loki, three for thor, they’re brothers and they share! i wasn’t planning to add subtitles but i had written them down for the plain gifset so i was like alright, we’re going all in. i didn’t take that long to make since again, they’re small gifs and i did have a coloring in mind that i always use for ragnarok (it’s my fave for non-marvel edits as well). there was a slight adjustment to the final loki gif because i realized the gif had that dark fade into the scene which i didn’t know if it was an artistic choice for the show itself or was added for the trailer only (it happens when companies cut a bunch of scenes together and it’s not at all how it actually plays out). i didn’t want to take any chances so i cut those parts out. i know the gifs are short on the loki side pero...that’s just how it is in show business.

thank you so much for listening and hearing me out! i like discussing my work and i try to have pride in them even if the numbers don’t reflect what i hope they would. either way, still learning, still growing, still thinking about buying p.s. like deadass this shit is RIDICULOUS -_- imagine opening up ps and like...it opens up in less than two minutes...shivers

[chilly-territory]

K Case Files of Blue 2, chapter 4 (part 2 out of 2)

Case Files of Blue 2 by Miyazawa Tatsuki

Chapter 4 (part 2/2) (volume 2, pages 224-246)

†

The one to make contact with her target first was Awashima Seri. When she opened the door to a big hall meant for wedding ceremonies and such, on the other side of the door she found Nakamura Gouki sitting cross-legged in the middle of it, drinking sake from a bottle and making no attempt to be shy about it.

Recognizing her, the giant man said, "Oh, so it's you who came for me, eh? How about a drink?"

He turned and held his bottle up in Awashima's direction. Awashima let out a small sigh.

"I'm on the clock. But even if I weren't, I'd only drink with people I have rapport with." "So with me you don't?" Nakamura Gouki asked after barking out a short laugh. "You," Awashima replied icily, "are somewhat lacking in delicacy." "Hmm," Gouki intoned, stroking his chin. "I personally like you quite a bit though. Like your strong will so atyical for a woman. Your brute strength, too. You shattered that cage all by yourself, without any help, right? For what it's worth, it was made in such a way that even a gorilla wouldn't be able to break it. Which makes you stronger than a gorilla, ain't it ri---" "I suppose I am," Awashima interrupted in a powerful tone, making Gouki bite his tongue. Her expression tightened and she drew her saber. "Against you, I have no slightest intention to pull my punches. I'm sorry to say but there is no room for that. For that reason, if you make a bad move, you might wind up getting severely hurt. Thus, I sincerely urge you to surrender."

Awashima took her signature battle stance with one leg bent in front, the other extended behind her and the tip of her raised sword pointing downward. Gouki narrowed his eyes at her.

"Good gracious. In the end, we both can only settle this by brute force, eh." Still relaxed, he kept sipping his sake. "But before that, mind telling me just one thing?" "What is it?" Awashima kept staring down her opponent, not letting her guard down. "What kind of man is Munakata Reishi? What is he to you?" Gouki's face when he asked that was earnest and serious, and one that Awashima had never seen him make before. "C'mon."

Awashima flushed a little.

Gouki went on. "At first, I only thought of him as nothing more than a man Zen'ichi is weirdly obsessed with. But you know, as this whole story unfolded, I started finding myself taking interest in him, too. Just like with you, I sure want to share a drink and a talk with him. So..." he repeated his question again in the same very serious tone. "What kind of man is Munakata Reishi?"

"..."

Technically speaking, Awashima was under no obligation to answer that. But, being a honest and serious person that she was, she couidn't help giving the question some careful deliberation.

"Let's see," she finally spoke up. "To me, he is my king." "What I want to hear is not a shallow general description like that..." "No," Awashima cut him off flatly. Relaxing her stance, she elaborated, "To me, that person really is my king. And to me, that's everything. This is the only way I can find to describe it." She looked Gouki straight in the eye.

Hearing the weight and gravity in her tone, Gouki refrained from saying anything. Awashima suddenly smiled.

"Captain and I met before he had his awakening as a king. The plane we both happened to be on was hijacked by terrorists, and I helped Captain suppress them. It was like something straight out of movies. But some explosives we didn't know about blew, opening a big hope in the plane's airframe and sending it plummeting down. It was at that moment that he had become a king. All to save the passengers who were on that plane with him. And I witnessed it with my own eyes." Her every word was permeated with strong conviction. "For a long time, Captain searched for an answer to the question of who he was, and in that instance he'd had a realization that becoming a king was his destiny. If that's how it was, then I thought that my destiny must have been to support and help him. So I became his first clansman." "..." "Nakamura Gouki. Now, it's my turn to ask you something. Why do you support Kounomura Zen'ichi?" "Hmm." The giant scratched his bald head. "Sadly, unlike you, I don't have any special reason. It's just..." He flashed his pearly whites. "To me, Zen'ichi is a friend I have rapport with. If I must name one reason, that itself is the reason," Gouki asserted. "...I can't believe you..." Awashima breathed out a sigh. "I had my suspicions, but you really are one strange person, just like Kounomura."

"My oh my, what an honor!" Gouki's shoulders vibrated as he laughed. And then he added, "It's never boring around him." He looked like he was having fun. "...Thanks to that, I even awakened this amusing power."

Getting up slowly, he took the front double biceps pose that bodybuilders do, flexing said muscles. Following the swell of both sets of his well-developed biceps, Gouki's power spiked. In the air between the two tension hung.

"Something's been bothering me for a while. Initially, you were simply Kounmura's friend who became a strain only after Kounomura had started scheming to usurp Captain's throne, isn't that right?" "Ain't you well informed?" Gouki took a side chest pose next, putting his perctorals on display. "That's right. While participating in that grand plan of Zen'ichi's, at some point I had an awakening as a strain. And that fact itself backed up Zen'ichi's theory." "...What theory?" "That the Slate has a uniform response to a person's will. If you want power, you will get power. That is..." Gouki finished his performance with the abdominal and thigh pose. "If you want to become a king, you just might steal that seat and become one if you wish for it strong enough."

For a while, Awashima contemplated his words. Then she let out another long sigh. "You're beyond help." Quietly, she moved to take her battle stance properly again. "That's nothing more than a conceited and self-serving wild delusion. I shall correct it for you." "Oh well," Gouki grinned, "I guess that fits me just fine. Now, c'mon!" he rushed towards her. "Time to talk with our fists!"

Awashima met his dash with a battle cry.

†

About the time the fierce clash between Awashima and Gouki unfolded, Fushimi encountered Marumoto. This run-in, however, didn't escalate into anything as passionate as Awashima and Gouki's.

If anything, it was more of a game of tag where Marumoto, throwing lines like "Why do you resist opening up your heart so much?! Just become my friend! I know you're lonely!", "Eh? You don't have any social network accounts? Then how do you call out to your friends when you have a barbeque party?" and "I'm gonna chillax at a hole-in-the-wall bar with a group of good friends who chase their dreams together, wanna come too?", specially designed to get on Fushimi's nerves as much as possible, tried to run away and hide, while Fushimi did the chasing, clicking his tongue tirelessly.

Marumoto may not have possessed a sliver of fighting prowess in a direct physical confrontation, but he didn't specialize in reading minds for nothing either, excelling in seeing right through Fushimi's thought processes and hiding in his blind spots with exceptional dexterity. Changing hiding places from behind a fire fighting panel to inside a ventilation fan to beneath a sofa, he ran screaming out throwaway lines in the same vein as those mentioned above.

And each time the shutter of his camera clicked, taking yet another photo, it grated on Fushimi's nerves immensely. Fushimi swung his saber, chasing after him.

"Tch!" Tongue-clicking was only a natural response.

Fushimi had a sickening feeling that all he did lately was being dragged into these stupid games of tag. Except, both he and Marumoto knew that it was coming to an end. Through ingenious positioning, the Scepter 4 operative managed to block Marumoto's escape routes and drive him into a dead end. Of course, Marumoto knew what his opponent was trying to do, but through Fushimi's strategic maneuvering that looked random at a glance, he was running out of places to escape.

Marumoto's voice sounded strained with panic. Trying to find a way distract Fushimi, he'd resorted to alluding to Fushimi's family and the clan he was affiliated with previously, but ultimately it proved useless as, despite Fushimi's face turning bitter, his steps never faltered.

'I already was going to punch him once, guess I'll make it 2 or 3 times now,' those were about all Fushimi's thoughts on the matter. That is, for all intents and purposes, he was not rising to Marumoto's bait.

Until one particular statement from Marumoto.

"Why don't you respect your boss more? You should be more of a team player, you know!"

When he heard that screamed out at him, for the first time Fushimi paused in his steps.

"Say," surprisingly enough, Fushimi sounded thoughtful, "why do you follow someone like Kounomura?"

Silence fell.

After a short while, an answer came from a shadowy corner of the hallway.

"Well, because I respect him a lot. Kounomura-san is a great man!" "..." Fushimi sensed something in his tone. Marumoto continued, as if enraptured, "You see, until a little while ago, I was a volunteer at an orphanage that Kounomura-san operates. Kounomura-san is a very busy man, yet he finds time to remember the names of each kid and is always very kind to them. I look up to him and dream to be a person like him some day." "Then you're being tricked," Fushimi cut off bluntly. "Eh?" "Mooooron." Fushimi smirked mockingly. "Do you really believe a guy like him who's only interested in achieving his own dream would give a damn about some kids?" "Wh-what?" Reading his opponent's state of mind like an open book, Fushimi cut to the quick, "You're just being used as a handy tool. As if he'd so much as glance at you if you weren't a strain." "T-Take that back." "I'll say it as many times as it takes. You're being duped by him, dude. Poor schmuck." "Take that back, this instance! Kounomura-san is not that kind of man!"

Suddenly, Marumoto's form emerged from a shadowy nook of the hallway. In his indignation, he left his hiding place without thinking. By the time the realization of what he'd done hit him, plastering the expletive of "Crap!" all over his face, it was already too late.

Kicking off the floor, Fushimi covered the distance between them in one mighty leap and tapped the handle of his saber against the back of Marumoto's neck lightly once. The blow that could be described as gentle and almost soft didn't fail to hit the vital spot with precision.

"D-Damn it!"

Tears in his eyes, Marumoto collapsed on the spot, out cold. Fushimi sneered.

"Is it really that much fun to dream up an idol, put him on a pedestal and worship him blindly?" Then, in a dry mutter, he added, "...That's probably why I disliked you from the start."

With that, Fushimi slouched, taking his leave.

†

Awashima and Gouki clashed violently. These clashes of absurd power and speed repeated again and again. As far as raw power went, Gouki was winning by a small margin, but in speed Awashima held an overwhelming advantage. Both dispensed of tricks and tactics, fighting fair and square and only relying on their skills. Gouki wasn't holding back despite his opponent being a woman, and Awashima, in turn, put all her might into the slashes she unleashed at him.

"Nhaa!"

Lariat that Gouki launched at Awashima along with a throaty shout was blown away.

"Ha!"

After gaining splendid acceleration in midair, a backspin roundhouse kick landed on Gouki's cheek, sending his kicked-in molars in the air. He lost his clothes, Awashima lost her saber, and the battle came down to hand-to-hand combat.

"And theeeere!"

Easily gathering Awashima into his arms, Gouki threw her violently against the floor.

"Ugh!"

Twisting her body like a cat to absorb the force of the impact, she swept her leg, catching Gouki just below the knee.

"Gha!"

He hit the back of his head on the floor.

"And there!"

Still, he reached his thick arms to try and catch her, but Awashima managed to leap from the spot and avoid his hold by a hair's breadth. Then both put some distance between them, watching each other fixedly.

"Fufu." "Haha."

For some reason, they both chuckled.

Their faces were sweaty, they both were breathing hard and bruises and minor hemorrhages blossomed here and there on their bodies as a sort of decorations. Despite that, the two's fighting spirit wasn't dampened in the least. An unspoken understanding that the time to settle this once and for all was upon them was shared between them.

"If I may be so bold."

With a gesture betraying deep respect, Gouki stepped forward. Awashima came a step closer as well.

"Haaaaa!"

Gouki threw a right straight punch with all his might. Awashima's movements were free of hesitation. Resolved to the possibility of getting hard-punched in the face, she dodged to the side only at the last possible moment. Only, it was a feint.

"Gotcha!"

Gouki grinned and elbowed the crown of Awashima's head now that it was perfectly within his range, hard. The downward jab was like a blow of a giant hammer and packing enough power to be instantly lethal for a normal person.

Except in the end it was Awashima who emerged victorious in the contest of predicting the opponent's moves. The elbow attack was well within her expectations. She had confidence she could weather it and made her calculations based on that. Crossing her arms, she took that bone-shattering killing blow head-on. Unable to absorb the whole force of it, her legs trembled and a grimace of anguish crossed her features.

And yet, despite the pain, that was where her ultimate chance lay.

Gouki's expression changed, reflecting a "Oh, crap!" reaction. Awashima didn't pause. Taking one more step forward that brought her infinitely close to her opponent, she tensed bodily, gathering all her spirit and strength and putting it into a piercing blow to Gouki's solar plexus. If Gouki's attack was like a falling hammer, then Awashima's like a sharp stab of a saber.

"Ugh!"

It managed to pierce even through her opponent's thick abdominals.

"Bah!"

Gouki's eyes rolled back, and his body folded down. Awashima didn't let that momentary opening go to waste. Setting Gouki's head that, until now was too high for her to reach, on her shoulder, "And with this..." she said and lifted the body of her opponent up. His massive giant body.

"Orryaa!"

The throw she executed was so-called Brainbuster from professional wrestling. It was a power technique that you normally wouldn't see outside the ring where you lift your opponent upside down high overhead and then throw them right down.

"Ghaaaaa!"

Landing on the floor on the crown of of his head, Gouki screamed. He tried to get up but it was beyond his ability.

"Fu, fufufufu." His shoulders shook. "You really are strong," he said to Awashima who was breathing hard but stood over him as the winner, looking down at him. "It's such a pity that you're a woman."

Awashima snorted coldly. "You were pretty strong yourself. For a man, that is."

The snapback made Gouki chuckle again.

"Listen," he said when he was done, "I've got a request. You and Munakata Reishi. And me and Zen'ichi. Can we share a drink together some day?" "Well," Awashima replied as she was searching for her saber and then returning it to its place on her hip. "I don't mind giving your request some thought. But asking Captain about his wishes comes first." "I see."

Once he'd heard her reply, Gouki closed his eyes, seemingly content. "Can't wait then... Really."

And with that, he was out cold.

Awashima took a deep breath, wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and turned away from Gouki, intending to head to the hall.

Her dashing profile was a testament to the strength of her resolve.

†

Kounomura Zen'ichi was in the wedding chapel on the top floor. Seated on the altar for taking the oath, he was swinging his legs as he talked to his wife.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," he was saying into the PDA. "That's right. That's how it is. Yeah, I'm serious. No, I'm telling you," he persuaded in a soft voice, "I can't come back for a while longer. Yes, right. Yes. Yeeees."

Carefree as ever, he hung up the phone. Spinning around, the short man faced the other side.

"You were gracious enough to wait for me to finish, eh, Munakata-kun?" he called, grinning all the while. "You seemed to be busy with a call."

Munakata Reishi who smoothly appeared in the spot of light, too, had a smile on his lips. His frame, clad in a blue uniform complimented with a sword, was set off quite nicely by the special atmosphere of sacrality reigning this particular space. On the other hand, Kounomura Zen'ichi, not blessed with height or dignified stature and looking quite dull in an oversized jacket and tawny slacks, was out of place there.

The two's appearances couldn't have been farther apart: Munakata with his clean-cut features, well-formed and perfectly-proportioned frame and the undeniable air of refinement and elegance, and Kounomura, with a bulky body of a penguin and plain though not without a certain charm features, who couldn't be called attractive by any standard.

Nevertheless, the two men had something about them that made them similar.

In was in their gaze that observed all phenomena of the world with utmost attention, more carefully than anybody else yet for some reason remained distant and detached as if they weren't watching at all, and in their free way of life that transformed sadness far removed from the realm of normal into amusement. But what made them seem alike more than anything else was a calm smile always playing on their lips. That was what the two men so different had in common.

"I have to say it is quite strange. This is my first time meeting you face-to-face, but it does not feel like it," Munakata spoke up unhurriedly. Tilting his head to the side slightly, he continued, "The reason may be the fact that I've gone through massive amounts of information related to you in the course of this affair." "This is my first time meeting you in the flesh, too, I guess?" Kounomura spread out his hands. "But y'know, I made a poster out of one of the photos of you that I'd taken secretly and pinned it up in my room." He closed his eyes. "So if I just shut my eyes like this, I can see your image in all its minute details in my head right away. All your data are etched into my brain, y'see."

Munakata answered with a wry smile. Kounomura opened his eyes.

"I did it because I wanted to become you so bad, Munakata-kun. Because..." he was not shy about his word choices, "Blue King, I thought you were beautiful." "Please tell me just one thing," Munakata asked. "Why did you choose this particular method to dethrone such a king?" "Hm?" "Why did you choose to trick and trap my subordinates instead of going after me directly?" "Hmmm," Kounomura took some time to think this question over. "Why, to tell you the truth, I didn't put much thought into it. It's just when I wondered what it was that made one king, I thought maybe the answer was one's retainers." His face suddenly turned serious. "No matter how much one claims to be king, so long as no one recognizes and acknowledges that claim, one remains but a naked emperor, y'know. So I thought maybe the Dresden Slate would revise your status if you were to be cut off your followers. Then again, it was just one out of currently 12 strategies that I'd come up with, and from now on I'm planning on testing out the other 11. And rest assured, among them there are some that involve cornering you specifically."

Munakata chuckled. "So you're set on trying again, I take it?" "Yup." Kounomura's reply was flat as a child's. "I totally am."

Munakata heaved a sigh, still smiling. Kounomura made a serious face again.

"Munakata-kun, I think you've already realized this without me telling, but..." His voice sounded low. "The Dresden Slate. It's very dangerous." "..." Munakata said nothing to that. Pushing up his glasses with a finger, he changed the subject. "You cannot escape any more, and I trust you are aware of the fact, yes?" "..." This time it was Kounomura who kept his silence. And then he said peevishly, "I've prepared a few means of escape. But the decisive factor that got in my way and prevented me from making use of them is this awful weather." "Your friend," Munakata spoke calmly, "said one interesting thing to me. According to him, apparently, when you get down to it, all coincidences are but inevitable. So wouldn't you say your running out of moves is some sort of fate at work?" "Munakata-kun, you..." "You do realize already, don't you?" The way Munakata said it reeked of eerieness. He was slowly drawing closer.

That was the first time when a shadow of fear slid across Kounomura's face.

All of a sudden, he did an about-face, dashed to hide behind the altar where he took a detonator out of his pocket and pushed the button.

With a thunderous roar, the chapel blew up.

†

When Kounomura made it to the roof, the sky was covered with dark clouds twisting like dragons as far as the eye could see. From time to time, flashes of lightning pierced them.

The torrential downpour, cutting and violent, beat his body mercilessly, and the accompanying gale made him stagger. His face was a sticky mess of sweat and dirt. His hair, thin even under the best circumstances, stuck to his forehead, and his clothes showed tears. Having crawled into the emergency exit made beneath the altar, it took him quite some time to get out.

Kounomura turned to take a look at the rubble that only a few minutes ago was the chapel, and the expression that crossed his face then could be interpreted as despair, fear or maybe even delight.

"...I knew it, Munakata-kun, you're simply..."

There stood no other than Munakata Reishi. Around him the blue globe of a barrier was projected, and despite being in the immediate vicinity of an explosion, not even a hair was out of place on him, to say nothing of injury. Munakata was getting closer, step by step, smiling with grace and refinement all the while.

Kounomura felt fear seizing him. And as Munakata was drawing closer, indivertible in his approach, the reason for this fear dawned on the short man.

For the first time in his life, Kounomura Zen'ichi and his carefully made plans were about to fail. Here, at this very moment.

There were things forever out of his reach, and he was made to realize he could never become someone like the person in front of him no matter how he tried. Between the two men there existed a wall that could never be scaled. In that instance, both Kounomura and Munakata sensed it.

'So this is what destiny is, huh? In the end, I never even stood a chance.'

The moment he thought that, a wave of exhaustion swept over him so bone-deep that he could barely stay upright. His long past its prime body had hit its limit long time ago, and the spirit that kept it going just barely after it had broke that instance.

Kounomura was ready to collapse then and there. But just then...

"That wouldn't do, Kounomura-san."

A quick and strong yet gentle arm suddenly caught him. The wind and rain stopped. Kounomura realized he was drawn inside the barrier projected around Munakata. When he looked up, he found Munakata smiling at him from above.

"He who aspires to be king must never take a knee."

That determination was overwhelming.

Kounomura's first ever failure triggered another strong reaction, and another feeling, new to him, was born on the heels of it. On instinct alone, Kounomura groaned. And then...

"It's okay."

Freeing himself from Munakata's supporting arm, he took a knee before the other man, of his own will this time, and said reverently, "I admit my defeat. You are the true king, Munakata Reishi."

In that instance, he found a new goal for himself, a new someone who he wanted to become.

Munakata, though almost imperceptibly perplexed, kept on smiling, and Kounomura, as he looked at him, couldn't help thinking of him as 'beautiful' once again.

[makeroomforthejolyghost]

ok well i originally drafted this while thinking about this post, but it’s relevant to what i wanted to say about (my tags on) this one too so i’ll just post it now, how ‘bout that.

i mean, Getting Used to It (and thus expanding your definition of “i’m fine”) isn’t always as dramatic as your brain completely turning off its pain response to an event, so that you don’t realize you’ve injured yourself until some other clue tips you off. that’s certainly happened to me? (and w/ smaller injuries it happens to healthy people too, as when you cut yourself on paper without noticing, and it doesn’t start to hurt until you see it bleed.) but the more everyday/pedestrian forms of this phenomenon are, like. that the level of pain i rated as an 8 in 2016 now reads to me as, like, 5. and that when you’re depressed (or at least when i am), pain goes up but interest in that pain goes down, because of depression’s tendency to normalize negative stimuli.

i think these are two manifestations of the same thing: your brain removes fear from the equation, and since fear makes pain more intense, most pain experienced in fear’s absence seems like no big deal. and that goes double for painful stimuli you once associated with fear but no longer do? in a sorta feedback-loopy way. or at least it does for me. less fear-->less pain-->even less fear the next time something similar happens.

if i sit in nearly any given position too long, one or more of the joints in my legs will sometimes... well, i think subluxate is technically the right word?* but it’s not like a sudden pop: it’s like, as the muscles around them relax my joints slowly slide out of place. as you can imagine (given the low bar required to achieve it), this happens A Lot; i don’t keep track, but probably once a day on average? i know it’s not every day, but also that some days it happens many times, and that both these latter and the days when it doesn’t happen at all often strike me as a change from the norm. so, yeah, probably a mean of once per day. but until sometime in 2019, it used to freak me out—a lot—every time.

it’s often one of those above-mentioned doesn’t hurt until you notice for other reasons scenarios, too, like the paper cut. so i’d be like innocently sitting there, then look down or attempt to adjust position and suddenly OH GOD MY LEG(S). and every time it happened i’d think, “oh god, is this the time i really and truly get stuck and have to be scooped out of this position on a stretcher. fuck, please, no, that would be so humiliating, there’s no way the paramedics would believe me, strangers must not see me like this,” &c., and the more determined i got to prove to myself that i could move, that i wasn’t stuck, that i could get myself out of this, the more horrifically painful these attempts became—partly because fear of pain leads to greater pain, and partly because when you’re panicky you don’t tend to move with much patience or care.

but, of course, every time i would eventually get out of it. it’s hard to say how long it took, because, again, i never timed it, and also because time does weird shit when you’re freaking out. (plus i have adhd, so my estimates of how long things take aren’t the greatest to begin with.) i want to say though that the longest i ever took unpretzeling myself in this way was an hour and a half—and i usually took way less time than that. (it’s hard also to estimate because these days exceeding ten minutes marks an especially long battle of this kind.) iirc, the ~90-minute incident was like, my right hip already felt not quite right, and someone on the internet recommended W-sitting as a way to reduce a subluxed hip, and i tried it because i either didn’t know at that time or had forgotten that when i W-sit for more than a few seconds i often misplace several toes, up to two joints per knee, maybe an ankle, and/or at least one hip. some of these will reduce themselves automatically as soon as i move; others i can only move passively until after i’ve reduced them. so like, that endeavor was a fucking jigsaw puzzle, and good luck figuring those out when a. every wrong move doubles the pain and panic you’re in, but b. leaving the puzzle unfinished is also agonizing. most of the time it was not that bad.

…what was my point? oh yeah: this sat-wrong-now-my-leg’s-stuck business still happens a lot, and it’s n o t like sitting on a pen, where your brain eventually gives up on signaling your discomfort.** nor like when you’re running on adrenaline and your brain doesn’t bother to tell you you’re hungry. nor like what tumblr user bibliosphere described, where her brain evidently just… prioritized other tasks over the “hey please fix this leg” alarm that pain would have signified. but incidents like this do, literally, hurt less the tenth time they happen than they do the first time, and it’s not because your body Toughens Up or whatever either (that only works w/ exercise-related muscle pain); it’s because your brain learns that this event does not pose imminent danger. a subluxation you know how to reduce will hurt less than one you don’t.

that’s what the “i’m always subluxing” version of the hulk meme means. most chronically ill people describe this whole phenomenon as more like the argument from “shot in the knee theory.” as like, you stop screaming because you learn screaming doesn’t help. and i mean… yeah? but ime it’s more that you stop screaming*** when you learn what does help. the OP in that post asks rhetorically,

Are you going to scream and cry the entire time, or are you going to come to grips with reality and accept the fact that freaking out isn’t going to make the ambulance come any faster?

and jesus christ, OP, are you kidding? in real life? definitely the first one! if you literally got shot in the knee, you wouldn’t just scream because it hurt—you would scream also because holy shit, am i gonna die of blood loss? why did they shoot me? are they going to shoot me again??? and pain you’ve had for years, or an injury you’ve sustained many times before, is nothing like that. if it scares you at all, the content of your fear is more like, oh, crap. what’s this gonna feel like tomorrow. will i have to cancel my plans again?

*n.b. i’ve never had this confirmed by a doctor. i just assume that’s what’s happening because 1. the sensations’ non-pain components are very similar to what the subluxations i have had confirmed feel like; 2. if it’s a joint i can see from my position (e.g., the ankle pressed against the floor when criss-cross-applesauced), it usually looks a little fucked up; and 3. it behaves quite differently from regular stiffness, joints in this scenario feeling not so much too tight to move properly as like i keep aiming for and missing the lever that moves them. (and each failed attempt HURTS like my soft tissues are pumpkin guts and my bones are knives trying to scoop them out.)

**i’ve never actually tried this experiment, though, and i’ve heard it doesn’t work on some autistic people. hopefully this goes without saying lmao but my sensory perceptions are Weird in General, so, any hypotheses i build upon them should be salted liberally

***well, whimpering, anyway. for me at least, if i literally scream at an injury it’s not from the pain, it’s from the surprise. i’m more likely to scream when i stub my toe than when i try to bite and my jaw crunches sideways, because the latter is a possibility i sign up for every time i put food in my mouth, whereas like. ob…viously you wouldn’t have stubbed your toe if you’d already known the object you accidentally kicked was there. (except i guess in movies when people kick objects to express rage, forgetting that this will hurt them. in that case i suppose they scream partly from surprise and partly because negative stimuli encountered in “fight” mode reinforce preexisting anger. wow i digress lmao sorry.) but reactions like whimpering, clenching your teeth, &c. only partly come from surprise; they’re also stims, i think, tho clearly not ones unique to ND people. the woman who pierced my ears when i was a kid told me to focus on tapping first one foot and then the other, so i wouldn’t shrink away. i think it’s kinda like that: it releases nervous energy, gives you a competing stimulus to focus on.

[eseult]

Name / Age / Timezone / Pronouns: sam, 24, est & they/them.

Describe yourself using a piece of media (a song title, a tv show character, a vine, a gif, a meme – you name it!): oof. that’s a tough one, considering the fact that i mainly consume one (1) piece of media a year ( on repeat ) ergoiejrgioerjger. but hmmmm......  i went through my about tag and like...... these five posts lowkey sum me up ergoijergiojerg: 1 2 3 4 5 + extra

Introduce the character you’re applying for: lucy weasley, nerd extraordinaire, big fan(tm) of both muggle medicine and wixen healing, hopeless romantic, family person, lovely human being trying to make sense of everything but having quite a lot of difficulty doing just that right now. lucy’s probably my favourite next gen era character to play? i’ve only played her twice before (well...... not technically twice because this version of lucy i’ve only played once before and honestly she’s evolved a lot since then so..... once would be more accurate. if that.) and i just!!!!! adore her!!!!! she loves her family!!!! really admires her parents!!!!! adores molly!!!!! would do anything for her cousins, aunts, uncles, auncles, grandparents, etc. a great friend too!!!!! sensitive af, though. naturally anxious. dreams big, but also nightmares big (nightmares big? idk what words i’m looking for but this is not it ergoijergioerjogeroji basically she has big dreams but big nightmares too). confident about certain things, but really, really not about others. can be a bit of a know-it-all. can speak english, french & a tiny bit of russian. why russian? she found an old muggle book about the language at a muggle secondhand bookstore and liked the cover so she read it. ok so i literally don’t know if we were supposed to just give the character’s name or expand on who they are so....... i’m gonna stop now just in case ergoijeroigjerjoiger.

Are there any canons, face claims, or surnames that you’d love to see here at The Revenant? oh my, so many. i’m going to stick with the basics for a second and say that if molly ii, percy & audrey are all taken, i’ll be like....... the happiest bean. but also, the rest of the weasleys/potters/delacours? because i love family dynamics? i’m not even going to get into faceclaims because i cannot restrain myself when it comes to those, but as far as surnames go i always LOVE zabinis, parkinsons, bones(es?), PATILS, creeveys & shacklebolts!!!!! but also, like, muggleborn ocs....... ocs with surnames that weren’t in the series....... all 100% chef’s kiss!

Do you have any wanted connections for your character that you’d like to shout out? lucy’s a hopeless romantic, so like, people she can have had or currently have crushes on? would be so fun because she’s going to be hilarious when she has a crush on someone. but! most of all i really, really want lucy to have a best friend? like whose best friend is also lucy? like, best friends who’d do absolutely anything for each other? best friends who consider each other family, and whose families consider them family too (unless lucy’s best friend has a crappy family ofc)? just...... a super strong friendship!!!!! that is full of platonic love!!!!!!! i would cry of joy, but in like, a super good way!!!!!

What are you most excited for?: oof....... everything? sarah’s like........ the best admin i’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting and i know she’s going to come up with amazing plot drops/events/tasks/etc and even if there weren’t any just the world building and lore and other things that are already part of the roleplay are just?????? so amazing????? that i feel like it’s going to be a hell of a lot of fun. plus, i CANNOT wait to write with all of you and get to know new people and see various interpretations of canon characters and meet original characters and be fascinated with semi canon characters!!!! and let’s be real i’m also THRILLED that i might get to play lucy again because she’s one of my favourite characters i’ve ever played and i’m just!!!!!!! so excited!!!!! for everything!!!!!! also i’m like highkey eyes emoji at what’s going to happen with the prophecies like i am SO curious

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

The Nutjob Twins’ Message (Pieces of the People We Love, Part 4.)

Series description: Not many people had the chance to see a vault or to mean anything in the world of Pandora. Will a hardly built relationship in the loneliness of the desert have the potential to change anything in the world of anarchy and chaos - or will the friends try to murder each other?

Part summary: After hearing the newest message from the nutjobs of “gods”, Scooter seemed to be sure that his friends and family are in trouble. Well, you knew where this was going and you didn't like it at fucking all. 

Warnings: A lot of guns, violence, reader is a tough badass - not a vault hunter tho. They’re badass and don’t give a fuck. And Scooter is a dumb bitch, as always. All Psychos and Fanatics are various Vine references - oh, what luck that reader can understand them since she is friends with Bandits.

Word count: 2.9 K

Tagging: @notaliteraltoad​

Series masterlist:  H E R E

Series playlist: H E R E

“Are you sure that these new vault thieves are your friends? I mean… Literally, any living remotely-human being on this planet is a fucking vault thief for that duo of crazy asses.” - Half an hour ago, you’ve made it to Pintley’s to hear his perspective on Scooter’s suspicions about his friends being the targeted ones. As per usual, you’ve had a can of Dr. Bob in your hand as you took a long swing of that nasty… Something and then, you gave a short look to Pintley. You took Scooter to Hell’s Cauldron immediately after that transmission to discuss everything. To have someone smart to help Scooter with settling on the plan he should choose. Like, you know, a good guardian.

You took him to the only other sane person in the radius of hundreds of miles, hoping Pintley would figure something out real fast - you still had your suspicions about being the one who’ll end up with Scooter and his little suicide mission project, but… A girl can dream, right? Maybe, these two men will actually come up with a smart plan that won’t involve you in the slightest.

So far it seemed, that everyone on Pandora, at least those who and working Echos or turned on radios, have heard. Maybe even other planets could hear the announcement, what could you know? Calypso twins were hunting some poor souls again - but just like you said before, that was none of your fucking business. Whoever these people were, they got into trouble on their own. You were just a small screw in the big scheme of things; so, whoever’s the trouble was, they needed to solve it… Right?

“Man, I’m sure-sure that this gal was talkin’ ‘bout my damn friends.” - Scooter answered with a sad tone of voice, making you come back to the present moment. Even if you were one crazy son of a bitch, you could hear the sadness and even understand it’s where it was coming from, to some extent. Maybe the alleged vault thieves were his friends, this time for real, but how could you know? Again - which part of it was your problem? Yeah, maybe it was Scooter’s problem. In that case, you’d be kinda sad too - and, without single regard or ill intent, you’ll wish the dude your best wishes if he decided to go and help them - but you weren’t about to lay a single finger on a thing that was supposedly connected to the vault hunting business. No. You already knew how the business was running; you’ve tried it, didn’t like it at all and it cost you your other arm. At that thought, you shivered a bit and caught to the steel that was now a part of your body.

“And how comes so?” - With a long sigh, you jolted on your chair as you stated Scooter down, trying to get to know what was going inside the small head of his. - “Tyreen didn’t name any names, did she, Scooterboy? Or did I just didn’t hear them? Damn, don’t tell me it’s my time to get an appointment at the doctor’s.” Sooner, way before the COV started to take over Pandora, the VH business was a dangerous and expensive one as well. It was only for those, who had little to lose. For those that knew their way with guns and those who were ready to commit themselves and their existence for the sole purpose of vault hunting. That was more than seven years ago. Now? It was the first sign you’d look for if you were worried that you’re either having some kind of psychosis or a serious mental diagnose, like being insane per se.

Your wish was to be a part of the legends that were told? Honey, you were more than ready to get a diagnosis and a stamp on top of that. The occasional meetings with the fanatics were more than enough for you. If these crazy asses would get to know or even hear a rumor that you’re helping the wrong side, their Gods’ nemesis, the vault hunters? Man, you would have a shit ton of them behind your back and a bounty pinned on your head. That was a no-no situation for you.

“Because there is only one siren on Pandora at the time and that’s Lilith.” - The man gazed back at you with an empty, deadly stare. You didn’t even flinch. What were you? A bitch to flinch under one not-so-nice look? Damn, the fuck you weren’t. “Technically, two and a half sirens are inhabiting the planet.” - Pintley mouthed out silently and progressed with doing the dishes. - “He has a good point, tho.” - Your best bud of the last couple of years finished with an innocent face, not daring to look at you. But you did know what he was trying to do and you weren’t about to simply give in because the old man had said so. Then, quite smoothly, you turned back to Scooter. “So, Scooterboy has a good point. And what? Why on Pandora should I even give a diddly-damn?” - The attitude you’ve given Pintley was more than well-known to him. Slowly, you slid your back to the chair as you waited for the rest of what he had so say. Oh, your gaze and expression were just daring Pintley to come for you and whoop your ass with all the arguments be got in store. At the exact moment and place, you were in your element.

Fighting arguments, that was where you succeeded 99.9% of the time. This was the sort of fight you preferred. - “Should I shit myself because boo-hoo, oh no, the baddies are after Lilith? Because they want to harm poor old Sanctuary? She, her Crimson Raiders and vault hunting ain’t my business, so I ain’t gonna put my nose somewhere where it... Shouldn’t. Fucking. Be." - Every word was accompanied by a thud, as the tip of your finger bounced from the table. - "They never did anything good for me - why would I willingly put my head down for them to get decapitated?” - The time on your voice was ice-cold, just like your eyes. Boy, you didn't realize how wrong you were at the moment, but that didn't slow you down at all. “And as for you, young man… I can pack you a lunch and wish you safe travels, if you wanna. But you should not expect any help from me, are we clear?” - With the last swing of Dr. Bob, you crushed the can with your metal arm, throwing it to the bin as you stood, putting your coat and large hat back on. Yet at that moment, Scooter did something anyone expected him to do. It honestly threw you off the rails.

The man talked back to you.

“Yea, man, ya a pussy, I can see that. Understood and noted. But because ya a bitch, ya goin’ let these people die? I know it's dangerous and beyond anyone's wildest darn dream, but that's the damn thrill, ain't it? That's why we're doin' that, aren't we, huh?” - Scooter was on his feet as well, throwing his dirty cap on the ground with something, that couldn't be described other than a sudden outburst of fury. He wasn't ending, but he had entertained you nonetheless. As you watched him gasping for breath, your metal arm went to grab the shotgun you had in your holster. “Excuse me if I’m wron’, but who destroyed Helios when Jack wanted to erase Pandora from the universe? Vault hunters. Who killed Jack? Again, man, it were the vault hunters. Who killed the darn destroyer not once, but twice, huh? Who's keepin' the COV away? Stop actin’ like a pussy and let’s help them while there’s still time to do so.” - At first, Scooter wanted to be rude at you - yet when you took the shotgun out and pointed its barrel right at his face, he suddenly shut up. The atmosphere got suddenly very, very uncomfortable.

“Listen to this, Scooterboy. I'm going to repeat myself - nobody... Nobody will be calling me a pussy or a bitch, can you hear me loud and clear?” -  Quickly, you put your metal arm for him to see before you hugged your gun tight again. - “This is how it looked the last time I was trying to brave like the vault hunters are rumored to be. So if I will have to repeat myself, then I’ll shoot you down like a practice target. Are we on the same wave?” - The sentence was practically hissed out and now, you were standing two mere feet away from him.

“Vault hunters and Crimson Raiders ain’t my concern at the slightest, you understand? I’m good on my own, I’m a lone wolf, not a team player. So please, go on, run and save your friends and get yourself killed in the process, if it makes you pleased. But don’t make me solve your fucking problems. Because you and I? We aren’t friends, Scooterboy.” - With every word, you made it clear that you might be just the rude asshole you first seemed to be. Maybe the spark of humanity Scooter saw before was an illusion? Maybe you were a nutjob, just like everyone else on this goddamned planet. It was Pintley, who saved the situation. The older man pushed Scooter behind his own back, stretching out his arms to protect the boy from getting shot. For a moment, you were still pointing your barrel at him, but then you put the gun down really fast. Pintley was Pintley; a mentor and a friend.

“Cowboy, that's just enough. Calm down and put the gun on the table, will ya?” - The pub owner said calmly, nodding his head at the table. That son of a bitch. Oh, you knew what bomb he’s about to drop. The m-bomb. Moral bomb. Slowly, you put the gun out of your reach and walked around a bit to calm down. From time to time, you shot a gaze in Scooter's direction, making him realize you're still not done with him. “I know that this is not what you want to hear rite now, but Scooter had a good point in what he’d said. Vault hunters, whether you like it or not, saved your ass more times than you can count on your fingers, and maybe, you don’t even realize any of that. You can’t be very ignorant when you want to, do you know that?” “And you can be a pain in my fucking ass, Pintley. I mean what I said. It's not my damn problem.” - Now, you were speaking with your mind a bit more clear and you knew that the situation went from 0 to 100 really quickly; partially because you could be a damn idiot and partially because Scooter accidentally remained you of the accident with your arm. Again, you shivered lightly and smoothed over the arm, looking away from both of them.

“Hey. I know since you were a small girl, don't I, huh? I know you have some unfinished business with the vault hunters. We all know you don’t like them. But hey, the least you can do is that you can give Scooter a headstart, how does that sound?” - Pintley asked with a small smile, running his fingers on his mustache. He was one sly motherfucker, that needed to be said. - “Nobody wants you to join their little scout troop, you can just... Help him get there, what about that?”

“What kind of headstart are we talking about here?” - Now, the anger turned into tiredness. Without asking Pintley, you slipped behind the counter and grabbed one bottle of vodka, drinking straight out of it. Right. You didn't have to head out on a huge adventure, you could just... Help a bit and then pretend you have never met Scooter before. Sounded good enough to you. “Maybe, you can enable him to travel the Fast Travel network? That should do the trick, huh?” - Pintley looked over his shoulder at Scooter, patting the man's arm. With a sigh, you leaned your elbows into the counter, taking one fucking long swing. No. You took it back. Pintley was insane. Fast travel was one of the things that Hyperion came with as well - a system of teleporting machines that absorbed your DNA, sent you through digital ports to your final destination, and there, the Fast travel station put your body together again. Said network was working all over the known galaxy and inhabited planets. But it wasn't working in Hell's Cauldron. You knew where the nearest working was, and very well, had to be noted. No. You weren't about to get yourself fucking killed.

“Are you seriously out of your mind?” - With another swing, you put the bottle down so violently that it almost crashed in your palm. Then, you stared at Pintley for a bit longer. - “Do you really want me to persuade the boys from Walrus to switch it on for Scooterboy?” - Most of the people in Hell's Cauldron knew who Walrus was. He was one of the few bandit barons that weren't insane enough to sign his boys up to the COV. He was insane and he wasn't exactly fond of you (which was your fault and you knew that), but he could still be considered an ally. “Basically. They like you, Blindy and Rayray owe you a lot. Try it, that’s the least you can do.” - The man walked to you, made you stand up, and then he carefully smoothed your shoulders, shaking you a bit. - “Bandits of Ham’s Creek know you and trust you in their crazy, weird way. Come on, Cowboy. Do it for me. Do it for him. Do it for the universe.” “Pintley, seriously, you want me to talk to the bandits.” - Now, you were whispering with not-so-slight irony. This was like the start of a freaking good anextode. - “These men… They don’t have a functional brain between them. They listen with their knees. I don't even know if they can speak our language and I'm still not the most fluent in psycho. If you forgot, these two nutjobs Rayray and Blindy, are the normal ones out of all the men that live there, and they are like… Batshit crazy, these two. The rest is straightway nuts. Do you even remember the last time they were celebrating? If not, too bad, because I fucking do.”

At this, Pintley stopped for a moment to give you serious look. Then, he smiled. - “Cowboy, come on. We both know you would do that if there weren’t the Crimson Raiders or vault hunters mentioned. You’re just being overly dramatic.” - His index finger flicked your nose and you opened up your mouth, searching for a valid argument. Without any success, you must've admitted. Then, Pintley looked at Scooter as he knew that he already won the moral persuading. “She’ll take you to Ham’s Creek. She’s just being too hot-headed.” - Your mentor winked at the mechanic and switched to his position behind a bar, giving you the vodka bottle you've already opened. The atmosphere inside the room slowly gotten a bit better as you put your shotgun back to the holster.

“Let’s fucking do this, then.” - A low growl came out of you as you finished the rest of the bottle, throwing it to the bin once more. With a surprising speed, you walked to the new functional Catch-A-Ride, asking for a light runner. “Ya mean right now? Like now-now?” - He said with a sign of worries in his voice. You looked at him with a snort and started the engine. “Now. Tomorrow’s late, Scooterboy. Crawl in, I just want it to be over already.” - As you pushed the gas pedal down, the engine howled loudly and you leaned into the leather seat with a long sigh. Then, you looked over to the scooter sitting in the gunner's nest. - “Remember, you’ll stay glued to my back at all times until we set our feet to the place do you understand what I’m saying? You move a foot away from me and they will make a delicious soup out of you.” “And aren’t they like… Asleep now or somethin’?” - He yelled back at you. You almost turned around and gave him an ironic look, but you just make the car rush forward. Bandits and asleep? Those words weren’t making sense when someone used them in one sentence. Those fuckers were running on an hour of sleep per day, or so you heard. That was why almost each one of them was batshit crazy. Good thing was that you didn't need any navigation - you knew the way to Ham’s Creek by your heart. You'd be able to drive there from literally anywhere in the proximity of sixty miles.

And only little did you know that this was the place where your trouble had started... And that it'll get progressively worse over time.