#*takes art block and shoves it in a box and locks it*

[saturnneedsspace]

Quick little comfort character doodle as I try and ward away art block

[cherry-pop-elf]

Over For Dinner

Art The Clown x Reader

AN: I got SO MUCH love for my Your Own Happy Ending so here we are with more horror x reader content!

Sum: Halloween had passed and Christmas was just around the corner. You were just doing some domestic things when you couldn’t help but notice a window was open. One you had locked

Warnings: 18+, Violence, gore, home intruder, Art being Art, MUTE Art (gotta take the disability rep when we can) gun violence, implied cannibalism, attempted sexual assault, (but we all know revenge is on its way. Shout out to my fellow victims that need their comfort killer to kill their abusers) it’s gonna get messy, very horror aesthetic story line, just. Art being art. (Needs another warning 😭) and of course domestic fluff as icing on this murder cake

“Honey! Where did you put the Christmas lights?!” You shouted to your boyfriend, only to stumble upon them in the kitchen. Just where he had left them for you.

“NEVER MIND-!”

You would grab the box, and started to hang the slightest all through out the interior of the home. Oh the joys of LED lights. Saves you money while still enjoying the festive spirit.

It wasn’t Halloween, sure, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be fun. To enjoy the lights, music, sounds, and pleasures. Each holiday had its own little flavor. Some might not enjoy certain flavors, others may have a favorite. Doesn’t hurt to dabble in multiple.

You were humming away at some Christmas tune, while wrapping the lights or hanging them, when you stumbled upon an open window. You would poke your head out, and looked around. Was wondering where that draft came from.

You pulled your head back in, and then closed it shut. That’s when you noticed something was off with the lock. It was locked in place, yet the window had been open. You gave the window another look over and found that the wood work looked strange. Like someone shoved a crowbar between it and forced it open. The small splintering a reaction from it.

“Honey?” You called out, trying to reason that maybe it was his doing. Some kind of prank of sorts. Yeah. Your boyfriend was quite the card after all. Would make sense that he would do something wild. Always liked to keep you on your toes.

Still…..This wasn’t his style. Not his style at all. Was way too subtle. He’s NOT the subtle type.

You hurried back into the kitchen, and pulled out one of the knives from your block. Someone was inside the house. Someone who shouldn’t be.

“Hey honey?! You still in the attic?!” You called out, as you slowly walked the hallways. Maybe if you kept making it clear you weren’t the only one in the house that the intruder would get scared and run off. Right?

That’s what you hope anyway. You had a theory that this person assumed you lived alone. Your boyfriend always made sure to leave the house at night, and it was normally very late at night no less. People wouldn’t assume you had someone live with you.

“Honey?!” You called again, wondering why he wasn’t responding. Yeah he can’t respond, but he had ways to indicate he heard you. You made the effort to learn sign language for him, and he made the effort to find alternatives to share his voice with you.

Just where was it right now?

Slowly through the hallways you went. Each step as calculated as it could be. Every creak of a floorboard was memorized by all your little hide and seek games with your partner. All the corners treated with care. Any sound you heard was listened as hard as ears could muster.

Nothing but wind, cars driving by, and your own breathing.

Like a crack of lighting the back of your head was grabbed, and your face was slammed into the wall. Such pain made your body instinctively let go of your blade, and reach for where you hurt. Curse your human reaction. Hardly so much as touched your face when you were yanked away from the bloody wallpaper.

A arm was around your throat, and another around your waist. Your fingers tried to tear at the arm on your neck, but the invader was wearing thick clothing. No way for you to get any kind of hit. All you could do was fight to breathe.

“I know you are home all alone. That Honey bullshit isn’t fooling me. Now just play nice and you won’t get hurt more than needed. Got it?” The man would speak into your ear, as you felt cold metal being pressed against your temple.

Guess you gotta play nice.

“The hell do you want, huh?” You snapped. Suppose when your lover is a few lions short of a full circus you don’t get scared of dangerous situations as easy as you should. If this was between you and your boyfriend it would simply be foreplay.

“Well for starters money. You got yourself a pretty fancy house here. Not enough for security cameras, but it’s clear you got enough. I also want to have some fun with you. No point wasting a warm body.” He chuckled at you, as he would rub the gun across your body. Made you want to gag. Or was that just the borderline suffocation?

“Fuck off. For your information I do have a boyfriend. My boyfriend is an insane bastard no less. He’s going to turn you into mush for what you are doing to me. He’s around here somewhere. Must be behind the house helping decorate. You are dead meat when he comes in here!” You threatened, just to get the barrel of the gun pointed back at your temple.

“Oh will you fucking shut up? You got no boyfriend. I’ve been watching this house for ages. Never seen him once. It’s always just been you. I sure as hell never heard him either-!” That’s when you had to cut in. “He’s mute you shit head. Of course you wouldn’t hear him-!” That just made him laugh.

“You are really sticking to that whole boyfriend thing, huh? Well if it’s true then that means you know how to please a man. Don’t you?” That made you shiver in disgust, as he gave another tight hug around your waist. Just finding any excuse to touch you.

That’s when there was the sound of the back door opening.

“Who the fuck is that?” He would grit between his teeth, as you grinned.

“My boyfriend. Duh.”

That didn’t please him one bit. The attacker was soon trying to drag you somewhere else in the house. To try and maybe buy some time to think of how to handle two people against one. You sure made sure he struggled though. Kicking your legs, and trying to make a noise. The cold metal to your temple made it clear you couldn’t speak or it’s game over. So all you can do is legs.

He was making an attempt for the stairs, to try and make distance away from the back door, but that just gave you the perfect kicking items. You nailed each photo frame you could with your feet. Sent them crashing down, and glass breaking. Was very loud against the quiet house. Not to mention since it’s on the stairs they would go toppling down.

That noise alerted your boyfriend in an instant, and now he was at the bottom of the stairs.

He looked like such a normal guy. Snow was still fresh on his black boots and pants. A cozy white sweater and gloves. A nice finish was a black beanie. Looked like your typical string bean. The only thing that seemed off at all was his very defined nose. If not that, just another guy off the street.

“Watch it! I’m the one with the gun here! Don’t try anything or the bitch gets it!” The man would yell at your boyfriend, as said boyfriend held his hands up. Acting as if he was a scared man.

“We are going to do things my way. That means no funny business, got it?!” You couldn’t stop your snort, despite the dire situation. Had him look down at you, and press the gun harder into your temple.

“The hell is so fu-!”

Bang.

The intruder wasn’t the only one with a gun.

He was just to damn fast for the attacker to comprehend. One second he had a gun at your head, the next he was tumbling down the stairs. Screaming in pain, as he had been shot right into his hand.

“I warned ya! But no~! Someone wanted to be all big and tough huh?” You mocked, as you would come down the stairs. Stepped right over him, and gave your knight in shining armor a kiss of gratitude. Arms wrapped around his neck, and his own around your waist.

“Eh. Guess we should be good hosts and have him over for dinner. I know you love fresh meat.” You giggled, as your attacker was in pain and confusion. Didn’t have time to ask what you meant, before he was tossed over the shoulder of the man who shot him. Gun playfully spinning in his hand, as you focused on cleaning up the mess.

You would hum away, as you would hang up the photos that weren’t broken, meanwhile the intruder was screaming for help. Begging for god to save him.

There was no god here.

You would take the gun off the stairs, and bring it to a trunk that was stuffed full of weapons. Many your boyfriends, but most from all the other people who tried to fuck with the clown.

You locked it up, and came to the kitchen. Going to get some bleach from under the sink.

“Aw dammit. We ran out of bleach. Art, sweetie, do we have any in the pantry?” You looked over so casually, while the man was strapped down on the marble counter top. Currently having himself become a dissected mess. Organs currently being pulled out and separated.

Art would give you a nod, before getting back to work. That work being pull the man’s heart out, and offering it to you. Had you all giggly, as you kissed his bloody cheek.

“Aren’t you sweet. I’ll clean up the stairs while you finish with dinner. Guess we don’t have to worry about a Christmas ham this year. Thanks so much for coming over! Saved us alot of stress.” You would wave at the man, as he would soon just lay there. Eyes glossy from death pulling him to wherever his soul may lay.

“My hero.” You laughed, as you kissed his cheek again. Was happily returned, before you two nuzzled your noses together. As if simply newly weds.

What a way to start the holidays.

[kiyomitakada]

[high school au introduction. for the soul]

-

It had been a long time since Soichiro Yagami last drove his son to school. Light took the bus. His mom sometimes fretted about safety, offered to call a taxi instead, but then Light would have to make conversation with the taxi driver and while he did enjoy psychological manipulation it wasn't exactly his ideal mood just after waking up. Besides, it was so boring when he knew he'd never see the other person again. No stakes.

So, the bus. The regular bus, not the school one. If he saw any of his classmates on the way he might break the hammer out of the box and smash the windows.

Light sat in the back row and opened his Windows computer. He had perfected the art of typing quietly.

Last year he might have been putting the finishing touches on his summer reading essay. This year he pulled up 2048 and played until all the blocks swam across his vision in the same impossible color.

-

Misa bounced anxiously on the balls of her feet, peering over the crowd. She and Rem were just to the side of the main entrance. Rem was almost a head taller than her, which allowed her to stand behind Misa and still see perfectly.

"Do you see him yet?"

"No," Rem said. "Misa, we're going to be late."

"Oh who cares, you know the start-of-year assemblies are always the same." Misa flapped a hand at her. "I'm sure he'll be here soon!"

"Did he text you?"

"Good question!" Misa tapped at her phone; it lit. No new messages.

Light hadn't messaged her yesterday, either. Or the day before that. Misa shoved down the building panic in her chest.

"Nothing?"

"Maybe he got hit by a car," she offered. This was a better option than Light just forgetting. If Light had been hit by a car, Misa could take care of him. "Or maybe the bus broke down."

She tapped out r u ok???? and hit send. Then abruptly the wall of messages only on the right side of the screen was too much to look at, so she stuffed her phone back into her pocket.

It pinged a minute later. The time was now 7:57, and the crowd had thinned considerably.

Yes I'm fine. Just a delay on the bus Sorry

Misa pumped her fist. Yes! Light hadn't forgotten her! She typed back immediately:

oh no!!!! :0 how long is it gonna be

I don't know, Misa.

:((((((

"He doesn't know how long it'll be," Misa said, after the sad-face string received no reply. She stretched, then shivered. Maybe a shoulderless dress wasn't the best idea on a cold morning; in her defense, it was August.

"I'm sure he won't mind if we go in first," Rem tried.

"Yes he will! We're a couple, you know. We have to do things together." Misa sighed. Of course Rem wouldn't understand. There wasn't a romantic bone anywhere within that all-black hoodie. Then again, that was why Misa liked her so much — Rem had this weirdly innocent vibe despite generally hanging around the emos, like she still hadn't quite figured out how high school love worked. It was charming. Misa had taken Rem under her wing as soon as Misa transferred to their high school three years ago, and she had never looked back.

"Okay," Rem said, conceding defeat. She tapped a bit at her own phone, then reached up and unzipped her hoodie. She extracted her arms from it carefully before draping it over Misa.

Misa blinked. "Thanks?"

"You were shivering," Rem said, as though this explained everything. Maybe it did. Rem was such a good friend, Misa thought, pulling the hoodie over her arms. Rem would do anything for her.

"Are you gonna be cold?"

"No, I'm wearing long sleeves."

Misa grinned. "You dress like an onion, Rem."

Rem did not dignify this with a comment. She dipped her head back down over Misa's and kept scrolling through her phone, not making eye contact.

If Misa didn't know better, she'd think she was shy.

-

"I swear to God," Gelus muttered, before he cast his phone aside. "Ryuk, sit up."

"I'm saving Rem's seat," Ryuk said, lounging over two metal chairs like that one scene in Titanic.

Gelus groaned. "Rem's not coming. Misa's got her locked outside again."

"More room for me." Ryuk dropped an apple chip into his mouth, unconcerned. "Hey, Jello, you didn't tell me to save a seat for Misa."

"That's because I didn't want her to sit with us!" Gelus hissed.

"Why not? Misa's cool."

Okay, yes, Misa was cool. Gelus could admit that he'd had a crush on her when she'd first transferred in, just like everyone else and their father did, but it had gone away with time after he'd gotten to know her better and also gotten on antidepressants. These days she was just a person. A very overdramatic person, to be sure, but still.

Rem, on the other hand, had fallen progressively more head-over-heels as time went on. Which was fine. But every time he saw Rem do something ridiculously romantic like kiss each of Misa's knuckles as 'rewards' while teaching her math homework, and every time Misa completely ignored this to go after her clearly uninterested boyfriend again, Gelus felt like flushing all his meds down the toilet.

"If Misa sits with us we'll have to sit with Light Yagami."

Ryuk shrugged. "Could be fun. What's he like?"

"I have no idea," Gelus said. "But look at him. Does he look like the fun type to you?"

"Mmm, I don't know," Ryuk mused. "Maybe if I got him stimulants."

"Ladies and gentlemen." Principal Kitamura's voice crackled through the speakers of the auditorium. "Welcome back to a new school year. I couldn't be more glad you're all here…"

Gelus glanced pointedly at the double-space Ryuk was taking up. Ryuk paid no mind and stared up at the ceiling instead, crunching more apple chips.

The teachers didn't notice. They never had.

[woodsfae]

Babylon 5 s02e07: A Race Through Dark Places

s02 Table of Contents • previous episode

Station budget relies on the civilian traffic, but the military traffic has been higher than usual, so they’re running on a deficit, since the military doesn’t reimburse the station for funds lost by the mandatory re-routing of civilian business. And they want want to charge Sheridan and Ivanova 30 credits a week to stay in their current quarters, which are a whole 7 square feet bigger than the next size down which would remain free. All this sounds exactly some some bs the USA would pull and is completely believable.

My!!! guy!!!! Bester is back! And on a day when I’ve found a totally legal and normal way to screencap for some gifs again. hell to the yeah. Prediction: I’m gonna like this one. He’s got a new, scary sidekick.

Oh I love him, he’s so terrifying and perfect.

Telepath: “He’s dead.” Bester: “It doesn’t matter. I caught it, just before he died. Betrayed by his final thoughts.”

He’s my special little guy. But does this mean Talia is involved with the underground telepaths?? She was really not down with whatsherface not going to PsiCorps.

Sheridan is just down to fight whenever anyone squares up even a little. What is 30 credits? I have nothing to compare it against. Is it like, a nice meal for two? A month’s wages for a dock worker? I feel like this is the first hard number for a price I’ve seen so far.

Going for the easy questions I see, Delenn! Just quickly, explain humanity. Awww she’s so cute. Dinner date with Sinclair! He was dtf (down to fight) 2 seconds ago and now he’s dtf (down to flee) and figure out if this is a date or not.

Sheridan: “One day they’re shooting at you, the next they’re taking you out to dinner. Hah! What a universe.”

He looks bemused and delighted. I’m delighted. This episode will have everything if only Susan and Talia will be allowed to be onscreen at the same time.

OMFG they’re in the same room at the same time!!!

Sheridan: “I’d like to talk to my people for a moment.” Bester and Talia: *leaves the room* Me: “Talia where the fuck are you goin...oh. Telepath. well frag that.”

Garibaldi: “Want, agree, that has nothing to do with it. The law is the law.”

And that’s ACAB baby. When the law is unjust, those that uphold the law are unjust.

Garibaldi: “That’s damn ironic, isn’t it? That the corps got started because we were afraid of telepaths? Now we’re victims of our own fears. And we took away every right they had and shoved them into a big, black box called Psi Corps. Now look at em. Black uniforms, jackboots, giving orders. Some days they scare the hell out of me.“ Sheridan: “Yeah If you ask me, we created our own monster. And maybe we deserve it.“

Good advice by Ivanova. Read the logs about the Jason Ironheart Incident.

Lots of good background info being dropped. Talia wouldn’t notice a surface scan, she keeps walls up to block out the background noise, but Bester wasn’t and heard someone calling him a murderer.

“Bester will try to stop up, so we don’t have any choice. We have to kill him.”

I agree, but also, oh man my special guy. :(

DELENN YOU BABE. Well no wonder Sheridan falls for her. She’s humaning it up like a bossbabe for this date.

It’s genuinely astonishing that Ivanova has nothing whatsoever to do with the underground (that she’ll admit to). I think odds are relatively good that she actually does. Perhaps Dr Franklin is? He’s been a little revolutionary.

Date’s going well. Humor is an excellent bonding point.

Bester reaching out to Talia civilly. We love to see it, only for the drama.

Love to see the return of Jason Ironheart CGI Ascended!

Also love the lingering, artful shots of Talia being angsty in profile.

The penny!! Is she or isn’t she a telekinetic?? I am once again asking for Talia Telekinesis Skills. AND YES THERE IT IS BABYYYYY. Now that’s some self defense.

Earthforce locked them out of their rooms! Those asshats. It’s so sweet how willing Susan is to go along with all Sheridan’s schemes.

Mary Had A Little Lamb has never been so ominous.

OK, so now that they’re sleeping in Sheridan’s office she’s quite a bit more disgruntled.

Ivanova: “Were you like this when you were married?” Sheridan: “Yeah!” Ivanova: “That woman was a saint.”

John you have a huge crush. Repeating all the jokes you heard from your dinner date and practically blushing over thinking about it is peak crush behavior.

DS9 nod? Those are raktajino mugs that Bester and Talia are using.

Fishing for info, fishing for informants, and unfortunately not so distracted that he missed the assassins. Who should really learn to shield their thoughts if they’re gonna be assassinating level 15 telepaths. And throwing Talia in a closet. A literal closet. lol.

This is the one and only anger fit Garibaldi can throw that I support.

Oh well, not really a closet I guess. Man, she gets manhandled a lot.

I agree, wake up girlie. The Corps are not benign and you don’t even believe what you’re saying.

Dun dun dun! Franklin does have connections. Called it.

Oh, the gloves are a PsiCorps requirement! Continuing yikes. Excellent control mechanism. They’re a high control cult. What you wear, where you live, who you talk to, who you touch, how you live, where and how you work, who you marry. About as high control as you get.

oooof, and forced pregnancy. I wonder if the baby got a guide for a year and then it was on its own as soon as it could walk.

“You’re asking me to take everything I believe and turn it upside-down.”

yeah, that’s hard to do when you’re ready to deconstruct from cult life, let alone when you’re kidnapped by kindly telepaths who insistently tell you horror stories of PsiCorps as some kind of guided deconstruction.

Invoking Jason Ironheart is absolutely the way to get Talia to help. I’m rooting so hard for them! And for Bester to survive and continue to commit atrocities for my viewing pleasure. I’m a simple person.

DOCTOR STEPHEN FRANKLIN YOU DUPLICITOUS BADASS! This episode is everything. I’m vibrating. Generally I like to feel good about predicting things even partially correctly but I only said maybe Dr Franklin has connections, not that he’s running the whole operation, and I’m gonna own that being only very partial. This is baller.

He’s a conspiracy theories that are real guy like Sheridan is, but only for telepathy! Secret doctor network!! The unofficial clinic!!

Alas, Sheridan, but “I agree but the laws“ is not moral best practice.

Bester! My evil little fellow.

Talia grew a hell of a spine in the last ten minutes.

Collective telepathy!!!

“The corps is Mother. The corps is Father. I know where my loyalties lie.”

I don’t see how this could play out any way but that these people are dead, but that would also be totally bonkers considering she just planned something with Dr Franklin and Sheridan.

LITERALLY all faked? d a m n

I am extremely into collectivist telepathy. It’s super tragic that they are discouraged from touching even each other. All of them must be just so touch starved.

Doctor Franklin has just shot up a mile in my estimation of him as a person. He got a lot of points for treating Poor Murdered Child, but I also don’t like thinking about that episode. (0/1 stars, will never watch again)

Ah, so Sheridan also has a way with pedantry. Is this a commentary on how rigid military regulations makes for twisting-the-hell-out-of-the-rules geniuses?

Insert incoherent babble here about gloves-off Talia smiling at be-robed Susan smiling at her! Oh this episode is everything I could have wanted. Definitely a 5/5 star one for me! And certainly my favorite of the season so far!

next episode

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 7: Missing

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

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

It was your third time getting denied access to the infirmary. You stood there and created such a ruckus that Volstagg, the head of the infirmary, came out of the room to address you.

“What is all this bangin’ about?” he said, rubbing his thick orange beard and looking at you questionably.

The blonde-haired boy at the front desk scowled in your direction. “She was told last night that we are currently not allowing visitors, but she won’t listen.”

You threw him back a venomous gaze and took a deep breath, ready to present your case. “My friend Valkyrie was injured at yesterday’s game and I have to see her! She fell nearly thirty feet and nobody has told me a single thing about her condition. She could be dead for all I know and -“

“She’s over here. For the love of Merlin, please stop talkin’,” he said, leading you into the infirmary.

You smiled at the blonde boy and followed Volstagg through the door, into the infirmary. There were many more beds than you remembered seeing before. It seemed the room itself had elongated to make room for how many injured students there were. They bunked the beds to four levels and house-elves apparated between patients to provide care to those still healing.

There was one boy with a crooked looking arm that frightened you. He was sleeping on the third bunk of his bed group. Another girl had bandages around her eyes and was sitting up, scratching her pet rat between its ears. You gulped at the damage that was done, realizing that you had gotten off lucky.

Volstagg led you to a bed with the curtain drawn around it. It surprised you that Valkyrie got her own little section of the room.

“Thor brought her here in a mad fuss. She broke both her legs but should be fine in the mornin’,” Volstagg said. “You stay here as long as you need to, not a second more, understand?” He looked at you pointedly.

You smiled at him. “Thank you, sir.”

He grumbled away and left you alone. Valkyrie laid there with her eyes closed, and a bit of sweat on her brow. You walked over and drew up a chair beside her and took her hand. Using the back of your robe sleeve, you patted her forehead to get the sweat off.

“Hmmm, Professor?” she said.

You laughed. “Unfortunately, it’s just me,” you said.

Valkyrie smiled, eyes still closed. “I suppose you’re an alright consolation.”

“Are you okay?” you said, petting her hand.

Valkyrie opened her eyes and looked at you. The dark brown irises were rich, though the whites of her eyes had reddened from fatigue. “Oh stop it, I’m not on my deathbed, Freya. Volstagg gave me a mending brew, said I should be all better by the morning! Tastes like piss though.”

You laughed too loud, and it earned you a shush from a nearby house-elf applying ointment to a gash on a student’s arm. “Professor Odinson was quick to get you, though,” you said with a mischievous smile.

Valkyrie smiled. “I can still remember the feeling of being in his arms. Though the amount of pain I was in did block out most of it and made it slightly less romantic than I would have hoped…”

Footsteps approached, and you saw Professor Odinson stop at the foot of Valkyrie’s bed. “Freya! Volstagg couldn’t keep you out, eh?”

“Hell no!” Valkyrie said, shooting you a winning smile. Despite being bedridden, she was extraordinarily beautiful. You smiled back at her.

Professor Odinson reached over and adjusted the blankets by Valkyrie’s feet. She tried to sit up, but he gently stopped her by the shoulder and eased her down. “Take it easy, champ. We can’t have our captain injured again,” he said with a smirk.

Valkyrie looked at him with a devilish grin. “I do carry the team,” she said with a wink.

He laughed, and his gaze lingered over her lips for a fraction of a moment; you saw. You flushed when Professor Odinson looked at you and he cleared his throat. “Well, I won’t keep you two from catching up on your...girl talk or whatever it is you do.” He took out something from his pocket; it was a box of mini cauldron cakes which he shoved into Valkyrie’s hands. “Share these…” he said, leaving. “Heal quickly now Valkyrie, I won’t go easy on you when you return!”

“I wouldn't want you to, sir!” she said with a smile.

You grabbed a cauldron cake and took a bite, watching Valkyrie stare at Professor Odinson as he left. “Oh Professor, I’d love for you to go hard on me,” you said, in your best pleading voice.

Valkyrie snorted. “Shut it and don’t eat all my cakes.”

You both giggled and snacked on the cakes. Eventually, your thoughts drifted to a certain professor you were trying to avoid thinking about, but even amidst a beautiful flurry of chocolate and strawberry jam in your mouth, he still lingered.

After several more minutes of chatting, and another cauldron cake, you left Valkyrie to rest. The entire infirmary seemed to sigh with a sense of relief when you departed and you looked back at them with a scowl. You weren’t that loud...

It was still early in the morning, only ten o’clock, so you grabbed some breakfast before heading to your first Defence Against the Dark Arts class. You met Pom and Mo at the door, and the three of you took your seats.

A middle-aged man in a tweed jacket and a greying beard walked into the room, closing the door with a wave of his wand. “Welcome, students. I apologize for my tardiness this semester. I trust you have all been very well behaved and completed all your readings.”

He walked to the front of the class, through the aisle next to you, and you caught the musky scent of longrass and pipe smoke from him. “My six-month expedition in the Amazon was well worth it, though that is a story for another day. For now, we shall start on one of the spells in your readings. A shielding spell.”

You had not seen Professor Baldur since last year. He had been your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for half your time at Hogwarts. His demeanour was a cross between strict and friendly, wholly depending on what side of his temperament you landed on.

Professor Baldur opened up his briefcase and took out a brown paper bag. He reached inside and pulled out a red apple. “Now, Darwish, throw this at my head,” he said, passing the apple to Mo.

Mo looked at you and Pom before looking back at the professor. “A-are you sure, sir?” Some students whispered and giggled in the background.

Professor Baldur stepped back, giving Mo enough distance to hurl it and said, “yes, yes, come on now, throw! And someone be sure to catch it, I don’t want my lunch bruised!”

Mo wound up and flung the apple at Professor Baldur. Surely, the fruit would have landed squarely on his forehead had he not flicked his wand in a flash and yelled, “protego!”

The apple bounced off of a blueish glow around the professor and clipped another student in the shoulder, only to be caught by his neighbour. The class murmured excitedly at the opportunity to learn such a powerful spell.

Mo leaned over and whispered, “would have been useful to learn this one before those damned crows nearly pecked my eyes out.”

You nodded back in response.

“Questions?” Professor Baldur asked.

Pom raised her hand. “Does this spell work on more powerful things, like other spells? Can it cover more people?”

The professor took a bite of his apple and nodded with his eyes closed. “Yes, yes, it all depends on the user. Protego can be as powerful as a great wall, protecting an entire community! Or it can be as flimsy as a cardboard box.” He walked over to your desk and leaned over you, Pom, and Mo. “However, protego cannot deflect the unforgivable curses. For those you must block, dodge, or interrupt.”

Just then, someone rapped on the door at the back of the classroom and it opened to Professor Sif. “Everyone head to the Great Hall for an emergency announcement. Classes are dismissed for the day.”

You looked at Pom and Mo, who shrugged. You did not expect this to be a celebratory dismissal, and it caused an anxious lump to form in your chest. The three of you followed the rest of the students to the Great Hall and sat at your table. Pom stood at the Ravenclaw table and glanced around as if she were waiting for someone but eventually sat down.

Once the last of the students and teachers trickled in, the doors shut and the murmurs quieted. You looked at the head table and looked for Professor Laufeyson; he sat beside Professor Odinson with a grim expression on his face. Something looked off, more than usual; he seemed pale and tired.

Headmistress Frigga rose, and there was no trace of a smile on her face today. “It has been a strange semester thus far. From our dear Professor Hubert Rattowl’s passing and the unfortunate incident of yesterday’s Quidditch game. I am sorry to pull you from class today. But it is with a heavy heart I must announce that one of your classmates has gone missing.” There was a rush of whispers across the hall which Professor Sif shushed loudly, as the Headmistress continued. “The teachers and I are up in arms to look for the missing student. And as such, we have deemed it necessary to lock down Hogwarts for the month of October and possibly the rest of the semester. This means no going outside of castle grounds, no trips to Hogsmeade, and there is a new curfew of seven o’clock, post meridiem.”

There were several groans at this announcement. The Headmistress looked down at the students and clasped the edges of the podium. “Any students caught breaking these rules will be expelled and sent home immediately.”

“It’s the Dark One!” someone shouted. Then whispers erupted from every table, talking about his return and some even threw Professor Laufeyson’s name into the fire.

“Silence!” Headmistress Frigga yelled. “I will not tolerate gossip in my school!” She gave a gentler look after silencing the room with her commanding tone. “I know you are scared, as am I. However, we will not get through this if we cannot work together. Now is a time for Hogwarts to be unified and diligent. Take care of your fellow classmates and teachers. We must be both kind and cautious.”

Then, some of the other teachers took turns providing a list of their new schedules, particularly for the students engaged in night classes or other extra-curricular activities. You looked down at the table, thinking about what was going on. First the attack and now a student had actually gone missing. You looked back at Professor Laufeyson, but he was no longer at the table or in the Great Hall.

Professor Hogun walked past you towards the Ravenclaw table. He paused over Pom and put a hand on her shoulder. He then escorted her out of the Great Hall.

“What’s that about?” Mo said.

“I don’t know,” you replied, though the lump in your chest only tightened.

“I can’t believe we can’t go to Hogsmeade! I was looking forward to our annual butterbeer bash,” he said, crossing his arms.

You gave him a look, to which he only smiled and said, “the best way for coping with this distress is to have a nice butterbeer don’t you think?”

“Mo, I don’t think anything is going to calm my distress,” you said with a laugh. The dread in your stomach remained.

As you exited the Great Hall, you noticed Pom at the end of the corridor, with a few students around her. Her face was completely red, and she was sobbing. One of her friends hugged her and Pom buried her face in their arms and cried. You walked over to the crowd and tapped someone on the shoulder.

“What’s wrong? Is Pom alright?” You said.

The student frowned and shook his head. “The missing student...is Pom’s brother, Ken.”

Before you could even process the news, you saw Professor Laufeyson come down the hall. When the student you spoke to caught sight of him, he yelled aloud and lunged at the professor. A girl with braids held the boy back. “It’s your fault! It’s your fault he’s missing!” He nearly spat his words at Professor Laufeyson.

Professor Laufeyson looked grim, but maintained an impartial expression. “I don’t know what you mean. I am sorry to hear about our missing student. I hope they find him.”

“You’re the Dark One’s son! You’re causing all this to happen!” The boy said.

The other students gasped, and for a moment you saw rage on Professor Laufeyson’s face. Then Professor Hogun broke up the crowd and took the insolent student by the arm. “You do not speak to your Professor in that tone, Warren! Minus twenty points for Ravenclaw and detention!” He guided the boy down the hall before throwing Professor Laufeyson a disapproving glance, as if he agreed with the student anyway.

As the crowd dispersed, Professor Laufeyson left, and you hesitated for a moment before you followed him. You followed him down the corridor, past the library, until the hordes of panicked students thinned out to the point you were alone. “Wait! Sir!”

He stopped, arms crossed. “What?” he said, turning to face you. His face was a mask.

“Are you alright?”

He actually chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he said, shrugging. You walked up closer to him. He gave you an incredulous look, but you could sense something beyond it. Irritation. “It’s nothing I have not heard before. And I must grant that boy a touch of respect since he was brave enough to tell me what everyone else was thinking.”

You looked at him then, afraid to say what you wanted to say.

“And you wonder the same thing,” he said. A glimmer of disappointment in his eyes. “Just like the rest of them.”

That was not fair. “I’ve been trying to help you!”

He laughed again. “What makes you think I need your help?” He turned away to leave and you could not bear the frustration.

Your anger bubbled to the surface. “I saw you die!”

For a moment, his eyes widened, but he maintained his composure. “What?”

You breathed in and exhaled slowly. “I have a...gift, or at least that’s what Heimdall says. I have visions.”

He watched you curiously as you continued.

“I have these dreams, and for a long time, all I dreamed of was that blue cube - the Tesseract you called it - in the lake. It’s in some sort of cavern. I don’t know where. But then, before you arrived in school, I saw you, in my vision. In the cavern, with these strange creatures surrounding you.”

Professor Laufeyson looked at you with a sort of satisfaction, despite hearing of his death. “So that’s how you knew about the Tesseract,” he said, cocking his head to the side.

Your anger flared up again. “Hold on, did you act upset so I would feel bad for you and tell you everything?”

He raised his hands up. “Don’t take it so badly, at least I didn’t use any magic this time!”

You grit your teeth. This man was insufferable. “You just lie, all the time then?”

He walked towards you and put a finger under your chin as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “People lie all the time, love, I just own it.”

You ignored the reaction your body had to his touch and stepped back. “Why do you want that cube? Does it have anything to do with the missing student?”

“You can thank my father for the missing student. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are more disappearances. Times are changing! As for what I want, you should already know that, seer. I can’t do your job for you.” He turned and walked away.

You were so frustrated you could shake him. “But you’ll die if you search for the Tesseract!”

He shrugged. “What difference does that make? Nobody cares.”

“I don’t want you to die.”

He stopped walking for a moment and turned his head slightly. “Then you’d be the first.” He said and left you standing there, alone in the corridor.

[taetaespeaches]

Liv you know how each member has a hobby they are into? How would each member’s ladies tell them they want to do it with them? I can see Peaches straight up being like yes I’m doing this with you because I want to spend time with you. And Holly secretly watching boxing videos and then hiding it once Guk catches her. Or or Poopsie trying to prove to Jin she can indeed cook without his watch 😭 or Petal buying bracelet diy kits 🥺

Well, I thought this was so cute that I turned it into a reaction sorta thing :) the selected hobbies are- Jin: fishing, Yoongi: basketball, Hoseok: diy bracelets, Namjoon: visiting art exhibitions, Jimin: video games, Taehyung: pastels, Jungkook: boxing. Anyways, thanks for asking love, and I hope you all enjoy <3 

“Remember that when I catch a bunch of fish and you don’t.”

kim seokjin x reader genre: fluff word count: 412

SCROLLING through the article about which lures are best for catching fish in fresh water lakes, Jin’s eyebrows were pulled together in concentration. Your head was resting upon his shoulder as you read through the descriptions with him, though Jin had no idea you were paying any real attention to the laptop screen.

“Mm,” you hummed, pushing your finger against the display at one of the lures. “That one is supposed to be good if paired with the right bait,” you told him, Jin quickly turning his head to look down at you.

“How do you know that?” He asked, you giggling as you looked up at his wide-eyed expression.

“I asked my dad,” you told him. “He’s a pretty good fisherman so I asked him for some tips.” A wide smile spread across Jin’s face as he stared at you. “Actually,” you started, standing up and making your way across the room to grab the shopping bag sitting on your dresser. “I got you something.”

Jin’s eyes widened even more, if that was possible, slowly taking the bag from you as you held it out to him. Digging inside, he pulled out a couple of the several lures you bought him, a gasp leaving his lips.

“Whoah, you’re amazing,” he told you sincerely, looking up at you as you grinned. “You got so many,” he noted in surprise, you shrugging.

“I guess I’ll have to come with to test some out for you,” you grinned, Jin’s expression showing even more astonishment.

“You want to come with?” He asked you disbelievingly, though a smile began curving on his lips.

“Of course,” you giggled. “I have an interest in you, therefore, I have an interest in your hobbies, darling.”

Dropping the bag of lures, Jin reached for your hand, tugging you on top of his lap, you less than gracefully straddling him. “I’m so in love with you,” he told you with a fond grin.

Pressing a kiss to his lips, you pulled away to rest your forehead against his own. Placing your hand against the side of his face, you soothed over his cheek with your thumb. “Remember that when I catch a bunch of fish and you don’t,” you teased, Jin immediately letting out a yell of complaint as he flipped you over onto your back, hovering over you.

“You little punk,” he chuckled before kissing you deeply, about to teach you a lesson on picking on your bad fisherman boyfriend.

“Just meet me on the court, you brat.”

min yoongi x reader genre: fluff word count: 450

FOR a man who liked to call you a brat, he sure was a goddamn brat. “Min, pick up the pace, come on,” you whined.

“What are we even doing?” He asked in complaint, though he did move a little faster as you walked down the street. He was dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and an oversized t-shirt with some trainers, as per your request, you in some workout shorts and a shirt just as big as his, because, well it was his.

“Would you just quit being a baby and trust me,” you giggled, receiving a grunt from your boyfriend. Suddenly, you felt a tug on the backpack you carried. Craning your neck to look behind you, you caught Yoongi as he opened up the bag. “Yoongi, no,” you whined, just as he pulled out the basketball.

A small smile gracing his pretty face, he shot you a confused look. “Why do you have this?”

Letting out a deep sigh, you grabbed his wrist, guiding him down the street a bit more, Yoongi following behind you amused but still puzzled. Rounding the corner, you pointed at the little park down the block, which just so happened to have a fully painted basketball court.

“I was trying to surprise you,” you pouted, Yoongi looking from the court back to you.

“Oh, Kid,” he chuckled at your expression, wrapping his arm around the top of your back and pulling you into his side. Pressing a kiss to your temple, he smiled against your skin, chuckling some more. “You’re cute.”

“I want you to teach me your moves,” you told him, the man giggling even more as his shoulders shook.

“My moves?” He looked down at you with a gummy smile. “Since when?”

“Since always,” you stole the ball from him, your boyfriend shooting you a wide-eyed look. “I always want to be involved in your hobbies,” you told him, Yoongi’s gaze softening as his orbs scanned your features. “You love basketball and I love you,” you informed him as if it was obvious you would then also have an interest in basketball.

However, before he could respond with a sweet sentiment for your interest, you shoved against his chest to antagonize him. “So show me what you got,” you teased, Yoongi scoffing.

Stealing the ball back easily and dribbling as he walked toward the court he called back, “you asked for it, Kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, Grampa, don’t break a hip,” you yelled back, Yoongi shaking his head as he smiled fondly.

“Just meet me on the court, you brat,” he called out to you, both of you grinning like two idiots in love, because, well, that’s what you were. 

“You have to show me what to do though, I’m not very crafty.”

jung hoseok x reader genre: fluff word count: 472

AT the sound of your boyfriend stepping out of the shower, you checked to make sure all of your brand new beads we situated on the coffee table. You were determined to join Hoseok in his recent bracelet making hobby.

“Hobi,” you called out from your spot on the floor in front of the table, receiving a cute hum in response from across the apartment. “Will you come in here when you have a minute, please?”

There was about a three second delay before you heard Hoseok’s feet patting against the floor toward you. “What’s up, Pe-” he cut himself off upon spotting your display of beads and bracelet making materials. “What’s all this?” He asked through a bright smile, his wet hair cutely pushed off his forehead.

“I was hoping you could show me how to make those bracelets you’ve been putting together on your lives,” you grinned shyly, highlighting the materials as you scanned over them with your hands as if you were displaying them in an infomercial.

“Really?” He asked with an even bigger smile, his eyes wide and excited.

“Please?” You asked cutely, Hobi immediately doing a little hip wiggle as he clapped enthusiastically.

“I can’t believe we haven’t done this together yet,” he squealed out, hurrying toward you and plopping himself onto the floor next to you. “You really want to?” He asked, looking over your selection of beads.

“Of course,” you giggled, watching him as he looked over everything.

“Ooh,” he awed, “I like these,” he pointed to the reddish-orange opaque beads.

“Yeah?” You asked, Hobi nodding happily. “I’ll use those for yours then,” you smiled, Hoseok leaning forward and placing several kisses on your cheeks.

“You’re so cute,” he mumbled against your face before catching your lips in a few short but sweet pecks.

“I got these too,” you reached forward, grabbing the special beads you got just for you both. Holding them up for him, he inspected the two flower charms and the two sun charms. “I also have a couple hearts,” you said cutely as you looked for them on the table.

However, your search was cut short from Hoseok grabbing your face between his hands and kissing you deeply. Surprised by the action, you took a moment to react but then easily fell into the kiss, your hands holding onto his forearms.

“You’re amazing, Petal,” he smiled against your lips after finally breaking the kiss. “Thanks for putting all of this together.”

“I’ve been wanting to join you in this,” you giggled, pecking his lips. “You have to show me what to do though, I’m not very crafty.”

Pulling away, he flashed you a smile that reminded you exactly why you and all of his fans called him Sunshine. “I got you,” he said cutely, you giggling at how adorable he was.

“Why, wanna take me out on a date?“

kim namjoon x reader genre: fluff word count: 665

ONE of the perks of dating Namjoon was he was always introducing you to new artists, taking you to different exhibits. Not being super knowledgeable about topics such as art but enjoying learning, you appreciated the new experience each exhibit brought to you.

To show Namjoon how much you enjoyed tagging along as he explored different art showings, you decided to seek one out all on your own and invite him to attend it with you. The one you had selected was the Kukje Gallery’s solo exhibition of artist, Wook-kyung Choi.

Looking up from your phone, which displayed the information for the exhibition, you locked your eyes on Namjoon as he scribbled in a notebook.

“Babe, are you writing or do you have a minute?” You asked him, Namjoon’s eyes meeting yours as he shut the notebook.

“No, I was just jotting down an idea,” he gave you a close-mouthed smile. “We can talk, is everything ok?” He asked, you nodding immediately. “Come here,” he opened his arms, inviting you to sit on his lap.

Coming toward him, you seated yourself across his thighs, one of his arms wrapping around your waist as the other draped over your legs. “Do you have plans this weekend?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Why, wanna take me out on a date?” He joked with a smile, his eyes widening when you nodded.

“I do actually,” you giggled.

“Huh?” He asked cutely, surprise evident in both his expression and his tone.

“There’s an art exhibit for Wook-kyung Choi at the Kukje Gallery here in Seoul,” you told him, his eyes widening even more. “Do you know of her?”

Shaking his head, he peered down at your phone as you held it up for him. “I’ve been researching her a bit, and I really fell in love with the way she would talk about her work,” you told him as you scrolled through photos of her black and white abstract paintings. “She was always a bit of an outsider in the Korean art world. She didn’t fit in with either of the dominant styles of the 1970s, so she kind of blazed her own path and ended up changing the whole scene and introducing Abstract Expressionism to Korea,” you relayed the information, looking from the phone to your boyfriend, only to find him staring at you adoringly.

He smiled softly, you looking at him in slight embarrassment. “What?” You asked shyly.

“Nothing, keep talking,” he told you. “I really love this, I had no idea you had your own interest in art.”

“I don’t necessarily, I just know that you do,” you admitted timidly, Namjoon’s jaw dropping a bit at the confession. “I wanted to invite you to an exhibit to show you that I truly do enjoy exploring all of this art with you, and when I stumbled upon this one of Wook-kyung Choi’s work, I just kind of fell in love with her,” you explained.

Namjoon leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “She reminds me of you and the boys,” you told him with a small giggle.

“Wait, really?” He asked in shock, you smiling at his expression as you nodded.

Looking to your phone, you scrolled until you found the part of the exhibition description that stood out to you earlier. “These two discrete but related bodies of work demonstrate the artist's strong commitment to personal expression and social commentary through brave exploration of form and content, and how she chose her own path instead of blindly following or adhering to a single artistic movement,” you read aloud to your boyfriend. “That sounds like you and your music.”

“I-” Namjoon started, stopping himself as he stared at you intently. “I love you so much I don’t even know how to put it into words right now,” he confessed, you smiling as you leaned into him, pressing your lips to his.

“I love you just as much,” you whispered into the kiss. “No words needed, babe.”

“Cool it, Park, I haven’t had my turn yet.”

park jimin x reader genre: fluff word count: 517

Jimin/Dear: playing video games. (517 words)

WALKING into your apartment, your ears were immediately met with the sounds of Jimin’s frustrated grunts. Pulling your eyebrows together, you followed the noise until you reached your bedroom, peeking inside to see him sat on your bed, propped up against your headboard staring down at his Nintendo Switch with a grimace.

“Chim,” you giggled, his eyes darting up to meet your own across the room. “What’s up, my darling?”

“Ahh,” he complained, “this game is surprisingly hard.”

“What is it?” You asked, making your way across the room, peering at the screen. “Mario?”

“Yeah, Super Mario Odyssey,” he confirmed. “Jin got it for me a while ago but I forgot about it,” he told you. Sitting down on the bed with him, you watched as he controlled Mario, running through a busy city street.

“What’s the whole idea of the game?” You asked, your eyes glued to the screen.

“Bowser is trying to marry Princess Peach by force and Mario is trying to stop him,” he mumbled jumping over and on top of a bunch of people in the game.

“Ew, the fuck?” You asked, Jimin giggling as he dropped his head onto your shoulder.

“I don’t have to play right now,” he told you, preparing to shut the console down, “I was just bored.”

“No, no, you gotta stop Bowser,” you told him, kissing the top of Jimin’s head. “The fucking perv,” you added, Jimin giggling again as he approached a lever, bouncing on it and making a reddish moon appear. “Whoah, what’s that?”

“I have to collect these moons,” he explained as he jumped back over the crowd of people, snagging his moon. A big ‘You Got A Moon’ appeared on the screen, Mario doing a spin in the air as triumphant music played, Mario finishing with a celebratory fist in the air.

“Ayyyy,” you cheered in excitement, Jimin smiling widely at your reaction. “That’s my man, bitch,” you exclaimed, Jimin giggling as he kissed your shoulder.

“You’re so cute,” he cooed, you giggling as you continued watching him play. “Are you sure you’re not bored, Dear?” He asked, lifting his head from your shoulder.

“Chim, I just want to spend time with you,” you admitted. “I’m always entertained with you,” you noted nonchalantly as you continued looking at the Switch.  When Mario stopped walking amongst the crowd of people, you slowly dragged your eyes from the screen to Jimin to find him looking at you lovingly. “What?”

“Keep saying things like that and I’ll be so flattered I won’t want to keep playing this game,” he told you flirtily, you giggling as you leaned forward to kiss him softly.

“Cool it, Park, I haven’t had my turn yet,” you told him, pulling the Switch from his hands. “Now tell me what to do.”

Chuckling at you, he pressed a series of kisses to your cheek before stepping into game instructor role, pulling up his sleeves and pretending to crack his neck as he played up his acting bit.

If he kept being so adorable, you wouldn’t want to keep playing the game either.

“Couple goals or whatever.”

kim taehyung x reader genre: fluff word count: 483

WATCHING your boyfriend drag the blue color across the drawing pad, you tilted your head mesmerized.

“Are those hard to work with?” You asked, Taehyung humming in thought as he stayed focused on the pastel drawing.

“Not really,” he said, you nodding though he wasn’t looking at you.

You were sitting a few feet away from him in his studio, both of you only dressed in your underwear, having just been intimate on that very floor a mere fifteen minutes ago. It started with you simply visiting your boyfriend in his quaint little art studio, and turned into him taking you shortly after your arrival, unable to keep his hands off you.

When he eventually returned to his pastels, you sat and watched him curiously. Crawling toward him, you sat yourself next to him, his innocent and stunning orbs looking at you with a softness only you could conjure from him.

“Can I have a piece of paper?” You asked, Taehyung’s eyes widening.

“You want to draw with me?” He questioned, you nodding.

“It’s actually why I came here,” you giggled. “Though the sex was great as always,” you added, “truly, you never disappoint.” Taehyung chuckled lowly, running his finger along your thigh, some of the pastel transferring from his digit to your leg. “Turns out your interests are my interests now,” you rolled your eyes jokingly. “Couple goals or whatever,” you added, Taehyung laughing cutely.  

“Hang on,” he told you, setting the drawing pad on the floor and standing up. You watched as his long-toned legs crossed the room, turning around with a new drawing pad in his hands. “You can have your own pad, Peaches,” he grinned, handing it to you.

Gasping, you looked down at the object. “One of my very own?” You asked, Taehyung giggling as he bent over to leave a kiss to your forehead.

“You can have as many as you want,” he told you. “How long have you been wanting to draw with me?” He asked, you shrugging as you set your gaze on him as he took a seat next to you.

“For a while, I guess. I love watching you work, so I guess you kind of inspired me to try,” you told him with a small smile. “You always make me want to do new things, and this is something we can do together.”

Pointing your attention back to the art materials, Taehyung watched as you studied the colors. “Should I just,” you grabbed the light green, “dive in with this and see what happens?” You asked, looking up at Tae when you received no answer.

“I love you,” he told you, you smiling at the sudden statement.

“And I love you, Dearest,” you replied, scrunching your nose as he continued to stare. “Hurry up and kiss me, dude,” you demanded, Tae giggling as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours eagerly.

“What the hell are you doing watching boxing videos?”

jeon jungkook x reader genre: fluff word count: 635

WITH your ear buds in, you didn’t hear your apartment door open, much less Jungkook’s footsteps as he approached you from behind. You were stood in your kitchen, your left foot forward and knees slightly bent as you watched the video on how to throw a left hook.

“Pop the elbow, turn the foot,” you mumbled to yourself, a smile spreading across Jungkook’s face as he watched you in utter amusement. “Thumb up,” you barely spoke as you watched the video, mimicking the movement being shown.

However, you realized your solo boxing lesson had been interrupted when you caught a glimpse of Jungkook in the laptop screen and recognized his giggle overtop the instructor’s voice. Reacting quickly, you slammed the laptop closed and spun around to face your crinkly-eyed boyfriend as he was nearly bent over in laughter.

“I hate you so much right now,” you spoke in mortification, watching as he didn’t even attempt to gather his composure. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing,” you whined.

Finally calming his laughter to just light giggles, he reached out for you, taking your hand in his. “Why are you embarrassed, baby? Your form is great,” he teased, you pulling your hand from his and shoving his chest as you held back a laugh.

“You’re so mean,” you groaned as he quickly stepped toward you, wrapping you up in a hug, you burying your face in his chest.

“Can I just ask you one thing?” He asked, you groaning at the request. “What the hell are you doing watching boxing videos?”

Sighing against his t-shirt, he giggled again. “I wanted to learn some stuff so I could box with you some time,” you admitted timidly, Jungkook immediately pulling you from his frame just slightly so he could look at you, you meeting his gaze.

“You want to box with me?” He asked in surprise, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, I did,” you giggled. “Now I just kind of want to crawl in a hole and die.” Jungkook laughed at the comment before cooing at you.

“You’re so cute, you know, you could have just told me you wanted to come with,” he told you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I could teach you better than these fools,” he pointed at the closed laptop.

Giggling, you raised your eyebrows at him. “Jealous?” You teased, Jungkook scoffing. “I just wanted to know some stuff before I asked to tag along so that I wasn’t slowing you down during your workout,” you told him quietly, Jungkook shooting you a look of disbelief.

“That’s silly, teaching you would be the best part,” he assured you. Giving him a questioning expression, he grinned mischievously. “Turn around,” he told you before spinning you around, his hands landing on your hips, your back pressed to his chest.

Sliding his hand down your thigh, he tapped the side of it. “Bring this leg back,” he told you, you following his directions. “And now bend just slightly,” he led you, his hands gently soothing across your body, a little too sensually for a boxing lesson.

“See, this is why I can’t learn from you,” you noted, Jungkook chuckling next to your ear.

“Why is that, Baby?” He whispered, you scoffing in response.

“Because I have zero desire to learn how to throw a left hook now,” you whined, Jungkook laughing as he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck.

“We can’t do anything, I swear,” he giggled against your skin, you laughing as you reached back to thread your fingers into his hair.

“Are you complaining?” You asked, looking to your side to meet his gaze.

“Definitely not,” he said just before pressing his lips to yours, immediately deepening it as you turned in his arms.

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge pt. 6 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation series. 

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

This is the last part of this fic! Gonna work on some asks next, then start the Nessian story (see the link above for details) 

~Feyre~

Men, in general, are beyond stupid.

I honestly don’t even know how the male population is still around.

I mean sure, they have their moments. Fire? Pretty cool. 

Maybe I should amend my statement: Men are stupid when it comes to women.

Because if Tamlin had any common sense, he would wonder why I drag myself into his office downtown, the day after I found out who he really is.

He’d wonder how I even found his posh little office, since he sure as hell never told me about it. (Answer: Rhysand). 

He’d wonder why I’m crying and having an emotional breakdown, but am still dressed in a lowcut dress with my hair done. (Answer: men are even stupider when it comes to a woman with exposed breasts). 

But he doesn’t.

He sees me stumbling toward him, a mess of tears and fluffy hair, and jumps to his feet, coming to my rescue.

His arms wrap around me miraculously at the same time my legs give out, and I fall into him dramatically. 

That was a little much, but what can I say? I was a theatre kid.

“Feyre,” he says calmly, stroking my hair like he didn’t insult me twenty-four hours ago. In fact, he’s acting like we didn’t even break up. “What’s wrong?”

I press my face in his shoulder, trying not to think about how wrong this feels, how wrong he smells. 

Rhysand smells like citrus and the sea and something so manly it makes my knees go weak for real. Tamlin smells like dirt and bad decisions. 

“You were right.” It’s something all men love to hear a woman say, even though it’s hardly ever true. “You were so right, Tamlin.”

He pulls back and runs a thumb over my cheek, swiping a tear away. 

His green eyes question mine, so calm and understanding compared to yesterday’s rage. His hands are gentle as they cradle my face, and I want them off off off.

“He’s a monster,” I wail, dredging up some more tears. Knowing there needs to be more of a concrete reason for my breakdown, I make some pretty seedy shit up. “He... killed his driver! Because he took a wrong turn!”

Gods, Feyre. Really?

I can practically see Rhysand rolling his eyes. He’d see through my lies in a second. 

Tamlin, however, bites the bait... more like he swallows the whole damn line.

He hugs me again, so tight my feet leave the floor, and I go limp against him, pressing all the soft parts of me against the hardness of his chest.

Don’t get me wrong, Tamlin’s attractive. Wide shoulders, surfer boy hair, tan skin, and green eyes that look like the deepest of emerald. 

But he also is a fucking asshole, and everything about him irritates me.

It’s crazy, I think as his hands slip lower on my back, that yesterday he called me a whore, and now he wants to sleep with me.

Prick.

“Tamlin,” I sigh against his neck.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

I almost throw up at the little pet name, but I nod and act like he’s the greatest thing on this planet, the gods’ personal gift to all things women.

But then he kisses me, and I get tired of this little charade. 

I keep my eyes open as his warm lips meet mine, wanting to see his face as the needle sinks into his skin.

His eyes fly open, and he drops me to my feet roughly, a hand pressed against his neck. It’s too late, of course.

Whatever black market shit this is, it works fast. 

His legs give out, and I shove his shoulder so he lands in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. 

“Feyre,” he growls, no longer happy to see me, “What the fuck are you doing?”

I roll my eyes, because even the dumbest of men should be able to figure that out my now. 

You’d think he’d pass out or be too paralyzed to talk, but just like Rhysand promised me, the drugs have paralyzed him from the neck down but left him perfectly conscious. 

I want him to see exactly what I’m doing.

Straightening my dress, I saunter over to his desk, eyes scanning the messy papers and folders for what I want.

Three rings, the exact copy of Rhysand’s, sit in a glass box, the shining titanium making them look like treasure. And they are.

But they’ve been here fucking long enough. 

I try to open the box, but it’s locked, so I sigh and grab a paperweight, then smash it to bits.

“You do this, Feyre, and I’ll come after you.”

“Ooooh, scary,” I deadpan, completely writing him off in a way I know drives him crazy.

Glass flies everywhere, but I just grab the rings and put them on whatever fingers they’ll fit on. 

Yet another piece of evidence men are idiots: I was wearing Rhysand’s ring when I walked in here.

A small detail, sure, but when I took that ring from him yesterday in his car, I made a vow to never take it off.

It’s a little big, resting on my thumb, but it’s perfect. 

It means I’m his, and he’s mine.

“He might have Chicago, but I’ll make you’re life miserable!”

“You did that for two years,” I remind him with a smile.

Then I set the radio exactly like I’d been told to, turn back to Tamlin, punch him square in the jaw, and smile when I hear a crunch.

That wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but I was tired of his threats. 

He howls in pain, and I know it makes me meaner than an adder, but I blow him a kiss and laugh as I walk out of his office. 

A sleek black sedan, driven by the very much alive Rolando (I’ve officially stopped thinking of him as Beefcakes), waits for me at the curb. I swing the door open and climb in, turning to Rhysand with a grin.

I hold up my hands victory. 

Rhysand smiles and laughs, relief and love and awe written across his beautiful features. 

He’s so fucking handsome, I can’t hold out anymore.

Muttering an apology to Rolando for what he’s about to witness, I sling myself across the leather seat and pretty much attack Rhysand. 

It might be the fact that I just drugged someone with illegal substances--my very first crime!--or maybe just how he looks when he’s happy. I don’t really care.

My hands are on his jaw, running down his chest, tangling in his hair. 

He lets out a surprised laugh as I paw at him, and I use the opportunity to sweep my tongue into his mouth, holding back a moan at the taste of him.

The car stops, but I sure as hell don’t.

Until Rhysand takes me shoulders in his hands, and gently pulls away. “Adrenaline junkie,” he accuses with a smile, pressing one last kiss to my cheek. 

I nod, because it’s probably true.

He gives me an amused look. “Then I can’t wait for what happens in twenty minutes.”

I stick my tongue out at him, ever the mature adult, and he smiles. Then he takes my hands, examines the rings, and takes the two that fit the worst.

He slips them on, and even though it’s a casual gesture, I almost break out into tears.

Too manly to cry like a baby, Rhysand just opens the door and walks out, taking my hand and pulling me with him.

Even though he looks calm and cool as a cucumber, I know he’s not exactly thrilled I’m here. We had our first real argument about me coming along for this part of the plan I’ve secretly begun to call Toppling Tamlin the Tool. 

I won, obviously.

He warned me time and time again about what I was going to witness today, but I don’t care. His revenge is his to take, but I want to be here for him. 

He’s been fighting for so long, completely alone. 

And no matter how it started, I fell for him. He isn’t alone anymore, and won’t be ever again, no matter how dangerous the situation is.

Hand in hand, we stroll into Leperchaun’s Luck, the last remaining Irish stronghold in Chicago.

When I asked why he’d let it remain all this time, Rhysand smiled that cruel smile and said, “Revenge is only worth it if it’s slow and painful.”

I’d shuddered, half in horror and half in excitement.

I know it’s horrible and beyond absurd, but what he does for a living doesn’t scare me. He explained the gory details last night, and I listened. And even though I was scared, it wasn’t of him.

It was for him.

He has enemies with rap sheets longer than my arm. 

The guy Rhysand blocks from buying Degas? Russian arms dealer!

But Chicago, he’d told me with a smile, is his. Someone would have to be suicidal to come after him here. So I guess I’ll just blow up his plane and never let him leave.

Sounds realistic.

I’d like to think it was my smile and charm that made him give in and let me tag along, but it was likely the fact that we aren’t in any super big dangerous. 

We walk through the empty bar and to the courtyard in the back, and it’s a little amusing how quickly the six men sitting around a poker table jump to their feet and start shouting questions. 

“What the fuck?” is the most popular. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” Rhysand greets smoothly, ever the gentleman. 

Someone behind us loads a gun, the sound making my eyes go wide. 

But it’s never fired.

Because all of a sudden, red dots are on every single chest besides mine and Rhysand’s. 

“Pull that trigger, McCallen, and all your friends die.”

They all look down and around at each other with huge, saucer-sized eyes. 

Not one to dally, Rhysand smiles and tells the group, “I just bought this establishment. Needless to say, you’re no longer welcome. In here, or Chicago. You have six hours to leave my city.”

‘Bought’ is a bit of a strong word. He hacked into Tamlin’s bank account and bankrupted him, forcing him to sell to the highest bidder. Guess who that was.

“Or what?” one asks, feeling brave.

Another dot makes its way to his chest.

Gods, how many snipers does Rhysand have?

“Or you’ll die, and your precious little daughter Lena will be an orphan.”

The man’s jaw sets, even as his face pales. 

Checking his watch with a casual gesture, Rhysand reminds, “Six hours and counting.”

Then he says, directly at the small box in the middle of the poker table, “That goes for you too, Tamlin.” 

Since he didn’t want to risk coming back to Chicago, much less his last property here, Tamlin had been keeping control of his men by listening to everything that happened in this place on a private radio frequency.

Which, somehow, Rhysand knew.

He’d told me the number, and I’d turned the radio in Tamlin’s office to it before leaving. The drugs haven’t left his system and won’t until later today, meaning he’s still lying limp in that chair, listening to every word.

“Leave before I lose my patience,” Rhysand growls, and the men take the warning and haul ass out of the building.

Turning to me, he smiles and asks, “Ready, Feyre darling?”

“Ready.”

We walk out of the restaurant again, pep definitely in our steps, then get back in the car. Rolando starts driving immediately, leaving the restaurant behind us.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes,” I answer immediately, grabbing the phone from him and hitting call.

"So violent,” he murmurs with a smirk, turning in his seat to watch as the explosives he’d placed there years ago during a mandatory “city inspection” finally came into use. 

The explanation I got on that one: “In case I got bored.”

Gods, he’s sexy.

The car rocks slightly as orange and blue and yellow flames race out of the building, leaving absolutely nothing behind. 

Even though the violent woman in me wants to keep watching, I look at Rhysand instead.

His eyes find mine, and he smiles softly. “It’s done. It’s over.”

I nod and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, linking our hands together. We both stare down at the rings. “It’s over.”

Tamlin will run back to wherever he’s been the past seven months, and since there’s absolutely nothing for him here, he won’t come back. 

Rhysand has complete control of the city again, his empire built brick by brick through hard work and rage. He’s gotten his revenge, taken everything from the man who left him with nothing. 

And he got me.

“Was that enough adrenaline for you, Feyre?” he asks, hitting a button to roll up the barrier between us and Rolando. 

Someone else, it seems, is an adrenaline junkie. 

Smiling, I slide down on the soft leather and lift an eyebrow. “Come find out.”

~Feyre, three months later~

Somehow, I feel nauseous, excited, and doomed all at once.

I don’t even know how that’s possible, but it’s true.

I’m so nervous, I might be sick. I’m so excited, I can hardly walk. I’m so unsure of myself, I might fail. 

Focusing on the one in the middle, I walk down the aisle between chairs, ignoring the people watching me and focusing on the destination.

I can feel his eyes on me, and just like the first day we met, I can hardly breathe. But I ignore the tingly feeling in my spine and focus on what I’m doing.

I walk up to the slightly lifted stage in the large auditorium and turn to my peers, smiling and feigning confidence. 

I’m presenting my senior project today. And even though I’m excited and nervous and doomed, I’m proud of it.

It turned out better than I expected, honestly. 

It took me forever to finish the painting aspect because I wasn’t quite satisfied until late last night. 

The paint’s interrupted and surrounded by photos I’ve collected this year.

Rhysand, covered in paint. Art from both Chicago’s museum and the private collection I visit almost every day. Random bits of architecture and the night sky and shots that just work. 

Up close, it’s a bit of a mess, but from a distance--particularly, the distance between me and Rhysand’s chair--it looks like three dancers, twirling and leaping under the night sky. 

My professor hugged me when she saw it. So did Rhysand.

No offense to Prof. Jones, but I enjoyed his a little more.

“This is called Starlight Dancers,” I tell the room, my voice surprisingly level. I’m glad for the bright lights, because I can’t see anyone’s actual face as I continue. “It’s a rendition of Degas’s work, Dancers in Blue, which is my favorite piece. I’ve also incorporated photographs of art and people who mean a lot to me. Like a lot of pieces from the Renaissance, it’s meant to be viewed at a distance.”

I keep talking, going through the difference elements and explaining how, essentially, it’s a celebration of painting and love.

More than once, my eyes are drawn to the photographs of Rhysand, and I find myself searching for him in the crowd. 

I also get a little distracted by the mass of sparkles adorning my ring finger.

We’ve been engaged for three days, eight hours, and a handful of minutes.

He proposed in the museum, right where we met. When I almost feinted at the site of the biggest diamond I’d ever seen and told him it was too much, he’d just laughed and said, “It was this or the painting behind you.”

Ridiculous, wonderful man. 

I know it’s fast to get married after less than five months together, but the scary truth is that I can’t imagine life without him.

I scan the crowd again, and it might be my imagination, but I think I see a pair of violet eyes watching me. 

And I could swear one winks at me.

~Rhysand~

I’m not supposed to be in here.

I’m not a professor, and I’m sure as shit not a student. 

But I snuck in anyway, ignoring the millions of things I actually need to be doing, because I want to support her. 

I don’t even know what she’s talking about--impressionism and romantic elements and different types of photography--but she’s so passionate and beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off her.

She has me completely wrapped around her finger, and it should probably scare me that I don’t even care.

Years and years of planning, and everything that’s happened in the past month still surprised me.

Not the part about running every last Irish bastard out of my city; that’d been set in stone. 

The part about me getting engaged.

Ironically, that’s the only part that makes me smile.

Sure, I sent Tamlin running for the hills with his ragged band of leprechauns, set his stronghold on fire, and finally have peace over what happened all those years ago. 

But even that pales in comparison to waking up next to the woman up on the stage.

She’s a bed hog and always puts her freezing feet on me as soon as I crawl next to her, but the way she smiles at me when she wakes up makes up for it.

Everything about her makes up for it, actually. 

She’s still absolutely crazy and wonderful and I now have paint splatters on more than a few of my suits, but being loved by her is like... standing in the sun after being locked in a cave. Or some other shitty metaphor.

The fucking point is, even though getting down on one knee in a museum and asking her to share her life with me is the last thing I expected to happen, I’m glad it did.

Because being with her gives me something I’d thought I’d lost ten years ago: happiness.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading! 

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[remmushound]

Bay/rise 39!! @errorfreak88 @yarchurr @digitl-art-monstr @brightlotusmoon @sprinklestheditty @dakotafinely @sententiously-sarcastic

Content warning!! Mentions of Violence, Blood, and mental/body trauma!!

It was just dumb luck that Krang happened to look up and see them. Eight turtles staring down at him, white eyes glowing as they looked more like ghosts than mutants. Almost as if some avenging spirits had come out of hiding to enact revenge on the ones that did them wrong in life. Following Krang’s gaze, both Cassandra and Draxum looked upward as well.

“Complete the ceremony.” Draxum whispered to Cassandra before turning his attention to the turtles. “VILE CREATURES! What gives you the right to step foot in the home of my Grand Oni?! You will suffer for this injustice!”

“GET THEM!” Krang hissed, and at the command Shredder gave a roar and charged. He jumped up against the wall, the force of his strike making the technodrone shake as his claws dug into the metal.

“Master Krang!” Draxum pleaded quite suddenly, “You must keep Master Shredder in the circle for the ceremony to work! Please, great oni, let me handle the turtles!”

Krang watched him for a moment, and Draxum felt as if he might finally be called out for his treachery before Krang called Shredder to return. Shredder looked to Krang, and then jumped off the walls of the technodrone and landed right where Krang had commanded him to. Draxum smiled and finally stood to face the turtles. His thin vines shot out fast and tried to strike the brothers out of their hiding place.

***

Leonardo recognized what was happening almost immediately. Without a word to his companions, Leonardo jumped. His feet found holds on the whipping and swiping vines that carried him just as much as they tried to knock him over.

“LEO!” Raphael jumped after him, and under his bigger feet the vines grew thicker to support him. 

Michelangelo and Donatello were soon to follow, and Raph was more than ready to jump after them before Leo held out his arm to stop his brute of a brother.

“Can’t just sit here, Leo!” Raph growled.

“Just wait.” Leo whispered to his brother.

Leonardo reached the ground, and his brothers were right behind him. Raphael stood as equals with Leonardo, their other two brothers hanging slightly behind them. Leonardo flashed his odachi.

“Leo, what are you—“ Raphael went to say.

“Listen here, Draxum!” Leonardo declared loudly, “If you want my clan, then you’re gonna have to go through me!”

Draxum’s eyes widened just the slightest bit before he caught on, his vines wiping around him in a dangerous display of power as he played along. “Leonardo. Leading your brothers to die? How pathetic!”

“Leo…?” Raphael whispered softly.

“Just trust me, bro.” Leonardo said before quickly stepping up to stand before the full strength of Baron Draxum. “To get to my brothers, you’ll have to go through me first!”

“Very well…” Draxum narrowed his eyes. All at once, Draxum’s vines shot out at Leonardo.

With all the speed he could muster, Leonardo faced the attacks head-on in a charge. Weaving in and out and up and down and dodging the blows that were coming at him like they were actual attacks because they were! Baron Draxum never pulled his punches. When Leonardo got within danger-distance, Baron Draxum side stepped in a manner that Leonardo recognized immediately because he had just gone through the same thing with Leo! Maybe that spar had helped something after all...

Leonardo immediately knew what to do.

Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo charged to their brothers aid. Raphael’s eyes searched up at the glint of metal and he saw Krang first, and then the great monster beside him. Raphael’s blue eyes went wide, and then even wider as he pulled back and stopped his charge. He knew Shredder was going to be here, he had been warned of that, but now he was standing before the great beast that had shred through his carapace like it was paper. And he looked even bigger Raphael remembered him being. Raphael couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to!

Donatello stopped much the same. Imagining those claws coming down on him, breaking his brother in two. The sound of shattering bone rang in his ears and even though he knew it was only a memory, he had to look around to check on his brothers. To make sure they were whole! Michelangelo was the only one to continue his charge, his eyes screwed so tightly shut that no light could get through them. He didn't need to see to know where to go, he could feel it! And sure enough, his shoulder struck Cassandra hard and tossed her to the ground.

Leonardo did a flip, mostly just to show up, and made a portal on the ground on his way down. He made the exit portal a few feet above Draxum’s head. He used the force from his flip and fall and turned it into a stronger attack, flashing his odachi and preparing to slam it down hard on Draxum. The yokai’s ears gave the slightest twitch, and then he spun to face upward, balancing on one hoof as he grabbed one of his vines and it used it as a barrier to block Leonardo’s attack. Leonardo’s sword sank deep into the flesh of the vine, but Draxum still held strong, though sweating.

“I need to get the others out of here.” Leonardo said, “Can you help me?”

Draxum gave only the slightest grunt before tossing Leonardo carelessly. The slider landed hard but was quick to recover against the sting of his flesh and he scrambled to grab his disarmed sword. He grabbed it just in time for a large vine to come slamming down at him.

Raph was helpless as he watched, each passing second only serving to fuel him with even more anxious energy until he thought screw it! And he jumped from the platform without Leo’s command.

“Raph!” Donnie jumped after him, and then Mikey after Donnie. Leo, without much else of a choice, jumped with his brothers.

“RRRRR GET THEM!” Krang commanded, pointing at the brothers as they fell.

Shredder gave a furious roar and charged them like a cat, bounding effortlessly over the fighting below him as his eyes were locked on his target.

Raph’s ivy eyes went wide. “Oh… that’s guys a lot bigger than our Shredder. 

“STAY AWAY FROM MY SONS!” Splinter roared, struggling with all the might of his ten years of training. He started to gnaw at the vines that held him.

The eyes of Leonardo’s brothers, Cassandra, and Krang all followed Shredder’s movements, and Draxum saw his chance. He grabbed Leonardo quite forcefully around his plastron and spoke quickly.

“Portal now.”

He tossed Leonardo hard at the wall, but Leonardo cut his way to safety by the means of a portal before he could hit. Draxum charged after him, and the portal closed the second Draxum passed through.

Then they were somewhere cold and dark and, most importantly, alone.

“Where did you take us?” Draxum asked.

“Don’t ask me!” Leonardo said, “You said make a portal, I made a portal! It’s freezing in here…”

“We don’t have much time.” Draxum spoke urgently, “You have a plan, what is it?”

Leonardo went to answer but hesitated. “I have… a question.”

“Well then ask it!” Draxum spat.

“Hueso said you needed a sacrifice of Hamato blood to defeat Shredder.” Leonardo said quickly, “Does it have to be dad?”

“It must be Hamato!”

“I know that.” Leonardo put his hand to his chest and smile weakly, “But I am Hamato…”

***

The battle roared on upstairs. In Draxum’s absence, his vines disappeared, and Splinter dropped hard to the floor with a sickening crack. Leo hardly had time to process the heart-wrenching sound before Shredder was upon them, his claws flashing his fury at the invaders. With a quick-thought swipe of his bo, Donnie knocked all his brothers out of the way of the swipe and took the hit himself.

Leo prepared for Donnie to be shredded, but he wasn’t. Shredder swiped him like a cat with a mouse toy, pinning Donnie beneath the weight of his claw and lowering his head to look at the box turtle with a monstrous smile before wrapping his hand around the mutant and carrying him off. Leo swiped at Shredder’s feet trying to get him to drop Donnie, but Shredder delivered a simple, sharp kick to Leo that sent him flying far and hard. Shredder took his position back in the ceremony and waited.

In a flash of swords and vines, Leonardo and Draxum fell from high up in the technodrone. Draxum used his vine to soften their fall ever so slightly, the thorns slicing into him and Leonardo both and leaving long, jacked cuts across their flesh. Draxum landed on top of Leonardo, his hoof planted firmly on the slider's neck. 

“ENOUGH OF THIS!” Draxum summoned up what remained of his power into a final, all-out strike that sent his vines flying outward and striking all turtles who dared make a mockery of his ceremony. Michelangelo was shoved off of Cassandra, and Raphael and Donatello were tossed into the remaining Mikey and Raph. Then the vines all pulled back to form a solid wall around Krang and his prisoners, Draxum, Cassandra, and Leonardo. “The ceremony is almost complete.”

His words were directed in equal parts to Krang and Leonardo as Draxum stepped back to help Cassandra finish her work quickly. Krang finally stepped up, his patience quickly worn thin, and he armed his blasters to fire.

“You were interesting for a time, but it’s time for something far more entertaining.” Krang laughed, “What do you think, Draxum? Should I let my new pet take care of him?”

“Your pet’s savagery knows no bounds.” Draxum commented with a laugh, “He would tear and rip all that flesh and its pretty patterns! Surely you’d want it more preserved if you plan to showcase him.”

“Fair point…” Krang smiled evilly. 

***

“NO!” The roar of both Raph’s sounded out.

Raphael charged the vines with all his force and tried to slam into them to no luck. He took his sai and both he and Raph tried to slash and cut at the ever-thickening wall. For a moment, Leo was stuck in his own shock and horror, still near the crevice his shell made upon his impact, before he recovered and charged to join. Each slash his katana landed was more quickly mended, but he didn't stop. Mikey and Michelangelo and Donatello all joined in as well, trying to hack and slash and cut away at the vines to get to their brothers.

Raphael was the first to back up. His eyes were like a sea, the shoreline receding in on itself to foretell of a tsunami about to break free. He knew something was up with Leonardo the minute they got there, and now that there was a wall between them and Leonardo was alone in that place with Draxum and Shredder and Krang, the cold truth smacked Raphael worse than any of the blows Shredder could ever deal to him. The tsunami spilled out of his eyes in the form of a torrent of tears and his sobs were like the howl of the storming winds the nature disaster would bring with it. He was the leader, it should be him in there, and if he had his mystic weapons, he could have just busted through those walls! He looked down at the bloody mess of his hands, torn open by the thorns he hardly noticed as he had punched the walls. His Hamato blood flowed out of the wounds and dripped down his knuckles. The faintest sound the drops made when they plopped on the ground were like the sharpest thunder in Raphael’s mind. Then he made two tight fists as the true tsunami made itself known.

He didn't need his tonfa! He was strong with them, sure, but he was just as strong without them! He had survived Shredder without his tonfa, and he had survived fourteen years of his life without the need for them! He didn't need them, but Leonardo needed him. Raphael felt a burning in his chest and at the base of his spine, and this time when his eyes turned white, he was still in control. His tears flowed just as openly as ever, but his lips betrayed them by pulling back in a roar that seemed to shake the very foundation of the structure at his feet. 

Eyes focused. Elbows locked. Stance low. 

***

“Before I preserve you, I have a show I’d like you to see.” Krang motioned to Cassandra as she eagerly held a blade to Yoshi’s neck, waiting for her cue to slice it.

“Is it Land Before Time? Because those movies? Awesome!” Leonardo risked a few steps forward. He tensed his muscles and grabbed at his wounds to try and make the blood flow from himself faster.

“You’re very obnoxious. It’s obvious your father taught you no manners. So, allow me to be you teacher.”

“You mean I have to stare at your bubblegum-looking self for eight hours Monday through Friday? No thanks!”

“Laugh while you can, little turtle…” Krang went to give the motion for Cassandra to carry through with the ceremony, but at that moment he stopped for some reason, and he looked at Leonardo. No, he looked behind Leonardo.

Leonardo turned in time to see the vines bust open and reveal a furious, almost floating Raphael. His feet just barely graded the ground, his chest emblazoned red with the Hamato Clan sigil, and his eyes glowing like white fire. The vines continued to try and tug and pull at him, resealing themselves behind him. He pulled the vines right back, snapping them in both his hands and his teeth.

“Woah…” Donnie gulped from where he was still in Shredder’s hand, trapped by the force of the great beast.

Raphael stood facing Krang for one long moment before charging. Krang charged up his blasters in preparation to meet Raphael in battle.

“RAPH NO!”

Then Raphael did the strangest thing yet. He stopped his charge, his eyes still locked on Krang though with no intent to attack him. Leonardo could see that now. Raphael slammed his fist down hard into the stone, his blood leaking out into the ceremonial markings and staining them red.

[danger-xylophones]

Family Reunion Part 10

{masterlist}

Warnings: Have some more angst, my friends. Some character death-as in It happened in the past TPM, some description of pain/injury, a contactless duel, brief mention of suicidal thoughts. 

This got really dark towards the end, I’m sorry. 

Notes I’m so sorry this took so long, I was going through some stuff and this was a real humdinger of an installment to get hung up on. 

Ya’ll need to thank @aberionart for this even getting completed. If not for her art giving me the motivation to attack this beast of a chapter, it wouldn’t have gotten done. Thank you for helping me get out of my writing funk! I always love your art and how positive and supportive you are of everyone! 

PADAWAN WILD

Words: 6.7k

Taglist:@and-claudia // @tararuthven // @aberionart // @noiralei // @pinkiemme // @darthsmol // @zabrak-show // @obi-wan-kanbonemi // @videogamesandpoorlifechoices // @justalittlecloud

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“Well,” a voice unlike any you’d ever heard before seared over your ears-creating a cold sense of dread that dripped down your spine like ice water. You flicked your eyes open cautiously and raised your head off of Wild’s, simultaneously pulling the young boy closer to you. “What do we have here?” It continued, echoing all around with a low, completely unnatural reverb. You couldn’t help but pick up on the way the owner of the voice pronounced the letter ‘w’-like a ‘v’ instead. It...it was similar to the way Maul used to speak after trying to teach you paecian. It was always so funny to you that speaking in his mother tongue accidentally made him develop a bit of an accent for a little while afterward. Reluctantly, you rose to your feet, keeping Wild close to your front though as your gaze trailed down the ramp to observe Savage standing next to a tall creature clad all in red. They had a high forehead and black tattoos over their face in large blocks and groups. Eventually, you locked eyes with them, e/c staring into piercing, eerie blue. “Ah, you must be padawan L/n.” 

“Mother Talzin, I presume?” You greeted cordially despite the agonizing urge to reach for your sabers and rid the galaxy of the witch. “I am...honored to finally meet you in person. But, if you please, I go by Y/n as I have forgone any affiliation with the Jedi.” 

Mother Talzin hummed, moving unnervingly slow as she bowed her head just enough to acknowledge your confession. The strange tentacle-like pieces of cloth affixed to the back of her cloak followed the movement, slithering in the non-existent wind. “Very well, Y/n.” The Nightmother scanned you in silence after her statement, most likely trying to size you up. You kept your chin raised as you turned to face her more and pushed Wild behind you. Immediately, the witch caught the movement and her eyes zeroed in on Wild. “Ah, and who might this be?” 

You swallowed and let your eyes flicker over to Savage for help but the yellow zabrak could offer none. “This is Wild.” You eventually explained. 

“Your son?” The Nightmother observed though you had the slightest inclination that, though it sounded like a question, it was a statement designed to make you uncomfortable. And it was working. You nodded briefly, tongue darting out to quickly wet your lips-you were getting nervous. Mother Talzin became quiet again, now scanning over Wild who was quietly peeking out from behind you, one hand fisted into the fabric of your tunic and the other itching for one of the sabers on your hip. Evidently, he was as uncomfortable as you were. “He is a fine specimen.” You bristled, stepping to the side to shield Wild from her gaze entirely as your hand landed on your saber. Talzin looked back up at you and spoke with a wry smile, “It is a shame he is a half-blood, he would have made an excellent nightbrother.” 

Over my dead body. You thought bitterly and fixed the witch with the most murderous stare you could muster. Talzin was unfazed by your offense and simply directed her attention to the other red zabrak in the cargo hold-Maul, who had sequestered himself behind boxes once more now much further into the hold. The guilt that followed your realization that he was hiding from you stung more than any blaster bolt would. 

You were pulled from your misery by the sound of the force swirling and converging on one spot, ominous whispers and chants following where it went as a green mist started to fill the cargo hold. Mother Talzin, still stood at the end of the ramp was swirling her hands around a steadily forming glowing green ball of her magic. “Come,” she commanded, her voice taking on a higher reverb, “Let us fix what has been broken.” She calmly released the green ball and it glided over to Maul, bathing the cargo hold in an unsettling yellowish green as it went that had Wild clinging tighter to you as he poked his head around your waist to watch. Your hand fell to his shoulder, wrapping it in a tight grip as you followed the orb with your eyes. “Come to me.” Talzin continued. “Come to me, come to me.” The orb disappeared briefly as it weaved between crates, only trackable by the ominous green glow. “Come to me, lost one, come to me. Follow us, son of Dathomir. Follow me, lost one.Come, child of Dathomir. Follow me.” Talzin urged once more, the whispering and chanting echoing ominously back, till Maul finally began to listen. Originally shying away from the magic, he now followed it-shoving boxes aside and chasing after it like a child enchanted by an odd bug that flitted through the air. 

You started to back up to give Maul more room and encouraged Wild to do the same with a hand on his shoulder. He rolled it and your hand fell away. It felt like someone had stabbed you through the chest. You froze completely, eyes glued to the half-zabrak who didn’t acknowledge you and instead kept his attention fixed on Maul as he followed Mother Talzin and Savage away. 

The hangar fell silent. Neither of you moved. 

You rolled your lips in, anxiously gnawing on them. You had to say something. “Wild…” you began in a soft voice. 

“Don’t.” The word was whispered, barely audible, but it bombarded your ears like a barrage of blaster fire. “Just...don’t.” You had never heard your son sound more defeated. 

“Alright.” You swallowed in an attempt to keep the tremble at bay. “Wild, are you okay?” 

“...Yeah.” He lied and you sucked in a breath. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Force, you’d messed up. “Okay…” you began slowly, stalling on every syllable that left you, “what do you want?”

“...” Wild shifted but continued to stare at the opposing wall. You could hear the answer he wanted to give as it floated all around you, suspended by the anxieties of the both of you. Force, you’d messed up. The truth. It mocked you. Bouncing off of the walls and around your feet-all emanating from the only other person in the room. The truth, the truth, the truth. “A duel.” 

The reply caught you off guard, Wild’s thoughts and true desires disappeared in an instant which returned the both of you to that deathly still cargo hold once more. “What?” You asked, taken aback. 

Wild finally turned to face you, his little red face set in the most serious expression he could muster. To you it was the perfect cross between Maul’s scowl and your glare and you did not like being on the receiving end of it. That look was meant for strangers that were too nosy for their own good. That look was a defence you had taught him. That look was not supposed to be used against you. “You joked about training earlier and then you asked me what I wanted. Well, I want to duel as part of my training for today.” The young boy asserted with crossed arms. 

You blinked, regarding your son uncertainly. Wild didn’t like to duel because he could never beat you and that always frustrated him and he’d get all huffy and sulk in the farthest place from you. “Alright…” you began. You continued to size Wild up. Your son had a plan and he was determined to box you in, that much you could tell, but what that plan was was unclear. The truth. That was his goal. And suddenly you knew what he was going to do. Both he and yourself knew that you were the most open about Maul when you were preoccupied. So, in theory, if Wild could distract you with a fight he could weasel more information out of you. A good plan but not one you’d go along with. “Here.” You tossed your blue lightsaber to the boy who scrambled to catch it. “Take up position.” You commanded, switching into your teaching voice-the one you had once used on younglings during your tenure as a padawan, the one Ki-Adi had used on you, the one you loathed to use on Wild. Following your own instructions, you ignited your lightsaber, green blade bathing the cargo hold in a complimenting glow, and dipped into a slight crouch. The hilt of the saber twirled elegantly in your hand-a practiced manuever Maul had helped you perfect so you could slip between forward and reverse grips with ease. Wild faltered. Evidently, he had been prepared to argue. But, your son reacted swiftly by correcting his face and mimicking your pose though he kept his saber in front of him pointing up. “I don’t need to repeat the rules-no contact, tap out when you need to, and nothing that could endanger either of our lives. It is crucial to be aware of all that is around you in a duel and a great way to practice is by following the rules laid out during training.” You quickly rambled off the same spiel you always repeated when you and Wild dueled. “If any real injuries occur, we end the duel immediately. Understood?” 

“Understood.” Wild confirmed with a firm nod. 

The game began. You kept your eyes trained on your son and remained still, your only motion the infrequent twirl of your lightsaber as you gave the boy the opportunity to make the first move. He was beginning to look more and more uncertain. Still, he took a step to the right-you took a step to the left. You took another step, he did as well and thus you both began to slowly circle each other. Wild shifted his grip, slipping into the opening stance for Form II and you mimicked him-your own legs taking on a wider stance as you brought your lightsaber slightly off to your side pointing up and held between both hands. Form IV, the form you’d adapted to survive. In your training you had always favored Form V, liking the way it offered both defense and offense, but after meeting Maul you’d started to favor IV. Wild, on the other hand, was a more defensive fighter (probably because he was younger) and he relied heavily on the basics and Form III. But he was nervous-he was vulnerable. And he wasn’t going to make the first move. Noble but potentially dangerous. You moved in. 

You darted forward, lightsaber swinging for his left leg as it was the most exposed. Wild moved quickie and swung his blade down to block it and you fell back. Your son was too careful-too afraid of fighting to chase your strike. It was something you were working on-you’d forgone teaching him IV for now and opted to begin V for him to encourage the introduction of more offensive moves. It was a slow process. 

Spotting another opening on his right, you moved in again. Wild reacted quicker this time and met the strike with enough time and force to push you back. Good. But that left him exposed to a kick to the ribs. You brought your leg up quickly and stopped just before you made contact. “Protect your vitals, Wild.” Was your simple instruction as you moved away before he could retaliate. You were moving quicker now, feinting to the right before swooping in for his left. And Wild was beginning to loosen up-reacting more sharply as he did so. But still, “Wild, loosen up. You’re far too tense for any effective combat.” You corrected with a well aimed poke with your index finger to his kidneys. It was an attack he would’ve been able to block had he spun in time. Wild whirled around to strike at you but you were too quick, already leaping over him to continue mock-striking his sides and other exposed vitals. Wild was growing frustrated. He spun on his heel faster than anything you'd seen from him this whole time and brought the blue lightsaber down. You met the strike. He moved to the right, you matched him. He moved his blade to the left, you twirled yours to meet the strike and pushed him back. A huff slipped from him as he recovered and came at you once more. You blocked it and quickly brought your leg up-attempting to “kick” him in the side again. He took one hand off of his blade to block the strike which was a critical mistake. You spun around swiftly and caught Wild’s blade once more and began to steadily force him to back up. Locked in a stalemate with you steadily placing more of your weight in the strike and Wild perpetually collapsing under it you made your next move carefully. You snapped up, removing your weight with a quick spin of your saber that had Wild’s wrist twisting back uncomfortably. He yelped and dropped the saber. You deactivated yours and stepped away while your son assessed his wrist. “Loosen your grip next time, it will help you maneuver the blade more fluidly which, in turn, will make a move like that much more difficult for your opponent to pull off.” 

Wild muttered something under his breath that you didn’t catch, eyes trained on the fallen lightsaber as if he could make it combust with his mind. “Would you like to try again?” There was no verbal response from the young boy. He, instead, bent down and scooped the weapon up again-inspecting it as though he had never seen it before. He was silent for a few more seconds. 

“When can I get my own lightsaber?” He finally asked and met your e/c eyes with his saffron ones. “Yours is too light. It feels like I’m holding nothing.” Too light. You knew Wild didn’t like using your blue saber-while it was the heavier of the two you weilded it was still built to be lightweight like your green one-though it wasn’t a complaint he voiced often. You shifted, your stoic, teaching oriented facade falling away for a moment. Wild was proving to be more and more like Maul as time progressed-he favored brute strength and speed despite being a defensive fighter. With a deep breath in you steadied yourself, mind flitting to the location of the lightsaber you had intended to give him-it would have been perfect for your son despite only being half of his father’s original weapon. You had rebalanced it (your pet project you used to lessen the ache in your chest when Maul’s “death” was a fresh wound). You made sure that the energy dispersion was adequate but the blade still deadly. You’d cleaned it and sealed the bottom up to remove the jagged edge left from when Kenobi sliced your love’s weapon. You’d restored it. But the kyber crystal was removed: taken out to avoid potential injury of you or your son should it decide to malfunction and placed in a hidden compartment in the bottom of your green saber. 

“I told you-once I finish teaching you Form V, we’ll try and sneak onto Illum or somewhere else to find you a kyber crystal.” You informed placidly, keeping your eyes on your son. You filed away the knowledge of Maul’s saber for now. Wild grumbled under his breath again and you raised an eyebrow at him. “Would you like to try again?” You asked once more. He didn’t answer verbally, merely slipped into the opening stance for V this time. With an acknowledging nod, you readied your own weapon. 

Wild struck first this time: darting forward with as much speed as he could muster. Instead of blocking it, you fell back and doubled around to strike at his back. But Wild had learned and fell forward causing you to stumble which gave him time to whirl around. He brought his saber down towards your leg but you blocked it. Instead of backing off like you thought he would, your son continued to press his weight down. “Good, Wild, good.” You commended in as warm a tone you could muster. “But watch your back leg because…” you spun out of the lock and mimicked his earlier strike though you stopped before you made contact. “If I was a real enemy, that would be the first thing to go for.” Wild didn’t acknowledge the instruction. He, instead, launched right into another volley of strikes. “Your wrist, sweetpea, use your wrist instead of your whole arm-it’s faster, more maneuverable, and it doesn’t take as much energy per strike.” You corrected again. There was a muttered complaint under his breath but he did correct his grip. You took the chance to lob your own series of strikes against your son. His blocking was a little sloppy but he had improved since the last time you sparred. 

You were getting bored though. Without warning, you raised a hand and used the force to pull your son off balance. He hit the durasteel with a loud thump, the lightsaber clattering on the floor next to him. Almost immediately, he slammed his hands down and sat up to regard you with the most scathing scowl he could. “That’s cheating!” Wild shrieked at you. 

You tilted your head and shrugged. “Your opponent will do whatever they can to gain the advantage-you must be prepared.” You explained placidly whilst inspecting the hilt of your lightsaber. “Again.” Returning your attention to the half-zabrak, you slipped into your opening stance once more. The young boy sighed exasperatedly and snatched up his fallen weapon. Your son was starting to get frustrated which told you it was almost time to take a break. “Once more and then we’ll stop.” Nothing. “Fair?” A low sigh and the igniting of the blade once more was his reply. This time, you didn’t wait for him to strike. You surged forward, aiming a strike for Wild’s neck at as slow a pace as you could manage. Wild met it and flicked you away but you were quick on the uptake and resumed. Another strike towards his leg, towards his arm, and his hip-each one deflected and reciprocated. Wild was getting better at tapping into V, relying less and less on the purely defensive tactics he always relied on. But, he was getting tired; his strikes were getting sloppy. You weren’t faring much better. A headache had formed-the two epicenters either side your skull. It was strange. There was a bizarre climbing sensation that accompanied it-like two hands clawing up either temple. You were very grateful that you decided this would be the last round as a quick nap seemed to be in order. 

Wild was still on the offensive, attacking with all the strength he had but he was slowing down quick. Again, you raised your hand and pushed him away using the force. The boy sighed low in his throat-the sound bordering on a growl. But, his attacks resumed all the same. You repeated your own actions. “Stop.” The growl was more coherent this time. You both repeated. “I said stop that!” Wild snapped again, diving forward. You furrowed your brows and fell back to avoid the strike entirely. You raised your hand once more and Wild froze mid step, held in place by an invisible grip. 

“Wild, are you alright?” You asked, teacher facade fading entirely as you sheathed your saber and took a step towards him. “We can call it quits if you’d like-!”

“Will you stop that?” Wild yelled and in his anger, he managed to escape your grip. The boy recovered quickly while you were left floundering, trying desperately to understand what was happening. But you weren’t fast enough. Wild set his face in a scowl, his eyes flickering a strange color for just a moment, and raised both of his hands and your back collided with the opposite wall. 

You didn’t know what had happened. One minute, you and Obi Wan were stuck behind ray shields, helplessly watching the ensuing fight between Master Qui-Gon and your love, your husband, Maul, and the next, you were curling over Master Qui-Gon’s body in a fruitless attempt to urge him to cling to life while Obi Wan went for Maul. You knew what Maul was. You knew what he could do. But to see him do it? 

You were trembling, eyes not straying from the two figures locked in combat. You didn’t know what you were feeling but there was a lot of it that caused an anxious swirling cyclone to manifest in the pit of your stomach. One hand curled around your barely formed bump-was that really the father of your child? The one that could kill without thought? No. You told yourself. No, that is not my Maul. That...that is Darth Maul. There was a sudden squeeze of your hand that momentarily distracted you from the fear now slowly consuming you. Qui-Gon was still fighting. 

“Master Qui-Gon!” You exclaimed quietly, returning your attention to the dying man. “Master Qui-Gon, speak to me, please.” You begged the Jedi. Almost painfully, his eyelids fluttered open. 

“O-Obi Wan? Where...where is Obi Wan?” He wheezed and looked around as best he could. 

Tears pricked your eyes as you opened your mouth to answer. “Fighting Maul, maste-” You were cut off-your body suddenly airborne. You flew away from the fallen Jedi’s side until your back collided rather harshly with a durasteel wall on the opposite side of Qui-Gon. Pain ricocheted up your spine at the sensation as your eyes immediately tried to take in your sudden shift in surroundings. Your gaze settled on Maul and Obi Wan, the former stood with his hand outstretched towards you and his lightsaber at his side. There was an unreadable expression on his face that was dominated by concern. Rightfully so, you should think, from having practically flung you across the room. Still, it was clear that he hadn’t meant to launch you into the wall-a minor comfort in contrast to the dawning understanding that you had been so foolish. You were a traitor to your people. You were in love with a Sith. 

“Mom! Mom, please! I-I-I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to-to throw you. I was just, just angry and I don’t know what happened. Mom?” You were brought back to reality by the frantic shaking of your shoulders, the stinging in your lower back, and the throbbing of your head. Not to mention the downright terrified tremor in Wild’s voice. Your eyes flickered open. Panicked saffron met your unfocused e/c. “Mom!” Wild exclaimed and launched forward, arms wrapping around your neck. 

“Sweetpea, what happened?” You kept your voice quiet as you returned your son’s panicked hug. It was a little awkward given your current seating against a box on the floor but you voiced no complaint. 

The boy pulled back and your heart broke at the sight of tears gathering in his eyes. “I-I don’t know! I just...I just got really mad and-and I wanted to...I don’t even know what I wanted and I just was going to push you like you’d been doing but-but...I threw you and you weren’t waking up!” Wild explained in a shaky voice that you could barely understand, chest heaving with barely restrained distress. 

Thinking quickly, you placed one hand on his shoulder and the other went to cup the side of his face. “Hey, look at me.” You commanded in a very soft voice and an imperceptible tug to focus your son on you. “I’m alright. I’m not hurt.” You continued slowly, trying to convey that you weren’t angry or even injured. Sure, your back stung from the impact and it appeared as though it had triggered an unwanted trip back to an unpleasant memory but you knew it wasn’t Wild’s fault. “You did not hurt me, Wild.” You reassured once more whilst maintaining eye contact with the young boy. He sniffled and blinked and the gathered tears finally fell. “It wasn’t your fault, sweetpea.” You continued, now carefully wiping the tears away. Wild now refused to meet your eye but you pressed on. “And I don’t blame you. Accidents happen-I can’t tell you how many times I accidentally shoved your father when we’d spar.” He looked up at that and you sent him a smile, happy to see the curious glint replacing his previous sadness. 

“Really?” He questioned in a tiny voice. You smiled a little wider-you knew you were somewhat playing into his original trap but this felt like a tidbit you could spare to tell. 

“Yeah, he was always trying to teach me how to be more aggressive-in regards to dueling, mind you-and...I may or may not have gotten carried away a few times.” A wistful look darted across your face. “If he were here, he’d be embarrassed about how many trees I launched him into.” 

“Trees?” Wild was brightening up now. 

“Oh yes, we had a special planet we’d meet on-one far out of the Jedi’s range where we could just...be us. For a little while anyways.” You sighed. Us. “It was a beautiful planet, Wild, with lush forests and countless caves filled with glittering jewels. And the most gorgeous waterfalls I’d ever seen.” You could see it now, the planet you hadn’t dared to return to. You’d gone everywhere else alone and with Wild but that damned planet. “We met in the same spot every time-in the clearing where we’d met and we’d go running off to explore...we’d find a lake to spar next to and…” a giggle escaped you at a vague memory of Maul’s first reaction to swimming, “and I’d teach him to swim sometimes too.” 

Wild laughed with you, more so out of shock that reminiscence. “He didn’t know how to swim?” 

You shook your head. “He was from here, Wild. Dathomir’s not known for its swimming holes.” You explained with a comical lift of your eyebrows at the boy. “Anyways, in exchange I guess he’d teach me how to fight like him. And that meant I had to learn how to channel my anger. That meant I accidentally threw him a couple of times. It’s something you’ll learn too and if I must, I will gladly be your test dummy.” Wild huffed a laugh through his nose and you patted his face, pleased to see him calming down. You fell quiet for a moment as you observed the little lift of Wild’s smile and the scrunch of his nose that always followed a laugh. It was your smile on Maul’s face. Wild had Maul’s eye color but your eye shape. Your nose but the slight scrunch Maul would do when he spoke or smiled. He really was the perfect combination of you both even if your attributes were subtler. Wild was determined, intelligent, and protective. He was thoughtful but action-oriented as well. Calculated but not heartless. “Force, you’re so much like him.” You finally broke, not even aware that the thought had escaped you. 

“Like who?” Wild asked with a slight tilt of his head-an action no doubt learned from you. Curiosity seemed to radiate from him but also an underlying keenness that told you he knew exactly who you were referring too. Clever-another one to add to the growing list. 

“Your father, Wild...I...I wish he’d gotten to know you.” 

“Y/n…” Maul seethed, his voice ringing in your ears though it was barely above a whisper as he stalked closer to you. His lightsaber...or rather half of his lightsaber still grasped in his hand. 

You were running towards him despite the short gap between you and crashing into his chest before you knew it. “I know, Maul, I know.” Your voice was choppy, form shaky, as you wrapped your trembling arms around his torso. His hand fell on your shoulder-not quite returning the sudden embrace but gripping hard enough to make it clear he had you. “I know I shouldn’t have come-I should’ve run away as soon as that damn door opened. I’m sorry.” The zabrak was silent as his lightsaber hummed close to your ear. You continued to press your face into his robes, not acknowledging the heat close to your head. Eventually, Maul took a deep breath and released it in a sigh as he sheathed his weapon. His arms wrapped around you-one on your waist while his other brought his hand to the back of your head. 

Maul pressed his face to your hair and you could feel his lips move as he spoke. “It’s alright, my light. I know.” The sound of him so gentle and understanding nearly brought you to your knees. This was your Maul-not whoever he was mere minutes ago as he battled your fellow padawan...Obi Wan...you didn’t dare let your mind dwell on the fate of him. 

You held each other for a moment more, the world around you slipping away, until you became overtly aware of how your stomach brushed against his. Your baby...you had to tell him now. You pulled back till you could look him in the eyes, saffron surrounded by a ring of vermillion meeting with your e/c. “Maul, I have to tell you something.” 

“He...he would’ve loved you.” You were ashamed of the way your voice broke at the admission. He would have loved Wild-that much you were certain of-if he he had gotten the chance to know him. But would either have that opportunity now? If Mother Talzin was successful in restoring Maul, would he be the same? You knew that you’d changed over the years-you’d had to for both your son’s and your own survival-but what would Maul be like? Your husband or the Sith Lord?...You supposed your distinguishing between the two the last time you’d described his father had not been unprecedented. With a deep breath in to steady yourself, you returned your attention to your son. “He would have taught you so much more. I wish you could meet him, Wild.” But...I don’t know if the Maul you meet will be the one I fell in love with. 

“Mom, you...you don’t have to talk about Dad if it’s too painful.” Wild’s barely audible voice brought your attention back to the present. 

“No....” Your voice was firmer than you’d expected it to be which took both you and your son aback. “No,” you tried again in a softer tone, “you...you deserve to know everything.” With a nervous swallow you continued. “Whatever you want to ask...I will answer.” There was no going back now. If the Maul that returned wasn’t the Maul you had known then maybe you could give Wild a chance to know his father through you. 

Wild gaped at you for a few seconds, your offer not quite computing. “...Are...you’re serious?” He asked skeptically with wide eyes. “Actually serious?” Your only reply was a nod as you let your hands fall to your sides and you shifted to sit on your knees. He was quiet for a moment longer as the gears turned in his head-most likely searching for the right first question. “Where did Dad die?” 

You swallowed again to stifle the panic. “...he...he didn’t.” Wild’s eyes widened a little further as shock overtook his face. “I...lost him on Naboo.” You scrambled to elaborate as your son fell completely silent. You weren’t even sure if he was breathing. “I thought he died but...when Savage found us...he told me that he had been sent to find him. He wanted me to help locate your father. I told him that I watched him die on Naboo.” 

“What was he doing on Naboo?” Wild finally spoke after another beat had passed. 

“He was...helping enforce the blockade.” You knew you were being vague but Wild was going to draw his own conclusions soon. 

“The blockade?” He emphasised, referring to the blockade you’d told him Darth Maul had overseen. “What...why?” 

“His master had instructed him to.” 

“His master? So...Darth...did Dad work with the Sith?”

He was getting closer, that was for sure. “...Yes.” 

“Was...was Darth Maul his master?” 

“...No.” 

“Then...I don’t know what that means.” Wild admitted, retreating inwards to mull over the newly divulged information. 

With another sigh, you closed your eyes in an internal debate of whether or not you provided him with what could possibly be the key clue your son needed. It was a short lived debate though. “Peace is a lie, there is only passion.” You began to recall the mantra Maul had often recited to you when teaching you how to channel your own anger. “Through passion, I gain strength.” Your eyes began to sting behind your eyelids as tears of your own began to form. “Through strength, I gain power.” There was a shift-not only in the cargo hold or between you and your son but it felt like a great power was being awoken all over the red bathed planet. “Through power, I gain victory.” It shifted again, growing stronger, angrier, darker. “Through victory, my chains are broken.” The chains...the chains are the easy part...it’s what goes on in here that’s hard. Those words-some of the first coherent thoughts to spill from Maul upon you and Savage finding him suddenly rang throughout your head. What went on in Maul’s head would certainly prove the most difficult part to understand, that you were certain of. It had taken you months to even get a read on his personality when you were young. It had taken months for him to accept his feelings for you and even longer for him to accept that you returned them. It had taken years for the two of you to decide that spending the rest of your lives together was the right course of action and months for the Force to grant you one physical piece of evidence to prove the validity of your relationship. The Force had given you Wild and the promise of a life with Maul...and almost all of it had been taken away in an instant. Your lives bound to the will of the Force by chains too thick to break. “The Force shall free me.” You opened your eyes and let your gaze fall on Wild. He was staring at you with a mixture of confusion and undeniable curiosity. 

“What...what was that?” He asked in a tiny voice. 

“The code of the Sith.” You answered immediately, the words falling freely from you now. 

“Why do you know that…?” 

“A Sith taught it to me.” 

“Who?” 

You blinked. He was so close to figuring it out. “I have only ever met one Sith, Wild.” 

“...” He said nothing, his gaze moving away from you to gaze out of the cargo hold at the red bathed planet. Wild’s jaw was tense, his hands anxiously clenching into fists only to unclench a moment later, and his eyes frantically darted from side to side as though watching a battle before him. “What…,” he turned to you, “was Dad’s name?” 

Finally. You closed your eyes once more to prepare yourself for whatever was about to come. You only spoke once you opened your eyes. “Mau-” A searing pain tore through your abdomen, cutting you off in an instant. Screams clawed from your throat at the sudden sensation that felt not unlike a heated knife being stuck into the flesh above your hips and around your torso. You fell to your side, hands snaking around your lower stomach. 

“What is it, Y/n?” Maul questioned, picking up on the urgent tone in your voice immediately. His hands retracted from around you to take a firm hold on your forearms. 

Unable to fight the smile that clawed itself over your face, you turned your hands over to also grasp his arms, anchoring both of you in that moment. “Maul, my love, I’m-” He stiffened, eyes locking on something above your head. With a harsh shove he sent you to the floor as his hand shot for his lightsaber. 

It happened in a blur-a flash of green, a choked breath, and the worst pain you’d ever felt tearing its way across your lower abdomen. It was the worst moment of your life-your love and your connection to him being severed in one fell swoop from Obi Wan Kenobi. You didn’t know if you screamed or cried. You didn’t know if you did anything else besides watch as Maul fell away, lost to some unimportant reactor shaft on Naboo. A death so unbefitting a man of such power it almost felt poetic. Unjustly poetic. Was this some form of punishment? You knew you grabbed his lightsaber, clinging to it as you prayed for death to take you as well. If the Force should decree for you to suffer a fate worse than death than it would lose you to it as well. 

But you were stopped. Two hands pulled you away, you were led back to the council to await a different fate unknown to you. The last touch of your love seared into your skin as was the pain of his fatal wound. 

You opened your eyes, vaguely aware of the mutterings falling from you and the cold press on your forehead. There was a firm grip on your hand and a warm weight pressed into your side. “Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.” Your voice mixed with another’s graced your ears-the mantra of the Sith being repeated over and over as the pain in your abdomen began to fade till none remained. You sat up and immediately wrapped Wild in a hug. His muttering stopped to be replaced by yours. “Wild, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You kept repeating it as your son clung to you. 

“What happened?” He gasped out, grip like iron as he latched onto your arms. 

“Maul.” You brought him up to eye level. “Maul’s back.” You exclaimed, already able to feel the familiar turbulent presence of your husband. “He’s back.” You began to struggle to your feet, shaky and weak as they may be. 

“Mom, calm down-you’re injured.” Wild tried to drag you back down but you pulled your hand away from him. 

“No, I’m not. I’m fine. Wild, we need to go. Please. He’s back.” You tried, already doing your best to march out of the cargo hold.

“Mom, hold on. What are you talking about?” 

“Maul. I told you. Come on!” You were insistent, being pulled out of the ship by that commanding presence. 

“Not until you tell me what my dad’s name was!” You stopped short, realization dawning on you. 

Before anything could be said, a clinking sound echoed in from outside the ship causing you both to freeze. Wild immediately dropped into a defensive position, calling your blue lightsaber to him. You closed your eyes again, trying to sense what was going on. Maul’s presence was overwhelming-it crashed into you like a wall of water freshly freed from a dam. His signature was one so powerful and tumultuous that you had had little else to liken it to over the years. Where your connection with Wild was quieter and warm, the one to Maul was fiery and deceptively silent, threatening to burn you if you held onto it for too long. Force, you’d missed it. You stepped forward, eyes flying open as you did so and focused on your own presence-trying to amplify it for Maul. You had to know if he was the same man. The clinking stopped. His signature changed-a blinding glow forming to accompany the wrathful haze that always surrounded him. The clinking resumed, faster now as Maul grew closer to the ship. 

You broke out in a run, darting out of the ship before Wild’s startled cry could meet your ears and rounding around the wing of it. You stopped the same time the clinking did as before you stood a red zabrak, standing a little warily on his robotic legs, whose head was crowned with ivory horns and whose eyes burned with light brighter than any star. “Maul…” You breathed out. 

He straightened up, confused scowl falling away, as he spoke with a voice that rumbled like distant thunder. “My light…” 

…………………………………………………..

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[theladyofdeath]

City of Starlight {1}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses & Throne of Glass Crossover, Modern AU fanfiction.

Based on a prompt sent in for the 5k follower contest {winner}, from Anonymous: “Competitive arts school tog x acotar crossover”

Summary:  Velaris School of the Arts is the most prestigious school of talent on the continent. Whoever wants to be someone wants to get in. As her senior year of high school is coming to an end, all Aelin Galathynius wants is to go to the city of starlight and play music. Feyre Archeron, however, longs to paint for the rich and famous. Painters, singers, dancers, actors, and filmmakers come together in friendship, love, and lust, and find that they have a lot more in common than they thought.

A/N: Shoutout to @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty​ for writing chapter one with me! Ugh, I’m so excited to write this story, y’all don’t even know. Read, enjoy, & let me know what you think!

Warnings: language

Links:

Fanfic Masterlist

Ask me ANYTHING!

City of Starlight {ACOTAR/TOG crossover}

> Characters Detail Sheet <

Aelin and Aedion stepped out into the late afternoon sun. The drive had taken a little bit longer than intended, but that was only because they stopped to sight-see anything that sounded interesting, including the world’s largest pumpkin. Although ginormous, it was rotted and horrible, but there had been a sign just before the exit and they couldn’t resist. It was also at that exit that they stopped by a little hole-in-the-wall bakery and Aelin got two dozen chocolate donuts.

She’d eaten nearly half of them between there and the entrance of the city.

Velaris was beautiful, just as Aelin suspected it would be, but she really couldn’t wait until nightfall to see the famous starlight. They had a few hours before that, though, which meant that they had to find their apartments. Instead of traditional dorms, since Velaris was a smaller school, they had a huddle of apartments and townhouses. They were all cluttered close together, though, and it was a bit overwhelming trying to decipher which building was which.

“Fuck,” Aedion muttered, looking around the square. They were standing in the middle of four different apartment buildings, all of which looked exactly the same. “What’s your building?”

Aelin dug through her bag to find the envelope with all of her information in it, which took a solid two minutes, and once she opened it up, it took another two to find the right piece of paper.

Aedion just watched her, shaking his head. “How have you made it this far in life being so disorganized?”

She gave him a vulgar gesture as she read, “I’m in building B.” She blinked. “They’re alphabetized?” 

Aedion looked around to find the nearest sign, then groaned. “Well, this is building Q, so if that’s the case, we’re pretty far off. I’m in B, too.”

With a dramatic sigh, Aelin said, “And here I was hoping to finally get some distance from you.”

Aedion nudged her in the ribs before climbing back up behind the wheel of his truck. They rode around for nearly forty-five minutes, slowly, reading every sign they passed with frustration. At one point, they thought they were close, because they came upon building C, only to be met at the next building with a sign that said “Apartment Building L”. Aelin swore it was a test of will - one she definitely didn’t care for.

But, alas, when they finally found Apartment Building B, it was a glorious feeling, and once Aedion pulled into a parking spot, Aelin jumped out of the car and yelled, “Finally!”

She expected Aedion to make a profound exclamation, too, but when she looked over the hood of the car at him, he was looking elsewhere.

On the other side of the courtyard was a girl with long, brown hair, a black tank top, and a pair of ripped skinny jeans. Aedion was staring at her, his lips parted. 

“Aed,” Aelin snapped, voice loud, and he jerked around to meet her gaze. 

After clearing his throat, he muttered an apology and went around back to open the truck bed. He kept glancing across the courtyard every few seconds, though. Aelin wanted to pick on him, but he seemed to be quite smitten and she actually thought it was sweet.

“You should go talk to her,” Aelin said, at last, helping him carry their bags and shit to the sidewalk. 

Aedion shook his head. “I’m too busy helping my cousin move in.”

Aelin rolled her eyes at the excuse as she grabbed a box of pillows and began walking backwards toward the sidewalk, keeping her eyes on Aedion, who was looking over his shoulder, once again. “I’m just saying. I’ve seen that look before, and I- shit!”

Aelin nearly dropped the box as her back ran into a tall, hard body. She quickly turned around to meet the narrowed, green eyes of her acquaintance. 

“Watch where you’re going, freshman,” he warned, his voice low.

Aelin opened her mouth to tell him off, but Aedion must have seen her shift in body language because he was instantly at her back, saying, “It was an accident, calm down.” 

“I’m just saying,” he began, repeating what Aelin had just said, still looking down at her, “that she needs to watch where she’s going. There’s a lot of people around here, and if she’s walking backwards, I won’t be the only person she runs into. The next one may not be so pleasant.” 

Aelin snorted. “This is you being pleasant? Gods.” 

The newcomer’s lips tightened into a straight line as he went to take a step around Aelin, at last. She let him go, but Aedion wasn’t as forgiving. He blocked the silvery-haired stranger’s path and met his hard gaze with one of his own. Aedion was maybe half an inch shorter than he was, a little less broad, but other than that, they were close in stature. In a fight, they would be fairly evenly matched. 

“You owe my cousin an apology,” Aedion said, head cocked slightly to the left.

A light danced in the stranger’s green eyes as he met Aedion with a cocky grin. “You’ve only been here for five minutes and you’re already trying to get your ass kicked?”

“This is ridiculous,” Aelin muttered, stepping in between the two, even though they both stood a head taller than she. “We have shit to get done, knock it off. Unless you want to help us move our shit into 21 and 32, move on with your day.”

The newcomer tensed as he breathed a curse. Then, he looked to Aedion. “You’re in 21? Ashryver?”

Aedion’s hard eyes slid from his cousin’s to the man. “Depends who’s asking.”

“Rowan Whitethorn.” His arms were crossed, clearly not offering a handshake. “I won’t be helping you move, but looks like we’ll be spending a lot of quality time together.”

“Shit,” Aedion breathed.

Rowan turned, his pine green eyes pinning her in place. “And you are?”

Big brother mode kicked in and Aedion grabbed her arm. “None of your concern. Come on, Ace.”

The two began to walk towards the lobby, but Aelin glanced back over her shoulder at Aedion’s surly new roommate. Rowan’s eyes narrowed, as if he were studying her.

With her back straight and her chin held high, Aelin met his stare with one of her own. His shoulders tensed before turning his back to her and walking away. 

“Considering you have way more shit than me,” Aedion began, snapping Aelin back to the present, “why don’t you go see where your room is? I’ll come find you after I find my room and bring my bags in, and I’ll start bringing your stuff up.”

Aelin held a hand over her heart. “What would I ever do without you?”

Aedion blinked. “Everything? Stuff for yourself, for once?” He suggested.

With pursed lips, Aelin shoved him in the shoulder, then he laughed as they took to the stairs. She left him on the second floor before trailing up to the third.

Students were hurrying in and out of every room, the excitement of move in day as strong for the older students as it was for the freshman. As she passed each room, it was like a glimpse into a different world. She could hear instruments being tuned and found people sharing designs on tablets and laptops. She heard clear voices and bass driven beats. She felt like she was home.

She finally found the door marked 32 and took a deep breath. She had been an only child her entire life, Aedion the closest thing to a sibling she’d had, so the idea of having roommates was completely foreign to her. She took a deep breath and sighed, twisting the door knob.

To find that it was...locked.

Aelin glanced down the hall again, on both sides. There wasn’t a single door shut on her floor, save for hers. She assumed she must have been the first of her roommates to arrive.

She dug through her bag until she found the key they’d given her, on a VSOTA lanyard and slid the key into the lock.

She had assumed wrong.

Sprawled out on the couch, tangled in each other’s arms, were two women lost in an intimate embrace, and Aelin was most definitely interrupting.

“Shit, sorry!” She yelled, quickly turning away, attempting to give them privacy while also feeling horribly embarrassed. “I should’ve knocked!”

There was a shuffling on the leather couch then soft laughter flooded into the room.

“Knock?” A light voice said. “It’s your house, if you’re Aelin, which I hope you are, because if you’re not this is a very strange situation.”

Aelin hesitated before slowly turning back around, where she was met with a grin from the young woman with long, blonde hair. She was brushing through it with her fingers when Aelin said, “I suppose that’s one way to break the ice in front of your new roommates, right?”

The blonde’s grin widened. “I’m Mor. This is my girlfriend, Nehemia. I live here, she doesn’t. Our other roommate should be here soon, but I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow!”

Nehemia gave Aelin a gentle smile before pulling her hoodie on over her tank top. Her long braids were pulled back into a low ponytail. “I’m glad you came, actually, brought me back to reality. Elide was expecting me ten minutes ago to help put up flyers for the block party tomorrow night.”

Mor clicked her tongue. “How dare you let me distract you? Elide will have my ass.”

Nehemia chuckled as she kissed Mor on the cheek, then smiled once again at Aelin. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” she smiled.

The door clicked shut behind her and Mor said, “And how is Velaris treating you so far?”

Aelin chuckled and said, “Velaris is kicking my ass. It took us over forty-five minutes to find our building.”

Mor laughed. “Yeah, it can be a bit of a maze sometimes. But you said us? You brought someone?”

Aelin caught the glint in Mor’s rich, brown eyes. “No, no, not like that. I mean, I didn’t bring him. He's studying film, but he’s my cousin. Practically my older brother.”

Mor nodded. “My cousin is here, too, right beneath us.” She stomped a few times for good measure. “Over-protective prick.”

Aelin laughed. “Is it your first year?

“Technically, yes, but I’m from Velaris.” Mor made her way into the kitchen and grabbed a bottled water out of the fridge. “Rhys and Az have been here for two years, so I basically have, too.”

Aelin hesitated.

“Oh, right,” Mor said, after taking a sip from her bottle. “You have no idea who they are. Rhys is the prick, my cousin, and Azriel is the only good one in our group.” She winked as Aelin chuckled. “It’ll all be a lot to take in, but you’ll get used to it. Starting with the party tomorrow night, and the party that follows the party.”

Aelin just nodded, but she wasn’t following at all. Instead of asking more questions, Mor showed Aelin to the two unoccupied bedrooms and Aelin chose the one that looked out at a massive oak tree, the branches within arms reach out the window. Her and Mor made “get-to-know-you” small talk as she waited for Aedion to bring up her belongings.

Aelin wasn’t sure what she was expecting from her roommates, but Mor seemed nice and funny and Aelin assumed they wouldn’t have any problems.

She couldn’t say the same for Aedion, though.

Rowan Whitethorn seemed like a serious piece of work.

~~

Feyre sat in Rhysand’s lap with her arms around his neck in the middle of the quad, Cassian and Azriel sprawled out on the grass beside them. 

“This is it, then?” Cassian asked. “And here I thought we’d actually have to work our asses off at this beautiful institution.”

Azriel opened his eyes just to roll them. “Classes haven’t started yet, idiot.”

“Call me idiot one more time,” Cassian muttered, but he was grinning.

Feyre just shook her head before turning her face back to Rhysand’s, planting her mouth on his. 

Cassian said, “Must you? Get a fucking room, gods.” Rhys lifted his foot where it laid near Cassian’s head and kicked him. He mumbled, “Prick”.

Feyre laughed. “Speaking of rooms, I do have one of my own now.”

“Should we go test out the bed, darling?” Rhysand’s violet eyes were brilliant  in the August sun as he smirked.

“That’s not what I was suggesting, but maybe, later,” she said, with a wink.

Cassian and Azriel groaned. Az had never been so happier than the day that Feyre received her acceptance letter to VSOTA. It meant she’d have her own place, and he wouldn't have to hear she and Rhys until all hours of the night. No wonder their roommate hated them.

“I should go check on my sisters though,” she sighed. “Nesta is all the way across campus now.”

Cassian muttered, “Good.”

Feyre shot him a look, but she didn’t blame him. He and Nesta had a drunken one night stand at a party in high school, when he was a sophomore and she was a senior, and after that every time the two ran into one another it was...tense, to say the least. 

“It’s been years,” Azriel said, his eyes still closed. “You two should get the fuck over it.”

Cassian's brow lifted as he looked sideways at Azriel. “Damn. What's up your ass?”

“He’s just pissed because Whitethorn drank one of his beers this morning,” Rhysand chimed.

Feyre scrunched her nose. “I never understood how people can drink beer when they’re not already drunk. The taste is awful.”

But Azriel was throwing his hands in the air. “They’re hard to find and I specifically told everyone to keep their hands off!”

“If you’d drink regular beer like the rest of us, you wouldn’t have this problem,” Cassian said. “And if you two would have requested me as your roommate like you were supposed to, you’d have one less person tell not to drink your Cafe Coco Coffee stout or whatever the fuck.”

“You didn’t turn in your registration until after the semester ended! It’s hard to request someone who isn’t a student.” Azriel laid back down and closed his eyes again. “And it's an IPA called Coffee Del. If you’re gonna make fun of me, at least do it right.”

“Sounds gross either way,” Cassian mumbled.

Feyre was laughing uncontrollably. “My gods, I never knew you were so boujee, Az.”

The side of Azriel’s lips quirked upward. “I’m heading to Elain’s in a little bit to help put together her bookshelf, if you wanna go with me.”

“I can do that,” Feyre said, “as long as Nesta’s not there, we haven’t spoken in a year and I don’t plan to start today. To do that, I will need beer in me, and not Azriel’s fancy shit, but the crap kind that tastes like junk but gets you real drunk, real fast.”

Rhysand just shook his head, slowly. “You’re so sexy.”

Feyre’s grin widened as she took his face into her hands and pulled his mouth back against hers. Cassian groaned as Azriel took off his beanie and threw it at them.

“Fuck off,” Rhysand muttered, against Feyre’s lips. “And I’m keeping your hat, so thank you.” 

Azriel chuckled quietly as he closed his eyes, once again. Cassian stood up and announced his departure. “I have to go meet my roommates.”

He was in the building across from the others, which he had made sure they all knew he was pissed about. After pulling the sheet of wadded up paper out of his pocket, he read, “Fenrys, Lorcan, and Dorian.” He stared at the paper for another minute before sighing, dramatically. “You two assholes have fun with your new roommates while I go make new friends.”

“Your dramatic ass should have gone into acting, Cass,” Rhysand said, his arm around Feyre’s waist tightening. 

Cassian just grinned as he shoved his hands into his pockets and began walking backwards, away from the center of the quad. “I would have, but I was gifted with the voice of an angel.”

“You’re no angel,” Feyre muttered, and he held his middle finger up high as he turned his back to them and walked away.

“Fuck,” Azriel breathed. “Now I have to watch you two suck each other’s faces alone.”

And that’s exactly what they did.

———

Nesta Archeron fell onto the couch, having finally carried her last bag up from the car. She deserved the chilled glass of wine she was going to pour herself, just as soon as she could breathe again.

The door opened and Amren groaned as she carried a tub towards her bedroom. “Why exactly do we have to move during the hottest season of the year?”

“I say you and I just buy a little house in the city so that we can stay there year round,” Nesta said, slowly making her way toward the fridge. “And then we wouldn’t have to have any other roommates, either.”

Their previous roommate had graduated the year before, so a new one had been appointed to them, one that Nesta was dreading to be in the same room as, much less living alongside her. She didn’t know Manon Blackbeak all that well, but the dancer certainly had a reputation. 

Amren knew her a little bit. They’d had a few classes together, both being dancers at the same school for a few years now, but the two had never really talked.

When Nesta and Amren found out that Manon would be their new roommate, they debated on leaving VSOTA altogether and moving to the other side of the country, but no, they had worked too hard to get where they were, and they wouldn’t let Manon ruin their ongoing success. 

“You know, you could help me,” Amren scowled.

Nesta shrugged as she popped the cork from her wine bottle and filled a glass. “That’s your last tub, you’ve got it.”

Leaving the door open, Amren rolled her eyes as she pushed the tote into her room before going back to the living room and falling down on the couch. “Just pour me a glass and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal.” Nesta poured a second glass before re-corking the bottle, returning it to the fridge and carrying the glasses to the other room. She handed Amren a glass and sat in the oversized chair in the corner.

“It’s the least you could do after you took the good room, you bitch,” Amren muttered, the glass to her lips.

Nesta scoffed and threw her a vulgar gesture. “I wasn’t up all night at Varian’s.”

“I’d hope not,” Amren smirked. “Since we were up all night fucking.”

A throat was cleared from the open doorway and Nesta and Amren turned to find Manon standing there with a leather messenger back over her shoulder. “Hey.”

Nesta’s oncoming good mood was instantly fading. “Blackbeak.”

Neither Nesta or Amren moved to welcome their new roommate, but Manon didn’t seem to mind. She walked through the open door, her chin held high. “Which room is mine? I assume you’ve already chosen, given how comfortable and smug you look.”

Amren nodded to the door in the corner. 

“Thanks,” Manon muttered, and began to walk that direction.

“Wait,” Nesta said, taking a long sip from her glass before setting it on the side table and rising to her feet. “Since you’re being forced to live with us, there’s a few ground rules.” 

Manon snorted, but faced Nesta, nonetheless. “Fine.”

“First of all,” Nesta began, slowly walking to where Manon stood in the middle of the room. “If you decide to have a late night booty call, let us know. We have no interest in sharing the breakfast table with whatever fuckboy warms your bed that night.”

Manon lifted a perfectly sculpted brow. “Fair. And second?”

“Keep your space clean,” Nesta went on, stopping a good foot away from where Manon stood. “I don’t do well with messes.”

Manon sighed, looking at her long, black-painted nails, seemingly bored. “I’m not a fucking slob, shouldn’t be an issue. Anything else?”

Nesta looked over her shoulder at Amren, who was watching them both with a deadly, feline smile.

“We hear you got kicked out of your last apartment for being a bitch,” Nesta went on, at last. “So, keep to yourself as much as possible and realize that the school assigned you to live here, we didn’t ask for it.”

Nesta wasn’t sure what kind of reaction she was going to get, but it certainly wasn’t the grin that spread across Manon’s lips. She surely wasn’t expecting Manon to close the distance between them and get up in her face. Her voice was low, amused, when she said, “I don’t mind keeping to myself, because I came here to dance, not to make friends with bitches like you.” 

———

Setting her phone down on top of the stack of flyers, Elide flipped her head upside down and gathered her hair into a messy bun. Being a member of the student council, she’d been on campus for over a week. While everyone else was moving in, she’d been mingling, giving tours, helping new students and, currently, putting up and handing out flyers for the block party she’d been planning for two months.

And, gods, it was so hot.

She picked her flyers up, tucking them against her chest. She’d already hit the East and South sides of campus. Nehemia, though she was late and Elide had given her a look which she blushed at, was heading to the North side. She decided to get to West campus through the Quad, where most students today were gathering.

As she crossed campus, many people she knew called out to Elide. She was waving to one of the girls she’d taken Geology with the year before when she ran into a wall.

Which turned out to be a rock solid chest of muscles.

Her flyers flew from her arms and Elide swore under her breath.

She was  immediately down on her hands and knees, trying to gather the flyers before the breeze took them away. When it was clear the wall she’d run into wasn’t going to help, her eyes snapped up to meet the one and only Lorcan Salvaterre’s.

She didn’t know Lorcan, at least not well, only by reputation. He was a loner, kept mostly to himself. Some say he did jail time before he began at VSOTA, in high school, and looking at him now, Elide didn’t doubt it.

He was just staring at her when she scoffed, “Mind giving me a hand?” 

“Here, I’ll help.” Elide looked over her shoulder to find Cassian, a freshman who she had met a few days before and had instantly clicked with, hurrying to where she knelt in the grass. Cassian leaned down to help, but not before giving Lorcan a distasteful look. “Fuck, you knock her down and don’t help her out? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t knock her down, she ran into me.” Elide could have sworn a snarl left Lorcan’s lips, but he did squat down and begin helping the two of them scoop the papers up. Once they had gathered what hadn’t blown away, he stood and held the stack out. “Maybe she should look where she’s going.”

Elide snatched the stack back and narrowed her eyes at him.

Lorcan’s expression didn’t change as he reached and took the flyer from the top to read it. “The block party? As if that’s the party people will be at that night.”

She took it back from him. “It’s before the other party even starts. It’s a way for new students to make friends, not get trashed.”

“Fuck that,” Lorcan mumbled. “It’s a waste of time.”

“How about you keep your negativity to yourself, huh?” Cassian asked, taking a step forward in Lorcan’s direction.

Lorcan blinked, as if just remembering that Cassian was there, too. “Who the hell are you? Is this your little boyfriend?”

The question was directed at Elide, but she didn’t answer. Instead, Cassian said, “I’m the only guy here that knows how to act in front of a woman, apparently.”

Lorcan laughed, loudly and humorlessly. “You may want to watch how you speak in front of me. Haven’t you heard? I’m a criminal.”

Cassian snorted. “Is that your idea of a threat? Pretty weak ass threat to me. I don’t know who the fuck you are, and I don’t care, but Elide doesn’t need your shit, so go do whatever it is criminals do, and leave her alone.”

Lorcan’s shoulders tensed as he asked, “Excuse me?”

Elide was suddenly there, in between the two men. “Let it go, Lorcan. Cassian,” she turned and handed him a flyer. “I’ll see you there?”

He grinned. “I’ll be there.”

Lorcan scoffed, but Elide ignored him. “Anything I can help you with? You’re good?”

“Nope, just headed to D.” He picked up the duffle he’d dropped when he rushed over to help Elide gather her flyers. “Time to meet my roommates.”

Lorcan snorted and said, “Good luck to them.”

Cassian stilled, and looked over to where Lorcan was standing. “Sorry?”

“I’m just saying,” Lorcan mumbled. “I’d hate to be stuck living in an apartment with your ego.”

“You’re a dick,” Cassian said, voice low. 

“Do you really think that’s the worst insult I’ve ever gotten?” Lorcan asked, then took a look at Elide. “You going to let your little boyfriend insult me like that?”

Cassian was anything but little. In fact, he and Lorcan were pretty evenly matched. 

“Leave Elide alone,” Cassian warned. “Seriously, stop talking to her like that-.”

“Or what?” Lorcan interrupted, humored. “I’m sure her little interaction with me has been the most excitement she’s had this week in her perfect little world.”

Elide wanted to tell them both to just walk away, but Cassian was pissed now, could see it in the way he clenched his fists at his side, could see it in the way the vein in his neck popped. 

“How the hell did you get into this school?” Cassian asked, his voice low. “You fuck your way to the top?”

“I don’t think you want to do this,” Lorcan breathed. “My face doesn’t have to be pretty. I’m sure yours does.”

Cassian’s jaw ticked and he tilted his head to the side. “That’s sweet. You think I’m pretty.”

Elide froze and she swallowed. Everyone had heard stories about Lorcan. Everyone but Cassian, it seemed.

“What’s your name?” He breathed.

Cassian very casually tied his hair back in a short knot at the back of his head. “Why? You wanna follow my instagram? It’s pretty impressive, I’ve got about nine-hundred followers.”

“I won’t beat the ass of someone who’s name I don’t know.”

Cassian’s lips pursed. Elide watched the wheels in Cassian's head turning. Lorcan’s pride may not have let him kick the ass of someone who’s name he didn’t know, but apparently Cassian held no such reservations.

Elide wanted to scream at him, to call Cassian Nazari the world's biggest idiot, because he crossed the space between he and Lorcan, swinging his fist and knocking Lorcan Salvaterre square in the jaw.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[harlot-of-oblivion]

The Devil’s In The Details

You're a detective of the Red Grave City P.D. investigating another strange murder when you find a possible break in the case.

After many months of daydreaming and planning, I'm finally starting a new series featuring Dante/Detective Reader! So, I hope you enjoy the first few chapters! 😘🥰

Warnings: Graphic depictions of a violent crime scenes and cursing.

Chapter 1: Another Day

Another day, another murder, you thought grimly as you arrive at the scene of what is assuredly another grisly crime.

It is early morning. The sun has barely peeked over the horizon, but that is not enough to deter several reporters from crowding around the police tape. You park your motorcycle just on the outskirts of the police barrier, assessing the best possible route to take around the crowd without drawing attention to yourself. A few bright flashes from a numerous camera makes you grumble under your breath as you hop off your ride. You straighten out your riding jacket and jeans before removing your helmet, flipping your hair back as you breath in the crisp morning air.

“Detective! Detective!”

“Is this at all related to the other murders around the city?”

“Does this mean we have a serial killer running rampant through our streets?”

“Detective, please! The citizens of Red Grave deserve some answers!”

The gaggle of clamoring news reporters and journalists greet your ears as you approach the police tape. You keep your head down and turn away from their prying eyes while you press forward, never slowing your pace as you forge ahead. And as soon as you get to the barrier, you quickly duck under and slip through before any of them can surround you with their mics and cameras.

A couple of officers rush forward to calm the crowd as you survey the scene before you: upscale house in the better part of town, no fence, and neighboring houses on either side of the home. You reach into the inside pocket of your jacket and pull out your glasses, quickly sliding them on before whipping out a small sketchbook. Your keen eyes scan around more thoroughly, looking for anything out of place as you walk up the long driveway.

The house looks like your typical suburban home: two stories of brick walls with the usual gothic architecture that is so common around this part of town. The lawn gets cut regularly and only a few stray dog toys sully its pristine state. And the garage is vast, big enough to hold two cars, but there is only one fancy sports car parked in there now.

You slide the pencil stored in the spiral spine of your sketchbook and begin to draw out all the possible inconsistencies you have observed thus far: stray dog toys means either no one’s been around to mow the lawn or that the owners do their own lawn work, the fact that the garage door is open strikes you as odd, and speaking of dog toys…your hand pauses as you double check for any sign of a doghouse in the yard before looking back in the garage, searching for anything might serves as a dog bed.    

Hmm…could be an inside dog, you ponder, squinting at your rough drawing of a dog toy that does seem to be quite small. You make a quick note about it by the sketch before moving on, drawing a car with a question mark beside it and a note about the whereabouts of the other car. When you are finished with your preliminary observation, you reach back into your pocket for a pair of rubber gloves and hurriedly slip them as you approach a group of officers waiting by the entrance.  

“Good Morning, Detective.”

The officer that greets you at the door is Tyrell Reed if you remember correctly. “Morning,” you mutter back with a nod of your head before following him past his fellow officers through the front entrance of the house. You take in your surroundings, noting that the entrance hall is quaint but still holds an air of old-fashioned wealth. After a few more quick glances over at the side rooms you ask what your colleagues refer to as the universal code for what crazy shit are we dealing with today? in the language of law enforcement.

“What have we got here, Officer?”  

“Same shit, different body.”

You chuckle dryly at his matter-of-fact reply before getting down to business. “Victim’s name?”  

“Giles Harmon. The husband of Mabel Harmon.”

You scribble down both names on a fresh page of your sketchbook. “And where is our newly widowed wife?” you ask while glancing down at your drawing of the sports car.

“A few of the neighbors saw her leave in the middle of night about a week ago, which just so happens to be how long the victim has been lying here dead.”

“Did they say whether or not she drove away in a car?” you question, looking up at the officer over the frames of your glasses. He nods and you quickly jot down that detail by the appropriate sketch before moving onto the next question. “Any kids?”

“One. A son. He goes by Paul and he’s a student over at RGU. He’s also the one who found the body, so he’s currently being held down at the station for questioning.”

“Excellent! What about the dog?”

“Dog?” Officer Reed’s brow furrows. “What dog?”

You flash him your drawing of the stray dog toys. “There’s evidence in the yard that points to them owning at least one dog,” you inform patiently before firing away with follow up questions. “Did you or any of the other officers first at the scene see or hear anything that may have been a dog?”

“Hold on a sec.” Officer Reed excuses himself and peeks his head out the front door. You hear him ask the officers your question and a variety of murmurings before he turns back to you. “No, ma’am. None of us heard no barking, but one of the boys did see some bowls on the kitchen floor.”

“Did any of the neighbors mention hearing a dog bark when Mrs. Harmon left?”

Officer Reed shakes his head. “Not that I recall, but I’ll be sure to send you their statements.”

“Did you see the son with a dog by chance?”

He shakes his head again. “Nope. I saw him myself as he was being escorted from the scene. He wasn’t holding a dog and there wasn’t a dog following after him either.”

“Alright,” you nod, finishing off the last of your notes by the dog toy sketch. “I’ll take it from here, Officer.”

“No problem, Detective. I’ll get outta your way and let ya do your thing.”  

Officer Reed tips his hat and heads back outside, leaving you to explore the rest of the house at your leisure. You head towards the kitchen, passing through what looks to be the dining room on the way there. Your eyes instantly spot the bowls previously mentioned on the floor by the end of a countertop. When you go over to inspect them, you see one is filled with water while the other is full of brown chunky pellets that look like your typical dog food. You bend down and pick up a pellet and give it a sniff, confirming that it is indeed dog food before making note of it in your sketchbook.

Your eyes flicker over and pause at the sight of a door. If I am not mistaken…that must lead to the garage, you surmise, slowly rising to your feet as you take note of a mat and a wooden key holder by the door. Multiple pairs of shoes are lined up across the mat, ranging from high heels and loafers to muddy sneakers and running shoes. You flip a page in your sketchbook and begin to draw, taking great care to detail the perfect formation shoes as well as the obvious gap in the middle of the mat…which could have possibly been the pair of shoes Mrs. Harmon put on before fleeing the scene.  

As soon as you are done sketching the missing pair of shoes, you glance over to the key holder and instantly notice an empty hook. You look closely at the other hooks, noting the pair of keys that belong with the sports car in the garage along with a couple of other mysterious keys. One of them looks like a key to a lawnmower while the other may be a key to a lock box or a safe. You quickly correct your previous note about the possibility of having hired help to at least not having it for lawncare before taking out a spare evidence bag. You carefully unhook the mystery key and drop it into the bag, making sure it is sealed properly before finishing up in the kitchen.  

You open a few drawers and cabinets, casually searching until you find a bag of name brand dog food in a nearby cupboard. The label boasts about being the best dog food on the market for small breeds, confirming your assumption from earlier when you first arrived. You quickly write that detail down and take one last hard look at the whole kitchen, letting what you have discovered so far tell their tale of what happened the night of the murder. All the little details fall into place and form an incomplete picture, but you can still glean some information from what you have gathered thus far:

The numerous pairs of shoes on the mat show no sign of being shoved out of place, which could mean the suspect felt no sense of urgency as they fled the scene. There is evidence that they owned a dog, but it either ran away or it’s hiding somewhere in the house…or perhaps a victim as well. And if it turns out that the latter is true, then the murder may not be the result a lover’s quarrel gone wrong.

The picture in your mind looks more like a preliminary drawing, but you remind yourself that even the best works of art take time to complete.

You check out the other rooms on the bottom floor only to find more evidence of this family’s luxurious wealth in the form of expensive paintings and furniture. Once again you see no evidence of a rushed exit, but that could simply be because the suspect did not have to enter most of the rooms on the way to the garage. You head back to the entrance hall and climb up the stairs to the second floor. The sight of more police tape blocking entry into one of the rooms tells you that is where you will find the body of the victim as well as the crime scene analyst scouring every inch of that room for crucial evidence.

Before you head in there for a quick debriefing, you take a quick peek into the other rooms and immediately deduce that the scene of crime happens to also be the bedroom.  You also take note of just how spotless each room appears to be, which may add more credence to this being premeditative murder. Easy there…don’t wanna jump the gun so soon, you mentally reprimand while nodding at the two officers on guard outside of the bedroom. You squeeze through a large gap in the police tape and your eyes instantly spot a most grisly sight.

Mr. Harmon is lying face up on the bloodstained carpet, dead vacant eyes staring up at the ceiling. You turn to a fresh page in your sketchbook and get to work mapping this horrid scene. The bed sits in the center of the room against the wall and the sheets are all rumpled. One of four pillows is on the floor while the others are strewn across the bed. The victim’s body is lying a couple of feet away from the foot of the bed and he appears to be wearing white cotton pajamas with a baseball theme pattern. Besides the messy bed and dead body, nothing else seems remotely out of place on first inspection. But that just means you need a closer look to add more detail to the sketch forming in your mind.

You draw out some final details before walking across the room towards Carmen Torres, the crime scene analyst currently snapping pictures of the victim. Both of you started out in Red Grave P.D. at the same time and have formed an amicable relationship over the past few years. She does not seem to mind your more serious and sometimes snarky attitude while you tolerate her eccentricities since behind her quirkiness lies a brilliant forensic mind. Plus, you enjoy her attempts at lightening the mood with cheery conversation while poking around a dead body.

The rotten stench of decay wafts under your nose before you can call out to get her attention, causing you to wrinkle your nose as you cough in disgust. Carmen looks back over her shoulder and flashes you a sunny smile. “Good morning, Quickdraw!” she greets, using her fond nickname for you despite all your vehement protests.

“There’s nothing good about it, San Diego,” you retort with a roll of your eyes while waving your hand in front of your face. “But I guess good morning to you too.”

“I see you’re as chipper as always,” Carmen jests as she reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a jar of what she refers to as miracle smelly cream before tossing it your way.

“I’ll be a dazzling ray of sunshine as soon as I get some coffee,” you chortle while catching the jar. You unscrew the cap, scoop a small amount of its contents onto your finger, and smear it beneath your nose. When you give a test sniff to see that the stench is no longer as strong you screw the cap back and toss the jar back to her. “But until then…” you trail off, taking one last look around the bedroom. Carmen waits patiently for you to continue, already aware that this is just part of your investigative routine from all the other times you have worked together. You glance through your sketchbook one last time before asking the age-old universal code once more:

“What have we got here?”

“A little variety for one thing!” Carmen exclaims as she takes a few steps closer to the body. “Not every day that we see the wife beating the shit of her husband before finishing them off!”

“True,” you admit with a tilt of your head. “Domestic violence where the woman is the abuser is not as common, but it still happens.” You follow her and crouch down over the body for closer inspection. Despite being dead, Mr. Harmon’s expression seems quite indifferent to his current state. Multiple injuries mare his face, neck, and chest, indicating that there was physical altercation before his untimely demise. It all points to a classic case of domestic abuse, but all the bruises you see are still black and blue.

“Did you happen to find any more bruises that are older?”

Carmen’s face scrunches up as she ponders your question before answering. “Uhhhh nope. I’ll make a note of it for the medical examiner…Oh!” She sets the camera down on the floor before scooting closer to the head of the body. “You’re gonna love this!” she declares with a confident grin. “As you can see, there’s a real nasty contusion on his head, which could’ve been the cause of death,” she informs while pointing to a bloody spot by the victim’s temple before continuing, “but there’s just one problem with that theory.”

You reach over and examine the wound with your gloved hand, feeling around the injury before looking back at her. “Not even a dent or crack in the skull,” you conclude softly, adding it to your mental sketch of the crime.

Carmen nods excitedly. “Exactly! So maybe he died from blunt force trauma to the head, but we won’t know for sure until the autopsy.” She picks up her camera and switches lenses before snapping a few detailed shots of the injury as she continues. “If anything, I’d say he suffered from a concussion. And if that’s the case, then it’s possible that it played a part in his death. Well, that and the loss of blood.”

“Hmm…seems plausible,” you murmur more to yourself as you withdraw your hand. “Miss Murder beats him up, he falls unconscious, and she probably runs away thinking that he’s dead.” You hold your sketchbook in your lap while you take out another rubber glove to replace the one now sullied with blood. As you carefully pull off the glove and slip a clean one on, you think about the recent cases yet to be solved. None of them are related in terms of how the crime itself happened, but there is one tiny physical detail that connects them. The more you think about it, the more you start to get a hunch that so far has never let you down.

“Is there any indication that he may have been paralyzed?”

Carmen pauses her photo session. “Uhhhh besides getting smacked aside the head? No, not really.” She removes the camera from her face and stares up at the ceiling in thought. “It’s possible that his spinal cord could’ve been hit during the beating, but I dunno if Miss Murder could’ve pull that off.” She turns her head and meets your contemplative gaze. “Ooooh! Are ya getting’ one of your Quickdraw hunches?” she guesses eagerly, eyes growing wide as she leans over in anticipation of your explanation.  

You grunt in mild annoyance before indulging her curiosity. “Let’s look at his hands and arms.”

Both of you lift a hand from where you are crouching and push back the sleeve of his pajamas down to the elbow. You splay the victim’s arm out onto the floor and begin to draw out your findings in the sketchbook. The inside of his palm is a bit calloused, perhaps from doing his own yard work, but the rest of his hand is smooth and free from any kind of blemish. You note that Carmen is examining the left hand and that a gold band is around his ring finger. His arm has a sprinkling of freckles among coarse hair as well as some muscle. And again, there are no blemishes of any kind…no cuts, no bruises, no injuries whatsoever.    

“No sign of defensive wounds,” Carmen mumbles in awe under her breath.

“It’s human instinct to defend yourself,” you chime in absentmindedly while you make note of your discovery by the depiction of the corpse in your sketchbook. “We still put up a fight even if it seems hopeless.”

You grow quiet as distant memories bubble up from the back of your mind, but you suppress the hurtful images as you reach over and pull the collar of the pajamas away from the victim’s neck. All you see are more bruises and no other injuries, so you follow your gut instinct and move onto to inspect his chest. You peek under the pajama top and see something odd just under his left pectoral. Your fingers make quick work of the buttons on the pajama top and you flick it off his chest for better inspection. And just as you expected, there is a small puncture wound that looks terribly like the other previous murders that have cropped up recently.  

“Oh shit!” Carmen gasps as she fumbles for her analyst kit. “I didn’t think about-”

“It’s okay,” you reassure while the corners of your lips quirk into your first smile of the day. “Nobody would’ve expected you to search for injection wounds since-”

“He has obvious signs of blunt force trauma to the head,” Carmen finishes your sentence as she takes out a couple of DNA swabs and tubes. “Do you think this is connected to the other murders? Or is this just one big coincidence?” she asks, quickly catching onto your hunch while you put a big circle around the puncture on your drawing.

“Don’t wanna jump to conclusions just yet,” you respond calmly while readjusting your glasses with the pencil. “Not until we perform an autopsy,” you tack on while Carmen gives you a knowing smirk. You stand back up and flip through your sketchbook, intending to ask her about the missing dog and if she came across a safe in the bedroom, but the sudden ringing of your phone interrupts your train of thought.

You shuffle the sketchbook in your arms, carefully trying to remove the rubber glove from one hand. Carmen watches you for a bit while you struggle before offering to slip the glove off for you when an annoyed huff leaves your lips. As soon as your hand is free from its protective barrier, you pull out your cellphone to see who is disturbing your investigation. “Huh…speak of the devil,” you mumble, seeing the name of the medical examiner before swiping the screen to answer.

“Hello?”

“Detective!” he greets you back enthusiastically. “I finally have the test results you wanted!”

“Excellent!” you exclaim while closing your sketchbook. “Mind if I swing by your office?”

“Oh gods yes! Please!”

You hear the definite sound of worry within his pleading voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, everything is fine! It’s just uh,” he pauses for a moment. “It’d probably be better if I just explain it to you in person.”

“Alright. I’ll head on over shortly,” you reply, arching a brow at his curious behavior, but you are not too surprised since he is known for being a little paranoid at times.

“Very good, Detective,” he sighs in relief. “See you then!”

When the end of the line cuts off, you check the time on your phone before slipping it back into your pocket. “You got a break in the case?” Carmen asks inquisitively as she snaps a few more close ups of the body.

“I sure fucking hope so,” you grumble morosely, “or else the Lieutenant will have my ass for leaving so soon.” You take out the evidence bag with the mysterious key. “I found this hanging on a key holder in the kitchen. Looks like it can open a safe or a lock box. Have you-”

“Nope, but I’m not quite done here,” she quickly answers while taking the bag from your grasp. “I’ll keep my eyes open for it though.”

You nod. “Also, have you seen any sign of their dog in the house?”

Carmen shakes her head. “No…but I did collect some small fibers from the bedsheets that could’ve been dog hair. Now get outta here!” She gestures towards the door with her head. “And don’t worry, I’ll cover for ya,” she reassures with a friendly smile. “It did sound like Graves was a little spooked by something…well, more so than usual.”

“Yeah,” you murmur while stuffing your gloveless hand into your jacket pocket. “Don’t know what that’s about.”

“Maybe…” she trails off in thought before her eyes suddenly grow wide. “One of the body’s came to life and confessed their love to him!”

“Oh my god,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling as she expands her ridiculous speculation.

“And he, so overtaken by their confession of undying love, asked them to be their lawfully wedded zombie!”

“Okay! I’m leaving now,” you announce with an indignant huff while walking towards the exit, glancing over your shoulder at the very exhilarated crime scene analyst.

“Aww!!! He probably wants to ask you to be his best woman at the undead wedding!”

“See ya, San Diego!” you bark back with a half-hearted wave of your sketchbook before rushing out of the bedroom, shaking your head in exasperation at her facetious claims while climbing down the stairs.

You remove the other rubber glove and your glasses as you head out the front door. The officers standing outside bid you farewell as you make your way down the long driveway, steeling yourself with every step as the clamor of news reporters rings out in the morning air. You are once again bombarded with various questions as you cross under the police tape. Your eyes narrow as you walk up to your motorcycle, which is currently surrounded by a small group of journalists from the local newspaper.

Damn press! you seethe, but their presence is not enough to stop you from blocking their incessant inquiries by putting on your helmet before mounting your ride. The group spreads out and tries to block your only exit, but you call their buff by revving your engine a couple of times in warning. They all jump back at the blaring purr of the bike, giving you an opening to take off from the crime scene with a loud roar.

Another day, another murder…but I’m also another day closer to solving this case, you resolve with a determined grin while turning down the road towards your next destination.

Read Chapter 2

My Ao3

My Masterlist if you want more 💖 

Tagging: @bettybattaglia @drusoona and @exsultry

[poetatertxt]

32 + sangcheng!

32. “Keep your eyes on me.” 

Jiang Cheng has a secret.

It isn’t a very cool secret. He doesn’t bite his nails or lose sleep over it; he doesn’t lock it away in a box. It’s the kind of secret held in plain sight—a secret of nonadmission, made in the simple absence of telling.

Jiang Cheng has a secret and it is this: he can sing.

The Jiang’s aren’t the most artistically-inclined family on the block. Wei Ying’s paintings look like splattered tea; A-Jie’s dancing is just satisfactory. Jiang Cheng can’t bake to save his life. 

But there’s one thing they all share: the voice. A familial art passed from elder to younger, cultivated in lullabies, poetry, and spoken tales, until each carried a separate piece of a full choir. Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan bookend their quintet, while the three Jiang children fill the middle: Jiang Yanli in mezzo soprano, Wei Wuxian in tenor, and Jiang Cheng in baritone.

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if he’s good. He’ s not showy like Wei Wuxian, who always gets the leads in school musicals, or carefree like A-Jie, who sings wherever she goes. Jiang Cheng’s music is a skill he’s never bothered to share. There are few reasons to sing beyond family lessons. So he doesn’t.

Until Nie Huaisang.

“There’s a new karaoke place,” he says over lunch one day. “Over next to the bowling alley. Do you want to go?”

Jiang Cheng shrugs. “It’s up to you.” He pauses, glancing. “Are you going to finish those?”

Nie Huaisang sighs and shoves the tray across the table.

Now Nie Huaisang—he’s artistic. In fact, Jiang Cheng is positive there isn’t a single unimaginative bone in Nie Huaisang’s body. He breathes art from the way he moves—elegant and graceful, a dancer’s body—to the way he laughs—musical and bright, like a glass struck gently. 

The very sight of him makes Jiang Cheng want to simultaneously hide and bask in his presence. It’s maddening.

One wouldn’t think them to be friends. At a glance, one certainly wouldn’t think them to be boyfriends. Where Nie Huaisang is crafty and sweet, Jiang Cheng is blunt and sour. He doesn’t play word games or listen to gossip. He just is.

Jiang Cheng, the expert at being an expert of nothing.

But he loves Nie Huaisang. Really, he does—a terrifying kind of love in its greatness and newness, like discovering the universe’s vast landscape. He loves the way Nie Huaisang wrinkles his nose in thought, or the way he secretly snorts when he laughs too hard. He loves everything about him.

Which is why, when Nie Huaisang pushes to go to karaoke, he agrees.

Jiang Cheng does his best not to quail under Nie Mingjue’s heavy gaze as he picks up Nie Huaisang from his house. They may be about to have their five month anniversary, but the elder Nie brother terrifies him no less than when he first discovered Jiang Cheng leaving a love letter in the mailbox. 

An unfortunate memory, that one.

“You look good,” he tells Nie Huaisang. He’s dressed for the occasion in green pants and a cream sweater big enough to hang over his palms. Jiang Cheng wants to squeeze him. “Cute.”

Nie Huaisang flushes gently. He’s a perfect match for the sunset like this: pink-tinged, soft and pale. Jiang Cheng aches to kiss him, so he does. And then again. And again.

“Stop,” Nie Huaisang mumbles against his lips. He’s laughing already, bright and sweet. “Karaoke, remember? We have to make it there first.”

Jiang Cheng sighs, but acquiesces. “I didn’t know you were big on singing,” he says. “I thought you preferred oil paints. And ballet. And cake decorating.”

“I do.” Nie Huaisang jabs at a crosswalk button. “But I also like to sing.” He slides a sideways glance. “What about you?”

What about him? Jiang Cheng looks back, steadfast. “What?”

“What do you prefer?”

A loaded question. Jiang Cheng is getting better at answering those. 

“I like,” he decides, following Nie Huaisang’s lead across the street, “to watch others perform.”

“But you don’t perform yourself.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Why do you think?” He gestures at himself with his free hand, ignoring the sudden bitterness in his throat. “Who would want to see this?”

Nie Huaisang gazes back at him. “I could think of a few,” he murmurs softly. “But only if you want to.”

An open invitation—a way out. But will Jiang Cheng take it? Will he hide this secret away for another that may never come?

“We’ll see,” he tells him. “We’ll see.”

The karaoke place is shiny and bright. Gaggles of girls cluster around the front sign, their laughter echoing into the establishment. There are neon road signs hanging and black and white tiles; there’s a food bar, formica and chrome, with a glowing sign above. Jiang Cheng’s never been into a retro joint before, but he’d like to think this place exactly fits the bill. It’s visually loud.

“Wow,” Nie Huaisang breathes. “We should take Wei Ying and Lan Zhan here next time.”

The idea of going anywhere where Wei Ying can show off gives Jiang Cheng a premature migraine. “Or not,” he mutters, and steps up to the counter.

The place is pay-by-the-hour. Jiang Cheng pays for two (“my treat,” he tells Nie Huaisang, “since you paid last time,”) and a whole order of fried chicken to take in with them. 

“Room Six,” the attendant girl says. She smiles, passing the key. “Enjoy!”

The room is small. Cozy. There’s a squeaky plastic booth, a table for their food, and a giant TV with eight microphones that can be turned on and off at will. 

Jiang Cheng gulps.

They start off slow. Nie Huaisang turns on some slow ballads to croon while Jiang Cheng digs into the fried chicken. It’s pleasant like this: gentle piano keys, Nie Huaisang’s sweet tenor, the disco lamp’s slow spin at the center of the room. 

And then Nie Huaisang has an idea.

“Do they have pop music in here?” He scrolls with the remote. “Jiang Cheng, get a microphone. I want to sing a duet.”

“Huh?” He squints up from his chicken. “But..”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes go big, his bottom lip jutting out. “You.. don’t want to sing with me?”

Jiang Cheng hesitates. Sets down his chicken. Stands.

“Fine,” he mutters, shuffling forward to take the proffered mic. Nie Huaisang beams. “I’ll do it.”

He doesn’t look when Nie Huaisang picks a song. There’s a strange bubbling rising in his stomach; his palms, tingling, begin to sweat. 

It’s not a big deal. Really. It’s just..

The lights dim. The disco lamp begins to spin steadily again—faster this time, with bright spots of lemon and rose. Heady bass thrums between them into the room.

Nie Huaisang turns, smile playing at his lips.

Keep your eyes on me.. 

It’s one of Nie Huaisang’s favorites. Jiang Cheng isn’t one for indie pop himself, but he’s heard it enough to know the lyrics. He watches Nie Huaisang sing for a moment, voice wrapping like a caress in the dark, and finally—pushing past his nerves—sucks in a breath to join.

You make me focus

When you love someone the rest just falls away..

Nie Huaisang’s eyes widen. His lips part, eyelashes fluttering, but he rallies surprisingly quick. Before Jiang Cheng can stop—does he really sound that bad?—Nie Huaisang joins in again, layering over his baritone in dulcet tones.

It all just falls away..

Jiang Cheng’s heart thrums in his chest. It’s.. strange. Letting go feels like stepping forward off of a railing or letting go of a tire swing: a freefall, weightless and exhilarating, that makes his bones sing with an unspoken voice. He can’t stop looking at Nie Huaisang, who can’t stop looking at him, and they sound so good together— 

More, his heart whispers. I want to sing with you more.

When the song finally comes to an end, Nie Huaisang is close enough to kiss. So he does.

Nie Huaisang sighs against his lips. “You should have told me.”

Jiang Cheng’s blood pumps through his veins. “What?” he breathes.

“You..” Nie Huaisang’s blushing again, golden eyes bright like faraway stars. “Jiang Cheng, you sing beautifully.”

And it shouldn’t mean much. He’s no performer—not like Wei Wuxian, flashy and bright, or A-Jie, solemn and open. He’s just Jiang Cheng.

But the way Nie Huaisang glows through the darkness, excitement all over his beautiful face, makes Jiang Cheng want to sing for him again. And again. And again, until all the notes in the world have been given new life through Nie Huaisang’s ears.

So he does. He chooses another song—a solo, one of Nie Huaisang’s favorites again—and cradles his head close, rasping into the mic, until they’re kissing instead of singing and the backtrack trails away, leaving them lost in the darkness together. 

[sunca]

Hey congrats on starting your writing blog !! Could I request Narancia with 2 and 87 from the yandere prompts? Maybe in like a school setting of sorts? Thank you in advance!! 💕

"𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎"

Yandere Narancia x reader(Yandere Prompts)

2. "Please pay attention to me."

87. "What do I need to make you love me back?"

~~~~~~

Scenario.

Warning : Death, blood, gore, physical violence, curse words, kidnapping, mentioned of stalking, yandere stuff, a bit of lust.

Count : 4030

Thank you. I appreciate it. (•-•)\💖

Sorry for the wait. I've been busy these days but as soon as I finished those stuffs, I went straight down to writing and fixing this.

Please accept this art as my apology. Long hair, fancy Narancia is a must and reader as a small chibi.

Requests still open. Thank you and I hope this brings satisfaction to you.

Sadly, I couldn't post this with read more. ;-; Forgive me.

I almost forgot. Recommended song for this.

Anson Seabra - Stay with me

~~~~~~

Sleepless nights and those stares which hunted you in the darkness. You tried to sleep soundly as much as you could but those nightmares picked you like a marionette and made you dance as they willed. Traces of fingers on your skin offered the ecstasy of waking up. Only to have chills rushing on you. Sweats and tears tainted on the mattress. The warmth of another person, the breeze would steal every night. The welcomed window with a broken lock in your view. An orange wrist band disappearing into the leaves of a nearby tree.

You hid your yawn with your book from your teacher. She shot a glance at you but you just tried to hide between your shoulders. Dark circles lingering around your eyes as you tried to wipe your tears away. You once again looked down at your book to greet with an x and its long lost number. y and z waiting for their soulmates. Numbers running around on your page playground. A discontented sign falling down along with your tense shoulders.

Slender fingers rested on his cheek. His chin stood gracefully on his palm. His captivating purple eyes sojourned on your back. You who couldn't concentrate won't be able to detect his enthusiasm for you. He planned to open his heart for you today. He could only wish it would go well. He can only wish. The echo of the bell rolling into the class directed his attention to turn to his dear friend.

Fugo closed his book and let it rest for a period. His hand reaching for the lemon coloured lunchbox and water bottle. Narancia then get attracted to your magnet but blocked by a girl who stood between you two. Narancia looked up to see her lunch box held tight to her chest. She then build up her courage to ask him to spend his precious time with her. He leaned back. Creating more space between him and her. Showing uninterested body language. A single worded rejection. His feet walking on your yellow path. You getting up to get some space from people, stopped in your tracks when he came into your view.

"Hey, (Y/N)! Nothing to do at lunch. Right? Come join us! You've been busy with that club and activities. I missed you," he whined with puppy eyes. You being your dithering self because of restlessness. "Sure," You replied with a small puff and smile, blinking your fuzzy vision away. His gleaming smile blinding you so easily. "Great! Let me grab my lunch box fast! Wait here!" He gleefully replied and headed back to his seat. A soft smile staplered on his cheeks.

The three of you sitting under the unfixed clouds. A baby tomato rolling under your fork. You listened to the back and front between Fugo and Narancia. This bickering was bringing out more headache for you. Then suddenly, Narancia wrapped his arms around your torso and faked a cry. "(Y/N)! See? Fugo is making fun of me! I just don't understand math and he's calling me 'stupid' again!" You let out a tired sigh and patted his head. "I'm calling you stupid because you are! 33×12 is 36? Oh. What a genius! How many times do I have to teach you that?!" Fugo looked as if a strawberry now. His face all red because of rage.

"Oh, Fugo. By the way, did you heard-," Narancia looked up at you. His hands not retreating back from you but holding more tightly. You were focused on Fugo and letting him know about the new series he caught upon. The two of you would buy the book together or inform each other about the news related to that series. You and Fugo having interest in a same subject once in a while. Narancia was not getting any of it. His eyebrows fusing.

"(Y/N)! I burned my hand the other day!" He put his hand in between you and Fugo's eye contact. You just nodded and patted him again but didn't stop communicating with Fugo. Narancia's hand slowly drafted back to your shoulder. Tears welding on his eyes. His cheeks swelling. He then slowly fell onto your lap. His hands closest to his heart which was aching for you. Both Fugo and you stopped in track. You looked upon a teenage boy in tears, sulking like a baby and resting on your lap.

"Please pay attention to me, (Y/N)."

His voice shaking. You felt bad for not giving him the attention he deserved and run your fingers through his hair gently. Narancia has always been like this whenever you ignored him a bit. You didn't want to speak it out loud but it slipped through. "Aww~ my baby," you wiped his tears away. Narancia started sniffing and sobbing. You picked him up by his shoulder and he sat up. "Don't cry. Don't cry~," Mischief in your sugary voice. "Aww~ There. There," you comforted him with a hug and caressed his head. Fugo scoffed and focused on eating again. Turning his gaze away from the two of you.

After a minute or two, the door to the rooftop swung. A pair of canary preying you in. Burgundy hair combed back neatly. His sharp jaw ready to slice anyone in two. His flawless face shining like silver. Turtleneck white sweater revealing his ravishing physique. Black jeans hugging his slender and long legs. The papers in his grip rustled as the breeze flowed in.

Once he saw you, he stormed up to you. You looked up at Kevin, your club's president. Narancia, on the other hand, didn't want Kevin to come and destroy his paradise, and he knew Kevin would be a bad new for him. As soon as he saw Kevin, Narancia glanced to you. Narancia didn't expect and want this to happen but here you are, looking at a boy other than him.

"Oh, Kev! What brought you here?" You greeted him and drew back your hands. Narancia didn't bother to move from your side. Fugo twisted his neck to look up from his lunch to your target. Fugo repositioned himself since he saw who was it and listened to hear whatever Kevin had to say. "(Y/N), Mrs. Smith said you made some mistakes in the paper sheets for the club. You better get there now and I have things to do," Kevin stood beside Fugo and waited for you.

"I will go there once I finish my lunch," you glared up at Kevin. Narancia was also glaring at Kevin. "She didn't look like she was busy which is unusual," Kevin insisted. Kevin's demand irked you and you rolled your eyes. "Fine," you groaned as you packed your lunch back up. Narancia complained as he clasped your arm. "(Y/N), you don't have to go." Narancia's puppy eyes striking your week spot but you couldn't say no to the class president. "I'm sorry, Narancia but I have to. I will see you back in class when this is over. Ok? No worries," you gave Narancia a reassuring smile and stood up. Narancia's eyes were narrowing at Kevin. Fugo noticed this and observed him carefully. So then, he could step in if Narancia was to burst out.

You headed to the teachers' office and prepared yourself. Kevin was walking on the corridor of the old, abandoned school building. He just needed to grab some stuffs from there. He was on his way until he saw a group of people in a class. He pulled the door open and shouted, "Students are prohibited to come here withou-," he saw an adult looking like a street rat handing a bag wrapped in tape to a student. "YOU! Outsiders are prohibited here too and state your busines -" Before his sentence ended, —wham!— his unconscious body fell onto the dusty floor with a thud.

Narancia tried his best to keep his serenity but something clicked in him. He threw his orange juice and stood up. "That motherf*cker!! $&j#fc;h-e)g£sv%y!!!" He cursed as the bottom of his shoe stamped upon the poor lunchbox. Noodles flat under, the sauce splashed across the concreted floor, the plastic scattered into pieces and his shoe fouled by the mess. Fugo noticed the buzz in his pants pocket and reached for it. Checking the ID, he then picked it up. "Pronto."

"Damn it!" Narancia exclaimed as he rubbed his shoe on the clean surface of the floor. "They're always trying to steal my (Y/N) away. A*sh*les!" Narancia kicked the air and his feet yeeted his shoe. Narancia was too furious to pay attention to Fugo or his talk. He then let out a frustrated sigh and hopped. "Yes. We'll take care of it. Arrivederci," Fugo hung up and shoved the phone back into his pants. He then reversed his direction back to Narancia who was putting on his shoe again.

"Narancia," he calmly called him to see his fumming face almost as if a tomato. "They're making a move now. Gior- Boss want us to take action. Bruno said he will send the info in 5 minutes," Fugo's sentences were short but held engrossing mystery in them. Narancia's face was dark and occupied with a wide grin which would inject a chilling trepidation to everyone sane but Fugo wasn't bothered. The thought of finishing an order perfectly enraptured Fugo as he couldn't wait to spend more time with his beloved who was in a cage. "Go fetch (Y/N) after this," Fugo shot a smirk and encouraged Narancia. The two boys communicating with their eye contact. You who thought Fugo and Narancia were normal teenagers and not knowing anything about their past, didn't even notice the foreboding gift future has in store for you.

When you entered the club room, you couldn't find Kevin anywhere. "MuMu, have you seen Kev anywhere? I need him to check these sheets," you asked a girl who was filling in forms. "Ah! He went to that old building in the west. He said he needed some files from class B," she answered and you smiled at her. "Thank you!" You replied and headed to there. Looking over the papers in your fingers again. "This will be fine. I guess...," you spoke to yourself.

Narancia and Fugo were checking out the rooms at the ground level. They entered the 5th room when you entered the hall. You then zigzagged and stepped on the first step of the stairs. 'Class B. Huh. That would be third floor.' You thought to yourself and rubbed your temple. "Wait. This building has three stairs. Right? What if I miss Kevin? I can't let it happen! I must hand in these today," you talked to yourself and hurried your steps. "Nothing's here too," Fugo looked up to Narancia. He was squatting and checking for footprints or any sign of their target were here or the packs since the info showed they stored some in here. "Let's move on," Narancia replied as he head to the stairs.

You arrived on the third floor and everything was a mess. There were plastic bags, dry leaves and dusts. You looked up to the sign on top of an entrance. It read 'E' and you moved on to get where you wanted to be. When you passed through class D, you heard something. You stopped in track and paid attention to it. It was as if something was being beaten. You backed to the wall and approached the back door of the third room. You sneakily opened the door a bit and peeked in. A strange scent hitting your nostrils.

There was a group of students and some people in normal attire. Smokes surrounding their heads. Cigarettes in between of their fingers. Some were staring down at the centre. You followed their gaze. A fist rose and fell like a tsunami. You couldn't see who was the victim since the desks and some males blocked it. You keeled for a better view and in between legs, you saw a familiar male with burgundy hair. Blood rivering down on his lips and chin. His nose all red. His face swollen.

You questioned why he didn't fight back and you covered your mouth. His fingers bending back in. Blood stained on his white sweater. Two knives attached to his belly. You started to tremble and your breath hitched. You wanted to step in and help Kevin but it would be around 15 against 1. You don't even stand a chance.

You gotta get out of there fast and affirm the teachers. When you raised your head back, the door swung open with a creek. You looked up like a cornered prey under the gaze of a predator. To meet with a pair of eyes staring down at you. A grin sent chills down your spine. You didn't waste any time and sprang for the escape. The shadow behind you chased you down. You were pulled back by a hand wrapping by your waist. "HELP-!" Your mouth covered by a hand.

"Did you hear that?" Narancia glanced at his friend who didn't turn away from his staring towards the ceiling. "Hear what?" Narancia had a confused expression. Fugo then looked at Narancia. "Narancia, call out Aerosmith. They might still be in this building," Fugo commended him. "Okay?" Narancia raised an eyebrow and spread his arms horizontally. "Aerosmith!"

You were struggling against two males. The others were staring or laughing at your inadequate struggles. You kicked, wiggled your body out, punched and did everything you could but nothing seemed to work until you remembered a method. You kicked the male in front of you where the sun don't shine and curved in your spine to smash that nose with the back of your head. The grip around you loosened. Your feet trying to be your life saviour, betrayed by a hand grabbing on one. Your face came in to kiss the floor. A crack rang in your ears and a light flashed before you. You tried to get back up but restrained by a pull.

You rolled around and punched anyone who was in sight. Your hand captured in a grip but you used all of your force and took your hand back. Your other hand reached something and you grabbed it. Panic swung your hand and —Shluk!— crimson liquid spattered. A glass shard deep in the throat of a student. Blood trailing down from his mouth and nose. He choked out and a daub of red landed on your cheek, soon to roll slowly to side. Your eyes went wide. You brought up your hand to wipe the burning sensation on your nose and hide that glup. You were stunned. Your brain tried to reload what you just did but errors delayed it.

Tap, tab, tap, dab, dap, dab, dap, swissh, dab, swissh, dab, dap, zwish, dab, dap, zwish, Dap, zwish, Dab, Dap, zwish, Dab, BAM!

The door swung open, brining you back to reality with a flinch. Your head spun and you saw a ray of hope along with two boys. Narancia's scanning fell upon you as soon as you goggled him. Your nose red. Blood smeared on your philtrum, upper lateral subunit and upper lip. Your obscured tears failed on you. The look in your eyes begged him to save you. Your lips quivering. Your quietened sobs emerging. "What the f*ck!?" A wrongdoer swore out loud and they prepared themselves by picking up some chair, wood stick, spiked bat, and pocket knives.

"Na-Narancia...," You ran towards him but your legs gave out and you crawled. Clinging on his leg. He crouched towards you. Holding your trembling hand in his. Your poor body shaking like a leaf. Tears streaming down on your exquisite cheeks. Your state in this situation and a murmur of your voice turned on the insanity inside him. "Fugo, I will leave (Y/N) to you," Fugo took over his role and supported you to stand up. Narancia's face was hard to read when you glanced at him. Narancia stood tall.

Your back leaned on the dirty wall. Your breath hitching and you hugged onto Fugo tightly. Burying your face in his chest. Snivelling all your emotions out. Screaming were heard in the distance. Fugo patted your back and separated you by your shoulders. "(Y/N)?" He called your name and you looked up at him. "I need you to stay here and not going anywhere. Ok?" he waited for your answer. You nodded while sobbing. He set up a reassuring smile and left you there. You sat there and wiped your tears away. When you glanced at Fugo, you saw him walking into that room.

"YOU BASTARD! YOU WORTHLESS LITTLE S*HT!! YOU SHOULD GO DIE IN A S*HT HOLE, YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING B*TCH!!" The dead hooligan lied flat under Narancia's shoe. Narancia's breathes were hitching, and veins were popping out on his forearm and the back of his hand. Blood painted the wall and floor red. The pool under his shoe sticky and thick. They deserved it. No one and by means that, not even a single soul is allowed to hurt his perfection whom he worship daily. Anyone who left a scratch on (Y/N)'s body will be left with a missing limb but made her bleed more than a drop? Haha. Ya gotta be kidding about it.

Fugo stopped him in track. "(Y/N) need you now. Go. I will take care of them," Fugo's hand on his shoulder, giving Narancia a proud smile. Narancia stepped back and cooled himself down. Fugo took out a glass bottle and a handkerchief. He opened the cap and enclosed the lid with the handkerchief. He then turned them upside down. Soon to be back in their position. He handed the handkerchief to Narancia. "Here. Take this just in case." Narancia took it and in a split second, there was a wide, merry grin on his cheeks. He put it in the skirt pocket. "Yea! Thanks, Fugo!" He exclaimed gleefully and ran out of the class with a jolly behaviour. Fugo chuckled at Narancia's usual behaviour and put the covering back on.

Of course. You must be waiting for him all this time. You need him like he needs you. You sinning his thoughts and nights. You who was defenceless. He who was resistless to you or your beguiling body. His hands not wanting to depart from your skin. His lips brushing softly on your throat. He was addicted to you. You who spellbound him, lured him in, ensnared him, planted a seed called possessiveness in him, seized his obsession only to yourself and inveiged him to come swoop your fragile soul from this heartless world. He's your knight in shinning armour after all.

"(Y/N)!" You heard a familiar voice. Your sugary name cloying him more and more. He was drunk upon the bewitching splendour of your beauty. Your voice ripping his stability bit by bit. His body towered you. Trapped you between his torso and the wall. You were in a daze. His tranquil smile avenging your cruel actions towards him. His loving gaze hypnotising the poor prey.

You turned your head to the source. A breeze revealing a dazzling boy to you. "Narancia!" You called your friend's name as you eyed him up. He who bathed in his enemies' blood. You wiped your tears again as you stood up. Observing the boy before you in terror. "I killed them for you~ (Y/N)♡," his voice sickeningly sweet. His usual cute smile inverted into a nightmare with blood staining on it. "Thi-This is wrong. So wrong...," you choked out. His eyebrows raised with disbelief. "What are you talking about, (Y/N)? This is the right thing to do! They hurt you! You are a perfection and I'm your guardian! If anyone try to corrupt you, they are devils and it's my duty to get rid of them! Hehe," he chuckled lightly. As if taking out the fire of life was nothing more than a joke to him.

"Naranci-" you were cut off. "I love you~" The grin not dropping from his face. "W-Wha-What?" You asked again not because you didn't quite catch it but because you didn't get what he meant by that. "I love you♡" An adorable giggle rumbled down his chest. "Wha- N-No! Liste-" you tried to speak again. "No? You don't love me?" The wretched look gushed down your throat like a blazing lava. Guilt's hands tightening around you throat. "No. No. That's not-" Your panic dragged and chucked you down the cliff.

"Then what do I need to do to make you love me back, (Y/N)?"

You stopped. You legitimately stopped. He wasn't trying to hear out what you had to spill. He wasn't even trying. It seemed as if he won't give up or drop that subject. No. He wouldn't and you have had it. You took a sharp breath in. Your legs spun and took a step farther away from him. Your back getting smaller and alarm bells rang loudly in his head. Your direction fixed on the stair. He pulled you back by your wrist and made you face him. His hand sneaking around your waist.

"Let me g-" your lips sealed with his. Your heart jumped like a rabbit and your mind reset itself. If you were just an innocent civilian, he wouldn't do anything to you but remember that time you helped him with that winsome smile? Remember that time when you let him rest on your lap? Remember that time you held him tight in your sleep? You have given him those blushes, those smiles, those giggles, those restless nights with only you in his head, those hushed moans and those vivid dreams. You have stolen his only heart and tried to flee with it. Did you think he was that stupid to let you go after everything he went through for you?

A white silk between the two teenagers sparkled under the orangy ray. The sun slowly dying on the horizon, letting his lover breathe and shine in the darkness with her small sparkling fairies. Your breathing uneven. Unable to leave his dusky purple soul. He fed upon your candy as his right hand flew up to cup your cheek. His thumb swinging left and right. Your cheek dough under his fingers. Your life like a droplet of rain in his palm.

His touches varied into needy ones. His desire asking for more as his lips once again sucked the life out of you. His tongue burrowing into you. Your hands constraining him away from you. Your head trying to break away from his grasp. Your brain sending red flags in your view. Your anxiety lining tears on your lower eyelashes. Your lung shrieking for the oxygen you needed. Him devouring on your sobs.

Your leg swung back to aim whichever part of his leg you can reach. —Wham!— he groaned and reached for his luckless shin. You didn't waste any time and hurtled wherever you can but far from this pitiful boy. Your legs wanting to give out under you but your brain forcing them not to. Your heart ringing in your ears. The stairs blurred in your vision.

You set your foot upon the second floor and aimed to make a U turn to descend more. Coincided with a yelp, your flimsy body was tugged back by a hand wrapping around your chest. Your nose and mouth were covered by a hand, linked with a cloth. Due to the intense exercise you had, you respired a small amount of chemical with a gasp. The sharp smell made you press harder into his chest, gratifying him more.

Your fists hitting his hands, pulling them away. Your body twisting in order to be freed. Your tears messy on your cheeks. Your limbs faltered. Your muscles relaxed. Your soul doors pulling the curtains. Your head rested on his shoulder. Your consciousness fell into the dark abyss. Pulling you along with it. A word echoed in the void.

"𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙮."

[mayve-hems]

Old Me | Ashton Irwin x OC

Type: IMAGINE | ONE SHOT | MULTI CHAPTER

Summary: It all started with a lie. One that tore the two Ashtons apart from each other the day before graduation. Five years later, Ashton and Kalypso are showing up to Calum Hood’s wedding, prepared only a little for what is about to come. Ashton is determined to prove to his ex girlfriend that he never has, and never will, stop loving her. 

Word Count: 14.7k

Note: I love my friend Anna because she helped me so much with this and she will forever have my heart. 

Warnings: selling/use of weed, drinking, lots and lots of cussing

Normal

Flashback

-

Kalypso ducks her head underneath a bathtub of water. Her chocolate brown hair billows around her like she’s a sea creature or a mermaid goddess watching over Mount Olympus. If she were a few years younger, she would’ve stained the rim of the bathtub with a hair dye concoction straight from a box.

Resurfacing, she scrubs paint from her fingers, arms, legs, and face. Stuffed deep under her nail beds, she reaches for Paris Pink paint. She hisses, separating her skin and nail, but admires how nice they look. Plain, long-stained black, and mostly healthy. Making a mental note to look up nail salons for a much needed acrylic manicure, she hears a pawing at the bathroom door.

Even though she’s single and lives alone, she knows there’s no privacy in her small apartment. Magik, a black cat she found in a dumpster, is clingier than Kalypso’s little sister, Stella. She has three seconds to stand and pull a towel around her body before she sees her hallway through a newly opened door and a quiet mew enters the bathroom. Magik is too smart for her own good.

“I’m glad it’s only you,” Kalypso sighs and steps onto a blue bath mat right out of the clawfoot tub. The linoleum is cold underneath her toes from her air conditioning, so right out of the bathtub, she never stands directly on the bathroom floor without something there. Kalypso forgets her slippers once again so she maneuvers a leap from the bathmat, through the semi-opened door, and onto her pretty white carpet. “Thought I’d have to deal with Stella,” She smiles once she’s on the carpet.

“Heard that!” Stella, Kalypso’s younger sister, says over her shoulder in the kitchen. Her hands busy themselves with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The bathroom is at the end of the hallway, with the kitchen having a sharp pivot to the left when you enter the living room, meaning that if she talks loud enough, Stella can hear everything Kalypso may say about her. “I was giving you time not to smell.”

“I hate you,” Kalypso sighs and turns left into her bedroom. A dream bedroom-- one with 70s rock and 80s pop -scratched- record glued to her ceiling, and blankets covering her bed. Hung LED lights and paint pretending to melt from the walls where the ceiling attaches and the aroma of vanilla incense. “Do you ever go home?”

She’s filled milk crates with vinyls that are used, right next to her bed, underneath the table holding the record player. To the left of her bed is an enormous window showing her a view of the city laid out in color and sunlight. Along her floor, she’s left clothes and other things out instead of cleaning them up.

Pulling her closet door open, two empty canvases tumble from beside her dresser. She picks them up, shoves them back into their designated place, and drops her towel to the floor. Kalypso isn’t worried about the windows on the top floor or her sister inside of her apartment.

Her fingers brush the sleeves of colorful shirts, over her dresser, and pays no attention to the art supplies she’s included inside. Above her hanging clothes are packing supplies and canvases she still needs to send out.

Kalypso owns her own ‘company’ called AKM_arts. AKM, after her initials, and arts because that’s always been her passion. Drawing, coloring, painting, crafting something into the way she’s feeling and letting the world see her so raw. She began as an instagram artist, Ashton Kalypso Montgomery, but quickly started selling custom pieces.

“You’re so pale,” Stella says, watching Kalypso pull a pair of jean shorts up her legs. Her plan for the day was to purchase more circle canvases when the shops finally opened. She needed to start more tie-dye nameplates. A man requested one for his daughter, Auzilynn, which Kalypso couldn’t seem to pronounce. “How are you Australian?”

Kalypso loves showing off her tattoos to the world; her mother's initials tattooed on the inside of her right shisn, a koi fish down her thigh, a single bee painfully placed behind her knee, a feather falling from hip to thigh, and several things in between. Her body is a canvas for anybody that deems themselves good enough.

“You’re two years younger than me, why do we look like twins?” Kalypso pulls a black shirt over her head that leaves the word ANGEL tattooed on her clavicle. “Is this cute?”

“You always looks tupid,” Stella replies, rolling her eyes. “But you’re still pale.”

“We’ve established this,”

“I got your mail for you,” Stella takes a bite from her sandwich, tearing the crust from the rest of the bread. Kalypso and Stella look a lot alike, besides their hair color. Kalypso always opted for a darker, more vibrant color like her natural dark brown. Stella, blonde, preferred pastels when they were in school.

Kalypso snatches the letter from her younger sister’s hand. Addressed for Ashton Kalypso Montgomery, apartment 607B. Stamped with a dog photo, and sealed with red wax. “It’s from Calum Hood.”

“Yeah, I got the same one,” Stella smiles at her sister. Kalypso and Calum’s friend group were close at one point, so Stella hung around as much as she could. The nuisance in the same grade as Calum and Luke that joined everything they did with Kalypso. “He’s getting married.”

“Married?”

“Yeah, his fiance is beautiful,”

Kalypso rips open the packaging. The location, the date and time, and a picture of Calum and his future-wife standing together in front of a brick wall. Stella’s right, Calum’s fiance is beautiful; curly brown hair, a hand placed over Calum’s chest, and a perfect smile. “Cool,” Kalypso tosses the invitation and the envelope in the trash. “Hope he has a good wedding.”

“You’re not going?”

“I love Calum and all, but I don’t want to see Ashton,”

“It’s been five years, Kal, get over it,” Stella brushes her blonde locks from her long face. “Please? I want to talk to Luke.”

“It’s been five years, Stel, get over it,” Kalypso bends down to look into her paint drawers unit for a certain color. Auzilynn’s name plate requires a rainbow painted into a tie-dye pattern. Kalypso isn’t sure if she has the correct shade of blue. “What would I do with my cat?” Opening the drawer dedicated the blue paints, she has more than enough.

“Alexander could watch Magik,” Stella replies, thinking about the guy just down the hall she’s trying to date. They’re in the flirting stage so far, and she hopes they’ll progress further eventually. “And I’m not trying to hook up with Hemmings. I’m trying to get my laptop back from him. It’s been way too long.”

She’s a year younger than her sister. She graduated with Luke Hemmings and Calum Hood. At the end of the day, she was a part of their friend group, including her sister Kalypso, Kalypso’s childhood best friend Michael Clifford, and Kalypso’s boyfriend, Ashton Irwin. WhenKalypso graduated from school, she was ready to take off and leave Sydney, never look back at the place that reminded her of her entire high school career. Stella was permitted to graduate halfway through her last year of school and they moved into the same apartment.

“He probably doesn’t have it anymore. It’s been five years,”

“Ashton probably doesn’t have feelings for you anymore, Ashton Kalypso. It’s been five years,”

Since they’re sisters, it didn’t take long for Stella to finally reach her limit and move into the apartment next door. They enter each other's homes whenever they want.

Kalypso rolls her eyes. “Do you ever stop?”

“Are you going to go?”

“Hell no,” Kalypso lets out a loud chuckle. “You’re hilarious,”

-

Returning from the store, Magik greets Kalypso at the door. Dropping four reusable bags on the floor, she greets her loud cat with pets and kisses. Canvases, paint, stickers, glitter, paintbrushes, all equaling way too much money from Kalypso’s wallet covers the entrance of her apartment. After greeting the cat, she gets started on cleaning her room and putting things away.

She throws the bags on her bed to straighten out the messy place. Clothes are folded or thrown into a laundry basket, blankets are folded or placed on her bed, canvases that turned out bad are put in a repaint pile where she turns them black and makes galaxies, and the craft massacre in her closet becomes properly organized. She puts canvases into an organizer with different sizes for different canvases and anything involving paint bottles or paint brushes directly is thrown into the messy paint drawers. She’s got way too many bottles of the same shade of blue that she needs for the rainbow tie-dye, but adds another into the drawer.

Quickly, though, she has to get to painting. Swirls of orange and red chase each other around an oval canvas. Swirling inward then out, mirroring each other. She goes in order of the rainbow, leaving one strip of purple on the narrow inside of the swirl. Tie-dye on a canvas. After it dries, she free hands the same. The person that ordered it chose basic cursive writing, which is easy with the help of muscle memory. Auzilynn, weird, but interesting.

She prints a label for the canvas and gets the packaging supplies ready so she can slip it inside and put it into the pile of canvases that need to be shipped off. She has eighteen wrapped canvases to go out of Australia, but only a few are staying inside. One, Auzilynn’s, isn’t going farther than the apartment complex a few blocks away. If Kalypso makes it in time, she can get Auzilynn’s out by 11 AM and have it delivered within a day.

Kalypso has over 100 orders to do, and only a few days until they need to be shipped off. She can’t take a few days off for a stupid wedding, it’d be worthless.

Although, she could use the break.

No! That’s stupider than anything else she’s thought of. At the same time, she could show off her glow-up and amazing life. Painting all day and night, scheduling her working hours, deciding what she gets to do. She has things to get done. Her paintbrushes need to be cleaned, canvases need to be organized and shipped, and her apartment is a disaster.

Taking a break from painting, Kalypso pours wet cat food into Magik’s bowl next to the refrigerator . The cat digs into her md-morning breakfast as if she’d never eaten before.

Across from the refrigerator, Kalypso pours a sink of hot water from the tap. Her paintbrushes are already in the sink, waiting to be cleaned. Browns, pinks, and blues explode from between the bristles. Galaxies dropped onto the stainless steel bottom like a picture.

She was thinking long and hard about going or staying. The one thing blowing her mind was Ashton Irwin and how he would have progressed. Was he still tall and handsome? Curly hair and eyes the color dewy grass? Married? Single? Still toying with the bad boy scene? She’d changed after moving away- rebellious tones and sassy remarks blossomed into doing whatever the hell she wanted to, but without so much hatred toward everyone. Weekly-dyed hair turned into natural brown on pale skin. Nobody could stay the same, so would Ashton still love her?

They broke up the day before graduating, Kalypso initiating the conversation, Ashton entirely speechless when she said the words. Kalypso had heard that he slept with a girl named Sage Miller, who was in their grade, the night before while at a party, from Luke. A cut-and-dry breakup where Kalypso blocked her ex boyfriend from her life. At graduation, Kalypso smiled, but every time she looked away from the cameras shoved in her face, broken pieces cut themselves along her throat.

She didn’t want to hear Ashton’s excuse when she broke up with him, she didn’t want to hear what he might have tried to come up with or how it wasn’t his fault. Kalypso, a girl that still knows her worth, realized that sometimes you don't need a guy to be happy.

Kalypso dials her sister for a video call. Continuous rinsing and scrubbing from her paintbrushes, laying them on the counter that wrapped from the sink to the fridge. She heard the dial tone end and her little sister picked up the call. Stella could only see a white ceiling.

“What do you want, Kal?”

“How long do you think Alex will watch Magik for?”

Ashton Irwin could still be single.

-

For Ashton Irwin, he's known about Calum's wedding since he proposed to the woman, but still put off packing until the day before he left. One suitcase full of men's clothes for a week's stay, and one smaller bag of his four-year-old daughter's clothes.

"She's not going to go," Luke remarks, looking at his fingernails. Painted orange with a highlighter by Ashton's daughter. He has a soft spot for his favorite four-year-old, but she likes destroying Luke's nails. "She hasn't even RSVPed yet and weddings in a week."

"You don't know that," Ashton replies. "She could just be Stella's plus-one."

"She's Kalypso, she's not the type to dwell on the past and wait around for peoples weddings,"

"You're kidding me," Ashton throws a dress at Luke. "She dragged me to thirty weddings in four years." Their flight leaves in only a few hours, and Ashton's slowly falling more and more behind on what he needs to get done. He needs to dress himself and his daughter, get a carry on bag ready for her, and manage to get to the airport. Luke's attention was diverted to grabby hands and a soft mewing, his name toward him. "She could've changed and now she's more sentimental or some shit. I did."

"Yeah, and how exactly are you going to explain Auzzie?" Luke lifts her from the floor, sitting her on his lap. They both stare at Ashton from the toddler bed. "Sorry that Sage Miller told you that I cheated on you because she kissed me at a party and you broke up with me. It didn't actually happen and I was so heartbroken I made myself believe her and hey, this kid came out of it. She died two years ago but it's okay because she was a drug addict and had nothing to do with Auzilynn. You want to get married?"

"Yeah, actually," Ashton moves across his room to get into Auzzie's dresser, searching for more than the few clothes he can find. Her toys are thrown everywhere and her clothes are torn from their drawers. He didn't have time to clean it up. "Is that so bad?" He starts pulling shirts and pants sets from the piles of clean clothes and a dress that she wore almost every day.

"What do you think, Auzzie?" Luke asks, shifting to pull her higher up. She looks just like Ashton, with a small mixture of her mother. Curly blonde hair in space buns, eyes that sparkle like glass, a crooked smile that could get her out of trouble. "Is daddy being ridiculous?"

Auzilynn nods her head. Her fingers toy with the part of her white tank top that's rolling up. "I want Doritos."

"You want Doritos?" Ashton asks. He decides he has enough outfits on his arm and in the somewhat packed back that he should start folding everything together. As long as it fits, he'll be happy.

"And fruit snacks!"

"Auzilynn Marie, you're not going to ruin your dinner," Ashton demands. "We're going to be at grandma's house in a few hours, can you wait until then?"

Auzilynn shakes her head then cups her fingers around Luke's ear. "Are we still growing fruit snacks?" She says in a hot-breathed whisper.

"Are we still growing fruit snacks?" Luke asks Ashton, wondering what he should answer. "Are they still growing?"

"Yes," Ashton groans. He ran out of fruit snacks three days beforehand and every place seemed to be out of the special type that Auzilynn liked. He told her they had to grow, and he was so happy children were susceptible. "They're still growing."

"Have you ever been to Sydney Auzzie?" Luke asks. His fingers search under her arms and around her neck for ticklish spots that cause her to giggle the most. Her body tenses up playfully. "Are you going to play with Uncle Mike tonight?"

"Yeah!" Auzilynn replies. Michael's still back in Sydney but visited often. He's probably Auzilynn's favorite.

"Back to Kal," Luke says. "How do you think it's such a good idea to talk to her."

"Because I know for sure that Stella's going." All he's wanted for the past five years is to tell Kalypso what happened that night, not some messed up version Sage had created. He plans to use Calum's wedding as a way to talk to Kalypso. A two-for-one deal; see Calum again and get back on good terms with his high school girlfriend. "If I can talk to Stella, she'll at least let Kalypso know that we conversed."

"How do you know? She could just lie and say you didn't show up,"

"They're sisters. They tell each other everything,"

Ashton has only been told stories about what happened to Kalypso after they graduated. She stopped hanging out with Calum, Luke, and occasionally messaged Michael. Stella became her best friend and her sister in one, and they moved several hours away.

Ashton had once been her drug and suffocated her when they broke up. The butterflies he had created turned into caterpillars that filled her lungs with goo and half-eaten flowers. Rumors told Ashton that she nursed herself with whiskey and sleepless nights from graduation on. He would see her driving around with Stella in the middle of the night, hoodie and messy bun-- when she looked the best.

"Stella probably won't listen to you either,"

Ashton and Sage pulled up to a stoplight in the middle of the night, returning from a party, almost a year after Ashton and Kalypso broke up. Kalypso pulled up right next to them, right before the light turned green, and rolled down her window. She screamed, "fuck you!" at the top of her lungs with a stern middle finger pointing straight at Ashton. She sped off when the light turned green. Something that irked Ashtons somewhat-of-a-girlfriend at the time, but to Ashton, that was a Kalypso thing to do.

"Can't you be positive?" Ashton folds another one of Auzilynn's dresses and sets it lightly in the suitcase. He's prepared for anything to happen, including several changes of clothes. "Can you fold the rest of those while I-" A ding runs through the room. Ashton's phone at full volume vibrates Luke's leg. He grabs it quickly to check who it is. Pleasantly surprised, he swipes the notification away. "That was fast."

"What was fast?"

"For Auzzie's birthday, I ordered this painting thing with her name on it," He clicks on the pattern he chose and flips his phone for Luke to see. "They shipped it already and I ordered it last night."

"Watch it be shitty," Luke laughs.

"I paid $50 for that thing," Ashton shakes his head. He prays that he didn't just waste his money entirely and that hopefully, the creator spelled his daughters' name right. "It better be good."

-

“I guess I can’t say the joke anymore,” Kalypso sasses, looking the large white house up and down. A porch that wraps all the way to the back door, into an over spacious backyard. She tilts her head to one side to comb all of her hair over her right shoulder. “Can’t really fuck your wife, Cal,” Calum glances up from his cement table and leans back in an outdoors chair. He looks like an older version of himself, rather than a completely different person. “Sorry, Mike told me to come up to the front.”

“Kalypso?” Calum asks. Brown hair thicker than life itself, large eyes that sparkle underneath any light, and a hoop through her right nostril. Somehow, she isn’t as intimidating as her high school self had been, but at the same time, she is worse.

Kalypso crosses her arms. In Calum’s high school eyes, there’s no way that the woman standing on his porch is his friend Kalypso. As an adult, he questions how she could’ve changed too much but remained the same. “Are we calling me Ashton again?”

“Huh?” Calum wonders. He is just amazed that she was coming after not returning her invite. She must be Stella’s plus one.

“You said Kalypso as if you are trying to get me to start going by Ashtonn again,”

“No!” Calum stammers. Kalypso used to be an avid member of not wanting to go to formal events. She skipped her own prom to go on a boat with Ashton, still in a prom dress. She barely showed up for her own graduation, and she’s voluntarily going to Calum’s wedding? She must really care about him. “I’m just surprised you showed up. Two days early.”

No hair dye, no lip piercing, no eyebrow slits, and she isn’t wearing a full face of makeup anymore. Gauged ears, a white shirt tied in a knot above the band of a black skater skirt, and tons of freckles.

“Was I really that bad of a friend?” Kalypso wearily asks. “If I was, then I’m sorry.”

“No,” Calum shakes his head and finally decides to stand up. He’s several inches taller than Kalypso still. “We’re going to Melbourne to see my sister next month and I was going to have a little celebration there. I didn’t expect you to come to the wedding.”

“Should I go home then?”

“No!” Calum sighs. “I’m just thinking of you from high school. You didn’t go to shit so I just thought you wouldn’t sit through a wedding.”

“I’ve changed,”

“Yes! I see that,” Calum smiles and gestures to her clothes. She wasn’t the biggest fan of skirts when they were teenagers. She’s gone through a tedious development of her character. “You look nice.”

“It’s Stella. If I had my way, I’d be wearing thigh highs,”

“There’s my Kaly!” Calum holds his arms out for an overly-zealous hug. Kalypso has never been near his height, nor all of his friends, so bear hugs are always expected. His heart beats in his chest like a rhythmic song. “What’s new? I haven’t heard from you in forever,”

"I gave birth to seven children and I'm married to John Mulaney," She looks around the porch, wanting to see what Calum's like now. There's a garden off to the side of the house, vegetables on the right side, fruit on the left.

Calum pulls a chair out for Kalypso to sit down in. He moves the documents on his table to the side so he can focus on her. "Really, huh?" They both chuckle and smile brightly. "Our group finished the kids bet."

"The kids bet?"

"Remember when we had a bet on who would have children first? We all tried to bet on you and Ashton,"

"Did I win? Who was my bid?"

"Michael's won," Calum answers. Michael guessed Ashton in general, Calum guessed Kalypso, Luke guessed Michael, and Ashton guessed Luke. "You bet me."

"Then who has the kid? Luke or Ashton?"

"Not important!" Luke says, clapping a hand on Kalypso's shoulder. She turns in the seat, excitedly. She almost tackles him to the cement out of excitement. How did she think that she couldn't go to the wedding? "Children are sticky and that's gross." She's gone five years without hanging out with her group every day of the week. Kalypso feels like a teenager again.

"Liar," Calum says. "You love Auzzie."

Kalypso laughs harder. Who names their kid Auzzie? "You and Michael babysat my brothers for years, and you enjoyed it."

"Kal, I don't need your opinion," Luke shakes his head. Michael and Luke were suckers for the Montgomery boys. A pair of twins seven years younger than Kalypso. "So, seven kids, huh?"

"Yeah," Kalypso starts to count off her fingers "Pride, Envy, Wrath, Gluttony, Sloth, Lust, Greed, and Wrath,"

"Some people I could get along with," Luke smiles. He too is surprised by Kalypso's personality shirt. She was a classic skater girl with weed bags and a scale in her car. How did she turn into a perfect art freak? "But for real, husband? Wife? Any babies from them?"

"I've got a house, a cat, and my little sister,"

"Really?" Luke gasps.

"Just not that social anymore," She was once a sociable person, which is concerning to the boys. Ashton has had that big of an impact on her. "So, um, Michael or you got wives, Lu?"

"We're Auzzie's favorite single uncles," Luke smiles. "I mean if you're trying to give me your phone number I wouldn't-"

"-I'll give you my phone number in a friendly way. I'm not getting into your pants, Hems," Kalypso smiles and grabs his phone out of his hand. She unlocks it with the same password he's used since he was twelve. "So do I get to meet Auzzie? I feel left out."

"She's inside with Mike and Ash. If you want to concur that battles," Calum answers. He points to the screen door next to the table. Just inside, Kalypso can see two figures standing tall, shadowed onto a nice hardwood floor.

Kalypso is the leader of the broken-up group, even after five years of going solo. So badass, so intimidating that people didn't want to mess with her. With the five-year glow-up on her shoulders, she's a soft intimidating person. She still falls for hugs and attention, wrapping her arms around Luke's middle. He's grown at least three inches in five years.

"How's your mom? I was going to see if I could visit before I go back to Melbourne," Luke asks, letting go. Kalypso's torn from smiling and feeling depressed. She lives in Melbourne too, the irony of it all.

"She died," Kalypso folds both of her ears over to show the boys white ribbons. Pretty tattoos, but hidden. "Lung cancer got her a couple of years ago." Kalypso and Luke finally sit down in chairs.

"Oh," Luke's face falls. He wasn't that close to Kalypso's family like Ashton or Michael were, but he was still welcomed at any point in time. How did he not know that Mackenzie Montgomery died? "I'm sorry . . . I had no idea."

"It was just family at the funeral. Jasper almost didn't go," Kalypso was close to her mom her entire life. Kalypso, Stella, Jasper, and James' father left and never came back after the twins were born. Growing up from a seven-year-old, Kalypso made her mom into one of her best friends. They did almost everything together.

"Your brother Jasper?"

"That's the one,"

When Ashton and Kalypso broke up, Mackenzie and Michael were Kalypso's main support. A lot of times Stella or Luke were involved, and occasionally a couple of jokes from Calum, but Mackenzie never let her daughter feel alone. A beautiful woman, taken too soon.

"Why?"

"Too hard for him to face,"

Mackenzie called Kalypso and Stella every night after they moved to Melbourne. They'd talk about everything underneath the sun, except for the disease that was ruining Mackenzie's body. She never told anybody about that.

Kalypso clears her throat. "So did you guys ever make a band?"

Luke's face lights up. "We didn't start a band, but I have an apprenticeship at a recording studio."

"Really!?" Kalypso smiles. Luke's second choice in life was to become a music producer, even if he couldn't make it into a band. "I'm so happy for you." She claps her hand into Luke's for an achievement. "What about Michael. Any big breaks?"

"He streams video games,"

"Hey, at least he gets to do something he likes,"

"Are you talking trash on me!?" Michael screams, finally walking out of the house. "Holy shit it's Kalypso." Kalypso pivots in her chair to stare down the blond man. He looks just like he did in high school. "Ashton and I had a bet that you wouldn't come because he's here."

Kalypso's head drops. "Of course. Was I really just that bad of a friend?" Inside, she feels terrible, like she messed up as a person that not even her friends expected her to show up to Calum's wedding. She didn't think she was that bad at socializing."

"No, it's just . . . he's here so we thought you wouldn't want to come."

"I'm an adult, Michael, I can get over things."

"I'm not trying to be rude, 'Lypso, I just- you still go by Kalypso, right?" Michael asks. He hasn't heard either Calum nor Luke say Kalypso, because he wasn't listening. Ashton or Kalypso, he knows her by both names. Kalypso nods her head. "Good. I don't know if I can go back to calling you Ashton."

"Somebody say my name?" A thick Australian accent asks, following behind Michael. Kalypso wants to curl up into a ball, scared of Ashton. Ashton, the boy she was and still is in love with. Ashton, the man that cheated on her two days before they graduated. In his arms, a little girl with flowy brown hair smiles. Kalypso's heart fractures. "Oh,"

Luke reaches his arms out to grab Auzilynn from Ashton. Auzilynn practically jumps from Ashton's arms, but he's too distracted staring at Kalypso. She can't bring herself to look at him. Calum and Luke share uncomfortable looks. The tension can't be cut with a knife.

"Auzzie, can you say 'hi' to Kalypso?" Luke asks, setting her on his lap. Auzilynn is a mini-me to Ashton beside her darker, grown out hair, and softer versions of his features. Kalypso has no idea who her mom may be.

Auzilynn looks toward Kalypso. A wide, toothy smile forces a small smile from Kalypso. She has to admit that the two-year-old is pretty cute. "Hi, K'lyso!"

"Kalypso, babe," Ashton corrects. "Kuh-lip-so."

"K'lyso!"

"It's fine, Ashton," Kalypso says. "Hi, uh, Auzzie." She hesitates. She looks to Calum for an answer about Auzilynn's name. "Is it short for something, or-"

"Auzilynn," Luke informs her. "Auzilynn Marie Rose Irwin."

Kalypso looks back at Ashton, questioning the child's name. Normal middle names with an off-the-wall first name. Ashton smiles a closed-mouth smile, dimples showing and obvious frustration in his face.

"Sage named her," says Ashton. Kalypso feels herself falling apart even more. Suddenly, she can see Sage in Auzilynn. The way her eyes shaped like almonds, her bottom lip tucks underneath her teeth the smallest bit when she smiles, her nose looks as if she were a Who in How The Grinch Stole Christmas. With Ashton mixed inside of her, she manages to be adorable still. "I wanted to name her Marie Adair, but Sage said we were going to move to America when Auzzie was a year old and it would tell everyone she's Australian."

"Are you guys visiting from America?" Kalypso asks. She just wants to know if Sage is in the picture, if Ashton's moved on so much. He has a kid, meaning that he's opened up his heart enough for another woman to enter his life. Knowing her luck, Kalypso wonders if there would even be a place for her anymore.

"We've never even left the country,"

"Then where's Sage?"

"Hopefully the cemetery," Ashton replies. "She died when Auzzie was only a few months old. Drug overdose. Never even met Auzzie after signing the birth certificate."

"Oh, I'm so sorry,"

Feeling guilty, Kalypso finds it sort of funny that Sage was the one Ashton cheated with but Kalypso was more successful than her. Karma is a bitch.

-

"Are you talking shit on me?" Fourteen-year-old Ashton Kalypso Mongtomery asks Ashton Irwin. She slides down the end of the leather couch in the school atrium to sit closer to him. He smells like cedarwood and bonfire smoke. "Afraid of a little competition?"

"What are you talking about?" Ashton Irwin asks. The Ashtons have heard of each other, but never talked directly. All they know is that they're both friends with Michael Clifford, but not the same friend group. Ashton Montgomery spends more time with her sister in the year below than with Luke Hemmings or Calum Hood. "I don't even know you."

"Bull!" Ashton Montgomery snarls. Ashton Irwin watches the ball in her lip move to the side when she gets sassy. He swears she didn't have that yesterday during English. "Stop talking shit, or we're going to have beef."

"We can't have beef if I don't know you!"

Ashton Montgomery's tongue rolls over the fresh piercing in her lip. "Watch your mouth." She disappears into a messy hallway, blue hair dye lost in a sea of students, as quickly as she'd shown up.

-

Ashton Irwin was held back a year, while Luke and Calum skipped one. All of them -Michael, Luke, Calum, and both Ashtons- were in the same grade. Ashton Montgomery stays strictly with her sister Stella or Michael, with the occasional visit with Luke, while Ashton Irwin is known as the new kid Luke, Calum, and Michael adopted.

"So was she hot?" Calum excitedly asks. He's not very well acquainted with Ashton Montgomery. Michael forbade him to try and date her when he first expressed feelings, and the rule still stands.

Stella and Luke are dating and have been for two years, crossing the groups over just enough for Ashton Irwin to be the only one not knowing about Ashton Montgomery. Surprisingly, though, the whole school knows of Ashton Montgomery and her intriguing reputation, so how does he not?

"Who?" Ashton Irwin questions. He lays his hand next to him on the couch, trying to draw a boundary line from Calum to him. Calum still edges closer on the blue fabric. "Can you get me some tape?" He asks Luke. Luke, sitting in the chair next to the couch, grabs a roll of duct tape out of a drawer. "Calum, if you don't back off, I'll tape you to a wall." He rips a piece of tape off loudly.

"I'm talking about Montgomery!"

"Who?"

"Ashton!"

If Calum or Luke had to pick one person to be afraid of, Ashton Montgomery would be in the top slot. She's five-foot-nothing, full of pure sass and piercings. Ashton Irwin has seen his name twin in the hallway a few times and wants to learn about the abyss of Ashton Montgomery.

"Wait, you talked to Ash today? Tap some ass?" Luke asks. He thinks maybe, just maybe, Ashton conquered his fear of ripped skinny jeans, a grey tank top, and a red flannel. Ashton groans. "What? You're the one that wants her.

"And so does Calum,"

"Yeah, but they don't share a name," Luke smirks.

Ashton rolls his eyes. "When is the guy supposed to be here? I need to smoke so I can no longer hear you."

"Ask Mike," Luke answers, shrugging. He's no help. "He's the one that knows him."

"But he's showering,"

"Looks like you'll have to wait a little while then,"

Ashton is ready to kick some thirteen-year-old ass.

-

Luke stands up from the porch table, bored of painting on a canvas. Capturing her attention, Kalypso looks up to make sure nothing is wrong. He's got all 10 fingers, no paint is spilled, and his section isn't complete. "Calum can paint this himself," he says, stretching backward.

Kalypso looks down at their progress. Hood is written in fancy cursive and half painted silver with black outlining. "What time is it?" She asks, throwing her paintbrush into a cup of water. The canvas Calum chose is bigger than the table and one of the most agitating, simple paintings Kalypsos ever made.

"It's quarter till nine,"

"Oh shit," Kalypso jumps up to look at her phone. "I was supposed to call Stella." She quickly dials up her sister.

Luke focuses on the painting instead of Stella Montgomery's voice. So sweet, so soft, so silky smooth and calming like lavender perfume she uses every day. Secretly, Luke missed Stella and everything about her; the way she smiles over the stupidest things, her singing voice, how she whispers his name right before falling asleep.

When Kalypso ends the call, he has to distract himself. Quickly, before he falls in love with teal blue bedroom walls and indie songs. "Are you going to Calum's bachelor party?"

"Isn't that for . . . Guys?"

"Yeah, but you're like, one of the guys so it counts."

"Is there a stripper?"

"It's just Cal, Mike, Ash, and a few other guys. If you want to strip-"

"-I'm good. No worries,"

"So do you want to go?" Luke asks again. He pounds the bristles of a cheap paint brush into the bottom of a plastic cup to remove silver paint. Pounding, pounding harder and harder until he's afraid of destroying the brush. "It's just a sit around and drink beer type of night,"

"Yeah, I guess," Kalypso starts typing. "Let me tell Stella."

The paint water is dark grey, diluted with tons and tons of silver and only a few bristles of black. How does Kalypso spend hours just painting? Luke's back feels terrible and they haven't cleaned up yet. She must be a trooper to be able to do this all day every day, he thinks.

"Ready?" Kalypso asks.

"Yeah,"

-

"Ashton, answer the door," Michael commands. His eyes are glued to the TV, trying to beat Luke at Mario Kart. There's no way he's going to lose.

"It's your house,"

"It's your weed,"

"He's two hours late, it's probably shit too. Answer your door,"

"Pussy," Michael murmurs. He pauses the game while Luke whines about stopping, and stands up. A door leads right into the basement of Michaels's house from the outside, which is lucky because even though Michaels's parents love her, it's easier for Ashton Montgomery to walk into the house that way.

Michaels's hand rests gracefully on the door handle. His heels rise to check the peephole to make sure it is Ashton Montgomery. Unlike all of his friends and everyone else in his grade, a ground-breaking growth spurt still hasn't happened. His right leg is a hair shorter than his left, so he's anticipating it soon.

Michael opens the door to warm air and the smell of honey and vanilla shampoo. His childhood best friend claps her right hand into his. They move into a Bro Hug and let go when she reaches for the baggie in her hoodie pocket with her left hand. The price falls from her lips.

“Got it,” Michael slips the money carefully into her hand. “Hangout for a few?”

Ashton Montgomery nods and walks into the pathway Michael has opened up. She finds a spot on the couch, opposite to the spot Ashton Irwin has taken over.

"So you're still talking shit on me, Irwin?" She asks, pulling her feet into the couch too so she can sit in the fetal position. Michael sits on the floor to play Mario Kart again but turns around to hand her a sugar cookie his mom had made. "My time is not good enough for you?" Her initials are frosted in blue on a white background.

"Wait, so you're the-"

"-plug? Yeah." She slips the corner of the square cookie into her mouth. It tastes delicious. "I heard you're trying to compete."

"I'm not trying to compete, I'm just-"

"Selling? I don't need helpers." Another piece into her mouth, but this time, it's a straight bite from the cookie. Ashton Irwin looks her over, remembering that she's Michaels friend. She's not some stranger Michael invited inside. His mom made her a cookie.

"Will you let me-" Ashton Irwin starts. Ashton Montgomery opens her mouth to interrupt, but a stern finger in her face shuts her up. "-talk. You can't take up the whole neighborhood. You're 14."

"Fifteen," She corrects. "I turned 15 three days ago."

"Yes, of course," He rolls his eyes. "15 and a drug dealer. How could I have thought any different?" Ashton Montgomery takes a larger bite of her cookie, trying to fit the rest into her mouth. A tiny corner remains. "Let me guess, your favorite alcohol is straight vodka, your favorite movie is American Pie, you overcharge on eighths, and you're the baby of your family.

Michael glances back at Ashton Montgomery to see what she has to say. She swallows hard and dusts her hands on her black sweatpants. She doesn't have to prove herself to someone that doesn't need an answer, but she's sassy.

"I'm the oldest, I don't drink, I don't overcharge, and my favorite movie is Cars,"

"Cars?" Ashton Irwin repeats back.

"Mack is under-appreciated and needs more love despite his mistakes. He didn't mean to leave McQueen behind. McQueen made him drive all night and-"

It was Ashton Irwin's turn to interrupt. "-I've never even seen Cars."

Ashton Montgomery takes her finger and points at him angrily. The rest of her cookie goes into her mouth with her other hand. "You're missing out." Her hands move to push back falling hairs from the messy bun underneath her hood.

"You only like Mack because your dad used to call you Mini Mack," Michael pauses the game of Mario Kart again to turn and face the Ashtons. Luke unpauses the game and waits for Michael to realize.

"Mini Mack?"

"My moms' name is Mackenzie-"

"-and she looks just like her. Mini Mackenzie," Michael finishes.

"Can we not talk about this?" Ashton Montgomery covers her face with her hoodie sleeves, wanting to just crawl into a hole and shy away from everyone.

"Is it like a sore subject of something?"

She jumps up from the couch. Sweaty palms dry themselves on her sweatpants. "We're oversharing." She shoves her hands into her pockets. "Don't get too close to your d*g dealer." She turns to leave.

"I'll walk you out," Ashton Irwin stands up off the couch too. Lucky for him, he's hit a growth spurt. He's taller than her by almost a foot. "Did you walk here?" Ashton Irwin is barefoot and not wanting to go far in pajama pants and a shirt.

"I live next door," He watches her piercing move as she sasses him. Just the smallest movement to the side. "I can walk myself home safely."

"I'm being gentleman-ly,"

"I'm being independent,"

"If you're going to be like that, then I'm just trying to ask for your phone number, Ashton,"

"Well you suck at it," Ashton Montgomery pulls her phone from her sweatpants pocket and smiles. A wad of twenties fell back into her pocket. "Here."

"I think this is the most confusing encounter we've had in a long time," Luke says, trying to figure out how to talk about the two without having to say full names. Ashton One and Ashton Two?

"Yeah," Ashton Montgomery accepts her phone back from him. He'd texted himself and inserted his last name into his contact information on her phone. "Still 'wanna walk me home?"

"Of course," he reaches his hand for hers.

-

Luke pops the top off a bottle of beer and hands it to Kalypso. She takes two large gulps from it and grimaces when she remembers she hates beer. It goes down sticky and leaves an aftertaste she's not fond of.

"Oh shit," Luke says after retiring into a lawn chair with his beer. "I forgot how much you hate beer." He takes a large drink to indulge in the tension.

"Bro, I could've told you that," Ashton laughs and sits across from Kalypso. There's a bonfire raging in between them, screaming in flames and burning sticks. Kalypso wants to jump into the fire so she can burn alive. She wants to disappear from Ashton's view.

Without thinking about the gross taste, the way it feels when it hits her stomach, the way too much too quickly twists her light-weight head. She downs the rest of it and throws the bottle into a bucket of glass far away. Ashton sassily looks away as if he were cursing Kalypso out in his mind and sips. He's not much of a drinker either.

Kalypso stands up from her chair and sets off to find Calum. If she can get away from Ashton, she'll be okay.

"Where are you going?" Like asks, getting ready to stand up too. Calum's backyard is spacious, equipped with a pool, a deck with a hot tub insert, and tons of play area for his dogs. Kalypso would be the one to get lost.

"I'm giving Calum his wedding present," Kalypso replies. The chairs they're gathered in aren't far from the door, tucked into a barren area you wouldn't see without a roaring fire, so if she turns the corner the spotlight should illuminate Calum. "Leave me alone."

She walks a few steps to the corner and notices everything. She's only walked from the laundry room door to the fire pit, instead of the glass door to the wholesome part. "Aye! Cal!" Kalypso calls to gather his attention to her.

The dark-haired man looks up from his phone, obviously distracted from walking to the fire. He waves her over with a smile. "'S up?"

She pulls her right hand out to clasp into his and he feels something burn into his palm. He pulls his hand away to examine what it is. Green nuggets inside of a baggie.

"No fucking way, 'Lypso," he grins wide and starts to open the baggie.

"Should be about five grams, maybe a bit more,"

"Oh my god I've never loved you more than I do right now," he pulls her into a close hug, pressing Kalypso uncomfortably into his chest. Calum hugs, as everyone calls them. He forgets about how small people can be, and sometimes just squishes them.

"Good to know that I'm only good for weed,"

"You're good for so much more than that," Calum rocks them both back and forth in the hug, wobbling on his feet. An extreme Calum Hug. "So much more."

"Like making Ashton Irwin uncomfortable,"

Calum squeezes tighter. Kalypso can barely breathe. "That's the highlight of my year, bitch. I've never seen one man so on edge by a tiny woman."

"Calum you're killing me,"

"Oh shit," Calum finally lets go. Kalypso's insides fall from their squeezed positions back to their regular programming. "weed mans still got weed, huh?"

"What type of person would I be if I didn't?"

Calum high fives her. Right hand to left. "Why do you always dap up with your right, but you're left-handed?"

Kalypso smiles. Calum surprisingly smells beer on her. "You see," she says, running and pulling him to the fire. "Because you're right-handed, and he's right-handed, and he's right-handed, and he's right-handed." She points one by one to Michael, Luke, and Ashton. "You just learn how to."

"I guess so," Calum answers. "So since you don't drink, you want something else? I can load a bowl if you want?"

"Sure," Kalypso smiles. She hasn't smoked with close friends in years. Before walking into their graduation, Kalypso, Michael, Luke, and Calum all smoked a joint in the parking lot. None of them remember graduating. That was the last time they all hung out.

-

"Ashton!" Mackenzie Montgomery yells when she enters their homey kitchen from the garage. Jasper and James, Ashton's twin little brothers, enter in behind her. "What's for di-" Mackenzie stops to survey the scene. Both Ashtons dressed in matching band shirts at the dining room table, enjoying some type of dinner. Two scented candles burn in between them. "I didn't realize you were having friends over. You're supposed to tell me."

Ashton Montgomery wipes her mouth with a paper towel. "You weren't answering your phone. I thought it would be okay." She picks up a shrimp from her bowl of Alfredo and pasta to put into Jasper's mouth.

"This is Iron Man," James holds up an action figure missing both legs. Ashton Irwin nods his head and takes another bite of pasta. "Who's your favorite superhero?"

"I'm sorry, I was just really busy," Mackenzie sighs. "Sorry for my disheveled state, sweetheart, I just got off the ICU floor so I'm done for." Mackenzie sets her belongings on the counter a few feet behind the wooden table. "Boys, leave Ashton and her friend alone for once please."

The twins are identical, including their need for glasses. Jasper's wispy brown hair falls in his face and into his black frame glasses while he munches on the shrimp his sister gave him. He's the so-called 'nicer' twin.

"You look like you like Superman," James tells Ashton Irwin. Ashton smiles at the young boy.

James is the outgoing of the two. He swoops his hair to the side to free up his tiny forehead, unlike Jasper. He's more sociable, open, and willing to meet new people. The Stella of the boys. He flirts, he makes friends with, and charms most girls he runs into. Including Calum's sister.

"Where's Stel?" Mackenzie asks, moving from the counter to the sink. "Ashton Kalypso, I'm going to beat you if you don't learn to put things into the dishwasher." She picks Tupperware the shrimp Alfredo had been in and rinses it out. The dishwasher opens, and clean dishes shine. "Ashton!"

Ashton Montgomery rolls her eyes and slides her food to Jasper. James steps away from Ashton Irwin to start eating out of his sisters' bowl. Neither of them uses a fork, causing Mackenzie to groan.

"It's not my fault when Stella doesn't empty the dishwasher," Ashton Montgomery sasses. The lip piercing moves with her lip, and every time it does, Ashton Irwin just wants to stare. Sass is her biggest quality, the thing she's the best at. "Like, ever!"

"She's twelve, give her a break,"

"She's actually thirteen, Mother, but if you say so,"

"Ashton Kalypso Montgomery, can you please not be so sassy all the time? Do you know how to be normal?" Mackenzie turns from the dishwasher and remembers that there's a guest in the house. "I promise I'm not bullying my child, I'm just joking around." She takes a deep breath. "I'm Mackenzie, Ash's mom, but Michael just calls me mom like every other damn person I run into."

"If you're hungry, help yourself, blah blah blah," Ashton Montgomery slumps back in her chair. "I already gave him the rundown."

"So if you make a mess?" Mackenzie asks.

"You clean it up," Ashton Irwin answers.

"Ah! I like you already!" Mackenzie says. She pulls her black hair from her face and into a ponytail. And Ashton Irwin can see the resemblance entirely. "I'm going to go get freshened up. Don't give the boys any dessert, please. And, oh! I never got your name."

Ashton Irwin stands up to shake Mackenzie's hand. She's taller than her daughter, but Ashton Montgomery is an exact carbon copy of her mother. "I'm Ashton." He holds his hand out.

Mackenzie takes it. "Ashton?" She looks at her flushed-faced daughter slumping further into her chair. Mackenzie's eyes go wide. "Oh! I've heard about you."

"Is it bad?"

"Not my place to tell,"

Ashton looks over at Ashton at the table. "Really, huh?"

-

Taking in a breath full of smoke from the end of a pipe, Kalypso leans backward in the lawn chair. Calum's got those expensive lawn chairs with cushions, and a fire pit built into a table. Kalypso's body is warm from the fire and the guys surrounding it. Calum to her left, Luke to her right, Michael on the other side of Luke, Ashton between him and Calum. Laid out in front of her, past Ashton's head, she can see the city she grew up in. Lights that never seem to turn off. Cars and people that will never know it's her sitting on top of the hill, her back facing an expensive house.

She lets go of the smoke in her lungs, a cloud falling from her mouth. So thick and warm it blends in with the smoke from the fire. Luke snaps his finger in her direction, garnering her attention from the pretty lights in front of her. She blows the remains of the smoke in his face, turning toward him. He's chewing on the edge of a cinnamon-flavored graham cracker.

"Truth or dare?" he nods his head toward her. He leans his head back to take the last of his graham cracker. Luke's hands rubbed themselves together to get rid of crumbs and he finally rests them in his lap.

"I'm twenty-three, Luke, not twelve," Kalypso answers. She's not interested in the game.

"Just pick,"

"Fine," she presses the opening of her pipe back to her mouth, ready to ignite her personal flames again. The fires of her drug reflect in the eyes of Ashton's, and he dreads the flick of her thumb on a blue lighter. "Truth."

"Wimp," Luke smiles at her and her lighter ignites. Ashton can't help but watch her, ignoring Michael and Calum's conversation. "Where do you work?"

She breathes in deeply and pulls away from the glass. "I paint custom canvases for people." She lets go of the smoke, turning her head to her right shoulder so she doesn't hit Luke in the face with it. "Follow me on Instagram, a-k-m-underscore-arts."

"Wait," Ashton pauses. He waves his hand in the air to cut her off. "I think I just ordered a canvas from you for Auzzie. Auzilynn, A-u-z-i-l-y-n-n,"

Of course, Kalypso thinks. "Yeah, I think you did," She doesn't want to talk to Ashton. She wants to forget he exists. Kalypso wants the broken gems inside of her to fuse back together, but she can't do that. She doesn't know why. "Uh . . . Mike, truth or dare?"

Michael glances at Kalypso. "Dare?"

Kalypso blinks quickly, forgetting the feeling of a spinning world from her low tolerance. Her eyes close for a few seconds when she balances herself and sets the pipe down on the table surrounding the fire. "Go jump in the pool fully clothed."

"Now you're the one acting twelve," Michael laughs. "But bet. It's hot out here anyway."

-

“Look at the moon," Ashton points a steady finger to the glowing globe in the sky, lighting their way down the bumpy sidewalks. Eventually, Ashton hopes he'll have a car, and when he and Kalypso hang out, they won't have to skate back to either house. "It's so pretty,"

"Not prettier than you," Kalypso blows a kiss toward him, just a few feet ahead. Her skateboard is smaller than his, but the bottom is scratched up and doesn't have as much paint as it used to. Emblems from Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Sublime, AC/DC, and Nirvana's smiley face were once painted over a pink sunset. Scratches from skatepark equipment are starting to fade the emblems.

Ashton catches the kiss in a hand and releases it to the sky until a horrific scream brings him back. Lying on the cement a few feet away from a crack in the cement, Kalypso's lying on the ground. Ashton stop's his skateboard and discards it in the grass. The moon illuminates her clear left cheek.

"Are you okay?" He slides to the ground next to her and grabs her left arm to shift her to her right side. Somewhat of a rash on her right cheek, her wrist cocked oddly, and she just giggles. "'Lypso, are you okay?"

She continues giggling, her chest bubbling from the ground and bouncing her curled hair. "It hurts like a bitch," Kalypso giggles when she's hurt, Ashton realizes. "You should kiss it and make it feel better." An odd coping mechanism, but at least she's not crying.

"Kiss what?"

"My broken fucking hand,"

Ashton presses his lips to her hand. Soft buttons of pink kiss lightly. "Better?"

"Oh second thought, I think I busted my lip open too," Kalypso smiles. Burning, stinging is flowing through her wrist and she winces when she tries to move her fingers. "It needs a kiss." It would be impossible to explain to Mackenzie, to tell her that Kalypso wrecked her skateboard and still manage to ride when she heals. Mackenzie will want to ban skateboards from Kalypso, Stella, and the boys.

Ashton doesn't think, he just does what she asked. As humans ruin everything they touch, Ashton and Kalypso ruin each other in ways that make growth. Like destroying the ground to plant a blooming tree or trimming long hair so it will grow longer and healthier. Ashton's lips ruin watermelon lip balm on Kalypso's, and Kalypso ruins Ashton's wonder of what it tasted like.

A fire ignited between the two, leaving them both breathless after a two-second kiss. Flowers grew from both of them, sprouting beautiful things. They can't believe themselves.

Ashton, the brunette boy that was a year older than everyone else in his grade, kissed the girl he thinks of first every morning until unconsciousness brings him to dreams of marriage and spending the rest of his life with her. The girl that smiles and makes him photograph the way butterflies land and stick to her hair, the way Ashton looks happiest on rainy days with clouds looming in the sky, and everything she never wants to forget.

"I win," Kalypso smiles, even though her entire body is shaking. Ashton sits up and wraps arms underneath her back and knees. Kalypso's pulled from the ground and she kicks until her feet are planted. "I bet Luke you'd do it tonight."

"Do what tonight?"

"Kiss me."

"So you're telling me you broke your hand intentionally,"

Kalypso sighs. "Nope," she looks at her already-swollen hand. It's terrifying. "Go hard or go home, right?"

-

"Truth or dare?" Michael laughs, his shirt gone, and hair wild. "Ashton." he sips a beer, feeling some type of buzz plaguing his mind.

"Truth," Ashton answers. He's holding his beer more than the rest of them. With Kalypso present, he physically cannot become intoxicated. He doesn't know how, but he knows that no matter what she's to be protected. After years of going out drinking with her in high school, he made sure she was safe before he was.

"C'mon man, all you pick is truth,"

"I don't want to go into the pool,"

Michael scoffs. "Fine. What happened two days before graduation, Irwin?"

Kalypso looks up from the ground. She can't breathe. The flowers inside of her started to choke her airways until she knew that Ashton was watching her. Act normal. Act normal. She pretends to be unbothered. Everyone can see through it.

"What happened?" She whispers and takes Luke's glass of whiskey. She drinks all of it at once and hands the ice back to his protesting whines. "I'd like to hear this."

"I didn't do anything, actually,"

"Really, because-"

"-I went to a party," Ashton leans forward to set his beer down. Elbows on knees, hands clasped together. "And I drank something that Sage had given me. I woke up three hours later to Luke screaming at me. Sage told him I cheated on you."

The first time he'd been able to say it directly, out loud, in the presence of anybody else. The first time Kalypso felt she could talk about it too.

"Really? I heard-"

"-Where's your fucking evidence, Ashton?"

Kalypso's eyes went wide. She hadn't been called that name in forever. Her family, her friends, everyone around her adjusted to her new name. She stands up from her chair. She no longer cares what happens, she no longer cares if she's ever around him again. "Where's your evidence that you didn't, Ashton?" The ache in her heart tells her that she still loves him as she did five years ago.

"Video evidence dating that the entire time I was asleep in my bedroom, she was at the diner on George Street telling everyone she was going to prank us with that,"

"Bullshit,"

"Why would I lie? Five years, five fucking years, 'Lypso! Why would I lie about that?"

Kalypso blinks hard, frustrated, and stares at Calum. "I'm going back to my hotel. I'll see you in the morning." She looks back at Ashton. "You can go fuck yourself."

-

"Eight, nine, ten, eleven-" A road of thunder interrupts Kalypso. Lightening lights the setting sky. "It's eleven miles away."

"Really? The radar says it's already storming," Ashton replies, smiling. Kalypso pushes his phone from his hands. Being overdramatic, Ashton falls from his side into a soft thump on his back. "Look, you're so rough you knocked me over!"

"Liar!" Kalypso giggles. Her right hand, jailed in a blue cast, clenches her blanket when she lightly pressed into his chest with her left. "I think you're perfectly fine."

After breaking her wrist, Mackenzie put her daughter on house arrest. Ashton, Michael, and any other friends can visit, but Kalypso can't go see them until she's healed.

"Dinner!" Mackenzie yells from the bottom of their carpeted stairwell. Kalypso stands up from the comfy bed and grabs her phone off the charger.

When Kalypso was old enough to decorate her own bedroom, she took advantage of the design. She was given two closets, one with sliding doors, and one that has a single door leading to a room of shelves. Years prior her uncle helped her remove the sliding doors and shove her full-sized mattress into the space. Pillows along the back of the closet, where the widest part of her bed is. She has a perfect view of her TV and the windows.

"Ashton, dinner," Kalypso laughs. Her hand ruffles his messy curls and giggles at his bandana choice. The same color as her hair- cherry red. "C'mon, I'm hungry!"

"You're going to have to force me, Hungry, I'm comfy,"

"Oh yeah?" Off of her nightstand, she grabs a disposable camera and snaps a photo of Ashton, his stubborn self, and all of his glory. "One day, we're going to be twenty-something, and you're going to look at these photos and say 'thank goodness I'm not that stubborn anymore'."

"And you're going to wonder why you have always been dramatic and use disposable cameras."

"It's easier to print and hang up,"

"I think you're a little bit obsessed with my face," Ashton points to the wall surrounding the bed. Photos of Ashton and Kalypso, some with Michael and the guys, or Stella and Kalypso the few times they've gotten along. She changes the switch of her fairy lights to illuminate the area. She never needed an overhead light with floor-to-ceiling windows scattered around.

"I am not!" Kalypso smiles. Her hair is messy, wavy, and poofy in different directions. She tucks as much as she can behind her ear. Ashton grabs the camera to snap a photo of her reaching for him. "Please! I'm hungry!"

"What'd your mom make for dinner?"

"Grilled salmon,"

"You hate fish,"

"But you don't!" She tugs harder on his hand. "I'm hungry!"

"What are you going to eat?"

"Grandma is making Jasper and I chicken strips," Calypso falls backward onto her hardwood floor when Ashton stands up. He catches her when her butt grazes the ground and pulls her into him. "C'mon!"

"So you get chicken strips and I get fish?"

"Yes!" Kalypso continues pulling Ashton out of her room, down the stairs. Stella and the boys have already made it to the bottom. "It's your favorite. Last night we had my favorite, and tomorrow we get James' favorite."

"You just had to include me, huh?" Ashton asks while he descends from the top floor. Kalypso's two stairs ahead of him.

She shakes her head. "Actually, I requested shrimp alfredo for dinner but no. Mom wanted me to have something you like," She lies.

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh!" They end up at the bottom of the stairs and round the left corner to the kitchen. "You're here every day. Might as well include you."

James groans, looking at his sisters' boyfriend. "Do you ever go home?" With Ashton in the picture, James didn't get to spend as much time with Kalypso.

"James Samuel!" Mackenzie calls. "That's not very nice."

Pre-Ashton, James, and Jasper could fall asleep in Calypso's bed with her. When Ashton and Kalypso started dating, Ashton started sticking around until she falls asleep and goes home when he knows she is officially out for the night. The times Ashton stays with the guys, he calls her to talk when she feels drowsy. It's their routine.

Mackenzie sets a tray of chicken strips on the table for the non-fish-liking children. "Ash, can you- My Ashton," She smiles, uncomfortable. "Ashton Kalypso, can you get the tea from the outside fridge?"

"I vow we call her 'Lypso!" Jasper says, already stealing chicken strips. His dark hair falls over his auburn eyes.

"No!" James answers. "Ashton One and Ashton Two."

"Or," Kalypso holds a finger in the air. "Ditch Ashton entirely and become Fletcher and Kalypso." Ashton gives her a side-eye glare. "What?"

"I'm not going by Fletcher,"

"Noob,"

"Kalypso, tea!" Mackenzie demands and points to the garage door. Kalypso disappears inside.

"We should just sell Ashton Kalypso on eBay!"

"James, we aren't selling your sister," Mackenzie shakes her head. She sits on the first chair to the right, and across from Jasper. Ashton and Kalypso always sit next to each other on the other side of the boys.

"But she's a girl," He grimaces. "And she talks a lot now."

"I would rather her talk a lot than be silent again," Mackenzie says. "Ashton, you're a real blessing to her. You have no idea."

"What do you mean?"

"Until last year she never really talked to anyone but Michael and Stella," Mackenzie starts. Ashton couldn't believe that at one point, Kalypso was so shy she couldn't talk. "I swear she talked for an hour straight the day she met you."

"Mom," Kalypso groans, closing the garage door behind her. A pitcher of sun tea half mixed with lemonade in her hands. The only thing the boys will drink besides soda. "There are some things you don't have to share."

-

Three shots down, as many as it takes to go. Kalypso, even hating alcohol, wants to forget his name. She wants to forget that he exists in the real world and that he's so close, but so far away. All she can do is scream his name and wonder why she wasn't good enough. They were too young to know about love, and if they weren't they were too dumb to think that it could last forever.

Kalypso forgot the massive bar and hangout area Michael had in his basement. When the five, and sometimes Stella, became known and interested in alcohol, Michael's was the house to get it from. Easy access, nobody realized anything was touched. Either there, or stealing food from Kalypso's refrigerator, you could find any of them.

Luke sets down a box in front of her at the bar. "Ashton says this is for you." He slides it closer to her. Her palm stops it.

She doesn't want anything to do with Ashton. His stupid box, his stupid face, his stupid mistakes. She was rejecting his presence and everything that comes with it. "Shove it up his ass" She put another shot into her mouth and swallowed. Four in. So many more to go.

"Kal, can you please just take it?"

She slams her glass down onto the marble counter. "What's in it?" If it's stupid, there was no point in opening it.

"No idea,"

Kalypso tucks her pink thumbnail at the paper tape. She is just a slice, just barely a poke, away from whatever Ashton is up to.

"Probably just giving things back,"

"Five years later?"

"You never know." Luke grabs a knife from the other side of the bar and slices the top open quickly. Flaps fly open, revealing several things inside. Michael adjusts off a barstool to get a closer look.

Papers, indented and worn by ballpoint pens of all colors. Stuffed animals, jewelry, familiar things Ashton has given to Kalypso and she returned. Off the top, Luke lays a stuffed stingray on the bar. Kalypso loved that stingray, named it Dionysius, and kept it amongst her pillows for years.

A necklace with Ashton engraved in a silver plate, two stuffed bears his mom had made, and rocks they'd painted together. Movie ticket stubs from every date, and the millions of photos they'd taken together. She glued them to the inside when she gave him the brown box. She gave him the box that way and he never changed it. Maybe they weren't too naive to know what love is.

"Look," Michael says and grabs a photo from the box, pulling it off easily. "You were so small." He gives it to Kalypso to see.

Wide-eyed, a mouth full of braces, and wearing Ashton's clothes, Kalypso was sitting in Ashton's lap. Her hand blocking most of her face, leaving only Ashton and a thirteen-year-old Luke to be seen. Her hand was in a cast-- the photo was from when they first started dating.

Kalypso grabs another photo from the box. Sitting in the front, she was the smallest and not looking in the mirror like everyone else was. Kalypso's bedroom-- her mirror covered in plastic flowers, the boys and Stella posing with her. Calum to her left, Stella to her right, Ashton behind her, Luke behind Calum, Michael behind Stella. Stella had taken the photo. Kalypso was at least seventeen.

On the bottom of the box was a photo printed on regular printer paper of the fire she used to engulf his belongings. A jersey she had with IRWIN on the back for all of his football games, his clothes, and the rest of their photos.

"He kept this for five years?" She shakes her head. "Now, who can't get over who?"

Luke reads a paper in the box. "You should look at this." A giant blue #1 shone at the top of it.

' 'Lypso, I tried to talk to you and your mom yesterday to explain what happened and the whole story. You wouldn't give me the time of day. I wouldn't either, to be honest. '

She reads it aloud. The letter continues, explaining the box. Everything inside was the same and he didn't want it. Another paper, labeled #2, had a list.

1.I've written coordinates down. These are all the places where I knew I couldn't live without you. Something significant happened at each one and I remember them all perfectly. Plug it into google and remember, for me.

2. You can go there. If you want to pretend you're in a fanfiction of a young adult movie where we'll end up together. If you do, I have something there to remind you of it all.

3. You don't have to forgive me or take me back. I just want you to know how much I still love you.

4. They're not in order.

Coordinates:

"Either of you have Google Earth?" Kalypso asks. Luke pulls his phone out. She enters the first set and waits. "Literally we're right here." Kalypso looks for answers in the men.

"How about you go look in the downstairs living room," Luke hints. "That's where-"

"-That's where he asked for my number,"

"And you still have an interrupting problem."

Kalypso rolls her eyes, but can't seem to get downstairs fast enough. A photo is waiting for her where Ashton sat that night. She grabs the paper; it has something else to say.

"I'm the oldest, I don't drink, I don't overcharge, and my favorite movie is Cars." "Cars?" "Mack is under-appreciated and deserves more love despite his mistakes,"

I swear that was the most eye-opening and Kalypso thing I'd heard, Mini Mack

"I remember that night," Kalypso can see it.

"15 and a drug dealer. How could I have thought any different?" Ashton Montgomery takes a larger bite of her cookie, trying to fit the rest into her mouth. A tiny corner remains. "Let me guess, your favorite alcohol is straight vodka, your favorite movie is American Pie, you overcharge on eighths, and you're the baby of your family."

"First night Ashton had bought from me personally," Kalypso felt the warmth through her entire body. Ashton remembered.

"I'm the oldest, I don't drink, I don't overcharge, and my favorite movie is Cars,"

"Cars?" Ashton Irwin repeats back.

"Mack is under-appreciated and needs more love despite his mistakes. He didn't mean to leave McQueen behind. McQueen made him drive all night and-"

It was Ashton Irwin's turn to interrupt. "-I've never even seen Cars."

Ashton Montgomery takes her finger and points at him angrily. The rest of her cookie goes into her mouth with her other hand. "You're missing out." Her hands move to push back falling hairs from the messy bun underneath her hood.

He remembered one of the most insignificant things about her.

"You only like Mack because your dad used to call you Mini Mack," Michael pauses the game of Mario Kart again to turn and face the Ashtons. Luke unpauses the game and waits for Michael to realize.

"Mini Mack?"

"My moms' name is Mackenzie-"

"-and she looks just like her. Mini Mackenzie," Michael finishes.

The next coordinate was where she wrecked her skateboard. Taped to a broken stick is a photo of Kalypso laying on Ashton's bed with him. It was a few days after when everyone finally caught up with decorating her cast, and Mackenzie didn't realize Kalypso had left the house. She wore a white tank top, one strap falling off her arm. Right hand bandaged up, lays in Ashton's next to her. Kalypso was surprised by the camera Ashton's sister randomly ran up to them with. She caught a photo while standing on top of Ashton's bed.

"You should kiss it and make it feel better."

She still has the scar from the wreck on her wrist. A reminder of that night for the rest of her life. The feeling of Ashton's lips on hers. Warm cement painful under her palms.

"Kiss what?"

"My broken fucking hand,"

Ashton presses his lips to her hand. Soft buttons of pink kiss lightly. "Better?"

"Oh second thought, I think I busted my lip open too," Kalypso smiles. Burning, stinging is flowing through her wrist and she winces when she tries to move her fingers. "It needs a kiss."

He remembered eating dinner at Kalypso's house every night for eight weeks straight. The day her cast was removed, they went on their first date.

Makenzie made them do an uncomfortable photoshoot before their showing of Cars. A dress, a bowtie that clipped on, and uncomfortable shoes. Teaching Kalypso how to drive, laughing when she screamed while merging on the freeway. Video games, arcades, records. Their one-year dinner catered by Michael and Calum, listening to 2000s rap the whole time. Kalypso surprised Ashton with the jersey. One time Kalypso fell asleep on Ashton at Michael's house. Kalypso showing off her license when she got the guts to get it. A bonfire at the beach for Ashton's birthday, even though they couldn't swim.

They stargazed every night of the summer until the sun rose or sleep overcame them. Where they met for a concert, where Ashton parked his car at a drive-in date, Ashton getting a bunch of a facemask mixture stuck in his curls.

Their last year together. Driving around for hours on end, listening to AC/DC, and laughing. They always bought slushies beforehand. An entire day on a boat in the lake. Bikinis, tanning lotion, and seven of Kalypso's cousins. All he could see was her. Kalypso got her first tattoo at 18-- a dinosaur encased in a glass jar. A 50s themed Disney Movie marathon Luke, Calum, and Stella helped Ashton plan. The day before they broke up.

The day before they broke up.

'I'll always love you. -Ashton'

She drops the last thing into the box. Does Ashton still love her? Impossible to think about. He has a daughter, probably a girlfriend, probably an entire life she would be imploding on. She puts the box in front of her waist. Kalypso feels bare and like nothing before. "Can you take me to the hotel?" Ashton knew Kalypso better than he knew himself.

Luke nods his head and motions for her to walk with him to Michael's car. On the back window, there's a penis drawn in the dirt.

It's easier for Kalypso to be in the dark, wiping falling tears like nothing. Headlights illuminating the road, not her. Luke pats her hand on the armrest. She was once hard, a badass around everyone but Ashton, and now the only scary part about her is her quick wit.

-

Stella set up the hotel room. Toiletries in the bathroom, pajamas on the bed. The sisters decided to share a suitcase for their two-day trip. They'll fly back tomorrow night-- they'll go back to their apartments after picking Magik up from Jaspers, and Kalypso will spend all night trying to catch up on painting orders.

"What's that?" Stella asks, folding a shirt over her hands. She's getting ready for a shower. Instead of replying, Kalypso sets the box on Stella's bed. Her legs buckle underneath and her sister has to catch her before she shatters into the carpet.

Muttered words. Teas. Stella opens the overly stuffed box that they couldn't close. She is amazed, reading everything Ashton had to say about Kalypso. The photographs, the concert tickets to Blink-182 and some country singers. A stapled-together packet of Kalypso's favorite of everything. Songs, movies, food, drinks, even her favorite names. The joke she always made about naming their kids Asher and Ashley. Her favorite colors and the book she constantly read over and over again and became surprised at the outcome every time.

Ashton knew everything about her when they dated. Things she never realized herself. She knew him as he knew her. The day before graduation, though, he had made his decision.

-

Kalypso applied a white shimmer to her tear ducts. Dabbing opposite of a red smokey eye. Practicing her graduation makeup one last time and trying to get Ashton's opinion about it.

"How many of my bandanas are you going to steal?" Ashton asks, throwing another bandana toward his girlfriend. She wipes the glitter off her middle finger onto her blue jeans.

"We both can wear one," She folds the bandana up into a strap and hands it back to Ashton. "Put it on. You'd look cute."

"Cute? I'm supposed to be intimidating." Ashton giggles, but reluctantly folds the strip over his forehead and ties it at the base of his neck. "Now we look alike."

"Is that a bad thing?" Kalypso asks.

"Nope," Ashton stands up from Kalypso's bed to stand behind her. All he can think about is how much he loves her, how beautiful she always has been. Freshly dyed, cherry red hair chopped at her shoulders, curly from braids. "Are we still going to the beach after graduation?" She had tied a bandana in her hair to hold her hair back too. Black and white, like Ashton's.

"Yeah, but after the graduation party,"

Ashton grimaces. He has a surprise for her at the beach. A stupid party will get in the way.

"C'mon, Ash, your mom is throwing it for all of us,"

"She's such a cock block,"

"Ashton!"

"I'm kidding," Ashton giggles again.

"Now, what do you think of this look?"

"I think that you look beautiful no matter what," Ashton smiles. Her lipstick matches her hair and looks like it would stain his lips. "With or without makeup."

Calypso sighs. "You always say that," She grabs her phone from the floor. A text to Stella asking where she is.

"And?"

"You have to say that,"

If Ashton never said it, he'd be a liar. She is his princess, more goddess-like than anyone had ever seen. "Do you want me to tell you if you look ugly."

"Yes,"

"If I only ever told you when you looked ugly, I'd be mute,"

Kalypso rolls her eyes. "Of course you would say that."

Ashton's head reaches over her right shoulder to press a kiss on her cheek. "You look like the moon and every star in the galaxy."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I can spend three summers straight watching you every time you're around and still get excited for the next one,"

Kalypso blushes. "You're so cheesy."

"I know," A ding from his phone distracts Ashton from his girlfriend. "Luke wants to know if he can come back with Stella."

"Sure,"

Ashton types quickly. The text sends. Luke's on his way with Stella. "Are you excited to be done with school?"

"Yes," Kalypso smiles. Braces removed, teeth are pearly white and straight. "We can hang out so much more than before. We don't have to worry about curfews or my brothers."

"Still dreaming about an apartment with a clawfoot bathtub and large windows everywhere?"

"With high ceilings and at least one cat? Of course,"

"We'll move to Melbourn and live happily ever after,"

"Melbourn? You've never said anything about Melbourn before?"

"I may be trying to pull a few strings,"

"Ash!" Kalypso gasps.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to go or-"

"-Stella entering the room! Please redress!" Stella announces, pushing Kalypso's bedroom door open. "What's the tea?"

"We'll talk about this later, okay?" Kalypso assures.

"Of course," Ashton hopes she's okay with it.

-

"He tried so hard on all of this, oh my, . . . wow," Stella's still pulling things from the box, looking over everything included. Her finger catches on a CD. "What's on this?" Kalypso has no clue but grabs her laptop out of her suitcase.

Her finger shakily presses play and a screen of dark lighting and an ugly girl sitting in a diner booth shows up. It's Sage.

Long, black hair pulled into an overly large messy bun that outweighed her entire head. A square-shaped face and a pig nose permanently turned upward.

Sage shoves a french fry into her mouth while smiling. The person behind the camera asks what Sage was so happy about. She shoves another fry into her mouth. "I came up with a genius idea. Prank the high school sweethearts. There's no way that shit can last forever."

"How'd you do it?" A boy sitting next to her asks.

"I put Nyquil in Ashton's drinks. Knocked him out cold. I'll tell him that he got super drunk and we had sex. The worst thing that'll happen is they'll break up." Sage giggles, covering her mouth. Her fingers are manicured with long acrylics and red nail polish. "I have to show this to like Stella or something so Kalypso isn't that depressed."

"Don't you want them to break up so you can date Ashton though?"

"Ew!" Sage shoves her friend next to her. "I could never. Not into weirdos."

Stella pulls her sister into her arms. The biggest hug she could offer to her best friend. Kalypso partly crawls into her lap, feeling like shit.

"I'm an idiot,"

"You didn't know,"

"Did you ever see this?"

"Not once. I haven't even talked to her since I was like sixteen,"

"I should've believed him." He probably has a wife, another kid on the way, a whole life with no room for Kalypso.

Stella grabs the box and turns it upside down. "He kept all of this for so long." All of the contents spill out onto the floor. "What's that?" She points to a tiny velvet box on the carpet. It only reminds Kalypso of one thing.

"No way," Stella passes the box to Kalypso. "Is this-" She cracks the box open and a gold ring with two silver diamonds on top stares at her. "Oh my God."

Stella picks up the ring. "I . . . I remember this. You and I have the same sized fingers so he made me go with him while you were at work one day,"

"You knew?" Tingles flow through Kalypso's body.

"He was going to propose on the beach. After you graduated. He was trying so hard to get his mom to cancel the party so you'd make it for the sunset."

Kalypso cries even harder, thinking about her past.

-

Kalypso ducks her head underneath the water of her hotel bathtub. Chocolate brown locks billow around her like she's some magical creature or a mermaid. She remembers when she was younger and would've stained the bathtub with different hair dye concoctions. The happiest moments in her life included colored hair -- and Ashton. Chocolate brown, like a symbolistic feature telling her she's not living to her fullest potential.

Her Last dye was that cherry red before graduation. Ashton brought out everything she loved about herself. Quickly, she resurfaced, gasping for breath. She couldn't live without Ashton. Stella threw her clean clothes and watched her run to the passenger door of Michael's car. They sped off, driving way faster than they should have.

Michael stopped in front of Ashton's moms' house, watching Kalypso knock on Ashton's door. Her hair is still dripping wet and staining the back of her shirt. Michael's anticipating someone answering the door. It's just Ashton, Auzilynn, and his mom. Someone will answer that knows Kalypso.

Ashton's the one to open the door. He can't even speak before her.

"You say you fell in love with me in the basement and you remembered that I'm Mini Mack. You stayed with me for eight weeks from the time school got out until I fell asleep when I broke my hand. You set up dates for me and you with Michael, Luke, Calum, or Stella creating stupid pasta dishes with mystery meat because we never had money because we were teenagers. You taught me how to drive. You put up with my constant pictures and annoying comments.

You spent summers with me on a trampoline looking at the sky because I told you that seeing the stars made me happy. You gave me one of your football jerseys when you would wear the other so we would match. You called me beautiful all the time, every single day, and never once let me forget it. You made me feel emotions I didn't know I had. I drowned in you, but yet," Kalypso finally looks up from the ground to lock eyes with Ashton. Her blue orbs lock with brown ones. "I believed someone with a fake tan and an ugly nose over you."

"It was because everyone else did," Ashton says. He's stone-faced, afraid that if he shows emotion he'll crumble. She's his drug, even after five years of straight hatred. "Luke, Michael, Calum, Stella," He looks away. Ashton can't stand to look at her anymore without turning into the high school boy in love with her. He spent five angry years going to sleep without knowing she was safe and secure with a pillow, a blanket, and that stupid stingray. "They all believed her because I couldn't remember."

"Yeah, but I should've trusted you," Kalypso starts tearing up. Her voice can paint pictures of nature scenes you only see in dreams, but her tears could destroy villages and towns. Ashton holds a hand out to her, wanting to bring her inside. "I was so stupid."

"You didn't know," Kalypso takes his hand for the warmth of a home again. One she spent a lot of time during her adolescence. The carpet is still warm and white, the couch with a strain on the armrest from when Ashton spilled something on it. His bedroom upstairs, where they made out one too many times. Her home away from home.

"You wanted to go to the beach," Kalypso whispers. "You . . . you wanted to go to the beach, and right before, I ruined it. I ruined it all. And now you have Auzzie and a maybe wife and I'm never going to be worth anything in your life but just right now I want you to consider, do you still love me? Right here, right now, that's all I need to know and I'll leave you alone."

Ashton pulls Kalypso close to his body for a hug. He smells the same, feels the same, and radiates the same energy he had for several years. "Ashton Kalypso," Ashton softly smiles, trying to lighten the mood. "You overthink way too much."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I could never stop loving you,"

[perspective-series]

Vampire Perspective (7/17)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Blood, unwanted touching... knives? I mean nobody gets stabbed but there is a knife, fear

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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Patton was up the next evening, drinking from one of the few blood bags they had stockpiled to help wane off his nausea. It seemed having Roman in close proximity really didn’t help him fight off his instincts, and lately Patton had been feeling weaker than ever. 

The vampire blinked, surprised to see a form shuffling down the stairs. That was weird, usually Virgil just flew out of the house. Today, though, the older vampire came stumbling down, hair a mess and looking almost as sick as Patton felt. 

“Virgil?” Patton spoke up, concerned when it took a moment to gain Virgil’s attention. “Are you okay?”

“I-I…” Virgil looked ashamed, his arms coming to wrap around his stomach. The look in his eyes was one of regret, one which Patton had only ever witnessed a handful of times. “It’s nothing.”

“Virgil, don’t lie to me.” Patton said sternly, concern dripping into his voice. A sickening sort of dread had begun to form in the pit of his chest. Virgil never kept secrets, not anymore. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t.” Virgil insisted, shaking his head. “If I told you what I’ve done you’d hate me more than you do.”

“Virgil, I do not hate you! I lo- VIRGIL!” Patton cut himself off, shoving his chair back to chase after his best friend as the vampire dashed out the door. It was no use- even in his harried state, Virgil was much faster than Patton, and by the time Patton stumbled over his own feet out into the night Virgil was nowhere to be seen.

“...Virgil.” Patton repeated softly, little tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. Did Virgil really think that? What had gotten so upset to begin with? And why would he possibly believe that Patton did anything less than love him unconditionally?

Patton sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve and shuffling back inside. He tried to replay the events that just transpired in his head, wondering idly as he returned to his blood bag what could ever get Virgil that worked up. He had looked so… scared. Like he was scared of himself, or what he might do; or what he had already done, by the sounds of it. 

“Stop moping.” Patton quietly scolded himself. He brushed the tears away that were threatening to fall. It would do no use getting caught up in the ‘what if’s if Virgil didn’t want to talk, because Patton had no hope of finding him, especially on one of his weaker nights like tonight. Besides, right now there was somebody else who required his care.

Patton shuffled into his bedroom, grabbing the bag of food he had stowed away earlier and kneeling in front of the chest. He lifted it, light shining in on the little borrower. “Hey, Roman.”

 Roman blinked awake, yawning as he sat up and looked up at Patton. Was it evening already? Being in the dark chest, it was hard to tell what time of day it was. “Evening, Patton.”

“I brought you some food.” Patton attempted a smile, passing it down.

 Roman simply took it, taking a bite. “Thank you.” Was all he said as he continued to eat.

“How are you, um…” Patton played with his sleeve, trying to keep the mood light to distract from the interaction he just had. “How are you doing?”

 “Same as ever, locked away in this dark and dreary chest.” Roman snarked. He was still upset over the fact that Patton was keeping him here, after all.

Patton winced, getting a small taste of what Virgil must have been feeling. Patton didn’t hate Virgil, but Virgil thought he did. Here… well, it was very clear what Roman thought of Patton.

“I’m sorry.” Patton said timidly, knowing his words were meaningless at this point.

 “I’m sure you are.” Roman said it sarcastically but honestly? He really didn’t know what to think anymore. He took another bite of his food.

“Maybe we could… find someplace else for you to live?” Patton suggested. “Something less dark and dreary. We could decorate it together, it could be fun.”

 “Ah, yes. Decorating my own cage. Definitely sounds fun.” Roman said but he stood up anyway. He didn’t have anything else to do, after all and yeah, at least something he would help make would be better than this chest.

“I mean, I don’t have any cages… but we could use a box?” Patton offered, putting down his hand.

 Roman considered anything used to trap him a cage but they might be able to do more with a box. “That will do, I guess.” Roman stood up and hesitated as he got to Patton’s hand. At least he wasn’t being grabbed. He stepped on, sitting down in the center.

“Okay, I think I’ve got a stack over here, hang on-” Patton waded through his hoarder pile, finding a collection of cardboard boxes and shoe bins off to the left. “Any stand out to you?”

 Roman’s eyes scanned the boxes, briefly wondering why Patton had so many. Although, noticing the rest of his room, it seemed the vampire was a bit of a hoarder. “Um...that one looks good?” Roman said, pointing to a medium sized cardboard box. Roman would admit, it didn’t feel very good picking his own cage and all.

“Alright.” Patton picked the box in question, tilting it around. “Do you want me to carve a door in it? That way we could put it upside-down and you’d have privacy, unless you’d rather have light… but maybe I have some string lights in here somewhere…”

 Roman frowned, eyebrows furrowed. Patton would put a door in? For him to go in and out freely? Wasn’t this supposed to be his cage? “Er, yes I would like some light and...a door would also be nice.”

“Sounds good!” Patton cleared off a spot, setting the box on the nightstand before heading towards the bedroom door. He paused, wondering if this was a good idea, but he needed a knife to cut the cardboard. Surely a quick jaunt to the kitchen would be fine.

Unfortunately, it was not quick enough. As Patton was grabbing a knife from the block, the front door burst open.

“VIRGIL!” Patton shrieked, turning around to see his roommate all bloody. His clothes were absolutely drenched, and Patton wondered if any blood had made it into Virgil’s mouth at all. “What- what happened?”

 Roman covered his ears at Patton’s shriek, so close to him that it shook his core. His ears were ringing so it took him a moment to register why Patton had screamed. His eyes widened at the sight of the other vampire, the one who had been real keen on Patton eating him, absolutely covered in blood.

 Roman covered his mouth, eyes going wide as he felt like he was going to throw up. He could smell all the blood from here and that alone made him want to gag. He found himself scooting and leaning as far back as possible, wanting to turn his gaze away but unable to.

“Don’t want to talk about it.” Virgil growled, slamming the door shut and stomping up the stairs with a huff. He seemed just as harried as before, but now more angry than sad as he still refused to look at him. 

You’d hate me more… Patton bit his lip, torn as he remembered the borrower in hand. Virgil was clearly a mess right now, but he had also made it clear that he wanted to be left alone… who should he be loyal to?

 Roman was glad to see when Virgil left. He had looked like he had murdered someone, which, he probably had, being a vampire and all. It not only made him more wary of Virgil but of Patton as well. Speaking of, he looked up at the vampire when he hadn’t yet to move. “P-Patton?”

Patton jumped, only now realizing how spooked Roman looked. “Yeah, kiddo?” Patton asked softly.

 Roman bit his lip, wanting to ask one thing but deciding against it. For now, at least. Or maybe ever. He wasn’t really sure he wanted to know anyway. “Can we...get back to decorating?” He asked, wanting to move past this as soon as possible.

Patton gave a deep sigh, hoping he was making the right decision. “Sure thing, kiddo.” Patton grabbed the knife, returning to the bedroom. He set Roman down on the coffin lid, sitting down on the floor and beginning to saw away at the cardboard box.

 Roman sighed as he sat down, feet hanging off the edge as he watched Patton start on his new prison. He watched carefully as Patton handles the knife, almost worried that it would turn on him. Not that Patton needed a knife to be terrifying but it did double his fear.

“What do you want on the walls?” Patton asked, trying to brighten up by distracting himself with his task. “We could paint them or something. I don’t have much art supplies, but Thomas does, and I bet he’d let us use some. I could just say it was a dollhouse.”

 Roman winced. His new prison being referred to as a dollhouse was simply degrading. He wished Patton would just call it a cage. Stop beating around the bush with it. “Uh, yes...I’ve always loved painting when I could get my hands on supplies. I’m sure I could come up with a beautiful design.” Roman revealed.

“You’re an artist?” Patton perked up. “Wow, that’s so neat! So what do you think you’d want to paint?”

 Roman hummed, looking at the barren cardboard walls thoughtfully. “I’m not quite sure yet...but perhaps the night sky could be on one wall. Maybe the sea on the other. And maybe I could leave one blank and paint whatever I want, whenever.” He would need things to occupy his time, after all.

“Oh, if you get bored, you can paint the outside, or the other boxes too! I don’t mind.” Patton assured him. “It’ll be cute, like a little gallery.”

 “Yes, that would be nice. Having something to do, for once.” Roman said, half bitter.

“...sorry.” Patton apologized. “I knew you were mad at me. I didn’t think you’d want to play games.”

 Roman paused. “I am but...what kind of games?” Roman found his curiosity piqued. 

“Well, I’ve got all sorts of games! Board games, mostly, I don’t really understand video games and their machinery. Oh, card games too.” Patton seemed to get excited. “Virgil doesn’t always like to play, but they’re sometimes fun to play alone. More fun to play with human friends though, and I bet borrower friends too.”

 Patton’s excitement was almost...infectious. “That...actually does sound quite fun. I’ve always seen humans playing those games but I’ve never played one myself.” Roman revealed.

“You haven’t?” Patton set the box back on the nightstand. “Oh, I can definitely teach you! I’m a great teacher, especially when my friends don’t know some of the older games. It’ll be lots of fun.”

 Roman shifted his feet a little. He had to admit, it did sound like fun. But also nerve wracking. He had seen a good handful of humans get upset over losing. What if Patton was one just person? What if he ate him afterwards? But...could he even really refuse? “Um...I-I think so too. I’m uh, game if you are.” Roman joked, laughing nervously.

“Aw, no need to be nervous, I promise it’ll be fun.” Patton gave him a grin, putting out his hand. “But first, want to test the door?”

 Roman blinked down at the hand. “...Sure.” He got on after a moment of hesitation.

Patton moved Roman to the nightstand, in front of the crudely made ‘door’. “It’ll probably be dark, and it might get a bit heavy or stuck.” Patton warned.

 Roman nodded and got off the hand, going to push at the door. Patton was right and he had to push a bit harder but he managed to get it open. “It’s...good.” Roman said, still confused. “...Why did you even make a door in the first place?”

Patton tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

 He turned around to face Patton, glaring. “Just call the dumb cardboard box as it is! It’s a cage. My cage, specifically. Meant to keep me trapped here, right? So why-why put in a door? Just to mock me? Give me a false sense of freedom?” Roman demanded to know.

“What? No!” Patton instantly shook his head. “No it’s not meant to be a cage, I-I swear! I just wanted you to have a little home.”

 Roman groaned. “Just stop! I don’t much care that you think it isn’t a cage, it’s still a cage. You said yourself that I wasn’t allowed to leave. So anything you put me in, I’m considering a cage.”

“Well… you can leave the box.” Patton offered, giving the door a slight push. “I’m sorry, I know you hate being stuck here, but I just don’t want anything to happen to you, especially since it’d be my fault.”

 Roman sighed, looking down. “The door’s fine.” Maybe he could even escape, once Patton went to bed. “Let’s just, play that game.” Roman suggested.

Patton hummed, a frown on his face. “You don’t seem very happy.” Patton snapped his fingers, looking as though he’d been struck with brilliance. “Wait, I’ve got it!”

 Roman flinched back at the sudden noise, looking at Patton warily. “Wh-What?”

“Sorry.” Patton apologized, knowing he could be overzealous. “But, I mean, I was just wondering if it would help if I took you out with me.”

 Roman blinked. “Took me...out? Like, outside, out?”

“Yeah, so you didn’t have to stay cooped up in here all the time.” Patton explained, beginning to deflate. “I just thought it might be nice, if you’d like.”

 “It...does sound nice to get out of this place. Even for only a few hours.” Roman said, though he’d much prefer it being permanent, a break would be nice. “But...there needs to be some rules if we do this.”

“Like what?” Patton asked.

 “You can’t...show me to anyone.” Roman said slowly. “That’s the main thing. Also if you plan on...hunting or feeding, whatever you want to call it, I don’t want to come.”

“I won’t.” Patton said, crossing an X over his heart. “I don’t have to eat every day so that should be fine. It’ll be a bit weird though with the secrecy thing… what about Thomas? You know him, don’t you?”

 “No. When I say no one, I mean no one.” Roman said again. “Borrower are supposed to be a secret and I am not going to be the reason that secret was outed.”

“But Thomas won’t tell anyone.” Patton insisted. “I’ll only be going to his house anyway for the paints.”

 “I said no! And if you can’t agree then I’m not coming with you.” Roman huffed, turning around and crossing his arms.

Patton’s lip twitched for a moment, almost pulling into a scowl before it went back to its placid smile.

“Fine.” Patton agreed. He had to remind himself that this was for Roman’s benefit, not his own. If it made Roman more comfortable to be stuck in a pocket for hours that was his decision. Besides, Patton was certain that Roman would warm up to the idea eventually and his only friends would befriend each other. 

 “Good.” Roman said, finally turning back around. “So...are we going tonight? Or are we playing games?”

“It’s the middle of the night, Thomas is asleep.” Patton clipped, shaking himself. Stop that. “I mean… we can go tomorrow. I usually get up early evening to visit him. We’ll go then.”

 Roman backed up a step at the tone in Patton’s voice in the first part, not liking it. “...Sounds good.” He muttered, looking away. 

Patton ran a hand down his face, trying to bite back the awful feelings he could sense just beneath the surface. “I’m… not feeling so well, kiddo. Can we wait on the games?”

 Roman nodded. He didn’t like how Patton was acting so yes, waiting sounded like a great idea. Getting away from Patton sounded like a great idea too. 

“I think I’m just worried about Virgil.” Patton lied, knowing that wasn’t the only source of his discomfort. It might have triggered it, though. “Do you mind if I go check on him?”

 “No, go right ahead.” Roman said, again, just wanting to be away from Patton.

Patton paused, looking over at Roman with a blank expression. “Can I trust you to stay here?”

 Roman tensed, meeting Patton’s eyes for a moment before looking away. “...Yes.” He lied.

Patton gave an almost sad sigh. “I knew it.” He grabbed up Roman, walking across the room.

 “Ah! Hey! I thought we agreed on no more grabbing!” Roman yelled, struggling against the grip.

“And you just said you’d stay put.” Patton retorted, a bit of bitterness leaking into his voice as he opened the chest. Guess we’re both liars.

 Roman his heart skip a beat at Patton’s tone and he looked down at the chest. Back here again, though he really didn’t expect much different. “I-I was telling the truth!” He lied again. He struggled more against the grip. “This isn’t fair!”

“It’s just for a little bit.” Patton assured him, placing Roman at the bottom with a pitying expression. His heart ached a bit, but he couldn’t risk Roman getting out, especially with Virgil being so unpredictable. “I promise.”

 Roman growled and crossed his arms, going to sit in the corner. “Well, apparently your word means nothing.” He muttered. He could only assume he would be in the chest for a while.

Patton gave a slight huff. Why did Roman have to be so difficult? Why didn’t he understand the danger? 

“I could say the same to you.” Patton replied, shutting the chest more harshly than intended.

 Roman jumped at the harsh sound. Looking up into the darkness with sad eyes. Just when Patton was maybe starting to be good, he showed his true colors. Of course. And now Roman was back to the fear of being eaten again. He sighed, curling in on himself. He was going to die here, one way or another.

Patton sighed, pacing a few times in the hall before heading upstairs. This was bad. Usually, he could control himself, and his less-than-ideal vampire diet only made him feel nauseous at times. But now, Patton could feel his instincts bubbling near the surface, dark and sinister and yearning to tear something apart.

Patton just hoped confronting Virgil wouldn’t make it worse.

[the-headbop-wraith]

2_28 Pit Fall

There was something inherently creepy about schools after hours.  Once all the teachers had departed their homes and their lives, the children’s voices now vacant from the long empty halls.  Sounds rose about when there should be no utterance; creaks in the tall walls, the rattle of the heating ducts generating a hospitable environment for the lingering abandonment, the scuttle of pages on a desk.  A school was a place meant for inhabitance, it should be alive with laughter, voices, excitement.  It should be filled with life.

But not at night, in the slow treading hours post dusk.

The cafeteria was expansive, with a stage to the opposite end of the kitchen/serving station. For the evening’s janitorial service, all chairs were flipped and set seat down on the table tops.  Three emergency exits were strategically built on three accessible walls of the lunchroom, one was the entrance on the far side of the cafeteria where students filed in from one main hall, and the second was adjacent to the kitchen itself, its bright words EXIT gleam a harsh green in the blue haze of the shade studded room.  

A last pair of escape doors was built into the opposite wall near the performance stage, where the left wing of the sloping ramp descended from the stage top. Hanging high on the wall beside the double doors rested a large tak board, an abundance of notices and cautionary signs pinned with colorful pins.  Most notably, the many pictures of children in black and white, some photo copies in color with information typed beneath the print.  

Yellow light flashes across the deep maroon curtain hanging beside the stage.  The fabric sways in some draft, or reluctance to the light disturbing its rest.  Arthur doesn’t like it.  The fabric reminds him… reminds him of things he wants to forget.  His good hand fumbles around in his pocket, tracing the crinkled edge of the box there.  He moved his torch beam over the surface of the photos slowly.  He twists away from the images and accusations and moves back to the blue figure huddled over a laptop, she and the machine seated on the edge of a long table, the chairs removed from the tables top were returned to the floor.

“None of the kids really have anything in common, only that they’re not over twelve,” Vivi murmurs. She scrolls through her grid block tab filled with information, names, dates; the blue light of the screen slithers across her face and gloved hand.  The touch pad doesn’t work if she wears the gloves, though form fitting they are, and very stylish.  “But I’m able to adjust my search, and find out what days of the month kids have gone missing.  Try and narrow it down.  Hmm?”

Dimitri slipped closer to the table Vivi sat upon, and looked at the screen.  “Five have gone missing since me,” he uttered.  “Five.”

“We haven’t even started,” Vivi says.  “There’s this one area on the edge of town, where people have mentioned seeing kids prior to their disappearance.  District… Flower?  What was that name?  Hold on.”

“Maybe it is the Slender-man then,” Arthur muttered.  He moved away from the high board with the pictures of happy children— once happy, locked now in a time of carefree innocence.  Some of the pictures had come loose from the board from the overuse of pins, and now lay on the floor at the walls base.  “We have about fifteen to twenty minutes.”  He shifts the flashlight beam from his pocket watch to the table, and pockets the watch.  “Did you say you moved here?”

Dimitri stared at where the light hit the table, forming a golden halo.  He barely realized then that the group used color coordinated flashlights.  “Yeah,” he mumbled, distracted.  “When my dad divorced.”  He looked at Arthur, as the other swung his torch away and set the light beneath his chin.  Dimitri winced, Arthur looked creepy with the blue of the moonlight and the cold empty windows as a backdrop.

“Then I will be impetuous and conclude, your brother is half-brother?” said Arthur.  Vivi snapped her head up, her bright glasses glinting under the light of the computer.  She had that look that could kill – if a minor were not present.

Dimitri only nodded, unperturbed.  “Uh-huh. Some kid tried teasing me about it, and I punched them in the face.”

“That’s… very Noble of you,” Vivi says, glancing up at the boy.  “But you shouldn’t hit people at your age.  Wait until you’re older.”  Arthur choked on whatever he was about to say.  “Time, Art?”

“We still have some. I’ll let you know.”  Arthur pulled out his pocket watch anyway, soothing kinked nerves with the slow tick of the moving minute hand.  

“It’s showing up here,” Vivi mentioned, pointing a gloved finger.  She scrolled down the grid she compiled of the updated information ‘gathered.’  She tapped at the keypad and began nodding to herself, a half glimpse to the screen as the text reloaded.  “You’re right.  That given, we know that whatever takes the kids, only takes those who are native born. Clear matches.”

“Adults aren’t— ” Arthur shut his mouth, and jerked his light in the direction of the kitchen, where vague noises echoed from.  A creak and low humming, probably the refrigerator unit kicking into gear.  He took a breath, and tightened his gloved hand into a fist around the fabric of his pants leg.  “Elders don’t seem bothered.  None disappear?”

“Whatever it is, it’s not interested in them,” Vivi reflects.  “It just doesn’t want interference.  Or maybe they are affected but mildly, I dunno, subdued?  They don’t completely forget, the extent is ‘lost interest’?”  Dimitri crossed his arms over his chest and frowned Vivi’s way, but she took no notice; she was fully engrossed with the laptop.  She pressed a fist to her lips and thought, humming softly to herself.  “It can’t worry over adults getting suspicious, awful as that sounds it won’t risk removing those past their teen years.  What would its motive be in taking the children then?”

Dimitri climbed up on top of the table and stood before the computer, and Vivi bathed in the hazy light.  “You still think there’s something unnatural going on around here, huh?” he hissed, fists clenched at his sides.

“We’re open minded,” Vivi states, looking up at him.  “What’d you say?  ‘The authorities in charge of finding the kids gave up because they are the abductors?’ It’s possible.”  She began typing, fast, and raised her shoulders.  “Maybe the parents forget because there’s something in the water?  A sedative? Those are all possibilities.  Is that what you want to hear?”

Arthur slunk back over to the table, the light of his torch aimed at his shoes.  “We don’t seem affected.”

Vivi snaps at him, “When do we ever drink water?”

Arthur paused, as if he never considered that fact.  “Oh.  Right.”

Dimitri sighed, and brought his hands up to his head and tugged at his hair.  He supposed it didn’t matter what they thought, as long as they were looking.  The Mystery Skulls were his only hope.  Still, he wished Lewis was back from wherever he had gone.  It worried him when Vivi and Arthur never mentioned him, and when/if they did it felt similar to how adults lie – negotiating lies- to sooth upset toddlers.  Dimitri didn’t like to be treated like a kid, they didn’t give him enough credit. Lewis did.  “Where do we go, then?” Dimitri mumbled.

Vivi fumbled with the orphaned glove that lay on her lap, and studied the screen.  Dimitri edged forward and saw the familiar layout of Google maps.  Vivi was frowning.  “I only have an obscure lead on—” She glanced Arthur’s way, when Arthur spun around and held up a hand.  For a tense moment they were quiet as Arthur tilt his head down and listened.  Without a word, he motioned hastily for the two at the table to move.  Vivi shut the laptop gently and she slings off her backpack.

Not long after they had everything gathered – the laptop packed away, the chairs replaced atop the table – the three were mobile and ready to exit.  Before Arthur could open the exit door, Mystery’s clinking paws scuttled from the darkness, he gave a few gruff barks as he darted by the group and kept going, weaving among the table legs.  Arthur caught Dimitri by the shoulder and nudged the smaller figure towards Mystery’s flashing outline.  Rather run all the way around a table, Dimitri dropped to his hands and knees and crawled after the dog.  

Arthur followed the path of the two with his flashlight. “Shit,” he cursed.  “We should still have time.”

“D!” Vivi hissed. “Let me and Arthur go first.”  She followed close behind Dimitri, her flashlight darting around seeking Mystery.  “The curfew might have made the response faster.  Focus on keeping our heads, and not get caught.  That would very much not work out in our favor.  Stay close Dimitri.”  As the group moved, Mystery picked up the pace, his shallow ‘ruffs’ gave indication of where he had winked out through the shadows.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Arthur hissed.  “Why do I ever let you talk me into this?  I know the outcomes gonna be bad.  I never learn.”  

“You’re a supportive friend,” Vivi reminds.  “And you wouldn’t forgive yourself if something bad happened to us.”  Arthur gave a rather theatrical groan.

They reach one exit on the far side of the cafeteria, the doors locked with a heavy chain and padlock.  Vivi takes Arthur’s flashlight as Arthur begins to pad down his pants pockets.

Mystery yips at him.

“I’m hurrying.  Don’t rush me.”  Arthur locates his lock pick kit and selects the sharp along with a toggle, he clenched the sharp tool between his teeth and grips the padlock in his good hand.  The tool clicks in the mechanism, but he lets out a low grunt through his teeth. “Damn.”

“Hold the lights, D.” Vivi passes the flashlights over to Dimitri, then takes Arthur’s arm and elbow between her hands.  Arthur mutters a ‘thanks’ as he spun the point in the keyhole of the padlock.  When the padlock clicks, Arthur rips the chain away.  Vivi jumps up, pulling the deadbolt in the top of the door free and charges forward, shoving the door latch and forces one door open.  “Stay behind me.”

“K?” Dimitri mumbles, as Vivi tugs his arm along.  Dimitri hands one torch to Vivi, and aims his light onto the polished surface of the floor.  Behind them, Arthur tossed his tools into the case and shoved it in his pocket.  “But what happens if we get caught?”  His face warmed a bit when Vivi gripped his free hand. It was beyond embarrassing, but he kind of didn’t mind.  

Vivi gave a little laugh but didn’t look back at him.  “Caught? Who gets caught?” she chuckled.

“Oh?”  Dimitri decided Vivi was cool.  She went on crazy adventures, broke into buildings at night, evaded the police, and she had an awesome dog.  Why couldn’t more girls be like her?

Mystery hung back as Arthur dragged the door shut.  “If they find that chain there,” Arthur grumbled.  Mystery yipped at him.  “Hey, wait! You got the light!  Hold on!”

“Think you can keep up?” Vivi whispered.  She released Dimitri’s hand.  “Don’t fall behind.  Arthur! Hurry!  You‘re setting a bad example.”

“You’re making too much noise.” hissed the mechanic.  He fell in pace behind Dimitri, Mystery to his side bouncing and yapping.  The flashlights weren’t necessary to guide them, even if they were not exploring a linear hall, moonlight drenched the row of windows beside them.  Sleek polished floors reflected streaks of silver across white washed walls, and the redirected light flooded the interior corridor. The walls that concealed the classrooms were decorated typical Grade school style, with numerous large boards tacked to the plaster and each filled with colorful pictures, typed and written essay papers.  Arthur could see out onto the open road ventured over earlier that day, the bright lawns coated in crystalizing frost in the falling temperature.  Another patrol car went by, a head lamp flashed across the large windows—

“Duck!”  Arthur threw himself to the floor.

Vivi snagged Dimitri before he could take off, and slid down to her knees as Arthur belly flopped. On the walls of pictures and schoolwork, the light slid by tracing the dark outlines of pages, a rogue breeze rustled a few papers at their base.  Vivi waits and watched the light gingerly scan over the wall, as if inspecting the labors of children. “Let’s keep moving,” she murmurs.  “Stay low.  There should be doors at the end of the hall.”

“At the end,” Arthur cues in.  “Might be an office, or library, some sort of intersection?  Dimitri, you know where you are?”

The boy nods, though the others can’t see it in the dark space below the window.  “This is the Kinder side.  The doors at the end here lead out to the playground.  Heh, I feel like a criminal.”

“Sorry about that,” Vivi hums.  “I wasn’t really thinking about how bad of a mess we can be in, if we get caught with you.”

“I told you!” Arthur ranted, throwing his arm up. “You never listen!”  His metal arm made a dull thump when it came down, the glove he wore dampening its odd sounds.

“I take everything you say into consideration,” Vivi says, gently.  “Besides, were not novices, we won’t get caught.”  Arthur just growled to himself, muttering what sounded like ‘coats‘.  “When we get outside, we’ll need to stick to the shadows and time when it’s clear.  We can’t go back to the van right away.  We have to be strategic about this.”

“You do this often?” Dimitri whispered.

Arthur muttered, growled something.  “That’s… confidential.”  Dimitri didn’t ask anymore after that.

The large doors were in an alcove, where the group could stand without too much concern of being seen from the road, as Arthur picked the lock.  Once the doors were open, Dimitri cast a last glance to the hall. He’d never been in this section before, except under special occasions.  He shook himself and turned to join the others in the brisk night.

It’s cold.  Colder than the night before, the sky absolutely baron of the clouds from the evening past.  Dimitri watches his breath fades in the air.  The school had been shielded and heated from the night after hours ended, and now he missed it.  He didn’t care if they got caught.  As long as he could be warm for a bit longer; ride in a patrol car.  But… his brother might be cold too.  Wherever he was, he would be scared too, and there was no way of knowing if he was warm, safe, comfortable.  They couldn’t stop, not when they were close.  He could feel it this time.

“Give me the light.” Vivi took the torch from Dimitri and shut it off.  “Stay close to Mystery, all right?  And stay in the shadows.”

“I know how to sneak,” Dimitri grumbles.  “Only idiots get spotted.”  Arthur startles him when he begins coughing, and it’s hard to decide if he mucked up another off key comment or if the sharp air was hurting his throat.

Save for Mystery, who trots out and around to spot for on foot security, the group hugs the tall brick walls.  They hike around the shielded side of the school, among thick shrubs and decorative cement barriers that align ramps, always in the presence of steps.  The entire school was contained within walls, and any outside corridors cutting through were barred by tall metal gates. Refrozen ice from the night before glittered in tall standing lamps, its crusty surface crunched under foot.  In some areas there was evidence of children’s play, snow angles and dark soil exposed where frost was scooped up.

“It’s really cold,” Dimitri chattered, as they passed by another corner.  By then they had made it the edge of the football field, where they had crossed an hour earlier on their wild mission for references. Encircling the entirety of the field and school grounds was a chain-link fence and beyond that awaited the neighborhoods, a few homes visible with their bright friendly light glowing in window cutouts.  He’d come past this corner many times with his friends in the past, when it was still safe to hike up to the school alone.  He wondered if the disturbed ice was caused by kids that had been born in the town. “My teachers say it gets that way, ‘cause of the sky being cloudless.  Something about clouds trapping heat.”

Arthur gripped his bad shoulder as he stepped around the corner.  “Yeah,” he mutters.  “Heat can’t escape, that’s why.  It doesn’t make a lot of sense unless you know the science behind it, because it….” He let his voice trail off, and caught Vivi by the shoulder of her coat. “We should call it a night.”

Vivi turned to look at Arthur, as withdrew his arm to hold his shoulder.  “Okay.  I know, I know,” she said, voice misting.  She reached her hands up tugging at the straps of her backpack, and then turned to where Dimitri was poised beside the wall, staring out.  There was something she needed to tell Dimitri, something important, but the thought had dropped from her mind.  Vivi sighed and touched her glasses.  “Well… we can leave you off at your house for the night.  How does that sound?”  Wasn’t his father upset?  “No-no.  His father forgot.”

Dimitri glanced at Vivi.  “I can’t go back,” he mutters.  “I tried, but… I can’t.  Not until…. Can we start looking?  Now? Why can’t we start?”  He stepped up to Vivi and stared at her. “Tonight?  Looking?  It’s so cold… my brother, what if he’s cold?”

Vivi draws back, and glances to Arthur.  “We can’t,” she says.  Arthur shrugs, and sticks his hands into his pockets.  “We’re not ready, and it can be dangerous searching the woods, especially at night.”

Dimitri felt something in him tighten painfully.  “When will you be ready?  When will the time be right!  I’m done waiting!”  Mystery was sniffing around near them, but when Dimitri began screaming the dog raised his head and perked his ears.  “Just show me where.”

“Just calm down.” Vivi hands over the flashlight and Dimitri, hesitant, takes it.  The bulb is still warm, and he presses it to his cheek.  “I have an idea where we’ll start, but in the morning when its warmer and we get some supplies.”  She glances Arthur’s way when he flicks the lighter and raises the glimmering flame to his cigarette.  “Just one more day.  What— ” She cuts off when Dimitri wrenches out of her grip, the torch held beside him. Dimitri shakes his head vigorously.

“No.  No-no-no, don’t you dare say it,” he snarls, voice low. “Don’t you dare say.”

Vivi takes another step in his direction, but stops and clasps her hands in front of her lap. “What if you just tried accepting that….”

“NO!” Dimitri’s voice echoes off the tall black wall and shoots across the vacant field.  “I don’t CARE! what anyone says!  I know my brother’s out there!  Someone stole him, so he has to be SOMEWHERE!  If you won’t— ” he has to stop, the tears constrict his throat and he‘s choking on the words, the memories.  His little brother, gone from his bed.  “Fuck it!”  He thrusts the flashlight down, causing both Arthur and Vivi to jerk when it cracks against the frozen soil.  Dimitri stifles a sob as he tears across the field.

Mystery stares the way Dimitri heads, and glances to his companions.  He lowers one ear and tilts his head.

“Shit, that’s really done it.”  Arthur sticks the cigarette between his lips and turns to Vivi.  “I told you, right?  This was a bad deal from the get go.  Just… you should’ve waited.”  He starts in the direction of Dimtiri’s fading form, halfway across the football field. Vivi doesn’t move, except to raise a hand to her eyes.

“You should go after them, Mystery.”  Vivi turns and approaches the wall where Dimitri had been standing, and uses a hand to keep herself stationed and upright.  “You know you should.  Please. Go.”

Mystery turns away from Vivi, but dithers back. He doesn’t want to leave her, but Dimitri could just keep running from them, become lost from them for good.  It wasn’t safe now.  He gives his head a shake and cuts over the frost coated landscape, flurries shredded between his paws.  Of course he couldn’t abandon the boy now.  But Mystery almost feared most leaving Vivi alone for too long in her current state. Not this time.  It would be all right.  Not like… not like before.

His face hurt as he ran.  Tears streaking, skin pummeled by the merciless frigid air, and his throat was full of cold needles.  He ran until he felt like his lungs were bursting and his breath tasted salty, like blood gushed forth.  Still he ran, ran away from it all.  His problems, the things he couldn’t fix, the people that gave up on him.  Flee his sorrow.  But where was he to go?  Would there be answers or more lies, hidden by kindness?  How was he to tell friends from those that would fail him?  He couldn’t do it anymore.  One time he had fought, then he was running – nothing ever worked for him.  Never!

A bark.  Some stray out of nowhere, plowed right at his feet.  Dimitri barely caught himself as he staggered, the dog had lunged in close but not directly under him, only startling close.  It was enough to upset his balance and he toppled into the cold ice and grass of a lawn.  He lay on his side a moment half crying and wheezing, he couldn’t wrestle control over his breathing, could only lament and be miserable.

Mystery stood nearby, his own breath misting from the exertion.  He gave a low yip and padded forward to press his nose into Dimitri’s shoulder.  Come on, get up.  He blew warm breath on Dimitri’s ears and nuzzled his face.

“No!  Get away!” Dimitri tried to swat at the mutt, but Mystery only came back and snagged his shoulder sleeve and growled. “I said go ‘way!”  He shoved Mystery by his shoulders, and in the same motion Dimitri rolled upright onto his knees.  “Stop!  I mean it! I‘m not playing!”

Mystery tugged at his shoulder and maneuvered himself aside as Dimitri tried in vain to remove the dogs jaws with his hands.  Mystery snorted and pulled harder, the hound accented his desires with more low snarls, gentle snarls that were not hostile but demanded attention.  Dimitri stopped fighting and just stares as Mystery holds his sleeve.  After a short while, Mystery released Dimitri’s coat and turns away. He took a few steps toward a bright slice of sidewalk and looked back, yellow spectacles glinting under the moonlight.

“They won’t help me,” Dimitri mumbled.  

Mystery yipped.  Oddly, the sound had a resonance akin to “come along, now.”  But that would’ve been weird.  It was just cold and Dimitri’s ears ached.  With another bark, Mystery began to walk away.  The dog paced a few yards from Dimitri, throwing his head back with another series of yelps and hoots, not like the sounds of a dog.  He keeps this up, until Dimitri managed to his feet and plodded into the steady pace his escort set.

Dimitri stumbled a bit on the slick sidewalk as he followed, and worked to brush the glittery patches of cold from his coat.  The coat Vivi had bought him.  “I want my brother back.”  Mystery whines.  The fringes of moonbeams punch through the tall gnarled trees above, accenting his white fur with silver highlights and maroon flashes.  “Dad didn’t like it.”  Mystery slowed his pace and let Dimitri catch up to him.  “I thought maybe that’s why he didn’t care.  But I know he would, I know he would’ve.  He’s not like that.”  Dimitri rubbed away the icy tears drying to his cheeks.  “He just doesn’t understand!”  He caught himself on Mystery before he could fall again, then noticed the sidewalk that they were now on.  “Where we going?”

The only answer was a dismissive gurgle as Mystery padded off, his pace picking up.  Dimitri knew where they were, and he felt some small warmth return, a bit of hope restore itself.  The van was ahead, parked in front of the empty lot overgrown with brown weeds and trees. He hadn’t thought about returning, hadn’t given a second thought to just waiting.  He just… it was too much to think about, and tears edged at his eyes again. He didn’t know why, it didn’t help his current situation any small amount.  He was still at square one.

Mystery trotted ahead to the vans back and began sniffing around the sides.  “Is Lewis here?” Dimitri questions, as he stares up at the tall, imposing outline of the vehicle.  The van had a sense of isolation, separate from the night.  It seemed to devour the shadows, yet there were no trees near the road to cast shrouds of blues and blacks.  “He should be back, shouldn’t he?”  Dimitri hurried to the back door and knocked.  “Lew?”

No answer.  That didn’t come as a surprise, but it was disappointing.

“Is he around?” Dimitri asked, even as he knocked on the doors again; the hollow banging echoed within the metal walls. Even the resonance felt cut off from the outer environment.  “Lew? Are you there?  It’s me, Dimitri!”  He tried the door handle and found it unlocked.  “Mystery?”  Dimitri pulled the door open and peered into the wall of black that hovered before them. “Hello?”  Dimitri waited, listening and trying to perceive the impenetrable wall.  He stepped aside when Mystery wriggled beside his leg and sprang up into the interior, the black hung low and soaked into Mystery’s white fur.  “Is… someone there?”

Though Dimitri’s sight was limited, he could still make out that Mystery’s behavior was odd.  The dog hesitates and listens carefully, ears aimed forward, focused on an unknown factor.  Mystery sniffs at the air, then carefully, sets his raised paw, the one still bandaged, down.  He moves further, deeper, into the dark gloom, fading out of sight.

Dimitri scrambles to climb up after the dog, but first manages to stumble sideways when his legs get tangled up in the thick blankets left along the wall.  “Stupid,” the boy mutters, as he uses a ledge or something to push himself back up. “Lewis?”  The air inside the van is ten times worse than the open air, so cold it penetrated his coat and nearly burned his skin.  Dimitri shudders and begins to feel along the wall.  He knows they had a few flashlights hidden around, but he never paid attention to where the spares were kept.  Some light would help.  “Mystery? Where’d you go?”  His voice cracked.  The dog was nowhere, he couldn’t even detect where Mystery might be and Dimitri worried he’d wind up falling on top of him.  He tries whistling.  “Mystery puppy.  C’mere. This is no time to hide.”

Something in the dark swatted at him, and Dimitri gave a little cry as he fought it off.  He was nearly to the point of hysteric shouts, before he was backed away from the slumping curtain.  He laughed a little, uneasy and shaken.  “I forgot about that.” He stands motionless staring now at the blanket half hanging from the ceiling.  The gravity of his situation coiled about his mind.  No one was in the van, he was alone.  Lewis had not been here at all.

A small bark was given by Mystery, prompting Dimitri to locate the dog over at the back doors?  Fresh light from the moon slipped unrestrained through the interior of the van, but the details were still hazy and crudely molded.  Some bags and supplies were stacked on one side of the van, blankets piled by the other wall.  At the doors stood Mystery’s bright outline, he barked into the night with some little urgency and the little spot of his tail wagged cheerily.

“Is someone out there?  Lewis?”  Dimitri asked.  He raced across the floor and darted out, past Mystery as he slipped aside.  

Dimitri took a few steps out onto the road, and Mystery waited until he began to inspect his surroundings for any indication of a friendly face.  Mystery padded away from the door, and took a hold of the blankets rumpled across the floor. Dimitri was still calling out into the night with some rising desperation, while Mystery worked to uncover the dark shape sculpted in the shadows.  He moves around the side and holds his head back, high, in part scrutinizing the dark container, and a small trace of reluctance in his demeanor.  

For Dimitri.  

Mystery expels a misty whine, and begins pawing at the edge of the box, timidly, as if dipping his toes into thick paints.

There was no one outside.  At least, not from what Dimitri could see.  Maybe there was someone, the same person that stole children. He gulped down another hiccup, but felt his face twisting with the sickness of sorrow.  They could be watching him right now, aware that he knew too much.  He must be silenced.  No one would know, he would soon be forgotten – for real this time.  The people he once loved, believed in, none of them would care. Mystery wouldn’t leave him to danger, but Mystery wasn’t with him right now.  What if the dog was trying to warn him, and Dimitri completely missed it?

He felt an illness twist in his guts, rooted by too much of stress and sorrow, and no remedies.  It scooped up his insides and ripped them all out, his heart and soul. No one would help.  No one could understand.  He was alone.

“I just wanted my brother back.”  Dimitri squatted down and wrapped his arms tightly around his legs and shook, he tried to bury it in his chest but it lurched free. Pain and guilt, serials murderers of hope and dreams.  “Give him back.  Please.” His hands and nose ached, his fingers were numb.  Everything was cold and sharp on his nerves.  He didn’t care if he fell asleep here and never woke up, or if a speeding car were to careen by.  Anything would be better than the punishment of being forgotten.  “I loved him.  I swear I did.  He looked up to me, I was important….”

“Dimitri?” a voice called.  “What’re doing here?”

The odd scratchiness made it tricky to identify, but Dimitri knew the tone of that voice.  He tried to uncoil and stand all at once, and instead fell onto his side as he twisted around on the icy road.  “Lewis!”

“Y-yeah,” said the figure, slipping out of the van. He was zipping up his coat and teetering on his feet, looking away, around.  “Right… quick question.”  He adjusted his voice, working through the hoarseness.  Lewis gave the area a brief scan then turned back to Dimitri, raising a hand to his face. “Where… are we?”  He recoiled when Dimitri gave a shrill cry and lunged at him. Lewis put his arms out to catch the boy, but Dimitri flew right through his palms and wrapped himself around Lewis’ legs.

“I want my brother!  I want to look for my brother!” screamed the boy.

“Qué pasa en el mundo?  Que… what’s wrong?”  Lewis couldn’t pry Dimitri free, and he wasn’t going to try. “Talk to me, Dimitri.  Where are the others?”

“They won’t help me look!” Dimitri tightened his arms around Lewis, his last lifeline.  “Vivi. She was… she was gonna say it.  My brother’s not dead.  My brother’s not dead!  He’s just missing!”  Dimitri buried his face into Lewis’ leg, and began to quiet when Lewis set his hands on his back.  “He’s not. You believe me.  Don’t you?” he mumbled.

Lewis would’ve sighed if he could.  He didn’t understand anything; this conversation Dimitri had with Vivi, or where Vivi was for that matter.  It was too surreal, too sudden, he wasn’t ready for this.  There was just Mystery as a guide, but Mystery was in distress too, as much as the dog would allow Lewis to take from.

“Lew.  Your glasses.”  Lewis jerked his head up, and found Arthur placed not far from him.  As if to emphasize the point, Arthur raised a hand to his face.

And Arthur was smoking.

“I didn’t,” Lewis began, and rephrased his sentence. He wanted to move away, get away from Arthur, but something was… off.  Very off.  “I didn’t hear you.”

“Uh huh.”  Arthur took another draw from the white stick, and slanted his eyes a bit. “Vi and I were gonna call it a night… uh, Dimitri.  Aren’t you tired?”  He leaned a little over, towards the boy.  Dimitri just mumbled and whimpered into Lewis’ leg.  

“Where’s Vivi?” Lewis inquired.  To his side, Mystery poked his head out from the interior of the van and fixed on Arthur.

“Well, she didn’t want to run,” Arthur reasoned. “Is the van still cold?”  He stepped a little closer to Lewis as he puffed at his cigarette.

The sensation was unsettling.  It was Arthur in every aspect, but parts of him were shut off.  His usual writhing aura of indecision, doubt, was diluted with something unfamiliar. There was no mediating presence, only a null absorbing warmth and drive, persona defined.  Lewis was struggling to reach out and understand the coldness, the vague indifference, but it was impossible to grasp.  And for Lewis, he didn’t want to realize it.

“Dimitri,” Lewis says.  “Go find me a big stick.  Real quick.”

“What?  Why?” He loosens his hold and tries to look up at Lewis, but Lewis moves out of his way, leaving only a hand on his shoulder as he swings around and towards Arthur.

“It’s got them too,” Lewis supplies.  “We’re gonna knock some sense into Arthur.”  At that comment, a little squeal spills from the boy and he races off.  Mystery lunges out of the van and follows, yipping.

That little cry almost startled Lewis, it was a amost too happy for comfort.  He’s brought back to place and time, when Arthur exhales a mouthful of mist and smoke. Lewis glides back and settles. “Arthur,” he hisses.

“I’m trying to… fix this,” the lean figure mutters. “It’s complicated, ah.  I told you guys we shouldn’t have come.  I told you!  Didn’t I?” He shakes his head and brings the cigarette back to his lips.  He’s not watching Lewis.  “‘Hey,’ I say.  ‘Let’s try something else.’  No one ever listens to me!”

“That’s… not true,” Lewis says.  He takes a step back, out of Arthur’s range.  “I can’t reason with you like this.”  It didn’t suit Lewis to be timid, but he was frazzled from his dormancy.  Time was needed to refocus, dampen his sensory, the pitch of the colors swirling, but answers!   He wanted answers and Arthur… Arthur was the last person Lewis could ask.  Rather pursue the ghost, Arthur moved away towards the open back of the van.  Lewis slung forward and jerked Arthur back by grabbing at the compromised shoulder. “You need to talk to me.”

Arthur staggers away, one arm latched at his bad shoulder. “That doesn’t always work.  Does it?”  When Lewis moves forward to pull him back, Arthur exhales a cloud of smoke. Some of its ash, most of its breath, but it nips at Lewis like static.  Interference.  “I don‘t know how to approach you.”

“Arthur.”

“Seem like every time I wake up, there’s you.” Arthur gestured with his arms, and glowers at Lewis.  The ghost doesn’t rebuke the comment.  “I hate the dark, I hate sleeping… ‘coz your always there.”

“Art.”

“Even before you made that spook fun house!  You were there!  You never left me!  You just… won’t get out of my head.”  Arthur moves to the doors but stops.  Lewis hasn’t budged from where he stands, biding time.  Arthur brings the cigarette to his lips.  When he exhales, that’s when Lewis will move.  “Shouldn’t you be concerned about Vivi?”  Arthur coughed on the smoke as he spoke, “I just kind of left her— ” The sentence ends when Lewis dives forward, grabbing the smaller figure by the shoulders.  Arthur gags as he’s shoved onto the floorboard of the van, and held there as Lewis reaches off to the side for the backpacks.  

“You were probably going for a Dispel,” Lewis says, as he works to get a bag open.  “But I can’t trust you, not the way you are.  You don’t know what you’re doing.”  If he couldn’t get a bag open he had to find something in the cuvees, but he wasn’t sure of what to use.

“DAH!  Yu!” Arthur flops wildly to loosen the hold, but Lewis only tightens his grip and keeps Arthur pinned down.  An intelligible set of squabbles spills from Arthur’s throat as he fumbles around for something, a weapon.

A piece of paper, rolled up.  Arthur knew what the sheet was, if he could manage he always kept one nearby.  Vivi had given it to him and he suspected it might have been a placebo, but he was willing to try anything.  Arthur’s hands were left free, and Lewis was distracted with fumbling through the supplies. With one swipe Arthur had uncoiled the script page and pressed it onto Lewis’ arm.  “Spirit!  Release me.” He wanted to laugh at how absurd the phrase sounded, and he was saying it to Lewis.  The laugh came out with a maniacal peel as Arthur took a breath through the harsh cold air, smoke still curling in his lungs.

Lewis gave a high pitched shriek and withdrew a fraction from the sheet of paper.  In the confusion, Arthur managed to get himself right side up and held the page out before him, but the words he intended to speak got lost when he saw the skull and the bright eyes blazing back at him.  Arthur barked a curse right as Lewis grabbed him by the throat and shoved him into the opposite wall of the van.  Arthur can smell burning, carpet or plastic, he sees flames seeping up along Lewis’ suit collar and broad shoulders.  

“I don’t want your tears, or your apology!”

Arthur winces, and kicks out against Lewis’ stomach but the ghost can’t feel it.  “Lew’s,” he rasped.  Heat, fire twisting in his skin, up his bad arm, spilling through his nightmares. “Don’t!  LU-wus!”  He feels his throat compressing to a dangerous amount and darkness begins creeping behind his eyes.  “No!  NO! WHY?!”  Arthur panics and claws at the jacket sleeve, fights to rip away and reclaim consciousness, but the hands are locked to his throat and those ‘eyes’ burn into his own as if they are sipping at his soul.  “Don’t keH -eh. –Mm beg…  Don… Lews, lis-  Listehhn….” Arthur voice becomes garbled, butchered.  “Lis-sEN.  Wak— Don’t do -iss.  Is eee…..” It reaches the point where Arthur feels his neck is ready to snap in two.  His grip jerks feebly at Lewis sleeve one final time, then his hands go limp.

“If only… if only….” Lewis echoes, to himself.  “If only…?  Can’t turn back time.”  Lewis’ eye sockets flare briefly, and the embers along his back diminish.  “Art? Artie!”  His hands spring open and Arthur slumps across the floor with a heavy Thump.  “Oh Dios!  Art.  Di algo. Yo no podía tener.  Nunca lo haría…a ti…”  Arthur doesn’t move, and he’s not breathing.  “No… no.  Como podria? Art!  C’mon!  Don’t do this!”  Lewis isn’t sure what to do, physically what he could do.  He can only think of the time his little sister had been choking, and what his Mamma had done.  “You won’t…. I won’t let you!”  He flips the unconscious figure onto his back and tilts Arthur’s head up, then hesitates.  His hands hover over Arthur’s chest briefly, before he shoves down. Not the rib cage, that’s a fatal mistake many make.  Just beneath, in the diaphragm area.  That was what his Mamma taught him.  

“Art, please.”  If he’s not careful, if he gets carried away, Lewis could easily break Arthur’s body.  “Come back. Damnit!  Open your eyes!  Breathe!” He adjusts Arthur’s head and touches his throat.  He can’t detect breaks, there’s no reason he shouldn’t be breathing.  “Arthur!”  He compresses the center of Arthur’s chest once, twice— then a breath!  Arthur sputters and coughs, his eyes snap open and he sees Lewis hovering over him, hands open.

“Geh… get away from me!”  Arthur throws himself back into the wall and slips away, hands pawing behind him for balance, security.  He tries to take another breath and buckles forward, groaning and holds his neck.  “Juz… why?”

“I… I didn’t mean to,” Lewis rattles, voice a mess of static and scratching.  “You wouldn’t, and… are you okay now?”  He shifts the bright embers in his skull onto Arthur, as the other retreats slowly along the wall.  “Are you….” He hesitates as Arthur stares at him, eyes muddled, unfocused, and full of fear. “Are you— there?”

Arthur holds his stare unblinking, eyes watering, throat aflame.  His expression intermixed with…. “What about you?” he whispers, voice broken.  “Are you… why did you do that?  Why?”  He whimpers as another gasp agitates his wounded throat, and massages his neck.  “Did you want to?  Why?”

Lewis shifts where he’s perched, sinking a bit into the floorboard.  He looks aside where a small yellow flame burns on the short carpet.  Where the cigarette had fallen.  It’s the cigarette he knows, but it could have as easily been him. It’s not though, but even the certainty feels like a lie.  “You… hurt me.”  He snuffs the flame out with his hand.  “I couldn’t brea— snap you out of it.”

Arthur opened his mouth, but cut off when Dimitri’s voice flew through, muffled by the thick walls of the van.  “He’s here?  Gawd. It‘s… fuzzy.  Nothing’s making sense.”  He hangs over his knees and holds his head, rocking slightly side to side. “What happened?  I can’t remember why I came….”  Lewis drifts forward reaching for Arthur, but the crumpled figure recoils, eyes wide.  Lewis keeps his distance.  

From outside, Dimitri’s voice was getting louder, more urgent when he realizes Lewis and Arthur are missing.  Mystery begins barking.  Thankfully the mutt had ducked out, Arthur didn’t want to think what Mystery might’ve done.  It was in the past though, he kept telling himself that.  Arthur was rocking again, arms bundled around his neck and holding his shoulder.

“D-Dimitri,” Lewis voice crackled, and faded out like a bad radio signal.  His skull became transparent as he glides to the vans front.  “He… he can’t see me like this.”

Arthur hobbles away on his hand and knee, he waves a hand back at Lewis.  “I got him. I-I’ll….fuh.”  He hangs on the open door of the van, leaning far over when Dimitri rounded the side of the van.

“Arthur!  You’re okay?” Dimitri wobbled when Mystery ran by and bumped into his leg.  “I was supposed to find a big stick, but I couldn’t find any big enough.”  Dimitri rubbed at his eyes, and put an arm over Mystery.

“A big stick?” Arthur echoed.  “That doesn’t sound very PG.”  He winced, and pressed his metal hand to his head.  The joint connector in his shoulder ached in the cold, but at least it was good for something.  “I’m confused, can you tell me something?  Where are we?”  He edged forward on the bumper and scanned over the presented neighborhood, of what was visible at the edges of the frost coated lawns, glistening in the moons light. “This isn’t your neighborhood.”

At first Dimitri said nothing and only stares up at Arthur’s numb gaze, revaluating time and setting.  “Vivi said my brother could be dead.”

Arthur leaned away to hack dryly into his shoulder and took a moment to gather himself.  Dimitri could see red in Arthur’s eyes as he turned his face back. “Wha?  No, she’d never.”  Then Arthur went quiet and sank deeper over his knees like a melting candle.  He sat that way motionless for a long time, Mystery whining all the while as Arthur gathered himself.  A few times Arthur would twitch as if… coughing, and shuddered at the cold. Finally, he raised his body and said, “No.  She wouldn’t… say that.  We don’t know anything, and she would never have said such a thing.  Never.  Ever.” Arthur paused to clear the tightness in his throat, and coughed a bit more.  He pulled himself up and looked at Dimitri.  “Do you believe me?”

Dimitri didn’t respond.  He only stepped back and looked to the dog under his arm.

The driver side door creaked open.  “What I got so far,” Lewis began.  He pushed the sunglasses a little closer to his eyes, he carried one of the backpacks.  “Something’s gone wrong.  And Vivi’s where?”  Lewis handed a backpack to Dimitri, but kept his distance from Arthur as the folded figure watched him.  A sort of tension was at work between the two, and Dimitri couldn’t read it.  He only knew to stay away from it.

“We left her at the school,” Arthur explained.  He took the bag from Dimitri and fumbled with the straps, he couldn’t figure out how to get the top open and gave up.  “I thought, I think, I guess…. We left her at the school, and I was worried about Dimitri.  That was on my mind last.”  He pressed his cold palm to his eyes.  His head ached.  

Mystery adds a firm bark.  He was at fault too.  But it couldn’t be helped now.

Of course Vivi was not at the school.  Arthur and Lewis searched over the grounds and around the buildings side calling, searching for their team leader.  To no avail she was not there, but if she were she may have not wanted to be found.  There were only a few tracks in the frost layer that could be hers among the many shallow prints.  Arthur reclaimed his cracked flashlight, but that was the extent of the searches accomplishments.  

While the bipedal members searched, Mystery narrowed down the confusion of interwoven scents left on the ice.  Though the water and icy air pricking at his sensitive nose made tracking difficult, he did manage to pick up on Vivi.

The trail leading towards the gate out of the field.

“I think Mystery’s found her scent,” Arthur called. The dog’s movement was slow, frustratingly so.  “This is going to take too long.”

Mystery snuffed at that comment.  His toes were numb and the bandage on his paw was filthy, but he did try to hurry up the pace.  Arthur followed as the hound led along the chain link fence, towards an open gate facing the road.  The open floor of the gate that connected the field and the sidewalk was filled with the scratch marks made in the icy mud by dozens of feet, school children and visitors alike throughout the day.  It would have been easier to track Vivi if it had actually snowed.

“Mystery can maybe track up the road,” Arthur says, when Lewis and Dimitri catch up from across the field.  He shudders and rubs at his flesh arm, though it didn’t help. “But we’re gonna have to get in the van and crank up the heat.”

Lewis checked on the smaller boy that shadowed them. Despite his coat, Dimitri still had his arms plastered around his sides and his breath showed in thin lines, but the boy appeared bright eyed and alert.  “You can drop him off at the motel room, and Mystery and I will keep searching.”

“No,” Dimitri snapped.  He stopped in his tracks and glowers up at Lewis and Arthur when they turn to him.  “I wanna make sure Vivi’s okay too.”

“It’s super cold,” Arthur chattered, rubbing at his shoulders.  “You’re gonna catch pneumonia.  I’m not kidding this is serious, you can die!  We’re thinking about your wellbeing, D.”

“Then stick me in the van with the heater, and your guy’s blankets,” Dimitri reasoned.  He looked Lewis’ way, as Lewis adjusted his sunglasses and moved his sight to the road. “It’d take too much time for you to drive back here, then figure out where you left off.”  Another idea comes to his head.  A slim chance, it was farfetched but Dimitri was willing to try anything.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep this night, not until he had some answers. “What about we try that place where some of missing kids were last seen?  The Prime Rose district?”

“It’s a rumor,” Arthur explains.  He stepped aside, a little away from Lewis when the taller figure looked at him.  “Witnesses thought they saw some kids in that area, before they disappeared.”  Mystery stopped beyond the chain link fence on the sidewalk, and turned to look at Arthur.  Lewis and Dimitri followed the dog, but Arthur remained beside the gate. “If they are under the influence, should we really trust what’s been put in the reports?”

Lewis looked from Arthur, to Dimitri and Mystery’s expectant gazes.  “You weren’t… lying, either?” he said, slowly.  “It only alters the way people think, how they react.”  It was difficult to explain what he picked up from Arthur. Lewis moved away from the group and beckoned them with an arm as he walked down the sidewalk away from Mystery, to where Arthur left the van.  “If she hasn’t gone far, then we’ll see her on the way.”

As the hour got later the streets became deserted, with the curfew in full effect the stray car was a spontaneous appearance.  Lewis did note that most were law enforcement out on patrol, but he tended to agree with Dimitri that they were worthless.  The Prime Rose district was a few miles across the town, through smaller neighborhoods and the shopping/fast-food plazas; but no sign of Vivi.  She was on foot, but they only cruised methodically along the roads always straining to peer through the dull haze of night.  The fractured light contrasted every dark space in home and lawn, but never indication of a dark shadow skittering about.

“I’m sorry I ran away,” Dimitri mumbled.  He clutched Mystery to his chest, the folds of the blanket draped over his shoulders slumped around him and the dog.  “If I hadn’t… I should’ve known something wasn’t right.  You hadn’t….” He pressed his face into Mystery’s neck, and mumbled.

“You couldn’t have known.  You were upset,” Lewis assured.  He gave Dimitri’s head a little pat, then returned his focus to the passenger side window, searching through the sidewalks and brush.  “We’ll find Vivi, no problem.  Don’t fret, hermanito.” Lewis was still worried, but he’d hide it.

As the van took another turn, Arthur leaned far over in his seat to peer out the driver window and check any spaces in the lawns he might’ve missed.  “What do we do if we can’t find her?” he ponders aloud, and shifts his eyes back to Lewis. “Not that I’m doubting, well… I dunno if we will, this towns not big but—”

“You take Dimitri back to the motel, and I’ll keep searching,” Lewis rasped.  “But it’s too cold for her to be out.”

“I’m not going back to the motel,” Dimitri urged again. “You guys are hopeless without me around.”

Lewis was about to contend with that assumption, but the van jarred to a near halt.  They were still moving if barely, and Arthur had leaned hard onto the steering wheel with his eyes fixed on something beyond the hood.  Lewis caught his spike of excite the instant before Arthur spat, “Found her.  There!”

“I need to borrow your bag for a second.”  He snatched the backpack away from Arthur’s side, and sprang out the passenger side door.  “Wait here,” he called, before slamming the door on the sudden swell of frigid air.

They had arrived on the road beside the Prime District, the park on the edge of the town.  It wasn’t a large park, but it was up against the edge of the woods with a brick wall that stood around the freshly trimmed landscape and the wild grove beyond.  A stone path cut through the lawn, leading to a gazeebo built on one side of the park. The base was white stone, and contrasted with the dark shade of a figure standing among the shimmering white frost, back presented to Lewis.  

As Lewis neared Vivi, he slowed his stride cautious if she could anticipate his appearance or of what to expect.  She still had a backpack, he saw.  If she did not appreciate his interference, Lewis would not fight.  “Vivi?”

She edged around to check the voice.  “LewLew, you’re up,” she hummed.  “Were you just stunned?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, and cut the distance between them by two strides.  No sudden movements; smooth, gliding motion.  “What’re looking at?”  Lewis kept track of the dark figure he was now near, but shifts his attention beyond her and sought out across the park.  “Is that…?”

“I thought about what Dimitri said, and it made sense,” she spoke.  She leaned on the edge of the gazeebos wall and watched the small figure wandering across day old frost, the graceful steps almost like a dance.  “There was something else… but I can’t remember.  I try.”

“Are you following her?” he asked.  Lewis felt cold, legitimately cold to the core.  The girl couldn’t be more than six, and she was out here in pajamas and no shoes.

“I’m thinking some kind of nymph or sprite. If they call children out to the woods, then it spirits them away… or something like that.  It has a hold of— What are you doing?”  Vivi spun around when Lewis set down the backpack, and moved the last few feet toward her.  Lewis unzipped the top of his jacket.  “Lew?”

“Here.”  Lewis reached a hand into his coat and brought forth the heart locket.  Vivi was backing away from the gazeebo and toward the open landscape, but Lewis swept a hand out and caught her around the backside. “Listen to my voice.  Focus…” he said, as he opened his hand to allow the glimmering locket to hover freely above Vivi.  Lewis brought his hand down and gently lay his fingers over her brow. “And come back to me.  I know you’re still there.  Romper el atascamiento que engaña a su mente.” He lightly touched Vivi’s eyes and raised his hand back.  “Preservarlo que honra a nuestro contrato.”

Translucent flames coughed out at his jacket sleeve as he drew his hand back and tightened his fist, as if drawing a thread from the bluenettes mind.  His appearance lost solidity, skull flashed through the illusion, bleached bone and eyes baleful in the blue moonlight.  Lewis maintains the illusion with good effort and stares over the rim of his sunglasses, at Vivi’s shimmering eyes.  “No… Vi. Too far.”  The clenched fist quivers, the embers in his eyes sockets smolder, brighten.  “Not there…. Don’t look, Vi.”  Lewis snaps his hand out catching the suspended locket and brought it to his chest. “I can’t… let…..”  Lewis’ eye sockets go dark behind the thick shades he hides behind.  He lowers his head and tightens his hold on the locket at his chest.  Everything is dark and cold again.  Lost.

Vivi goes limp, her eyes flutter shut as she falls back supported only by Lewis’ hand.  It took a second for her to get her bearings and come to.  “Lew… Lewis?” she says.  Lewis doesn’t answer, but flinches at her voice and cradles the softly pulsing heart at his chest.  “What have you done?” she whispers.

“Nothing.”  Only then did Lewis raise his face to meet her gaze.  “I took a risk.  Do you…?” He couldn’t ask.  If he asked, it might trigger something.  He couldn’t hurt her, never.  “What you were doing last?”  He eased Vivi onto her feet, but kept a hand on her shoulder in case she needed support.

Vivi raised a hand to her head.  “What… am I doing?” she murmured.  Vivi noted Lewis adjusting his jacket, and quickly concealing his locket.

“Can you tell me… why you’re here?”  Lewis stooped to lift up the bag.  He looked past Vivi, seeking the area the girl had wandered off into.  They needed to follow, get her back.

“Harvest moon.”  To Lewis perplexed stare, she repeated.  “Harvest moon.  That’s what I looked up.  The disappearances correlate with a Harvest moon, not every month but…. That’s the pattern. I was getting close—” She stopped when the rough pants and heavy foots falls crunched through the frost, suddenly upon them.  “Art!”

Arthur was panting, though the distance he sprinted across the park was relatively short.  He skids to a halt a few feet away from the two, his rapid breath coming in a thick mist startled Lewis back a fraction from Vivi.  “I thought that,” Arthur stammered, eyes darting between Vivi and Lewis. “Is she okay?”

“Of course she’s okay!” Lewis hissed.  He couldn’t blame Arthur, but his interruption was ill timed.  He wasn’t up to this.

Vivi darted forward grabbing Lewis’ arm, and caught Arthur by his good shoulder.  “No time to explain,” she says, and pushes Arthur away.  “Where’s Dimitri?”

“Left in the van?” Lewis presumed, answered.

“Mystery’s with him?”  To Vivi’s question Arthur nods; for the brief time was too stunned to speak, pulling feverishly at Vivi’s grip.  She hadn’t noticed.  Vivi pulls down her backpack and slips out the laptop, Arthur takes it when she pushes it into his hands and she points toward the awaiting van on the road, engine still idling in its rhythmic whirr.  “We’ll have to leave him.  Mystery will know what to do.  Go tell him.” She pushed Arthur away, and he took off running.  “Grab the flashlights and some batteries!”  Once Arthur was on his way, Vivi slung her backpack onto her shoulders and removed her hand from Lewis arm.  She stepped toward the brick wall at the backside of the park, pressing her hands together as she took deep breaths, white mist flashed at her lips.  “I remember…” she began, hands fidgeting into an awkward clasp.  “I came here to wait.  I know I was watching, I knew what would happen and I did nothing.”

Lewis followed after Vivi and caught shoulders, he spun her to face him.  “We’ll make this right,” he hummed.  “We’ll find them.  We’ll figure this out.”

“It’s not right,” she murmured.  Vivi pulled her hands to her chest, and Lewis wrapped her up in his arms.  “We were off guard.  Lewis… Lew. Did you do something…?  To me?”

“No.  I would never,” he said, voice wispy.  “I had to… dissolve its hold on you.  It was a tricky, pulling you away.  I couldn’t…I don’t want to lose you again, like that.”

“You wouldn’t lose me,” she said.  Vivi wrapped her arms up around his chest and held him.  The jacket felt frayed and worn, brittle around his tenuous shape.  Air seemed to go right through Lewis, as if he absorbed the ice under his boots and amplified the sensation.  That wasn’t right.  “Lew,” Vivi began.  “Are you—?”

“Arth’us gonna be back,” he said, and tightened his arms around her one more time before he let go and moved away.  “She was barefoot.  The little girl.  I’m worried.” Vivi didn’t respond, she only looped her arms around her chest.

The idling roll of the engine cut off, and a short time after a streak of yellow light was zipping across the silver field.  Once Arthur caught up, Lewis and Vivi hurried the remainder of the way to the brick wall.  It wasn’t a tall wall, just a wall built to segregate nature from order. The ground beyond it was soft and earthy, coated in leaves and full of brittle mulch dusted with glitter.  The high tangle of the tree canopy blotted out much of the moonlight in thick clumps above, mostly due to the overgrown bundles of vines that wrapped about and crisscrossed all throughout the branches. There were large spaces in the coppices where one tree had fallen and the sky drenched the earth in blue-silver.

“We almost don’t need the flashlight,” Arthur commented, as Vivi clicked hers on.  He didn’t like being out the way they were, without Mystery.  And it was cold.  It was curcial to find the kid and get her back asap, but it was very-very-VERY cold. “Some tracks,” he muttered, turning his torch down.  “Here, and here.”  The ground had a shallow coating of the frost, and in the small wood clearing they moved through, the disturbance on the white cover was most noticeable with the contrast of dark soil.  “Looks fresh. Not an animal.  Too cold anyway.”  He checked Lewis as the ghost drifts over, the figure suspended a full three feet above the earth.  When Lewis is too close, Arthur elects to continue on his own and follow the trail. “Small tracks,” he mutters, as he moves. He tucks himself down under his backpack, seeking some small shelter from the lazy breeze probing through the trees.

Vivi caught up with Lewis and knelt near him, touching the edges of the dirt clumps.  She brought a hand to her mouth in silent anguish as she stood, and Lewis began to reach a hand out for her.  But Vivi darted away, following the path Arthur was on.  “We should be able to catch up with her.”  

Lewis drifts sideways watching her go.  Vivi may have doubted him.  Or, Lewis feared to dwell if he had not done right?  There had to have been another way, but he had panicked. He did that.  Later he would ask, but if it involved her memories… he couldn’t bear that teetering around that subject.

The trail was uphill, a mild ascent and no great difficultly for the surviving members.  Progress was slow going, as they managed the trail and picked over the visible marks in the soil, carefully discerning the path before moving on it.  They couldn’t afford to get lost.  Lewis drifted ahead, able to identify easily where soil was disturbed without spoiling the delicate crust layer himself.

“How is it kids move so fast when you’re not watching them?” Arthur grumbled, at one point.  He kept close to Vivi’s side, his torch flashing with a faulty bulb whenever he let his movements become too erratic. “It didn’t take me that long to gather the supplies.”

“Idunno,” Lewis responds.  He tipped forward, checking the texture of loosened earth scattered on a patch of ice.  “The pacing looks like she was running.  He swung himself upright, and skimmed beneath the canopy with his ember eyes as he glides, low.  The assumption made his bones clatter, but he could…. theoretically.  Nothing was stopping him, nothing physical anyway. But… somehow he couldn’t bring himself to move on the whim.  Terrible.  Ghastly! The only factor holding him back was his irrational fear.  What if it was his own sister?  What then?  He would just… hover, down here, and never take the incentive.  How could he—

Lewis jarred when a hand touched his arm.  A few wisps of fire popped off his neck and hair as Vivi mirrored his jarred movement, with a cringe of her own.  Arthur was ahead for once; the cold made him anxious, impulsive, maybe impulsive.  It wasn’t fair.    

“Hey,” Vivi said, softly.  She tugged on his jacket sleeve, gathering Lewis’ attention.  “We’re making good time.  It’ll be okay.”  She held his stare for a short time.  She was too understanding at times.  She squeezed his sleeve a little tighter.  “You’ll see.” Then, Vivi ducked off on the path becoming steadily clearer before them.

That didn’t help.  If anything, it made Lewis feel worse.  She shouldn’t sympathize, shouldn’t understand this ‘complication’ of his.  There was no reason he couldn’t go find that girl, cold, lost somewhere in these woods. No reason.  Still, he couldn’t bring himself to take the initiative.  It was like he was tied to the earth and it wasn’t fair, not to her.  He had no limitations, they were stolen from him, all of them.  He had no excuses.

Lewis glides onward, carefully sifting through the marks in the soil.  Hoping beyond rational that somehow in their delayed, lost search; somehow, they would catch up with the forests next victim before they found the culprit.