#And somehow it's still completely intact just some plastic rubbed off on the inside at the bottom

[marciliedonato]

Tried to clean my phone case and it was going fine until I put a bit of alcohol on it (like literally a couple sprays of perfume on the inside so it's sanitized and not stinky) and this bitch stained and the more I tried to fix it the less or nothing it did/idk if it even made it worse lol and now I can't get the stains out but it's not rly noticable at all on the outside and she's spotless so fine I guess ??

[ethanlivemere]

Half-Life²: Anticitizen - Chapter 1

Note: if you haven’t read the Half-Life²: Anticitizen Prologue yet, go read that first here.

Chapter 1

Now Arriving: City 17

The shrill scream of a train horn makes me jolt up as numbness starts leaving my body. I pant and shiver from the cold air. As my heartbeat calms down I start taking in my surroundings. I am sat on a row of hard plastic chairs that extends along the side of a dilapidated train car. The gentle shaking of the cold surface beneath me and the clattering sound I had been hearing before tell me it’s moving.

“Hey there buddy, calm down. You scared me,” a gentle voice sounds. I turn my head and see a dark-skinned man, probably in his late thirties, sitting in a seat on the other side of the aisle. His eyes are dark and tired and his short beard is trimmed irregularly. His arms are resting on a plain black suitcase in his lap and his clothing consists of blue denim pants and a beige shirt. “Had a bad dream?” he asks.

I rub my head as I turn, taking my feet off the chairs to sit normally. I now notice I am wearing the same, rough fabric clothing as the other passenger. Well, so much for having earned the H.E.V. Suit. At least I still have my glasses.

“I didn’t see you get on,” he continues talking. “Are you being transferred to City 17 as well?”

I take a better look at the interior of the vehicle. The worn down red carpet that stretches from one end of the car to the other is littered with scraps and cigarette butts. About half of the ceiling lights are either dead or flickering. The walls and many of the windows are covered with posters and advertisements, most of them torn off or faded beyond recognition. Here and there, there is an intact, more recent looking poster of an owl-eyed man looking down on the passengers with a solemn expression. All of them have some variation of the same brief message: THE CONSUL SAYS… RELAX. THE CONSUL SAYS… REPORT.

“This is my third transfer this year, you know,” my co-passenger continues, ignoring my continued silence. “I spent my last trimester in City 49, and 45 before that. But no matter how many times I get relocated, I… I never get used to it.” He softly shakes his head and looks down at his fingers, playing with a loose bit of leather that has peeled off his suitcase. “The name’s Samuel, by the way,” he says in a lighter tone, sitting up. “I noticed you don’t have a tag on your uniform.” He brings his hand up to his chest and taps a stitched-on strip of grey fabric with his index finger. It says ‘G-11789RF’. “You’d better do something about that before a Metrocop catches you without one.”

My head spins. The sudden overload of impulses is too much for my still foggy mind. While trying to piece together what is going on I look to my left. There is another passenger sitting some ten feet away from me, his arms crossed and his suitcase on a seat next to him. I spot a third passenger, an Asian-looking woman, at the far end of the car, sitting next to the door. Everyone is wearing the same uniform. None of them look like they want to be on this train.

I suddenly realize that I have been avoiding looking out of the windows. There is a pit in my stomach, a sickening feeling of dread that tells me I already know what I would see. I do it anyway. I shift in my seat, turning my head around to look out of the window behind me. It’s even worse than I expected. Just like in the vision, the landscape is a desolate wasteland. Skeletons of trees crown the small hills that pop up all over the plains. The ground is cracked and there isn’t a stream of water as far as the eye can see, which isn’t all that far. The sky is completely covered in dark, greenish gray clouds that sometimes drift down to envelop the land in a disgusting smog. The sun is nothing more than a slightly brighter spot in the thick carpet, standing low above the horizon. Here and there a silhouette stands out from its surroundings by its jagged, square shape: abandoned buildings that look as if they have been picked up and dropped from a great height. A pipeline runs parallel to the rails, and I see another train track in the distance.

Just when I think the world is completely devoid of life, movement in the periphery of my vision catches my attention. Something is running beside the train, flashing past because of their lower speed. I recognize the green, three-legged creatures. Their piercing, supersonic squeals still echo through my head. Looking further into the distance again, I start noticing more signs of life. I spot a bullsquid, the large amphibian beast with acidic spit that almost cost me my life several times, in a muddy ditch. I am also relieved to see what seem to be normal crows flying to and from some of the trees, but there are some things creeping around that I have never seen before. A flat reptile with a wide mouth and four chimney-like limbs protruding from its sides, with tufts of hair on the end of each of them. Tall, tripedal insects with ambiguous organs dangling between their stalky legs. Somewhere deep inside, the scientist in me is fascinated by the alien sights and wants to study them more closely. But that man died the moment the crystal hit the beam. This Gordon Freeman just wants to avert his eyes and hope never to see anything again that reminds him of how terrifying the universe can be.

A train slides into view on the parallel track. It seems to be freight train, but it’s a model I have never seen before. The locomotive is tall, streamlined and has a sharp nose with a single headlight illuminating its path. I don’t see any windows or other indications of a control room. The thing is made of a dark, obsidian-like metal that also covers the wheels, making it seem like the train is just sliding over the dusty ground. The cars directly behind the locomotive are in the same style, but further to the back there are also some more normal looking cars with containers. I notice Samuel has gotten up from his seat and is looking over my shoulder. “Look!” he says, pointing in the distance. On the path of the other train, a gargantuan shadow looms over its surroundings, hunched over, arms spread as if bracing for impact. Its dark blue exoskeleton and single glowing red eye almost seem to mirror the image of the vehicle speeding towards it. A low, wailing horn sounds from the train as the distance between the two shrinks. The monster doesn’t flinch. It stands its ground, determined, until the train hits. The locomotive doesn’t even slow down. The monster, despite being quite a bit taller than the train, gets violently pushed out of the way and, though it is hard to tell from this distance, quite possibly cut in half by the locomotive.

“Razor Trains, man,” Samuel says with a hint of awe. “I would feel much safer if we were aboard one of those.”

Our view of the other train gets obstructed by a nearby building. There seems to be a sudden increase in the number of ruins near the track, as brick walls suddenly make up all we can see through the window. “Looks like we’re almost there,” Samuel notes. I try to look ahead and see we are heading towards a gigantic wall made of the same dark metal as the Razor Train. Behind it, tall apartment buildings and skyscrapers stand in much better condition than the buildings on this side of the wall – though they, too, show signs of ruin and neglect. “There it is,” Samuel says, “City 17.” He scoffs. “They all look the same from the outside, don’t they?” The wall grows ever nearer, until everything suddenly goes dark as we enter a tunnel, the only source of light now being the few functional lamps on the ceiling. “I heard living conditions are supposed to be much better in 17 than they were in 49, though. The air is much cleaner here since it’s so close to the Air Exchange. I guess that’s why the Consul moved here.”

The other male passenger, who visibly has been growing increasingly bothered with Samuel’s talking, suddenly speaks up: “Yeah, well, there’s also much heavier security, so if you don’t want to get us all into trouble, you’d best quiet down a bit once we’ve arrived.” Samuel looks at the man offendedly. He opens his mouth for a rebuttal, but decides against it and looks the other way, shaking his head.

When we emerge from the tunnel, it barely makes a difference for the amount light streaming in through the windows. The already dim light the sun manages to squeeze through the clouds is now also blocked by the tall buildings. It might as well be nighttime. The view outside is somehow more depressing than the wastelands: near-empty streets lit by slender lampposts, only inhabited by abandoned cars, trash and a lone citizen clutching something against his chest as he makes his way from one patch of light to the next. The railway is elevated a good fourteen feet above the street, and now and then I catch a glimpse of people behind the windows of the second floors we pass by. They fly by too fast to properly see what they are doing, but the rooms in which they reside all seem as bare and featureless as the beige shirts they are all wearing.

The train starts to slow down and I see the female passenger stand up and pick up her suitcase. The man also stands up and grabs onto a metal bar that runs along the ceiling for stability. Shortly after, the train comes to a shrieking halt at an empty platform. Once the carriages have stopped shaking and the train lets out a sigh of relief, the doors on either end of the car open, letting in a cold draft that paces down the aisle and brings life to the scraps dotted around on the once-red carpet. Samuel stands up and arches his back. “Well, end of the line,” he mutters before following the other passengers outside. I stand up on still shaky legs and do the same, stepping down onto the hard ground of the outside world.

The train platform is a desolate concrete slab, flanked on both sides by the steel and plexiglass walls  of trains and cut in half by a row of benches and pillars that support the overhead shelter. At the end are stairs leading into a hole in the ground that hungrily swallows the passengers heading down. I keep following them, heading down into a chilly tunnel that reeks of rotting trash. Our footsteps echo as we walk past branches of the tunnel that have signs with arrows and numbers to guide non-existent travelers to their platforms. As we follow the main flow of the tunnel I start hearing a distant voice from up the large stairs at the end, but by the time I reach the stairs, it has stopped.

We emerge into what must once have been the majestic main terminal hall of the station, but has now been transformed into a twisted version of its original purpose. A roof of translucent glass arches over a gaping abyss that cuts through the hall, leaving only a narrow strip of the original black and white tiled floor around it. The gap is about thirty feet across and has a chain link fence surrounding it. I walk up to the fence and look down. Several train tracks run along or across the ravine at differing heights and angles. Several trains are stationed on the rails, suspended above the seemingly bottomless gorge. All of them are the same model as the train I saw plow through the creature on the wastelands – Razor Trains. The smoke that pours down from the locomotives and the tunnels, combined with the cycloptic headlights on the trains, make for a mesmerizing display of light and shadows.

There’s a walkway across the chasm, accessible through stairs to my left. Seeing no other way forward, I take the stairs up to the walkway, only to see a strange figure standing in the middle of the path, watching over the passengers traversing the room. A man in a black uniform with red markings on the chest and shoulders. His face is enveloped by a white gasmask with lenses that glow a faint yellow. His leather glove is clenched around a baton that he softly taps against his hip as he follows passing civilians with his obscured eyes. I suspect this might be one of the “Metrocops” Samuel mentioned, and I know that whatever he is, it can’t be good news for me if he sees me.

As I’m looking around for another way, my eye falls on a large vertical screen hanging in the center of the largest wall, in front of a circular stained glass window. It displays only a set of strange symbols on a bluish green background, but suddenly a face appears on the screen. I immediately recognize it as the balding, solemn-faced man from the posters on the train. Under the face, a message appears: THE CONSUL SAYS… WELCOME.

“Welcome,” the face starts speaking through unseen speakers, “Welcome to City 17. You have chosen, or been chosen, to relocate to one of our finest remaining urban centers.” His voice is stoic, but strangely comforting. “I thought so much of City 17 that I elected to establish my administration here, in the Citadel so thoughtfully provided by Our Benefactors. I have been proud to call City 17 my home. And so, whether you are here to stay or passing through on your way to parts unknown…” The Consul smiles warmly, “Welcome to City 17. It’s safer here.” The Consul’s face fades away, and the screen goes back to the illegible symbols. I look back to the Metrocop, only to see him looking back at me. I freeze.

“Move along,” a voice sounds from the mask, distorted as if through a walkie-talkie. He gestures with his baton, and I realize it’s in my best interest to just walk past him as if nothing is going on. I have just passed the Metrocop when I make the mistake of looking down, through the metal grating, into the abyss below. I am not usually one to get vertigo – I had gunfights on cliffsides and on rocks floating between dimensions for crying out loud – but the sight makes my head spin, and I have to lean on the railing for a moment. As I’m catching my breath, I hear the low bellow of a Razor Train horn coming from underneath me. I carefully look down again to see another train arrive on a track that runs along the side of the ravine. Judging from the disgusting greenish splats on the locomotive, it might very well be the one I witnessed plow through the monster – or maybe that is something that regularly happens. I then notice something walk to the nose of the train on a steel platform besides the track. From my top-down perspective, it’s hard to tell what it is – but it sure doesn’t seem to be human. I see brown robes, a white, oval head and long, slender arms holding something that resembles a flamethrower. It points the nozzle at the train at starts spraying it with jets of sickly green… gas? Liquid? Fire? Energy? It’s hard to tell, but when the spraying stops and the being walks over to the precarious, narrow platform on the other side of the track to start spraying the other side of the locomotive, it seems to have removed all of the filth from the train’s hull.

The voice of the Consul startles me as he repeats the same welcoming message. I glance over my shoulder and am relieved to see the Metrocop doesn’t seem to be paying attention to me. I decide to get a move on and quicken my pace as I continue traversing the walkway. When I finally reach the other side, I go down another set of stairs and see a doorway leading into another room. The tables that are spread around it and what seem to be the remains of a shuttered counter lead me to believe that this used to be cafeteria. Now it just has a few tired travelers resting their heads on their hands, the only voice heard being the Consul’s coming from another large screen. I make my way between the tables and dilapidated potted plants to another doorway. Passing by, I hear a man at a table quietly mutter to himself: “They’re always departing but they never arrive… and the ones that do arrive, they never leave… you never see them go, they’re always full… no one ever gets on but they’re always…” He keeps muttering, when there’s suddenly screaming on the other side of the room. I see a man struggling against two Metrocops, thrashing around and shouting that he didn’t do anything. One of the Metrocops lifts his baton, which suddenly glows with electricity, before bringing it down on the man’s back, bringing him to his knees. The man doesn’t stop struggling and tries to crawl away. The other Metrocop pulls something from a holster on his belt and points it at him. There’s a loud bang and then a brief silence… “Welcome to City 17. It’s safer here,” the Consul’s ever hollower sounding message echoes. The two Metrocops drag the man away. Everyone goes about their business, and I decide to do the same.

The doorway from the cafeteria leads to a corridor. Posters on the wall catch my attention. They are bigger than the ones I saw on the train, but look just as much like textbook propaganda. They all bear the number 17 in one of the corners. One of them depicts the Consul with the words “It’s great to be part of the greater good”. Another depicts a Metrocop and says “Civil Protection: They’re here for you”. But one particular poster catches my attention: it shows a familiar figure in brown robes holding a flamethrower-like object. I can now more clearly see its head: it’s white, metallic, and shaped like flattened ball. It has two beady, tubular eyes and a third orifice that probably serves as its mouth. “Keep it clean… or he will”.

As I’m walking through the corridor, looking at the posters, I notice a vending machine. “The Consul’s Private Reserve”. It takes me a moment to realize that it dispenses cans of water. For free, it would seem. I’m looking at the buttons on the machine, considering pressing one, when I feel a hand on my shoulder. A bewildered looking man spins me around and grabs me by my shoulders, bringing his face very close to mine.

“Don’t drink the water,” he says. His eyes frantically dart around and his breaths are shaky. “They put something in it, to… to make you forget. I don’t even remember how I got here…” He slowly lets go of me and looks around. “I…” His voice trembles and he walks away, shaking his head. I decide to pass on the water.

The corridor leads me around a corner to a fenced-off waiting line, where citizens cue up to be scanned by a camera-like contraption hanging from the ceiling. Most people are sent straight ahead, but some get taken aside by a Metrocop and are escorted through a gate marked “NOVA PROSPEKT”. I’m not sure what exactly is going on, but I know it is a situation I would rather avoid. I turn around to leave, but am suddenly stopped by a voice: “You, citizen!” I turn back around and see a Metrocop beckoning me from a side door. “Come with me, now!” I look around, weighing up my options. Can I run? No, that’s ridiculous. The scene in the cafeteria proved that Metrocops are ruthless, and without my H.E.V. Suit I don’t stand a chance against multiple armed individuals. I have no choice but to follow him and hope I can overpower him when he’s alone.

I follow the Metrocop into a narrow hallway, past a door behind which I hear a man protesting and trying to defend himself. I get lead into a small office. “Back up,” the Metrocop says with a soft push before closing the door and walking over to an alien looking console with a triptych of monitors above it. I frantically look around the office – a desk, a filing cabinet, another of those ceiling scanners, a chair with leather straps on the armrests and suspicious red stains on the floor around it… Anything I can use as a weapon? Perhaps the desk lamp…

While I am frantically looking around for a way out, the Metrocop pushes some buttons on the console and the scanner disappears into the ceiling. “Yeah, I’m gonna need me some privacy for this,” he says with a chuckle. Before I can make a run for the lamp, he turns around and brings his hands up to the sides of his head. “Now…” There’s a click as the front part of the mask comes loose. When he takes it off, I, for the first time in too long, look into the eyes of a friend. “About that beer I owed ya!”

Chapter 2

________________________________________

So, here is chapter one of Anticitizen! I’m so excited to finally get this out there. I have a couple more things to say, but first, as promised, here are a few images to aid the visualization of some of the things I described. (Don’t take any of the images literally, there might be differences between them and the story)

Wasteland

Wasteland creature 1: Stampeder

Wasteland creature 2: Tripod hopper

Razor Train

Train Station Abyss

Beta Metrocop

Consul

Propaganda posters

__________________________________

So, this first chapter was very descriptive but I had to do a lot of scene-setting. Even if y’all know what a Metrocop looks like, I have to describe them from scratch because (1) I want this story to be readable for people who have never played HL2, (2) I need to make clear to all you HL2 fans what looks the same and what looks different and (2+1) since it’s from Gordon’s perspective I can’t just go “oh look it’s a Metrocop” since it’s his first time seeing one.

Undoubtedly you are now bursting with anticipation for the next chapter. Well, you can probably guess what I’m about to say: it’s gonna take some time. I have started writing it and it’s mapped out and all, but you know, I still have to actually write most of it.

Oh, before I forget, following a suggestion by @perfect-trash-king​ (thanks by the way) I will be posting this story on Ao3 Ao2+1 too, so if you for some reason much prefer that platform over Tumblr I guess you can head over there. Or you could follow it on both platforms. And don’t forget it’s also being uploaded to Fanfiction, so you could follow it there as well. Or don’t. You do you.

Thanks for reading, stay awesome and I’ll see you next time :)

[gray-anxiety]

No Sympathy → Levi Ackerman Chapter 3 → Roommates

Read the rest of the chapters here!

           ‘God fucking damn it.’ Levi clicked his tongue and ran faster — he had to get the fuck away from his apartment; though, they already knew where it was knowing his absolute shitty luck. Levi turned corners upon corners until he wound up in some of the nicer apartment blocks; Levi sighed and knew he was going to have to break into some poor jackass’s apartment to hide — the men were so close to the point where Levi could hear their shouts towards one another. Levi turned his head to the left, greeting him was a door to a ground level apartment just waiting to be pick-locked. Levi wasted no time pick-locking the door open with the tools he always carries on him and shut the door as soon as he slipped in. The apartment was pitch black, showing no sign of human activity in the last hour — Levi got lucky. Levi stepped back from the door and just stood there, catching his breath — eventually just dropping the still intact plastic bag. Levi’s luck was about to run out, though as the doorknob he had just pick-locked not even five minutes ago started jiggling; signaling that there was a key being put in to unlock it. The door opened with a squeak and the light from outside poured in — revealing a figure carrying three bags. The figure sighed and dropped the bags right next to the couch by the door and turned around to close the door. When Levi knew the door was for sure closed, he crept up to the figure and covered their mouth with his hand, the other holding the top of their head still. The person, whom Levi made out to be a female, tried screaming and talking but the sounds only came out muffled thanks to Levi’s hand. Levi sighed and kept the squirming girl in place.

          “Listen, I’m not going to fucking hurt you, I just need you to stay quiet, alright?” Levi could feel the girl nod and had a gut feeling she wouldn’t do anything stupid, so he let her go. Levi felt around the wall for a light, eventually finding it on the left side by the front door he had just pick-locked. When the lights flickered on Levi turned around and ran his hand through his now semi-messy ebony hair, looking up to greet the same girl he saw look frantic in the library at school today. Her eyes shown annoyance and her body language represented the same feeling by posing in a matter with her arms crossed while her foot tapped impatiently. Levi knew the girl would want answers, so he had to pull them out of his ass — fast.

          “I’m in a gang, alright? An immensely deadly gang with countless enemies and those men out there loitering just so happens to be one of them.” Levi cursed silently and sauntered over to the couch and looked out the covered window through one blind, seeing the men circle around the place for who knows how many times. How joyous. Levi played out scenarios in his head on what would happen if he just waited it out — it wasn’t great.

          ‘Damn it.’ Levi knew he was going to have to dirty his hands once more, but that never bothered him any longer. What really bothered him was the fact that he was putting his cover on the line if he went out there to kill them all; his hands were tied — he had to kill them. Levi turned his gaze over to the girl and shook his head; he couldn’t put her in any more danger by just staying and not killing them. Levi flipped out a blade from underneath his arm cuff and started to walk towards the door.

         “Correction, they were one of them. Stay inside.” Levi knew the girl immediately took the hint that he was planning on killing them, but only nodded her head — she knew why he had to kill them too.

         “Don’t you fucking dare get blood on my walls with a damned security camera on” was the only verbal acknowledgment Levi received from the girl. Levi opened the door and stepped out; turning his head to find the mobsters all standing in a circle to his right — successfully blocking the entire damn alleyway off. Levi gripped his blade and rubbed his thumb over the handle, just waiting for the perfect moment; Levi closed his eyes and inhaled before opening his eyes and started to run his fastest without making a sound. Levi had a feeling of knowing what to do in that exact moment and without thinking, started to cut open each mobster by going for the weakest points available to him; the jugular, the eye, the heart, and so many more. Levi channeled all of his momentum into his singular blade to stab the first mobster in the back straight through the heart, but Levi didn’t stop there — Levi spun around and threw two knives into the neck of the mobster next to his previous victim. Bolting towards the man’s impaled neck, Levi jumped off the wall — pulling out both blades to slice the bottom of the third man’s neck, causing his severed tongue to hang out of the recently inflicted gash. Levi was out of time for his cover of surprise; the remaining four mobsters charged at Levi full speed, but the first two failed to realize Levi was already anticipating them until one of them ended up on the ground with a crushed windpipe (courtesy of Levi’s foot) while the other was roundhouse kicked into the nearest wall — successfully breaking some his ribs at the very least. When the final two finally took swings at Levi, he brought out his bloody blades once more and finished them off by stabbing them in the chest. Levi removed the two blades from each corpse when the men collapsed to the ground from blood loss and made his way to the man he roundhouse kicked. Levi may have broken a few ribs, but it wasn’t enough to kill the man. The man moaned in agony and slowly turned his head upwards to greet Levi’s emotionless face.

         “Please, I beg of you, don’t kill me... I’ll leave-“ the man never got to finish his pleas as Levi slit his throat the moment the words started to tumble out. Levi stood up and looked around; blood was everywhere and even on Levi himself. Levi mentally punched himself for being so filthy and before walking back to the girl’s apartment, Levi took out his burn phone and called Farlan, knowing that this mess needed to be cleaned and footage erased before word gets out. The phone rang three times before Farlan picked up.

          “Hello?” Farlan knew it was Levi calling, but out of caution acted like he didn’t know the number.

          “It’s me. There’s now a bloody alleyway on south Titan Street that needs to be scrubbed clean ASAP. There’s also footage that needs to be wiped.” Levi turned his head back towards the mess and frowned in disgust.

          “How many gone?” Farlan held his breath and hoped the fatalities weren’t as bad as last time Levi took on mobsters alone.

          “Seven.” Levi could practically see Farlan’s facepalm already.

          “Christ, Blade. All with blades?”

           “Either blades or hand to hand.”

          “I assume your apartment was compromised?”

          “Lasted two days. I’m impressed. Yes, I already have another location in mind, just clean up this damn mess.”

           “Was already tasking people to go out now, thanks.” Farlan replied sarcastically

           Levi hung up the phone and slipped in to find her sitting on her couch playing on her phone, when the girl looked over she was unfazed by the amount of blood covering Levi or the multiple bloodied knives he had in his hand. Levi raised a brow at how calm she was considering the fact that he had just brutally murdered seven men in the alley by her house.

           “They struggle much?” Was all she asked before turning her gaze back to her phone. Levi’s eyebrow somehow raised even higher after her question. How was this normal girl acting so unfazed at something like this? Levi continued to stare at her for a few more seconds silently questioning her sanity.

           “They tried to, at least.” Levi clicked his tongue and knew he was fucked if he even thought about residing in his apartment any longer. He sighed and threw caution to the wind; he needed a damn place to stay and the only person that wouldn’t freak out about his predicament is the girl sitting on the couch whose name is a complete mystery.

            “Look, I need a place to stay now that my shitty place has obviously been busted. Do me a favor, won’t ya?” The girl looked up and gave him a death glare.

            “First of all, you broke into my house, then killed seven guys out back, is supposedly a part of a deadly gang, and on top of it all, you don’t even know my name, which by the way is Aella. Just because you’re the new ‘hot and mysterious’ dude in school doesn’t mean that this is a fan fiction where I’m the dumbass that falls for you! Levi, it’s real life! I can’t even afford living on my own, so how in the hell would I be able to support not only me but you too?” Aella snarked. Levi had a feeling that she was going to be difficult to convince — in hindsight, he was right.

             “That’s why I’m kicking your dumbass out.” Aella dropped her phone when those words tumbled out of Levi’s mouth.

             “Excuse me, bitch what?” Levi nodded his head in confirmation and sat on the couch, crossed his legs, and started playing with one of the many sharp knives he had in between his long fingers.

           “Either that, or you suck it the fuck up and let me be your roommate.” Aella started right back with an equally emotionless gaze; Levi knew she was weighing every single pro and con in her mind.

            “Help pay the damn bills and you’re in.”

          “Don’t be stupid, I might be in hiding, but I’m not broke. I’ll do my fair share — starting with your disgusting apartment. Do you even fucking clean?” Aella rolled her eyes. Turns out Levi is a fucking clean freak and a murderer. Amazing. Though, it couldn’t be all that bad aside from the fact that Aella will always have to be careful about living with a murderer, she’ll be living with a fucking trained killer; bonus protection points, right? Aella then realized that she’d have to give up her art room for Levi to sleep in — shit.

“Levi, you can sleep in my... art room... I suppose.” Levi looked at Aella

            “I assume the only reason why you’re offering me that room is because you have no others?” Bingo, mister. How’d you guess?

            “Mhm. But, I can work in there whenever I want to.”

           “Fine by me. I need to get my stuff from my shitty apartment. I’ll be back before 10.” Levi stood up and walked out of the apartment — turning his head, Levi saw the once bloodied alley was now sparkling clean.

           “Damn, Farlan.” Aella practically pulled out all of her hair right then and there. She let a damn gangster room with her! Though, this did give her the perfect opportunity to get to know Levi, so it could technically be considered a win, right? Aella, in the course of a literal hour, gained a fucking roommate that just so happened to be the most popular guy in all of Karanese High and a gangster... not to mention that Levi was considerably attractive.

         “Fuck it, why the hell not?” What could go wrong? When Levi returned, he immediately went into his room and locked himself in. Since the bathroom was connected to both Aella and Levi’s rooms they just simply had to open the second door in their respective rooms and there was the bathroom. Aella already knew that Levi was absolutely disgusted by being covered in now dry blood and wanted that shit off as soon as possible. Aella walked into her room, knocked on the bathroom door wishing Levi a good night and went to bed. This was shaping up to be a very eventful senior year.

[rosemaidenvixen]

You are my Sunshine

Chapter 4: Six

Ao3

The sound of crackling plastic made Barbara looked up from the pan she was drying.

 Jim sat on the floor holding the pieces a broken remote control car, yet another casualty of his preternatural strength.

 Tears shone in his eyes, the corners of his mouth wobbled; surefire signs of a tantrum beginning to rear its ugly head.

 She bit back an aggravated groan.

 It had been over a year since Jim’s nocturnal transformation had started, and somehow the two of them had managed to keep it secret and maintain semi-normal lives.

 Jim had come to the conclusion that what he turned into was a monster from the Disney movie he liked about monsters hiding in kids’ closets. Barbara herself wasn’t crazy about using that particular word to describe what he changed into, but it helped Jim cope, so she learned to live with it.

 They survived by following a strict set of rules. No telling anyone about his blue form; not even Toby or Nana Domzalski. Barbara had drilled that into him as hard as she dared. Both of them had to be inside the house with doors locked and curtains shut half an hour before sunset. She worked only during the day now, it had taken all of her bargaining power and every last favor she could call in, but she got the clinic to agree. Barbara needed to be home to take care of Jim, babysitters weren’t an option any more.

 Making sure the pan wasn’t dripping, Barbara set it down on the counter and walked over to Jim.

 They were no closer to the big answers, but day to day consistencies in Jim’s change had revealed some clues.

 The transformation was consistent, every night he took the same blue, stony shape. It happened strictly according to the movement of the sun. Jim changed as soon as the sun set completely and turned back to normal the instant the first rays of sunshine peeked over the horizon in the morning. How long it lasted varied according to the seasons and the corresponding lengths of days and nights. Cloudy or stormy weather didn’t affect the timing of his change at all.

 The initial concerns she’d had over the change affecting his health proved to be groundless. His blue appearance didn't change on a night to night basis. Jim appeared to grow and develop at the rate a healthy child should in either form.  

 Interestingly enough, he didn’t need to sleep very much when he was blue. Barbara had stressed over Jim’s seeming insomnia for months before she managed to establish a schedule that suited his requirements.

 But, that didn’t mean that there weren’t problems. In his nocturnal form, all of Jim’s senses were heightened to the Nth degree. Timers and smoke alarms weren’t annoying, they were ear-splittingly painful. Flashlights were blinding. He could vomit from the smell of vapor rub alone. On top of that, Jim was significantly stronger and more durable to. It all boiled down to  Jim having a hard time doing a lot of his favorite activities once the sun went down.

 Case in point, Jim whimpered at the broken toy, now starting to tremble as well. Barbara had to be careful, if handled correctly the oncoming tantrum could be diffused before it started.

 “Can I see?”

 Jim didn’t respond, not reacting as she gently pried the car out of his hands. A cursory examination revealed that while the body and doors of the car were pulverized, the motor and wheels were intact.

 “We can fix your car,” she said cheerily “If we glue it back together tonight it will be all better by tomorrow,”

 Her words had no effect on him. Jim’s sniffles and whines were increasing in volume and frequency. In less than a minute they were sure to escalate into full blown sobs and screams.

 Barbara grimaced, looks like a quick fix wasn’t going to do it tonight. She sat back on her haunches and placed both hands firmly on Jim’s shoulders.

 “Jim, look at me,” she took care to ensure her tone was low and firm, but also comforting and calm.

 The whines didn’t stop, but Jim did raise his eyes to meet hers.

 “I want you to take big breaths in through your nose,”

 Jim panted and gasped, inhaling deeply in spite of his sniffling. Barbara let herself relax a little bit and started rubbing his back. He was listening to her tonight, that was good.

 “Like we practiced,” she continued “Five mississippi's in, hold for five, five mississippi’s out,”

 Shakily, he did as she asked. Four breath cycles and he stopped shaking, at eight his sobs faded away. Three more and all that remained of the averted tantrum was the occasional sniffle.

 “Feeling better?”

 Jim snorted back unused tears “uh, huh,”

 Barbara let out a small sigh of relief and brought him in for a hug; averting her gaze from the basement door behind him.

 This past year had been so hard on Jim. Every night he was forced into a different shape and had to deal with all of the side effects as they came. Being confined to the house while Toby and his friends were out having fun wasn’t fair, but what else could they do.

 All Jim wanted to do was run and scream and play like a normal child; he couldn’t help the overstimulation and heightened strength that came with his blue form. Barbara knew this wasn’t good for him; being shut in and bottled up, but there were no other options. Jim couldn’t leave the house at night without the risk of discovery and all the consequences that came with it. So here they were, trying to make the best of a horrible situation.

 Jim was still struggling to manage it all, no six year old should have to deal with the kind of stress that he did. He had started throwing explosive tantrums over the littlest things, more often than not they resulted in something breaking.

 Barbara had been able to get a second-hand punching bag that was now set up in the basement. It wasn’t ideal, but it did provide a physical outlet for Jim where he didn’t have to worry about breaking or damaging anything. The punching bag did its job, but she might as well put a patch job on a shredded tire. It didn’t solve any of the underlying issues that led to the tantrums in the first place.

 With Jim’s unnatural strength and durability, his tantrums had started to build to terrifying heights. One night it got so bad Barbara found herself doing the unthinkable.

 She had just been so exhausted from work and Jim wouldn’t stop screaming and kicking the walls no matter how much she tried to calm him down. Before she fully knew what she was doing, Barbara was carrying him into the basement, walking out, and locking the door behind him.

 Afterward she had just sat on the couch, blankly staring at the wall while Jim screamed himself into exhaustion a storey below her.

 Barbara had promised herself that she would never do it again; next time she would keep her cool, not lose her patience the way she did.

 Never again had happened less than a month later.

 Every time Barbara locked the basement door she swore to herself that this would be the last time. Then a few nights later, some little thing would inevitably send Jim flying off the handle beyond her control and it the cycle would start all over again. Barbara was at the end of her rope, it was hard enough providing for the two of them while keeping Jim’s nightly change a secret, even without the constant fits and tantrums.

 She didn’t know how much more of this she could take.

 Not now, don’t think about that right now, thinking about it would just overwhelm her, if she started going to pieces now she wouldn’t be able to stop. Barbara was just going to have to trust herself to figure this out. She was all Jim had. The two of them had made it this far; one way or another their family would survive.

 But right now she needed to focus on the situation at hand.

 Barbara stood up, wincing as the blood flowed back into her calves “How about we go into the kitchen, I’ve got a surprise for you,”

 Jim perked up at the promise of a surprise and quickly scampered into the next room. He took a seat at the counter, watching while she got various items out of the pantry and fridge.

 Another challenge posed by his transformation was diet. Quite simply, when Jim was in his blue form, food just wasn’t edible.

 There had been some rare hits along with the uncountable misses. Oddly enough, stuffed mushrooms topped that list. Needless to say, Jim’s nighttime diet for the past year had been wildly inconsistent and nowhere near balanced.

 Jim eyed the growing number of packages on the counter with no small amount of curiosity. Earlier that week she had gone shopping for the most outlandish and exotic items she could find; even making a trip to the Whole Foods two towns over.

 “I got a bunch of new foods so we can figure out things for you to eat when you’re blue,” she said while gesturing to the various packages.

 Jim eagerly looked over the assorted items on the counter and started browsing through them.

 Barbara let the tension fall out of her shoulders, it looked like Jim would be relaxed and engaged in trying new foods for the rest of the evening, no more tantrums tonight “So, what do you want to try first?”

 Jim pointed at a small jar “That one,”

 Barbara picked up the jar in question.

 ‘Blueberry Vanilla Chia Seed Cashew Butter’

 Well if that wasn’t the most pretentious thing she had ever seen, Barbara didn’t know what was. Still, if Jim could eat it she would make it a household staple.

 Unscrewing the lid, Barbara scooped out some of the butter with a spoon and handed it to Jim.

 Wasting no time, Jim popped the butter laden spoon into his mouth and started chewing.

 Barbara opened her mouth to ask him what he thought of it when a metallic twang cut her off.

 She stared, slack-jawed, in shock.

 Jim still held the handle of the spoon, only now it’s head had been ripped clean off.

 For a few moments the two of them didn’t move, then Jim hesitantly started chewing, the sound of shearing metal echoing in the silent kitchen, before he swallowed with a small gulp.

[blancheharrington]

One Shot #19(ish)

Jo and Alex have their first ultrasound and find out some unexpected news.

On Friday morning, Jo unintentionally woke up an hour and a half earlier than she typically does on every other average day. However, she had a feeling that her body somehow must have known that today was not every other average day.

It was five o'clock in the morning and even the harmonies of the morning birds were still only tired, lonely, hums. She laid still for awhile in the darkness of the loft trying to will herself back to sleep, but found herself more alert with every imaginary sheep she counted jumping over their imaginary fence. When all of her sheep had been herded, and she found herself still wide awake, she continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. In an effort to entertain herself as well as pass the time, she began twiddling her thumbs. She tried breathing in deeply and she tried breathing out slowly. She tied and re-tied her hair, she switched positions, she tried flipping to the cool side of her pillow, she tried switching positions again. She tried everything she could possibly try in order to fall back asleep, aside from drugging herself, which she considered. She didn’t want to be awake any longer than required, because any moment longer than necessary was another moment of inextinguishable nervousness and if Jo hated anything, it was being nervous. It made her sick.

So, in acceptance of her fate Jo remained flat under the covers, wide awake. She could feel her stomach start to bubble and her heart start to beat faster than it should. She started picking at the skin around her thumbs knowing that by the end of the day they would be raw and sore and bloody. She told herself to stop. She knew it would sting later on when she had to rub in hand sanitizer for the thousandth time, but her fingers kept picking. Unraveling the skin on her fingers like a loose thread on a dress. Eventually the entire dress would come undone. Her nerves were spreading quickly and she knew that she could not stay in their bed for a single second longer. She felt as though she might actually suffocate. Still sitting in silence, Jo wondered if she would actually be the first person to suffocate while all of their airways were unblocked and intact. She gave up. Jo quickly rid her body of their duvet cover and rolled over to sit up on the side of the bed. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was 5:10 AM. This was going to be a very long day, she thought.

By 6:30 AM when Alex finally woke up, it had felt like an entire week had passed. Jo had already watched the sun shift it’s way into the loft, fought the urge to vomit, started a load of laundry that she would forget about until later that night, made a pot of coffee, dusted off their CD rack, wondered why they still had a CD rack, brought their CD rack to the side of the curb, made herself breakfast, ate her breakfast, made Alex breakfast, ate Alex’s breakfast, watched an episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race, squeezed in a quick shower and fought the urge to vomit again. By 6:55 AM, Jo was shoving a piece of toast into Alex’s mouth as he slipped on his shoes while simultaneously tried pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“I know it’s a big day, but what’s with the rush?” Alex had asked Jo as she was driving them to the hospital a few minutes later, a piece of dry toast still scratching at his throat.

“I just want to get there already.” She said. Alex glanced over to the speedometer which indicated Jo was going 67 miles per hour. He sat quietly in his seat and glanced out the window. The speed limit was 45. Or, at least he thought it was. They were going so fast that he couldn’t quite catch the sign in time.

When they reached the hospital, Jo parked in Alex’s spot even though they were in her car. It was closer to the entrance, it would be quicker, she told him. Parking ticket be damned. Alex attempted to keep up with Jo as she rushed inside the sliding doors, practically pushing an orderly out of her way. He barely caught up with her as she flew inside elevator, the doors almost closing before he slid his way inside.

“Jo, will you slow down?” Alex called out to her moments later when she exited the elevator and made a beeline towards the prenatal/maternity unit. He tried to follow in her footsteps as she swerved around medcarts and laboring women in wheelchairs and bassinets with sleeping babies.

“Will you speed up!” She turned and yelled back to him while continuing on her way. Hardly registering herself cutting directly between a pair of elderly cheerful grandparents carrying flowers and balloons.

When they finally made it to the waiting room, Jo had Alex fill out her paperwork. She told him that she forgot their insurance information, but when she had taken the forms from the receptionist she noticed her hands were uncontrollably shakey. She was unsure if she had attempted to write if her words would even turn out legible. Instead, she scanned through various maternity magazines, not making any attempt of absorbing the words on the pages. However, she couldn’t help herself from staring at the happy mothers with their happy babies and the occasional happy dads thrown into the mix. Once more she felt her heart rise and her stomach sink. She felt like she was simultaneously at the top of the rollercoaster while also plummeting towards the bottom. Jo noted the trash can in the corner of the room. That would be a good place to throw up, she thought. For a moment she considered letting it just happen, release it all like a rollercoaster going over it’s peak, until a nudge from Alex pulled her focus.

“We’re up.” He said, pointing towards the smiley nurse waiting in the doorway.

“Dr. Karev?” The nurse called out again while scanning the room. Jo stood quickly and followed her through a hallway.

Moments later, the nurse reached into a cabinet and pulled out a thin paper gown and handed it to Jo who couldn’t quit pacing in the examination room. “Alrighty, Dr. Karev. Just slip on the gown and saddle up onto the table. The drape’s right next to you when you’re all set. Just open the door when you’re ready and Dr. Tozer will be in in a moment.”

“Thank you.” Jo flashed a quick and nervous smile as the nurse quietly exited the room. Jo held the gown out in front of her, letting it unravel. “This is crazy.” She said to Alex who had been sitting relatively calmly in the corner of the room while Jo and the nurse had gone to check her weight. She glanced at her husband who had simply smiled back at her comment while she hastily rid herself of her shoes and clothes. Somehow the hours had passed, but time was still moving so slowly. It felt like it was taking an hour just to remove her own clothes. “Are you nervous?” She asked him while slipping her arms through the holes of the gown.

“A little. But, I think you’re nervous enough for the both of us.” He said as he watched her fumble to tie the back of the gown closed.

Jo gave up her fight with the plastic strings and moved onto removing her underwear and shoving her clothes into her bag. She shuffled her bare feet across the cold floor towards Alex who instinctively stood up as she turned around. Without words, she signaled for him to help her knot up the back. As she faced away from him, and without a minuscule task to complete, she realized she had nothing to do to fill the remaining time with but words. She gave in.

“I’m really nervous, Alex. Like, really nervous. I’m so nervous that I want to barf. I’ve needed to throw up all day. I need to. I do. It’ll make me feel better. I think I’m going to, okay?” Jo fiddled with her wedding ring on her finger, twirling it around, pulling it off and putting it back on. Trying to occupy herself with anything besides the thought of vomiting at Alex’s feet. But all she could come up with was how good it would feel just to do it and get it over with. Not because she particularly enjoyed the feeling of vomiting but because she wanted to think of nothing else besides the contents of her stomach for a whole thirty second. To not be nervous for thirty seconds. To not be worried. If her head was in a bucket she wouldn’t have time to focus on what may or may not be happening inside of her and what may or may not occur in nine months and how she may or may not have the ability to raise a decent human being.

Alex pulled tightly at his knot, signaling that he was done. He squeezed gently at Jo’s shoulders and spun her around to face him. His calm demeanor quickly turned to concern as he noticed Jo’s face begin to lose color and her eyes begin to glisten with tears. “Don’t barf. You’re going to be fine. Everyone’s going to be fine. We’re going to have a baby!” He caught her off guard with a kiss, followed by a tender peck to her forehead. When he pulled away, she appeared anyway but relaxed. As he went to lean in to hug her tightly, she spun away from him and walked towards the door of the exam room. He wondered for a split second if she was going to walk out of the room and never come back.

“You don’t know that.” She quipped back to him as she pulled open the door to let the doctor know that she was ready for her.   

Alex put his hands on his hips in that certain way he always does when he starts to get anxious himself. “Know what?” He asked.

“That everything is going to be fine.” She said while climbing onto the exam table and swinging her legs into the stirrups.

“Jo.” Alex said with a sympathetic twinge. A tone that made Jo want to vomit even more. He stepped to her side and reached out his hand to grab a hold of hers, but she quickly moved it away from him and began busying herself with something else.

Jo pulled the drape over her legs and smoothed it along her bare thighs. She picked at the edges of the paper, tearing small pieces off and letting them fall into her lap. “You don’t, Alex! You don’t know! I could miscarry at any moment. I might not even be pregnant. Maybe the tests were wrong and I actually have some strange cancer instead. Maybe I am pregnant but the baby doesn’t even have a head. We could have a headless baby. Or maybe I could just die.” She tore another strip away from the paper and let it fall to the floor. She looked up to Alex just as a tear fell from her eyes. “I could die, Alex. This could kill me. I’ll die and I’ll just be another statistic for Arizona’s U.S maternal mortality rate study and you’ll be a widower and you’ll be married again in a few years because look at you of course you would and I know that cute nurse, Connie in Peds, has been into you for years because Janet in Ortho tells me every damn time I see her about how much Connie talks about you at their dumb Tupperware parties.”

Alex reached for her hand again, finally catching it. Her hand instantly relaxed in his grasp. “Will you stop it. You’re not going to die and I’m not going to be a widower and I’m not going to marry Connie.” He smirked as he ran circles along the topsof her hand with his thumb, “Besides, if I was going to remarry anyone, it would be Lisa in plastics.”

Jo ignored his attempt at lighting the mood. “I could, though! She showed me all of her graphs and charts yesterday. A lot of women die Alex! A lot!”

Alex made a mental note to yell at Arizona for her overbearing desire to share the statistics of her deeply depressing project to everyone she passes in the halls. “But you won’t be one of them!” He tried to assure her.

“But I could be. And then our baby will be motherless just like me.”

Alex went to speak again but was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Are you guys ready for me?” The doctor called out as she entered the room without pause.

“No.” Jo mumbled through a groan, pulling her hand from Alex’s grasp.

“Yes.” Alex blurted out after her in order to correct any confusion.

Dr. Tozer quickly washed and dried her hands and tossed the paper towel into the garbage, oblivious to the parental nerves in the room as they had become normal to her over her many years as an obstetrician. “I assume you guys know the drill? We’ll do a transvaginal ultrasound, make sure everything is peachy keen, take some measurements, grab a couple of picture, and then go from there. Sound good?”

“Yea.” Alex enthusiastically shook his head whereas Jo gave a nervous eyebrow raise as she laid her head back and shut her eyes. She heard her doctor slap on a pair of gloves and squeeze a bottle of lubricant. Can I throw up now? Jo thought to herself.

“Okay, Dr. Karev, some pressure.”

Jo flinched at the uncomfortable pain of the ultrasound. Somehow she wanted to vomit even more so than before. She started to feel lightheaded at the pressure until she suddenly realized that she had been holding her breath.

“Well, you’re definitely pregnant! About 6 weeks, I’d estimate.” Dr. Tozer assured the couple.

Jo, realizing again that she had been holding her breath, let out a huge sigh of relief.

“See, I told you you didn’t have cancer!” Alex cheered. He grabbed Jo’s hand once more and leaned down to kiss her cheek. The pair laughed in unison. In excitement. In disbelief.

“Oh, wow. Okay!” Dr. Tozer exclaimed, interrupting their moment as she began clicking more purposefully at the buttons. “It looks -” She began to speak before Jo quickly, awkwardly, and painfully leaned forward to the best of her abilities.

“Ectopic? No head?” Jo slapped Alex in the arm, “I told you something was wrong!” She looked back towards her doctor. “What’s wrong with it? Is it dead already? Does it have three arms? Is it -”

“Four, actually.” The doctor interrupted.

“Four arms!?” Jo gasped. She really, really needed to throw up. And she thought time was moving slowly before. Now it felt like time had completely come to a halt. “Alex, our baby has four arms and you won’t even be allowed to operate on it!”

Alex looked humorously between the doctor and Jo. He tried to reach out to sweetly glide his hand through Jo’s hair, but it seemed that any attempt at comfort to her was going unnoticed. He glanced at the doctor again and the pair shared a quick smile.

The doctor interrupted Jo’s tangent once more, “And four legs.”

“Oh god.” Jo threw her head back and began to sob. She blindingly reached out through her watery eyes for any part of her husband's body. “Alex. We have an octopus for a baby. A freakin’ baby octopus. I told you I felt off today. I knew something was wrong!”

Dr. Tozer smirked as she turned the monitor towards Jo, knowing it was time to end all of Jo’s worries. “Dr. Karev. Your babies are going to have the most entertaining life with you as their mother.”

Jo sniffled and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. She breathed in heavily and uncontrollably, gasping for air while trying to catch the snot from her nose. “I hope they do.”

Just then, everything seemed to click. Jo’s hand fell away from her face and into her lap. “They?” She turned to Alex who had been trying so hard to contain his laughter. “They! They as in two? Two as in twins?” She put up the number two with her hands. “Two...babies? In me? Right now?”

Alex beamed with enjoyment as Jo awkwardly reached out to kiss him, she wouldn’t realize until the drive home that in that moment, she actually witnessed a few tears fall from his eyes, too.

“Twins!” He reassured her. The couple gently braised their foreheads against each other, unable to hide their blatant love and joy.

After a moment, their doctor returned their attention to the screen and pointed at the two grey blobs. “Baby A is right here. And we’ve got Baby B right there. No octopuses.” She reassured Jo.

After noting to herself that she was indeed carrying two individual, completely separate, and two armed, two legged babies, Jo leaned her head backwards and stared at the ceiling. “Twins.” She said in disbelief. She would say it many more times throughout the next eight months just trying to get it through her head, to get used to the sound of it. Suddenly, after a day where time was moving so slowly, everything seemed to blast into overdrive. Now it seemed that there couldn’t ever possibly be enough time.

Her and Alex were having two babies. But they had only planned for one, she thought! And now they needed to plan for two! Two babies that would turn into two toddlers and two children and two teenagers and two adults. They would need two cribs and two college funds and two cars and twice the amount of diapers and twice the amount of attention. How was she going to feed two babies at once, she wondered. How was she going to make sure one doesn’t fall off of their bike while she’s steering the other one? Or make sure they’re not conspiring against her and Alex. Or switching places in their classrooms and taking the SAT’s for each other. How will she tell them apart? What if they accidentally switch them at birth and they lead totally different lives with the wrong names? When she thought she might be having one child, she wondered if she would forget it at the grocery store. Now she wondered, would she forget them both? How would she make sure to differentiate them? In the few minute span of knowing she was having twins, Jo already wanted to make sure that they were always their own persons. That one wasn’t always referred to as the smarter twin, or the more creative twin, the funnier twin, the twin that listens better than the other. Even if she didn’t feel it in that moment, she was already thinking like a mom and a mom of twins at that.

Her spell broke when she heard Alex’s voice whisper into her ear while the doctor finished up. “Can you believe we’re having twins?” He asked her.

And just then, without warning, Jo leaned to the side of the examination table and finally gave into her desire to throw up. No, she could not believe it, and it would take her until the day they were born to do so.

[themurphyzone]

Absolutely Disastrous Ch 3

Listen, is that a reader’s tears I hear? Sounds to me, loud and clear! On the web, through text, in your ear! Breaking hearts at breakneck pace! Dashing happiness, putting angst in its place! A rose by any other name still has its thorns! When everything’s worse you’ll have no time to mourn! Jessie! James! Meowth’s the name! Putting readers in their place! We’re Team Rocket, and we’re in your face!

Ch 3: Strength in Numbers! Rescue Professor Underwood!

The boulder apparently had a homing system, because it wouldn’t stop chasing them even though they’d tried backtracking, circling, and making zigzags to lose it.

“Does this happen often?” Zack yelled. A shoelace from the sneakers Diogee carried came loose and wrapped itself around Milo and Zack’s ankles.

“Someone getting attached to me by shoelace? Not really,” Milo replied. “I use slip-ons. Less hassle that way. Did you know the plastic tip at the end is called an aglet? I learned it from Aglet Awareness Day!”

Zack’s eyes only grew wider, and Milo worried they’d just pop out of his head if he kept it up. “How are you people so calm about this? We’re gonna get pancaked here!”

Melissa shrugged. “You act like this is your first time being chased by a runaway boulder.”

“That’s because it IS my first time!”

“To be fair, this area’s a forest,” Milo said. “When you live at the base of a volcano, you learn to dodge falling Geodude and Graveler pretty early on.”

“You live around a volcano?” Zack asked.

“Don’t worry. Mt. Chimney’s last eruption took a sizable chunk out of it. It really just spews ash nowadays.”

“Yeah, because that’s reassuring.”

“Alright, boys! Act like you just won a three-legged race!” Melissa aimed her phone at Milo and Zack. While Milo pumped his fist in the air, Zack kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure the boulder wasn’t looming over them. The shutter went off several times.

Melissa flicked through her pictures, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “This looks more like you’re paranoid over something trying to kill you.”

Zack glared at her. “Do you really want me to point out the obvious?”

Running with his leg tied to someone else’s was getting exhausting. Zack had never been in this type of situation before, and Milo was feeling somewhat guilty for dragging him along. The boulder was about twenty feet behind them, gaining speed as it rolled down a steep incline.

Thinking fast, Milo noticed a lone sneaker in Diogee’s mouth. The laces were still intact.

“Diogee, sneaker now!” Milo ordered.

Diogee dropped the shoe into his hand. Milo freed the laces from the holes, adding a rope from his backpack for extra length. Once the makeshift lasso was complete, he twirled it above his head.

“Hold on, everyone!” Milo shouted, taking aim at a thick branch just ahead of them. Melissa and Zack latched onto Milo’s sides, while Diogee sprang onto his back. The sneaker wrapped itself around the branch, the momentum carrying the group upward.

The boulder passed underneath them. It plowed into a cliff’s side, becoming nothing more than rubble.

Now that the danger had passed, Milo became aware of a high-pitched shriek in his ears.

Melissa punched Zack in the arm. “Boulder’s gone. Stop screaming.”

“You don’t wanna blow out your larynx,” Milo added.

Zack inhaled, though he kept his eyes squeezed shut. “Just get us down from here. We need to help Dad.”

Zack knew the forest better than Milo and Melissa. Now that they weren’t being pursued by Crazy Shoe Lady or a killer boulder, they had a better appreciation of the verdant scenery around them. Bug and Flying types soared overhead, while Zigzagoon enjoyed the abundant berry bushes below.

“My mom and I moved from Olivine City in Johto so we could be closer to Dad’s work,” Zack explained. “Mom prefers to work in the city, and Dad prefers the natural habitats. She’s a Pokémon Doctor, so she travels around the region as needed.”

“So you’re a city boy out in Hoenn country. No wonder you freaked at a tiny boulder,” Melissa smirked.

Zack folded his arms. “First, that boulder was not tiny. Second, I can handle both city and country just fine. And Littleroot isn’t that far from other cities.”

“You should see Murphy Ranch sometime,” Milo suggested. “That’s where I’m from. My family raises Absol.”

“So your family gave you Diogee?” Zack asked. “Dad told me Absol were rare.”

Milo shook his head. “They didn’t give him to me. A Murphy and Absol bond at a young age and we take the one we're closest to on our Pokémon journey. But you’re right about Absol being rare. Wild Absol were nearly hunted to extinction in Sheriff Murphy’s time, and the surviving ones retreated into mountainous regions where humans aren’t likely to go.”

“Milo’s practically an Absol connoisseur,” Melissa said. “Just ask him if you want to know anything.”

“Alright. I’ll test it out,” Zack grinned, turning to Milo. “How big can Absol grow and what’s the largest on record?”

“Absol’s average height is 3’11, give or take a few inches. Diogee is on the smaller end of the scale,” Milo said. “The largest Absol on record was 5’2, owned by a man named Jeremiah Black. An old Kalosian king is rumored to have one bigger than that, but the debate on that claim is still ongoing.”

“Told ya,” Melissa said, punching Zack’s arm again.  

Zack rubbed his shoulder, moving to Milo’s left so he wasn’t next to Melissa. “Does she always do that?”

“It’s how she shows her affection,” Milo replied. “That was her friendship punch.”

“I got plenty of ‘em,” Melissa bragged, blowing on her knuckles for good measure.

Magikarp were everywhere. Some arched high above the lake’s surface in not-so-graceful Splash attacks, while others were content to remain submerged. Zack pointed to a small rowboat in the middle of the lake.

“My dad took his rowboat out. I, uh, kinda have a fear of Magikarp and some other Water Pokémon so I stayed over there,” Zack said, gesturing to a nearby picnic table. “I was writing songs, Dad was fishing. Then the Magikarp started acting up. I didn’t have a way of getting to Dad, so I ran back to the lab for help. Guess things haven’t calmed down yet.”

Diogee paced around the shore, occasionally stopping and pawing at the water. A Magikarp sprang up and smacked him in the face with a tail. Diogee growled and made a grab for it.

“This isn’t natural. There has to be a cause somewhere,” Melissa said.  

“Like over there?” Milo asked. He pointed to a man who maniacally laughed as a group of Magikarp splashed around him. His blue and white striped shirt reminded Milo of cheap pirate outfits in the costume store, though he didn’t recognize the strange logo on the man’s black bandana.

“SWIM! SWIM, ME HEARTIES! SHOW THEM LANDLUBBERS WHO THE REAL SCOURGES OF THE HIGH SEAS BE!”

“Well, that was easy,” Melissa shrugged.

The man obviously suffered from a lack of spatial awareness. Somehow he hadn’t noticed a group of teens standing fifteen feet away.

Milo was prepared to challenge the wannabe pirate to a Pokémon battle. But Zack shook his head, motioning for the group to follow him behind a thick oak tree. He picked up a thick, leafy branch and tossed it aside, revealing a large duffel bag.

“Is Diogee the only Pokémon you two have?” Zack asked.

“Afraid so,” Melissa admitted. “My dad never let me own one. Believed I wasn’t responsible enough.”

Zack unzipped the bag. Three Poké Balls laid inside. “These balls contain the starters of Hoenn. Dad was going to let them out for exercise once he was done fishing, but now there’s a Magikarp debacle and he can’t get to shore. There’s too many Magikarp for Diogee to handle alone. I know they’re supposed to be reserved for new trainers, but in this situation, we don't have much of a choice."

He grabbed the ball marked with a leaf sticker.

“I’m putting myself at a disadvantage here, so I’m counting on you guys,” Melissa said. She took the ball with a flame sticker.

The remaining ball was covered in raindrop stickers. Before Milo could touch it, the ball opened on its own. Seconds later, Milo felt something chewing on his hair.

“Right, Mudkip kinda does that,” Zack laughed. “Forgot to mention it.”

Milo carefully tugged his cowlick out of Mudkip’s mouth. “Sorry, we’re kinda in a hurry right now.”

Mudkip whimpered, pawing at Milo’s face as it tried to get to his hair. Diogee growled sternly, and Mudkip settled down.

“Alright, I’ve got a plan,” Melissa declared. “Milo, you confront the pirate guy. Zack and I will knock out the Magikarp and clear a path so Professor Underwood can come to shore. Capiche?”

“Capiche!” Milo and Zack agreed. Mudkip cheered, jumping from excitement. Diogee nudged him away with his back leg.

The group split up. Melissa and Zack headed for the docks, figuring it would put them out of range from Murphy’s Law.

“We’re gonna have to work together to defeat this costumed clown,” Milo said, pacing back and forth in front of Diogee and Mudkip. Diogee sat up straight, taking in every word. But Mudkip seemed more interested in Diogee’s claws than Milo. Diogee huffed and removed his paw from Mudkip’s mouth. “Mudkip, we’ve only known each other for ten minutes, but I need you to listen in battle. You know Water Gun, right?”

Mudkip opened his mouth, firing a Water Gun at Diogee. Milo quickly jumped in front of him, opening an umbrella to shield them from the sudden torrent.

“Okay, that’s a yes,” Milo said. He tossed the umbrella aside. “But next time, say it. Don’t spray it.”

The light scolding didn’t deter Mudkip in the slightest. Diogee growled again.

“And Diogee, you’re working with Mudkip for the time being. Be nice,” Milo added.

Diogee stuck a front leg out, holding it towards Mudkip. Mudkip licked his claws, and Diogee quickly pulled back.

“Good enough,” Milo said. “Let’s get on with the confronting!”

“Argh, if anyone be callin’ ye weak again, they be walkin’ the plank!” the pirate exclaimed, cackling as he waded in the shallow water. Several Magikarp followed him around, occasionally pausing to nibble at the Pokémon food he tossed at them.

“Excuse me!” Milo called, stepping out from behind the large tree. “Did you have something to do with these Magikarp acting up? Cause there’s a guy trapped in the middle of the lake and he’s my friend’s dad and we kinda need to get him to shore-“

“I only be releasin’ Magikarp into their natural habitat,” the pirate sneered. “So get, ye knave.”

Suspecting that he wouldn’t be getting anywhere with his current approach, Milo decided to switch tactics. “My name’s Milo Murphy. This is my partner Diogee. And Mudkip is…Mudkip, stop chewing on that Magikarp’s whiskers and get over here!”

Mudkip sauntered back to Milo, trying to chew on his shoes. Milo was just glad he didn’t have laces.

“Yer scurvy Mudkip has soiled me treasure. Ye shall pay for this insolence. Ye, nay, the world shall know the wrath of Patchy! Into battle, me hearties!”

“Diogee! Mudkip! Let’s go!” Milo shouted. Diogee lowered his horn, ready for action. But Mudkip continued to gnaw on the front of Milo’s shoes. Milo picked him up, turning him so he faced Patchy and the Magikarp.

“Argh, how can ye be a trainer if yer gilly friend there don’t listen to ye?” Patchy laughed. “Magikarp, keelhaul ‘em!”

A horde of Magikarp swarmed Diogee and Mudkip, splashing them with their fins and tackling every part of their body. They swept Diogee’s paws out from under him, and for every Magikarp taken out with a Cut attack, three more took their place. Mudkip fired Water Gun at oncoming Magikarp, twisting and tackling anything that came near him. Even Diogee wasn’t spared from Mudkip’s pummeling.

“Mudkip! Focus your attacks!” Milo called. But Mudkip was half-submerged and couldn’t hear his directions. “Diogee, there’s too many for you to handle with close range moves! Try a Razor Wind!”

Diogee’s horn glowed as he reared back, pressure building in the air behind his head. Then he released several sharp blades of energy. The blades connected with five Magikarp, and they sunk beneath the water in defeat. But their brethren replaced them just as quickly.

“See ye, knave!” Patchy crowed. “I be takin’ me leave!”

Patchy fled, a school of Magikarp trailing behind him in search of more handouts.

“Hey!” Milo shouted. “I’m not done battling you! Get back here!”

A flailing Magikarp slammed into Milo, knocking him onto his back. Diogee growled, placing himself in front of Milo as he caught his breath.

“We need to go after Patchy,” Milo said, using Diogee’s back to steady himself. “He’s heading for the docks. Hope Melissa and Zack are doing okay.”

“We’re not doing okay!” Melissa shouted. Milo winced at the sound of splintering wood. “Zack won’t come anywhere near the docks and Treecko and Torchic aren’t used to working together!”

“Melissa, the guy we saw earlier is heading towards you! Don’t let him get away!” Milo said. “Sorry, we couldn’t stop him in time. His name is Patchy and-“

“Stick to Ember so you don’t fall in!” Melissa ordered. “Sorry, you said his name is Patchy?”

“That’s right,” Milo confirmed.

He could practically hear Melissa’s smirk. “How convenient. There just so happens to be a boat with Patchy’s name on it here. Treecko, I want you to cover Torchic. Torchic, use Ember on the boat next to us.”

“Is Professor Underwood closer to the shore?” Milo asked.

“He’s closer, but there’s an entire wall of Magikarp out there and I don’t think he’s gonna be able to break through,” Melissa said. “Okay, boat’s destroyed. Won’t be as easy for Patchy to escape via water.”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” Milo promised. He slipped his phone halfway into his backpack before it fell out of his hand and dropped into the water. Sparks flew out from the casing, and Milo knew it couldn’t be salvaged. “Aw, man. That was the third one this week!”

Mudkip panted as he tried to keep up with Milo and Diogee, but he keeled over just as the docks were in sight. Milo scooped him up. “You were great out there, Mudkip,” he said. “You earned a rest.”

Mudkip smiled tiredly as he returned to his Poké Ball.

“Can you keep going, Diogee?” Milo asked.

Diogee nodded, brushing up against Milo’s side. His fur dripped water onto Milo’s sweater vest.

“Easy boy, you’re all wet,” Milo laughed. “Come on, we’d better go help Melissa and Zack.”

Up ahead, a thin trail of smoke rose into the air. Milo and Diogee followed it until they reached the docks, where Patchy was trying and failing to hitch a rope to a team of Magikarp.

“Aye, work with me!” Patchy grumbled.

He didn’t seem to consider fleeing into the forest at all.

Milo high-fived Melissa, and together they watched the remains of a small rowboat burn away. Torchic ruffled her feathers proudly, while Treecko fingered the twig in his mouth.

“Pirate down. Now we need to break up those Magikarp,” Melissa said, pointing to the wall of fish Pokémon that surrounded Professor Underwood’s boat. “And coax Zack out of hiding too. Apparently, he had some traumatic childhood incident with Magikarp. AND TREECKO HAS TO BE ABLE TO HEAR YOU WHEN YOU’RE COMMANDING HIM!”

She raised her voice, glaring at a berry bush that Zack wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding in.

Zack popped out of the bush, nervously glancing at the Magikarp. “They’re not natural. The gills, the mouth flaps, the vacant stare that lulls people into a false sense of security….”

“Ignore him,” Patchy spoke up, surprising everyone. “Magikarp be hurtin’ nobody, right me hearties?”

A Magikarp smacked him in the face with its tail, and Patchy toppled over. The rope he was using wrapped around his ankles and wrists, binding them tightly. Milo and Diogee dragged a stunned Patchy onto the bank.

“I rest my case,” Zack said.

A waterspout shot out from underneath the lake, dislodging the Magikarp that prevented Professor Underwood from reaching the docks. Then something large and blue shot out of the lake, stretching far above the treetops. Everyone covered their ears as it let out a deafening roar, the sound wave alone threatening to knock them off their feet.

The Magikarp settled down, quietly sinking beneath the surface. Their orange scales shimmered, and within minutes there was no trace of them.

The Pokémon turned, its violet eyes scrutinizing them closely. Zack waved at it. “Hey, Gyarados! Thanks for the help!” he exclaimed.

Milo and Melissa could only stare as Zack stroked the Gyarados’ whiskers. Gyarados rested its head on the docks, growling in contentment.

A few seconds passed before Melissa found her voice. “Wait, so you freak at Magikarp, but you aren’t intimidated by Gyarados?” she asked.

Zack shrugged. “Only when they’re rampaging. Gyarados is pretty cool most of the time though. Why? Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

He smirked in triumph.

Melissa folded her arms. “I’m not scared! I was just concerned! Don’t read too much into this, Zachary Scaredy-Skitty Underwood.”

Her proximity to the forest said otherwise.

“Gyarados, would you mind pushing my dad back to shore? He kinda got stuck out there,” Zack said.

Gyarados nodded, giving Zack one last nuzzle before swimming to Professor Underwood’s boat. It flicked its tail several times, creating small waves that gently pushed him to the docks.

“Dad, are you okay?” Zack asked as Professor Underwood tied his boat to a post. The boat had a few scratches from the Magikarp smacking into it, but it still functioned perfectly.

“Don’t worry, son. I’m fine. You and your friends really saved the day,” Professor Underwood chuckled. “And I take it this is the guy who caused all the trouble.”

“I only be providin’ homes for water-dwellin’ Pokémon. Tis not a crime,” Patchy retorted.

Professor Underwood glared at him. “Yet you disrupted the balance of the forest. The lake can’t sustain this many Magikarp. Too much competition. We’ll have our hands full relocating them to other habitats. And there’s the question of how you got all those Magikarp here in the first place. But I think that would be best reserved for police work. I'll give Officer Elliot a call when we get back to the lab.”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Cherry on the cake. We get to deal with Elliot.”

“He was our crossing guard in school,” Milo offered. “He always lets us know when the ice cream shop was having a special!”

“Yeah, but not before shoving his stop sign in your face,” Melissa muttered.

Professor Underwood cleared his throat. “Right. As much as I’d love to stay, I gotta get back to the lab. The starter Pokémon need to be prepared for tomorrow. I’m expecting new trainers.”

“Uh, Dad? These are the trainers you were expecting,” Zack gestured to Milo and Melissa. “You were supposed to register them today.”

“Oops, forgot about that. My bad,” Professor Underwood said. “And I guess you used the starters and your Absol to deal with the Magikarp?”

“That’s right!” Milo exclaimed. “And they were all pretty awesome too. I had to put Mudkip in his Poké Ball cause he got tired, but they all did really well even though they were outnumbered.”

He tussled the fur on Diogee’s neck. Diogee stood up straighter at the praise.  

Professor Underwood smiled. “You three have just made my job a lot easier.”

AN: This chapter took a while to write, I admit.

Poor Zack. Get used to it kid, you’re a main character in this story.

Melissa and Zack banter is fun.

Zack has the opposite problem to Misty in the original series.  Misty was afraid of Gyarados because she crawled into one’s mouth as a baby. She didn’t overcome her fear until after she returned to her post as gym leader, and then in Sun and Moon turns out she can Mega Evolve it. You go girl. 

[blame-canada]

Midnight Snack - Bunny

Butters couldn’t deny that he enjoyed being spoiled. Kenny may not have been the most well-to-do man in town, but he did his best, and it made every treat tastier, and each act sweeter.

Hello friends! It’s about time I wrote some Bunny, eh? I’ve shipped them forever but never been able to finish something, so I took one of the prompts from this month’s South Park Mini-Bomb - Treat - and came up with this. Find it on AO3 here!

“A’ight baby, get ready for some grade A Kenny McCormick special treatment action, because it’s comin’ your way in approximately ten minutes,” his phone said, and Butters cradled it to his cheek, as though the tenderness in which he held it could transfer through the call and kiss Kenny’s ear for him.

“Aw, Kenny,” he said, his voice melting as much as his body did as he sunk into the pillows on his bed, “you shouldn’t have.”

“Too late!” Kenny exclaimed, loudly into the receiver, so much so that Butters had to pull the speaker from his ear just slightly. In doing so, the screen awoke, and the picture he assigned to Kenny’s contact made his heart even warmer. It was a selfie of the two of them together, but it was held by Kenny’s arm, not his, and that somehow made it much more magical. “I provide only the best, and there’s nothin’ you can do to stop me.”

“Nothing?” he teased, fiddling with the tassels on the ends of one of his throw pillows, and Kenny laughed, nearly as wonderful through the phone as in person. He had such a musical laugh, so full of life.

“Nothin’ at all, darlin’. Unlock the window for me?” Kenny requested almost unnecessarily, and Butters nodded before realizing that Kenny couldn’t see him doing so.

“You bet! See ya soon, mister man,” he murmured coyly, and he knew he threw Kenny for a loop by the slight pause in his response. He cleared his throat and Butters tried not to laugh.

“You got it. See you. Love you,” he said, in that special way he always said it in which he put too much emphasis on the word ‘love,’ and Butters smiled.

“Love you too, Kenny,” he said. He bid him farewell without goodbye- he didn’t like the word goodbye. It was too final, too concrete, and whenever he said it, he had a superstitious feeling that Kenny would vanish before he got the chance to say ‘hello’ again. Maybe because he was afraid to lose him, or because the days he did disappear felt like torture, but either way, Kenny was a doll to never say it again.

When he hung up the phone, he couldn’t help himself- he let out a small giggle that made his ears feel hot and his stomach tingly, and he rolled back and forth with his phone to his chest in the nest of plushy pillows he wrapped around himself. Oh, he loved him. “I love him so much,” he whispered to himself, as if it might help release the energy that was building in his chest that felt like rainbows and tickled like feathers.

Carefully, with pointed toes donning striped socks, he crossed his bedroom floor and crept to the window to unlock it. He reached under the window sill and felt around blindly with his fingertips until he found the rudimentary notch Kenny had chipped into it for him, and, popping off the little cover fashioned from the displaced wood, he flipped a tiny switch. He gripped the sides of the window frame and tested it, pulling it up just a crack, and true to form, the alarms were left untripped.

Kenny had gone practically ballistic when his father installed the high security electronic locks on his window and door.

It was not a pretty sight, that was for sure, and Butters still felt bad to have subjected Kenny to his sadness. He tried not to cry very much, he really did, but that was a hard one. The sound of metal smacking metal rang in his ears while he cowered on his bed that night, as though his father was driving nails into his skull too.

They hadn’t been dating yet, when Butters begged Kenny for help in a moment of weakness. Even though the nails made it impossible to open his window, Kenny still perched himself on the branch of his oak tree the whole night, looking right into his eyes while they sat silent with each other, their cell phones connected so that they could speak if they wanted to, but for the most part did not. Butters thought that might have been the first time he loved Kenny, gazing into his hardened eyes that still looked at him tenderly despite the rage he could see tensing his shoulders and setting his jaw. Kenny had a protective soul, one made of gold and strong as steel, and it radiated sunshine from his immaculate smiles. He was also, luckily, good with technology, and he designed and installed a workaround for his window within the week.

Butters was startled from his memories by tapping on glass, and when he sat up to look at the noise, he saw another of those toothy grins, framed by dimples and freckles and old white scars. His hands were full so Butters hopped from his bed, moving as quickly as he could as quietly as he could, and he inched the window up bit by bit, careful not to let the wood squeak. As soon as he had it pulled up high enough that his arms were above his head, Kenny swooped forward and kissed his nose.

“Evenin’,” he drawled, a proud smirk on his lips at the way Butters tried not to giggle behind his hands, and he ushered him in, carefully moving away obstacles so he wouldn’t make much noise. Kenny was an expert at breaking into windows though, and he maneuvered like a cat off the tree and into his bedroom. In his hand was a cardboard drink tray that held two plastic cups, each filled with ice cream, milk, and flavored syrup, and a cheap fake cherry to top it off.

“Don’t I just feel like a sorta prince, now,” Butters whispered, and Kenny sat down on the floor cross-legged, tugging the strawberry milkshake from the tray and handing it over to Butters’ waiting hand.

“Only the highest of luxuries for you, my dear,” Kenny said with his usual bravado, enthusiasm shining through even in his hushed murmur. Butters sat across from him and took care to unwrap his straw at the very end so he had most of the paper intact. It increased his chance for a wish, after all, if he could get more paper to knot. Kenny watched him patiently; he knew the routine.

Butters loosely tangled the wrapper and paused a moment, closing his eyes, before tearing it apart. When he opened his eyes again, he saw two clean strips, one in each hand, and it appeared McDonald’s had granted him a wish once more. “Aw Ken, I dunno what to wish for anymore,” he said, the smile on his face hurting his cheeks, and Kenny smiled back, the picture of adoration.

“I can think ‘a plenty of things! Here, lemme try it this time,” Kenny said, and he pulled his straw wrapper to end up with a knot on one end, and no wish to speak of. “Damn,” he muttered, and he shoved the bits of paper into his coat pocket. Kenny never got wishes, and it made him a little sad.

“Maybe next time,” Butters chirped, optimistic, and Kenny’s scowl softened to a slight appreciative smile, the heart-melty kind.

“I doubt it baby, but thank you,” he said. He took a long sip of his drink, and they fell into comfortable silence.

It was a growing colder outside, and the combined chill of the milkshake and the breeze that swirled in past his curtains had him reaching for a blanket. He tugged on his favorite one within reach, an extra soft pastel blue throw that was part of the massive conglomerate of snuggly things he slept with each night on his bed. He wrapped part of it around his shoulders, and used his other hand to gesture at Kenny. “You’re gonna catch cold over there, Kenny,” he whispered, and Kenny chuckled breathily, so prettily.

“I got a coat on, I’m good,” Kenny said, and Butters started to protest, but then he scooched forward, crawling over to cuddle up close to his side and lean into his shoulder. “Won’t complain, though.”

Butters hummed and nuzzled his nose into his messy hair, noting that he’d recently showered and it still smelled like his shampoo. He held his cup with both hands, drinking the last of his precious treat until his straw started to slurp. Kenny had his tucked between them, and he took occasional slower sips as they embraced the world exactly how it fell around them.

Kenny was starting to fall heavier against his side, and Butters, knowing the signs, took Kenny’s cup in the nick of time before he became complete deadweight on his shoulder. His breathing had evened out and deepened, each exhale leaving him in a quiet hiss between a slightly unhinged jaw. The angel upon his shoulder had fallen asleep, but Butters was quite familiar with this routine as well.

He didn’t want to move at first, because he knew the slightest stirring would have him up in a flash and hyperactive to compensate. No, Butters didn’t want that; Kenny was clearly exhausted, having come over immediately after finishing a shift at one of this several jobs, and he knew he never got good sleep in his own bed. Instead, he drank the last few sips of Kenny’s milkshake for him, knowing he wouldn’t mind, and let his sighs of sleepy contentment puff against his collarbone.

Butters glanced at his clock- it was nearing midnight. He set the cup down beside his own emptied one, back in its carrier, and used both arms to gingerly adjust Kenny’s sleeping form to lie over his chest. Kenny hummed in his sleep and wrapped his arm lazily across Butters’ torso, slinging it over one shoulder and squeezing once in an awkward hug. He giggled quietly at his unconscious affections, and rubbed one hand up and down his back to comfort him. His body fit so perfectly against his own, for such an unusual angle. He hoped Kenny could hear his heart beating, and maybe its shouting of “You’re wonderful! You’re perfect! Thank you, Thank you!” too.

The condensation on the sides of their cups was starting to drip and seep into the carrier they sat inside. Butters watched beads of water drop and disappear within the brown cardboard, and listened to the ticking of the clock above his closet door. It was off by an hour, but the minute hand was still correct. It was past midnight now.

It was well known, by any person in town, that the McCormicks didn’t have much. This unfortunately fell on Kenny, too, and he worked hard at several jobs to help keep his family afloat. Butters wished he could’ve had more of a childhood, instead of the rapid way he had to grow up to care for his siblings and, occasionally, his mother. As a result, Kenny didn’t know how to relax very well, or talk out his feelings. They were working on that, together.

A cheap milkshake from a fast food restaurant would ordinarily mean nothing, could even be considered subpar, if it was anyone but Kenny or anyone but Butters. Kenny scraped what he could together to get him that drink, he knew it, and that made it more valuable than the fanciest milkshake at the fanciest restaurant Butters could think of.

“How lucky,” he whispered, raising his hand to ruffle it through Kenny’s locks. He stirred from his sleep, chirping like a woken cat as of to ask, ‘What? I’m up.’

“Nothin, darlin’, I love you,” Butters said, pressing a gentle kiss into the very top of his head and tickling his nose with his hair, and Kenny hummed again.

“Love you too, baby,” he mumbled, smiling and nuzzling into his chest a bit more before sitting back up. With a big yawn and a stretch Kenny blinked rapidly, forcing himself up so that he could make the trek back home.

“Text me when you get home?” Butters said, feeling the cold absence of his boyfriend already, and Kenny swiped the empty cups and drink tray from the floor as he stood on woozy legs.

“Always,” he said, and with one last grin and a lazy salute with two fingers that made Butters laugh, he climbed back through the window, and headed off to play protector in his living room. The paper straw wrapper that Butters had torn was still on the ground, a remnant that they both missed, and Butters tied both halves to pull again. He got both wishes, and with one, he wished the other could go to Kenny instead.

[ecotone99]

[SP] Sister of Duty

-WANT A LOT FOR CHRISTMAS~ THIS IS ALL I’M ASKING FOR~

John grimaced wearily at the barely lit signpost in front of him: CHICAGO --- 300 MILES. He had been driving on the interstate for what must have been five hours… Six? The clock on his radiator said four, and he could have sworn he drove up the ramp at nine- but it could have very well been eight. He could not even remember when he got in the truck.

The trucker stifled a yawn. The blizzard was dying at last, at least. Still, the roads were hell, and it was all he could do to move at a snail pace of forty miles an hour, despite the road being near empty. All the while, the radio competed with the engine for his attention. So far, the radio was winning.

-BABY, ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS… IS YOU! OOOH~OO-

KER-KLUNK!

John swore, loudly. Fuck! The red-white-and-blue donkey freshener that adorned his rear-view mirror swung angrily, and the lukewarm coffee that sat beside him spilled onto the right side of his legs, seeping cold brew down his pants. Goddamn the government and its bullshit. The annoyed trucker toggled on his seat warmer, hoping it would dry his jeans faster.

“You okay, Johnny? Over.”

“All good, Pete. Spilled some coffee. Over.”

“Roger that. Over.”

The low humming of his engine now drowned out everything else. John stared at his dashboard; the radio had stopped, and the screen instead displayed a large red light that read: CALL. He wondered how it even happened but decided that all the shaking must have pushed the radio-comm button somehow. At least I’m wide awake now. John stared at the clock: four-thirty, then he raised his head to survey the roads. He was alone; not a vehicle in sight. Christmas comes for everyone eventually, John supposed. He moved to turn the radio back on, but then something made him pause.

“Hey, Pete?”

“…”

“Yeah? Over”

“It’s four-thirty. Why are you still alive? …Over.”

“Last minute Christmas shopping. Over.”

“At four-thirty?! Wait, you brought over your truck to Christmas shop?”

“I’m only lining up, man. Mall doesn’t open ‘til six. Over.”

“Ah. Sounds boring.”

“I can multitask, John.”

“Sure.”

Speaking of boring shit. John tapped restlessly on the driving wheel as he stared into the endless white expanse in front of him. His coworkers usually took the week off for the holidays to spend with their family, but he hadn’t got any family, at least for the long part of a decade. He was a single child from a poor suburban family. He wasn’t married, nor had any children. His dad passed away a long time ago from a heart attack when John was twenty-two, and his mom quietly faded away not long after. If he could be honest with himself, his work was all he had.

“You know, you’re always welcome to stay over for dinner.”

“I know, but I’ve got to get this to the Tri-City area by nine, then I got to get another haul to SLC before midnight.”

“It’s Christmas eve!”

“I know.”

“Look, if it’s Jess- she likes you. I know she doesn’t show it. The kids like you too. Man, you can’t always-”

KRAARKKLK!

“Hey, what’s going on?! JOHN?! JOHN, ANS-”

- - -

Silence. John noticed his front window was cracked. Some animal crashed into his front window, and he must have swerved. He managed to not tip over somehow, so that was good. His head was popping; all he could feel was his own racing pulse jabbing into his temple like a woodpecker. Then all at once, the truck started back up.

beep. HOLIDAYS~ beep. HAPPY beep. HOLIDAYS~ beep.

Interspersed between the radio music were several loud beeps indicating something was wrong. No shit. Gingerly taking off his seat belt, he stood up to better assess the damage. Other than the giant crack at the front, the fender was moderately dented. The right side of his truck was slightly crunched, and his right-side mirror was completely shorn off, but the load was intact and everything else seemed functional. John loosened a breath of relief. At last, he reignited the engine, and pressed the call button.

“Pete, we’ve got a problem. Over.”

Silence.

“Pete? Over?”

After trying a few more times, John cursed. The one thing he really needed to do -calling for backup- was the one thing that was not working-- oh, and of course, the rest of his coffee had dumped itself all over the passenger side… then, in a surge of hope, he searched his jacket for his cellphone: no service. John sank back into the seat, rubbing his now sore temples. At least the heater was still working.

The colon between the hour and the minute blinked frustratingly. Oh-five-twelve. John stared back, and then as if to taunt him, the clock froze and died. John twitched a little. Fuck. At this point, there was no way he could make Minneapolis by nine. All he could do now was to drive himself to the nearest rest-stop and try reaching his company there. Resigned, John started his truck back onto the lane.

It had to be almost thirty minutes when John managed to find and park himself at a rest stop. The blizzard was starting up again, obscuring even the bright neon lights of the diner beside the gas station. The trucker donned his winter coat, exited his truck, and moved towards the dinner searching for a payphone. Then as he got a closer look at the crusty, decrepit booths, he decided to try his luck inside the diner instead.

The hearty smell of spiced meat and pancake batter greeted John the moment he opened the door, accompanied by a doorbell ringing. John’s stomach rumbled. He hadn’t realized he was hungry-- or exhausted. Entranced, he ventured inwards for a seat. The place had a classic fifties soda parlor vibe, but with comfortable-looking stools made of soft leather. A Christmas song crooned in the background:

-FIRE IS SLOWLY DYING. AND MY DEAR, WE’RE STILL, GOODBYIN’~ AS LONG AS YOU LOVE ME SOOOO~

Despite the warmth, the place was empty- as expected at five in the morning on Christmas eve morning. Even then, someone was clearly working, judging from the sounds of clinking and frizzing behind the kitchen area. John decided to sit nearest to the kitchen door to make everything feel less awkward. He rang the bell, and the clinking stopped, replaced by the sound of someone walking towards the other side of the door.

“In a second~”

And true to her word, a lively but clearly exhausted woman popped out the door within seconds with a plastic menu in her hand. She had on her a white-but-a-little-dirty waitress apron for all her waitressing needs, and under that, a long grayish-green blouse. Her dirty-blonde hair is tied in a tight knot behind her head, and she could not be no younger than thirty, but her smile gave John the warmest feeling in his stomach.

“Now what can I get for you, dear?”

“Um, I would like to borrow your cellphone, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, no. We aren’t allowed to use that during shifts.”

“It’s kind of an emergency…”

The woman leaned forward, putting her elbows on her cheek as she examined him. John gazed back at her twinkling reddish-tinted eyes. There was a familiarity to her, as if it was like she was his best friend from long ago. The feeling of awkwardness melted bit by bit. Then with a smooth motion, the woman swung the menu onto his hands.

“Tell you what? You fill yourself up, maybe have a rest or two, then when my shift is over, I’ll lend you my phone. That good?”

He glanced back outside. The blizzard was now so strong that the windows were pretty much half-white. He looked back at the waitress, who had clearly followed his gaze and now had a knowing grin on her face. John couldn’t help but smile back.

“Yeah. Nowhere to go anyways, it seems.”

With that, John opened the menu. Late Night Menu: mashed potatoes… shepherd’s pie… the waitress was staring at him. It wasn’t threatening or anything, but nevertheless he felt a need to reciprocate.

“So… what’s your name?”

“Hmm, call me Mariam.”

“Mariam, huh? You know, whenever someone says: ‘call me this name’, that’s usually not their real name.”

Mariam laughed. It was a mirthful laugh. He liked it.

“You’re right, but I like the name though.”

“That’s fair. I mean, my birth name’s is Jonathon, but honestly, I rather be called John. It’s John, by the way- oh, maple waffles!”

“Oh, yeah, those are a delight. You want to get that?”

“Sure, I’ll have that, but I’ll probably also have something more substantial.”

“Ah. Take your time.”

-I DON’T KNOW, IF IT WILL SNOW, BUT HAVE A CUP OF CHEER~

The more that he perused through the menu, the more John was reminded of past dinners with his family. Chicken leg with Gravy. Mash and cornmeal. Turkey with potatoes. Chicken fingers with plum sauce. Cheese and spinach meat pie. It was a little uncanny that he was seeing so many of his past favorites-- but in a good way. Coming here was a good choice.

“Can I ask, John, what brings you here?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I was working, but my truck got into an accident. That’s why I wanted to borrow your phone.”

“I mean, why aren’t you at home for Christmas?”

“I guess it is Christmas, isn’t it – can I have the spinach meat pie, with some whipped cream icing on top?”

“Icing… you sure?”

“Whipped cream is great.”

“No doubt.”

A heel and a turn, and Mariam took the order, peeled it off the notepad, and then swung herself along with the order across the other side of the door. Moments later, the kitchen started to sound back up, and Mariam came back with a quizzical smile.

“What?”

“I just… I thought you were the one cooking at the back.”

“Oh, heh, Well, sometimes I do. Back then, I used to cook everything for my family. I loved seeing everyone coming home for the holidays. Like just being there, you know.”

“You celebrate Christmas?”

“Well, not Chr- I used to.”

“Why aren’t you home then?”

Mariam declined to answer, and John felt like he touched on something personal.

“You haven’t told me why you’re working tonight. You don’t celebrate Christmas?”

“We used to, my parents and I; but they died.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t. Honestly, my parents never had that much to spend, anyways. I rather them not starve the rest of the year than having them sparing no expense for the holidays-- and it’s not like I don’t like them around, in fact, I kind of miss those days.”

John winced at little. He looked forward those fancy family feasts when he was younger, but one day he realized that they probably did it just so their son could be happy. From then on, he couldn’t even reminiscence about it without feeling guilty.

“Then what happened?”

“Then I got this job, and, well…”

In the decade that John worked as a driver, he almost never had time to come home, nor the time to think about such things. It was a decent wage that his family sorely needed, and his parents got to move and live a better life. And then his parents died, and he had no one to come home to. John felt like it should still hurt, but it was so long ago, and there was nothing sad about it anymore.

-BELLS~ (SILVER BELLS) SILVER BELLS~ (SILVER BELLS)

A bell rang from the other side, and Mariam excused herself quickly before coming back with two plates in her hands. On one was a plate of maple waffles, in the shape of maple leaves. The other was a succulent cheese and spinach meat pie, sided with buttered mash potatoes, gravy, and steamed green beans, all topped with whipped cream carefully stacked in a perfect swirl. The waitress beamed.

“I thought I’d give you something extra. On the house.”

“Oh my God. This looks delicious.”

As John ogled the feast upon him, he felt a generous urge. He swung his fork around and offered it to Mariam. The waitress put her hand on her heart in sincere surprise.

“Really?”

“Yeah, take it.”

And with that, the pair dug into the food. Mariam got the two each a cup of soda, a pair of straws, and together they ate and talked. John found himself able to talk frankly about anything and everything, almost as if they were long lost siblings. The feeling, the smells, the festive music… John felt like he was Brought Back to one of the holiday dinners that he looked forward to, back when he was a kid.

“…what about you? How come you’re not with your family tonight?”

Mariam turned towards the window, and John worried that he might have crossed a line.

“Hey, it’s okay if-”

“It’s fine. It’s just… you see, for the longest time, I had a job. A duty, you can say. I toiled on it day and night. I made sure that I was devoted to it, and oh, was I devoted! I mean, maybe once or twice I’ll step out a little, you know, say hello to my nieces and nephews, enjoy a night out with my siblings, see an aunt or uncle or two. But I never got to really know them like you should. I had my job after all, and I kept it burning through and through. Then suddenly, I realize, they’re gone. All that time, they’ve gone on without me, but here I am. Still working.”

“Oh.”

The window was almost all white now, and John could see a half-reflection of him and Mariam staring back. He could not help but feel chilly.

-GAVE IT AWA-AY~ THIS YEAR, TO SAVE ME FROM TEARS~ I’M GIVING IT TO SOMEONE SPECIAL~

“Yeah, I remember one night. It was… it’d be Christmas, I suppose. Well, to us, it was just our dad’s favorite holiday back then. Don’t get me wrong, he was a huge dick, and- heh. Thinking about it now, it really was kind of juvenile, but we all gathered that night pretty much just to stick it to him. I cooked each of my siblings their favorite dish, and all night we’d just drink and talk, and you know, figure out our futures, our feelings. I remember everyone being so happy, even if it was just us and a few of our spouses. It was just...”

John couldn’t stop staring at the white window. He should feel all the talk of loss tearing him apart, but all he felt is a dull ache and pain. He glanced back at Mariam, and saw his own feelings reflected at him.

“Mariam, I don’t know why, but I want to feel like I need to cry my heart out, but I just can’t. It’s like… it’s too late to cry, you know. I just can’t anymore.”

Regret. It was regret. Not sadness, not pain, not loneliness, but regret. The two locked gazes, and in that moment, John knew that they both knew what each other was feeling. A shrill beeping came out from under the table and snapped John back into the diner. Mariam stood up.

“My shift is almost over. I should probably bring you the cheque.”

“Don’t forget the phone.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Like clockwork, the waitress poked her head into the kitchen and brought out the receipt. There was no phone in sight. For some reason, John didn’t seem to mind. He reached out for the bill, but Mariam stopped him, her eyes twinkling back at John with a serious glow.

“Do you know what the opposite of regret is?”

“…no. What is it?”

“Resolve. The opposite of regret is the determination to deal what you’ve lost. To move on and make something out of your future. Can you do that for me?”

With that, Mariam finally presented the bill to John. John looked at her, then at the receipt. For the first time since he walked in the diner, he felt a genuine panic. Not at her, not at the cheque-- not even at himself. He hesitated.

“How do you do it?”

Mariam looked at John, then she gave him her mirthful laugh. It filled him with warmth.

“Oh Johnny, don’t you see? For millennia, I thought you were my duty. But all this time, you are family.”

The waitress pushed the cheque forcefully into John’s hand, and all at once his vision burst in white hot flames. He felt dizzy, and his head started to ache.

- - -

Far away, John could hear police sirens. He opened his eyes. He was laying sideways in his truck, held barely by his seat belts. What the… he looked around, and he could see the remains of the inside of his truck, smoke coming from all around him. The sirens were now drowning over him, and he could hear voices outside.

“Over here!”

“We’ve got someone in here!”

“Come on buddy, let’s get you out of here.”

John was carried out of the wreckage at seven-AM on Christmas eve, the snow drift extinguishing any potential fires and keeping the inside insulated, but not enough to completely obscure the air flow. He was rescued with minimal injuries, only a few surface scratches on his shoulder and a concussion. When he walked out, he was surrounded by paramedics and police vehicles. A sleek dark blue Honda was parked at the side, and Jess sprinted out of the passenger seat, tears streaming from her face.

“Oh my God! John, are you okay?”

John faked a confident smile, and then collapsed as he stepped out of the paramedic’s reach. Peter caught him just as he was about to fall onto the ground, and then gave him a big bear hug. John noticed that he was shaking.

“What took you so long?”

“Ha-what? We didn’t know where the fuck you are, man, and holy shit, that blizzard- we couldn’t get anywhere with the radar until the skies cleared up... Man, I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

“Yeah.”

John closed his eyes. I guess it was all a hallucination. He was glad to see Peter and Jess again, and if he did hallucinate it all, he was glad he didn’t die of the cold. On the other hand, he could still feel a hint of maple syrup in his mouth.

After an hour of questions, quick physical therapy, and signing forms, John was more exhausted than anything else. He excused himself into Peter’s Honda, and saw little Aaron stir from his nap.

“Uncle Johnny!”

“Hey, Aaron.”

“Leah! Leah! I told you Leah, Uncle Johnny’s coming for Christmas!”

Aaron woke his sister from her nap. Leah pretended to be annoyed, but John could tell that she knew something was wrong and was worried for both her parents and him. John felt something warm rise in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, something he felt when he was with Mariam. John laid himself on the seat, and he could feel the toll of not sleeping properly for a whole week hitting him all at once.

“Hey, Uncle Johnny’s going to take a little nap now, if that’s okay.”

“Aww, but I missed you! Dad bought me this cool thing, it’s like a video game, and it’s AWESOME! Leah, show him! LE-AH!”

“Quiet down!”

Jess came back, and the kids immediately stopped talking. At this point, everything felt like a blur. John could hear Peter trying to tell the police that everything will be handled, but the next thing he knew they were driving down the interstate in silence.

“Hey, Pete.”

“Yeah, Johnny?”

“Is Jess asleep?”

“I’m not.”

“Oh.”

“…hey, Pete.”

“What’s up?”

“Do you mind if I… if I stay over?”

“Like for Christmas?”

“Yeah.”

Is this resolve? John could slightly remember Aaron snoring beside him, his little head leaning on his shoulder.

“… oh, man, and you can tell Aaron all of your crazy stories-”

“Family-friendly.”

“Well, obviously, Jess…”

“Hey, Pete. Are we… are we family?”

"-Huh?"

“We’ve been family for a while, John.”

Ah.

"Glad…glad to know.”

As John finally fell asleep, he reminded himself to tell the kids the story of his sister, who he met at a diner in a rest stop off the interstate. It would be a story of duty and regret, and of course, the resolve that gave him a Christmas revelation.

SLEEP IN HEAVENLY PEA-ACE~ SLEEP IN~ HEAVENLY PEACE~

John smiled.

​

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~10vernothin

submitted by /u/10vernothin [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2ELZgth

[alovelikealex-blog]

The Death Tests: Prologue Preview

Prologue

The first thing that came to my mind when i woke up, was that there was something stuck in my hand.

A very sharp pain was beginning to sting in my left hand, and upon further inspection, i noticed that i just so happened to be sitting on what seemed to be a mixture of glass and gravel. Cursing lightly, i sat up, almost impulsively rubbing my hands together, then stopping myself last minute to carefully gaze at the red liquid dripping from my palm. It hurt, though it seemed to be just a dull throb, and i decided that i would last as long as i didn't grip onto anything too tightly. Standing up completely, i observed my surroundings the best i could, but all i could see for miles was a city that seemed to be completely destroyed.

I was on the outskirts, where behind me was nothing but a sandy desert as far as i could see, and in front of me was the mess of broken windows, and collapsed skyscrapers. Moving closer, i walked twenty or so feet to place my non-hurt hand on the crumbling structure. Rock, I thought as my hand grazed over it, lightly. Turning back around, i moved to the side of the building, but all the doors and windows were busted through. I racked my brain for my memories, but i couldn't so much as remember my name. So who was i, and why was i here?

"You're handling this awfully well," A soft-spoken female voice spoke out, scaring me half to death.

I whipped my head around, taking note of the way my hair seemed to be in braids, though they were tight around my scalp, and didn't appear to fall in front of my ears at all. I raised a hand to touch the top of my head, and loosely felt my hand around, before confirming that my hair was obviously either in French or Dutch braids. But i didn't know how to do that..did i?

"Who are y-" I coughed, being unable to finish my question because my voice was scratchy and hurt, which lead me to believe that i clearly haven't used my vocal chords for quite some time.

The girl was young, not quite as young as i was, but probably not even old enough to have kids of her own. She had pale blonde hair, that despite the environment, seemed to be clean, and fell in soft ringlets to her waist. I could see the light makeup on her face, but only because her lashes were a bit too dark, and her lips a bit too pink. She was clad in all white, a simple shapeless dress that flowed to just above her knees and pure white canvas shoes, but none of it had dirt on it, whereas i could imagine i was covered in sand and my own blood.

"My name is Lace." She stopped a moment to look me up and down. "Are you hurt?"

Feeling as though my words would fail me, i shook me head, hiding my bleeding palm behind me. I didn't really want to show this random lady that i was vulnerable. What if she tried to kill me?

Shaking her head, she held out her hand towards me. "Sian, i can see your hand is covered in blood."

"S-Sian? Is that me," I questioned, licking my lips as i pulled my hand back in front of me to show Lace.

Fear flashed across her face for a moment before her composure regained. "Yes, Sian, you should've remembered your name, but uh, i suppose not. Let me see your hand."

I complied to her request and winced as she gripped tightly on my wrist. "Sorry! I didn't mean to grab you that tight," She muttered, pulling out a small, white piece of cloth.

I stood silently as i watched Lace gently clean out my wound, staring intently at the way she somehow managed to get all the pieces of glass out of my hand. A few moments later she was already using the cloth to wrap around my palm before securing it in place with a small pin i could hardly see. I dropped my hand back to my side, taking a step back from the immaculate girl, feeling almost intimidated.

"W-Why am i here?" A question still left unanswered. Lace smiled grimly at me, and for the first time, i took notice of the black, plastic folder that was tucked gently under her arm.

"I'm really sorry, but we have to wait until you meet the others before we can tell you anything."

There were others? So i wasn't going to be alone, but for some reason, i felt a small bit of fear well up in my stomach when she stated that. What if my group didn't like me? What if i didn't like them?

"Where are they?" That was the first sentence i could actually say without stuttering, but i still gave a small cough afterwards.  Glancing at the silver watch on her left arm, Lace smiled back up at me, gesturing slightly.

"Follow me."

We walked in silence for awhile, as i debated if i should try to make my escape or not. Lace seemed nice enough, but maybe that's how they get you. Who's they, Sian? I'm going crazy, i thought, shaking my head slightly. I wasn't sure how long we were walking, but it was long enough to make my feet hurt, so i was very relieved to see that we had made it to what i assumed was the city center. We stopped in front of a building that seemed to be intact enough, with clear floor-to-ceiling windows, though the only thing inside was a set of three white, plastic chairs. There wasn't a door, as far as i could see, but when i turned to ask Lace about it she was too busy reading her watch to give any attention to me.

"Are they going to meet us here or something?" Cue another cough from your's truly.

Lace nodded, before reaching up under her stark-white dress and pulling out a small dagger. My eyes widened, and i took more than a few steps backward, and realizing my fear, Lace quickly rushed into explaining.

"Oh, geez, no, Sian, i just need this to break the glass. I'm not going to hurt you," She assured.

"Don't they install damn doors in this place," I asked, walking forward one step to show her i wasn't as uncomfortable as i was just seconds ago.

"Well, they need to-"

Lace's soft voice was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering, and i jumped back instinctively.  My heart was racing as i watched a taller female and a shorter male enter from what seemed to be the other side of the building. There's no way that's the same building, i thought, i would've seen them for sure.

Lace raised up her dagger towards the wall before giving me a small glance. "Cover your eyes."

I did as i was told, and i heard a string of curses from the male as the glass erupted into a million tiny pieces. I uncovered my eyes and admired the roughness of the image the female with raven-black hair gave. She held onto the arm of the boy protectively, although upon noticing Lace, she rolled her eyes and dropped the male's arm, causing him to shudder and yank his hand back.

"Where's Joel?" Asked the raven haired girl.

Lace shrugged. "He might've had a harder time with his. The girl complied much better than we expected her to."

I assume that i was 'the girl,' and i narrowed my eyes at the blonde next to me. So i was right, she was only pretending to be nice. I exchanged a look with the brunette male a few feet away from me, but his eyes were already scanning me up and down, as though looking for a major hamartia. He was attractive enough, i suppose, but as soon as my mind expressed any amount of desirability for him, my heart began to scream at me as though i was only supposed to be attracted to one person. Raven girl took a step closer to me, leaning down to look into my eyes. I kept a blank expression, and i was surprised at how easily i was able to conceal my emotions.

"She don't really seem like much. You sure she's the one they're talking 'bout?"

Lace looked me over, then down at my hand, and nodded. "Definitely."

I shuffled my feet as i waited, not really liking how they spoke about me as though i couldn't hear or simply wasn't there. The boy stared off at the far side of the building, the only side with windows that hasn't been broken yet. I allowed my mind to wander as i inspected the place, but i ended up just shaking off all the thoughts that surfaced. I couldn't remember anything no matter how hard i tried. I was shaken out of my thoughts by the sound of the glass cracking, and i turned to see a lanky but pissed off, blonde male and a buff, dark-haired man.

"Nice of you to finally show up," Lace spoke up cautiously.

The man rolled his eyes, pushing forward the blonde who caught himself last minute and tumbled towards us. "Yeah, well, you can blame the kid."

"Ashton," spoke Raven Girl, "you sit in this chair."

Ashton just shrugged and did as he was instructed, sitting silently in the small plastic chair. Lace turned to me and gestured to the next one. I refrained from rolling my eyes, and cautiously took a seat. The blonde followed suit in the one directly next to me.

"You kids had better be ready to fight for your life," Spoke Joel, who was glaring heatedly at the blonde who did nothing but keep his face straight. I turned to look up at the three adults.

"Why? Why are we here?" I turned to Lace. "You didn't answer any of my damn questi-"

"Shut it, girlie," growled the Raven, "we don't have to tell you nothin'."

"She just asked a question," The blonde mused, "it would be nice if you could answer it."

I turned to my right to give the boy an appreciative glance, but his eyes were fixed on the girl as a cocky smile played on his lips. I gave both males a once-over, feeling a bit self conscious once noticing how they actually were both very attractive and i probably didn't even look half as good as them. I mean, i could practically feel the grime and dirt covering my skin.

"Jace!" Joel barked angrily. "For once, just shut the f-"

"Joel," Lace spoke calmly, "we can answer a couple of their questions. Of course, only the ones we're permitted too," She added, looking at Raven Girl carefully.

"Why us?" Ashton asked, raising an eyebrow. "Are our groups picked because of certain traits? Are they random? I mean, seriously, do we know each other?"

Lace gave a small smile. "That's a lot of questions. Well, the groups are picked off of the traits you show, any mental issues you might have, and your physical strengths and weaknesses."

So i was put in a group with these two guys i don't even know, probably older than me by a few years, just because my traits would balance out theirs? I leaned back carefully, allowing my legs to straighten out as i slumped against the back of the chair. Jace raised a brow at me, but i shrugged in response.

Joel smiled and walked towards us, stopping at me to lean down and smile. He brushed a piece of stray hair out of my face. "Pretty girl here's a liar. Manipulative as hell, but she's crazy athletic."

I made a mental note to thank Jace as he raised up his foot and brought it to Joel's knee, causing him to curse and whip around to face the blonde. Jace shrugged.

"Whoops, sorry. My foot slipped."

Raven girl pulled Joel away from him, and Lace became a barrier between Jace and Joel easily, almost as though she's used to having to do this. She opened up her folder, and flipped a few papers around before pulling out a sheet, and reading off of it.

"Ashton, you seem to have some unresolved anger issues, but you're a distance runner and you trust too easily." Turning to face Jace, she looked down at the paper before glancing back up at the blonde who still wore a smug expression on his face. "Emotionally unresponsive, but when friends and family were involved he's shown to become..agitated."

"Can we get on with this," Grumbled the Raven, and Lace gave a curt nod before gesturing Joel to stand by her.

"This won't hurt," Lace explained, "It'll just shock you for a moment."

Just as i was about to protest, i felt my muscles go weak as metal chains erupted from the plastic chairs and prevent me from moving.

"Hey, what the hell!" Ashton exclaimed.

"Don't worry about it, Just don't worry about it at all."

And unfortunately i was most definitely worrying about it as i felt a needle get stabbed into my neck, and my vision blurred away.